TALES OF THE RAMAD'H AN.
MR. ST. JoisN was at Cairo during the Ramad'han, when true Mahometans fast sleepingly in the day, and devote the night to feasting and amusements, which create a sort of Oriental carnival, bating intrigue,—though, if our story-teller's narrative of the good fortunes of himself and friends is to be trusted, even that is not wanting. Amongst the acquaintance made by the author of Egypt and Mohammed Ali, was a young Turk, who having travelled in Europe, had there imbibed lax notions about the established faith of the East. By this Mahometan sceptic Mr. ST. JOHN is introduced, as a Musselman, to a knot of choice spirits at Cairo; who—ideas being scarce in that country—are unable to get through a night without dancing-girls to display their various accomplishments of saltation, singing, and story-telling. One of them is of distinguished merit in her craft, and possessed of such virtue, delicacy, and all other excellencies, as would excite the envy of Mrs. BUTLER herself. This lady (by name Fatima) is of course the heroine of the framework ; and, in her professional capacity, she furnishes the hero with some tales of the Ramadhan that she narrates unwillingly to the gay Lotharios of the capital. Latif Effendi was not, however, content with introducing his Eng- lish friend to the beaux of Cairo; he was kind enough to let him form one of a party who obtained admission to the harem of an officer of rank during the masters campaign in Syria. The ladies are described as full of sentiment, but story-telling is necessary to while away the time; and thus, in addition to Fatima, a Per- sian professor adds to our author's stores. Further, the inter- preter of Mr. ST. JOHN, indignant at the depreciating criticism of Latif Effendi upon the tales of the native Egyptians, takes his Faster to some assemblies of the people where the more popular Jesters hold forth, and this forms the third source which supplied the Tales of the Ramadlan. It is unnecessary to say more of the romance of the framework,—save that it would have possessed
greater interest if it had more probability.
The tales are ten in number ; of which six only possess the in- terest or character of Oriental romance, or, except in the external, forms, display much proof of an Oriental origin : several of the best in their sentiment and reflections give signs of Northern interpolation. The tale which is the freest from this defect, an& which, besides exhibiting most truth in the manners, is the most Imbued with Oriental race, is " The Princess of Damascus;' a story of clever incident, and very ludicrous, though the jest turns upon that stock event in semi-barbarous society, a faithless wife outwitting her husband's spies. " The Pearl-Merchant" is a nar- rative of wild adventure in the Indian seas ; the general idea of which is derived from " Sinbad,"—though it is probable that Mr. ST. Joan is indebted to the superstitious reports of the early Eastern travellers for the scenes and persons introduced. It will be understood that we deem it the produce of our author's brain, and not the invention of his wife Fatima; but it shows, in rapidity of narrative, strangeness of incident, and variety of fortune, the genuine characteristics of a story to be told to an ignorant audience, whose attention must be excited by constant wonders. "The Child of Prayer " has something Asiatic in its general colouring, and a good deal of Oriental modes, at least in its dialogue ; but the catastrophe is precisely similar to that in the Merchant of Venice,—a circumstance which, besides suggesting " odious " comparisons, is destructive of the interest which sus- pense creates. "Shator Mansoor" is a tale of a pauper eventually raised to a throne; and is made the vehicle of describing a sin.; gular band of organized robbers, who, it is asserted, formerly oc- cupied Cairo, in despite of the government, which was indeed compelled to league with them. " The Princess who was trans- formed into a Gazelle," is an agreeable story, and not without interest ; but a remembrance of something closely resembling it seems to float through our minds ; and on a question of moral taste, its absence might have been well. " The Plague-Doctor ". is short and pleasant, but not of particular merit either in plan or execution; and it is pretty obvious, that either its original author or one of the transmissors has read Da Foa's Journal of the Plague Year. It is well to warn the reader, that the first story is the longest and the worst in the work. There is little Oriental about it, save the names of places and people : for its length, there are few ins. cidents; and the sentiment and romance of the hero is altogether unnatural. There are, however, some scenes of considemblb power during the journey of the caravan in the Desert, and in an Arab expedition which is subsequently undertaken to revenge art ambush of Sheyghia. Here is a part of the night attack of the Bedouins upon the camp of their enemies.
The Bisharein now dismounted, and leaving a certain portion of their number in charge of their beasts, advanced stealthily, their arms grasped in their hands. On drawing near the eminence overlooking the camp, they halted, and crouch- ing down upon the sand in a circle, deliberated in whispers respecting their next step. The tents, which stood in the midst of a grove of dry trees, occupied, as usual, a large space ; and being disposed in two lines of a semicircular form; facing each other, would have constituted a eircle, but for the broad opening at either extremity, by which the shepherds and their cattle entered or quitted the enclosure. Here, they well knew, the watch-dogs were placed. These animals are tati;ht by constant training, to bark the alarm the instant any strange ob- ject appears without the circle ; but, not to disturb the camp by useless clamour, they are made to understand that no notice whatever is to be taken of what passes within. With this circumstance the Bisharein were well acquainted, the same regulation prevailing throughout the Desert.
Two of the older and more experienced warriors now undertook to dispose of the dogs; and throwing off their garments, as they always do in desperate ear, cumstanc,!s, they proceeded, with their daggers in their hands, to slide down the rocks towards the grove surrounding the camp. In this kind of warfare no man can vie with the Bedouin. Slowly, cautiously, with the noiseless step of the cat, they approached the tents, which stood so close together that their cords seemed to traverse each other, not leaving sufficient space even for the hyena or jackal to pass without shaking them. The stillness which prevailed around ap- peared like that of death. In fact, as they paused for a moment before the circle, they could distinctly hear the leaping of their own hearts, palpitating violently with the alarm of uncertainty. Looking in between the black tents, they be- held the camels with uplifted heads, feeding tranquilly in the midst of the sheep and horses, and gazing wistfully at them For the first time in their lives, they blessed God that animals had been created dumb, or at least, if they communo- cate with each other, that they possess not the faculty of divulging to man the thoughts which pass through their minds. In the solemn pause before they took the final step, when even the rustling of a locust in the sand would have been audible to them, they distinctly heard the breathing of the Sheyghia within the tents ; which caused them to grasp their daggers more firmly. To speak, to utter the slightest whisper, might have been death. Idris, the elder of the two, motioning therefore to his comrade with Iris hand to make way, stepped forward lightly, advancing one foot before the other with as much caution as if he bad been treading the bridge over the river of eternity. He was soon within the dreadful circle, and his companion after him. Each now took a different route, making slowly along the doors of the tents towards the two entrances; but the intermediate space being filled with cattle, they immediately lost sight of each other. How his companion proceeded, therefore, Idris knew not. Confining his thoughts as much as possible to his own position, be stooped low, and crept, like the tiger upon his prey, towards
the northern entrance ; where he at length saw the watchdog, a large shaggy animal, lying in the middle, asleep, or feigning to be so. His caution now re- doubled. He advanced by inches ; he paused at every step; until at length the dog, roused by some sound inaudible to Idris, sprang upon his feet, and was about to bark, when he felt the dagger of the Bisharein in his heart, and tumbled with a suppressed growl dead upon the sand.
The personal adventures of our author in search of romance, give him an opportunity of describing the appearance of Cairo and its environs during the Carnival. As these parts furnish more available matter than the tales, which require to be read entire to be appreciated, we will glean a few extracts from his descrip- tions, and from the best of those reflections with which the text, as we have hinted, is liberally besprinkled.
COMMENCEMENT OF RAMAD'HAN.
There ! " exclaimed the flajj1, immediately withdrawing the pipe from his month, " Ilamad'han is begun. Let us quicken our dromedaries, that we may lose none of the ceremonies.
Accordingly, making good use of the kombask,• we pushed forward, crossed the cemetery, and entered the gates just as the first lamp was lighted upon the lofty minarets of the Mosque of Sultan Hassan. Pleasure and enjoyment, in spite of all the efforts made to affect the contrary, sparkled in every eye. The houses were forsaken. Men, women, and children, animated by the anticipa- tion of mirth and amusement—many, perhaps, flushed also with the prospect of successful intrigue—poured pell- inell along the streets, like a saturnalian rabble, dealing around jests and laughter, or gazing at the spectacles that were preparing for their entertainment. The sun having set, every one had a pipe in his mouth, and the coffeehouses were already filled. All the mosques, both within and without, were covered with a blaze of lights, which described numerous grin torque figures along the walls; the galleries of the minarets, stage above stage, were brilliantly illuminated ; and lung strings of lamps, disposed like wreaths or garlands of burning flowers extended like so many festoons from the top of one lofty tower to another, exhibiting a spectacle of singular magnificence. In the interior courts, the jets of the fountains, springing up in slender columns, fell with a dashing murmur on all sides; and the far-extending spray, descending through the intermingling rays of the lamps, resembled showers of liquid pearl.
Conjurors, aline, troops of (lancing derwishcs, monkies, learned asses, and camels performing minuets, to the infinite delight of the multitude, met the eye on all sides. Here and there, when least expected, a mischievous boy would spring a rocket in the midst of the crowd, and send the terrified old women tumbling and rolling over each other, bestowing, as they floundered in the dust, the fashionable appellation of " dog," or "Jew," on the mischievous urchins.
TILE TOMBS.
On emerging into the City of Tombs, which, on this side, forms the great suburb of Cairo, extending eastward nearly to the Mausoleums of the Khalifs, and in a northerly direction considerably further still, I was astonished at dis- covering the dead and the living mixed up together on terms of the greatest Ilere and there, in the shelter of a tomb, the "flesh .pots of Egypt," suspended from dusky triangles over blazing tires of camel's dung, wet° boiling and bubbling; while a circle of more than half naked Arabs of both sexes, squatting on their heels, enclosed the sacred flame, like so many Ghebres, snuffiug the savoury vapours issuing from the caldron, laughing and grinning, and casting free jokes at each other, as if the festivities of a great fast were to last for ever. Further on, a more boisterous company roared forth their inex- pressible satisfaction at the performances of a male dancer, or the spinning and everlasting exclamation of Hu, hie yelled forth in concert by a troop of howl- ing derwishes. Here practical jokes, ribaldry of the grossest description, and profane allusions, passed for wit ; and as I paused to regard them more closely, the red light streaming on their swarthy, angular faces—which, though at the moment convulsed with mirth, bore the legible image and superscription of evil in every feature—gave them the appearance of so many infernal beings engaged in atrocious merriment. Similar groups, with others still less innocent, who courted darkness rather than light, were scattered at no wide intervals over the whole cemetery ; where the blaze of numerous fires, alternately visible and con- cealed, according to the capricious movements of the crowd, shieuts, sceelims, laughter, curses, songs, the cries of children, the sharp, shrill shrieks of women, the dull monotonous beat of the Egyptian drum, the unmusical notes of the pipe, the buzz, the murmur, the trampling of innumerable feet—in one word, the Babel of discordant sounds arising from the independent movements of a great multi- tude, presented to the imagination a picture of diabolical interest. Had it been a clear moonlight night, the eye would have left less to the shaping of the fancy; but the scirocco having prevailed all day, had unrolled so thick a curtain of vapour.between heaven and earth, that the moon might as well have been in the other hemisphere. This I regretted, as from the nature of several sounds which found their way to the ear as we rode along, it seemed evident that many inter- esting and edifying scenes utterly escaped us.
CAUSE OF INCONSTANCY.
I soon found, indeed, that, after the first day or two, nearly all the Turks I ever met with displayed the same inaptitude for familiar dialectics, the same craving for novel excitement, the same rapid familiarizing of their ideas with the external surface of things, which they want the perseverance and power to analyze and investigate. For this reason, they are most agreeable companions, and most fickle and heartless friends. The same peculiarity of character ex- plains their theory of pleasure. Each new object, seeming to promise to fill up the vacancy felt in their minds, is bailed with rapture, enjoyed with enthu- siasm for a moment, and then, as the mind is never called in to fill up the pauses between the paroxysms of the senses—as no recourse is had to the fasci- nations of intellectual beauty—satiety comes over them, and a new object is immediately sought. hence all nations unspiritualized, from whatever cause, are necessarily inconstant in their love; and, among individuals of the same nation, those addicted to material theories are the least susceptible of that reli- gion of passion which invests the object of its adoration with perfections bor- rowed from the ideal world—nay, almost with the attributes of divinity.
Previous page
