TRAITS OF SARACENIC CHIVALRY. BY WILLIAM COOKE TAYLOR, LL.D., OF TRIN. COL. DUBLIN, A CHINESE philosopher declares that the most bitter curse which could be pronounced on a man, a nation, or an institution is, "May you never have an enemy!" Unless energies are roused by active hostility, industry kept alive by emulation, and vigilance stimulated by the dread of danger, humanity is liable to exchange tranquillity for indolence, and indolence for torpor, until the powers of exertion are utterly destroyed. When the fathers of the church obtained a legal constitution for Christianity at the Council of Nice, they commenced a new struggle for the total extirpation of Paganism; it was a task of danger and difficulty; paganism was interwoven with every political institution of imperial Rome so intimately and completely, that it could not be removed without a demolition and reconstruction of the entire social edifice. There were not in the western empire men possessing either the courage or the ability to undertake either task; the work of destruction devolved on the iron men of northern Europe and north-eastern Asia; the ancient empire of Rome, with all its institutions political and religious, was washed away by successive floods of barbarism, and Christianity was the only principle which emerged when the deluge of blood had subsided, after sweeping all before it from the Caspian to the Atlantic. In the eighth century Christianity stood alone, and it stood amidst ruins. A great task devolved upon the rulers of the Christian church, the re-construction of the social system from its lowest foundation to the topmost stone; to collect the elements of civilization which were scattered about without order or coherence, in fact, to organize society out of an intellectual chaos. For this great blessing men looked to the church; they could look to nothing else, for it was the only surviving institution; but the church was without a rival, its leaders had no motive for exertion, and Christendom sunk into a state which may aptly be designated apathetic anarchy. This decay of energy extended from institutions to men; the Franks forgot their courage, the Goths unlearned heroism, and the Vandals slumbered away their existence. At this crisis Christianity was blessed with a rival. A new religion was preached in the wilds of Arabia ; its existence was first made known beyond the limits of the desert by letters which a camel-driver wrote to the two most powerful sovereigns in the world, commanding one to abandon the creed of Constantine, and the other that of Cyrus, preparatory to receiving the new code of laws which their unknown correspondent was prepared to dictate. It was, on the part of Mohammed, a formal challenge to all but the entire of mankind. It was the first announcement of the existence of chivalry, meaning thereby the union of a daring spirit of military adventure with the fiercest religious fanaticism; the prophet proclaimed, what we may be permitted to call a "Crescentade," feebly imitated by the crusades of later ages when the increasing advance of Islamism had at length succeeded in awakening the Christianity of western Europe from its lethargic slumbers. In the character of the Saracenic Ghazi, as of the Christian knight-errant, the leading elements were, as we have said, the spirit of daring adventure, and a ferocious fanaticism: Mohammed founded the one and created the other. It was not until Europe appeared to be on the point of being trampled down under the hoofs of the Saracenic chivalry that Christendom was driven to create a rival order and oppose the cross-handled sword of the chevalier to the scimetar of the dreaded Saracen. The identity between the chivalry of Arabia and of Christendom appears equally in their history and in their romantic legends; both exhibit a passionate respect for the fair sex, a high sense of the point of honour, a thirst for revenge, and a pride in unbounded hospitality; the Saracenic and Christian adventurers are represented as valuing no earthly possessions but their steeds and their swords, as the self-constituted judges of wrongs and redressers of grievances, enjoying life only when in the saddle, and knowing no difference between inactivity and death. The history of such an institution as chivalry may be better learned from its fictions than from its facts; the former set forth the glorious ideal which it was the object of the institution to accomplish, the latter reveals nothing but the successive failures in its attainment. We grant that the romances of chivalry, whether eastern or western, are untrue; but it is undeniable that they produced the effect of truths, and nothing is worthless to the bistorian which exhibits motives influential on human conduct. The principal chivalrous romances of Saracenic literature are the adventures of Antar and Hatim Tai, neither of which has been completely translated. Our illustrations are taken from the less known portions of both, and may claim the merit of novelty if they have no other. Antar is described as the son of a black concubine, destined by his father for no nobler occupation than the guardianship of flocks and herds, but the tribe of Banu-Abs, to which he belonged, was surrounded by enemies; in early youth he exhibited extraordinary prowess in defence of his charge; as he grew up he became the hero of his tribe, and triumphed over the inveterate prejudices which condemned him to a servile condition. He soon attained the rank of a noble, and notwithstanding the obstacles raised by a thousand enemies, envious of his glory, he married Abla, a young lady of illustrious birth, his paternal cousin, who had long been the object of his warmest affections. The odes which Antar addressed to Abla afford convincing proof that the knights-errant of Arabia were as devoted in their attach * Abla resided in the village of Alam. The Absians, or tribe of Abs: its elders had decided, contrary to promise, that Antar was of too mean an origin to match with Abla. O daughter of Malik, may merciful heaven, Send an ear to the tale of my woes, The wounds with which absence my bosom has riv'n, In thy presence only can close. Art thou still in these tents ? shall our union be found, In Sherbe's bright valleys of bloom? I feel that I quench, while I kiss the dear ground, The flames that my bosom consume. **I am Antar the Absian! shield of my race! Death o'er me dominion may claim, But ne'er shall oblivion the glories efface, Which my deeds have procured for my name." There are some critics who have described all the amatory poets of the east as nothing better than "harmonious advocates of lust," but this is not true of the earlier Arab writers; Antar's odes unite depth of affection with purity of sentiment in no ordinary degree, and we are not aware of a single sensual passage in any one of his compositions. Nor does he stand alone in describing intensity of passion without reference to appetite; we possess an ode written by an Arab warrior on the death of his mistress, in which he describes his despair with an appropriateness of imagery and a strength of feeling which have rarely been surpassed. We shall venture on a translation: "They bid me be merry and join in the dance, They bid me have courage and take up my lance, How can I be merry?-my bosom is gor'd, How handle the lance, when I'm pierc'd with a sword? "They tell me the foemen draw nigh to our camp, That they see the bright spears-hear the horses loud tramp, What foe is more cruel than love unappeas'd? What danger more great than a spirit diseas'd? The adventure by which Antar won his sword gives a very interesting picture of the respect shown to ladies in the palmy days of Saracenic chivalry. While the hero, after returning from one of his expeditions, was feasting with Zeer, king of the district of BanuAbs, a stranger suddenly presented himself and supplicated the aid of the monarch and his assembled warriors. He was recognized by Prince Malik as his foster-brother Hassan. The suppliant was the son of a king who had fallen in battle; while he was yet at the breast his mother was brought captive to the tribe of Abs, and entrusted with the charge of the infant Malik; the care she bestowed on the education of the prince was rewarded with freedom; she and her son were permitted to return home after Hassan and Malik had bound themselves together by a vow of brotherhood in arms. After some time Hassan fell in love with his cousin, the beautiful Nakhumè, he challenged to mortal combat all who dared to aspire to her hand, and overthrew so many that for a long time he appeared to be without a rival. As he did not possess sufficient wealth to pay the dowry which her father required for Nakhumè, he resolved to conquer it by his lance. He set out in quest of adventures and booty with a troop of chosen companions, and their errantry was crowned with success. During the absence of Hassan a perilous competitor demanded the hand of his mistress. This rival was "Asaf, chief of the tribe of Kahtan, * Malik was the father of Abla. remarkable for his gigantic size and voice of thunder; he had under his command a numerous army that soon exhausted the country in which it was encamped, and compelled him to seek new pasturages. Whenever his approach to any district was known the inhabitants fled in every direction," and he was thus compelled to explore the surrounding countries to find out some spot where his appearance would be unexpected. In one of these expeditions he missed his way and came unexpectedly on the encampment of the tribe of Mozen, to which Hassan and his mistress belonged. "Whilst he was admiring its rich pastures he saw a number of young girls bathing in a lake, amongst whom was Nakhumè. She was freely sporting with her companions; she came out of the lake with more majesty and glory than the brilliant star of night breaking through a cloud." Asaf fell desperately in love; he hastened home and employed an old woman of his tribe to discover the name and family of the object of his passion. Before she had obtained this information Hassan returned home with the stipulated dowry; the old woman, therefore, when she returned to Asaf, brought him the intelligence that though Nakhumè was not married, she was on the point of being united to her cousin. Asaf immediately sent to demand the hand of the princess, offering to pay whatever dowry might be required, and threatening, in case of a refusal, "that he would become master of her person by force, treat her as a slave, and annihilate the tribe of Mazen, sparing not the infant at the breast, widows or orphans." Nujúm, the father of the lady, replied that his daughter was already betrothed to Hassan, and that he dared not break his plighted pledge. At the same time to show his contempt for the menaces of Asaf, he ordered preparations to be made for celebrating the marriage. Before they were completed intelligence arrived that Asaf at the head of an immense army, was advancing to fulfil his threat; the elders of Mazen insisted that Nujum should give up his daughter to save the tribe; it was with difficulty that Hassan obtained a delay of ten days while he sought assistance from the tribe of Abs. Notwithstanding the bond of union between Hassan and Prince Malik, assistance would have been refused had not it been known that Hassan was the husband of Nakhumè's choice; the chivalrous desire to save the lady from being forced to wed against her inclinations was the great cause of the eagerness with which all present volunteered their services. On the road Antar gained possession of a wondrous sword, by means to which we shall again have occasion to refer. Hassan and his friends reached Mazen just as Asaf had forced an entrance into the encampment and was beginning to deal slaughter round. Antar burst through the crowd of foes with the impetuosity of the northern blast;" Asaf fell beneath his sword, and Nakhumè rescued at the very crisis of danger was restored to her chosen husband. It was during this expedition that Antar composed his "War-song," which travellers assure us is still sung by the Bedouin warriors, with as much effect as that of Roland was before the battle of Hastings. It breathes the genuine spirit of knight errantry, and we trust that all its fire has not been quenched in the following translation : "Oh! how delightful is the gleam "I burn with ardour for the fight, "Onward the charging squadrons ride, "The night of war obscures the day, "Honour to him who knows no fear, But seeks the thickest fight, While thousands fall before the spear, Held by that arm of might. "He wields his sword that drips with blood, As calm in danger's hour, As if from peril far he stood, In some sequester'd bower. "Brothers in arms, when we advance United to the field, Our foes give way, and Kahtan's lance, Is broken on our shield. "Shame to the coward! wretched slave! "But when I fall, o'er me be said, 'A lion sleeps below, Whose prowess fill'd his foes with dread, And sav'd his tribe from woe.'" Innumerable anecdotes may be related of the inveterate death-feuds between tribes and individuals. Their strength may be inferred from the following superstition which forms an article of faith in the creed of every Bedouin. When a man perishes by violent death, his spirit forthwith animates the body of a bird, which perpetually haunts his relatives, persecuting them at bed and board, continually screaming, Oscuni, Oscuni, that is, "give me to drink," and never ceases this ominous sound until its thirst is appeased by a draught of the murderer's blood. It is curious that a superstition of a similar kind is found in that part of Sicily which was longest subject to Saracenic sway. An Italian traveller declares that he visited a castle in the island where he was hospitably entertained for several days; he observed that at every meal one seat was reserved empty, but a cover was laid before it as for some expected guest. He inquired the reason from the son of his host, who had travelled into other lands, and was therefore more likely to be communicative to strangers; the young man replied, "An old and barbarous notion still prevails amongst us, that the spirits of those who have fallen victims to treachery can never enjoy peace, if their death be not avenged with blood, alas! often with torrents of blood. My brother was murdered and not having obtained this inhuman satisfaction, is believed to be destitute in his sepulchre of a bed to rest on when weary; of food to refresh him when tormented with hunger; therefore are his room and bed kept constantly ready for his accommodation, and his usual seat is invariably reserved for him at table." Hospitality and generosity were deemed by the Arabians virtues para mount to all others, and in all their romances the hero is represented distributing boundless wealth with a lavish hand. The character given of Hatim Tai embodies all the virtues that the sons of the desert wish to see combined in a chief. "Hatim was liberal, wise, brave, and generous; when he fought he conquered; when he plundered he carried off; when he was asked he gave; when he shot the arrow he hit the mark: and whomsoever he took captive, he liberated." His fame for liberality spread all over the East. "The sovereign of Damascus," says one of the legends, "resolved to try its extent; he sent to ask of him twenty camels with red hair and black eyes-a species of camel very rare, and consequently of great value. By offering to pay a double price Hatim collected a hundred such camels, and sent them to Damascus ; the monarch not to be outdone in generosity sent them back laden with the richest treasures, but Hatim, without a moment's hesitation, ordered the animals with their precious loads to be distributed to those from whom they were originally purchased." Shortly afterwards the Emperor of Constantinople wished to make the same experiment; he sent an ambassador to demand from Hatim a valuable steed to which he was much attached. officer arrived late at night, was hospitably entertained, and in the morning stated the object of his mission. "It is too late," replied Hatim, "all my flocks and herds are at a distant pasture, and having nothing else wherewith to entertain you, I ordered that steed to be slain for your supper." The reputation of Hatim gave great offence to Naman, King of Yemen, who commissioned one of his courtiers to assassinate him! In obedience to the royal commands the emissary sought the Arabian tents; on his road he met a man of dignified aspect, who invited him to share his hospitality. After a splendid repast the courtier rose to depart, and in reply to the pressing invitation of his host stated the dangerous task which he had undertaken. To his great astonishment, the host throwing open his vest, exclaimed, "Strike boldly, I am Hatim, and strike at once that you may have time to escape the vengeance of my friends." These words were a thunderbolt to the courtier; he fell at the The |