The Book of Ballads, edited by Bon Gaultier [pseud.]Martin, Theodore, Sir
General
The Book of Ballads, edited by Bon Gaultier [pseud.]
Martin, Theodore, Sir
Parodies
"Had Byron been alive, or Moore not ceased to write, we should have
bidden them look to their laurels. 'Nonsense,' says Dryden, 'shall
be eloquent in love,' and here we find the axiom aptly illustrated,
for in this Eastern Serenade are comprised nonsense and eloquence in
perfection. But, apart from its erotic and poetical merits, it is a
great curiosity, as exhibiting in a very marked manner the singular
changes which the stride of civilisation and the bow-string of the
Sultan Mahmoud have made in the Turkish language and customs within a
very few years. Thus we learn from the writer that a 'musnud,' which
in Byron's day was a sofa, now signifies a nightingale. A 'tophaik,'
which once fired away in Moore's octosyllabics as a musket, is
metamorphosed into a bank of flowers. 'Zemzem,' the sacred well, now
makes shift as a chemise; while the rallying-cry of 'Allah-hu' closes
in a stanza as a military cloak. Even 'Gehenna,' the place of
torment, is mitigated into a valley, rich in unctuous spices. But
the most singular of all these transmutations of the Turkish
vocabulary is that of the word 'Effendi,' which used to be a
respectful epithet applied to a Christian gentleman, but is now the
denomination of a dog. Most of these changes are certainly highly
poetical, and, while we admire their ingenuity, we do not impugn
their correctness. But with all respect for the author, the
Honourable Sinjin Muff, we think that, in one or two instances, he
has sacrificed propriety at the shrine of imagination. We do not
allude to such little incongruities as the waving of a minaret, or
the watching of a mosque. These may be accounted for; but who--who,
we ask with some earnestness, ever heard of cheroots growing
ready-made among the grass, or of a young lady keeping an appointment
in a scarf trimmed with mutton cutlets? We say nothing to the bold
idea of a dragoman, who snaps Eblis in twain, as a gardener might
snap a frosted carrot; but we will not give up our own interpretation
of 'kiebaubs,' seeing that we dined upon them not two months ago at
the best chop-house in Constantinople."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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