Chapter 2

"In the morning, when the desire to return home overcame our inclination to remain, I saw in my friend's lap a collection of roses, odoriferous herbs, and hyacinths, which he intended to carry to town. I said: 'You are not ignorant that the flower of the garden soon fadeth, and that the enjoyment of the rose-bush is of short continuance; and the sages have declared that the heart ought not to be set upon anything that is transitory.' He asked: 'What course is then to be pursued?' I replied: 'I am able to form a book of roses, which will delight the beholders and gratify those who are present; whose leaves the tyrannic arm of autumnal blasts can never affect, or injure the blossoms of its spring. What benefit will you derive from a basket of flowers? Carry a leaf from my garden: a rose may continue in bloom five or six days, but this Rose-Garden will flourish for ever.' As soon as I had uttered these words, he flung the flowers from his lap, and, laying hold of the skirt of my garment, exclaimed: 'When the beneficent promise, they faithfully discharge their engagements.' In the course of a few days two chapters were written in my note-book, in a style that may be useful to orators and improve the skill of letter-writers. In short, while the rose was still in bloom, the book called the Rose-Garden was finished."

Dr. Johnson has remarked that "there is scarcely any poet of eminence who has not left some testimony of his fondness for the flowers, the zephyrs, and the warblers of the spring." This is pre-eminently the case of Oriental poets, from Solomon downwards: "Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away," exclaims the Hebrew poet in his Book of Canticles: "for lo! the winter is past, the rain is over and gone: the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds has come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land. The fig-tree putteth forth her green fruits, and the vines with the tender grapes give forth a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away."

In a Persian poem written in the 14th century the delights of the vernal season are thus described: "On every bush roses were blowing; on every branch the nightingale was plaintively warbling. The tall cypress was dancing in the garden; and the poplar never ceased clapping its hands with joy. With a loud voice from the top of every bough the turtle-dove was proclaiming the glad advent of spring. The diadem of the narcissus shone with such splendour that you would have said it was the crown of the Emperor of China. On this side the north wind, on that, the west wind, were, in token of affection, scattering dirhams at the feet of the rose.[3] The earth was musk-scented, the air musk-laden."

[3] Referring to the custom of throwing small coins among crowds in the street on the occasion of a wedding. A dirham is a coin nearly equal in value to sixpence of our money.

But it would be difficult to adduce from the writings of any poet, European or Asiatic, anything to excel the charming ode on spring, by the Turkish poet Mesíhí, who flourished in the 15th century, which has been rendered into graceful English verse, and in the measure of the original, by my friend Mr. E. J. W. Gibb, in his dainty volume of _Ottoman Poems_, published in London a few years ago. These are some of the verses from that fine ode:

Hark! the bulbul's[4] lay so joyous: "Now have come the days of spring!" Merry shows and crowds on every mead they spread, a maze of spring; There the almond-tree its silvery blossoms scatters, sprays of spring: _Gaily live! for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring!_[5]

Once again, with flow'rets decked themselves have mead and plain; Tents for pleasure have the blossoms raised in every rosy lane; Who can tell, when spring hath ended, who and what may whole remain? _Gaily live! for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring!_

* * * * *

Sparkling dew-drops stud the lily's leaf like sabre broad and keen; Bent on merry gipsy party, crowd they all the flow'ry green! List to me, if thou desirest, these beholding, joy to glean: _Gaily live! for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring!_

Rose and tulip, like to maidens' cheeks, all beauteous show, Whilst the dew-drops, like the jewels in their ears, resplendent glow; Do not think, thyself beguiling, things will aye continue so: _Gaily live! for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring!_

* * * * *

Whilst each dawn the clouds are shedding jewels o'er the rosy land, And the breath of morning zephyr, fraught with Tátár musk, is bland; Whilst the world's fair time is present, do not thou unheeding stand: _Gaily live! for soon will vanish, biding not, the days of spring!_

With the fragrance of the garden, so imbued the musky air, Every dew-drop, ere it reaches earth, is turned to attar rare; O'er the parterre spread the incense-clouds a canopy right fair: _Gaily live! for soon will vanish, Biding not, the days of spring!_

[4] The nightingale.

[5] In the original Turkish:

_Dinleh bulbul kissa sen kim gildi eiyami behár! Kurdi her bir baghda hengamei hengami behár; Oldi sim afshan ana ezhari badami behár: Ysh u nush it kim gicher kalmaz bu eiyami behár._

Here we have an example of the _redíf_, which is common in Turkish and Persian poetry, and "consists of one or more words, always the same, added to the end of every rhyming line in a poem, which word or words, though counting in the scansion, are not regarded as the true rhyme, which must in every case be sought for immediately before them. The lines--

There shone such truth about thee, I did not dare to doubt thee--

furnish an example of this in English poetry." In the opening verse of Mesíhí's ode, as above transliterated in European characters, the _redíf_ is "behár," or spring, and the word which precedes it is the true rhyme-ending. Sir William Jones has made an elegant paraphrase of this charming ode, in which, however, he diverges considerably from the original, as will be seen from his rendering of the first stanza:

Hear how the nightingale, on every spray, Hails in wild notes the sweet return of May! The gale, that o'er yon waving almond blows, The verdant bank with silver blossoms strows; The smiling season decks each flowery glade-- Be gay; too soon the flowers of spring will fade.

This Turkish poet's maxim, it will be observed, was "enjoy the present day"--the _carpe diem_ of Horace, the genial old pagan. On the same suggestive theme of Springtide a celebrated Turkish poetess, Fitnet Khánim (for the Ottoman Turks have poetesses of considerable genius as well as poets), has composed a pleasing ode, addressed to her lord, of which the following stanzas are also from Mr. Gibb's collection:

The fresh spring-clouds across all earth their glistening pearls profuse now sow; The flowers, too, all appearing, forth the radiance of their beauty show; Of mirth and joy 'tis now the time, the hour, to wander to and fro; The palm-tree o'er the fair ones' pic-nic gay its grateful shade doth throw.

_O Liege, come forth! From end to end with verdure doth the whole earth glow; 'Tis springtide once again, once more the tulips and the roses blow!_

Behold the roses, how they shine, e'en like the cheeks of maids most fair; The fresh-sprung hyacinth shows like to beauties' dark, sweet, musky hair; The loved one's form behold, like cypress which the streamlet's bank doth bear; In sooth, each side for soul and heart doth some delightful joy prepare.

_O Liege, come forth! From end to end with verdure doth the whole earth glow; 'Tis springtide once again, once more the tulips and the roses blow!_

The parterre's flowers have all bloomed forth, the roses, sweetly smiling, shine; On every side lorn nightingales, in plaintive notes discerning, pine. How fair carnation and wallflower the borders of the garden line! The long-haired hyacinth and jasmine both around the cypress twine.

_O Liege, come forth! From end to end with verdure doth the whole earth glow; 'Tis springtide once again, once more the tulips and the roses blow!_

I cannot resist the temptation to cite, in concluding this introductory paper, another fine eulogy of the delights of spring, by Amír Khusrú, of Delhi (14th century), from his _Mihra-i-Iskandar_, which has been thus rendered into rhythmical prose:

"A day in spring, when all the world a pleasing picture seemed; the sun at early dawn with happy auspices arose. The earth was bathed in balmy dew; the beauties of the garden their charms displayed, the face of each with brilliancy adorned. The flowers in freshness bloomed; the lamp of the rose acquired lustre from the breeze; the tulip brought a cup from paradise; the rose-bower shed the sweets of Eden; beneath its folds the musky buds remained, like a musky amulet on the neck of Beauty. The violet bent its head; the fold of the bud was closer pressed; the opened rose in splendour glowed, and attracted every eye; the lovely flowers oppressed with dew in tremulous motion waved. The air o'er all the garden a silvery radiance threw, and o'er the flowers the breezes played; on every branch the birds attuned their notes, and every bower with warblings sweet was filled, so sweet, they stole the senses. The early nightingale poured forth its song, that gives a zest to those who quaff the morning goblet. From the turtle's soft cooings love seized each bird that skimmed the air."

II

STORIES FROM THE "GULISTÁN."

The _Gulistán_ consists of short tales and anecdotes, to which are appended comments in prose and verse, and is divided into eight chapters, or sections: (1) the Morals of Kings; (2) the Morals of Dervishes; (3) the Excellence of Contentment; (4) the Advantages of Taciturnity; (5) Love and Youth; (6) Imbecility and Old Age; (7) the Effects of Education; (8) Rules for the Conduct of Life. In culling some of the choicest flowers of this perennial Garden, the particular order observed by Saádí need not be regarded here; it is preferable to pick here a flower and there a flower, as fancy may direct.

* * * * *

It may happen, says our author, that the prudent counsel of an enlightened sage does not succeed; and it may chance that an unskilful boy inadvertently hits the mark with his arrow: A Persian king, while on a pleasure excursion with a number of his courtiers at Nassála Shíráz, appointed an archery competition for the amusement of himself and his friends. He caused a gold ring, set with a valuable gem, to be fixed on the dome of Asád, and it was announced that whosoever should send an arrow through the ring should obtain it as a reward of his skill. The four hundred skilled archers forming the royal body-guard each shot at the ring without success. It chanced that a boy on a neighbouring house-top was at the same time diverting himself with a little bow, when one of his arrows, shot at random, went through the ring. The boy, having obtained the prize, immediately burned his bow, shrewdly observing that he did so in order that the reputation of this feat should never be impaired.

The advantage of abstinence, or rather, great moderation in eating and drinking, is thus curiously illustrated: Two dervishes travelled together; one was a robust man, who regularly ate three meals every day, the other was infirm of body, and accustomed to fast frequently for two days in succession. On their reaching the gate of a certain town, they were arrested on suspicion of being spies, and both lodged, without food, in the same prison, the door of which was then securely locked. Several days after, the unlucky dervishes were found to be quite innocent of the crime imputed to them, and on opening the door of the prison the strong man was discovered to be dead, and the infirm man still alive. At this circumstance the officers of justice marvelled; but a philosopher observed, that had the contrary happened it would have been more wonderful, since the one who died had been a great eater, and consequently was unable to endure the want of food, while the other, being accustomed to abstinence, had survived.

Of Núshírván the Just (whom the Greeks called Chosroe), of the Sassanian dynasty of Persian kings--sixth century--Saádí relates that on one occasion, while at his hunting-seat, he was having some game dressed, and ordered a servant to procure some salt from a neighbouring village, at the same time charging him strictly to pay the full price for it, otherwise the exaction might become a custom. His courtiers were surprised at this order, and asked the king what possible harm could ensue from such a trifle. The good king replied: "Oppression was brought into the world from small beginnings, which every new comer increased, until it has reached the present degree of enormity." Upon this Saádí remarks: "If the monarch were to eat a single apple from the garden of a peasant, the servant would pull up the tree by the roots; and if the king order five eggs to be taken by force, his soldiers will spit a thousand fowls. The iniquitous tyrant remaineth not, but the curses of mankind rest on him for ever."

Only those who have experienced danger can rightly appreciate the advantages of safety, and according as a man has become acquainted with adversity does he recognise the value of prosperity--a sentiment which Saádí illustrates by the story of a boy who was in a vessel at sea for the first time, in which were also the king and his officers of state. The lad was in great fear of being drowned, and made a loud outcry, in spite of every effort of those around him to soothe him into tranquility. As his lamentations annoyed the king, a sage who was of the company offered to quiet the terrified youth, with his majesty's permission, which being granted, he caused the boy to be plunged several times in the sea and then drawn up into the ship, after which the youth retired to a corner and remained perfectly quiet. The king inquired why the lad had been subjected to such roughness, to which the sage replied: "At first he had never experienced the danger of being drowned, neither had he known the safety of a ship."

One of our English moralists has remarked that the man who chiefly prides himself on his ancestry is like a potato-plant, whose best qualities are under ground. Saádí tells us of an old Arab who said to his son: "O my child, in the day of resurrection they will ask you what you have done in the world, and not from whom you are descended."--In the _Akhlák-i-Jalaly_, a work comprising the practical philosophy of the Muhammedans, written, in the 15th century, in the Persian language, by Fakír Jání Muhammed Asaád, and translated into English by W. F. Thompson, Alí, the Prophet's cousin, is reported to have said:

My soul is my father, my title my worth; A Persian or Arab, there's little between: Give me him for a comrade, whatever his birth, Who shows what _he is_--not what _others have been_.

An Arabian poet says:

Be the son of whom thou wilt, try to acquire literature, The acquisition of which may make pedigree unnecessary to thee; Since a man of worth is he who can say, "I am so and so," Not he who can only say, "My father was so and so."

And again:

Ask not a man who his father was, but make trial Of his qualities, and then conciliate or reject him accordingly For it is no disgrace to new wine, if it only be sweet, As to its taste, that it was the juice [or daughter] of sour grapes.

The often-quoted maxim of La Rochefoucauld, that there is something in the misfortunes of our friends which affords us a degree of secret pleasure, is well known to the Persians. Saádí tells us of a merchant who, having lost a thousand dínars, cautioned his son not to mention the matter to anyone, "in order," said he, "that we may not suffer two misfortunes--the loss of our money and the secret satisfaction of our neighbours."

A generous disposition is thus eloquently recommended: They asked a wise man, which was preferable, fortitude or liberality, to which he replied: "He who possesses liberality has no need of fortitude. It is inscribed on the tomb of Bahram-i-Gúr that a liberal hand is preferable to a strong arm." "Hátim Taï," remarks Saádí, "no longer exists, but his exalted name will remain famous for virtue to eternity.[6] Distribute the tithe of your wealth in alms, for when the husbandman lops off the exuberant branches from the vine, it produces an increase of grapes."

[6] Hátim was chief of the Arabian tribe of Taï, shortly before Muhammed began to promulgate Islám, renowned for his extraordinary liberality.

Prodigality, however, is as much to be condemned as judicious liberality is to be lauded. Saádí gives the following account of a Persian prodigal son, who was not so fortunate in the end as his biblical prototype: The son of a religious man, who succeeded to an immense fortune by the will of his uncle, became a dissipated and debauched profligate, in so much that he left no heinous crime unpractised, nor was there any intoxicating drug which he had not tasted. Once I admonished him, saying: "O my son, wealth is a running stream, and pleasure revolves like a millstone; or, in other words, profuse expense suits him only who has a certain income. When you have no certain income, be frugal in your expenses, because the sailors have a song, that if the rain does not fall in the mountains, the Tigris will become a dry bed of sand in the course of a year. Practise wisdom and virtue, and relinquish sensuality, for when your money is spent you will suffer distress and expose yourself to shame."[7] The young man, seduced by music and wine, would not take my advice, but, in opposition to my arguments, said: "It is contrary to the wisdom of the sages to disturb our present enjoyments by the dread of futurity. Why should they who possess fortune suffer distress by anticipating sorrow? Go and be merry, O my enchanting friend! We ought not to be uneasy to-day for what may happen to-morrow. How would it become me, who am placed in the uppermost seat of liberality, so that the fame of my bounty is wide spread? When a man has acquired reputation by liberality and munificence, it does not become him to tie up his money-bags. When your good name has been spread through the street, you cannot shut your door against it." I perceived (continues Saádí) that he did not approve of my admonition, and that my warm breath did not affect his cold iron. I ceased advising, and, quitting his society, returned into the corner of safety, in conformity with the saying of the philosophers: "Admonish and exhort as your charity requires; if they mind not, it does not concern you. Although thou knowest that they will not listen, nevertheless speak whatever you know is advisable. It will soon come to pass that you will see the silly fellow with his feet in the stocks, smiting his hands and exclaiming, 'Alas, that I did not listen to the wise man's advice!'" After some time, that which I had predicted from his dissolute conduct I saw verified. He was clothed in rags, and begging a morsel of food. I was distressed at his wretched condition, and did not think it consistent with humanity to scratch his wound with reproach. But I said in my heart: Profligate men, when intoxicated with pleasure, reflect not on the day of poverty. The tree which in the summer has a profusion of fruit is consequently without leaves in winter.

[7] Auvaiyár, the celebrated poetess of the Tamils (in Southern India), who is said to have flourished in the ninth century, says, in her poem entitled _Nalvali_:

Mark this: who lives beyond his means Forfeits respect, loses his sense; Where'er he goes through the seven births, All count him knave; him women scorn.

The incapacity of some youths to receive instruction is always a source of vexation to the pedagogue. Saádí tells us of a vazír who sent his stupid son to a learned man, requesting him to impart some of his knowledge to the lad, hoping that his mind would be improved. After attempting to instruct him for some time without effect, he sent this message to his father: "Your son has no capacity, and has almost distracted me. When nature has given capacity instruction will make impressions; but if iron is not of the proper temper, no polishing will make it good. Wash not a dog in the seven seas, for when he is wetted he will only be the dirtier. If the ass that carried Jesus Christ were to be taken to Mecca, at his return he would still be an ass."

One of the greatest sages of antiquity is reported to have said that all the knowledge he had acquired merely taught him how little he did know; and indeed it is only smatterers who are vain of their supposed knowledge. A sensible young man, says Saádí, who had made considerable progress in learning and virtue, was at the same time so discreet that he would sit in the company of learned men without uttering a word. Once his father said to him: "My son, why do you not also say something you know?" He replied: "I fear lest they should question me about something of which I am ignorant, whereby I should suffer shame."

The advantages of education are thus set forth by a philosopher who was exhorting his children: "Acquire knowledge, for in worldly riches and possessions no reliance can be placed.[8] Rank will be of no use out of your own country; and on a journey money is in danger of being lost, for either the thief may carry it off all at once, or the possessor may consume it by degrees. But knowledge is a perennial spring of wealth, and if a man of education cease to be opulent, yet he need not be sorrowful, for knowledge of itself is riches.[9] A man of learning, wheresoever he goes, is treated with respect, and sits in the uppermost seat, whilst the ignorant man gets only scanty fare and encounters distress." There once happened (adds Saádí) an insurrection in Damascus, where every one deserted his habitation. The wise sons of a peasant became the king's ministers, and the stupid sons of the vazír were reduced to ask charity in the villages. If you want a paternal inheritance, acquire from your father knowledge, for wealth may be spent in ten days.

[8] "All perishes except learning."--_Auvaiyár_.

[9] "Learning is really the most valuable treasure.--A wise man will never cease to learn.--He who has attained learning by free self-application excels other philosophers.--Let thy learning be thy best friend.--What we have learned in youth is like writing cut in stone.--If all else should be lost, what we have learned will never be lost.--Learn one thing after another, but not hastily.--Though one is of low birth, learning will make him respected."--_Auvaiyár_.