Anvār-i Suhaylī - The Anvār-i Suhaili (The Lights of Canopus)

Having said thus much of the ‘Anvár-i Suhailí’ itself, and of its Sanskṛit originals, it remains that some notice be taken of the Translations which have been made into other languages, and of which the Baron DE SACY has given a full account in the ‘Mémoire Historique’ prefixed to his edition of Calila et Dimna.’ This profound scholar is of opinion, that, after the physician Burzuyah had brought the works of which the ‘Anvár-i Suhailí’ is an expansion, into Persia (see p. 6 of this translation) during the reign of Núshírwán; they were immediately translated into Pahlaví, under the same reign, that is, circa A.D. 570. This version perished, no doubt, in the invasion of the Arabs. At least, no copy has yet been discovered.

was made by the person whose name it bears, under the second Khalíf of the ’Abbásís, Manṣúr, (see p. 7 of this translation) between the years 136—158 of the Hijrah. This ’Abdu’lláh bin Al-Mukaff’a (wrongly called by many, Al-Muḳann’a, as at p. 7 of this translation) was born in Persia, and was, until converted, by religion, a Fire-worshiper. His father, who was collector of taxes in ’Irák, under Hajjáj bin Yusúf, had been guilty of extortion, and was, therefore, put to the torture, and his hand remaining shrunken in consequence, he got the name of Al-Muḳaff’a, i.e., ‘he that has shriveled hands.’ He was put to death by the Governor of Baṣrah, in accordance with a secret order despatched to him by Manṣúr.

This was made towards the close of the eleventh century, by order of the Emperor Alexis Comnenes. It is chiefly remarkable for the substitution of Greek proper names for the Oriental ones. Thus, a king of the rats is called , and three rats, his counsellors, are termed , , and .

Nothing certain is known of the Translator. The version contains two additional Chapters, the Sixteenth and Seventeenth, the former of which, being the story of ‘the Two Swans and the Duck,’ was found by M. de Sacy in one Arabic MS.: the latter, or the story of ‘the Dove and the Fox,’ he was unable to discover in any Arabic version.

Omitting a Syriac version doubtfully mentioned by M. de Sacy, and of which nothing certain is known, we come next to

(See p. 7 of this translation). This poet, called also Ustád Abú’l Ḥasan, was born blind, and flourished at the court of Sulṭán Naṣr bin Aḥmad, the third prince of the Sámánides, who, it is said, presented him with 80,000 dirams for his metrical version, which, however, seems not to have survived to modern times.

This was executed (see p. 8 of this translation) by command of Bahrám Sháh, thirteenth sulṭán of the Ghaznivites, who died A.D. 1151. It is filled with Arabic quotations, and difficult and obsolete words; and its reputation has been entirely lost sight of in the blaze of the more elegant version executed by Ḥusain Vá’iz. As enough has already been said of the latter, we have only further to observe that it was made about the beginning of the 15th century, and proceed to notice

This was made by the celebrated Abú’l-Faẓl, vazír of the renowned Akbar. His intention was to simplify the translation of Ḥusain Vá’iz, and render it more intelligible. He further introduced two Chapters which Ḥusain Vá’iz had retrenched. Of these the one is the Preface or Introduction of the Arabic translator, ’Abdu’lláh bin Al-Muḳaff’a; and the other is the life of Burzuyah before his journey to India to procure the Fables. Abú’l Faẓl seems to have fallen into the error common to many others, of supposing that Buzurjmihr, the Grand Vazír of Núshírwán, and not Burzuyah, was the Pahlaví translator of the book. M. de Sacy has proved, however, that this is not the case.

Mr. Colebrooke says of this version, ‘The ‘’Iyár-i Dánish’ comprises sixteen chapters, ten of which, as Abú’l Faẓl states in his preface, were taken from the Hindí original, entitled ‘Kartak and Damnak,’ and six were added by Buzurjmihr; namely, the four last, containing stories recited by the Bráhman Bídpáí in answer to the questions of King Dábishlím; and the two first, consisting of a preface by Buzurjmihr, with an introduction by Burzuyah. Both these introductory chapters had been omitted by Husain Vá’iz, as foreign to the original work: but he substituted a different beginning, and made other additions, some of which are indicated by him, and the rest are pointed out by Abú’l Faẓl; who has, nevertheless, retained them as appendages not devoid of use, and therefore admissible in a composition intended solely to convey moral instruction. The whole of the dramatic part, including all the dialogue between Dábishlím, King of India, and Bídpáí, a Bráhman of Sarándíp, as well as the finding of Húshang’s legacy, appears to have been added by the translators, although the appellations of the king and of the philosopher, are stated to be of Indian origin. For Abú’l Fazl has inserted the story at the close of the second chapter; after expressly declaring, in one place, that the substance of the work begins with the third; and in another, that the two first were added by the author of the Pahlaví translation.’

This is a close Hindústání translation of the ‘’Iyár-i Dánish,’ and was made A.D. 1803, by Maulaví Ḥafizu’d-dín, for the use of the College of Fort William, at the suggestion of Dr. Gilchrist. It is written in good plain language, and is a very useful book for students. The editor was Captain Thomas Roebuck, a scholar of extraordinary industry and ability, to whom Urdú literature is much indebted. This translation obtained the highest pecuniary reward ever bestowed at the College.

This was made in the first half of the tenth century of the Hijrah, under the reign of the Emperor Sulaimán I., by ’Alí Chalabí bin Sálih, Professor at Adrianople, in the College founded by Murád II. It is a close translation of the ‘Anvár-i Suhailí,’ but when the Persian verses are obscure, they are often suppressed, and Turkish verses substituted.

There are some other Turkish versions, and amongst them a poetical one by Jamálí.

The Hebrew version was translated into Latin by John of Capua, towards the close of the fifteenth century, and published under the title of ‘Directorium Humanæ Vitæ, alias Parabole Antiquorum Sapientum;’ and from it several Italian, Spanish, and German translations were made. An Italian imitation of the ‘Directorium,’ ascribed to Doni, was translated into English, and printed in 1570. A Greek version (perhaps that of Sethus) from the Arabic, was edited in 1697, with a Latin interpretation, by Starkius. In French, a part of the Fables appeared in 1644, under the title of ‘Le Livre des Lumières (Anvár-i Suhailí) on la Conduite des Royes;’ the translator is named David Said, of Isfahán. The work was, however, little known in Europe, till Galland, the French translator of the ‘Arabian Nights’ Entertainments,’ undertook a version of the first four chapters from the Turkish of ’Alí Chalabí. The remaining ten chapters were afterwards supplied by Cardonne, Professor of the Persian Language at the Royal College of Paris, from the same original, as appears by the title ‘Contes et Fables Indiennes de Bidpai et de Lokman, traduites d’Ali Tchelebi ben Saleh, auteur Turc.’ The English work, ‘Instructive and Entertaining Fables of Pilpay, an ancient Indian Philosopher,’ of which a fifth edition was published in 1775, is said to have been taken from another French translation, which was made from the Persian and published in 1709.

It only remains that a few words be said of the present translation.^0-18 It is perhaps the only version of the whole of Ḥusain Vá’iz’s work which pretends to exact faithfulness. The Preface and the First book are much more literal than the remaining parts, and this greater scrupulousness at the beginning is intended for the benefit of students. No difficulty has been intentionally slurred over, and though it cannot be doubted that many mistakes will be found in so long a work, it is hoped that they will be indulgently viewed; and that the labor, at least, which has been expended upon the translation, more especially upon the Verses, which amount to between five and six thousand, will be appreciated. In fact a few words of approbation are the only encouragement that either the Translator or the Publisher can look for; as, so little suited are Oriental works in general to the European palate that, to use the words of Ḥusain Vá’iz (in a somewhat different sense), they would make

EDWARD B. EASTWICK.

Haileybury, September 28th, 1854.

With reference to Note 4, page 546, on re-perusing the lines to which they refer, I see that the literal translation will be, ‘From the veritable to the imitator there are [great] differences: the former is like David and the latter is rust.’ David is said to have been an armourer, as is mentioned in the Ḳur’án; See Sale, p. 248, l. 20. The sense here given to ṣadá is unusual.

The Note at page 600 is wrongly placed, and refers to the word ‘raised,’ in line 2 of page 601.

THE Lord, the Absolutely Wise¹ [May his wisdom be glorified!] the glad tributes of whose praise and adoration flow on and circulate upon the tongues of all created beings, both high and low, according to the saying, ‘And there is nothing which does not celebrate his praise;’^1a and the benefits of the tables of whose infinite favours, in accordance with the enduring rule, ‘And He bestowed on each thing creation, and then guidance,’^1b pervade and extend through the collective parts of all creatures both in heaven and earth:

in His Word ancient and venerable, and in His Book deserving of precedence and reverence, addressed^1c the Lord—the Asylum of prophecy, the Sulṭán of the throne, ‘I have with God,’^1d the knower of mysteries, according to the words, ‘And He taught thee that thou didst not know,’^1e the lucidly eloquent, as it is said, ‘I am the most eloquent of Arabs and Persians,’^1f

On him be the blessings and benedictions of God, and on his offspring, and on his immediate companions, and on his followers, and on those who trace up to him!—with reference to the guidance of those who study the subjects of discipleship,² and the protection of those who seek the objects of advantage^2a—in the manner following: and pointed out to that Teacher of wisdom (of whom it is said, ‘One mighty in power taught him’)^2b the path of instruction for the candidates of the school of manners, and the way of information and the method of improving the understanding of the students of the college of industry and research, after this fashion, ‘Invite to the path of thy Lord with discretion and with gracious exhortations.’^2c The meaning of these words of happy tendency is as follows:—‘O Summoner of mankind to the tables of the benefits of wise counsel and salvation, and O Guide of men to the paths of welfare of the present existence and of the world to which all return!^2d invite my servants to the right way discreetly, and direct my adorers with kind admonitions from the gulf^2e of sensual desire to the garden of God’s favour; since it is not possible to discipline the headstrong appetites save by the lash of wisdom, nor can the sensual temperaments be brought to reason but by salutary admonition; according as it has been said, ‘Hadst thou been severe of heart, they would have been scattered.’^2f

Just as the taming of horses new to the bridle is, without observing the niceties of gentle management, impracticable; so, to reduce to submission the passions of the many—who, in consequence of brutish and ferine^2g violence having got the mastery over their natures, have fed without prohibition or repulse in the pasture-ground, ‘Leave them that they may eat and enjoy themselves,’³ and who have not experienced the bridle of the check from forbidden things, and the lash of the commandment [to do] what is right—will, without the application of preliminary prudent measures, be in like manner impossible;

and [it is said] ‘He who has received wisdom, verily he has received a great good.’^3a

The ‘gracious exhortation’ spoken of in the enjoined invitation is declared to be a discourse^3c of such a nature that the hearer is made aware^3d that it is purely wholesome counsel and essentially benign and clement, and they say that ‘gracious exhortation’ is speech of such a comprehensive description that each one of those who hear may derive benefit from it, in proportion to the degree of his capacity and aptitude. Such is the exhortation of the Ḳur’án, and the advice [contained in] the sacred book,^3e which comprehends both exoteric and esoteric kinds [of knowledge], and contains all mysteries religious and mundane, and from the words and meaning of which every one, whether reader or hearer, according to his degree, reaps advantage, and ‘to it the speaker alludes.’

And this kind of speech has been poured out and sent down on not even one of the greatest prophets, except our Prophet (May blessing and peace be upon him!); nay, it is the distinctive privilege of His Holiness, the seal of prophecy^3g; as he (The blessing and peace of God be upon him!), indicated in this, ‘I have received the All-comprehensive Words^3h:’ and, inasmuch as sincerity of obedience is a cause of inheriting special intimacy with God, and productive of the verification of relationship to Him, assuredly the minds of a select number of His great people (who are characterised by the mark, ‘Ye are the best nation that hath been raised up unto mankind’⁴), have become the recipients of the lights of the most resplendent rays of that universality [of knowledge] the borrowing of which may be [affirmed to be] from the niche of the high prophetical office of that holy person^4a; and hence they consider that to be perfect discourse, in the survey of the beauty of the meaning of which, the eye of the superficial observers derives benefit from the words, and is irradiated by the expressions; while the nostril of the esoteric examiners is perfumed by the sweet odours of the truths and niceties which are discoverable under its external sense; so that each individual, in proportion to his capacity, has derived a share from its table of unlimited advantages.

And, from the tenor of these premises, it is understood that the more the face of each word is adorned with the soft down and mole^4b of knowledge, and the more the cheek of each advice is embellished with the cosmetic of universal wisdom, so much the more is the heart of true lovers inclined to survey its adornments.^4c

And of the many treatises,^4d the foundations of whose composition are [laid] on the questions of philosophy; and of the multitude of books, the rules of whose arrangement are so grounded, and which comprise the auspicious things of advice; the book of Kalílah and Damnah^4e is one which the philosophers of Hind have composed in a peculiar style, and the methods of whose comprehensive knowledge the Bráhmans, who are adorned with the bright rays of learning, have arranged in a special manner, and have combined with one another philosophy and merriment and mirth; and, having disposed the form of the narrative in tales, on account of the bias of most dispositions to them, have recounted the stories and fables by the tongues of wild beasts and animals and birds, and in the body of them have interwoven a variety of wise rules and salutary counsels, so that the sage may peruse them with a view to profit, and the ignorant person may read them for recreation and the [amusement of the] romance, and that the lecturing on them may be easy to the teacher and the recollection of them to the student: and, in point of fact, that enlightened book is an orchard, the branches of the hidden meanings of which are made bright with the flowers ‘And therein shall they enjoy whatever their souls shall desire, and whatever their eyes shall delight in,’⁵ and the environs of the rose-garden of which are aromatised and perfumed with the gentle breezes of [the verse] ‘What eye hath not seen nor ear heard.’

And the gushing over of that fountain of truths and sage meanings is to this degree, that, from the beginning of the display [of creation] to this time, it has in every age conferred benefit on the students of the assembly of discipleship and the apt scholars of the convention of felicity, and the garment of the following beautiful verses is a graceful and becoming robe of honour on the lofty stature of this book:

And that sage of luminous mind, the Bráhman Bídpáí, composed this book in the Hindí tongue, in the name of the world-adorning Hindú sovereign Dábishlím, who was the ruler of several countries of Hindústán; and, perhaps, in the commencement of the exordium some portion is on this account inserted by the pen of narration, and the said sage has founded his discourse on exhortations, in order that in the government of their subjects, and in the expansion of the carpet of justice, and in clemency, and in educating and maintaining the fathers of the state,^5c and in repelling and opposing the enemies of the realm, it might prove of service to rulers; and Dábishlím made this book the polestar^5d of his wishes and the pillar of his designs, and with the key of the perusal of this [volume] he always opened^5e the doors of the solution of difficulties and unveiled knotty points, and in his time this precious jewel was hid from the sight of every one, like a peerless gem in the cabinet of its cell, and like a ruby of Badakhshán, shewed not its face from the recess of the mine save after a thousand toils;⁶ and after him each one of his descendants and kinsmen who succeeded him on the imperial throne trod the same path and exerted himself to conceal it; and, notwithstanding all this excessive caution, the fragrant breath of the excellencies of this book had filled the regions of the world with odour, like the borders of a rose-garden; and the musk-scattering bag of its virtues caused the nostrils of the diligent inquirers^6a after the odours of history and tradition to be scented with ambergris.

Till in the time of Kasra Núshírwán^6c this intelligence became universally diffused that ‘Among the treasures of the kings of Hindústán there is a book which they have compiled from the speech of animals and brutes and birds and reptiles and savage beasts; and all that befits a king in the matter of government and vigilance, and is useful for princes in the observance of king-craft, is exhibited in the folds of its leaves, and men regard it as the stock of all advice and the medium of all advantage.’ Núshírwán (by the rain of whose beneficence the trees of the river of justice were rendered verdant, and by the drops of the showers of whose favour the freshness of the rose-garden of equity was augmented,

felt the greatest eagerness and most unspeakable desire to peruse this book. The physician Burzuyah,^6d who was chief of his class in Párs,^6e at the request of Núshírwán proceeded to Hindústán, and was there during a long period; and, by a variety of artifices and devices, having secured⁷ the book, got possession of it, and, having translated the Indian words into the Pahlaví^7a dialect, which was the language at that time spoken by the Sulṭáns of Írán,^7b submitted it to Núshírwán, and, being so fortunate as to have [his gift] accepted, was honoured with [the monarch’s] approbation. [Hereupon] His Highness the Sháh’s estimation of the book ascended the ladders of perfection; and the actions of Núshírwán, as might be traced in his development of justice, and in his beneficence, and his conquest of countries, and his [method of] soothing the hearts of his subjects, were based on the perusal of the book: and, after Núshírwán, the Persian kings also honoured it, and kept it out of sight with excessive care, until the time when the second Khaliph of the ’Abbásís, Abú J’afar Manṣúr-bin-Muḥammad-bin-’Alí-bin-’Abdu’ lláh-bin ’Abbás^7c (May God approve of them!) heard news of that book, and displayed the greatest eagerness^7d to obtain it, and, by some clever devices, having got possession of the Pahlaví copy, commanded Imám Abú’l-Ḥasan ’Abdu’lláh-bin-Muḳann’a,^7e who was the chief of the learned men of that age, so that he translated the whole of it from the Pahlaví into Arabic, and he (the Khaliph) kept it continually under perusal, and based his imperial ordinances and his regulations as regards justice and clemency, on those counsels and precepts. Next, Abú’l-Ḥasan Naṣr bin Aḥmad Sámání^7f commanded one of the learned men of the age, so that he translated the work from the Arabic language into Persian, and the poet Rúdakí,^7g by direction of the Sulṭán, arranged it in order of verse; and, again, Abú’l-Muzaffar Bahrám Sháh-bin-Sulṭán Masa’úd,^7h one of the descendants of Sulṭán Maḥmúd-i Ghází of Ghazní, who is celebrated by the sage Sanáí,⁷ⁱ issued a command, so that the most eloquent of eloquent men and the most powerful of rhetoricians, Abú’l Ma’álí Naṣru’lláh-bin-Muḥammad-bin-Al-Ḥamíd (God rest his soul, and grant him increasing triumph in the mansions of Paradise!) translated it from the copy of Ibn-i Muḳann’a, and this book, which has now become celebrated by [the name of] Kalílah and Damnah, is the translation of the aforesaid learned man^7j; and, in truth, its style in elegance resembles the sweetness of life; and in freshness it is like many-hued coral; and its fascinating words are like the love-allurements of honey-lipped mistresses, whose charms provoke dissension; and its life-increasing meanings may be compared to the ringlets of tender youths, who delight the heart.

To the blackness of its letters, which may be termed the collyrium of the jewels^7l of meaning, a place might be given on the white page of the tablet of the visual organ; and to the whiteness of its paper, which may be called the dawn of the morning of joyousness, a location might be assigned on the dark pupil of the world-viewing eye.

And, although those who sit on the throne of the court of style are unanimous in praise of the magnificence of the words, and in applauding the eloquence of its compounds,

nevertheless, through the introduction of strange words and by overstraining the language with the beauties of Arabic expressions and hyperbole in metaphors and similes of various kinds, and exaggeration and prolixity in words and obscurity of expression, the mind of the hearer is kept back from enjoyment of the meaning of the book, and from apprehending the pith of the subject; and the disposition of the reader also is unable to perform the task of connecting the beginnings of the story with the terminations, and of adjusting the commencements of the discourse with the conclusions; and this circumstance will undoubtedly be a cause of disrelish and a source of ennui both to the reader and the hearer, especially in this age, so characterized by fastidiousness, in which the minds of its children have become nice to such a degree that they expect⁹ to perceive the meaning without its being decked out on the richly ornamented bridal-bed, as it were, of language; how much more when in some of the words they may require to employ a minute comparison of the dictionary, and to examine glossaries^9a with care. Hence, too, it all but came to pass that a book of such preciousness [as this is] was almost neglected and abandoned, and that the people of the world were deprived of its advantages and excluded from them. On this account, at the present time, His Highness the seal of sovereignty, whose luminously gifted nature comprehends all perfections, and whose sublimely characterized qua-lities have risen from the dawning-place of excellence and spirituality, the magnanimous Lord, who, notwithstanding his proximity to His Majesty the Sulṭán of the age and the Kháḳán^9b of the time, the spreader of the carpet of security and peace, the Diffuser of the marks of goodness and beneficence, the Sun of the zenith of the Khaláfats and empire, the Jupiter of the zodiac of dominion and principality,

(May God perpetuate his kingdom and his power!) yea, notwithstanding the being looked on with favour by the glances of that high personage, endowed as they are with the properties of the philosopher’s stone, [still] he has shaken free his magnanimous skirt from the dust of worldly pageants (‘But the present life is only a deceitful provision’)^9d and has not permitted the page of his pure heart to be inscribed with

and has kept in full view, [as a guide] to his own affairs, this saying of happy tendency—

and regards the promoting of the wishes of the oppressed and the disappointed, and the furthering of the affairs of the bereft, as the means of acquiring provision for the final state; nor has suffered himself to be stigmatized with neglecting the meaning of this excellent memento,

And he is the great Amír, the place where all excellencies and high qualities^10a centre through the sublimity of his spirit, the favoured with the gifts of the sole King, the Orderer of the state and of religion, the Amír Shekh Aḥmad, celebrated by the title Suhailí,^10b (may God bestow on him, as an especial distinction, the peace of Salmán amd the perfection of Kumail,)^10c who, without compliment, is the star Canopus, shining from the right hand of Yaman, and a sun, diffusing radiance from the dawning-place of affection and fidelity.

With a view to the universal diffusion of what is advantageous to mankind, and the multiplying what is beneficial to high and low, he condescended to favour me with an intimation of his high will that this humble individual, devoid of ability, and this insignificant person of small capital, Ḥusain-bin ’Alí-u’l-Wá’iz, known by the name of Káshifí (May God most High strengthen him with His hidden favours),^10d should be bold enough to clothe the said book in a new dress, and bestow fresh adornment on the beauty of its tales of esoteric meaning, which were veiled and concealed by the curtain of obscure words and the wimple of difficult expressions, by presenting them on the stages of lucid style and the upper chambers of becoming metaphors, after a fashion that the eye of every examiner, without a glance of penetration or penetration of vision, may enjoy a share of the loveliness of those beauties of the ornamented bridal-chamber of narrative, and the heart of every wise person, without the trouble of imagining or the imagining trouble,¹¹ may obtain the fruition of union with those delicately reared ones of the closet of the mind.

And as there was no evading obedience to that peerless mandate, and the maxim ‘Wisdom is from Yaman,’ shewed itself from the dawning-place of the light of Canopus,

After prayer for the blessing of God, and asking leave, I entered on this undertaking; and, whatever has flowed from the tongue^11b of my pen and the pen of my tongue from the invisible world,—that has been written down: and [the reader] must know that the basis of the book Kalílah and Damnah is on practical wisdom,^11c and by practical wisdom is meant knowledge of the actions of the will and the practices natural to the human race, in a manner that may be conducive to the ordering of the affairs of the world to which we must return, and the present world of men, and may tend to arriving at perfection in those things at which men aim. And this kind of wisdom is first of all divided into two kinds, the one, that which may be referred to each person individually; the second, that which relates to a body of men viewed in association. The former of these, which is referable to each person individually, and in which the society of another is not supposable, they call ‘refinement of morals;’ and the other, which has reference to a collective body, admits of a second two-fold division,—the one, partnership in abode and habitation, which they call domestic economy; and the other community in city and country, and, moreover, in clime and realm, which is named civic economy; and the said book comprehends the three kinds that have just been mentioned, and various advantages connected with the latter sorts, and that which has reference to ‘refinement of morals,’ is not treated of, save incidentally. Wherefore, although the means existed of adducing somewhat as to the excellencies of morals, we were loth to allow of a complete change in the arrangement of the book, and hence avoiding the hindrance of an increase to its chapters, we adhered to the same plan that had been adopted by the sage of Hind, and having dropped the first two chapters, in which no extraordinary advantage was discoverable, and which did not enter into the original design of the book, we wrote the other fourteen in a clear and easy style, and included in the composition the tales in the way of dialogue between the King and the Bráhman, after the manner mentioned in the beginning: and before introducing the opening chapters, we thought it necessary to commence with a story, which may serve as a source of the narrative; and further, since the style adopted in the said book is to employ as a medium obscurity of expression, so, if in the composition of the said work the reins of narration have turned from the usual road in which authors write, and from the mode of composition of ordinary writers to the path of descent, the excuse will be plain.

It is further to be noted that in the midst of the tales I have but briefly availed myself of the various sorts of Arabic expressions, by introducing certain verses from the Ḳur’án and sayings of the Prophet necessary to be mentioned, and traditions and well-known proverbs; and have not clogged the work by employing Arabic verses, but have adorned the page of the narrative with the jewels of Persian poetry, which is inlaid like blended gems and gold.

Moreover, in the place where the different chapters are written, wherever the introduction of a story or the recital of a maxim seemed pertinent, in accord-ance with the observation,

I shall proceed with the steps of boldness on the road of self-discretion, and this poor person, though he sees that in attempting this work he is a mark for the shafts of censure, nevertheless submits with¹³ the tongue of humility in the audience-hall of apology, and on the standing-ground of respectful representation, to the orators arrayed with eloquence, and the eloquent invested with^13a oratory, this apophthegm, ‘He that is commanded is excused’; and in reply to the threatening sentence, ‘Whoever composes, makes himself a butt,’ he offers this rejoinder deserving of acceptance, ‘He who composes produces something new.’^13b

May God graciously guide us to that which He loves, and be pleased with and seal up our states and our hopes and our fates happily and fairly; and this book, which is entitled the ‘Anvár-i Suhailí,’ has fourteen chapters after the manner that is herewith particularly detailed:

After the list of the chapters the story commences, which will form the source of the narrative: and success is from the One God.

THE jewellers of the street of the bázár of meanings, and the money-changers of the mint of eloquence, and the portrait-painters of the marvels of narration, and the statuaries of the wonders of romance, have adorned the frontispiece of the volumes of history after this manner; and have decked and embellished the title-page of the scrolls of nocturnal conversations in this wise: to wit, that—In former times, in the remote limits of the empire of China, there was a king, the fame of whose wealth and successful fortune had passed through all quarters and directions of the world, and the tale of whose magnificence and regal dignity was manifest like the sun at noonday. Celebrated princes had drawn the ring of obedience to him through the ear of their soul, and kings of exalted rank had for him put on the shoulders of their hearts the saddle-cloth of allegiance,¹⁵

On the border of the carpet of his daily-increasing fortune, world-subduing nobles and right-counselling Vazírs always belted on the cincture of obedience to the waist of their soul: and at the foot of his throne, stable as the firmament, venerable sages and men wise in counsel, sate ever in the chair of loyalty. His treasury was stored with jewels of various kinds, and coins of divers sorts; and his army, numerous and renowed, exceeded the limits of calculation and reckoning. His valour was combined with generosity, and his dominion was joined with due repression of crime.

And they called that king Humáyún Fál,¹⁶ since by his comprehensive justice the state of his subjects was fortunate, and by his perfeet benignity, the condition of the indigent and poor was linked and conjunct with freedom from care and with tranquillity. If the officer of justice does not exert himself in controuling the condition of the subject, the thief of wickedness with the aid of oppression will bring ruin on the fortunes of high and low; and if the ray of the candle of equity does not illumine the dark hovel of the distressed, the shades of oppression will cast a gloom, like the heart of the tyrannical, over all regions and quarters of the state,

And this King had a Vazír, a cherisher of his subjects and a diffuser of mercies, whose world-adorning intellect was wont to be the light of the dormitory of the state; and whose right-aiming purpose would, by a single deliberation, solve a thousand difficult knots. The weighty anchor of his benignity secured the ship of the ocean of sedition in that troublous whirlpool; and the rough blast of his chastisement tore up, root and branch, the skirt-detaining boughs of the thorn-thickets of injustice.

And forasmuch as the affairs of the empire derived perfect lustre from his auspicious counsels, they call him Khujistah Ráí;^16a and Humáyún Fál embarked in no undertaking without his advice, nor commenced any matter, small or great, without consulting him, nor belted the waist of war in the plain of battle without his permission, nor took his seat on the throne of mirth and enjoyment in the palace of festivity without a signal from him: and assuredly it behoves illustrious monarchs and fortunate princes, according to the injunction, ‘And consult them in your business,’^16b not to enter upon state deliberations without the aid of the counsels of sagacious and eminent men; and to direct the administration of their affairs and their mandates, according to the advice of consummate ministers and intelligent counsellors; so that, according to the purport [of the saying] ‘A people consults not without God’s guiding them to the most perfect matter,’ whatever proceeds from them is consistent with what is most advisable, and comprehends the security of the world and the welfare of the children of Adam.

It happened that one day Humáyún Fál went forth to the chase. Khujistah Ráí, like fortune, waited on the stirrup of Humáyún, and¹⁷ the spacious extent of the hunting-ground was a cause of envy to the sky above, on account of the auspicious footsteps of the King; and the celestial eagle, in the expectation of becoming the prey of the royal falcon, turned towards the centre of the earth. The hunting animals, having broken their bonds and having sprung forth from their fetters and confinement, put themselves in motion in pursuit of game. The hunting pard, covered with its leopard skin, became eyes all over its body, to gaze the better on the beauty of the dark-eyed antelopes;^17a and the dog, with its lion-like claws, in the desire of capturing the hare, learned a thousand kinds of vulpine artifices. The high-soaring hawk, like a far-flying arrow from the thumb-stall of the archer, set his face towards the zenith: and the food-providing^17b falcon with the wound of its blood-spilling talons, tore out the arteries from the throat of the quarry.

And when the King had finished the sport of the chase, and had emptied the desert of beasts and the air of birds, his retinue obtained leave to depart, and the King and his Vazír bent their steps towards the capital; but during that time their caftans^17c of steel were rendered soft as wax by the heat of the sun; and from the warmth of the horse-armour, which boasted an equality with a flame of fire, the swift-paced courser was burnt up on the spot,

Humáyún Fál, said to Khujistah Ráí, ‘In such a heated atmosphere it is not wise to bestir ourselves, nor is it possible to escape the heat by taking shelter in the shade of a pavilion. From the ardent warmth, the terrestrial globe is heated like a smith’s forge; and the earth’s centre, like the expanse of æther, has become a quarry of fire. How dost thou advise—that for a time we should rest in the shade, and when the ’Anḳá¹⁸ of the sun inclines to its nest in the west, we too may alight at our victorious abode?’ Khujistah Ráí unloosed the tongue of praise and said,

To thy subjects, who take refuge under the shadow of the phœnix, as under a king’s banner, there is no apprehension from the flame of the sun’s world-consuming torch,

Nevertheless, it appears to be essentially beneficial that the sublimely-gifted person of the King, the shadow of God, in the shade of whose fortune the people are at rest, should take refuge from the heat of the atmosphere, whence results a variety of annoyances and aches;

And I behold in the vicinity a mountain lofty as the magnanimity of the brave, and exalted as the rank of the pious. A short time ago, I went there: from head to foot it was clothed in a green mantle, and a thousand fountains of sweet water bubbled up from its pure breast. Its odoriferous herbs and flowers shone like the stars of heaven, and its fountain-like rivulets glittered like the brooks of the garden of Paradise. The advisable course is this, that the reins of intention should be turned in that direction, that for a short time we may be gladdened like verdure beneath the willow-shade; and for a moment may be refreshed and contented like the jasmine at the water’s edge, and at the boundary of the parterre,

Humáyún Fál, agreeably to the advice of Khujistah Ráí, turned his face in that direction and in a short time, having passed over the distance, made with the dust of the hoof of his cream-coloured steed, magnificent as that of Rustam,¹⁹ the skirt of the mountain, like the sleeve of those possessed of prosperous fortune, a kissing-place for the happy. He beheld a mountain which raised its lofty summit beyond the highest part of the sky and which brought the top of its green sword^19a near the gilded shield of the sun, or rather it was like a Shekh, who, according to the description, ‘And [we made] the mountains as stakes’^19b has brought the foot of constancy under the robe of dignity, while from his eyes the stream of tears flowing on has reached his skirt. The king having ascended the mountain,^19c and having girt his clothes around his waist as a cloud [girdles a hill], made a circuit round it on every side. On a sudden, an expanse appeared, in extent like the plain of hope; and a space was presented to his eyes, like the expansion of anticipation in excessive amplitude. In its verdure it resembled the flower-garden of heaven, and in its waters and air it equaled the verdant meads of Paradise; and in its area, the violet sprang up in vicinity to the rose, like the captivating tresses of the beautiful, and young hyacinths, with self-springing tulips, grew up delightful like the civet-diffusing ringlets of the sugar-lipped fair. The willow of Tabaristán was arrayed in its vermilion satin vest,^19d and the straight cypress had robed itself with its silken pistachio-coloured head-dress. The tongue of the perfume-loaded zephyr disclosed to the four quarters of the world the secrets of the sweet plants of the garden, and, from the discourse of the Nightingale, the story of the Rose’s hue and fragrance reached the ears of the dwellers in the Mansions on High.

And in the midst of that verdant plain was a lake, whose water, like that of life, strengthened the soul, and was like Salsabíl in Paradise, of exquisite delicacy and purity.

The Vazír commanded that they should adorn the margin of the lake with a throne for the king; and Humáyún Fál seated himself on the cushion of ease. The attendants of his auspicious retinue disposed themselves to rest under the shade of trees on the bank of a rivulet, and regarding their Eden-like halting-place, after that fiery atmosphere, as a rare blessing, repeated with the tongue of ecstasy this couplet,

The King and the Vazír dismounted from their horses and elephants in a corner of the plain, and without playing [chess] through check to the queen on their vain imaginations, averted the countenance of their lofty spirits from the worthless trifles of this world, and bending their meditations on the wonders of God’s creation, and the marvels of His infinite productions, performed the recital of the praise of that King Most High, the artist of whose fixed decree, with the pen of omnipotence, has engraven such beautiful pictures on the surface of the mountain’s stony tablet; and the magic of whose power brings forth from the heart of the rock all these variegated plants. At one time they repeated a couplet from the Gulistán,^20b

At another they contemplated this picture from the Nigáristán,^20c

Now from the linked writing, which the omnipotent pen has inscribed on the page of the waters, they read these words, ‘And we cause springs to gush forth in the same;’²¹ and from the green tablet of the grass, which was coloured by the pen of Creative power, they perused the verse, ‘And we make therein gardens.’^21a Meanwhile, the sight of Humáyún Fál fell on a tree, stripped of its clothing from the shedding of its leaves, as one which had experienced [the effects of] autumn, and which from age was without vegetation or growth, like helpless old men. The hatchet of the peasant, Time, had continued to cut off and mutilate its limbs, and the saw of the carpenter, Fortune, had sharpened its greedy teeth in making shreds of its weft and warp.^21b

The centre of the tree, like the heart of careless darveshes, had become hollow, and a swarm of bees had taken refuge in that fortress, to store up provision for their support. When the King heard the buzzing of the bees, he inquired of his sage Vazír, ‘What is the cause of the assembly of these light-winged insects^21c in this tree, and at whose command do these busy creatures resort to the heights and slopes of this meadow?

Khujistah Ráí spake as follows, ‘O fortunate Prince! they are a tribe doing much good and but little injury; and by reason of the cleanliness and neatness which is inherent in their natures, they have received the honour of God’s inspiration, as set forth by the admirable saying, ‘Thy Lord spake by inspiration unto the bee;’^21d and have bound the belt of obedience round the waist of their soul by the communication of the favour of the royal command, ‘Provide thee houses in the mountains.’²² They have a king, Y’asúb,^22a in bulk larger than they; and their nation have placed their heads on the line of obedience to his majesty and dignity, and he is seated on the square throne of wax which has been prepared for him, and has appointed to their several offices his vazír and chamberlain, and porter and guard, and spy and deputy. The ingenuity of his attendants is such, that each one prepares hexagonal chambers of wax, of such a fashion that there is no inequality in their partitions, and the most perfect geometricians would be unable to compass the like without compasses and a rule and other instruments. And when the house approaches completion, by the king’s command, they come forth from that abode, and a noble bee, in the language they possess, acquaints^22b them with the condition of office; that they are not to exchange their cleanliness for grossness,^22c nor to pollute the train of their purity with the contamination of uncleanness. In fulfilment of their promise, they sit not but on the branch of the fragrant rose and the pure blossom, in order that what they eat from those delicate leaves may, in a short time, become concreted in their inside into the form of a fresh and sweet-tasted viscous humour, and a juice may be extracted from it such that the description, ‘Wherein is a medicine for men,’^22d may rightly apply to its quality; and when they return home, the warders try them by smelling whether they have kept to their troth, that is, whether they have avoided that which does not possess the requisite purity; after which, permission is given them to re-enter their hexagonal chambers and constructed apartments; and if (which God forbid!) they have transgressed the purport of this couplet,

and there be found on them an odour which may be a cause of disgust and loathing, they immediately sever them in two; and if the warders, inclining to negligence, give them a passage, and the king should scent the unsavoury odour, he, having inquired into the state of the case, will conduct the unlucky bee to the place of punishment, and first give orders for the execution of the warders, and after that, put to death the disrespectful bee, that no other of their race should commit a similar ill-action: and in case that a stranger from another hive should wish to enter their dwelling, the warders forbid him, and should he not desist, they slay him: and it is recorded that Jamshíd, Emperor of the world, borrowed from them the regulations respecting warders and guards, and the appointment of chamberlains and doorkeepers, and the arrangement of thrones and regal cushions; and in course of time these customs were perfected.’

When Humáyún Fál heard these words, his noble mind felt an inclination to examine their institutions. He arose and went to the foot of the tree, and for a time amused himself with watching their court and palace, and their manner of coming and going, and the rules of their waiting and attendance. He beheld a multitude with their waists girded in obedience to the divine command, and like Sulaimán seated in the air,²³ having selected a pure diet and a clean dwelling, none of them interfering^23a with the other, and none of them suffering molestation or annoyance at the hands of his own species.

He said, ‘O Khujistah Ráí! wondrous is it that in spite of the taint of fierceness which is implanted in their nature, they are not intent upon injuring one another; and that although they possess a sting, they furnish nought but delicious honey; and notwithstanding the awe which attends their forms, they show nought but gentleness and softness. And among men we behold the reverse of this, a number of whom oppress their fellows, and aim at overthrowing the existence of those who resemble themselves.

The Vazír said ‘These animals that you see are created with one sole disposition, and men are made of different temperaments; and inasmuch as in their composition, soul and body, and gross and fine, and light and darkness have been blent together; and the coin of material and angelic nature, and sublime and low feelings have been poured into their mould; a difference of temper and a peculiar bent is produced. According to the saying, ‘And assuredly all men knew their respective drinking-place,’^23b a share in angelic intelligence has been given to them,²⁴ and moreover, a portion of Satanic temper sent down upon them, so that every one should place the hand of compliance on the skirt of reason, and by the step of exaltation should be promoted to the rank of, ‘And now have we honoured the children of Adam.’^24a And all who place the head of obedience on the writing of the mandate of their sensual feelings, from excess of debasement^24b will remain on the descending grade of ‘Nay! they are most in error as to the way,’ and it has well been said.

Aud the majority of mankind, by reason of their following the sensual inclinations which seek to enslave them, manifest censurable qualities, as greediness and avarice, and envy and rancour, and cruelty and pride, and hypocrisy and conceit, and slander and calumny, and false accusation and such like.

The King said, ‘According to thy statement, and the manner in which thou hast detailed the condition of the sensual, the most salutary course for mankind is that each should draw the foot of retirement under the robe of freedom from the world, and having closed on himself the gate of the society of others, should employ himself in self-purification; that salvation should arise from the cruel whirlpool of error, which is the source of blameable qualities.

I have heard that ease is to be found in solitude, and liberty in retirement, and I have been convinced to-day that the society of the majority of persons is more hurtful than the poison of the viper, and association with them more full of difficulties than the peril of yielding up one’s life; and with reference to the circumstance that many sages have passed long intervals in the corner of a cave, or the bottom of a pit, their views were directed to this,

Moreover, perfect pure-hearted darveshes voluntarily subject themselves to solitude, and devote themselves to the concerns of others,

Khujistah Ráí said, ‘What has passed from the divinely-inspired tongue of his majesty the King, the asylum of the world, is the essence of truth and the perfection of right reasoning, since society is the cause of disquiet to the mind, and retirement the source of inward and outward contentment; according as they have said,

Nevertheless, several of the great leaders of the Faith, and chiefs of the true belief, have preferred, on the ground of advantage, the state of companionship and association to that of solitude; and have said the society of a good companion is better than the being alone, but that when an amiable friend is not to be had, solitude is better than society.

And in fact, society is the means of obtaining excellencies and advantages, and the bond of union between the great and the eminent.

And from the purport of the tradition, ‘There is no monachism in Islám,’^25a it is understood that the advantages of society are superior to the utilities of solitude; and how can it be possible for man to set up for retirement, and not engage in soeiety with those of his species, since the power of the triumphant omnipotence of God has imposed on mankind the obstacle of mutual necessity, and made them mutually necessary to each other, by reason of which they have become social in disposition; that is to say, requiring to congregate, which is called civic life: and the meaning of this word, civic life, is the giving friendly aid and assistance to those of the same race reciprocally, because neither the life of an individual nor the existence of the human species is possible, save by aiding one another: as if, for example, an individual should have to arrange for his food and raiment and abode, he must first possess himself of the tools of a carpenter and smith, since without these preparations, instruments for the culture of the fields and for harvest, and whatever is dependent thereon, cannot be procured; and during this interval life could not be supported, and after preparing these tools if he should spend all his time in one avocation, he would be unable to engage in and perform others, how much less could he succeed when he would have to occupy himself with the whole circle of employments. Hence the necessity for a body of persons mutually aiding one another, and for appointing each over a distinct business²⁶ to the extent that may be sufficient for his support; and further to give whatever may be beyond this to another, and that in proportion to their own work they should make exchanges so as to remunerate themselves, so that all transactions may be reduced to order by reason of this assembling; and from these premises it is seen that men stand in need of one another’s assistance, and assistance without assembling together is impossible, wherefore for the body of mankind to abide in solitude, belongs to the class of impossibilities, and in fact the proverb, ‘Assembling with others is a gift from God,’ refers to this.

The King said, ‘What the Vazír has spoken is the essence of wisdom, and the choicest philosophy, but it occurs to me that consequent upon the necessity of mankind for assembling together, the diversity of their temperaments will assuredly lead to disputes; because some will be stronger than others, inasmuch as their bulk and strength will be greater; and a few others will be superior to the rest in wealth and rank, and greediness and appetite will prevail over others. In those who excel the rest in strength and wealth, the desire of conquest and tyranny will spring up, and undoubtedly it will sway them to such an extent, that they will draw most men into the bonds of obedience to them, and the greedy man will feel the lust of getting into his grasp other men’s gains; and these matters will lead to dissension and will finally result in mischief.

The Vazír said, ‘O king of kings, Asylum of wisdom! a plan has been ascertained for the removal of the dissension, which causing every one to be content with his own rightful share, retrenches the hand of his aggression from grasping the rights of others; and this plan they call ‘coercion,’ and the pivot of this is the rule of justice, the meaning of which is, the due regard of the mean, that is, the centre of the circle of excellence, which in accordance with the saying, ‘The best things are means,’ comprehends the fact that extremes are worthless, as has been said,

The king said, ‘Whence can one know those means through the recognition of which the face of affairs assumes the appearance of a just equality?’ The Vazír said, ‘He who causes these things to appear is a perfect and completely excellent person, aided by God, who was sent by the divine Majesty to men, and sages call him Námús-i Akbar^27b and the wise in the faith term him ‘messenger and prophet,’ and assuredly his commands and prohibitions will be in unison with what is advisable for men in this world and that to which we return; and when that prophet (May the blessing and peace of God be upon him!) who is the Giver of the canons of law, bends his steps towards the other world, there is no alternative but to employ the coercion^27c of the ruler for preserving obedience to the laws of religion fixed by him. Since the majority of mankind are neglectful of their own interests, and the rule^27d of inclination and sense has the mastery over them, wherefore of necessity the existence of a powerful ruler is imperative, in order that—preserving the regulations of command and prohibition of the prophet, by which is meant law—he may cause the politico-economic regulations to be preserved, so that as well the most excellent sect may be exalted with the diadem of fortune, and also the robe of the state may be adorned with the embroidery of the exaltation of religion, for State and Church are twins,

And to the same effect they have said,

Humáyún Fál said, ‘What ought to be the condition of this powerful ruler, the existence of whom among the people after the Prophet (The blessing and peace of God be with him!)²⁸ is requisite, and what ought to be his qualities in governing the affairs of the State and of the Faith?’ Khujistah Ráí said, ‘This ruler should be wise in the rules of judicial coercion and in the niceties of equity, for if he be not such, the State is on the road to decay, and its fortunes on the eve of departure,

And next it is necessary for him to understand the management of the Pillars of the State, and what body ought to be strengthened, and whom he ought to select to sit in counsel with, and what class he ought to bring down, and whose converse he ought to shun; since of the attendants of the imperial court there are but a few who specially bind the girdle of fidelity to the king around the waist of sincere attachment, and who exert themselves for the earthly renown and heavenly recompense of the monarch: nay the generality of them choose the path of service with a view to obtain their own advantage, or to repel disagreeables from themselves.

And since their principal business is based on covetousness, it is probable that they will entertain malice against a person whose favours they cannot requite, and that they will be envious of that other class, who may derive advantages from attending on the king superior to their own allowances; and when rancour and envy have arisen in them, they will set on foot a variety of stratagems and state things which have not really occurred: and if the king be destitute of the covering of vigilance, and should listen to the discourse of interested persons with the hearing of acceptance, and should not condescend to inquire into and investigate the circumstances, a variety of injuries and mischiefs will arise therefrom, and divers evils will result.

But when a vigilant and prudent monarch undertakes investigation of affairs, and himself inquires into all matters collective and particular, he discriminates the brightness of truth from the shadows of falsehood, and both in this world the foundations of his empire remain free from disturbance, and in the world to come he attains the happiness of salvation and the exaltation of Paradise.

And every wise king who, basing his acts on wisdom, makes the advice of sages his rule of conduct, his state will be prosperous and his people happy and joyful, like the great king of Hind, Dábishlím, who based the foundation of his empire on the rules delivered to him by the Bráhman Bídpáí, and having diligently inquired of him what would be advantageous for kings, in consequence reigned for a long time successfully: and after he migrated from this fleeting habitation to the pavilion of eternity, his good name and glorious tradition continues to this day on the page of time.

When Humáyún Fál heard mention of Dábishlím and Bídpáí, he became smiling and glad in the garden of joyousness, and on the plain of cheerfulness, like a fresh bud which in the morning-time unfolds its tender lip smilingly at the movement of the morning zephyr, and he said, ‘O Khujistah Ráí! now for a long time the desire to hear the story of this King and Bráhman has been fixed in my inmost heart, and the idea of their discourses and interviews has occupied a place in the cabinet of my mind.

Yet however much I have discharged the duties of search, and inquired of every one as to their narrative, I have obtained no portion²⁹ of this story nor has a letter of the record of their histories become known to me.

And I had always opened the ear of attention, considering from whose tongue their names would be heard by me, and ever kept the eye of expectancy on the high road of anticipation, pondering on the place whence the beauty of this matter would appear.

And now that I have learned that the Vazír is informed of their history I pay due thanks to God and say,

I hope that with all possible speed thou wilt favour me with the words of the King and the Bráhman, since in telling this history, to thee results the advantage of discharging the obligation due for my bounties, and to me by reason of hearing these admonitions a variety of advantages will be gained for my subjects; and a narration—by the means of the recital of which, a debt of gratitude is discharged, and by the blessing of the hearing of which, advantage accrues to a whole people, high and low,—must be exceedingly auspicious.

The clear-minded and wise-counselling Vazír unloosed the tongue of explanation, and in the delivery of his discourse fully discharged all that was due to eloquence, and said,—

I have heard from the sugar-ravishing parrots of eloquence, and the melli-fluous nightingales of the flower-garden of genius, that in one of the chief cities of Hind, which is the mole on the face of the empire, there was a king of wakeful fortune and prosperous days, and a monarch^30a world-adorning, subject-cherishing, tyrant-consuming. The royal throne derived lustre from his illimitable justice, and the imperial tribunal gained ornament from the beauty of his commands and prohibitions. The stain of oppression and injustice was erased from earth’s page, and the countenance of justice was shewn to all worlds in the mirror of his beneficence.

And they called this monarch King Dábishlím, and the meaning of this word in their language is, ‘Great King.’ From the excess of his greatness, he cast not the loop of the noose of his lofty spirit save on the niched battlement of the citadel of heaven; and by reason of his independence,³¹ he looked not save on the sublimest actions and the most exalted matters. Ten thousand^31a furious elephants were among his forces, and the number of his soldiers, skilled and valiant in war, would not enter into the area of computation. He possessed full treasuries and flourishing dominions.

And notwithstanding all this magnificence, he was wont to weigh the affairs of his subjects, and to investigate himself every dispute between those who sought justice.

When he had strengthened his own dominion by a strict administration of justice, and had cleared the extent of his empire from aspirants, he was wont, with untroubled mind, to adorn the banquet of pleasure, and to gather the wish of his heart from fortune in its various degrees of happiness; and in his assembly councillors clothed in wisdom, and sages robed in excellence, were wont to be present, and adorned the assembly by elegant expressions and praise of noble qualities. One day he had taken his seat on the cushion of pleasure, and had set forth a royal banquet.

After the gratification of listening to the strains of mellifluously chaunting minstrels, he shewed an inclination to hear a tale of wisdom improving the intellect; and after the spectacle of the cheeks of moon-faced Venus-fronted beauties, he evinced a desire for gazing on the bridal-display of words of beneficial tendency; and having made inquiries of philosophers and counsellors of excellent qualities and admirable endowments, he bestowed on the ear of his sense, the adornment of the jewels of their discourses, which resembled royal pearls.

Then each one of them celebrated some glorious quality and some laudable attribute, until the steed of discourse reached in its career the plain of generosity and beneficence. All the sages were unanimous as to this, that generosity is the most noble of qualities, and the most perfect of attributes, and therefore they have related it as a tradition from the First Teacher,³² that the best quality of those which are ascribed to God Most High, is beneficence, because His beneficence permeates through all creatures, and His bounty reaches all created things, and the Lord of the great Prophecy (May the blessings of God be upon him!) said that generosity is a plant which springs up in Paradise, and which grows on the borders of the stream Kausar;^32a for, Generosity is a tree in Paradise.^32b

After the king had understood this question, his natural spirit of generosity bestirred itself, and he commanded so that they opened the door of a vast treasure, and proclaimed a distribution to high and low; and they made both strangers and citizens content with a full portion, and by general largesse raised both high and low to an independence of fortune above their brethren.

All the day, like the radiant sun, he was employed in showering down gold, and like fresh fortune, in gratifying the desires of others, until the time when the golden-pinioned Símurgh^32d of the sun turned to its nest in the west, and the black-visaged raven of the night,^32e spread the wings of darkness over the regions of the world.

The king placed the head of leisure on the pillow of repose, and the hands of sleep overspread the vestibule of the area of the brain. Then the limner of fancy depicted to him a serene-visaged old man, on whose countenance the traces of wise counsel were visible, and on whose front the marks of superhuman power were discernible, who advanced and saluted the king, and said: ‘To-day thou hast expended a treasure in the way of God, and hast offered up a vast sum to obtain the favour of the divine Majesty. In the morning, place the foot of intention in the stirrup of success, and betake thyself towards the east of the capital; for a treasure worthy of kings, and a supply of money gratuitously given, is delivered to thee; and by the finding of such a stone thou wilt place the foot of glorious superiority above the stars,³³ and wilt raise the head of haughtiness beyond the pinnacle^33a of the highest heavens.’ When the king heard these good tidings, he awoke from sleep; and gladdened by the thought of the treasure, and the joyful intelligence of the sage old man, performed the duties of ablution, and stood up to fulfil the prescribed devotions of his faith, until the time when the treasurer of omnipotent power opened the door of the horizon, and the gold-sprinkling hand of the sun drew under the garment of its rays the jewels of the stars from the cabinet of the sky.

The king commanded so that they adorned a swift wind-paced courser with a saddle of gold and a gem-studded bridle, and having mounted with fortunate omens and auspicious destiny, he turned his face towards the east.

And when he had passed beyond the limits of habitation into the expanse of the desert, he cast his glance on every side, and sought traces of his object. In the midst of this his eyes fell on a mountain, lofty as the magnanimity of the beneficent lords of piety, and fixed as the fortunes of equitable kings. At the foot of the mountain a dark cavern appeared, and a man of serene heart was seated at its door, liberated, like the Companion in the cave,^33c from the trouble of rivals.

When the sight of the king fell on that holy sage, his heart became inclined to his society, and his desire bent towards his company. The old man having read the wish of the king from the illuminated page of his mind, unloosed the tongue of humble address,

O king! although the sorrowful³⁴ hovel of the wretched, in comparison with the gilded palace, may appear contemptible, and the store of the cell of the distressed in juxta-position to the gem-adorned dwelling of the great, is of no account; nevertheless,

for kings to survey with a look of pity the condition of faḳírs, and to honour hermits with their address and visits, and to regard this as the complement of the perfection of good manners and of high qualities.

Dábishlím conducted the speech of the Darvesh to the place of acceptance, and dismounted from his steed: and having with his auspicious words opened an acquaintance with him,^34a asked the aid of his spirit.

And after the king showed an intention to depart, the Darvesh unloosed the tongue of apology.

Nevertheless, in simple unstudied guise^34b I would offer to the king a thing of worth which I possess, and which descended to me as a patrimony, and that is the account of a treasure, the purport of which is, that in a corner of this cave is a vast treasure, wherein are coins and jewels of inestimable value; and I, since I have obtained possession of the treasure of contentment—for ‘Contentment is a treasure without decay’^34c—busied not myself in searching for any other, and for my interest in this life also made it my capital; since in the bázár of reliance on God, there is no coin more current than it.

I hope that the Khusrau,³⁵ conqueror of kingdoms, will cast the glance of attention upon it, and command his servants to engage in search for it; and having caused it to be conveyed to the public treasury, expend it fittingly;—It is not far off.’ Dábishlím, on hearing this speech, communicated to the Darvesh the incident of the night, and informed the Companion of the cave of the circumstances of this adventure. The Darvesh said, ‘Although this trifle is insignificant with reference to the lofty spirit of the king, still, since it has been consigned to you from the invisible world, you must bestow on it the honour of acceptance.

The king commanded, so that all engaged in excavating the cave in every part and in all directions; and in a short space of time, having recovered the clue to the treasure, they brought the heaps into the presence of Humáyún.

The king commanded, so that they removed the locks from the chests and caskets, and he gazed upon precious gems and wondrous rarities. In the midst of all, he saw a box adorned with jewels and with bands tightly fastened round it on all sides and in all directions, and locked with a padlock of Turkish workmanship, made of steel inlaid with gold. The firmness of that lock was such, that the tooth of no key could unloose its wards, nor the skill of any solver of difficulties find the way to the solution of its knot. However much they searched, no trace of its key nor hint of the means of opening it appeared. The king felt an intense wish to open that lock, and an unbounded curiosity to examine its contents. He said to himself, ‘It would seem that they have deposited in this box a rarity more precious than gems of price; otherwise, what can be the cause of all this careful security?’ He then gave orders, so that skilful nimble-handed smiths prepared to break open the lock; and when the lid of the chest had been opened, a casket was taken out of it studded with gems like the zodiac, and within that casket was deposited a small box, like the orb of the moon in exceeding brightness. The king commanded, so that they brought the small box before him. He opened its lid with his royal hand, and beheld a piece of white silk, on which were written some words in the Syriac character. He marvelled as to what this might be: some said it was the name of the owner of the treasure, and others argued that it might be a talisman which had been written for the security of the treasure; and as the words of the Pillars of the State on the subject waxed long, Dábishlím said that until this should be read, the doubt would not be removed, and that as no one of those present was acquainted with the rules of the character, they should hasten in search of some one by whom the object might be effected. At last they heard of a sage who had perfect skill in decyphering and writing strange characters, and by the imperial command they in a short time brought him to the foot of the sublime throne. Dábishlím after shewing him due respect, said, ‘O sage! the cause of troubling you is this, that you should explain in clear language the purport of this writing, and unfold truly and exactly, the circumstances of these lines.

The sage took the writing, and brought the words letter by letter under the survey of inquiry. After a long reflection, he said, ‘This writing contains a variety of beneficial things, and this, and no other, is, in very truth, the written treasure. The purport is, in brief, that—‘I, King Húshang,³⁶ have deposited treasure for a great king and a mighty monarch, whom they call Dábishlím, and by means of divine revelation I have learned that this treasure will fall to his lot; and I have placed this testament amongst the gold and jewels, in order that when he removes this treasure and reads this will, he may be on his guard, since to be infatuated with gold and silver is not the part of wise men, because these are but borrowed stuff which every day may be handled by a new person and will prove faithful to none.

But this testament is a manual of practice, which cannot be put aside by kings; wherefore that prudent monarch will find fortune his friend, who acts in accordance with these precepts, believing that every prince that exists, who does not choose to rely on these fourteen rules that I set forth, will find the foundation of his fortunes disturbed, and the basis of his empire insecure.

The first precept is, that with reference to any one of his attendants to whom the king may give exaltation in his immediate presence, he should not honour with acceptance the words of another, with a view to his overthrowal; for whoever is admitted to intimacy with a king, a number of persons will assuredly feel envy of him, and when they see the foundations of the king’s favour firm with respect to him, by clever stratagems they will strive to ruin and subvert him, and pretending loyalty and good advice, will speak cunning and deceitful words, until the king’s mind may become changed towards him, and in this state of affairs their desire may be accomplished.

Precept the second, to wit:—Let the prince not admit the sycophant and calumniator into his assembly, for they are mischievous and contentious and their end is very disastrous; moreover, when the king observes this quality in any one, let him, with all speed, quench the fire of his calumny with the scymitar of punishment, that the smoke of it may not darken the world’s surface.

Precept the third, to wit:—He should observe to all his nobles and Pillars of his state, the way of cordiality and kindness; for all affairs are set in movement by the alliance of unanimous friends, and by the aid of comrades of one accord.

Precept the fourth, to wit:—Through the kind bearing of an enemy and his flattery, let him not be elated; and although he fawn and humble himself, let him not turn from caution to confidence, since true friendship will in no wise spring from an enemy.

Precept the fifth, to wit:—When the jewel of his wish has come into his grasp, let him not incline to sloth in preserving it, nor ruin it by neglect, since another expedient may be impracticable, and however much he may repent, regret will be unavailing.

Precept the sixth, to wit:—Let him not shew levity and precipitation in business, but let him affect circumspection and deliberation; for the harm of too much haste is great, and the advantage of patience and steadiness is immense.

Precept the seventh, to wit:—Let him on no account suffer the reins of deliberation to slip from his hand. If a body of enemies attack him in confederation, and he sees an advantage in this, viz., in endeavouring to win over one of them, supposing that escape from the rest is likely to ensue from such a course, let him at once take steps to effect this object, and in accordance with ‘War is wile,’ let him hew down the basis of their intrigues with the axe of stratagem, since the wise have said,

Precept the eighth, to wit:—Let him beware of the rancorous and envious, and not be deceived by their flattering words; since when the plant of envy has been rooted in the ground of the breast, no fruit from it can be expected but mischief and injury.

Precept the ninth, to wit:—Let him make clemency his under and outer garment, and not for a slight fault bring his attendants into the place of exposure to invective and rebuke, for the great have always washed out, with the water of forgiveness and clemency, the stain of misdeeds from the records of the actions of the lowly, and have absolvingly covered their disrespect and boldness with the skirt of indulgence.

And when some of his attendants have acted criminally and disloyally, and have been holpen by the forgiveness of the king, let him again irrigate them with the water of his favours, that they may not wander bewildered and distressed in the wilderness of dejection.

Precept the tenth, to wit:—Let him not employ himself in injuring any one, that in the way of retribution, according to ‘And the retaliation of evil ought to be an evil proportionate thereto,’³⁹ evil may not result to him, but let him shower down on the heads of men the rain of kind deeds, that in the garden of ‘If ye do well, ye will do well to your own souls’^39a the flowers of his wish may bear fruit.

Precept the eleventh, to wit:—Let him not indulge an inclination for a thing which is not in accordance with his condition nor suited to his state, for many a person, having left his own business, has attempted something which did not befit him, and having failed in effecting his purpose, has been deprived of his own employment also.

Precept the twelfth, to wit:—Let him adorn his position with the ornaments of mildness and constancy, for the heart of the mild is lovely and the profound saying, ‘The meek man is all but a prophet,’ is a true tradition.

Precept the thirteenth, to wit:—Having acquired faithful and trustworthy servants, let him avoid sycophants and perfidious men; for when the sweepers of the court of empire are endued with the quality of fidelity, both the secrets of the state remained concealed, and men live in safety from any wrong on their part; and if, which God forfend! the face of their condition be blackened with the mole of perfidy, and their words be dignified with confidence by the king, it may chance that they may cast the innocent into the place of destruction, and that bad results may ensue thereupon, both for time and eternity.

Precept the fourteenth, to wit:—He must not permit the dust of dejection from ill-fortune and the vicissitudes of life, to settle on the garment of his spirit, because the wise man is ever involved in the bonds of calamity, while the careless man passes his life in delights and ease.

And let him know assuredly, that without the display of Eternal grace, and the bounty which is exposed to no decay, the shaft of happiness cannot strike the target of his wish, and no excellence nor skill, however great, can accomplish anything without the aid of the Divine decree and omnipotent power.

And to each of these fourteen precepts which have been mentioned, there is a certain tale attached, and a story which can be relied upon; and if the king desire to obtain information regarding the detail of these stories and tales, he must direct his steps to that mountain in Sarándíp,^40a which was the alighting-place of the Father of Mankind, for his difficulty will be there solved, and all his wish will present itself to him in that garden of desires, ‘And God is the aider to the acquirement of the wish and of wished-for objects.’” When the sage had offered to the royal ear this genuine statement, and had presented to the loftiness of the King’s spirit, this casket of jewels, in which were enclosed the pearls of spiritual meaning; Dábishlím honourably saluted him, and with the utmost reverence, kissed the scroll and placed it, as an amulet, on his princely arm, and said, ‘The treasure of which they told me, is a treasure of secrets, not a purse of dirhams and dínárs.⁴¹ It is a store of wisdom, not of gems and pearls. Praise be to God! I have such an amount of worldly goods that I have no need of this superfluity, and through loftiness of spirit, I regard this small finding as unfound. It is fitting that in gratitude for this book of advice, which alone may be looked upon as a real treasure, they should distribute this hoard, by way of alms, among the deserving, that the offering of this good action may accrue to the victorious spirit of King Húshang; and we too, in accordance with the saying, ‘He who points to a good action is like him that does it,’ may share in the blessing of the reward.’ The ministers of his majesty the King, by the royal direction, bestowed the whole of that hoard of coins and gems, in the way of the divine approval, on the deserving.

And when he had discharged this duty, the king turned towards the capital, and adorned the cushion of empire with the imperial dignity, and passed the livelong night in pondering on a journey to Sarándíp, that his desire might be accomplished and his wish attained, and that having acquired perfect knowledge of the several precepts, he might make them the prop of his government and the pillar of his empire and rule. The next day, when the bright sun like a pomegranate-coloured ruby, showed its face from the corner of the mountain of Sarándíp, and the diamond-hued heaven showered down sparks of brightest ruby on the earth,

Dábishlím commanded, so that they made present at the foot of the high throne, two persons from among the confidential servants of his majesty, who for sincerity of counsel were referred to as advisers, and for excellence of advice and aid in explanation^41c were the pivot [of the royal affairs], and after distinguishing them by the imperial favour, the King disclosed to them the circumstances of his midnight meditation, and said, ‘The desire of journeying to Sarándíp has fixed itself in my mind, and the purpose of proceeding and setting forward in that direction has snatched the reins of choice from the grasp of power. What do you think advisable in this matter, and how do you regard the expediency of this step? And for a long time I have unloosed the knot of my difficulties with the finger of your counsel, and have based on your opinion of happy tendency, the foundation of the affairs of my government and my fortunes. To day, also, bring to the place of representation whatever may be the scope of your prudent thoughts, and that which your penetrating judgment approves, in order that I also may try it in its various bearings, and make that plan, which obtains the writing of unanimity, the principle⁴² of action.’

The vazírs said, ‘It is not fitting to answer this question impromptu; and in the purposes of kings and their affairs, due deliberation is required, since an unconsidered word is like gold unweighed.

We will deliberate on this matter to-day and to-night, and will apply the coin of each cogitation to the touchstone of trial, and that which among our thoughts turns out to be full weight, we will to-morrow have the honour to represent.’ Dábishlím consented to this. The next day at early dawn they presented themselves before his Majesty the King, and each having stationed himself in the place that belonged to him, they opened the ear of sense to hearken to the command of the King, and after permission to speak, the superior vazír, having come forward and knelt respectfully, performed the due blessings and eulogies, and said as follows,

It has thus entered the mind of thy slave, that although but little advantage is to be calculated upon from this journey, nevertheless, much labour must be undergone, and being entirely excluded from pleasure and ease, and repose and delight, the heart must be placed on toil and abstinence; and it is not concealed from the luminous and world-conquering mind of the King, that according to ‘The spark of travel is^42a a fragment of hell,’ journeying is a breast-consuming flame and a heart-rending arrow, and according to the saying, ‘Expatriation is the greatest of calamities,’ the leaving one’s country is a liver-piercing dart; men of experience have come to the conclusion that they should not step beyond the corner of their house, and the drops of tears are therefore trampled on because they could not repose in the nook of their own dwelling.

It behoves a wise man not to exchange ease for toil, nor to give, from the palm of his hand, the ready-money of enjoyment for the goods of contingency; nor, from choice, select the misery of travel in preference to the dignity of repose,⁴³ that that may not befal him which befel that Pigeon.’ The King asked, How was that?

The vazír said, ‘I have heard that two Pigeons consorted together in one nest, and dwelt in amity with one another in one abode, neither were their minds disturbed by rivals nor their hearts panged by misfortune. They contented themselves with water and grain, and like solitarily dwelling hermits, consigned themselves to reliance on the Divine will. One was named Bázindah,^43a and the other Nawázindah. And both of them, evening and morning, were wont to sing, in unison, harmonious strains, and at all times, with soul-enlivening melodies, to utter various cooings.

Fortune was envious of the agreement of those sympathising friends, and the malevolent eyes of time threw their baleful influence on those two happy companions.

The desire of travel developed itself in Bázindah, and he said to his friend, ‘How long shall we continue in one nest and spend our time in one abode? I feel a desire of wandering through different parts of the world for two or three days, and putting in practice the high command, ‘Say, go through the earth’⁴⁴ since in travel many marvellous things are seen and many experiences are gained, and the venerable have said, ‘Travel is the means of triumph.’ Until the scymitar comes forth from the scabbard on the battle-field of the brave, honor is not gained; and until the pen moves in the path of perambulation from its point,^44a the painting of beautiful styles is not manifested on the page of existence. The sky which is ever journeying, is the highest of all things; and the earth which is ever quiescent, is trampled down and kicked by all beings both high and low.

Nawázindah said, ‘O my heart’s friend! thou hast not undergone the toils of travel, nor experienced the hardship of absence from friends, nor has the maxim, ‘Travel is travail,’ reached thy soul’s ear, nor has the stormy blast, ‘Parting is burning,’ blown on the garden of thy heart. Travel is a tree which brings forth no fruit but that of separation, and absence is a cloud which lets fall no drops but the rain of disgrace.

Bázindah said, ‘Although the trouble of travel is wearing to the mind, still it enlivens by visiting new countries and seeing the wonders of the world; and, moreover, when the disposition has become accustomed to the inconveniences of the journey, it is no longer harassed by them, and the toil of the road ceases to make the same impression on the spirits, in consequence of the interest taken in the wonders of the strange country.

Nawázindah said, ‘O beloved friend! the recreation of seeing various parts of the world and viewing the gardens of Iram, delights us if in the society of true companions and intimate friends; and when one has been separated from the happiness of seeing those with whom one is accustomed to be, it follows⁴⁵ that one’s grief finds no solace from that amusement, nor is one’s sorrow to any extent alleviated by those spectacles; and I am of opinion, that the pain of separation from friends and the grief of parting from those we love, is the hardest of all pains and the most cruel of all griefs.

Now that, Praise be to God Most High! we have a corner and supply of food, draw the foot of freedom from care under the garment of welfare, and yield not the collar of sense to the grasp of lust.

Bázindah said, ‘O friend and consort! speak not another word of parting and separation, for sympathising friends are not wanting in the world, and he who parts from his friend, suffers no grief when he has met with another. If here I fail to encounter my friend, I shall in a short time bring myself into the society of a new soother of the heart, and thyself hast heard this saying which they have uttered,

I expect that after this, thou will not rehearse to me the volume of the toils of travel, for the flame of the labour of travel makes a man ripe,^45b and no person of raw mind and reared in repose, can put to its speed the horse of expectation in the plain of hope.

Nawázindah said, ‘Dear friend, at this time that thou removest thy heart from the society of thy friends, thou hast severed the string of ancient amity. Thou mayest unite with new comrades, and the precept of the wise man, that

thou mayst transgress. What impression then will my word have on thee? Nevertheless,

Having here cut short their dialogue, they took leave of each other, and Bázindah tearing his heart from the society of his companion, issued forth on the wing.

With real curiosity and perfect gratification he traversed the expanse of air, and passed over lofty mountains and Eden-like gardens. All of a sudden at the skirt of a mountain—which boasted equality with the elevation of the highest heaven, and from greatness regarded the whole terrestrial globe as a mere hillock beneath its foot,—he saw a meadow. Its emerald surface was more heart-expanding than the garden of heaven, and the northern⁴⁶ breeze, as it passed over loaded with perfume, was more fragrant than a bag of Tátárian musk.

Bázindah was pleased with that delightful spot and heart-expanding tract, and as day was closing, he in that very place unloosed the baggage of travel. As yet he had not rested from the toils of the way, nor breathed a moment in ease and comfort, when suddenly, the swift-stepping carpet-spreader, the wind, raised up the canopy of the clouds in the court of the air, and made the tranquil earth a pattern of the tumult of the Resurrection, through the uproar of the heart-terrifying thunder, and the dread of the bosom-rending lightning. The fire of the thunderbolts on one side consumed the heart of the spotted tulips, and on the other, the shaft of the hail nailed the eye of the wakeful narcissus to the target of the earth.

In such a time as this Bázindah had no shelter to secure him from the arrows of the thunder-cloud, nor corner where he could rest in safety from the violence of the intensely cold wind. At one moment he hid himself under a branch and at another time he sought to shield himself in the leaves of the trees, and every moment the affliction of the hail and rain increased, and every instant the terrors of the thunderbolts and the lightning waxed greater.

In brief, with a thousand sufferings he passed the night until day, and having no remedy, he endured that ill-timed calamity, and every moment his thoughts recurred to the quiet corner of his nest, and the society of his prudent friend, and he heaved a cold sign of regret and pain from his inflamed heart.

But when the vanguard of approaching day had made an impression, that instant the writing of the gloom of the thunder-cloud was obliterated from the page of time, and by the warmth of the world-irradiating sun, the expanse of the earth, and the surface of the world, received brightness.

Bázindah again rose on the wing, hesitating whether he should return to his home, or, whether since he had formed the resolution, he should upon the whole wander for two or three days through the regions of the world. In the meantime, a swift-winged, hard-taloned royal white falcon, which descends to the earth on the head of its quarry swifter than the rays of the sun, and when soaring on high reaches heaven quicker than the sight;

marked out Bázindah. When the poor Pigeon beheld the pitiless falcon, its heart began to flutter, and all strength and power of motion which existed in its limbs and members inclined to the regions of non-existence.

When Bázindah saw himself again entangled in calamity, he remembered the advice of his faithful friend, and clearly understood the crudeness of his own project, and the unreasonableness of his thoughts.

that if he should escape from that dangerous place in safety, and emerge from that terrible position into tranquillity, he would not allow his mind to entertain another thought of travel, and he would regard as an invaluable prize the society of his cordial friend, which now seemed to him as impossible to realize, as the philosopher’s stone,⁴⁸ and for the remainder of his life would not so much as pronounce with his tongue, the name of travel.

By the blessing of that excellence of intention, which includes an increase of security, an opening of the door [of release] was obtained. In the very moment that the claw of the falcon was about bringing him into the grasp of possession, from another quarter a hungry eagle—from the injury of whose talons the sign Aquila was not safe in the nest of the sky, and who, when hungry, carried off from the meadow of heaven, the signs Aries and Capricorn,

—had mounted on the wing in search of food. When it beheld the state of the falcon and Pigeon, it said to itself, ‘Although this Pigeon is but a small mouthful, and a trifling morsel, nevertheless, upon the whole, one may break one’s fast upon it, and somewhat allay one’s impatient appetite.’ It made an effort to carry off the Pigeon before the falcon. Although the animal vigour which is implanted in the nature of the falcon cannot be placed in the balance with that of the eagle, still, the former did not weigh its approach, but engaged with it in the place of strife and contest, having taken its seat in the balance with it.

The two were occupied in fighting with one another, and Bázindah eagerly catching at the opportunity, threw himself under a stone and made room for himself in a hole into which it would have been impossible for a sparrow to enter, though it had been at pains to try; and therefore passed another night distressfully. When in the morning the white-pinioned dove of the dawn began to fly from the nest of heaven, and the dark-coloured raven of night began, like the ’Anḳá, to be hid from sight,^48c and when

Bázindah, though from hunger he had not power to fly, began by some means or other to flutter and move his wings. Fearful and affrighted, he looked to left and right, and observed the utmost caution before and behind. On a sudden he beheld a pigeon, with a little grain scattered in front of it, and a thousand other devices and stratagems of the same kind employed. With Bázindah the host of appetite prevailed over the region of the body; when he beheld his own species, without reflection he went forward, and the grain had not yet reached his craw when his foot was entangled in calamity.

Bázindah began to reproach that pigeon, saying, ‘O brother! we are of the same species, and this accident has befallen me by reason of my homogeneousness with thee. Wherefore didst thou not acquaint me with these circumstances, nor fulfil the duties of courtesy and hospitality in order that I might have practised caution, and not thus fallen into the snare?’ The pigeon replied, ‘Leave off these words, for caution is unavailing against destiny, nor is it of any use to struggle against fate.

Bázindah said, ‘Art thou at all able to point out to me the way of escape from this calamitous strait? and then thou wouldst cast on my neck, till the day of resurrection, the chain of obligation.’ The pigeon replied, ‘O simple of heart! had I known a stratagem for escaping, I would have liberated myself from the snare, nor would I have become in the manner thou hast seen, the cruel cause⁴⁹ of the capture of birds; and thy state is exactly like that of the young camel, which after going a long way, grew tired and said, with lamentation and entreaty, to its mother, ‘O unkind; stop just so long that I may recover myself and rest a moment from my weariness.’ The mother replied, ‘O thou without sight! dost thou not see that the end of the nose-string is in the hand of another. Had I, in brief, the power to choose, I would release my back from the load and thy foot from the journey.’

When Bázindah was thus rendered desperate, he began to tremble, and with his utmost efforts endeavoured to fly. As the string of his impulse was strong, the cord of the net, which in the lapse of time had become worn, was broken, and Bázindah finding his throat clear of the throttle of the net, flew pleased away, and turned his face in the direction of his native place. From joy at having obtained a light delivery from that weighty bond, his heart forgot the pangs of hunger, and in the midst of his flight, he arrived at a deserted village, and rested on the corner of a wall which was near a field of corn. A village boy who was watching the field, in his customary beat, passed near that deserted place. When his eye fell on the pigeon, the burning desire of roast meat emitted its smoke from his heart. From the palm of his hand⁵⁰ he slipped a shell into his bow and drew up the string.^50a Bázindah was not on the alert against that trick, and was turning towards the field and the open space and meadow, when suddenly, from the juggling of the deceitful heavens, the impression of the blow of that shell reached the feathers of that discomfited one. From excess of fear and terror, he fell head downwards to the bottom of a well which was at the foot of that same wall, which was a well such that, from its exceeding depth, the circle of the heavens appeared like a wheel at the top, and had they woven together the black and white thread of day and night, it would not have reached its bottom.

When the young rustic saw that what he wished for was at the bottom of the well, and that the cord of counsel was too short to reach there, he went away disappointed, and left that half-killed one in his painful imprisonment. In short, Bázindah, for another night and day, passed his time with broken heart and ruffled feathers, at the bottom of the well, and in despairing accents according with his state,^50d his thoughts recurring to Nawázindah, he made mention of his feelings, of his hapless and outcast condition, and described his weakness and helplessness, and said,

Bázindah, the next day, by trying every way possible and all the devices he knew, brought himself to the top of the well, and weeping and bemoaning himself, at the mid-hour between sunrise and noon,^51a arrived near his own nest. Nawázindah heard the sound of the wings of her friend, and flying forth to meet him from the nest, said,

And when she had embraced Bázindah, she found him excessively weak and thin. She said, ‘O beloved friend! where hast thou been? and what is the state of thy circumstances?’ Bázindah said,

As for the toil and travail and affliction, which have passed over me,

The sum of the matter is this, that I had heard that in travel, much experience is obtained; at length I have gained thus much experience, that so long as I live I will not make another journey, and, until I am compelled, I will not go forth from the corner of my nest, and by my own choice I will not exchange the happiness of beholding my friends for the pain of the struggles of exile.

And I have introduced this apologue that his majesty, the ruler of the world, may not exchange the dignity of a settled abode for the degradation of travel, and not voluntarily choose separation from friends and country, which has no other fruit but wretched bewailing and tearful eyes.”

Dábishlím said, ‘O wise vazír! although the labour of travel is great, its advantages, too, are beyond computation. When any one has fallen, in traveling, into the whirlpool of hardship, he becomes improved and polished, and experiences are acquired by him, from which, throughout his life, he may derive advantage; and indubitably complete advancement appears in travel, both external and internal. Seest thou not that the pawn by traveling six stages, owing to the knowledge it thus acquires, obtains the rank of a queen; and the light-speeding moon by a journey of fourteen nights, progresses from the place of a thin crescent to the dignity of the full orb.

And if a person subside into the corner of his wretchedness, and step not beyond his miserable home, he remains deprived of seeing the marvels of various countries, and devoid of the honour of waiting on the great amongst mankind. The falcon secures a place on the wrist of kings, because it crouches not in its nest; and the owl, because it cannot turn its inclinations from solitude, remains behind the wall of disgrace.

And one of the great sages inspired the whole body of his disciples with the desire of travel, by this,

And if that hawking-falcon, which grew up with the young of a kite, had remained in their nest, and had not winged its flight through the air in travel, it would not have attained the honour of the notice of a king.’ The vazír besought, saying, ‘How were the circumstances of that affair?’

King Dábishlím said, “I have heard tell that once on a time two hawks, swift of wing, consorted together, and their nest was on the crest of a mountain, such that the celestial eagle could not, by the power of its wing, approach it, and the constellation Aquila, in spite of soaring so high, could not reach its vicinity.

And they passed their time happily in that nest, and lived delighted and content in beholding each other.

After a time, God Most High vouchsafed them a young one. By reason of the innate affection⁵³ which they felt at the sight of their son, both of them went in search of food, and brought viands of every description for their hearts’ treasure, and in a short time his strength began to increase. One day, having left him alone—each had gone somewhither, and a delay took place in their return,—the young hawk felt the cravings of hunger. He began to search [for food], and turning himself on every side, came to the edge of the nest. Suddenly he fell thence, prone towards the bottom of the mountain. It chanced that in that spot a kite had issued from its nest in quest of food, which it sought for its young, and as it sate, expectant, on the side of the mountain, its sight fell on that young hawk, which was descending from the top of the mountain to the bottom; it entered its imagination that it was a mouse which had escaped from the talons of a kite.

Without reflection, it made haste, and before it could touch the ground, seized it in mid-air, and carried it to its own nest, and on carefully examining it, by the character of its claws and beak, perceived that it belonged to the kind of hunting-birds, and through homogeneousness, pity sprang up in its heart, and it thought to itself: ‘The mercy of God is visible in this matter, and has made me the instrument of its preservation; and had I not been present in that spot, and this young bird had fallen from the top of the mountain on the ground, undoubtedly all its limbs and members had been parted from one another, and its bones would have been pulverised by dashing against the stone of misfortune, and would have been scattered like dust on the wind of annihilation; and since the divine decree has so required that I should be the means of its preservation, it is most right that it should participate in education with my sons, nay, that I should bring it up as a son, and that it should be ranged in the series of my other children.’ Then the kite, through pity, undertook the rearing of the young hawk, and treated it in the very same way as that in which it behaved towards its own young, until it grew up; and the original instincts which were innate in it, according to the saying ‘Mankind are mines like mines of gold and silver,’ began to develope and reveal themselves. Although it imagined that it was one of the sons of that kite, yet it saw that its aspect and courage, and the terror it inspired, was different from theirs. Often it wondered, saying, ‘If I do not belong to them, why am I in this nest? and if I am of this family, why am I opposed to them in form and qualities?

One day the kite said to the hawk, ‘O son, dear to my heart! I see that thou art very sad, and the cause of thy dejection is hid from me. If thou hast any wish in thy heart, disclose it to me that I may occupy myself in obtaining it; and if any desire passes through thy mind, make it known unhesitatingly, that to the extent of my power I may exert myself in accomplishing it.’ The hawk replied, ‘I, too, find in myself a feeling of dejection, and I do not know the cause of it, and if I know it I cannot tell it.

I now see it to be advisable that thou shouldest favour me with the honor of leave, that I may journey in various parts of the world for two or three days. Perchance, by the fortunate influence of movement, the dust of grief may be effaced from the page of my heart, and when my mind is occupied with the wonders and marvels of great cities and districts, it is possible that the form of cheerfulness may be manifested in the mirror of my mind.’ When the kite heard the mention of parting, anguish arose in his heart,⁵⁴ and he said,

Then complaining, he added, ‘O son! what plan is this thou hast formed? and what thought is this thou hast entertained? speak not of travel, for it is a man-devouring sea, and a dragon which carries off human beings.

The cause, in general, why men make choice of traveling, is to procure the means of subsistence, or because they find it difficult to remain in their own country; and neither of these two things has happened to thee. Thanks be to God that our abode is a corner free from care, and that there is food procurable, sufficient for us to live upon, and thou hast exaltation above my other sons, and all those older⁵⁵ than thee bow before thee. Notwithstanding all this, to choose to travel and abandon the pleasure of a settled abode, appears to be far from the path of good sense; and long ago they have said,

The hawk said, ‘What thou hast been pleased to say, is kindly and tenderly spoken; but whenever I meditate with myself, this corner and this food appear unworthy of my condition, and things pass through my mind which I am unable to express.’ The kite perceiving that the saying ‘Everything turns back to its original nature,’ was here made evident, stepped beyond the limits of this argument, and said, ‘That which I say is on the ground of contentment, and what thou sayest proceeds from greediness, and the greedy person is always disappointed; and as long as one is not contented, he finds no repose, and as thou art not thankful for the blessings of contentment, and knowest not the value of freedom from ease, I fear that that will befall thee which befell that greedy cat.’ The hawk asked ‘How was that?’

The kite said, ‘In former times there was an old woman in a state of extreme debility. She possessed a cot more narrow than the heart of the ignorant, and darker than the miser’s grave; and a cat was her companion, which had never seen even in the mirror of imagination, the face of a loaf, nor had heard from friend or stranger the name of meat. It was content if occasionally it smelt the odour of a mouse from its hole, or saw the print of the foot of one on the surface of a board, and if, on some rare occasion, by the aid of good-fortune and the assistance of happy destiny, one fell into its claws,

its cheek lighted up with joy, and it consumed its past sorrow with the flame of its natural heat, and a whole week, more or less, it subsisted on that amount of food, and used to say,

And inasmuch as the house of the old woman was the famine-year of that cat, it was always miserable and thin, and from a distance appeared like an idea. One day, through excessive weakness, it had, with the utmost difficulty, mounted on the top of the roof; thence it beheld a cat which walked proudly on the wall of a neighbouring house, and after the fashion of a destroying lion, advanced with measured steps, and from excessive fat, lifted its feet slowly. When the cat of the old woman, saw one of its own species in that state of freshness and fat, it was astonished, and cried out, saying,

Thou, whose state is thus pleasant, whence art thou? and since it appears that thou comest from the banquet-chamber of the Khán of Khaṭá,⁵⁶ whence is this sleekness of thine, and from what cause this thy grandeur and strength?’ The neighbour-cat replied, ‘I am the crumb-eater of the tray of the sulṭán. Every morning I attend on the court of the king, and when they spread the tray of invitation, I display boldness and daring, and in general I snatch off some morsels of fat meats, and of loaves made of the finest flour; and I pass my time happy and satisfied till the next day.’ The cat of the old woman, inquired ‘What sort of a thing may fat meat be? and what kind of relish has bread, made of fine flour? I, during my whole life, have never seen nor tasted aught save the old woman’s broths, and mouse’s flesh.’ The neighbour-cat laughed, and said, ‘Therefore it is, that one cannot distinguish thee from a spider, and this form and appearance that thou hast, is a reproach to our whole race; and the shape and character which thou hast brought from the house to the desert, is an eternal^56a disgrace.

And if thou shouldst see the court of the sulṭán, and smell the odour of those delicious viands and agreeable meats, it is probable that the mystery, ‘Who shall restore bones to life when they are rotten,’^56b may come forth from the curtain of what is hidden, to the plain of manifestation, and thou mayst acquire a fresh form.’

The cat of the old woman, said, most beseechingly, ‘O brother! thou art bound to me by the rights of neighbourship and the link of homogeneousness, why not perform what is due to courtesy and fraternity, and this time, when thou goest, take me with thee; perchance, by thy good fortune, I may obtain food, and by the blessing of thy society, I may acquire a place.

The heart of the neighbour-cat melted at his lamentable position, and he resolved that he would not attend the feast without him. The cat of the old woman, from the happy tidings of this promise, felt new life, and descending from the roof, stated the case to her. The old dame began to advise the cat, saying, ‘O kind companion, be not deceived by the words of worldly people, and abandon not the corner of content, for the vessel of covetousness is not filled save with the dust of the grave; and the eye of lust is not stitched but with the needle of annihilation and the thread of death.’

The cat had not taken into its head a longing for the table of the delicacies of the sulṭán, to such an extent only as that the medicine of advice could be profitable to it.

In short the next day, along with its neighbour, the old woman’s cat, with tottering steps conveyed itself to the court of the sulṭán, and before that helpless one could arrive^57b there, ill-fortune had poured the water of disappointment on the fire of its crude wish, and the reason was as follows:—The day before, the cats had made a general onslaught on the table, and raised a clamour and uproar beyond bounds, and had annoyed, to the last degree, the guests and their host. Wherefore, on this day, the sulṭán had commanded that a band of archers, with swiftly impelling notches, standing in ambush,^57c should watch, so that for every cat, who holding before its face the buckler of impudence, should enter the plain of audacity, the very first morsel that it ate, should be a liver-piercing shaft. The old woman’s cat, ignorant of this circumstance, as soon as it smelt the odour of the viands, without the power of checking itself, turned its face like a falcon, to the hunting-ground of the table, and the scale of the balance of appetite had not yet been weighted by heavy mouthfuls, when the heart-piercing arrow quivered in its breast.

‘And I have introduced this apologue, that thou, too, mayest regard the secluded corner of my nest as a blessing, and mayest understand the value of the food and morsels, which reach thee, untoiled for by thee; and showing thyself contented with a little, mayest not seek for more, lest, God forbid! thou arrive not at the condition thou seekest, and this place, too, depart from thy hand.’ The hawk said, ‘What thou hast been pleased to say, is the essence of good advice and kindness, nevertheless, to stoop to trifles is the business of the mean, and to show content with mere eating and drinking, is the disposition of brutes. Every one who would sit on the throne of greatness must rise up in pursuit of high things, and he who wishes to put on his head the crown of exaltation, must belt himself with the girdle of search. A lofty spirit is not satisfied with low things, and a noble intellect approves not of base positions.

The kite said, ‘This idea that thou hast taken into thy head, will not be realised by mere imagining; and this cauldron of desire, will not reach the boiling point by vain longing. No affair makes progress, unless the means are ready; and no result manifests itself, unless men first take order for the pre-requisites.

The hawk said, ‘The strength of my claws is the best means of procuring the blessings of fortune, and the power of my beak the best way of obtaining the grades of high rank. But, perhaps, thou hast not heard the story of that swordsman who sought kingship and rule by the help of the arm of courage, and, finally, the robe of his noble spirit was adorned with the fringe of sovereignty?’ The kite inquired ‘How was this matter?’

The hawk said, ‘In ancient times there was a poor mechanic at his wit’s end to maintain his family, and who, from extreme distress, had never read a single letter from the page of pleasure, and the gains of whose craft sufficed not for more than the expenses of his family, and the emoluments of whose profession went not beyond providing bread and raiment. The favour of God, (May his glory be magnified!) bestowed on him a dear son, on whose front the tokens of greatness were manifest; and on whose countenance the signs of high fortune were apparent.

By the blessing of his footsteps, the state of his father became one of cheerfulness,⁵⁹ and, by his happy auspices, the income from his craft began to exceed his expenses. The father, regarding his footsteps as auspicious, caused him, to the extent of his power at the time, to be educated; and the boy, in his childhood, was wont to speak of nothing but archery, and continually played with shield and sabre. When they conveyed him to school, he would suddenly make off and appear in the midst of the plain; and whenever they instructed him in writing, his thoughts darted away to the straight spear.^59a He was always reading the inscription of conquest from the lines of the sabre, and ever perusing, from the ornaments of the shield,^59b the sketch of ennoblement.

When from the stage of childhood he arrived at the boundaries of puberty, his father said, ‘O son, my mind is entirely bent on thy state, and the period of manhood has no relation to the season of boyhood. The marks of audacity and hardihood are very manifest on the pages of thy condition. I wish that before evil dispositions cast thee into the perils of lust, I may make the strong fortress, ‘Whoever marries, verily he perfects half his religion,’⁶⁰ thy mansion; and now I have arranged the hand of promise, fitting thy condition, in order that I may draw into the bands of marriage with thee, a lady from a tribe which may be equal to ours. What dost thou think adviseable herein?’ The son said, ‘O father! I have already given the hand of promise to the high person on whom my heart is set, and have deposited in cash for her, the marriage portion due in case of divorce. I will not trouble you in this affair, nor do I expect aid or assistance therein.’ The father said, ‘O son! I have perfect cognizance of all thy affairs. Thou hast not sufficient means of assistance that thou couldest rightly perform thy betrothal. What thou sayest thou hast prepared, whence is it? and what sort of bride is it that thou wooest?’ The son went into the house, and brought out a sword a hundred times more sanguinary than the glance of the beautiful, and a thousand degrees more lustrous than the teeth of the carnelian-lipped fair. Then he said, ‘O father! know that I will plight my troth to the bride of empire, and will unite myself, in the nuptial knot, with the chaste virgin of sovereignty; and for her there is no better plighted troth than a sharp sword, and no fairer portion than a blood-shedding poniard.’

And since the spirit of that young man was restricted to [the acquisition of] empire, in a short space of time he took possession of an extensive kingdom, and by the stroke of the world-subduing blade, he conquered various countries of the world: and hence they have said,

‘And I have introduced this story in order that thou mayest know, that, whatever can be mentioned as belonging to fortune, I already possess, and the Divine providence has opened the gates of happiness before the face of my condition, and I, too, am in hopes that I shall shortly arrive at my desire, and reach the hand of my desire to the neck of its object. And now by no charming of any one, will I give up this condition or abandon this idea.

The kite perceived that that high-spirited bird would not be brought into the net by the string of wiliness, nor be caught by the grain of deceit and artifice. It was, therefore, compelled to suffer it to travel, and applied to its own wounded breast, the cautery of separation. The hawk, having taken leave of the kite and its young ones, flew from the nest and soared on high; and after it was tired, descended on the top of a mountain, and opened the eye of observation in every direction. All at once, it saw a mountain-partridge, which had begun to walk proudly along in perfect beauty, while the sound of its jocund cry reverberated through all parts of the mountain. The hawk found in its nature an eager desire to hunt the partridge, and in one pounce, filled its crop with the flesh of its breast, which was agreeable to its appetite. It found the flesh of such a sort that the deliciousness of its flavour, equalled the water of life, and the delicacy of its taste boasted an equality with the relish of the most surpassing dainties, [according to the saying] ‘And the flesh of birds of the kind which they shall desire,’⁶¹ and as during the whole period of his life it had never tasted flesh of such delicacy, it exclaimed,

It then reflected, ‘This, of itself, among the advantages of travel, suffices me, that thus early I have escaped from coarse food, and have obtained the flavour of viands which are agreeable to my mind, and have been elevated from a dark and narrow nest and low and mean-spirited companions, to exalted places and lofty situations.

[Let us wait to see] what happy fortune will next advance from the corner of the unknown future to the area of visibility.’

Then the hawk, swift of flight, passed some days in flying about at pleasure, and merrily chased the partridge and quail, till one day it was perched on the top of a mountain, at the skirt of which it beheld a number of horsemen who had formed line in hunting, while their falcons swooped in pursuit of the quarries.

Now this was the king of the country who had come out with his attendants for his accustomed sport of hawking, and the place where the game fed happened to be the skirt of that mountain. Meanwhile the hawk which was on the King’s wrist flew and made a stoop at a quarry, and this high-couraged hawk also stooping at the same prey, presently carried it off before the other. When the King’s glance fell on its swiftness of flight, and rapid seizure, his heart was set upon it, and the high mandate went forth, so that dexterous fowlers, by ingenious stratagems, cast a snare round its neck, and by the guidance of fortune, it attained the honor of serving the monarch. The gracious regard of the King became confirmed with reference to its natural aptitude and innate merit, and after a short time its post was fixed by the favouring aid of fortune, on the wrist of the Prince, and by means of its lofty spirit it rose from the abyss of degradation and abasement, to the pinnacle of honor and prosperity, and if it had been content with the society of crows and kites, in the same spot where it first abode, and for the sake of travel, had not measured the regions of the desert and the tract of the wilderness, its attaining this rank, and its promotion to this dignity, would have been of the number of impossibilities, and I have cited this apologue that it may be understood, that in travel the most complete exaltation is attained, and that it conducts a man from the most utter meanness of baseness and obscurity, to the loftiest place of approval and splendour.’

And when the discourse of Dábishlím was ended, the other vazír advanced and performed the customary ceremonies of prayerful salutation, and said, ‘That which his imperial Majesty, the shadow of God, has been pleased to say in explanation of travel and its advantages, does not belong to such a class of things that the suspicion of doubt can approach it, nevertheless it occurs to the mind of your slave, that for the angelically-gifted^62c person of the King, on whose safety the happiness of the world is dependent, to voluntarily undertake the toil of travel, and to migrate from the exhilarating garden of pleasure into the heart-afflicting desert of sorrow and labour, appears distant from the ways of wisdom.’ Dábishlím said, ‘The undertaking toil is the part of men of courage, and the business of the lions of the forest of war; and indubitably until the skirt of the pleasant life of kings is impinged on the thorn of trouble, the flower of tranquillity does not blossom for their weak subjects in the garden of freedom from care, and so long as the foot of high-spirit of monarchs has not traversed the wilderness of calamity, the head of the indigent poor does not touch the pillow of repose.’

And know that there are two classes of mankind, one, kings, to whom has been given the dignity of ruling over states, and imperial sway: and the other, subjects, on whom is bestowed the favour of security and repose. These two kinds do not admit of combination, but it is necessary either to choose ease and abandon the reigns of dominion, or to be contented with the honor of kingly power, and draw back the hand from delight and leisure.

And the wise have said, ‘Labour is the way to wealth,’ and exertion elevates the seeker on the post of success, and to traverse the wastes of struggling with the step of constancy, brings the beauty of the desired object under the gaze of inspection. The acquirement of things wished for depends on attempting things perilous.

Every one who raises the banner of exertion in the plain of courage, and puts away the qualities of indulgence and listlessness in undertaking toils, has taken the shortest path to his object, and has looked on the countenance of his wish with the eye of hope, like that Tiger who entertained a desire to rule over the joy-expanding wilderness, and by the blessing of toil and exertion which he employed, and by the auspicious influence of patient endurance of severe sufferings and disagreeables which he displayed, in a short time the veil of hindrance fell off from the face of his wish, and he advanced the hand of hope to the skirt of his object.’ The vazír inquired ‘In what manner was this affair?’

King Dábishlím said, ‘In the environs of Baṣrah⁶⁴ there was an island of an excessively pleasant climate, and a desert of surpassing beauty and frcshness, where limpid waters flow on every side, and a life-bestowing zephyr breathes around.

And from its excessive exquisiteness they called it the ‘Joy-expanding Wilderness,’ and a Tiger bore sway there, such that from dread of him fierce lions could not set foot in that retreat, and from awe of him the wild beasts and savage animals could not allow the thought of that solitude to encircle their minds.

He had lived much time in that wild, according to his wish, and had never seen the form of disappointment in the mirror of existence. He had a young one whose countenance made the world seem bright to him, and in meeting which lustre of his eyes, his vision was enlightened. His intention was that when that young one came to years, and stained his teeth and claws in the gore of wild beasts, he would commit that solitude to his charge, and pass the rest of his life at ease in the corner of retirement. The blossom of his wish had not yet expanded on the stem of desire, when the autumn of death gave the fruit of the garden of his existence to the wind of destruction.

And when this Tiger was seized by the claw of the lion, Death, several wild beasts who for a long time entertained a desire for that wilderness, made a unanimous movement, and set about appropriating it. The young tiger saw that he possessed not the strength to resist. He went voluntarily into exile, and amongst the wild beasts a huge contest arose. A blood-spilling, tumult-causing lion, overcame all the others, and brought by conquest that joy-expanding wilderness which resembled Paradise, into the area of his own possession, and the young Tiger having for some time endured distress in the mountains and wastes, conveyed himself to another haunt, and disclosed the affliction of his heart to the wild beasts of that district, and asked their aid to remedy this interruption [of his happiness]. They, having received intelligence of the victory of the predaceous lion and of the overpowering might of that martial king of beasts, rejected with aversion [the request for] help and assistance, and said, ‘O unfortunate! thy place is now in the possession of a lion such that from terror of him the birds will not fly over that wilderness, and from fear of him the elephant will not approach that desert. We have not strength to fight with him, nor to sustain his teeth and claws, and thou too art not able to enter with him the arena of strife and encounter. Our opinion demands that thou shouldst betake thyself to his court, and with perfect loyalty enter his service.’

These words seemed reasonable to the young Tiger, and he looked upon his best course to be this, that he should voluntarily enter the service of the lion, and to the extent of his ability, offer the duties of attendance. He, therefore, put in practice the maxim ‘Returning is best,’ and through the intervention of one of the nobles, he obtained the honor of waiting on the lion, and having become the object of the imperial regard, was appointed to an office suited to his spirit. The tiger having tightly fastened the belt of obedience on the waist of affection, displayed the marks of prudence and dutiful service in such a manner as every moment to cause an increase of nearness to the king’s presence, and an augmentation of the royal favour to such an extent, that he became an object of envy to the nobles and ministers of his majesty; in spite of which every instant his painstaking and zeal in the service waxed greater, and he incessantly displayed increased exertion, in the affairs of the state.

Once upon a time an important and necessary affair arose which called the lion away to a distant jungle; and at that time the heat of the oven of the sky, was unmitigated,⁶⁶ and the expanse of waste and mountain, like a furnace of glass, fiercely inflamed. From the excessive heat of the air, the brain of animals was boiled in their cranium, and the crabs in the water were fried like fish in the frying-pan.

The lion reflected, ‘At such a time, when the shell at the bottom of the deep, like a fowl on a spit, is roasting; and the ocean, from fear of the sun’s heat, steps not in the midst^66a of the fire to the shore, an affair of this importance has occurred. Who may there be among my attendants, who would not be affected by the labour? and who, undeterred by the heat of the atmosphere, would approach this undertaking?’ In the midst of this reflection, the Tiger came in with the line of attendants, and observed that the king was thoughtful. On the ground of his abundant affection and complete tact, he advanced near the throne of royalty, and was emboldened to ask the causes of that thoughtfulness, and having learned how the case stood, he took upon himself to accomplish the matter, and having been honored with permission, he set off with a body of attendants, and arriving at that place at noon, he betook himself to the accomplishment of the affair, and the instant that the business was settled to his satisfaction, he changed his reins to return. The officers and counsellors, who had been appointed to attend upon him, unanimously represented as follows: ‘In such heat as this, all this distance has been traversed by the steps of completion, and now that the affair has been settled and that there is not the slightest cause for uneasiness; and the confidence placed in you by his high majesty, has been demonstrated to the extent that it has, it will certainly not be removed from advisability, if you should repose a short time under the shade of a tree, and allay the fiery tongue of thirst by drinking cool water.’

The Tiger smiled and said, ‘My intimacy and rank with his majesty the king, is a banner that I have by toil and effort set up. It would not be well to level it with the ground by indulgence and sloth. Without supporting trouble it is impossible to arrive at the carrying off treasure, and unaccompanied by the heart-afflicting thorn, we cannot reap the enjoyment of surveying the rose-garden.

The informers furnished intelligence of this to the lion, and recited the book of this affair, from the preface to⁶⁷ the conclusion. The lion nodded the head of approval, and said, ‘Such a person is fit for sway and chieftainship, who can raise up his head from the collar of toil;^67a and the people may be at peace in the just reign of that ruler who does not place his head on the pillow of repose.’

He then sent for the Tiger, and having distinguished him with special honors, committed that jungle to him, and having bestowed on him the place of his sire, conferred on him, in addition, the dignity of being his heir. And the use of this apologue is, that thou mayest learn that to no one does the sun of his wish rise from the eastern quarter of hope, without the diligent use of great exertion; nor, without complete and searching labour, does the preamble of hope yield the issue of the acquirement of the desired object.

And since in this journey the object is the quest of knowledge, I have formed a firm resolution, and have placed the foot of endeavour in the stirrup of intention. From the mere thought of the labour which may accrue in going^67b and returning, the page of my purpose shall not receive the inscription of abrogation, and the cavalier of lofty spirit, will not turn back from this path, ‘This is a matter that is absolutely determined.’^67c

When the vazírs perceived that the prohibitions of advice could not prevent the king’s purpose, they conformed to his opinion, and employed themselves in preparing the necessary articles for the march; and having paid the congratulations usual on commencing a journey, repeating this couplet, they sent up shouts to the revolving vault of heaven:

Then the King Dábishlím committed the reins of public affairs to the hand of the good sense of one of the pillars of the state in whom he reposed confidence, and repeated in the ear of his intelligence, with reference to the tender treatment of his subjects and protection of his people, certain words of advice which might serve as the fringe of the robe of kingly power: and among them the following,

And when his mind was relieved from the cares of state, he turned his face with a retinue of chosen attendants and servants, towards Sarándíp, and, like the moon, advanced stage by stage, and, like the sun, proceeded from city^67e to city,^67f and at every halting-place he made the acquisition of new experiences, and from every caravan he gained fresh advantages, until after traversing the stages of land and sea, and enduring the hardships of cold and heat, the shores of Sarándíp appeared to him, and the fragrant breezes of that country reached the nostrils of the king.

And after he had rested from the fatigues of his journey for two or three days in the city of Sarándíp, and had left his superfluous baggage there, he turned his face with two or three of his confidential attendants towards the mountain, and when he had ascended its heights, he beheld an elevation which cast the shadow of its skirt on the sun, and the glitter of whose peak⁶⁹ threw its radiance on the beams of the planet Mars.

On every side were meadows adorned with a variety of fragrant herbs, and in all directions flower-gardens, which resembled the abundant delights of Paradise.

Dábishlím perambulated it on every side, and made the devotional circuit of its holy places. In the midst of this going to and fro, his eyes fell on a cave, the darkness of which matched the light of the eye,^69b and the mysterious saying, ‘Light in darkness,’ was illuminated by its gloom. By searching inquiry of those who lived near those places, he learned that it was the abode of a sage whom they called Bídpáí, that is to say, ‘the kind physician,’^69c and that from certain of the great men of Hind, it had been heard that his name was Pílpáí, which, in Hindí they call Hastí-pát, and that he was a man who had ascended the steps of learning, and had adorned, with the ornaments of excellent qualities, the jewel of reason: and at that period had abandoned the society of men, and contenting himself with a small pittance, had sewed up his eyes from things connected with the world, and consumed with the flame of the fire of abstinence, the rubbish of unholy dispositions. The eye of his wakefulness, from the excess of his vigils, beheld not the countenance of sleep, and the ear of his senses, from the extent of his abstinence, heard nought but the summons, ‘God inviteth unto the dwelling of peace.’^69d

Dábishlím, in the desire of meeting him, stood some time without the cave, and, by the language of gesture, asked of the inward [soul] of that perfect saint, permission to come as a pilgrim to him. The clear-minded sage—by secret inspiration and intelligence, free from doubt—obtained information of the meaning of the world-conquering king, and uttered the cry, ‘Enter ye therein in peace and security.’^69f

He looked and beheld a Bráhman, who had stepped with the foot of abrogation into the world of retirement, and had unfurled the pennon⁶⁹ⁱ of truth in the plain of subtlety. Angelic mind revealed itself in his human countenance, and the cleanliness of his body was a manifest demonstration of the purity of his spirit. The king sagaciously discerned that he should obtain from him his wish, and by the auspicious influence of his spirit, would arrive at his object. With all respect he advanced towards him, and when he drew near the Bráhman, he performed due salutation and fulfilled the requisite homage. The Bráhman after receiving and replying to the salute, and performing the conventional compliments, signed [to the king] to sit; and having inquired of him as to the fatigues of the road, asked the reason of his taking on himself the trouble of the journey and abandoning the pleasure of a fixed residence. Dábishlím repeated, from beginning to end, the story of his dream, and of the treasure and the testament, and the consignment of its completion to Sarándíp. The Bráhman smiled and said, ‘Honor to the high spirit of the king! that in the pursuit of wisdom he takes upon himself all this toil, and, on account of the repose of his oppressed subjects and the peace of the poor among his people, accepts various kinds of labour and trial.

Then the Bráhman having opened the lid of the casket of secret knowledge, filled the shell of the king’s ear with the jewels of wisdom, and putting aside his own avocations for some days, employed himself in instructing the monarch, and in the midst of their converse, mention was made of the testament of Húshang. The king recounted to the sage, the precepts, one by one; and the Bráhman addressed the great monarch on the subject: and Dábishlím indited his words, with the pen of understanding, on the tablet of memory; and the book ‘Kalílah and Damnah,’ is composed of the questions and answers of the King and Bráhman; and we have arranged it in fourteen chapters, after the manner set forth in the catalogue of the book, and, ‘Aid is from God from whom help is supplicated; He is sufficient for us, and in Him is our trust.’

The great king Dábishlím said to the Bráhman Pílpáí, ‘The purport of the first precept was, that when one is exalted by being honored with the confidence of kings, he will assuredly be envied by his peers, and those who envy him, endeavouring to destroy the pedestal of his honor, will, by deceitful words, work a change in the king’s disposition towards him. Wherefore it behoves a king to ponder well on the speech of interested persons; and, on discovering that it is not devoid of an admixture of falsehood and corruption, not to conduct it to the confines of acceptance.

And I make my request to the Bráhman, that he may be pleased to relate a story suitable to this case, and may detail the history of some one who was the intimate counsellor of a king, and the basis of whose dignity was injured by the interested words of an envious person, and with whom friendship terminated in enmity, and concord in contention.’ The Bráhman said, ‘The centre of the basis of dominion, rests on this precept, and if a king does not deter interested persons from mischief and injurious acts, they will bring the majority of the nobles, to misery and disgrace; and hence complete disorder will find its way into the empire, and spread even to the prince; and when a mischief-maker has found the means of coming between two friends, the conclusion of their affairs will assuredly draw towards a terrible and disastrous catastrophe, as befell between the Lion and the Ox.’ The king asked, ‘How was that?’

The Bráhman said, ‘They have related, that there was a trader who had compassed land and sea, and traversed the regions of east and west, and experienced the chills and heats of fortune, and tested the sweets and bitters of many⁷² days.

When the van of Death’s array—for so the infirmity of age is termed—began to make inroads into the realm of his constitution, and the advanced guard of fate, by which white hairs are implied, took possession of the outworks of the fortress of his existence,

The merchant knew that every moment they were about to beat the drum of departure, and would demand back the stock of life which they had deposited in the tabernacle of the body. He assembled his sons, three youths, intelligent and learned, but who, from the pride of riches, and the inpetuosity of youth, had overstepped the path of moderation, and extended the hand of expenditure to the property of their father; and having averted their faces from business and professional employment, passed their precious time in vanity and sloth. Their kind father, from excess of that affection and tenderness which fits the character of the paternal relation, began to admonish them, and opened to them the gates of disinterested advice, which comprehended all the topics of fear and hope: and said, ‘O youths! if ye understand not the value of the property, in the acquisition of which ye have suffered no toil, ye are excusable in the judgment of men of wisdom, but ye ought to know that wealth may be made the source of happiness in this world and in that which is to come, and whatever men seek of every degree in the two worlds may be secured by means of wealth, and all people seek for one of three conditions. The first is abundance of worldly goods and an ample supply of effects and chattels, and this is desired by the class whose mind is limited to drinking and dress, and labouring for the fulfilment of sensual gratifications. The second condition is exalted rank and elevation in dignity, and the class whose object this is, is that of the nobility and men of office; and it is impossible to attain these two conditions save by wealth. The third condition is the obtaining the reward of a future state, and the arriving at the grades of religious excellence; and the class who look to this object are the people of salvation and pious eminence; and the acquisition of this dignity may be through lawful wealth, [according to the saying,] ‘Good is pure wealth to the man that is pure,’⁷³ and the Great Doctor of Mysticism has said in his Poem.^73a

Wherefore it is plain that by the blessing of wealth, most objects of pursuit are attained, and to get wealth without a profession, and the due quest of it, appears impossible, and if a person, as is rarely the case, obtains it without toil, inasmuch as he has not undergone labour in acquiring it, he will assuredly, through not knowing its worth and value, quickly pass it from his hands. Therefore, having averted your faces from sloth, incline towards the acquisition of money, and employ yourselves in the same profession of traffic in which ye have for many years seen me engaged.’ The eldest son said, ‘O Father! thou enjoinest us to acquire money, and this is repugnant to dependence on God, and I feel assured that whatever is predestined to me by fate will accrue to me although I employ no labour or exertion for it, and as to that which is not my destiny, however much I may exert myself in pursuit of it, it will be all in vain.

And I have heard that a sage has said, ‘That which was my destiny, though I have fled from it, has adhered to me; and that which was not fated for me, however much I have stuck to it, has fled from me.’ Wherefore, whether we undertake a profession or not, it is all the same.

Accordingly, the story of those Two Princes is a proof of this, since one of them gained the treasure of his father without toil, and the other—in the hope of that treasure—lost his country and the sovereignty.’ The father asked, ‘How was that?’

The son said, ‘In the country of Ḥalab,⁷⁴ there was a king of prosperous fortune, and a sovereign of extensive sway, who had experienced many vicissitudes, and seen many revolutions of night and day: and he had two sons who were immersed in the whirlpool of the vanity of youth, and intoxicated with the inebriation of the wine of prosperity, inclined to gaiety and mirth, and employed in pleasure and amusement, while they listened to the melody of this song from the voice of harp and bell.^74a

The king was a wise and experienced man; and he possessed an abundant supply of jewels, and immense treasures in money. After considering the habits of his sons, he feared, lest, after he was gone, they should cast those hoards that he had acquired into the place of dissipation, and give them, on the occasion of their requirement, to the wind of destruction. And in the neighbourhood of that city, there was a holy man, who had turned his back on worldly things, and was looking to prepare a store for the final state.

The monarch had a strong attachment to him, and reposed exceeding confidence in him. He commanded all his treasures to be collected, (and in such a way that no one heard of it), buried them in the abode of the holy man, and left this parting injunction to the saint, that, when fickle fortune and unstable rank, should avert their faces from his sons, and the fount of prosperity, which, like the mirage, possesses nought but a semblance of reality, should be filled up with the mire of adversity, and his sons should become poor and necessitous, he should inform them of that treasure; since, perchance, after seeing ill-fortune and experiencing trouble, they might be schooled, and expend it in a right way; and having turned from profusion and dissipation, might observe the path of moderation. The holy man accepted the king’s bequest; and the latter with a view to his present object, prepared a deep pit in one of his palaces, and made it appear as though he was burying his treasures there, and caused his sons to be informed, that when necessity shewed itself, a sufficient store, which would amply supply their wants, was there treasured, and after these circumstances, in a short time, both the king and the holy man accepted the divine invitation, and became insensible from the cup of ‘Every soul shall taste of death.’⁷⁵

And that hoard which was buried in the cell of the devotee, remained hidden and concealed; nor did any one obtain information of it. The brothers, after the death of their father, fell to strife and contention, with regard to the division of his dominions and treasure, and the elder brother, by strength and valour, having got the mastery, took possession of all the effects, and left his younger brother afflicted and destitute. The hapless [prince] deprived of all share in the office of government, and of all part of his patrimony, thought to himself that as the sun of good fortune and power had set its face towards the western region of decline, and Heaven, exercising cruelty, had displayed the quality of insincerity and alienation; to turn the face a second time in search of worldly things, and to attempt again the once-attempted could effect no useful result.

‘There is nothing better,’ thought he, ‘than that, as the collar of fortune has escaped from the grasp of choice, I should take hold of the skirt of reliance on God and contentment, and not let go the dignity of the Darvesh, which is a sovereignty without decay.

With this resolution he issued from the city, and said to himself, ‘Such a one, the devotee, was the friend of my father; my advisable course is to turn my face towards his cell, and at his feet commit the conduct of my devotions to the direction of abstinence.’ When he reached the abode of the holy man, he found that the parrot of his soul had taken flight from the cage of the body, towards the Paradise of ‘In a lofty garden,’⁷⁶ and that the cell of that luminous mind remained empty. For a time grief and dejection at the circumstance overcame him. At length he chose that very spot for his abode, and by way of discipleship he became the occupant and attendant^76a of that cell, and near the hermitage was a water-course, and they had dug a well outside the edifice, and made a way from it to the water-course, whence water flowed continually into the well, and the people of the hermitage^76b made use of it, and bathed and performed their ablutions with it. One day the prince let down a bucket into the well. There was no sound of water, and on his examining it carefully, there was no water at the bottom of the well. He reflected, saying, ‘Alas! what accident has happened that no water comes into this well, and if a complete stoppage has found its way to the well, and the water-course, and it is altogether worn out, it will be impossible to continue longer in this abode.’ Then in order to learn the certainty of the matter, he descended into the well, and minutely inspected the sides and all parts of it, and the channel by which the water came.^76c All of a sudden an excavation met his view, from which a portion [of masonry] had fallen into the channel of the water and prevented it from flowing into the well. He reflected, ‘Ah! whither does this excavation go? And where does this cavity issue?’ He then made the cavity larger, and he no sooner stepped into it than he came upon the treasure of his father. When the Prince beheld that wealth and immense sum of money, he prostrated himself in thanks to God, and said, ‘Although this wealth is vast, and these gems beyond calculation, still I must not swerve from the path of reliance on God, and the highway of contentment, and I must limit my expenses to my wants.

On the other side, the elder brother being firmly established in his dominions took no thought for his subjects, and his army, and in hope of the imaginary treasure which he fancied to be in the palace of his father, expended all that he could lay his hands upon, and from excess of haughtiness and pride, made no enquiries after his brother, and was ashamed of showing attachment to him. Suddenly an enemy arose against him, and with a numerous and warlike army advanced into his country. The Prince found his treasury empty, and his army unprovided and distressed. He went to the place where his father had pointed out the treasury, in order that with that abundant wealth he might prepare a numerous host, [according to the saying,], ‘There is no king without men, and no men without money.’ The more he exerted himself the less could he find any trace of the treasure, and the more he toiled and laboured the farther was he excluded from obtaining his object.

And when he had altogether lost all hope of finding the treasure by a variety of devices, after issuing bonds,⁷⁷ he contrived to get together a force, and directing his course to repel the enemy, issued from the city. After the lines of battle had been drawn up on both sides, and the fire of slaughter had been kindled, an arrow from the ranks of the enemy’s force struck the elder Prince in a mortal place, and he fell dead on the spot; and from this side also, they discharged a shaft, and the strange king too was slain, and both armies were left disordered and leaderless. It almost came to pass that the fire of revolt blazed up, and that the people of both kingdoms had been consumed by the flame of confusion. At last the chiefs of both armies assembled and made search, with mutual consent, from the royal families and the imperial stock, for a king of beneficent disposition and good qualities, in order that they might consign to him the duties of the empire and the conduct of state affairs. The general opinion agreed in this conclusion, that the fortunate chief the head of whose auspiciousness would be worthy of a diadem of exaltation, and the finger of whose happiness would befit the signet-ring of dominion, was that same devout Prince. The officers of state went to the door of his cell, and with all possible respect and reverence brought him from the corner of obscurity to the court of acceptance, and from the nook of retirement to the high-place of the throne of fortune; and by the blessings of reliance on the divine favour, he obtained the treasures of his father and was established in his kingdom. And I have introduced this example in order to prove that the attainment of fortune is not dependent on exertion and labour, and that it is better to place trust in reliance on God, than to pillow oneself on one’s own efforts.

When the son had concluded this story, the father said, ‘What thou hast uttered is pure truth and justice, but this world is a world of means and causes, and the divine command has been issued accordingly, that, on causes, the happening of events in general in this world should depend; and the profit of working for a livelihood is greater than the reliance on Providence, because the advantage of such reliance accrues to him that so relies, and no more; and the benefit of working circulates to others from the worker, and to convey benefit to others is a proof of goodness, for, ‘The best of men is he who benefits mankind,’ and when any one has the ability to benefit others, it is a shame if he chooses to be idle and receive benefits from them: but perhaps thou hast never heard the story of that man who after witnessing what befell the Hawk and the Raven, neglected causation, and hence the divine wrath fell upon him. The son asked ‘How was that?’

The father said, ‘They relate that a darvesh was passing through a waste, and was meditating on the tokens of [God’s] mercy, and on the instances of divine power, when suddenly he beheld a swift royal falcon, which, holding a piece of flesh in its claw, was hovering round a tree, and in the most extreme agitation circled near a nest. The man was astonished at this circumstance, and stood for a time gazing at it. He saw a Raven without feathers and unfledged lying in the nest, and the Hawk divided the flesh piece by piece, and in proportion to what the callow raven could swallow, placed the pieces in its mouth. The man exclaimed, ‘Glory to God! behold His kingly favor and infinite compassion, that in the corner of this nest a raven unfledged and that has neither power to fly, nor vigor to attack, is not left by Him without support.

Wherefore it must assuredly be from weakness of faith and dulness of belief, that I, ever occupied in quest of daily subsistence, remain afoot and unseated, and having plunged into the wilderness of greediness, by every sort of artifice procure my daily bread.

The best course is for me henceforth to place the head of freedom from care on the knee of retirement, and draw the line of abrogation on the page of employment and business.

He then washed his hands of worldly concerns and sate down in a corner, and fixed his heart sincerely on the gratuitous⁷⁹ beneficence of the Causer of Causes.

For three days and nights he remained quiet in the corner of retirement, but no gratuitous supply reached him from any channel, and every moment he became more attenuated and weak. At last his infirmities^79a came strongly^79b upon him and the recluse became mighty feeble, and was unable to perform the usual duties of worship and devotion. Then God Most High sent to him the prophet of that age, and gave him a message, severely rebuking him, saying, ‘O creature of mine! I have placed the pivot of the world on causes and means, and, though my omnipotent power can perform a thing without a cause, nevertheless my wisdom has made this requisite, that things in general should be effected and brought about by causes, and hence the rule of an interchange of benefits is established. Wherefore if thou canst be the means of imparting advantage to another, it is better than to be obliged to be succoured by others.

And I have introduced this story in order that thou mayest know that it is not practicable for every one to put aside the veil of secondary causes, and that commendable reliance on God is that which, with a due regard to means, maintains a firm faith, so as to participate in that gracious promise, ‘The industrious man is the friend of God,’^79c and a great authority has said, ‘Work lest thou become sick; and own that thy food is from God, lest thou be an infidel.’

The next son then began to say, ‘O Father! we have not power to rely implicitly on God, wherefore there is no alternative but to practice a profession; and when we engage in a profession, and God Most High, from the treasure of his bounties, provides us with wealth and property,^79e what must we do with it?’ The father said, ‘To amass wealth is easy, but to keep it and derive advantage from it, is difficult, and when any one acquires wealth, he must know two necessary things: the one, to take care of it in such a manner that it may be safe from inroads and consumption, and that the hand of the thief and the robber and the cut-purse, may be kept back from it, since gold has many friends and the possessor of it many a foe.

The second thing is, that he should reap the benefit of the profits, but not squander the principal, for if men spend everything from their capital, and are not contented with the interest, in a short time the dust of annihilation will rise up from it.

Whoever is without income, and continually expends money, or whose expenses are greater than his income, will eventually fall into the vortex of want, and it is probable that his affairs will terminate in destruction, like that wasteful Rat which destroyed itself from grief.’ The son asked ‘How was that?’

The father said, ‘They have related that a farmer had placed in a barn a quantity of corn for a store, and had closed up the doors of expenditure there, in order that in the day when excessive want and extreme necessity should arrive,⁸⁰ he might be able to derive advantage from it. By chance, a Rat—who from exceeding greediness, desired to steal grain from the granary of the moon,^80a and to snatch, with the claw of rapacity, the cluster of the Pleiades from the corn-field of the sky—had its abode in the vicinity of that spot, and its nest in the neighbourhood of that barn. He was continually burrowing under-ground in every direction, and with his stone-rending teeth he everywhere made excavations. All at once, his mining operations terminated in the midst of the grain, and from the roof of his house, grains of wheat, like bright-falling stars from the sky, came pouring down. The rat saw that the promise, ’Your sustenance is in the heaven,^80b was fulfilled; and that the dark saying, ‘Seek ye your food in the recesses of the earth,’ was cleared up. He then performed the duties of thanksgiving for the display of those blessings, and, by the acquisition of those precious jewels, having obtained great opulence, he began to assume the proud demeanour of Ḳárún⁸¹ and the arrogant pretensions of Pharaoh; and in a short space of time the rats in that quarter became acquainted with the circumstances, and girt the waist of service in attendance upon him.

Friends of the trencher and companions of the cup assembled near him, and—as their custom is—adopting a course of flattery, uttered not a word, save such as would suit his inclination and gratify his humor; nor loosed their tongue except in his eulogy and praise, and in thanking and blessing him. He too, like one demented, opened his mouth in boasting and vain-glorious talk, and his hand in ruinous expenditure; in the idea that the grain of that building would not come to an end, and that wheat would continuously be showered down and descend from that orifice. Every day he expended a large portion of it on his companions, and having no regard to the final issue, turned not from the thought of to-day, to the anxious care for the morrow.

And at the season that the rats were engrossed with pleasure in that retired corner, the cold hand of famine and dearth had cast down the people, and the fire of hunger was kindled in the breast of the afflicted poor. On every side they offered a loved object for bread, and no one listened to them, and in all directions they desired to sell their household goods for a dish of meat, and no one would buy.

The arrogant Rat having spread out the carpet of luxurious delight, had no intelligence of the famine, nor was acquainted with the scarcity of the season, When some days had passed, the occasion became one of life and death to the farmer, and the knife reached the bone. He opened the door of the building and saw that extensive damage had accrued to the grain. Then heaving a cold sigh from his heart inflamed [with grief], and, suffering much sorrow for that loss, he said to himself, ‘It is not the proceeding of a wise man to lament in a matter the remedy of which is beyond the limits of possibility. Now it appears best to collect the remaining grain that is left in this building, and to convey it to another place. Then the farmer busied himself with carrying out the small portion that remained; and in that place the Rat, who imagined himself the owner of the house and lord of the edifice, was asleep; and the other rats, from their excessive greediness and cupidity, did not hear the sound of the farmer’s feet, and the noise of the coming and going, above their heads. But one among them, an acute rat, having guessed how matters stood, ascended the roof to ascertain [what was going on] and, from a crevice, observed the real state of the case. He came down forthwith, and having told his friends the substance of the story, flung out of the hole, and they too went out, each to a corner, and left their patron alone.

The next day when the Rat lifted his head from the pillow of repose, however much he looked to the left and right, he saw none of his friends, and the more he scrutinised, both before and behind, the less he discovered any traces of his companions. He began to bewail himself, and said,

When, in order to ascertain what they were about, he—after a long interval, during which he had chosen to live retired—issued from the corner of his dwelling, and got intelligence of the calamitous dearth and the miserable distress and scarcity—in the utmost perturbation, he hastened home that he might exert himself to the utmost in taking care of the store he possessed. When he reached his house, he saw not a trace of the grain, and he then mounted through that hole into the granary, and there was not as much there for him to eat, as would suffice for one night’s food. Thereupon his endu-rance being folded up,⁸² he began to rend the collar of his life with the hand of affliction, and struck the head of insanity so often on the ground, that his brains were scattered, and by the ill-fortune of his wasteful living, he fell into the vortex of destruction and ruin. And the moral of this story is, that a man’s expenses ought to be in proportion to his income, and he should enjoy himself with the interest of the principal he possesses, and should be careful of it in such a manner that no detriment may accrue to his capital stock.

And when the father had concluded this tale, the younger son arose and adorned the preamble of his discourse with benedictions and praise of his father, and said, ‘O father! after one has taken care of his property according to rule, and has obtained full interest from it, how should he expend that interest?’ The father said, ‘The mean in everything is to be commended, espccially as regards the mode of living. Wherefore it behoves the possessor of wealth, after obtaining his profit, to pay regard to two other rules. First, let him shun incongruous expenses and outlays, lest these bring forth repentance, and he loose the tongue of sarcasm against him; and, in point of fact, the squandering one’s resources, and profuse expenditure are a temptation of the devil [as it is said,] ‘For the profuse are brethren of the devils.’⁸³

Secondly: It is necessary that he should avoid the disgrace of stinginess, and the stigma of miserly conduct, since the miser has an ill name, both in spiritual and worldly things, and a worldly avaricious man is at all times the object of reproach and as wretched as his foes could wish;^83a and the hoards of the miser become, in the end, the butt of the shaft of ruinous expenditure and waste. Thus, for example, when water is continually flowing into a large reservoir from sundry channels, and has not an outlet proportioned to the influx, it of necessity seeks a passage in every direction, and bursts out from every corner. So the walls of the reservoir are cracked, and in the end it is ruined and destroyed, and the waters are dispersed abroad on all sides and in all directions. ‘Warn the miser of a casualty or an heir,’^83b

When the sons had heard the admonitions of their father, and had fully recognised the advantages of his words, each made choice of a profession, and engaged in business; and the oldest of them⁸⁴ betook himself to commerce, and embarked on a distant journey; and he had with him two baggage oxen, such that the bull of heaven did not possess the power of contending with them in strength; and the celestial lion from their fierceness and the awe they inspired, hid, like a cat keeping a fast, the claw of terror in the paw of helplessness.

The name of one was Shanzabah,^84a and of the other, Mandabah; and the worthy merchant always managed them and attended to their condition himself. As, however, the time of the journey waxed long and they traversed great distances, debility made inroads into their condition, and the mark of weakness was displayed on the aspect of their state. By chance, in the midst of the way a vast slough intervened, and Shanzabah stuck therein. The merchant commanded, so that by every device they brought him out, and as he had not power to move, [his owner] hired a man and appointed him to the charge of the ox; and it was fixed that as soon as he gained strength he should bring him to the caravan. The hireling abode one or two days in the jungle, and became dispirited by being alone, and abandoning Shanzabah, carried the news of his death to the merchant; and in that stage, Mandabah, from excess of fatigue and through parting from Shanzabah, died. But Shanzabah, in a short space of time, having regained his strength, wandered in every direction in search of a meadow for grazing, until he reached a mead adorned with a variety of fragrant herbs, and clothed with plants of different kinds. Paradise, from envy of that garden, bit the finger of jealousy; and heaven opened the eye of admiration in surveying it.

Shanzabah was pleased with that spot, and deposited the furniture of residence in the expanse of that meadow; and when he had for a time grazed in that pasture, without any bond of constraint or troublesome fetter,^84c and had lived, according to the wish of his heart, in that exhilarating air and heart-expanding plain, he became excessively robust and stout. The delight of ease and enjoyment of repose, carried him so far, that from the abundance of his gaiety, he uttered loud bellowings. And in the neighbourhood of that meadow lived a Lion, who inspired great awe from his savage and ferocious nature. Many wild animals⁸⁵ had girded themselves in his service, and countless beasts of prey had placed the head of obedience on the line^85a of his commandment, and the Lion from the pride of youth and the arrogance of dominion and success and the multitude of his servants and the number of his retinue, fancied no one superior to himself; and despised the swift-charging tiger and the huge-bodied elephant; but he had never seen an ox nor heard the voice of one. When the bellowing of Shanzabah reached him, he was much dismayed, and from fear that the beasts should discover that alarm had found the way to him, he moved nowhere, and remained quiet in one spot. And in his train were two subtle jackals, one named Kalílah, and the other Damnah, and both of them were famed for sagacity and acuteness. Damnah, however, was the cleverer, and more eager in pursuit of rank and fame. He, by his quickness of perception, discovered that fear had overcome the lion, and that he was intent on something which was passing through his mind. He said to Kalílah, ‘What sayest thou as to the state of the king, in that he has abandoned the pleasureableness of exercise, and has fixed himself in one place?

Kalílah replied, ‘What business hast thou with this question? and what is thy concern with the uttering of this speech?

And we in the court of this King obtain our food and pass our time tranquilly under the shade of his fortunes. Be satisfied with this and refrain from inquisitiveness into the secrets of kings, and scanning too narrowly their affairs, for we are not of the degree to be honored with the confidence of monarchs, or that with princes there should be room for attention to our words; wherefore it is idle and superfluous to talk of them, and whoever superfluously meddles with what does not befit him, meets with what the Ape met with.’ Damnah inquired, ‘How was that?’

Kalílah said, ‘They have related that a Monkey saw a Carpenter sitting upon a piece of timber, which he was cutting, and he had two wedges, one of which he hammered into the cleft of the wood, so that the cutting was facilitated, and the passage for the going and returning of the saw was widened, and when the fissure passed a certain limit he knocked in the other wedge and drew out the former one, and in this manner he continued working. The Monkey amused himself with looking on: suddenly the Carpenter, in the middle of his work, on some urgent occasion, got up and went away, and when the Monkey saw the coast clear he immediately seated himself in the piece of wood, and in that portion where it was cut asunder, the lower parts of his body went down into the cleft. The Ape drew out of the cleft of the timber the wedge that was in front, before hammering in the other, and as soon as it was extracted the two divisions of the wood closed and the hinder parts of the monkey were firmly fixed in the midst of the log. The wretched Ape, agonized by the pain, screamed out and said,

My business is to pluck fruit, not to handle a saw, and my profession is to look about me in the jungle, not to chop with hatchet and adze.

The Ape was thus soliloquizing, when the carpenter returned and handled him as he deserved; and the affairs of the Monkey terminated through that officiousness in his destruction, and hence they have said,

And I have introduced this example that thou mayest know that every one should do his own business, and not step beyond his due limits, and ‘For every business there are men.’ And how finely have they said,

Give up this affair which is no business of thine, and regard the small provision and food which reaches us, as a piece of good fortune.’ Damnah said, ‘Every one who seeks to be about the persons of kings, ought not to do so for the sake of food and provision, since the stomach is filled in all places and with all things. But the advantage of attendance on princes is the obtaining of high office, in order that in that position one may, by favor, gratify his friends and deal rigorously with his enemies. And every one, whose spirit can stoop to the consideration of mere food, is to be reckoned with brutes, like a hungry dog who is pleased with a bone, and a mean-spirited cat that is content with a crumb of bread; and I have observed, that if a lion is chasing a hare, should he see a wild ass, he discontinues [chasing his first quarry] and turns to pursue the wild ass.

And whoever has attained a lofty station, though his life should be short as that of a flower, still, on account of his fair fame, the wise attribute to him long life; and he who bows the head to servility and meanness of soul, though he may abide for a long time like the leaf of the pine, yet, in the opinion of men of eminence, he finds no esteem, and they make no account of him.’

Kalílah said, ‘The pursuit of dignities and high offices beseems that class, who by the nobleness of their descent and the grace of their manners and high birth, possess a fitness and capacity for such things; and we are not of this order so as to be suited to lofty stations, or that we should advance the step of exertion in pursuit of them.

Damnah said, ‘The source of greatness is intellect and accomplishments, not race and descent. Every one who possesses a clear understanding and a perfect judgment, raises himself from a low origin to an exalted rank; and whoever has a weak mind and a mean intellect, brings himself down from a lofty position to a low rank.

And the ancients have said that elevation to exalted rank is attainable only by great trouble; and descent from an honorable station is brought about with little pains; as one can lift on one’s shoulder from the ground a heavy stone only with great exertion, and must by the slightest movement, drop it to the earth; and hence it is that no one is able to relish the pursuit of lofty things, save a man of high spirit who possesses the ability of undergoing labour.

Every one who seeks the indulgence, ‘Obscurity is ease,’ having washed his hands of honor, will, to all time, remain a recluse in the corner of abasement and unfulfilment of his wishes, and he who dreads not the thorny ground of ‘Notoriety is a misfortune,’ will in a short time pluck the rose of his wish, and sit in the flower-garden of honor on the cushion of pleasure.

But perhaps thou hast never heard the story of those two companions, one of whom by the endurance of toil and hardship, reached the pinnacle of regal dignity, and the other, through indolence and self-indulgence, remained in the abyss of want and distress.’ Kalílah said ‘How was that?’

Damnah said, ‘Two friends, one of whom was named Sálim, and the other Ghánim,^88a were journeying on a road, and, in company with one another, traversed the halting-places and stages. It happened that they passed along the skirt of a mountain, whose peak kept rein-and-rein with the bay courser of the sky, and whose waist was girt so as to keep stirrup-to-stirrup with the surface of the celestial girdle;^88b and at the foot of the mountain there was a fountain of water, in clearness like the cheek of fresh-faced, rosy-cheeked [beauties], and in sweetness like the speech of sugar-lipped, sweet-spoken [fair ones]. In front of this fountain a large reservoir had been made, and around it umbrageous trees interlaced their tops.

In short those two comrades arrived from the terrible wilderness at that termination of their day’s journey, and seeing it to be a pleasant spot, and an exhilarating resting-place, stopped there for their accustomed repose; and after resting themselves, passed along in every direction on all sides of the reservoir and fountain and looked about them on every side. All at once they saw—on the margin of the reservoir, on the side whence the water came—a white stone, and on it written, in emerald characters—such that, save with the pen of omnipotence and on the page of wisdom characters like them could not be traced—these words, ‘O traveler! who⁸⁹ hast honored this spot by alighting here, know that we have provided entertainment for our guests after the best manner, and prepared the tables of advantage in the most excellent fashion; but the condition is that thou shouldst plunge over-head into this fountain, and without dread of the danger of the eddy, or of the terrors of the vortex, get to shore as best thou canst; and at the foot of the mountain we have placed a lion carved out of stone, which thou must raise on thy shoulder, and without hesitation or delay, must convey thyself in one run to the top of the mountain, nor desist from thy undertaking from fear of the ravenous beasts that may cross thy path, nor of the sharpness of the heart-transfixing thorns which may lay hold of thy skirt; for when the course is finished the tree of desire will bear fruit.’

After acquainting himself with the purport of this inscription, Ghánim turned to Sálim with these words, ‘O brother! come on, in order that we may traverse this arena of danger with the steps of toil, and may display every endeavour that is possible to learn the particulars^89a of this talisman.’

Sálim said, ‘O friend beloved, from a mere legend, whose writer is unknown, and of the truth of which we are ignorant, to embark in a prodigious peril; and on the idea of an imaginary advantage and a supposed benefit, to precipitate oneself into a great danger is a proof of fatuity. No sensible man takes certain poison along with a questionable antidote, nor does any reasonable person willingly undergo ready-money labour for pleasure on credit.

Ghánim replied, ‘O kind friend! the love of ease is the forerunner of ignominy and disgrace, and the undertaking of danger the token of fortune and honor.

The will of the high-spirited man stoops not to a corner and an allowance of food, nor, till he obtains a lofty situation, does he desist from the pursuit. One cannot gather the rose of pleasure without the thorn of toil, nor open the door of one’s wish without the key of labour, and as for me, resolution will seize the reins and carry me to the top of the mountain, and I shall have no dread of the whiripool of calamity, nor of the endurance of the load of hardship.

Sálim rejoined, ‘Granted that for the perfume of the spring of good-fortune one may put up with the disorder of the autumn of adversity, nevertheless to advance in a path which has no end, and to float on in an ocean whose shore is not visible, is far removed from the path of discretion; and it behoves every one who commences an undertaking, to examine its issue as well as he knows its beginning; and, casting his glance from the commencement of the affair to the end, to weigh the loss and gain of it, in order that he may not undergo vain toil, and not give to the wind of annihilation the ready money of his precious life.

It may be that they have written this inscription for a joke, and inscribed these characters for mockery and sport, and this fountain may be a whirlpool, such that it is impossible to reach the bank by swimming; and, if escape from it be attained, it is probable that the weight of the stone lion may be so great that one cannot lift it on one’s shoulder, and were that, too, effected, it is possible that one could not reach the top of the mountain in a single run, and if all this be accomplished, it is quite unknown what the result may be, In fine, I go not along with thee in this business, and, moreover, dissuade thee from advancing farther in the matter.’ Ghánim said, ‘Cease these words, since I will not turn back from my intention for any man’s words, nor will break the resolution I have formed, for all the doubts that the ‘imps of men or genii’ can suggest; and I know that thou hast not the strength to accompany me, and will not agree to bear me company. Well, then, look on at the spectacle, and aid with thy prayers and good wishes.

Sálim perceived that he was a man of an unchangeable impulse in his undertakings, and said, ‘O brother! I see that thou wilt not be restrained by my advice, and that thou wilt not abandon this thing which ought not to be done; and I cannot bear to look on at this affair, nor can I find amusement in a thing which does not suit my feelings and is not approved by my heart. I see my best course to be this—

He then placed the baggage he had, on his beast, and bade his friend farewell, and set forward on his journey. Ghánim, having washed his heart of his life, came to the brink of the fountain, and said,

Then binding firmly round his waist the skirt of resolution, he stepped into the fountain.

Ghánim saw that that fountain was a dangerous whirlpool, but keeping a stout heart, by swimming boldly, reached the shore of delivery; and having come to the edge of the water and recovered himself, he by strength and might, lifted the stone lion on his back, and voluntarily submitting to a thousand kinds of labour, brought himself in one run to the top of the mountain, and on that side of the mountain he saw a great city with an agreeable climate and a heart-expanding country.

Ghánim having halted on the summit of the mountain, was looking towards the city, when suddenly, from that lion of stone, a terrible sound issued, such that the mountain and plain shook, and that noise having reached the city, many persons came out from the right and left, and turning their faces towards the mountain, advanced towards Ghánim. Ghánim looked on with a wondering gaze, and was astonished at the multitudes of people, when, all of a sudden, a company of grandees and nobles came and performed the ceremonies of salutation, and offered the praises due to him, and having seated him, with the greatest respect, on a fleet courser, conveyed him towards the city, and after washing his head and body with rose-water and camphor, arrayed him in royal robes, and, with all honor and reverence, delivered into his able hands the rein of the sovereignty of that country. Upon Ghánim’s inquiring into the nature of these circumstances, he was answered in the following manner, ‘In the fountain that thou sawest, wise men have framed a talisman and fashioned that stone lion with every kind of care and consideration with regard to the rising of the degrees and the aspects of the fixed stars and planets, and whensoever a respected person resolves to cross the fountain, and lift up the lion and ascend to the summit of the mountain, this circumstance will undoubtedly coincide with the decease of the monarch of this city. Thereupon the lion utters a sound, and the noise thereof having reached the city, the people come forth, and having raised this man to the sovereignty, pass their lives tranquilly under the shelter of his justice until the time when his turn, too, arrives.

And when, by command of God, the sun of the existence of the ruler of this country sets in the horizon of death, simultaneously therewith, the star of the grandeur of that fortunate person exhibits its ascension from the summit of this mountain: and long ages have passed since this rule has been established after this same custom that has been mentioned; and thou art to-day the king of this city and the ruler of this age.

Ghánim perceived that the endurance of all those toils was through the requirement of fortune.

And I have introduced this example in order that thou mayest know that the draught of delight and enjoyment is not without the sting of annoyance and trouble; and to whomsoever the desire of exaltation arises, he will not be trampled down by any base person, nor be content with a low rank or a mean station; and I, until I obtain the dignity of the Lion’s confidence, and am admitted into the number of those who stand nearest to his presence, will not lay my head on the pillow of repose, nor stretch out my feet on the couch of relaxation.’ Kalílah said, ‘Whence hast thou been able to grasp the key of this door? and how hast thou conceived the idea of entering into this affair?’ Damnah said, ‘At this crisis, when alarm and uncertainty has found way to the Lion, I mean to put myself in his way, and it is probable that, by imbibing the cordial of my advice, he may recover his cheerfulness, and by this means my propinquity and rank in his presence will be increased.’ Kalílah said, ‘How will thou obtain propinquity and access to the Lion? and even should it be so, thou hast not been used to the services of kings, and knowest not the customs and ceremonies [to be observed] in their attendance. In a short time, therefore, thou wilt lose what thou hast acquired, and thou wilt not again be able to apply any remedy for this.’ Damnah rejoined, ‘When a man is wise and able, the undertaking matters of importance has nothing injurious for him, and any one who has confidence in his own abilities, will acquit himself satisfactorily of every business upon which he enters. And another thing is this, if fortune manifests herself, she will shew the way to all that is required: as it has come down to us in history that the sum of the prosperity of a tradesman having been exalted, he obtained the royal dignity, and his renown and fame spread throughout the world. One of the ancient kings wrote him a letter to this effect, ‘Thy craft was carpentry, and thou knowest the business of a carpenter well—from whom hast thou learned government and judgment in the transaction of affairs?’ He wrote for answer, ‘He who bestowed fortune upon me, has not omitted a single particle of instruction in the management of the world.’

Kalílah said, ‘Kings do not distinguish all men of merit by their favours, but mark by their especial and royal notice their own near connections who have obtained propinquity in their service by inheritance or desert, and since thou hast neither hereditary claims upon the lion, nor self-acquired pretentions, it is probable that thou wilt remain excluded from his notice, and it may be the cause of something that will accord with the wishes of thy foes.’ Damnah said, ‘Every one who has obtained a lofty rank in the service of the king has done so by degrees, and that station has not shewed itself without their toil and exertion and the influence of the King’s favorable notice; and I too seek the same thing, and go about for the same end, and have reconciled to myself the endurance of many fatigues, and the tasting of many unpalatable draughts, and I know that whoever attends the court of princes must choose five things. First, he must quench the flame of anger with the water of mildness. Secondly, he must cautiously avoid the suggestions of the tempter, lust. Thirdly, he must not allow deceitful greediness, and mischief-exciting covetousness, to get the better of the guide, reason. Fourthly, he must base his actions on truth and moderation. Fifthly, the accidents and contingencies that may occur, these he must encounter with gentleness and courteous bearing: and whoever is endowed with these qualities, undoubtedly his wish will be accomplished most successfully.’ Kalílah replied, ‘Supposing that thou gainest access to the King; by what means art thou to obtain his approbation? and by what art will thou arrive at rank and promotion?’ Damnah said, ‘If close intercourse with his majesty be attained, I will adopt five qualities. First, I will perform his service in perfect sincerity. Secondly, I will shape my spirit in conformity to him. Thirdly, I will represent all his actions and words to advantage. Fourthly, when he commences an affair, which is allied to good policy, and in which I discover the weal of the realm, I will exhibit it to his eyes and feelings in the most attractive light, and bring under his observation its utilities and advantages, that his exultation at the goodness of his judgment, and the soundness of his plans, may be increased. Fifthly, if he should embark in a matter which might have a disastrous issue, and an unpleasant termination, so that injurious consequences may result to the kingdom, I will unfold to him, in eloquent language, and with great gentleness, the mischief of it, and make him aware of the evils that will issue from it, and as soon as the king perceives my merits, he will distinguish me by his approbation and favor, and will be ever inclined to my society, and eager for my advice, since no talent can be hid, and no man of talent will fail to participate in the marks of encouragement of support.

Kalílah said, ‘Since it appears that thy mind is bent on this, and that thy resolution with regard to the accomplishment of this matter is firmly fixed, be well on thy guard, for attendance on kings is a thing full of danger, and an affair replete with difficulties: and the wise have said that there are three things on which none would venture save a blockhead who has never inhaled the fragrance of reason. First, the service of a king; secondly, the tasting [what may be] poison with doubt⁹⁴ [as to the result]; thirdly, the divulging one’s secrets to women. And sages have compared kings to a lofty mountain; since, although mines of precious jewels are there, still there also is the abode of tigers and snakes and other noxious animals, and both the ascent is difficult, and the abiding there arduous; and they have also said that the society of a monarch resembles the sea, and the trader who chooses to travel by sea, either acquires much gain, or is overtaken in the whirlpool of destruction.’

Damnah said, ‘All that thou hast said has been well-intentioned, and I know that a king is like a consuming fire; the danger of a person increases in proportion to his proximity to it.

However, whoso dreads danger will not arrive at a high station.

And there are three things which no one without high spirit can undertake—the public service of a king; a voyage by sea; and the encountering foes; and I do not find myself to be mean-spirited, why then should I dread the king’s service?’

Kalílah said, ‘Although I am opposed to this project, and deprecate this intention, nevertheless, since thy judgment is so decided in this matter, and thy mind so set on this scheme—may it be fortunate!

Damnah departed and made his salutation to the Lion. The Lion inquired, ‘What person is this?’ They replied, ‘The son of such an one, who for a long time was an attendant at the royal court.’ The Lion exclaimed, ‘Aye! I recollect him.’ He then called him before him and said, ‘Where dost thou live?’ Damnah answered, ‘After the custom of my father, I have now become an attendant in the heaven-resembling court, and have made it the shrine of my wants, and the K’abah^95b of my wishes, and am in waiting that if an affair of importance should occur, and the august order should be issued, I may satisfactorily accomplish it by my sagacity, and may engage in it with clear discernment. And as in the management of various matters of weight, there is occasion for the Pillars of the state, and the ministers of his Majesty, so it is probable that at the courts of princes an event may occur, which may be brought to a close by the aid of those of inferior degree.

In a matter which may be effected by the weak needle, the proud⁹⁶ javelin may prove inefficacious, and an affair which a poor penknife may accomplish, in that, the highly-tempered scymitar may prove at a loss. And no servant, though he may be of little estimation and mean position, is devoid of use for removing detriment and eliciting good, since even the dry stick which lies despised in the road, may possibly, some day, become serviceable; and though it be good for nothing else, yet it may chance that they may make a tooth-pick of it, or by means of it, may cleanse the ear of wax.’

When the Lion heard the speech of Damnah, he was astonished at his eloquence and fluency of speech, and turning to his courtiers, said, ‘Though a wise man should be of small reputation, yet his understanding and wisdom will, involuntarily, make his talents known to the nation, like the flame of fire, which, though he that kindles it may wish should burn downwards, will, to a certainty, raise its head aloft.

Damnah was pleased at these words, and perceived that his fascinations had made an impression on the Lion, and that his artifice was completely successful. He loosed the tongue of advice, and said, ‘It is incumbent on all the royal attendants and household, according to their understanding and knowledge, to ponder well every matter which may befall the king, and to represent whatever may occur to the mind of each, nor ever abandon the path of good advice, in order that the sovereign may thoroughly know his followers and dependants, and having become acquainted with the extent of the judgment and prudence and sincerity and discretion of each, may both derive advantage from their respective services, and may also reward each in proportion to his deserts; for so long as the grain lies hidden by the curtain of the earth, no one takes trouble in cultivating it, and when it draws back the veil of mould from its face, and raises its head in its gay robe of green, from the collar of the ground, and is perceived to be a fruit-bearing tree and a useful plant; then assuredly [men] will foster it and profit by its fruits: and in all matters, the source [of advancement] is the encouragement of kings. Whomsoever, among men of merit, they distinguish by their favorable notice, from him they will derive benefit in proportion to the encouragement they bestow.

The Lion asked, ‘How must men of understanding be encouraged? and by what means can one reap fruit from them?’ Damnah replied, ‘The main point in this matter is that the king should look to worth, not birth; and if a party of incapables should allege the services of their ancestors and progenitors, that he should pay no regard to them, for a man should make good his pedigree by his abilities, not by his father.

Though a rat be a partner in the same abode with men, yet by reason of the annoyance and injury which results from it, they think it right to exert themselves for its destruction; while the hawk, which is wild and strange—since advantage may be anticipated from it—they allure with every sort of kindness, and bring him up on the wrist of favor, indulgently and proudly.⁹⁷ Wherefore it behoves a king not to distinguish between friends and strangers, but to seek out men of ability and learning, and not to suffer precedence to be given to men who are remiss in business and wanting in talent, over persons of eminence and merit; since to bestow the office of wise men on fools, is like fastening ornaments for the head on the feet, and placing that which ought to deck the feet on the head; and wherever men of talent are depressed and ignorant, and fatuous persons get possession of the reins of power, the utmost confusion will find its way into the affairs of that country, and the disgrace of that circumstance will attach to the fortune of the king and his subjects.

When Damnah had finished speaking, the Lion showed him the utmost favor, and admitted him into the number of his particular favorites, and having taken a liking to his conversation, based his most important actions upon his counsel and advice. Damnah, too, taking the path of good sense, and intelligence and understanding and sagacity, became, in a short time, the confidante of the royal cabinet, and the man relied upon and referred to for advice and suggestions of improvement in the affairs of state. One day, having found a fortunate occasion and a convenient time, he asked for a private audience, and said, ‘A long time has now passed during which the king has remained stationary in one place, and has relinquished the gratification of exercise and the pleasures of the chace. I wish to know the cause of this and to speak on this matter to the best of my ability.’ The Lion wished to conceal from him the alarm he felt, when, meantime, Shanzabah bellowed aloud, and his voice agitated the Lion so much, that the reins of self-possession passed from his grasp. He was compelled to disclose his secret to Damnah, and said, ‘The cause of my fear is this sound that thou hearest, and I know not whose voice it is, but I suspect that his strength and build is in proportion to his voice. If his form be such,⁹⁸ it is no good for me to remain in this place.’ Damnah replied, ‘Has the king any other thing upon his mind besides this voice?’—‘No!’ said the Lion. ‘Then,’ rejoined Damnah, ‘it is not right, for such a trifle, to expatriate yourself and to depart from your own familiar residence. What dependence is there [to be placed] in a voice? and what weight [ought to be attached] to a cry that any one should remove for that? and it beseems a king to be firmly planted like a rock, so as not to be shaken by every wind nor to be dislodged by every outcry.

And the ancients have said that regard should not be paid to every loud noise and powerful body; for not every external form furnishes sure information of the internal meaning, nor is every outward semblance a token of what lies within. A reed, though it be thick, is broken with a slender stick, and a heron, though of large stature, is overcome by the talons of a hawk of comparatively slim build; and whoever makes account of largeness of bulk, meets with what that Fox met with. The Lion asked; ‘How was that?’

Damnah said, ‘They have related that a Fox was prowling over a moor, and was roaming in every direction in hopes of scenting food. Presently he came to the foot of a tree, at the side of which they had suspended a drum, and whenever a gust of wind came, a branch of the tree was put in motion, and struck the surface of the drum, and a terrible noise arose from it. The Fox, seeing a domestic fowl under the tree who was pecking the ground with her beak, and searching for food, planted himself in ambush, and wished to make her his prey, when all of a sudden the sound of the drum reached his ear. He looked and saw a very fat form, and a prodigious sound from it reached his hearing. The appetite of the Fox was excited, and he thought to himself ‘Assuredly its flesh and skin will be proportioned to its voice.’ He issued from his-lurking place, and turned towards the tree. The fowl, being put on its guard by that circumstance, fled, and the fox, by a hundred exertions ascended the tree. Much did he labour till he had torn the drum, and then he found nought save a skin and a piece of wood. The fire of regret descended into his heart, and the water of contrition began to run from his eyes, and he said, ‘Alas! that by reason of this huge bulk which is all wind, that lawful prey has escaped from my hand, and from this empty form no advantage has resulted to me.’

And I have adduced this example in order that the King may not relinquish the pleasures of the chase, and his personal exercise, for a frightful noise and a huge form. If he will carefully observe, nothing will result from that voice and figure, and if the King will issue his command, I will approach him, and will acquaint the King with the state of the case, and the real truth of the matter. The Lion was pleased with the words of Damnah, and the latter, in accordance with the orders of the Lion, set off in the direction of that sound. As soon however as he got out of sight of the Lion, the latter began to reflect, and regretted that he had despatched Damnah, and said to himself, ‘I have committed a great fault, and an ill-weighed action has proceeded from me: and the ancients, have said, that it behoves a King in the disclosure of his secrets, to have no reliance on ten classes of persons, and not to reveal to them the secret nature of any of his private affairs which he is extremely anxious to conceal. The first is, whoever has experienced oppression and vexation at his court, and for a long time endured trouble and distress without fault or crime on his part. The second is, he whose property and honor have gone to the winds in attendance on the King, and whose means have been straitened. The third is, he who has been degraded from his office, and has no hope of recovering it again. The fourth is a wicked, mischievous person, who is on the look out for mischief, and is disinclined to peace and repose. The fifth is the criminal, whose comrades have tasted the sweets of pardon, while he has experienced the bitterness of punishment. The sixth is the offender, whose fellows have been reproved, while a greater and extreme degree of severity has been shewn towards him. The seventh, is he who, while doing acceptable services, remains disappointed; while others, without the antecedents of service, receive greater encouragement than he. The eighth, is he whose station an enemy has sought, and has got the lead of him, and has reached that rank, and the prince has taken part with him. The ninth, he who conceives his own advantage to be associated with the injury of the king. The tenth is he who has met with no favor at the King’s court, and who can make himself acceptable to the king’s enemy. Kings ought not to entrust their secrets to these ten classes, and the first principle is this, that until they have repeatedly made trial of the religious principles, and good faith, and kindness, and worth of a man, they should not put him in possession of their secrets.

Therefore in accordance with these promises, before making trial of Damnah, it was improper to be precipitate, and to send him to an enemy was far from a prudent and far-sighted line of conduct, and this Damnah appears to be a shrewd person, and he remained for a long time at my court distressed and disappointed. If, which God forbid!¹⁰⁰ the thorn of vexation is rankling in his heart, he may, on this occasion, contrive perfidy, and stir up mischief; or it may be that he may find the enemy superior to me in strength and majesty; and, becoming eager to enter his service may acquaint him with what he knows of my secrets; and undoubtedly the remedy of that would exceed the measure of my counsels. Why did I not apply the purport of the saying, ‘Caution is suspicion,’ to my conduct? and why have the directions of the wise couplet

been transgressed by me? If calamity arise from this embassy, I am deserving of a hundred times as much.’ In this anxious meditation, the Lion, through excessive agitation, continued getting up and anon reseating himself, and kept the eyes of expectation fixed on the road, when all at once, Damnah appeared. The Lion was somewhat tranquillized, and remained quiet in the same spot, while Damnah, after performing the customary obeisance, said,

O world-possessing prince! he whose voice reached the august ear is an Ox, engaged in grazing in the environs of this forest, and, save feeding and sleeping, other business he has none, and his ambition does not travel beyond his throat and his belly.’ The Lion asked, ‘What is the extent of his might?’ Damnah replied, ‘I observed no pomp or grandeur about him, that I could thence infer his power; and I did not discover, in my own mind, any awe in him, whence I should suppose any extraordinary respect due to him.’ The Lion said, ‘Weakness is not therefore to be imputed to him, nor is one to be thereby deceived, for the strong wind, though it does not overthrow the weak herbage, nevertheless, tears up the strong trees by the root; and so long as the great and mighty do not encounter a foeman worthy of them, no display of their might and prowess is manifested.

Damnah said, ‘The king ought not to think so gravely of him, nor make so much account of the proceedings, for I have acuteness enough to discern the extent of his power,¹⁰¹ and I have informed myself of the exact state of his circumstances; and if the lofty judgment [of your majesty] require it, and the august command honors me by being issued, I will bring him, so that, having placed the hand of willingness on the line of obedience, he may cast the saddle-cloth of servitude on the shoulder of attachment.’ The Lion was pleased with these words, and signed to bring him. Damnah went to Shanzabah, and, with a stout heart, without hesitation or backwardness, entered into discourse with him.

And how didst thou come here? and what may be the cause of thy coming to this place? and of thy commencing to abide here?’ Shanzabah began to recount with truth the state of the matter, and Damnah, having learned his story, said, ‘A Lion who is the king of the wild beasts and the ruler of these regions, gave me orders and sent me to bring thee to him, and instructed me that, shouldest thou use despatch, he will forgive the crime which has taken place in his service up to this point, but if thou shouldest delay, I am to return with haste and report the circumstances.’ Shanzabah when he heard the name of the Lion and wild beasts, feared, and said, ‘If thou wilt make me stout-hearted and secure me from his chastisement, I will come with thee, and by means of thy companionship obtain the honor of his service.’ Damnah swore an oath to him, and gave him a promise and compact so as to tranquillize his mind, and both set off together to the Lion. Damnah went before and acquainted the Lion with his coming; and a short time after, the Ox arrived and performed the homage due. The Lion made warm inquiries [after his welfare], and said, ‘When didst thou arrive in this neighbourhood? and what may be the cause of thy coming?’ The Ox made a full recital of his story. The Lion then said, ‘Abide here still that thou mayest reap a full portion of kindness and honor and compassion and bounty from us; for we have opened the gates of favor on the faces of the votaries¹⁰² of our districts, and have spread the overflowing table of encouragement for the attendants of our court.

The Ox, having paid the dues of blessing and praise, bound the girdle of obedience on his loins with willingness and zeal: and the Lion, too, having brought him nearer to his person, and shewed excessive and lavish honors and respect to him,^102a and, under cover thereof, employed himself in examining his character and investigating his conduct, and learned the measure of his judgment and understanding and the extent of his discernment and experience. He found him to be a person distinguished by perfect sagacity and endowed with intellect and penetration: the more he tested his qualities, the more his reliance on the abundance of his wisdom increased.

The Lion, after reflection and deliberation and anxious thought and prayer for guidance, made the Ox the confidante of his secrets; and every hour his place in the royal favor and his good fortune rose higher; and his elevation in the exercise of authority and in command became more exalted, until he outstripped all the pillars of the state and the ministers of the king. When Damnah perceived that the Lion carried his respect for the Ox to the last verge of excess, and that, having pushed his profuseness in rewarding and honoring him beyond the limits of moderation, he neither carried into effect his (Damnah’s) advice, nor applied to him for counsel in any matter—the hand of envy drew the collyrium of aversion over the eyes of his heart, aud the fire of anger cast the torch of jealousy into the cell of his brain.

Sleep and rest departed from him, and peace and repose removed their gear from the area of his breast. He went with his complaint to Kalílah, and said, ‘O brother! behold the weakness of my judgment and the slackness of my prudence, that I have expended all my energies in freeing the Lion from anxiety,¹⁰³ and have introduced the Ox into his service, so that having obtained close access [to the king] and high place with him, he has got precedence over all the courtiers, while I have fallen from my station and position.’ Kalílah replied,

This axe thou hast thyself struck on thine own foot, and this dust of mischief thou hast thyself stirred up in thine own path, and the same thing has befallen thee which befell the Devotee. Damnah inquired, ‘How was that?’

Kalílah said, ‘They have related that a king bestowed splendid apparel and a costly robe on a Devotee. A thief having got intelligence of the circumstanc, coveted it, and going to the Devotee pretended a wish to become his disciple, and voluntarily entered his service, and displayed diligence in learning the manners of that religious persuasion, until in this way he was admitted into the confidence [of the Devotee], and one night, having found an opportunity, he carried away the dress and made off. The next day the recluse did not see the dress, and finding that that new disciple was missing, he knew that he had purloined it. He started in pursuit of him, in the direction of the city, and on the road observed two he-goats^103a who were fighting with one another and wounding each other’s heads; and during the time that these two fierce^103b adversaries, like savage lions, were engaged in battle with one another and the blood was dripping from their limbs and members, a fox had come up and was devouring their blood. All at once in the midst of their encounter, the fox happened to get between them, and on each side their heads came with violence against his ribs, and he was overtaken with the noose of death. The recluse, having gained from these circumstances another piece of experience, passed on, and at night, when he reached the city, the gate was closed. He walked about in all directions and was seeking for a place to halt in. It happened that a woman was looking from the terrace of her house into the street, and understood by the perplexity of the devotee, that he was a stranger. She invited him to her house, and the holy man, accepting her invitation, untied his sandals in her lodgings, and occupied himslf in a corner of the hut with his devotions. Now that woman was notorious for vice and profligacy, and kept several damsels ready for purposes of debauchery, and one of them—the winning glance of whose beauty might have taught blandishment to the brides of Paradise, and at the glow of whose cheeks, the sun, which warms the world, was consumed with the fire of jealousy; whose languishing eye, with the arrow of its glance, pierced the target of the bosom, and whose life-giving lips, with the sugar of her mouth, bestowed sweetness on the soul like a package of sugar,

—had become attached to a youth—of beautiful countenance and musky ringlets, witty, and of graceful stature like the cypress, whose face resembled the moon, sweet-voiced and slender-waisted so that the proud beauties of Cathay^104a—from the curl of his locks—were, like the hyacinth, writhing with envy,^104b and the honey-lipped fair ones of Samarḳand,¹⁰⁵ from the desire of his mischief-exciting sweetness, were panged like the hearts of lovers:

—and ever together, like sun and moon, they lived conjoined in one mansion, and like Venus and Mercury were united in one sign of the zodiac, and this youth from the jealousy of love would positively never allow that his other rivals should taste a draught from the cup of union with that damsel, or that those athirst in the desert of pursuit, should, after a thousand toils, arrive at that limpid fountain.

The profligate woman being embarrassed by the behaviour of the damsel, and impatient at the loss of income, could not put up with a girl who had cast aside the veil of decorum, and had given up her whole soul to the affection for her lover.^105a She was driven to aim at the destruction of that youth. On the night that the recluse came to her house she had prepared a plan and not neglected an opportunity for the deed, and, having measured out copious^105b draughts of wine to the lover and beloved one, as soon as the people of the house had gone to rest, she pounded a little deadly poison, and having placed it in a pipe and brought it before the fair youth, took one end of the tube in her mouth, and placed the other end in his nostrils, and was about to give a puff and convey the influence of the poison to the brain of the youth, when suddenly he sneezed, and from the force of the vapour which issued from his brain all the poison entered the throat and neck of that woman, and she fell lifeless on the spot.

When the recluse beheld that circumstance, and had with a hundred anxieties passed through that night—which in length equalled the day of resurrection—until the time when the devotee of the dawn, having obtained release from the cell of the darkness of night, spread the prayer-carpet of worship before the altar of the horizon, and the purport of this text of sublime meaning ‘And shall lead them out of darkness into light’¹⁰⁶ was manifest unto men;

The recluse having extricated himself from the dark abode of debauchery and crime of that band, went in search of another lodging. A shoemaker, who reckoned himself among his disciples, took the holy man to his house, by way of obtaining a blessing [for that good act] and enjoined his family to wait upon him, and he himself went to an entertainment given by some of his friends. Now his lady had a friend of an agreeable temper, of handsome face, and curling locks,

The messenger between them was the wife of a barber, who, by her witchery, could blend together fire and water, and by her oily tongue could make the hard stone melt like wax.

The shoemaker’s wife, when she found the house empty, sent some one to the go-between saying, ‘Inform my beloved that to-night there is honey without the buzzing of the bee, and intercourse without the hue-and-cry of the superintendent of police and the patrol.’

Her lover having come to the house by night, was expecting ‘the opening of the door,’ when, all of a sudden, the shoemaker, like a sudden calamity, arrived and saw this man at the door of his house. Now the fact was, that before this he had had a little suspicion, and some doubt had arisen:—when he found him in his house the side of conviction prevailed. He entered the house, and, in most violent wrath, began to beat his wife, and after he had chastised her thoroughly, he bound her fast to a post, and then placed his own head on the couch of repose. The recluse was thinking thus, ‘To beat this woman without any apparent reason and clear offence, was far from the course of kind and manly feeling. I ought to have interceded for her, and not to have acquiesced in this folly;’ when suddenly the barber’s wife came in and said, ‘O sister! why dost thou keep this young man so long waiting? quickly come forth and look upon the opportunity for love as a blessing.’

The shoemaker’s wife, with a melancholy voice, called to her and said,

O kind friend! listen¹⁰⁷ to my piteous complaint, and learn my wretched condition. This cruel and merciless husband had seen, perhaps, my lover at the door, for he entered this house like a madman, and after he had beaten me much, tied me, with the utmost violence, to this pillar. If thou hast any compassionate feeling towards me, and art disposed^107a to pity my lover, release me with all despatch, and give me leave^107b to bind thee to this pillar in place of myself, and I, having quickly made my apology to my friend, will return and release thee, and by this act thou wilt both place me under an obligation to thee, and wilt also oblige my friend.’ The barber’s wife, from exceeding kindness, having consented to the other’s release and the binding of herself, sent her out. The recluse, by hearing this dialogue, was put in possession of the clue to the quarrel of the husband and wife; and meanwhile the shoemaker awoke and called to his wife. The barber’s wife, in terror lest he should^107c recognise her voice and so become aware of what was going on, had not courage to answer. However much the shoemaker shouted, not a breath issued from the barber’s wife. The fire of his wrath blazed up, and he seized a cobbler’s knife, and came before the pillar, and cutting off the nose of the barber’s wife, placed it in her hand, saying, ‘Lo! a present that thou mayest send to thy lover.’ The barber’s wife, from fear, uttered not a sigh, but mentally ejaculated,

When the shoemaker’s wife returned and beheld her adopted sister with her nose cut off, she was excessively grieved, and, repeatedly begging her pardon, released her and fastened herself to the pillar, and the barber’s wife set off homeward, nose in hand.

The recluse beheld and heard all these proceedings, and surprise was added to surprise at these strange incidents which manifested themselves from the curtain of the unknown future. However the shoemaker’s wife kept quiet for a little, and then spreading the hand of cunning and deceit in prayer, she said, ‘O Lord and King! Thou knowest that my husband has inflicted cruel injustice upon me, and has bound on my neck, by false and slanderous accusation, a crime which I have not committed. Of thine own goodness shew mercy to me and give back to me my nose—the ornament of the page of beauty!’ The husband was awake while the wife was thus praying, and heard that hypocritical complaint and perfidious prayer of hers. He shouted out, ‘O wicked and corrupt woman! what prayer is this that thou dost make? and what supplication is this that thou employest? The prayer of the unchaste is not regarded in this court, and the requirement of the vicious obtains not the quality of currency on this road.

All at once the wife cried out, ‘O tyrant! tormentor! get up that thou mayest behold the power and infinite goodness of God, that, as my garment was pure from the stain of this false charge, God Most High has restored to me my nose that was mutilated, and has saved me from reproach and disgrace amongst men.’ The simple-minded man arose, and having lighted a lamp, came up to her, and beheld his wife safe, and her nose in its right place, and he nowhere perceived any trace of the wound or injury. Instantly he confessed his fault, and betook himself to entreaties for forgiveness, and with the utmost tenderness asking pardon for his offence,¹⁰⁸ he removed the bonds from her hands and feet, and made a vow not to proceed to similar lengths before the display of positive proof, and the manifestation of a good cause, nor at the suggestion of every mischievous tale-bearer to torment his chaste wife and virtuous spouse; and that for the rest of his life he would be guided by this woman, veiled in purity of conduct, whose prayers were assuredly free from any interposing curtain.

On the other side, the barber’s wife carrying her severed nose in her hand came home, and was overcome with bewilderment as to what artifice she should think of, and in what manner she could disclose what had happened to her husband, and what excuse she should make to her friends and neighbours on the subject, and how reply to the questions of her kinsfolk and acquaintances? In this interval the barber awoke from sleep, and called to his wife, saying, ‘Give me my tools,¹⁰⁹ for I am going to such a gentleman’s house.’ His wife was very long in answering, and dawdled in giving the instruments too, and at last put the razor alone into the barber’s hand, The latter in a passion flung the razor in the darkness of the night towards his wife, and began to utter abusive words. His wife threw herself down, and screamed out, ‘My nose! my nose!’ The barber was amazed, and their friends and neighbours, coming in, saw the woman with her dress stained with blood, and her nose cut off. Hereupon they began to loose the tongue of reproval against the barber, and that unfortunate fellow remained astonished, neither having the face to confess, nor the tongue to deny it. However, when the world-illuminating dawn removed the curtain of darkness, and the universe-displaying mirror of the sun began to shine like the goblet of Jamshíd,^109a

the relations of the wife assembled and carried the barber before the Ḳáẓí. By chance the recluse too, having come forth from the house of the shoemaker, by reason of a bond of friendship which existed between him and the Ḳáẓí, was present at the tribunal. After they had gone through the customary interrogatories, and the friends of the barber’s wife had stated their case the Ḳází demanded, ‘Master barber! without any apparent crime, and without legal cause, why didst thou think fit to mutilate this woman?’ The barber, being bewildered, was unable to state any reason, and the Ḳáẓí, according to the clear mandate, ‘Wounds shall be punished by retaliation,’¹¹⁰ gave commandment that retaliation should be exacted, and that he should be tortured. Then the recluse rose up and said, ‘O Ḳáẓí! in this matter there is need of deliberation, and the eye of sagacity must be opened, because the Thief did not carry off my dress, and the Goats did not kill the Fox, nor did the poison destroy the profligate woman, nor did the Shoemaker cut off the nose of the Barber’s Wife, but we have all drawn upon ourselves these calamities.’ The Ḳází let the barber go, and turning to the recluse, said, ‘Please to favor us with an interpretation of this compendium, and an explanation of the import of this!’ The recluse recited from beginning to end what he had heard and seen, and said, ‘If I had not had a desire to take a pupil, and had not been fascinated by the pleasant talk of the thief, that deceitful impostor could not have found an opportunity, and would not have carried off my dress; and if the Fox had not displayed excessive greediness and gluttony, and had abstained from blood-thirstiness, the fatal concussion of the he-goats would not have reached him; and if the profligate woman had not schemed the destruction of the young man, she would not have given to the winds her dear life; and if the Barber’s Wife had not rendered assistance in that unlawful act, she would not have been mutilated nor disgraced. Whoever does evil must not look for good, and he who requires sugar-cane must not sow colocynth.

And I have adduced this story that thou mayst know that thou hast shewn this troublous way to thyself, and hast opened upon thyself this gate of pain and difficulty.’

Damnah said, ‘Thou speakest truly, and I have done this deed, yet, nevertheless, what plan dost thou advise for my escape, and of what contrivance dost thou think for untying this knot?’ Kalílah said, ‘From the commencement I disagreed with thee as to this business, and did not coincide with thee in consenting to undertake this matter, and now too I find myself [justified in keeping] aloof in this affair, and see no reason for meddling with it. But perhaps thou wilt thyself excogitate somewhat for thyself, for they have said:

Damnah said, ’I have been thinking that I will set about this business with the most delicate finesse, and will exert myself in every possible way, until I overthrow the Ox from this position, nay, until I drive him out of this country, for I cannot admit of procrastination and neglect in the duty of self-preservation, and should I choose to be remiss, I should not be excusable in the opinion of men of prudence and spirit. Nor do I seek any new dignity, nor claim more than belongs to my office: and the wise have said, ‘Men of sense are justified in laboring for five things:—First, in pursuit of the rank and station, which they have held before. Secondly, in avoiding harm of which they have already had experience. Thirdly, in protecting advantages which they possess. Fourthly, in extricating themselves from the whirlpool of calamity which may have come upon them. Fifthly, in watching the attainment of advantage and the averting of evil in time to come. And I exert myself for this that I may get back to my own office, and that the lustre of my condition may be renewed. And the method is as follows,—to pursue the Ox with artifices until he bid farewell to earth’s surface,¹¹¹ or pack up his chattels from this place; and I am not inferior to that weak Sparrow who obtained his revenge on the Falcon.’ Kalílah inquired, ‘How was that.’

Damnah said, ‘I have heard that two Sparrows had fixed their nest on the branch of a tree; and of worldly gear, water and grain sufficed them; and on the summit of a mountain, beneath which that tree lay, a Falcon had its abode, which, at the time of stooping on its quarry, issued from its lurking-place like lightning, and like heaven’s bolt, clean consumed the harvest of life of the feebler birds.

Whenever the sparrows produced young, and the time was near at hand for them to fly, that falcon, rushing forth from its ambush, used to carry them off and make them food for its own young. Now to those sparrows—in accordance with the saying, ‘The love of home is a part of faith’—to migrate from that place was impossible, and yet from the cruelty of the tyrannous hawk it was difficult to be enabled to reside there.

On one occasion, their young ones, having gained strength and put forth feathers and wings, were able to move; and the father and mother, pleased with the sight of their offspring, testified their joy at their attempt to fly. Suddenly the thought of the falcon passed through their minds, and, all at once, having folded up the carpet of delight, they began to wail and lament from distress and anxiety. One of their children—in whose countenance the signs of discretion and ripe intellect were visible—having inquired into the circumstances of that state [of emotion] and the reason of their change from hilarity to despondency; they replied, ‘O son!

They then recounted the history of the falcon’s oppression and of its carrying off their young, with all the particulars. The son said, ‘To draw back the neck from the command of fate and the mandate of destiny, is not the way for creatures, yet ‘The Causer of causes’ has appointed a remedy for every pain, and has sent a cure for every sorrow. It is probable that if ye exert yourselves in repelling this misfortune, and take steps to untie this knot, both this calamity will be averted from our heads, and this burden, too, will be removed from your heart.’ These words pleased the sparrows; and while one of them stopped to attend to the condition of the young ones, the other flew forth in search of relief. When it had flown a little way, it began to reflect, saying, ‘Alas! whither shall I go? and to whom shall I tell the affliction of my heart?

At last he resolved in his mind, that he would tell his story to whatsoever animal his eyes first fell upon, and ask a remedy for his heart’s distress from it. It happened that a Salamander having come forth from a mine of fire, was wandering in the spreading plain of the desert. When the glance of the sparrow lighted upon him, and that strange form and extraordinary appearance came into his view; he said to himself, ‘I have fallen upon good;’ come on, I will disclose the grief of my heart to this marvelous bird; perhaps he may undo the knot of my affairs and may shew me the way to a remedy. Then with the utmost respect, he advanced to the Salamander, and after the requisite ceremonies and salutation,¹¹² he paid the conventional compliments of offering service. The Salamander, too, in a kind and encouraging tone, expressed the due courtesy required towards travelers, and said, ‘The traces of weariness are discernible in thy countenance. If this arises from the fatigue of journeying, be pleased to halt some days in this neighbourhood, that [this fatigue] may be exchanged for repose: and if the case be aught else, explain it, that to the extent of my power I may exert myself to remedy it. The sparrow loosed his tongue, and represented to the salamander his piteous condition, after a fashion, that had he told it to a rock it would have been rent in pieces by his distress.

After hearing this tale, the salamander, too, felt the fire of compassion kindled, and he said, ‘Grieve not! for I will this night take such measures as to consume his abode and nest and all that therein is. Do thou point out to me thy dwelling, and go to thy offspring until the time I come to thee. The sparrow indicated his dwelling in such a way as not to leave a doubt in the mind of the salamander; and with a glad heart and a mind freed from the load of grief, turned towards his own nest. When the night came on, the salamander, with a number of its own kind, each carrying a quantity of naphtha and brimstone, set off in the direction of that spot, and under the guidance of that sparrow, conveyed themselves to the vicinity of the falcon’s nest. The latter unaware of that [impending] misfortune, had, with its young, eaten plentifully, and fallen asleep. The salamanders cast upon their nest all the naphtha and brimstone that they had brought with them, and turned back: and the blast of divine justice having blown the flame of vengeance, fell upon those oppressors. They rose up from the sleep of negligence, at a time when the hand of prevention was unequal to the quenching of that flame; and all of them, with their abode and nest, were at once consumed to ashes.

And I have given this instance that thou mayest know that every one who labors to repel an enemy, though he may be small and weak, and his foe great and strong, may yet hope for victory and triumph. Kalílah said, ‘Now that the Lion has distinguished him above the rest, and has exalted the banner of his fortune; to expel the lion’s attachment to him from his heart, and to alter the Lion’s feelings towards him, appears very difficult; and kings, when they shew favor to any one do not disgrace him without full cause, nor cast from their sight any one whom they have exalted, unless on the occurrence of some extraordinary act.’

Damnah said, ‘What cause can be fuller than this, that the King has gone to excess in favoring him, and has indulged in contempt for his other ministers, till, as a necessary consequence, they have become disgusted with his service, and the advantage of their services and benefit of their advice has been cut off from him; and from this state of things great calamities are to be expected: and sages have said, danger arises to a King, and misfortune to a country, from one of six things. First, disappointment, that is to say, making his loyal subjects destitute of hope in him, and abandoning people of judgment and experience, to disgrace. Secondly, mischievous embroilment, and this may be characterised as causeless war, and the occurrence of ill-digested undertakings, and provoking hostile parties to unsheath their swords. Thirdly, sensuality, which is being passionately fond of women, and being too addicted to the chase, and engaging in drinking, and shewing an inclination for idle amusements. Fourthly, adverse fortune, being such accidents as time produces, as plague, famine, earthquakes, conflagrations and inundations, and the like. Fifthly, violence of temper, which is carrying anger to great lengths, and being excessive in tortures and punishments. Sixthly, ignorance, which is such that in a crisis that calls for peace the king has recourse to war, and at the moment for war he inclines to peace, and when he should use gentle measures he adopts roughness, and when he ought to close up the barriers of severity he opens the door of kindness.’

Kalílah said, ‘I saw that thou hadst girded thyself for revenge, and wast lying in wait for Shanzabah; and thou wishest that some evil may befall him by what proceeds from thee; and I know that to inflict injury has no good result, and that by way of retribution, every one’s mischief recoils on himself.

And whoever will open the eye of experience, and observe the retribution of good and bad, there is no doubt that he will incline to goodness and gentleness, and will keep his hand and tongue from annoyance and injury, as the just King said.’ Damnah asked, ‘How was that?’

Kalílah said, ‘I have heard that in former times there was a King, who had opened the hand of despotic power and oppression, and had set the foot of obstinate wickedness beyond the beaten path of justice and beneficence.

The people night and day had lifted up their hands in prayer against his injustice, and had loosed the tongue of detestation. One day this King went to the chase, and when he returned, he ordered a proclamation, saying, ‘O people! the eye of my heart has to this day been covered with a veil from beholding the aspect of rectitude, and the hand of my transgression has drawn the scymitar of tyranny against the countenances of the despairing oppressed, and the unhappy objects of persecution. Now I have become sincerely disposed to cherish my subjects, and steadfast in the office of administration of justice. My hope is that after to-day the hand of an oppressor will not strike the ring of vexation on the door of any peasant, nor the foot of a persecutor reach the court of the dwelling of any poor man.’

The people felt new life at these tidings, and to the poor, the rose of desire blossomed in the garden of hope.

In short the felicitous influence of his justice reached such a point, that the lambs drank milk from the dugs of the savage lioness, and the pheasant sported in communion with the hawk, and on this account they bestowed on him the title of ‘The Justice-dispensing King.’

One of the confidential ministers of the cabinet of state, took an opportunity to ask the state of the case, and inquired into the change of the bitterness of oppression and tyranny for the sweetness of mercy and good faith. The King said, ‘That day that I went to hunt, I was galloping on every side, when suddenly I observed a dog pursue a fox, and bite through the bone of his leg with his teeth:—the hapless fox escaped into a hole with a maimed leg, and the dog came back. Presently a footman threw a stone and broke the leg of that dog, and had not yet gone on a few steps, when a horse kicked the footman, and his leg was fractured, and the horse too had advanced no distance, when his foot went down in a hole and snapped.’ I came to myself and said, ‘Sawest thou what they did, and what they experienced? Whoever does what he ought not, suffers what he would not.’

And I have hit off this example with this view, that thou mayest dread retribution, and abandon a malevolent disposition, lest disastrous results should reach thee, and the meaning [of the saying] ‘Whoever dug a pit for his brother assuredly fell into it himself,’ be manifested in thy case; and a sage has said, ‘Do not evil, that thou mayest keep back evil;¹¹⁶ dig not a pit, lest thou fall therein thyself.’ Damnah said, ‘In this matter I am the oppressed—not the oppressor, and I am he that suffers cruelty—not he that inflicts it; and if the oppressed should be occupied with the design of revenging himself upon his oppressor, what retribution can there be for that? and if injury should result from him to the injurer, what harm can therein ensue to him?’ Kalílah said, ‘Granted that by this proceeding no obstruction occurs to thy fortunes, but in what manner wilt thou exert thyself for the destruction of the Ox? since his power surpasses thine, and his friends and allies are more numerous than those who befriend and support thee.’ Damnah said, ‘One must not base one’s proceedings on the greatness of one’s strength, and the infinite number of one’s allies; but prudence and counsel must be esteemed as superior to these, since it is probable that what can be effected by skill and stratagem, is unattainable by violence and force; and has it never reached thee how a Raven destroyed a Serpent by stratagem?’ Kalílah said, ‘How was that?’

Damnah^116a said, ‘They have related that a Raven had taken up its abode on the side of a mountain, and had made its nest in the fissure of a rock, and in the vicinity of it was the hole of a Snake, the water of whose mouth was deadly poison and the locality of death, and the venom of the roots of whose teeth was destructive to the constitution of existence and life. Whenever the Raven had young, the Serpent devoured them, and consumed the liver of the Raven with the brand of the loss of her offspring. When the cruelty of the Serpent had passed all bounds, the Raven, reduced to despair, made complaint of her plight to a jackal who was her friend, and said, ‘I am thinking how I can deliver myself from the calamity of this Snake and the affliction of this life-pursuing tyrant.’ The jackal asked, ‘What steps wilt thou take in this emergency? and by what artifice wilt thou get rid of his annoyance?’ The Raven said, ‘I intend, when the Snake is asleep, to peck out with my blood-drinking beak the eyes with which he surveys the world, that he may not be again able to attack those that are the lustre of my eyes; and that my offspring, the light of my vision, may remain secure from the wickedness of that malignant one.’ The jackal said, ‘This plan swerves from the right course, for wise men ought to attack their enemy in such a manner that there may be no peril of losing their life by it. Take care that thou abandonest this thought, that thou mayest not destroy thyself like the Heron who exerted himself for the destruction of the Crab, and gave his own dear life to the winds.’ The Raven asked, ‘How was that?’

The jackal said, ‘There was a Heron which had made its home on the margin of a piece of water, and had turned the countenance of his heart from all other objects to the pursuit of fish. In proportion to his wants he used to catch fish, and pass his life in comfort. When the infirmity of old age found its way to him, and his bodily faculties inclined to decay, he was unequal to the pursuit of fish, and being overtaken with the noose of grief, said to himself,

Alas! that I have wasted in sport my precious life, and that I have not stored up anything which could afford me assistance^117a in the season of old age, or be a support to me; and at this day my vigour has failed, yet I cannot do without victuals. My best course is to base my proceedings on artifice, and spread the snare of deceit and pretended abstinence;

He then seated himself at the brink of the water, lamenting and sighing and weeping. A Crab beheld him from a distance and, advancing, accosted him familiarly, and said, ‘Friend! I observe thee sorrowful, what is the reason of this?’ He replied, ‘How can I not be grieved, for thou knowest that the material of my sustenance and the support of my life was the one or two fishes which I daily used to catch and by which I obtained enough to keep in the breath of life, and food sufficient to prevent me from dying. No extraordinary detriment accrued to the fishes therefrom, and my days, too, were decked with tho ornament of contentment and happiness. To-day two fishermen passed by this spot, and were saying, ‘In this lake there is an abundance of fish—we must settle them.’ One said, ‘In such a lake there are more fish than in this. First let us manage their business, and then let us turn this way.’ Now, if events are to take this course, I must detach my heart from sweet life, and must fix it on the bitterness of death.’ As soon as the Crab heard these tidings, it went back with all haste, and going to the fish, recounted to them this dismal news just as it had heard it. Hereupon, a commotion ensuing among them, they, in company with the Crab, betook themselves to the Heron, and said, ‘Such and such intelligence has reached us from thee, and has wrested the reins of counsel from our hands;

Now we would consult with you^118a for ‘He who is consulted is trustworthy.’ It behoves a wise man, even when enemies apply to him for advice, not to slight the obligation of counseling rightly, especially in a matter where the advantage may revert to himself, and thou thyself sayest that the continuation of thy existence is bound up in us, and that thy life is dependent on our continuing to be. Therefore what dost thou consider advisable in our affair?’ The Heron replied, ‘I have myself heard this speech from the tongue of the fishermen, and there is no possibility of opposing them, and I can think of nothing but this device,—I know a pool in the neigbourhood of this, the water of which, in purity, boasts of rivaling the real dawn,^118b and surpasses the world-displaying mirror in showing the images of forms. The grains of sand may be counted at the bottom of it, and the eggs of the fish may be seen in its basin, and yet with all this, neither can the diver of the understanding reach to its bottom, nor the traveller of the fancy see its shore, and the net of no fisherman has fallen in that lake, and the fish of that water have experienced no captivity but the chain of water.^118c

If you could migrate thither, you might pass the remainder of yonr life in security and contentment, and delight and ease.’ They replied, ‘The thought is good, but without thy aid and friendly assistance, our departure thither is impossible.’ The Heron answered, ‘I will not withhold from you whatever strength and power I possess: but time presses; every moment the fishermen may come, and the opportunity will be lost.’ The fishes besought him, and after much entreaty, it was determined that every day he should remove some fish and convey them to that lake. The Heron, then, every morning carried some fish, and on the top of a hillock, which was near, devoured them, and when it returned, the others hasted to remove and emigrate, and sought for precedence and priority over one another; and wisdom wept with a warning eye over their folly and unwariness, and time, with its thousand eyes, shed tears over their lamentable condition. And undoubtedly any one who is beguiled by the flattery of an enemy and thinks fit to place confidence in a mean person of innate wickedness, this is his punishment. When many days had passed, the desire of (going to) this lake entered into the head of a Crab also. He wished to remove, and informed the Heron of that idea. The Heron reflected, ‘There is not a more thorough enemy of mine than this. My best plan is to convey him to his friends.’ He then advanced, and having taken the Crab on his neck, turned his face towards the resting-place of the fishes. The Crab, who saw the bones of the fish from a distance, perceived how the matter stood. He reflected that a wise man, when he sees an enemy intent on his life, is exerting himself for his own destruction if he neglects to struggle; and that, should he exert himself, his condition will not fail to be one of two things. If he comes off victorious, he leaves a reputation for courage upon the page of time; and if he fails, he at least escapes being reproached for want of courage and spirit in defending himself.

The Crab then threw himself on the neck of the heron and began to squeeze his throat tightly. The Heron was old and weak, and with a little throttling became insensible, and falling down from the air was leveled with the dust. The Crab, having descended from his neck, went his way, and having stepped along the road, came to the remaining fishes, and mingling lamentations for lost friends with congratulations on the life of the survivors, informed them how matters stood. All of them rejoiced, and reckoned the death of the Heron as a renewal of existence and a life without limit.

And I have introduced this story with this object, that thou mayest know that many a one perishes by his own stratagems and deceit and the mischievous effects of his perfidiousness, according to the text, ‘but the contrivance of evil shall only encompass the authors thereof,’¹²⁰ recoil upon himself, nevertheless I will point out a way to thee, in accordance with which, if thou shouldest act, it may be the cause of thy preservation, and of the destruction of thy enemy. The Raven said, ‘One must not slight the suggestions of friends, nor act in opposition to the wise.’

The jackal said, ‘The advisable course is this, that thou shouldest soar aloft in air and cast thine eyes on the terraces of the houses and plains, and wherever thou beholdest an ornament which it is possible to carry, there stoop and snatch it up, and fly through the air in such a way as to be visible to men’s eyes, and there is no doubt that some persons will follow thee to recover the ornament. When thou drawest near to the Serpent cast the ornament upon it, so that when the eyes of those men light upon him they may release him from the bonds of life, and then recover the ornament. And thy heart will be freed from care without any exertions on thy own part.’ The Raven, in accordance with the suggestion of the jackal, turned towards an inhabited place. Presently it saw a woman who had put down an ornament on the corner of a terrace, and was herself occupied with her ablutions. The Raven carried off the ornament, and in the same manner as the jackal had said, threw it on the Serpent. The men who had come in pursuit of the Raven forthwith crushed the Serpent’s head, and the Raven was set free [from its foe].’

Damnah said, ‘I have coined this fable that thou mayest know that things which may be accomplished by artifice, are impossible by mere force.’ Kalílah replied, ‘The Ox possesses strength and fierceness and understanding and prudence, all these things—and over such a person it is not possible to prevail by stratagem, since on every side that thou by deceit preparest a trench, he by forethought will repair it, and perhaps before thou canst make a supper off him, he may breakfast upon thee. But perhaps the story of that Hare never reached thy ears, who formed the design of entrapping the fox, and got caught itself?’ Damnah asked, ‘How was that?’

Kalílah said, ‘I have heard that a hungry wolf was running along a plain on the scent of a meal, when he beheld a Hare asleep under the shade of a bush, and whose limbs the slumber of negligence had occupied. The wolf, accounting it a rare prize, began to steal gently towards it. The Hare being put on the alert by the terror of his breath, at the alarm of his step, started up, and was about to fly. The wolf, obstructing the road, exclaimed,

The Hare, from fear of him, was fixed motionless to the spot, and beginning to supplicate, rubbed the face of humble entreaty on the ground, and said, ‘I know that the fire of the hunger of the prince of beasts is burning fiercely, and that his appetite is raging in quest of food, and I with this weak body and slender form, am no more than a mouthful to the king. What is the good of me, and what will be effected¹²¹ by eating me? In this neighbourhood there is a fox, who is unable to move from excessive fatness, and from his quantity of flesh finds it impossible to stir. I imagine that his flesh by its succulence, resembles the water of life, and his blood from its sweetness and freshness is comparable to sharbat made with the finest sugar. If my lord will deign to take the trouble of stepping with me, I, by any stratagem that I find practicable, will make him a prisoner, and my lord may break his fast upon him. If this gratification is obtained, why so much the better; if otherwise I myself am still your prisoner and captive.

The wolf, deceived by his plausible speeches, took the way to the abode of the fox. Now in that vicinity there was a fox who in cunning might have lectured Satan, and in wily devices and trickery, have given lessons to fancy and imagination.

The Hare had an old quarrel with him, and on the present occasion, having obtained an opportunity, he determined on revenge, and having left the wolf at the entrance of the hole, he went into the abode of the fox and performed the customary salutations and benedictions. The fox, too, with the utmost deference, returned his salutations, and said,

The Hare replied, ‘It is a long time that I have continued still in the desire of being exalted by a meeting, and by reason of the obstacles of deceitful fortune, and the accidents of faithless and inconstant time, I remain excluded from that happiness. At this time a holy man¹²² who has been exalted to kingly dignity in the Egypt of divine favor, and in the region of saintship is a sage indulgent to his disciples, has honored us by coming from the sacred shrine to this country, and having heard the fame of the monastic seclusion and retirement of your highness, has made this humble slave the medium of introduction, in order that he may irradiate the eye of his heart with your world-adorning beauties, and perfume the nostrils of his soul with the sweet scents of your musk-resembling thoughts. If there be permission for a visit, it is well and good, but if the occasion does not admit of it, another time may serve.

The fox read from the page of this discourse the writing of fraud, and beheld in the mirror of these words, the delineation of the form of deceit. He said to himself, ‘My advisable course is this, that I should act to them in accordance with their own conduct, and pour too part of their own mixture into their own throat.

The fox then made use of sundry complimentary expressions, and said, ‘We have on this account girded our loins in the service of travelers, and have for this reason opened the door of our cell in the face of holy men, that we may benefit by the beauty of their enraptured state and the perfection of their sentiments. And especially to such a saint as thou representest, and to a perfectly holy man of the kind thou describest, how can I fail in hospitality, or what particle of service could I omit? for ‘the guest when he alights, alights to his own appointed food,’ and the ancients have said,

Nevertheless I entertain the hope that thou wilt delay thus long, until I sweep out the corner of my cell and spread for my guest of fortunate footstep, a carpet which may befit the occasion.’ The Hare imagined that he had succeeded in cajoling the fox,¹²³ and that the latter would soon do himself the honor of waiting on the wolf. He [therefore] replied, ‘The guest is a man without ceremony, and of the simplicity of character suited to a darvesh; and is indifferent to decoration in place or dress; but since your noble mind desires to observe some ceremony, there is no harm, too, in that.’ With these words the Hare went out and detailed all that had occurred to the wolf, and imparted to him the pleasing tidings of the fox having been deceived, and began again to renew—for, ‘in everything new there is pleasure’—his encomium of the flesh and fat, and juiciness and freshness of the fox; and the wolf, having whetted the teeth of appetite, was licking his lips^123a at the anticipated relish of the fox’s flesh, and the Hare flattered himself,^123b on account of the service, with the idea of release. The fox, however, through prudence and foresight, had, a very long time previously, dug a deep pit in his abode and had gradually carried out the earth from it and covered the top of it with a little rubbish and straw, and he had also a secret passage by which, on emergency, he could make his way out. When he had sent the Hare away,^123c he came to the mouth of the pit and disposed the rubbish in such a manner that it would give way on the slightest movement. He then came to the mouth of the secret way and called out, saying, ‘Respected guests, be pleased to take the trouble of stepping forward!’ and simultaneously with their ingress he went forth from that hole. The Hare with prodigious alacrity, and the wolf with the utmost greediness, entered that dark cell, and their stepping on the rubbish was simultaneous with their falling to the bottom of the pit. The wolf imagined that that stratagem, also, was of the Hare’s doing and he tore him to pieces in an instant, and delivered the world from the reproach of his existence. And I have adduced this story in order that thou mayest know that artifices do not succeed against the wise, and one who possesses a share of caution and foresight, does not suffer himself to be infatuated by the deceitful arts of any one.’ Damnah said, ‘It is as thou sayest, but the Ox is conceited of himself, and is not on his guard against my hostility; and through this supineness I may overthrow him; for the arrow of perfidy which they discharge from the ambush of friendship, penetrates the more deeply; and perhaps thou hast not heard in what way the treachery of that Hare became effectual against the young Lion, and as he was not on the alert against his treachery, he fell, in spite of his good sense and sagacity, into the whirlpool of destruction.’ Kalílah inquired ‘How was that?’

Damnah said, ‘They have related that in the environs of Baghdád there was a meadow, the breeze of which might have imparted fresh perfume to the fragrance of Paradise, and the bright reflection of whose sweet herbs might have added lustre to the eye of heaven. From every branch of its flowery borders a thousand stars were shining, and at the beauty of each of those stars the nine heavens were amazed.¹²⁴

And in that verdant plain were many wild beasts,^124a and in consequence of the excellent air and exhilarating country, and the abundance of water, and ample supply of food, they passed their time in pleasure and enjoyment. But in that neighbourhood lived a fierce and cruel Lion, who every day displayed his ill-omened visage to those helpless animals, and embittered their happiness and existence. One day they, with one accord, went to the Lion, and after declaring their loyalty and submissive obedience, said, ‘O king! we are thy subjects and followers, and thou, each day, after much trouble and infinite exertion, art able to hunt down one of us or not, and we, through dread of thee, are always distracted with distress, and thou, too, in troublous inquietude in pursuit of us. We have now thought of a plan which may be a source of comfort to thee, and to us the cause of security and rest. If thou wilt discontinue molesting us as heretofore, and wilt not daily distract us, we will send a quarry at breakfast-time as a daily supply for the royal kitchen, and will not allow of any failure in the performance of this.’ The Lion assented and they used daily to cast lots, and on whichever beast’s name the lot fell, him they used to send as a portion to the Lion; till in this manner some time had elapsed. One day the lot fell on a Hare, and fortune made him a target for the arrow of calamity. He said to his friends, ‘If ye will show me a little forbearance in despatching me, I will deliver you from the oppression of this tyrant.’ They replied, ‘There is no difficulty about this.’ The Hare delayed for an hour, till the time of breakfast had passed, and the ferocious nature of the Lion being excited, he ground his teeth together from anger and fury. The Hare went very gently towards him and found him excessively vexed. The fire of hunger had seated him on the winds,¹²⁵ and the glare of anger was evident in all his movements and postures.

The Hare saw that the Lion, from excess of fury, was lashing the ground vengefully with his tail, and wishing in his heart to infringe the treaty. He advanced slowly and saluted him. The Lion asked, ‘Whence comest thou? and what are the beasts about?’ He replied, ’They, according to established custom, sent a Hare in company with me, and we set out together to wait on your highness. A Lion met us in the way and carried off the other Hare, and in spite of our vehement protestations that, this is the food of the king of beasts and the allowance provided for their monarch, he heeded not my words, and said, ‘This is my hunting-ground and the game here belongs to me.‘

O king! he made use of such boasts and enlarged so on his own might and prowess, that I lost all patience, and running from his presence, hastened hither that I might represent to your enlightened mind the state of the case.’ A blind sense of honor was stirred in the Lion [by these words], and he exclaimed,

He then added, ‘O Hare! canst thou show him to me that I may wrest from him the justice thy heart requires, and may also wreak on him my own revenge?’ The Hare replied, ‘Why should I not be able, when he has spoken many disrespectful things of the king? and had I had the power, I should have made his skull a cup¹²⁶ for the beasts of the desert.

Saying this he led the way, and the simple-hearted Lion, ensnared by his wiles, went on after him. The Hare brought the Lion to the mouth of a large well, the water of which, from its clearness, like a Chinese mirror, reflected objects distinctly, and could faultlessly represent, to the lookers in, the external shape and countenance of every one.

[The Hare said], ‘O King! thy worthless foe is in this well and I am afraid of his terrors: if the King will take me up in his arms I will shew him his enemy.’ The Lion lifted him up and looked down into the well. He beheld his own shape and that of the hare in the water. He imagined that it was that very lion and hare that had been his own allotted food which he held in his hug. He put down the Hare and plunged into the well, and after sinking twice or thrice consigned his bloodthirsty spirit to the flames of hell: and the Hare returning in safety, announced to the beasts the circumstances of the adventure, and performing due thanksgiving to God, fed at pleasure in the gardens of security and peace, and continued to recite this couplet,

And by the citation of this example it may be discerned that however powerful an enemy may be, it is possible to get the better of him in a moment of supineness.’ Kalílah said, ‘If thou destroy the Ox, in such a manner as not to afflict the lion, it might have a shew of reason, and one might excuse it, but if his ruin is not to be effected without hurt to the lion, take care that thou dost not meddle in this matter, since no sensible person willingly disturbs his master to secure his own comfort.’ With these words the conversation came to an end, and Damnah having retired from attendance [on the lion], betook himself to the corner of retirement, until one day having found an opportunity he thrust himself in private upon the lion, and stood like one grieved and pensive, heart-sore and hanging down his head. The Lion said, ‘It is some days since I have seen thee, is all well?’ He replied, ‘Please God it may turn out well!’ The Lion was startled¹²⁷ and said, ‘Has anything happened?’ ‘Indeed, yes!’ replied he. ‘Relate it,’ said the Lion. Damnah answered, ‘For that a private audience and leisure are necessary.’ ‘This moment is the time,’ said the Lion, ‘explain it with all despatch, for a matter of importance admits not of delay, and if the business of to-day be put off till to-morrow a thousand calamities result.

Damnah said, ‘No statement, the hearing of which may cause aversion in the hearer, should be rashly delivered, nor should it be uttered without thorough consideration and much thought, unless there be perfect confidence in the good sense and discretion of the hearer, and the latter too should consider the circumstances of the speaker, as to whether he is in a position to give faithful advice or not, and when he knows that the speaker can have no object but the discharge of the debt which he owes for past favours, he ought to listen to his word with the ear of attention, particularly when the advantages and benefits thereof will revert to himself.’ The Lion said, ‘Thou knowest that I am an exception to kings through the excellence of my judgment and the superabundance of my understanding, and that in listening to the words of every one I propose to myself, for observance, the discrimination that becomes a monarch; say therefore, without ceremony, whatever thou wishest, and unhesitatingly reveal whatever has come into thy mind.’ Damnah said, ‘I too have found permission to be thus bold, in that my confidence in the understanding and wisdom of the king is excessive, and it is moreover palpable that I speak from pure affection and the most genuine honesty, and stain not my words with doubt and suspicion and interested and corrupt motives; and, save the touchstone of the imperial mind, there is no standard for assaying language.

The Lion said, ‘The abundance of thy honesty is manifest and the traces of it are evident on the visage of thy affairs, and thy words are altogether pregnant with good feeling and excellent advice, and doubt and suspicion find no possibility of entering into the precincts thereof.’ Damnah said, ‘The existence of all the beasts is bound up in the continuance of the king’s life. Wherefore it behoves every subject who is characterised and impressed with the marks of sincerity and royalty,¹²⁸ that he withhold nothing from the king of the right discharge of his duties, and the representation of faithful counsel: for the wise have decreed that, ‘Whosoever conceals the truth from the king, keeps back an ailment from the physician, and does not see fit to disclose his proverty and hunger to his friends, may be regarded as a traitor to himself.’ The Lion responded, ‘Thy loyalty and singleness of mind, have long ago been apparent to me and I have long since known thy uprightness and good faith. Now speak! what event has happened? in order that, after acquaintance with the circumstances of the case, we may occupy ourselves with deliberation.’ Damnah, when he had ensnared the Lion by his artful words, loosed his tongue, and said,

Shanzabah has held private meetings with the leaders of the army, and has entered into conversation with the Pillars of the state, and said, ‘I have tried the Lion, and fathomed the extent of his strength and might and judgment and sagacity, and in each have clearly discerned many defects and infinite weakness.

And I am in amazement—that while the king has shewn all this profuseness in honoring that faithless ingrate and has made him the ‘alter ego’^128a in the government and administration of the empire—in return for these favors, this procedure should have been developed by him, and in requital of such benefits such a pretension should have been set up by him: and assuredly in accordance with the saying, ‘Verily man becometh insolent because he seeth himself to abound in riches,^128b one who beholds his hand unrestrained in command and prohibition, and finds the reins for slackening or compressing state affairs in the grasp of his own power, will have eggs deposited in the nest of the brain by the imp of mischief, and the tempest of rebellion will break forth from the blackness of his heart.

The Lion said, ‘O Damnah! ponder well what words these are which thou speakest. Whence hast thou learnt these circumstances? and if it be as thy words import, what measures can be adopted in relation to this affair?’ Damnah replied, ‘The loftiness of his rank, and the elevation of his position, is well known to the king, and when a sovereign beholds one of his servants vieing with himself in rank, dignity, wealth and pomp, he should speedily away with him, otherwise the affair will become impracticable, and the king will be overthrown, and as to a remedy for this matter, in such-wise as the enlightened soul of the king requires, how can our dull mind, and deficient intelligence arrive at it? But I know this much, that preventive measures should be promptly adopted in the case of the Ox, and that if your majesty deliberates, it is possible the affair may come to that point, that the step of counsel will be unequal to the extent of its measurement.

And they have said that men are of two classes, the man of caution, and the weak man. The weak man is he who, at the time of the occurrence of an event, and the event of an occurrence, is confounded and distracted, and irre-solute and perplexed; and the man of caution is he who, making use of foresight, considers the issues of affairs; and the man of caution is also of two kinds. The first is he who, before the appearance of danger has already thoroughly appreciated its character, and who, in the beginning of an affair, by the eye of understanding, discerns what others discover at the termination, and who consults for the issue of things at their commencement.

And such a person, before falling into the whirlpool of calamity, will be able to convey himself to the shore of safety, and him they call ‘most cautious.’ And the other is he, who, when calamity arrives, maintains an unshaken heart, and does not allow himself to be penetrated by dismay and terror, and doubtless from such a person the right road and advisable course will not remain concealed, and him they call ‘cautious.’ And with reference to the state of these three persons, of whom one is wise, and the second half-wise, and the third ignorant—the story of those Three Fishes is applicable, who chanced to be together in a pond.’ The Lion asked, ‘How befell that?’

Damnah said, ‘They have related that there was a pool of water at a distance from the highway, and hidden from the notice of travelers, and its retired waters were pure like the faith of the spiritual, and its appearance such as to suffice those who were in search of the water of life, and this lake communicated with a running stream. In it abode three large fishes, such that the celestial fish,¹³⁰ through envy of them, was broiled on the frying-pan of jealousy, like Aries by the heat of the sun. And one of those three fishes was Very Cautious, and the second Cautious, and the other Helpless. Suddenly, in the season of spring, when the world, from the adornment of its flower-gardens, was like the garden of paradise, and all parts of earth’s surface, from its bright and sweet-scented plants, resembled the azure valut full of stars; when the chamberlain, the morning breeze, had adorned earth’s floor with many-hued carpets, and the peerless gardener of creation had ornamented the world with flowers of divers colors,

All at once, two or three fishermen happened to pass by that water, and by the will of God they discovered the circumstances of the abode of those three fishes in that lake, exactly as things really were. Having agreed therefore on a rendezvous with one another, they hastened to bring their nets, and the fishes, having gained intelligence of that circumstance, immersed as they were in water were, nevertheless, made to consort with the fire of anguish. When night drew on, the fish that was perfectly wise and possessed extreme caution, inasmuch as he had often witnessed the violence of oppressive fortune, and the petulance of the faithless heavens, and as his foot was planted firmly on the carpet of experience, began to reflect on the means of escape from the net of the fishermen, and to ponder on deliveranoe from their bonds.

He therefore adopted expeditious measures, and before even consulting with his friends, made his exit on the side adjacent to the flowing stream. In the morning the fishermen came and firmly secured both sides of the lake. Then the half-wise fish, who was adorned with the ornament of good sense, but who possessed no share of the stores of experience, when he beheld this state of things, felt much contrition, and said, ‘I have chosen to be negligent, and the termination of the affairs of the supine is like the present. It behoved me, like that other fish, before the descent of calamity, to have taken thought for myself, and previous to the assault of misfortune to have pondered the way to escape.

Now since the opportunity of flight is gone, it is the time for stratagem and artifice, and although they have said that deliberation during the time of disaster yields but little advantage, and but small fruition is derivable from the produce of good sense in the period of calamity; still, notwithstanding all this, it behoves a wise man in no way to despair of the benefits of wisdom, nor to allow of delay or tardiness in repelling the devices of an enemy. He then made himself appear dead, and went floating on the surface of the water. One of the fishermen picked him up, and fancying him to be dead, threw him on the ground; and he, craftily flinging himself into a rivulet, preserved his life.

And the other fish in whose proceedings supineness prevailed, and in whose actions imbecility was apparent, darted about right and left, astounded and bewildered and fatuous, and, trying to escape, rushed to the surface and to the bottom,¹³¹ until at last he was captured. And by considering this story, the prince may be convinced that measures should be speedily taken with reference to Shanzabah; and before opportunity and power expire, he should strike the fire of regret into the soul of that miscreant, with a high-tempered sword; and having given the harvest of his life to the winds of destruction, raise up the smoke of affliction^131a from his family to the sky.

The Lion said, ‘I understand what thou hast spoken, but I have no suspicion that Shanzabah meditates any treason, and will allow himself to requite past favors by subsequent ingratitude, for up to this period I have indulged in nothing but goodness and kindness towards him.’ Damnah responded, ‘Exactly so, but by these bounties of the King he has reached his present elevation.

A worthless fellow naturally bad, will be a sincere and loyal adviser so long as he has not reached the station which he hopes to gain, but when his wish is accomplished, ambition to obtain further advancement—which befits him not—will shew itself from the store-house of his thoughts: and the wise have said¹³² that the service of the mean and ignoble is based on the canon of fear and hope. When once he is secure from the intrusions of fear, he darkens the fountain of his loyalty, and when he has been rendered independent by the attainment of his object, he kindles the fire of ingratitude and mischief.’ The Lion said, ‘How then ought we to treat servants of a base disposition and sordid mind, in order that the traces of their ingratitude may not be evinced?’ Damnah replied, ‘You ought not to exclude them from your favors to such a degree that they should suddenly despond, and, abandoning your service, affect the side of your enemies; nor ought you so to bestow on them favors and wealth, that, having reached the zenith of success, extravagant fancies may develop themselves in them. But rather they ought to pass their life always between hope and fear, and their course of action should be perpetually governed by promises and threats, and dread and expectation; since opulence and immunity make them self-sufficient, and that becomes a cause of rebellion and guilt; and [on the other hand] despair and destitution render menials bold, and hence arises injury to the royal power.

The Lion said, ‘To my mind it seems that the mirror of Shanzabah’s condition, is pure from the stain of this deceit, and the page of his heart clear and unsullied by the character of these thoughts; and I have always been in the position of benefactor towards him, and have continuously associated his career with indulgence, and after an undeviating course of kindness and favor to him from me, how could he devise evil and mischief in return?

Damnah said, ‘The king must understand that straightforward conduct never proceeds from a crooked nature, and that one of an evil disposition and a bad stock, neither by the efforts of others nor self-exertion, will become of a praiseworthy character or pure, for ‘Every vessel allows that to percolate which is in it.’

But perhaps the story of the Scorpion and the Tortoise may not have reached the august hearing of your majesty?’ The Lion asked, ‘How was that?’

Damnah said, ‘A Tortoise had a friendship with a Scorpion, and they always reciprocated the breathings of attachment, and practised unanimity.

Once on a time it so happened that in obedience to an exigency, they were compelled to migrate from their country, and in companionship with one another, sought a more secure abode. By chance their way lay across a mighty stream, and a vast river intercepted their passage, and as it was impossible for the Scorpion to cross water, he remained aghast. The Tortoise said, ‘Dear friend! what has come to thee that thou hast given the collar of the robe of life into the hand of grief, and snatched the skirt of thy heart from gladness and mirth?’ The Scorpion replied, ‘O brother! anxiety how to pass this water hast cast me into the whirlpool of dismay. It is neither possible to cross the water, nor can the separation from my friend be endured.

The Tortoise said, ‘Do not distress thyself, for I will convey thee without inconvenience across the water and bring thee to the shore; and making a vessel of my back will shield thee from calamity with my breast, for it would be a pity to gain a friend with difficulty, and let him slip with indifference.’

Then the Tortoise having taken the Scorpion on his back, breasted the water, and set off. In the middle of the swim a sound reached the ear of the Tortoise and he perceived a tapping made by the Scorpion.¹³³ He asked, ‘What noise is this that I hear? and what operation is this in which thou art employing thyself?’ The Scorpion replied, ‘I am trying the sharp point of my sting against the armour of thy body.’¹³⁴ The Tortoise was thunder-struck, and exclaimed, ‘O unfeeling wretch! I, for thy sake, have cast my life into the whirlpool of danger, and by the aid of the barque of my back thou art crossing this water; if thou dost not feel obliged for the favor, and allowest no weight to our old companionship, what at least is the reason for stinging, when moreover it is positively certain that no injury will reach me from this action, and that thy heart-lacerating sting will have no effect upon my marble-like back?

The Scorpion answered, ‘God forbid that sentiments like these should approach my mind in the whole course of my life or should have ever done so! It is nothing more than this, that my nature instigates me to sting, whether I wound the back of a friend or the breast of a foe.

The tortoise reflected thus, ‘Truly have the sages said that to cherish a base character is to give one’s own honor to the wind, and to involve one’s own self in embarrassment.^134a

It is a saying of the ancients, that hope has no portion in the man who has no nobility in his descent, since it would be inadmissible for the scion of a corrupt stock to leave the world without requiting with evil the parties who have benefited him.

And by citing this story, it will have crossed the enlightened mind of the king, that Shanzabah’s lack of noble descent, and the baseness of his nature, ought to cause him apprehension, and that he ought to listen with the ear of attention to the advice of his attached dependants. Whoever gives no heed to the words of councillors, though they be harsh and undeferential, the issue of his transactions, and the termination of his affairs, will not be devoid of regret and reproach: as when an invalid looks contemptuously on the directions of the physician, and eats and drinks according to his inclination, most certainly weakness and debility will every moment prevail more and more over him.

And it must be understood that the weakest of princes is he who is careless of the issues of affairs, and who despises the concerns of the kingdom, and, whenever an event of importance occurs, lays aside caution and circumspection, and after opportunity has expired, and the enemy has got the mastery, casts suspicion on those about him, and imputes^135a to them indiscriminately the then state of things.

The Lion said, ‘Right roughly hast thou spoken and hast overstepped the limits of respect, yet the words of a councillor should not be rejected because they are harsh. On the supposition that Shanzabah be my enemy, the extent of his power is clear enough, and in point of fact, he is my food, and his material energies^135b derive their existence from herbs, while the support of my strength is drawn from flesh, and vegetable natures are always subdued by animal, and I do not make such account of him as to suppose that the thought of encountering me would pass through his mind, or that the insane idea of slaying me should find place in his heart’s core.’^135c

And if Shanzabah should pretend, like the moon, to rival the sun of my splendour, which shines from the horizon of the divine favor, he will wane and fail; and if, like the sun, he array^135d himself against the crescent on my august and phœnix-like canopy, which is a symbol of that of heaven, he will in the end sink.’

Damnah said, ‘The king should not be misled by what he says as to Shanzabah’s being his food, or that he is able to overcome him, since, although, in his own person, he may not have power for the encounter, he may by the aid of a number of his allies advance towards his object, or by dissimulation and fraud, and lying tales, and perfidy, excite mischievous delusions;^136a and I fear lest when he has implanted in the beasts a zeal of opposition to the king, they may act in unison with him, and a single person, however strong-bodied and powerful he may be, cannot make head against many.

The Lion said, ‘Thy words have made an impression on my heart, and I perceive the sincerity of thy advice, but nevertheless this person is [in the sacred character of] a suppliant^136c to me, for I have raised him up, and it is I who have set up the banner of his power and advancement, and have uttered encomiums of him in assemblies and meetings, and have poured from my tongue statements of his intelligence, and loyalty, and sincerity, and uprightness. If then I allow myself to declare the contrary of this, I shall be charged with breaking my word, and personal levity, and weakness of judgment, and all hearts will hold my words in reprobation, and all minds disregard my promises.’

Damnah replied, ‘Right judgment and prudence lies in withdrawing one’s business and plucking the skirt of friendship and companionship from a friend the instant he shews signs of enmity, and from a servant as soon as he displays the airs of a prince, and before an enemy can find opportunity for breakfast, to have his supper ready for him; and though a tooth be man’s old comrade, and a source of various benefits and advantages to him, when it begins to ache he can find no cure for the torment of it, save by extraction; and food which supplies the waste¹³⁷ [of our corporeal frame], and is the support of the material of life, after it has become corrupt in the belly, must be expelled in order that one may be quit of its injurious effects.

The insidious whispers of Damnah having made an impression on the Lion, he said, ‘I am disgusted with the society of Shanzabah, and for me to meet him again is of the number of impossibilities. The best way is to send some one to him and declare to him how matters stand, and give him permission to go where he likes.’ Damnah was afraid that if these words should reach Shanzabah, he would presently make known to the Lion his letters of indemnity,^137a and that his (Damnah’s) deceit and artifice would come from the hidden chamber of concealment into the expanse of manifestation. He said [therefore], ‘O king! this method is far from prudent, and so long as a word has not been spoken there is room for option left, but after declaration, the remedy has gone beyond the confines of ability.

The word which has issued from the mouth, and the arrow from the bow, return not, either the one to the option,^137b or the other to the string;^137c and it has passed into a proverb, that whatever comes to the lip may prove a slip,^137d and, a sage has said, ‘The tongue is the interpreter of the heart, and the heart the ruler of the dominion of the body, and speech is the displayer of the jewels of existence.’ As long as the door of the casket of speech is fastened with the bolt of silence, and the seal of taciturnity is placed on the lid of the repertory of discourse, all the sweet herbs in the garden of life grow safely, and the young tree of existence yields all the fruit of security and enjoyment; but, when the rose-bud of eloquence unfolds its smiles, and the nightingale of oratory begins to warble, one cannot be safe, for the perfume of the rose-garden of language will be the source of gladness to the heart, and invigoration to the brain, or the cause of the display of the material^137e of the defluxion of the brain and the occasion of megrims; for tongues which had been bound, have by one approved and clever speech solved many difficult knots; and mischievous words have by a single inopportune allusion, bound the neck of the speaker with heavy chains.

O king! if these words should reach Shanzabah, and he should discover the nature of his situation and ascertain his disgrace, it is possible that he may attempt to resist, and begin to fight or excite rebellion: and masters of prudence have not thought secret punishment suitable for a public offence, nor assigned public punishment to secret crimes. The advisable course is to meet his concealed offence with a hidden retribution.’ The Lion said, ‘To banish and remove my intimates on mere suspicion, and, without a palpable certainty, to endeavour to ignore all their claims, is with one’s own hand to strike an axe against one’s own foot, and to turn suddenly aside from the path of generous conduct and the road of good faith.

Damnah replied, ‘There is no evidence that rulers can have better than their own discernment. When this perfidious traitor approaches, let the king cast a scrutinizing glance upon him, and the foulness of his principles will be exhibited in his graceless visage, and the deformity of his purpose in his repulsive appearance, and the crookedness of his heart will be shewn by his changing color,^138b and his emotion as he advances, and by his looking to the left and right, and before and behind him, and by his being prepared for a struggle and collected for an encounter.’ The Lion said, ‘Thou hast well said, and if any of these signs be observable, of course the dust of doubt will be removed from the path of certainty, and the anxiety of suspicion will be changed for a state of absolute conviction.’ When Damnah perceived that by his mischief-exciting insinuations, the fire of calamity had begun to blaze on that side, he wished to see the Ox, and on his part, too, to kindle the flame of disastrous results.

He bethought himself that his interview with Shanzabah ought also to spring from the Lion’s suggestion and advice, that he might avoid suspicion. He said [therefore], ‘O king! if the high command obtains the honor of being issued, I will see Shanzabah, and having ascertained somewhat of the secrets of his mind and of his hoarded intentions, I will respectfully state it.’ The Lion gave his permission, and Damnah approached Shanzabah like one grief-stricken and visited by calamity, and performed the required salutations and compliments. Shanzabah, after shewing him suitable respect, thus, with courtesy and affection, addressed him; ‘O Damnah!

It is many days since thou hast enlightened the eyes of thy intimates with the rays of thy beauty, or converted the cottage of thy friends into a rose-garden with the flowers of the plants of social and kindly intercourse.

Damnah said, ‘Though personally I have been excluded from the honor of an interview, yet in thought and spirit I have constantly kept company with the idea of thy heart-enlivening beauty, and have unceasingly sown the seed of friendship and affection in the ground of the heart.

And in the cell of retirement and the corner of solitude, I have been engaged in the daily duties of prayer and praise, which may be to thee the cause of increasing fortune; and I shall continue so occupied.’ The Ox said, ‘What is the cause of this retirement?’ Damnah replied, ‘When a person cannot be master of his own will, and is captive to the authority of another, and draws not a single breath without fear and danger, and does not pass a moment without dread and trembling for his life and body, and when he cannot utter a word without terror and alarm, wherefore not choose the corner of his cot and close the door in retirement against both stranger and acquaintance?

The Ox answered, ‘O Damnah! develope thy statement more clearly, and explain, in detail, the matter to which thou hast briefly alluded, in order that the advantage of thy counsels may be more general, and the benefit of thy discourse more complete.’ Damnah responded, ‘Six things in this world are impossible without six things, viz.:—worldly wealth without pride, and¹⁴⁰ the pursuit of the objects of desire without difficulty, and to sit with women without calamity, and to expect^140a aught from the sordid without disgrace, and association with the wicked without regret, and attendance on kings without misfortune. To no one do they give a draught from the wine-cellar of the world, but he becomes intoxicated and presumptuous, and raises up the head of rebellion from the collar of contumacy and pride. And no one moves a step in pursuit of lust that he does not fall into a state of ruin; and no man sits with women but he becomes calamitously involved in a variety of mischievous results; and no person enters into friendship with wicked and depraved men, but eventually loads himself with remorse; and no one applies to mean and low people who does not become contemptible and dishonored; and not an individual chooses to attend on princes without finding it impossible to escape from that cruel vortex.

And on the same subject they have said,

Shanzabah said, ‘Thy words indicate that thou hast met with something offensive from the Lion, and that thou art overcome with dread and alarm of his terrors.’ Damnah replied, ‘I do not speak these words with reference to my own person, nor am I distressed on my own account, but I am thinking more of my friends than of myself in this matter, and this grief and chagrin which has overwhelmed me is for thy sake, and thou knowest how the antecedents of friendship and early ties of attachment have existed between us, and the promises and compacts which we formed at the first, and which during this interval have been mainly fulfilled with good faith; and I have no alternative but to convey to thee information of whatever may have occurred, whether good or bad, beneficial or injurious.’ Shanzabah quaked inwardly, and rejoined, ‘O kind comrade and sympathising friend! acquaint me, with all speed, as to the true state of the case, and fail in no particular of the minutiæ of kind feeling and attachment.’ Damnah answered, ‘I have heard from an authentic source, that the Lion has spoken with his august tongue to this effect, ‘Shanzabah has become excessively fat, and he is not wanted at this court, and it is no matter whether he be absent or present. I shall give an entertainmeut to the beasts with his flesh, and I will make of his body, one day, the royal repast and a banquet for the public.’ I, when I heard this speech—being aware of his violence and injustice—came hither, that, having warned thee, I might establish the goodness of my faith by a clear proof, and might fulfil what is incumbent on me by the law of honor and the rules of right feeling and generosity.

At present it appears to me that thy advisable course is to devise a plan, and with the utmost expedition to turn thy attention to the preparation of some expedient, and the encountering this crisis; if peradventure, a means of escape from this vortex should appear, and by some ingenious device salvation from this peril be attainable.’ When Shanzabah had heard the words of Damnah, and resolved in his mind the promises and covenants of the Lion, he said, ‘O Damnah! It is impossible that the Lion should play me false, and now moreover I have displayed no perfidy, and my firm step has not slipped from the path of true service, and again I have a belief of the sincerity of thy words, and an opinion of thy good intentions. The conclusion is therefore that [some parties] have concocted falsehoods against me, and by imposture and deceit have moved the Lion to wrath, and in his service there is a faction of worthless persons all profound masters of slander, and bold and audacious in treason and violence, and them he has oft proved, and has observed a variety of treacherous acts and foul deeds, and of course whatever they say, on that head, of others he believes and judges accordingly, and assuredly through the evil influence of the society of the wicked, evil suspicions arise with regard to the good, and by these groundless doubts the right course becomes concealed, and the story of the Goose and his false impressions from experience, is a proof of what I have said quite sufficient, and bears ample testimony to this state of things.’ Damnah inquired, ‘How was that?’

Shanzabah said, ‘A Goose saw the brightness of the moon in the water, and, thinking that it was the moon, tried to lay hold of it, but got nothing. Several times it made a similar effort, and when it saw that all it got by the chace was what the man athirst gets by gazing on the mirage, or what the deluded destitute obtains by searching through ruined habitations [for treasures], it altogether abandoned the pursuit of fish, and all at once discontinued its occupation. The next night, whenever it saw a fish, it fancied it was the glitter of the moon, and made no effort after it, and gave no heed whatever to it, and exclaimed,

So the fruit of his experience was this, that he continued hungry and passed his time fasting and foodless.

And if they have made the Lion listen to anything about me, and, in accordance with the saying, ‘he who listens is alienated,’ a feeling of aversion has arisen in his heart, and he has given credit to what has been said, the cause of all this has been that same experience which he has had of others; and yet in point of reality, there is as much difference between me and the rest, as between bright day and dark night, and the vault of heaven and earth’s centre.

Damnah said, ‘Perhaps the aversion of the lion may not spring from this cause, but on account of its being a custom with kings to promote a person to high rank, undeserved on his part, while without any apparent reason they make another, who is a man of worth, the object of ruinous spoliation.’

Shanzabah said, ‘If this aversion on the part of the Lion, which thou hast reported to me, is without cause, then no submission will enable me to step securely into the path^143e of safety: and it is impossible for the eye of hope to behold the face of the desired object, for if there be a reason for wrath it may be dispelled by attempts to please and by apologies; but if, which God avert!^143f there be no reason for it, or if they have affected a change in his mind by deceit and calumny, the hand of remedy will be too short for it, and the thought of compassing its cure will be hopeless; since there is no visible measure to falsehood and slander, and no fixed limit to deceit and artifice. Now in what has passed between me and the Lion, I do not perceive any fault on my part, save that occasionally, and that too for his own good, I have opposed his opinion and plans, and that now and then, as exigency required, I have spoken with reference to the arrangements and furtherance of important matters, not in accordance with what he wished. This, perhaps, he may have imputed to boldness and disrespect, and have reckoned it akin to audacity and imprudence; yet not one of those things which I have originated has been immaterial with reference to the public weal; and with all this I have preserved the respect due to his exalted rank and majesty, without, through the whole course of my career, shewing presumption; but have to the utmost degree possible displayed the reverence and veneration due to him; so how can it possibly be supposed that loyal advice could be viewed as a cause for distrust, and faithful service as a ground for enmity?

And if this too be not the case, it is possible that the pride of royalty and the haughtiness of empire, may cause him to be offended with me, for it is a necessary condition of dominion, and a requisite of greatness, to be naturally ungrateful to those who give advice, and to bestow confidence and distinguished notice on sycophants and flatterers; and hence it is that the wise have said that it is more safe to dive to the bottom of a river with a crocodile, and to suck the poisonous drops from the lip of a serpent, whose tail has been struck off, than to attend upon kings, and that it is better and more conducive to security and freedom from anxiety, than to be in close proximity to princes: and I was aware that the perils of serving princes, were numerous, and the harm of superintending their affairs immense. Some philosophers also have compared kings to fire, since, although, the beams of their favor illuminate the dark cell of the hopeful, nevertheless the flame¹⁴⁴ of their severity too consumes the harvest of the former claims of their servants; and sound reason avers that whoever is nearest the fire suffers most; but parties, who, admiring the brightness of the fire at a distance, are ignorant of its power to burn, hold an idea of some intense gratification in having access to princes, and suppose it to be beneficial; while in point of fact, it is not so, for if they were to get a taste of the rigor of kings, and of the terror and awe a monarch inspires, it would be clear to them that a thousand years of favor are not equivalent to one hour of torture, and the story of the dispute of the Hawk with the Domestic Fowl verifies this. Damnah inquired, ‘How was that?’

Shanzabah said, ‘Once on a time a Hunting Falcon engaged in a dispute with a Domestic Fowl, and, beginning to wrangle with it, said, ‘Thou art a most false and faithless bird! and yet fidelity is the frontispiece of the page of commendable qualities, and moreover, in accordance with the import of this saying, ‘Verily, fidelity is a part of faith,’ fidelity is a perfect proof of right religious feeling and generosity; and honor, too, demands that none stigmatize the pages of his career with the character of unfaithfulness.

The Domestic Fowl replied, ‘What ingratitude hast though seen in me? and what unfaithfulness hast thou observed on my part?’ The Hawk replied: ‘The sign of thy ingratitude is this, that notwithstanding men shew so much kindness towards thee, and without any inconvenience or trouble on thy part, prepare for thee water and grain, from which the vital energy derives support, and looking after thee day and night, are constant in protecting and guarding thee, and that thou owest to them thy food and lodging; still, whenever they want to catch thee, thou runnest before and behind them, and fliest from roof to roof, and hurriest from corner to corner.

And I, although I am a wild bird, and associate with men but for two or three days, and eat from their hands [for so short a time],¹⁴⁵ still keep in view what I owe to them, and hunt and give them the quarry: and however far I may have gone, at the slightest call that I hear, I come flying back.’

The Hen answered, ‘Thou sayest the truth. Thy returning and my flight is owing to this, that thou hast never seen a hawk roasted on a spit, and I have seen many domestic fowls frying in a frying-pan. Hadst thou been accustomed to see this spectacle thou wouldst never flutter about with them, and if I fly from roof to roof, thou wouldst fly from mountain to mountain.’ And I have introduced this story in order that thou mayst know that the class who seek the company of princes have no knowledge of their severity, for whoever has experienced the effect of their rigor has no acquaintance with repose, nor any feeling of rest.

Damnah said, ‘It cannot surely be that the Lion entertains these thoughts with regard to thee on account of the grandeur of his imperial sway and the pride of success, for thou possessest many accomplishments and numberless excellencies, and princes are never independent of persons of talent.’ Shanzabah replied, ‘It may be that my talents may have caused his aversion, for the merit of a fleet horse proves his bane, and a fruit-bearing tree gets its topmost branches broken by reason of its fruit. The nightingale is imprisoned in a cage on account of its very talent, and the peacock is plucked and shamed, owing to its beauty and showy appearance.

And of a truth, as the undeserving are more numerous than men of merit, and an inherent animosity exists between them; by means of their number they overwhelm the meritorious, and so violently distort their acts as to array their actions in the garb of guilt, and make their good faith put on the guise of perfidy, and their honesty look like foul conduct, and thus they turn that very virtue, which is the source of good-fortune and the means of happiness, into the material of distress and an auxiliary of woe.

And a sage has said, with reference to this,

And again in describing the injustice of the censorious, they have said,

Damnah said, ‘It is possible that the malevolent may have made this attempt. On that supposition; what would be the issue of the affair?’ Shanzabah said, ‘Unless destiny second their endeavours, no injury will thence result; but if the divine decree and God’s predestination assist their artifice and treachery, it will be impossible to avert the consequences by any device.

Damnah rejoined, ‘It behoves a man of understanding, whatever the position of his affairs may be, to make far-sighted prudence the guide of his actions, since no one ever based his proceedings on prudence but obtained triumphant success as regards the object of his wishes.’ Shanzabah replied, ‘Prudence is then serviceable when fate has not issued its decree against it, and stratagem then yields advantage when the ordinance of destiny is not promulgated in opposition to it: but against the requirements of fate, neither is any shift serviceable nor any stratagem of use; for that any can escape from the bonds of destiny and the shackles of fate—by artifice or counsel—is not to be thought of.

And when the Creator, the Most High God—may He be sanctified!—causes His decree to issue, He clouds and darkens the eye of the vision of the clear-sighted with the anointing needle¹⁴⁷ of negligence, so that the way of escape from that mandate, becomes hidden to them, for, ‘When fate comes, the sight is blinded.’^147a

But perhaps thou hast not heard the story of the Villager and the Nightingale,^147b and hast not listened to their dispute?’ Damnah said, How was that?’

Shanzabah said, ‘They have related that a villager possessed a sweet and pleasant orchard, and a garden more fresh than the bower of Iram. The air of it gave mildness to the gales of spring, and the scent of its herbs, refreshing the spirits, conveyed perfume to the very soul.

And in one corner of his garden there was a rose-bush, fresher than the shrub of successful desire,and more lofty than the branch of the tree of delight. Every morning on the top of the rose-bush the roses blossomed, colored like the cheek of heart-alluring damsels with gentle minds, and the face of silver-bosomed maids, scented like jessamine. The gardener began to shew an exceeding fondness for these excellent roses, and said,

One day the gardener, according to his established custom, came to view the roses; he saw a plaintive Nightingale who was rubbing his face on the leaves and tearing asunder, with his sharp bill, the gold-besprinkled binding of that volume.

The gardener, beholding the scattered condition of the rose-leaves, tore, with the hand of confusion, the collar of patience, and pierced the mantle of his heart with the soul-transfixing thorn of uneasiness. The next day he found the same action repeated, and the flames of wrath, occasioned by the loss of his roses,

The third day by the passes of the Nightingale’s bill,

Then the resentment caused by the Nightingale broke out in the breast of the gardener; he set a deceitful springe in his way, and having caught him with the bait of treachery, confined him in the prison of a cage. The disheartened Nightingale opened his mouth, like a parrot, and said, ‘O Sir! for what cause hast thou imprisoned me? and for what reason hast thou resolved to distress me? If thou hast thus acted through desire of hearing my songs, my own nest is in thy garden, where in the morning thy bower shall be the house of my music; but if thou hast another idea, inform me, O venerable sir!¹⁴⁸ of what thou hast in mind’ The gardener said,

Dost thou not know how thou hast spoiled my fortune, and how often thou hast distressed me with the loss of my favourite rose? it is right that thy action should be requited, and that thou, being separated from thy friends and country, and secluded from all joy and diversions, should’st mourn in the corner of a prison; whilst I, afflicted with the anguish of separation from my darling flowers, weep in the cottage of care.

The Nightingale said, ‘Quit this resolve, and consider that if I am imprisoned for such an offence as tearing a rose, what will be thy punishment if thou tearest a heart asunder?’

This discourse, taking effect upon the heart of the gardener, he set the Nightingale at liberty. The bird tuned his voice in his free state, and said, ‘Since thou hast done me this service, assuredly, according to the sentence, ‘Shall the reward of good works be any other than good?’¹⁴⁹ it is necessary to reward thee first. Know that under the tree where thou standest there is a vessel^149a full of gold; take it, and spend it to supply thy wants.’ The villager searched the spot and found the words of the Nightingale to be true. He said ‘O nightingale! what a wonder it is that thou couldst see the vessel [of gold] beneath the earth, and not discover the springe above ground!’ The Nightingale replied, ‘Dost thou not know that, ‘when fate descends caution is vain.’’

When the mandate of the Divine will has been issued, no light remains to the eye of understanding, and neither prudence nor wisdom bring any advantage.

And I have invented this story in order that thou mayest perceive that I am not an opponent of the hand of destiny and omnipotent power, and have no alternative but to bow my head reverently on the writing of the Divine decree.’

Damnah rejoined ‘O Shanzabah! what I am positively sure of, and know of a certainty,¹⁵⁰ is this, that what the lion meditates with respect to thee is neither owing to the slanders of thy enemies, nor the success of thy merit, nor the peevishness of kings; but it is rather consummate ingratitude and treachery which impels him to it: for he is a successful tyrant, a morose and perfidious person, and a deceiver. The beginnings of intercourse with him impart^150a the sweetness of life, but the issue of his services has the bitterness of death. We must regard him as a poisonous painted serpent: his outside adorned with various colors, but filled within with deadly venom, against which no antidote avails.

Shanzabah replied, ‘I have tasted the food of the honey of favor, it is now the time for the wound of the sting of oppression; and I have passed a long interval in mirth and ease, now is the season for the assault of adversity and war.

It was, in truth, death which grasped my collar and brought me into this wilderness, otherwise how was I fitted to associate with a lion? One who feeds upon me, and to whom I am food, he ought not to have been able to drag me to him even with a thousand cords, nor to plunge me by a hundred thousand stratagems or sleights into the snare of his friendship.

But the Divine decree, and thy too flattering words, O Damnah! plunged me into this vortex of destruction; and now the hand of counsel falls short of the skirt of remedy, and the course of events, by reason of my having neglected caution and forethought, is not in accordance with my wishes; and I, through my vain longings and unreasonable desires, have kindled such a fire as this for myself, so that, even ere the smoke has reached me, I am consumed by the heat of my grief and the flame of my disappointment.

And the sages have said, ‘Whoever is not content with a sufficiency of worldly gear, but pursues a superfluity, is like a person who arrives at a hill of diamonds, and every moment his sight falls on a larger piece, and, engaged with the thought of its greater value, he proceeds onward until he reaches the spot where he obtains the desired object, but his return becomes impracticable, because the fragments of the diamonds have cut and wounded his feet; but that heedless person, absorbed in his covetous fancies, is insensible to his situation, and, consequently, perishing most lamentably on that hill, is lodged in the craw of birds.’

Damnah said, ‘Admirable are these words which thou hast uttered, for the source of every calamity which befalls a man will prove to be avarice and desire.

The neck that is bound by the chain of covetousness is at last severed by the sword of regret, and the head in which the madness of desire has fixed itself will in the end be rubbed in the dust of disgrace. Many a one, from excess of covetousness and greed, has been led, by the hope of wealth, into the vortex of calamity; and has been involved, by the scent of gain, in ruinous disaster: just as that Hunter greedily desired to catch the fox, and the claws of the leopard tore the breath out of his body.’ Shanzabah said, ‘How was that?’

Damnah said, ‘One day a Hunter, passing through a waste, saw a fox excessively brisk and active, who was roaming about in the expanse of that wilderness, and showed himself gamboling in every direction. The Hunter was pleased with his fur, and formed the idea of selling him at a great price; and the violence of his longing led him to pursue the fox until he found out his hole, and near it he dug a pit and covered it over with rubbish, and upon it he laid some carrion, and seating himself in ambush waited to catch the fox. Presently it happened that the fox came out of his hole, and the smell of that carcase drew him on gradually till it brought him to the brink of that pit. He here reflected, ‘Although the brain of longing is perfumed by the aroma of this dead animal, nevertheless the smell of danger too reaches the nostril of caution; and the wise never meddle with a business which is fraught with peril, nor do the prudent commence an affair in which the possibility of mischief is discernible.

And though it is possible that some dead animal may be here, it is also possible that they may have arranged beneath it a snare, and in every case caution is best.

Pondering thus, the fox relinquished the thought of that carcase, and took the path of safety. Meanwhile a hungry leopard came down from the top of a mountain, and, from the smell of the carcase, sprang into the pit. The Hunter, when he heard the noise of the snare, and the sound of the animal’s fall into the pit, thought it was the fox, and, through excessive greediness, cast himself unreflectingly upon it; and the leopard, imagining that he would prevent him from eating the dead animal, leapt up and tore open his belly. Thus the greedy huntsman, through the ill luck that attended his cupidity, was caught in the snare of destruction, and the contented fox, by retrenching his desires, escaped from the whirlpool of adversity; and the moral of this story is, that the calamitous results of greediness, and the evil of excessive concupiscence will make a slave of a free man and hurl a slave headlong [to destruction.]’

Shanzabah said, ‘I did wrong to choose the service of the Lion at the first, and I was ignorant of his want of appreciation of merit: and they have said, that to associate with one who does not understand the value of your society, and the waiting on one who does not recognize the worth of your attendance, is like a man’s scattering seed on salt ground in hopes of a crop, or whispering into the ear of one born deaf one’s griefs and joys, or writing fresh^152a verses on the face of a stream, or to sport with the ornamental figures in a bath in the hope of begetting offspring, or to expect drops of rain from a furious whirlwind.^152b

Damnah said, ‘Cease these sayings and take thought for thine own matters.’ Shanzabah replied, ‘What plan can I set up, and what stratagem can I adopt? And as for the qualities of the Lion, I know them well, and my sagacity admonishes me that the Lion has no wish with reference to me but what is good and kind, but those who are about him strive for my death, and exert themselves for my ruin; and if it be so, the inclination of the tongue of the balance of my life is rather toward the scale of destruction than that of continuance; for when crafty and cruel persons, and perfidious oppressors combine,¹⁵³ and join hand to hand, and set themselves unanimously against any one, they are sure to triumph over him, and overthrow him, as the Wolf, and the Crow, and the Jackal, made a set against the Camel, and by uniting, prevailed against him, and obtained their object and desire.’ Damnah asked, ‘How was that?’

Shanzabah said, ‘They have related that a black-eyed Crow, and a Wolf with sharp claws, and a crafty Jackal, were in the service of a lion, accustomed to hunt his prey, and their forest lay near the highway. A merchant’s camel was left behind in those parts, and recovering his strength, after a time, wandered about in every direction in quest of provender. He happened to pass through that wild spot, and when he approached the lion he saw no alternative but to do him service, and shew him respect. The lion, too, spoke him fair, and inquired into the state of his affairs, and after acquainting himself with them asked him as to his story and movements. The Camel replied,

Whatever the king commands will doubtless comprehend all that is salutary for his subjects.

The lion replied, ‘If thou desirest it, remain in our company—tranquil and secure.’ The Camel was pleased, and remained in that forest until a long interval had elapsed and he had become extremely fat. One day the lion had gone in pursuit of a quarry, and a furious elephant had encountered him, and between them a mighty battle and a huge conflict had arisen, and the lion having received several wounds, came back to the forest and lay down in a corner groaning and wounded. The Wolf, the Crow, and the Jackal, who were the favorites that fed from the table of his liberality, were left without food, and from the lion’s innate generosity, and the pure beneficence which kings feel towards their servants and attendants—when he saw them in that state he was, affected, and said, ‘Your sufferings are more difficult for me [to bear] than my own. If hereabouts ye can find any game I will come out, and having done the business for you, will return.’ They, quitting their places, in attendance on the lion, came out and went into a corner, and beginning to consult with one another,¹⁵⁴ said, ‘What is the use to us of the Camel’s being in this forest? Neither does the king derive any advantage from him, nor have we any friendship with him; now we must induce the lion to tear him to pieces, and thus for two or three days the king will be put at his ease from the pursuit of food, and we, too, shall be proportionably benefited.’ The Jackal said, ‘Do not coquette with this fancy, for the lion has given him a safe-conduct and introduced him into his service; and whoever instigates the king to act perfidiously, and emboldens him to break his word, will commit treason; and the traitor is universally reprobated, and both God and man are displeased with him.

The Crow said, ‘We might devise some stratagem in this matter, and extricate the lion from the obligation of this promise, and do you mind and stay here and I will go and return.’ He then went to the lion and stood still. The lion inquired, ‘Have you marked down any quarry and brought intelligence of any game?’ The Crow said, ‘O king! the eyes of every one of us fail through hunger, and we are bereft, too, of the power of motion. A method, however, has come into our minds, by which, if the king assents, we shall gain perfect ease and abundant blessings.’ The lion said, ‘Inform me of thy meaning that I may distinctly apprehend it.’ The Crow answered, ‘This Camel is a stranger among us, and we cannot contemplate any advantage from associating with him. For a hurried makeshift, here is a quarry come to hand and game caught in the net.’ The lion was wroth, and exclaimed, ‘Dust on the head of the helpers of this age, who have no habit but that of hypocrisy nor any feeling but that of perfidy, and who altogether abandon the part of courtesy and liberality, and manly and generous sentiment.

In what sect is it lawful to break faith? and by what creed is an attack sanctioned upon one to whom thou thyself hast given protection?

The Crow said, ‘I know these principles; but the wise have said that an individual may be sacrificed for all the inmates of a house, and the people of a house for a tribe, and a tribe for a city, and the inhabitants of a city for the august person of a monarch who is in danger because his safety might benefit the people of a whole region. And, besides, an evasion may be found, so that he who made the promise of neglect may be clear, and his person secured from the pain of fasting^155a and the dread of starvation.’ The lion hung down his head, and the Crow returned and said to his friends, ‘I have laid the case before the lion. At first he was refractory, but at last he became tractable. Now our plan is to go all together to the Camel and recount the story of the lion’s hunger and of the distress that he is suffering, and say that we have passed our lives happily under the protection of the fortunes and beneath the shade of the majesty of this fortunate king. To-day, that this event has occurred, honor demands that we should lay down our lives and breath for him, otherwise we shall be stigmatized for ingratitude, and shall be deprived of the character of generosity and manliness. Our right course is to go, all of us, to the lion and reiterate to him thanks for his gifts and bounties, and acknowledge that we have no power to make any return save in offering up our lives and breath for him. Whereupon let each of us say, “To-day let the king break his fast upon me,” and let the others make some objection; and thus, probably, death will be the doom of the Camel.’ They then came together to the Camel and repeated all these particulars to him; and he, in consequence of the simplicity of his heart, was deluded by them; and so having settled matters as has been described, they went to the lion, and when they had acquitted themselves of the duty of setting forth their thankfulness and his praise, and offering eulogies and prayers for his welfare, the Crow loosed his tongue and said,

Our tranquillity depends on the king’s personal health; and now that an exigency has occurred, and my flesh may suffice to eke out the king’s existence, he must condescend to kill me and turn me to account.’ The others exclaimed, ‘What good will eating thee do? and what satisfaction would thy flesh give?’

When the Crow heard these words he hung down his head, and the Jackal began to speak, and said,

A long interval has elapsed during which we have lived safe from the fierceness of the sun of vicissitude under the shade of thy daily increasing fortunes. To-day, when the moon of the splendor of your majesty is involved in the eclipse of distress, I desire that the star of success may rise from the horizon of my condition; and that the king having made me his food, should be freed from the care of thinking about how to break his fast.’ The rest replied, ‘What thou hast said proceeds from an excess of affection and a proper sense of obligation, but thy flesh smells rank, and is coarse and unwholesome. Heaven forefend that by eating it the king’s indisposition should be increased!’ The Jackal was silent, and the Wolf came forward and loosed his tongue, saying,

I, too, am desirous of sacrificing myself for the king, and hope that he will smilingly assign a place to my limbs in his gums.’ His comrades said, ‘Thou hast spoken these words from pure attachment and thorough faithfulness, but then thy flesh would make one choke,¹⁵⁶ and, in ill effects, it is the next thing^156a to deadly poison.’ The Wolf stepped back again, and the Camel, extending its long neck on high,¹⁵⁷ broke the rein, ‘Every tall person is a fool,’^157a and began to speak, and, after the due recital of blessings, said,

I have been brought up in this presence, and have been educated at this court; if I am fit for the royal kitchen, or may serve for the supply of thy table, I grudge not my life.’

On this, the others with one voice exclaimed, ‘This speech proceeds from excess of kind feeling and from true fidelity, and, in very truth, thy flesh is digestible, and suits the king’s constitution. Blessings on thy magnanimity, that thou hast not grudged thy life for thy benefactor; and by dealing thus thou hast left a good name for a remembrance.

Hereupon they all made a unanimous assault on the Camel, and before the poor creature could draw breath, they tore his limbs to pieces. And I have adduced this story that thou mayest know that the artifices of interested persons, especially when they combine with one another, will not fail of effect.’ Damnah said, ‘What defence dost thou think of?’ Shanzabah replied, ‘I can think of nothing now but what deviates from the path of wholesome procedure, nor do I know of any remedy save war and conflict, and strife and slaughter: for every one who is slain for the protection of his own life is admitted into the circle of martyrs, and participates in the benefit of the saying, ‘Whoever is slain in defence of his life is a martyr.’ Moreover, if my death is fixed by the hand of the Lion, and predestinated; at least, then, let me be slain honorably, and let me perish gallantly and with spirit.

Damnah said, ‘A wise man is not precipitate in war, nor does he allow himself to anticipate matters at the time of battle, for ‘The aggressor is the most in the wrong.’ And by one’s own choice to engage in great dangers is no proof of cleverness; nay, men of understanding handle the affairs of an adversary with civility and courtesy, and consider it best to avert a quarrel by gentleness.

And, moreover, it is not right to hold even a weak enemy cheap, for even if he be wanting in strength, he will not be so helpless as regards artifice and stratagem, and he will by perfidious and false measures kindle the fire of mischief to the extent that its flame will not be quenched by the water of counsel; and thyself hast learnt to know the power of the Lion, and his might stands not in need of commentary or amplification; wherefore do not undervalue his hostility, but be on thy guard against the impetuosity of his attack, for every one that contemns his foe and disregards the issue of a conflict, will rue it as did the Genius¹⁵⁸ of the Sea owing to despising the Sand-piper.’^158a Shanzabah inquired ‘How was that?’

Damnah said, ‘They have related that on the shore of the Indian Ocean there is a kind of bird which they call Ṭiṭawạ or ‘Sand-piper.’ A pair of these had their nest on the sea-shore, and had fixed their abode at the brink of the water. When the time for depositing their eggs had come, the female said, ‘We must seek a place to lay our eggs where we may live in peace.’ The male replied, ‘Here is a pleasant place and agreeable spot, and to migrate from hence appears impossible. The eggs must be laid.’ The female rejoined, ‘Here is the place for deliberation, for if the sea roll up its waves and carry off our young, and all our life’s labor should be wasted, how shall we remedy that?’ Her mate answered, ‘I do not suspect that the Genius of the Sea would show this hardihood, or put such a slight upon us;¹⁵⁹ and admitting that he should imagine such a disrespect and allow our offspring to be drowned, he may be forced to do us justice.

The female replied, ‘To step without the limits of one’s own rank, and to boast of what exceeds our power, is unsuitable to persons of discretion. What strength hast thou that thou shouldest threaten the Genius of the Sea with thy vengeance, and what terrors are thine to enable thee to rise to the dignity of a conflict and feud with him?

Abandon this idea, and choose for our eggs a place of security and a safe spot, and turn not away thy head from my advice; for whoever hearkens not to the words of those who give him counsel, and does not act upon the advice of friends who wish him well, meets with what befell the Tortoise.’ The male Sandpiper inquired, ‘How was that?’

The female said, ‘They have related that in a pool whose water from the pureness of its nature reflected every image like a clear mirror, and by its sweetness and excellence gave a foretaste of the spring of life and of the fountain of Salsabíl,^159a resided two geese and a Tortoise, and in consequence of their being neighbours, the thread of their circumstances had been drawn out into sincere friendship, and vicinity had ended in cohabitation, and, being pleased with the sight of each other, they passed their lives contentedly.

Suddenly the hand of perfidious fortune began to lacerate the cheek of their condition with the nails of vicissitude, and the glass-coloured sky began to display in the mirror of their life the form of separation.

In that water which was the source of their life and the support of their existence, a complete failure manifested itself, and a glaring alteration was evident. When the geese perceived that state of things they withdrew their hearts from the home to which they were accustomed and determined on emigrating.

Therefore with hearts full of sorrow and eyes full of tears, they approached the Tortoise, and introducing the subject of parting, said,

The Tortoise wept at the pang of parting, and in the utmost sorrow piteously exclaimed, ‘What words are these? and how can I expect to live without you? or how can existence be supported without sympathising friends?’

And since that I have not power even to take leave, how can I endure the load of separation?

The Geese replied, ‘Our hearts too are wounded by the sharp points of separation, and our breasts consumed overmuch by the fierceness of the flame of the fire of parting: but the distress of being without water is on the point of giving the mould of our existence to the wind of annihilation, and therefore of necessity we are about to forsake our friend and country, and to make choice of the anguish of exile.

The Tortoise rejoined, ‘O friends! ye know that the distress of the want of water affects me more, and that without water I cannot support myself. At this crisis the rights of ancient companionship demand that ye should take me with you, and not leave me alone in the sorrowful abode of separation.’

The Geese answered, ‘O friend unique, comrade esteemed! the pang of parting from thee is more poignant than that of exile, and the grief of leaving thee a greater cause of despondency and depression, and wherever we go, though we should be in the happiest circumstances, and should pass our time in the utmost comfort, yet, deprived of seeing thee, the eye of our rejoicing would be darkened, and the vision of our fortune obscured; and we too have but one wish, and that is thy society and companionship; but for us to proceed on the earth’s surface and so to traverse a great and long distance is impossible, and for thee too to fly through the expanse of air and accompany us is impracticable; and such being the case, how can we travel together? or in what manner can we keep company?’ The Tortoise answered, ‘Your sagacity will be able to devise a remedy for this matter too, and the contrivance of this affair will be attained by your discernment, and what plan can I excogitate while my spirit is broken by the thought of separation, and my heart crushed with the load of parting?

The Geese replied, ‘O friend! during this period [of our friendship] we have observed in thee somewhat of levity and precipitancy and rashness: perhaps thou wilt not act upon what we say, nor keep firm to thy promise after thou hast made it?’ The Tortoise rejoined, ‘How can it be, that ye should speak with a view to my advantage, and I act in opposition, or fail to perform a compact which is for my own good?

Said the Geese, ‘The condition is that when we take thee up and fly through the air thou wilt not utter a single syllable, for any one who may happen to see us will be sure to throw in a word, and say something in reference to us directly or indirectly.¹⁶² Now how many soever addresses or allusions thou mayest hear, or whatever manœuvres thou mayest observe, thou must close the path of reply, and, good or bad [whate’er betide] not loose thy tongue.’ The Tortoise answered, ‘I am obedient to your commands, and I will positively place the seal of silence on my lips, so that I shall not be even disposed to answer any creature.’

The Geese then brought a stick, and the Tortoise laid hold of the middle of it firmly with his teeth, and they lifting the two ends of the stick, bore him up. When they got to a height in the air, they happened to pass over a village, and the people of the village having discovered them, were astonished at their proceedings, and came out to look at the sight, and raised a shout from left and right, ‘Look! how [two] geese are carrying a tortoise.’ And as in those days the like of it had never been witnessed by that people, their cries and exclamations increased every moment. The Tortoise held his peace for a time, but at length the cauldron of his self-esteem began to boil, and his patience being exhausted, he exclaimed,

No sooner had he opened his lips but he fell from on high. The Geese exclaimed, ‘The duty of a messenger is but to convey his message.’^162b It is the part of friends to give advice and of the fortunate and well-disposed^162c to listen to it.’

And the moral of this story is, that whoever listens not to the admonition of friends with the hearing of acceptance, will have hastened his own destruction and torn away the veil¹⁶³ of disgrace from the face of his own ignominy.

The male Sand-piper said, ‘I have heard this apologue that thou hast recited, and have become acquainted with its import; nevertheless, fear thou not and keep where thou art, for the faint-hearted and fearful never attain their wish; and I keep to what I have said, that the Genius of the Sea will see fit to be tender of us.’ The female laid her eggs, and when the young—rending the white vest of the shell—raised their heads from the collar of life, the sea, rolling onwards in waves, snatched them under the skirt of destruction. The female on witnessing the catastrophe, became agitated, and exclaimed, ‘O wretch! I well knew that there was no striving^163a with the waters. Now that thou hast destroyed our young and set my spirit on fire, at least devise some plan by which my lacerated feeling may be salved.’ The male replied, ‘Speak respectfully, for I keep to the promise thou dost wot of, and I will acquit myself of the vow I have made and wrest justice from the Genius of the Sea.’ He immediately went to the other birds, and having convened in one place all the leaders and chiefs of each class, he explained his case to them, and having requested their assistance and aid, began, in a voice of supplication, this song.

Unless all my friends act in concert and unison in this matter, and by a combined effort extort justice for me from the Genius of the Sea, his boldness will increase and he will afterwards attack the young of other birds: and when this custom has become established, and this habit been confirmed, we must tear away our hearts from our children and bid adieu to our country and our homes.

The birds, sad and dejected at what had happened, serried their pinions and hastened to present themselves at the court of the Símurgh, and caused the statement of what had occurred, to arrive at the place of representation, and said, ‘If thou feelest commiseration for thy subjects, thou mayest fitly be their king; but if thou hast no care for the distresses of the oppressed, and dost not sympathize with the injured, efface the writing of the sovereignty of the birds from the page of thy fortunes, and the title to be their guardian shall be made over to another.’

The Símurgh consoled them and set off from his metropolis with his servants and retinue, to repel that unfair attack, and the birds, encou raged by his aid and protection, turned their faces towards the shore of the Indian Ocean; and when the Símurgh with an army—the limits of whose ranks^164a could not be contained in the capacity of the computation of any accountant, and the number of whose lines and classes could not be weighed in the scales of surmise and possibility—

arrived near the sea, the morning breeze, which agitates the line of billows, conveyed that news to the Genius of the Sea, who not finding in his resources ability to contend with the Símurgh and the army of the birds, was compelled to put himself in the posture of supplication and restore the young of the Sand-piper.

Now my object in addressing this tale, is to shew that one ought not to despise any enemy though he may be very contemptible, for a diminutive needle may effect that to which the lofty spear is incompetent, and a burning stick from the fire, though it seem small to view, will consume whatever comes in contact with it; and the sages have said, ‘the friendship of a thousand persons will not countervail the hostility of one.’

Shanzabah said, ‘I will not commence the battle, that I may not be stigmatized with the infamy of ingratitude, but when the Lion attacks me I shall consider self-preservation and defence of my own person a duty. Damnah said, ‘When thou approachest the Lion, and seest that, having raised himself up, he is lashing the ground with his tail, and the flame of his wrath appears kindled like the fire of his eyes, know that he is about to attack thee.’ Shanzabah said, ‘Should anything of this sort be observable, undoubtedly the veil of suspicion will be removed from the cheek of certainty, and information will be afforded on the point of the perfidious intentions of the Lion.’ Damnah then, mirthful and inspirited, betook himself to Kalílah.

Kalílah inquired, ‘How have affairs progressed? and what is the upshot of the matter?’ Damnah made answer,

Praise be to God! the most complete solution of the matter has been effected, and this so difficult affair has been well and easily accomplished.’ Thus spake Damnah, while fate, with the tongue of retribution, was whispering the import of this couplet in the ear of the wise men of the assembly of discernment.

Then both set off to the Lion, and by chance the Ox arrived immediately on their traces. The Lion caught sight of the Ox, and the insinuations of Damnah produced the desired effect, and the Lion, beginning to roar, lashed the ground with the tail of fury, and ground his teeth together through excess of wrath. Shanzabah felt certain that the Lion meant to attack him, and said to himself, ‘The service of kings in terror and dread, and attendance on princes in fear and alarm, resemble being in the same house with a serpent, and lying under the same shelter with a lion. Although the snake may be asleep and the lion slumbering, in the end one will raise his head and the other open his jaws.’

He thus reflected and then prepared for battle. Each side beheld the signs that the shameless Damnah had pointed out to them, and commencing the conflict, spread their shoutings and cries through the extent of earth and the expanse of heaven.

Kalílah, beholding this spectacle, turned to Damnah, and said,

O unwise! seest thou or not the evil results of what thou hast done? and perceivest thou or not the disgraceful issue of thy proceedings?’ Damnah said, ‘What is the evil result?’ Kalílah answered, ‘In this act which thou hast perpetrated seven hurtful consequences are apparent. One is, that thou hast unnecessarily plunged thy benefactor into difficulty, and hast brought mighty trouble on the person of the Lion. The second is, that thou hast stirred up thy master so to act as to incur the stigma of a breach of promise and faithlessness, and has consented to this his dishonor. The third is, that thou hast considerably exerted thyself for the slaughter of the Ox, and hast submerged him in the whirlpool of destruction. The fourth is, that thou hast taken upon thine own neck the murder of that innocent creature who will be slain through thy efforts. The fifth is, that thou hast made a large number suspicious of the king, and it is probable that through fear of him they will abandon their country and betake themselves to some other place, and, wandering from their families, will sink under the woes of expatriation and the calamities of exile. The sixth is, thou hast exposed the generalissimo of the armies of the wild beasts to the possibility of destruction, and consequently the knot of their union may hereafter be left disordered. The seventh is, thou hast made thy own weakness and imbecility palpable, and hast not fulfilled that boast of thine, that thou wouldest manage this business with courtesy and kindness; and he is the most doltish of mankind^166b who rouses slumbering mischief, and desires to carry on by conflict and ferocity, an affair which admits of being arranged peacefully and with gentleness.’ Damnah replied, ‘Perhaps thou hast not heard what they have said,

Kalílah said, ‘In this affair, what point hast thou settled by the canon of reason? or how hast thou disposed thy plans by the aid of the architect of counsel, which not succeeding there was occasion to resort to violence and roughness? After all, dost thou not know that sound judgement and correct thought take the lead of courage and valor?

And thy infatuation and conceit of thine own opinion, and the manner in which thou art deluded by the pomp of this deceitful world—which, like the attractions of the mirage, possesses nought but mere semblance—were always known; but I hesitated to lay them open to thee, thinking that thou mightest take warning and awake and rouse thyself from the sleep of pride and negligence, and intoxication from the liquor of conceit and ignorance; but since thou hast passed all bounds, and every moment becomest more dizzy and distracted in the wilderness of error and the abyss of self-deception, it is time that I should recount some little of thy complete ignorance and darkness and excessive boldness and blind obstinacy, and reckon up—though it be but a drop from the ocean, and an atom from a mountain—a few of thy faulty speeches and foul acts.

Damnah said, ‘I believe, brother! that from the beginning of my life to this period, an unfitting word or improper action has never proceeded from me; yet if thou hast observed any fault in me, thou oughtest, assuredly, to represent it to me.’ Kalílah rejoined, ‘Thou hast numerous faults, and the first is, that thou imaginest thyself faultless; and next, that thy talk exceeds thy deeds: and they have said that there is no greater danger to a king than this, that the words of his minister should outstrip his actions. Now the people of this world are divisible into four classes as regards their words and actions. First, there is the man who says and does not, and this is the custom of hypocrites and misers. Secondly, there is he who does not speak but act, and this is the habit of gallant^167a men. The third is he who says and does, and this is the characteristic of men who know¹⁶⁸ how to pass through life. The fourth is he who neither says nor does, and this is the quality of the mean and sordid. And thou belongest to that class who say and do not invest their words with the ornament of action; and I have always found thy talk to outrun thy capacity; and the Lion, deluded by thy sayings, has been exposed to so perilous an affair as this, and if (which God prevent!) a calamity should befal him, anarchy and confusion would prevail in this region and the disorders and disquiet of the people would exceed all bounds, and the lives and property of all would incur the risk of plunder and spoilation, and the guilt of all this misery would be on thy neck.

Damnah replied, ‘I have always been a faithful minister to the king, and have planted nought in the orchard of his affairs save the shrub of wholesome advice.’ Kalílah rejoined, ‘A plant whose fruit is this proceeding which we now witness, were better plucked up by the root; and advice which produces such a result as this we now behold, ought rather never to have been spoken nor heard; and how can any advantage be looked for in thy discourse, when, in point of fact, it is not adorned with the ornament of deeds? Learning, without practice—like wax without honey—is devoid of all flavour; and talking without doing—like a tree without leaves and fruit—is only fit to be burned.

And men of eminence, have, with the pen of condescension, deigned to inscribe on the pages of their records, this writing, that there are six things from which it is impossible to derive advantage. The first is, talk without action: the second, wealth without prudence: the third, friendship without experience: the fourth, knowledge without virtue: the fifth, alms without pious intentions: the sixth, life without health.^168a And though a king be, in his own person, just and inoppressive, yet one ill-disposed and of foul character, will cut off from his subjects the benefits of their monarch’s justice and clemency, and from dread of his opposition the afflicting tale of the oppressed will never gain the honor of representation to the king, like water, sweet and limpid—in which the form of a crocodile is visible—wherein no swimmer, though athirst and even exceedingly parched, dare strike out with his arms or with his feet.’

Damnah replied, ‘My object in this transaction was simply to attain the honor of the king’s service.’ Kalílah answered, ‘Efficient servants and active attendants and experienced ministers, are the ornament and grace of the court of kings; but thou desirest that all others should be discharged from waiting on the Lion and that thou shouldst be the confidant and counsellor, and that intimate access to his majesty should be restricted to thyself alone; and this notion proceeds from complete ignorance and excessive want of understanding, for princes cannot be confined to any one thing or any single person, and kingly rank is like the possession of loveliness and beauty; for just as a charmer seeks the more to display her attractions, the more men are in love with her; so a king, too, the more numerous his attendants and the larger his retinue, is the more desirous of increasing his train and multiplying those about him. And this vain longing that thou entertainest, is a clear proof of excessive stupidity; as the sages have said, ‘Five things are marks of folly: first, to seek one’s own advantage by injuring others: secondly, to look for the rewards of the future life without mortifying the flesh,¹⁶⁹ and piety: thirdly, to make love to women with rough language and ill-temper: fourthly, to expect to learn the niceties of science in slothful indulgence and ease: fifthly, to expect friendship from men without being faithful, and observing the duties of a friend.’ And it is from excess of the kindly feeling that I entertain for thee, that I say these things; but it is as clear as the sun that the dark night of thy depravity will not be illuminated by the torch of my preaching. The gloom of ignorance and foulness of envy, which is interwoven in thy nature, will not be dispelled by the lustre of my counsels.

And my case, in relation to thee, is like what the man¹⁷⁰ said to that bird, namely, ‘Take not useless trouble nor waste thy words upon a set who are not inclined to listen to thee.’ It would not however give heed and was punished in the end.’ Damnah inquired, ‘How was that?’

Kalílah said, ‘They have related that a troop of monkeys had their abode in a mountain, and lived upon the fruits and herbage there. It befell that on a night more dark than the hearts of the guilty, and gloomier than the souls of men of ruined fortunes, the frost of winter began to assail them, and from the gust of a boisterous wind of icy chillness the blood in their bodies began to congeal.

The poor creatures, distressed by the cold, were seeking shelter, and having briskly girded themselves in search of it, were running about in every direction. On a sudden, beside the road, they beheld a piece of sugar-cane lying shining,^170c and, under the idea that it was fire, collected sticks and laid them about it, and commenced blowing, and a bird on a tree over against them called out ‘That is not fire,’ but they paid no attention, nor desisted from their unprofitable task. Meanwhile it happened that a man^170d came there and said to the bird, ‘Trouble not thyself, for by thy speaking they will not be deterred, and thou wilt meet with vexation.

And to exert oneself in correcting and amending such persons is like trying a sword upon a stone, or to seek from deadly poison the properties of a sovereign antidote.

When the bird saw that they did not attend to his words, from excess of kindness he came down from the tree in order that he might make them hear distinctly his advice, and admonish them against the futile toil they were undergoing. The monkeys collected round the bird, and separated his head from his body, and my dealings with thee have just the same character, and I do but waste my time and speak vain words, and besides that no advantage will accrue to thee, I am in danger too of being damaged.’

Damnah said, ‘O brother! the great have always fulfilled their duty faithfully towards their inferiors as regards advice and admonition, and have shunned partiality and dissimulation; and it is incumbent on men of real eminence to persevere in the due practice of counsel and exhortation, whether any one attends to them or not.’

Kalílah said, ‘I do not close the gate of advice against thee, but I am afraid that thou hast based thy affairs on perfidy and deceit, and hast adopted as thy practice, conceit and egotism: ‘The worst of qualifications is obstinacy.’ And when thy repentance comes, it will be unavailing, and however much thou mayest gnaw the back of thy hand and lacerate the surface of thy breast, it will be to no purpose, and a proceeding which is based on deceit and treachery will terminate in disgrace and conclude in dishonor. So it happened to the cunning partner; and the perniciousness of his stratagem turned out the noose of the snare of calamity, and closed on his own neck; while his careless associate, by the blessing of his uprightness and honest simplicity, attained his wish.’ Damnah said, ‘How was that?’

Kalílah said, ‘They have related that there were two associates, one of whom was shrewd and the other careless. The former, by his extreme acuteness and cunning, could cast a thousand spells upon the water, and him they called Sharp-Wit. The latter, from his excessive stupidity and dullness, could not discern between things profitable and injurious, and him they called Light-Heart. These two formed the intention¹⁷² of trading, and set out upon their travels in company with each other, and went on traversing many a stage and march. It chanced that they found a purse of gold in the way and viewing it as an unlooked-for piece of good-fortune, halted. The clever partner said, ‘O brother! there is in this world plenty of profit that is never realized. Now it appears to be best to be content with this purse of gold and to finish our lives in the nook of our cottages in unfettered ease.’

They then retraced their steps, and, entering the city, alighted at a lodging. The careless partner said, ‘O brother! come on, let us divide this gold, and freeing ourselves from anxiety, spend our several portions according to our several inclinations.’ The clever one replied, ‘It is not advisable to divide at present. Our judicious course would be to take such sums as we require for our immediate expenditure, and place the rest very carefully in deposit somewhere, and every certain number of days come and take from thence as much as we require, and preserve the remainder in the very same manner, which will be less perilous and more safe.’ The stupid partner was deluded by this specious talk, and met his plausible proposal with approval, and taking out cash enough to meet his present¹⁷³ wants, in the manner aforesaid, the rest they, in conjunction, buried under a tree; and directing their course towards the city, went and stopped, each in his own quarters.

The partner who affected to be astute went to the foot of the tree, and having dug out from the earth the gold, carried it off; and his careless associate, unaware of what had been done, was engaged in spending the cash he had, till nothing was left. He then came to the clever one, and said, ‘Come now, in order that we may take up something from that deposit, for I have become very much in want.’ The sharp fellow dissembling his knowledge of what had happened, said, ‘Very good.’ Then both came together to the foot of the tree, and the more they sought the less they found. Sharp-Wit then seized Light-Heart by the collar, saying, ‘Thou hast made away with this gold without any one’s knowing about it.’ The poor man swore and protested and bemoaned himself, but all in vain. In short, the matter came from wrangling to a summons before a judge, and from dispu-ting to an appeal to the law. The cunning partner took the careless one to the house of the Ḳáẓí, accused him, and recounted to the Ḳáẓí the particulars of the case and the tenor of the dispute, and after Light-Heart had denied it, the Ḳáẓí demanded of Sharp-Wit, proof in support of his charge. Whereupon Sharp-Wit replied, ‘Ḳáẓí! may God most high preserve thee!

I hope that the Glorious and Almighty God through His perfect power will give that tree the power of speech, in order that it may furnish testimony of the theft of this unjust and treacherous person who has carried off the whole amount of the gold, and deprived me of my share. The Ḳáẓí was astonished at these words, and after much discussion and long debate they came to this agreement, that the next day the Ḳáẓí should present himself at the foot of the tree, and call upon the tree to bear witness; and if its evidence should corroborate the charge, he should issue his commands in accordance with its testimony. The sharp partner went to his house, and having told the whole story to his father, withdrew the veil from the business and said, ‘O father! it was in reliance on thee that I formed the idea of the tree’s evidence, and in confidence of thy support that I planted this tree of artifice in the court of the judge, and the whole affair depends on thy kindness. If thou wilt agree to it we will carry off that gold, and get as much more¹⁷⁴ and pass the remainder of our lives in comfort and ease.’ The father asked, ‘What can it be, which depends upon me in this matter?’ The son answered ‘The centre of that tree is hollow to such an extent that if two persons were concealed in it they could not be seen. Thou must go to-night and stop in the tree until to-morrow when the Ḳáẓí comes and calls for testimony, then thou must give thy evidence in the usual manner.’ The father said, ‘O son! Give up the thought of deceit and trickery, for though they mayest deceive thy fellow-creatures, thou canst not deceive the Creator.’

Oh! many are the artifices that prove a source of ruin to their author, and the just recompense of which recoils on him, so that he is left disgraced and exposed to ignominy, and I fear lest thy deceit should turn out like the artifice of the Frog. The son inquired, ‘How was that?’

The Father said, ‘They have related that a Frog had taken up its abode beside a Snake, and fixed its dwelling hard by that cruel tyrant. As often as the Frog had young ones the Snake used to devour them, and pang her heart with the burning regret for the loss of her children. Now this Frog had a friendship with a Crab. One day she went to him and said, ‘O kind friend! excogitate for me some suitable device, for I have a powerful enemy and a mighty foe, against whom resistance is not to be thought of, and from whom it is not possible to remove or migrate,^174a for the spot where I have fixed my residence is an exceedingly pleasant place and heart-delighting abode. It is a meadow, the verdant environs of which are as exhilarating as the garden of heaven, and whose delicious breeze diffuses odour like the ringlets of the fair.

And no one would of his free choice abandon such a spot, nor withdraw his heart from this exemplar of the Paradise above.

The Crab said, ‘Do not distress thyself, for one can pinion a strong enemy with the lasso of deceit, and precipitate a powerful foe into the snare of stratagem.

The Frog said, ‘What problem from a book of stratagems hast thou solved with reference to this? And what remedy hast thou secured to repel the assault of this malevolent foe?’ The Crab replied, ‘In such and such a place there is an ichneumon, contentious and mettlesome. Catch some fish and kill them, and drop them from in front of his hole to the abode of the snake, in order that the ichneumon may devour them one by one, and keep going on in quest of another. It is quite certain that when he comes to the Snake’s hole, he will carry him off too, and liberate thee from his wicked injuries.’^175a The Frog by this plan, which was in comformity with the decree of fate, slew the Snake, and when after this occurrence two or three days had passed, the ichneumon felt and inclination to bestir himself in quest of fish to eat,^175b and repeat what he had now become accustomed to. He again set out in search of fish by the same road that he had previously measured with the foot of desire, and as he found no fish he devoured the Frog with all its young.

And I have adduced this story to thee that the conclusion of deceit is embarrassment and the end of fraud and treachery is repentance and humiliation.

The son said, ‘O father! curtail these speeches and suspend these remote and far-off anxieties, for this matter offers but little trouble and much advantage.’ The desire of gain and fondness for his son led the poor old man from the alighting-place of uprightness and religious principle into the wilderness of injustice and perfidy; and the recondite saying, ‘Verily your wives and your children are a temptation to you,’¹⁷⁶ was made patent. Having abandoned, then, the path of honorable feeling with neglect, and having entirely folded up the carpet of magnanimity, he thought fit to undertake a proceeding which is prohibited and forbidden both by law and custom, and in that dark night he placed himself in the tree, with a heart gloomy and foul. In the morning—when that judge of clear intelligence, the sun, showed himself in the tribunal of the sky, and the perfidy of black-visaged night became clear as day to mankind—the Ḳáẓí with a number of the notables, presented himself at the foot of the tree, and a crowd of people formed in lines to view the sight. The Ḳáẓí then turned his face towards the tree, and after stating the charge of the plaintiff and the denial of the defendant called upon him to explain the state of the case. Thereupon a voice issued from the tree,saying ‘Light-Heart has taken away the money and acted injuriously to Sharp-Wit, his partner.’ The Ḳáẓí was astonished, and sagaciously discerned that some one was concealed in the tree, and that some adroit contrivance would be required to capture him.

He then gave orders for them to collect a quantity of firewood, and deposit it round the tree, after which they set fire to it, so that they extorted a cry of anguish^176a from that imprudent and vain schemer. The covetous old man for some time bore with it, but when he saw that his life was in peril, he called for quarter, and the Ḳáẓí, having brought him out and comforted him, inquired how matters stood. The half-burned old man gave a true narration of what had occurred, and the Ḳáẓí, being informed of the circumstances, related to the people the honest disposition and forbearance of Light-Heart, and the perfidy and villainy of Sharp-Wit, and simultaneously with this, the fraudulent old man removed the furniture of life from this transitory world to the mansion of eternity, and in the heat of his burning worldly passions arrived in the flames of the next world’s penal fire. The son, too, after suffering the severest punishment and roughest usage, had to put the corpse of his father on his shoulders, and so betake himself to the city: while Light-Heart, through the blessing of his truth and honesty, and integrity and good parts, received back his gold and proceeded to occupy himself with his own matters.

And the moral to be drawn from the relation of this story is, that people may know that the final result of deceit is distasteful, and the conclusion of treachery is misfortune and contempt.

Damnah said, ‘Thou hast fixed on prudence the name of deceit, and given to counsel the title of fraud and perfidy. I have managed this affair with sound judgment and effected this important matter with just discernment.’ Kalílah replied, ‘Thou art at such a point in imbecility of judgment and weakness of counsel that the tongue fails in describing it, and such is thy position as to baseness of mind and overpowering greediness of place that explanation is helpless in narrating it. To thy master and benefactor, the advantages of thy craft and deceit are such as thou seest, so that in the end, what will be the punishment and torture which will overtake thee! for the infamy of thy double-face and double-tongue, will yield an evil result.’ Damnah rejoined, ‘What harm is there in having a double face? for the delicate rose by being double-faced, forms the ornament of the garden; and what fear from being double-tongued? for the pen of the minister with its two tongues, is the safeguard of property and land. The sword which has but one face—its office is to drink blood; while the comb, which has two faces, rests on the place where the hair is parted—on the forehead of the lovely.

Kalílah answered, ‘O Damnah! cease this rhetoric, for thou art not that double rose that the eye should be refreshed by gazing on thy beauty, but rather the heart-afflicting thorn from which nought but injury results to men; nor art thou that two-tongued pen that thou shouldest furnish information of the secrets of state and of the empire: nay, thou art the forked-tongued serpent, the wound of whose fang is nought but fatal poison. Moreover, the serpent, even, is better and more excellent than thou, for from one of his tongues comes poison, and from the other the antidote, while venom rains from both thy tongues, and neither has the vestige or trace of an antidote: and it is proper that from a man’s tongue all that is salutary should be produced for his friends, though if poison be brought forth for his foes, it is right enough; according as a sage has said,

Damnah said, ‘Leave off rebuking me, for, perhaps, a reconciliation will spring up between the Lion and Shanzabah, and the foundation of friendship and concord may be again laid.’ Kalílah replied, ‘This speech again belongs to the class of sayings which are fraught with impossibility; but thou, perhaps, hast not learned that three things are stable before the occurrence of three things, but, after that, their stability enters into the category of impossibilities, and their abiding into the class of things that cannot be. First, the water of a fountain and conduit is sweet so long as it has not reached the sea, but when it has joined the ocean, thenceforward purity and sweetness are not to be expected from it. Secondly, unanimity amongst relations continues so long as malevolent and wicked men have not intruded between them: but after the interference of evil and ill-disposed persons, harmony and concord in the circle of relatives and kinsmen are not to be looked for. Thirdly, the reservoir of companionship and friendship will continue clear so long as they allow tale-bearers and mischief-makers no opportunity of speaking; but when double-faced and double-tongued persons find the means of introducing their calumnies between two affectionate friends, no confidence can after that be placed in their friendship; and hereafter, if the Ox should escape from the claws of the Lion, it is not possible that he should be moved by his courtesies or kind speeches, or should show any eagerness for reconciliation and a renewal of confidence, and, even on the supposition that the gates of amity could remain open, each would be apprehensive of the other.’

Damnah said, ‘If I relinquish my attendance on the Lion, and keep assiduously to the border of my cot, and, seizing with the hand of eager purpose the skirt of the advantages of thy society, should place the head of seclusion in the collar of retirement, what then?’ Kalílah replied, ‘Heaven forbid that I should associate with thee longer, or incline again to thy society, and I have all along been kept in terror by intimacy with thee, and in my heart have unceasingly repudiated thy alliance. For the learned have said, ‘One should abstain from the society of the ignorant and depraved, and embrace the service of the sensible and good, since union with vicious and profligate persons is like fostering a snake. However great pains the snake-catcher may take in looking after the serpent, in the end it will give him a taste of poison from its gums;¹⁷⁹ and attendance on men of understanding and virtue resembles the tray of the perfumer, of which, though one may not get any of the contents, the sweet odour of its extract of roses will yet eventually fill his nostrils with fragrance.

O Damnah! how can one hope for faithfulness and kindness from thee?—thou who hast thought fit to practice such behaviour towards a king; and ignore the favors of him who has made thee his friend and honored [minister], his confidential adviser, and illustrious to such a degree, that, under the shadow of his fortunes, thou mountest elevated like the sun; and by means of attending on whose heaven-resembling threshold, thou dost place the foot of boasting on the forehead of the twin polar stars.

And from such a person, should I choose to remove myself a thousand leagues, a lofty understanding would hold me excused, and if I abandon the society of so worthless a person, reason will affirm that I have been rightly guided.^179a

And just as the companionship of the good and pious possesses immense advantages, so association with base and wicked persons produces infinite mischief, and the society of the bad is rapid in its effects, and its injurious results manifest themselves in a very brief period; wherefore it behoves him that is thoroughly wise to form friendship with men of wisdom and of praiseworthy conduct and veracious and amiable manners, and to avoid false, slanderous, unamiable and profligate companions.

And whoever chooses an unworthy friend or leans upon the aid of an ignorant person, will meet with what that Gardener met with.’ Damnah inquired, ‘How was that?’

Kalílah said, ‘They have related there was a Gardener who for a long time had been occupied with various kind of tillage, and had spent his fair life in the culture of gardens and pleasure-grounds. He possessed a garden whose Eden-typifying parterres, by the delightfulness of their shrubs, threw the dust of envy into the eyes of the gardener of Iram; and, by the freshness of their flowers and streamlets, infixed a scar on the breast of the flower-garden of Khawarnaḳ.^180a A peacock-like splendour shone on its many-coloured trees, and the radiance of the diadem of Káús^180b gleamed on its gold-bespangled flowers. The surface of its ground was bright like the cheek of a gem-covered beauty, and the breath of its zephyr was fragrant as the dwelling of an ambergris-selling artist. Its trees, youthful in promise, were, by the abundance of their fruits, back-bent like men of age; and its luscious^180c fruits, like the sweetmeats of Paradise, were fully ripened without the heat of fire. The hues of its vernal and autumnal fruitage reached the utmost verge of freshness and delicacy; and its apples, unfraught with evil,^180d like the chins of heart-ravishing silver-bodied beauties, made prey of hearts; and, by their lovely colour and exhilarating odour, brought a whole world into their fetters.

The pear suspended from each bough flagons of the water of life, with cups full of the sharbat of the sugar-cane, and, by the public proffer of an unartificial comfit,^181a stimulated the inclinations of the indolent devoid of capital and interest.

And the quince, clothed in wool, like vigil-keeping Ṣúfís,^181b thrust forth its head with its yellow cheeks from the bars of the monastery of creation, while its dust-discoloured countenance acquainted the grief-soiled hearts of lovers with the affection^181c of their moon-resembling mistresses.

The golden ball of the orange, amid the verdant foliage, was like the globe of the most bright sun shining in the azure^181d sky, and the gilded censer of the citron, with its heart-delighting odour and exhilarating perfume, was flashing in the court of the garden.

On one side was the incomparable fig, the description of whose excellence has been placed by the hand of Omnipotence on the leaf of [the verse] ‘By the fig,’¹⁸² and in which the same hand has mingled a sweet confection from the poppy and sugar-candy,^182a and on the other side grew the pellucid grape, the recital of whose perfections has been described by the pen of infinite wisdom on the illustrious page, ‘And we cause corn to spring forth therein, and grapes,’^182b—like a moist blister that has started up on the palm of the green leaf; and, on the edges of the parterres, the gold-striped circular melons, with tender down and fair^182c cheeks, showed themselves, like the full moon, which appears on the horizon of the cerulean sky.

And the old peasant was so much attached to each tree, that he felt neither paternal^182e cares nor solicitude for offspring; and passed his time in that garden in solitude. But, to be brief, he at last became oppressed by the horror of loneliness, and much dejected by the dread his solitary and separate life inspired.

In short, heart-sore from the grief of being alone, he came forth to wander in the plain, and, at the skirt of the mountain, which stretched out limitless as the area of the expanse of hope, he was walking onward, when, by chance, a Bear, too, of uncouth manners and ungainly form, of unpleasant aspect and foul nature, had, by reason of feeling lonely, turned its face from the top of the mountain downward. The moment they met, on both sides, through the similarity of their nature,¹⁸³ the chain of kindly feeling was put in motion, and the heart of the peasant became inclined to the society and companionship of the Bear.

The inexperienced Bear, observing the civility of the peasant, became completely attached to his society, and at a slight signal, placed his head at his feet and entered that Paradise-resembling garden, and by the peasant’s presenting and honoring him with those delicious fruits, the friendship between them was cemented and the root of the plant of amity became firmly implanted in the ground of each of their hearts.

And whenever the Gardener, from excessive fatigue, placed the head of tranquillity in the shade of repose on the pillar of rest; the Bear, from motives of love and affection, sate beside his pillow and drove away the flies from his face.

One day the Gardener had reclined and gone to sleep in his accustomed manner, and a number of flies collected on his face. The Bear was occupied in driving them off, but, however often he dislodged them, they presently returned, and when he repelled them on this side they made an onslaught on the other. The Bear waxed wroth, and lifting up a stone of twenty mans’ weight^183c—inwardly resolving to kill the flies—dashed it down on the face of the hapless peasant. The flies suffered no harm from the terrible blow of that stone, but the old Gardener was reduced to dust: and hence the sages have said that a wise enemy is every way better than an ignorant friend.

And I have related this story with this object, to show that friendship with thee presents the same result as if one’s head should be exposed to destruction and one’s breast be the target for the shafts of calamity.

Damnah said, ‘I am not so imbecile as not to distinguish that which is for my friend’s advantage from what is injurious to him, or not to discriminate between what is good and evil with respect to him.’ Kalílah replied, ‘I acknowledge that thou hast not reached this degree of folly, but the dust of selfishness makes the eyes of the heart dark and blinded. It is to be expected that from some interested motive, thou wilt neglect thy friend and get ready a thousand incongruous evasions to excuse thyself, just as in the matter of the Lion and Shanzabah, thou hast stirred up all this treason and still layest claim to innocence and goodness, and the case of thee with thy friends is like the case of that Merchant, who said, ‘In a city where a mouse devours a hundred mans of iron, what wonder if a sparrow-hawk should carry off a lad?’ ‘Damnah inquired, ‘How was that?’

Kalílah said, ‘They have related that a Merchant of small means was going on a journey; with prudent forethought he placed a hundred mans of iron in deposit in the house of a friend, in order that if an emergency should arise he might make that his capital, and thus support the thread of his existence. When the Merchant had brought his journey to an end, and had again reached his destination, he found himself in want of the iron, but the friend who had taken it in trust had sold the iron and expended what he got for it. One day the Merchant went to him to demand the iron. The trustee brought him into the house, and said, ‘O sir! I had laid by that iron in deposit in a corner, and felt quite secure, not having observed a mouse’s hole there, and, before I found it out, the mouse had taken advantage of the opportunity and had eaten up the whole of the iron.’ The Merchant replied, ‘Thou speakest the truth, for mice have a great fondness for iron, and their teeth have great power over such a juicy and tender morsel.

The trustworthy and veracious man was delighted at hearing these words, and said to himself, ‘This silly Merchant has been deceived by my speech, and has given up all thoughts of the iron. I can do nothing better than give him an entertainment, and in his reception observe all the ceremonious requirements that are usual, so as to settle the affair.’ He then invited the Merchant to a feast, and said,

The Merchant replied, ‘To-day a matter of importance has occurred, but I promise that I will return early nextmorning. He then left the [fraudulent trustee’s] house and carried away a son of his, and having concealed him in his own dwelling, presented himself in the morning at his entertainer’s door. The host, in great distress, loosed the tongue of apology, saying, ‘O worthy guest! hold me excused, for ever since yesterday a son of mine has been lost, and I have two or three times had him cried in the city and environs, and have gained no tidings of the missing one.

The Merchant answered, ‘Yesterday when I came forth from thy house I saw a lad of the description you give carried off by a hawk, which, flying, bore him though the air.’ The trustee screamed out, ‘O devoid of understanding! why dost thou utter that which is impossible? and why expose thyself to the charge of lying so enormously? A hawk, whose whole body does not weigh half a man,¹⁸⁵ how could it lift and bear through the air a lad weighing ten mans?’ The Merchant laughed and said, ‘Be not surprised at this!—in the city where a mouse can devour a hundred mans of iron, a mousing hawk too can fly off in the air with a lad of ten mans’ weight. The fiduciary perceived how matters stood and said, ‘Be not troubled, for the mouse has not eaten the iron.’ ‘Be not distressed,’ rejoined the other, ‘for the hawk has not carried away thy son. Return the iron and take back thy son.’

And I have adduced this story that thou mayest know that among a set, where treason to one’s benefactor is admissible, it is clear enough what they would think permissible towards others; and since thou hast allowed thyself to act thus towards the king, others can have no hope left of finding thee faithful, nor any expectation of thy fulfilling thy duties. And I see clearly that it is necessary to keep aloof from the darkness of thy evil deeds, and that it is incumbent on me to avoid the blackness of thy deceit and treachery.

When the conversation of Kalílah and Damnah had reached this point, the Lion had finished the business of the Ox, and had laid him prostrate in dirt and gore. As soon, however, as the Lion had made an end of Shanzabah with the claws of chastisement and had delivered the expanse of the forest from his presence, and when the violence of his rage had diminished and the fury of his wrath was allayed, he fell a-thinking and said to himself, ‘Alas! for Shanzabah, with all his goodness, and understanding, and judgment, and talents. I know not whether I have acted in this matter rightly or made a false step, nor whether in what they have reported to me of him they have discharged their duty faithfully or trodden the path of treachery. I at least by allowing myself to be urged on to this, have involved myself in a misfortune, and with my own hand have made my faithful friend drink of the potion of death.

The Lion hung down his head remorsefully, and loosing the tongue of reproach, inveighed against his own folly and rash haste; and the spectre of Shanzabah seemed, by his piteous plight, as with words,¹⁸⁶ to convey to the ears of the Lion the purport of this quatrain.

The perpetual smile of the Lion was changed from grief at this event into weeping, and his constitutional heat was doubled by the violent burning of this occurrence.

Damnah, who beheld from a distance the traces of regret manifest on the countenance of the Lion, and marked the tokens of repentance upon his front, broke off his dialogue wlth Kalílah, and going before the Lion, said,

What is the cause of thy pensiveness and what the reason of thy meditation? Where is a time happier and a day more auspicious than this when the king moves proudly to the post of triumph and victory, and the enemy is groveling in the dust of disgrace and the gore of defeat?’

The Lion said, ‘As oft as I recal the respectful service, the various converse, the proofs of wisdom, and^187a the many abilities of Shanzabah, I am overcome with pity and grief, and distress overwhelms me: and, in truth, he was the prop and support of the army, and my retainers, by his aid, rapidly increased in prowess.’

Damnah replied, ‘There is no ground for the king to pity that ungrateful traitor, but rather to offer the thanksgivings due to God for this triumph which has been attained, and to unclose the gates of gladness and rejoicing in the court of the heart for this victory which has presented itself.

We must regard this auspicious blazonry of conquest with which the register of successful fortune is adorned, and this august heralding of victory, with which the chronicle of happiness is ornamented, as a high preface and sublime opening to the pages of time.

O monarch! asylum of the world! to pardon one from whom our life is insecure is a fault, and it is the act of wise men to confine a state-enemy in the prison of the grave. The finger which is the ornament of the hand and the instrument of grasping and retaining, should a serpent inflict a wound upon it, is cut off; and men regard the pain of this operation as the very spring of comfort.

The Lion was somewhat soothed by these words, but time exacted just retribution for the Ox, and in the end the career of Damnah closed ignominiously and with disgrace, and the plant of his evil deeds and the seed of his false words coming up, he was slain in vengeance for the Ox, and the results of perfidy and deceit have ever been uncommendable, and the consequences of fraud and malevolence to be deprecated and inauspicious.

The King said, ‘I have heard the story of the calumniator and traducer, who, with consummate craft, clothed the beauty of truth with the guise of suspicion, and having caused his benefactor to swerve from the path of generous feeling, led him to incur the stigma of ingratitude and bad faith; and, after his words, mingled with guile, had made an impression, induced the Lion to exert himself to ruin the pillar of his state and crush the support of his own imperial sway. At the present time, should the eloquent sage see it to be advisable, let him recount the termination of Damnah’s career, and set forth in what manner the Lion, when, after the occurrence of that event, he had returned to his senses and become suspicious with regard to Damnah, sought to remedy what had happened, and how he obtained information of the circumstances of his perfidy, and by what shifts Damnah contrived to hold on,¹⁸⁹ and what stratagem his friend devised, and what was the issue of his affairs at last. The sage said,

In truth, prudence and foresight require that kings should not stir the instant they hear anything, nor despatch a mandate with reference thereto, until they have been informed of the certainty of the affair by clear proof and lucid demonstration.

But after that the words of designing persons have chanced to persuade, and an unpraiseworthy action or speech which cannot be commended has actually gone forth, the remedy and amends would be to punish the calumniating sycophant in such wise as might serve for a warning to others; and, from dread of that chastisement, no one would pursue the same conduct in future, and thus it would be a duty to warn all to abstain from the like behaviour.

And the story of the Lion and Damnah verifies this dictum, for when the former got intelligence of the perfidy of the latter, and was apprised of his deceit and wickedness, he inflicted on him such a punishment that the eye of heedfulness in the others was enlightened, so that they made the verse, Wherefore take example from them, O ye who have eyes!’¹⁹⁰ the continual task of recitation of their tongue. And the manner of this event was in this wise: when the Lion had finished the business of the Ox, he repented of the precipitancy he had shown in that affair, and bit the finger of contrition with the tooth of reproach, and laid the head of regret on the knee of amazement.

He was ever musing, pensively saying, ‘Why did I act precipitately in this matter,’ and continually reflected, ‘Wherefore did I not manage this affair with caution and deliberation?’

The Lion passed a long time in this manner in grief and chagrin, and in consequence of his dejection of mind and distracted feelings, the enjoyment of the beasts was suspended and the state of his subjects became one of distress, and the deep saying, ‘People follow the faith of their kings,’ diffused its influence through the inhabitants of that forest, so that all of them became melancholy and sad.

And he was incessantly recalling to mind the meritorious services, aid and former devotion of Shanzabah; and as his sorrow grew, confusion and distress overpowered him, and he was wont to find consolation in talking of his sayings or acts, or in hearing him spoken of.

He continually gave private audiences to each one of the beasts, and required them to narrate. One day he was conversing with a leopard on this subject, and was describing his heart-burnings and the disquietude of his soul. The leopard said, ‘O, King! to brood much over a business in which the hand of counsel falls short of the skirt of remedy, leads to madness, and to seek a cure for a matter which is inscribed in the circle of impossibilities, lies not in the centre of reason and understanding; and sages have said,

And whoever exerts himself in searching for a thing which it is impossible to gain, may possibly, without obtaining what he is in quest of, let slip that too which he already has; just as the fox desired to get possession of the fowl, and lost the piece of skin of which he had boasted.’ The Lion inquired, ‘How was that?’

The leopard said, ‘They have related that a hungry Fox had come forth from his hole in quest of food, and was roaming about in every direction and was measuring the forest sides with the step of greediness and avidity in search of a morsel. Suddenly an odor which invigorated his soul reached his nostrils. Turning on the scent of it he saw a fresh piece of skin, the flesh of which had been eaten by some wild beast that had left the hide. When the eyes of the Fox lit upon that piece of skin they brightened up, and the greatest vigor was diffused through his limbs at viewing that quantity of food.

The Fox, having got that piece of skin into the claw of possession, turned his face towards his own abode.

In the midst of the way he happened to pass beside a village, where he beheld fat fowls busy feeding in the wide plain, while a slave named Zírak¹⁹¹ had girt the loins of guardianship in watching them. The Fox’s appetite for the flesh of the fowls was excited, and the delightful idea of the brains of their heads made him forget the piece of skin. In the midst of this state of things a Jackal chanced to pass by that hamlet. He inquired, saying, ‘O brother! I observe that thou art very thoughtful. What event has occurred and what occurrence has taken place?’ The Fox replied, ‘O friend! Thou seest those fowls, the tongue of whose individual condition continues to repeat the meaning of [the verse], ‘And the flesh of birds of the kind which they shall desire,’¹⁹² and the mysterious meaning of [the verse], ‘Therein shall ye have that which your souls shall desire,’^192a pervades them from head to foot.

And after a long interval during which I have suffered from the pains of want and the torments of hunger, the treasurer of the stores of God’s bounties bestowed on me this piece of skin, and now the craving of appetite requires to get one of these fowls into its grasp, and cloy the palate of desire with the sweetness of its flesh, which possesses the deliciousness of life.

The Jackal said, ‘Alack! alack! a long time has passed over me, during which I have been in ambush for these fowls, and on the watch to make a prey of one of them, but that slave Zírak, who is their guide, keeps his eye on the path of protection after such a fashion, that the huntsman of imagination, from dread of his guardianship, cannot bring their forms under the net of his scheming; and the painter of the mind, from fear of his defensive care, is unable to draw their lineaments on the tablet of fancy; and I pass my life in this longing, and live from day to night and from night to day on a mere idea. Thou that hast found a fresh piece of skin, regard it as a piece of good-fortune, and relinquish this vain pretension.

The Fox said, ‘O brother! till we can elevate ourselves according to our heart’s wish upon the higher apsis of desire, to sit down disappointed in the lower apsis of mortification and abasement would be a great pity; and until we can gaze on the rose of enjoyment in the parterre of repose, to direct our steps into the thorny wake of adversity and suffering would be a glaring fault.

And high spirit does not suffer me to cower over an insipid piece of skin, and give up the thought of the delicious flavour of fat flesh.’ The Jackal replied, ‘O thou of vain longings! to reprehensible greediness thou hast given the name of high spirit, and on culpable cupidity thou hast imposed the title of the preamble¹⁹³ of greatness, and art insensible to the maxim that greatness is in the poverty of the darvesh, and happiness in contentment.

Thou hast no better course than to be content with the portion which they have assigned to thee from the court of ‘Our daily bread is allotted by fate,’ and not tamper with vain and unsuitable aims, to which the result, ‘Whoever seeks what does not concern him, verily he relinquishes what does concern him,’ is attached.

And I fear that through this impertinent scheming thou wilt lose that piece of skin also, and wilt thyself be overthrown, and there is a close resemblance between thy story and the case of that Ass who sought a tail and lost his ears also.’ The Fox inquired, ‘How was that?’

The Jackal said,

The Fox, from excessive greediness and avidity, frowned and said,

Do thou survey the spectacle how I, by adroit stratagems, will get possession of a fat fowl, and behold with what artifice I will draw a comely prey into the net of possession.’ He said this, and turning towards the fowls, he left the skin in that same spot. The Jackal, when he saw that his advice made no impression on the obstinate mind of the Fox, turned his face away from him, and made off to his own abode. Meanwhile, a kite that was hovering there, chanced to observe that piece of skin, and imagining it to be a dead animal, brought it, with the utmost speed, into the area of its own possession, and soared up into the sky. In the other direction, the Fox had not as yet got near the fowls, when Zírak jumped out from his hiding-place and threw a walking-stick at him. As soon as the stroke of it came upon the fore-foot of the Fox, the poor animal, in fear of his life, tore away his thoughts from the fowl, and in the utmost hurry, stumbling along,¹⁹⁴ made for that piece of skin. When he reached the destined spot, not a trace of the skin did he see. He then turned his face towards the point of prayer, and was about to make a piteous detail of his misfortunes, when just as he was weeping over his hard case, he beheld the kite carrying the piece of skin in its claws, as it exclaimed,

The Fox, from grief at missing the fowl and regret at losing the skin, beat his head against the ground till his brains were dashed out. And the reason of inventing this story is, that the king has destroyed with his own hand one of the Pillars of the state, and gives no heed to the edification of the remaining nobles, and neglects to encourage the hearts of his courtiers and to show favor to his chiefs and the leaders of his army. Shanzabah has been slain and nothing will bring him back, but the other ancient ministers remain aloof from the service.

The Lion, after much reflection, said, ‘This speech is the essence of good counsel and loyalty, but with regard to Shanzabah I have committed a great fault, and the chief part of my distress is to compensate for it.’

The leopard said, ‘The remedy and compensation for it is not obtainable by grieving but will be procured by right counsel and just judgment.

The advisable course is that the king of beasts should cease from lamenting and mental discomposure, and base his actions on deliberation, and proceed in the affair of Shanzabah and in the investigation of what befell him in such a manner that the right and wrong of it may be clearly manifested to his sagacious mind; and if that which they brought to the ears of the king respecting Shanzabah be really true, he, by his own act, arrived at the punishment of his own perfidy and the retribution of his treason. But if they have uttered calumnies regarding him and have made false statements, then must the slanderers and sycophants be made a target for the arrow of vengeance.

The Lion said, ‘Thou art the vazir of the kingdom, and I have long been proud of thy judicious procedure, and have made thy foresight my guide and example in securing advantages and repelling misfortunes. Take up this matter in whatever way clear reason and lucid intelligence may require and extricate me from the whirlpool of distress.’ The leopard engaged that he would, in a short time, present to the bright notice of the king the real state of this affair, and not leave under the veil of concealment or the curtain of delay one particle of the minutest points of its full ascertainment.

The Lion was comforted by this promise, and, as it was late, the leopard demanded his congé, and betook himself to the fulfilment of his promise. It chanced that he passed by the abode of Kalílah and Damnah, and he observed that a dispute was going on between them, and that loud words were spoken by both parties. Now the leopard had from the first been suspicious of Damnah. At this time, when the sound of talking and expostulation reached his ears from their dwelling, his doubts were augmented. He advanced and and standing behind the wall, opened the ear of attention to their words. Kalílah said, ‘O Damnah! thou hast done a great deed and embarked in a mighty affair, and having led the king to a breach of faith, thou hast caused him to be associated with utter perfidy, and thou hast kindled the flame of mischief and disorder among the beasts and wild animals, and I do not feel secure that the punishment thereof may not each moment come upon thee, and that thou mayest not be overtaken by the trouble and exposure consequent thereupon.

And I know that when the inhabitants of this wild become acquainted with thy act, no one will hold thee excused nor lend their aid to rescue thee; nay, all will be unanimous in voting for slaying thee and putting thee to the torture, and it is not advisable for me after this to dwell with thee; for they have said,

Get up and unite thyself in friendship with some other comrade, and hereafter refrain from converse or intercourse with me, for thou wilt get no more friendship or companionship from me.’ Damnah said, ‘Dear friend!

Lay not the beginnings of separation and exclude me not from thy society, nor reproach me any more in the matter of Shanzabah, for to recall a thing which is past does but cause chagrin, and to deliberate on a matter which comes not into the area of remedy, belongs to the class of impossibilities. Put from thy thoughts this vain regret, and turn them towards mirthfulness and freedom from care, since one foe has set out for the world of nonentity, and the atmosphere of desire has been cleared from the dust of doubt, and the cupbearer of the wish has poured the draught of tranquillity into the goblet of joy, and the portals of hope have been opened wide to the face of success, and the bud of expectation has bloomed in the bed of happy tidings.’

Kalílah said, ‘Notwithstanding that thou hast deviated from the path of generous conduct, and hast overthrown the pedestal of magnanimity with the axe of perfidy, thou still expectest to be free from anxieties, and hopest that thy time will pass in safety and happiness.

Damnah said, ‘It is not that I was unaware of the shame of perfidious conduct, or the retributive consequences of deceit and fraud, or that the villany of slander and the odiousness of selfish machinations was concealed from me. But the love of place and the greediness of wealth, and the irresistible influence of envy incited me to such conduct, and as things are now situated, I know no remedy for this business, nor am I able to devise any cure for it.

The leopard, having heard this segment of their discourse, and having learned the true state of the case, went to the Lion’s mother and said, ‘I will communicate a secret on condition that the queen will be pleased to promise that without urgent cause she will not suffer it to be disclosed.’ Then after many oaths and promises and injunctions [to secresy,] he fully recounted all that had passed between Kalílah and Damnah, and minutely repeated the reproaches of Kalílah and Damnah’s confession. The Lion’s mother was astonished at the details of this adventure, and next day came, according to her usual custom, to see the Lion. She found him excessively sad and pensive, and inquired saying, ‘O son! what is the cause of thy trouble and perturbation?

The Lion said, ‘The slaughter of Shanzabah and the remembrance of his qualities and excellent gifts, is the sole cause of my grief, and however much I try, the recollection of him will not depart from my mind nor will my heart forget his memory.

As often as deliberation is held on affairs of state, and I feel the want of an attached well-wisher and kind counsellor, and a faithful friend, and a minister on whom I can rely, the phantom of Shanzabah comes before me and says,

The mother of the Lion said, ‘In aiding the light of certainty to overpower the gloom of doubt and conjecture there is no evidence like the testimony of a pure heart, and the king’s language leads one to understand that his heart bears witness to the innocence of Shanzabah, and assuredly since he was not put to death on lucid evidence and convincing testimony, and since the interested informer, under the form of advice, set forth his condition in a way opposite to the truth; hence every moment fresh regret springs up and unbounded remorse is occasioned, and if what they conveyed to the king had been pondered over and the courser of ire had been curbed with the bridle of patience, and thou hadst removed the darkness of that doubt with the light of clear intellect, at this moment¹⁹⁸ thou wouldest not have fallen into the snare of repentance nor wouldest thou have placed the volume of gladness and cheerfulness upon the shelf of non-existence.

The Lion said, ‘O mother! as thou hast said, in this affair my passion got the better of my reason, and the fire of wrath burned up the foundation of mildness, and now there is no remedy for a matter which is included in the category of impossibilities, save to waive the thought of it. That, however, may be regarded as the worst of states in which my subjects have made me the target of the arrow of reproach, and have cast upon my name the lot^198a of unfaithfulness and cruelty, and however diligently I strive to bring home to the Ox a plain case of treason, and to prove against him the commission of a crime, in order that I may be absolved by others for slaying him, and may remove myself from the opprobrious remarks of those who know me and the sarcasms of strangers, it is no wise attainable or assured to me. The unfortunate Shanzabah had both a clear mind and pleasing manners, and with all these qualities it is not possible to charge him with what envy slanderously imputes to him, and such a person cannot be of the class that foul desires or vain longings should find a lodgment in his brain, so that he could have revolved my death or thought of warring with me. And, moreover, with regard to him, there has been no neglect of various kind offices or forms of favor, which might have become a link to hostility and aversion and the means of enmity and contention; and my wish is to use extreme efforts in investigating this matter, and to conduct the inquiry into these reports to the very limits of excess, and though this regret is unavailing, and that misfortune will not find a cure by this suit, still it may be that my mind may be consoled by it and the mischievous slanderer may be chastised, and my excuse may be admitted by men.¹⁹⁹ And if thou hast known anything on this or heard any tidings, favor me with the information and advice.’ The Lion’s mother said,

I have heard a thing, but the disclosure of it is not admissible, and I have discovered a delicate matter, but to reveal it is not allowable. For certain of thy ministers have charged me to conceal it, and have been urgent with me beyond measure to hide it, ‘The hearts of the noble are the sepulchres of secrets.’

And the king knows that to publish a secret is utterly wrong, and to reveal what men would hide is inexpressibly mischievous; and were it not that the wise have enjoined us to avoid that quality, I would have detailed the whole, and would have swept away the dust of grief from the court of the heart of my beloved and fortunate son?’ The Lion said, ‘The glosses of the wise and the sayings of philosophers, are numerous. If one party of them have been commanded to abstain from disclosing secrets they had in view, the welfare and safety of the speaker and others, too, have enjoined the revelation of them for the public advantage, where the common weal may be conceived to be therein. And if any one has unjustly aimed at the life of one of the faithful, and confides this secret to another, and imparts it to him with great and strict oaths, and displays excessive earnestness in enjoining its concealment, and that confidant—for the preservation of the life of that Muslim,—reveals the secret and acquaints the person [whose life is in danger] with that information, in order that he may look to his affairs; he will, undoubtedly, not be censurable by the law, nor will he be exposed to the rebuke of God; and to keep back a secret in circumstances like these, shews an agreement with the base, and it is possible that the conveyer of this intelligence, by disclosing this secret desired to clear himself^199a and make over the care of it to the surety of thy keeping, or he may have been afraid of me, and made use of thee as the medium of communication. I hope that thou wilt acquaint me with it and act as befits thy counsel and affection.

The mother of the lion said, ‘This intimation which thou hast given is worthy of the highest praise, and the purport of what thou hast set forth is worthy of much commendation; but the disclosure of secrets has two palpable and absolute faults. The first of these is, the enmity of that person who, in reliance on another, has made him the confidant of his secrets: the second is, the suspicion of others; for when a person has become notorious for rending veils and revealing the secrets of men, after that no one will impart anything to him, nor account him fit to be a confidant: he becomes both banished from the eyes of his friends, and overtaken, too, by the gibes of his enemies.

And I have seen in the sayings of the wise that, ‘He whose secret does not slumber, his mischief will not slumber,’—whoever does not conceal, in the casket of non-existence, the gem of his secret, that secret will assuredly set up a flag against his life. And it has become proverbial, that whoever lets his secret go out of his hands, gives his head in exchange for it.

But perhaps thou hast not heard the story of that Equerry who ventured to tell the king’s secret, and in the end gave up his head for it,’ The Lion said, ‘How was that?’

The lioness said, ‘In times gone by there was a king, by the ornament of whose justice the throne of empire was adorned and ennobled, and the splendor of whose unstinted bounties shone over all the provinces of his realm.

One day he had gone out to hunt, and at a time when the hunting-ground²⁰⁰ was close at hand, and every one was engaged in conducting the business which belonged to his post, he said to his Equerry, ‘I wish to race my horse with thine, for I have for a long time desired to know whether the speed of this black, on which I am mounted, is greater than that of the pie-bald which thou art riding.’ The Equerry, in accordance with the command of his prince, began to put his horse to its speed, and the king gave the rein to his fleet courser. As soon as they had got to a distance from the chase, the king pressed down his stirrups and reined in his horse, and said, ‘O Equerry! my intention in coming this distance, is, that at this moment a thing has entered my mind, and an anxiety has overpowered my heart, and of all the special attendants of our presence, no one is fit to be the confidant of this secret, wherefore I wished to retire to this privacy, and—in such way that none should suspect—tell this secret to thee.’ The Equerry made the obeisance due, and said,

Although this despicable atom perceives not himself to be meet for this, but as the brilliancy of the hue of the royal favor has condescended to bestow on me the shade of fortune, I hope that the morning zephyr, which is the confidant of the secrets of the truths of spring, will not scent a portion of the fragrance of this parterre; and the heart, notwithstanding that it is the treasury of this coin, will not be able to advance to the limits of this intelligence.

The King commended him, and said, ‘I am exceedingly in dread of my brother, and I have this day read, from the page of his movements, the writing of injurious designs,²⁰¹ and I have clearly observed that he has girt up the loins of malice for my destruction, and I have determined^201a that, before he can do mischief, I will remove the stone of his existence from my road, and clear the garden of the realm from the affliction of his thorn.

Thou must keep a constant watch on his actions, and perform all that vigilance requires for my safeguard and protection.’ The Equerry bowed, and having taken upon himself the business of guarding and concealing the matter, confirmed this by many assurances, and he had as yet not reached his place, when he inscribed the writing of faithlessness on the volume of his transactions, and turning aside from the path of loyalty and confidence, set his foot in the wilderness of perfidy and ingratitude.

The Equerry, having sought an opportunity, threw himself at the feet of the sulṭán’s brother, and exposed to his gaze the story in the way that he had heard it. The king’s brother received this favor from him with prompt payment, and with many promises and innumerable gifts, bestowed on him advancements, and, by judicious counsel, secured himself from injury from his brother. In a short time, as is the wonted vicissitude of fortune and the uncertainty of position, the spring of the fortunes of that brother to the king changed to the autumn of ruin, and the bud of his prosperity on the plant of his life shed its leaves.

And when the royal cushion and imperial throne was emptied of the adornment of the regal splendour of the elder brother, the younger set his foot on the step of the throne of sovereignty, and exalted the crown of royalty by placing it on the head of success.

The first order that passed the lips of the king, and the earliest mandate for the delivery of which the imperial signal was given, was for the death of that Equerry. The unfortunate wretch loosed the tongue of supplication, saying,

What is my crime save that of affection and loyalty to thee?’

The king pronounced this fiat, ‘The worst of crimes is to divulge secrets, and that crime has been committed by thee, and after that thou hast failed to keep the secret of my brother, who selected thee for his confidant from all his attendants, what reliance can I have in thee?

However much the Equerry bemoaned himself, it was unavailing, and he was overtaken by the regal chastisement, and forfeited his head for the betrayal of the secret.²⁰²

And the moral for the king to draw from the invention of this story is, that the divulging secrets has a bad result, and to disclose men’s secret matters yields not the fruit of happiness.’ The Lion said, ‘Kind mother! he who betrays his own secret, intends that it should go abroad, otherwise he ought to be his own confidant; and after he has made known to another what was hidden in his mind, he should not be hurt if that other should disclose it to a third; for when one cannot draw one’s own load, it is no wonder if another also cannot support the burthen.

And, moreover, when a person by disclosing a secret makes known what it is right should be known; in that case, though they may account the disclosure a fault, still the revealing what ought to be known may serve to cover that fault. I trust that thou wilt oblige me by stating what it is right to state and thus remove the load of grief from my heart; and if thou canst not tell it openly, thou wilt let me understand its nature by hints, and though thou wilt not detail it in plain language, thou wilt at least not withhold it from me by signs.’ The lion’s mother replied, ‘On condition that thou wilt bring to punishment that evil-doer who has stirred up the dust of this mischief, and that thou wilt conceal the beauty of forgiveness from his audacious eye, which is blinded to the path of truthfulness and rectitude. And although the learned in the faith and those versed in the knowledge of the true God, have used the strongest expressions as to the excellence of mercy and the pre-eminence of beneficence, and have stimulated and urged men to the adoption of that habit, still, in the case of crimes whose effect may extend to the mischief of the world, and the detriment of which may be diffused through the natures of mankind, punishment is better than mercy. And in requital of this offence—the injury of which has fallen on the king’s mind, and has stained the skirt of his purity and good faith with the defilement of perfidy and treachery—should no vengeance be taken, it would serve to embolden other incendiaries, and the pretence^202a of the tyrannical would be confirmed, and everyone would regard it as a license to be relied on, and a pattern on which dependence could be placed for cruelty and wicked acts. Wherefore, in this place, pardon and connivance must not be allowed scope and in accordance with the irrefragable mandate, ‘And in this law of retaliation ye have life,’^202b the remedy must be regarded as one of things requisite.

The drift of this preamble is that the perfidious Damnah, who persuaded the king of the world to this deed, is a sycophant and a slanderer, and wicked, and a villain.’ The Lion said, ‘I understand; thou must return, in order that I may deliberate on his punishment.’ The lioness returned to her own abode, and the Lion, after long deliberation, gave command to summon his army; and having sent for his nobles and Pillars of the state, and ministers, and chief officers into his presence, besought the attendance of his mother, and after the assembling of all the nobles and people, delivered his royal order, so that they brought Damnah to the foot of the imperial throne, and the king, turning his back upon him, plunged into a long reverie. Damnah looked round, and found the door of calamity open, and the way of escape closed. He turned to one of the king’s intimates, and said softly to him, ‘What is the cause of this assemblage, and what has happened, that the king has fallen into meditation and reflection?’ The lion’s mother overheard, and said aloud, ‘It is thy life on which the king deliberates, and since thy treason has become known and the villany of thy harmful acts manifest, and the falsehood which thou didst utter in relation to his attached friend, is patent,²⁰⁴ and the curtain has been removed from the face of thy machinations and artifices; it is not fit that the king should leave thee one instant alive, or keep such a manifester of depravity in the expanse of ‘Existence, which is the chief good.’ Damnah said, ‘The wise of past ages have left no particle of wisdom unsaid, and, for the convenience of those to come after them, have prepared clear ways, and one of their sagacious sayings is this, that whoever is unceasingly zealous in the service of the king, quickly reaches the rank of admission to his favour, and whoever has become the intimate of the sulṭán, all the friends and foes of the monarch become his enemies; the friends, through envy of his post and dignity; and the foes, by reason of his advising the king sincerely in matters of state and religion.

And those who are intimate are in great peril, and hence it is that men of true piety have set their backs against the wall of security and rest, and have turned their faces from the fleeting, faithless, untrustworthy world, and have chosen the worship of the Creator in preference to the service of the creature, for with the glorious Lord^204a neither error nor neglect are admissible, nor are cruelty or tyranny allowed. To requite good with evil and to recompence obedience with punishment, is what cannot occur, and there can be no swerving from the path of justice in the commands of the king of kings.

In general the actions of creatures, in contrast to the character of the Creator, are stained with a variety of contradictions and inconsistencies, and in deviation from an exact observance of what is due, men at one time bestow on offenders deserving of chastisement, the reward meet for the conduct of friends; and, at another time, visit upright councillors, who deserve encouragement, with the punishment which befits the sins of traitors. For vain desires have the mastery over their actions, and error is evident in what they do. In their words they display self-interest, and in their deeds their hypo-crisy is palpable. Good and evil are to them alike, and gain and loss in their sight are equal. One man may hand over to the treasurer of the king all the treasures upon earth’s surface, and he will not feel a grain of gratitude towards him, but will exalt the head of another who abuses him to the pinnacle of honor.

I ought not, from the first, to have hovered round the royal service, nor to have stepped out of the cell of retirement, and beyond the corner of privacy, nor to have accepted the duty of attendance on the king, which resembles consuming fire; for whoever does not appreciate freedom from care, and prefers the service of the creature to that of the Creator, meets with what befell the solitary Devotee.’ The lioness asked, ‘How was that?’

Damnah said, ‘They have related that a Devotee had renounced the concerns of the world and had made choice of the corner of retirement; and satisfied the requirements of food and raiment with barley-bread and coarse woollen garments.^205a

The rumour of the devotion and upright character of that saintly man spread in a short time through the districts and environs of that country, and people began to come from far and near for the purpose of securing good-fortune and a blessing: and when they beheld the effect of the luminousness of divine worship clear and evident upon his bright forehead, waxing warmer in the matters of faith, they displayed still greater zeal. Now in that country there was a king, just and liberal, and the friend of darveshes; who used to give to the pursuit of divine favor precedence over compliance with those desires that affect a king, and who imitated nothing but the character of prophets and the morals of holy men.

When the tidings of the devout hermit reached him, he put in practice the wise saying, ‘Happy is the prince and happy the faḳír,’ and waited on the saintly man, and having besought the aid of his blessed spirit, requested some piece of advice which might prove useful to kings. The pious recluse said, ‘O king! God has two pavilions, one transitory, which they call the world, and the other enduring, which they call the life to come. Magnanimity requires that thou shouldest not rest satisfied with this transitory abode, but transfer thy views to the empire of the enduring world.

The king said, ‘By what plan can that kingdom be subjugated?’ The Devotee replied, ‘By aiding the oppressed and attending to the complaints of the destitute; and every king who desires repose hereafter must labour for the ease of his subjects.

When the recluse had finished his advice, and had filled the treasury of the king’s heart with the jewels of admonition, the counsels and exhortation of the pure-minded and saintly man made an impression on the king, and he laid the hand of discipleship on the skirt of his spirit, and was continuously in the habit of presenting himself in his company, and by the blessing of obedience to his persuasive words, turned away his head from following lust and vanity. One day the king was waiting on the darvesh, and they were discoursing on every subject, when suddenly a party of petitioners for justice raised their clamours and outcries^207a to the etherial ball. The Devotee called them to him and inquired into the case of each, separately, and instructed his highness the king, in the orders fit and proper for each of their suits. The king was excessively grateful for this, and besought that he might occasionally hold a court of requests under his fortunate superior tendence. The holy man, in order that the suits of the distressed might be speedily and satisfactory settled, and that he himself, by directing these matters, might obtain the advantage of an eternal recompense, consented; and in any affair, as the occasion required, the recluse delivered his decree, and the king, with willingness and eagerness, gave heed to him, until things eame to that pass that most of the affairs of that realm were united to the skirt of the management of that lofty and saintly man, and he was daily more and more employed in the affairs of the state and of the revenue. The bewitching love of place deposited its furniture in the environs^207b of the saint’s heart, and made a breach in his religious duties and seasons of prayer, and the desire of pomp and state having raised the head of the darvesh from the pillow of repose, made him aim at the diadem of pride.

The world is a deceitful woman, which has brought many a lion-like man under the noose of her love, and a perfidious dame^207c that has thrown many famous warriors like the hero Rustam, into the pit of calamity.

And when the recluse had tasted, in place of the brackish water of abstinence, the pleasant flavour of sensual desire and the delicious sharbat of worldly lust, the delight of worshipping God was effaced from his mind, and he inserted in his ear the ring of ‘Love of the world is the head of all sin.’

The king too, when he saw that the abilities of the Devotee, and that his counsels were beneficial to the state, at once placed the reins of full power in the hand of his able management. Before, the darvesh had to take thought for bread; now he had the cares of the world upon him, and he exchanged his former anxiety how to procure a blanket, for the scheme of subjugating an empire.

One day a darvesh, who, from time to time, used to come into the presence of the recluse, and used to pass whole nights with him in prayer and supplication, paid a visit of devotion to him, and beheld his state and circumstances. The flame of regret was kindled in the area of his heart.

When the night had come, and the hum of men was for the most part ushed, he said to the recluse, ‘O Shekh! what is this state of things that I behold, and the change of condition that I observe?

However much the holy man endeavoured to excuse himself, he was unable to utter a word which could completely stand the test of the touchstone of wisdom.²⁰⁹ ‘These speeches,’ said his guest, ‘are mere sensual pretexts. The purport of these prolix orations, and the pith of the whole discourse is that the mind of your Holiness is bent upon worldly things, and that your exalted spirit is in bondage to ambition and avarice.

Come and shake the skirt of thy solitary devotions free from the dust of rival pursuits, and draw the head of retirement under the collar of reliance on God, and bring not to the palate of desire the envenomed dainties of the world.

The recluse answered, ‘O kind friend! from discourse with my fellow-creatures and intercourse with mankind, so great an alteration has not found its way into my condition; and, in my heart, I am mindful of that very thing thou talkest of.’ The guest rejoined, ‘Thou hast now lost the sense of perception, because sensual inclinations have veiled thy sight, and when thou comest to thy senses, repentance will be unavailing.

And thy case is like that of the blind man, who mistook a snake for the thong of a whip, and hence fell into the whirlpool of destruction.’ The recluse inquired, ‘How was that?’

He that had come from the journey said, ‘Once on a time a blind man, and one that saw, halted at a place in some wild tract of country. When the time of their starting in the grey of the morning^209b arrived, they were about to set out. The blind man was searching for his whip, and as it chanced that a snake lay there frozen by the cold, he imagined that it was his whip and took it up. When he touched it with his hand he found it softer and nicer than his whip, at which he was pleased, and mounted his horse, and forgot the whip he had lost. However, when the day had dawned, his companion, who could see, looked and saw a snake in the hand of the blind man. Hereupon he shouted out, ‘Comrade! what thou tookest for a whip is a poisonous snake. Fling it away before it makes a wound on thy hand.’ The blind man fancied that his companion coveted the whip, and replied, ‘O friend!

I lost my whip and God has given me a better one. Thou too, if fortune befriend thee, will find a nice whip. But I am not one of those who would allow my whip to be wheedled out of my hand by imaginary tales.’ He that could see laughed and said, ‘O brother! my duty as thy companion demands that I should acquaint thee with this danger. Listen to what I say, and throw down that snake.’ The blind man frowned and said,

Thou hast taken a longing for my whip and thou pressest me beyond all bounds to throw it away, in the greedy hope that when I throw it down, thou mayest pick it up. Do not indulge a vain idea, and give up a desire which is nought, for this is a whip which has come into my hands from the unseen world.

However much the man that could see urged his point, and confirmed what he said by oaths loud and strong, it was of no use whatever, and the blind man gave no heed to him. So when the air became warm and the snake’s body got rid of its chill, it wound itself back, and in its progress²¹⁰ wounded the blind man in the hand and killed him.

And I have adduced this story that thou too may not trust in the world, nor be fascinated by its appearance, which is painted like the body of a snake; nor be fond of its softness and delicacy, for its wound is deadly and its poison fatal.

The recluse having listened to this discourse, called to mind the times of his solitude and abstraction from the world, and beheld the stain of worldly interests, which had not suffered the skirt of his heart to remain in its original purity. He felt that what his friend had said was out of pure kindness and friendship. Thus he began to let fall the tears of repentance from his eyes, and to heave burning sighs from his breast, which was consumed by the fire of regret.

All night long, like a lighted taper, he wept, while his heart was consuming; and, like a moth longing for the flame, he fluttered in eager desire after the divine excellence;^211b until the time when the white-robed votary of the true morn^211c spread the prayer-carpet of the sun before the shrine, ‘And when the morn breathed forth,’ and the black-appareled ascetic of the night lodged itself in the private closet of ‘When the night draws in.’

Again men pressed in crowds to the cell of the recluse, and the gales of pride beginning to blow, gave the corn of his nightly repentance to the wind of indifference.

In short, the recluse, having taken up the affairs of the state, deposed the nobles and ministers from their offices, and began, too, to indulge in a deviation from the path of equity in the adjudication of matters. One day he gave orders to put to death one of the people, whose death was not permitted by the law, and after the punishment was over, he turned in quest of a remedy and amends. The heirs of the man that had been executed demanded justice of the king against the recluse. The nature of the complaint was made known, and their case was referred to the tribunal of the law. The decree of the judge was forthwith issued to the effect that, by way of retaliation, they should put the recluse to death, and although he got persons to intercede for him, and promised money and valuables, he failed of his object, and, as a disastrous consequence of sacrificing the worship of the Creator for the service of the creature, he was overtaken in the whirlpool of destruction. Thus he lost²¹² the pleasures of the world and failed to gain the happiness of the world to come.

And I have framed this story to show that as I, too, turned away my face from the shrine of God’s worship, and hurried to the imperial court, and withdrew my head from the line of obedience to the All-Provider, and placed it on the threshold of the prince’s service,

When Damnah had finished this discourse, the attendants of the royal throne were astonished at his eloquence, and the Lion, with his head bent, as before, in meditation, could not think how to enter upon the affair or how to reply to Damnah. A lynx who, of all the courtiers, was honored with the nearest access to the king, when he observed the amazement of those who were present in the assembly, turned his face to Damnah and said, ‘All these reproaches that thou hast heaped on the service of kings, whose head, reaching to the polar star, is crowned with the diadem, ‘A just king is God’s shadow upon earth,’ befit thee not.^212a But hast thou not heard that a single hour of a king’s life which is passed in the dispensation of justice and in taking care of his people, is taken to be an equivalent for sixty years of piety and devotion; and many of the worshipers^212b at the shrine of devotion and the priestly office, and of the crowned heads of the kingdom of spiritual enlightenment and miraculous gifts, have voluntarily chosen the service of kings, according to the saying, ‘The service of kings is half the road [to heaven]’ with a view to assisting the oppressed and lightening the burthens of the distressed: and among the number of such cases, the story of the Saint of radiant mind, testifies to the justice of this matter.’ Damnah asked, ‘How was that?’

The lynx said, ‘They have related that in a city of Fárs there was a venerable old man who had carried off the reed of superiority from the horsemen of the circus of sanctity,^212c while the peak of his crown of abnegation of worldly pleasures touched the summit of the celestial sphere.

They used to call him the Saint of radiant mind. The echoing rumour of his miraculous gifts pervaded the provinces of Rúm and the countries of the west, and the hubbub^213a of his séances reached the inhabitants of Egypt and Syria and Arabia Petræa and Felix. The wise men of ’Iráḳ, as well as the refined of Khurásán, placed their heads on the line of attachment to him; and the pious people of Turkistán, as well as those transported with divine love in Hindústán, laid the hands of sincerity on the skirt of discipleship to him. One day a darvesh from Transoxiana, resolved on going as a pilgrim to the holy shrine of that Saint, and, with many toils, conveyed himself from the environs of Samarḳand to the capital of Fárs: and truly until one has wounded the foot of search in the thorny brake of trouble, the hand of attainment will not reach the collar of the rose of desire.

The darvesh who had thus traveled, after crossing the waste of despond,^213b alighted at the K’abah of peace and safety, and having made the dust of the threshold of the Saint a kissing-place for the lips of respect, put in motion the knocker of eagerness. The attendant of the monastery, after inquiring into his case and informing himself of the circumstances of his fatiguing journey, pronounced these words, ‘O darvesh! rest a little, for his highness the shekh has gone to wait on the reigning monarch, and the hour for his return is by-and-bye.’ When the darvesh heard talk of waiting on the king, he exclaimed, ‘Fie on the toilsome journey and the wasting of my time! A shekh who goes to wait on a king and finds pleasure in visiting and discoursing with him, what can he do to aid me? or how point out to me the right way?

He then came forth from the monastery, and took his way to the bázár, and through the impurity of his deceitful heart, which had not been tempered in the furnace of austerity, he impressed on the coin of the shekh’s career the stamp of short measure; and ignorant of his true condition, gave vent to unreasonable censures.

Suddenly the police-magistrate of the city caught sight of him, and it happened that a thief, who resembled him in appearance, had, on the previous night, escaped from prison, and the king had severely reprimanded the magistrate and the watch, and had given the strictest injunctions to catch the thief and to cut off his hands. The magistrate saw the darvesh, and imagining him to be the runaway thief, had him straightway conveyed to the place of punishment. In vain the darvesh showed his safe-conduct²¹⁴ and gave a true account of himself, he gained nothing thereby, and there was nothing at hand for him but to have his hand^214a cut off. At the instant that the pitiless executioner had placed a sharp knife on the hand of the darvesh, and was about to sever it, there arose the shouts of the retinue of the Saint of radiant mind, as they called out to clear the way; and the shekh with a grand cavalcade,^214b arrived where that crowd was assembled, and having inquired into the circumstances, was informed of the position in which the darvesh was placed. He told the magistrate, ‘This is one of the darveshes belonging to my place, and the suspicion thrown upon him is contrary to the facts—release him.’ The magistrate kissed the shekh’s horse’s hoof, and expressed himself under a vital obligation; he then apologized to the darvesh and went about his business. The poor darvesh finding himself set free from the snare of destruction and from the merciless hands of the executioner, proceeded with the shekh’s retinue as one of his attendants, and as they were going, the shekh laid his hand on the shoulder of the darvesh and whispered to him, ‘Brother! to forswear fellowship with darveshes is not right, for did we not wait upon the king, ill-used persons like thyself would find no escape from the hands of their oppressors.’ The darvesh perceived that his repudiation of the shekh had sprung from ignorance and folly, and that whatever is done by the thoroughly righteous is sure not to be wrong; because the intentions of a perfect saint melt into unison with those of God himself, wherefore not a single action will spring from him which will not be in accordance with the divine will, nor will anything he does, though apparently unreasonable and improper, be in reality unadvisable.

And the moral of this story is that eminently holy men have voluntarily taken upon themselves the service of kings and have thought it no harm to frequent royal courts.

Damnah said, ‘With regard to what thou hast said, that the excellent have sought eminence in the service of kings, it is true they have done so, but with a view to an advantage of the highest consequence, and they have not entered upon this measure without divine inspiration, nor have they suffered the smallest worldly or carnal motive to blend itself therewith; and whoever has such a bent as this, whatever he may do or say, none may be so bold as to blame him; but when will the like of us reach this dignity? or how can we justify our pretension to a rank so high? And as to what thou hast further said, that a king is the shadow of God, I admit that too; but it is the temper of true kings to make their actions run parallel to the right way and keep them far removed from the path of wrong; not to patronise one for a temporary selfish motive, and, then, without just occasion, order him to be punished: and the most praiseworthy of all royal qualities is to hold dear those of their servants who exhibit commendable dispositions, and to degrade their faithless and perfidious ministers.

The lioness said, ‘What thou sayest is true, but thy case appears the very opposite of this, since the collective voice of this assembly pronounces that Shanzabah was a worthy minister of the king, and of an amiable temper, and the common report is, that the harvest of his promise was consumed by the fire of thy calumny, and that the pedestal of the king’s faith was overturned by the disastrous influence of thy mischievous meddling.

Damnah said, ‘It is not concealed from the irradiated mind of the king, and all who are present know, that between me and the ox none of the materials of contention and enmity existed, how then can hostility as anciently entertained by us, be thought of? And he too, although he had the power to attack me, and the opportunity of injuring me, and strength to get rid of me, nevertheless observed towards me only the path of kindness and bene-volence; and I too was not contemptible and unimportant in the king’s sight, that I should exert myself to get rid of the ox through envy and hatred, but I gave the king a piece of advice and disinterestedly conveyed to his ears a speech that I had heard and the traces of which I had observed; and it was my duty to be grateful for the king’s kindness, and to exhibit with truthfulness the apparent treachery and dangerous intentions of the ox; and as to what I said, the king too, himself, made investigation, and discovered that which verified my words and confirmed the charge I brought, and, at the call of his own judgment, carried out the measure; and now there are many persons, who were in league with Shanzabah, and partners of his perfidy and hostile intentions, who are afraid of me since I have adopted the habit of telling the truth. It is a true and just saying, that ‘Truth is bitter.’

And, assuredly, a party of hypocrites will exert themselves to get me put to death, and I did not suspect that the recompense of my advice and the result of my service would be this, that my continuing to live should be a cause of anxiety and disturbance to the king.’ When Damnah had spoken thus far and the day had waned, the Lion said, ‘He must be delivered over to the judges, in order that they may inquire into his case, since in penal sentences and judicial proceedings, without adducing clear evidence and conviction on certain proof,

Damnah said, ‘What judge is more righteous than the reason of the prince, and what magistrate more equitable than the fair justice of the fortunate king? and, praise be to God! the luminous mind of the sulṭán is a clear mirror, or rather a world-displaying goblet, and the condition of every one of his attendants is therein clearly displayed.

And I know of a certainty that in removing the veil of doubt, and undoing the wimple of uncertainty and surmise, nought equals the sagacity of the king and his discernment, and, assuredly, when the mirror of his command is purified from the rust of self-interest and bias, I am convinced that if proper investigation is made my immunity^217a will in all respects be established, and the honesty of my mind, like the dawning of the light of the real morning, will shine luminously to all.^217b

The Lion said, ‘O Damnah! this matter shall be investigated to the utmost possible extent, and this affair shall be inquired into with all imagi-nable care.

Damnah said, ‘I am the more anxious for this excessive strictness^217c by reason of my innocence, for I know that in this scrutiny my loyalty will be more abundantly evident, and had I been guilty in this affair, I should not have continued in attendance at the king’s court, nor sat tamely waiting for misfortune; but I should have repeated to myself the purport [of this injunction] ‘Go through the earth,’^217d and have gone to another region.

The lioness said, ‘O Damnah! thy vehement desire for inquiry appears to be not devoid of mental alarm, but thou hopest by cunning to bring thyself out innocent; but to look for escape from this strait without thy case being investigated is an impossible thought and a vain desire.’ Damnah replied, ‘I have many enemies, and those who bear malice towards me are infinitely numerous. What I look for is that my case may be entrusted to a judge who may be clear from interested feelings and from suspicion, and who will truthfully convey to the royal ears whatever is said or heard; and that the king will refer this to his world-adorning judgment, which is the mirror of victory and triumph, so that I may not be put to death on a mere suspicion and that in the day of retribution no blame may accrue on account of that innocent blood.

The Lion said, ‘I have never in any command deviated from the path of justice, and, save in the way of equity, is is impossible for me to tread; and if this perfidious act has proceeded from thee, thou shalt meet the punishment which is thy due.

Damnah replied, ‘Why should I imagine such treason? and by what means suffer the desire of high affairs and the longing for offices of dignity to pass through my mind? and for my part I know well the king’s justice, and have surveyed the tokens of his righteous dealing, and I feel certain that he will not prevent my participating in his world-adorning justice, nor cut off from me the hope of the blessings of the due which he dispenses to all.

One of the by-standers said, ‘What Damnah says is not intended in honor of the king, but by these words he hopes to avert calamity from himself.’ Damnah rejoined, ‘Who is more tender of me than I myself am, and who my truer friend than myself? and whoever permits himself to remain in a difficulty, and takes no thought for his own preservation, what hope can others place in him?

Thy speech is a proof of a want of understanding and judgment, and of an abundance of ignorance and error; and think not that this circumstance will remain hid from the king’s sagacity, [not so!] but after due reflection he will distinguish between thy reproach and salutary advice, since his luminous mind can deliberate in a single night on the affairs of a whole life, and subdue vast armies by a thought.

The lynx said, ‘I am not so much astonished at thy former tricks and perfidiousness, as at thy declamation in thy present condition, and thy display of maxims, and quaint sayings, and saws.’ Damnah rejoined, ‘Aye! it is the place for admonition if it alights in the spot of acceptance, and it is the season for uttering maxims if they gain a hearing from the ear of understanding.’ The lioness said, ‘O traitor! art thou still in hopes of escaping by thy juggles and deceit?’ Damnah answered, ‘If one return evil for good, and think injury a just recompence for benefit, [I am, then, indeed, without hope]. Yet I, at least, have fully discharged my engagements as a servant, and have been faithful to my duty as a counsellor. The king well knows that no false accuser would dare to utter his calumnies before him, and if he think fit to deal cruelly with me, the infamy thereof will recoil on himself, and if he act precipitately with regard to me, and neglect the advantages of deliberation and the blessings of proof and patient investigation, he will repent in the end; as they have said,

And whoever deprives himself of the excellent quality of patience by acting precipitately, meets with what that woman met with, who, displaying overhaste in her proceedings, could not discriminate between her friend and the slave.’ The Lion, who was listening to what Damnah said, when he heard this shrewd remark, asked, ‘How was that?’

Damnah said, ‘They have related that in the city of Kashmír there was a merchant possessed of great wealth and opulence, and many servants, and a great establishment. He had a wife of moon-like face and musky ringlets, such that heaven’s eye had never beheld a luminary like her, nor had so fair a figure ever come into the hand of Time. Her cheek was bright and radiant like the day when lovers meet, and her tresses dark, and long as the day of separation.

And in close vicinity lived a painter, who, by his expertness, had acquired a world-wide notoriety,²²⁰ and was admired by all for his pictures. The souls of the painters of China wandered distracted in the desert of jealousy at the brush of his portraiture, and the heart of the artists of Cathay were bewildered in the waste of envy at the skill of his delineation.

In short there arose between him and the wife of the merchant a mutual attachment, and the painter began to feel a blind and uncontrollable love for that graceful form, and the monarch, Love, overcame the territory of his heart, the metropolis of the affections; and the forces of desire commenced their ravages over the seven regions of his body.

The visual organs of the young lover, like the heart of the pious, became watchful, and the eyes of his vigils, like April clouds, began to rain down tears.

The merchant’s wife, too, had beheld the youth and surrendered her heart to him, and had placed the volume of patience and forbearance in the niche of oblivion.

The attraction of love exerting its influence on both sides, they found the means of meeting without the intervention of a go-between, and the path of intercourse between them was clear from the dust of rivals. The woman said to her lover, ‘Thou art ever²²¹ favoring me with thy presence and adorning and shedding light upon my humble dwelling, and no doubt delay takes place until thou callest out and castest a pebble. If by thy skill in painting—in which thou art the phœnix of the age and the leader of the time—thou wouldest take thought and paint something, and make a thing which might be a token between me and thee, it would not be unwise, and rather conformable to judicious counsel.’

The young artist replied, ‘I will make a mantle of two colors, which shall be white on one side, like a star shining in the water; and black on the other, like an Æthiop’s hair gleaming on the lobe of the ear of a fair beauty. When thou beholdest that signal, come out quickly.’ While they were making this agreement, a slave of that painter was standing behind the wall, and overheard them.

Several days passed and the mantle was finished and the visits agreed upon took place. One day the painter had gone out on important business, and stopped away late. The slave borrowed that mantle of the painter’s daughter, on pretence of studying the manner in which the colors were mixed, and having put it on, came to the house of the lady. She, without reflection, from the excessive transports of joy which she felt at her lover’s visit, did not distinguish between her paramour and his rival, nor observed the difference between her friend and this stranger.

The slave, by means of this robe obtained his wish; and after he had done with it, gave back the mantle. It happened that at the very same time, the painter returned, and having rent the garment of patience, from desire to behold his mistress, he threw the mantle over his shoulders and went towards the merchant’s house, and the lady running forth to him, again said, with many endearments, ‘Is it well with thee, my friend, that thou hast in this same instant come back again?’ The young man saw how matters stood, and having made some excuse for coming, returned forthwith, and finding out the whole affair, chastised the slave and his daughter severely, burnt the mantle, and gave up the connection with the lady: and if she had not acted precipitately, she would not have been contaminated by the foul embraces of the slave, nor have been deprived of the visits of her darling lover and the conversation of a friend dear to her as her life.

And I have brought forward this example that the king may perceive that he ought not to act precipitately with reference to me; and the real fact is, that I do not utter these words from fear of torture, and terror of his majesty; for although death is a sleep not to be coveted, and a rest little to be desired, nevertheless, come it will, and many mighty ones, driven to extremity at its hands, have learned that it is impossible for any one to evade the circle of annihilation and extinction. Whoever sets foot in the world of existence, must needs quaff the potion of death and clothe himself in the vestments of decay.

And had I a thousand lives, and knew that in expending them I should benefit the king, I would surrender them all in an instant, and regard that as equivalent to perfect happiness in both worlds.

But it is the bounden duty of the king to look to the end of this matter, for he cannot preserve his dominions without the swords [of his officers], and he must not assail the lives of his useful servants on a vain surmise.

And it is not possible to find at all times a servant who will show himself equal to the administration of affairs, nor to lay hands upon a minister worthy of one’s confidence and deserving of promotion.

When the lioness observed that the speeches of Damnah were honored by attention from the ear of acceptance, she was overcome with alarm lest the Lion should give his belief to these gold-washed, counterfeit coins, and specious truth-resembling pretences and insinuating falsehoods of his; and lest the grace of his language and oily talk should cause the Lion to neglect the investigation of this history. She, therefore, turned towards the Lion, and said, ‘Thy silence would indicate that what Damnah says is true, and what the rest say is false, and I did not think that thou, notwithstanding thy sagacity and acuteness and understanding and intellect, wouldest be deaf to the language of truth, and be deceived and shaken by vain and delusive prating.

She then rose in wrath and went to her own abode. The Lion commanded them to keep Damnah bound in prison, till the judges should investigate his case, and declare what was right to be done with him. The court of inquiry²²³ broke up, and the lioness came to the lion and said, ‘O son! I have long heard of the marvelous cleverness of Damnah, and now I know to demonstration that he is the wonder of the age and the phœnix of the time. How, I pray, could he utter all these false sentiments apparently so magnanimous, and how arrange those rare excuses and honeyed sayings? So fine are the extenuations which he chooses, that if the king should give him an opportunity to speak, he would, by a single word, extricate himself from this calamity; and, at the present moment, both the king and the army, in a body, would rejoice exceedingly at his being put to death, and, therefore, the best way is to relieve thy mind at once with regard to him, and not to give him opportunity to speak nor the chance of a reply.

The Lion said, ‘The business of those who surround monarchs is envy and variance, and the employment of the high officers of state, malevolence^223a and strife. Day and night they pursue each other and search out one another’s merits and demerits, and whoever has most of the former, they assail him the more vehemently, and the deserving are the greatest objects of envy and malice; and they never feel jealous of one who has no merit, and Damnah is adorned with many accomplishments, and possesses my most intimate favour. It is possible that the envious have combined and wish to get rid of him by treachery.’ The lioness replied, ‘How can envy be carried so far as to cast one into the place of destruction?’²²⁴ The Lion answered, ‘Envy is a fire which, once kindled, burns up the green and the dry, and when carried to excess, it impels a man not to desire good even to himself, as was the case in the matter of those three envious persons.’ The lioness asked, ‘How was that?’

The Lion said, ‘They have related that three persons were fellow travelers, and having become companions, entered on their journey together. The oldest of them said to the other two, ‘Why have you left your city, and how? and what is the cause of your expatriating yourselves, so that ye have chosen the toil of travel in preference to the ease of residing with your neighbours?’ One of them said, ‘Because that in the town in which I dwelt, things occurred that I could not endure the sight of, and envy overpowered me, and I was continually consumed by the flame of jealousy. I, therefore, thought to myself that I would leave my home for a day or two, and thus, perchance, avoid the sight of what I did not wish to see.’ The other companion said, ‘I, too, was embarrassed with the same painful feeling, and have, therefore, chosen to leave my country.’ The oldest said, ‘Both of you are partners in suffering with me, and I too have set out for the desert, owing to the same indignant feeling.

On finding that all three were envious, with a feeling of pleasure at their homogeneousness, they set out. One day there lay a purse of gold in their road, and the three ran simultaneously to the spot and exclaimed, ‘Come! let us divide this gold, and returning hence to our own homes, pass some time pleasantly.’ Each, however, felt his envious passions excited, so that, being unwilling that the others should get a share, they remained mute. They neither had the courage to leave the gold lying in the road, nor could they endure to divide it with one another. They passed a whole day and night hungry and thirsty in the desert, and denying themselves food and sleep, quarreled together, without finding any solution of their strife.

The next morning, the king of that territory, who had come forth to hunt, passed, with a number of his retinue, by that spot, and beheld those three persons seated in the desert. On his inquiring into their circumstances, they stated the facts as they really were, and said, ‘We all three are endued with the quality of envy, and for this reason we have left our country and our homes, and wander in an unsettled state. Here, too, the same feeling has evinced itself, and has ended in our trouble and distress. We want a judge to issue his command for the division of this gold among us.

The king said, ‘Do you each set forth the nature of his own envious feeling, that I may perceive the extent of the deserts of each, and may in accordance therewith divide the gold among you!’ One said, ‘My envy is so great that I never wish to benefit any one, nor choose to be kind to any, lest that person should become happy or prosperous.’ The next said, ‘Thou wert born a good man and hast no spice of envy. The degree of my envy is such that I cannot bear to see any one do a benefit to another or bestow his property on him.’ The third said, ‘Both of you have no part in this matter, and your pretensions are vain. I, in fine, am such that I never wish any one to bestow a favour on me, or show kindness even to myself, judge then what my feelings are towards another!’²²⁵ The king bit the finger of astonishment with the tooth of reflection, and marveled at the words of these wretches, on the tablet of whose qualities was displayed the writing indicative of malignity, ‘Do they envy other men?’^225a He said, ‘By your own words this gold is a forbidden thing for you, and each deserves a punishment suited to his crime. He who is unwilling that he himself should do good to others, his recompense is none other than that he should fail to participate in the happiness of a reward, and in both worlds be bankrupt and destitute. And as for him who cannot endure that any man should benefit another, the best course is to release him with all speed from the prison of existence, and to remove the weight of this suffering from the surface of his soul. And as for the third, who envies even himself, and who does not wish to have himself even benefited, he deserves to be punished by a variety of tortures and ignominious sufferings, and, suspended for a long period in the grasp of chastisement and reprobation, to taste the flavor of torment, till the time when the bird of his spirit is caught in the snare, ‘Say, the angel of death who is set over you [shall cause you to die].’²²⁶ He then commanded that they should let the first person go into the desert, naked from head to foot, and without food or provisions, and all that he had they took from him, the king saying,

And with respect to the second envious person, he gave orders for his decapitation with the pitiless scymitar, which having been done, they released him from the pangs of envy: while on the third they rubbed pitch, and left him in the sun, so that he perished after cruel and protracted sufferings. Thus the king conveyed the disgraceful envy of those three persons to its just recompense: and the perfectly wise have said,

There is no pain greater than that of envy, because the envious man is always in grief at the joy of others, and in travail at their delight.

And this story is for this purpose—that it may be shown that envy may be carried to such a length, that a man may not wish well even to himself, and hence we may infer how he will stand with reference to another; and I suspect that the tale about Damnah may have been set afloat by envious persons.’ The lioness said, ‘I have not observed in the ministers of this court the habit of envying, nor have I the slightest suspicion that any one of them is tainted with this blameable quality; and the probability is that the unanimous vote of all for his execution is with a view to the king’s advantage, and if not, these circumstances are not required to get rid of him.’ The Lion replied, ‘I entertain doubts in this matter, and in order that they may be removed I will not act, as regards Damnah, precipitately, lest it should turn out that I bring loss on myself in seeking the advantage of others, and, in pleasing the creature, anger the Creator. Until I have most narrowly scrutinised the affair, I shall not think it allowable for me to put him to death, since I have been compelled to endure all these regrets from acting with too great haste in the matter of Shanzabah. The right plan is not to sacrifice the meritorious and able on a mere suspicion, and not to carry out any mandate till the beauty of certainty shews its countenance from behind the curtain of doubt; nor transgress the purport of this saying, which has issued from the exalted mind, and sprung from the pure intellect of one of the greatest sages:

Here the dialogue between the Lion and his mother ended, and they departed to their respective couches. When, however, they had conveyed Damnah to prison, and had placed heavy fetters on his feet and neck, fraternal tenderness and friendly sympathy led Kalílah to go and see him. As soon as he entered the dungeon and his eyes fell on Damnah, he began to shower down the rain of his tears from the clouds of his eye, and said, ‘O brother! how can I behold thee in this calamity and trouble, and what pleasure can I henceforth feel in life?

Damnah, too, began to weep, and exclaimed,

And all this travail and affliction, and the grief of my prison and my heavy fetters is not so distressful to me as to be compelled to submit to part from thee and to be consumed in the fire of separation.

Kalílah replied, ‘O Damnah! since affairs have reached this point and matters have culminated in this, I might well address thee in severe language, for from the beginning of this adventure I foresaw it all, and used the most strenuous admonitions, but thou didst not give heed to them, but leant upon thy own weak judgment and erring counsel, and at the last the very thing has happened which I foretold:

And had I failed to advise thee at the commencement of this business and had chosen to be supine in dissuading thee, I should this day have been the partner of thy perfidy, and I could not have addressed to thee such language as I do. O careless one! did I not tell thee what the wise implied when they said, that ‘The slanderer dies before his predestined time?’ The meaning of this is, not the being cut off from life or the annihilation of the delights of existence, but that a grief arises which makes life hateful and makes death every moment wished for, as has happened to thee. Assuredly death is pleasanter than this life.

Damnah said, ‘O brother! thou didst ever speak the truth and fulfil all the duties of a monitor, but sensual desire and covetousness and ambition impaired my judgment, and deprived thy admonitions of their due weight in my mind; and although I knew that the mischief of this proceeding was infinite, and the danger of it unbounded, I nevertheless entered upon it with the utmost energy—like a sick man who is overpowered by the desire of eating—though he knows the injurious consequences, he heeds them not—and a person of this character, who cannot refrain from obeying his appetite, must submit to all the calamity and suffering which is sure to occur to him, and if he reproaches any one, it must be himself.

Kalílah replied, ‘He is a prudent man, who in the beginning of every affair casts his eyes to the conclusion, and before he plants the shrub considers its fruit, that he may not repent of the deed when it is done, nor regret the speech when it is spoken, since such repentance and such regrets yield nothing but exultation to one’s enemies and despondency to one’s friends.

Damnah responded, ‘O brother! to have no enemies is the characteristic of a mean spirit, and to live safe and secure is the condition of every mean wretch and simpleton. Wherever there is a man of high spirit, he cannot be quit of sharp troubles and vast dangers.

Kalílah answered, ‘Fleeting riches and uncertain office are not worth all this care and trouble.

Thou oughtest not to have cast the ray of thy regard on worldly wealth and station, and thou wouldest not have fallen into the pit of trouble and difficulty; nor shouldest thou have sown the plant of rancor and envy, and to-day thou wouldest not have gathered the fruit of calamity and disgrace.’

Damnah said, ‘I know that I have scattered the seeds of this woe, and whoever sows anything will assuredly reap the same.

And I have sown poisonous herbs and cannot therefore look for rose-comfits, and now the affair is beyond my control and my hand is unable to grasp it. The finger-tips of counsel cannot loose the knot of destiny, nor does the countenance of successful deliberation shew itself in the mirror of thought. I have erred wittingly, and sinned with my eyes open, and in spite of knowing that the royal gem was not worth the peril of the whirlpool of trouble.

Kalílah said, ‘Now in what manner hast thou devised thy release, and by what passage hast thou conceived a way to escape?’ Damnah replied,

It appears that the vessel of life will be submerged in this whirlpool of destruction, and that the sun of existence will set in the western region of annihilation and extinction. Yet will I in no wise give way to weakness, nor will I spare any devices or stratagems that can be made available for my release. But my grief is increased by the apprehension that thou mayest be suspected with me; and, owing to the companionship between us, which had reached the bounds of complete accord, thou too mayest fall into the whirlpool of destruction, and if—which God forbid!—they should inflict pain upon thee to make thee utter what thou knowest of my secrets, my distress will then be doubled. In one aspect there will be thy personal sufferings, and the shame that thou shouldest have fallen into trouble on my account: in another, no hope of escape will be left to me, inasmuch as the truth of thy word is known to all, and there can be no opposing truthful evidence from one like thee, who hast based thy conduct on sincerity and uprightness; and supposing this to be the case, we shall see one another again only at the day of resurrection, and we cannot hope to meet save at the time of the last judgment.’ Kalílah replied, ‘I have heard what thou hast said, and thou knowest that I cannot endure the torture, nor sustain the pangs of the rack and the agony of punishment; nor conceal what I know; nor, to flatter any one, can I speak that which is false and contrary to fact; and even before they put the question I shall state what has occurred. Thy advisable course is to confess thy crime and to avow what thou hast done, and thus, by penitence and contrition, save thyself from suffering in the final state. Since thou knowest of a certainty that thy end in the present case will be destruction; at least, let not the punishment of this world be combined with the disgrace and chastisement of the next; and if thou must endure the pangs of punishment in this transitory state, at least thou mayest avoid tasting the bitter waters of torment in the city of eternal existence.’ Damnah said, ‘I will consider of these matters,, and advise with thee on the course I may decide upon.’ Kalílah, pained and full of grief, retired, and indulging his heart in a variety of distresses and anguish, laid himself down on the bed of despondency and writhed through the night, and as morning rose, his spirit sank.

However, at the time that these words were exchanged by Damnah and Kalílah, a thief, who was confined in the same prison, and who lay sleeping near them, was awakened by their conversation, and having heard all that they said, kept it in mind, and preserved the recollection of it that he might make use of it when occasion offered.

The next day, when the golden-clawed lion of the sun put himself in motion in the azure-colored waste of the sky, and the dark-visaged black-scrolled jackal of the night was hidden in the corner of the prison of concealment;

Again the court of grievances was formed and embodied. The lioness renewed the disquisition as to Damnah, and said, ‘To leave tyrants alive is the same as killing the just, and to treat evil-disposed persons well, is like acting ill to the good.

And he who, although he has full power over him, suffers the profligate to live, or assists the oppressor, is the accomplice of their debauchery and injustice; and the threat ‘Whoso aids the tyrant, God will give that tyrant absolute power over him,’ comes to pass in his case.

The Lion enjoined the judges to use despatch in transacting the affair of Damnah, and to report daily what transpired as to his treason or the reverse. Wherefore the judges, and nobles, and notables, and ministers, and high and low, met in the court of the grandees and general assembly, and the representative of the ḳáẓí turned his face towards those present, and said, ‘The king displays the utmost urgency as to the inquiry into the affair of Damnah, and investigating that which is laid to his charge; and has given command that until the face of his affair is cleansed from the dust of doubt, the judges shall not occupy themselves with any other matter, and enjoins that the sentence which is passed with regard to him shall not be inconsistent with the requirements of justice, nor swerve from the path of right towards oppression or injustice. It behoves each of you to declare what he knows, for such declaration comprises three advantages of high importance. The first is that to aid the right, and to raise the banner of truth and justice is of great weight in the law of God, and of ineffable value in the code of courtesy and creed of magnanimity. The second is, that to destroy the foundation of injustice, and lay waste the basis of tyranny, and to rebuke the perfidious, is in accordance with the will of the Creator, and approved by mankind in general. The third is, that to escape from the deceitful and mischievous, and to obtain security from perfidious and wicked men, is absolute gain, and relief in which all partake.’ When the speech was ended, all those who were present kept silence, and from no quarter was any answer returned, for they had no certainty as to the affair of Damnah, and they did not wish to say anything on mere suspicion, lest a command should be issued upon what they affirmed, and blood should be spilled at their word, though they might deliver sentiments not in agreement with the facts. When Damnah observed this state of things, his heart was refreshed and rejoiced, like the garden of Iram by the breeze of spring. He contracted his features, however, like one in grief, and said, ‘O leaders of the faith and of the state! and O counsellors of the realm and nation! were I guilty, I should be glad to keep silence, but I am innocent, and no one can lay hands on him who is clear of guilt, and he is excusable if he exert himself in his own affair to the extent of his ability; and I desire that every one who is acquainted with aught that affects my case, will state it truthfully, and observe what is due to justice therein. For hereafter every speech will have its reward, and it behoves every one—whose word is equivalent to a command in setting forth the right, or in putting an individual to death—to deliver his testimony without admixture of suspicion or conjecture, and moreover with sincerity and firm conviction, and whoever on mere suspicion or doubt plunges me into destruction will meet with what befell that physician, who was destitute of science and experience.’ The judges inquired, ‘How was that?’

Damnah said, ‘They have related that a man without any stock of understanding and without the adornment of experience, was laying claim to be a physician. He had neither sufficient science nor perfect judgment. So ignorant was he in discriminating drugs that he could not tell a cocoa-nut from Turkish wormwood,²³² and he was so unskilful in the prognosis of diseases, that he could not discern between ophthalmia and gout, and he gave no heed to the qualities and quantities of medicine in judging as to compounds, and in writing his prescriptions, he attended not to the kind or amount of food and drink.

And in the city in which this person had opened the shop of ignorance, and proclaimed his notification for the destruction of men, there was another doctor celebrated for his perfect skill, and whose visits^232a were renowned for remedies and success. His breath was like the breath of Is’ạ,^232b revivifying; and his step, like that of Khiẓr, restoring life.

Inasmuch, however, as it is the custom of perfidious fortune that men of merit ever obtain from the tray of its harshness only the morsel of toil, and the undeserving bear away from the tables of its benefits the viands of abundant honor and distinction,

the affairs of this most learned man of the age and phenomenon of the time were on the decline, and the star of the light of his vision was overtaken with the eclipse of debility. By degrees the light of the world-surveying eye of that dear person—by which the vision of the wise was enlightened, and the survey of the garden of whose beauty was more agreeable to the pupil of the eye of those gifted with sight than to gaze on gardens of flowers—grew dim, until the time when no vestige of illumination was left in it. The hapless man took his retired seat in the corner of his humble dwelling, and that public impostor²³³ began to set up his deceitful pretensions out of all reason.

In a short space of time he was regarded as a physician certain to heal, and the fame of his cures was spread by lying rumour from tongue to tongue. The king of that city had a daughter, such, that from the horizon of beauty no luminary like her had risen, nor had the perfumer of the morning displayed any musk to equal that which was scattered from her curling tresses.

Her he had bestowed on his brother’s son, and the ceremonies which accompany the marriage-knot and the bridal night, had been performed in a manner befitting royalty and with a lustre becoming kings.

And from the conjunction of those two fortunate luminaries a royal gem was formed in the shell of her womb. It happened, however, that at the time of parturition an accident occurred, and the princess was seized with severe pain. They summoned the wise physician to the presence and informed him of the nature of the illness. The skilful leech, having learned the true state of the case, made the prognosis of the disease and said, ‘The cure of this disease is obtainable by a medicine which they call Mihrán. Let them take a fourth part of a dram of that medicine, and pound and sift it, and mix it up with a little pure musk and cinnamon, and sweeten it with sugar-candy, and give it to the patient, and her sufferings will be instantly removed.’ They replied, ‘O physician! where may that medicine be? and whom are we to ask for it? He answered, ‘I have seen in the medicine-repository of the palace a little of this medicine, deposited in a casket of virgin silver, on which was set a padlock of pure gold, but now, owing to my want of sight, I am unable to find it.’ In the midst of this colloquy, the pretended physician came up and said, ‘I take upon me to discover that medicine, and I well now how to compound that mixture.’ The king called him before him, and commanded him to go to the repository of medicine, and having brought out the required drug, to prepare the drink which the physician had ordered. Hereupon the ignorant doctor entered the repository, and looked for a casket of the description which the true physician had mentioned, but as there were numerous caskets of the same character, he failed to discover the said medicine, and without discriminating between them, he took up one and brought it out. It happened not to be the drug they called Mihrán, but a small quantity of deadly poison, which having been deposited there for state purposes, was kept in that casket. This he opened and mixed the poison with the other ingredients, and having made it into a drink, gave it to the princess. No sooner did she taste it than she expired. When the king beheld that event, consumed with regret for the loss of his daughter, he raised to the etherial sky the torch of his sighs, and he commanded them to give the remaining portion to that ignorant physician, so that he too fell lifeless on the spot, and the recompense of that unseemly deed reached him immediately.

And I have introduced this story that it may be known that every action that men do through ignorance has a disastrous result, and every affair that they transact in doubt and on mere conjecture, is fraught with most intense danger.’ One of those present said, ‘O Damnah! thou art of the number of those, the foulness of whose mind is evident to the higher ranks, and the impurity of whose morals is manifest to those below, and the perverseness of thy disposition accords with thy shape and form and appearance.’

The ḳáẓí asked, ‘Whence does thou utter this speech? and what proof hast thou of this remark? Thou must recount the proofs of it and declare the arguments in support of thy observation.’ He replied, ‘Sages skilled in physiognomy have pronounced that every one with wide eyebrows, whose right eye is smaller than his left, and who is subject to a perpetual throbbing of the eye, and whose nose inclines to the left, and whose glance is ever cast down to the ground, his ill-omened nature will be filled with mischief and deceit, and be replete with profligacy and perfidiousness, and these signs are to be found in him.’ Damnah answered, ‘In the commands of God partiality and deception are impossible, and in the actions of that holy Being, error and neglect, and mistakes and faults, are not to be supposed.

If these tokens which thou hast mentioned were really a true proof and genuine demonstration, and truth could thus be distinguished from falsehood, and error from correctness, and right from wrong; mankind would then be quit of evidence and oaths; and judges might rest from pleadings and citations, and henceforward it would not be well to praise any one for his good deeds or to reproach him for his ill-actions, since no created being could divest himself of those marks which, at the time of the creation of his nature, would be made to accompany him. Wherefore, in accordance with the directions which thou hast given, the reward of the good and the punishment of the bad, would be obliterated from the pages of the ordinances of the law and of justice, and had I done this thing—which they say I have—(Let us take refuge with God from it!) it was owing to these marks having impelled me to it, and since it was impossible to put them away, it is not fitting that I should be overtaken with punishment for them.

Wherefore by thy sentence I am set free from this calamitous imprisonment, and thou hast given a convincing proof of thy ignorance and spurious pretensions to be a judge, and hast shewn by an unfounded speech and a baseless semblance, and an unluminous charge and a declaration not listened to, that thou hast made an incongruous entrance into the assembly of the wise.

When Damnah had delivered this reply, all those who were present, placed the seal of silence on the casket of speech, and none was able to utter a word more. The ḳáẓí commanded him to be conveyed back to prison, and they made a detailed representation to the Lion of what had occurred. When Damnah, however, had re-entered the prison, a friend of Kalílah, whom they called Rúzbih, passed by. Damnah called him, and said, ‘Since yesterday I have no tidings of Kalílah, and at this crisis I am most anxious for his visits.

What news hast thou of him? and what excuse hast thou brought for his not coming?’ As soon as Rúzbih heard Kalílah named, he drew a hot sigh from his burning heart, and showering tears of blood from the clouds of his eyes, said,

Damnah was impatient at the distress of Rúzbih, and said, ‘Declare the facts with all speed.’ Rúzbih replied, ‘O Damnah! how shall I tell them?

O Damnah! that dear friend has migrated from this transitory abode to the enduring city, and has impressed on the hearts of his friends and companions the wound of separation.

When Damnah heard the intelligence of Kalílah’s death, he swooned, and when, after a long interval, he recovered his senses, he uttered loud laments, and in deepest grief, with streaming eyes, exclaimed,

When Damnah had carried his lamentations beyond bounds, and had rent the garment of patience with the hand of complaint, while each moment he rubbed his face in the dust, and wept in a manner to which none could endure to listen, Rúzbih began to exhort him, and said, ‘O Damnah! thou thyself knowest that the kingly and eternal writer²³⁶ has written the name of continuous existence on the paper of the life of no created thing, and the pourtrayer of the forms of creation has not engraved the figure of life on the pages of possibility, save with the pen of ‘Everything shall perish except Himself,’²³⁷ nor has the tailor^237a of the establishment of eternity sewed the garment of the existence of any living being without the fringe of annihilation, nor has the carpet-spreader of the pavilion of omnipotence lighted the taper of entertainment^237b without the violent wind of calamity.

This is a draught which all must taste, and a burthen which all must bear. There is no salve for this wound but patience—no remedy for this disease but compulsory endurance.

By these words Damnah was in some degree consoled, and said, ‘O Rúzbih! right is on my side in this lament, for Kalílah was to me an attached friend and a right-counselling brother, with whom I found refuge in time of trouble, and from whose judgment and consideration and tenderness and advice, I could in emergencies derive succour. His head was a treasury, and all the coin of secrets therein deposited remained concealed from the world, and the spy of Time remained in despair of becoming acquainted with them. Alas! that that kind friend has removed his auspicious company from my head, and has left me in the corner of the world’s tenement without comrade, or associate, or friend, or confidant.

Hereafter what pleasure can I find in life? or what advantage will the stock of existence supply? And were it not that at this crisis various suspicions [of my motives] might arise in the minds of men, I could kill myself with lamentation,^237c and free myself from the pain of solitude and the sufferings of my friendless condition, since in this abyss into which I have fallen, no appearance of escape is visible, without the aid of a friend and the help of sympathisers.

Rúzbih said, ‘If Kalílah has fallen from the garden of life into the thorny brake of extinction and annihilation, the plant of the affection of other friends is refreshed and rendered verdant by the drops of true love.

Damnah said, ‘Thou speakest the truth, thy existence is a remedy for my trouble, and thy life the alleviation of every disaster, and to-day thou art to me the very same friend and brother that Kalílah was before. Give me thy hand and accept me as a brother.’ Ruzbíh advanced with the greatest alacrity and said, ‘By this favor thou hast bound me to thee, and hast set up the banner of my exaltation on the pinnacle of the highest places. How can my faithful heart discharge its gratitude for this kindness? and how can my tongue, though lavish in praise, express its thankfulness for this blessing?’ They then took each other’s hands and tied the knot of brotherhood, and concluded the ties of companionship and agreement as is the custom of such covenants. Damnah then said, ‘In such a place there is a hoard, belonging to me and Kalílah. If thou wilt take the trouble to bring it here, thy labour will not be unrewarded.’ Rúzbih, by the direction which Damnah furnished, brought the deposit. Damnah separated his own share, and gave to Rúzbih what belonged to Kalílah, and besought Rúzbih ever to be in attendance at court, and to learn whatever passed with reference to him.

The next day, early in the morning, the lioness came and inquired what had passed at the late assembly. The Lion repeated the particulars of the proceedings in the manner that the judges had reported to him. The lioness, having learned the nature of the report, was vexed, and said, ‘If I speak bluntly, it may displease the king, and if I connivc at this I shall be acting supinely with relation to my duty as an adviser and a friend.’ The Lion replied, ‘Forbearance and too great tenderness are not right in stating the heads of salutary counsel, and thy words are certainly clear from all mixture of doubt. It will meet with speedy approbation—offer what thou hast to say.’ The lioness said, ‘The king does not discriminate between truth and falsehood, and discerns not his own advantage from what would be injurious to him; and Damnah, having obtained the opportunity, will raise some mischief, such that the clearest intellects will fail to remedy it and the sharpest scymitars prove ineffectual against it.” The Lion responded, ‘Do, thou not go away to-day; the affair of Damnah may perhaps be concluded.’ The high command was then issued that the judges should assemble again, and should re-open the case of Damnah in a general meeting. In accordance with this mandate, high and low came together, and the ḳáẓí’s deputy repeated the same discourse which has been before cited, and demanded evidence with respect to Damnah from those present. No one uttered a word regarding him, and not a particle of information was adduced with reference to him, either good or ill. The principal judge turned to Damnah and said, ‘Though the audience befriends thee by its silence, yet the hearts of all are unanimously convinced of thy treason, and inwardly agree as to thy death; such being the case, what advantage will it be to thee to live among this people? it would be more suitable to thy condition and be better for the issue of thy affairs, that thou shouldest confess thy crime, and, by repentance and contrition, deliver thyself from the punishments of a future state; and by dying thou wilt secure one of two delights, either that thou wilt emancipate others or thyself.

O Damnah! if thou wilt confess thy guilt, thou wilt secure two excellent things, the remembrance of which will be perpetuated on the surface of time. One is, the acknowledgment of thy crime so as to secure salvation in the world to come, and the choosing the realms of eternity and happiness rather than the abode of fleeting existence and affliction. The other is, that the renown of thy eloquence and oratory, and the power of thy rhetoric and speaking, in these fascinating answers that thou hast given, and these specious excuses which thou hast offered, will be spread by the tongues of high and low, and thy ability and boldness are known to all thy contemporaries, and all will testify to thy eminent gifts and understanding. Do thou take counsel with thy sagacity, and be wise according to the truth of this saying, that ‘death with honor is better than life with disgrace.’

Damnah replied, ‘The ḳáẓí ought not to pronounce sentence according to his own suspicion and the conjectures of others, without plain proof and clear evidence, nor should he transgress the tenor of that saying, ‘Verily a half-opinion is a sin,’²⁴⁰ and even if you have this doubt, and though your minds should be convinced as to my guilt, I know my own affairs better, and to hide one’s own certainty because of another’s doubt, is not right in judgment nor approved by the laws of religion. And notwithstanding that you, on bare suspicion that I may perhaps have exerted myself to procure the death of Shanzabah, have spoken and speak all this, and have thus marred my credit, yet should I causelessly aid in my own destruction, and unjustly accede to my own execution; on what explanation of the matter should I be excuseable, and how should I exonerate myself from the old monition, ‘And throw not yourselves with your own hands into perdition?’^240a I am fully convinced, too, that no one has the same claims on me that I have on myself, and therefore that which I would not allow with respect to my inferior, and out of generous spirit not permit with regard to him, how can I consent to it in my own case?^240b

O ḳáẓí! cease to speak thus; if it is intended for advice, better is wanted; and if it be reproach, it is better that a ḳáẓí should not utter it, for the words of judges are orders, and it is requisite for them to avoid mistake and error, and jesting and light talk; and very strange is it that thou wast always truthful and just, and yet, owing to my ill-fortune and calamity, thou hast in this matter laid caution aside, and on thy own suspicions and those of interested persons, hast afflicted the eye of truth with the opthalmia of neglect,

The judges of the tribunal of wisdom, by the signet of whose mandates the bond of the nurture of merit is sealed, have pronounced the following decision:—That the coin of my testimony, which is not adorned with the seal of certainty, is not admitted or recognised as of full weight in the mint of acceptance, and whosoever gives evidence in a matter with which he is not acquainted, will meet with what that Falconer met with.’ The ḳáẓí inquired, ‘How was that?’

Damnah said, ‘They have related that there was a lord of the marches, renowned for his eminent qualities, and famed and celebrated for his excellent nature and admirable gifts.

And this lord of the marches had a wife, who, by her beauty, was a calamity to the soul; and by her grace, a source of mischief to the world. Her lip was more invigorating than the waters of life, and her mouth more sweet than a bundle²⁴¹ of sugar.

She combined with perfect beauty and fascination, the grace of chastity and continence, and she adorned her mischief-exciting cheek with the mole of devotion and abstinence.

And this lord of the marches had a slave from Balkh,^241a excessively bold and audacious, who forbade not the pupil of his eye to gaze on that which it was unlawful to see, nor cleansed the desires of his breast from the dust of debauchery and mischief. Now this slave was allotted the office of Falconer in the service of the lord-marcher, and was appointed to capture fowls. One day he caught sight of that chaste lady, and the fowl of his heart was taken captive by the snare of her love.

However much the slave who had lost his heart shook the chain of union, she was not drawn into a meeting, and, in spite of all his wishes, she became not his captive.

The Falconer having girt the waist of hope in the desire of capturing that peacock of the garden of beauty, let fly the hawk of contrivance in the air of the desire of meeting, but however much he did so, it found not the way to the wished-for nest.

When he despaired of success, as is the wont of evil men, he determined to assail her reputation and employ a stratagem to secure her disgrace; he then purchased two parrots from a fowler, and taught one of them in the language of Balkh to say, ‘I saw the porter in the house sleeping with my mistress:’ and the other to repeat, ‘I for my part say nothing.’ In the space of a week, they had learned these two words. One day the lord of the marches had prepared a wine-party, and was sitting at his ease on the cushion of pleasure, when the Falconer entered, and, by way of an offering, presented the birds. The sweet-spoken parrots began their mellifluous discourse, and, in accordance with their custom, repeated tho same two sentences. The lord of the marches was ignorant of the language of Balkh, but was pleased at their merry prattle and the similarity of their words [to those of men], and taking a liking to those bewitching sounds, which excited joy, he delivered the birds to his wife, in order that she should attend to them and exert herself to cherish them. The hapless lady, too, was ignorant of the language the birds spoke. She took care of them and caressed her enemies under the guise of friends.

In short the lord of the marches became so accustomed to the parrots that he would never sit at the wine-feast without their sweet notes and their unrivaled modulations; and to listen to their exhilarating trills he closed his ears to the touching sounds of the lute, and the exciting murmurs of the harp. One day a party of people from Balkh, came as guests to the lord of the marches, who caused the parrots to be brought into the assembly which he prepared for his visitors. The birds began, in their accustomed manner, to sing the same two sentences. When the guests heard that, they looked at one another, and at last holding down their heads, ashamed, remained astonished at the circumstance. The lord of the marches observed that the flame of his companions’ mirth was quenched and that the pleasurable excitement of his guests was exchanged for amazement and reflection. He asked for an explanation of this state of things, and pressed them for it beyond measure, and however much his guests excused themselves, he would not admit of a refusal. One of them, who had more boldness than the rest, said, ‘Perhaps, O lord of the marches! thou art ignorant of what these birds say?’ He replied, ‘I do not understand their words, but I feel a gratification and pleasure in my heart at their delightful tones. Do ye acquaint me with the meaning of what they say.

They then told the lord of the marches the meaning of the words of the parrots, and made him understand the purport of their discourse. Hereupon he desisted from drinking, and said, ‘My friends! excuse me. I was ignorant of this matter, and now that I have learned the true state of the case, no other excuse is needed. In our city it is not the custom to entertain in a house where there is a profligate and unchaste wife.’ In the midst of this colloquy, the slave who acted as Falconer, cried out, ‘I have seen it repeatedly, and I bear witness to it.’ The lord-marcher started up, and gave orders to put his wife to death. The lady sent a person to him with this message, ‘O fortunate lord!

Nevertheless reflect in this affair, and act not precipitately.

The wise think deliberation requisite in all affairs, especially in shedding blood, since if it be necessary to take life, the opportunity of doing so is left; and if—which God forbid!—they should, through precipitation, put an innocent person to death, and it should afterwards be known that he did not deserve to be slain, the remedy would be beyond the circle of possibility, and the punishment thereof would hang to all eternity on the neck of the guilty party.

The lord of the marches commanded that they should bring the lady to the party and place her behind a curtain, and he told her the state of the case, and said, ‘Parrots are not of the same nature as men, that what they say should be tainted with interested motives. They speak what they have seen, and the Falconer too adds his testimony to corroborate their charge, and this is not a matter that any eloquence can render excusable.

The lady replied, ‘It is a religious duty to take the proper steps in my case, and whenever the circumstances of it are rightly known, if I be worthy of death, thou mayest in one instant set thy mind at rest on that head.’ The lord of the marches answered, ‘How can this affair be investigated?’ His wife replied, ‘Inquire of the men of Balkh whether the birds know aught else in the language of Balkh, save these two sentences. And when it is discovered that, except these two phrases, they utter nothing, it will occur to thee that that base and shameless person, whose wish I did not grant, and whose vain desire and profligate intentions did not terminate in success, has taught them these two speeches. But if they can speak anything else in that language, it becomes lawful for thee to shed my blood, and life is to me a thing prohibited.’ The lord of the marches proceeded with due circumspection, and for three days the guests examined into the matter. They heard nothing, however, from the tongue of the parrots except those two sentences, and as soon as the innocence of the lady was established, her husband abandoned his intention of putting her to death, and commanded them to bring in the Falconer. He entered with the utmost eagerness, saying to himself that he should, perhaps, obtain promotion. The lady asked him, ‘O cruel and treacherous man! didst thou behold me do anything in violation of God’s law.’ He replied, ‘Yes; I saw thee.’ The instant that he pronounced these words, a hawk, which he had in his hands, attacked his face and struck its beak into his eye, and tore it out. The lady exclaimed, ‘Verily, the punishment of the eye which pretends to have seen what it has not seen, is no other than this, ‘And the retaliation of evil ought to be an evil proportionate thereto.’²⁴⁴

And I have introduced this story to the end that ye may know that to be bold in calumniating, and to bear witness to what has not been seen, is the cause of shame in this world and of disgrace in the next.’

When Damnah’s speech was finished, they wrote it all down on the spot, and transmitted it to the Lion, and he showed what had passed to his mother. The lioness, having informed herself of it said, ‘O king! all my efforts in this matter have been no further beneficial than to cast suspicion on this execrable wretch, and hereafter his deceitful artifices will be occupied with compassing^244a the king’s destruction, and he will throw the affairs of both king and people into confusion, and he will accomplish more with respect to all the Pillars of the state than he ventured on with regard to Shanzabah, who was a sincere, attached, and loyal minister; for from a bad heart will spring nothing but bad actions, and from an infirm nature arises nought but mischief and audacity.

This speech made a great impression^244c on the heart of the lion, and he was oppressed with long and anxious reflections. At last he said, ‘O mother! tell me from whom thou hast heard the tale of Damnah, that I may have a pretext for killing him?’ She replied, ‘O king! to divulge the secret of one who has placed confidence in me, is forbidden by the laws of honor, and a secret which they have committed to me as a deposit, I am necessitated by high feeling to preserve. I can go so far, I will ask that person’s permission, and if he concede it, I will then tell it plainly.’ To this the Lion assented, and the lioness coming out from his presence, honored her own court by proceeding thither, and sending for the leopard, gratified him by a variety of honorable attentions, and said,

thou knowest the honors which the king of beasts vouchsafes to thee, and the marks of the royal favor and support towards thee are written in the volume of manifestation, and for this reason it is incumbent on thee to shew thy gratitude, in order that, according to the promise, ‘If ye be thankful, I will surely increase my favours towards you,’²⁴⁶—the bounty of the king may be duly enlarged.’ The leopard replied, ‘O queen! the imperial favour and kingly bounty which the ruler of this age has lavished and still lavishes on his humble servant cannot be sufficiently acknowledged by me, whatever I might call in to aid me in the task; nor have I the power to evince my thanks for a thousandth part of his kindness, nor for a particle of their amplitude.

And I have oft traversed the plain of loyalty with the step of praise, and now too, in whatever the empress of the time may be pleased to indicate, she will observe nought but submission and devotion.’ The lioness said,

The Lion at the first communicated to thee the state of his thoughts, and thou didst undertake the duty of endeavoring, to the utmost extent of thy power, to exact from his perfidious foe vengeance for Shanzabah.

The advisable course is that thou shouldest proceed to the Lion, and truthfully recount what thou hast seen and heard; otherwise the artifices of Damnah have reached that height that the Lion will forego the intention of putting him to death, and in that case no one will be safe from his malice at the Lion’s court, and in a short space he will, by his wily machinations bring destruction on the nobles and officers, and will contrive, by his calumnies and misrepresentations, the ruin of everyone concerned in his case and who strove to secure his death.’ The leopard replied, ‘O queen! I take upon me the carrying through of this matter.^246a And I hitherto kept back my evidence and withheld this true testimony, in order that the king might get a specimen of Damnah’s nature, and become acquainted with his subtle artifices and fraud, and had I, previous to this, plunged into the matter and meddled in the management of it, (as the king was unacquainted with the tricks of Damnah and the baseness of his nature, and the wickedness of his disposition,) it is probable that he would have imputed my words to selfish motives, and entertained evil suspicions of me. But now that the affair has reached this point, I will not neglect the public weal, and if I had a thousand lives, and could devote them to secure the king a moment’s ease of mind, I should still be unable to discharge one of all the duties of thankfulness, which I owe him for his favours, and should still regard myself as falling short of what loyalty imposes on me.

The lioness then went to the Lion, and recounted what had passed between Kalílah and Damnah, as she had heard it, and delivered this testimony in the assembly of the beasts. These tidings being bruited abroad, the thief also,²⁴⁷ who had overheard their colloquy, sent some one to say that he, too, had evidence to give. The Lion issued his orders that he should attend; and he duly bore witness to what had passed between them in the prison. They asked him why he had not made a representation of it on the first day. He replied, ‘No sentence is pronounced on the evidence of only one person, and I thought it not right to bring punishment, uselessly, on an animal.’^247a The Lion approved of what he said; and on the evidence of these two, it became incumbent to sentence Damnah to be punished, and the signatures of the judges having been affixed, all the beasts agreed in pronouncing for his execution in retaliation for that of the Ox.

The Lion commanded that they should find and keep him carefully in ward, and that they should withhold his food and torture him with various severities and threats, so that he at last expired of hunger and thirst in the prison, and the retributive disgrace of his fraud and perfidy reaching him, he passed from the hell of imprisonment to the incarceration of hell [according to the saying] ‘And the utmost part of the people, which had acted wickedly, was cut off; praise be unto God, the Lord of all creatures,²⁴⁸ in order that it might be known that such is the end of deceivers and the termination of traitors.

The King said to the Bráhman, ‘I have heard the story of friends whose relations, owing to the endeavors of mischievous calumniators, terminated in enmity, and thus the innocent party was put to death, and how God Most High brought on that perfidious disturber the retribution due. Now, if the time calls for it, be pleased to explain the state of friends, one in heart and of one accord, and the way in which they enjoy fruit from the plant of friendship and amity, and their placing back to back and standing face to face in repulsing their foes, and their giving each other’s inclination precedence over their own.’ The Bráhman replied,

Know that in the opinion of the perfectly wise and of people of merit and approved qualities, there is no coin more valuable than the existence of sincere friends, and no rank more lofty than the attainment of attached companions.

And assuredly those persons, the coin of whose friendship has been adorned with the stamp of sincerity in the mint of attachment; and the shrub of whose amity has been watered in the garden of speciality by the drops of unanimity and obligingness, are a delight to the soul and the means of abundance and success; and the advantage of friends is great, and their benefits incalculable. And in the number of them is to be included, that in prosperous times they increase the amount of pleasure and happy converse, and in disasters they tread the path of assistance and are accompanied by companionship and support.

And among the number of the stories which they have written on the pages of narration concerning attached companions and united friends, the story of the Crow and the Mouse, and the Pigeon, and the Tortoise, and the Stag, is a lucid narrative and sweet tale.’ The King inquired, ‘How was that?’

The Bráhman said, ‘They have related that in the country of Kashmír there was a delightful spot and an incomparable mead, the surface of whose ground—from the profusion of its flowers—was adorned like the expanse of heaven, and by the reflection of its perfume-shedding plants, the wings of a crow showed like a peacock’s tail.

And inasmuch as there was much game in that green plain, huntsmen visited it the more frequently and everywhere set their snares for the capture of animals and the imprisonment of birds; and in the vicinity of that plain, a Crow had made its nest on a large tree, and read from the pages of its leaves the maxim, ‘Love of country is a part of religion.’ One day, seated on the top of the tree, it was looking down and up and to the right and left, when, on a sudden, it beheld a fowler, who, with a net on his neck, a pouch at his back, and a stick in his hand, was coming towards the tree. The Crow was alarmed, and said to itself,

And it is probable that he may have girded himself to attack me and have placed the arrow of deliberation in the bow of stratagem to make me his prey; hence caution requires that I keep my place and watch,

The Crow, hidden by the leaves of the tree, employed the eye of expectancy; and the fowler coming to the foot of the tree spread his net and having scattered some grain over it, seated himself in ambush. After some time had elapsed, a flock of pigeons arrived, whose chief was called Ring-dove, of clear intellect and the utmost sagacity, and perfect intelligence and strong judgment; and these pigeons agreed in submitting to him, and gloried in obeying and ministering to him, and spent not their time save in his service, which was to them the service of safety and the adornment of their successful and happy state. As soon as the eyes of the pigeons fell upon the grain, the fire of hunger began to blaze and the reins of choice dropped from the hands of power. Ring-dove, according to the tenderness which is due from superiors to inferiors, endeavoured to induce them to reflect and pause, saying,

They replied, ‘Prince! matters with us have reached the pitch of urgency, and our affairs have issued in extreme distress. When our crops are empty of grain, and our hearts are full of anxiety, we have not the power to listen to advice, nor time to watch the consequences; and the wise have said,

Ring-dove perceived that he could not restrain with the noose of counsel those greedy grain-seekers, nor draw them out with the rope of reproach from the pit of incaution and ignorance.

He wished to withdraw from them and to escape on one side, but the power²⁵¹ of the divine decree bound his neck with the chain of fate, and dragged him towards the snare.

In short the whole flock of pigeons, at once laying aside caution, alighted. The instant that they began to pick up the grain they were caught in the fowler’s net. Ring-dove exclaimed, ‘Did I not tell you that the consequences of precipitation are not commendable, and that to enter upon affairs without reflection, is not to be approved?

The pigeons were quite overcome with shame and alarm, and the fowler, issuing from his place of concealment, was running with the utmost delight towards them, in order that, having seized and secured them, he might return home. As soon as the pigeons beheld the fowler they were distracted with fear, and each flapped its wings and struggled to free itself. Ring-dove exclaimed, ‘O comrades! you are exerting yourselves each for his own release, while you are all careless of your companions’ safety,

Among friends, it has been declared that they ought to think of their companions’ safety before their own, as once on a time two comrades were sitting in a vessel, when, suddenly, near the shore, the vessel foundered, and both fell into the water. A boatman on the shore plunged into the water, and tried to save one of them, but whichever he wanted to rescue, called out,

And if you have not sufficient firmness to prefer your comrade’s life to your own, and to esteem his safety more precious than yours, at least, let all of you, with mutual consent and co-operation, put out your strength, so that, perhaps, by the fortunate influence of this unanimity and agreement, the net may be raised from its place and we may all obtain deliverance.’ The pigeons did as they were directed and all made a common effort, and by this manœuvre, tore up the net and made off. The fowler, notwithstanding this circumstance, followed on their traces, and hoping that they would at last get weary and fall, went on with his eyes fixed in the air. The crow thought to himself. ‘It will take a vast interval of time before a similar strange occurrence comes from the womb of nonentity into the expanse of existence, and I, myself, am not safe from an accident of this nature. It will be better to follow them with speed that I may learn how their affair terminates, and storing up that experience for my future life, make use of it in the time of need.

The Crow flew after them, and Ring-dove with his flock flew on, bearing the net, and the greedy and audacious fowler, fixing his eyes upon them traveled onward. When Ring-dove observed that the fowler still followed them and that his appetite being stimulated urged him not to rest until he had laid hands upon them, he turned to his companions and said, ‘This hostile person has prepared with the utmost diligence to pursue us and is bent upon killing us, and until we disappear from his sight he will not give us up. Our best course is to make for inhabited places and to fly towards orchards and trees, that his view of us may be intercepted and that he may turn back in despair and ashamed.’ The pigeons, in accordance with his direction, sped on and hastened from the wild waste and desert towards buildings. When the fowler lost sight of them, he turned back with extreme regret, and the Crow flew on as before, in order to learn the circumstances of the pigeons’ release, and treasure them up as a means of averting a similar danger, and as a remedy for an occurrence of the same nature, in accordance with the maxim, ‘Happy is he who is taught by the lesson of others.’

The pigeons, freed from the terror of the fowler, referred to Ring-dove as to the means of liberating themselves from the net, and that wise and prudent bird, after long reflection and consideration, replied, ‘I am constrained to think that there is no escape from this perilous position without the help of a faithful friend:

In this neighbourhood there is a mouse, Zírak by name, distinguished among my friends by his superior faithfulness, and pre-eminent among all my comrades and those who have a regard for me in the code of friendship.

It is probable that by his aid some means of escape from these fetters will be found and a plan offer itself for our release.’ They then alighted at a ruin where the mouse dwelt, and, approaching his hole, rapped with the knocker of the door of eagerness. When the voice of Ring-dove reached the ear of Zírak, he came out, and when he beheld his friend bound in the fetters of calamity, he caused tears of blood from the fountain of his eyes to flood the expanse of his cheek, and raised to heaven sighs of grief from his consuming heart, and said,

O beloved friend! and O companion suited to my mind! by what stratagem didst thou fall into this net, and from what cause wast thou overtaken in this distress?’ Ring-dove replied, ‘A variety of good and ill, and divers gains and losses, have been bound up with the decrees of fate. Whatever the writer of the supreme will inscribes with the pen of predestination in the tribunal of eternity on the pages of the affairs of created things will assuredly come forward into the field of existence, and to endeavour to avoid or shun it is altogether unavailing.

And the divine will and God’s decree have plunged me into this vortex of destruction, and displayed to me and my companions the grain, and although I dissuaded them from acting with levity and precipitation, and rebuked them for their haste and neglect of caution, the hand of destiny drew down before the eye of my vision also the curtain of carelessness; and clear-sighted reason, and far-seeing prudence kept me behind the dark screen of ignorance and folly, and thus the whole of us were all at once overtaken with the hand of trouble and the claw of calamity.’ The Mouse replied, ‘Oh strange! that one like thee, with all this shrewdness and sagacity, could not resist the disastrous influence of fate, nor avert with the shield of stratagem and counsel the shaft of destiny.’ Ring-dove answered, ‘O Zírak! cease these words, for those who, in strength and power, and reason and foresight, are superior to me; and in dignity and wealth, and excellence and perfection are before me; cannot contend with the eternal decrees nor withdraw their heads from the mandate of Him who has no decline, ‘There is none who can avert His decree, and there is none to reverse his judgment.’²⁵⁴ When the ruler whose commands all obey, moves the chain of His purpose, he transports the fish from the bottom of the ocean into the expanse of air, and the bird from its aerial height, he brings down into the centre of the earth; and there is no resource for any creature in the decrees of destiny and providence but to acquiesce and be resigned.

And thou must know that in the matter of the issue of the mandate of fate, the wise and the fool are alike, and in the whirlpool of destiny the poor peasant and the world-conquering king are on the same footing.

Zírak replied, ‘O Ring-dove! be of good cheer, for every garment that the habit-maker of the Divine Will prepares for the person of any individual attendant of the court of God’s worship, whether its collar be adorned with the button of wealth, or its skirt worked with the border of distress, is indubitably a pure favor and absolute beneficence. And the climax of this bounty is that the creature remains ignorant of its nature, nor sees the recondite mercy involved in it,²⁵⁵ and with reference to this they have said,

And if thou dost well consider it, what has befallen thee was for thy good; and the wise have said, ‘The pure honey is not found without the cruel sting, nor does the rose of joy grow up without the thorn of trouble.’

And when Zírak had finished this discourse and began to busy himself in severing the meshes which confined Ring-dove, the latter exclaimed, ‘Kind friend! first undo the fetters of my companions, and after thou hast satisfied thyself of their release, come to me.’ The mouse, paying no attention to these words, went on with his work. Ring-dove said again, and with greater emphasis, ‘O Zírak! if thou desirest to please me and act true to thy obligations as a friend, it is requisite for thee first to release my friends, and by this favour, thou wilt place the chain of obligation on my neck.’ The Mouse answered, ‘Thou hast reiterated this remark, and hast laid excessive stress upon it. But carest thou not for thine own life? and dost thou not admit the duty of self-preservation or neglectest thou the maxim, ‘Begin with thine own self.’^255b Ring-dove replied, ‘Thou shouldest not reproach me, for they have written out for my name the diploma of the chieftainship of these pigeons, and I have made myself responsible for superintending their affairs. Inasmuch as they are my subjects, they have just claims upon me, and I too have claims upon them, because I am their prince, and now that they have faithfully discharged their duty to me, and that by their aid and assistance I have escaped from the hands of the fowler, I too ought to acquit myself of the duties which belong to me, and perform the functions of a leader; and every king who seeks his own ease, and leaves his people entangled in the bonds of trouble, it will not be long before the draught of his happiness is discolored, and the eye of his fortune darkened.

The Mouse answered, ‘The king is to his people what life is to the frame, or the heart to the body; wherefore, the first thing will be to take care of his condition, since, if the heart is whole, there cannot result so much detriment from the ill-state of the members, but if—which God forbid!—the heart be injured, the safety of the limbs is of no use whatever.

Ring-dove rejoined, ‘I fear lest, if thou shouldst begin to remove my bonds, thou mightest become weary, and some of my companions might be left imprisoned; while, as long as I am bound, though thou be utterly tired, thou wilt not forsake me, nor will thy feelings suffer thee to neglect to set me free, and, moreover, we have been partners in calamity, and honor demands that our release and freedom too should be simultaneous.

The Mouse answered, ‘This is the custom of the magnanimous and the fundamental principle of the generous; and by this laudable disposition and amiable temperament, the confidence of people in thy friendship becomes more unclouded, and the reliance of thy subjects on thy beneficence and high-mindedness is increased.

Then Zírak, with the utmost energy and ineffable zeal, severed the meshes of Ring-dove’s companions, and, last of all, released the neck of Ring-dove himself from the chain of calamity. The pigeons bade him farewell, and, safe and secure, returned to their own nests, and the Mouse retreated into his hole. When the Crow beheld the Mouse’s assistance, and how he undid the meshes, he longed to secure his friendship and alliance, and viewing his fidelity and fraternity as a rare blessing, said to himself, ‘I can never be secure from the adventure which befel the pigeons, and, consequently, I can never be indifferent to the friendship of such a person as this, who renders help in adversity.

The crow then flew lightly down to the door of the mouse’s hole, and called out. The Mouse asked, ‘Who art thou?’ The Crow replied, ‘It is I, the Crow, and I have urgent business with thee. Zírak was a mouse of prudence, who had experienced many vicissitudes and seen both good and ill fortune, and he had in that place prepared many holes for places of refuge, and had cut passages from one to the other, and he was in the habit of making ready for emergencies before they occurred, and of providing for all things wisely and prudently. When he heard the Crow’s voice, he recoiled, and said, ‘What hast thou to do with me or what connection have I with thee?’ The Crow recounted the case from beginning to end, and informed him of his acquaintance with his fidelity and excessive truthfulness in the matter of the pigeons, and said, ‘I have discovered thy perfect honor and loyalty, and goodly generosity and discharge of duty, and know how those pigeons reaped the fruits of thy friendship, and the consequences of thy amity; and how they obtained deliverance from that whirlpool of destruction by the blessing of thy constancy and attachment. I have bent all my energies to secure thy friendship, and am here to go through the preliminaries for commencing our intimacy.

The Mouse replied, ‘The path of companionship between me and thee is closed, and the road of intercourse shut.

Go! cease attempting to weld iron that has not been heated, nor take steps in pursuit of a thing, the attainment of which is every way surrounded with difficulties; for the pursuit of that which comes not within the range of possibility, is like trying to impel a ship on dry ground or to gallop a horse on the surface f the sea; and whoever labors in search of impossibilities makes himself an object of ridicule, and does but display his own ignorance to the wise.

The Crow replied, ‘Forbear to speak thus, for the generous leave not the needy unsatisfied, nor do the rich strike the back of their hands on the supplicating foreheads of those—whoever they may be—who seek their portals; and I have taken refuge, at this threshold, from the vicissitudes of fortune, and have made these doors my asylum and retreat from the chances of revolving time.

Now that I have made the dust of this thoroughfare the place of my attendance, and consider my honor pledged to the service of this sanctuary, no ill-treatment will make me turn back, nor any contumely drive me elsewhere.

The Mouse rejoined, ‘O Crow! desist from those artifices, nor scatter the grain of deceit before the net of dissimulation, for I well know the disposition of those of thy race, and since our natures are different, I shrink from thy society

Nothing can now make me secure with thee, and whoever chooses the companionship of one with whom he can never be secure, will meet with what the Partridge met with.’ The Crow asked, ‘How was that?’

The Mouse replied, ‘They have related that on the skirt of a mountain a Partridge²⁵⁸ was proudly walking, and the echoing sound of its merry cry pealed through the vault of heaven. It happened that a bird of prey, a hawk, was flying there. When its sight fell on the graceful movements of the Partridge, and the sound of its glee caught its ear, it longed in heart to associate with it, and began to inscribe on the tablet of its imagination the traces of its friendship. It reflected that in this world every creature stands in need of a suitable companion, and cannot do without an agreeable friend and kind associate, and that it has passed into a proverb that ‘where friends are failing there is ever ailing:’²⁵⁹

and that this Partridge would be a friend of comely countenance and smiling aspect, light-hearted and graceful, and that in the society of such a companion, the mind would be refreshed and gratified, and the bosom cheered and soothed by the friendship of such an ally.

He then softly inclined towards the Partridge, who, when it saw him, cautiously ensconced itself in the fissure of a rock. The hawk, descending from the air, alighted in front of that cleft, and stated what had occurred, saying, ‘O Partridge! hitherto I have been blind to thy perfections, and thy excellence and transcendant merit have been hid from me. To-day thy mirthful cry has occasioned such joyous emotions in my heart, and thy bewitching movements have so captivated me, as to make me trust that thou wilt not henceforth stand in dread or awe of me, and that thou wilt be disposed to become my friend and associate, since where friendship precedes, happy results follow, and the tree of amity bears for its fruit the object of one’s wishes.

The Partridge replied, ‘O conquering hero! suffer this helpless afflicted one to escape, and be pleased to devour some other partridge, and deem

Whenever water and fire consent to blend together, then one may conceive that friendship might arise between thee and me, and when sun and shade can be associated, it will be supposable that we can become companions.

The hawk replied, ‘O friend! reflect that it can be nothing but friendship which could lead me to speak kindly to one like thee. My claws are not grown weak, that I should fail in making prey of such as thou art, nor has my beak become powerless or debilitated that I should fail to secure any food. There is no more in it than this, that the desire of fellowship and fraternity with thee, and the wish for propinquity and attachment to thee, induces me to agitate the chain of friendship; and thou mayest anticipate many advantages from associating with me. And among these the first will be that when birds of the same species with myself observe that I foster thee under the shadow of the wings of my protection, they will withdraw the hand of violence from thy skirt and will survey thee with respect; and thou, with mind at ease, mayest wander over mountain and plain. Another advantage will be that I will convey thee to my own nest, so that thou wilt be elevated to a superior station and a lofty abode, and wilt be advanced in dignity above thy fellows. Moreover, I will bring thee a partner of thy own kind, gentle and beautiful, whom thou mayest in real truth desire to espouse, so that embracing her with the hands of enjoyment thou mayest pass thy time to the wish of thy heart.

The Partridge answered, ‘Thou art the ruler of the birds and the reins of dominion over them are in the grasp of thy option, and I am one of thy subjects and of those who pay thee tribute, and the like of me are not devoid of weaknesses and infirmities, and at the time when I am aided by thy favor and hope for thy support, it is possible that I may do something which may displease thy august mind, and the talons of my lord’s anger may destroy me. It cannot but be best that I should content myself with retirement and not lift up the banner of service in thy command, which is fraught with danger to me.

The hawk replied, ‘O brother! hast thou not heard and learned that the eye of friendship is blind in discovering faults, and that everything that proceeds from a friend, though it be the greatest of blemishes, seems the chiefest of beauties.

And since I survey thy actions with the eye of friendship, and inscribe the writing of thy words and adventures on the volume of attachment, how could I trace the character of error in thy discourse? or how interpret amiss aught that thou couldst say or do?

Although the Partridge repeated many excuses worthy of being approved, the hawk rejoined to them with satisfactory answers, and at last, by promises and a solemn covenant, he drew the Partridge out of the hole, and they then embraced one another, and ratified their agreement by oaths; and the hawk, taking him up, conveyed him to his own nest, and mutually pleased with each other, they passed their time in amusement and mirth. When two or three days had passed in this manner, and the Partridge felt safe with the hawk, he began to adopt an insolent tone, to speak with too great freedom, and without any reason, burst into laughter in the midst of conversation; while the hawk magnanimously appeared not to hear it, and forbore to punish it. Nevertheless, resentment found room in his breast, until one day he suddenly became slightly indisposed, so that he was unable to stir in search of food. He passed the whole day in his nest, and when night came and his crop was emptied of the food it contained, the fire of hunger blazed up and set his savage nature in motion, and the feelings of irritation against the Partridge, which he had stored up in the course of time, made him furious. In vain the monitor reason presented to his eyes his promise and compact, he did not glance at it with the eye of consent, and was seeking for a pretence to break his agreement and devour the Partridge. The latter observed the signs of wrath in his countenance, and with the sight of his eyes perceived that his destruction was at hand. Drawing a cold sigh from his afflicted heart, he said,

Alas! that at the beginning of this adventure, I did not cast my eyes to the conclusion, but associated with one of a different race, and forgot the precept of the wise.

Consequently, this day the vessel of my life has fallen into a whirlpool, such that the mariner of deliberation is unable to set me free; and the cord of my existence is broken in such wise, that the finger-tip of thought is baffled in attempting to unite it.

Thus was he soliliquizing, and meantime the hawk was unfolding his cruel talons and whetting his blood-shedding beak with the venom of tyranny, and as his first measure, sought a pretext²⁶² against the Partridge. The latter, cautiously observant, took care to be thoroughly respectful, so that the hawk found no excuse for attacking him. At length, losing patience, he called out angrily to the Partridge, ‘Is it fitting that I should be in the sun and thou pass thy time in the shade?’ The Partridge replied, ‘O world-subduing prince! now it is night, and the shades of darkness have enveloped the whole world. By the heat of what sun are you distressed? and what thing is it that affords me the convenience of shade?’ The hawk replied, ‘O thou insolent one! dost thou make me out a liar, and deny my assertion? I will give thee thy punishment.’ He had no sooner uttered these words, than he tore the Partridge in pieces.

And I have adduced this story that thou mayest know, that whoever associates with those of a different race, and passes his time with one from whose injuries be cannot be safe, his life, like that of the mountain-partridge, is sacrificed to his companionship,^262a and lost. In the same manner I am thy food, and I can never live secure from thy appetite. Wherefore, how can the road of amity between me and thee be opened? or in what manner can the requisites for an alliance be procurable?’ The Crow answered, ‘O Zírak! refer the matter to the decision of thy own judgment, and perpend it well, and reflect; What advantage could I gain by injuring thee, and were I to devour thee, how far would it satisfy^262b me? while, in thy personal existence and the acquisition of thy friendship, there are a thousand advantages, and a hundred thousand benefits discernable. Besides it is not seemly that I should have traversed a long and distant journey to seek thee, and thou avert thy face from me, and smite the breast of my hope with the hand of discouragement; nor is it fitting that thou, possessed of the kindly disposition and serene mind that thou hast, should slight my claims as a stranger, or that the poor should retire from thy threshold discomfited.

And from the excellent qualities that I have observed in thee, I do not suppose that thou wilt altogether refuse to suffer me to partake of thy bene-ficence, and to perfume with the exhilarating odor of thy courtesy, the nostrils of my expectation.

The Mouse answered, ‘There is no kind of enmity so grave in its effects as that implanted by nature. For if an accidental hostility should arise between two persons, slight measures may suffice to remove it, and a trifling cause may dispel it. But if enmity has sprung up in the original nature, and its consequences have implanted themselves in the minds of both parties, and if to that hereditary hostility be added new reasons for hate, and former dislike be combined with subsequent quarrels, the removal thereof can in no wise enter the circle of possibility, and the getting rid of it is altogether beyond the limits of human power, and its extinction involves the annihilation of both parties.

And the wise have said, ‘Natural enmity is of two kinds. The first is when the injury resulting from it is not confined to one of the two parties. Now the one is vexed by the other. and now the injury is reversed, as in the case of the elephant and the lion, who cannot meet without a contest. Yet it does not follow that the victory is always on one side, and that the other will as constantly be put to flight. But on some occasions the raging lion is triumphant, and on others the furious elephant is the conqueror. Now this kind of enmity is not so intense that its wounds cannot be salved, because the party with which the victory remains, his heart will undoubtedly be pacified. The other kind is where the injury is always on one side, and the advantage on the other, like that of the mouse and the cat, and of the wolf and the sheep; and where the pain is restricted to one party, and the pleasure to the other; and this enmity is so powerful that not the revolution of the sky can change it, nor the vicissitudes of time undo its knot: and where it is known that one party aims at the life of the other, without there having been a previous attempt in time past from that other party, or the possibility of injury from him in the future, how can a reconcilliation take place there? or, how can intercourse there be carried on?

The Crow replied, ‘Praise be to God! no hostility from me to thee was mixed up in my original composition, and if in those of my race a fortuitous enmity has sprung up to thee, the mirror of my heart, at least, is free from the dust of malignity, and the glass of my mind is prepared to receive the refraction of the rays of love and affection; and assuredly as the maxim, From heart to heart there is a window,’ is true, I am in hopes that the sincere heart of that dear friend will testify to the truth of my friendship.

The Mouse answered, ‘Thou art beyond measure importunate, and troublest me by thus pressing on me thy friendship; and should I accept it and thou, too, stand to thy purpose, it is probable that on some trifling cause thou wilt break the chain of amity and return to thy former original habits and natural hostility—like water, which though it be kept long in one place so as to alter its smell and taste, yet retains its primitive properties, and if they pour it on fire, does not fail to quench it. And to consort with an enemy is like mixing with snakes and vipers, which is not safe; and friendship with foes resembles associating with tigers of sharp claws, which deserves not to be tried: and the wise have said, ‘We must not be beguiled by the assurances of our enemies, although they pretend to be friendly, nor must we confide in their words though they prepare the way to an agreement most assiduously.

And whoever, relying on an enemy, is elated by his civilities and listens to his cajolements with the ear of approval, will meet with what befell that Camel-rider.’ The Crow inquired, ‘How was that?’

The Mouse said, ‘They have related that a Camel-rider, as he was journeying, arrived at a place where the people of a caravan had made a fire, and after their departure the fan of the wind stirred it and set it in a blaze, and the sparks leaping forth from it, fell among the wood in all parts, and in every corner of the desert a dreadful conflagration^264b arose, and in the midst of those flames a large snake—a huge venomous serpent was left, and being intercepted could not find a way to escape in any direction, nor any path to get free. He was on the point of being fried like a fish in a frying-pan, and like a roasted partridge on the fire, his blood was about to drop from his poison-scattering eyes—when he beheld that rider, and calling for help, exclaimed,

The Camel-rider was a merciful and kind man. When he heard the snake’s supplication and beheld its distress and trouble, he thought to himself, ‘It is true that snakes are the enemies of men, but he is now helpless and dismayed. My best course is to take pity on him and sow in the soil of action the seed of kindness, which can bear no other fruit than happiness in this world and exaltation in that to come.’ He then fixed the huntsman’s-bag²⁶⁵ that he had with him to the point of a spear and reached it thither. The snake, too happy to avail himself of it, crept into the bag, and the rider thinking it a good act drew him out from the midst of the fire. He then opened the mouth of the bag and said to the snake, ‘Go whithersoever thou wilt, and in gratitude for thy escape from this calamity, withdraw into solitude nor hereafter put thyself into a position to injure man; for he that injures God’s creatures, is disgraced in this world and miserable^265a in that to come.

The snake replied, ‘Cease from these words, young man! for I will not depart till I have bitten thee and thy camel.’ The rider answered, ‘Have I not done thee a kindness and brought thee out of the fire? is this my recompense, and such the reward I am to receive?

The snake rejoined, ‘True! thou hast done a kind action, but it was shown to an undeserving object; and thou hast been clement, but thy clemency was mis-placed. Thou knowest that I am a vehicle of mischief and that no benefit to men can be anticipated from me. Wherefore when thou didst exert thyself to release me and showedst kindness to one with whom thou oughtedst to have dealt roughly; of course it is necessary, in requital, to cause thee distress, for showing kindness to the bad is equivalent to injuring the good.

And moreover in accordance with that verse of the Ḳur’án, ‘The one of you shall be an enemy unto the other,’^265b an ancient enmity exists between us and you, and prudence requires that we should bruise the head of an enemy, and agreeably to the command, ‘Kill ye the two black things,’²⁶⁶ you ought to get rid of us, and while it is decreed that man should not permit us to go unscathed, thou hast in this matter abandoned the lawful and prudent course and chosen to be merciful, and I will assuredly inflict a wound on thee for a warning to others.’ The rider said, ‘O snake! let justice be appealed to, for in what creed is it deemed right to requite good with evil? and in what sect is it admissible to give the foulness of wrong in exchange for the purity of advantage?’ The snake replied, ‘Such is the custom of you men, and I, too, do but practice what you pronounce; and I sell to you what I have bought from you in the mart of recompense.

In vain the man protested, the snake exclaimed, ‘Decide with all speed whether I shall wound thee first, or commence with the camel.’ The young man replied, ‘Desist from this idea, for it is not fortunate to requite good with evil.’ The snake answered, ‘This is the custom of men, and I do but act in the same manner as they.’ The rider denied this accusation, and said, ‘If thou canst prove this by clear testimony, and wilt bring evidence to establish thy charge that men are wont to requite actions in this manner, I will purchase thy wound with my life, and will acquiesce in my own destruction.’ The snake looked about him and saw at a distance a buffalo, which was feeding in the plain. ‘Come,’ he said, ‘let us ask the truth of my assertion from this buffalo.’ The man and the snake then approached the buffalo, and the snake addressed it saying, ‘O buffalo! what is the reward of good?’ The buffalo replied, ‘If thou inquirest what it is among men, [I answer] the reward of good is evil. Lo! I was for a long time with one of them, and every year I brought forth a young one, and filled his house with milk and butter, and supplied the means on which his marriage and his subsistence were based. When I grew old, and became unable to bear young, he gave up attending to me, and turning me out of his house set me loose in the plain. After that I grazed for a long time here, and passed my time without work, according to my own wish. I began to grow somewhat fat, and yesterday my master came by here, and thought I looked fat. Hereupon he brought a butcher, and sold me to him; and to-day they are going to take me to the slaughter-house, and mean to kill me. Behold! such is the reward of all the good that I have recounted.

The snake replied ‘Lo! thou hast heard. Prepare thyself quickly for the wound.’ The Camel-rider replied, ‘In legal trials they do not pronounce sentence upon the evidence of one witness. Bring another, and do what thou wilt.’ The snake looked about him, and seeing a tree said, ‘Come, and I will ask this tree.’ They then came together to the foot of the tree, and the snake inquired of it, ‘What is the reward of good?’ It replied, ‘Among men the reward of good is evil, and the return for benefit, injury; and the proof is this: I am a tree that have sprung up in this wilderness, and I stand on one leg in the service of every comer and goer. When a child of Adam comes here oppressed with heat, and weary from the desert, he rests for an hour under my shade, and for a time indulges in repose. When he opens his eyes he says, ‘Such a bough will do for the handle of an axe, and such a bit is fit and proper for a spade. One might cut some good planks out of its trunk, and of them make some fine doors;’ and if they had saws or hatchets they would cut out of my branches and trunk whatever they fancied, and in spite of the enjoyment derived from me, would think fit to inflict all this suffering on me.

The snake said, ‘Lo! two witnesses have been brought; yield up thy body, that I may wound it.’ The man replied, ‘Life is very dear, and it is difficult to tear away the heart from the things of life, as long as it is possible to retain it. If one other person testifies in this matter, I will, without scruple, yield my body to this calamity, and acquiesce in God’s decree.’ Now, through a strange coincidence, a fox was standing by, observing their proceedings, and listening to their words with the ear of attention. The snake exclaimed, ‘See there! Ask this fox what answer he would give.’ Before the rider could put the question to him, the fox bawled out to the man, ‘Dost thou not know that the return for good is evil? What good hast thou done to this snake, that has made thee worthy of being punished in requital?’ The young man recounted the particulars; whereupon the fox said, ‘Thou appearest to be a sensible man, how is it that thou speakest what is contrary to the truth?

The snake said, ‘He speaks the truth, and behold! here, hanging to the saddle-strap, is the bag in which he brought me out of the fire!’ The fox expressed his surprise, saying, ‘How can one believe this story, that a snake of this size could be contained in a bag so small?’ The snake answered, ‘If thou dost not credit it, I will go again into the bag, that thou mayst see it with thine own eyes.’ The fox rejoined, ‘If I behold the thing, and have ocular demonstration of it, and find that these words are true, I will pronounce sentence between you in such wise as not to infringe justice, and to be wholly void of fraud and self-interest.’ The man opened the mouth of the bag, and the snake, confiding in what the fox had said, entered the bag. The fox then cried out, ‘O young man! when thou hast got thy enemy fast, shew him no mercy.

The man tied the mouth of the bag and dashed it against the ground till the snake was killed and the malice of his evil nature was extinguished, so that creation was emancipated from his power of injury.

And the moral of this story is, that it behoves a wise man not to abandon the path of caution nor to rely on the humble words of an enemy, and never to be led to trust in him, so as not to be overwhelmed by his attack.

The Crow replied, ‘These words which thou with perfect wisdom hast uttered, I have heard, and I have irradiated my mental vision with these bright gems which thou hast brought forth from the mines of sense, and it would be more in accordance with thy beneficence and generosity, and magnanimity and courtesy, to forego these excessive scruples, and, believing my words, throw open the path of friendship. And the wise have said, ‘Fly to the beneficent and shun the niggardly, for the beneficent is willing, upon the acquaintance of an hour, to impart a variety of kindnesses and good offices, and putting off the coldness of a stranger, to assume, with the utmost cordiality, the part of a friend and a companion. While the niggard, forgetting the obligations of ancient communion, will efface from his memory, in the twinkling of an eye, the friendship of a hundred years. And hence it is that the pious who have shaken themselves free from the world, are prone to friendship and slow to enmity—like a vessel of gold, which it takes long to break and but a short time to mend; while the base are slow to become friends and their friendship is soon overturned—like a vessel of earth, which is easily broken and can never be mended; and how finely have they said,

And I am of the number of those whose friendship may be depended upon and moreover, I am in want of thy companionship, and now that I have planted myself in waiting at this court, I will go back to no other door, and I will assuredly not taste food nor take rest until thou admit me as a friend into thy intimacy.

The Mouse responded, ‘I am willing to purchase with my life thy affection and regard, and all this denial is simply that I may be excusable in the sight of reason, shouldest thou intend perfidy; and that thou mayest not say, that thou hast obtained a dull and facile²⁶⁹ friendship; else from the beginning of our discourse I have found my heart pre-disposed to intimacy with thee, and my mind intensely inclined to communion with thee.

He then came forth and stood before his hole. The Crow said, ‘What prevents thee from advancing still further, and in my presence seeking to become intimate with me? but thou still feelest a trembling in thy soul.’ The Mouse replied, ‘Whenever one grudges not his own life for his friend, and devotes his own dear self for his comrade, he may be called a true friend and a brother to one’s mind. And if one displays the same cordiality in worldly matters and does not neglect to aid his friend with the wealth he possesses, he is a mediocre friend inclining to the mean [between warmth and indifference]. And they have said, ‘He who is pledged^269a to his friend on account of his temporary requirements as to money and station, is like a fowler who scatters grain to benefit himself not to feed the birds;’ and since this friendship is mixed up with interested motives, it is probable it will terminate in enmity.

But he who in the path of amity withholds not his life and is ready to sacrifice his own existence, is an incomparable friend; and the rank of a friend who bestows his life is far higher than that of him who expends only his wealth.

And let it not be coneealed that in accepting thy overtures of friendship and in opening the way to our meeting, I risk my life, and notwithstanding that in the path of amity this point has been reached, that,

And had I entertained suspicion, I should never have shown this eagerness nor have come forth from the corner of my humble dwelling, but I confide in thy friendship and the sincerity of thy desire to be my companion has passed the limits of doubt and distrust; and on my side, also, regard and attachment has been produced to a two-fold and multifold extent. Thou hast, however, friends who differ from thee in being hostile to me, and do not accord with thee in thy kindly feeling towards me. I fear lest one of these should see me and attack me.’ The Crow answered, ‘I have a compact with my friends that they shall be the friends of my friend and the foes of my foe.’ The Mouse rejoined, ‘Undoubtedly, whoever contracts alliance with the friend of one’s enemy, or unites himself with the enemy of one’s friend, is most fitly enumerated among one’s foes.

And hence it is that the wise have said, ‘Friends are of three kinds: genuine friends, friends of our friend, and foes of our foe. And enemies too are of three sorts: avowed enemies, enemies of our friend, and friends of our enemy.’

The Crow replied, ‘I understand the drift of thy discourse, and, praise be to God! the ground of friendship and rules of amity have this day been so disposed between me and thee, and have been so ratified, that I shall regard as my friend whoever is friendly to thee, and esteem as my ally all who endeavour to conciliate thee, and whoever unites himself with thee, it is right that I too should unite with him, though he should be altogether hostile to me; and whoever separates from thee it behoves me to part from him, though he were altogether akin to me.

And my eager desire for sincere amity and my resolve to prove a faithful friend is such, that should I find any opposition to thee even in my eyes and tongue, which are the sentinels of the body and the interpreters of the heart, I would, with an instantaneous motion, hurl both from the shore of existence into the whirlpool of destruction.

The Mouse, emboldened by these words, advanced, and cordially accosted the Crow, and after embracing one another, they spread out the carpet of rejoicing.

After some days had passed in this manner, and the Mouse, to the extent of his power, had performed the rites of entertainment and the duties of hospitality, he said, ‘O brother! if thou wouldst prepare to reside here and transport thy wife and children to this place it would be an extreme favour, and the obligation which I feel in my soul for the blessing of meeting with thee would be doubled, for this region in which my dwelling is, is a cheerful spot and an exhilarating abode.’ The Crow replied, ‘There is no question as to the excellence of this place, the extent of its plain, and the refreshing air. It is, however, near the highway, and close to the public road. There is ever reason to expect some calamity from the coming and going of passengers, and to anticipate something odious from the attacks of travelers. Now, in such a place there is a meadow, from its exceeding brightness, full of light as the garden of Paradise; and from the clearness of its atmosphere, a place of delight and goodness, like the orchard of Iram.

There a Tortoise, who is one of my friends, has his home, and in that neighborhood food is procurable for me in abundance, and little mischief is to be apprehended. If thou art inclined, I will go there with thee, and pass the rest of my life in ease and enjoyment.

I know no wish equal to the honor of having thee for a neighbor, nor any hope brighter than the happiness of being with thee. Wherever thou advancest, like the sun I follow thee shadow-like, and through whatever land thou passest, shedding thy favors,²⁷² I hang at thy feet like a skirt, and so long as the collar of life does not fall into the grasp [of death] the destroyer of delights, I will not draw back my hand from the hem of thy society.

And this region where I am now abiding is not my original fatherland, but I was led hither without my willing it; and my story, although long, comprises many extraordinary things, and whenever our resting-place is fixed, if thy illustrious mind desires it,

The conversation here ended, and the Crow took hold of the tail of the Mouse and turned in the desired direction. By chance a Tortoise was wandering round the margin of the fountain which was to be their permanent residence. When he beheld from a distance the blackness of the Crow, fear overcame him, and he plunged down in the water. The Crow softly deposited the Mouse from the air upon the ground, and called out to the Tortoise, who, when he heard the familiar voice, came up from the water, and beholding the face of his valued friend, raised to heaven the exclamations of his joy.

They then warmly accosted one another, and the Tortoise inquired, Where hast thou been this long time? and how camest thou to pass this way now?’^272a The Crow then detailed at length his own history from the time when the pigeons fell into the net to the period of their release, and his desire to obtain the friendship of the Mouse, and his ratifying the bonds of amity with him, down to his arrival at his familiar abode.’ The Tortoise having learned the particulars of the case, showed the utmost pleasure at seeing the Mouse, and said,

My happy fate drew thee to these precincts, and the strength of my fortune raised the star of thy beauty above the horizon of this neighborhood.’ The Mouse said, ‘How can I sufficiently acknowledge these kindnesses which thou shewest to me? and with what tongue can I repeat thanks for the gracious manner in which thou condescendest to encourage me. It is from the burning heat of the sun of accidents, that I have sought refuge in the shade of thy clemency, estimating the acquisition of the happiness of communion with thee as the goal of my wishes and desires.

After they had rested from the toils of the way and had reposed themselves in that abode, which was a place of perfect safety:—secure from the assaults of the army of mischief, and unsullied by the dust of perturbation of rivals; the Crow, turning his face towards Zírak, requested that, if he thought good, he would narrate to the Tortoise the tales and adventures which he had promised the Crow to recount, in order to strengthen the friendship between them, and that they might derive all imaginable gratification from the recital.

The Mouse, commencing his story, said to the Tortoise,²⁷³ ‘O brother! my birth-place and native country was in a city of the country of Hind, which they call Nádút; and in that city I had taken up my abode in the cell of a solitary recluse, and in the corner of his hermitage had made a cell for myself, and I had several mice as attendants, and every day the numbers of my dependants increased. Now, a devoted disciple brought every morning for the holy man a tray of viands, a small portion of which the recluse used to take for his breakfast, and store up the rest for the evening; while I used to be on the watch for his going out of the house, in order that I might immediately leap on the table, and after eating such dainty bits as I liked, scatter the rest among the other mice. The holy man employed many stratagems to get rid of me, but in vain; and devised various schemes to kill me, but they were all to no purpose; until one day a friend came as guest to the abode of the recluse. After they had finished the usual salutations and the requisite repast, and had spread out the beneficial table of discourse, the recluse inquired of his guest the news at home, and his destination, and the cause of his journey, and motive for his change of place. Now, the stranger was a man of experience, who had tasted the sweets and bitters of fortune,

He replied to the recluse in a pleasing manner, and recounted with captivating eloquence what strange cities and marvelous countries he had beheld, and, during his discourse, the recluse kept every moment clapping his hands, in order that the mice might be scared by the sound. The guest was annoyed at this circumstance, which bore the appearance of an indignity, and enraged at an action which was so removed from due respect, and said, ‘O recluse! to clap the hands when one is speaking appears like turning the speaker into ridicule, and I do not think that the character of a jester or the part of a mocker accords with thy position, nor that it is consistent with thy profession to deviate from the highway of good manners towards sarcasm and jokes.

The holy man replied, ‘Heaven forbid that the thorn of jesting should ever be fastened in the skirt of my condition, and that the dust of raillery should be mingled with the atmosphere of the purity of my heart! This action which thou noticest, is to drive away a host of mice, who have overrun the realm of my board and table, and extending the hand of plunder and spoliation to all that I store up, leave not even a crust on my table safe from their assaults, nor permit me to preserve from their injuries any food in my house.

The guest asked, ‘Are they all bold and blindly audacious, or do some show more temerity than others?’ The recluse answered, ‘One of them is so hardy that in my presence he will carry off a thing from the board, and before my very eyes will display his audacity in plundering my viands.’ The guest replied, ‘There must be some reason for his boldness, and his story has a similar complexion to that of the man who insisted to the wife of the host, that there must surely be some cause why she should barter husked sesamum on equal terms for unhusked.’ The recluse said, ‘If thou seest fit, tell me, how was that?’

The guest said, ‘In this road that I came, I arrived at night at a certain village and alighted at the house of an acquaintance, and after supper was over and we had done talking, they spread a garment for me to sleep on, and I put on it a pillow, but I did not go to sleep. My host went to his wife, and there being no other screen between me and them than a mat, I overheard their conversation, and what they said on both sides from first to last reached my ears. The man said, ‘O wife! I wish to invite a party of the heads of the village to-morrow, and seat them in the presence of this my respected guest, who is a present to us from the invisible world, and prepare an entertainment for them suitable to my position.’ The wife rejoined, ‘I am astonished, that when thou hast not sufficient in the house for the wants of thy family, and hast not the means of procuring a diram²⁷⁵ to purchase greens and salt, thou shouldst still, with such powerful resources and ample means, entertain the notion of receiving guests! Well, at least, to-day that thou hast the power to lay up, make a store for the morrow, and leave something behind thee for thy wife and children, that after thy decease, they may not be dependant on any one.’ The husband replied,

If the power of doing a kindness and the ability to benefit others be attainable, we must not shrink from it, since, in fact, that will be a store for the next world; and whoever lays up a store for himself in this world will, in the next, be punished with the loss of his soul, for to amass and hoard up wealth is unblest, and its consequences disastrous, as was the case with that Wolf.’ The wife asked, ‘How was that?’

The man said, ‘They have related that a skilful hunter (such that through fear of his net the deer was not stepping forth into the plain, and the mountain-goat, through dread of his artifices and stratagems, would not leave its lair,

had set a snare, and a deer had been caught in the net. On his issuing from his place of concealment and coming towards the net, the stag, in fear for its life, made an effort, tore up the net, and started off in the plain. The hunter was ashamed, and fixing an arrow to his bow, shot at the deer, which fell, and the hunter, coming up, took it on its back and set off home. On the way a wild boar met and charged the hunter, who discharged an arrow at him. It so happened that the deadly arrow transfixed the hog as he came on, and, infuriated by the pain of the wound, he ripped up the breast of the hunter with his lacerating tusk, and both fell down dead on the spot. In the midst of this a hungry wolf came there, and saw the man and the hog and the deer slain. Pleased at the sight, he felt himself supplied with an abundance of delicacies and ample means of support, and said to himself,

This is the time for reflection and consideration, and the season for amassing and laying up a store, for to be remiss here would be opposed to all prudence and forethought, while if I am profuse, I should be censurable for folly and carelessness. I consider my advisable course and that most beneficial to be this, that I should consume for to-day’s meal, the bow-string, and not string the bow of wasteful expenditure and impropriety, and placing this fresh meat in a retired spot, each day impel the arrow of desire to the target of my wish, and conveying these treasures to a corner, make a magazine for hardness of times and times of hardship. For the wise have said,

The Wolf from excessive greediness turned towards the bow-string and began to gnaw it, and at a single motion of his teeth it broke asunder. The moment the string snapped, the horns of the bow struck him on the heart, and he instantaneously gave up the ghost.

And the moral of this story is, that greediness in amassing wealth and the being swayed by distant hopes to lay up stores, has disastrous results and fatal consequences.

Ah! what a hapless band are they who, from their earliest years painfully accumulate worldly gear and resign it at the close of life with infinite anguish.

When the wife of the host heard these words, which bore the stamp of wisdom, and a happy inspiration had whispered in her listening ear the glad tidings that, ‘Sustenance is with God,’ she adopted a gentle tone, and said, ‘O dear one! I have stored up in the house a little rice sesamum for the children; and now that it has been disclosed to me that storing up is unlucky, I will, to-morrow morning, prepare a meal sufficient for ten persons. Do thou invite whom thou wilt, and make whomsoever thou desirest, thy guests.’

The wife husked the sesamum and placed it in the sun, and enjoined her husband to keep a good watch till the grain was dry, lest the birds should carry away some of it; and she herself turned to some other business. Sleep overcame the husband; and a dog came up and touched the grain with his mouth. The wife observing this, was too disgusted to think of preparing a dish from it, and therefore taking it up, set off for the bázár. I, too, having some necessary business in the bázár, was going along behind her. I saw her go to the shop of one that sold grain, and she wanted to barter her sesamum for unhusked grain of the same description, measure for measure.²⁷⁷ The man made a great outcry, saying, ‘O woman! surely there is some trick here, that thou shouldest wish to barter on equal terms sesamum which has been cleaned from the husk for that which is still in the husk.’

And I have told this story because that I, too, am of opinion that the said bold mouse has so much strength and hardihood, and courage, from the place of its abode; and the probability is that it has a treasure of coin in its house, sustained by which it exhibits all this prowess; and if the plant of its condition should meet with the autumn of poverty, this freshness and vigor would not be evinced in the coppice of its actions. For they have said, ‘He who is moneyless is like a bird that is wingless and featherless.’

And I feel convinced that the strength of this mouse springs from gold. Bring a mattock that I may demolish his hole, and see how the matter ends.’ The recluse immediately brought a mattock, and I at that moment was in another hole and heard what they were doing. Now in my abode there were a thousand gold dínárs, on which I used to roll, and my mind rose from one ecstacy to another at the sight of them. In short, the cheerfulness of my heart and my peace of mind were dependant on that gold. Whenever I called it to remembrance, I experienced a gush of pleasure in my bosom, and exultation and delight made themselves felt in my heart. The stranger dug up the ground until he reached the gold, and what saw he then?

‘This,’ said he to the recluse, ‘is the source of the courage of that Mouse and that which adorns his vigor; for wealth polishes the intellect and supports the strength, and hereafter he will not venture on thy table nor attack thy loaf and viands.’ I overheard these words and perceived the tokens of debility and feebleness, and the marks of amazement and pusillanimity in myself, and felt compelled to desert that hole. The instant, too, that this unforeseen calamity overtook me, and this frightful accident descended on my dwelling, I beheld that my dignity waned in the minds of the mice, and that a prodigious change took place in their wonted respect and reverence. The flame of my friends’ sympathies was quenched, and the pure fountain of their allegiance and submission was discolored with the dust of denial and disobedience.

The mice who subsisted on my leavings, and devoured the scraps from the table of my bounty, and gleaned the harvest of my gifts, still expected my favors, and longed for my entertainments as before. When they failed to realize from me their wishes, they desisted from obeying and following me, and disavowing all feelings of loyalty and submission, loosed their tongues to censure and upbraid me; and deserting my society went over to my enemies and those who rebelled against my authority.

And it is a well-known proverb, ‘When the finances decrease, dignity is lowered,’—when our wealth ends, we lose our friends. And the man who is empty-handed and poor will be sure to fail, seek what he will, and the wish which springs up from his heart’s core will not be attained; like rain-water which collects in summer and cannot reach the sea nor unite with the streams, but, destitute of support, is frittered away in the valleys, and arrives nowhere. And the wise have said, ‘He who has no brother is poor wherever he happen to be; and he who has no child, his memory is obliterated from the page of time: and whoever is indolent and without supplies will receive no sympathies from his friends—or rather the empty-handed have no friends at all: for whenever a man has himself come to want, the parties who, like the Pleiades, formed the group of his society, will, like the daughters of the Bier²⁷⁹ become scattered, inasmuch as the friendship of the base and sordid is controlled by sensual motives and worldly advantages.

It is related that they asked a great personage, how many friends he had? He replied, ‘I know not, for I have a fortunate destiny, and an abundance of wealth and property, and every one professes to be my friend, and makes a boast of his regard and attachment. If, which God forbid! the dust of adversity should blind the eye of fortune, I should presently know who is my friend, and who my enemy.’ An ally may be known in the time of disaster, and a friend may be distinguished from a foe in a period of trouble.

And it is also recorded in the elegant pages of the wise, that they asked an eminent personage, what was the meaning of the avidity which people showed for the friendship of one possessed of wealth. He replied, ‘Riches are men’s idol; whoever has them, men respect him, and as soon as he loses them, they cease to congregate about him.’

At this crisis one of the mice who used to glory in my service, and to esteem one moment of my company as a fund of eternal happiness, and who was perpetually setting forth his fidelity and sincerity in the path of friendship, in the following strain,

passed me by as if I were a stranger, and took not the slightest notice of me. I called him to me and said,

What, I pray, has come to thee, and whither is all that affection and tender feeling, of which thou didst make such a display, gone?’ The mouse frowned, and said with the utmost possible rudeness, ‘What a simpleton thou art! men don’t serve one for nothing, nor do they wait on any one without a motive. At the time when thou hadst money and wast generous, we were all thy servants. Now thou hast become indigent, and the wise say that just as an indigent man has no share in the pleasures of this world, so it is not improbable that he may be excluded from the rewards of the next [according as it is said], ‘Poverty falls very little short of becoming²⁸¹ infidelity.’ The reason is, that a man rendered desperate on account of food for himself and the maintenance of his family, may seek to support himself by unlawful means, and the consequence may be his disgrace and punishment in the next world; and as in this life he succumbs to the distress of penury, so hereafter he may be shut up and incarcerated in the prison of eternal woe.

‘The loss of this world and of the next, that is a loss indeed.’^281a Wherefore if we forbear to associate with, and shun the converse of, one who has lost his worldly wealth, and whose reward in the next world is doubtful, we may be held excusable.’ I said, ‘Cease talking thus, for the faḳír is a king, since they have placed on the head of his excellence, the crown, ‘Poverty is my glory,’^281b and have spread over the shoulders of his nobility, the scarf, ‘The faḳír has no wants.’

Wherefore, why dost thou decry poverty? and with what reason dost thou shew aversion to the darvesh?’ The mouse replied, ‘Alack! what relation has this penury and distress of thine with the poverty extolled by the prophets and lauded by the saints. That poverty implies that the traveler on the road of truth refuses to accept any particle of the wealth of this world or of a future state.^281d He abnegates all to secure all, ‘None arrives at the total save he who has severed himself from the total.’ That poverty is displayed in the darvesh; this of thine in the beggar. A beggar is one thing and a darvesh another. The darvesh is he who voluntarily forsakes the world, and the beggar he whom the world forsakes.

The saying, ‘Poverty is a treasure of the treasures of God,’ is one of the mysteries of the true Unitarian faith, and the very essence of spirituality and of the glorification of God, and the water of the fountain of the abnegation of self, which washes off the dust of worldly entanglements from the face of the pure soul; and it is a robe of honor from the treasury of solitary devotion with which the hand of omnipotence arrays the purified spirit. The true poverty is the divine alchymy,^282a and its mystery is not to be comprehended in the circle of description either by the lips or the pen.

But darveshes, who are so in mere outward appearance and want, are the roots of all evil, and the means of incurring the enmity of mankind, and of removing all modesty and shame. They subvert the foundation of courtesy and are the sum of evil and calamity, and cut off all strength and honor, and originate meanness and disgrace. And whoever is a prisoner in the circle of want must necessarily tear off the veil of modesty; and when the inscription, ‘Modesty is a part of faith,’ is erased from the page of his condition, life becomes disgusting to him, and he is overtaken by trouble and distress, and the guest of comfort removes his effects from the area of his breast, and the army of grief overruns the territory of his nature. The taper of his intellect continues without light, and his understanding and ingenuity and memory and sagacity begin to decline. The advantages of right counsel yield in his case injurious results. In spite of his uprightness he becomes exposed to the calumnious imputation of treason. The good opinion which his friends have of him is reversed, and if another commits a crime the guilt is transferred to him. Whatever he does or says is harmful to him, and every quality for which they laud and panegyrize a rich man is a cause of reproach and rebuke to a poor man. Thus, for example, if a poor man shew boldness, they ascribe it to rashness; and if he choose to be liberal, they call it extravagance; and if he try to be mild, they account it weakness and want of spirit; and if he adopt a grave demeanour, they call him sluggish and torpid; while, if he display eloquence and oratorical powers, they designate him as loquacious; or if he betake himself to the security of silence, they speak of him as a painting in a bagnio; and if he make choice of the corner of retirement, they find that it is owing to madness; but should he meet them with hilarity and sociability, they think it akin to low humor and buffoonery. If he be careful in his food and dress, they call him self-indulgent; and if he content himself with a rag and a scrap, they regard him as a miserable, poverty-stricken wretch. If he reside in one place, he is raw and ignorant of the world; and if he desire to travel, he is then a vagabond and ill-starred. If he pass his life in celibacy, he is one who neglects the injunctions of the law; and if he marry, they term him sensual and a slave to his appetites. In short, an indigent man is repudiated and utterly vile in the opinion of people of the world; and if, together with this condition of penury, they observe him trying for anything, then, merciful Heaven! hatred of him takes fast hold of their minds, and without aiding any of his necessities, they are all annoyed with him. And every distress which befalls men has its origin in desire [according to the saying], ‘Whoever desires becomes vile.’

When my friend had recited this discourse, I said, ‘Thou speakest the truth, and I had heard that if any one be overtaken by sickness to such a degree that all hope of convalescence is cut off; or be involved in calamitous separation of such a nature that it is a vain idea to anticipate re-union, or fall into exile which admits not of return nor affords the means of residence, even these are more easy to bear than penury and indigence; and I now see with my own eyes that this saying proceeded from the fountain of wisdom, and that the speaker of it delivered his sentiments from experience.

And of the evils of want, this is sufficient,—the being compelled to ask men for anything, and to beg for subsistence from such a one as oneself; and death is in every way preferable to poverty and mendicity, since to put one’s hand into the mouth of a venomous serpent, and to take deadly poison for one’s food, and to snatch away his mouthful from a hungry lion, and to lodge with a furious tiger, is less grievous than to carry one’s distresses to the stingy, and to endure the disgrace of begging; for they have said, ‘The pleasure of a gift does not compensate for the pain of asking, and the sweets of office do not pay for the distress of removal;’ and an eminent personage has said,

I then turned away from that mouse and hastened again to the mouth of my hole. There I beheld the recluse and his guest dividing the gold, and the former having put his share into a purse, placed it under his pillow. An unlucky covetousness began to tempt me, while I reflected that, ‘Could I regain a portion of that gold, my stout-heartedness and cheerfulness would return a second time, and my friends and brethren would seek my service with eagerness, and my court would be restored and my assembly adorned.’ Busied with these thoughts I waited only till they lay down for the night. I then stealthily approached the pillow of the recluse. Now his guest was a man of experience, and keeping awake employed his eyes in watching at that crisis, and was in expectation of what I was going to do. He gave me such a blow on my foot with his stick, that I turned back stricken down with the pain of it, and, trailing my leg, crept into my hole. I waited just long enough to let the pain subside a little and I came out a second time with the same covetous intent. This time the guest smote me such a blow on the crown of my head that I was stupified and was compelled to employ all my invention to throw myself into my hole, where I lay senseless, and the pain of that wound gave me a disgust to worldly wealth, and I forgot my poverty and hunger.

And I now learned of a certainty that covetousness is the vanguard of all calamities and the vidette of all distresses. Until the bird of greediness carries off the grain, its neck is not encompassed by the collar of the net, and until man binds up the waist of covetousness, the robe of his honor is not exchanged for the sack-cloth of disgrace. Whoever undertakes a journey by sea or submits to any unnecessary risk, is guided by covetousness, and from the darkness of greed, the dust of abasement settles on the page of the countenance of the pious, and the levity of covetous desires reduces the weight of the eminent in the scale of respect.

Strangely do they act who seek for happiness in abundance of wealth and know not that a little of it affords comfort; and who look for enjoyment in amassing riches, and do not perceive that by giving it all up they might arrive at a higher pre-eminence.

Wherefore, from this event, my state came to this, that I tore up by the roots the plant of desire from the soil of my heart, and culled the fruits of contentment from the orchard of acquiescence, and cheerfully submitted to the Divine Will, and bowed down my head to the writing of destiny, and said to myself, ‘The world, by the contents of these calamities and distresses, supplies a sample of its qualities and defects. There is no mansion in which the mark of its deceit and perfidy is not found, nor is there a palace on the inscription of which the sign of its assault is not impressed. Whom did it ever elevate that it did not afterwards cast down? and where did it plant a sapling which it did not afterwards tear up? to whom did it shew favor and not in the end drink his blood? or to whom did it open the door of fortune and not subsequently bring up a thousand troubles?

Such faithlessness deserves not that we toil for it, or grieve for its presence or absence, or for its loss or gain.

After these reflections I migrated from the house of the recluse to the waste, and there was a pigeon which had a friendship for me, and through its love and attachment arose my companionship with the Crow, and the latter related to me the account of thy courtesy and kindness, and so the zephyr of thy good qualities reached me from the flower-garden of his conversation; and the mention of thy virtues and high endowments led me to seek thee with earnestness and sincerity; and I formed the wish of obtaining, by the happiness of a meeting, the advantage of thy friendship. And I shrink from the horror of loneliness, for solitude is a hard thing, and the terror of friendlessness a difficult matter, and there is no pleasure in the world like the companionship of friends, nor can any grief compare with separation from one’s allies and removal from those who sympathise with us. And, thanks be to God Most High! the rose of happiness has begun to bloom from the heart-rending thorn of adversity, and the dark-visaged night of distress has been exchanged for the serene world-adorning morning of repose.

This is my history which I have fully recounted, and now I have come to be thy neighbour, and hope for thy friendship and alliance.

When the Tortoise had heard this narrative, he spread the carpet of courtesy, and laying the foundation-stone of affability, said,

What happiness can be weighed against the honor of having thee for a neighbor? and what gladness can compare with the joy of thy²⁸⁶ society? and even as thou art hoping for my aid and amity, so I too look to and plume myself upon thy love and companionship; and as long as the lamp of life burns on I will, moth-like, sport round the taper of thy beauty.

And in this true history which thou hast recounted, a variety of experiences and abundant lessons are contained, and by means of those experiments it is made clear that the man of sense should be satisfied with a very little of the rubbish of this world, and ought to be content with just enough to obviate the necessity of begging; for whoever longs for aught beyond requisite lodging and food, steps beyond the limits of justice, and this injustice plunges him bewildered into the labyrinth of calamity and the wilderness of peril; and he meets with what befell that greedy Cat.’ The Mouse inquired, ‘How was that?’

The Tortoise said, ’They have related that a person had a Cat, and assigned to it as its daily portion just so much flesh as might quench the flame of hunger; but from the animal propensities which prevailed over the temper of that inconsiderate creature, it failed to be content with its lot.

One day the Cat passed near a dove-cot, and its appetite being excited by the fascinating voices of the pigeons and their harmonious treble and bass notes, it sprang into that citadel. The keeper of that castle, however, and the warder of the place immediately seized it, and conveyed it from the rose-garden of existence to the furnace of annihilation. Before it could perfume the head of appetite with the brains of the pigeons, he stripped off its skin, and having filled it with straw, hung it up over the door of the dove-cot. It happened that the owner of the Cat passed that way, and on seeing the plight of his Cat, said, ‘O greedy wanton! hadst thou been contented with the portion of flesh which fell to thy lot, they would not have stripped off thy skin.’

And the moral of this story is that thou shouldest hereafter be contented with as much food as will suffice to keep in the breath of life, and with a hole just enough to afford protection from the heat and cold, and not affiict thyself for wealth that is lost.

And know that every man’s nobility is from his virtue, not from his wealth; and every one whose mind is adorned with accomplishments, though his stock of wealth be small, is always beloved and honored. So the lion, though he may be bound with chains, yet his awfulness is not diminished. But a wealthy ignorant man is always despised and destitute of weight, like a dog, which, though adorned with a collar and rings, still remains vile and contemptible as before.

Dismiss, moreover, from thy heart, grief for thy exile, and attach no importance to separation from thy native land and home; for let the wise man go where he will he will be befriended by his own good sense, while the fool will be friendless and a stranger in his own country and the place that gives him birth.

And be not sad as to what thou sayest, that, ‘I possessed a treasure and it has been dissipated,’ for worldly wealth and possessions are liable to decay, and their increase or decline are beyond the circle of reliance; and the wise have said, ‘Permanence and continuance cannot be expected from six things. The first is the shadow of a cloud, which, even as thou lookest on, passes away. The second is interested friendship, which is extinct in a short time, like the lightning’s flash. The third is the love of women, which is quenched by a slight matter. The fourth is the comeliness of the beautiful, which changes in the end. The fifth is the praise of the false, which is devoid of continuous lustre. The sixth is worldly wealth, which in the end arrives at the place of exposure to annihilation, and does not carry out to the end the line of fidelity to its owner.

And it beseems not a man of sense to rejoice at the greatness of his wealth, nor to grieve for his want of riches, since, in the opinion of the magnanimous, the whole world, with its goods and gear, is not worth a straw.²⁸⁸ Wherefore it is not right to waste the harvest of dear life in acquiring this; nor ought one to suffer a grain of disquietude at its loss or non-attendance, and those who, having become acquainted with that wise saying, ‘Lest ye immoderately grieve for the good which escapeth you, or rejoice for that which happeneth unto you,’²⁸⁹ give reins to the steed of high-mindedness in the plain of content, and who, staking the coin of life in order to acquire the things of solitary devotion and abandonment of earthly connections; are neither led by worldly riches to open to their heart’s countenance the portals of rejoicing, nor evince regret and despondency at the loss of them.

And, in truth, men ought to consider their wealth to be that which they send on before, and to regard that as their property which they store up for themselves in the final state; and righteous acts and words of probity are a possession which cannot be snatched away from any one, nor dissipated by the accidents of fortune, nor the revolutions of night and day. And the advantage of worldly goods is to make ready a provision for the world to come, and to prepare the means of threading the path of that world to which all must return; since, in accordance with the saying, ‘We took vengeance on them suddenly,’^289a death comes unawares and there is no fixed time nor any appointed period [known to man] for restoring the deposit of life.

And although thou art not in need of my counsel, and canst well distinguish between what is for thy advantage and what is detrimental; nevertheless, I wished to discharge the duty of a friend, and to aid thee to praiseworthy feelings and laudable dispositions; and to-day thou art my friend and brother, and all the assistance that it is possible to render thee, and all courtesy that can be imagined, will in every respect be realised; and even under the impossible supposition that thou shouldst evince unkindness, on my part nothing but the blessed influence of true attachment and the usages of cordial friendship will be displayed.

When the Tortoise had finished these words and the Crow had heard his kindness with regard to the Mouse, his heart was refreshed, and his delight became unbounded, and he said, ‘O brother! thou hast made me glad, and doubled the amount of my joy and pleasure, and hast manifested somewhat of thy virtues. Now, the best of friends is he, in the shade of whose kindnesses and favor, and in the shelter of whose care and protection, a number of those attached to him at all times pass their life, while he keeps open for them the doors of his bounty, and considers it obligatory upon his soul to accept their requests and expedite their requirements; and whoever fails in any part of friendship to his ally, is not fit for a friend. Moreover, it has been related that an eminent personage had a friend. One night this friend came to the door of his house and knocked, and that personage discovered that it was his friend. Thereupon he fell into a lengthened meditation, saying, ‘Ah me! what can be the cause of his coming at this unseasonable time?’ After long reflection, he took up a purse full of dirams, belted on his scymitar, and bade a female slave light a lamp, and go before him. When he had opened the door and had greeted his friend by clasping his hand and embracing him, he said, ‘O brother! I have imagined three causes for thy coming at this unusual hour. First, that some accident has happened and that thou art in want of money. Secondly, that an enemy has risen up to assail thee, and that thou requirest an ally and helper to repel him. Thirdly, that thou art sad at being alone and requirest some one to minister to thee, and I have made ready for all three contingencies, and have come out to thee. If thou hast need of money, lo! here is a purse of dirams; and if thou seekest help, behold here am I with a trenchant scymitar; and if thou lookest for a servant, here is a suitable handmaid.

His friend excused himself [for coming so late], and by that fair procedure the bond of reliance on his attachment and love was strengthened.

And when a benevolent person falls into the whirlpool of disaster, none can befriend him but those of a like disposition; just as if an elephant should fall into a quagmire, other elephants alone can extricate him; and if in befriending the Mouse thou shouldest meet with hardships, thou must not grieve; and keeping thine eyes on thy reputation and the maintenance of thine honor, must disregard the inconvenience, for the wise man ever labors for distinction and to leave behind him a fair repute; and if, for example, he be compelled, in his pursuit of an honorable name, to risk his life, he will not shrink from it, because he will thus have purchased the imperishable with the perishable, and have sold a little for much.

And whoever excludes the necessitous from his good things is not to be reckoned among the really rich; and he whose life is passed in dishonor and disaster such as his foes would wish, his name is not inserted in the roll of the living.

The Crow was discoursing thus, when a Deer appeared in the distance running fast. They suspected that somebody was pursuing him, whereupon the Tortoise leapt into the water, the Crow took his seat in a tree, and the Mouse ran down a hole. When the Deer reached the edge of the water, it stood like one stupified, and the Crow cast its eyes around to see if any one was on its traces. Though it looked to the left and right it saw no one. It called therefore to the Tortoise, who emerged from the water; and the Mouse joined them. The Tortoise, observing that the Deer was scared and kept looking in the water without drinking, said, ‘If thou art thirsty, drink! and be not alarmed, for there is no cause for fear.’ The Deer came forward, and the Tortoise uttered an exclamation of joyful welcome, saying,

The Deer said, ‘I have been used to dwell in this plain alone, and mingle not with those of my race; and the archers, ever stringing the bow of murderous intention, have driven me from this corner to that. To-day I observed an old man lying in wait for me, who watched me wherever I went. I conceived the idea that it was a hunter and that the snare of his craftiness would presently catch my feet; and, running away, I reached this spot.’ The Tortoise said, ‘Fear not! for hunters never come to the environs of this place, and if thou wishest to associate with us, we will introduce thee into the circle of our friendship; and the pedestal of the association of us three will be supported with a fourth pillar, viz., thyself: for the wise have said, ‘The more numerous friends are, the less will they be exposed to the assaults of calamity.’

And it is certain that if there be a thousand friends, they must be regarded as one; and if there be but one enemy he must be looked upon as many.

The Mouse also took up the discourse, and the Crow uttered some benevolent words. The Deer perceived that they were amiable friends and pure-minded companions. He mingled with them and sought their society with his heart and soul.

The Deer took up his abode in that meadow; and his friends admonished him not to set his foot beyond the grazing-ground in their vicinity, nor to elongate himself from the neighborhood of the fountain which was their castle of security and peace. The Deer agreed to act in conformity with their advice. They were passing their time together, and there was a bambú thicket²⁹² where they used always to assemble, and sporting, recount their adventures. One day the Crow, the Mouse, and the Tortoise, assembled at the trysting-place, and waited some time for the Deer. It did not come, and this circumstance making them sad, as is the wont of attached friends, a depression of spirits overcame them. They requested the Crow that he would take the trouble to fly up into the air and inform them of their lost friend’s condition.

The Crow in a short time brought them intelligence that he had seen the Deer prisoned in the net of calamity. The Tortoise then said to the Mouse, ‘In this unhappy conjuncture our only hope is in thee, and by thy help alone can the banner of the Deer’s safety be set up.

The Crow then showed the way, and the Mouse, running off,^292a came to the Deer and said, ‘O kind brother! how hast thou fallen into this difficulty? and with all thy good sense and sagacity how hast thou yielded thy neck to the fetters of deceit?’ The Deer replied, ‘Opposed to the divine decree, of what avail is shrewdness? and of what use is acuteness and sagacity, if it controvert the mandate of the Supreme Ruler? From the desert of deliberation to the resting-place of destiny, the way is endless; and from the plain of stratagem to the confines of fate, the distance is infinite.

The Mouse replied, ‘Thou speakest truly,

He then occupied himself with severing the bonds of the Deer, and in the meantime the Tortoise having come up, made known his grief and dejection at the imprisonment of his friend. The Deer said, ‘O kind friend! thy coming to this spot is yet more perilous than what has befallen me; for if the hunter should come and the Mouse have severed my bonds, I with a single step can save my life, and the Crow will fly away, and the Mouse will conceal itself in the recess of a hole. But thou hast neither the hand to fight nor the means of opposition, nor the front to resist nor the foot to fly. Why hast thou ventured thus gratuitously? and wherefore hast thou been so rash?’ The Tortoise replied, ‘Dear comrade? how was it possible for me not to come? and with what color could I delay or allow of hesitation? what pleasure has life which is passed in absence from friends? and how can existence be valued which is spent in separation from those we love.

And I am excusable for coming here, since the desire of beholding thy beauty drew me hither whether I would or not, and the wish of beholding thee deprived me of all patience; and with reference to this trifling distance and necessary journey which has presented itself, the companion of patience has set his foot in the road of annihilation.²⁹³

And be thou not pensive, for this instant thou wilt obtain thy release, and these knots being loosed, thou wilt with unconcern hasten home; and on all accounts it is requisite for thee to offer due thanksgiving, and incumbent on thee to render thy grateful acknowledgments that thy body is unwounded and thy life uninjured; else the remedy would have been beyond the reach of imagination, and the cure would have passed the bounds of possibility.’ They were engaged in this conversation when the hunter appeared at a distance, and the Mouse finished dividing the meshes. The Deer leapt forth, the Crow flew away, the Mouse went down into a hole, but the Tortoise remained where it was. When the hunter came up and found the net which held the deer severed, he bit the finger of amazement with the tooth of reflection, and began to look to the left and right, saying, ‘Ah! by whom has this deed been done and whose hand has effected this?’ His eyes lighted on the Tortoise, and he said to himself, ‘Although this contemptible piece of goods cannot soothe my sorrow for the escape of the Deer, and the rupture of the net, yet to return empty-handed is discreditable to the character of a hunter.’ He then forthwith seized him and tossed him into his bag, and having tied him on his back, set off towards the city. As soon as the hunter had departed, the friends assembled, and discovered that the Tortoise had been taken by the hunter. Their hearts poured forth lamentations, and they raised their cries and complaints to the summit of the blue sky, and said,

What pain can equal separation from friends? and what calamity can parallel the absence of our comrades. Whoever is excluded from beholding his companion, and is parted from communion with his rosy-cheeked [favorite], knows that the wanderers in the plain of separation have the foot of bewilderment in the mire, and that the recluses of the cell of affection keep the hands of regret upon their heart.

Each of the brotherhood uttered a separate moan, and composed a clamorous and piteous lament suited to his condition, and the tenor of their words had reference to one and the same subject.

At length the Deer said to the Crow, ‘O brother! although our words are extremely eloquent, and the effusions which we utter excessively sweet, yet they do not benefit the Tortoise in the least; and our lamentations and weepings, and bemoanings and disquietude, will not satisfy²⁹⁴ him. It is more in accordance with good faith that we devise some stratagem, and employ some device which may embrace his release and ensure his escape; and the wise have said, ‘The test of four kinds of persons is at four seasons. The courage of the valiant may be known in the day of battle, and the honesty of the upright in the time of lending and borrowing, and the love and fidelity of wife and child may be discerned in the hour of famine, and the truth of friends may be learned in the season of adversity and distress.

The Mouse said, ‘O Deer! I have thought of a trick. The advisable course is that thou shouldest shew thyself to the hunter, and appear like one fatigued and wounded, and let the Crow alight on thy back and make it seem as if he were attacking thee, and assuredly, when the eyes of the hunter fall upon thee, he will plume himself with the idea of catching thee, and will put down the Tortoise with his gear on the ground and make towards thee. As soon as he comes near thee, run limping away from him, but not to such a distance as to cast off his hope of catching thee. Then keep him a good while employed in chasing thee, and do not fail to encourage him and to regulate thy movements. It may happen that I may release the Tortoise and let him run away.’ The friends expressed their admiration of his plan, and the Deer and the Crow shewed themselves to the hunter as had been agreed. When the too credulous hunter beheld the Deer limping along, and the Crow hovering round him and pecking at his eyes, he fancied he should be successful in capturing the deer, and putting down his bag from his back set to work to pursue him. The Mouse forthwith severed the ties of the bag and released the Tortoise, and after an interval, when the hunter was well wearied in pursuing the Deer, and, despairing of success, came back to the bag, he could not see the Tortoise, and found the ties of the bag severed. He was overcome with astonishment, and thought to himself, ‘No one would credit these extraordinary circumstances which I have witnessed. First, there was the severing of the Deer’s fastenings, and his pretending to be wounded, and the Crow’s sitting upon him, and the making a hole in the bag, and the escape of the Tortoise! How are we to explain these acts?’ In the midst of these reflections, being overcome with terror, he said, ‘Most likely this is the haunt of fairies and the abode of dívs; I must get back with speed, and break off all desire for the beasts of this plain. The hunter took up the fragments of his bag and his broken net, and taking to flight, vowed that if he could escape from those wilds, for the rest of his life he would not suffer himself to think of that plain; and he would, out of kindness, warn other hunters not to enter that wilderness.

And when the hunter had gone away, the friends re-assembled and returned to their dwelling-place free from care and safe, and content and peaceful; and thenceforward neither did the hand of calamity reach the skirt of their affairs, nor the nail of trouble lacerate the cheek of their condition or proceedings; and by the happy influence of their agreement and the beauty of their unanimity, the knot of their friendly intercourse was secured, and the bond of their society strengthened.

This is the story of the agreement of friends and the narrative of the reciprocal aid and support of companions, and of sincerity of attachment in prosperity and adversity, and of the maintenance of regard in the time of tranquillity and of trouble, and of the discharging social obligations in the season of enjoyment and of hardship, and how these friends displayed steadiness in perfect devotion during the mishaps of time and the vicissitudes of fortune; and, consequently, by the blessing of unanimity and mutual aid, they obtained release from such mortal perils; and, casting disasters and calamities behind them, were securely seated, happy and unruffled, on the throne of friendly converse and the cushion of mirth. Now, it behoves a man of sense to feel it incumbent on him to give proper consideration to these tales with the light of his reason and the clearness of his judgment; for since the friendship of feeble animals yields such admirable fruits and choice results, if a body of wise men, who are the cream of mankind and the élite of the human race, pursue a similar sincere unanimity, and lay the base of friendship on these rules, and conduct to the end this faithfulness of intention and inward purity; how will not the advantages thereof extend to high and low? and the beneficial effects being manifested on the pages of the circumstances of each individual, to what extent will not the blessing of such a proceeding accrue to the fortunes of great and small?

The King said to the Bráhman, ‘I have heard the narrative of mutually-agreeing friends, and companions fitted for each other and sincere, and I have learned the result of their concord and unanimity, and have become acquainted with the fact that,

Now if you would be pleased to recount the story of an enemy, and how one ought not to be deceived by him, nor to rely on his pretended courtesy and submission. For the purport of the fourth precept is this, that it behoves a wise man, from motives of prudence, not to place any confidence in a foe; since friendship will never spring from an enemy.

Bídpáí said, ‘Of course a wise man will give no heed to the speech of a foe, nor will purchase the hypocritical wares of his deceit and imposture; for a sagacious enemy, for his own purposes, displays the utmost gentleness, and gives his outward conduct a specious appearance at variance with his inward feelings; and employs all the refinements of dissimulation and the arts of deceit, and under cover of them, disposes deep plans and surprising devices. Wherefore it behoves a man of sense and prudence, the more he observes a fawning and obliging demeanor on the part of his foe, to maintain the greater suspicion and watchfulness; and the more his enemy advances the foot of suavity, the closer to draw in the skirt of acceptance; for if he choose to be supine and leave a crevice open, his adversary, who is always on the watch for this state of things, will suddenly open his ambuscade and shoot the shaft of machination at the target of his wish. And in this case, the opportunity for applying a remedy being lost, his regret and repentance will be unavailing; and ‘if’ and ‘would that,’ will be in vain; and that will befall him which happened to the Owl from the Crow.’ Dábishlím inquired, ‘How was that?’

The Bráhman said, ‘They have related that somewhere in the country of China there was a mountain so high that the sense of vision, in order to reach its top, was wont to halt several times; and the watchman of thought had never scaled the platform of its summit save with the ladder of fancy.

And on that mountain, from whose exceeding loftiness and from the breadth of whose area,

the gardener of Divine Wisdom, purely by His omnipotence, had caused a tree to grow, such that its branches passed beyond the Pleiades, and its root had fastened themselves in the bowels of the earth.

And on that many-branched tree there were a thousand nests of crows, and these crows had a king, by name Pírúz [Fortunate], in allegiance to whom all continued, and showed submission to his commands and prohibitions in opening and contracting all matters. One night the king of the owls, whom they called Shabáhang [Moving-by-night], in consequence of the ancient enmity which exists between the crow and the owl, made a night-attack on the crows with an innumerable army and a blood-thirsty host, and destroyed a number of them.^298c

In that dark night he consumed with the flames of war many of the black-actioned crows, and sketched on the collar of the condition of those gloomy-fortuned ones the writing, ‘Kill them wherever you find them,’²⁹⁹ and returned from that battle victorious and triumphant and strengthened and glad. The next day when the dark-pinioned crow of night turned its face towards its nest in the west; and the host of stars, like a flock of owls, were concealed in the corner of retirement,

Pírúz assembled his forces, and introduced the story of the onslaught of the army of the owls, and said, ‘Ye witnessed the night-attack of the owls, and saw with your own eyes their courage, and to-day some among you have been slain, and others stripped of their feathers, wounded and with their plumage ruffled. And worse than this is their hardihood and intrepidity, and their eagerness to harass and annoy us crows, and their discovery of our abode and residence, and their becoming acquainted with our resting-places and our nests; and there is no doubt that the success and victory which they have won over this division will embolden them, and next time they will return more quickly, and on the next occasion will obtain a more effectual advantage than at the first, and will cause those who are already sick of the disease of panic to drink of the same beverage, and it is probable that if they make a night-attack again in this manner, they will not leave one of our army alive. Deliberate on this matter, and having stated the nature of your advice, devise with one consent how to repel them.

When Pírúz had finished speaking, five crows from among the leaders of the forces approached the king, and offered the customary prayers and becoming praises. Now these were celebrated among the crows for the excellence of their judgment and their abundant good sense; and renowned for the soundness of their counsels and the justice of their plans. In all they were wont to pronounce, the secrets of victory and success were included, and in every way, which they pointed out, the tokens of prosperity and good were apparent.

The crows were used to rely in all affairs on their advice, and under their guidance undertook measures for repelling disasters; and the king looked upon their judgment as auspicious, and in the matter of counsel did not transgress their sentence. When the eyes of Pírúz fell upon them he honored each with his royal condescension, promised them robes of honor and gifts befitting their condition, and said, ‘To-day is the day of trying your intellect and eminent qualities; place on the string of explanation every jewel that you have treasured up in the casket of your mind and set it on the salver of representation; and every coin that you have struck in the mint of your lofty minds on the touchstone of credit you must bring forth from the coining-house of examination to the mart of manifestation.’ The crows loosed the tongue of eulogy, and said,

Thine own high judgment will be the most right-counseling, and that which passes through thy luminous mind will be best and most proper. What can we, thy slaves, utter that is not a thousand-fold more visible in the mirror of the imperial intellect? and what can we know that is not many times more inscribed on the tablet of the royal wisdom? However, in accordance with the saying, ‘He that is commanded is excusable,’ in whatever we may be interrogated, that, to the extent of our capacity, and the full limit of our ability and power, shall be set forth.

The king asked one of them, ‘What dost thou say on this head, and how dost thou propose to meet this difficulty?’ He replied, ‘O king! the wise who lived before us have pointed out to us the stratagem requisite for this kind of occurrence; and said that when any one is too weak to oppose a powerful enemy he must assuredly bid farewell to his property and effects, and birth-place and fatherland; and must avert his face from his wonted dwelling-place and well-known abode: since to wage war is very perilous, and to step into the plain of battle is a great calamity; especially when a defeat has been suffered from an enemy, and it has been reckoned a piece of good fortune to escape from him. And whoever—inconsiderately advancing to avenge himself, pretends to attack foes, the impression of whose arms and hostility he has experienced, is like one who slumbers in the bed of a torrent and who has built in the face of a flood; and to rely on one’s own strength, and to be intoxicated with one’s own prowess and valour, is far removed from prudence, since the sword has two edges, and the gale of victory can blow from both sides.

The King turned to another and said, ‘What have been thy reflections, and in what manner dost thou foresee a prosperous issue to this matter?’ He replied, ‘My sentiments do not accord with what the former minister has said with respect to flight and the desertion of our abodes. Nay, that counsel beseems not men of understanding, since, at the first onset and attack to suffer one’s self to be so abased, and to bid farewell to one’s home and fatherland, is a cause of disgrace and dishonor.

It is more advisable that we should make preparations for battle, and enter upon the war with all possible dignity, and on the most imposing scale.

The fortunate king may then fondle with the hand of enjoyment the chaste bride of empire, when the water^301b of his fire-dropping scymitar has washed out the name of the malignant foe from the tablet of life; and the renowned emperor can at that time raise to the lip of his wishes the cup of blissful repose, when he has crushed with the stone of victory the goblet of the desire of the insolent-eyed foe. The advisable course at present is that we establish videttes and keep watch on every side whence danger can be expected, and if the foe assail us, meet him prepared and upon our guard, and keep our ground manfully in the battle until the face of victory shews itself to the eye of hope through the dust of the conflict, or our blood be mingled with the mire of the battle-ground in the field of honor and renown.

And it behoves kings on the day of battle, and at a crisis when their honor is concerned, not to regard consequences; and, in the time of war, to look upon life and property as valueless.

The King turned the face of attention towards another, asking, ‘What does thy judgment point out and what writing does thy counsel inscribe on the board of representation?’ He replied, ‘I will have nothing to do with what the others say. I think it will be best to despatch spies and employ clever emissaries, and having thoroughly reconnoitred the position of our enemies, to discover whether they show any inclination to make terms or not. If they are content to receive tribute and subsidy from us, and will meet our friendly advances with the favor of acceptance; we, too, will base our affairs on peace, and to the extent of our power and the limit of possibility, we will undertake to pay tribute, and thus relieved from the hardships of war and the affliction of their night-attacks, we will rest in our own country.

And one fitting policy and wholesome counsel for kings, is—that when the preponderant power of their enemy is apparent, and there is cause to dread that his injuries and influence will spread throughout the realm, and that the people will be exposed to destruction and fall into the vortex of perdition—to try the throw³⁰² of stratagem and to meet the doubles^302a of his foe with gentleness; and having released his subjects from the check^302b of adversity, to make his wealth the shield of the state and realm—since to challenge the throw, though the cast^302c of the enemy may be on the carpet^302d of overbearing power and haughtiness, and to play the piece^302e of opposition madly, in spite of the adversary’s superior strength, is far removed from the decrees of reason and diverse from the adornments of experience.

The King called up another vazír, and said, ‘Do thou, too, point out thy views and explain what enters thy mind.’ He said, ‘O King! in my opinion, to leave our country and undergo the pain of parting and the affliction of exile, is more to be commended than to break the thread of our hereditary honor, and condescend to a foe who can never be aught but our inferior.

If we place ourselves in a position to assent to give tribute, and supply provisions to the owls, they will not be satisfied with that, and will exert themselves to the utmost of their power to extirpate and cut us off. And they have said, ‘It is right so far to show deference to an enemy, as to enable us to obtain our object of him, and not to carry this feeling to such an excess as that our minds should be degraded and our enemy emboldened.’ And they will never be content with a trifling tribute from us; wherefore our remedy is patience and cautious procedure; and if the exigency arise there is nothing to render war inadmissible, inasmuch as the distresses of war are preferable to the obliteration of fame and honor.