XXVII
A king had reached the end of his days and had no heir to succeed him. He made his will, stating, “You will place the crown of sovereignty upon the head of whatever person first enters the city gate in the morning, and commit the kingdom to his charge.” It happened that the first man that presented himself at the city gate was a beggar, who had passed his whole life in scraping broken meat and in patching rags. The ministers of state and nobles of the court fulfilled the conditions of the king’s will, and laid the keys of the treasury and citadel at his feet.
For a time the dervish governed the kingdom, till some of the chiefs of the empire swerved from their allegiance, and the princes of the territories on every side rose in opposition to him, and levied armies for the contest. In short, his troops and subjects were routed and subdued, and several of his provinces taken from him.
The dervish was hurt to the soul at these events, when one of his old friends, who had been the companion of his state of poverty, returned from a journey and found him in such dignity. He exclaimed: “Thanksgiving be to a Deity of majesty and glory that lofty fortune succored you and prosperity was your guide, till roses issued from your thorns and the thorns were extracted from your feet, and till you arrived at this elevated rank! — Along with hardship there is ease; or, to sorrow succeeds joy. — The plant is at one season in flower and at another withered; the tree is at one time naked and at another clothed with leaves.” He said: “O, my dear friend, offer me condolence, for here is no place for congratulation. When you last saw me I had to think of getting a crumb of bread; now I have the cares of a whole kingdom on my head. If the world be adverse, we are the victims of pain; if prosperous, the fettered slaves of affection for it. Amidst this life no calamity is more afflicting than that, whether fortunate or not, the mind is equally disquieted. If thou covetest riches, ask not but for contentment, which is an immense treasure. Should a rich man throw money into thy lap, take heed, and do not look upon it as a benefit; for I have often heard from the great and good that the patience of the poor is more meritorious than the gift of the rich. Were King Bahram Ghor to distribute a whole roasted elk, it would not be equal to the gift of a locust’s leg from an ant.”
XXVIII
A person had a friend who was holding the office of king’s divan, or prime minister, and it happened that he had not seen him for some time. Somebody remarked, saying, “It is some time since you saw such a gentleman.” He answered, “I am no ways anxious about seeing him.” One of the divan’s people chanced to be present. He asked, “What has happened amiss that you should dislike to visit him?” He replied, “There is no dislike; but my friend, the divan, can be seen at a time when he is out of office, and my idle intrusion might not come amiss.” Amidst the state patronage and authority of office they might take umbrage at their acquaintance; but on the day of vexation and loss of place they would impart their mental disquietudes to their friends.
XXIX
Abu-Horairah was making a daily visit to the prophet Mustafa Mohammed, on whom be God’s blessing and peace. He said: “O Abu-Horairah! let me alone every other day, that so affection may increase; that is, come not every day, that we may get more loving!”
They said to a good and holy man, “Notwithstanding all these charms which the sun commands, we have never heard of anybody that has fallen in love with him!” He answered, “It is because he is seen every day, unless during the winter, when he is veiled (in the clouds), and thus much coveted and loved.” — To visit mankind has no blame in it, but not to such a degree as to let them say, Enough of it. If we see occasion to interrogate ourselves, we need not listen to the reprehension of others.
XXX
Having taken offence with the society of my friends at Damascus, I retired into the wilderness of the Holy Land, or Jerusalem, and sought the company of brutes till such time as I was made a prisoner by the Franks, and employed by them, along with some Jews, in digging earth in the ditches of Tripoli. At length one of the chiefs of Aleppo, between whom and me an intimacy had of old subsisted, happening to pass that way, recognized me, and said, “How is this? and how came you to be thus occupied?” I replied: “What can I say? — I was flying from mankind into the forests and mountains, for my resource was in God and in none else. Fancy to thyself what my condition must now be, when forced to associate with a tribe scarcely human? — To be linked in a chain with a company of acquaintance were pleasanter than to walk in a garden with strangers.”
He took pity on my situation; and, having for ten dinars redeemed me from captivity with the Franks, carried me along with him to Aleppo. Here he had a daughter, and her he gave me in marriage, with a dower of a hundred dinars. Soon after this damsel turned out a termagant and vixen, and discovered such a perverse spirit and virulent tongue as quite unhinged all my domestic comfort. — A scolding wife in the dwelling of a peaceful man is his hell, even in this world. Protect and guard us against a wicked inmate. Save us, O Lord, and preserve us from the fiery, or hell, torture.
Having on one occasion given a liberty to the tongue of reproach, she was saying, “Are you not the fellow whom my father redeemed from the captivity of the Franks for ten dinars?” I replied, “Yes, I am that same he delivered from captivity for ten dinars, and enslaved me with you for a hundred!” I have heard that a reverend and mighty man released a sheep from the paws and jaws of a wolf. That same night he was sticking a knife into its throat, when the spirit of the sheep reproached him, saying, “Thou didst deliver me from the clutches of a wolf, when I at length saw that thou didst prove a wolf to me thyself.”
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XXXIII
One of the holy men of Syria had passed many years of devotion in the wilderness, and was feeding on the leaves of trees. The king of that country, in the way of a pilgrimage, visited him, and said, “If you can see the propriety of removing into my capital I will prepare an abode, where you may perform your devotions more at ease than in this place, and others may benefit by the blessing of your spiritual communion, and be edified by the example of your pious labors.” The hermit was adverse to this advice, and turned away his face. One of the king’s ministers spoke to him, saying: “For the satisfaction of his Majesty, it were proper that you would for a few days remove into the city, and ascertain the nature of the place; when, if it should prove that your purity might be tarnished by coming in contact with the wicked, you have still the option left of moving back.”
It is reported that they prevailed on the hermit to accompany them into the city; and, in a garden near the sacred residence of the king, prepared for him a dwelling, which, like the mansions of paradise, was rejoicing the heart, and exhilarating the soul. — Its damask roses were blooming as the cheeks of the lovely, and its tufted spikenard like the ringlets of our mistresses. It had as much to fear from the angry blasts of winter as the babe who has not yet tasted its nurse’s milk: boughs of trees on which hung crimson flowers, that gleamed like a flame amidst their dusky foliage.
Forthwith the king sent him a moon-faced damsel. — Such was this delicate crescent of the moon, and fascination of the holy, this form of an angel, and decoration of a peacock, that let them once behold her, and continence must cease to exist in the constitutions of the chaste.
And, in like manner, there followed her a youth of such rare beauty and exquisite symmetry, that the powerful grasp of his charms had broken the wrists of the pious, and tied up behind their backs the arms of the upright. — Mankind stand around him parched with thirst, whilst he, who seems thy cup-bearer, will give thee no drink. — The eye could not be satiated by beholding him, like the dropsical man with water by looking at the river Euphrates.
The hermit began to relish dainty food, and to wear sumptuous apparel; to regale himself with fruits, perfumes, and sweetmeats; and to behold with delight the charms of the handmaid and bondsman. And the wise have said, “The ringlets of the lovely are a chain on the feet of reason, and a snare for the bird of wisdom.” — To th
e mystery of thy service I devoted my heart, religion, and all my mental faculties; verily, I am now the bird of reason, and thou art the lure and bait.
In short, the good fortune of his many years of sanctity ran to waste, as has been said:— “Whatever he had laid up from theologician, sage, or saint, or of recondite knowledge from the eloquent and pure of spirit, now that he had stooped to mix with a vile world, like the feet of a fly he got entangled in its honey.”
The king had the curiosity of making him another visit, and found the hermit much altered from what he first saw of him. His face had become fair and ruddy, and his body plump and jolly; and he was reclining at his ease on cushions of brocade, and had the Houri-like damsel lolling by his side, and the fairy-formed youth holding a fly-flap of peacock’s feathers in his hand, and standing by him in attendance. The king congratulated him upon his portly appearance, and they entered together upon a variety of topics, till his majesty concluded by observing, “In this world I have an affection for these two orders of mankind, the learned and the recluse.” A philosophic vizir, and man of much worldly experience, happened to be present. He said: “O sire! such is the canon of affection that you should confer a benefit on each. Give money to the learned man, that he may teach others; and give nothing to the hermit, that he may remain an anchorite. — A zahid, or hermit, stands in need of neither diram nor dinar; when an anchorite takes either, look out for another. — Whoever is virtuously disposed, and holds a mystical communication with God, is sufficient of a hermit without requiring the bread of charity, or the crumbs of mendicity. The tapering finger of the lovely, and her soul-deluding ear-lobe, are decoration enough without a turquoise ring or ear-jewel. Tell that piously-disposed and serene-minded dervish that he needs not the bread of consecration or scraping of beggary; tell that handsome and fair-faced matron that she does not require paint, coloring, or jewelry. — When I have of my own, and covet what is another’s, if they esteem me not a hermit they treat me as I merit.”
XXXIV
Conformably with the above apologue, a king had a business of importance in hand. He said: “If this affair prosper to my wish I will distribute among the recluses a certain sum in dirams.” Now his object was accomplished, and mind made easy, he thought it incumbent to fulfil the condition of his eleemosynary vow, and gave a bag of dinars to a favorite servant, that he might distribute them among the anchorites. This was a discreet and considerate young man. He wandered about for the whole day; and, returning in the evening, kissed the bag of money, and laid it before the king, saying, “However much I sought after, I have met with no recluses!” The king answered, “What a story is this? for I myself know four hundred recluses within this city.” He said, “O sovereign of the universe! such as are recluses do not take money; and such as take money are not anchorites!” The king smiled, and observed to his courtiers, “However much I reverence and favor this tribe of God’s worshippers, this saucy fellow expresses for them a spite and ill-will; and, if you desire the truth, he has justice on his side. Instead of that hermit who took dirams and dinars, get hold of one who is more an anchorite.”
XXXV
They asked a profoundly-learned man, saying, “What is your opinion of consecrated bread, or almstaking?” He answered, “If with the view of composing their minds, and promoting their devotions, it is lawful to take it; but if monks collect for the sake of an endowment, it is forbidden. Good and holy men have received the bread of consecration for the sake of religious retirement; and are not recluses, that they may receive such bread.”
XXXVI
A dervish came to put up at a place where the master of the house was a gentleman of an hospitable disposition. He had as his guests an assembly of learned and witty men, each of whom was repeating such a jest, or anecdote, as is usual with the facetious. Having travelled across a desert, the dervish was much fatigued, and well-nigh famished. One of the company observed, in the way of pleasantry, “You must also repeat something.” The dervish answered, “I am not, like the others, overstocked with learning and wit, nor am I much read in books; and you must be satisfied with my reciting one distich.” One and all eagerly cried, “Let us hear it.” He said, “Hungry as I am, I sit by a table spread with food, like a bachelor at the entrance of a bath full of women!”
They applauded what he said, and ordered the tray to be placed before him. The lord of the feast said, “Stay your appetite, my friend! till my handmaids can prepare for you some forced meat.” He raised his head from the tray, and answered, “Say there is no need for forced meat on my tray, for a crust of plain bread is sufficient for one baked as I have been in the desert.”
XXXVII
A disciple complained to his ghostly father, saying, “What can I do, for I am much annoyed by the people, who are interrupting me with their frequent visits, and break in upon my precious hours with their impertinent intrusions.” He replied, “To such of them as are poor lend money, and from such as are rich ask some in loan; and neither of them will trouble you again.” Let a beggar be the harbinger of an army of Islam, or the orthodox, and the infidel will fly his importunity as far as the wall of China.
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XXXIX
A drunken fellow had lain down to sleep on the highway, and was quite overcome with the fumes of intoxication. An abid was passing close by, and looking at him with scorn. The youth raised his head, and said, “Whenever they pass anything shameful they pass it with compassion. — Whenever thou beholdest a sinner, hide and bear with his transgressions: thou, who art aware of them, why not overlook my sins with pity? — Turn not away, O reverend sir! from a sinner; but look upon him with compassion. Though in my actions I am not a hero, do thou pass by as the heroic would pass me.”
XL
A gang of dissolute vagabonds broke in upon a dervish, used opprobrious language, and beat and ill-used him. In his helplessness he carried his complaint before his ghostly father, and said, “Thus it has befallen me.” He replied: “O my son! the patched cloak of dervishes is the garment of resignation; whosoever wears this garb, and cannot bear with disappointment, is a hypocrite, and to him our cloth is forbidden. — A vast and deep river is not rendered turbid by throwing into it a stone. That religious man who can be vexed at an injury is as yet a shallow brook. — If thou art subjected to trouble, bear with it; for by forgiveness thou art purified from sin. Seeing, O brother! that we are ultimately to become dust, be humble as the dust, before thou moulderest into dust.”
XLI
Hear what occurred once at Bagdad in a dispute that took place between a roll-up curtain and standard. Covered with the road-dust, and jaded with a march, the standard, in reproach, observed to the curtain: “Thou and I are gentlemen in livery; we are fellow-servants at the court of his majesty. I never enjoy a moment’s relief from duty; early and late I am equally marching. Thou hast never experienced any peril or a siege, the heavy sand of the desert or dust of a whirlwind; my foot is most forward in any enterprise. Then why art thou my superior in dignity? Thou art cared for by youths with faces splendid as the moon, and handled by damsels scenting like jasmine; while I am fallen into the hands of raw recruits, am rolled up on our march, and turned upside down.” The curtain answered: “I lay my head humble at the threshold, and hold it not up like thine, flaring in the face of heaven! Whoever is thus vainly rearing his crest exalts himself only to be humbled.”
XLII
A good and holy man saw a huge and strong fellow, who, having got much enraged, was storming with passion and foaming at the mouth. He asked, “What has happened to this man?” Somebody answered, “Such a one has given him bad names!” He said, “This paltry wretch is able to carry a thousand-weight of stone, and cannot bear with one light word! Cease to boast of thy strong arm and pretended manhood, infirm as thou art in mind, and mean in spirit. What difference is there between such a man and a woman? Though thou art strong of arm, let thy mouth utter sweet words; it is no proof of courage to thrust thy fist into another man
’s face: — Though thou art able to tear the scalp off an elephant, if deficient in humanity, thou art no hero. The sons of Adam are formed from dust; if not humble as the dust, they fall short of being men.”
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XLIV
A facetious old gentleman of Bagdad gave his daughter in marriage to a shoemaker. The flint-hearted fellow bit so deeply into the damsel’s lip that the blood trickled from the wound. Next morning the father found her in this plight; he went up to his son-in-law, and asked him, saying: “Lowborn wretch! what sort of teeth are these that thou shouldst chew her lips as if they were a piece of leather? I speak not in play what I have to say. Lay jesting aside, and take with her thy legal enjoyment. — When once a vicious disposition has taken root in the habit, the hand of death can only eradicate it.”
XLV
A doctor of laws had a daughter preciously ugly, and she had reached the age of womanhood; but, notwithstanding her dowry and fortune, nobody seemed inclined to ask her in marriage: — Damask or brocade but add to her deformity when put upon a bride void of symmetry.
In short, they were under the necessity of uniting her in the bonds of wedlock to a blind man. They add, that soon after there arrived from Sirandip, or Ceylon, a physician that could restore sight to the blind. They spoke to the law doctor, saying, “Why do you not get him to prescribe for your son-in-law?” He answered: “Because I am afraid he may recover his sight, and repudiate my daughter; for— ‘the husband of an ugly woman should be blind.’”
The Collected Works of Saadi Page 15