Flowers from a Persian Garden and Other Papers | Page 9

Muhammed Asa��d, and translated into English by W. F. Thompson, Al��, 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. Sa��d�� tells us of a merchant who, having lost a thousand d��nars, 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-G��r that a liberal hand is preferable to a strong arm." "H��tim Ta?," remarks Sa��d��, "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] H��tim was chief of the Arabian tribe of Ta?, shortly before Muhammed began to promulgate Isl��m, renowned for his extraordinary liberality.
Prodigality, however, is as much to be condemned as judicious liberality is to be lauded. Sa��d�� 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 Sa��d��) 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