They had scarcely raised the savoury food to their mouths when a bewailing voice arrested their attention, and stayed the hands already charged with food. A poor creature who had not tasted food for two days moaned his piteous tale, in accents which drew tears from the woodcutter and his wife; their eyes met and the sympathy was mutual: they were more willing to depart for Paradise without the promised benefit of one earthly enjoyment, than suffer the hungry man to die from want of that meal they had before them. The dish was promptly tendered to the unfortunate one, and the woodcutter and his wife consoled each other with reflecting that, as the time of their departure was now so near at hand, the temporary enjoyment of a meal was not worth one moment’s consideration: “To-morrow we die; then of what consequence is it to us whether we depart with full or empty stomachs?”
And now their thoughts were set on the place of eternal rest. They slept, and arose to their morning orisons with hearts reposing humbly on their God, in the fullest expectation that this was their last day on earth. The prayer was concluded, and the woodcutter was in the act of rolling up his carpet, on which he had prostrated himself with gratitude, reverence, and love to his Creator, when he perceived a fresh heap of silver on the floor. He could scarcely believe but it was a dream. “How wonderful art thou, O God!” cried he. “This is thy bounteous gift, that I may indeed enjoy one day before I quit this earth.” And Músa, when he came to him, was satisfied with the goodness and the power of God. But he retired again to the Mount, to inquire of God the cause of the woodcutter’s respite. The reply which Músa received was as follows: “That man has faithfully applied the wealth given in answer to his petition. He is worthy to live out his numbered years on earth who, receiving my bounty, thought not of his own enjoyments whilst his fellow men had wants which he could supply.” And to the end of the wood-cutter’s long life God’s bounty lessened not in substance; neither did the pious man relax in his charitable duties of sharing with the indigent all that he had, and with the same disregard of his own enjoyments.
PRECOCIOUS SAGACITY OF SOLOMON.
Commentators on the Kurán state that while Solomon was still a mere youth he frequently upset the decisions of the judges in open court, and they became displeased with his interference, though they could not but confess to themselves that his judgment was always superior to theirs. Having prevailed upon King David to permit the sagacity of his son to be publicly tested, they plied him with what they deemed very difficult questions, which, however, were hardly uttered before he answered them correctly, and at length they became silent and shame-faced. Then Solomon rose and said (I take the paragraph which follows from the English translation of Dr. Weil’s interesting work, The Bible, the Korán, and the Talmud, 1846, p. 165 f.):
“You have exhausted yourselves in subtleties, in the hope of manifesting your superiority over me before this great assembly. Permit me now also to put to you a very few simple questions, the solution of which needs no manner of study, but only a little intellect and understanding. Tell me: What is Everything, and what is Nothing? Who is Something, and who is less than Nothing?” Solomon waited long, and when the judge whom he had addressed was not able to answer, he said: “Allah, the Creator, is Everything, and the world, the creature, is Nothing. The believer is Something, but the hypocrite is less than Nothing.” Turning to another, Solomon inquired: “Which are the most in number, and which are the fewest? What is the sweetest, and what is the most bitter?” But as the second judge also was unable to find proper answers to these questions, Solomon said: “The most numerous are the doubters, and they who possess a perfect assurance of faith are fewest in number. The sweetest is the possession of a virtuous wife, excellent children, and a respectable competency; but a wicked wife, undutiful children, and poverty are the most bitter.” Finally Solomon put this question to a third judge: “Which is the vilest, and which is the most beautiful? What is the most certain, and what is the least so?” But these questions also remained unanswered until Solomon said: “The vilest thing is when a believer apostasises, and the most beautiful is when a sinner repents. The most certain thing is death and the last judgment, and the most uncertain, life and the fate of the soul after the resurrection. You perceive,” he continued, “it is not the oldest and most learned that are always the wisest. True wisdom is neither of years nor of learned books, but only of Allah, the All-wise.”
The judges were full of admiration, and unanimously lauded the unparalleled sagacity of the future ruler of Israel.—The Queen of Sheba’s “hard questions” (already referred to, p. [218]) were probably of a somewhat similar nature. Such “wit combats” seem to have been formerly common at the courts and palaces of Asiatic monarchs and nobles; and a curious, but rather tedious, example is furnished in the Thousand and One Nights, in the story of Abú al-Husn and his slave Tawaddad, which will be found in vol. iv of Mr. John Payne’s and vol. v of Sir R. F. Burton’s complete translations.
SOLOMON AND THE SERPENT’S PREY.
A curious popular tradition of Solomon, in French verse, is given by M. Emile Blémont in La Tradition (an excellent journal of folklore, etc., published at Paris) for March 1889, p. 73: Solomon, we are informed, in very ancient times ruled over all beings [on the earth], and, if we may believe our ancestors, was the King of magicians. One day Man appeared before him, praying to be delivered from the Serpent, who ever lay in wait to devour him. “That I cannot do,” said Solomon; “for he is my preceptor, and I have given him the privilege to eat whatsoever he likes best.” Man responded: “Is that so? Well, let him gorge himself without stint; but he has no right to devour me.” “So you say,” quoth Solomon; “but are you sure of it?” Said Man: “I call the light to witness it; for I have the high honour of being in this world superior to all other creatures.” At these words the whole of the assembly [of animals] protested. “And I!” said the Eagle, with a loud voice, as he alighted on a rock. “Corcorico!” chanted the Cock. The Monkey was scratching himself and admiring his grinning phiz in the water, which served him for a looking-glass. Then the Buzzard was beside himself [with rage]. And the Cuckoo was wailing. The Ass rolled over and over, crying: “Heehaw! how ugly Man is!” The Elephant stamped about with his heavy feet, his trumpet raised towards the heavens. The Bear assumed dignified airs, while the Peacock was showing off his wheel-like tail. And in the distance the Lion was majestically exhaling his disdain in a long sigh.
Then said Solomon: “Silence! Man is right: is he not the only beast who gets drunk at all seasons? But, to accede to his request, as an honest prince, I ought to be able to give the Serpent something preferable, or at least equal, to his favourite prey. Therefore hear my decision: Let the Gnat—the smallest of animals—find out in what creature circulates the most exquisite blood in the world; and that creature shall belong to you, O Serpent. And I summon you all to appear here, without fail, on this day twelvemonths hence, that the Gnat may tell us the result of his experiments.”