Chapter XI: Appendix: III

[Translation of Noeldeke's _Burzoe's Einleitung zu dem Buche Kalila wa Dimna_.]

_BURZOE'S INTRODUCTION TO THE BOOK OF KALILA WA DIMNA._

[Sidenote: Burzoe's Introduction not fabricated.]

The Arabic redaction of the Indian tales which we know under the name of _Kalila wa Dimna_ had two unquestionably genuine Introductions, that of the compilator Ibn Moqaffa himself who died in 142 A.H., and that of Burzoe who in the time of King Khusrow I, (A.D. 531 to 579) brought the book from India and translated it into the written Persian language of the time, the Pehlevi. The circumstances regarding the mission of Burzoe to India are still not clear. At any rate Ibn Moqaffa did not write as we read them now.

Nevertheless it is by no means improbable that he had affixed to his book a report which, however, wan subsequently mutilated, of necessity, in diverse ways. The preface by Ala-ibn-Shah or Behbod, which has also been printed by de Sacy, which is found in a few manuscripts and which is not known to the ancient translations is a later and entirely valueless excrescence.

The Introduction of Burzoe stood in the Pehlevi work which Ibn Moqaffa had before him. According to certain manuscripts this Introduction has been compiled--or however we translate the ambiguous term _tarjuma_--by Burzgmihir, the prime minister of Khusrow, much better known in polite literature than in history.

[Naturally I do not deny altogether that Burzgmihir was a historical personage but he possessed by no means the importance which the tradition in question ascribes to him. The ascription is purely an erroneous inference from the above-mentioned report of the circumstances touching the mission of Burzoe, has not the slightest inherent probability, and is besides wanting not only in other manuscripts but also in all the older translations.]

We cannot question the fact that this section of the Arabic work in the main reproduces the Introduction composed by the Chief physician Burzoe himself to the book translated by him into Pehlevi from an Indian language. That language as Hertel has shown was Sanskrit, which fact, however, does not preclude the possibility of an Indian interpreter translating the original text to the Persian who spoke a modern Indian tongue. Several passages speak to the fact that the author of the Introduction is the physician. Why should Ibn Moqaffa pretend that Burzoe earnestly studied medicine and practised it? Moreover, the section is familiar with those principles of Indian medicine of which Ibn Moqaffa could otherwise know little and the exposition of which he had no call to deal with. The entire situation seems to me to harmonise with the circumstances of the Persian physician. Specially noteworthy is the encomium on the Persian sovereign.

[Sidenote: Ibn Moqaffa took liberties with the Pehlevi.]

This is, however, not equivalent to saying that the Arabic text is an exact replica, down to details, of the original of Burzoe. In the first place it has to be observed that Ibn Moqaffa was no pure translator at all but a regular redactor of his model. His object was to prepare a work suitable to the taste of his highly educated readers and at the same time entertaining and instructive. He proceeded, therefore, not only with a tolerably free hand as an artist in words but added good many things of his own. Above all here we have to bear in mind the trial of Dimna. That this chapter is an addition by a Muslim who would not let pass in silence the acknowledgement of clever but demeaning intrigue was already recognised by Benfey and we need not doubt but that it originated with Ibn Moqaffa. I would also claim, for Ibn Moqaffa the somewhat unimportant history of the anchorite and his guest. The manner of his narrative we learn from his own preface. It is especially to be noted that here also as in the trial of Dimna he recounts anecdotes after the Indian fashion.

[Sidenote: Ibn Moqaffa's religious scepticism.]

It is accordingly not impossible that in our Burzoe chapter there are a few things which have originated not with the Persian physician of old but with Ibn Moqaffa; and this, I presume, as I showed long ago, specially from the disquisition on enquiry into the uncertainty of religions. It appears much more to fit in with Ibn Moqaffa than Burzoe.

Ibn Moqaffa exchanged the religion of his Persian fathers for Islam only in his mature years,--certainly not because he saw in the latter perfect verity but because probably he was not satisfied with Zoroastrianism with which he was intimately familiar or with any of the other religions which in his time flourished openly or in secret in Iraq which was "the heart of the Empire". To such a man the scepticism of our section is natural, a fact which does not make it impossible that certain principles which were common to all the religions intimately known to the author remained also self-evident to Ibn Moqaffa,--such as God as the Creator, and the next world with its reward and penalties. Had Ibn Moqaffa, in his own name confessed to such religious doubts publicly no patron could have saved him from capital punishment. On the other hand he ran no risk in ascribing the questionable exposition to the Persian long since dead, who, however, supposing that he harboured such doubts could not have given expression to them as a physician attached to the Imperial Court of Persia. The belief in an inexorable fate which is evident in this chapter as well as in the entire portion attributable to Ibn Moqaffa could have been cherished, no doubt, also by a Mazdyasnian. This doctrine, therefore, speaks neither for nor against the authorship of Ibn Moqaffa. Equally far from decisive is the exhortation to pure morality which finds expression there.

I am confirmed in my view that the passage on the unconvincing nature of religions proceeded from Ibn Moqaffa by a few couplets in the _Shahnama_. (Mohl vol. 5, 53 ff; Macan 1293). The king of India called Kaid has several dreams which are interpreted to him by the sage Mihran. The third dream, about four men pulling at a fine piece of cloth, each towards himself, without tearing it, is thus explained by him:

"Know that the piece of cloth is the religion divine end that the four men who pull at it have come to preserve it. One of the religions is that of the Dihkans, the fire-worshippers, who may not take in hand the Barsom without pronouncing the prayer formula.

"[The Dihkans were properly speaking the small landed nobility of the Sasanian times and as such were representatives of the ancient Persian religion; _barsom_ and the prayer formula or _baz_ are well-known components of their ritual.]

"Another religion is that of Moses, which is called the Jewish religion, maintaining that none besides itself is worthy of praise; the third religion is of Greece, belongs to men of piety and brings equity to the heart of princes (this is Christianity). The fourth is the pure faith of the Arab which raises the head of the intelligent out of dust. Thus they struggle for the preservation of their religion and pull the cloth towards the four sides away from each other and become enemies for the sake of religion."

[Sidenote: Ibn Moqaffa no sincere Muslim]

This passage the basic principle of which accords with the reflections on religion in our chapter I would now with greater positiveness than before trace to Ibn Moqaffa (ZDMG 59, 803). It did not find a place in the old Pehlevi "_Book of Kings_" because the latter could recognise only the national religion as the right one and could not have taken into consideration Islam, even supposing that the last redaction of the official Sasanian history took place at a time when Muhammadanism had already come into existence. But Firdausi did not at all invent the material of his narrative. He merely compiled it and the major portion of the compilation goes back to the shape which Ibn Moqaffa had given to the ancient tradition (see what I have to say on this in my National Epic of Iran, _Grundriss der iran philogie_). In actuality Ibn Moqaffa was not believed to be a sincere Muslim. He is frequently stigmatised as Zindik or heretic (See _Aghani_ 13.81, 18 ff. 18, 200, 25 ff. Ibn Qotaiba, _Uyun_ 71, 9; further Ibn Khallikan 186, p. 125.)

[The term zindiq probably originally denoted a certain rank among the Manichaeians or a similar religion and was then applied to suit a variety of infidels. The etemology, Aramaic Zaddiqy, has been recognised by Bevan.]

Again the passage does not fit in with the tenor of the entire section. For Burzoe who was at a loss with regard to the physician's art, the main question is, whether he should or should not become an ascetic,--a question which must concern Ibn Moqaffa but little. The suitability of the addenda hardly admits of proof but we may state that Ibn Moqaffa did not simply interpolate but wove them artfully in his text and he might have omitted something here and there.

[Sidenote: Burzoe influenced by Buddhism]

It seems to me highly probable that Burzoe allowed himself to be influenced by the Buddhist romance, the original of which has perished and the best representative of which, is preserved to us in the Arabic _Bilauhar wa Budasf_ (See _Barlaam und Joasaph_ by E. Kuhn). Many a passage of our chapter is strongly reminiscent of the sentences of the romance, for instance, the dangers to the body remind one of those related at p. 53; the four principles or _akhalat_ appear at p. 9, and the parable of the man in the well is common to both. The parable which stands at the close of the chapter is, unless one is greatly mistaken, directly taken from the romance with little modification. It stands in the whole of _Kalila wa Dimna_ isolated, deviates in manner and tendency entirely from the story and also from what has issued from Ibn Moqaffa but is consistent with the monastic predilections of Burzoe. And his appraisement of the life of the recluse does not appear spontaneous but something to which he has laboriously compelled himself. One may surmise that it was really alive only in India. How far it was practised in actual life must remain unproved. We must not omit to mention that Burzoe points out that for an ideal physician his art earns also rich earthly profits.

[Sidenote: English translation of the Introduction a desideratum.]

So far as I know, of this chapter there is no translation in a European language except in the English by Knatchbull which appeared in 1819, which reproduced the imperfect text of de Sacy and is otherwise defective. Wolff did well to omit it in his German translation of _Kalila wa Dimna_ of 1837, for he could not have produced a correct rendering of de Sacy's text which was not completed till 1873 by Guidi.

[Sidenote: Difficulties of translation.]

Even now it is impossible to make a translation of Burzoe's Introduction which can stand the test of philology. We must first see whether with the use of all available manuscripts and a careful collation of other text sources we cannot arrive at a tolerably settled Arabic text. And that is, so far as I can conclude from my not quite insignificant material, not very probable. At all events a searching examination of all the manuscripts in the great Paris library is essential. The various texts of the book are considerably divergent. Arbitrariness and carelessness of transcriber have disfigured Ibn Moqaffa's work of art just because it presently became a favourite book of entertainment. The language at all events remains approximately correct in the manuscripts.

Grammatical mistakes easy of correction are not seldom met with but pure vulgarisms occur only in a few copies like that of Berlin. The numberless variants have not much significance for the translator when it is only a question of synonyms, since for them the same European expression can do duty. And though it is not certain whether in the case of a multitude of non-essential or wholly analogous expressions the shorter or the extended text is the original one, that does not substantially affect the translation. There is scarcely any harm in curtailing the frequent tautology of this chapter. We should be well advised in case of successive synonymous abstract nouns and verbs such as occur frequently in Arabic to translate by a simple expression with an emphatic adjective or adverb. But not seldom the difference becomes great. It is a difficult situation when we are uncertain whether the passage which is found in several manuscripts and not in others is the original one. As a rule we have to decide in favour of the majority but as sometimes we do come across actual interpolations in some, so their existence is not impossible in others, although we can not be positive on the subject.

[Sidenote: A monumental piece of literature.]

The matter would have been less troublesome for me had I been able straight way to declare as the best the tradition of any of the manuscripts familiarly known to me or any old translation. That, however, is not so. I have to judge each case by itself and to proceed eclectically as much as my philological conscience permits. Finally, by means of my rendering I believe I have reproduced the import of this monumental piece of literature without showing absolute partiality to the Arabic document. My rendering is wanting doubtless in the elegance with which Ibn Moqaffa handles the language which in his time had acquired the capacity of treating even abstract subjects with lucidity. May a later hand improve upon my translation!

Only those who attempt it can appreciate how difficult it is to make a tolerable European translation even of an easily intelligible Arabic text. A literal translation would be wooden. We have often to alter the entire construction and to insert all manner of words foreign to the Arabic to make the context clear. On the other hand the translator must avoid employing the same expression in rapid succession, a procedure which is common in Arabic even if we make allowance for the _figura etymologica_ and the like.

[Sidenote: Ibn Qutaiba and Ibn Moqaffa.]

I only know two passages in this chapter which are quoted by Arabic authors. Brockelmann informs me that no quotation from our chapter occurs in the unpublished portion of the _Uyun_ of Ibn Qutaiba. Unless I am mistaken the excerpts in this book from _Kalila wa Dimna_ are not always correct. Ibn Qutaiba was concerned more with the sense than with the phraseology of Ibn Moqaffa.

THE STATEMENT OF BURZOE THE PERSIAN PHYSICIAN IN CHIEF,

Who undertook to transcribe and translate this Indian Book (Kalila wa Dimna).

[Sidenote: Autobiographical.]

My father belonged to the Warrior class, my mother came of an eminent priestly family. One of the earliest boons which the Lord conferred on me was that I was the most favourite child of my parents and that they exerted themselves more for my education than for my brothers. So when I was seven years old they sent me to a children's school.

[This was required to be mentioned in his case inasmuch as it could not have been necessary or usual for a child of distinguished parentage in early Persia to be educated in a public school.]

When I had learnt the ordinary writing I was thankful to my parents and perceived something in knowledge.

[In spite of the wide divergence in the Arabic texts and translations the sense of the original is clear. Note the reference to the difficult nature of the Pehlevi syllabary. Only the Spanish version has a good deal more about the schooling.]

[Sidenote: Appreciation of the healing art.]

And the first branch of science to which I felt inclination was medicine. It had a great attraction for me because I recognised its excellence and the more I acquired it the more I loved it and the more earnestly I studied it. Now when I had progressed sufficiently far to think of treating invalids I took counsel with myself and reflected in the following manner on the four objects for which mankind so earnestly strive. "Which of them shall I seek to acquire with the help of my art, money, prosperity, fame, or reward in the next world"? In the choice of my calling the decisive factor was my experience that men of understanding praise medicine and that the adherents of no religion censure it. I found, however, in medical literature that the best physician is he who by his devotion to his vocation strives only after a reward in the next world; and I resolved to act accordingly and not to think of worldly gain, so that I may not be likened to the merchant who sold for a worthless bead a ruby by which he could have acquired a world of wealth. On the other hand, I found in the books of the ancients that when a physician strives after the reward in the next world by means of his art he thereby forfeits no fraction of his worldly guerdon but that therein he is to be compared with the peasant who carefully sows his plot of ground to acquire corn and who subsequently without further effort gets along with the harvest all manner of vegetation.

[The cultivator along with the harvest gets grass and vegetation which may serve as a pasture for cattle.]

[Sidenote: Burzoe starts practice.]

I, therefore, directed my attention to the hope of securing recompense in the next world by curing the sick and was at considerable pains in the treatment of all the deceased whom I hoped to cure and even such as were past all such hopes, whose suffering I endeavoured at least to alleviate. I personally attended those I could; but where this was not possible I gave the patients the necessary instructions and also sent medicine. And from none of those whom I so treated did I demand payment or other return. I was jealous of none of my colleagues who was my equal in knowledge and who excelled me in repute and riches; although as a matter of fact he was lacking in equity and good manners. When, however, my soul felt inclined to impel me to be jealous of such and to be covetous of a situation like his I met it with severity in the following manner:--

[Sidenote: Burzoe addresses his own soul. The physician's arduous calling.]

[Sidenote: A simile.]

O soul, dost not thou differentiate between what is useful and what is injurious to thee? Dost thou not cease wishing for the acquisition of that which secures for every one a small gain but which entails severe exertion and privation and which, when he must at last relinquish it, procures him much sorrow and severe punishment in the next world? O soul, thinkest thou not of that which succeeds this life and forgettest it because of thy avarice for the things of this world? Art thou not ashamed to live the evanescent terrestrial life in the company of men of feeble intellect and fools? It belongs not to him even who has something of it in his hand: it does not endure with him and only the infatuated and the negligent depend upon it. Desist from this irrationality and bend all thy might, so long as in thee lies, to exert thyself for the good and for divine recompense. Beware of procrastination. Reflect on the fact that our body is destined to all manner of unhappiness and permeated with the four perishable and impure principles which are enclosed in it, which struggle against each other, defeating each other by turn, and thus support life which itself is transient. Life is like a statue with several limbs. When properly adjusted each in its right place, they hold themselves together on a single pivot but which, when the latter is taken off, fall to pieces. O soul, do not deceive thyself owing to intercourse with friends and companions and do not strain thyself after it, inasmuch as this intercourse brings no doubt joy but also much hardship and tribulation and finally ends in separation. It is like a ladle which men use for hot soup, so long as it is new but when it breaks they have done with it--burn it. O soul, allow not thyself to be moved by family and relations to amass property for them so that thyself should perish. Thou shouldst, then, be like fragrant incense which is burnt only for the enjoyment of others. They are like a hair which men cherish so long as it remains on the head but cast it off as impure as soon as it falls. O soul, be steadfast in treating the diseased and give it not up because thou findest that the physician's profession is arduous and people do not recognise its uses and high value. Judge only thyself whether a man who cures in another a disease making him feel once more fresh and whole is not worthy of a great reward and handsome remuneration. This is the case with one who has solicitude for a single individual; how much more then is this so in the case of a medicineman who for meed in the next world thus acts towards a, large number of men, so that they after torturing pains and maladies, which shut them out from the enjoyment of the world, from food and drink, wife and child, feel once more as well as ever before. Who indeed merits larger reward and nobler retribution? O soul, do not put away from thy sight things of the next world because thou hungerest after passing life. For thou, in thy haste to acquire a triviality surrenderest the valuable; and such people are in the position of the merchant who had a house full of aloe wood and who said, "If I were to sell this by weight it would take me too long" and therefore gave it away wholesale for a trifling price.

[Sidenote: Autobiographical]

After thus I had replied to my soul and thereby explained matters to it and guided it aright it could not deviate from truth, yielded to righteousness and abandoned what it was inclined to. Accordingly I continued to treat the sick for the sake of my reward in the next world. This, however, by no means prevented my acquiring a rich portion of earthly goods before my journey to India as well as after my return from the kings, and that was more than I was ambitious of or had hoped for, for a man in my position and my calling.

[Sidenote: Limitations of the healing art.]

Thereafter I again reflected on the healing art and found that the physician can employ no remedy for a suffering patient which so completely cures his disease that it does not attack him again or that he is immune from a worse disorder. While, therefore, I was unaware how I could effect a perfect cure secure against the recurrence of a disease, I saw that on the other hand acknowledge of the next world was a permanent absolute protection against all distempers. Accordingly I conceived a contempt for the healing art and a longing for religious knowledge.

[Sidenote: Uncertainty of religious Verity.]

[Sidenote: Burzoe inquires of religious heads on matters divine: his disappointment.]

When, however, this occurred to my mind it was not clear to me how matters stood with reference to religion. I found nothing in the writings on pharmacy which indicated to me the truest religion. So far as I saw there were many religions and creeds and their adherents were again disunited. Some inherit their religion from their fathers; others are compelled to adhere to it by fear and pressure; others again aim at worldly advantages, enjoyments and renown. Everyone claims for himself the possession of the true and right faith and denounces that of others as false and erroneous. Their views on the world and other problems are entirely conflicting yet each despises the other, is inimical to and censures every other creed. I then resolved to turn to the learned and leaders of every religions community with a view to examining their doctrines and precepts in order possibly to learn to distinguish between verity and nullity and implicity to give my adhesion to the former without altogether accepting as true what I did not understand. So I analysed, investigated and observed, but I found that all those people only held before me traditional notions. Each landed his faith and reviled that of others. It was, therefore, evident to me that their conclusions rested on mere imagination and that they did not speak with impartiality. In none did I find such fairness and integrity that reasonable people could accept their dicta and declare themselves satisfied with them. When I perceived this it was impossible for me to follow any one of the religions and recognised that if I put faith in one of them of which I knew nothing I should fare like the betrayed believer in the following story.

[Sidenote: Anecdote of the credulous burglar.]

Once upon a time a thief set out at night and along with his companions got up on to the roof of the house of a man of opulence. As they entered they awoke the owner who noticed them and perceived that at that hour they were on the roof with evil intent. He awoke his wife and gently said to her, "I see that up on the top of our roof there are thieves. I will pretend to sleep, wake me up in a voice loud enough to be heard by those on the roof and say to me, 'My husband, do tell me how you came by so much wealth and property.' When I make no reply whatever ask me very pressingly again." The woman accordingly asked him as she was ordered so that the house-breakers heard it all. The man replied, "My wife, luck has led you to great prosperity, so eat and drink, keep quiet and do not ask about it, because if I told it to you, some one would easily hear it and get something by it, which neither of us would like." She, however, persisted, "But my husband, do tell me, surely there is no one here to overhear us." "Well then, I will tell you that I have acquired all this wealth and goods by theft." "How did you manage it, when in the eye of the people you are still irreproachably honest and no one suspects you?" "By means of an artifice in the science of thieving: it is so handy and easy that no one can have any suspicion whatever." "How so?" "I used to manage this way: On a moonlight night I would go out with my companions, get up to the roof of the house of the person I wanted to rob as far as the sky light through which the moon shone and then uttered seven times the charm _Sholam Sholam Sholam_. I would then embrace the rays and slide down into the house without any body noticing my intrusion. Then at the other extremity of the moon-beams I again would seven times repeat the magic word and all the money and treasures in the house became visible to me. I could take of them whatever I would. Once more I would embrace the beams and rehearsing again seven times the magic word mount up to my companions and load them with all I had. Next we stole away unscathed."

When the robbers overheard this they rejoiced exceedingly and said: "In this house we have got a spoil which is more valuable to us than the gold which we can get there; we have acquired a means by which God delivers us from fear and we are secure against the authorities." So they watched for a long time and when they had made sure that the master of the house and his wife had gone to sleep the leader of the robbers stepped up to the spot where the light streamed through the hole, spoke Sholam Sholam seven times, clasped the rays with the intention of dropping down along them and fell head foremost on the floor. The husband sprang to his feet with a club and thrashed him to a jelly asking him, "Who are you?" And he replied, "The deceived believer: this is the fruit of blind faith."

[Sidenote: More religious investigation and more despair.]

[Sidenote: A dilemma.]

Accordingly, after I had grown sufficiently circumspect not to credit what might probably lead to my perdition, I started again investigating religions to discover the true one. But I again found no reply whenever I put questions to any one and when a doctrine was propounded to me I found nothing which in my judgment merited belief or served me as a guiding principle. Then I said, "The most reasonable course is to cling to the religion in which I found my fathers." Yet when I sought justification for this course I found none and said to myself, "If that be justification then the sorcerer also had one who found his progenitors to be wizards." And I thought of the man who ate indecently and when he was rebuked for it he excused himself by saying that his ancestors used to feed in the same gross way. Since, therefore, it was impossible for me to keep to the religion of my forbears and since I could find no justification for it, I desired once more earnestly to bestir myself and most carefully to examine the various religions and to consider minutely what they had to offer us. But then suddenly the idea struck me that the end was near and that the world would presently come to a close for me. Thereupon I pondered as follows:--

[Sidenote: Meditation of despair.]

Perhaps the hour of my departure has already arrived before I could wring my hands. My deeds were once still such that I could hope they were meritorious. Now perhaps the prolonged hesitation over my search and investigation would turn me away from the good deeds which I practised formerly, so that my end would not be such as I strove for, and owing to my wavering and vacillation the fate of the man in the following anecdote would overtake me.

[Sidenote: An anecdote: fatal hesitation.]

A certain man had a love affair with a married woman. She had made for him a subterraneous passage opening into the street and its entrance was constructed close by a water jar. This she did for fear lest her husband or some one else should surprise her. Now one day when her paramour was with her word was brought that the husband was standing at the door. The lover hastened to get behind the jar but it had been removed by some one so he came to the woman and said, "I went to the passage but the jar of which you spoke was not there." To which the woman, said "You fool, what have you got to do with the jar? I mentioned it to point to you the way to the passage." "I could not be sure, since the jar was not near the passage, you should not have spoken of it to me and misled me." "Now save yourself, enough of your stupidity and hesitation." "But how shall I go since you spoke to me of the jar and even now confuse me?" Thus he remained there till the master of the house came up and seized hold of and belaboured him, and handed him over to the authorities.

[Sidenote: Burzoe follows good principles common to all creeds.]

[Sidenote: The properties of righteousness.]

Since I was apprehensive of the risks of shilly-shallying I resolved not to expose myself to the danger and to confine myself entirely to such works as all men regard as benevolent and which are consonant with all the religions. I refrained, therefore, from assault, murder and robbery, and guarded myself against incontinence and my tongue from falsehood and all utterance calculated to harm any one, avoided the smallest deception, indecency of language, falsehood, calumny and ridicule and took pains that my heart wished ill of no one and that I did not disbelieve in resurrection and retribution and punishment in the next world. I turned away my mind from wickedness and adhered energetically to good, perceived that there is no better associate or friend than righteousness and that it is easy to acquire it with the help of God. I found that it has more tender solicitude for us than father and mother that it leads to good and gives true counsel like one friend to another, that use does not diminish but rather multiplies it, and that when employed it does not wear out, but is constantly renewed, and becomes more beautiful; that we need not fear that the authorities will snatch it from us, the enemy will rob or miscreants disfigure it, or water drown or fire will consume it, wild beasts attack it or that any thing untoward will happen to it. He who contemns righteousness and its consequences in the next world and permits himself to be seduced from it by a fraction of the sweets of this passing world, he who passes his days with things which do not permit piety to approach him, fares as did to my knowledge the merchant in the following story.

[Sidenote: The careless Jeweller.]

A merchant had many precious stones. To bore a hole through them he hired a man for a hundred pieces of gold a day and went with him to his house. As soon however, as he set to work, there was a lute and the workman turned his eyes towards it. And upon the merchant questioning him whether he could play upon it he replied, "Yes, right well." For he was indeed proficient in the art. "Then take it" said the merchant. He therefore took it and played for the merchant the whole day beautiful melodies in proper tune so that the jeweller left the caset with the precious stones in it and filled with joy kept time, nodding his head and waving his hand. In the evening he said to the jeweller, "Let me have my wages," And when the latter said, "Have you done anything to deserve the wage?" he replied, "You have hired me and I have done what you ordered me to do." So he pressed him till he received his hundred pieces without any deduction, while the gems remained unbored.

[Sidenote: Aversion to pleasures of the world: Buddhistic pessimism.]

The more I reflected upon the world and its joys the deeper grew my aversion towards them. Then I made up my mind entirely to devote myself to the life of the blessed and the anchorite. For I saw that asceticism is a garden the hedge of which keeps off at a distance eternal evils, and the door through which man attains to everlasting felicity. And I found that a divine tranquility comes over the ascetic when he is absorbed in meditation; for he is still, contented, unambitious, satisfied, free from cares, has renounced the world, has escaped from evils, is devoid of greed, is pure, independent, protected against sorrow, above jealousy, manifests pure love, has abandoned all that is transitory, has acquired perfect understanding, has seen the recompense of the next world, is secure against remorse, fears no man, does none any harm and remains himself unmolested. And the more I pondered over asceticism the more I yearned for it so that at last I earnestly thought of becoming an ascetic.

[Sidenote: The trials of an anchorite: the greedy dog.]

But then apprehension came upon me that I should not be able to support the life of a hermit and that the ordinary way in which I had grown up would prove an hindrance. I was not sure that, should I renounce the world and adopt asceticism, I should not prove too feeble for it. Moreover, should I give up such good works as I had previously performed in the hope of salvation, I should be in the position of the dog who with the bone in his mouth was going along a river. He saw his reflection in the water, suddenly dashed forward to seize it and consequently let fall what he had in the mouth without securing what he wanted to get. So I grew uneasy regarding the recluse's life and was afraid lest I should fail to bear it and thought therefore rather to continue the career of my life.

[Sidenote: Worldly Monastic life.]

[Sidenote: A series of similes.]

However, it occurred to me to compare the discomforts and straits of monasticism, which I feared I should be unable to support, with the wants of those who remain in the world. Then it became clear to me that all the joys and pleasures of the world turn to discomforts and bring sorrow. For the world is like salt water. The more one drinks of it the more thirsty one becomes; like a bone found by a dog on which he still sniffs the flavour of flesh, he bites to get at it but only to tear the flesh of his teeth and make his mouth bleed and the more he struggles the more he makes it bleed; like the vulture that has found a piece of flesh, it attracts other birds in a flock so that for a long time it is in trouble and flies till at last, quite exhausted, it drops its prey; like a pot filled with honey and with poison at the bottom, he who eats of it has a short enjoyment but at last death by venom; like a dream which rejoices the sleeper who finds when he awakes his joy vanished; like lightning that brings brilliance for a moment but quickly disappears, he who builds his hope upon it abides in darkness; like the silk worm the more it spins itself into the silk the more impossible it finds to come out.

[Sidenote: More internal struggle.]

After I had pondered thus I once more proposed to my soul to elect asceticism and had yearning for it. Nevertheless I opposed it with: It will not do that I should seek refuge from the world in asceticism when I think of the evils of the world and then again seek refuge in the world from asceticism when I consider the privations and discomforts of the latter. I continued in a state of prolonged vacillation without firm determination like the Kazi of Merv who at first heard one party and decided in his favour and against the other and then heard the other and gave judgment in favour of the latter as against the first. And when again I reflected upon the frightful discomforts and straits of monasticism I said, How trifling it is all in comparison with eternal peace. And then once more thinking of the joys of the world I exclaimed, How bitter and pernicious they are which lead to perpetual perdition and its horrors; how can a man not regard as sweet the little bitterness which is succeeded by sweet that endures and how can a man not regard as bitter a bit of sweet that ends in greater and abiding bitterness? If it was offered to a man that he should live a hundred years but that every day he should be hacked to pieces and should be called to life again the following day and so on, provided that at the close of the century he should be delivered from the torture and pain and be in security and delight, he would account as nothing the whole years. How can a man then not bear the few days of asceticism, the inconveniences of which are succeeded by much that is beautiful? And we know that the entire world bears privation and torment and that man from his origin as foetus till the end of his days is subject to one suffering after another. Moreover, we find the following in books of medicine.

[Sidenote: Man in embryo: his torments till and after death.]

[Sidenote: Tribulations of human existence.]

When the liquid, of which the perfect child is to be built, enters the uterus of the woman, and mixes itself with her liquid substance and her blood it becomes thick and pulpy. Next the liquid is stirred by a wind and becomes like sour milk and later on hard like curdled milk. After a certain number of days the individual members become separate. If it is a man child its face is turned to the back of the mother; if it is a female it is turned towards the belly. In the foetus the hands are on the cheeks and the chin is on the knee. It is all bundled up in the foetus as if it was thrust into a pouch. It breathes through a narrow opening. Each member is bound by a chord. Above it is the heat and the pressure of the mother's womb; below are darkness and constriction. It is tied with a piece of its navel to that of its mother, sucks through it and lives upon her food and drink. In this position it remains in gloom and confinement till the day of birth. When that day comes a wind acquires control of the womb, that child acquires strength to rise, turns the head towards the opening and experiences in this confinement the pain of one forced into a distressing torture. Should it fall to the ground or be touched only by a breath of wind or should it come in contact with one's hands it feels greater pain, than a person that is flayed alive. The new born babe then suffers all manner of torment. When it is hungry it cannot ask for food; thirsty, for drink; when in pain it cannot call for help. Besides it is lifted up, laid down, wrapped up, swathed, washed and rubbed. When it is laid to sleep on the back it cannot turn. Again so long as it is given the suck it is subjected to all manner of other tortures. When it is finally delivered from these, it is liable to those of education and has then to suffer a great deal, the brusqueness of the teacher, the unpleasantness of the instruction, the disgust at writing. Next he has his rich portion of medicine, diet, aches and illnesses. When he has outgrown these, he is troubled with wife, child and property and is pulled about by covetuous ambition and is exposed to the peril of longing and desires. All this while he is menaced by his four internal enemies, gall, blood, bile and wind; and furthermore, mortal poison, snakes that bite, animals of prey and reptiles, the alternation of heat and cold, rain and storm as well as finally the various plagues of age, if at all he survives those. But should he have nothing to fear from all this and were he secure with regard to these calamities, when he thinks of the moment when death must come and he musk give up the world, what a miserable plight is his, at the thought of the hour he has to separate himself from family, friends, and relations and all that is precious on the earth, and when he reflects that there is in store for him after death fearful horrors? Then must he be considered of feeble intellect, neglectful and a suitor for misfortune should he do nothing for his soul, should he not employ all art in behalf of the soul, and should he not renounce altogether the pleasures and errors of the world which till then had seduced him.

[Sidenote: Eulogy of the reigning Monarch.]

[Sidenote: Fallen on evil days.]

[Sidenote: How the world's misery outweighs its joys.]

But this holds especially good of modern times which have become worn out and fragile, which appear pure but are turbid. God has given the king good fortune and success. He is equally circumspect, mighty, magnanimous, profound examiner, upright, humane, liberal, a lover of truth, grateful, of broad comprehension, mindful of right and duty, indefatigable, strenuous, with insight, helpful, serene of mind, intelligent, thoughtful, gentle, sympathetic, kind, one who knows man and things, friend of learning and the learned, of the good and of benevolent people, but severe to the oppressor, not timid, nor backward, dexterous in granting in abundance to his subjects what they desire and averting from them what they do not like. Yet we see that our days are retrogressive in every way. It is as if man were divested of truth, as if that should be absent which one sadly misses and as if the harmful were there, as if the good were withering and the evil flourishing, as if the sinners were proceeding with a smile and the righteous receding in tears; as if knowledge was entombed and irrationality propagated, as if wretched intent was spreading and nobility of thought restricted; as if love was cut off and malice and hatred had become favourites; as if rectitude were divested of prosperity which had betaken itself to the malefactor; as if craftiness were awake and truth were asleep; as if mendacity were fruitful and veracity was left in the cold; as if those in power held before them the duty to act according to their own inclinations and to violate law, as if the oppressed were in dejection and made way for the tyrant; as if greediness on all sides had opened its jaws and swallowed all that was far and near; as if there was no trace left of contentment; as if the wicked had exalted themselves to Heaven and had made the good sink into the ground; as if nobility of mind were thrown from the loftiest pinnacle to most abysmal depths, as if turpitude were in honour and authority and as if sovereignty had been transferred from the exalted to the mean--in fact as if the world in the fullness of its joy were crying, "I have concealed the good and brought the evil to light." When, however, I reflected on the world and its condition and on the fact that man, although he is the noblest and foremost of creatures in it, is still in spite of his eminent position, subject to one misery after another and that this is his notorious peculiarity so that whoever has even a tittle of reason must be convinced that a human being is unable to help himself and to exert for his salvation,--this greatly astonished me, as further consideration told me that he is debarred from salvation only because of the small miserable enjoyments of smell, taste, sight, hearing and feeling of which he may receive a fraction or enjoy a particle but which is insignificant being so transient. He is, however, so much taken up with it that on its account he does not trouble himself for the salvation of his soul.

Then I looked for a similitude for this behaviour of human beings and found the following:

A certain person was fleeing from a danger into a well and suspended himself by clinging to two branches which grew on its edge, his feet striking against something which supported them. When he looked round there were four serpents which were projecting their heads from their holes. As he looked into the bottom of the well he noticed a dragon with its jaws open expecting him to fall his prey. And as he turned his head up to the branches he observed at their roots a black and a white mouse which were ceaselessly gnawing at both. While he was contemplating the situation and casting about for a means of escape he descried near him a hollow with bees that had made some honey. This he tasted and he was so much absorbed in its deliciousness that he no more thought of the condition he was in and that he must devise some contrivance of escape. He became oblivious of the fact that his feet rested against four serpents and that he did not know which would attack him first, forgot that the two mice were without cessation nibbling at the boughs by which he was hanging, and that as soon as they had gnawed them through he would drop into the jaws of the dragon. And so in his heedlessness he yielded to the enjoyment of the meed till he perished.

I compared the well with the world which is brimful of all manner of harm and terrible perils, the four snakes with the four humours which constitute the physical basis of man, but which, should they be excited, prove mortal poison; the branches to life, the black and white mice to night and day which in perpetual alternation consume our lifetime; the dragon with death inevitable; the honey to the particle of joy which man derives from his senses of smell, taste, sight, hearing and feeling, but which makes him oblivious of himself and all his circumstances and decoy away from the path to emancipation. So circumstanced I found myself, and endeavoured to conduct myself with as much rectitude as possible in the hope once again to experience a time when I should acquire a guide for myself and help for my cause. I remained in this stage till I returned from India to my homeland after I had made a copy of this book and a few more.