Of Imbecility and Old Age
I
In the metropolitan mosque at Damascus I was engaged in a disputation
with some learned men, when a youth suddenly entered the door, and said:
"Does any of you understand the Persian language?" They directed him to
me, and I answered: "It is true." He continued: "An old man of a hundred
and fifty years of age is in the agonies of death, and is uttering
something in the Persian language, which we do not understand. If you
will have the goodness to go to him you may get rewarded; for he
possibly may be dictating his will." When I sat down by his bedside I
heard him reciting:--"I said, I will enjoy myself for a few moments.
Alas! that my soul took the path of departure. Alas! at the variegated
table of life I partook a few mouthfuls, and the fates said, enough!"
I explained the signification of these lines in Arabic to the Syrians.
They were astonished that, at his advanced time of life, he should
express himself so solicitous about a worldly existence. I asked him:
"How do you now find yourself?" He replied: "What shall I say?--Hast
thou never witnessed what torture that man suffers from whose jaw they
are extracting a tooth? Fancy to thyself how excruciating is his pain
from whose precious body they are tearing an existence!"
I said: "Banish all thoughts of death from your mind, and let not doubt
undermine your constitution; for the Greek philosophers have remarked
that although our temperaments are vigorous, that is no proof of a long
life; and that although our sickness is dangerous, that is no positive
sign of immediate dissolution. If you will give me leave, I will call in
a physician to prescribe some medicine that may cure you." He replied:
"Alas! alas! The landlord thinks of refreshing the paintings of his
hall, and the house is tottering to its foundation. The physician smites
the hands of despair when he sees the aged fallen in pieces like a
potsherd; the old man bemoans himself in the agony of death while the
old attendant nurse is anointing him with sandal-wood. When the
equipoise of the temperament is overset, neither amulets nor medicaments
can do any good."
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III
In the territory of Diarbekr, or Mesopotamia, I was the guest of an old
man, who was very rich, and had a handsome son. One night he told a
story, saying: "During my whole life I never had any child but this boy.
And in this valley a certain tree is a place of pilgrimage, where people
go to supplicate their wants; and many was the night that I have
besought God at the foot of that tree before he would bestow upon me
this boy." I have heard that the son was also whispering his companions,
and saying: "How happy I should be if I could discover the site of that
tree, in order that I might pray for the death of my father." The
gentleman was rejoicing and saying: "What a sensible youth is my son!"
and the boy was complaining and crying: "What a tedious old dotard is my
father!" Many years are passing over thy head, during which thou didst
not visit thy father's tomb. What pious oblation didst thou make to the
manes of a parent that thou shouldst expect so much from thy son?
IV
Urged one day by the pride of youthful vanity, I had made a forced
march, and in the evening found myself exhausted at the bottom of an
acclivity. A feeble old man, who had deliberately followed the pace of
the caravan, came up to me and said: "How come you to lie down here? Get
up, this is no fit place for rest." I replied: "How can I proceed, who
have not a foot to stand on?" He said: "Have you not heard what the
prudent have remarked? 'Going on, and halting, is better than running
ahead and breaking down!' Ye who wish to reach the end of your journey,
hurry not on; practise my advice, and learn deliberation. The Arab horse
makes a few stretches at full speed, and is broken down; while the
camel, at its deliberate pace, travels on night and day, and gets to the
end of his journey."
V
An active, merry, cheerful, and sweet-spoken youth was for a length of
time in the circle of my society, whose heart had never known sorrow,
nor his lip ceased from being on a smile. An age had passed, during
which we had not chanced to meet. When I next saw him he had taken to
himself a wife, and got a family; and the root of his enjoyment was torn
up, and the rose of his mirth blasted. I asked him: "How is this?" He
replied: "Since I became a father of children, I ceased to play the
child:--Now thou art old, relinquish childishness, and leave it to the
young to indulge in play and merriment. Expect not the sprightliness of
youth from the aged; for the stream that ran by can never return. Now
that the corn is ripe for the sickle, it rears not its head as when
green and shooting. The season of youth has slipt through my hands;
alas! when I think on those heart-exhilarating days! The lion has lost
the sturdy grasp of his paw: I must now put up, like a lynx, with a bit
of cheese. An old woman had stained her gray locks black. I said to her:
O, my antiquated dame! thy hair I admit thou canst turn dark by art, but
thou never canst make thy crooked back straight."
VI
One day, in the perverseness of youth, I spoke with asperity to my
mother. Vexed at heart, she sat down in a corner, and with tears in her
eyes was saying: "You have perhaps forgot the days of infancy, that you
are speaking to me thus harshly.--How well did an old woman observe to
her own son, when she saw him powerful as a tiger, and formidable as an
elephant: 'Couldst thou call to mind those days of thy infancy when
helpless thou wouldst cling to this my bosom, thou wouldst not thus
assail me with savage fury, now thou art a lion-like hero, and I am a
poor old woman.'"
VII
A rich miser had a son who was grievously sick. His well-wishers and
friends spoke to him, saying: "It were proper that you either read the
Koran throughout or offer an animal in sacrifice, in order that the Most
High God may restore him to health." After a short reflection within
himself he answered, "It is better to read the Koran, which is ready at
hand; and my herds are at a distance." A good and holy man heard this
and remarked: "He makes choice of the reading part because the Koran
slips glibly over the tongue, but his money is to be wrung from the soul
of him. Fie upon that readiness to bow the head in prayer; would that
the hand of charity could accompany it! In bestowing a dinar he will
stickle like an ass in the mire; but ask him to read the Al-hamdi, or
first chapter of the Koran, and he will recite it a hundred times."