Delphi Collected Works of Saadi (Illustrated) E-Book

Saadi Shirazi

• Herausgeber: Delphi Classics Ltd
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Serie: Delphi Poets Series
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Seitenzahl: 396

Beschreibung

Saadi is one of the greatest figures of classical Persian literature. His best-known work of poetry is the ‘Bustan’ (The Orchard), composed entirely in epic metre and consisting of stories illustrating the standard virtues recommended to Muslims, as well as offering reflections on the behaviour of dervishes and their ecstatic practices. Saadi also wrote the ‘Gulistan’, a prose collection featuring stories and personal anecdotes. The text is interspersed with a variety of short poems, containing aphorisms, advice and humorous reflections. Saadi’s works are characterised by their unusual blend of kindness and cynicism, always wishing to avoid the hard dilemma, making him, for many, the most widely admired poet of Persian literature. The Delphi Poets Series offers readers the works of literature’s finest poets, with superior formatting. This volume presents Saadi’s collected works, with related illustrations and the usual Delphi bonus material. (Version 1)

* Beautifully illustrated with images relating to Saadi’s life and works
* Concise introduction to Saadi’s life and poetry
* All of the major verse and prose texts of Saadi
* Images of how the poetry books were first printed, giving your eReader a taste of the original texts
* Excellent formatting of the poems
* Easily locate the sections you want to read
* Includes the rare poetry collection ‘Pand Namah’, first time in digital print
* Features a bonus biography — discover Saadi’s intriguing life and poetry
* Scholarly ordering of texts into chronological order and literary genres

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CONTENTS:
The Life and Poetry of Saadi Shirazi
Brief Introduction: Saadi by Epiphanius Wilson
Bustan (translated by A. Hart Edwards)
Pand Namah (translated by Arthur N. Wollaston)

The Prose
Gulistan (translated by James Ross)

The Biography
Introduction to Saadi by Arthur N. Wollaston

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Leseprobe

Saadi Shirazi

(1210-c. 1291)

Contents

The Life and Poetry of Saadi Shirazi

Brief Introduction: Saadi by Epiphanius Wilson

Bustan

Pand Namah

The Prose

Gulistan

The Biography

Introduction to Saadi by Arthur N. Wollaston

The Delphi Classics Catalogue

© Delphi Classics 2019

Version 1

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Saadi Shirazi

By Delphi Classics, 2019

COPYRIGHT

Saadi - Delphi Poets Series

First published in the United Kingdom in 2019 by Delphi Classics.

© Delphi Classics, 2019.

All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form other than that in which it is published.

ISBN: 978 1 78877 971 5

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The Life and Poetry of Saadi Shirazi

Shiraz, the fifth most populous city of Iran and the capital of the Fars Province. Saadi’s birthplace is one of the oldest cities of ancient Persia.

Imamzadeh Ali ebn e Hamze, Shiraz

Jean Struys’ drawing of Shiraz in c. 1681

Brief Introduction: Saadi by Epiphanius Wilson

THE PERSIAN POET Sa’di, generally known in literary history as Muslih-al-Din, belongs to the great group of writers known as the Shirazis, or singers of Shiraz. His “Gulistan,” or “Rose Garden,” is the mature work of his life-time, and he lived to the age of one hundred and eight. The Rose Garden was an actual thing, and was part of the little hermitage, to which he retired, after the vicissitudes and travels of his earlier life, to spend his days in religious contemplation, and the embodiment of his experience in reminiscences, which took the form of anecdotes, sage and pious reflections, bon-mots, and exquisite lyrics. When a friend visited him in his cell and had filled a basket with nosegays from the garden of the poet with roses, hyacinths, spikenards, and sweet-basils, Sa’di told him of the book he was writing, and added:— “What can a nosegay of flowers avail thee? Pluck but one leaf from my Rose Garden; the rose from yonder bush lasts but a few days, but this Rose must bloom to all eternity.”

Sa’di has been proved quite correct in this estimate of his own work. The book is indeed a sweet garden of unfading freshness. If we compare Sa’di with Hafiz, we find that both of them based their theory of life upon the same Sufic pantheism. Both of them were profoundly religious men. Like the strong and life-giving soil out of whose bosom sprang the rose-tree, wherein the nightingales sang, was the fixed religious confidence, which formed the support of each poet’s mind, amid all the vagaries of fancy, and the luxuriant growth of fruit and flower which their genius gave to the world. Hafiz is the Persian Anacreon. As he raises his voice of thrilling and unvarying sweetness, his steps reel, he waves the thyrsus, and his flushed cheek shows the inspiration of the vine. To him the Supreme Being has much in common with the Indian or Thracian Dionysus, the god of perennial youth, joyous revel, and exhilaration. Hafiz can never be the guide, though he may be the cheerer of mortals, adding more to the gayety than to the wisdom of life. But both in the western and in the eastern world Sa’di must always be looked upon as the guide and enlightener of those who taste life, and love poetry. It has been said by a wise man that poetry is the great instructor of mature minds. Many a man turning away in weariness from the controversies, the insincerities, and the pretentiousness of the intellectualists around him, has exclaimed, “Give me my Horace.” But Horace with all his bonhommie, his common sense, and his acuteness, is but the representative of a narrow Roman coterie of the Augustan age. How thin, flimsy, and unspiritual does he appear in comparison with the marvellous depth, the spiritual insight, the tenderness and power of expression which characterized Sa’di.

Sa’di had begun his life as a student of the Koran and became early imbued with the quietism of Islam. The cheerfulness and exuberant joy which characterize the poems he wrote before he reached his fortieth year, had bubbled up under the repressions of severe discipline and austerity. But the religion of Mohammed was soon exchanged by him, under the guidance of a famous teacher, for the wider and more transcendental system of Sufism. Within the area of this magnificent scheme, the boldest ever formulated under the name of religion, he found the liberty which his soul desired. Early discipline had made him a morally sound man, and it is the goodness of Sa’di that lends such a warm and endearing charm to his works. The last finish was given to his intellectual training by the travels which he took after the Tartar invasion desolated Persia, in the thirteenth century. India, Arabia, Syria, were in turn visited. He found Damascus a congenial halting-place, and lived there for some time, with an increasing reputation as a sage and poet. He preached at Baalbec on the fugitiveness of human life, on faith, love, and rest in God. He wandered, like Jerome, in the wilderness about Jerusalem, and worked as a slave in Africa in the trenches of Tripoli: he travelled the length and breadth of Asia Minor. When he arrived back at Shiraz, he had passed the limit of three-score years and ten, and there he remained in his hermitage and his garden, to arrange the result of all his studies, his experiences, and his sufferings, in that consummate work which he has named the “Rose Garden,” after the little cultivated plot in which he spent his declining days and drew his last breath.

The “Gulistan” is divided into eight chapters, each dealing with a specific subject and partaking of the nature of an essay: although these chapters are composed of disjointed paragraphs, generally beginning with an aphorism or an anecdote and closing with an original poem of a few lines. Sometimes these paragraphs are altogether lyrical. We are struck, first of all, by the personal character of these paragraphs; many of them relate the experience of the poet in some part of his travels, expressing his comment upon what he had seen and heard. His comments generally take the form of practical wisdom, or religious suggestion. He gives us the impression that he knows life and the human heart thoroughly. It may be said of him, as Arnold said of Sophocles, he was one “who saw life steadily, and saw it whole.” On the other hand, there is not the slightest trace of cynical acerbity in his writings. He has passed through the world in the independence of a self-possessed soul, and has found it all good, saving for the folly of fools and the wretchedness and degradation of the depraved. There is no bitter fountain in the “Rose Garden,” and the old man’s heart is as fresh as when he left Shiraz, thirty years before; the sprightliness of his poetry has only been ripened and tempered to a more exquisite flavor, by the increase of wisdom and the perfecting of art.

Above all, we find in Sa’di the science of life, as comprising morality and religion, set forth in a most suggestive and a most attractive form. In some way or other the “Rose Garden” may remind us of the “Essays” of Bacon, which were published in their complete form the year before the great English philosopher died. Both works cover a large area of thought and experience; but the Englishman is clear, cold, and sometimes cynical, while the Persian is more spiritual, though not less acute, and has the fervor of the poet which Bacon lacks, and the religious devotion which the “Essays” altogether miss. The “Rose Garden” has maxims which are not unworthy of being cherished amid the highest Christian civilization, while the serenity of mind, the poetic fire, the transparent sincerity of Sa’di, make his writings one of those books which men may safely take as the guide and inspirer of their inmost life. Sa’di died at Shiraz about the year 1292 at the reputed age of one hundred and ten.

E.W.

A copy of Saadi Shirazi’s works by the Bosniak scholar Safvet beg Bašagić (1870–1934)

Saadi in a Rose garden, from a Mughal manuscript of ‘Gulistan’, c. 1645

Saadi Shirazi is welcomed by a youth from Kashgar during a forum in Bukhara — double page illustration from a late Timurid manuscript

Bustan

Translated by A. Hart Edwards

Completed in 1257, Saadi’s Bustan is a book of poetry, which was dedicated to the Salghurid Atabeg Sa’d I or Sa’d II. It was the Persian poet’s first published work and the title translates as “The Orchard”. Featuring the fruits of Saadi’s long experience, it reveals his judgements on life, while illustrated by a vast collection of anecdotes. The text also includes accounts of Saadi’s travels and his analysis of human psychology. The poet often mentions his accounts with fervour and advice similar to the tenor of Aesop’s fables.

Bustan is written entirely in verse epic metre, consisting of stories aptly illustrating the standard virtues recommended to Muslims: namely, justice, liberality, modesty, contentment. The small book also offers reflections on the behaviour of dervishes and their ecstatic practices. It is full of practical spiritual wisdom and is characterised by Saadi’s tendency not to depend on allegory as much as other Sufi writers of the period. The majority of the stories in the collection are concerned with a moral lesson to instruct the reader.

This prose translation of the Bustan was originally published as part of the Wisdom of the East series in 1911 and has remained out of print for many years.

The first page of the ‘Bustan’, from a copy dated to the seventeenth century

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER I. Concerning Justice, Counsel, and the Administration of Government

CHAPTER II. Concerning Benevolence

CHAPTER III. Concerning Love

CHAPTER IV. Concerning Humility

CHAPTER V. Concerning Resignation

CHAPTER VI. Concerning Contentment

CHAPTER VII. Concerning Education

CHAPTER VIII. Concerning Gratitude

CHAPTER IX. Concerning Repentance

CHAPTER X. Concerning Prayer

ENDNOTES

INTRODUCTION

IF AMONG THE twenty-two works with which Sadi enriched the literature of his country the Gulistan rank first in popularity, the Bustan (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 Bustan 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 Bustan 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 Bustan 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 Gulistan 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 Bustan 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 Bustan contains several references to his childhood and travels.

Sheikh Muslih-ud-din Sadi was born in. Shiraz, in Persia, A.D. 1175; that is to say, 571 years after the flight of Muhammad from Mecca to Madina. He was the son of one Abdu’llah (servant of God), who held a Government office under the Diwan 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 Nizamiah 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 Idrar, or fellowship. In the seventh chapter of the Bustan he narrates an instructive story reminiscent of his studies at Nizamiah, 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,” Sadi he asks in the seventh chapter, how Sadi attained to rank? Neither did he traverse the plains nor journey across seas. he 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 Qadir Gilani, 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 Bustan. 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 Gulistan finds a parallel in the dedication of the Bustan to Atabak Abu Bakr-bin-Sad, 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 Sad.” 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 Bustan 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 Bustan at the age of 82, the Gulistan 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.

In 1910 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 Hatim 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 backbiter, 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 today 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 saidThe 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 beForgiven, 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.

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 liar 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 flowergarden; 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 faultfinding.

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 ATABAK ABU BAKR, SON OF SAD 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 Sad.” 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.

NUSHIRAVAN’S 6 COUNSEL TO HIS SON

Thus, when at the point of death, did Nushiravan 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 is 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 lie 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 attest 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 AND THE HERDSMAN

Darius9, 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 ARSALAN 10 AND THE FORT

Qazal Arsalan 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.

CHAPTER II. Concerning Benevolence

If thou art wise, incline towards the essential truth, for that remains, while the things that are external pass away.

He who has neither knowledge, generosity, nor piety resembles a man in form alone..

He sleeps at peace beneath the ground who made tranquil the hearts of men.

Give now of thy gold and bounty, for eventually will it pass from thy grasp. Open the door of thy treasure to-day, for to-morrow the key will not be in thy hands.

If thou would not be distressed on the Day of Judgment, forget not them that are distressed.

Drive not the poor man empty from thy door, lest thou should wander before the doors of strangers.

He protects the needy who fears that he himself may become needful of the help of others.

Art not thou, too, a supplicant? Be grateful, and turn not away them that supplicate thee.

STORY ILLUSTRATIVE OF DOING GOOD TO THE EVIL

A woman said to her husband: “Do not again buy bread from the baker in this street. Make thy purchases in the market, for this man shows wheat and sells barley, 12 and he has no customers but a swarm of flies.”

“O light of my life,” the husband answered, “pay no heed to his trickery. In the hope of our custom has he settled in this place, and not humane would it be to deprive him of his profits.”

Follow the path of the righteous, and, if thou stand upon thy feet, stretch out thy hand to them that are fallen.

STORY CONCERNING FASTING

The wife of an officer of a king said to her husband: “Arise, and go to the royal palace, that they may give thee food, for thy children are in want.”

“The kitchen is closed to-day,” he answered; “last night the Sultan resolved to fast awhile.”

In the despair of hunger, the woman bowed her head and murmured: “What does the Sultan seek from his fasting when his breaking the fast means a festival of joy for our children?”

One who eats that good may follow is better than a Mammon-worshipper who continually fasts. Proper it is to fast with him who feeds the needy in the morning.

STORY ILLUSTRATIVE OF PRACTICAL CHARITY

A certain man had generosity without the means of displaying it; his pittance was unequal to his benevolence. (May riches never fall to the mean, nor poverty be the lot of the generous!) His charities exceeding the depth of his pocket, therefore was he always short of money.

One day a poor man wrote to him saying: “O thou of happy nature! Assist me with funds, since for some time have I languished in prison.”

The generous man would have willingly acceded to the request, but he possessed not so much as the smallest piece of money. But he sent someone to the creditors of the prisoner with the message: “Free this man for a few days, and I will be his security.”

Then did he visit the prisoner in his cell and say: “Arise, and fly with haste from the city.”

When a sparrow sees open the door of its cage, it tarries not a moment. Like the morning breeze, the prisoner flew from the land. Thereupon, they seized his benefactor, saying: “Produce either the man or the money.”