The traveller's merchandise

 

An impostor plaited his hair and spake, saying, “I am a descendant of Ali;” and he entered the city along with the caravan from Hijaz, saying, “I come a pilgrim from Mecca;” and he presented a Casidah or elegy to the king, saying, “I have composed it!” The king gave him money, treated him with respect, and ordered him to be shown much flattering attention; till one of the courtiers, who had that day returned from a voyage at sea, said, “I saw him on the Eeduzha, or anniversary of sacrifice at Busrah; how then can he be a Haji, or pilgrim?” Another said, “Now I recollect him, his father was a Christian at Malatiyah (Malta); how then can he be a descendant of Ali?” And they discovered his verses in the divan of Anwari. The king ordered that they should beat and drive him away, saying, “How came you to utter so many falsehoods?” He replied, “O sovereign of the universe! I will utter one speech more, and if that may not prove true, I shall deserve whatever punishment you may command.” The king asked, “What may that be?” He said: “If a peasant bring thee a cup of junket, two measures of it will be water and one spoonful of it buttermilk. If thy slave spake idly be not offended, for great travellers deal most in the marvellous!” The king smiled and replied, “You never in your life spake a truer word.” He directed them to gratify his expectations, and he departed happy and content.

(Saadi Shīrāzī, c. 1210 - c. 1292 CE. From the Gulistan, I.32. Translation by James Ross.)

Anwari is spelled Anvari on Wikipedia. 12th century poet from Khorasan. Born in Abivard (now in Turkmenistan), died in Balkh (now in Afghanistan), his poems collected into a Diwan. 

Here's an extract from "The Tears of Khorassan", as translated by Captain William Kirkpatrick in 1785. The poem laments the ruin caused by "The barbarous Ghuz" i.e. Oghuz Turkic raiders. 

                                   XIV.

View where sage elders, prostrate at the door
Of some low wretch, in vain relief implore;
          In vain their anguish and their wrongs disclose:
Behold the sons of rank debauchery bind
Yon holy anchorite, by Heaven resign'd,
          A prey to dungeons and to sharpest woes.

                                   XV.

Is there, where Ruin reigns in dreadful state,
Whom fortune smiles on, or whom joys await?—
          'Tis yonder corse descending to the tomb:
Is there a spotless female to be found,
Where deeds of diabolic lust abound?—
          'Tis yonder infant issuing from the womb.

                                   XVI.

The mosque no more admits the pious race;
Constrain'd, they yield to beasts the holy place,
          A stable now, where dome nor porch is found:
Nor can the savage foe proclaim his reign,
For Khorassania's criers all are slain,
          And all her pulpits levell'd with the ground.

                                   XVII.

Does some fond mother on a sudden view,
Among the victims of this murd'rous crew,
          A darling son, her waning age's joy?
Since here the grief is fatal that is known,
Fear checks the rising tear and labouring groan,
          Nor dares the matron ask how died her boy.

Saadi's tomb in Shiraz

(Image source: https://historicaliran.blogspot.com/2013/08/saadi.html . The outer structure dates from 1952, replacing a previous one.)

April 21 is National Saadi Commemoration Day. This was the day in 1258 that Saadi, while visiting a flower garden with a friend, "remarked on how quickly the flowers would die, and proposed a flower garden that would last much longer". The result was the Gulistan (Rose Garden). 

In his youth Saadi had led an adventurous travelling life; many anecdotes from that time appear in the Gulistan. He was a slave at Acre for seven years, digging trench fortifications for the crusaders. 

he will not meddle

". . . yonder over the glen soar the birds of prey, who are to feast on his young blood.—But I will see him once more," exclaimed the miserable parent, as the huge carrion vulture floated past him on the thick air,—

We're in the Swiss Alps, c. 1472. Philipson's son, inching along a precipice, has dislodged a gigantic boulder. He has luckily escaped death, but is scared out of his wits.  

An incident, in itself trifling, added to the distress occasioned by this alienation of his powers. All living things in the neighbourhood had, as might be supposed, been startled by the tremendous fall to which his progress had given occasion. Flights of owls, bats, and other birds of darkness, compelled to betake themselves to the air, had lost no time in returning into their bowers of ivy, or the harbour afforded them by the rifts and holes of the neighbouring rocks. One of this ill-omened flight chanced to be a lammer-geier, or Alpine vulture, a bird larger and more voracious than the eagle himself, and which Arthur had not been accustomed to see, or at least to look upon closely. With the instinct of most birds of prey, it is the custom of this creature, when gorged with food, to assume some station of inaccessible security, and there remain stationary and motionless for days together, till the work of digestion has been accomplished, and activity returns with the pressure of appetite. Disturbed from such a state of repose, one of these terrific birds had risen from the ravine to which the species gives its name, and having circled unwillingly round, with a ghastly scream and a flagging wing, it had sunk down upon the pinnacle of a crag, not four yards from the tree in which Arthur held his precarious station. Although still in some degree stupefied by torpor, it seemed encouraged by the motionless state of the young man to suppose him dead, or dying, and sat there and gazed at him, without displaying any of that apprehension which the fiercest animals usually entertain from the vicinity of man.

    As Arthur, endeavouring to shake off the incapacitating effects of his panic fear, raised his eyes to look gradually and cautiously around, he encountered those of the voracious and obscene bird, whose head and neck denuded of feathers, her eyes surrounded by an iris of an orange-tawny colour, and a position more horizontal than erect, distinguished her as much from the noble carriage and graceful proportions of the eagle, as those of the lion place him in the ranks of creation above the gaunt, ravenous, grisly, yet dastard wolf. 

    As if arrested by a charm, the eyes of young Philipson remained bent on this ill-omened and ill-favoured bird, without his having the power to remove them. The apprehension of dangers, ideal as well as real, weighed upon his weakened mind, disabled as it was by the circumstances of his situation. The near approach of a creature, not more loathsome to the human race than averse to come within their reach, seemed as ominous as it was unusual. Why did it gaze on him with such glaring earnestness, projecting its disgusting form, as if presently to alight upon his person? The foul bird, was she the demon of the place to which her name referred? and did she come to exult that an intruder on her haunts seemed involved amid their perils, with little hope or chance of deliverance? Or was it a native vulture of the rocks, whose sagacity foresaw that the rash traveller was soon destined to become its victim? Could the creature, whose senses are said to be so acute, argue from circumstances the stranger's approaching death, and wait, like a raven or hooded crow by a dying sheep, for the earliest opportunity to commence her ravenous banquet? Was he doomed to feel its beak and talons before his heart's blood should cease to beat? Had he already lost the dignity of humanity, the awe which the being formed in the image of his Maker inspires into all inferior creatures?

    Apprehensions so painful served more than all that reason could suggest to renew in some degree the elasticity of the young man's mind. By waving his handkerchief, using, however, the greatest precaution in his movements, he succeeded in scaring the vulture from his vicinity. It rose from its resting-place, screaming harshly and dolefully, and sailed on its expanded pinions to seek a place of more undisturbed repose, while the adventurous traveller felt a sensible pleasure at being relieved of its disgusting presence.

(Sir Walter Scott, Anne of Geierstein (1829), Ch 2)

Scott's natural history, in this case wholly derived from his library, was none too accurate. Scott and his hero, like other northern Europeans, believed that this "disgusting" bird (the Bearded Vulture, Gypaetus barbatus) fed on fresh carrion and even attacked livestock (hence the name "Lämmergeier" -- Lamb-Vulture). 

Sa'di of Shiraz knew better: 

One of the vizirs was displaced, and withdrew into a fraternity of dervishes, whose blessed society made its impression upon him and afforded consolation to his mind. The king was again favorably disposed towards him, and offered his reinstatement in office; but he consented not, and said, “With the wise it is deemed preferable to be out of office than to remain in place. — Such as sat within the cell of retirement blunted the teeth of dogs, and shut the mouths of mankind; they destroyed their writings, and broke their writing reeds, and escaped the lash and venom of the critics.” — The king answered: “At all events I require a prudent and able man, who is capable of managing the state affairs of my kingdom.” The ex-minister said: “The criterion, O sire, of a wise and competent man is that he will not meddle with such like matters. — The homayi, or phoenix, is honored above all other birds because it feeds on bones, and injures no living creature.” 

(Sa'di, Gulistan (1258), Chapter I, section 15)

In medieval Persia the homa (Bearded Vulture) was a bird of good omen. It was bad luck to kill it, and good luck if you were crossed by its shadow. 

It specializes in processing bones (especially of large ungulates) and gains nearly all its nutrition from bone marrow. It requires vast, arid, and normally mountainous terrain. 

Bearded Vulture (Gypaetus barbatus)

[Image source: https://www.wired.com/2016/01/absurd-creature-of-the-week-the-magnificent-bearded-vulture-only-eats-bone-metal-dude/ . Photograph by Sonja Krueger.]

Valerius Maximus (fl. early 1st century CE) recounted this legend of the death of Aeschylus in Sicily, 458 BCE):

Aeschylus did not meet a willing death, but it is worth mentioning because of its novelty. As he was leaving the walls where he was staying in Italy, he stopped in a sunny spot. An eagle who was flying above him carrying a tortoise was tricked by his shining skull—for he had no hair—and it dropped it on him as if he were a stone so that it might eat the flesh from the broken shell. By that strike, the origin and font of a better type of tragedy was extinct.

(Factorum ac dictorum memorabilium, IX. 12)

Probably this story was based on observations of Bearded Vultures, who commonly drop heavy bones (and sometimes tortoises) from great heights. 

As a result of such prejudicial attitudes as Scott registers, the species was much persecuted and had become extinct in the Alps by the early twentieth century, though it still survived in the Pyrenees. (Since 1987 it has been successfully reintroduced to the Alps.)

Gypaetus barbatus is native to large parts of Asia, Africa and Europe but individuals are few and the species is increasingly under threat. In some places farmers apply poison to animal corpses in the hope of killing the predators of their stock; instead they kill the innocent vultures. 

Wikipedia:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bearded_vulture

More information in this lively article by Matt Simon: 

https://www.wired.com/2016/01/absurd-creature-of-the-week-the-magnificent-bearded-vulture-only-eats-bone-metal-dude/

In July 2020, a Bearded Vulture set up temporary home on a cliff edge in the Peak District: 

https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2020/jul/17/bearded-vulture-makes-rare-uk-visit-in-peak-district-national-park

the corner of devotion

Saadi in the rose garden, from a Mughal manuscript of the Gulistan, c. 1645

[Image source: Wikipedia.]

I heard a padshah giving orders to kill a prisoner. The helpless
fellow began to insult the king on that occasion of despair, with
the tongue he had, and to use foul expressions according to the
saying:

Who washes his hands of life
Says whatever he has in his heart.

When a man is in despair his tongue becomes long and he is like a
vanquished cat assailing a dog.

In time of need, when flight is no more possible,
The hand grasps the point of the sharp sword.

When the king asked what he was saying, a good-natured vezierr replied, 'My lord, he says: Those who bridle their anger and forgive men:  for Allah loveth the beneficent.' The king, moved with pity, forebore taking his life but another
vezier, the antagonist of the former, said: 'Men of our rank ought to speak nothing but the truth in the presence of padshahs. This
fellow has insulted the king and spoken unbecomingly.' The king, being displeased with these words, said: 'That lie was more acceptable to me than this truth thou hast uttered because the former proceeded from
a conciliatory disposition and the latter from malignity; and wise men have said: "A falsehood resulting in conciliation is better than a truth producing trouble."'

He whom the shah follows in what he says,
It is a pity if he speaks anything but what is good.

The following inscription was upon the portico of the hall of
Feridun:

O brother, the world remains with no one.
Bind the heart to the Creator, it is enough.
Rely not upon possessions and this world
Because it has cherished many like thee and slain them.
When the pure soul is about to depart,
What boots it if one dies on a throne or on the ground?

[Sourced from PoemHunter. Unknown translation of the first story in the Gulistan (The Flower Garden or Rose Garden).]



The Story of How Tukla was Rebuked by a Devotee

Tukla, king of Persia, once visited a devotee and said, "Fruitless have been my years. None but the beggar carries riches from the world when earthly dignities are past. Hence, would I now sit in the corner of devotion that I might usefully employ the few short days that yet remain to me."

The devotee was angered at these words.

"Enough!" he cried. "Religion consists alone in the service of the people; it finds no place in the prayer-beads, or prayer-rug, or tattered garment. Be a king in sovereignty and a devotee in purity of morals. Action, not words, is demanded by religion, for words without action are void of substance."

----

A story illustrative of doing good to the evil

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

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

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



[Source: Iran Chamber Society, the Bostan of Saadi , a complete (I think) anonymous translation of Saadi's Bostan or Bustan (The Orchard).]

Saadi, or Sa'di, or Saadi of Shiraz (1210 - c.1291 AD).  (Capital of Fars province, in the southern part of modern-day Iran.)
"Saadi" was his pen name. His real name was Abū-Muhammad Muslih al-Dīn bin Abdallāh Shīrāzī.

Saadi's writing was first translated into a western language by the orientalist André du Ryer in 1634. He became well-known in Europe during the Age of Enlightenment. Voltaire was so fervent an admirer that he was sometimes nicknamed Saadi by his friends. (Voltaire may have intended the fictional "Sadi" who writes the Dedication to Zadig to be the historical Saadi, though the date he gives is outside Saadi's lifetime (AH 837 = about 1433-1434 AD).)

I came to Saadi via Balzac, talking about Félix's "flower symphonies" in The Lily of the Valley:

She would ever return to them, and feast upon them, she would answer all the thoughts I had placed in them when, in order to accept them she raised her head from her tapestry frame, with: "Good Heavens, how beautiful that is!" You will understand this delicious correspondence from a detailed account of a bouquet, as after a fragment of poetry you would understand Saadi.   (p. 145)

Balzac mentions Saadi at least once more, in The Girl with the Golden Eyes.

She was an Oriental poem, in which shone the sun that Saadi, that Hafiz, have set in their pulsing strophes. Only, neither the rhythm of Saadi, nor that of Pindar, could have expressed the ecstasy—full of confusion and stupefaction—which seized the delicious girl when the error in which an iron hand had caused her to live was at an end.

Balzac's expressions seem to imply acquaintance with Saadi's lyric poetry. Perhaps he was exaggerating, or perhaps French is better served than English in this respect. Saadi wrote four books of ghazals, but I haven't tracked down any translations. *

Wikipedia lists some other western Saadi fans in that orientalist era: Hegel, Pushkin, La Fontaine, Benjamin Franklin, Emerson.  (Post written, rather appropriately, while listening to Rameau's Les Indes Galantes !)

Another Saadi fan was the reclusive English composer Kaikhosru Shapurji Sorabji (1892 - 1988). The nocturne Gulistān (1940), a piano piece of around 30 minutes, is one of his most admired works. 

*

* However, The Delphi Press Collected Works of Saadi (Kindle only) is irresistible at £1.49: it contains the Bustan (composed in epic metre, translated into prose by A. Hart Edwards for the Wisdom of the East series in 1911), Pand Namah (The Scroll of Wisdom, a short collection of moral poems, translated into verse lines with no particular meter by Arthur N. Wollaston, Wisdom of the East, 1906) and Gulistan (prose translated into prose by James Ross, probably around the same date).