The History of Caliph Vathek | Page 2

he gave his
mind to it and the sitting lasted three days and two nights. An English
version of it was made by a stranger, and published without permission
in 1784. Beckford himself published his tale at Paris and Lausanne in
1787, one year after the death of a wife to whom he had been three
years married, and who left him with two daughters.
Beckford went to Portugal and Spain; returned to France, and was
present at the storming of the Bastille. He was often abroad; he bought
Gibbon's library at Lausanne, and shut himself up with it for a time,

having a notion of reading it through. He was occasionally in
Parliament, but did not care for that kind of amusement. He wrote
pieces of less enduring interest than "Vathek," including two
burlesques upon the sentimental novel of his time. In 1796 he settled
down at Fonthill, and began to spend there abundantly on building and
rebuilding. Perhaps he thought of Vathek's tower when he employed
workmen day and night to build a tower for himself three hundred feet
high, and set them to begin it again when it fell down. He is said to
have spent upon Fonthill a quarter of a million, living there in much
seclusion during the last twenty years of his life. He died in 1844.
The happy thought of this William Beckford's life was "Vathek." It is a
story that paints neither man nor outward nature as they are, but
reproduces with happy vivacity the luxuriant imagery and wild
incidents of an Arabian tale. There is a ghost of a moral in the story of a
sensual Caliph going to the bad, as represented by his final introduction
to the Halls of Eblis. But the enjoyment given by the book reflects the
real enjoyment that the author had in writing it--enjoyment great
enough to cause it to be written at a heat, in one long sitting, without
flagging power. Young and lively, he delivered himself up to a free run
of fancy, revelled in the piled-up enormities of the Wicked Mother,
who had not brought up Vathek properly, and certainly wrote some
parts of his nightmare tale as merrily as if he were designing matter for
a pantomime.
Whoever, in reading "Vathek," takes it altogether seriously, does not
read it as it was written. We must have an eye for the vein of caricature
that now and then comes to the surface, and invites a laugh without
disturbing the sense of Eastern extravagance bent seriously upon the
elaboration of a tale crowded with incident and action. Taken altogether
seriously, the book has faults of construction. But the faults turn into
beauties when we catch the twinkle in the writer's eye.
H. M.

THE HISTORY OF THE CALIPH VATHEK

Vathek, ninth Caliph of the race of the Abassides, was the son of
Motassem, and the grandson of Haroun Al Raschid. From an early
accession to the throne, and the talents he possessed to adorn it, his
subjects were induced to expect that his reign would be long and happy.
His figure was pleasing and majestic; but when he was angry one of his
eyes became so terrible that no person could bear to behold it, and the
wretch upon whom it was fixed instantly fell backward, and sometimes
expired. For fear, however, of depopulating his dominions and making
his palace desolate he but rarely gave way to his anger.
Being much addicted to women and the pleasures of the table, he
sought by his affability to procure agreeable companions; and he
succeeded the better as his generosity was unbounded, and his
indulgences unrestrained, for he was by no means scrupulous, nor did
he think with the Caliph Omar Ben Abdalaziz that it was necessary to
make a hell of this world to enjoy Paradise in the next.
He surpassed in magnificence all his predecessors. The palace of
Alkoremmi, which his father Motassem had erected on the hill of Pied
Horses, and which commanded the whole city of Samarah, was in his
idea far too scanty; he added therefore five wings, or rather other
palaces, which he destined for the particular gratification of each of his
senses.
In the first of these were tables continually covered with the most
exquisite dainties, which were supplied both by night and by day,
according to their constant consumption, whilst the most delicious
wines and the choicest cordials flowed forth from a hundred fountains
that were never exhausted. This palace was called "The Eternal or
Unsatiating Banquet."
The second was styled "The Temple of Melody, or the Nectar of the
Soul." It was inhabited by the most skilful musicians and admired poets
of the time, who not only displayed their talents within, but, dispersing
in bands without, caused every