Throughout the nineteenth century, British and French poets wrote widely and often on oriental topics. Even William Wordsworth, who was never an enthusiastic orientalist, participated, sketching the Orient as a place of risk and fantasy,
Stocked with Pachas, Seraskiers,
Slaves, and turbaned Buccaneers;
Sensual Mussulmen atrocious,
Renegados, more ferocious!1
Percy Bysshe Shelley saw instead a languid woman lying “in the paradise of Lebanon / Under a heaven of cedar boughs.”2 Victor Hugo found a city of crescents, blue domes, and great harems in which sultanas danced on silk carpets to the sound of drums.3 Théophile Gautier observed Muslim pilgrims who counted amber rosaries and an Egyptian peasant woman who, in the guise of a sphinx, “propose[d] a riddle to desire.”4 For Alfred Tennyson, on the other hand, the East was a “Land of bright eye and lofty brow! / Whose every gale is balmy breath / Of incense from some sunny flower.”5
The striking diversity of these visions of the East reflects the fertility of the Islamic Orient as a poetic source. The Orient’s appeal to poets was formidable throughout the nineteenth century, more obviously in the early decades, but in increasingly complex and aesthetically significant ways later on. A comprehensive anthology of nineteenth-century orientalist poetry would include poems by almost every British or French poet of the time; poets made reputations and even a living from writing poems on oriental topics. These poets were united in a sense of the Orient as an arena for poetic experimentation. Nineteenth-century orientalism’s Orient functions as an alternative aesthetic space in which poems play out a variety of responses to both contemporary and past trends in poetry. Orientalist poetics does not yield a single, unified approach; rather, it provides a medium for the cultivation and refinement of a broad range of poetic positions. Thus Wordsworth’s devotion to nature, Hugo’s to poets’ autonomy, Shelley’s to liberal political morality, Robert Southey’s to poetry as information, Gautier’s to art for art’s sake, Tennyson’s to the social context of art, and Oscar Wilde’s to art’s freedom from what he calls “the prison-house of realism”6 are all asserted and confirmed through the mediation of orientalism.
Given orientalism’s infiltration of the nineteenth century’s poetic oeuvre, it should come as no surprise that orientalism has had an extensive and important impact on the large developments of nineteenth-century British and French poetics and poetry. However, that impact has not been fully addressed by critics. From M.H. Abrams’s The Mirror and the Lamp (1953) to Isobel Armstrong’s Victorian Poetry (1993), overviews of poetics are relatively disinterested in orientalism. Since the appearance of Edward Said’s Orientalism (1978), a number of critics have undertaken serious studies of literary orientalism, but like Said they do not pursue in depth the interaction between orientalism and nineteenth-century poetics in general. This book bridges the gap between the analysis of poetics and the analysis of orientalism; its aim is to demonstrate orientalism’s centrality to the evolution of poetry and poetics in France and Britain during this period. Specifically, it will show how orientalism functions as a diffuse avant-garde, a matrix for the reexamination of both preexisting conventions and contemporary expectations in poetry and poetics. In suggesting that major poetic developments have roots in orientalism, this book offers a revisionist view of the literary history of the nineteenth century.
The notion of the Orient that underlies this version of orientalism is more narrowly defined than the nineteenth century’s grand idea of the oriental. Nineteenth-century poets and readers could perceive the oriental virtually anywhere between Greece and the Pacific Ocean. At times, orientalism’s Orient appears as a monolith, its constituents undifferentiated, occasionally to the point that “oriental” stands simply for “exotic” or “other” rather than for any identifiable region. At other times, the Orient is represented with clearly drawn features that indicate a specific geographic location. But among the nineteenth century’s several oriental “others,” the Islamic Middle East is primary; as Raymond Schwab argues, “The Islamic Orient [...] is the Orient most acclimated in our literary traditions, which have, in every case, abandoned other orients whenever there has been a massive return of the picturesque Mussulman whose charm recaptures poets and storytellers through the glamour of the Thousand and One Nights.”7
Thus although in some respects the Islamic Middle East can be seen simply as one exotic locale among many, the specificity of both Islam and the Middle East is significant. Nineteenth-century aesthetics constitutes the Islamic Orient in particular as a fundamentally amimetic site. Because the problem of poetry’s relationship with mimetic representation underlies the various troublesome issues of nineteenth-century poetics, the Islamic East thus becomes an obvious milieu for the exploration of essential questions such as: What is the purpose of poetry? Does (or should) poetry represent the empirical world? Does (or should) nature serve as a basis for poetic representation, and if so, how? What is the relationship between nature (however construed) and art (in general as well as specifically in poetry)? So despite the current critical emphasis on orientalist poetry as a cultural artifact manifesting European attitudes towards the Orient and imperialism, it is clear that we must also consider orientalist poems from the point of view of aesthetics, taking into account their participation in the nineteenth century’s negotiation of major poetic concepts and problems.
The Islamic Orient’s usefulness in this regard derives from a number of European assumptions about mimetic representation as it is practiced in both oriental and orientalist discourses. First of all, because of Islamic cultures’ well-known disapproval of depictions of the human figure, and because of the predominance of geometric motifs and of calligraphy in certain forms of Middle Eastern visual art, Europeans often assumed that oriental art was not representational.8 This position was confirmed by the Middle Eastern literature available in translation at the time. Some small range of texts had been published in English or French by the beginning of the century; many were translated by William Jones (1746–1794), a prolific polymath who is often cited as the founder of orientalism. Jones’s work as a translator, poet, critic, and linguist with expertise in Arabic, Persian, and Sanskrit had great impact on European poets and intellectuals around the turn of the century and into the 1800s.9 Nonetheless, the most influential work of Middle Eastern literature in nineteenth-century Europe remained the Thousand and One Nights. Antoine Galland’s French translation appeared beginning in 1704, with the first English version recorded in 1706; there were four English editions by 1713.10 Three major new English translations of the 1001 Nights from Arabic sources were published in the course of the nineteenth century.11
The 1001 Nights exercised a uniquely powerful hold on nineteenth-century European imaginations and played an important role in the implicit designation of the Islamic East as an amimetic space. As Frances Mannsâker points out, the 1001 Nights “largely pre-dates the scholarly and the experienced discoveries” of the Orient; as a result, it is able to establish the terms for Europe’s interpretation of the East.12 It is understood to represent with exciting accuracy the places it portrays; as Galland proclaims in the foreword to his translation of the 1001 Nights,
Tous les Orientaux, Persans, Tartares et Indiens, s’y font distinguer, et paraissent tels qu’ils sont, depuis les Souverains jusqu’aux personnes de la plus basse condition. Ainsi, sans avoir essuyé la fatigue d’aller chercher ces Peuples dans leur Pays, le Lecteur aura ici le plaisir de les voir agir, et de les entendre parler.13
[All the Orientals, Persians, Tartars, and Indians become distinct and appear such as they are, from the sovereigns to persons of the lowest condition. Thus, without having to endure the fatigue of going to seek out these peoples in their country, the reader will have here the pleasure of seeing their behavior and of hearing them speak.]
Paradoxically, the same 1001 Nights that has such documentary value is also presumed to depict a world in which the possible and the impossible mingle uninhibited. In other words, the universe of the 1001 Nights is one for which there is no correlate in nineteenth-century European experience; as orientalist Guillaume Pauthier said in 1840, it is “un de ces mondes fantastiques [...] qui ne présente pas même l’ombre de la réalité” [one of those fantastic worlds ... which does not present even the shadow of reality].14 As European readers’ foremost source on eighth-century Baghdad, the 1001 Nights’ accuracy is fundamentally unverifiable. So the text provides the effect of mimesis, but without entailing any obligation to an empirical reality. The constituent parts of that reality are, moreover, not even bound by the usual rules of verisimilitude; after all, who is to say what a genie can or cannot do?15
Of even greater importance than the 1001 Nights and other oriental art is the growing body of European orientalism.16 This material includes travel narratives, “translations” and imitations, and scholarly philology and ethnography. While some nineteenth-century poets consume orientalist texts more avidly than others, all rely upon them to some extent, whether as a source for information about the Islamic East or as a model for their own efforts. Like the 1001 Nights, orientalist art and scholarship stand in a paradoxical relationship to reality and to the representation of reality. Because of orientalism’s dependence upon its own past, texts often reveal their roots in preceding texts rather than in the Middle East as it might be experienced in the flesh.17 As poets in turn ground their work in this already textually determined orientalist tradition, the empirical East tends to recede still further, becoming less a point of origin than one of oblique allusion. Thus whether poems follow oriental or orientalist models, they gain a double benefit from their oriental subject matter. On the one hand, they can plausibly claim to represent the truth of the Orient. On the other hand, because of European readers’ inability to verify poems’ portrayals of the Orient, poets can manipulate their depictions unchecked. Through this paradoxical relationship with authenticity, orientalism offers an ideal point of entry for the destabilization of mimesis and of the other conventions of literary art that depend upon it.
Of the poems that are studied in this book, some, such as Robert Southey’s Thalaba the Destroyer and Charles Leconte de Lisle’s “L’Orient” are thoroughly orientalist, with Middle Eastern settings, Arab personae, and arabesque motifs. Others make more limited contact with the Orient. Such poems range from Felicia Hemans’s “An Hour of Romance” and Victor Hugo’s “Novembre,” each built around an elaborate contrast between Europe and the Middle East; to William Wordsworth’s “Septimi Gades,” in which the Middle East offers a supplementary perspective on a principally European situation; to Thomas Moore’s “Beauty and Song” and Théophile Gautier’s “L’Art,” in which the Middle East is merely implicit. These poems and the others analyzed in this book are representative of the varying degrees to which poetry of this period engages with the Orient. As a group, they reveal orientalism’s progressive assimilation into nineteenth-century poetics.
Above all, these poems suggest that regardless of its level of conspicuous involvement in a poem, the Islamic Middle East is a consistently significant player in nineteenth-century poetics. Unlike early-twentieth-century avant-gardes, literary orientalism does not constitute an organized movement. Rather, it maintains a pervasive and flexible presence both within a range of movements, from romanticism to Parnassianism and aestheticism, and at the margins of these movements. In each case, orientalism emerges as a means towards alternatives to the literary status quo; those alternatives are as varied as the oriental imagery in which they are figured. At the same time, for instance, that Wordsworth can use orientalist imagery to establish the position of nature in his poetics, his contemporary Walter Savage Landor can use it to propose a view of the relationship between nature and poetic art that diverges sharply from the one advocated in Wordsworthian romanticism. Similarly, both Tennyson and Wilde call upon orientalism as they articulate views of art for art’s sake, yet Tennyson is skeptical where Wilde is enthusiastic. Hugo’s qualified acceptance of mimesis is figured through his orientalism, but so is Musset’s dismissal of mimesis.
Like all other interpretations of orientalism since 1978, this book relies in certain respects upon the work of Edward Said. Although Said’s analysis arises in part from those of other scholars, including Raymond Schwab, Norman Daniel, and Michel Foucault, his argument opens orientalism (and literary colonialism generally) to a largely new reading.18 In brief, Said argues that the discourse of orientalism enables “European culture [...] to manage — and even produce — the Orient politically, sociologically, militarily, ideologically, scientifically, and imaginatively during the post-Enlightenment period,” and further that “European culture gained in strength and identity by setting itself off against the Orient as a sort of surrogate and even underground self.”19 While Said’s wide-ranging and polemical argument about orientalism is concerned with prose texts of many kinds, it gives only incidental attention to poetry, and none to how orientalism intersects with problems in poetics. Although my reading of orientalism by no means excludes the political, it diverges from Said’s in holding its focus firmly on poetry and poetics.
Said’s Orientalism has given rise to several trends in criticism of the cultural and literary relations between the Middle East and the West. Some critics, such as John MacKenzie, Maxime Rodinson, and Bryan S. Turner, cover much the same ground as Said, but with attitudes ranging from disinterest to skepticism to hostility towards his line of argument.20 Said’s impact on fields outside literature can be felt in the work of Zeynep Çelik in architecture, Timothy Mitchell in history, and Meyda Yegenoglu in gender studies, as well as more generally in the emergence of postcolonial studies as a full-fledged disciplinary category.21 Chris Bongie and Patrick Brantlinger represent those whose study of literature owes a debt to Said, but who seldom contend directly with his thesis or the material he analyzes.22
The approach most closely allied with my own is that exemplified by Ali Behdad, Nigel Leask, Lisa Lowe, Saree Makdisi, and Mohammed Sharafuddin. Each accepts Said’s work as a foundation, but argues against a totalizing interpretation of orientalism and instead emphasizes its heterogeneity, both synchronically and diachronically.23 Neither Behdad nor Lowe is concerned with the presence and implications of orientalism in poetry, although both critics offer valuable interpretations of prose texts. Poetry is Leask’s focus; his interesting argument emphasizes imperialist politics and their self-destructive effects as manifested in poetry. Less persuasively, Sharafuddin proposes to rehabilitate orientalism in the course of analyzing a number of major romantic narrative poems. Like Leask, he does not contend with orientalist poetics as the important aesthetic problem it is. Makdisi does address that issue, arguing that the Orient, like nature, operates as a “pre- or anti-modern” space from which British romantic poets engage in a “critique of modernization.”24 However, Makdisïs otherwise compelling analysis does not account for certain essential distinctions between nature’s role and the Islamic Orient’s; while the Orient undoubtedly joins nature in standing at a great distance from modernity and the forces of modernization, its function in poetry is both more avant-garde than nature’s and indeed often juxtaposed to nature’s.
That orientalism serves as an unacknowledged avant-garde is a premise of all four chapters of this book. Any new literary movement must develop a position on the conventions it inherits from its antecedents. For instance, when Wordsworth asserts that “[p]oetry is the image of man and nature,”25 he is reacting against the perceived artificiality and mannerism of his neoclassical contemporaries and predecessors. Yet of course no such reaction is ever really so simple. Chapter 1 discusses a case in point, that of the traditional notion that poetry should both entertain and educate. Neither Percy Shelley nor Robert Southey is willing to abandon this notion, but neither can accept it unquestioned. In introducing The Revolt of Islam, Shelley explicitly denies any didactic motive, yet the poem itself offers direct moral instruction that competes with, rather than complements, its effort to entertain. Southey’s Thalaba the Destroyer informs rather than moralizes, but the vaunted amusement value of the poem is equally threatened. Thus while both poems appear to follow the letter of the classical law, they vigorously attack its spirit of balance and complementarity. In each case, the resistant implementation of that law is structured in multiple ways by the poem’s orientalism.
Even more ancient and formidable than the idea that poetry should amuse and instruct is the assumption that it should be mimetic, that it should represent an experientially accessible world. Chapter 2 shows how Victor Hugo’s collection Les Orientales juxtaposes the Islamic Middle East to Europe so as to explore the possibility of a poetry that is not strictly representational; while Hugo’s poems remain referential, they do not rely on a secure relationship with empirical reality. When Alfred de Musset parodies both Les Orientales and George Gordon Byron’s Don Juan in his long poem “Namouna,” he assumes that the Orient offers nonmimetic options, and then proceeds to question the notion that poetry can be genuinely representational at all. “Namouna” exposes orientalism’s Orient as the projection of European fantasy while using that Orient to explore a specific aesthetic fantasy, that of a poem which lacks any intimate connection with its purported subject matter.
Since the classical definition of mimesis entails the representation of nature, orientalism’s antimimetic tendencies must also be examined in terms of orientalist poems’ representations of nature, variously defined. As chapter 3 explains through readings of poems by William Wordsworth, Felicia Hemans, Matthew Arnold, Alfred Tennyson, George Gordon Byron, Charles Leconte de Lisle, and Théophile Gautier, orientalist convention construes the Islamic Middle East as ontologically unnatural. The Orient portrayed in nineteenth-century poems satisfies none of the usual European criteria of the natural. Its quintessential rural landscape, the desert, is typically hostile rather than comforting or inspirational; its cities are disordered blends of man-made and natural elements; and its inhabitants are at worst morally deformed, at best well-meaning but ineffectual. This unnaturalness — environmental, moral, and spiritual — in turn situates the region as an ideal locus from which to challenge nature as poetry’s primary subject. Thus instead of depicting nature as it has been traditionally understood, poems on oriental subjects displace nature in favor of the Orient. The implications of this experimental substitution are important both because of the historical dependence of mimesis on the concept of nature and because of the centrality of nature in nineteenth-century poetics.
By midcentury, the Islamic Middle East had been for decades a monumental poetic source yielding not only settings, motifs, themes, plots, and characters but also the means to envisage and implement alternative aesthetic priorities for poetry. Chapter 4 shows how the Orient’s aesthetic potential is grounded in its presumed linkage with art to the exclusion of nature, a linkage fully evident in poems by William Wordsworth, Felicia Hemans, Walter Savage Landor, Thomas Moore, Alfred Tennyson, Oscar Wilde, Charles Leconte de Lisle, and Théophile Gautier. Nineteenth-century poetics’ evolution towards a stance of art for art’s sake owes both its origin and its progression in large part to this essential aspect of orientalism, for the Orient’s supposedly inherent artfulness is the root of the orientalist poetics that points the way towards art for its own sake. Poets affiliated with this movement — best represented in France by Théophile Gautier and in England by Oscar Wilde — begin to dispense with the oriental aspect of orientalist poetics. They retain orientalism’s alternative ways of thinking about and writing poetry, but they no longer depend upon the Orient as a prop. The resulting aesthetic coalesces as art for art’s sake.
Nineteenth-century poets discovered in orientalism an imaginative landscape that they deployed as a venue for experimentation with alternatives to poetic conventions, whether contemporary or traditional. Because of its distinctive relationships with art and nature, the Islamic Orient assumes a central role in poetry’s interactions with both of these essential concepts. Orientalism is thus a major contributor to the literary history of the nineteenth century, one whose engagement with poetry must be taken into account if we are to understand the genesis and the trajectory of poetic developments.
1 William Wordsworth, Poems, ed. John O. Hayden, vol. 2 (London: Penguin, 1977) 309; the citation is from “Mary Barker’s Lines Addressed to a Noble Lord,” written 1814.
2 Percy Bysshe Shelley, The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, ed. Thomas Hutchinson (New York: Oxford UP, 1933) 660; the lines are from an 1821 fragment, “The Lady of the South.”
3 Victor Hugo, Odes et ballades, Les Orientales, ed. Jean Gaudon (Paris: Flammarion, 1968) 340; the poem is “Les Têtes du sérail” [“The Heads of the Seraglio”], published 1829.
4 Théophile Gautier, Poésies Complètes de Théophile Gautier, ed. René Jasinski, vol. 3 (Paris: Nizet, 1970) 94, 112; the poems are “Ce que disent les hirondelles” [“What the Swallows Say”] and “La Fellah” [“The Fellah”], written 1859 and 1861, respectively. The cited line is “Propose une énigme au désir,” from “La Fellah.”
5 Alfred Tennyson, The Poems of Tennyson, ed. Christopher Ricks, vol. 1 (Berkeley: U of California P, 1987) 114; these are the opening lines of “Persia,” published 1827.
6 Wilde, “The Decay of Lying,” The Complete Works of Oscar Wilde, ed. J.B. Foreman. (London: Collins, 1983) 981.
7 Raymond Schwab, The Oriental Renaissance: Europe’s Rediscovery of India and the East, 1680–1880, 1950, trans. Gene Patterson-Black and Victor Reinking (New York: Columbia UP, 1984)5.
8 Europeans were of course also familiar with clearly referential forms of Middle Eastern art such as Persian miniature illustration. However, the intense stylization of such pictures, their failure to acknowledge the rules of perspective, and the divergence between their subject matter and the world as perceived by Europeans, combined to prevent these pictures from countering the assumption that oriental art was not representational.
9 For comprehensive assessment of Jones’s influence, see Garland Cannon, “Sir William Jones and Literary Orientalism,” Oriental Prospects: Western Literature and the Lure of the East, ed. C.C. Barfoot and Theo D’haen (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1998) 27–41; and “The Construction of the European Image of the Orient: A Bicentenary Reappraisal of Sir William Jones as Poet and Translator,” Comparative Criticism 8 (1986): 167–88.
10 The 1001 Nights’ publication and reception in England has been studied extensively. Useful sources include Leila Ahmed, Edward W. Lane (London: Longman, 1978) chs. 6–8; Muhsin Jassim Ali, Scheherazade in England: A Study of Nineteenth-Century English Criticism of the Arabian Nights (Washington: Three Continents Press, 1981); Peter L. Caracciolo, ed., The Arabian Nights in English Literature: Studies in the Reception of The Thousand and One Nights into British Culture (London: Macmillan, 1988); Husain Haddawy, introduction, The Arabian Nights (New York: W.W. Norton, 1990); Robert Irwin, The Arabian Nights: A Companion (London: Allen Lane, 1994); and Sari J. Nasir, The Arabs and the English (London: Longman, 1979) ch. 3.
11 These translations are by Edward Lane (1838–41), John Payne (1882–84), and Richard Burton (1885–88).
12 Frances Mannsâker, “Elegancy and Wildness: Reflections of the East in the Eighteenth-Century Imagination,” Exoticism in the Enlightenment, ed. G.S. Rousseau and Roy Porter (Manchester: Manchester UP, 1990) 175.
13 Antoine Galland, foreword, Les Mille et une nuits: contes arabes traduits par Galland, vol. 1. (Paris: Garnier, 1960) xxxii. The astonishing persistence of the belief in the Nights’ truthfulness is revealed in Marie E. de Meester’s unselfconscious assertion — in a supposedly scholarly book in 1915 — that “The Arabian Nights [...] have imprinted on our minds many scenes of oriental life. This last point is among the greatest merits of the Thousand and One Nights: they give such a faithful picture of the Orient, its life and customs, that many people who afterwards happen to visit those countries seem to be quite familiar with them already. The best authorities on oriental conditions and manners have attested the veracity of the scenes described in the Nights [sic]” (de Meester, Oriental Influences in the English Literature of the Nineteenth Century [Heidelberg: Carl Winters, 1915] 13). For further discussion of this phenomenon, see Ali, Scheherazade in England 91–2; and Haddawy, The Arabian Nights xxi.
14 Cited in Jean Bruneau, Le “Conte oriental” de Flaubert (Paris: Denoël, 1973) 16. Unlike many in his time, Pauthier also recognized the geographical East as distinct from that of the 1001 Nights.
15 One might compare the inclusion of figures from Greco-Roman mythology as supernatural elements in Western European poetry. A poem that includes a wood nymph must accommodate long-standing expectations about the character and behavior of wood nymphs, whereas one that includes a genie is much less constrained.
16 Chapter 4 includes a discussion of the Nights with reference to poems by Felicia Hemans and Alfred Tennyson.
17 Said emphasizes this point throughout his Orientalism (New York: Random House, 1978); see esp. 23, 305.
18 Earlier major works on orientalism and the literary and cultural relations between Europe and the East include Norman Daniel, Islam and the West: The Making of an Image (Edinburgh: Edinburgh UP, 1960); Daniel, Islam, Europe and Empire (Edinburgh: Edinburgh UP, 1966); and Raymond Schwab, The Oriental Renaissance. More specialized pre-Said treatments include Martha Pike Conant, The Oriental Tale in England in the Eighteenth Century (New York: Columbia UP, 1908); de Meester, Oriental Influences in the English Literature of the Nineteenth Century; Hichem Djaït, L’Europe et l’Islam (Paris: Éditions du seuil, 1978); Hassan El Nouty, Le Proche-Orient dans la littérature française, de Nerval à Barrès (Paris: Nizet, 1958); Albert Hourani, Europe and the Middle East (Berkeley: U of California P, 1980); Pierre Jourda, L’Exotisme dans la littérature depuis Chateaubriand, 2 vols. (Paris: Boivin, 1938, 1956); Dorothée Metlitzki, The Matter of Araby in Medieval England (New Haven: Yale UP, 1977); Sari J. Nasir, The Arabs and the English; Edna Osborne, Oriental Diction and Theme in English Verse, 1740–1840 (Bulletin of the University of Kansas Humanistic Studies 2.1 [1916]); Byron Porter Smith, Islam in English Literature (Delmar, NY: Caravan Books, 1939; 2nd ed. 1977); R.W. Southern, Western Views of Islam in the Middle Ages (Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1962); and Jean-Jacques Waardenburg, L’Islam dans le miroir de l’occident (Paris: Mouton, 1963).
19 Said, Orientalism 3. Of the many reviews of Said’s book, Dennis Porter’s is an especially useful one; see “Orientalism and Its Problems,” The Politics of Theory, ed. Francis Barker et al. (Colchester, UK: University of Essex, 1983).
20 John MacKenzie, Orientalism: History, Theory and the Arts (Manchester: Manchester UP, 1995); Maxime Rodinson, Europe and the Mystique of Islam, 1980, trans. Roger Veinus (Seattle: U of Washington P, 1991); and Bryan S. Turner, Orientalism, Postmodernism and Globalism (London: Routledge, 1994). See also Kathryn Tidrick, Heart-beguiling Araby: The English Romance with Arabia (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1981; rev. ed. 1989).
21 Zeynep Çelik, Displaying the Orient: Architecture of Islam at Nineteenth-Century World’s Fairs (Berkeley: U of California P, 1992); Timothy Mitchell, Colonising Egypt (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1988); and Meyda Yegenoglu, Colonial Fantasies: Towards a Feminist Reading of Orientalism (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1998). Other interdisciplinary analyses influenced by Said include Malek Alloula’s study of French postcards of Algerian women, The Colonial Harem, 1981, trans. Myrna Godzich and Wlad Godzich (Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1986); and the collection of essays in cultural studies edited by Mahmut Mutman and Meyda Yegenoglu, Orientalism and Cultural Differences, Inscriptions 6 (Santa Cruz: Center for Cultural Studies, University of California at Santa Cruz, 1992).
22 Bongie, Exotic Memories: Literature, Colonialism, and the Fin de Siècle (Stanford: Stanford UP, 1991); and Patrick Brantlinger, Rule of Darkness: British Literature and Imperialism, 1830–1914 (Ithaca: Cornell UP, 1988). For other studies taking a comparable approach, see Jonathan Arac and Harriet Ritvo, eds., Macropolitics of Nineteenth-Century Literature: Nationalism, Exoticism, Imperialism (Philadelphia: U of Pennsylvania P, 1991); Claudine Grossir, L ‘Islam des Romantiques, vol. 1 (Paris: Maisonneuve et Larose, 1984); Rana Kabbani, Imperial Fictions: Europe’s Myths of Orient (London: Pandora, 1994); Véronique Magri, Le Discours sur l’autre: à travers quatre récits de voyage en Orient (Paris: Honoré Champion, 1995); G.S. Rousseau and Roy Porter, ed., Exoticism in the Enlightenment; Barry Milligan, Pleasures and Pains: Opium and the Orient in Nineteenth-Century British Culture (Charlottesville: UP of Virginia, 1995); and Jyotsna G. Singh, Colonial Narratives/Cultural Dialogues: “Discoveries” of India in the Language of Colonialism (London: Routledge, 1996).
23 Ali Behdad, Belated Travelers: Orientalism in the Age of Colonial Dissolution (Durham: Duke UP, 1994); Nigel Leask, British Romantic Writers and the East: Anxieties of Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1992); Lisa Lowe, Critical Terrains: French and British Orientalisms (Ithaca: Cornell UP, 1991); Saree Makdisi, Romantic Imperialism: Universal Empire and the Culture of Modernity (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1998); and Mohammed Sharafuddin, Islam and Romantic Orientalism: Literary Encounters with the Orient (London: LB. Tauris, 1994). Related analyses include Alain Buisine, L’Orient voilé (Paris: Zulma, 1993); Thierry Hentsch, Imagining the Middle East, trans. Fred A. Reed (Montreal: Black Rose Books, 1992); and Dennis Porter, Haunted Journeys: Desire and Transgression in European Travel Writing (Princeton: Princeton UP, 1991).
24 Makdisi, Romantic Imperialism 10.
25 William Wordsworth, preface, Lyrical Ballads (1802), Poems 1: 879.