Part 3

Mr. Richardson, at the end of his Arabic Grammar, has given, what he calls a literal translation of part of one of these tales; any person, therefore, who is curious to see how far M. Galland has deviated from the original, may compare the two. The translation itself is too long for insertion. He takes the story of Alnaschar, the Barber’s fifth brother; “in which,” he says, “the folly of aerial castle-building is displayed in an agreeable vein of humour. I shall endeavour to make the version as literal as possible, which the reader may compare with the Arabian Nights, where he will find a greater deviation from the original, than even a free translation seemed to require.” Mr. Richardson does not, I believe, give the whole of the tale, even from the manuscript he made use of; and the other slight circumstances, in which M. Galland differs from him, may probably have arisen from their making use of different manuscripts.

In the second volume of M. Galland’s work, he says, in a note, that the hundred-and-first, and hundred-and-second nights (according to his division of it,) are, in the original, employed in a description of the seven different dresses worn by the daughter of Schemseddin Mohammed (See Vol. 1. page 328, and note 13, of this translation); and interspersed with poetry in praise of the bride, which however beautiful it might be in Arabic, would not, he says, be worth translating into French: and that he has therefore omitted these two nights. How tiresome the description of these dresses might be I know not; nor how little suited these particular verses were to the ear of a Frenchman; but if they be at all similar to those beautiful specimens with which Professor Carlyle has gratified our English ear, we certainly have, in this instance, to regret M. Galland’s omission. And, in proof of this, I shall insert a few stanzas from the Arabic poetry; particularly as some of them relate to, or are the production of, persons mentioned in this work; as, for instance, the caliph Haroun Alraschid, his grand vizier Giafar, the poet Isaac, &c.

In the history of Noureddin and the Beautiful Persian, Volume III. p. 53. Haroun Alraschid exclaims, “On my life, I have never heard so good a voice, nor a better player on the lute; Isaac, whom I believed to be the best in the world, is much inferior to her.” The person, here mentioned, is Isaac Almousely, whom the Orientals esteem as the best musician that was ever known. He was a Persian by birth, but resided entirely, in the early part of his life, at Mousel, (Moussoul.) Mahadi, the father of Haroun Alraschid, having one day, by accident, heard him sing one of his own compositions, accompanied by his lute, was so delighted with his performance, that he carried him to Bagdad, and made him his principal musician; in which situation he continued during the reign of several caliphs.

When Haroun Alraschid succeeded to the throne, which he did after the death of his elder brother Hadi, Isaac composed the following verses on his inauguration, and on the appointment of Yahia, the father of Jaafer (Giafar,) and the founder of the greatness of the family called the Barmecides.

Th’ affrighted sun ere-while had fled, And hid his radiant face in night; A cheerless gloom the world o’erspread-- But Haroun came and all was bright.

Again the sun shoots forth his rays, Nature is deck’d in Beauty’s robe; For mighty Haroun’s sceptre sways, And Yahia’s arm sustains the globe.

Professor Carlyle gives the following instance of the power of music over the mind of this monarch: Haroun Alraschid having quarrelled with his mistress, Meridah, left her in a rage, and refused to see her any more. The lady was in despair, and knew not how to bring about a reconciliation. In the mean time, the vizier Jaafar, (Giafar) who had always been the friend of Meridah, sent for Almousely; and giving him a song composed for the occasion, desired him to perform it before the caliph, with all the pathos he was master of. The musician obeyed; and such were the powers he possessed, that Haroun’s anger was instantly appeased; he rushed into the presence of Meridah, and taking all the blame of the quarrel, entreated her to forgive him, and bury every thing that had passed in eternal oblivion. Ebn Khalican, the historian, adds, that both Haroun and the lady instantly rewarded the minister and musician with a considerable present.

As the family of the Barmecides is mentioned very often, in several parts of this work, it may not be improper to give a slight sketch of them, especially as it was Haroun Alraschid who not only increased the power and interest which they first acquired under his father, but who also effected their ruin. The family of Barmec was descended from the ancient Persian monarchs, and was very rich; but it was at the court of Bagdad that the Barmecides arrived at their full splendour. The character of the first, who was thus distinguished, was that of a man possessed of great virtue and great talents. He was called Yahia Ben Khaled, the same that was celebrated in the preceding verses; and that was appointed by Mahadi governor to his son Haroun Alraschid, who, when he succeeded to the throne, appointed him grand vizier; and when old age obliged him to resign that office, his second son, Jaafer, (Giafar) was appointed in his place. The abilities of the son equalled those of the father. “He was the most admired writer, and most eloquent speaker, of his age;” and while in office, “he displayed the accuracy of a man of business and the comprehensive ideas of a statesman.” His former acquirements, however, caused him to become the companion, as well as the minister, of the caliph, who at last grew so much attached to him, that he appointed his elder brother, Fadhel, grand vizier in his place, that the affairs of the state might not deprive him of the pleasure of his society. For seventeen years these brothers were all-powerful; when, at once, the whole family were involved in disgrace; and the ill-treatment they experienced must eternally stain the character of Haroun. The cause of their disgrace is uncertain; Professor Carlyle gives the following as most probable. “The Khaliph had a sister, called Abassa, of whom he was passionately fond, and whose company he preferred to every thing but the conversation of Jaafer. These two pleasures he would fain have joined together by carrying Jaafar with him in his visits to Abassa; but the laws of the haram, which forbad any one, except a near relation, from being introduced there, made that impossible; and he was obliged to be absent either from his sister or his favourite. At length he discovered a method, which he hoped would enable him to enjoy, at the same time, the society of these two persons, who were so dear to him. This was to unite Jaafar and Abassa in marriage. They were married accordingly, but with this express condition, that they should never meet but in the presence of the khaliph.

“Their interviews, however, were very frequent; and as neither could be insensible of the amiable qualities which the other possessed, a mutual affection took place between them. Blinded by their passion they forgot the khaliph’s injunction, and the consequences of their interview were but too apparent. Abassa was delivered of a son, whom they privately sent to be educated at Mecca.

“For some time their amour was concealed from Alraschid; but the khaliph having at length received intelligence of it, he gave way to his rage, and determined to take the most severe revenge. In consequence of this cruel resolve, he immediately commanded Jaafar to be put to death, and the whole race of Barmec to be deprived of their possessions, and thrown into prison. These orders were obeyed. Jaafer was beheaded in the antichamber of the royal apartment, whither he had come to request an interview with the implacable Haroun: and his father and brothers, perished in confinement.” The destruction of this family was looked upon as a general calamity; “all of whom,” says an Eastern writer, “enjoyed the singular felicity of being loved as much, when in the plenitude of their power, as in a private station; and of being praised as much, after their disgrace and ruin, as when they were at the summit of their prosperity.” The following verses were written on their fall:

No, Barmec! time hath never shewn So sad a change of wayward fate; Nor sorrowing mortals ever known A grief so true, a loss so great.

Spouse of the world! Thy soothing breast Did balm to every woe afford; And now no more by thee caress’d, The widow’d world bewails her lord.

The following lines were spoken extempore by Ibrahim Ben Adham, a hermit of Syria, who was equally admired for his piety and his poetry, upon meeting Haroun Alraschid going to Mecca with a magnificent train, as Ibrahim himself was returning from his pilgrimage to that place, which he performed quite alone, and without making any provision for his journey.

Religion's gems can ne'er adorn The flimsy robe by Pleasure worn, Its feeble texture soon would tear, And give those jewels to the air.

Thrice happy they, who seek th’ abode Of peace and pleasure in their God! Who spurn the world, its joys despise, And grasp at bliss beyond the skies.

Although the little poem, which comes next has no apparent connection with any particular part of this work, I cannot help inserting it from that beautiful vein of feeling which runs through every line. It was sung before the caliph Wathek, the grandson of Haroun Alraschid, as a specimen of the author’s talents.

THE ADIEU.

BY ABOU MOHAMMED.

The boatmen shout, “’Tis time to part, No longer we can stay;” ’Twas then Maimuna taught my heart How much a glance could say.

With trembling steps to me she came; “Farewell,” she would have cried, But ere her lips the words could frame, In half form’d sounds it died.

Then bending down, with looks of love, Her arms she round me flung, And, as the gale hangs on the grove, Upon my breast she hung.

My willing arms embrac'd the maid, My heart with raptures beat; While she but wept the more, and said, Would we had never met.”

In these times, when from the difference of manners, and a variety of other circumstances and causes, even the most successful poets cannot boast of the friendship, and profuse liberality of kings, the manner in which the monarchs of the East rewarded them, is almost incredible. The presents, which Abou Teman Habib, a native of Damascus, but who spent his life chiefly at the court of Bagdad, is reported to have received, are enormous. He is said to have had a present of fifty thousand pieces of gold for a single poem. He died before he was forty, and his early death was predicted by a contemporary writer, in these words: “The mind of Abou Teman must soon wear out his body, as the blade of an Indian scimitar destroys its scabbard.” When his mistress accused him of extravagance, he addressed her in the following words:

Ungenerous and mistaken maid, To scorn me thus because I'm poor! Canst thou a liberal hand upbraid For dealing round some worthless ore?

To spare’s the wish of little souls, The great but gather to bestow; Yon current down the mountain rolls, And stagnates in the swamp below.

To these specimens of the elegant and pathetic I cannot avoid adding the three sweet stanzas of Ebn Alrumi, who flourished in the tenth century of the Christian æra, on a lady weeping.

When I beheld thy blue eyes shine Thro’ the bright drops that pity drew, I saw beneath those tears of thine A blue eyed violet bath’d in dew.

The violet ever scents the gale, Its hues adorn the fairest wreath, But sweetest through a dewy veil Its colours glow, its odours breath.

And thus thy charms in brightness rise-- When wit and pleasure round thee play, When mirth sits smiling in thine eyes, Who but admires their sprightly ray?

But when thro’ pity’s flood they gleam, Who but must love their soften’d beam?

It was not among the troubadours and provencals of France, and the improvisatori of Italy, that the custom of extempore recitation alone existed. It flourished and was carried to great perfection in Arabia during the caliphat, and in many other Oriental nations. The Arabians indeed are said to have been the inventors both of extempore recitation and of rhyme, from whom it came to the Spaniards, and thence into France and Italy. [i] And in all the Oriental nations it was almost constantly accompanied with music. We have, throughout the Arabian Nights, continual examples of this; and there never seems to have been a grand entertainment, where these recitations, as well as dancing, were not introduced. As a specimen of this, and it is the last I shall insert, I have been tempted to give the following extempore verses by Ebn Alramacram, the occasion of which is said, by Abulfeda, to have been as follows: Carawash, sultan of Mousel, being in a party with his principal musician, Barkaidy, his vizier, Ebn Fadhi, his chamberlain, Jaber, and Ebn Alramacram, the poet, he determined to amuse himself at the expense of his companions. He therefore commanded Alramacram to recite some verses, which, at the same time that they satirised his officers, should compliment himself. The poet obeyed: and taking the night which happened to be stormy, for his subject, instantly replied as follows:

Lowering as Barkaidy’s face The wintry night came in, Cold as the music of his bass, And lengthen’d as his chin.

Sleep from my aching eyes had fled, And kept as far apart, As sense from Ebn Fadhi’s head, Or virtue from his heart.

The dubious paths my footsteps balk'd, I slipp’d along the sod, As if on Jaber’s faith I’d walk’d, Or on his truth had trod.

At length the rising king of day Burst on the gloomy wood, Like Carawash’s eye, whose ray Dispenses every good.

In India too, at this time, their exists a different species of improvisatori. Instead of having newspapers, as with us, to accompany the breakfast table, (there are indeed newspapers in the East, but they are chiefly for the use of Europeans,) where the fatigue of reading would be too great for Asiatic enjoyment, there is a set of men, whose regular profession it is to go round and report the news of every sort, that may have happened. And to this they constantly add the knowledge of a variety of stories, tales, and apologues, which, at the desire of their employer, they recite with great animation, humour, and action, as long as he wishes to be amused. And while this is going on, he attends to the reciter or not, while he enjoys his hooka, takes his coffee, or reclines at ease on his sofa. Many of these stories also are of a similar nature to some in the following work. And instances are not uncommon, in which these men have continued such recitation without any cessation for four or five hours together.

I am fearful, I may have dwelt too long upon this subject; but the beauty of the poetry has led me on; and a true lover of poetry, like a true poet, must be enthusiastic, and enthusiasm often carries a person beyond the strict limits of prudence: the pleasure also of selection was too great to be slightly indulged. My only difficulty was to fix upon so few, where all were excellent.

Before I conclude this Preface, there are two other points perhaps necessary to be mentioned. In the first place, there are in M. Galland various errors and contradictions with respect to time and place. Some few of these I have taken the liberty to correct, others I thought it best not to alter; trusting that every candid reader will allow for such errors, which, with respect to the work at large, are of little moment. Secondly, in respect to names; I have constantly followed M. Galland, both because these names are already best known, and because other writers do not agree about the orthography of them. Whether, therefore, we take the Mahomet of Professor White and M. Galland, the Mohammed of Carlyle, or the Mahummud of Scot; whether we say the caliph and sultaun Haroon al Rasheed with the last, or the khaliph and sultan Haroun Alraschid with Carlyle, is in my opinion a matter of little moment. There is one thing, which would be much better; and that is, for all writers to adhere to one mode, whether it comes nearest to the pronunciation in the original language, or not.

TO THE AUTHOR OF THE ARABIAN NIGHTS.

Bless’d child of Genius, whose fantastic sprite Rides on the vivid lightnings flash, or roves Thro’ flow’ry vallies and Elysian groves; Or, borne on vent’rous pinions, takes its flight

To those dread realms, where, hid from mortal sight, Fierce Genii roam, or where, in bright alcoves, Mild Fairies reign, and woo their secret loves; Whate’er thy theme, whether the magic might

Of the stern kings, that dwell ’mid ocean’s roar, Or Sindbad’s perils, or the cruel wiles Of Afric’s curst enchanters, charm us more; Or ought more wond’rous still our ear beguiles;

Well pleased we listen to thy fabling lore, And truth itself with less attraction smiles.

THO. RUSSELL.

THE ARABIAN NIGHTS.

IT is recorded in the chronicles of the Sassanians, [1] those ancient monarchs of Persia who extended their empire over the continent and islands of India, beyond the Ganges, and almost to China, that there was an illustrious prince of that powerful house, who was as much beloved by his subjects for his wisdom and prudence, as he was feared by the surrounding states, from the report of his bravery, and the reputation of his hardy and well-disciplined army. He had two sons: the elder, called Schahriar, was endowed with all the virtues of his father, nor was Schahzenan, the younger, less deserving of praise.

This king, after a reign as glorious as it was long, sunk into the tomb of his ancestors, and Schahriar ascended the throne. Although his brother was excluded by the laws of the empire from all power, and became nothing more than a subject, yet the exalted and magnificent situation of Schahriar gave rise to no envious or discontented thoughts: his whole endeavor was to please and make Schahriar happy. This was by no means difficult. The sultan, who was always fond of his brother, was delighted with his attention; and wishing that he should partake of his own power and wealth, he bestowed on him the kingdom of Great Tartary. Schahzenan went immediately and took possession of his empire, and fixed his residence at Samarcand, the chief city.

These two kings had been separated about ten years, when Schahriar, ardently wishing to see his brother, determined to send an ambassador to him, with an invitation to his court. For this purpose he fixed on his first vizier, who went with a splendid and appropriate retinue. When he approached Samarcand, Schahzenan, being acquainted with his arrival, immediately went out to meet him, with all his court most magnificently dressed for the occasion; so great was the honor paid to the minister of the sultan. The king of Tartary received him with signs of great joy; and instantly inquired after the sultan, his brother. Having satisfied his curiosity, the vizier unfolded the purpose of his embassy. Schahzenan, who was much affected at the kindness and recollection of his brother, then addressed the vizier in these words:

“Sage vizier, the sultan, my brother, does me too much honor; he could not propose any thing more agreeable to me. It is impossible that his wish to see me can exceed my anxious desire of again beholding him; time has not weakened my regard any more than his. My kingdom is tranquil, and I require only ten days to prepare for my departure: for this short time you need not have the trouble of entering the city: pitch your tents, and remain in this place: I will take care and order every refreshment and accommodation for you and your whole train,” This was immediately done; and the king had scarcely returned to his palace, when the vizier saw an immense quantity of all sorts of provisions arrive, accompanied with rare and valuable presents.

In the mean time Schahzenan made every preparation for his journey. He dispatched with celerity his most pressing business: he established a regency to govern the kingdom during his absence, and put a minister, on whose abilities and fidelity he had the firmest reliance, at the head of it. At the end of ten days every thing was ready; he took a tender leave of the queen, his consort, and accompanied by such officers as he had appointed to attend him, left Samarcand in the evening. He proceeded directly to a royal pavilion, which had been erected near the vizier’s tent. Schahzenan remained in conversation with the ambassador till about midnight; but wishing once again to embrace his queen, whom he tenderly loved, he returned privately to the palace, and went directly to her apartment, who not expecting his return, had received into her chamber one of the lowest officers of the household. They had been in bed some time, and were both in the deepest sleep.

The king, thinking how agreeably the queen, of whose affection he had no doubt, would be surprised at his unexpected return, entered the chamber without making any noise. Conceive, then, his astonishment at seeing, by the lights which are always hung in the royal apartments, another man in her arms. He stood for an instant motionless, almost doubting his own eyes. Being, however, too certain of the truth. “Have I then,” said he to himself, “scarcely left my palace, or gone from under the walls of Samarcand, before they dare thus to disgrace me? Wretch! your crime shall not go unrequited. As king, it is my duty to punish the crimes that are committed within my states; as an offended husband, I ought to sacrifice you to my just resentment.” The unfortunate monarch, yielding to his first fury, drew his scimitar, and approaching the bed, with one stroke changed their sleep into death: then taking them up one after the other, he threw them from the window into the foss that surrounded the palace.

Having thus satisfied his revenge, he went from the city as he entered, and retired to his pavilion. On his arrival, without relating what had passed to any one, he ordered the tents to be struck, and began his journey. Every thing was soon ready, and it was scarcely day-light when they commenced their march to the sound of drums and other instruments. The whole train were filled with joy, except the king, who could think of nothing but his queen’s infidelity, and he became a prey to the deepest grief and melancholy during the whole journey.

When he approached the capital of the Indies, he perceived the sultan Schahriar and all his court coming out to greet him. What joyful sensations arose in their breasts at this fraternal meeting! They alighted and ran into each other’s arms: after a thousand expressions of regard, they remounted, and entered the city amidst the acclamations of the surrounding multitude. The sultan conducted the king, his brother, to a palace, which had been prepared for him. It communicated by a garden with his own; and was even more magnificent, as it was the spot where all the fêtes and splendid entertainments of the court were given; and it was now even increased in splendour by new and brilliant ornaments.