March 27

The Curtains of Solomon

Solomon’s Song of Solomon 1:1-6

In its external aspect, the Song of Solomon is peculiarly rich in its allusions to regal customs, especially to such as are connected with marriage, and is replete with images of various kinds, the adequate development of which might furnish matter for an illustrative commentary larger than the entire volume which the reader holds in his hands.

At the beginning of the poem, Shulamith is first introduced, expressing her ardent admiration of Shelomoh. She then turns to the daughters, and deprecates their contempt of her foreign, or else rustic, character and appearance, saying, “I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, as the tents of Kedar, as the pavilions of Solomon.” That is, black as the Arab tents, yet comely as Solomon’s royal pavilions.

The contrast here intended, clearly indicates the possession by Solomon of very rich tents, and probably of one pre-eminently magnificent state-tent, which formed a most remarkable contrast to the plain dark tents of the Arabs.

Harmer Note: Harmer, Outlines of a Commentary on Solomon’s Song—a work much less known than his Observations on Passages of Scripture, but containing much curious matter, which it is, however, difficult to make of any use, by reason of the singularly confused arrangement. considers that Shelomoh had, according to the customs of the East, gone forth in much state to meet his bride on the road; which had been especially proper, if, as most suppose, this lady was the princess of Egypt. If this were the case, any one acquainted with the customs of the East, will find it probable that a proper number of tents—those of the king and the attending nobles, were set up, in all the pomp of royal magnificence, at the place where he was to receive the bride. This might very possibly be necessary where this ceremony took place, but even if the spot were well inhabited, an encampment would still probably have been formed, it being customary now, and probably was then, for great personages to make use of their own commodious and splendid tents, rather than the houses of others, when they are upon a journey. Indeed, they sometimes choose them for celebrating transactions of consequence, when their own palaces are near enough to be available, but for the preference for tents. Thus the presentation of a dress of honor to the governor of a province in Persia, usually takes place in a tent at some distance from the chief town, to which the governor repairs to meet the royal commissioners sent to invest him. So Van Egmond and Heyman inform us, that the rejoicings and entertainments, when they were at Constantinople, on account of the circumcising of the children of the Grand Signior, were held in a camp pitched for the purpose in the neighborhood of that great city.

Under this point of view, there appears a peculiar energy, as well as beauty, in the bride comparing herself to the pavilions of Shelomoh; and the mention of the pastoral tents, and, presently, of flocks, is very lively and poetical, as it is highly probable that a pastoral encampment, perhaps of an Arabian or Kenite tribe, would, under such circumstances, be in view, to suggest and emphasize the allusion.

But the magnificence of royal state-tents, such as excited the admiration of the bride, affords ground for further observation. Most of the eastern kings possess one or more such tents, to be used as occasion requires. “It must be owned,” say the travellers last named, “that the Turks spare for nothing in rendering their tents convenient and magnificent. Those belonging to the Grand Signior are exceedingly splendid, and covered entirely with silk; and one of them lined with a rich silk stuff, the right side of which was the apartment for the eunuchs. But even this was exceeded by another which, I was informed, cost 25,000 piasters. Note: This would not now be a very extraordinary sum, but the piaster was then of much higher value, both absolutely and relatively, than at present. It was made in Persia, and intended as a present to the Grand Signior, and was not finished in less than three or four years. The outside of this tent was not indeed remarkable, but it was lined with a single piece, made of camel’s hair, and beautifully decorated with festoons and sentences in the Turkish language.” Persia was, indeed, early celebrated for magnificent tents. In the old Arabian romance of “Antar,” the hero, on occasion of his marriage with Ibla, pitches a tent which he had received as a gift from the Persian king, Khosru—“When spread out, it occupied half the land of Shurebah, for it was the load of forty camels, and there was an awning at the door of the pavilion, under which 4,000 of the Arabian horse could skirmish. It was embroidered with burnished gold, studded with precious stones and diamonds interspersed with rubies and emeralds, set with rows of pearls. And there was painted thereon a specimen of every created thing—birds, and trees, and towns, and cities, and seas, and continents, and beasts, and reptiles; and whoever looked at it was confounded by the variety of the representations, and by the brilliancy of the silver and gold; and so magnificent was the whole, that when the pavilion was pitched, the land of Shurebah and Mount Saadi were illuminated by its splendor.” This is, of course, an exaggerated poetical description, particularly as to the size of the pavilion, but even in that respect, the exaggeration is not so great as might be supposed, for the sober accounts of travellers as to tents they actually saw, excite scarcely less surprise. Marco Polo describes the tent of Kublai Khan as being so large that ten thousand soldiers might be drawn up in it without incommoding the nobles at the audience; and other tents capable of containing two thousand persons are mentioned. But, in fact, such statements as this, which might have seemed astonishing last year, if not incredible, excite little, if any, surprise in those who have just seen, with their own eyes, a host of persons equal in number to the mighty armies which have fought the battles of empires, shut up in a house of glass!

History has recorded, that at the famous marriage feast held by Timur Beg (Tamerlane) at Kanighul, the royal tents were gilded, and adorned with precious stones. Each tent had twelve columns of silver, inlaid with gold; the outside was scarlet and seven other colors, and the inside was lined with satin of all colors. The curtains were of velvet and the ropes of silk. At the encampment of the same conqueror in the plain of Ourtaupa, the pavilions were richly ornamented, and hung with curtains of brocade covered with golden flowers. At other times, we read of tents “covered with tartaries full nobly” and at the great encampment at Minecgheul the tent of Timur himself was under a canopy supported by forty pillars, and was as spacious as a palace. In the middle of it was a throne, so ornamented with precious stones that it resembled a sun. Note: These examples of Tartar tents are gleaned from Rankin’s Historical Researches. The contrast between such glorious pavilions as these, and the somber tents of the pastoral tribe, is great indeed.

In speaking of herself as black, or rather dark, and deprecating the scorn of the daughters of Jerusalem on that account we are to recollect that the women of Syria and Palestine, and indeed in Arabia, Mesopotamia, and North Africa, are not naturally darker than those of Spain, and that among them there are many quite fair. Those in easy circumstances, kept at home from the influence of the sun and air, maintain this comparative freshness of complexion, while the female peasantry acquire a very dusky hue, which is consequently looked upon as the mark of an inferior condition, as the fairer complexion is of gentility. On the other hand, it is clear that the Egyptians were a naturally dark people, even in the highest and most secluded classes. Their painted representations of themselves gave them a sort of brink-red color, probably representing a complexion somewhat analogous to that of the North American Indians. We thus see how the fair daughters of Jerusalem would be apt to look down upon a dark-hued bride; whether she were a rustic woman, as some suppose, or an Egyptian princess. In the latter they would despise it, simply because they had been accustomed to look upon the deep dusky aspect as a mark of inferiority among their own people. We know how female fancies and antipathies run in such matters; and as they run now, so ran they of old.