Among the laudable instincts, noble characteristics and virtuous habits by which men may be adorned, whether they are engaged in love-making or any other activity, Fidelity ranks high. It is one of the strongest proofs and clearest demonstrations of sound stock and pure breed; it differs in degree of excellence according to that variability which is inherent in all created beings. I have a short poem on this subject from which I will quote two separate stanzas: here is the first.
The deeds of every man advise
What element within him lies:
The visual evidence is true—
Thou needst not seek another clue.
And this is the second.
And has the oleander’s root
E’er yielded raisins for its fruit,
Or do the bees so bravely strive
To treasure aloes in their hive?
The first degree of fidelity is for a man to be faithful to one who is faithful to him. This indeed is an absolute duty, an obligation binding upon lover and beloved alike: no man deviates from it, unless he be of mean extraction and devoid of every grace and virtue. Were it not for the fact that it was not my intention in this essay to discourse upon the human character in general, and the inborn and acquired qualities of man, how the innate characteristics may be increased by cultivation, and the acquired attributes disappear for want of natural aptitude, I would have added here the observations necessary to be set down upon such a subject. But it was only my purpose to speak upon this matter of Love, as you expressly desired of me; to develop the matter in its extremely manifold aspects would have taken an extremely long time indeed.
The most frightful instance of this order of fidelity that I have ever witnessed, and the most terrible in its consequences, concerns a drama which I actually saw enacted before my own eyes. A certain man of my acquaintance consented to break off relations with a person whom he loved dearly and cherished more fondly than anyone else in the world, so that he would have preferred to die rather than be parted from him a single hour. He agreed to this appalling deprivation in order to guard a secret which had been entrusted to him. His loved one had sworn a solemn oath never to speak to him again, and to have no further commerce with him, unless he divulged that secret to him. Although the person who had committed the secret to his charge was far away, yet the lover refused to betray his trust; he continued to conceal the secret, and his loved one persisted in holding aloof from him, until time parted them forever.
The second degree of fidelity is for a man to be faithful towards one who has betrayed him. This trait appertains to the lover alone, and not to the beloved. The latter has no way here, neither is he under any such obligation; for fidelity is a course of action which can only be attempted by men who are tough, strong, broad-shouldered, magnanimous, of great forbearance and infinite patience, firm in judgement, of noble character and pure intentions. The man who rewards treachery with treachery by no means deserves blame; but the conduct which we have adumbrated excels this latter procedure exceedingly, and surpasses it by far. In this case the object of fidelity is to refrain from paying back injury with injury, and to abstain from matching evil against evil whether in deeds or words; to delay the fatal step of severing the cords of friendship as long as possible, while hope still remains that intimacy may be resumed and the smallest expectation may yet be cherished that relations can be restored, while the least sign of a resumption is still visible the faintest glimmer thereof may be perceived, and its slightest symptom diagnosed. Once despair however has gripped your heart, and resentment dominates your emotions, then you should strive your utmost to ensure that the perfidious friend may for all that be safe from your petty fury, secure from your malice, delivered from the danger of your mischief; let the recollection of what is gone before prevent you from giving vent to your wrath over what has now transpired. To be faithful to old obligations is the assured duty of all intelligent men; and to yearn affectionately for the past, and not to forget the times that are finished and done with, is the surest proof of true fidelity. This is a fine quality indeed, and one which ought to be employed in all human transactions, of whatever kind and in whatever circumstances.
I call to mind a man I once knew, one of my dearest friends, who formed an attachment for a young slave-girl. Their love waxed very strong; then she betrayed his trust, and broke the bonds of their affection. The story was noised widely abroad, and he suffered the most acute distress in consequence.
I once had a friend whose intentions towards me became ignoble, after we had been united in a firm affection the like of which ought not to be gainsaid. This he allowed to happen, despite the fact that each of us knew all the other’s secrets, and all formalities had been dropped between us. When his feelings towards me changed, he divulged all that he had got to know about me, though I knew many times as much to his disadvantage. Then he learned that I had become aware of what he had said concerning me; he was much disturbed, and feared that I would requite him in kind for his base conduct. Hearing of this, I wrote some verses to him to comfort him, assuring him that I did not intend to take reprisals against him.
Here is another reminiscence which belongs to the same category, although in truth neither this nor the preceding paragraph is strictly relevant to the essay and the chapter now being written; all the same it is roughly parallel, in accordance with the general conditions of the discourse which I have laid down. Muhammad ibn Walid ibn Maksir the Civil Secretary was on friendly and indeed devoted terms with me during the viziership of my late father; but when those events took place in Cordova which do not need to be further specified, and circumstances changed, he removed to another district. There he became connected with the local ruler, and attained in due course to a position of affluence, importance and agreeable distinction. I happened to stay in that district on one of my travels, but my friend of other days did not do his duty by me; my presence was unwelcome to him, and he treated me very evilly. During that time I requested him to do me a certain service, but he did not stir a finger to help me, pretending to be otherwise occupied, although the matter on which he claimed to be engaged was nothing urgent at all. I wrote him a poem of reproach, and he replied endeavouring to appease me; but for all that I did not trouble him with any further request. On this topic, though still outside the scope of the present chapter and yet cognate with it, I wrote some verses from which I will now quote.
To hide a secret guarded well
Is no great merit, truth to tell,
But rather to conceal a thing
Which other men are whispering.
So generosity is best
And noblest, when the thing possessed
Is rare, and he who makes the gift
Is famous for his stingy thrift.
The third order of fidelity is when a man is faithful for all that he has despaired completely and finally, death having intervened and sudden decease having unexpectedly removed all hope of further relations. Fidelity under these circumstances is even nobler and finer than during the lifetime of the beloved, when there is still the expectation of another meeting.
A woman in whom I have every confidence once told me that she had seen, in the house of Muhammad ibn Ahmad ibn Wahb, better known as Ibn al-Rakiza, a descendant of Badr who entered Andalusia with the Imam ‘Abd al-Rahman ibn Mu’awiya (God be well satisfied with him!), a slave-girl of striking beauty. She had had a master who had died, and was sold with his estate; but she refused to have anything to do with men after him, and no man enjoyed her charms until she met Allah the Omnipotent. She had been a fine singer, but denied all knowledge of the art and was content to be an ordinary servant, and to be excluded from those ladies who are taken for procreation, pleasure and a life of comfort. This she did out of fidelity to the departed, long since committed to earth and with tombstones cemented above him. Her afore-mentioned lord desired to take her to his bed, along with the rest of his concubines, and to bring her out of her position of menial servitude, but she refused. He beat her more than once, and administered corporal correction; but she bore it all with fortitude, persisting in her honourable refusal; this is an extremely rare instance of fidelity.
You must know that the duty of fidelity is incumbent upon the lover more than upon the beloved, and applies to him far more strictly. This is because it is the lover who initiated the attachment, and is the one who proposes the formation of the engagement; he seeks to conform the bond of affection, and petitions for true intimacy. He is the first to strike his claim to preferment, and takes the lead in seeking for enjoyment by striving to acquire the friendship. He it is who fetters himself with the reins of love, binding his soul with the stoutest shackles and bridling it with the strongest muzzle. Who was there to compel him to do all this if he did not wish to complete his part of the bargain, or to oblige him to attract so fond affection if he had not the intention to seal it with fidelity to the one whose love he desired? The beloved, on the other hand, is a person to whom the lover feels drawn and whose affection he seeks; she is free to accept or reject his advances. If she accepts, then that is the fulfilment of all the lover’s hopes; if she refuses, she deserves not to be blamed on that account. To propose union, to persist in one’s suit, to dispose oneself for anything that may attract the beloved’s sympathy, such as readiness to fall in with all her wishes, and a willingness to make all things clear and straight between himself and her, whether present or absent—all this has nothing to do with fidelity. In seeking her hand it is his own pleasure that he is pursuing, his own happiness he is labouring for; love calls and drives him to this, whether he will or no. Fidelity is only praiseworthy when a man is in a position to be unfaithful.
Fidelity imposes certain conditions upon the lover. The first is that he should keep his troth with the beloved, and protect her secrets; her public and private transactions should be alike sacred to him; he should conceal her evil aspects, advertise her good points, cover up her faults, put her actions in the best light, and overlook her slips; he should acquiesce in whatever the beloved imposes upon him, and for his part not thrust himself upon her so immoderately as to provoke her aversion; when she is eager he should not be languid, neither in her weariness should he be impetuous. The beloved for her part is bound by the same rules, if she fully reciprocates his affection; but if her love is less than his, he must not press her to come up to his level, nor be cross with her in an endeavour to induce her by these means to love him with the same degree of intensity. In that case it is enough for him to keep their relations secret, and not requite her with unpleasantness or threats. If a third situation should exist, namely that she has no corresponding feelings for him whatsoever, let him be content with what he finds, and take whatever he can readily get; let him not demand any conditions, or be importunate for any rights. He can only expect what windfalls his luck may bring, or what fruits his labours may ripen.
You must know that uncomely acts never appear as such to those who perform them, and therefore their repulsivesness is doubly disgusting to others innocent of them. I do not say what I am about to say in order to boast, but simply relying upon the precept of Allah the Omnipotent, Who says, “And as for the bounty of thy Lord, proclaim it abroad” (Qur’an XCIII ii). Now Allah has vouchsafed to me the blessing of fidelity towards every man with whom I have had any connection, even if it be only in a single meeting; He has bestowed on me the gift of protecting any man with whom I have ever entered into an engagement, be it in the conversation of but a solitary hour. For this great boon I thank God and praise Him, petitioning Him to continue and augment His beneficence towards me. There is nothing that I loathe more than treachery. By my life, I have never allowed myself to meditate harming any person with whom I have had the slightest engagement, however great may be his crimes, and however numerous his sins against me. I have suffered not a few grievous blows in this way, but I have ever repaid evil with good: Allah be praised for that!
I take pride in my fidelity in a long poem, in which I have mentioned the calamities which have stricken me, and the sufferings I have had to endure in a life of constant alighting and departing, as I shifted my tent from one encampment to another throughout all the lands. This poem opens as follows:
He went away, and was pursued
By all my noble fortitude:
The tears o’erflowing from his eyes
Betrayed what in his bosom lies.
A weary body, and a heart
Affectionate; which, when to part
Irrevocably doomed, was full
Of sorrow inexpressible.
No home thereafter he possessed,
And in no country found he rest;
The couch whereon he nightly lay
Was warmed not, ere he was away.
Methinks his spirit wears for shroud
The fleecy tissue of a cloud,
By some erratic wind of heaven
To new horizons ever driven.
Or he is like the credo brief
Of unitarian belief
Which infidels so much detest,
They spew it from their miscreant breast.
Of else he is an errant star
Migrating through the heavens far,
Now setting in the west extreme,
Now rising with an orient beam.
Did she reward him (I suppose)
Or lend him succour in his woes,
The flooding tears that she would shed
Should follow him wher’er he fled.
I pride myself on my fidelity in another long ballad which I have reproduced here, although the most of it is not relevant to the subject of this essay. The reason for my composing these verses was that certain of my antagonists, being choked in intellectual debate with me, cast foul reproaches in my face, and accused me of espousing the cause of untruth; this they did because they were unable to refute my arguments in defence of truth and its champions, and were jealous of my debating prowess. So I invented this spirited poem, and addressed it to an intelligent friend. I will quote a few selections.
Then take me for thy Moses’ rod,
And bring them one and all by God!
Be every one a snake, among
The lote-trees flicking his forked tongue.
Again:
Their wondrous lies they bravely shout
When they perceive me not about:
The lion is a cowering thing—
Aye, but he bides his time to spring!
Again:
The wildest hopes they entertain
For what they surely will not gain;
Their master, think the Rafidis,
Can do impossibilities
Again:
If my resolve and self-control
Inhabited each timorous soul,
The eyes of beauties languishing
Would little influence on them bring:
Scorning, as verbs intransitive,
In mean dependency to live,
Like prepositions, that refuse
Their verbs to govern as they choose.
Again:
My judgement pioneers its way
Through all things hidden from the day,
As pulsing arteries do all
Traverse the body physical:
Detecting with a simple glance
The labrynthine track of ants,
While it is hidden from their sight
Where elephants do crouch at night!
As Fidelity is a most lofty attribute and a truly noble quality, so Betrayal is base and detestable in the extreme. The term is only to be applied to those who take the initiative in treachery; to repay betrayal with like betrayal, though it be equal as regards the action itself, is not true treachery, and the man who so acts is not deserving of blame, for Allah Himself says, “And the recompense of an evil act is an evil act like unto it” (Qur’an XLII 38). Now we know of course that the second act is not evil; it is only because it appears to be of the same order as the first that the name “evil” is given to it. This shall be expounded at length in the chapter on Forgetting, if Allah wills.
Because betrayal is so common a characteristic of the beloved, fidelity on her part has come to be regarded as extraordinary; therefore its rare occurrence in persons loved is thought to counterbalance its frequency among lovers. I have a little poem on this subject.
Small faithfulness in the beloved
Is most exceedingly approved,
While lovers’ great fidelity
Is taken unremarkably.
So cowards, rarely brave in war,
Are more applauded when they are
Than heroes, who sustain all day
The heat and fury of the fray.
A particularly base type of betrayal is when the lover sends an emissary to the beloved, entrusting all his secrets to his keeping, and then the messenger strives and contrives to convert the beloved’s interest to himself, and captures her affection to the exclusion of his principal. I put this situation in rhyme as follows.
I sent an envoy to thee,
Intending so my hopes to gain;
I trusted him too foolishly;
Now he has come between us twain.
He loosed the cords of my true love,
Then neatly tied his own instead;
He drove me out of all whereof
I might have well been tenanted.
I, who had called him to the stand,
Am now a witness to his case:
I fed him at my table, and
Now hang myself upon his grace.
The cadi Yunus ibn ‘Abd Allah told me once the following story. “I remember in my youth a certain slave-girl belonging to one of the great houses, who was passionately loved by a young man of high culture and princely blood. She reciprocated his feelings, and the two corresponded together, their messenger and postman being one of his companions of a like age, who had ready access to her. In due course the girl was offered for sale, and her royal lover desired to purchase her; but he was beaten to the bargain by the youth who had been his envoy. One day he entered her apartment, and found her opening a casket belonging to her, and searching for some personal effect. He came up and began turning out the box with her; and a letter fell out which was written in the hand of the youth who had been in love with her, all daubed with ambergris and treasured with tender care. He cried angrily, “Where did this come from, strumpet?” “You yourself conveyed it to me”, she answered. “Perhaps this has arrived newly, since that time”, he said. “Oh no”, she replied. “It is one of those old letters, which you know all about.” The cadi concluded: “It was just as though she had popped a stone in his mouth. He was utterly confounded, and could not utter another word.”
Translated by A. J. Arberry1
I am a man who has always been uneasy about the impermanency and constant instability of fortune. Concerns of this sort have occupied me during the greater part of my life, and I have preferred to spend it in pursuing these matters studiously, rather than in looking for delights of the senses or the accumulation of great wealth, which most seem to prefer. In this book I have gathered teachings suggested by experience, in order that those into whose hands it should chance to fall may derive a little benefit from what has cost me so much anguish and meditation.
In my investigations I have constantly tried to discover an end in human actions which all men unanimously hold as good and which they all seek. I have found only this: the one aim of escaping anxiety. I have not only discovered that all humanity considers this good and desirable, but also that, notwithstanding the contradictory variety of opinions, designs, wishes, and purposes of men, no one is moved to act or resolves to speak who does not hope by means of action or word to release anxiety and drive it from his spirit. Now it is clear that some err in their choice of the right path leading to this end; others deviate from it; still others, and they are always in a minority, achieve it; yet escape from anxiety has always been the common purpose of men of all races and peoples since the world began and will be until it ends. All their desires have their unique foundation in this purpose.
Other ends do not seem to command the unanimous approbation of men. There are, for example, those who do not desire goodness, faith, or truth; there are those who prefer to satisfy their passions in a dark corner rather than to enjoy fame’s flatteries; there are those who do not desire riches but prefer to be poor, as do most philosophers and devout people; there are those who, as if by natural inclination, detest sensual delights and hold as imperfect those who crave them; there are many who prefer ignorance to knowledge. One must reckon these things among the ends of human actions. Still, no one considers anxiety to be a good thing; every man seeks release from it.
Those who crave riches seek them only in order to drive the fear of poverty out of their spirits; others seek for glory to free themselves from the fear of being scorned; some seek sensual delights to escape the pain of privations; some seek knowledge to cast out the uncertainty of ignorance; others delight in hearing news and conversation because they seek by these means to dispel the sorrow of solitude and isolation. In brief, man eats, drinks, marries, watches, plays, lives under a roof, rides, walks, or remains still with the sole aim of driving out their contraries and, in general, all other anxieties.
Yet each of these actions is in turn an inescapable hotbed of new anxieties; unexpected obstacles to its realization raise difficulties according to the occasion…loss of what was gained, inability through misfortunes to reach a happy conclusion, unpleasant consequences which come with satisfaction, fear of competition, criticism of the jealous, theft by the covetous, aversion to seeing what we desire in the hands of an enemy, slanders, and the like.
After grasping this sublime truth and comprehending this weighty secret, I sought to find a sure method of arriving at this end which all men alike, ignorant and learned, holy and wicked, seek and hold as good. I discovered that this method consists in nothing else but directing one’s self towards a Supreme Goodness by means of good works conducive to immortal life.
For, as I investigated, I observed that all things tended to elude me, and I reached the conclusion that the only permanent reality possible consists in good works useful for another, immortal life. Every other hope that I desired to see realized was followed by melancholy, sometimes because what was ardently desired escaped me, sometimes because I decided to abandon it. It seemed to me that nothing escaped these dangers but good works, directed by a Supreme Goodness. These alone were always followed by pleasure in the present and ill in the future: in the present because I was freed from numberless anxieties which disturbed my tranquility, and, moreover, friends and enemies concurred in commending me; and in the future because these works promised immortality.
The good work, one profitable for an immortal life, stands innocent of all defect, free of all imperfection, and is, moreover, a sure way to put aside every anxiety effectively. I have, indeed, observed that everyone who works for this end, even though he undergoes unpleasant tests on the road of life, not only is free of care but rejoices, because the hope which he holds for the end of his present life helps him to seek what he longs for and incites him to follow in this direction, the end in which he believes. And if any obstacle stands in his way, I have likewise observed he has no anxiety about it, because as he has not consecrated himself to what he sought, he does not consider the obstacle as a punishment inflicted on him. I have seen, too, that if anyone damages him he is joyful, and if any calamity comes about he is no less happy; and more, if he experiences sorrow or weariness in what he has done, he is still full of joy. He lives, in point of fact, in constant unending joy, while quite the contrary holds for other men.
The pleasure which the intelligent man experiences in the exercise of his reason, the learned man in his study, the prudent man in his discreet deliberation, and the devout man in his ascetic combat is greater than the delight which is felt by the glutton in his eating, the toper in his drinking, the lecher in his incontinence, the trader in his gainful bargaining, the gamester in his merriment, and the leader in the exercise of his authority. The proof of this lies in the fact that intelligent, learned, prudent, and devout men also experience those other delights which have just enumerated in the same way as one who lives only to wallow in them but they tend to abandon and separate themselves from them, preferring instead the quest for permanent release from anxiety through good and virtuous works.
It seems unworthy of a man to consecrate himself to something which is not higher than he is, that is to say, a Supreme Goodness. The intelligent person would account any lower price on himself as unworthy. Therefore he will consecrate himself to good works, to leading his brothers to truth, to the defence of sacred things, to avoiding any despicable humiliation which is not imposed on men by necessity of nature, and to protecting victims of injustice. One who consecrates himself to lesser things is like one who trades a precious gem for a pebble.
Do not forget, then, that only one thing deserves to be sought by men, and that is the absence of care; and the unique avenue which leads to it is built of good works done for the sake of the Supreme Goodness. All else is a foolish waste of time.
Translated by James Kritzeck2
You ask how old am I
bleached by the sun
my teeth all gone.
How old am I?
I have no guide
no calendar inside
except a smile
and little kiss
she gave me
by surprise
upon my brow.
And now,
that little while
is all my life
and all reality, how long or brief
it seems to be.
Translated by Omar Pound3
Never, never did I see
Neither have I heard the same,
That a pearl can turn for shame
Into red chalcedony.
When you gaze with awe profound
On the beauty of his brow
Lo, you see your beauty now
In its liquid lustre drowned.
Translated by A. J. Arberry4
To-day my longing thoughts recall thee here;
The landscape glitters, and the sky is clear,
So feebly breathes the gentle zephyr’s gale,
In pity of my grief it seems to fail.
The silvery fountains laugh, as from a girl’s
Fair throat a broken necklace sheds its pearls.
Oh, ’tis a day like those of our sweet prime,
When, stealing pleasures from indulgent Time.
We played midst flowers of eye-bewitching hue,
That bent their heads beneath the drops of dew.
Alas, they see me now bereaved of sleep:
They share my passion and with me they weep.
Here in her sunny haunt the rose blooms bright,
Adding new luster to Aurora’s light;
And waked by morning beams, yet languid still,
The rival lotus doth his perfume spill.
All stirs in me the memory of that fire
Which in my tortured breast will ne’er expire.
Had death come ere we parted, it had been
The best of all days in the world, I ween:
And this poor heart, where thou art every thing,
Would not be fluttering now on passion’s wing.
Ah, might the zephyr waft me tenderly,
O treasure mine, if lover e’er possessed
A treasure! O thou dearest, queenliest!
Once, once, we paid the debt of love complete
And ran an equal race with eager feet.
How true, how blameless was the love I bore,
Thou hast forgotten but I still adore!
Translated by R. A. Nicholson5
When the moon in splendour glides
In the darkened west,
The stars advancing at her sides
Raise a flag the whole world sees
—The glittering Pleiades
So I a king on earth, between
My dark battalions and
The loveliest girls this world has seen,
Behold their shields dispersing night
And these whose wine brings light.
And though to a zither slaves may sing
A soft seductive tune,
For all that, my young men can ding
A music that still merrier goes
On the helmets of their foes!
Translated by Harold Morland6
A bough is weeping in the stream.
Green island, green. . . And I dream.
A pigeon moans, disquiets me…
Her breast is lapis lazuli,
Her throat a pale pistachio-green,
Hazel the wing she turns to preen.
Her throbbing throat disquiets me.
Over the ruby of her eyes
She flickers lids of pearl
With an edge of gold…
But when she cries
Her note disquiets me…
She sits the branch as if a throne,
Hiding her throat within a fold
Of her bright wing…
And still her moan
Is in the air, disquieting me.
But when my tears are my reply,
Above the branch she spreads her wings
Bearing my heart away, to fly
Above despair and mortal things
Where I can never go…
Ah where? a weeping bough, I do not know.
Translated by Harold Morland7
And lions people this official wood
encompass the pools with thunder
and profuse over aureate-banded
bodies their skulls gush glass
Lions like stillness stirred
questing mobility there
or trophies of carnivores
proper those deployed haunches
Sun is tinder to the stirred
colours, is light to long tongues,
is a hand to unsheath the lunging
blades that shiver out in a splash.
By a zephyr damp and thread
are woven and, corsleted
on a branch sits sorcery netted
like incandescent birds from space
That lest they fall to freedom
are forcibly propped, lest their songs
start a whistling on the ponds
and a warbling in the mercurial trees
And they dipped in cascades
of crysolite and tossed pearl
and they chatter an astral.
mischief: while expert armourer
Garnish with gilt hoods
the gates: and an invert
terrace or stalactites
glows in a submarine recess.
This specialist brocade
is a mere hallucination
its azure and sun and plantation
ephemeral as fine skies
Some with beasts in the wood.
some with the fowl in disaster
are the antique lineal masters
hunting their sperm down ornate galleries.
Translated by Herbert Howarth and Ibrahim Shakrullah8
The surface of the flowing stream
Is polished by the prying wind,
Resolved to publish, it would seem.
The secrets hidden in its mind.
The jagged pebbles gash its flanks,
And as the waters swell again
And ever o’er the river’s banks
It murmurs fretfully in pain.
As if a serpent, terrified
Beneath the bubbles as it sleeps,
Awakens suddenly, to slide
Impetuously in its deeps.
Translated by A. J. Arberry9
Though its heart was all aflame.
Yet it never knew that same
Grief of parting, and that woe
Sundered lovers know.
When the lightning of the wine
Bathed the drinkers in its shine,
What a brave cloud billowed thence
Sweet with frankincense!
Never saw I, all my days,
Such a conflagration blaze
To persuade the revellers
Paradise was theirs.
The radish is a good
And doubtless wholesome food,
But proves, to vex the eater,
A powerful repeater.
This only fault I find:
What should be left behind
Comes issuing instead
Right from the eater’s head!
Translated by A. J. Arberry10
Once when her beauty-spots had snared
My breathless heart
I said: Is all your whiteness shared
Sweet favours on your part?
And do these spots that stain
Now image your disdain?
She answered with a smile
Of roguish guile:
My father is a royal scribe,
And once when I came near
He thought that I should probe
State-secrets and, in fear,
He flicked his pen and on my face
Left this inky trace…
Dear God!
The draw-well overflows
With sweet, sad water
Down to a garden where the trees
Heavily fruited groan…
And doves tell it their moan
With a throbbing throat,
And it replies
With a singing tone.
It seems a lover inconsolable
That endlessly walks on
And on about the one sweet spot
Where love was born, and unforgot
For ever cries on her that’s gone.
And like the channels grooved by grief
In human cheeks,
Its conduits give the sad relief
That a deep heart seeks.
Translated by Harold Morland11
She came in beauty beaming,
Like a full moon gleaming
Her face, beneath the veil
Of dusk approaching, pale.
She came, serene and stately,
The veil so delicately
Drawn above her brow,
No veil was there, I trow.
I deemed her veil the shimmer
Of waters pure, a-glimmer
Therein, for all to see,
Truth’s naked purity.
Such churlish brutes his guardians be,
Well-schooled in incivility,
Sworn to do battle, when they can,
With every cultivated man.
Whene’er ambitious lover would
Draw nigher to his neighbourhood,
The jealous watchers swiftly rise
And whisk their moon into the skies.
But I have learned a gambit fit
The keenest guardian to outwit,
A stratagem to mollify
The most inexorable spy.
It needs the succour of a shower
For earth to show her guarded flower,
And their hostility relents
When watered with sufficient pence.
Translated by A. J. Arberry12
Part II
Chapter XXXIII
It is clear to me that what Moses experienced at the revelation on Mount Sinai was different from that which was experienced by all the other Israelites, for Moses alone was addressed by God, and for this reason the second person singular is used in the Ten Commandments; Moses then went down to the foot of the mount and told his fellow-men what he had heard. Comp., “I stood between the Lord and you at that time to tell you the word of the Lord” (Deut. v. 5). Again, “Moses spake, and God answered him with a loud voice” (Exod. xix. 19). In the Mechilta our Sages say distinctly that he brought to them every word as he had heard it. Furthermore, the words, “In order that the people hear when I speak with thee” (Exod. xix. 9), show that God spoke to Moses, and the people only heard the mighty sound, not distinct words. It is to the perception of this mighty sound that Scripture refers in the passage, “When ye hear the sound” (Deut. v. 20); again it is stated, “You heard a sound of words” (ibid. iv. 12), and it is not said “You heard words”; and even where the hearing of the words is mentioned, only the perception of the sound is meant. It was only Moses that heard the words, and he reported them to the people. This is apparent from Scripture, and from the utterances of our Sages in general. There is, however, an opinion of our Sages frequently expressed in the Midrashim, and found also in the Talmud, to this effect: The Israelites heard the first and the second commandments from God, i.e., they learnt the truth of the principles contained in these two commandments in the same manner as Moses, and not through Moses. For these two principles, the existence of God and His Unity, can be arrived at by means of reasoning, and whatever can be established by proof is known by the prophet in the same way as by any other person; he has no advantage in this respect. These two principles were not known through prophecy alone. Comp., “Thou hast been shown to know that,” etc. (Deut. iv. 34). But the rest of the commandments are of an ethical and authoritative character, and do not contain [truths] perceived by the intellect. Notwithstanding all that has been said by our Sages on this subject, we infer from Scripture as well as from the words of our Sages, that the Israelites heard on that occasion a certain sound which Moses understood to proclaim the first two commandments, and through Moses all other Israelites learnt them when he in intelligible sounds repeated them to the people. Our Sages mention this view, and support it by the verse, “God hath spoken once; twice have I heard this” (Ps. lxii. 11). They state distinctly, in the beginning of Midrash Ḥazita, that the Israelites did not hear any other command directly from God; comp. “A loud voice, and it was not heard again” (Deut. v. 19). It was after this first sound was heard that the people were seized with the fear and terror described in Scripture, and that they said, “Behold the Lord our God has shown us, etc., and now why shall we die, etc. Come thou near,” etc. Then Moses, the most distinguished of all mankind, came the second time, received successively the other commandments, and came down to the foot of the mountain to proclaim them to the people, whilst the mighty phenomena continued; they saw the fire, they heard the sounds, which were those of thunder and lightning during a storm, and the loud sound of the shofar: and all that is said of the many sounds heard at that time, e.g., in the verse, “and all the people perceived the sounds,” etc., refers to the sound of the shofar, thunder, and similar sounds. But the voice of the Lord, that is, the voice created for that purpose, which was understood to include the diverse commandments, was only heard once, as is declared in the Law, and has been clearly stated by our Sages in the places which I have indicated to you. When the people heard this voice their soul left them; and in this voice they perceived the first two commandments. It must, however, be noticed that the people did not understand the voice in the same degree as Moses did. I will point out to you this important fact, and show you that it was a matter of tradition with the nation, and well known by our Sages. For, as a rule, Onkelos renders the word va-yedabber by u-mallel (“and God spake”); this is also the case with this word in the beginning of the twentieth chapter of Exodus, but the words ve-al yedabber immanu elohim, “let not God speak to us” (Exod. xx. 19), addressed by the people to Moses, is rendered vela yitmallel immanu min kodam adonai (“Let not aught be spoken to us by the Lord”). Onkelos makes thus the same distinction which we made. You know that according to the Talmud Onkelos received all these excellent interpretations directly from R. Eliezer and R. Joshua, the wisest men in Israel. Note it, and remember it, for it is impossible for any person to expound the revelation on Mount Sinai more fully than our Sages have done, since it is one of the secrets of the Law. It is very difficult to have a true conception of the events, for there has never been before, nor will there ever be again, anything like it. Note it.
Part III
Chapter XXVII
The general object of the Law is twofold: the well-being of the soul, and the well-being of the body. The well-being of the soul is promoted by correct opinions communicated to the people according to their capacity. Some of these opinions are therefore imparted in a plain form, others allegorically: because certain opinions are in their plain form too strong for the capacity of the common people. The well-being of the body is established by a proper management of the relations in which we live one to another. This we can attain in two ways: first by removing all violence from our midst: that is to say, that we do not do every one as he pleases, desires, and is able to do; but every one of us does that which contributes towards the common welfare. Secondly, by teaching every one of us such good morals as must produce a good social state. Of these two objects, the one, the well-being of the soul, or the communication of correct opinions, comes undoubtedly first in rank, but the other, the well-being of the body, the government of the state, and the establishment of the best possible relations among men, is anterior in nature and time. The latter object is required first; it is also treated [in the Law] most carefully and most minutely, because the well-being of the soul can only be obtained after that of the body has been secured. For it has already been found that man has a double perfection: the first perfection is that of the body, and the second perfection is that of the soul. The first consists in the most healthy condition of his material relations, and this is only possible when man has all his wants supplied, as they arise; if he has his food, and other things needful for his body, e.g., shelter, bath, and the like. But one man alone cannot procure all this; it is impossible for a single man to obtain this comfort; it is only possible in society, since man, as is well known, is by nature social.
The second perfection of man consists in his becoming an actually intelligent being; i.e., he knows about the things in existence all that a person perfectly developed is capable of knowing. This second perfection certainly does not include any action or good conduct, but only knowledge, which is arrived at by speculation, or established by research.
It is clear that the second and superior kind of perfection can only be attained when the first perfection has been acquired; for a person that is suffering from great hunger, thirst, heat, or cold, cannot grasp an idea even if communicated by others, much less can he arrive at it by his own reasoning. But when a person is in possession of the first perfection, then he may possibly acquire the second perfection, which is undoubtedly of a superior kind, and is alone the source of eternal life. The true Law, which as we said is one, and beside which there is no other Law, viz., the Law of our teacher Moses, has for its purpose to give us the twofold perfection. It aims first at the establishment of good mutual relations among men by removing injustice and creating the noblest feelings. In this way the people in every land are enabled to stay and continue in one condition, and every one can acquire his first perfection. Secondly, it seeks to train us in faith, and to impart correct and true opinions when the intellect is sufficiently developed. Scripture clearly mentions the twofold perfection, and tells us that its acquisition is the object of all the divine commandments. Comp., “And the Lord commanded us to do all these statutes, to fear the Lord our God, for our good always, that he might preserve us alive as it is this day” (Deut. vi. 24). Here the second perfection is first mentioned because it is of greater importance, being, as we have shown, the ultimate aim of man’s existence. This perfection is expressed in the phrase, “for our good always.” You know the interpretation of our Sages, “that it may be well with thee” (ibid. xxii. 7), namely, in the world that is all good, “and that thou mayest prolong thy days” (ibid.), i.e., in the world that is all eternal.” In the same sense I explain the words, “for our good always,” to mean that we may come into the world that is all good and eternal, where we may live permanently; and the words, “that he might preserve us alive as it is this day,” I explain as referring to our first and temporal existence, to that of our body, which cannot be in a perfect and good condition except by the co-operation of society, as has been shown by us.
Part III
Chapter LIII
This chapter treats of the meaning of three terms which we find necessary to explain, viz., ḥesed (“loving kindness”), mishpat (“judgment”), and ẓedakah (“righteousness”).
In our Commentary on the Sayings of the Fathers (chap. v. 7) we have explained the expression ḥesed as denoting an excess [in some moral quality]. It is especially used of extraordinary kindness. Loving-kindness is practised in two ways: first, we show kindness to those who have no claim whatever upon us; secondly, we are kind to those to whom it is due, in a greater measure than is due to them. In the inspired writings the term ḥesed occurs mostly in the sense of showing kindness to those who have no claim to it whatever. For this reason the term ḥesed is employed to express the good bestowed upon us by God: “I will mention the loving-kindness of the Lord” (Isa. lxiii. 7). On this account, the very act of the creation is an act of God’s loving-kindness. “I have said, The Universe is built up in loving-kindness” (Ps. lxxxix. 3); i.e., the building up of the Universe is an act of loving-kindness. Also, in the enumeration of God’s attributes, Scripture says: “And abundant in loving-kindness” (Exod. xxxiv. 6).
The term ẓedakah is derived from ẓedek, “righteousness”; it denotes the act of giving every one his due, and of showing kindness to every being according as it deserves. In Scripture, however, the expression ẓedakah is not used in the first sense, and does not apply to the payment of what we owe to others. When we therefore give the hired labourer his wages, or pay a debt, we do not perform an act of ẓedakah. But we do perform an act of ẓedakah when we fulfil those duties towards our fellow-men which our moral conscience imposes upon us; e.g., when we heal the wound of the sufferer. Thus Scripture says, in reference to the returning of the pledge [to the poor debtor]: “And it shall be ẓedakah (righteousness) unto thee” (Deut. xxiv. 11). When we walk in the way of virtue we act righteously towards our intellectual faculty, and pay what is due unto it; and because every virtue is thus ẓedakah, Scripture applies the term to the virtue of faith in God. Comp., “And he believed in the Lord, and he accounted it to him as righteousness” (Gen. xv. 6); “And it shall be our righteousness” (Deut. vi. 25).
The noun mishpat, “judgment,” denotes the act of deciding upon a certain action in accordance with justice which may demand either mercy or punishment.
We have thus shown that ḥesed denotes pure charity; ẓedakah kindness, prompted by a certain moral conscience in man, and being a means of attaining perfection for his soul, whilst mishpat may in some cases find expression in revenge, in other cases in mercy.
In discussing the impropriety of admitting attributes of God (Part I., chap. liii., seq.), we stated that the divine attributes which occur in Scripture are attributes of His actions; thus He is called ḥasid, “kind,” because He created the Universe; ẓaddik, “righteous,” on account of His mercy with the weak, in providing for every living being according to its powers; and shofet, “judge,” on account of the relative good and the great relative evils that are decreed by God’s justice as directed by His wisdom. These three names occur in the Pentateuch: “Shall not the judge (shofet) of all the earth,” etc. (Gen. xviii. 25); “Righteous (ẓaddik) and upright is he” (Deut. xxxii. 4); “Abundant in loving-kindness” (ḥesed, Exod. xxxiv. 6).
We intended in explaining these three terms to prepare the reader for the next chapter.
Translated by Michael Friedlander13
Exordium
The principle which forms the subject of this treatise is a matter that many men have attempted to fathom but of which only a few have reached a satisfactory view. Let me, therefore, state by way of introduction, that, inasmuch as the Creator of the universe, exalted and magnified be He, is essentially one, it follows by logical necessity that His creatures be composed of many elements, as I have made clear in the foregoing.
At this point, now, I would say that the thing that generally gives the appearance of constituting a unity, whatever sort of unit it be, is singular only in number. Upon careful consideration, however, it is found to be of a multiple nature. To reduce this generalization to simpler terms, when the substances of all beings are analyzed, they are found to be endowed with the attributes of heat and cold and moisture and dryness. When the substance of a tree is examined, it is found to include in addition to the aforementioned, branches and leaves and fruits, and all that is connected therewith. When the human body, again, is examined, it is found to be composed, besides the elements listed above, of flesh and bones and sinews and arteries and muscles and all that goes with them. This is a matter about which no doubt can be entertained and the reality of which is not to be denied.
All these phenomena are in accord with the laws of creation: namely, that the Creator, exalted and magnified be He, be one and His works manifold. That is also borne out by such statements of the Scriptures as How manifold are Thy works, O Lord! In wisdom hast Thou made them all (Ps. 104:24). Even heaven is made up of various parts, dimensions, forms, colors, and movements without number. That is what makes it heaven, as is stated in Scripture: Who maketh the Bear, Orion, and the Pleiades, and the champers of the south (Job 9:9).
Chapter I
Having made this preliminary observation, I say now that the same thing applies to the tendencies exhibited by man. He evinces a liking for many things and a dislike for others. This is borne out by such statements of Scripture as There are many devices in a man’s heart; but the counsel of the Lord, that shall stand (Prov. 19:21).
Now just as the material objects do not consist of just one of the four elements [of which they are said to be composed], and the body of the trees cannot exist with only one of the parts mentioned by us, and man cannot live if he has bone or flesh alone—in fact, even the heavens are not illuminated by just one star—so, too, man’s conduct in the course of his lifetime cannot logically be based on just a single trait. But just as in each instance the final product is the result of a combination of ingredients in larger or smaller proportions, so too, is man’s behavior the result of a combination of his likes and dislikes in varying proportions.
Man acts as though he were a judge to whom the disposal of the different tendencies is submitted for decision, as Scripture says: Well is it with the man that dealeth graciously and lendeth, that ordereth his affairs rightfully (Ps. 112:5). Or his position might be compared to that of one who would weigh these impulses with a balance and give each its due measure, as Scripture also puts it: Balance the path of thy feet (Prov. 4:26). When, then, a person behaves in this manner, his affairs will be properly adjusted and well regulated.
What impelled me to put this theme at the beginning of the present treatise is the fact that I have seen people who think—and with them it is a firm conviction—that it is obligatory for human beings to order their entire existence upon the exploitation of one trait, lavishing their love on one thing above all others and their hatred on a certain thing above the rest. Now I investigated this view and I found it to be extremely erroneous for sundry reasons.
One of these is that if the [exclusive] love for one thing and its preference [above all others] had been the most salutary thing for man, the Creator would not have implanted in his character the love for these other things. Also if that were so, God could have created man out of one element and of one piece, and He would have done likewise for the other creatures so that they would have been similarly constituted. Seest thou not how individual functions cannot very well be executed by the use of a single medium? Still less is this possible in human conduct in general.
Another argument [that might be advanced against the exclusive cultivation of one trait] is that, if an architect were to build a house of stones or teakwood or mats or pegs alone, it would not be as well constructed as if he had built it of all these materials put together. The same might be asserted with regard to cooking, food, drink, dress, service, and other matters. Must not the person who notes that all these items which exist for the purpose of serving man’s needs and well-being are not composed of just one ingredient open his eyes and realize how much less that would be possible in the case of the inclinations of his soul and its characteristics?
Chapter II
Now it is also necessary for me to explain that the evil resulting from such a one-sided choice is not trivial but quite serious, as I shall illustrate. I say, then, that there are people who give themselves up to long mountain trips, which leads to their becoming insane. Others indulge in excessive eating and drinking, which causes them to contract hemorrhoids. Others, again, lavish all their energies on the gathering of wealth, only to accumulate it for other men. Furthermore, there are those who dedicate themselves entirely to satisfying their thirst for revenge, with the consequence that their vindictiveness reacts against themselves. I might also cite other such instances, as I shall explain in the middle of this treatise with the help of God.
Let me, however, state here, prior to that discussion that it is for the above-mentioned reasons that man stands in constant need of a wisdom that would regulate his conduct and behavior, as Scripture says: When thou walkest, it shall lead thee (Prov. 6:2). Principally that consists, in this particular instance, in his exercising control over his impulses and having complete mastery over his likes and dislikes, for each has its distinctive role in which it must be made to function. Once, then, he recognizes the role belonging to a given impulse, he must give it full opportunity to discharge its function in the required measure. On the other hand, he must restrain it until the ground for such restraint no longer exists for him. All this is to be done with due deliberation and with the power to release or hold, at will, as Scripture has said: He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city (Prov. 16:22).
I have already stated previously that the soul has three faculties—the appetitive, the impulsive, and the cognitive. As for the appetitive faculty, it is that whereby a human being entertains the desire for food and drink and sexual intercourse and for seeing beautiful sights and smelling fragrant odors and for wearing garments that are soft to the touch. The impulsive faculty is that which renders a person courageous and bold, and endows him with zeal for leadership and championing the common weal, and makes him vindictive and vainglorious, and other such things. As for the cognitive faculty, again, it exercises judgment over the two other faculties. When any one of them or of their subdivisions is aroused, the cognitive faculty takes it under consideration and investigates it. If it notes that it is sound from beginning to end, it points this fact out, not to speak of the case where the consequences are desirable.
Any person, then, who follows this course of giving his cognitive faculty dominion over his appetites and impulses, is disciplined by the discipline of the wise, as Scripture says: The fear of the Lord is the discipline of wisdom (Prov. 15:33). Any man, on the other hand, who permits his appetites and impulses to dominate his faculty of cognition, is undisciplined. And if someone wrongly calls such conduct discipline, it is the discipline of the foolish, as Scripture says: But the foolish despise…discipline (Prov. 1:7), and also: Or as one in fetters to the discipline of the fool (Prov. 7:22).
Chapter III
Having demonstrated, then, in this introductory statement how logical necessity leads to the assumption of the existence of an All-Wise Being who arranged for us the order of these our likes and dislikes and indicated to us the manner of our procedure with them, let me say that the sage Solomon, the son of David, may peace be upon them both, has fathomed this subject for the purpose of enabling us to attain what is best. He says, namely: I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and, behold, all is vanity and striving after wind (Eccles. I:14).
Now he does not refer, when he makes the remark: All is vanity and striving after wind, to the union and combination of all works, for it was the Creator, exalted and magnified be He, who established them and set them up, and it is not fitting for a sage like Solomon to say of what the Creator, exalted and magnified be He, has established: It is vanity. What he meant to say was, rather, that any act that a human being undertakes to carry out in isolation—that is to say, every one of the acts of man that receive exclusive attention—is as futile for him as associating with the wind.
With reference to this sort of one-sided procedure, he says also: That which is crooked cannot be made straight; and that which is wanting [cannot be number] (Eccles. I:15). That is to say any act practiced exclusively constitutes a distortion from what is straight and is lacking in completeness, while in their combination [with the full range of pious works, single acts] do not constitute a deficiency but rather completion and perfection.
The correctness of the foregoing interpretation is confirmed by the fact that the author presents three classes of objects of mundane ambition, each of which he decides is hebhel, the meaning of which is “vanity.” This [rendering of the word] is borne out by such statements of Scripture as They lead you unto vanity (mahbilim) (Jer. 23:16); that is: “They deceive you with vain hopes”; and Trust not in oppression, and put not vain hope (‘al tehbalu) in robbery (Ps. 62:11).
The first of these [strivings that Solomon considers futile] is the exclusive devotion to wisdom to the neglect of all other objects of [human] desire. He says, namely, in reference thereto: And I applied my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly—I perceived that this also was a striving after wind (Eccles. I:17). As his reason for regarding it thus he gives the fact that as a person’s knowledge increases, there is also an increase for him of sorrow. That is due to the circumstance that with the increase in knowledge there are revealed to him the flaws in things concerning which he was fully at ease before they became evident to him. That is the import of his remark: For in much wisdom is much vexation; and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow (Eccles. I:18).
He next repeats [this observation] with reference to the exclusive cultivation of mirth and gaiety, saying that if a person gave all his attention and devotion to them alone, they, too, would prove a disappointment to him. Thus he says: I said in my heart: “Come now, I will try thee with mirth and enjoy pleasure”; and, behold this also was vanity (Eccles. 2:1). As his reason for this conclusion he gives the fact that a person experiences, when he laughs and jests, a sense of degradation and debasement putting him on a level with the behavior of the beasts. That is the import of this declaration: I said of laughter: “It is mad”; and of mirth; “What doth it accomplish?” (Eccles. 2:2).
After this he makes the same remark for the third time about the upbuilding of the material world and he informs us that the preoccupation therewith, too, is vanity. He does this in his statement: I made me great works; I builded me houses; I planted me vineyards; I made me gardens and parks (Eccles. 2:4) and all the other things that he relates about his doings until the end of the passage in question. The reason he gives as his objection to all this sort of activity is that he has to leave whatever he has achieved to those that will come after him and that, therefore, his labor will have been wasted. Thus he says: And I hated all my labour wherein I laboured under the sun, seeing that I must leave it unto the man that shall be after me (Eccles. 2:18).
Having, then, enumerated these three types, he desists from mentioning other worldly strivings lest he be diverted thereby from his central theme. Yet in the very midst of his discussion of these types he hints at the need for the proper balancing of these three strivings. This is to be effected by devoting some attention to the cultivation of wisdom and to indulgence in pleasure without neglecting to inquire into what is best for man. Thus he says: I searched in my heart how to pamper my flesh with wine, and my heart conducting itself with wisdom, [how yet to lay hold on folly, till I might see which it was best for the sons of men that they should do] (Eccles. 2:3).
Translated by Samuel Rosenblatt14
Part II
Chapter I: On the Quality of Love
It is almost impossible for any man to be secure from this “accident,” O God, save he whose intellect is master of his nature. None such exists; and if any (be found to) exist, he is undoubtedly one of the most excellent (men). Lust is a constituent element in the nature of man, and if he desire to be master and ruler, let him cast away lust (passions), make no use of it whatever, ignore it and do without it, for it is one of the baser qualities. It is well known that the qualities of the wise are not perfected until their souls gain the mastery over their desires. The deeds of him whose intellect prevails over his lustfulness are commendable. Upon the realization of desires there ensues the penalty of misfortune. One of the signs of him, who is overcome by his lust, is that he is very changeable, restless, and fickle of speech. Especially if, added to this, the bloody temper prevail in his constitution and he be in the period of youth and the season of spring, then it proves too strong for him. Therefore the wise man must shrink from this quality lest he make use of it and turn away from it, for there is connected with it no inconsiderable harm. Thou knowest how contempt, obscurity, and abasement come upon its devotee, and that finally its outcome is evil. This thou knowest from the story of Amnon and what happened to him when he hastened after his desire. Man ought to employ this quality only in service of God and His divine Law, as it is written (Ps. i. 2), “And his delight is in the law of the lord,” and again (id., cxix. 97), “How I love thy law,” etc. Necessarily, one who occupies himself with the quest of knowledge and moral science (theoretical science and the practical arts), will be (so busy as to be) kept from his lusts. The wise one said, “If aught befall thee and no one occur to thee whom thou mightest consult with reference thereto, avoid it and bring it not near to thy passion, for passion in an enemy of the heart.” And he said, “He who is submissive to his lust is routed, and he who rebels against it gains the victory.” This quality is preferred by foolish men only because of the imminence (immediateness) of its delight and for the sake of the amusement and merriment and the hearing of the mirthful songs which they get through it. They heed not the suffering and the wretchedness that follow in its train, and therefore incline in accord with their natural impulses to the attainment of present pleasure, as it is said (Prov. Xiii, 19), “The desire accomplished is sweet to the soul”—turning aside from wisdom and the service of the Lord, because of what appears to be the remoteness of the delight and pleasurableness of these things. Verily, in their opinion, these are remote. Yet these are not remote, but near at hand. They are remote only in their mind. Therefore man must devote this quality of love to God, exalted may He be, as it is written (Deut. xi. 1), written (I Sam. xx. 17), “For he loved him as he loved his own soul”; to his relatives as it is written (Gen. xxix. 18), “And Jacob loved Rachel”; to his offspring, as it is written (id., xxxvii.3), “Israel loved Joseph”; to his country, as it is written (Num. x. 30), “but I will depart to my own land and to my kindred”; to his companion, as spake David to Jonathan (II Sam. i. 26), “Very pleasant hast thou been unto me”; to his wife (Prov. v. 19), “Let her be as the loving hind and the pleasant roe”; to wisdom, as it is written (Prov. xxix. 3), “The man that loveth wisdom rejoiceth his father.” The moral application of this quality is, man must evince it (in his dealings) with all men. It has been said, “he who desires to be endeared to men should conduct himself with regard to them in the best possible manner. Benefit occasions love even as injury begets hatred.” Moreover, included under this quality are wishes and unattainable desires. It is right for the man of understanding that he train himself (to keep aloof) therefrom. The following is part of what the poets have said concerning such wishes as cannot be realized, and wherefrom the soul realizes naught except possibly weariness of spirit, continual disquietude, and protracted restlessness:
“My day is a day which is common to men until the darkness of the night is fallen, and then my couch wearies me. I spent my day in entertainment and in desire but the night brought me altogether to grief.”
Among other things which have been said with reference to devoting one’s self wholly to pleasure and passion, the blameworthy outcome of this, and the trouble which is associated therewith, the poet says:
“We have drunk of the dregs of the wine as if we were kings of the two Iraks and the sea; but when the sun shone brightly, thou mightest have found me with my riches flown, and poverty once more my own.”
When this quality obtains the mastery of the soul, the senses become blunted and man is not conscious because of his being given over to pleasure. He is as those of whom it is said (Isa. v. 20), “Woe unto them that call evil good and good evil.” The maxim of the sage is, “Thy love of anything renders thee blind and deaf.” One sage, writing to another on the subject of subduing the lusts, said, “thou shalt not attain what thou lovest until thou suffer much from what thou loathest, until thou suffer much through that which thou lovest.”
Chapter IV: Treating of Hard-Heartedness. This is the Eighth Chapter of the Book.
I do not find this quality among righteous or superior men. But it is (to be found) in him whose nature resembles that of a lion, for he is one who is never sated. These are the ones of whom it is said (Deut. xxviii. 50), “A nation of fierce countenance.” Upon my soul, this is a wholly detestable quality, whether (its measure be) great or small. It comes into being when the spirit of wrath prevails over a man. This quality is exercised for the purpose of wreaking vengeance upon enemies. There is no harm in making use of it in a manner, although the intelligent man ought not endeavor to be avenged upon his enemies. For this is not befitting. Thus saith the sage (Prov. xxiv. 17), “Rejoice not when thy enemy fall-fellow-man, to kill him, or to lay hold of the possessions of one who has given no offence, is reprehensible. From such as these may God preserve me, for of their ilk, the Saint said (Ps. cxxiv., 1 and 3), “If it had not been the Lord who was on our side, now may Israel say”: “Then they had swallowed us up quick, when their wrath was kindled against us.” A proof that this quality is only found in the wicked is the expression (Prov. xii. 10), “But the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel.” Plato, the author of the laws in regard to vengeance, said, “He who desires to be revenged upon his enemies should add (a degree of) excellence to himself.”
End of Part II
Translated by Stephen S. Wise15