Chapter Three: On the Virtue of Contentment

A beggar from the West stood among the cloth merchants of Aleppo and said: You masters of wealth, if only you had fairness and we had contentment, then begging would vanish from the world. Contentment, make me rich, for beyond you there is no wealth at all. The quiet corner of patience is what Luqman chose; whoever has no patience has no wisdom.

Two princes lived in Egypt. One devoted himself to learning, the other to piling up wealth. In the end, the first became the great scholar of his age, and the second became the ruler of Egypt. So this rich man looked down on the scholar with contempt and said: I have risen to a throne, while you are still stuck in poverty. The scholar replied: My brother, I owe even greater thanks to God, glorious be His name, for I received the inheritance of the prophets, that is, knowledge, while you received the inheritance of Pharaoh and Haman, that is, the kingdom of Egypt. I am the ant that people crush underfoot, not the wasp whose sting makes them cry out. How could I ever give proper thanks for this blessing: that I have no power to harm anyone?

I heard of a dervish who was burning in the fire of poverty, stitching patch after patch onto his worn cloak, and to calm his wretched heart he kept saying: Let us make do with dry bread and a patched garment, for bearing the weight of our own hardship is better than bearing the weight of people's favors. Someone said to him: Why do you just sit here? A certain man in this city has a generous nature and a wide-reaching kindness. He has girded himself to serve free souls and has taken a seat at the door of every heart. If he learns of your true condition as it really is, he will consider caring for a worthy person a privilege and count it a blessing. The dervish said: Be quiet! Dying in obscurity is better than carrying your need to another man's door. Better to keep stitching patches and hold to the corner of patience than to write a begging note to the great just for a robe. Truly, it is equal to the torment of hell: to enter paradise on the crutch of a neighbor's help.

One of the kings of Persia sent a skilled physician to serve the Prophet Mustafa, peace be upon him. He stayed a year in the land of the Arabs, yet no one came to test his skill or asked him for a cure. He came to the Prophet and complained: I was sent to treat your companions, but in all this time no one has paid me any attention, so I could carry out the duty assigned to me. The Prophet, peace be upon him, said: These people follow a rule. They do not eat until hunger takes hold, and they stop eating while some appetite still remains. The physician said: This is the very cause of their good health. He kissed the ground and departed. The wise person speaks, or reaches out a fingertip toward the food, only when staying silent would cause harm, or not eating would leave the body faint. So naturally, his words carry wisdom, and his eating brings forth health.

In the life of Ardashir Babakan it is told that he asked an Arab sage: how much food should one eat in a day? The sage said: a hundred dirhams by weight is enough. The king asked: what strength can so little give? The sage said: this amount carries you, and whatever you eat beyond it, you become its carrier. In other words, this much keeps you on your feet, and anything more than this you are merely hauling around. Eating is for living and for remembering God; but you believe that living is for the sake of eating.

Two dervishes from Khorasan traveled together as companions. One was frail, breaking his fast only every other night, and the other was strong, eating three times a day. As it happened, at the gate of a certain city they were arrested on a charge of spying. They shut them both in a house and sealed the door with clay. After two weeks it became clear they were innocent. They opened the door and found the strong one dead, while the frail one had come through alive. People were astonished at this. A wise man said: the opposite would have been the strange thing. That one was a heavy eater, could not endure hunger, and perished under the hardship. This other one was self-restrained, so naturally he bore his habit patiently and survived. When eating little has become second nature to someone, he takes hardship lightly when it comes his way. But if a person pampers his body in times of plenty, when scarcity hits, he dies of the hardship.

One of the wise men kept warning his son against eating too much, saying that being overfull makes a person sick. The son said: Father, hunger kills people. Haven't you heard the clever ones say it's better to die stuffed than to endure hunger? The father said: Keep to moderation. Eat and drink, but do not go to excess. Don't eat so much that it comes back up your throat, and don't eat so little that your strength gives out and you faint. Though the soul finds its pleasure in food, food brings suffering when it goes beyond measure. If you force down rose-jam sweets, they'll harm you, but if you eat dry bread when truly hungry, it tastes like rose-jam. They asked a sick man: What does your heart want? He said: I want a heart that wants nothing. Once the stomach turns and the belly aches, no remedy, however proper, does any good.

A grocer in Wasit had lent a few coins to some Sufis, and the debt had piled up. Every day he came demanding payment and spoke to them harshly. The companions were worn down by his nagging, but they had no choice except to bear it. One wise man among them said: it is easier to keep promising the stomach a meal than to keep promising the grocer his money. Better to give up the master's charity than to endure the abuse of his doormen. Better to die craving meat than to face the ugly demands of butchers.

A brave and generous man was badly wounded in the war with the Tatars. Someone told him: a certain merchant has a healing remedy; if you ask, he might not refuse you. But that merchant was famous for his stinginess. If the sun itself lay on his table instead of bread, no one on earth would ever see the light of day again. The wounded man said: if I ask, he may give the remedy or refuse it; and if he gives it, it may help or it may not. Either way, asking anything of him is a killing poison. Whatever you beg from base men, laid under obligation, you may add to your body, but you drain your soul. The wise have said: even if they sold the water of life for the price of your dignity, no wise person would buy it, for an honorable death is better than a life of humiliation. To eat bitter fruit from the hand of a kind man is better than sweets from the hand of one whose face is sour.

One of the scholars had many mouths to feed and only a meager income. He mentioned this to a certain nobleman who trusted and believed in him. But the man frowned at the request, and asking a favor of someone cultured seemed shameful in his eyes. When luck is sour, do not go to a beloved friend with a bitter face, or you will spoil his pleasure too. When you go with a need, go with a bright face and a smile; the affairs of an open-browed, cheerful person never stay shut. They say the man added a little to the scholar's allowance but cut away much of his goodwill. When after a few days the scholar found the old warmth was gone, he said: Wretched is the food won at the cost of humiliation: the pot is set up high, but one's own worth is brought low. It increased my bread but lessened my honor; poverty is better than the disgrace of begging.

A dervish ran into an urgent need. Someone told him: a certain man has boundless wealth; if he learns of your need, surely he will not delay in meeting it. The dervish said: I do not know him. The man said: I will guide you to him. He took the dervish by the hand and led him to that man's house. There the dervish saw someone sitting sullen and sour-faced, his lips hanging low. He turned back without saying a word. Someone asked him: what did you do? He said: I gave up his gift in exchange for not having to look at his face. Do not carry your need to a sour-faced man, for his foul temper will wear you down. If you must tell the sorrow of your heart, tell it to someone whose very face already brings you some relief.

During a drought in Alexandria, the poor had lost all their endurance. The gates of the sky stayed shut against the earth, and the cries of its people rose up to heaven. Not a single creature was left, wild beast or bird, fish or ant, whose lament of deprivation did not climb to the sky. How strange that the smoke of the people's grieving hearts does not gather into a cloud, so the flood of their weeping eyes might fall as rain. In such a year there was a debauched man, may friends be spared such company, whose description offends decency, especially in the presence of the great. Yet to pass over him in silence would be wrong too, for some might take it as the speaker's incapacity. So let me settle for these two lines, since a little points to a great deal, and a handful shows the whole load: If the Tatars kill this degenerate, there is no need to kill another Tatar in return. How long must he go on like the bridge of Baghdad, water flowing beneath him and men riding over his back? This very man, one side of whose character you have just heard, had boundless wealth that year. He gave silver and gold to the destitute and spread a table for travelers. A band of dervishes, worn down by the cruelty of hunger, meant to answer his invitation and came to consult me. I refused to go along with it and said: The lion will not eat what a dog has half-devoured, even if it dies of starvation in its cave. Bear your helplessness and hunger, but do not stretch out your hand before a base wretch. Even if such a man became like Fereydun in wealth and kingdom, count the man without merit as nothing. Silk and fine brocade on the unworthy are like gold and lapis painted on a wall.

They asked Hatam of Tai: In all the world, have you ever seen or heard of anyone more generous than yourself? He said: Yes. One day I had slaughtered forty camels to feast the Arab chiefs, and then I stepped out to a corner of the desert to relieve myself. There I saw a thornpicker who had gathered a bundle of brushwood. I said to him: Why not come to Hatam's feast, where a whole crowd has gathered at his table? He answered: Whoever eats bread earned by his own labor owes no debt of gratitude to Hatam of Tai. I judged that man, in spirit and nobility, to be greater than myself.

Moses, peace be upon him, once saw a poor man who had buried himself in the sand for want of clothing. The man said: Moses, pray that God, mighty and glorious, gives me enough to live on, for this misery has worn me down. Moses prayed and went on his way. A few days later, returning from his devotions, he found the man in trouble, with a crowd gathered around him. He asked: what has happened here? They said: he drank wine, made a drunken uproar, and killed a man, and now he has been sentenced to die for it. And the wise have said: If the wretched cat had wings, it would wipe every sparrow's egg from the face of the earth. Let a weakling once come into power, and he rises up to crush those weaker than himself. And if God were to spread wide the means of life for His servants, they would run riot upon the earth. Moses, peace be upon him, acknowledged the wisdom of the Creator of the world and asked forgiveness for his own presumption. What plunged you into danger, you deluded thing, until you perished? If only the ant had never flown. When a servant gains high rank, silver and gold, his head is bound, of necessity, to meet a slap. Have you not heard what Plato said? Better for the ant to have no wings at all. The father has plenty of honey, but the son runs a fever. The One who does not make you rich knows what is good for you better than you do.

I saw a Bedouin in the circle of Basra's jewelers, telling this tale: 'Once I lost my way in a desert. Nothing was left of my provisions, and I had given my heart up to death, when suddenly I found a pouch full of pearls. I will never forget that joy and delight when I thought it was roasted wheat, nor the bitterness and despair when I realized it was pearls!' In a dry desert of shifting sand, to a thirsty man, what does it matter, a pearl or an empty shell? For the man with no supplies, collapsed from exhaustion, what hangs at his belt, gold or a shard of clay, means nothing.

An Arab in the desert, dying of thirst, was saying: If only, before my death, I could reach my wish for a single day: a river lapping against my knees, while I stay there and fill my waterskin.

In much the same way, a traveler was lost on a vast open plain. His food and strength had run out, though he carried a few coins on him. He wandered far but found no path anywhere, and so he died in agony. A group of people came upon him and saw the coins laid before his face, and written in the dust: Even if he owns all the pure gold coins in the world, a man with no provisions cannot take a single step. For the starving pauper stranded in the desert, a boiled turnip is worth more than raw silver.

I never complained about the turning of time, nor scowled at the wheeling of the sky, except once, when my feet were bare and I couldn't afford a pair of shoes. I walked into the great mosque of Kufa, heavy-hearted, and saw a man with no feet at all. I gave thanks to God for what I had, and made my peace with having no shoes. To a man whose belly is full, roast chicken means less than a leaf of greens on the table. But to one with no means and no strength, a boiled turnip is a roast chicken.

One winter, a king and a few close companions strayed far from any building while hunting. As night fell, they spotted a farmer's house. The king said, 'Let us spend the night there, so we won't suffer the cold.' One of the ministers said, 'It does not befit the king's dignity to take shelter in a farmer's home. Let us pitch a tent right here and light a fire.' The farmer heard of it. He prepared whatever he had and brought it out, kissed the ground, and said, 'The king's high standing would not have been lowered by coming here; but the minister did not wish the farmer's standing to be raised.' The king found his words pleasing. That night they moved to his house. In the morning he ordered a robe of honor and gifts for him. They heard him walking a few steps beside the king's stirrup, saying: Nothing was taken from the king's honor and majesty by his kindness in visiting a farmer's humble home. The farmer's cap now touched the sun, because a king like you cast his shade upon his head.

They tell of a greedy beggar who had piled up great wealth. One of the kings said to him: They tell me you have boundless riches, and I have a pressing need. If you lend me a portion of it, when the revenue comes in you will be repaid, and I will be grateful. He answered: Ruler of the earth! It would not befit the noble dignity of a king to soil his generous hand with the money of a beggar like me, coins I have scraped together grain by grain through begging. The king said: No matter, I am giving it to an infidel; foul things are for foul people. If the water of a Christian's well is not clean, what harm if you wash a dead Jew with it? They said: Plaster paste is not pure. We answered: Then we will use it to seal the cracks of the latrine. I heard that the man refused the king's command, began to argue his case, and behaved with insolence. The king ordered that the sum be extracted from him through punishment and rebuke. When a matter cannot be settled by gentleness, it inevitably ends in disgrace. Whoever shows no mercy to himself, it is only fitting that no one shows mercy to him.

I once heard of a merchant who had a hundred and fifty camels loaded with goods and forty servants at his command. One night, on the island of Kish, he took me into his private chamber. All night long he would not rest from his rambling talk: this partner of mine is in Turkestan, that stock of goods in India, here is the deed to a certain piece of land, and so-and-so stands guarantor for such-and-such. At times he would say: I have a mind to go to Alexandria, where the air is pleasant. Then he would say: No, the western sea is too rough. Saadi, I have one more journey ahead of me. Once that is done, I will settle in a quiet corner for the rest of my life. I asked: And what journey is that? He said: I want to carry Persian sulfur to China, for I have heard it fetches an enormous price there. From there I will bring Chinese porcelain to Anatolia, Anatolian brocade to India, Indian steel to Aleppo, Aleppo glassware to Yemen, and Yemeni striped cloth back to Persia. After that I will give up trade and sit quietly in a shop. In truth, he poured out so much of this delirious raving that at last he had no strength left to speak. Then he said: Saadi, now you say something, from the things you have seen and heard. I said: Have you heard how, in the far reaches of Ghur, a caravan leader fell from his mount and died? He said: 'The narrow eye of the one who loves this world is filled either by contentment, or by the dust of the grave.'

I heard of a rich man as famous for his stinginess as Hatim Tai was for generosity. On the surface he was decked out with all the world's wealth, yet his inborn miserliness was so deeply rooted that he would not part with a loaf of bread to save a life, never fed a scrap to the cat, and never tossed a bone to a dog. In short, no one ever saw his door open or his tablecloth spread. The beggar never caught more than the smell of his food, and no bird ever pecked a crumb left from his meals. I heard that he had set out across the Mediterranean, bound for Egypt, with a pharaoh's pride in his head; until, just as drowning was about to take him, a contrary wind rose against the ship. What can anyone do with your sour temper if he cannot get along with you? The favorable wind is not always fit for the ship. He raised his hands in prayer and began his useless cries. And when they board a ship, they call upon God, sincere in their faith toward Him. What good is the hand of pleading to a needy servant who holds his prayers up to God but keeps his generosity tucked under his arm? Give others some comfort from your gold and silver, and take some enjoyment for yourself too. And for this house that will outlast you, lay down one brick of silver and one of gold. They say he had poor relatives in Egypt. With what remained of his wealth they grew rich; they tore their old clothes in mourning at his death, then cut themselves fine silk and linen. That very week I saw one of them riding a swift horse, a servant running behind him. Oh, if only the dead man could return to the midst of his family and kin, giving back the inheritance would be harder for the heirs than the death of their relative was. On the strength of an old acquaintance between us, I caught his sleeve and said: Enjoy it, you good-natured, decent man, for that wretch gathered it all and never tasted any of it.

A weak fisherman caught a strong fish in his net, but he had no strength to hold it. The fish overpowered him, snatched the net from his hands, and swam away. A servant went to fetch water from the stream; the stream came instead and swept the servant off! Every other time the net brought back a fish; this time the fish went off and took the net. The other fishermen were sorry for him and scolded him: such a catch fell into your net, and you didn't know how to keep it. He said: Brothers, what could I do? It wasn't my day for good fortune, and the fish still had life left to live. A fisherman without luck catches nothing in the Tigris, and a fish whose time hasn't come won't die on dry land.

A man with maimed hands and feet killed a centipede. A wise man passing by said: Praise God! For all the thousand legs it had, when its time to die arrived, it could not flee, while the maimed man survived without hands or feet. When the enemy who takes life comes chasing you, death ties down the legs of the galloping horse. In the moment when the enemy closes in fast, even a royal bow is of no use to draw.

I saw a plump fool wrapped in an expensive robe, an Arabian steed beneath him, and fine Egyptian linen on his head. Someone asked me: Sadi, what do you make of this embroidered silk on this brainless beast? I said: A donkey has come to resemble people; a calf, a body that only bellows. One handsome nature is worth more than a thousand robes of silk. You cannot call this animal a man, except for his cloak, his turban, and his outward show. Search through everything he owns, all his wealth and being, and you will find nothing lawful in him but his blood.