COVE

In On Exhibit: Victorians and Their Museums, Barbara Black identifies Edward FitzGerald’s translation of the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám as an imperialist and Orientalist text. Black’s argument is informed by FitzGerald’s translations and the historical background of Victorian-era British conquest, as well as the Rubáiyát’s popularity as a gift book and collector’s item. According to Black, Rubáiyát gift books, such as the 1909 Hodder and Stoughton edition illustrated by Edmund Dulac, were “object[s] of systematic accumulation” (60). The Rubáiyát became associated with the image of the gem, a small yet precious glittering object that was more important to own or display than to read (60, 61). What literary value the Rubaiyat had was diminished by its reception and dissemination. Interpretations of FitzGerald’s translations of the Rubáiyát range from Iranian scholar Reza Taher-Kermani's assertion that FitzGerald made a genuine attempt to translate Khayyám as authentically as possible, to Black’s reading that his translations were stereotypical and Orientalist (Taher-Kermani 151, Black 58). However, in the context of a gift book as decadently packaged as the 1909 Hodder and Stoughton edition, Black’s claim that “Khayyám’s verse remains entrenched in the categorically Oriental, in the land of seers and Eastern serenity...a bit of wisdom literature that one can hold in one’s hand," seems accurate (61).

As described in the previous exhibit, “Description of the Edition," Edmund Dulac’s illustrations are the star of the 1909 Hodder and Stoughton edition of the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám. The text of the poem and Dulac’s mounted plate illustrations are not aligned, instead, each plate stands on its own, preceded by an (unnecessary) guard sheet printed with the number of the quatrain that the proceeding plate depicts [Figure 1]. The number of the rubá'i is written out rather than represented as a simple Roman numeral, and is surrounded by a decorative border, in which exotic flowers, peacock feathers, and elephants are rendered in delicate symmetry. This clear separation of the text of the poem from its corresponding image fits with Black’s conception of Rubáiyát gift books as “drawing-room collectible[s]” (63). One can easily imagine the oversized Hodder and Stoughton edition proudly on display, opened to one of Dulac’s stunning full-page illustrations.

Edmund Dulac’s biographer Colin White describes the artist as having a deep fascination with Eastern art and culture, which was often the subject of his illustrations and a heavy influence on his art style. In 1913, Dulac toured the Mediterranean, visiting locales such as Greece, Malta, Tunisia (White 64-65). Dulac’s diary reveals the extent to which he romanticized the Middle East; White writes that, “at Hermopolis, Dulac felt that at last he had arrived at the Orient. ‘The town looked quite Arabic...where the sentimental traveler can give himself up to memories of a graceful past’” (65). It is possible to read Dulac’s admiration for Persian and East Asian culture as appreciation. However, his use of the word “sentimental” and his association of an “Arabic look” with “memories of a graceful past” shows that Dulac’s image of the Middle East was colored by the common perception of "the Orient" as exotic, sensual, and primitive, as compared to the Christian, industrialized, and modern West. Dulac’s hobby of designing and dressing in Orientalist costumes for charades, fancy-dress parties, and tableaux vivants, mirrors the elaborate Persian-themed dinners thrown by the high-class members of Omar Khayyám clubs (White 43, Black 60).

Dulac’s illustration for the eleventh quatrain of the Rubáiyát reveals these Orientalist notions. The eleventh quatrain [Figure 2] reads:

With me along the strip of Herbage strown

That just divides the desert from the sown,

Where name of Slave and Sultán is forgot—

And Peace to Máhmúd on his golden Throne!

Quatrain eleven includes some of the more explicitly Orientalist images in FitzGerald’s second edition translation of the Rubáiyát. Dulac was likely drawn to this quatrain due to its inclusion of characters—the slaves and the sultan Máhmúd—and the attractive image of “his golden Throne”. In Dulac’s interpretation of the quatrain [Figure 3], the sultan sits on a gilded throne, surrounded by patterned curtains, rugs, pillows, and scattered scrolls. Máhmúd looks sullenly off into the distance, while he is pampered and serenaded by enslaved women or servants. Despite the obvious pleasures and intellectual pursuits available to him, he seems discontented. In comparison to the personality and character animating Máhmúd’s face, the women appear flat and empty. They are props, ethereal and gem-like, idealized images fitting Dulac’s rose-colored impression of the streets of Hermopolis. White describes Dulac’s illustrations of women in the Rubáiyát as “oval-faced...unveiled, solemn, and even as slave girls, languorous” (42). While the pale countenances of these women are hauntingly beautiful, it is impossible to ignore their enslaved status—their purpose is to be desired by the viewer. The objectification of Persian women in Dulac’s illustrations cements the 1909 Hodder and Stoughton edition as an Orientalist text.

Works Cited

Black, Barbara J. On Exhibit: Victorians and Their Museums. The University Press of Virginia, 2000.

FitzGerald, Edward, translator. Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám. Illustrated by Edmund Dulac, Hodder and Stoughton, 1909.

Taher-Kermani, Reza. The Persian Presence in Victorian Poetry. Edinburgh University Press, 2020.

White, Colin. Edmund Dulac, Studio Vista. 1976. Internet Archive, https://archive.org/details/edmunddulac0000whit/page/22/mode/2up