Flowers from a Persian Garden and Other PapersClouston, W. A. (William Alexander)
History
Flowers from a Persian Garden and Other Papers
Clouston, W. A. (William Alexander)
Middle Eastern literature -- History and criticism
Hospitality has ever been the characteristic virtue of the Arabs, and a
mean, stingy disposition is rarely to be found among them. A droll story
of an Arab of the latter description has been rendered into verse by the
Persian poet Liwa'i, the substance of which is as follows: An Arab
merchant who had been trading between Mecca and Damascus, at length
turned his face homeward, and had reached within one stage of his house
when he sat down to rest and to refresh himself with the contents of his
wallet. While he was eating, a Bedouin, weary and hungry, came up, and,
hoping to be invited to share his repast, saluted him, "Peace be with
thee!" which the merchant returned, and asked the nomad who he was and
whence he came. "I have come from thy house," was the answer. "Then,"
said the merchant, "how fares my son Ahmed, absence from whom has
grieved me sore?" "Thy son grows apace in health and innocence." "Good!
and how is his mother?" "She, too, is free from the shadow of sorrow."
"And how is my beauteous camel, so strong to bear his load?" "Thy camel
is sleek and fat." "My house-dog, too, that guards my gate, pray how is
he?" "He is on the mat before thy door, by day, by night, on constant
guard." The merchant, having thus his doubts and fears removed, resumed
his meal with freshened appetite, but gave nought to the poor nomad,
and, having finished, closed his wallet. The Bedouin, seeing his
stinginess, writhed with the pangs of hunger. Presently a gazelle passed
rapidly by them, at which he sighed heavily, and the merchant inquiring
the cause of his sorrow, he said: "The cause is this--had not thy dog
died he would not have allowed that gazelle to escape!" "My dog!"
exclaimed the merchant. "Is my doggie, then, dead?" "He died from
gorging himself with thy camel's blood." "Who hath cast this dust on
me?" cried the merchant. "What of my camel?" "Thy camel was slaughtered
to furnish the funeral feast of thy wife." "Is my wife, too, dead?" "Her
grief for Ahmed's death was such that she dashed her head against a
rock." "But, Ahmed," asked the father--"how came he to die?" "The house
fell in and crushed him." The merchant heard this tale with full belief,
rent his robe, cast sand upon his head, then started swiftly homeward to
bewail his wife and son, leaving behind his well-filled wallet, a prey
to the starving desert-wanderer.[34]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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