CHAPTER XXIII.

PUBLIC RECITATIONS OF ROMANCES—Continued.

There is, in Cairo, a third class of reciters of romances, who are called “’Anátireh,” or “’Antereeyeh” (in the singular “’Anter′ee”); but they are much less numerous than either of the other two classes before mentioned; their number at present, if I am rightly informed, not amounting to more than six. They bear the above appellation from the chief subject of their recitations; which is the romance of “’Antar” (“Seeret ’Antar”). As a considerable portion of this interesting work has become known to English readers by Mr. Terrick Hamilton’s translation, I need give no account of it. The reciters of it read it from the book: they chant the poetry: but the prose they read, in the popular manner; and they have not the accompaniment of the rabáb. As the poetry in this work is very imperfectly understood by the vulgar, those who listen to it are mostly persons of some education.

The ’Anátireh also recite from other works than that from which they derive their appellation. All of them, I am told, occasionally relate stories from a romance called “Seeret el-Mugáhideen” (“The History of the Warriors”), or, more commonly, “Seeret Delhem′eh,” or “Zu-l-Himmeh,”[511] from a heroine who is the chief character in the work. A few years since, they frequently recited from the romance of “Seyf Zu-l-Yezen” (vulgarly called “Seyf El-Yezen,” and “Seyf El-Yezel”), a work abounding with tales of wonder; and from “The Thousand and One Nights” (“Elf Leyleh wa-Leyleh”), more commonly known, in our country, by the title of “The Arabian Nights’ Entertainments.” The great scarcity of copies of these two works is, I believe, the reason why recitations of them are no longer heard: even fragments of them are with difficulty procured; and when a complete copy of “The Thousand and One Nights” is found, the price demanded for it is too great for a reciter to have it in his power to pay. I doubt whether the romances of Aboo-Zeyd, Ez-Záhir, ’Antar, and Delhem′eh, are chosen as the subjects of recitation because preferred to “The Thousand and One Nights;” but it is certain that the modern Muslims of Egypt have sufficient remains of Bedawee feeling to take great delight in hearing tales of war.

That my reader may have some notion of all the works from which the professional reciters of romances in Cairo draw materials for the amusement of their audiences in the present day, I shall give a sketch of some of the adventures related in the romance of Delhem′eh. This work is even more scarce than any of those before mentioned. The copies, I am told, were always in fifty-five volumes. After long search, all that I have succeeded in procuring of it is a portion consisting of the first three volumes (containing, together, 302 pages), and another portion, consisting of the forty-sixth and forty-seventh volumes. The former would present a good specimen of the work, were not the greater part written in a hand scarcely legible; in consequence of which, and of the many other subjects that now demand my attention, I have only been able to read the first volume. The chief subjects of this work, according to the preface, are the warlike exploits of Arabs of the Desert in the times of the Khaleefehs of the houses of Umeiyeh and El-’Abbás. It is composed from the narratives of various writers: nine names of the authors are mentioned; but none of them are at present known: their history and their age are alike uncertain; but the style of their narratives shows them to be not modern. The account which the ’Anátireh and Mohadditeen generally give of this romance is as follows.—When El-Asma’′ee (or, as he is vulgarly called, El-Asmo’′ee) composed, or compiled, the history of ’Antar,[512] that work (they say) became extremely popular, and created so great an enthusiasm on the subjects of the adventures of Arab warriors, that a diligent search was made for all tales of the same kind; and from these was compiled the Seeret el-Mugáhideen, or Delhem′eh, by some author now unknown; who, as he could not equal the author of ’Antar in eloquence, determined to surpass him in the length of his narratives; and ’Antar being generally in forty-five volumes, he made his book fifty-five. The romance of Delhem′eh abounds in poetry, which is not without beauties, nor without faults; but these are, perhaps, mostly attributable to copyists.—Of a part of what I have read, which introduces us to one of the principal characters in the work, I shall now give an abridged translation.

At the commencement of the work, we are told that in the times of the Khaleefehs of the house of Umeiyeh, none of the Arab tribes surpassed in power, courage, hospitality, and other virtues for which the Arabs of the Desert are so famous, the Benee-Kiláb, whose territory was in the Hegáz: but the viceroy of the Khaleefeh over the collective tribes of the desert was the chief of the Benee-Suleym, who prided themselves on this distinction, and on their wealth. El-Háris, the chief of the Benee-Kiláb, a horseman unrivalled in his day, in one of the predatory excursions which he was wont frequently to make against other tribes, took captive a beautiful girl, named Er-Rabáb (or the Viol), whom he married. She became pregnant; and, during her pregnancy, dreamed that a fire issued from her, and burnt all her clothing. Being much troubled by this dream, she related it to her husband; and he, alike surprised and distressed, immediately searched for, and soon found, a person to interpret it. An old sheykh informed him that his wife would bear a son of great renown, who would have a son more renowned than himself, and that the mother of the former would be in danger of losing her life at the time of his birth. This prophecy he repeated to the wife of El-Háris, and at her request he wrote an amulet to be tied upon the infant’s right arm as soon as he should be born; upon which amulet he recorded the family and pedigree of the child:—“This child is the son of El-Háris the son of Khálid the son of ’A′mir the son of Saasa’′ah the son of Kiláb; and this is his pedigree among all the Arabs of the Hegáz; and he is verily of the Benee-Kiláb.” Soon after this El-Háris fell sick, and, after a short illness, died. Most of the Arabs of neighbouring tribes, who had been subjected and kept in awe by him, rejoiced at his death, and determined to obtain retribution by plundering his property. This coming to the ears of his widow, Er-Rabáb, she determined to return to her family, and persuaded a black slave who had belonged to her late husband to accompany her. By night, and without having mentioned their intention to any one else, they departed, and at midnight they approached a settlement of Arabs whose chief was the Emeer Dárim. Here the slave, tempted by the Devil, led her from the road, and impudently told her that her beauty had excited in his breast a passion which she must consent to gratify. She indignantly refused; but the fright that she received from his base conduct occasioned a premature labour, and in this miserable state she gave birth to a son. She washed the infant with the water of a brook that ran by the spot, wrapped it in a piece of linen which she tore off from her dress, tied the amulet to its arm, and placed it to her breast. Scarcely had she done this, when the slave, infuriated by disappointment, drew his sword and struck off her head. Having thus revenged himself, he fled.

Now it happened, as Providence had decreed, that the wife of the Emeer Dárim had just been delivered of a son, which had died; and the Emeer, to dissipate his grief on this account, went out to hunt, with several of his people, on the morning after Er-Rabáb had been murdered. He came to the spot where her corpse lay, and saw it. The infant was still sucking the breast of its dead mother; and God had sent a flight of locusts, of the kind called “gundub,” to shade it from the sun with their wings. Full of astonishment at the sight, he said to his Wezeer, “See this murdered damsel, and this infant on her lap, and those flying insects shading it, and the dead mother still affording it milk! Now, by the faith of the Arabs, if thou do not ascertain the history of this damsel, and the cause of her murder, I behead thee like her.” The Wezeer answered, “O King, none knoweth what is secret but God, whose name be exalted! Was I with her? or do I know her? But promise me protection, and I will inform thee what I suppose to have been the case.” The King said, “I give thee protection.” Then said the Wezeer, “Know, O King,—but God is most-knowing,—that this is the daughter of some King; and she has grown up, and a servant has had intercourse with her; and by him she has conceived this child; and her family have become acquainted with the fact, and killed her. This is my opinion, and there is an end of it.” The King exclaimed, “Thou dog of the Arabs! what is this that thou sayest to the prejudice of this damsel? By Allah! if I had not promised thee protection, I had slain thee with the edge of the sword! If she had committed this crime, she would not be affording the child her milk after she was dead; nor would God have sent these flying insects to shade the infant.” He then sent for a woman to wash the corpse, and after it had been washed and bound in grave-clothes, he buried it respectably.

From the circumstance of the gundub shading him with their wings, the foundling received the name of “El-Gundub′ah.” The Emeer Dárim conveyed it to his wife, and persuaded her to bring it up as her own; which she did until the child had attained the age of seven years; when he was sent to school; and there he remained until he had learned the Kur-án. By the time he had attained to manhood, he had become a horseman unrivalled; he was like a bitter colocynth, a viper, and a calamity.[513]

Now his adoptive father, the Emeer Dárim, went forth one day, according to his custom, on a predatory expedition, accompanied by a hundred horsemen. Falling in with no booty, he proceeded as far as the territory of a woman called Esh-Shamta (or the Grizzle), whom the heroes of her time held in fear, on account of her prowess and strength; and who was possessed of great wealth. He determined to attack her. She mounted her horse in haste, on hearing of his approach, and went forth to meet him and his party. For a whole hour she contended with them; killed the greater number; and put the rest to flight, except the Emeer Dárim, whom she took prisoner, and led in bonds, disgraced and despised, to her fortress. Those of his attendants who had fled returned to their tribes, and plunged them in affliction by the story they related. The Emeer Dárim had ten sons. These all set out together, with a number of attendants, to rescue their father; but they all became the prisoners of Esh-Shamta; and most of their attendants were killed by her. El-Gundub′ah now resolved to try his arms against this heroine. He went alone, unknown to any of the tribe, except his foster-mother, and arrived at the place of his destination. Esh-Shamta was on the top of her fortress. She saw him approach, a solitary horseman; and perceived that his riding was that of a hero. In haste she descended, and mounted her horse, and went out to meet him. She shouted against him; and the desert resounded with her shout; but El-Gundub′ah was unmoved by it. They defied each other, and met; and for a whole hour the contest lasted: at length El-Gundub′ah’s lance pierced the bosom of Esh-Shamta; its glittering point protruded through her back; and she fell from her horse, slain, and weltering in her blood. Her slaves, who were forty in number, seeing their mistress dead, made a united attack upon her victor; but he unhorsed them all; and then, reproaching them for having served a woman when they were all men of prowess, admonished them to submit to him; upon which they all acknowledged him as their master. He divided among them the treasures of Esh-Shamta; and released his adoptive father and brothers, with whom he returned to the tribe.

This exploit spread the fame of El-Gundub′ah among all the tribes of the desert; but it excited envy in the breast of the Emeer Dárim, who soon after desired him to seek for himself some other place of abode. El-Gundub′ah remonstrated; but to no effect; and prepared for his departure. When he was about to go, the Emeer Dárim desired to be allowed to open the amulet that was upon El-Gundub′ah’s arm, and to read what was written upon the paper. Having obtained permission, and done this, he uttered a loud shout; and several of his people coming in to inquire the cause of this cry, he said to them, “This youth is the son of your enemy El-Háris, the Kilábee: take him, and slay him:” but El-Gundub′ah insisted that they should contend with him one by one. The Emeer Dárim was the first to challenge him; and addressed him in these verses:[514]—

“This day I forewarn thee of death and disgrace,
From my weapon, thou offspring of parents base!
Didst thou think, thou vile foundling, to raise thyself,
O’er the heads of our tribe, to the foremost place?
Thy hope is now baffled: thy wish is deceiv’d:
For to-day we have known thee of hostile race.
Thy bloodthirsty father oppressed our tribe:
Both our men and our wealth were his frequent preys:
But to-day shall be taken a full revenge:
All our heroes shall see me their wrongs efface.
Be assur’d that thy death is now near at hand;
That my terrible lance shall pierce thee apace;
For ’twas I introduced thee among our tribe;
And the foe that I brought I will now displace.”

El-Gundub′ah replied, “O my uncle, thou hast treated me with kindness: do not repent of it; but let me depart from you in peace: cancel not the good that thou hast done.” But Dárim answered, “Use no protraction: for thy death is determined on.” Then El-Gundub′ah thus addressed him:—

“Be admonish’d, O Dárim! thy steps retrace;
And haste not thus rashly thy fate to embrace.
Hast thou ever seen aught of evil in me?
I have always nam’d thee with honour and praise.
By my hand and lance was Esh-Shamta destroy’d,
When thou wast her captive, in bonds and disgrace:
I freed thee from bondage: and is it for this
We are now met as enemies, face to face?
God be judge between us: for He will be just,
And will show who is noble, and who is base.”

As soon as he had said these words, the Emeer Dárim charged upon him. They fought for a whole hour; and at last, El-Gundub′ah pierced the breast of Dárim with his spear; and the point protruded, glittering, from the spine of his back. When Dárim’s sons saw that their father was slain, they all attacked El-Gundub′ah; who received them as the thirsty land receives a drizzling rain: two of them he killed: the rest fled; and acquainted their mother with the events they had just witnessed. With her head uncovered, and her bosom bare, she came weeping to El-Gundub′ah, and thus exclaimed:—

“O Gundub′ah! thy lance hath wrought havoc sore:
Man and youth have perished; and lie in their gore;
And among them, the eldest of all my sons.
They are justly punish’d; but now I implore
That thou pardon the rest: in pity for me
Restrain thy resentment; and slaughter no more.
By my care of thy childhood! and by these breasts
Which have nourished thee, noble youth, heretofore!
Have mercy upon us; and leave us in peace:
In spite of thy wrongs, this contention give o’er.
I love thee as though thou wert truly my son;
And thy loss I shall sorrow for, evermore.”

El-Gundub′ah listened to her address; and when she had finished, he thus replied:—

“O Mother! by Him whom we all adore!
And the just Mustaf′a Tá-Há![515] I deplore
The actions which I have been made to commit;
Deeds against my will; and not thought of before:
But God, to whose aid I ascribe my success,
Had of old decreed these events to occur.
For thy sake their pardon I grant; and I would
If their lances had made my life-blood to pour.
To withdraw myself hence, and sever the ties
Of affection and love, is a trial sore.
While I live I shall constantly wish thee peace,
And joy uninterrupted for evermore.”

Having said thus, El-Gundub′ah took leave of his foster-mother, and departed alone, and went to the fortress of ShamtaShamta elsewh.]. The slaves saw him approach; and met him: and, in reply to their inquiries, he informed them of all that had just befallen him. He then asked if any of them were willing to go with him in search of a better territory, where they might intercept the caravans, and subsist by plunder; and they all declaring their readiness to accompany him, he chose from among them as many as he desired, and left the rest in the fortress. He travelled with his slaves until they came to a desolate and dreary tract, without verdure or water; and the slaves, fearing that they should die of thirst, conspired against his life: but El-Gundub′ah, perceiving their discontent, and guessing their intention, pressed on to a tract abounding with water and pasture; and here they halted to rest. El-Gundub′ah watched until all of them had fallen asleep; and then despatched them, every one, with his sword. Having done this, he pursued his journey during the night; and in the morning he arrived at a valley with verdant sides, and abundance of pasture, with lofty trees, and rapid streams, and birds whose notes proclaimed the praises of the Lord of Power and Eternity. In the midst of this valley he saw a Bedawee tent, and a lance stuck by it in the ground, and a horse picketed. The Emeer Gundub′ah fixed his eyes upon this tent; and as he looked at it, there came forth from it a person of elegant appearance, completely armed, who bounded upon the horse, and galloped towards him, without uttering a word to engage him in combat. “My brother!” exclaimed El-Gundub′ah, “begin with salutation before the stroke of the sword; for that is a principle in the nature of the noble.” But no answer was returned. They fought until their spears were broken, and till their swords were jagged: at length El-Gundub′ah seized hold of the vest beneath his antagonist’s coat of mail, and heaved its wearer from the saddle to the ground. He uplifted his sword; but a voice, so sweet, it would have cured the sick, exclaimed, “Have mercy on thy captive, O hero of the age!” “Art thou a man?” said El-Gundub′ah, “or a woman?” “I am a virgin damsel,” she replied: and drawing away her “litám,”[516] displayed a face like the moon at the full. When El-Gundub′ah beheld the beauty of her face, and the elegance of her form, he was bewildered, and overpowered with love. He exclaimed, “O mistress of beauties, and star of the morn, and life of souls! acquaint me with thy secret, and inform me of the truth of thy history.” She replied, “O hero of our time! O hero of the age and period! shall I relate to thee my story in narrative prose, or in measured verse?” He said, “O beauty of thine age, and peerless-one of thy time! I will hear nothing from thee but measured verse.” She then thus related to him all that had happened to her:—

“O thou noble hero, and generous knight!
Thou leader of warriors! and foremost in fight!
Hear, now, and attend to the story I tell.
I’m the virgin daughter, thou hero of might!
Of El-Melik[517] Káboos! and a maid whose fame
Has been raised, by her arms, to an envied height;
Acknowledg’d a heroine, bold and expert,
Skill’d alike with the lance and the sword to smite.
Many suitors sought me in marriage, but none
Could ever induce me his love to requite;
And I swore by my Lord, the Compassionate,
And the noble Mustaf′a, that moon-like light,
That to no man on earth I would e’er consent
In the bonds of marriage myself to unite,
Unless to a hero for prowess renown’d,
To one who should prove himself hardy in fight
Who in combat should meet me, and overcome,
And never betray the least weakness or fright.
My suitors assembled: I fought each in turn;
And I vanquish’d them all in our people’s sight:
Not a horseman among them attain’d his wish;
For I parried the thrusts of each daring knight.
I was justly ‘The Slayer of Heroes’ nam’d;
For no match could be found for my weapon bright.
But I fear’d my father might force me, at last,
To accept, as my husband, some parasite;
And therefore I fled; and, in this lonely place,
With my troop of horsemen, I chose to alight.
Here we watch for the passing caravans;
And with plunder we quiet our appetite.
Thou hast made me thy captive, and pardon’d me:
Grant me one favour more: my wish do not slight:
Receive me in marriage: embrace me at once;
For I willingly now acknowledge thy right.”

“Kattálet-esh-Shug’án,” or the Slayer of Heroes (for so was this damsel named, as above related by herself), then said to El-Gundub′ah, “Come with me and my party to my abode.” He went with her; and her people received them with joy; and feasted the Emeer Gundub′ah three days. On the fourth day, Kattálet-esh-Shug’án assembled the people of her tribe, with El-Gundub′ah, at her own dwelling; and regaled them with a repast, to which high and low were admitted. After they had eaten, they began to converse; and asked El-Gundub′ah to acquaint them with his history. He accordingly related to them what had befallen him with the Emeer Dárim; how he had liberated him and his sons from captivity; and how ungratefully he had been treated. There were ten persons sitting with him; and nine of these recounted their deeds in arms. The tenth, who was a slave, was then desired to tell his story; and he related his having served the Emeer Háris, and murdered his widow. El-Gundub′ah heard with impatience this tale of his mother’s murderer; and, as soon as it was finished, drew his sword, and struck off the slave’s head; exclaiming, “I have taken my blood-revenge upon this traitor slave!” The persons present all drew their swords, and raised a tremendous shout. Kattálet-esh-Shug’án was not then with them; but she heard the shout, and instantly came to inquire the cause; which they related to her; demanding, at the same time, that El-Gundub′ah should be given up to them to be put to death. She drew them aside, and told them that he had eaten of her food, and that she would not give him up, even if he had robbed her of her honour; but that she would advise him to take his departure on the morrow, and that, when he should have left her abode, they might do as they pleased. She then went to him, and told him of his danger. He asked what he should do. She answered, “Let us marry forthwith, and depart from these people:” and this he gladly consented to do.

They married each other immediately, taking God alone for their witness; and departed at night, and proceeded on their way until the morning, giving thanks to their Lord. For four days they continued their journey; and on the fifth day arrived at a valley abounding with trees and fruits and birds and running streams. They entered it at midnight. Seeing something white among the trees, they approached it; and found it to be a horse, white as camphor. They waited till morning; and then beheld a settlement of Arabs: there were horses, and she and he camels, and tents pitched, and lances stuck in the ground, and pavilions erected; and among them was a great company; and there were maids beating tambourines: they were surrounded with abundance. Through this valley, El-Gundub′ah and his bride took their way: his love for her increased: they conversed together; and her conversation delighted him. She now, for the first time, ventured to ask him why he had killed the slave, when he was her guest; and he related to her the history of this wretch’s crime. After this, they talked of the beauties of the valley which they had entered; and while they were thus amusing themselves, a great dust appeared; and beneath it were seen troops of horsemen galloping along. El-Gundub′ah immediately concluded that they were of his wife’s tribe, and were come in pursuit of him; but he was mistaken: for they divided into four parties, and all attacking, in different quarters at the same time, the tribe settled in the valley soon made the latter raise piteous cries and lamentations, and rend the air with the shouts of “O ’A’mir! O Kiláb!” When El-Gundub′ah heard the cries of “O ’A’mir! O Kiláb!” he exclaimed to his wife, “These people are the sons of my uncle! my flesh and my blood!” and instantly determined to hasten to their assistance. His bride resolved to accompany him; and they both together rushed upon the enemy, slaying every horseman in their way, and piercing the breasts of those on foot, with such fury and such success, that the defeated tribe rallied again, repulsed their assailants, and recovered all the booty that had been taken; after which they returned to El-Gundub′ah, and asked him who he was. He answered, “This is not a time to ask questions; but a time to rest from fight and slaughter.” So they took him with them, and retired to rest; and after they had rested and eaten, he related to them his history. Delighted with his words, they all exclaimed, “The truth hath appeared; and doubt is dissipated: justice is rendered to the deserving; and the sword is returned to its scabbard!” They immediately acknowledged him their rightful chief: but, after the death of El-Háris, they had chosen for their chief an Emeer named Gábir, who hated El-Háris, and termed him a robber; and this Emeer now disputed their choice, and challenged El-Gundub′ah to decide the matter by combat. The challenge was accepted, and the two rivals met and fought; but, though Gábir was a thorough warrior, El-Gundub′ah slew him. This achievement obtained him the possession of Gábir’s mare, an animal coveted throughout the desert: the rest of the property of the vanquished chief he left to be parted among the tribe. There were, however, many partisans of Gábir; and these, when they saw him slain, gathered themselves together against El-Gundub′ah: but he, with the assistance of his own party, defeated them, and put them to flight. Returning from their pursuit, he sat among his people and kinsfolk; and the sheykhs of his tribe brought him horses and arms and everything necessary: he received gifts from every quarter: his wife, also, was presented with ornaments; and from that day the Emeer Gundub′ah was acknowledged by all his tribe as the chief of the Benee-Kiláb.