Page images
PDF
EPUB

borate description of it, as well as the account of his visit to the ruins of Nineveh. These are scattered along the eastern banks of the Tigris; and, though highly deserving the attention of the traveller, afford but little attraction, in their details, to a reader. From Mousul, Mr. Buckingham proceeded on his way to Bagdad, and as we are now on ground which has been recently passed over by several travellers, we shall merely notice a circumstance that occurred on this part of his journey, and which served to introduce him to as precious a model of combined curiosity and ignorance, as ever perhaps quitted a mother's apron strings. Our traveller happened to be detained, by a mischance, at the town of Kiffree, and while, like a thorough philosopher, he was endeavouring to console himself, as well as he could, under his misfortune, a Tartar arrived from Bagdad, bringing under his charge two Europeans.

[ocr errors]

They arrived so opportunely, that we made them joint partakers of our feast; and the two gentlemen, who were but yet in the commencement of their journey, being well provided with cordials and spirits for their own use, we assisted to drain, notwithstanding the heat of the weather and the presence of some of the Faithful, their travelling cases of a portion of the fine French brandy and excellent Ratafia with which they were furnished. 'Over our afternoon pipes, and while the Turks beside us were sleeping away the heat of the day, I began to learn more of my companions, who had thus suddenly come upon us, and who now very agreeably relieved the tedium of our detention. Both of them were Italians; the eldest, named Padre Camilla di Jesu, was a friar of the Carmelite order, who had been many years resident at Bagdad, and was now returning to Rome, by way of Constantinople; the other was a young man, who had gone originally from Italy to Constantinople, where he had resided some time with his father, a merchant of that city. Having heard, from some of the distant traders with whom his father corresponded, of the fame of Damascus, he solicited permission to make a journey to that city, and it was granted to him, under the hope of his being able to transact some useful business there, at the same time that he gratified his curiosity. The most singular part of the history of this young man's travels was, however, that he went from Constantinople to Alexandria in Egypt, believing that to be the straightest and shortest road to Damascus; and, after landing there, he went up to Cairo by the Nile, under an impression that that city was also in the direct road to the place of his destination. When he had at length reached Damascus, by this circuitous route, having gone from Cairo to Jerusalem by the Desert of Suez, one would have thought that the recollection of this error would have taught him to make more careful inquiries regarding the relative positions of places he might have to visit in future. But it appears did discover that he had not come by the nearest way, believing always, on the contrary, that his voyage to Alexandria by sea, and his journey from Cairo to Damascus by land, had been in nearly a straight line. It was thus, that when he was about to leave Damascus, on his return to Constantinople, having heard of great caravans going from the former place to Bagdad every year, and being aware of others coming also from Bagdad to Constantinople in about the same period of time, he conceived that these caravans must be the same; and concluding from this, that Bagdad lay in his

he never

direct road home, he had actually journeyed from Damascus to that place, over the Syrian Desert, in the hottest season of the year, without ever once asking, during the whole forty days of his route, in which direction Constantinople lay!'-pp. 345, 346.

Arrived in the city of the Caliphs, Mr. Buckingham, of course, enters into a variety of observations upon it, which the reader, who has not already made himself acquainted with Bagdad, will be well pleased to have the opportunity of perusing. They are ample, and very pleasantly written. We can only afford room for a little peep into the routine of domestic life, which seems to prevail among its inhabitants. It need hardly be premised, that their bed-rooms are usually the flat roofs of their houses.

'As the view from our lofty terrace at an early hour in the morning laid open at least eight or ten bed-rooms in different quarters around us, where all the families slept in the open air, domestic scenes were exposed to view, without our being once perceived, or even suspected to be witnesses of them. Among the more wealthy, the husband slept on a raised bedstead, with a mattress and cushions of silk, covered by a thick stuffed quilt of cotton, the bed being without curtains or mosquito net. The wife slept on a similar bed, but always on the ground, that is, without a bedstead, and at a respectful distance from her husband, while the children, sometimes to the number of three or four, occupied only one mattress, and the slaves or servants each a separate mat on the earth, but all lying down and rising up within sight of each other. Every one rose at an early hour, so that no one continued in bed after the sun was up; and each, on rising, folded up his own bed, his coverlid, and pillows, to be taken into the house below, excepting only the children, for whom this office was performed by the slave or the mother.

None of all these persons were as much undressed as Europeans generally are when in bed. The men retained their shirt, drawers, and often their caftan, a kind of inner cloak. The children and servants lay down with nearly the same quantity of clothes as they had worn in the day; and the mothers and their grown daughters wore the full silken trowsers of the Turks, with an open gown; and if rich, their turbans, or if poor, an ample red chemise, and a simpler covering for the head. In most of the instances which we saw, the wives assisted, with all due respect and humility, to dress and undress their husbands, and to perform all the duties of valets.

'After dressing, the husband generally performed his devotions, while the slave was preparing a pipe and coffee; and, on his seating himself on his carpet, when this was done, his wife served him with her own hands, retiring at a proper distance to wait for the cup, and always standing before him, sometimes, indeed, with the hands crossed, in an attitude of great humility, and even kissing his hand on receiving the cup from it, as is done by the lowest attendants of the household.

While the husband lounged on his cushions, or sat on his carpet in an attitude of ease and indolence, to enjoy his morning pipe, the women of the family generally prayed. In the greater number of instances, they did so separately, and exactly after the manner of the men; but on one or two occasions, the mistress and some other females, perhaps a sister or a relative, prayed together, following each other's motions, side by side, as is done when a party of men are headed in their devotions by an Imaum. None of

the females, whether wife, servant, or slave, omitted this morning duty; but among the children under twelve or fourteen years of age, I did not observe any instance of their joining in it.'-pp. 549, 550.

[ocr errors]

In taking our leave of Mr. Buckingham, we cannot but express our unfeigned admiration of the manly and truly British character which he has evinced, in resisting, and ultimately defeating, the rancorous and insolent opposition, so industriously carried on for several years against his literary exertions, by Mr. W. J. Bankes, and all that gentleman's numerous relatives and dependants. The history of letters in this country, offers no example of a persecution, so unjust in its origin, so bitter in its progress, and so disgraceful in its termination, to all the parties who confederated to support it. We sincerely congratulate Mr. Buckingham on his victory, for its consequences extend beyond himself, inasmuch as it adds a signal proof, to the many already on record, that mere family influence, however powerful, in the fashionable and political world, dwindles to the weakness of a baby, when it dares to contend with the common law of England.

ART. XI. National Tales. By Thomas Hood, Author of Whims and Oddities.' 2 vols., 8vo. 17. Is. London: William H. Ainsworth. 1827.

MR. HOOD is well known, and extensively too, as a humourist of resistless power, but whose singular delight it is to make out the oddest resemblances in the world. He brings ideas together, which nobody would have ever thought of associating: and one is obliged to laugh at the strangeness of the juxta-position. He will shew you a man shooting his arrow at an oak, and the weapon glancing past it an exhibition, Mr. Hood tells you, that hierogliphically shadows forth the name of one of the most popular of modern songstresses: and is it not, to all intents and purposes, an unquestionable "miss tree?" The capacity to jest successfully in this way, is no very great power in itself; but it is a dexterity that supposes power. The faculty which shapes conundrums at leisure, which toys with rebusses, charades, and the other pastimes of the mind, will, in a more expanded sphere, approve itself capable of a superior destiny. The habitual conqueror at the chess-board, is a very likely person to out-manœuvre his adversary in the field. In saying thus much of Mr. Hood, we have, we think, assigned to him a turn of mind, which is not much disposed to harmonize with "the melting mood." Why it is that he has volunteered upon the ensanguined domain of the tragic muse, and attempted to wield the instruments of terror, must be left to the solution of those who have already ascertained wherefore it is, that Mr. Liston still has a hankering after Macbeth and Othello; and fondly, and very seriously, believes, that the time will yet come when he can murder

old Duncan, and dispatch Desdemona, in good theatrical earnest, at Covent Garden! Nothing can be more awkward, however, than the acting of Mr. Hood, in this chosen suit of sables. He is in danger every moment of turning the scene into a mockery; nor is it without a vigorous struggle that he can preserve the balance of his mind, in a position so foreign to all its experience. The dagger of death is in his hand; but ere long you suspect that he will make a merry burlesque thrust with the implement. The direful imprecation falls from him-but his mystery is out at once-detected by the droll leer which plays about his lip. In short, the moment he assumes one of those sorrowful disguises, he winks at his audience, as if to establish a communication with them, for the purpose of their being all merry together at somebody's expense.

In a province of literature where Mr. Hood is so little known, and where, we may add, he knows so little, it is perfectly natural that he should carry things to an extreme. The "novitas regni” is his excuse but certainly, in the Tales before us, there appears such a superfluity of disasters of all kinds, with so much of abominable crime, which, along with being thoroughly revolting, is altogether gratuitous, that Mr. Hood very forcibly reminds us, in his poetical distribution, of that wicked judge, who never thought that he did his duty to his country, unless he ordered every body whom be tried, for immediate execution. A very formidable example of this abuse is to be found in the very first tale, which is called, not inaptly, The Spanish Tragedy." This is a story which leads the reader through every mood of the tragic scale, there are love, and eternal separation-the terrific revelry of a banditti; and after various individual murders, there is a general slaughter, in which not even those escape, who were already sufficiently punished by madness and despair. The supposed narrator of this tale, on his way from Andalusia to Madrid, whither he goes to search for his uncle, now more than a reasonable time missing from his family, stops, by chance, at a house, apparently, of entertainment, but as it afterwards turned out, really the habitation of a banditti. There is no chance of escape, after he has once entered the den of terrors, save through the agency of a wild maniac girl, the daughter of the chief brigand (who is called also the inn-keeper). This wretched being, discovering a resemblance in the young cavalier to a lover, for whose untimely death she had sorrowed herself to madness, takes pity on him, and appoints an hour at night when she will come to his cell, and rescue him effectually from his imminent danger. It was of the utmost consequence that she should be exceedingly punctual, for that very night, the inn-keeper, as he had overheard, was to dispatch him. The moments went heavily bythe hour of assignation passed-and no angel of deliverance made her appearance, and an appalling uncertainty held the mind of the young cavalier.

At length a sound came, which my ear readily distinguished, by its

distinctness, from the mere suggestions of fear: it was the cautious unlocking and opening of the door. My eyes turning instantly in that direction, were eagerly distended, but there was not a glimmer of light even accompanied the entrance of my unknown visitor: but it was a man's foot. A boiling noise rushed through my ears, and my tongue and throat were parched with a sudden and stifling thirst. The power of utterance and of motion seemed at once to desert me; my heart panted as though it were grown too large for my body, and the weight of twenty mountains lay piled upon my breast. To lie still, however, was to be lost. By a violent exertion of the will, I flung myself out of the bed, furthest from the door; and scarcely had I set foot upon the ground, when I heard something strike against the opposite side. Immediately afterwards a heavy blow was given a second-a third; the stabs themselves, as well as the sound, seemed to fall upon my very heart. A cold sweat rushed out upon my forehead. I felt sick, my limbs bowed, and I could barely keep myself from falling. It was certain that my absence would be promptly discovered: that a search would instantly commence, and my only chance was, by listening intensely for his footsteps, to discern the course and elude the approaches of my foe.

I could hear him grasp the pillows, and the rustling of the bed-clothes as he turned them over in his search. For a minute all was then deeply, painfully silent. I could fancy him stealing towards me, and almost supposed the warmth of his breath against my face. I expected every instant to feel myself seized, I knew not where, in his grasp, and my flesh was ready to shrink all over from his touch. Such an interval had now elapsed as I judged would suffice for him to traverse the bed; and in fact the next moment his foot struck against the wainscot close beside me, followed by a long hasty sweep of his arm along the wall-it seemed to pass over my head. Then all was still again, as if he paused to listen; meanwhile I strode away, silently as death, in the direction of the opposite side of the chamber. Then I paused: but I had suppressed my breath so long, that involuntarily it escaped from me in a long deep sigh, and I was forced again to change my station. There was not a particle of light; but in shifting cautiously round, I espied a bright spot or crevice in the wall: upon this spot I resolved to keep my eyes steadily fixed, judging that by this means I should be warned of the approach of any opaque body, by its intercepting the light. On a sudden, it was obscured; but I have reason to believe it was by some unconscious movement of my own, for just as I retired backwards, from the approach, as I conceived, of my enemy, I was suddenly seized from behind. The crisis was come, and all my fears were consummated: I was in the arms of the assassin!

A fierce and desperate struggle instantly commenced, which, from its nature, could be but of short duration. I was defenceless, but my adversary was armed; and wherever he might aim his dagger, I was disabled, by the utter darkness, from warding off the blow. The salvation of my life depended only on the strength and presence of mind I might bring to the conflict. A momentary relaxation of his hold indicated that my foe was about to make use of his weapon; and my immediate impulse was to grasp him so closely round the body, as to deprive him of the advantage. My antagonist was fearfully powerful, and struggled violently to free himself from my arms; but an acquaintance with wrestling and athletic sports,

[blocks in formation]
« PreviousContinue »