The _Gulistán_ consists of short tales and anecdotes, to which are
appended comments in prose and verse, and is divided into eight
chapters, or sections: (1) the Morals of Kings; (2) the Morals of
Dervishes; (3) the Excellence of Contentment; (4) the Advantages of
Taciturnity; (5) Love and Youth; (6) Imbecility and Old Age; (7) the
Effects of Education; (8) Rules for the Conduct of Life. In culling some
of the choicest flowers of this perennial Garden, the particular order
observed by Saádí need not be regarded here; it is preferable to pick
here a flower and there a flower, as fancy may direct.
* * * * *
It may happen, says our author, that the prudent counsel of an
enlightened sage does not succeed; and it may chance that an unskilful
boy inadvertently hits the mark with his arrow: A Persian king, while on
a pleasure excursion with a number of his courtiers at Nassála Shíráz,
appointed an archery competition for the amusement of himself and his
friends. He caused a gold ring, set with a valuable gem, to be fixed on
the dome of Asád, and it was announced that whosoever should send an
arrow through the ring should obtain it as a reward of his skill. The
four hundred skilled archers forming the royal body-guard each shot at
the ring without success. It chanced that a boy on a neighbouring
house-top was at the same time diverting himself with a little bow, when
one of his arrows, shot at random, went through the ring. The boy,
having obtained the prize, immediately burned his bow, shrewdly
observing that he did so in order that the reputation of this feat
should never be impaired.
The advantage of abstinence, or rather, great moderation in eating and
drinking, is thus curiously illustrated: Two dervishes travelled
together; one was a robust man, who regularly ate three meals every day,
the other was infirm of body, and accustomed to fast frequently for two
days in succession. On their reaching the gate of a certain town, they
were arrested on suspicion of being spies, and both lodged, without
food, in the same prison, the door of which was then securely locked.
Several days after, the unlucky dervishes were found to be quite
innocent of the crime imputed to them, and on opening the door of the
prison the strong man was discovered to be dead, and the infirm man
still alive. At this circumstance the officers of justice marvelled; but
a philosopher observed, that had the contrary happened it would have
been more wonderful, since the one who died had been a great eater, and
consequently was unable to endure the want of food, while the other,
being accustomed to abstinence, had survived.
Of Núshírván the Just (whom the Greeks called Chosroe), of the Sassanian
dynasty of Persian kings--sixth century--Saádí relates that on one
occasion, while at his hunting-seat, he was having some game dressed,
and ordered a servant to procure some salt from a neighbouring village,
at the same time charging him strictly to pay the full price for it,
otherwise the exaction might become a custom. His courtiers were
surprised at this order, and asked the king what possible harm could
ensue from such a trifle. The good king replied: "Oppression was brought
into the world from small beginnings, which every new comer increased,
until it has reached the present degree of enormity." Upon this Saádí
remarks: "If the monarch were to eat a single apple from the garden of a
peasant, the servant would pull up the tree by the roots; and if the
king order five eggs to be taken by force, his soldiers will spit a
thousand fowls. The iniquitous tyrant remaineth not, but the curses of
mankind rest on him for ever."
Only those who have experienced danger can rightly appreciate the
advantages of safety, and according as a man has become acquainted with
adversity does he recognise the value of prosperity--a sentiment which
Saádí illustrates by the story of a boy who was in a vessel at sea for
the first time, in which were also the king and his officers of state.
The lad was in great fear of being drowned, and made a loud outcry, in
spite of every effort of those around him to soothe him into
tranquility. As his lamentations annoyed the king, a sage who was of the
company offered to quiet the terrified youth, with his majesty's
permission, which being granted, he caused the boy to be plunged several
times in the sea and then drawn up into the ship, after which the youth
retired to a corner and remained perfectly quiet. The king inquired why
the lad had been subjected to such roughness, to which the sage replied:
"At first he had never experienced the danger of being drowned, neither
had he known the safety of a ship."
One of our English moralists has remarked that the man who chiefly
prides himself on his ancestry is like a potato-plant, whose best
qualities are under ground. Saádí tells us of an old Arab who said to
his son: "O my child, in the day of resurrection they will ask you what
you have done in the world, and not from whom you are descended."--In
the _Akhlák-i-Jalaly_, a work comprising the practical philosophy of the
Muhammedans, written, in the 15th century, in the Persian language, by
Fakír Jání Muhammed Asaád, and translated into English by W. F. Thompson,
Alí, the Prophet's cousin, is reported to have said:
My soul is my father, my title my worth;
A Persian or Arab, there's little between:
Give me him for a comrade, whatever his birth,
Who shows what _he is_--not what _others have been_.
An Arabian poet says:
Be the son of whom thou wilt, try to acquire literature,
The acquisition of which may make pedigree unnecessary to thee;
Since a man of worth is he who can say, "I am so and so,"
Not he who can only say, "My father was so and so."
And again:
Ask not a man who his father was, but make trial
Of his qualities, and then conciliate or reject him accordingly
For it is no disgrace to new wine, if it only be sweet,
As to its taste, that it was the juice [or daughter] of sour grapes.
The often-quoted maxim of La Rochefoucauld, that there is something in
the misfortunes of our friends which affords us a degree of secret
pleasure, is well known to the Persians. Saádí tells us of a merchant
who, having lost a thousand dínars, cautioned his son not to mention the
matter to anyone, "in order," said he, "that we may not suffer two
misfortunes--the loss of our money and the secret satisfaction of our
neighbours."
A generous disposition is thus eloquently recommended: They asked a wise
man, which was preferable, fortitude or liberality, to which he replied:
"He who possesses liberality has no need of fortitude. It is inscribed
on the tomb of Bahram-i-Gúr that a liberal hand is preferable to a
strong arm." "Hátim Taï," remarks Saádí, "no longer exists, but his
exalted name will remain famous for virtue to eternity.[6] Distribute
the tithe of your wealth in alms, for when the husbandman lops off the
exuberant branches from the vine, it produces an increase of grapes."
[6] Hátim was chief of the Arabian tribe of Taï, shortly
before Muhammed began to promulgate Islám, renowned for
his extraordinary liberality.
Prodigality, however, is as much to be condemned as judicious liberality
is to be lauded. Saádí gives the following account of a Persian prodigal
son, who was not so fortunate in the end as his biblical prototype: The
son of a religious man, who succeeded to an immense fortune by the will
of his uncle, became a dissipated and debauched profligate, in so much
that he left no heinous crime unpractised, nor was there any
intoxicating drug which he had not tasted. Once I admonished him,
saying: "O my son, wealth is a running stream, and pleasure revolves
like a millstone; or, in other words, profuse expense suits him only who
has a certain income. When you have no certain income, be frugal in your
expenses, because the sailors have a song, that if the rain does not
fall in the mountains, the Tigris will become a dry bed of sand in the
course of a year. Practise wisdom and virtue, and relinquish sensuality,
for when your money is spent you will suffer distress and expose
yourself to shame."[7] The young man, seduced by music and wine, would
not take my advice, but, in opposition to my arguments, said: "It is
contrary to the wisdom of the sages to disturb our present enjoyments by
the dread of futurity. Why should they who possess fortune suffer
distress by anticipating sorrow? Go and be merry, O my enchanting
friend! We ought not to be uneasy to-day for what may happen to-morrow.
How would it become me, who am placed in the uppermost seat of
liberality, so that the fame of my bounty is wide spread? When a man has
acquired reputation by liberality and munificence, it does not become
him to tie up his money-bags. When your good name has been spread
through the street, you cannot shut your door against it." I perceived
(continues Saádí) that he did not approve of my admonition, and that my
warm breath did not affect his cold iron. I ceased advising, and,
quitting his society, returned into the corner of safety, in conformity
with the saying of the philosophers: "Admonish and exhort as your
charity requires; if they mind not, it does not concern you. Although
thou knowest that they will not listen, nevertheless speak whatever you
know is advisable. It will soon come to pass that you will see the silly
fellow with his feet in the stocks, smiting his hands and exclaiming,
'Alas, that I did not listen to the wise man's advice!'" After some
time, that which I had predicted from his dissolute conduct I saw
verified. He was clothed in rags, and begging a morsel of food. I was
distressed at his wretched condition, and did not think it consistent
with humanity to scratch his wound with reproach. But I said in my
heart: Profligate men, when intoxicated with pleasure, reflect not on
the day of poverty. The tree which in the summer has a profusion of
fruit is consequently without leaves in winter.
[7] Auvaiyár, the celebrated poetess of the Tamils (in
Southern India), who is said to have flourished in the
ninth century, says, in her poem entitled _Nalvali_:
Mark this: who lives beyond his means
Forfeits respect, loses his sense;
Where'er he goes through the seven births,
All count him knave; him women scorn.
The incapacity of some youths to receive instruction is always a source
of vexation to the pedagogue. Saádí tells us of a vazír who sent his
stupid son to a learned man, requesting him to impart some of his
knowledge to the lad, hoping that his mind would be improved. After
attempting to instruct him for some time without effect, he sent this
message to his father: "Your son has no capacity, and has almost
distracted me. When nature has given capacity instruction will make
impressions; but if iron is not of the proper temper, no polishing will
make it good. Wash not a dog in the seven seas, for when he is wetted he
will only be the dirtier. If the ass that carried Jesus Christ were to
be taken to Mecca, at his return he would still be an ass."
One of the greatest sages of antiquity is reported to have said that all
the knowledge he had acquired merely taught him how little he did know;
and indeed it is only smatterers who are vain of their supposed
knowledge. A sensible young man, says Saádí, who had made considerable
progress in learning and virtue, was at the same time so discreet that
he would sit in the company of learned men without uttering a word. Once
his father said to him: "My son, why do you not also say something you
know?" He replied: "I fear lest they should question me about something
of which I am ignorant, whereby I should suffer shame."
The advantages of education are thus set forth by a philosopher who was
exhorting his children: "Acquire knowledge, for in worldly riches and
possessions no reliance can be placed.[8] Rank will be of no use out of
your own country; and on a journey money is in danger of being lost, for
either the thief may carry it off all at once, or the possessor may
consume it by degrees. But knowledge is a perennial spring of wealth,
and if a man of education cease to be opulent, yet he need not be
sorrowful, for knowledge of itself is riches.[9] A man of learning,
wheresoever he goes, is treated with respect, and sits in the uppermost
seat, whilst the ignorant man gets only scanty fare and encounters
distress." There once happened (adds Saádí) an insurrection in Damascus,
where every one deserted his habitation. The wise sons of a peasant
became the king's ministers, and the stupid sons of the vazír were
reduced to ask charity in the villages. If you want a paternal
inheritance, acquire from your father knowledge, for wealth may be spent
in ten days.
[8] "All perishes except learning."--_Auvaiyár_.
[9] "Learning is really the most valuable treasure.--A wise
man will never cease to learn.--He who has attained
learning by free self-application excels other
philosophers.--Let thy learning be thy best
friend.--What we have learned in youth is like writing
cut in stone.--If all else should be lost, what we have
learned will never be lost.--Learn one thing after
another, but not hastily.--Though one is of low birth,
learning will make him respected."--_Auvaiyár_.
In the following charming little tale Saádí recounts an interesting
incident in his own life: I remember that in my youth, as I was passing
through a street, I cast my eyes on a beautiful girl. It was in the
autumn, when the heat dried up all moisture from the mouth, and the
sultry wind made the marrow boil in the bones, so that, being unable to
support the sun's powerful rays, I was obliged to take shelter under the
shade of a wall, in hopes that some one would relieve me from the
distressing heat, and quench my thirst with a draught of water. Suddenly
from the portico of a house I beheld a female form whose beauty it is
impossible for the tongue of eloquence to describe, insomuch that it
seemed as if the dawn was rising in the obscurity of night, or as if the
Water of Immortality was issuing from the Land of Darkness. She held in
her hand a cup of snow-water, into which she had sprinkled sugar and
mixed with it the juice of the grape. I know not whether what I
perceived was the fragrance of rose-water, or that she had infused into
it a few drops from the blossom of her cheek. In short, I received the
cup from her beauteous hand, and, drinking the contents, found myself
restored to new life. The thirst of my soul is not such that it can be
allayed with a drop of pure water--the streams of whole rivers would not
satisfy it. How happy is that fortunate one whose eyes every morning may
behold such a countenance! He who is intoxicated with wine will be sober
again in the course of the night; but he who is intoxicated by the
cup-bearer will never recover his senses till the day of judgment.
Alas, poor Saádí! The lovely cup-bearer, who made such a lasting
impression on the heart of the young poet, was not destined for his
bride. His was indeed a sad matrimonial fate; and who can doubt but that
the beauteous form of the stranger maiden would often rise before his
mental view after he was married to the Xantippe who rendered some
portion of his life unhappy!
Among the tales under the heading of "Imbecility and Old Age" we have
one of "oldé January that wedded was to freshé May," which points its
moral now as it did six hundred years ago: When I married a young
virgin, said an old man, I bedecked a chamber with flowers, sat with her
alone, and had fixed my eyes and heart solely upon her. Many long nights
I passed without sleep, repeating jests and pleasantries, to remove
shyness, and make her familiar. On one of these nights I said: "Fortune
has been propitious to you, in that you have fallen into the society of
an old man, of mature judgment, who has seen the world, and experienced
various situations of good and bad fortune, who knows the rights of
society, and has performed the duties of friendship;--one who is
affectionate, affable, cheerful, and conversable. I will exert my utmost
endeavours to gain your affection, and if you should treat me unkindly I
will not be offended; or if, like the parrot, your food should be sugar,
I will devote my sweet life to your support. You have not met with a
youth of a rude disposition, with a weak understanding, headstrong, a
gadder, who would be constantly changing his situations and
inclinations, sleeping every night in a new place, and every day forming
some new intimacy. Young men may be lively and handsome, but they are
inconstant in their attachments. Look not thou for fidelity from those
who, with the eyes of the nightingale, are every instant singing upon a
different rose-bush. But old men pass their time in wisdom and good
manners, not in the ignorance and frivolity of youth. Seek one better
than yourself, and having found him, consider yourself fortunate. With
one like yourself you would pass your life without improvement." I spoke
a great deal after this manner (continued the old man), and thought that
I had made a conquest of her heart, when suddenly she heaved a cold sigh
from the bottom of her heart, and replied: "All the fine speeches that
you have been uttering have not so much weight in the scale of my reason
as one single sentence I have heard from my nurse, that if you plant an
arrow in the side of a young woman it is not so painful as the society
of an old man." In short (continued he), it was impossible to agree, and
our differences ended in a separation. After the time prescribed by law,
she married a young man of an impetuous temper, ill-natured, and in
indigent circumstances, so that she suffered the injuries of violence,
with the evils of penury. Nevertheless she returned thanks for her lot,
and said: "God be praised that I escaped from infernal torment, and have
obtained this permanent blessing. Amidst all your violence and
impetuosity of temper, I will put up with your airs, because you are
handsome. It is better to burn with you in hell than to be in paradise
with the other. The scent of onions from a beautiful mouth is more
fragrant than the odour of the rose from the hand of one who is ugly."
It must be allowed that this old man put his own case to his young wife
with very considerable address: yet, such is woman-nature, she chose to
be "a young man's slave rather than an old man's darling." And,
_apropos_, Saádí has another story which may be added to the foregoing:
An old man was asked why he did not marry. He answered: "I should not
like an old woman." "Then marry a young one, since you have property."
Quoth he: "Since I, who am an old man, should not be pleased with an old
woman, how can I expect that a young one would be attached to me?"
"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown," says our great dramatist, in
proof of which take this story: A certain king, when arrived at the end
of his days, having no heir, directed in his will that the morning after
his death the first person who entered the gate of the city they should
place on his head the crown of royalty, and commit to his charge the
government of the kingdom. It happened that the first to enter the city
was a dervish, who all his life had collected victuals from the
charitable and sewed patch on patch. The ministers of state and the
nobles of the court carried out the king's will, bestowing on him the
kingdom and the treasure. For some time the dervish governed the
kingdom, until part of the nobility swerved their necks from obedience
to him, and all the neighbouring monarchs, engaging in hostile
confederacies, attacked him with their armies. In short, the troops and
peasantry were thrown into confusion, and he lost the possession of some
territories. The dervish was distressed at these events, when an old
friend, who had been his companion in the days of poverty, returned from
a journey, and, finding him in such an exalted state, said: "Praised be
the God of excellence and glory, that your high fortune has aided you
and prosperity been your guide, so that a rose has issued from the
brier, and the thorn has been extracted from your foot, and you have
arrived at this dignity. Of a truth, joy succeeds sorrow; the bud does
sometimes blossom and sometimes wither; the tree is sometimes naked and
sometimes clothed." He replied: "O brother, condole with me, for this is
not a time for congratulation. When you saw me last, I was only anxious
how to obtain bread; but now I have all the cares of the world to
encounter. If the times are adverse, I am in pain; and if they are
prosperous, I am captivated with worldly enjoyments. There is no
calamity greater than worldly affairs, because they distress the heart
in prosperity as well as in adversity. If you want riches, seek only for
contentment, which is inestimable wealth. If the rich man would throw
money into your lap, consider not yourself obliged to him, for I have
often heard that the patience of the poor is preferable to the
liberality of the rich."
Muezzins, who call the faithful to prayer at the prescribed hours from
the minarets of the mosques, are generally blind men, as a man with his
eyesight might spy into the domestic privacy of the citizens, who sleep
on the flat roofs of their houses in the hot season, and are selected
for their sweetness of voice. Saádí, however, tells us of a man who
performed gratuitously the office of muezzin, and had such a voice as
disgusted all who heard it. The intendant of the mosque, a good, humane
man, being unwilling to offend him, said one day: "My friend, this
mosque has muezzins of long standing, each of whom has a monthly stipend
of ten dínars. Now I will give you ten dínars to go to another place."
The man agreed to this and went away. Some time after he came to the
intendant and said: "O, my lord, you injured me in sending me away from
this station for ten dínars; for where I went they will give me twenty
dínars to remove to another place, to which I have not consented." The
intendant laughed, and said: "Take care--don't accept of the offer, for
they may be willing to give you fifty."
To those who have "music in their souls," and are "moved by concord of
sweet sounds," the tones of a harsh voice are excruciating; and if among
our statesmen and other public speakers "silver tongues" are rare, they
are much more so among our preachers. The Church of Rome does not admit
into the priesthood men who have any bodily shortcoming or defect; it
would also be well if all candidates for holy orders in the English and
Scottish Churches whose voices are not at least tolerable were rejected,
as unfit to preach! Saádí seems to have had a great horror of braying
orators, and relates a number of anecdotes about them, such as this: A
preacher who had a detestable voice, but thought he had a very sweet
one, bawled out to no purpose. You would say the croaking of the crow in
the desert was the burden of his song, and that this verse of the Kurán
was intended for him, "Verily the most detestable of sounds is the
braying of an ass." When this ass of a preacher brayed, it made
Persepolis tremble. The people of the town, on account of the
respectability of his office, submitted to the calamity, and did not
think it advisable to molest him, until one of the neighbouring
preachers, who was secretly ill-disposed towards him, came once to see
him, and said: "I have had a dream--may it prove good!" "What did you
dream?" "I thought you had a sweet voice, and that the people were
enjoying tranquility from your discourse." The preacher, after
reflecting a little, replied: "What a happy dream is this that you have
had, which has discovered to me my defect, in that I have an unpleasant
voice, and that the people are distressed at my preaching. I am resolved
that in future I will read only in a low tone. The company of friends
was disadvantageous to me, because they look on my bad manners as
excellent: my defects appear to them skill and perfection, and my thorn
as the rose and the jasmin."
Our author, as we have seen, enlivens his moral discourses occasionally
with humorous stories, and one or two more of these may fittingly close
the present section: One of the slaves of Amrúlais having run away, a
person was sent in pursuit of him and brought him back. The vazír, being
inimical to him, commanded him to be put to death in order to deter
other slaves from committing the like offence. The slave prostrated
himself before Amrúlais and said: "Whatever may happen to me with your
approbation is lawful--what plea can the slave offer against the
sentence of his lord? But, seeing that I have been brought up under the
bounties of your house, I do not wish that at the resurrection you shall
be charged with my blood. If you are resolved to kill your slave, do so
comformably to the interpretation of the law, in order that at the
resurrection you may not suffer reproach." The king asked: "After what
manner shall I expound it?" The slave replied: "Give me leave to kill
the vazír, and then, in retaliation for him, order me to be put to
death, that you may kill me justly." The king laughed, and asked the
vazír what was his advice in this matter. Quoth the vazír: "O my lord,
as an offering to the tomb of your father, liberate this rogue, in order
that I may not also fall into this calamity. The crime is on my side,
for not having observed the words of the sages, who say, 'When you
combat with one who flings clods of earth, you break your own head by
your folly: when you shoot at the face of your enemy, be careful that
you sit out of his aim.'"--And not a little wit, too, did the kází
exhibit when detected by the king in an intrigue with a farrier's
daughter, and his Majesty gave order that he should be flung from the
top of the castle, "as an example for others"; to which the kází
replied: "O monarch of the universe, I have been fostered in your
family, and am not singular in the commission of such crimes; therefore,
I ask you to precipitate some one else, in order that I may benefit by
the example." The king laughed at his wit, and spared his life.--Nor is
this tale without a spice of humour: An astrologer entered his house and
finding a stranger in company with his wife abused him, and called him
such opprobrious names that a quarrel and strife ensued. A shrewd man,
being informed of this, said to the astrologer: "What do you know of the
heavenly bodies, when you cannot tell what goes on in your own
house?"[10]--Last, and perhaps best of all, is this one: I was
hesitating about concluding a bargain for a house, when a Jew said: "I
am an old householder in that quarter; inquire of me the description of
the house, and buy it, for it has no fault." I replied: "Excepting that
you are one of the neighbours!"
[10] There is a similar story to this in one of our old
English jest-books, _Tales and Quicke Answeres_, 1535,
as follows (I have modernised the spelling): As an
astronomer [i.e. an astrologer] sat upon a time in the
market place, and took upon him to divine and to show
what their fortunes and chances should be that came to
him, there came a fellow and told him (as it was indeed)
that thieves had broken into his house, and had borne
away all that he had. These tidings grieved him so sore
that, all heavy and sorrowfully, he rose up and went his
way. When the fellow saw him do so, he said: "O thou
foolish and mad man! goest thou about to divine other
men's matters, and art ignorant of thine own?"