Chapter 1

Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

"The smiling Garden of Persian Literature": a Garden which I would describe, in the Eastern style, as a happy spot, where lavish Nature with profusion strews the most fragrant and blooming flowers, where the most delicious fruits abound, which is ever vocal with the plaintive melancholy of the nightingale, who, during day and night, "tunes her love-laboured song": ... where the voice of Wisdom is often heard uttering her moral sentence, or delivering the dictates of experience.--SIR W. OUSELEY.

FLOWERS FROM A PERSIAN GARDEN,

AND

OTHER PAPERS.

BY W. A. CLOUSTON,

AUTHOR OF 'POPULAR TALES AND FICTIONS' AND 'BOOK OF NOODLES'; EDITOR OF 'A GROUP OF EASTERN ROMANCES AND STORIES,' 'BOOK OF SINDIBAD,' 'BAKHTYAR NAMA,' 'ARABIAN POETRY FOR ENGLISH READERS,' ETC.

LONDON: DAVID NUTT, 270, 271, STRAND. MDCCCXC.

TO E. SIDNEY HARTLAND, ESQ.,

FELLOW OF THE SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES; MEMBER OF THE COUNCIL OF THE FOLK-LORE SOCIETY, ETC.

MY DEAR HARTLAND,

Though you are burdened with the duties of a profession far outside of which lie those studies that have largely occupied my attention for many years past, yet your own able contributions to the same, or cognate, subjects of investigation evince the truth of the seemingly paradoxical saying, that "the busiest man finds the greatest amount of leisure." And in dedicating this little book to you--would that it were more worthy!--as a token of gratitude for the valuable help you have often rendered me in the course of my studies, I am glad of the opportunity it affords me for placing on record (so to say) the fact that I enjoy the friendship of a man possessed of so many excellent qualities of heart as well as of intellect.

The following collection of essays, or papers, is designed to suit the tastes of a more numerous class of readers than were some of my former books, which are not likely to be of special interest to many besides students of comparative folk-lore--amongst whom your own degree is high. The book, in fact, is intended mainly for those who are rather vaguely termed "general readers"; albeit I venture to think that even the folk-lore student may find in it somewhat to "make a note of," as the great Captain Cuttle was wont to say--in season and out of season.

Leaving the contents to speak for themselves, I shall only say farther that my object has been to bring together, in a handy volume, a series of essays which might prove acceptable to many readers, whether of grave or lively temperament. What are called "instructive" books--meaning thereby "morally" instructive--are generally as dull reading as is proverbially a book containing nothing but jests--good, bad, and indifferent. We can't (and we shouldn't) be always in the "serious" mood, nor can we be for ever on the grin; and it seems to me that a mental dietary, by turns, of what is wise and of what is witty should be most wholesome. But, of the two, I confess I prefer to take the former, even as one ought to take solid food, in great moderation; and, after all, it is surely better to laugh than to mope or weep, in spite of what has been said of "the loud laugh that speaks the vacant mind." Most of us, in this work-a-day world, find no small benefit from allowing our minds to lie fallow at certain times, as farmers do with their fields. In the following pages, however, I believe wisdom and wit, the didactic and the diverting, will be found in tolerably fair proportions.

But I had forgot--I am not writing a Preface, and this is already too long for a Dedication; so believe me, with all good wishes,

Yours ever faithfully, W. A. CLOUSTON. GLASGOW, February, 1890.

CONTENTS.

FLOWERS FROM A PERSIAN GARDEN.

I Sketch of the Life of the Persian Poet Saádí--Character of his Writings--the _Gulistán_, or Rose-Garden--Prefaces to Books--Preface to the _Gulistán_--Eastern Poets in praise of Springtide

II Boy's Archery Feat--Advantages of Abstinence--Núshirván on Oppression--Boy in terror at Sea--Pride of Ancestry--Misfortunes of Friends--Fortitude and Liberality--Prodigality--Stupid Youth--Advantages of Education--The Fair Cup-bearer--'January and May'--Why an Old Man did not Marry--The Dervish who became King--Muezzin and Preacher who had bad voices--Witty Slave--Witty Kází--Astrologer and his Faithless Wife--Objectionable Neighbour

III On Taciturnity: Parallels from Caxton's _Dictes_ and preface to _Kalíla wa Dimna_--Difference between Devotee and Learned Man--To get rid of Troublesome Visitors--Fable of the Nightingale and the Ant--Aphorisms of Saádí--Conclusion

ORIENTAL WIT AND HUMOUR.

I Man a Laughing Animal--Antiquity of Popular Jests--'Night and Day'--The Plain-featured Bride--The House of Condolence--The Blind Man's Wife--Two Witty Persian Ladies--Woman's Counsel--The Turkish Jester: in the Pulpit; the Cauldron; the Beggar; the Drunken Governor; the Robber; the Hot Broth--Muslim Preachers and Misers

II The Two Deaf Men and the Traveller--The Deaf Persian and the Horseman--Lazy Servants--Chinese Humour: The Rich Man and the Smiths; How to keep Plants alive; Criticising a Portrait--The Persian Courtier and his old Friend--The Scribe--The Schoolmaster and the Wit--The Persian and his Cat--A List of Blockheads--The Arab and his Camel--A Witty Baghdádí--The Unlucky Slippers

III The Young Merchant of Baghdád; or, the Wiles of Woman

IV Ashaab the Covetous--The Stingy Merchant and the Hungry Bedouin--The Sect of Samradians--The Story-teller and the King--Royal Gifts to Poets--The Persian Poet and the Impostor--'Stealing Poetry'--The Rich Man and the Poor Poet

V Unlucky Omens--The Old Man's Prayer--The Old Woman in the Mosque--The Weeping Turkmans--The Ten Foolish Peasants--The Wakeful Servant--The Three Dervishes--The Oilman's Parrot--The Moghul and his Parrot--The Persian Shopkeeper and the Prime Minister--Hebrew Facetiæ

TALES OF A PARROT.

I General Plan of Eastern Story-books--The _Tútí Náma_, or Parrot-Book--The Frame-story--The Stolen Images--The Woman carved out of Wood--The Man whose Mare was kicked by a Merchant's Horse

II The Emperor's Dream--The Golden Apparition--The Four Treasure-seekers

III The Singing Ass: the Foolish Thieves: the Faggot-maker and the Magic Bowl

IV The Goldsmith who lost his Life through Covetousness--The King who died of Love for a Merchant's Daughter--The Discovery of Music--The Seven Requisites of a Perfect Woman

V The Princess of Rome and her Son--The Seven Vazírs

VI The Tree of Life--Legend of Rájá Rasálú--Conclusion

_ADDITIONAL NOTE:_ The Magic Bowl, etc.

RABBINICAL LEGENDS, TALES, FABLES, AND APHORISMS.

I INTRODUCTORY: Authors, Traducers, and Moral Teachings of Talmud

II LEGENDS OF SOME BIBLICAL CHARACTERS: Adam and Eve--Cain and Abel--The Planting of the Vine--Luminous Jewels--Abraham's Arrival in Egypt--The Infamous Citizens of Sodom--Abraham and Ishmael's Wives--Joseph and Potiphar's Wife--Joseph and his Brethren--Jacob's Sorrow--Moses and Pharaoh

III LEGENDS OF DAVID AND SOLOMON, etc.

IV MORAL AND ENTERTAINING TALES: Rabbi Jochonan and the Poor Woman--A Safe Investment--The Jewels--The Capon-carver

V MORAL TALES, TABLES, AND PARABLES: The Dutiful Son--An Ingenious Will--Origin of Beast-Fables--The Fox and the Bear--The Fox in the Garden--The Desolate Island--The Man and his Three Friends--The Garments--Solomon's Choice--Bride and Bridegroom--Abraham and the Idols--The Vanity of Ambition--The Seven Stages of Human Life

VI WISE SAYINGS OF THE RABBIS

_ADDITIONAL NOTES:_ Adam and the Oil of Mercy Muslim Legend of Adam's Punishment, Pardon, Death, and Burial Moses and the Poor Woodcutter Precocious Sagacity of Solomon Solomon and the Serpent's Prey The Capon-carver The Fox and the Bear The Desolate Island Other Rabbinical Legends and Tales

AN ARABIAN TALE OF LOVE.

_ADDITIONAL NOTES:_ 'Wamik and Asra' Another Famous Arabian Lover

APOCRYPHAL LIFE OF ESOP.

_ADDITIONAL NOTE:_ Drinking the Sea Dry

IGNORANCE OF THE CLERGY IN THE MIDDLE AGES.

THE BEARDS OF OUR FATHERS.

INDEX.

FLOWERS FROM A PERSIAN GARDEN.

I

SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF THE PERSIAN POET SAADI--CHARACTER OF HIS WRITINGS--THE "GULISTÁN"--PREFACES TO BOOKS--PREFACE TO THE "GULISTÁN"--EASTERN POETS IN PRAISE OF SPRINGTIDE.

It is remarkable how very little the average general reader knows regarding the great Persian poet Saádí and his writings. His name is perhaps more or less familiar to casual readers from its being appended to one or two of his aphorisms which are sometimes reproduced in odd corners of popular periodicals; but who he was, when he lived, and what he wrote, are questions which would probably puzzle not a few, even of those who consider themselves as "well read," to answer without first recurring to some encyclopædia. Yet Saádí was assuredly one of the most gifted men of genius the world has ever known: a man of large and comprehensive intellect; an original and profound thinker; an acute observer of men and manners; and his works remain the imperishable monument of his genius, learning, and industry.

Maslahu 'd-Dín Shaykh Saádí was born, towards the close of the twelfth century, at Shíráz, the famous capital of Fars, concerning which city the Persians have the saying that "if Muhammed had tasted the pleasures of Shíráz, he would have begged Allah to make him immortal there." In accordance with the usual practice in Persia, he assumed as his _takhallus_, or poetical name,[1] Saádí, from his patron Atabag Saád bin Zingí, sovereign of Fars, who encouraged men of learning in his principality. Saádí is said to have lived upwards of a hundred years, thirty of which were passed in the acquisition of knowledge, thirty more in travelling through different countries, and the rest of his life he spent in retirement and acts of devotion. He died, in his native city, about the year 1291.

[1] One reason, doubtless, for Persian and Turkish poets adopting a _takhallus_ is the custom of the poet introducing his name into every ghazal he composes, generally towards the end; and as his proper name would seldom or never accommodate itself to purposes of verse he selects a more suitable one.

At one period of his life Saádí took part in the wars of the Saracens against the Crusaders in Palestine, and also in the wars for the faith in India. In the course of his wanderings he had the misfortune to be taken prisoner by the Franks, in Syria, and was ransomed by a friend, but only to fall into worse thraldom by marrying a shrewish wife. He has thus related the circumstances:

"Weary of the society of my friends at Damascus, I fled to the barren wastes of Jerusalem, and associated with brutes, until I was made captive by the Franks, and forced to dig clay along with Jews in the fortress of Tripoli. One of the nobles of Aleppo, mine ancient friend, happened to pass that way and recollected me. He said: 'What a state is this to be in! How farest thou?' I answered: 'Seeing that I could place confidence in God alone, I retired to the mountains and wilds, to avoid the society of man; but judge what must be my situation, to be confined in a stall, in company with wretches who deserve not the name of men. "To be confined by the feet with friends is better than to walk in a garden with strangers."' He took compassion on my forlorn condition, ransomed me from the Franks for ten dínars,[2] and took me with him to Aleppo.

[2] A dínar is a gold coin, worth about ten shillings of our money.

"My friend had a daughter, to whom he married me, and he presented me with a hundred dínars as her dower. After some time my wife unveiled her disposition, which was ill-tempered, quarrelsome, obstinate, and abusive; so that the happiness of my life vanished. It has been well said: 'A bad woman in the house of a virtuous man is hell even in this world.' Take care how you connect yourself with a bad woman. Save us, O Lord, from the fiery trial! Once she reproached me, saying: 'Art thou not the creature whom my father ransomed from captivity amongst the Franks for ten dínars?' 'Yes,' I answered; 'he redeemed me for ten dínars, and enslaved me to thee for a hundred.'

"I heard that a man once rescued a sheep from the mouth of a wolf, but at night drew his knife across its throat. The expiring sheep thus complained: 'You delivered me from the jaws of a wolf, but in the end I perceive you have yourself become a wolf to me.'"

Sir Gore Ouseley, in his _Biographical Notices of Persian Poets_, states that Saádí in the latter part of his life retired to a cell near Shíráz, where he remained buried in contemplation of the Deity, except when visited, as was often the case, by princes, nobles, and learned men. It was the custom of his illustrious visitors to take with them all kinds of meats, of which, when Saádí and his company had partaken, the shaykh always put what remained in a basket suspended from his window, that the poor wood-cutters of Shíráz, who daily passed by his cell, might occasionally satisfy their hunger.

* * * * *

The writings of Saádí, in prose as well as verse, are numerous; his best known works being the _Gulistán_, or Rose-Garden, and the _Bustán_, or Garden of Odours. Among his other compositions are: an essay on Reason and Love; Advice to Kings; Arabian and Persian idylls, and a book of elegies, besides a large collection of odes and sonnets. Saádí was an accomplished linguist, and composed several poems in the languages of many of the countries through which he travelled. "I have wandered to various regions of the world," he tells us, "and everywhere have I mixed freely with the inhabitants. I have gathered something in each corner; I have gleaned an ear from every harvest." A deep insight into the secret springs of human actions; an extensive knowledge of mankind; fervent piety, without a taint of bigotry; a poet's keen appreciation of the beauties of nature; together with a ready wit and a lively sense of humour, are among the characteristics of Saádí's masterly compositions. No writer, ancient or modern, European or Asiatic, has excelled, and few have equalled, Saádí in that rare faculty for condensing profound moral truths into short, pithy sentences. For example:

"The remedy against want is to moderate your desires."

"There is a difference between him who claspeth his mistress in his arms, and him whose eyes are fixed on the door expecting her."

"Whoever recounts to you the faults of your neighbour will doubtless expose your defects to others."

His humorous comparisons flash upon the reader's mind with curious effect, occurring, as they often do, in the midst of a grave discourse. Thus he says of a poor minstrel: "You would say that the sound of his bow would burst the arteries, and that his voice was more discordant than the lamentations of a man for the death of his father;" and of another bad singer: "No one with a mattock can so effectually scrape clay from the face of a hard stone as his discordant voice harrows up the soul."

Talking of music reminds me of a remark of the learned Gentius, in one of his notes on the _Gulistán_ of Saádí, that music was formerly in such consideration in Persia that it was a maxim of their sages that when a king was about to die, if he left for his successor a very young son, his aptitude for reigning should be proved by some agreeable songs; and if the child was pleasurably affected, then it was a sign of his capacity and genius, but if the contrary, he should be declared unfit.--It would appear that the old Persian musicians, like Timotheus, knew the secret art of swaying the passions. The celebrated philosopher Al-Farabí (who died about the middle of the tenth century), among his accomplishments, excelled in music, in proof of which a curious anecdote is told. Returning from the pilgrimage to Mecca, he introduced himself, though a stranger, at the court of Sayfú 'd-Dawla, sultan of Syria, when a party of musicians chanced to be performing, and he joined them. The prince admired his skill, and, desiring to hear something of his own, Al-Farabí unfolded a composition, and distributed the parts amongst the band. The first movement threw the prince and his courtiers into violent laughter, the next melted all into tears, and the last lulled even the performers to sleep. At the retaking of Baghdád by the Turks in 1638, when the springing of a mine, whereby eight hundred jannisaries perished, was the signal for a general massacre, and thirty thousand Persians were put to the sword, a Persian musician named Sháh-Kúlí, who was brought before the sultan Murád, played and sang so sweetly, first a song of triumph, and then a dirge, that the sultan, moved to pity by the music, gave order to stop the slaughter.

To resume, after this anecdotical digression. Saádí gives this whimsical piece of advice to a pugnacious fellow: "Be sure, either that thou art stronger than thine enemy, or that thou hast a swifter pair of heels." And he relates a droll story in illustration of the use and abuse of the phrase, "For the sake of God," which is so frequently in the mouths of Muslims: A harsh-voiced man was reading the Kurán in a loud tone. A pious man passed by him and said: "What is thy monthly salary?" The other replied: "Nothing." "Why, then, dost thou give thyself this trouble?" "I read for the sake of God," he rejoined. "Then," said the pious man, "_for God's sake don't read_."

The most esteemed of Saádí's numerous and diversified works is the _Gulistán_, or Rose-Garden. The first English translation of this work was made by Francis Gladwin, and published in 1808, and it is a very scarce book. Other translations have since been issued, but they are rather costly and the editions limited. It is strange that in these days of cheap reprints of rare and excellent works of genius no enterprising publisher should have thought it worth reproduction in a popular form. It is not one of those ponderous tomes of useless learning which not even an Act of Parliament could cause to be generally read, and which no publisher would be so blind to his own interests as to reprint. As regards its size, the _Gulistán_ is but a small book, but intrinsically it is indeed a very great book, such as could only be produced by a great mind, and it comprises more wisdom and wit than a score of old English folios could together yield to the most devoted reader. Some querulous persons there are who affect to consider the present as a shallow age, because, forsooth, huge volumes of learning--each the labour of a lifetime--are not now produced. But the flood-gates of knowledge are now wide open, and, no longer confined within the old, narrow, if deep, channels, learning has spread abroad, like the Nile during the season of its over-flow. Shallow, it may be, but more widely beneficial, since its life-giving waters are within the reach of all.

Unlike most of our learned old English authors, Saádí did not cast upon the world all that came from the rich mine of his genius, dross as well as fine gold, clay as well as gems. It is because they have done so that many ponderous tomes of learning and industry stand neglected on the shelves of great libraries. Time is too precious now-a-days, whatever may have been the case of our forefathers, for it to be dissipated by diving into the muddy waters of voluminous authors in hopes of finding an occasional pearl of wisdom. And unless some intelligent and painstaking compiler set himself to the task of separating the gold from the rubbish in which it is imbedded in those graves of learning, and present the results of his labour in an attractive form, such works are virtually lost to the world. For in these high-pressure days, most of us, "like the dogs in Egypt for fear of the crocodiles, must drink of the waters of knowledge as we run, in dread of the old enemy Time."

Saádí, however, in his _Gulistán_ sets forth only his well-pondered thoughts in the most felicitous and expressive language. There is no need to form an abstract or epitome of a work in which nothing is superfluous, nothing valueless. But, as in a cabinet of gems some are more beautiful than others, or as in a garden some flowers are more attractive from their brilliant hues and fragrant odours, so a selection may be made of the more striking tales and aphorisms of the illustrious Persian philosopher.

The preface to the _Gulistán_ is one of the most pleasing portions of the whole book. Now prefaces are among those parts of books which are too frequently "skipped" by readers--they are "taken as read." Why this should be so, I confess I cannot understand. For my part, I make a point of reading a preface at least twice: first, because I would know what reasons my author had for writing his book, and again, having read his book, because the preface, if well written, may serve also as a sort of appendix. Authors are said to bestow particular pains on their prefaces. Cervantes, for instance, tells us that the preface to the first part of _Don Quixote_ cost him more thought than the writing of the entire work. "It argues a deficiency of taste," says Isaac D'Israeli, "to turn over an elaborate preface unread; for it is the essence of the author's roses--every drop distilled at an immense cost." And, no doubt, it is a great slight to an author to skip his preface, though it cannot be denied that some prefaces are very tedious, because the writer "spins out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument," and none but the most _hardy_ readers can persevere to the distant end. The Italians call a preface _salsa del libro_, the _salt_ of the book. A preface may also be likened to the porch of a mansion, where it is not courteous to keep a visitor waiting long before you open the door and make him free of your house. But the reader who passes over the preface to the _Gulistán_ unread loses not a little of the spice of that fascinating and instructive book. He who reads it, however, is rewarded by the charming account which the author gives of how he came to form his literary Rose-Garden:

"It was the season of spring; the air was temperate and the rose in full bloom. The vestments of the trees resembled the festive garments of the fortunate. It was mid-spring, when the nightingales were chanting from their pulpits in the branches. The rose, decked with pearly dew, like blushes on the cheek of a chiding mistress. It happened once that I was benighted in a garden, in company with a friend. The spot was delightful: the trees intertwined; you would have said that the earth was bedecked with glass spangles, and that the knot of the Pleiades was suspended from the branch of the vine. A garden with a running stream, and trees whence birds were warbling melodious strains: that filled with tulips of various hues; these loaded with fruits of several kinds. Under the shade of its trees the zephyr had spread the variegated carpet.