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Who
is this coming to the door of this Japanese house?
It
is the flower-artist, the man who is skilled in arranging
flowers.
The
master of the house brings a tray with some flowers, a pair
of scissors, a knife, a little saw, and a beautiful vase.
"Sir,"
he says, "I cannot make a bouquet beautiful enough for such
a beautiful vase."
"I
am sure you can," replies the master politely as he leaves
the room.
Left
alone, the artist sets to work, cutting, snipping, twisting
and tying until a beautiful bunch of flowers fills the vase-a
delight to the eyes.
The
master and his friends enter the room; the artist stands
to one side and murmurs, "My bouquet is too poor, let it
be taken away."
"No,"
replies the master, "it is good."
To
one side of the table, near the vase, the artist has left
a pair of scissors. By this he means that if there is any
flaw in the bouquet, anyone can take the scissors and cut
away what offends the eye.
The
artist has done a fine piece of work, but he would not dream
of exalting its merits. He admits that he may have made
mistakes. He is modest.
Perhaps
the Japanese artist really thinks that his work deserves
compliments. I cannot tell his thoughts. But at any rate
he does not boast and his behaviour is pleasing.
On
the other hand, we smile at people who are vain.
Suleiman,
Caliph of Damascus, was like that. One Friday, coming out
of his hot bath, he dressed himself in green clothes, put
on a green turban, sat on a green couch, and even the carpet
all around was green. And then looking into a mirror and
feeling pleased with himself, he said, "The Prophet Mohammed
was an apostle, Ali Bakr was a faithful servant of the truth,
Omar could distinguish the true from the false, Otman was
modest, Ali was brave, Muawiyah was merciful, Yazid was
patient, Abd-ul-Malik a good governor, Walid a powerful
master, but I am young and handsome."
The
flowers in the vase are beautifully arranged and our eyes
are delighted. But it is for us and not for the artist to
praise them.
Suleiman
is handsome. It is true that there is no harm in his knowing
it, but we laugh at his vanity when he gazes at himself
in a mirror and tells himself that his good looks make him
a finer man than Omar the truthful or Yazid the patient.
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Still
more absurd was the vanity of the man who thought
that the earth was not large enough for his glory
and that he must soar into higher regions.
This
is the story.
A
king of Persia named Kai Kaus had waged many wars
and won many battles. He was so rich with the spoils
of his enemies that he built two palaces in the Elburz
mountains; and the gold and silver in the chambers
were so plentiful that the brightness of the polished
metal rivalled the light of day.
Kai
Kaus was filled with presumptuous pride; he thought
that he was the greatest king on earth.
Iblis,
the evil spirit, observing the high opinion the king
had of himself, resolved to trick him. He sent a demon
disguised as a servant to the palace, with a bunch
of flowers to present to the king.
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The
servant kissed the ground before Kai Kaus and said:
"Sire,
no king in the world is like unto you. And yet one realm
remains for you to conquer, the upper world, the kingdom
of the sun, the moon, the planets and the secret corners
of the heavens. Follow the birds, O King, and ascend to
the sky."
"But
how can I ascend without wings?" asked the king.
"Your
wise men will tell you, Sire."
So
King Kai Kaus asked the astrologers how he might fly to
the upper regions, and they invented a novel plan. They
suggested ordinary methods but the king would not hear of
them.
They
took four young eagles from a nest, fed and trained them
until they were big and strong.
They
made a square wooden frame; at each corner they fixed a
pole and on each pole a piece of goat's meat. One of the
four eagles was tied to each corner.
The
king's throne was attached to the frame and a jar of wine
was placed at the side of the throne. The king sat down.
The
four eagles tried to cah hold of the meat and in order to
do so flew upwards, at the same time lifting up the frame,
which rose into the air to the amazement of the crowd. The
eagles went up and up, nearer and nearer to the moon, until,
wearied by their flight, they stopped beating their wings.
Then the frame, the throne, the king, the wine-jar and all
fell with a crash into the wilderness of China. The king
lay all alone, bruised, hungry and wrehed, until messengers
came and took him back to the palace.
The
king himself now saw how stupid and vain he had been. He
decided not to attempt any more flights beyond his power.
He settled down to the work of his kingdom and ruled it
so justly that all men praised him.
This
is how he came down from the high places of vanity to the
honesty of the good, firm earth.
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We
are not surprised to learn that Ravana the terrible
foe of Rama, whose wife Sita he had stolen away, was
a braggart; it was quite natural for such a monster.
In
the last great battle between Rama and the demons
of Lanka, the glorious lord stood in his chariot face
to face with the demon king, also in his chariot.
It was a single combat. The army of demons and the
army of monkeys and bears watched the fight.
Then
with a dreadful voice, Ravana the king of Lanka cried:
"Today,
O Rama, this war will come to an end unless you save
yourself by running away from the battlefield. Today,
wretch, I shall give you over to death. It is with
Ravana that you must fight."
Rama
smiled calmly. He knew that Ravana's doom was near
and he said:
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"Yes,
I have heard of all your might, O Ravana, but now I want
to see as well as hear. I beg you to remember that there
are three kinds of men in this world, who are like three
kinds of trees: the dhak, the mango and the bread-fruit.
The dhak tree bears flowers. It is like the man who only
speaks. The mango tree has both flowers and fruits. It is
like a man who both speaks and acts. The bread-fruit tree
bears only fruit. It is like the man who speaks not but
acts."
The
demon laughed at these wise words. But before long his boasting
tongue was silent for ever.
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You
have heard of great Solomon who was the King of Israel
many years ago. There are many stories in the Bible
and in other books which tell of his glory and his
majesty. I shall tell you one story about him.
He
was very rich. He had a magnificent throne, his plates
were of gold, and in his palace silver was as common
as stones in the city of Jerusalem. Merchants were
constantly bringing him gold, silver, ivory, peacocks,
monkeys, beautiful clothes, armour, spices, horses,
mules and many other riches. King Solomon built a
splendid temple in honour of the God of his fathers
and his nation. But before the temple was built, while
the timber for it was still growing in the form of
cedar-trees on the mountains, Solomon had a dream
in which his God appeared to him and said:
"Ask
of me what you wish me to give you."
Solomon
answered:
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"My
father David was a just and truthful man and now I have
succeeded to his throne. The work that lies before me is
great. I feel like a little child. I do not know how to
go out or come in. I do not even know how to rule this people
of which I am king. Therefore my desire is to have knowledge,
so that I may know good from evil."
And
God replied:
"Because
you have not asked for long life or riches but have desired
knowledge and a heart which can distinguish justice from
injustice, I will give you this wise mind so that none shall
surpass you in understanding; and long life and riches will
be yours also."
You
will notice the modest words spoken by the king, "I am but
a little child."
Do
we think less of Solomon because he spoke humbly of himself?
On
the contrary, it is a real joy to see greatness that is
modest.
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I
shall tell you three stories about the modesty of
the Prophet Mohammed.
It
is said that the Prophet of Islam was always willing
to ride on an ass, while prouder men would only be
content with a horse. And sometimes he would invite
someone to ride behind him. And he would say:
"I
sit at meals as servants do and I eat like a servant,
for in truth I am a servant."
Here
is the second story. One day the Prophet was at a
meeting-place where many people were gathered, and
there was not much room to sit. So he sat with his
legs folded under him.
An
Arab of the desert was present, and knowing that Mohammed
was a great leader of men, he was surprised that the
Prophet was not seated like a lord upon a throne.
"Is
this the way to sit?" he scoffed.
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"Verily,"
said Mohammed, "Allah has made me a humble servant and not
a proud king."
Here
is the third story. Mohammed was deep in conversation with
the chief of a tribe of Quraish, when a blind man named
Abdullah, not knowing that someone was with the Prophet,
suddenly interrupted the conversation and asked to hear
some verses from the Koran.
Mohammed
spoke to him very roughly and ordered him to be silent.
But afterwards he felt sorry that he had been so harsh and
very humbly apologised for it. And from that time he treated
Abdullah with great respect and even conferred honorable
posts on him.
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After
these stories of the king and the prophet, I shall
tell you one about a famous man of science, the Englishman
Isaac Newton.
Newton
was born in 1642 and died in 1727. In the course of
his long life he studied Nature; the universal force
of attraction called gravitation, the effect of the
sun and the moon on the tides; the light of the sun
and how its white ray is broken up into the seven
colours of the rainbow; and many other things besides.
Everyone marvelled at the wisdom of this man who was
so skilled in reading the works and wonders of Nature.
One day a lady spoke to Newton of his learning and
knowledge and he replied:
"Alas!
I am only like a little child picking up pebbles on
the shore of the great ocean of truth."
You
will understand that the ocean of truth means the
laws of Nature which even the most learned men hardly
know at all. A little child collects pebbles on the
sea-shore, but how much vaster is the sea than the
child thinks! And how much vaster still is the universe
compared to our little thoughts!
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And
do we think less of Newton because he compared himself to
a little child? Certainly not. We honour him for his modesty.
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Many
years ago a great singer, who had won a world-wide
reputation for her wonderful voice and outstanding
talent, happened to be at a party. There, a little
girl with a beautiful voice was asked to sing. The
piece she was ready to sing was a duet, a piece of
music for two voices. The child was to sing the main
part, but no one wanted to sing the accompaniment.
All the grown-ups thought that it was beneath them
to sing the second voice to a child. There was a pause;
no one offered to accompany the child.
Then
the famous singer said:
"I
will sing the second voice if you wish."
And
she did so. The duet was sung to the audience; the
little girl's voice rose high and clear, with the
voice of the most famous singer of her time following
sweetly, making a lovely harmony.
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Noble
was the heart of the modest lady who was willing to give
her service to a child.
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In
1844 the Sanskrit College of Calcutta needed a teacher
of grammar, and the post was offered to Iswar Chandra
Vidyasagar. At that time he was earning fifty rupees
a month, and in this new position he could earn ninety.
But he thought that his friend Tarkavachaspati was
a better grammar teacher than himself and he said
so. So it was decided that his friend should take
the post. Vidyasagar was very happy. He walked some
distance from Calcutta to find his friend and tell
him the news.
Tarkavachaspati
was struck by the noble modesty of the scholar and
exclaimed, "You are not a man, Vidyasagar, but a god
in human form!"
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Now
here is the story of a conceited glow-worm.
A
man looked up at the glorious sun and exclaimed:
"How
bright!"
"Like
all the rest of us shining ones," answered a voice.
The
man looked all around him and saw a glow-worm in the
shade of a bush.
"Was
it you who spoke?"
"Yes,"
replied the glow-worm. "I said that the sun and I
are shining ones."
"The
sun and you, really!" laughed the man.
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"Yes,
the sun, the moon, the stars, and me," insisted the glow-worm
complacently.
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Four
men were climbing a mountain in Italy. All four of
them were monks: St. Francis was leading three brothers
of his order. The mountain-side was covered with trees,
and at the top there was an open flat space where
St. Francis wished to pray, in the hope of having
a new vision of things divine. The saint was well
known and revered by rich lords and poor villagers
alike.
The
day was hot and the path steep. Francis was too tired
to walk. So one of the monks went to a peasant and
asked him to lend his ass for Francis to ride.
The
peasant willingly agreed; the saint mounted the ass
and the monks walked by his side while the peasant
followed behind.
"Tell
me," asked the peasant, "are you Brother Francis?"
"Yes,"
he replied.
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"Then,"
said the peasant, "try to be as good as people think you
are, so that men may keep their faith in you."
When
he heard this, St. Francis was not at all displeased, for
he would take advice from anyone, whether prince or poor
peasant. He got down from the ass, bowed down before the
countryman and thanked him for his good advice.
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