The story consists of seven connected tales, of the same general character with those of the Arabian Nights Entertainments. In exciting interest, in ethical charm, in imaginative richness of startling adventures, it is not one whit inferior to the very best of those world-renowned masterpieces. It is a magnificent specimen of that ideal freedom of genius which creates its own world, peoples it with its own productions and events, and sympathizes, in vivid interior reproduction, with the romantic experiences of its characters and their destinies. Herein it is a valuable education of the reader in dramatic liberty of mind, fertility of fancy, quickness and strength of emotional action and reaction.
The whole production is also marked by an eminently humane and heroic spirit. The illustrious personage who figures as its hero, and whose thrilling adventures it records, was in his time regarded as an unequalled pattern of bravery, wisdom, and generosity. Hatim ben Ubaid ben Sa’id, chief of the tribe of Taï, lived in the latter half of the sixth century of the Christian era. His native country was Arabia felix, otherwise named Yemen. As the country was then divided into numerous tribes, it is probable that his sway extended only over a few thousand warriors who bore his family name of Taï and owned his chieftaincy. At all events he had in the highest degree all the virtues then most admired. An Arabian author of the twelfth century says of him: “Hatim was brave, liberal, wise, victorious. When he fought, he conquered; when he plundered, he carried off; when he was asked, he gave; when he shot his arrow, he hit the mark; and whomsoever he captured, he liberated.”
It is related of him that when he went a-hunting he never wounded the creatures he pursued with an arrow or any other deadly weapon, but used to catch them in nets and again set them at liberty. He never, it is said, uttered abusive language, but always spoke mildly. He possessed beauty so extreme that all men and women admired him and coveted his companionship. When any one approached him with a complaint and laid hold of the bridle of his horse, he would address the suppliant in consoling terms, examine into his grievances and afford him protection; for tyranny or wrong he countenanced not.
Naturally the chief who drew such encomiums became the favorite theme of poetry and romance. Throughout the East the name of Hatim Taï is synonymous with heroism and liberality. The highest compliment that can be paid to a generous man is to call him the Hatim of the day. Among the many allusions to him by Arabic and Persian authors, the two following anecdotes may here suffice:
The Greek emperor contemporary with Hatim once sent an embassador to Yemen to ask of the chief the gift of a favorite horse. The magnanimous Arab had received no intimation either of the embassy or of its object, and therefore was quite unprepared for the reception of the embassador when he arrived. In order to provide a suitable entertainment for his distinguished guest and his attendants he had no other resource than to order his favorite horse to be killed and roasted for the occasion. This was done. After the feast the embassador stated the wish of his royal master. Hatim replied: “It is too late. The horse has been slain for our repast. When you came I knew not the object of your journey, and had no other food to offer you.” The second anecdote is still more astonishing. It is indeed quite on a par with the transcendental idealism of the goodness of Buddha, who is said actually to have given himself as a meal for a famished tigress. One day Hatim went to the desert, and there suddenly came upon a lion. He said in his heart: “It will be inhuman for me to attack this lion with my weapon; yet if I smite him not he will devour me. Perhaps by the divine favor I may soothe his heart.” In mild tones he said to the lion[1]: “Creature of God, if thou art hungry for my flesh, it is at thy service; devour me and be not sad-hearted.” At these words the lion lowered his head and fell at the feet of Hatim and began to wipe his eyes against them. Hatim said: “Creature of God, far be it from me that thou shouldst depart hungry. Of my own free will I give myself up, and if thou eatest me not it will distress me.” The lion thereupon laid his face in the dust and then departed to his haunt. The story, in its child-like naïveté and sweetness, is closely akin to some of the legends of Saint Francis of Assisi.
In the Kozal-ul-Sufa is the following brief notice of the death of Hatim. “In the eighth year after the birth of the Prophet, died Noushirwan the Just and Hatim Taï the Generous, both famous for their virtues.” In the same work it is further stated that toward the close of the life of Mohammed the host of the Faithful, in propagating the religion of the prophet, ravaged and laid waste the territory of the tribe of Taï. Adi, the son of Hatim, fled to Syria; but his sister and such of his people as were spared were brought as prisoners to Medina. The prophet gave them their choice of embracing the faith or of having their heads cut off. Then the daughter of Hatim stood forth and pleaded the cause of her tribe. On hearing the revered name of Hatim, Mohammed issued a free pardon to the whole tribe of Taï.
According to D’Herbelot, the tomb of Hatim is to be seen at Aovaredh, a small village in Arabia. The spot consecrated by his dust is still visited with the reverence due to the memory of the generous and devoted.
If he who now writes these words in commendation of the fascinating romance herewith presented to the public can judge from his own experience to infer that of others, no fit reader of the Adventures of Hatim Taï will ever forget the pleasure the perusal of them gave him or lose from his soul the inspiring impulse imparted by the transcendent tenderness, docility, heroism, magnanimity, purity and piety that breathe through the moral teachings incarnated in them.
To the thoughtful scholar the highest interest of the whole work lies in the fact that it is an embodiment of the Mohammedan ideal of human excellence. Hatim walks before us as the impersonated model of what man should be according to the standard of Islam. In that ideal the four chief virtues are faith, veracity, kindness and blind submission to the decrees of fate. The Christian ideal puts in place of blind submission to the will of God as fate, an intelligent and loving coöperation of the will of the creature with the will of the Creator as rational freedom. The Islamite hero, in shooting at the mark on which his life depends, confides all to Allah and shuts his eyes as he shoots. The Christian pattern under such circumstances would equally trust in God, but also take careful aim. For he hears God say: “I will guide thee with mine eye, seeing with thine!”