The Wisdom of the East Series
EDITED BY
L. CRANMER-BYNG
Dr. S. A. KAPADIA
THE BUSTĀN OF SADI
WISDOM OF THE EAST
THE BUSTĀN OF SADI
TRANSLATED FROM THE PERSIAN
WITH AN INTRODUCTION
BY A. HART EDWARDS
[Illustration]
LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.
1911
PRINTED BY
HAZELL, WATSON AND VINEY, LD.,
LONDON AND AYLESBURY.
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION
In the Name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful 19
On the Reason for the Writing of the Book 21
Concerning Atābak Abu Bakr, Son of Sád 22
CHAP.
I. CONCERNING JUSTICE, COUNSEL, AND THE ADMINISTRATION OF
GOVERNMENT:
Nushīravān’s Counsel to his Son 24
Discourse concerning Travellers 24
Story illustrating the Need for Deliberation 25
Story of the King whose Coat was Coarse 28
Story of Darius and the Herdsman 29
Story of Abdul Aziz and the Pearl 30
Story of how Tukla was rebuked by a Devotee 31
Discourse concerning Riches and Poverty 31
Story of Qazal Arsalān and the Fort 32
A Story of Damascus 32
Story of a Bully 34
II. CONCERNING BENEVOLENCE:
Story illustrative of doing good to the Evil 36
Story concerning Fasting 36
Story illustrative of Practical Charity 37
Story of a Man and a Thirsty Dog 38
Story Apropos of Nemesis 39
Story of a Fool and a Fox 40
Story of a Devout Miser 41
Story of Hātim Tai 42
Story of Hātim and the Messenger sent to kill him 43
Discourse concerning Kindness to Orphans 47
III. CONCERNING LOVE:
Discourse concerning Constancy 49
Story of a Dancer 50
Story illustrating the Reality of Love 50
Story Illustrative of Patience 51
Story of One who was Assiduous in Prayer 52
Story of Sultan Mahmūd and his Love for Ayāz 52
Story of a Village Chief 53
Story of a Fire-fly 54
Story of a Moth and a Candle 54
Another Story on the same Subject 55
IV. CONCERNING HUMILITY:
Story of a Raindrop 56
Story Illustrative of Pious Men regarding themselves
with Contempt 57
Story of Sultan Bāyazīd and Bustāmi 57
Discourse on Conceit 58
Story of the Darwesh and the Proud Cādi 59
Story of the Honey-seller 62
Story illustrating the Forbearance of Good Men 63
Story illustrating the Noble-mindedness of Men 64
Story of a Kind Master and his Disobedient Slave 64
Story of Marūf Karchi and the Sick Traveller 65
Story illustrating the Folly of the Ignoble 67
Story of One who had a Little Knowledge 68
Story illustrating the Humility of the Pious 68
Story illustrating the Value of Soft Words 69
Story illustrating the Wisdom of feigning Deafness 70
Story illustrating Forbearance for the Sake of Friends 71
Story of Luqman, the Sage 72
V. CONCERNING RESIGNATION:
Story of a Soldier of Isfahan 73
Story of the Doctor and the Villager 75
Story of the Villager and his Ass 76
Story illustrating Luck 76
Story of One who blamed his Destiny 76
Story of a Darwesh and his Wife 77
Story of a Vulture and a Kite 77
Story of a Camel 78
Discourse concerning Hypocrisy 79
VI. CONCERNING CONTENTMENT:
Story of the King of Khwarazm 81
Concerning the Evils of Over-eating 81
Story of a Glutton 82
Story of a Recluse 82
Story Illustrating the Evils of Avarice 83
Story of an Ambitious Cat 83
Story of a Short-sighted Man and his High-minded Wife 84
Story of a Holy Man who built a House 85
Story of a Sheikh who became King 85
Discourse concerning Riches 86
VII. CONCERNING EDUCATION:
Discourse concerning the Excellence of Taciturnity 89
Story concerning the keeping of Secrets 90
Story illustrating the Fact that Silence Is Best for Fools 90
Story illustrating the Folly of Impertinence 91
Discourse on Slander 92
Story concerning the same Subject 92
Why Thieving is better than Slandering 92
Sadi and his Envious Class-friend 93
Story of Sadi’s Childhood 93
Story of a Sufi’s Rebuke 94
Concerning Absent Friends 94
Where Slander is Lawful 95
Tale-bearers worse than Back-biters 95
Faridun and his Wise Vazier 96
Discourse concerning Wives 97
Discourse on the Training of Sons 98
Sadi rebuked for his Fault-finding 98
VIII. CONCERNING GRATITUDE:
A Mother’s Warning to her Son 101
Discourse concerning the Art of the Most High God 102
Discourse concerning the Condition of the Weak 103
Story of Tughral, King of Shirāz, and the Hindu Watchman 103
Story of a Thief 104
Story of One who was not what he seemed 105
Story of a Sage Donkey 105
Story illustrating the Evils of Pride 106
Story of Sadi and the Idolaters 106
IX. CONCERNING REPENTANCE:
An Old Man’s Lament 110
Advice and Warning 111
Sadi’s Rebuke from a Camel-driver 112
Story concerning Sorrow for the Dead 113
Story of a Pious Man and a Gold Brick 114
Admonition 115
Moral from an Incident in Sadi’s Childhood 116
Story of a Man who reared a Wolf 117
Story of a Cheat 117
A Recollection of Childhood 118
Story of One who burned his Harvest 118
Discourse on Repentance 119
X. CONCERNING PRAYER:
A Worshipper’s Lament 121
Story of an Idolater 121
NOTES 123
EDITORIAL NOTE
The object of the Editors of this series is a very definite one. They
desire above all things that, in their humble way, these books shall be
the ambassadors of good-will and understanding between East and West—the
old world of Thought and the new of Action. In this endeavour, and in
their own sphere, they are but followers of the highest example in the
land. They are confident that a deeper knowledge of the great ideals and
lofty philosophy of Oriental thought may help to a revival of that true
spirit of Charity which neither despises nor fears the nations of another
creed and colour. Finally, in thanking press and public for the very
cordial reception given to the “Wisdom of the East” Series, they wish to
state that no pains have been spared to secure the best specialists for
the treatment of the various subjects at hand.
L. CRANMER-BYNG.
S. A. KAPADIA.
NORTHBROOK SOCIETY, 21 Cromwell Road, Kensington, S. W.
INTRODUCTION
If among the twenty-two works with which Sadi enriched the literature of
his country the _Gulistān_ rank first in popularity, the _Bustān_ (lit.
“Garden”) may justly claim equal precedence in point of interest and
merit.
No comprehensive translation of this important classical work has
hitherto been placed before the reading public, but it cannot be doubted
that the character of its contents is such as to fully justify the
attempt now made to familiarize English readers with the entertaining
anecdotes and devotional wisdom which the Sage of Shiraz embodied in
his Palace of Wealth. This is the name which he applies to the _Bustān_
in an introductory chapter, and it is one which springs from something
more than a poet’s fancy, for the ten doors, or chapters, with which the
edifice is furnished lead into a garden that is indeed rich in the fruits
of knowledge gained by a wide experience of life in many lands, and
earnest thought.
The _Bustān_ is written in verse—a fact which adds considerably to the
difficulties of translation, since the invariable rule of Sadi, like
that of every other Persian poet we have read, is to sacrifice sense to
the exigencies of rhyme and metre. In not a few cases the meaning is so
confused on this account that even the native commentators, who possess
a fund of ingenuity in explaining what they do not properly understand,
have been compelled to pass over numerous couplets through sheer
inability to unravel their intricacies and the abstruse ideas of the poet.
Probably in no other language in the world is poetic license so freely
permitted and indulged in as in Persian. The construction of sentences
follows no rule; the order of words is just that which the individual
poet chooses to adopt, and the idea of time—past, present, and future—is
ignored in the use of tenses, that part of a verb being alone employed
which rhymes the best.
Notwithstanding idiosyncrasies of this kind, the _Bustān_ is written in a
style that is delightfully pure and admirably adapted to the subject. The
devout spirit by which Sadi was characterized throughout his chequered
life is revealed in every page of the book. In the _Gulistān_ he gave
free rein to the quaint humour which for many centuries has been the
delight of the Eastern peoples, and which an ever-increasing body of
English readers is learning to appreciate and admire. In the _Bustān_ the
humour is more restrained; its place is taken by a more sober reasoning
of the duties of mankind towards the Deity and towards their fellow-men.
Devotion to God and the inflexibility of Fate are the underlying texts
of every poem, and the ideality of the one and the stern reality of the
other are portrayed in language the beauty of which, it is to be feared,
the English rendering does not always adequately convey.
The poems abound in metaphor, a figure of style which Eastern writers
employ to a degree that is always exaggerated, and sometimes tedious; but
for the purpose of this translation, which aims at a happy medium between
literal accuracy and the freedom requisite in order to render Oriental
phraseology into polite English, numerous of the more far-fetched
allusions have been discarded, to the benefit of the text.
Although a memoir of Sadi’s life is included in another volume of this
series, it may not be out of place to give here a brief outline of the
poet’s career, especially as the _Bustān_ contains several references to
his childhood and travels.
Sheikh Muslih-ud-din Sādi was born in Shiraz, in Persia, A.D. 1175; that
is to say, 571 years after the flight of Muhammad from Mecca to Medina.
He was the son of one Abdu’llah (servant of God), who held a Government
office under the Diwān of that time. Sadi was a child when his father
died, as is made clear from the pathetic poem in the second chapter,
ending with these words:
Well do I know the orphan’s sorrow,
For my father departed in my childhood.
But poorly endowed with earthly riches, Sadi endured many hardships in
consequence of this bereavement, and was eventually obliged to live,
together with his mother, under the protection of a Saracen chief. How
long he remained there it is impossible to say, for the reason that his
biographers are the reverse of informing. This much is, however, known,
that being imbued from early childhood with an insatiable thirst for
knowledge, he eventually journeyed to Baghdad, then at the zenith of
its intellectual fame, and was enabled to enter a private school there
through the generosity of a wealthy native gentleman. Making full use of
the opportunity so favourably presented, the young aspirant progressed
rapidly along the path of learning, and at the age of twenty-one made his
first essays in authorship. Some fragmentary poems which he submitted
with a long dedication to Shams-ud-din, the Professor of Literature at
the Nizāmiah College of Baghdad, so pleased that able and discerning man
that he at once fixed upon Sadi a liberal allowance from his own private
purse, with the promise of every further assistance in his power. Soon
after this, Sadi was admitted into the college, and ultimately gained an
Idrār, or fellowship. In the seventh chapter of the _Bustān_ he narrates
an instructive story reminiscent of his studies at Nizāmiah, and, prone
to conceit though he often is, he tells the story against himself.
His scholastic life did not terminate until he had reached the age of
thirty. Of the value of this prolonged period of study he himself was
fully cognisant. “Dost thou not know,” he asks in the seventh chapter,
“how Sadi attained to rank? Neither did he traverse the plains nor
journey across the seas. In his youth he lived under the yoke of the
wise: God granted him distinction in after-life. And it is not long
before he who is submissive in obedience exercises command.” No better
example of the truth of this passage could be cited than that afforded by
his own case.
On leaving Baghdad, he went in company with his tutor, Abdul Qādir
Gīlāni, on a pilgrimage to Mecca. This was the first of many travels
extending over a period of thirty years, in the course of which he
visited Europe, India, and practically every part of what are known as
the Near and Middle East. A trip through Syria and Turkey is specifically
mentioned in this book as inspiring the composition of the _Bustān_. Not
wishing, as he tells us, to return empty-handed to his friends at Shiraz,
he built the Palace of Wealth, and offered it to them as a gift. He does
not conceal the high opinion which he himself placed upon this product of
his gifted pen. The gracefully worded phrases with which he predicted the
undying popularity of the _Gulistān_ finds a parallel in the dedication
of the _Bustān_ to Atabāk Abu Bakr-bin-Sád, the illustrious monarch of
Persia beneath whose protection Sadi spent the latter half of his life.
“Although not wishing to sing the praises of kings,” he writes, “I have
dedicated this book to one so that perhaps the pious will say that Sadi,
who surpassed all in eloquence, lived in the time of Abu Bakr Sád.” Then,
addressing the king, he adds: “Happy is thy fortune that Sadi’s date
coincides with thine, for as long as the moon and sun are in the skies
thy memory will remain eternal in this book.” This conceit is pardonable,
since it has been amply justified by time.
After the thirty years of travel, Sadi, becoming elderly, settled down
in Persia, where, as has been said, he gained the favour of the ruling
prince, from whom he derived not only the dignity and the more tangible
advantages of the post of Poet Laureate, but his takhallus, or titular
name, of Sadi. He died at the ripe age of 116, and was buried in his
native city.
If the _Bustān_ were the only monument that remained of his genius, his
name would assuredly still be inscribed in the roll of the Immortals.
One feature of his great intellectual faculties needs to be emphasized,
and all the more so because it is apt to be overlooked. That is the
increasing power which they assumed as he advanced in years, the truth of
which can be understood when it is stated that he composed the _Bustān_
at the age of 82, the _Gulistān_ appearing twelve months later. Few,
if any, instances of such sustained mental activity are to be found
elsewhere in the entire world’s history of letters.
Under the several headings of the various chapters a wide range of
ethical subjects is discussed, the whole forming a compendium of moral
philosophy the broad principles of which must remain for all time as
irrefutable as the precepts of Scriptural teaching.
Sadi’s spiritual message is not that of a visionary. His religion was an
eminently practical one—he had no sympathies with the recluse and the
ascetic. To fulfil one’s duties towards one’s fellow-men is to fulfil
one’s duty towards the Deity. That is the root-idea of his teachings.
“Religion,” he observes, “consists only in the service of the people: it
does not lie in the rosary, or prayer-rug, or mendicant’s habit.”
This couplet, occurring in the opening chapter, is put into the mouth
of a certain pious man whom one of the kings of Persia is said to have
visited in a repentant mood for the purpose of seeking counsel. The
story, like many others in the book, may or may not have any foundation
in fact, “the histories of ancient kings,” which the poet frequently
quotes as his authority, being rather too vague to be convincing. At the
same time, the historical allusions form an interesting and instructive
background to the legends and the moral precepts so abundantly interwoven
among them.
Although Persia is only yet in the process of readjusting her ideas of
government and the prerogatives of rulers, principles more advanced than
seem compatible with despotism have been for many centuries current among
her people, in theory, at least, if not in practice. Muhammad said that
a little practice with much knowledge was better than much practice with
little knowledge. On that ground Persia has defence, for the knowledge
certainly was there. What could better describe the true relationship
between king and people than Sadi’s thirteenth-century epigram?—
Subjects are as the root and the king is as the tree,
And the tree, O son, gains strength from the root.
Not many months ago the autocratic tree at Teheran was rudely severed
from its root; perchance the successors of Abu Bakr were not of those to
whom “the words of Sadi are agreeable.”
The saving grace of benevolence is illustrated in the second chapter
by means of some entertaining anecdotes, of two of which the hero is
Hātim Tai, the famous Arabian chief, whose generosity was such that he
preferred to die rather than disappoint the messenger sent by a jealous
king to slay him. The story of the Darwesh and the Fox is noteworthy
inasmuch as it throws a much-needed light upon the Eastern interpretation
of all that is implied by “qismat.” It is commonly supposed that the
sense of inevitability removes from the Eastern’s mind the necessity for
individual effort. This view is distinctly erroneous. No such pernicious
doctrine is, at any rate, subscribed to by the educated classes; to the
lazy and ne’er-do-well who plead Fate as their excuse, Sadi points the
moral.
After demonstrating in the two succeeding chapters the powerlessness of
man to avert the decrees of Fate, and the virtues of contentment, the
poet passes on to discuss the cultivation of the mind. The comparison
here drawn between the human mind and a city “full of good and evil
desires,” of which the Ego is the Sultan and Reason the Vazier, is
original and full of meaning. Despite his own much-vaunted eloquence
and facility of speech, Sadi condemns in scathing terms the man of many
words, remarking poignantly that “a grain of musk is better than a heap
of mud.” So, too, in his opinion, is a thief better than a back-biter,
and, apropos of the gentler sex, a woman of good nature better than one
of beauty. The advice to take a new wife every year cannot be regarded
seriously, even though it be true that last year’s almanac has lost its
usefulness. More worthy of the poet is the discourse on the training of
children. Nothing truer than the sentiments expressed in this poem did he
ever utter, and in England to-day there can be few who would dispute them.
Excessive charm pervades the three concluding chapters. If that bigotry
and spirit of intolerance of which the Mussulman, no less than the
followers of other creeds, is guilty is revealed in no small measure,
criticism on that score must give place to wonder and admiration for the
sincere and perfervid homage which the poet renders to the Deity whom, in
the essence, all nations worship.
The narrative, in the eighth chapter, of Sadi’s adventure with the
idolaters in Guzerat will be found amusing as well as enlightening.
Nothing now remains for the translator but to join with Sadi in his plea
for indulgent criticism:
Never have I heard it said
The wise found fault with what they read.
Though of Chinese cloth a robe be made,
Inside must a cotton lining be laid.
If thou wouldst but the cloth, seek not to condemn—
Gloss over the cotton with acumen.
On the Day of Judgment the wicked will be
Forgiven, through them that have purity.
If in my words thou evil find,
Do likewise, forgive, for more is behind.
If a word in a thousand suit thy taste,
Do not denounce the rest in haste.
The poet goes on to remark that his compositions are esteemed in Persia
as is the choicest musk of Tartary: the translator is less fortunate and
more modest.
A. H. E.
THE BUSTĀN OF SADI
PROLOGUE
IN THE NAME OF GOD, THE COMPASSIONATE, THE MERCIFUL
In the name of Him who created and sustains the world, the Sage who
endowed tongue with speech.
He attains no honour who turns the face from the door of His mercy.
The kings of the earth prostrate themselves before Him in supplication.
He seizes not in haste the disobedient, nor drives away the penitent
with violence. The two worlds are as a drop of water in the ocean of His
knowledge.
He withholds not His bounty though His servants sin; upon the surface of
the earth has He spread a feast, in which both friend and foe may share.
Peerless He is, and His kingdom is eternal. Upon the head of one He
placeth a crown; another he hurleth from the throne to the ground.
The fire of His friend He turneth into a flower-garden; through the
waters of the Nile He sendeth His foes to perdition.
Behind the veil He seeth all, and concealeth our faults with His own
goodness.
He is near to them that are downcast, and accepteth the prayers of them
that lament.
He knoweth of the things that exist not, of secrets that are untold.
He causeth the moon and the sun to revolve, and spreadeth water upon the
earth.
In the heart of a stone hath He placed a jewel; from nothing hath He
created all that is.
Who can reveal the secret of His qualities; what eye can see the limits
of His beauty?
The bird of thought cannot soar to the height of His presence, nor the
hand of understanding reach to the skirt of His praise.
Think not, O Sadi, that one can walk in the road of purity except in the
footsteps of Muhammad.
He is the patriarch of the prophets, the guide of the path of salvation;
the mediator of mankind, and the chief of the Court of Judgment. What of
thy praises can Sadi utter? The mercy of God be upon thee, O Prophet, and
peace.
ON THE REASON FOR THE WRITING OF THE BOOK
I travelled in many regions of the globe and passed the days in the
company of many men. I reaped advantages in every corner, and gleaned an
ear of corn from every harvest. But I saw none like the pious and devout
men of Shiraz—upon which land be the grace of God—my attachment with whom
drew away my heart from Syria and Turkey.
I regretted that I should go from the garden of the world empty-handed to
my friends, and reflected: “Travellers bring sugar-candy from Egypt as a
present to their friends. Although I have no candy, yet have I words that
are sweeter. The sugar that I bring is not that which is eaten, but what
knowers of truth take away with respect.”
When I built this Palace of Wealth,[1] I furnished it with ten doors of
instruction.[2]
It was in the year 655 that this famous treasury became full of the
pearls of eloquence. A quilted robe of silk, or of Chinese embroidery,
must of necessity be padded with cotton; if thou obtain aught of the
silk, fret not—be generous and conceal the cotton. I have heard that
in the day of Hope and Fear the Merciful One will pardon the evil for
the sake of the good. If thou see evil in my words, do thou likewise.
If one couplet among a thousand please thee, generously withhold thy
fault-finding.
Assuredly, my compositions are esteemed in Persia as the priceless musk
of Khutan. Sadi brings roses to the garden with mirth. His verses are
like dates encrusted with sugar—when opened, a stone[3] is revealed
inside.
CONCERNING ATĀBAK ABU BAKR, SON OF SÁD[4]
Although not desiring to write in praise of kings, I have inscribed this
book to the name of a certain one so that perhaps the pious may say:
“Sadi, who surpassed all in eloquence, lived in the time of Abu Bakr, the
son of Sád.” Thus, in this book will his memory remain so long as the
moon and sun are in the skies. Beyond count are his virtues—may the world
fulfil his desires, the heavens be his friend, and the Creator be his
guardian.
CHAPTER I
CONCERNING JUSTICE, COUNSEL, AND THE ADMINISTRATION OF GOVERNMENT
The goodness of God surpasseth imagination; what service can the tongue
of praise perform?
Keep, O God, this king,[5] Abu Bakr, beneath whose shadow is the
protection of the people, long established upon his throne, and make his
heart to live in obedience to Thee. Render fruitful his tree of hope;
prolong his youth, and adorn his face with mercy.
O King! deck not thyself in royal garments when thou comest to worship:
make thy supplications like a darwesh, saying: “O God! powerful and
strong Thou art. I am no monarch, but a beggar in Thy court. Unless Thy
help sustain me, what can issue from my hand? Succour me, and give me the
means of virtue, or else how can I benefit my people?”
If thou rule by day, pray fervently by night. The great among thy
servants wait upon thee at thy door; thus shouldest thou serve, with thy
head in worship upon God’s threshold.
NUSHĪRAVĀN’S[6] COUNSEL TO HIS SON
Thus, when at the point of death, did Nushīravān counsel his son Hurmuz:
“Cherish the poor, and seek not thine own comfort. The shepherd should
not sleep while the wolf is among the sheep. Protect the needy, for a
king wears his crown for the sake of his subjects. The people are as
the root and the king as the tree; and the tree, O son, gains strength
from the root. He should not oppress the people who has fear of injury
to his kingdom. Seek not plenteousness in that land where the people are
afflicted by the king. Fear them that are proud and them that fear not
God.”
DISCOURSE CONCERNING TRAVELLERS
The king who deals harshly with merchants who come from afar closes the
door of well-being upon the whole of his subjects. When do the wise
return to the land of which they hear rumours of bad custom?
If thou desire a good name, hold merchants and travellers in high esteem,
for they carry thy reputation through the world. Be cautious also lest,
being enemies in the guise of friends, they seek thy injury.
Advance the dignities of old friends, for treachery comes not from them
that are cherished.
When thy servant becomes stricken in years, be not unmindful of thy
obligations towards him. If old age binds his hand from service, the hand
of generosity yet remains to thee.
STORY ILLUSTRATING THE NEED FOR DELIBERATION
There once landed at a seaport of Arabia a man who had widely travelled
and was versed in many sciences. He presented himself at the palace of
the king, who was so captivated by his wisdom and knowledge that he
appointed the traveller to the vaziership.
With such skill did he perform the duties of that office that he offended
none, and brought the kingdom completely beneath his sway. He closed the
mouths of slanderers, because nothing evil issued from his hand; and
the envious, who could detect no fault in him, bemoaned their lack of
opportunity to do him injury.
At the court, however, there were two beautiful young slaves towards whom
the vazier displayed no small measure of affection. (If thou wouldst that
thy rank endure, incline not thy heart towards the fair; and though thy
love be innocent, have care, for there is fear of loss.)
The former vazier, who had been dismissed to make room for the newcomer,
maliciously carried the story to the king.
“I know not,” he said, “who this new minister may be, but he lives not
chastely in this land. I have heard that he intrigues with two of thy
slaves—he is a perfidious man, and lustful. It is not right that one such
as he should bring ill-fame upon the court. I am not so unmindful of the
favours that I have received at thy hands that I should see these things
and remain silent.”
Angered by what he heard, the king stealthily watched the new vazier, and
when, later, he observed the latter glance towards one of the slaves, who
returned a covert smile, his suspicions of evil became at once confirmed.
Summoning the minister to his side, he said: “I did not know thee to be
shameless and unworthy. Such lofty station is not thy proper place. But
the fault is mine. If I cherish one who is of evil nature, assuredly do I
sanction disloyalty in my house.”
“Since my skirt is free from guilt,” the vazier replied, “I fear not the
malignity of the evil-wisher. I know not who has accused me of what I
have not done.”
“This was told me by the old vazier,” explained the king.
The vazier smiled and said, “Whatever he said is no cause for wonder.
What would the envious man say when he saw me in his former place? Him I
knew to be my enemy that day when Khasrav[7] appointed him to lower rank
than me. Never till Doomsday will he accept me as a friend when in my
promotion he sees his own decline. If thou wilt give ear to thy slave I
will narrate a story that is apropos.
“In a dream some one saw the Prince of Evil, whose figure was as erect
as a fir-tree, and whose face was as fair as the sun. Regarding him, the
sleeper said: ‘O splendid being! Mankind knows not of thy beauty. Fearful
of countenance do they imagine thee, and hideous have they depicted thee
on the walls of the public baths.’ The Prince of Evil smiled: ‘Such is
not my figure,’ he replied; ‘but the pencil was in the hand of an enemy!
The root of their stock did I throw out of Paradise; now in malice do
they paint me ugly.’
“In the same way,” continued the vazier, “although my fame is good, the
envious speak ill of me. Those who are guiltless are brave in speech;
only he who gives false weight has fear of the inspector.”
“Forsooth,” the king exclaimed, his anger rising, “I heard this not
only from thine enemy. Have I not seen with my own eyes that among the
assemblage of this court thou regardest none but those two slaves?”
“That is true,” the vazier said, “but I will explain this matter if thou
wilt listen. Dost thou not know that the beggar eyes the rich with envy?
Once, like those slaves, did I possess both grace and beauty. Two rows
of teeth were set behind my lips, erect like a wall of ivory[8] bricks.
One by one, like ancient bridges, have they fallen—regard me now as here
I stand! Why may I not glance with envy at those slaves when they recall
to me the past?”
When the wise man had pierced this pearl of lustrous truth, the king
exclaimed: “Better than this it would be impossible to speak. Permissible
it is to look toward the fair in one who can thus excuse himself. Had I
not in wisdom acted with deliberation, I should have wronged him through
the speech of an enemy.”
To carry the hand quickly to the sword in anger is to carry the back of
the hand to the teeth in regret. Heed not the words of the envious; if
thou actest upon them, remorseful wilt thou be.
Admonishing the slanderer for his evil words, the king further increased
the dignity of the vazier, who directed the affairs of the State for
many years with justice and benevolence, and was long remembered for his
virtues.
STORY OF THE KING WHOSE COAT WAS COARSE
A certain just king habitually wore a coat of coarse material. Some one
said to him: “O happy king! Make for thyself a coat of Chinese brocade.”
“That which I wear,” the king replied, “affords both covering and
comfort; anything beyond that is luxury. I collect not tribute that I may
adorn my person and my throne. If, like a woman, I ornament my body, how,
like a man, can I repulse the enemy? The royal treasuries are not for me
alone—they are filled for the sake of the army, not for the purchase of
ornaments and jewellery.”
STORY OF DARIUS[9] AND THE HERDSMAN
Darius, king of Persia, became separated from his retinue while hunting.
A herdsman came running towards him, and the king, assuming the man to be
an enemy, adjusted his bow. Thereupon the herdsman cried: “I am no enemy;
seek not to kill me. I am he who tends the king’s horses, and in this
meadow am thus engaged.”
Becoming again composed, the king smiled and said: “Heaven has befriended
thee; otherwise would I have drawn the bowstring to my ear.”
“It showeth neither wise administration nor good judgment,” replied
the herdsman, “when the king knows not an enemy from a friend. Those
who are greatest should know those who are least. Many times hast thou
seen me in thy presence, and asked of me concerning the horses and the
grazing-fields. Now that I come again before thee thou takest me for an
enemy. More skilled am I, O king, for I can distinguish one horse out of
a hundred thousand. Tend thou thy people as I, with sense and judgment,
tend my horses.”
Ruin brings sorrow to that kingdom where the wisdom of the shepherd
exceeds that of the king.
STORY OF ABDUL AZIZ AND THE PEARL
The story is told of Abdul Aziz that he had a pearl of great beauty and
value set in a ring. Shortly after, a severe drought occurred, causing
distress among the people. Moved by compassion, the king ordered the
pearl to be sold and the money that it fetched to be given to the poor.
Some one chided him for doing this, saying: “Never again will such a
stone come into thy hands.”
Weeping, the king replied: “Ugly is an ornament upon the person of a king
when the hearts of his people are distressed by want. Better for me is a
stoneless ring than a sorrowing people.”
Happy is he who sets the ease of others above his own. The virtuous
desire not their own pleasure at the expense of others. When the king
sleeps neglectfully upon his couch, I trow not that the beggar finds
enviable repose.
STORY OF HOW TUKLA WAS REBUKED BY A DEVOTEE
Tukla, king of Persia, once visited a devotee and said: “Fruitless have
been my years. None but the beggar carries riches from the world when
earthly dignities are passed. Hence, would I now sit in the corner of
devotion that I might usefully employ the few short days that yet remain
to me.”
The devotee was angered at these words.
“Enough!” he cried. “Religion consists alone in the service of the
people; it finds no place in the rosary, or prayer-rug, or tattered
garment. Be a king in sovereignty and a devotee in purity of morals.
Action, not words, is demanded by religion, for words without action are
void of substance.”
DISCOURSE CONCERNING RICHES AND POVERTY
Say not that no dignity excels that of sovereignty, for no kingdom is
more free from care than that of the darwesh.
They that are the most lightly burdened reach the destination first.
The poor man is afflicted by lack of bread; the king by the cares of his
kingdom.
Though one may rule and another may serve, though the one be exalted to
the height of Saturn and the other languish in a prison, when death has
claimed them it will not be possible to distinguish between the two.
STORY OF QAZAL ARSALĀN[10] AND THE FORT
Qazal Arsalān possessed a fort, which raised its head to the height of
Alwand.[11] Secure from all were those within its walls, for its roads
were a labyrinth, like the curls of a bride.
From a learned traveller Qazal once inquired: “Didst thou ever, in thy
wanderings, see a fort as strong as this?”
“Splendid it is,” was the reply, “but methinks not it confers much
strength. Before thee, did not other kings possess it for a while, then
pass away? After thee, will not other kings assume control, and eat the
fruits of the tree of thy hope?”
In the estimation of the wise, the world is a false gem that passes each
moment from one hand to another.
A STORY OF DAMASCUS
Such famine was there once in Damascus that lovers forgot their love.
So miserly was the sky towards the earth that the sown fields and the
date-trees moistened not their lips. Fountains dried up, and no water
remained but the tears in the eyes of the orphans. If smoke issued from
a chimney, nought was it but the sighs of the widows. Like beggars, the
trees stood leafless, and the mountains lost their verdure. The locusts
devoured the gardens, and men devoured the locusts.
At that time came to me a friend on whose bones skin alone remained. I
was astonished, since he was of lofty rank and rich. “O friend!” said I,
“what misfortune has befallen thee?”
“Where is thy sense?” he answered. “Seest thou not that the severities of
famine have reached their limit? Rain comes not from the sky, neither do
the lamentations of the suffering reach to heaven.”
“Thou, at least,” I urged, “hast nought to fear; poison kills only where
there is no antidote.”
Regarding me with indignation, as a learned man regards a fool, my friend
replied: “Although a man be safely on the shore, he stands not supine
while his friends are drowning. My face is not pale through want; the
sorrows of the poor have wounded my heart. Although, praise be to Allah,
I am free from wounds, I tremble when I see the wounds of others.”
Bitter are the pleasures of him who is in health when a sick man is at
his side. When the beggar has not eaten, poisonous and baneful is one’s
food.
STORY OF A BULLY
A bully fell down a well and passed the night in wailing and lamenting.
Some one threw a stone down on to his head, and said: “Didst thou ever
go to any one’s assistance that thou shouldst to-day cry out for help?
Didst thou ever sow the seeds of virtue? Who would place a salve upon
thy wounds when the hearts of all cry out by reason of thy tyrannies?
Across our path thou didst dig a pit, into which, perforce, hast thou now
fallen.”
If thou do evil expect not goodness; never does the withered grape-vine
bring forth fruit.
O thou who soweth the seed in autumn! I think not that thou wilt reap the
corn at harvest-time.
If thou nourish the thorn-tree of the desert, think not that thou wilt
ever eat its fruit.
Green dates come not from the poisonous colocynth; when thou sowest seed,
hope only for the fruit of that very seed.