A journey over land to India

by Donald Campbell

The French gentleman whom I mentioned to you in my last, as having procured me that pleasant repast at the coffee-house, called on me a morning or two after that, and reminded me how highly I seemed to be entertained; said, there were often to be seen, by walking about and going into public places, a variety of things, which, however worthless and unentertaining in themselves, might, from the novelty of their appearance, and their unlikeliness to any thing seen in Europe, serve either to divert by their oddity, or promote the conception of new ideas in the mind: he therefore recommended it to me, with all the zeal of a person who took an interest in my happiness, to keep on my legs and in the streets while I remained at Aleppo.

You will conclude that I readily complied, and we sallied out directly in quest of adventure. We proceeded, therefore, to one of the beforementioned coffee-houses, where, as my friend observed to me, though there were no people of great rank, there was generally something to afford contemplation or amusement; and where, if nothing else occurred, the motley appearance of the company was sufficient to excite a variety of whimsical emotions, and suggest numberless ludicrous images to the imagination of an English or French man. As there was no orator at work declaiming, I had time to indulge myself with a more accurate view than I had before taken of the group that surrounded us: and surely never was ponderous gravity more ludicrously, or in more various forms depicted by any caricaturist in the world.—Here it was to be seen, in all its shadings, from the self-important nod of serious cogitation, down to the soporific aspect of stolid stupidity. Not a muscle was moved in way of mirth, not a face disgraced with a smile, and I could not help thinking all the time, that if every nation of the earth was to take some animal for its insignia, as the British assume the lion, and the Prussian the eagle, the Turks might be divided in their choice between the appropriate claims of the owl and the ass.

Soon after we entered, a band of what they called music, struck up a concert. And here again the notion of the owl and the ass struck me with increased force, as peculiarly presiding over their music: for no other combination of sounds that I know on earth, but the screeching of the one, and the braying of the other, could form any thing to resemble this concert, with which the auditory seemed vastly pleased, though I was obliged to betake myself to flight, in order to get relief from the torture it gave me. The Turks, however, as I retreated, honoured me with a few remarks, which as I did not understand, I could not precisely feel; my friend however told me, they were to the effect that we were Frangi Dumus (Frank Hog), and had no more ear than that filthy animal for music.

Come, said my friend, don’t be discouraged!—But the music—the music! interrupted I.—Well then, said he, the music, or rather the sounds were execrable to be sure; they have at least served to establish this certainty, that there is nothing, however discordant or detestable, which habit will not reconcile us to. Doubt not, said he, that the best piece of Handel or Correlli, performed by the best band in Rome, would appear as ridiculous to them, as their concert did to us.

We visited many coffee-houses in the course of that day, in every one of which we found something to divert or disgust us; at length as we entered one, my friendly guide turning to me with satisfaction in his countenance, said “Here is something about to go forward that will please you better than the concert of music.” What is it, said I? A drama, returned he; a drama, to you most certainly of a new and extraordinary kind; and I do assure you that so zealous am I to procure you entertainment, I would rather than a couple of loui’s you could understand what is going forward: your hearty mirth and laughter, added he, are sufficient to put one in spirits. He then directed my attention to a fellow who was busily employed in erecting a stage, which he accomplished in a time incredibly short. The light of the sun was completely excluded, and a puppet shew commenced, which gave great delight to all the audience, and, ignorant as I was of the language, pleased me very much.

I was astonished when informed that one man only spoke for all the personages of the drama, for so artfully did he change his tone of voice, that I could have sworn there had been as many people to speak, as there were characters in the piece. The images were not actually puppets, commonly so called, but shadows done in the manner of Astley’s Ombres Chinoises. They were, however, far inferior to his in execution and management, though the dialogue and incident evidently appeared, even to me, to be executed with a degree of the vis comica far superior to any I ever saw in a thing of the kind in Europe; indeed so perfect was the whole, that though I knew not a word of the language, I comprehended clearly the plan of the piece, and many of the strokes of humour contained in the dialogues.—The plan was obviously taken from a story which I have read in some of the Eastern tales, I believe the Arabian Nights Entertainments, and it is founded on the law of the country, that a man may repudiate his wife twice, and take her back again; but in the event of a third divorce, cannot retake her to his marriage-bed, unless she be previously married and divorced by another man. To obviate which, husbands who repent having divorced their wives a third time, employ a man to marry them, and restore her back again; and he who does this office is called a Hullah.—In the piece before us, however, the Lady and the Hullah like each other so well, that they agree not to separate; the husband brings them both before the Cadi to enforce a separation; and the scene before the Cadi was as ludicrous, and as keen a satire upon those magistrates as can well be conceived, though of the low kind.

The piece was introduced with a grand nuptial procession, in which the master displayed the powers of his voice by uttering a variety of the most opposite tones in the whole gamut of the human voice; sometimes speaking, sometimes squeaking like a hurt child, sometimes huzzaing as a man, a woman, or a child; sometimes neighing like a horse, and sometimes interspersing it with other such sounds as commonly occur in crowds, in such a manner as astonished me: while the concomitant action of the images, grotesque beyond measure, kept up the laugh; horses kicking and throwing their riders, asses biting those near them, and kicking those behind them, who retire limping in the most ridiculous manner; while their great standing character in all pieces; Kara-ghuse (the same as our Punch), raised a general roar of obstreperous mirth even from the Turks, with his whimsical action, of which I must say that, though nonsensical, though indecent, and sometimes even disgusting, it was on the whole the most finished composition of low ribaldry and fun that I ever beheld.

When they come before the Cadi, he is seated in his divan of justice; but as soon as the complaint is opened and answered, he rises and comes forward between the contending parties: here he turns to one and demands in a terrific tone what he has to say, while the other puts cash in his hand behind, and in proportion as the cash is counted in, increases the terror of his voice; he then pockets the money, and again turns to the other, and demands what he has to offer, while in like manner he receives the bribes from his adversary and puts it in an opposite pocket: this alternate application lasts till the purses of both are exhausted, when, giving a great groan, he retires on one side to reckon the money of each from a pocket he has on either side, one called plaintiff, and the other defendant; when balancing them, he finds plaintiff better by one asper (or three-halfpence) than defendant, and pronounces his judgment accordingly. The defendant appeals to the Bashaw; they go before him: Kara-ghuse (Punch) however, takes the defendant aside, and in a dialogue, which my friend assured me was pointed, witty, and bitterly satirical, developes to him the whole system of magistratical injustice, advises him to bribe the Bashaw, and, declaring his zeal for all young people fond of amorous enjoyment (which he is at some pains to enlarge upon to the excess of indelicacy), offers him the aid of his purse. The advice is followed; the bribe is accepted; the Cadi’s decree is reversed, and himself disgraced, and the mob at once hustle him and bear the Hullah home to his bride with clamours of joy. Here again the master shewed his extraordinary powers, giving not only, as before, distinct and opposite tones of voice, but huddling a number of different sounds with such skill and rapidity together, that it was scarcely possible to resist the persuasion that they were the issue of a large and tumultuous crowd of men and animals. With this extravagant melange the curtain dropped, and the performance ended.

Returning home we conversed together on the subject of the piece, which I confess I could not get out of my head for some time. My friend explained to me, as well as he could recollect, a great part of the dialogue, and assured me, that the freedom of speech of Monsieur Kara-ghuse had from time to time created a great deal of uneasiness, not only to private offending individuals, but to the magistracy itself—that no offender, however intrenched behind power, or enshrined in rank, could escape him—that Bashaws, Cadi’s, nay the Janissaries themselves, were often made the sport of his fury; that he was not more restrained in the effusions of obscenity which he uttered, than in his satire; that he was always well received and applauded, even venerated (as we venerate the liberty of the press) as a bold teller of truth, who with little mischief does a great deal of good, and often rouses the lethargic public mind to a sense of public dangers and injuries. He added, that in some cases the Magistrate had been obliged to interfere; and the Bashaw himself was seriously called upon at times to stop the licentious tongue of this champion of Freedom, Kara-ghuse.

“Well then,” said I, “it appears upon the whole that Monsieur Kara-ghuse is a very great blackguard, but a very witty, and a very honest one.”