An Historical Sketch of Babylon
In the pages of history there lives no city more glamorous than Babylon. Its very name conjures visions of wealth and splendour. Its treasures of gold and jewels were fabulous. One naturally pictures such a wealthy city as located in a suitable setting of tropical luxury, surrounded by rich natural resources of forests and mines. Such was not the case. It was located beside the Euphrates River, in a flat, arid valley. It had no forests, no mines --not even stone for building. It was not even located upon a natural trade-route. The rainfall was insufficient to raise crops.
Babylon is an outstanding example of man’s ability to achieve great objectives, using whatever means are at his disposal. All of the resources supporting this large city were man-developed. All of its riches were man-made.
Babylon possessed just two natural resources --a fertile soil and water in the river. With one of the greatest engineering accomplishments of this or any other day, Babylonian engineers diverted the waters from the river by means of dams and immense irrigation canals. Far out across that arid valley went these canals to pour the life giving waters over the fertile soil. This ranks among the first engineering feats known to history. Such abundant crops as we the reward of this irrigation system the world had never seen before.
Fortunately, during its long existence, Babylon was ruled by successive lines of kings to whom conquest and plunder were but incidental. While it engaged in many wars, most of these were local or defensive against ambitious conquerors from other countries who coveted the fabulous treasures of Babylon. This outstanding rulers of Babylon live in history because of their wisdom, enterprise and justice. Babylon produced no strutting monarchs who sought to conquer the known world that all nations might pay homage to their egotism.
As a city, Babylon exists no more. When those energizing human forces that built and maintained the city for thousands of years were withdrawn, it soon became a deserted ruin. The site of the city is in Asia about six hundred miles east of the Suez Canal, just north of the Persian Gulf. The latitude is about thirty degrees above the Equator, practically the same as that of Yuma, Arizona. It possessed a climate similar to that of this American city, hot and dry.
Today, this valley of the Euphrates, once a populous irrigated farming district, is again a wind-swept arid waste. Scant grass and desert shrubs strive for existence against the windblown sands. Gone are the fertile fields, the mammoth cities and the long caravans of rich merchandise. Nomadic bands of Arabs, securing a scant living by tending small herds, are the only inhabitants. Such it has been since about the beginning of the Christian era.
Dotting this valley are earthen hills. For centuries, they were considered by travellers to be nothing else. The attention of archaeologists were finally attracted to them because of broken pieces of pottery and brick washed down by the occasional rain storms. Expeditions, financed by European and American museums, were sent here to excavate and see what could be found. Picks and shovels soon proved these hills to be ancient cities. City graves, they might well be called.
Babylon was one of these. Over it for something like twenty centuries, the winds had scattered the desert dust. Built originally of brick, all exposed walls had disintegrated and gone back to earth once more. Such is Babylon, the wealthy city, today. A heap of dirt, so long abandoned that no living person even knew its name until it was discovered by carefully removing the refuse of centuries from the streets and the fallen wreckage of its noble temples and palaces.
Many scientists consider the civilization of Babylon and other cities in this valley to be the oldest of which there is a definite record. Positive dates have been proved reaching back 8000 years. An interesting fact in this connection is the means used to determine these dates. Uncovered in the ruins of Babylon were descriptions of an eclipse of the sun. Modern
Astronomers readily computed the time when such an eclipse, visible in Babylon, occurred and thus established a known relationship between their calendar and our own.
In this way, we have proved that 8000 years ago, the Sumerites, who inhabited Babylon, were living in walled cities. One can only conjecture for how many centuries previous such cities had existed. Their inhabitants were not mere barbarians living within protecting walls. They were an educated and enlightened people. So far as written history goes, they were the first engineers, the first astronomers, the first mathematicians, the first financiers and the first people to have a written language.
Mention has already been made of the irrigation systems which transformed the arid valley into an agricultural paradise. The remains of these canals can still be traced, although they are mostly filled with accumulated sand. Some of them were of such size that, when empty of water, a dozen horses could be ridden abreast along their bottoms. In size they compared favourably with the largest canals in Colorado and Utah.
In addition to irrigating the valley lands, Babylonian engineers completed another project of similar magnitude. By means of an elaborate drainage system they reclaimed an immense area of swamp land at the mouths of the Euphrates and Tigris Rivers and put this also under cultivation.
Herodotus, the Greek traveller and historian, visited Babylon while it was in its prime and has given us the only known description by an outsider. His writings give a graphic description of the city and some of the unusual customs of its people. He mentions the remarkable fertility of the soil and the bountiful harvests of wheat and barley which they produced.
The glory of Babylon has faded but its wisdom has been preserved for us. For this we are indebted to their form of records. In that distant day, the use of paper had not been invented. Instead, they laboriously engraved their writing upon tablets of moist clay. When completed, these were baked and became hard tile. In size, they were about six by eight inches, and an inch in thickness.
These clay tablets, as they are commonly called, were used much as we use modern forms of writing. Upon them were engraved legends, poetry, history, transcriptions of royal decrees, the laws of the land, titles to property, promissory notes and even letters which were dispatched by messengers to distant cities. From these clay tablets we are permitted an insight into the intimate, personal affairs of the people. For example, one tablet, evidently from the records of a country storekeeper, relates that upon the given date a certain named customer brought in a cow and exchanged it for seven sacks of wheat, three being delivered at the time and the other four to await the customer’s pleasure.
Safely buried in the wrecked cities, archaeologists have recovered entire libraries of these tablets, hundreds of thousands of them.
One of the outstanding wonders of Babylon was the immense walls surrounding the city. The ancients ranked them with the great pyramid of Egypt as belonging to the “seven wonders of the world.” Queen Semiramis is credited with having erected the first walls during the early history of the city. Modern excavators have been unable to find any trace of the original walls. Nor is their exact height known. From mention made by early writers, it is estimated they were about fifty to sixty feet high, faced on the outer side with burnt brick and further protected by a deep moat of water.
The later and more famous walls were started about six hundred years before the time of Christ by King Nabopolassar. Upon such a gigantic scale did he plan the rebuilding, he did not live to see the work finished. This was left to his son, Nebuchadnezzar, whose name is familiar in Biblical history.
The height and length of these later walls staggers belief. They are reported upon reliable authority to have been about one hundred and sixty feet high, the equivalent of the height of a modern fifteen story office building. The total length is estimated as being nine and eleven miles. So wide was the top that a six-horse chariot could be driven around them. Of this tremendous structure, little now remains except portions of the foundations and the moat. In addition to the ravages of the elements, the Arabs completed the destruction by quarrying the brick for building purposes elsewhere.
Against the walls of Babylon marched, in turn, the victorious armies of almost every conqueror of that age of wars of conquest. A host of kings laid siege to Babylon, but always in vain. Invading armies of that day were not to be considered lightly. Historians speak of such units of 10,000 horsemen, 25,000 chariots, 1200 regiments of foot soldiers with 1000 men to the regiment. Often two or three years of preparation would be required to assemble war materials and depots of food along the proposed line of march.
The city of Babylon was organized much like a modern city. There were streets and shops. Peddlers offered their wares through residential districts. Priests officiated in magnificent temples. Within the city was an inner enclosure for the royal palaces. The walls about this were said to have been higher than those about the city.
The Babylonians were skilled in the arts. These included sculpture, painting, weaving, gold working and the manufacture of metal weapons and agricultural implements. Their jewellers created most artistic jewellery. Many samples have been recovered from the graves of its wealthy citizens and are now on exhibition in the leading museums of the world.
At a very early period when the rest of the world was still hacking at trees with stone-headed axes, or hunting and fighting with flint-pointed spears and arrows, the Babylonians were using axes, spears and arrows with metal heads.
The Babylonians were clever financiers and traders. So far as we know, they were the original inventors of money as a means of exchange, of promissory notes and written titles to property.
Babylon was never entered by hostile armies until about 540 years before the birth of Christ. Even then the walls were not captured. The story of the fall of Babylon is most unusual. Cyrus, one of the great conquerors of that period, intended to attack the city and hoped to take its impregnable walls. Advisors of Nabonidus, the King of Babylon, persuaded him to go forth to meet Cyrus and give him battle without waiting for the city to be besieged. In the succeeding defeat to the Babylonian army, it fled away from the city. Cyrus, thereupon, entered the open gates and took possession without resistance.
Thereafter the power and prestige of the city gradually waned until, in the course of a few hundred years, it was eventually abandoned, deserted, left for the winds and storms to level once again to that desert earth from which its grandeur had originally been built. Babylon had fallen, never to rise again, but to it civilization owes much.
The eons of time have crumbled to dust the proud walls of its temples, but the wisdom of Babylon endures.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
The Richest Man In Babylon, The Luckiest Man In Babylon
HH: Man’s best friend.
The Luckiest Man In Babylon
At the head of his caravan, proudly rode Sharru Nada, the merchant prince of Babylon. He liked fine cloth and wore rich and becoming robes. He liked fine animals and sat easily upon his spirited Arabian stallion. To look at him one would hardly have guessed his advanced years. Certainly they would not have suspected that he was inwardly troubled.
The journey from Damascus is long and the hardships of the desert many. These he minded not. The Arab tribes are fierce and eager to loot rich caravans. These he feared not for his many fleet mounted guards were a safe protection.
About the youth at his side, whom he was bringing from Damascus, was he disturbed. This was Hadan Gula, the grandson of his partner of other years, Arad Gula, to whom he felt he owed a debt of gratitude which could never be repaid. He would like to do something for this grandson, but the more he considered this, the more difficult it seemed because of the youth himself.
Eyeing the young man’s rings and earrings, he thought to himself, “He thinks jewels are for men, still he has his grandfather’s strong face. But this grandfather wore no such gaudy robes. Yet, I sought him to come, hoping I might help him get a start for himself and get away from the wreck his father has made of their inheritance.”
Hadan Gula broke in upon his thoughts, “Why dost thou work so hard, riding always with thy caravan upon its long journeys? Dost thou never take time to enjoy life?”
Sharru Nada smile. “To enjoy life?” he repeated. “What wouldst thou do to enjoy life if thou wert Sharru Nada?”
“If I had wealth equal to thine, I would live like a prince. Never across the hot desert would I ride. I would spend the shekels as fast as they came to my purse. I would wear the richest of robes and the rarest of jewels. That would be a life to my liking, a life worth living.” Both men laughed.
“Thy grandfather wore no jewels,” Sharru Nada spoke before he thought, then continued jokingly, “Wouldst thou leave no time for work?”
“Work was made for slaves,” Hadan Gula responded.
Sharra Nada bit his lip but made no reply, riding in silence until the trail led them to the slope. Here he reined his mount and pointing to the green valley far away, “See, there is the valley. Look far down and thou canst faintly see the walls of Babylon. The tower is the Temple of Bel. If thine eyes are sharp thou mayest even see the smoke from the eternal fire upon its crest.”
“So that is Babylon? Always have I longed to see the wealthiest city in all the world,” Hadan Gula commented. “Babylon, where my grandfather started his fortune. Would he were still alive. We would not be so sorely pressed.”
“Why wish his spirit to linger on earth beyond its allotted time? Thou and thy father can well carry on his good work.”
“Alas, of us, neither has his gift. Father and myself know not his secret for attracting the golden shekels.”
Sharru Nada did not reply but gave rein to his mount and rode thoughtfully down the trail to the valley. Behind them followed the caravan in a cloud of reddish dust. Some time later they reached the Kings’ highway and turned south through the irrigated farms.
Three old men plowing a field caught Sharru Nada’s attention. They seemed strangely familiar. How ridiculous! One does not pass a field after forty years and find the same men plowing there. Yet, something within him said they were the same. One, with an uncertain grip, held the plow. The others laboriously plodded beside the oxen, ineffectually beating them with their barrel staves to keep them pulling.
Forty years ago he had envied these men! How gladly he would have exchanged places! But what a difference now. With pride he looked back at his trailing caravan, well-chosen camels and donkeys, loaded high with valuable goods from Damascus. All this was but one of his possessions.
He pointed to the plowers, saying, “Still plowing the same field where they were forty years ago.”
“They look it, but why thinkest thou they are the same?”
“I saw them there,” Sharru Nada replied.
Recollections were racing rapidly through his mind. Why could he not bury the past and live in the present? Then he saw, as in the picture, the smiling face of Arad Gula. The barrier between himself and the cynical youth beside him dissolved.
But how could he help such a superior youth with his spendthrift ideas and bejewelled hands? Work he could offer in plenty to willing workers, but naught for men who considered themselves too good for work. Yet he owed it to Arad Gula to do something, not a half-hearted attempt. He and Arad Gula had never done things that way. They were not that sort of men.
A plan came almost in a flash. There were objections. He must consider his own family and his own standing. It would be cruel; it would hurt. Being a man of quick decisions, he waived objections and decided to act.
“Wouldst thou be interested in hearing how thy worthy grandfather and myself joined in the partnership which proved so profitable?” he questioned.
“Why not just tell me how thou madest the golden shekels? That is all I need to know,” the young man parried.
Sharru Nada ignored the reply and continued, “We start with those men plowing. I was no older than thou. As the column of men in which I marched approached, good old Megiddo, the farmer, scoffed at the slip-shod way in which they plowed. Megiddo was chained next to me. ‘Look at the lazy fellows,’ he protested, ‘the plow holder makes no effort to plow deep, nor do the beaters keep the oxen in the furrow. How can they expect to raise a good crop with poor plowing?”
“Didst thou say Megiddo was chained to thee?” Hadan Gula asked in surprise.
“Yes, with bronze collars about our necks and a length of heavy chain between us. Next to him was Zabado, the sheep thief. I had known him in Harroun. At the end was a man we called Pirate because he told us not his name. We judged him as a sailor as he had entwined serpents tattooed upon his chest in sailor fashion. The column was made up thus so the men could walk in fours.”
“Thou wert chained as a slave?” Hadan Gula asked incredulously.
“Did not thy grandfather tell thee I was once a slave?”
“He often spoke of thee but never hinted of this.”
“He was a an thou couldst trust with innermost secrets. Thou, too, are a man I may trust, am I not right?” Sharru Nada looked him squarely in the eye.
“Thou mayest rely upon my silence, but I am amazed. Tell me how didst thou to be a slave?”
Sharru Nada shrugged his shoulders, “Any man may find himself a slave. It was a gaming house and barley beer that brought me disaster. I was the victim of my brother’s indiscretions. In a brawl he killed his friend. I was bonded to the widow by my father, desperate to keep my brother from being prosecuted under the law. When my father could not raise the silver to free me, she in anger sold me to the slave dealer.”
“What a shame and injustice!” Hadan Gula protested. “But tell me, how didst thou regain freedom?”
“We shall come to that, but not yet. Let us continue my tale. As we passed, the plowers jeered at us. One did doff his ragged hat and bow low calling out, ‘Welcome to Babylon, guests of the King. He waits for thee on the city walls where the banquet is spread, mud bricks and onion soup.’ With that they laughed uproariously.
“Pirate flew into a rage and cursed them roundly. ‘What do those men mean by the King awaiting us on the walls?’ I asked him.
“’To the city walls ye march to carry bricks until the back breaks. Maybe they beat thee to death before it breaks. They won’t beat me. I’ll kill ‘em’.
“Then Megiddo spoke up, ‘It doesn’t make sense to me to talk of masters beating willing hard-working slaves to death. Masters like good slaves and treat them well.’
“’Who wants to work hard?’ commented Zabado. ‘Those plowers are wise fellows. They’re not breaking their backs. Just letting on as if they be.’
“’Thou can’t get ahead by shirking,’ Megiddo protested. ‘If thou plow a hectare, that’s a good day’s work and any master knows it. But when thou plow only a half, that’s shirking. I don’t shirk. I like to work and I like to work good, for work is the best friend I’ve ever known. It has brought me all the good things I’ve had, my farm and cows and crops, everything.’
“’Yea, and where be these things now?’ scoffed Zabado. ‘I figure it pays better to be smart and get by without working. You watch Zabado, if we’re sold to the walls, he’ll be carrying the water bag or some easy job when thou, who like to work, will be breaking thy back carrying bricks.’ He laughed his silly laugh.
“Terror gripped me that night. I could not sleep. I crowded close to the guard rope, and when the others slept, I attracted the attention of Godoso who was doing the first guard watch. He was one of those brigand Arabs, the sort of rogue who, if he robbed thee of thy purse, would think he must also cut thy throat.
“’Tell me, Godoso,’ I whispered, ‘when we get to Babylon will we be sold to the walls?’
“’Why want to know?’ he questioned cautiously.
“’Canst thou not understand?’ I pleaded. ‘I am young. I want to live. I don’t want to be worked or beaten to death on the walls. Is there any chance for me to get a good master?’
“He whispered back, ‘I tell something. Thou good fellow, give Godoso no trouble. Most times we
go first to slave market. Listen now. When buyers come, tell ‘em you good worker, like to work hard for good master. Make ‘em want to buy. You not make ‘em buy, next day you carry brick. Mighty hard work.’
“After he walked away, I lay in the warm sand, looking up at the stars and thinking about work. What Megiddo had said about it being his best friend made me wonder if it would be my best friend. Certainly it would be if it helped me out of this.
“When Megiddo awoke, I whispered my good news to him. It was our one ray of hope as we marched toward Babylon. Late in the afternoon we approached the walls and could see the lines of men, like black ants, climbing up and down the steep diagonal paths. As we drew closer, we were amazed at the thousands of men working; some were digging in the moat, others mixed the dirt into mud bricks. The greatest number were carrying the bricks in large baskets up those steep trails to the masons.*
*The famous works of ancient Babylon, its walls, temples, hanging gardens and great canals, were built by slave labour, mainly prisoners of war, which explains the inhuman treatment they received. This force of workmen also included many citizens of Babylon and its provinces who had been sold into slavery because of crimes or financial troubles. It was a common custom for men to put themselves, their wives or their children up as a bond to guarantee payment of loans, legal judgments or other obligations. In case of default, those so bonded were sold into slavery.
“Overseers cursed the laggards and cracked bullock whips over the backs of those who failed to keep in line. Poor, worn-out fellows were seen to stagger and fall beneath their heavy baskets, unable to rise again. If the lash failed to bring them to their feet, they were pushed to the side of the paths and left writhing in agony. Soon they would be dragged down to join other craven bodies beside the roadway to await unsanctified graves. As I beheld the ghastly sight, I shuddered. So this was what awaited my father’s son if he failed at the slave market.
“Godoso had been right. We were taken through the gates of the city to the slave prison and next morning marched to the pens in the market. Here the rest of the men huddled in fear and only the whips of our guard could keep them moving so the buyers could examine them. Megiddo and myself eagerly talked to every man who permitted us to address him.
“The slave dealer brought soldiers from the King’s Guard who shackled Pirate and brutally beat him when he protested. As they led him away, I felt sorry for him.
“Megiddo felt that we would soon part. When no buyers were near, he talked to me earnestly to impress upon me how valuable work would be to me in the future: ‘Some men hate it. They make it their enemy. Better to treat it like a friend, make thyself like it. Don’t mind because it is hard. If thou thinkest about what a good house thou build, then who cares if the beams are heavy and it is far from the well to carry the water for the plaster. Promise me, boy, if thou get a master, work for him as hard as thou canst. If he does not appreciate all thou do, never mind. Remember, work, well-done, does good to the man who does it. It makes him a better man.’ He stopped as a burly farmer came to the enclosure and looked at us critically.
“Megiddo asked about his farms and crops, soon convincing him that he would be a valuable man. After violent bargaining with the slave dealer, the farmer drew a fat purse from beneath his robe, and soon Megiddo had followed his new master out of sight.
“A few other men were sold during the morning. At noon Godoso confided to me that the dealer was disgusted and would not stay over another night but would take all who remained at sundown to the King’s buyer. I was becoming desperate when a fat, good-natured man walked up to the wall and inquired if there was a baker among us.
“I approached him saying, ‘Why should a good baker like thyself seek another baker of inferior ways? Would it not be easier to teach a willing man like myself thy skilled ways? Look at me, I am young, strong and like to work. Give me a chance and I will do my best to earn gold and silver for thy purse.’
“He was impressed by my willingness and began bargaining with the dealer who had never noticed me since he had bought me but now waxed eloquent on my abilities, good health and good disposition. I felt like a fat ox being sold to a butcher. At last, much to my joy, the deal was closed. I followed my new master away, thinking I was the luckiest man in Babylon.
“My new home was much to my liking. Nana-naid, my master, taught me how to grind the barley in the stone bowl that stood in the courtyard, how to build the fire in the oven and then how to grind very fine the sesame flour for the honey cakes. I had a couch in the shed where his grain was stored. The old slave housekeeper, Swasti, fed me well and was pleased at the way I helped her with the heavy tasks.
“Here was the chance I had longed for to make myself valuable to my master and, I hoped, to find a way to earn my freedom.
“I asked Nana-naid to show me how to knead the break and to bake. This he did, much pleased at my willingness. Later, when I could do this well, I asked him to show me how to make the honey cakes, and soon I was doing all the baking. My master was glad to be idle, but Swasti shook her head in disapproval. ‘No work to do is bad for any man,’ she declared.
“I felt it was time for me to think of a way by which I might start to earn coins to buy my freedom. As the baking was finished at noon, I thought Nana-naid would approve if I found profitable employment for the afternoons and might share my earnings with me. Then the thought came to me, why not bake more of the honey cakes and peddle them to hungry men upon the streets of the city?
“I presented my plan to Nana-naid this way: ‘If I can use my afternoons after the baking is finished to earn for thee coins, would it be only fair for thee to share my earnings with me that I might have money of my own to spend for those things which every man desires and needs?
“’Fair enough, fair enough,’ he admitted. When I told him of my plan to peddle our honey cakes, he was well pleased. ‘Here is what we will do,’ he suggested. ‘Thou sellest them at two for a penny, then half of the pennies will be mine to pay for the flour and the honey and the wood to bake them. Of the rest, I shall take half and thou shall keep half.’
“I was much pleased by his generous offer that I might keep for myself, one-fourth of my sales. That night I worked late to make a tray upon which to display them. Nana-naid gave me one of his worn robes that I might look well, and Swasti helped me patch it and wash it clean.
“The next day I baked an extra supply of honey cakes. They looked brown and tempting upon the tray as I went along the street, loudly calling my wares. At first no one seemed interested, and I became discouraged. I kept on and later in the afternoon as men became hungry, the cakes began to sell and soon my tray was empty.
“Nana-naid was well pleased with my success and gladly paid me my share. I was delighted to own pennies. Megiddo had been right when he said a master appreciated good work from his slaves. That night I was so excited over my success I could hardly sleep and tried to figure how much I could earn in a year and how many years would be required to buy my freedom.
“As I went forth with my tray of cakes every day, I soon found regular customers. One of these was none other than thy grandfather, Arad Gula. He was a rug merchant and sold to the housewives, going from one end of the city to the other, accompanied by a donkey loaded high with rugs and a black slave to tend it. He would buy two cakes for himself and two for his slave, always tarrying to talk with me while they ate them.
“Thy grandfather said something to me one day that I shall always remember. ‘I like thy cakes, boy, but butter still I like the fine enterprise with which thou offerest them. Such spirit can carry thee far on the road to success.’
“But how canst thou understand, Hadan Gula, what such words of encouragement could mean to a slave boy, lonesome in a great city, struggling with all he had in him to find a way out of his humiliation?
“As the months went by I continued to add pennies to my purse. It began to have a comforting weight upon my belt. Work was proving to be my best friend just as Megiddo had said. I was happy but Swasti was worried.
“’Thy master, I fear to have him spend so much time at the gaming houses,’ she protested.
“I was overjoyed one day to meet my friend Megiddo upon the street. He was leading three donkeys loaded with vegetables to the market. ‘I am doing mighty well,’ he said. ‘My master does appreciate my good work for now I am a foreman. See, he does trust the marketing to me, and also he is sending for my family. Work is helping me to recover from my great trouble. Some day it will help me to buy my freedom and once more own a farm of my own.’
“Time went on and Nana-naid became more and more anxious for me to return from selling. He would be waiting when I returned and would eagerly count and divide our money. He would also urge me to seek further markets and increase my sales.
“Often I went outside the city gates to solicit the overseers of the slaves building the walls. I hated to return to the disagreeable sights but found the overseers liberal buyers. One day I was surprised to see Zabado waiting in line to fill his basket with bricks. He was gaunt and bent, and his back was covered with welts and sores from the whips of the overseers. I was sorry for him and handed him a cake which he crushed into his mouth like a hungry animal. Seeing the greedy look in his eyes, I ran before he could grab my tray.
“’Why dost thou work so hard?’ Arad Gula said to me one day. Almost the same question thou asked of me today, dost thou remember? I told him what Megiddo had said about work and how it was proving to be my best friend. I showed him with pride my wallet of pennies and explained how I was saving them to buy my freedom.
“’When thou art free, what wilt thou do?’ he inquired.
“’Then,’ I answered, ‘I intend to become a merchant.’
“At that, he confided in me. Something I had never suspected. “Thou knowest not that I, also, am a slave. I am in partnership with my master.’”
“Stop,” demanded Hadan Gula. ‘I will not listen to lies defaming my grandfather. He was no slave.” His eyes blazed in anger.
Sharru Nada remained calm. “I honour him for rising above his misfortune and becoming a leading citizen of Damascus. Art thou, his grandson, cast of the same mould? Art thou man enough to face true facts, or dost thou prefer to live under false illusions?”
Hadan Gula straightened in his saddle. In a voice suppressed with deep emotion he replied, “My grandfather was beloved by all. Countless were his good deeds. When the famine came did not his gold buy grain in Egypt and did not his caravan bring it to Damascus and distribute it to the people so none would starve? Now thou sayest he was but a despised slave in Babylon.”
“Had he remained a slave in Babylon, then he might well have been despised, but when, through his own efforts, he became a great man in Damascus, the Gods indeed condoned his misfortunes and honoured him with their respect,” Sharru Nada replied.
“After telling me that he was a slave,” Sharru Nada continued, ‘He explained how anxious he had been to earn his freedom. Now that he had enough money to by this he was much disturbed as to what he should do. He was no longer making good sales and feared to leave the support of his master.
“I protested his indecision: ‘Cling no longer to thy master. Get once again the feeling of being a free man. Act like a free man and succeed like one! Decide what thou desirest to accomplish and then work will aid thee to achieve it!’ He went on his way saying he was glad I had shamed him for his cowardice.*
*Slave customs in ancient Babylon, though they may seem inconsistent to us, were strictly regulated by law. For example, a slave could own property of any kind, even other slaves upon which his master had no claim. Slaves intermarried freely with non-slaves. Children of free mothers were free. Most of the city merchants were slaves. Many of these were in partnership with their masters and wealthy in their own right.
“One day I went outside the gates again, and was surprised to find a great crowd gathering there. When I asked a man for an explanation he replied: “”Hast thou not heard? An escaped slave who murdered one of the King’s guards has been brought to justice and will this day be flogged to death for his crime. Even the King himself is to be here.’
“So dense was the crowd about the flogging post, I feared to go near lest my tray of honey cakes be upset. Therefore, I climbed up the unfinished wall to see over the heads of the people. I was fortunate in having a view of Nebuchadnezzar himself as he rode by in his golden chariot. Never had I beheld such grandeur, such robes and hangings of gold cloth and velvet.
“I could not see the flogging though I could hear the shrieks of the poor slave. I wandered how one so noble as our handsome King could endure to see such suffering, yet when I saw he was laughing and joking with his nobles, I knew he was cruel and understood why such inhuman tasks were demanded of the slaves building the walls.
“After the slave was dead, his body was hung upon a pole by a rope attached to his leg so all might see. As the crowd began to thin, I went close. On the hairy chest, I saw tattooed, two entwined serpents. It was Pirate.
“The next time I met Arad Gula he was a changed man. Full of enthusiasm he greeted me: ‘Behold, the slave thou knewest is now a free man. There was magic in thy words. Already my sales and my profits are increasing. My wife is overjoyed. She was a free woman, the niece of my master. She much desires that we move to a strange city where no man shall know I was once a slave. Thus our children shall be above reproach for their father’s misfortune. Work has become my best helper. It has enabled me to recapture my confidence and my skill to sell.’
“I was overjoyed that I had been able even in a small way, to repay him for the encouragement he had given me.
“One evening Swasti came to me in deep distress: ‘Thy master is in trouble. I fear for him. Some months ago he lost much at the gaming tables. He pays not the farmer for his grain nor his honey. He pays not the money lender. They are angry and threaten him.’
“’Why should we worry over his folly. We are not his keepers,’ I replied thoughtlessly.
“’Foolish youth, thou understand not. To the money lender didst he give thy title to secure a loan. Under the law he can claim thee and sell thee. I know not what to do. He is a good master. Why? Oh why, should such trouble come upon him?’
“Not were Swasti’s fears groundless. While I was doing the baking next morning, the money lender returned with a man he called Sasi. This man looked me over and said I would do.
“The money lender waited not for my master to return but told Swasti to tell him he had taken me. With only the robe on my back and the purse of pennies hanging safely from my belt, I was hurried away from the unfinished baking.
“I was whirled away from my dearest hopes as the hurricane snatches the tree from the forest and casts it into the surging sea. Again a gaming house and barley beer had caused me disaster.
“Sasi was a blunt, gruff man. As he led me across the city, I told him of the good work I had been doing for Nana-naid and said I hoped to good work for him. His reply offered no encouragement:
“’I like not this work. My master likes it not. The King has told him to send me to build a section of the Grand Canal. Master tells Sasi to buy more slaves, work hard and finish quick. Bah, how can any man finish a big job quick?’
“Picture a desert with not a tree, just low shrubs and a sun burning with such fury the water in our barrels became so hot we could scarcely drink it. Then picture rows of men, going down into the deep excavation and lugging heavy baskets of dirt up soft, dusty trails from daylight until dark. Picture food served in open troughs from which we helped ourselves like swine. We had no tents, no straw for beds. That was the situation in which I found myself. I buried my wallet in a marked spot, wondering if I would ever dig it up again.
“At first I worked with good will, but as the months dragged on, I felt my spirit breaking. Then the heat fever took hold on my weary body. I lost my appetite and could scarcely eat the mutton and vegetables. At night I would toss in unhappy wakefulness.
“In my misery, I wondered if Zabado had not the best plan, to shirk and keep his back from being broken in work. Then I recalled my last sight of him and knew his plan was not good.
“I thought of Pirate with his bitterness and wondered if it might be just as well to fight and kill. The memory of his bleeding body reminded me that his plan was also useless.
“Then I remembered my last sight of Megiddo. His hands were deeply calloused from hard work but his heart was light and there was happiness on his face. His was the best plan.
“Yet I was just as willing to work as Megiddo; he could not have worked harder than I. Why did not my work bring me happiness and success? Was it work that brought Megiddo happiness, or was happiness and success merely in the laps of the Gods? Was I to work the rest of my life without gaining my desires, without happiness and success? All of these questions were jumbled in my mind and I had not an answer. Indeed, I was sorely confused.
“Several days later when it seemed that I was at the end of my endurance and my questions still unanswered, Sasi sent for me. A messenger had come from my master to take me back to Babylon. I dug up my precious wallet, wrapped myself in the tattered remnants of my robe and was on my way.
“As we rode, the same thoughts of a hurricane whirling me hither and thither kept racing through my feverish brain. I seemed to be living the weird words of a chant from my native town of Harroun:
Besetting a man like a whirlwind,
Driving him like a storm,
Whose course no one can follow,
Whose destiny no one can foretell.
“Was I destined to be ever thus punished for I knew not what? What new miseries and disappointments awaited me?
“When we rode to the courtyard of my master’s house, imagine my surprise when I saw Arad Gula awaiting me. He helped me down and hugged me like a long lost brother.
“As we went our way I would have followed him as a slave should follow his master, but he would not permit me. He put his arm about me, saying, ‘I hunted everywhere for thee. When I had almost given up hope, I did meet Swasti who told me of the money lender, who directed me to thy noble owner. A hard bargain he did drive and made me pay an outrageous price, but thou art worth it. Thy philosophy and thy enterprise have been my inspiration to this new success.’
“’Megiddo’s philosophy, not mine,’ I interrupted.
“’Megiddo’s and thine. Thanks to thee both, we are going to Damascus and I need thee for my partner. See,’ he exclaimed, ‘in one moment thou will be a free man!’ So saying he drew from beneath his robe the clay tablet carrying my title. This he raised above his head and hurled it to break in a hundred pieces upon the cobble stones. With glee he stamped upon the fragments until they were but dust.
“Tears of gratitude filled my eyes. I knew I was the luckiest man in Babylon.
“Work, thou see, by this, in the time of my greatest distress, didst prove to be my best friend. My willingness to work enabled me to escape from being sold to join the slave gangs upon the walls. It also so impressed thy grandfather, he selected me for his partner.”
Then Hadan Gula questioned, “Was work my grandfather’s secret key to the golden shekels?”
“It was the only key he had when I first knew him,” Sharru Nada replied. “Thy grandfather enjoyed working. The Gods appreciated his efforts and rewarded him liberally.”
“I begin to see,” Hadan Gula was speaking thoughtfully. “Work attracted his many friends who admired his industry and the success it brought. Work brought him the honours he enjoyed so much in Damascus. Work brought him all those things I have approved. And I thought work was fit only for slaves.”
“Life is rich with many pleasures for men to enjoy,” Sharru Nada commented. “Each has its place. I am glad that work is not reserved for slaves. Were that the case I would be deprived of my greatest pleasure. Many things do I enjoy but nothing takes the place of work.”
Sharru Nada and Hadan Gula rode in the shadows of the towering walls up to the massive, bronze gates of Babylon. At their approach the gate guards jumped to attention and respectfully saluted an honoured citizen. With head held high Sharru Nada led the long caravan through the gates and up the streets of the city.
“I have always hoped to be a man like my grandfather,” Hadan Gula confided to him. ‘Never before did I realize just what kind of man he was. This thou hast shown me. Now that I understand, I do admire him all the more and feel more determined to be like him. I fear I can never repay thee for giving me the true key to his success. From this day forth, I shall use his key. I shall start humbly as he started, which befits my true station far better than jewels and fine robes.”
So saying Hadan Gula pulled the jewelled baubles from his ears and the rings from his fingers. Then reining his horse, he dropped back and rode with deep respect behind the leader of the caravan.
The Luckiest Man In Babylon
At the head of his caravan, proudly rode Sharru Nada, the merchant prince of Babylon. He liked fine cloth and wore rich and becoming robes. He liked fine animals and sat easily upon his spirited Arabian stallion. To look at him one would hardly have guessed his advanced years. Certainly they would not have suspected that he was inwardly troubled.
The journey from Damascus is long and the hardships of the desert many. These he minded not. The Arab tribes are fierce and eager to loot rich caravans. These he feared not for his many fleet mounted guards were a safe protection.
About the youth at his side, whom he was bringing from Damascus, was he disturbed. This was Hadan Gula, the grandson of his partner of other years, Arad Gula, to whom he felt he owed a debt of gratitude which could never be repaid. He would like to do something for this grandson, but the more he considered this, the more difficult it seemed because of the youth himself.
Eyeing the young man’s rings and earrings, he thought to himself, “He thinks jewels are for men, still he has his grandfather’s strong face. But this grandfather wore no such gaudy robes. Yet, I sought him to come, hoping I might help him get a start for himself and get away from the wreck his father has made of their inheritance.”
Hadan Gula broke in upon his thoughts, “Why dost thou work so hard, riding always with thy caravan upon its long journeys? Dost thou never take time to enjoy life?”
Sharru Nada smile. “To enjoy life?” he repeated. “What wouldst thou do to enjoy life if thou wert Sharru Nada?”
“If I had wealth equal to thine, I would live like a prince. Never across the hot desert would I ride. I would spend the shekels as fast as they came to my purse. I would wear the richest of robes and the rarest of jewels. That would be a life to my liking, a life worth living.” Both men laughed.
“Thy grandfather wore no jewels,” Sharru Nada spoke before he thought, then continued jokingly, “Wouldst thou leave no time for work?”
“Work was made for slaves,” Hadan Gula responded.
Sharra Nada bit his lip but made no reply, riding in silence until the trail led them to the slope. Here he reined his mount and pointing to the green valley far away, “See, there is the valley. Look far down and thou canst faintly see the walls of Babylon. The tower is the Temple of Bel. If thine eyes are sharp thou mayest even see the smoke from the eternal fire upon its crest.”
“So that is Babylon? Always have I longed to see the wealthiest city in all the world,” Hadan Gula commented. “Babylon, where my grandfather started his fortune. Would he were still alive. We would not be so sorely pressed.”
“Why wish his spirit to linger on earth beyond its allotted time? Thou and thy father can well carry on his good work.”
“Alas, of us, neither has his gift. Father and myself know not his secret for attracting the golden shekels.”
Sharru Nada did not reply but gave rein to his mount and rode thoughtfully down the trail to the valley. Behind them followed the caravan in a cloud of reddish dust. Some time later they reached the Kings’ highway and turned south through the irrigated farms.
Three old men plowing a field caught Sharru Nada’s attention. They seemed strangely familiar. How ridiculous! One does not pass a field after forty years and find the same men plowing there. Yet, something within him said they were the same. One, with an uncertain grip, held the plow. The others laboriously plodded beside the oxen, ineffectually beating them with their barrel staves to keep them pulling.
Forty years ago he had envied these men! How gladly he would have exchanged places! But what a difference now. With pride he looked back at his trailing caravan, well-chosen camels and donkeys, loaded high with valuable goods from Damascus. All this was but one of his possessions.
He pointed to the plowers, saying, “Still plowing the same field where they were forty years ago.”
“They look it, but why thinkest thou they are the same?”
“I saw them there,” Sharru Nada replied.
Recollections were racing rapidly through his mind. Why could he not bury the past and live in the present? Then he saw, as in the picture, the smiling face of Arad Gula. The barrier between himself and the cynical youth beside him dissolved.
But how could he help such a superior youth with his spendthrift ideas and bejewelled hands? Work he could offer in plenty to willing workers, but naught for men who considered themselves too good for work. Yet he owed it to Arad Gula to do something, not a half-hearted attempt. He and Arad Gula had never done things that way. They were not that sort of men.
A plan came almost in a flash. There were objections. He must consider his own family and his own standing. It would be cruel; it would hurt. Being a man of quick decisions, he waived objections and decided to act.
“Wouldst thou be interested in hearing how thy worthy grandfather and myself joined in the partnership which proved so profitable?” he questioned.
“Why not just tell me how thou madest the golden shekels? That is all I need to know,” the young man parried.
Sharru Nada ignored the reply and continued, “We start with those men plowing. I was no older than thou. As the column of men in which I marched approached, good old Megiddo, the farmer, scoffed at the slip-shod way in which they plowed. Megiddo was chained next to me. ‘Look at the lazy fellows,’ he protested, ‘the plow holder makes no effort to plow deep, nor do the beaters keep the oxen in the furrow. How can they expect to raise a good crop with poor plowing?”
“Didst thou say Megiddo was chained to thee?” Hadan Gula asked in surprise.
“Yes, with bronze collars about our necks and a length of heavy chain between us. Next to him was Zabado, the sheep thief. I had known him in Harroun. At the end was a man we called Pirate because he told us not his name. We judged him as a sailor as he had entwined serpents tattooed upon his chest in sailor fashion. The column was made up thus so the men could walk in fours.”
“Thou wert chained as a slave?” Hadan Gula asked incredulously.
“Did not thy grandfather tell thee I was once a slave?”
“He often spoke of thee but never hinted of this.”
“He was a an thou couldst trust with innermost secrets. Thou, too, are a man I may trust, am I not right?” Sharru Nada looked him squarely in the eye.
“Thou mayest rely upon my silence, but I am amazed. Tell me how didst thou to be a slave?”
Sharru Nada shrugged his shoulders, “Any man may find himself a slave. It was a gaming house and barley beer that brought me disaster. I was the victim of my brother’s indiscretions. In a brawl he killed his friend. I was bonded to the widow by my father, desperate to keep my brother from being prosecuted under the law. When my father could not raise the silver to free me, she in anger sold me to the slave dealer.”
“What a shame and injustice!” Hadan Gula protested. “But tell me, how didst thou regain freedom?”
“We shall come to that, but not yet. Let us continue my tale. As we passed, the plowers jeered at us. One did doff his ragged hat and bow low calling out, ‘Welcome to Babylon, guests of the King. He waits for thee on the city walls where the banquet is spread, mud bricks and onion soup.’ With that they laughed uproariously.
“Pirate flew into a rage and cursed them roundly. ‘What do those men mean by the King awaiting us on the walls?’ I asked him.
“’To the city walls ye march to carry bricks until the back breaks. Maybe they beat thee to death before it breaks. They won’t beat me. I’ll kill ‘em’.
“Then Megiddo spoke up, ‘It doesn’t make sense to me to talk of masters beating willing hard-working slaves to death. Masters like good slaves and treat them well.’
“’Who wants to work hard?’ commented Zabado. ‘Those plowers are wise fellows. They’re not breaking their backs. Just letting on as if they be.’
“’Thou can’t get ahead by shirking,’ Megiddo protested. ‘If thou plow a hectare, that’s a good day’s work and any master knows it. But when thou plow only a half, that’s shirking. I don’t shirk. I like to work and I like to work good, for work is the best friend I’ve ever known. It has brought me all the good things I’ve had, my farm and cows and crops, everything.’
“’Yea, and where be these things now?’ scoffed Zabado. ‘I figure it pays better to be smart and get by without working. You watch Zabado, if we’re sold to the walls, he’ll be carrying the water bag or some easy job when thou, who like to work, will be breaking thy back carrying bricks.’ He laughed his silly laugh.
“Terror gripped me that night. I could not sleep. I crowded close to the guard rope, and when the others slept, I attracted the attention of Godoso who was doing the first guard watch. He was one of those brigand Arabs, the sort of rogue who, if he robbed thee of thy purse, would think he must also cut thy throat.
“’Tell me, Godoso,’ I whispered, ‘when we get to Babylon will we be sold to the walls?’
“’Why want to know?’ he questioned cautiously.
“’Canst thou not understand?’ I pleaded. ‘I am young. I want to live. I don’t want to be worked or beaten to death on the walls. Is there any chance for me to get a good master?’
“He whispered back, ‘I tell something. Thou good fellow, give Godoso no trouble. Most times we
go first to slave market. Listen now. When buyers come, tell ‘em you good worker, like to work hard for good master. Make ‘em want to buy. You not make ‘em buy, next day you carry brick. Mighty hard work.’
“After he walked away, I lay in the warm sand, looking up at the stars and thinking about work. What Megiddo had said about it being his best friend made me wonder if it would be my best friend. Certainly it would be if it helped me out of this.
“When Megiddo awoke, I whispered my good news to him. It was our one ray of hope as we marched toward Babylon. Late in the afternoon we approached the walls and could see the lines of men, like black ants, climbing up and down the steep diagonal paths. As we drew closer, we were amazed at the thousands of men working; some were digging in the moat, others mixed the dirt into mud bricks. The greatest number were carrying the bricks in large baskets up those steep trails to the masons.*
*The famous works of ancient Babylon, its walls, temples, hanging gardens and great canals, were built by slave labour, mainly prisoners of war, which explains the inhuman treatment they received. This force of workmen also included many citizens of Babylon and its provinces who had been sold into slavery because of crimes or financial troubles. It was a common custom for men to put themselves, their wives or their children up as a bond to guarantee payment of loans, legal judgments or other obligations. In case of default, those so bonded were sold into slavery.
“Overseers cursed the laggards and cracked bullock whips over the backs of those who failed to keep in line. Poor, worn-out fellows were seen to stagger and fall beneath their heavy baskets, unable to rise again. If the lash failed to bring them to their feet, they were pushed to the side of the paths and left writhing in agony. Soon they would be dragged down to join other craven bodies beside the roadway to await unsanctified graves. As I beheld the ghastly sight, I shuddered. So this was what awaited my father’s son if he failed at the slave market.
“Godoso had been right. We were taken through the gates of the city to the slave prison and next morning marched to the pens in the market. Here the rest of the men huddled in fear and only the whips of our guard could keep them moving so the buyers could examine them. Megiddo and myself eagerly talked to every man who permitted us to address him.
“The slave dealer brought soldiers from the King’s Guard who shackled Pirate and brutally beat him when he protested. As they led him away, I felt sorry for him.
“Megiddo felt that we would soon part. When no buyers were near, he talked to me earnestly to impress upon me how valuable work would be to me in the future: ‘Some men hate it. They make it their enemy. Better to treat it like a friend, make thyself like it. Don’t mind because it is hard. If thou thinkest about what a good house thou build, then who cares if the beams are heavy and it is far from the well to carry the water for the plaster. Promise me, boy, if thou get a master, work for him as hard as thou canst. If he does not appreciate all thou do, never mind. Remember, work, well-done, does good to the man who does it. It makes him a better man.’ He stopped as a burly farmer came to the enclosure and looked at us critically.
“Megiddo asked about his farms and crops, soon convincing him that he would be a valuable man. After violent bargaining with the slave dealer, the farmer drew a fat purse from beneath his robe, and soon Megiddo had followed his new master out of sight.
“A few other men were sold during the morning. At noon Godoso confided to me that the dealer was disgusted and would not stay over another night but would take all who remained at sundown to the King’s buyer. I was becoming desperate when a fat, good-natured man walked up to the wall and inquired if there was a baker among us.
“I approached him saying, ‘Why should a good baker like thyself seek another baker of inferior ways? Would it not be easier to teach a willing man like myself thy skilled ways? Look at me, I am young, strong and like to work. Give me a chance and I will do my best to earn gold and silver for thy purse.’
“He was impressed by my willingness and began bargaining with the dealer who had never noticed me since he had bought me but now waxed eloquent on my abilities, good health and good disposition. I felt like a fat ox being sold to a butcher. At last, much to my joy, the deal was closed. I followed my new master away, thinking I was the luckiest man in Babylon.
“My new home was much to my liking. Nana-naid, my master, taught me how to grind the barley in the stone bowl that stood in the courtyard, how to build the fire in the oven and then how to grind very fine the sesame flour for the honey cakes. I had a couch in the shed where his grain was stored. The old slave housekeeper, Swasti, fed me well and was pleased at the way I helped her with the heavy tasks.
“Here was the chance I had longed for to make myself valuable to my master and, I hoped, to find a way to earn my freedom.
“I asked Nana-naid to show me how to knead the break and to bake. This he did, much pleased at my willingness. Later, when I could do this well, I asked him to show me how to make the honey cakes, and soon I was doing all the baking. My master was glad to be idle, but Swasti shook her head in disapproval. ‘No work to do is bad for any man,’ she declared.
“I felt it was time for me to think of a way by which I might start to earn coins to buy my freedom. As the baking was finished at noon, I thought Nana-naid would approve if I found profitable employment for the afternoons and might share my earnings with me. Then the thought came to me, why not bake more of the honey cakes and peddle them to hungry men upon the streets of the city?
“I presented my plan to Nana-naid this way: ‘If I can use my afternoons after the baking is finished to earn for thee coins, would it be only fair for thee to share my earnings with me that I might have money of my own to spend for those things which every man desires and needs?
“’Fair enough, fair enough,’ he admitted. When I told him of my plan to peddle our honey cakes, he was well pleased. ‘Here is what we will do,’ he suggested. ‘Thou sellest them at two for a penny, then half of the pennies will be mine to pay for the flour and the honey and the wood to bake them. Of the rest, I shall take half and thou shall keep half.’
“I was much pleased by his generous offer that I might keep for myself, one-fourth of my sales. That night I worked late to make a tray upon which to display them. Nana-naid gave me one of his worn robes that I might look well, and Swasti helped me patch it and wash it clean.
“The next day I baked an extra supply of honey cakes. They looked brown and tempting upon the tray as I went along the street, loudly calling my wares. At first no one seemed interested, and I became discouraged. I kept on and later in the afternoon as men became hungry, the cakes began to sell and soon my tray was empty.
“Nana-naid was well pleased with my success and gladly paid me my share. I was delighted to own pennies. Megiddo had been right when he said a master appreciated good work from his slaves. That night I was so excited over my success I could hardly sleep and tried to figure how much I could earn in a year and how many years would be required to buy my freedom.
“As I went forth with my tray of cakes every day, I soon found regular customers. One of these was none other than thy grandfather, Arad Gula. He was a rug merchant and sold to the housewives, going from one end of the city to the other, accompanied by a donkey loaded high with rugs and a black slave to tend it. He would buy two cakes for himself and two for his slave, always tarrying to talk with me while they ate them.
“Thy grandfather said something to me one day that I shall always remember. ‘I like thy cakes, boy, but butter still I like the fine enterprise with which thou offerest them. Such spirit can carry thee far on the road to success.’
“But how canst thou understand, Hadan Gula, what such words of encouragement could mean to a slave boy, lonesome in a great city, struggling with all he had in him to find a way out of his humiliation?
“As the months went by I continued to add pennies to my purse. It began to have a comforting weight upon my belt. Work was proving to be my best friend just as Megiddo had said. I was happy but Swasti was worried.
“’Thy master, I fear to have him spend so much time at the gaming houses,’ she protested.
“I was overjoyed one day to meet my friend Megiddo upon the street. He was leading three donkeys loaded with vegetables to the market. ‘I am doing mighty well,’ he said. ‘My master does appreciate my good work for now I am a foreman. See, he does trust the marketing to me, and also he is sending for my family. Work is helping me to recover from my great trouble. Some day it will help me to buy my freedom and once more own a farm of my own.’
“Time went on and Nana-naid became more and more anxious for me to return from selling. He would be waiting when I returned and would eagerly count and divide our money. He would also urge me to seek further markets and increase my sales.
“Often I went outside the city gates to solicit the overseers of the slaves building the walls. I hated to return to the disagreeable sights but found the overseers liberal buyers. One day I was surprised to see Zabado waiting in line to fill his basket with bricks. He was gaunt and bent, and his back was covered with welts and sores from the whips of the overseers. I was sorry for him and handed him a cake which he crushed into his mouth like a hungry animal. Seeing the greedy look in his eyes, I ran before he could grab my tray.
“’Why dost thou work so hard?’ Arad Gula said to me one day. Almost the same question thou asked of me today, dost thou remember? I told him what Megiddo had said about work and how it was proving to be my best friend. I showed him with pride my wallet of pennies and explained how I was saving them to buy my freedom.
“’When thou art free, what wilt thou do?’ he inquired.
“’Then,’ I answered, ‘I intend to become a merchant.’
“At that, he confided in me. Something I had never suspected. “Thou knowest not that I, also, am a slave. I am in partnership with my master.’”
“Stop,” demanded Hadan Gula. ‘I will not listen to lies defaming my grandfather. He was no slave.” His eyes blazed in anger.
Sharru Nada remained calm. “I honour him for rising above his misfortune and becoming a leading citizen of Damascus. Art thou, his grandson, cast of the same mould? Art thou man enough to face true facts, or dost thou prefer to live under false illusions?”
Hadan Gula straightened in his saddle. In a voice suppressed with deep emotion he replied, “My grandfather was beloved by all. Countless were his good deeds. When the famine came did not his gold buy grain in Egypt and did not his caravan bring it to Damascus and distribute it to the people so none would starve? Now thou sayest he was but a despised slave in Babylon.”
“Had he remained a slave in Babylon, then he might well have been despised, but when, through his own efforts, he became a great man in Damascus, the Gods indeed condoned his misfortunes and honoured him with their respect,” Sharru Nada replied.
“After telling me that he was a slave,” Sharru Nada continued, ‘He explained how anxious he had been to earn his freedom. Now that he had enough money to by this he was much disturbed as to what he should do. He was no longer making good sales and feared to leave the support of his master.
“I protested his indecision: ‘Cling no longer to thy master. Get once again the feeling of being a free man. Act like a free man and succeed like one! Decide what thou desirest to accomplish and then work will aid thee to achieve it!’ He went on his way saying he was glad I had shamed him for his cowardice.*
*Slave customs in ancient Babylon, though they may seem inconsistent to us, were strictly regulated by law. For example, a slave could own property of any kind, even other slaves upon which his master had no claim. Slaves intermarried freely with non-slaves. Children of free mothers were free. Most of the city merchants were slaves. Many of these were in partnership with their masters and wealthy in their own right.
“One day I went outside the gates again, and was surprised to find a great crowd gathering there. When I asked a man for an explanation he replied: “”Hast thou not heard? An escaped slave who murdered one of the King’s guards has been brought to justice and will this day be flogged to death for his crime. Even the King himself is to be here.’
“So dense was the crowd about the flogging post, I feared to go near lest my tray of honey cakes be upset. Therefore, I climbed up the unfinished wall to see over the heads of the people. I was fortunate in having a view of Nebuchadnezzar himself as he rode by in his golden chariot. Never had I beheld such grandeur, such robes and hangings of gold cloth and velvet.
“I could not see the flogging though I could hear the shrieks of the poor slave. I wandered how one so noble as our handsome King could endure to see such suffering, yet when I saw he was laughing and joking with his nobles, I knew he was cruel and understood why such inhuman tasks were demanded of the slaves building the walls.
“After the slave was dead, his body was hung upon a pole by a rope attached to his leg so all might see. As the crowd began to thin, I went close. On the hairy chest, I saw tattooed, two entwined serpents. It was Pirate.
“The next time I met Arad Gula he was a changed man. Full of enthusiasm he greeted me: ‘Behold, the slave thou knewest is now a free man. There was magic in thy words. Already my sales and my profits are increasing. My wife is overjoyed. She was a free woman, the niece of my master. She much desires that we move to a strange city where no man shall know I was once a slave. Thus our children shall be above reproach for their father’s misfortune. Work has become my best helper. It has enabled me to recapture my confidence and my skill to sell.’
“I was overjoyed that I had been able even in a small way, to repay him for the encouragement he had given me.
“One evening Swasti came to me in deep distress: ‘Thy master is in trouble. I fear for him. Some months ago he lost much at the gaming tables. He pays not the farmer for his grain nor his honey. He pays not the money lender. They are angry and threaten him.’
“’Why should we worry over his folly. We are not his keepers,’ I replied thoughtlessly.
“’Foolish youth, thou understand not. To the money lender didst he give thy title to secure a loan. Under the law he can claim thee and sell thee. I know not what to do. He is a good master. Why? Oh why, should such trouble come upon him?’
“Not were Swasti’s fears groundless. While I was doing the baking next morning, the money lender returned with a man he called Sasi. This man looked me over and said I would do.
“The money lender waited not for my master to return but told Swasti to tell him he had taken me. With only the robe on my back and the purse of pennies hanging safely from my belt, I was hurried away from the unfinished baking.
“I was whirled away from my dearest hopes as the hurricane snatches the tree from the forest and casts it into the surging sea. Again a gaming house and barley beer had caused me disaster.
“Sasi was a blunt, gruff man. As he led me across the city, I told him of the good work I had been doing for Nana-naid and said I hoped to good work for him. His reply offered no encouragement:
“’I like not this work. My master likes it not. The King has told him to send me to build a section of the Grand Canal. Master tells Sasi to buy more slaves, work hard and finish quick. Bah, how can any man finish a big job quick?’
“Picture a desert with not a tree, just low shrubs and a sun burning with such fury the water in our barrels became so hot we could scarcely drink it. Then picture rows of men, going down into the deep excavation and lugging heavy baskets of dirt up soft, dusty trails from daylight until dark. Picture food served in open troughs from which we helped ourselves like swine. We had no tents, no straw for beds. That was the situation in which I found myself. I buried my wallet in a marked spot, wondering if I would ever dig it up again.
“At first I worked with good will, but as the months dragged on, I felt my spirit breaking. Then the heat fever took hold on my weary body. I lost my appetite and could scarcely eat the mutton and vegetables. At night I would toss in unhappy wakefulness.
“In my misery, I wondered if Zabado had not the best plan, to shirk and keep his back from being broken in work. Then I recalled my last sight of him and knew his plan was not good.
“I thought of Pirate with his bitterness and wondered if it might be just as well to fight and kill. The memory of his bleeding body reminded me that his plan was also useless.
“Then I remembered my last sight of Megiddo. His hands were deeply calloused from hard work but his heart was light and there was happiness on his face. His was the best plan.
“Yet I was just as willing to work as Megiddo; he could not have worked harder than I. Why did not my work bring me happiness and success? Was it work that brought Megiddo happiness, or was happiness and success merely in the laps of the Gods? Was I to work the rest of my life without gaining my desires, without happiness and success? All of these questions were jumbled in my mind and I had not an answer. Indeed, I was sorely confused.
“Several days later when it seemed that I was at the end of my endurance and my questions still unanswered, Sasi sent for me. A messenger had come from my master to take me back to Babylon. I dug up my precious wallet, wrapped myself in the tattered remnants of my robe and was on my way.
“As we rode, the same thoughts of a hurricane whirling me hither and thither kept racing through my feverish brain. I seemed to be living the weird words of a chant from my native town of Harroun:
Besetting a man like a whirlwind,
Driving him like a storm,
Whose course no one can follow,
Whose destiny no one can foretell.
“Was I destined to be ever thus punished for I knew not what? What new miseries and disappointments awaited me?
“When we rode to the courtyard of my master’s house, imagine my surprise when I saw Arad Gula awaiting me. He helped me down and hugged me like a long lost brother.
“As we went our way I would have followed him as a slave should follow his master, but he would not permit me. He put his arm about me, saying, ‘I hunted everywhere for thee. When I had almost given up hope, I did meet Swasti who told me of the money lender, who directed me to thy noble owner. A hard bargain he did drive and made me pay an outrageous price, but thou art worth it. Thy philosophy and thy enterprise have been my inspiration to this new success.’
“’Megiddo’s philosophy, not mine,’ I interrupted.
“’Megiddo’s and thine. Thanks to thee both, we are going to Damascus and I need thee for my partner. See,’ he exclaimed, ‘in one moment thou will be a free man!’ So saying he drew from beneath his robe the clay tablet carrying my title. This he raised above his head and hurled it to break in a hundred pieces upon the cobble stones. With glee he stamped upon the fragments until they were but dust.
“Tears of gratitude filled my eyes. I knew I was the luckiest man in Babylon.
“Work, thou see, by this, in the time of my greatest distress, didst prove to be my best friend. My willingness to work enabled me to escape from being sold to join the slave gangs upon the walls. It also so impressed thy grandfather, he selected me for his partner.”
Then Hadan Gula questioned, “Was work my grandfather’s secret key to the golden shekels?”
“It was the only key he had when I first knew him,” Sharru Nada replied. “Thy grandfather enjoyed working. The Gods appreciated his efforts and rewarded him liberally.”
“I begin to see,” Hadan Gula was speaking thoughtfully. “Work attracted his many friends who admired his industry and the success it brought. Work brought him the honours he enjoyed so much in Damascus. Work brought him all those things I have approved. And I thought work was fit only for slaves.”
“Life is rich with many pleasures for men to enjoy,” Sharru Nada commented. “Each has its place. I am glad that work is not reserved for slaves. Were that the case I would be deprived of my greatest pleasure. Many things do I enjoy but nothing takes the place of work.”
Sharru Nada and Hadan Gula rode in the shadows of the towering walls up to the massive, bronze gates of Babylon. At their approach the gate guards jumped to attention and respectfully saluted an honoured citizen. With head held high Sharru Nada led the long caravan through the gates and up the streets of the city.
“I have always hoped to be a man like my grandfather,” Hadan Gula confided to him. ‘Never before did I realize just what kind of man he was. This thou hast shown me. Now that I understand, I do admire him all the more and feel more determined to be like him. I fear I can never repay thee for giving me the true key to his success. From this day forth, I shall use his key. I shall start humbly as he started, which befits my true station far better than jewels and fine robes.”
So saying Hadan Gula pulled the jewelled baubles from his ears and the rings from his fingers. Then reining his horse, he dropped back and rode with deep respect behind the leader of the caravan.
Friday, August 21, 2009
The Richest Man In Babylon, The Camel Trader Of Babylon
HH: Where there's a will, there's a way. (See the Clay Tablets From Babylon)
The Camel Trader of Babylon
The hungrier one becomes, the clearer one’s mind works --also the more sensitive one becomes to the odours of food.
Tarkad, the son of Azure, certainly thought so. For two whole days he had tasted no food except two small figs purloined from over the wall of a garden. Not another could he grab before the angry woman rushed forth and chased him down the street. Her shrill cries were still ringing in his ears as he walked through the market place. They helped him to restrain his restless fingers from snatching the tempting fruits from the baskets of the market women.
Never before had he realized how much food was brought to the markets of Babylon and how good it smelled. Leaving the market, he walked across to the inn and paced back and forth in front of the eating house. Perhaps here he might meet someone he knew; someone from whom he could borrow a copper that would gain him a smile from the unfriendly keeper of the inn and, with it, a liberal helping. Without the copper he knew all too well how unwelcome he would be.
In his abstraction he unexpectedly found himself face to face with the one man he wished most to avoid, the tall bony figure of Dabasir, the camel trader. Of all the friends and others from whom he had borrowed small sums, Dabasir made him feel the most uncomfortable because of his failure to keep his promises to repay promptly.
Dabasir’s face lighted up at the sight of him. “Ha! ‘Tis Tarkad, just the one I have been seeking that he might repay the two pieces of copper which I lent him a moon ago; also the piece of silver which I lent to him before that. We are well met. I can make a good use of the coins this very day. What say, boy? What say?”
Tarkad stuttered and his face flushed. He had naught in his empty stomach to nerve him to argue with the outspoken Dabasir. “I am sorry, very sorry,” he mumbled weakly, “but this day I have neither the copper nor the silver with which I could repay.”
“Then get it,” Dabasir insisted. “Surely thou canst get hold of a few coppers and a piece of silver to repay the generosity of an old friend of thy father who aided thee whenst thou wast in need?”
“’Tis because ill fortune does pursue me that I cannot pay.”
“Ill fortune! Wouldst blame the gods for thine own weakness. Ill fortune pursues every man who thinks more of borrowing than of repaying. Come with me, boy, while I eat. I am hungry and I would tell thee a tale.”
Tarkad flinched from the brutal frankness of Dabasir, but here at least was an invitation to enter the coveted doorway of the eating house.
Dabasir pushed him to a far corner of the room where they seated themselves upon small rugs.
When Kauskor, the proprietor, appeared smiling, Dabasir addressed him with his usual freedom, “Fat lizard of the desert, bring to me a leg of the goat, very brown with much juice, and bread and all of the vegetables for I am hungry and want much food. Do not forget my friend here. Bring to him a jug of water. Have it cooled, for the day is hot.”
Tarkad’s heart sank. Must he sit here and drink water while he watched the man devour an entire goat leg? He said nothing. He thought of nothing he could say.
Dabasir, however, knew no such thing as silence. Smiling and waving his hand good-naturedly to the other customers, all of whom knew him, he continued.
“I did hear from a traveller just returned from Urfa of a certain rich man who has a piece of stone cut so thin that one can look through it. He put it in the window of his house to keep out the rains. It is yellow, so this traveller does relate, and he was permitted to look through it and all the outside world looked strange and not like it really is. What say you to that, Tarkad? Thinkest all the world could look to a man a different colour from what it is?”
“I dare say,” responded the youth, much more interested in the fat leg of goat placed before Dabasir.
“Well, I know it to be true for I myself have seen the world all of a different colour from what it really is and the tale I am about to tell relates how I came to see it in its right colour once more.
“Dabasir will tell a tale,” whispered a neighbouring diner to his neighbour, and dragged his rug close. Other diners brought their food and crowded in a semi-circle. They crunched noisily in the ears of Tarkad and brushed him with their meaty bones. He alone was without food. Dabasir did not offer to share with him nor even motion him to a small corner of the hard bread that was broken off and had fallen from the platter to the floor.
“The tale that I am about to tell,” began Dabasir, pausing to bite a goodly chunk from the goat leg, “relates to my early life and how I came to be a camel trader. Didst anyone know that I once was a slave in Syria?”
A murmur of surprise ran through the audience to which Dabasir listened with satisfaction.
“When I was a young man,” continued Dabasir after another vicious onslaught on the goat leg, “I learned the trade of my father, the making of saddles. I worked with him in his shop and took myself a wife. Being young and not greatly skilled, I could earn but little, just enough to support my excellent wife in a modest way. I craved good things which I could not afford. Soon I found that the shop keepers would trust me to pay later even though I could not pay at the time.
“Being young and without experience I did not know that he who spends more than he earns is sowing the winds of needless self-indulgence from which he is sure to reap the whirlwinds of trouble and humiliation. So I indulged my whims for fine raiment and bought luxuries for my good wife and our home, beyond our means.
“I paid as I could and for a while all went well. But in time I discovered I could not use my earnings both to live upon and to pay my debts. Creditors began to pursue me to pay for my extravagant purchases and my life became miserable. I borrowed from my friends, but could not repay them either. Things went from bad to worse. My wife returned to her father and I decided to leave Babylon and seek another city where a young man might have better chances.
“For two years I had a restless and unsuccessful life working for caravan traders. From this I fell in with a set of likeable who scoured the desert for unarmed caravans. Such deeds were unworthy of the son of my father, but I was seeing the world through a coloured stone and did not realize to what degradation I had fallen.
“We met with success on our first trip, capturing a rich haul of gold and silks and valuable merchandise. This loot we took to Ginir and squandered.
“The second time we were not so fortune. Just after we had made our capture, we were attacked by the spearsmen of a native chief to whom the caravans paid for protection. Our two leaders were killed, and the rest of us were taken to Damascus where we were stripped of our clothing and sold as slaves.
“I was purchased for two pieces of silver by a Syrian desert chief. With my hair shorn and but a loin cloth to wear, I was not so different from the other slaves. Being a reckless youth, I thought it merely an adventure until my master took me before his four wives and told them they could have me for a eunuch.
“Then, indeed, did I realize the hopelessness of my situation. These men of the desert were fierce and warlike. I was subject to their will without weapons or means of escape.
“Fearful I stood, as those four women looked me over. I wondered if I could expect pity from them. Sira, the first wife, was older than the others. Her face was impassive as she looked upon me. I turned from her with little consolation. The next was a contemptuous beauty who gazed at me as indifferently as if I had been a worm of the earth. The two younger ones tittered as though it were all an exciting joke.
“It seemed an age that I stood waiting sentence. Each woman appeared willing for the others to decide. Finally Sira spoke up in a cold voice.
“’Of eunuchs we have plenty, but of camel tenders we have few and they are a worthless lot. Even this day I would visit my mother who is sick with the fever and there is no slave I would trust to lead my camel. Ask this slave if he can lead a camel.’
“My master thereupon questioned me, ‘What know you of camels?”
“Striving to conceal my eagerness, I replied, ‘I can make them kneel, I can load them, I can lead them on long trips without tiring. If need be, I can repair their trappings.’
“’The slave speaks forward enough,’ observed my master. ‘If thou so desire, Sira, take this man for thy camel tender.’
“So I was turned over to Sira and that day I led her camel upon a long journey to her sick mother. I took the occasion to thank her for her intercession and also to tell her that I was not a slave by birth, but the son of a freeman, an honourable saddle maker of Babylon. I also told her much of my story. Her comments were disconcerting to me and I pondered much afterwards on what she said.
“’How can you call yourself a free man when your weakness has brought you to this? If a man has in himself the soul of a slave will he not become one no matter what his birth, even as water seeks its level? If a man has within him the soul of a free man, will he not become respected and honoured in his own city in spite of his misfortune?’
“For over a year I was a slave and lived with the slaves, but I could not become as one of them. One day Sira asked me, ‘In the eventime when the other slaves can mingle and enjoy the society of each other, why dost thou sit in thy tent alone?’
“To which I responded, ‘I am pondering what you have said to me. I wonder if I have the soul of a slave. I cannot join them, so I must sit apart.’
“’I, too, must sit apart,’ she confided. ‘My dowry was large and my lord married me because of it. Yet he does not desire me. What every woman longs for is to be desired. Because of this and because I am barren and have neither son nor daughter, must I sit apart. Were I a man I would rather die than be such a slave, but the conventions of our tribe make slaves of women.’
“’What think thou of me by this time?’ I asked her suddenly, ‘Have I the soul of a man or have I the soul of a slave?’
“’Have you a desire to repay the just debts you owe in Babylon?’ she parried.
“’Yes, I have the desire, but I see no way.’
“’If thou contentedly let the years slip by and make no effort to repay, then thou hast but the contemptible soul of a slave. No man is otherwise who cannot respect himself and no man can respect himself who does not repay honest debts.’
“’But what can I do who am a slave in Syria?’
“’Stay a slave in Syria, thou weakling.’
“’I am not a weakling,’ I denied hotly.
“’Then prove it.’
“’How?’
“’Does not thy great king fight his enemies in every way he can and with every force he has? Thy debt are thy enemies. They ran thee out of Babylon. You left them alone and they grew too strong for thee. Hadst fought them as a man, thou couldst have conquered them and been one honoured among the townspeople. But thou had not the soul to fight them and behold thy pride hast gone down until thou art a slave in Syria.’
“Much I thought over her unkind accusations and many defensive phrases I worded to prove myself not a slave at heart, but I was not to have the chance to use them. Three days later the maid of Sira took me to her mistress.
“’My mother is again very sick,’ she said. ‘Saddle the two best camels in my husband’s herd. Tie on water skins and saddle bags for a long journey. The maid will give thee food at the kitchen tent.’ I packed the camels wondering much at the quantity of provisions the maid provided, for the mother dwelt less than a day’s journey away. The maid rode the rear camel which I followed and I led the camel of my mistress. When we reached her mother’s house it was just dark. Sira dismissed the maid and said to me:
“’Dabasir, hast thou the soul of a free man or the soul of a slave?’
“’The soul of a free man,” I insisted.
“’Now is thy chance to prove it. Thy master hath imbibed deeply and his chiefs are in a stupor.
Take then these camels and make thy escape. Here in this bag is raiment of thy master’s to disguise thee. I will say thou stole the camels and ran away while I visited my sick mother.
“’Thou hast the soul of a queen,’ I told her. ‘Much do I wish that I might lead thee to happiness.’
“’Happiness,’ she responded, ‘awaits not the runaway wife who seeks it in far lands among strange people. Go thy own way and may the gods of the desert protect thee for the way is far and barren of food or water.’
“I needed no further urging, but thanked her warmly and was away into the night. I knew not this strange country and had only a dim idea of the direction in which lay Babylon, but struck out bravely across the desert toward the hills. One camel I rode and the other I led. All that night I traveled and all the next day, urged on by the knowledge of the terrible fate that was meted out to slaves who stole their master’s property and tried to escape.
“Late that afternoon, I reached a rough country as uninhabitable as the desert. The sharp rocks bruised the feet of my faithful camels and soon they were picking their way slowly and painfully along. I met neither man nor beast and could well understand why they shunned this inhospitable land.
“It was such a journey from then on as few men live to tell of. Day after day we plodded along. Food and water gave out. The heat of the sun was merciless. At the end of the ninth day, I slid from the back of my mount with the feeling that I was too weak to ever remount and I would surely die, lost in this abandoned country.
“I stretched out upon the ground and slept, not waking until the first gleam of daylight.
“I sat up and looked about me. There was a coolness in the morning air. My camels lay dejected not far away. About me was a vast waste of broken country covered with rock and sand and thorny things, no sign of water, naught to eat for man or camel.
“Could it be that in this peaceful quiet I faced my end? My mind was clearer than it had ever been before. My body now seemed of little importance. My parched and bleeding lips, my dry and swollen tongue, my empty stomach, all had lost their supreme agonies of the day before.
“I looked across into the uninviting distance and once again came to me the question, ‘Have I the soul of a slave or the soul of a free man?’ Then with clearness I realized that if I had the soul of a slave, I should give it up, lie down in the desert and die, a fitting end for a runaway slave.
“But if I had the soul of a free man, what then? Surely I would force my way back to Babylon, repay the people who had trusted me, bring happiness to my wife who truly loved me and bring peace and contentment to my parents.
“’Thy debts are thine enemies who have run thee out of Babylon,’ Sira had said. Yes it was so. Why had I refused to stand my ground like a man? Why had I permitted my wife to go back to her father?
“Then a strange thing happened. All the world seemed to be of a different colour as though I had been looking at it through a coloured stone which had suddenly been removed. At last I saw the true values in life.
“Die in the desert! Not I! With a new vision, I saw the things that I must do. First I would go back to Babylon and face very man to whom I owed an unpaid debt. I should tell them that after years of wandering and misfortune, I had come back to pay my debts as fast as the gods would permit. Next I should make a home for my wife and become a citizen of whom my parents should be proud.
“My debts were my enemies, but the men I owed were my friends for they had trusted me and believed in me.
“I staggered weakly to my feet. What mattered hunger? What mattered thirst? They were but incidents on the road to Babylon. Within me surged the soul of a free man going back to conquer his enemies and reward his friends. I thrilled with the great resolve.
“The glazed eyes of my camels brightened at the new note in my husky voice. With great effort, after many attempts, they gained their feet. With pitiful perseverance, they pushed on toward the north where something within me said we would find Babylon.
“We found water. We passed into a more fertile country where were grass and fruit. We found the trail to Babylon because the soul of a free man looks at life as a series of problems to be solved and solves them, while the soul of a slave whines, ‘What can I do who am but a slave?’
“How about thee, Tarkad? Dost thy empty stomach make thy head exceedingly clear? Art ready to take the road that leads back to self respect? Canst thou see the world in its true colour? Hast thou the desire to pay thy honest debts, however many they may be, and once again be a man respected in Babylon?”
Moisture came to the eyes of the youth. He rose eagerly to his knees. “Thou has shown me a vision; already I feel the soul of a free man surge within me.”
“But how fared you upon your return? Questioned an interested listener.
“Where the determination is, the way can be found,” Dabasir replied. “I now had the determination so I set out to find a way. First I visited every man to whom I was indebted and begged his indulgence until I could earn that with which to repay. Most of them met me gladly. Several reviled me but others offered to help me; One indeed did give me the very help I needed. It was Mathon, the gold lender. Learning that I had been a camel trader in Syria; he sent me to old Nebatur, the camel trader, just commissioned by our good king to purchase many herds of sound camels for the great expedition. With him, my knowledge of camels I put to good use. Gradually I was able to repay every copper and every piece of silver. Then at last I could hold up my head and feel that I was an honourable man among men.”
Again Dabasir turned to his food. “Kauskor, thou snail,” he called loudly to be heard in the kitchen, “the food is cold. Bring me more meat fresh from the roasting. Bring thou also a very large portion for Tarkad, the son of my old friend, who is hungry and shall eat with me.”
So ended the tale of Dabasir the camel trader of old Babylon. He found his own soul when he realized a great truth, a truth that had been known and used by wise men long before his time.
It has led men of all ages out of difficulties and into success and it will continue to do so for those who have the wisdom to understand its magic power. It is for any man to use who reads these lines.
WHERE THE DETERMINATION IS, THE WAY CAN BE FOUND
The Camel Trader of Babylon
The hungrier one becomes, the clearer one’s mind works --also the more sensitive one becomes to the odours of food.
Tarkad, the son of Azure, certainly thought so. For two whole days he had tasted no food except two small figs purloined from over the wall of a garden. Not another could he grab before the angry woman rushed forth and chased him down the street. Her shrill cries were still ringing in his ears as he walked through the market place. They helped him to restrain his restless fingers from snatching the tempting fruits from the baskets of the market women.
Never before had he realized how much food was brought to the markets of Babylon and how good it smelled. Leaving the market, he walked across to the inn and paced back and forth in front of the eating house. Perhaps here he might meet someone he knew; someone from whom he could borrow a copper that would gain him a smile from the unfriendly keeper of the inn and, with it, a liberal helping. Without the copper he knew all too well how unwelcome he would be.
In his abstraction he unexpectedly found himself face to face with the one man he wished most to avoid, the tall bony figure of Dabasir, the camel trader. Of all the friends and others from whom he had borrowed small sums, Dabasir made him feel the most uncomfortable because of his failure to keep his promises to repay promptly.
Dabasir’s face lighted up at the sight of him. “Ha! ‘Tis Tarkad, just the one I have been seeking that he might repay the two pieces of copper which I lent him a moon ago; also the piece of silver which I lent to him before that. We are well met. I can make a good use of the coins this very day. What say, boy? What say?”
Tarkad stuttered and his face flushed. He had naught in his empty stomach to nerve him to argue with the outspoken Dabasir. “I am sorry, very sorry,” he mumbled weakly, “but this day I have neither the copper nor the silver with which I could repay.”
“Then get it,” Dabasir insisted. “Surely thou canst get hold of a few coppers and a piece of silver to repay the generosity of an old friend of thy father who aided thee whenst thou wast in need?”
“’Tis because ill fortune does pursue me that I cannot pay.”
“Ill fortune! Wouldst blame the gods for thine own weakness. Ill fortune pursues every man who thinks more of borrowing than of repaying. Come with me, boy, while I eat. I am hungry and I would tell thee a tale.”
Tarkad flinched from the brutal frankness of Dabasir, but here at least was an invitation to enter the coveted doorway of the eating house.
Dabasir pushed him to a far corner of the room where they seated themselves upon small rugs.
When Kauskor, the proprietor, appeared smiling, Dabasir addressed him with his usual freedom, “Fat lizard of the desert, bring to me a leg of the goat, very brown with much juice, and bread and all of the vegetables for I am hungry and want much food. Do not forget my friend here. Bring to him a jug of water. Have it cooled, for the day is hot.”
Tarkad’s heart sank. Must he sit here and drink water while he watched the man devour an entire goat leg? He said nothing. He thought of nothing he could say.
Dabasir, however, knew no such thing as silence. Smiling and waving his hand good-naturedly to the other customers, all of whom knew him, he continued.
“I did hear from a traveller just returned from Urfa of a certain rich man who has a piece of stone cut so thin that one can look through it. He put it in the window of his house to keep out the rains. It is yellow, so this traveller does relate, and he was permitted to look through it and all the outside world looked strange and not like it really is. What say you to that, Tarkad? Thinkest all the world could look to a man a different colour from what it is?”
“I dare say,” responded the youth, much more interested in the fat leg of goat placed before Dabasir.
“Well, I know it to be true for I myself have seen the world all of a different colour from what it really is and the tale I am about to tell relates how I came to see it in its right colour once more.
“Dabasir will tell a tale,” whispered a neighbouring diner to his neighbour, and dragged his rug close. Other diners brought their food and crowded in a semi-circle. They crunched noisily in the ears of Tarkad and brushed him with their meaty bones. He alone was without food. Dabasir did not offer to share with him nor even motion him to a small corner of the hard bread that was broken off and had fallen from the platter to the floor.
“The tale that I am about to tell,” began Dabasir, pausing to bite a goodly chunk from the goat leg, “relates to my early life and how I came to be a camel trader. Didst anyone know that I once was a slave in Syria?”
A murmur of surprise ran through the audience to which Dabasir listened with satisfaction.
“When I was a young man,” continued Dabasir after another vicious onslaught on the goat leg, “I learned the trade of my father, the making of saddles. I worked with him in his shop and took myself a wife. Being young and not greatly skilled, I could earn but little, just enough to support my excellent wife in a modest way. I craved good things which I could not afford. Soon I found that the shop keepers would trust me to pay later even though I could not pay at the time.
“Being young and without experience I did not know that he who spends more than he earns is sowing the winds of needless self-indulgence from which he is sure to reap the whirlwinds of trouble and humiliation. So I indulged my whims for fine raiment and bought luxuries for my good wife and our home, beyond our means.
“I paid as I could and for a while all went well. But in time I discovered I could not use my earnings both to live upon and to pay my debts. Creditors began to pursue me to pay for my extravagant purchases and my life became miserable. I borrowed from my friends, but could not repay them either. Things went from bad to worse. My wife returned to her father and I decided to leave Babylon and seek another city where a young man might have better chances.
“For two years I had a restless and unsuccessful life working for caravan traders. From this I fell in with a set of likeable who scoured the desert for unarmed caravans. Such deeds were unworthy of the son of my father, but I was seeing the world through a coloured stone and did not realize to what degradation I had fallen.
“We met with success on our first trip, capturing a rich haul of gold and silks and valuable merchandise. This loot we took to Ginir and squandered.
“The second time we were not so fortune. Just after we had made our capture, we were attacked by the spearsmen of a native chief to whom the caravans paid for protection. Our two leaders were killed, and the rest of us were taken to Damascus where we were stripped of our clothing and sold as slaves.
“I was purchased for two pieces of silver by a Syrian desert chief. With my hair shorn and but a loin cloth to wear, I was not so different from the other slaves. Being a reckless youth, I thought it merely an adventure until my master took me before his four wives and told them they could have me for a eunuch.
“Then, indeed, did I realize the hopelessness of my situation. These men of the desert were fierce and warlike. I was subject to their will without weapons or means of escape.
“Fearful I stood, as those four women looked me over. I wondered if I could expect pity from them. Sira, the first wife, was older than the others. Her face was impassive as she looked upon me. I turned from her with little consolation. The next was a contemptuous beauty who gazed at me as indifferently as if I had been a worm of the earth. The two younger ones tittered as though it were all an exciting joke.
“It seemed an age that I stood waiting sentence. Each woman appeared willing for the others to decide. Finally Sira spoke up in a cold voice.
“’Of eunuchs we have plenty, but of camel tenders we have few and they are a worthless lot. Even this day I would visit my mother who is sick with the fever and there is no slave I would trust to lead my camel. Ask this slave if he can lead a camel.’
“My master thereupon questioned me, ‘What know you of camels?”
“Striving to conceal my eagerness, I replied, ‘I can make them kneel, I can load them, I can lead them on long trips without tiring. If need be, I can repair their trappings.’
“’The slave speaks forward enough,’ observed my master. ‘If thou so desire, Sira, take this man for thy camel tender.’
“So I was turned over to Sira and that day I led her camel upon a long journey to her sick mother. I took the occasion to thank her for her intercession and also to tell her that I was not a slave by birth, but the son of a freeman, an honourable saddle maker of Babylon. I also told her much of my story. Her comments were disconcerting to me and I pondered much afterwards on what she said.
“’How can you call yourself a free man when your weakness has brought you to this? If a man has in himself the soul of a slave will he not become one no matter what his birth, even as water seeks its level? If a man has within him the soul of a free man, will he not become respected and honoured in his own city in spite of his misfortune?’
“For over a year I was a slave and lived with the slaves, but I could not become as one of them. One day Sira asked me, ‘In the eventime when the other slaves can mingle and enjoy the society of each other, why dost thou sit in thy tent alone?’
“To which I responded, ‘I am pondering what you have said to me. I wonder if I have the soul of a slave. I cannot join them, so I must sit apart.’
“’I, too, must sit apart,’ she confided. ‘My dowry was large and my lord married me because of it. Yet he does not desire me. What every woman longs for is to be desired. Because of this and because I am barren and have neither son nor daughter, must I sit apart. Were I a man I would rather die than be such a slave, but the conventions of our tribe make slaves of women.’
“’What think thou of me by this time?’ I asked her suddenly, ‘Have I the soul of a man or have I the soul of a slave?’
“’Have you a desire to repay the just debts you owe in Babylon?’ she parried.
“’Yes, I have the desire, but I see no way.’
“’If thou contentedly let the years slip by and make no effort to repay, then thou hast but the contemptible soul of a slave. No man is otherwise who cannot respect himself and no man can respect himself who does not repay honest debts.’
“’But what can I do who am a slave in Syria?’
“’Stay a slave in Syria, thou weakling.’
“’I am not a weakling,’ I denied hotly.
“’Then prove it.’
“’How?’
“’Does not thy great king fight his enemies in every way he can and with every force he has? Thy debt are thy enemies. They ran thee out of Babylon. You left them alone and they grew too strong for thee. Hadst fought them as a man, thou couldst have conquered them and been one honoured among the townspeople. But thou had not the soul to fight them and behold thy pride hast gone down until thou art a slave in Syria.’
“Much I thought over her unkind accusations and many defensive phrases I worded to prove myself not a slave at heart, but I was not to have the chance to use them. Three days later the maid of Sira took me to her mistress.
“’My mother is again very sick,’ she said. ‘Saddle the two best camels in my husband’s herd. Tie on water skins and saddle bags for a long journey. The maid will give thee food at the kitchen tent.’ I packed the camels wondering much at the quantity of provisions the maid provided, for the mother dwelt less than a day’s journey away. The maid rode the rear camel which I followed and I led the camel of my mistress. When we reached her mother’s house it was just dark. Sira dismissed the maid and said to me:
“’Dabasir, hast thou the soul of a free man or the soul of a slave?’
“’The soul of a free man,” I insisted.
“’Now is thy chance to prove it. Thy master hath imbibed deeply and his chiefs are in a stupor.
Take then these camels and make thy escape. Here in this bag is raiment of thy master’s to disguise thee. I will say thou stole the camels and ran away while I visited my sick mother.
“’Thou hast the soul of a queen,’ I told her. ‘Much do I wish that I might lead thee to happiness.’
“’Happiness,’ she responded, ‘awaits not the runaway wife who seeks it in far lands among strange people. Go thy own way and may the gods of the desert protect thee for the way is far and barren of food or water.’
“I needed no further urging, but thanked her warmly and was away into the night. I knew not this strange country and had only a dim idea of the direction in which lay Babylon, but struck out bravely across the desert toward the hills. One camel I rode and the other I led. All that night I traveled and all the next day, urged on by the knowledge of the terrible fate that was meted out to slaves who stole their master’s property and tried to escape.
“Late that afternoon, I reached a rough country as uninhabitable as the desert. The sharp rocks bruised the feet of my faithful camels and soon they were picking their way slowly and painfully along. I met neither man nor beast and could well understand why they shunned this inhospitable land.
“It was such a journey from then on as few men live to tell of. Day after day we plodded along. Food and water gave out. The heat of the sun was merciless. At the end of the ninth day, I slid from the back of my mount with the feeling that I was too weak to ever remount and I would surely die, lost in this abandoned country.
“I stretched out upon the ground and slept, not waking until the first gleam of daylight.
“I sat up and looked about me. There was a coolness in the morning air. My camels lay dejected not far away. About me was a vast waste of broken country covered with rock and sand and thorny things, no sign of water, naught to eat for man or camel.
“Could it be that in this peaceful quiet I faced my end? My mind was clearer than it had ever been before. My body now seemed of little importance. My parched and bleeding lips, my dry and swollen tongue, my empty stomach, all had lost their supreme agonies of the day before.
“I looked across into the uninviting distance and once again came to me the question, ‘Have I the soul of a slave or the soul of a free man?’ Then with clearness I realized that if I had the soul of a slave, I should give it up, lie down in the desert and die, a fitting end for a runaway slave.
“But if I had the soul of a free man, what then? Surely I would force my way back to Babylon, repay the people who had trusted me, bring happiness to my wife who truly loved me and bring peace and contentment to my parents.
“’Thy debts are thine enemies who have run thee out of Babylon,’ Sira had said. Yes it was so. Why had I refused to stand my ground like a man? Why had I permitted my wife to go back to her father?
“Then a strange thing happened. All the world seemed to be of a different colour as though I had been looking at it through a coloured stone which had suddenly been removed. At last I saw the true values in life.
“Die in the desert! Not I! With a new vision, I saw the things that I must do. First I would go back to Babylon and face very man to whom I owed an unpaid debt. I should tell them that after years of wandering and misfortune, I had come back to pay my debts as fast as the gods would permit. Next I should make a home for my wife and become a citizen of whom my parents should be proud.
“My debts were my enemies, but the men I owed were my friends for they had trusted me and believed in me.
“I staggered weakly to my feet. What mattered hunger? What mattered thirst? They were but incidents on the road to Babylon. Within me surged the soul of a free man going back to conquer his enemies and reward his friends. I thrilled with the great resolve.
“The glazed eyes of my camels brightened at the new note in my husky voice. With great effort, after many attempts, they gained their feet. With pitiful perseverance, they pushed on toward the north where something within me said we would find Babylon.
“We found water. We passed into a more fertile country where were grass and fruit. We found the trail to Babylon because the soul of a free man looks at life as a series of problems to be solved and solves them, while the soul of a slave whines, ‘What can I do who am but a slave?’
“How about thee, Tarkad? Dost thy empty stomach make thy head exceedingly clear? Art ready to take the road that leads back to self respect? Canst thou see the world in its true colour? Hast thou the desire to pay thy honest debts, however many they may be, and once again be a man respected in Babylon?”
Moisture came to the eyes of the youth. He rose eagerly to his knees. “Thou has shown me a vision; already I feel the soul of a free man surge within me.”
“But how fared you upon your return? Questioned an interested listener.
“Where the determination is, the way can be found,” Dabasir replied. “I now had the determination so I set out to find a way. First I visited every man to whom I was indebted and begged his indulgence until I could earn that with which to repay. Most of them met me gladly. Several reviled me but others offered to help me; One indeed did give me the very help I needed. It was Mathon, the gold lender. Learning that I had been a camel trader in Syria; he sent me to old Nebatur, the camel trader, just commissioned by our good king to purchase many herds of sound camels for the great expedition. With him, my knowledge of camels I put to good use. Gradually I was able to repay every copper and every piece of silver. Then at last I could hold up my head and feel that I was an honourable man among men.”
Again Dabasir turned to his food. “Kauskor, thou snail,” he called loudly to be heard in the kitchen, “the food is cold. Bring me more meat fresh from the roasting. Bring thou also a very large portion for Tarkad, the son of my old friend, who is hungry and shall eat with me.”
So ended the tale of Dabasir the camel trader of old Babylon. He found his own soul when he realized a great truth, a truth that had been known and used by wise men long before his time.
It has led men of all ages out of difficulties and into success and it will continue to do so for those who have the wisdom to understand its magic power. It is for any man to use who reads these lines.
WHERE THE DETERMINATION IS, THE WAY CAN BE FOUND
The Richest Man In Babylon, The Walls of Babylon
HH: Protect your property.
The Walls of Babylon
Old Banzar, grim warrior of another day, stood guard at the passageway leading up to the top of the ancient walls of Babylon. Up above, valiant defenders were battling to hold the walls. Upon them depended the future existence of this great city with its hundreds of thousands of citizens.
Over the walls came the roar of the attacking armies, the yelling of many men, the trampling of thousands of horses, the deafening boom of the battering rams pounding the bronzed gates.
In the street behind the gate lounged the spearmen, waiting to defend the entrance should the gates give way. They were but few for the task. The main armies of Babylon were with their king, far away in the east on the great expedition against the Elamites. No attack upon the city having been anticipated during their absence, the defending forces were small. Unexpectedly, from the north, bore down the mighty armies of the Assyrians. And now the walls must hold or Babylon was doomed.
About Banzar were great crowds of citizens, white-faced and terrified, eagerly seeking news of the battle. With hushed awe they viewed the stream of wounded and dead being carried or led out of the passageway.
Here was the crucial point of attack. After three days of circling the city, the enemy had suddenly thrown his great strength against this section and this gate.
The defenders from the top of the wall fought off the climbing platforms and the scaling ladders of the attackers with arrows, burning oil and, if any reached the top, spears. Against the defenders, thousands of the enemy’s archers poured a deadly barrage of arrows.
Old Banzar had the vantage point for news. He was closest to the conflict and first to hear of each fresh repulse of the frenzied attackers.
An elderly merchant crowded close to him, his palsied hands quivering. “Tell me! Tell me!” he pleaded. “They cannot get in. My sons ar ewith the good king. There is no one to protect my old wife. My goods, they will steal all. My food, they will leave nothing. We are old, too old to defend ourselves --too old for slaves. We shall starve. We shall die. Tell me they cannot get in.”
“Calm thyself, good merchant,” the guard responded. “The walls of Babylon are strong. Go back to the bazaar and tell your wife that the walls will protect you and all of your possessions as safely as they protect the rich treasures of the king. Keep close to the walls, lest the arrows flying over strike you!”
A woman with a babe in arms took the old man’s place as he withdrew. “Sergeant, what news from the top? Tell me truly that I may reassure my poor husband. He lies with fever from his terrible wounds, yet insists upon his armour and his spear to protect me, who am with child. Terrible he says will be the vengeful lust of our enemies should they break in.”
“Be thou of good heart, thou mother that is, and is again to be, the walls of Babylon will protect you and your babes. They are high and strong. Hear ye not the yells of our valiant defenders as they empty the caldrons of burning oil upon the ladder scalers?”
“Yes, that do I hear and also the roar of the battering rams that do hammer at our gates.”
“Back to thy husband. Tell him the gates are strong and withstand the rams. Also that the scalers climb the walls but to receive the waiting spear thrust. Watch thy way and hasten behind yon buildings.”
Banzar stepped aside to clear the passage for heavily armoured reinforcements. As, with clanking bronze shields and heavy tread, they tramped by, a small girl plucked at his girdle.
“Tell me please, soldier, are we safe?” she pleaded. “I hear the awful noises. I see the men all bleeding. I am so frightened. What will become of our family, of my mother, little brother and the baby?”
The grim old campaigner blinked his eyes and thrust forward his chin as he beheld the child.
“Be not afraid, little one,” he reassured her. “The walls of Babylon will protect you and mother and little brother and the baby. It was for the safety of such as you that the good Queen Semiramis built them over a hundred years ago. Never have they been broken through. Go back and tell your mother and little brother and the baby that the walls of Babylon will protect them and they need have no fear.”
Day after day old Banzar stood at his post and watched the reinforcements file up the passageway, there to stay and fight until wounded or dead they came down once more. Around him, unceasingly crowded the throngs of frightened citizens eagerly seeking to learn if the walls would hold. To all he gave his answer with the fine dignity of an old soldier, “The walls of Babylon will protect you.”
For three weeks and five days the attack waged with scarcely ceasing violence. Harder and grimmer set the jaw of Banzar as the passage behind, wet with the blood of the many wounded, was churned into mud by the never ceasing streams of men passing up and staggering down. Each day the slaughtered attackers piled up in heaps before the wall. Each night they were carried back and buried by their comrades.
Upon the fifth night of the fourth week the clamour without diminished. The first streaks of daylight, illuminating the plains, disclosed the great clouds of dust raised by the retreating armies.
A mighty shout went up from the defenders. There was no mistaking its meaning. It was repeated by the waiting troops behind the walls. It was echoed by the citizens upon the streets. It swept over the city with the violence of a storm.
People rushed from the houses. The streets were jammed with a throbbing mob. The pent-up fear of weeks found an outlet in the wild chorus of joy. From the top of the high tower of the Temple of Bel burst forth the flames of victory. Skyward floated the column of blue smoke to carry the message far and wide.
The walls of Babylon had once again repulsed a mighty and vicious foe determined to loot her rich treasures and to ravish and enslave her citizens.
Babylon endured century after century because it was fully protected. It could not afford to be otherwise.
The walls of Babylon were an outstanding example of man’s need and desire for protection. This desire is inherent in the human race. It is just as strong today as it ever was, but we have developed broader and better plans to accomplish the same purpose.
In this day, behind the impregnable walls of insurance, savings accounts and dependable investments, we can guard ourselves against the unexpected tragedies that may enter any door and seat themselves before any fireside.
WE CANNOT AFFORD TO BE WITHOUT ADEQUATE PROTECTION
The Walls of Babylon
Old Banzar, grim warrior of another day, stood guard at the passageway leading up to the top of the ancient walls of Babylon. Up above, valiant defenders were battling to hold the walls. Upon them depended the future existence of this great city with its hundreds of thousands of citizens.
Over the walls came the roar of the attacking armies, the yelling of many men, the trampling of thousands of horses, the deafening boom of the battering rams pounding the bronzed gates.
In the street behind the gate lounged the spearmen, waiting to defend the entrance should the gates give way. They were but few for the task. The main armies of Babylon were with their king, far away in the east on the great expedition against the Elamites. No attack upon the city having been anticipated during their absence, the defending forces were small. Unexpectedly, from the north, bore down the mighty armies of the Assyrians. And now the walls must hold or Babylon was doomed.
About Banzar were great crowds of citizens, white-faced and terrified, eagerly seeking news of the battle. With hushed awe they viewed the stream of wounded and dead being carried or led out of the passageway.
Here was the crucial point of attack. After three days of circling the city, the enemy had suddenly thrown his great strength against this section and this gate.
The defenders from the top of the wall fought off the climbing platforms and the scaling ladders of the attackers with arrows, burning oil and, if any reached the top, spears. Against the defenders, thousands of the enemy’s archers poured a deadly barrage of arrows.
Old Banzar had the vantage point for news. He was closest to the conflict and first to hear of each fresh repulse of the frenzied attackers.
An elderly merchant crowded close to him, his palsied hands quivering. “Tell me! Tell me!” he pleaded. “They cannot get in. My sons ar ewith the good king. There is no one to protect my old wife. My goods, they will steal all. My food, they will leave nothing. We are old, too old to defend ourselves --too old for slaves. We shall starve. We shall die. Tell me they cannot get in.”
“Calm thyself, good merchant,” the guard responded. “The walls of Babylon are strong. Go back to the bazaar and tell your wife that the walls will protect you and all of your possessions as safely as they protect the rich treasures of the king. Keep close to the walls, lest the arrows flying over strike you!”
A woman with a babe in arms took the old man’s place as he withdrew. “Sergeant, what news from the top? Tell me truly that I may reassure my poor husband. He lies with fever from his terrible wounds, yet insists upon his armour and his spear to protect me, who am with child. Terrible he says will be the vengeful lust of our enemies should they break in.”
“Be thou of good heart, thou mother that is, and is again to be, the walls of Babylon will protect you and your babes. They are high and strong. Hear ye not the yells of our valiant defenders as they empty the caldrons of burning oil upon the ladder scalers?”
“Yes, that do I hear and also the roar of the battering rams that do hammer at our gates.”
“Back to thy husband. Tell him the gates are strong and withstand the rams. Also that the scalers climb the walls but to receive the waiting spear thrust. Watch thy way and hasten behind yon buildings.”
Banzar stepped aside to clear the passage for heavily armoured reinforcements. As, with clanking bronze shields and heavy tread, they tramped by, a small girl plucked at his girdle.
“Tell me please, soldier, are we safe?” she pleaded. “I hear the awful noises. I see the men all bleeding. I am so frightened. What will become of our family, of my mother, little brother and the baby?”
The grim old campaigner blinked his eyes and thrust forward his chin as he beheld the child.
“Be not afraid, little one,” he reassured her. “The walls of Babylon will protect you and mother and little brother and the baby. It was for the safety of such as you that the good Queen Semiramis built them over a hundred years ago. Never have they been broken through. Go back and tell your mother and little brother and the baby that the walls of Babylon will protect them and they need have no fear.”
Day after day old Banzar stood at his post and watched the reinforcements file up the passageway, there to stay and fight until wounded or dead they came down once more. Around him, unceasingly crowded the throngs of frightened citizens eagerly seeking to learn if the walls would hold. To all he gave his answer with the fine dignity of an old soldier, “The walls of Babylon will protect you.”
For three weeks and five days the attack waged with scarcely ceasing violence. Harder and grimmer set the jaw of Banzar as the passage behind, wet with the blood of the many wounded, was churned into mud by the never ceasing streams of men passing up and staggering down. Each day the slaughtered attackers piled up in heaps before the wall. Each night they were carried back and buried by their comrades.
Upon the fifth night of the fourth week the clamour without diminished. The first streaks of daylight, illuminating the plains, disclosed the great clouds of dust raised by the retreating armies.
A mighty shout went up from the defenders. There was no mistaking its meaning. It was repeated by the waiting troops behind the walls. It was echoed by the citizens upon the streets. It swept over the city with the violence of a storm.
People rushed from the houses. The streets were jammed with a throbbing mob. The pent-up fear of weeks found an outlet in the wild chorus of joy. From the top of the high tower of the Temple of Bel burst forth the flames of victory. Skyward floated the column of blue smoke to carry the message far and wide.
The walls of Babylon had once again repulsed a mighty and vicious foe determined to loot her rich treasures and to ravish and enslave her citizens.
Babylon endured century after century because it was fully protected. It could not afford to be otherwise.
The walls of Babylon were an outstanding example of man’s need and desire for protection. This desire is inherent in the human race. It is just as strong today as it ever was, but we have developed broader and better plans to accomplish the same purpose.
In this day, behind the impregnable walls of insurance, savings accounts and dependable investments, we can guard ourselves against the unexpected tragedies that may enter any door and seat themselves before any fireside.
WE CANNOT AFFORD TO BE WITHOUT ADEQUATE PROTECTION
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
The Richest Man In Babylon, The Gold Lender Of Babylon
HH: Good loans, bad loans.
The Gold Lender of Babylon
Fifty pieces of gold! Never before had Rodan, the spearmaker of old Babylon, carried so much gold in his leather wallet. Happily down the king’s highway from the palace of his most liberal Majesty he strode. Cheerfully the gold clinked as the wallet at his belt swayed with each step --the sweetest music he had ever heard.
Fifty pieces of gold! All his! He could hardly realize his good fortune. What power in those clinking discs! They could purchase anything he wanted, a grand house, land, cattle, camels, horses, chariots, whatever he might desire.
What use should he make of it? This evening as he turned into a side street towards the home of his sister, he could think of nothing he would rather possess than those same glittering, heavy pieces of gold --his to keep.
It was upon an evening some days later that a perplexed Rodan entered the shop of Mathon, the lender of gold and dealer in jewels and rare fabrics. Glancing neither to the right nor the left at the colourful articles artfully displayed, he passed through to the living quarters at the rear. Here he found the genteel Mathon lounging upon a rug partaking of a meal served by a black slave.
“I would counsel with thee for I know not what to do.” Rodan stood stolidly, feet apart, hairy breast exposed by the gaping front of his leather jacket.
Mathon’s narrow, sallow face smiled a friendly greeting. “What indiscretions hast thou done that thou shouldst seek the lender of gold? Hast been unlucky at the gaming table? Or hath some plump dame entangled thee? For many years have I known thee, yet never hast thou sought me to aid thee in thy troubles.”
“No, no. Not such as that. I seek no gold. Instead I crave thy wise advice.”
“Hear! Hear! What this man doth say. No one comes to the lender of gold for advice. My ears must play me false.”
“They listen true.”
“Can this be so? Rodan, the spear maker, doth display more cunning than all the rest, for he comes to Mathon, not for gold, but for advice. Many men come to me for gold to pay for their follies, but as for advice, they want it not. Yet who is more able to advise than the lender of gold to whom many men come in trouble?
“Thou shalt eat with me, Rodan,” he continued. “Thou shalt be my guest for the evening. Ando!” he commanded of the black slave, “draw up a rug for my friend, Rodan, the spear maker, who comes for advice. He shall be mine honoured guest. Bring to him much food and get for him my largest cup. Choose well of the best wine that he may have satisfaction in the drinking.
“Now, tell me what troubles thee.”
“It is the king’s gift.”
“The king’s gift? The king did make thee a gift and it gives thee trouble? What manner of gift?”
“Because he was much pleased with the design I did submit to him for a new point on the spears of the royal guard, he did present me with fifty pieces of gold, and now I am much perplexed.
“I am beseeched each hour the sun doth travel across the sky by those who would share it with me.”
“That is natural. More men want gold than have it, and would wish one who comes by it easily to divide. But can you not say ‘No?’ Is thy will not as strong as thy fist?”
“To many I can say no, yet sometimes it would be easier to say yes. Can one refuse to share with one’s sister to whom he is deeply devoted?”
“Surely, thy own sister would not wish to deprive thee of enjoying thy reward.”
“But it is for the sake of Araman, her husband, whom she wishes to see a rich merchant. She does feel that he has never had a chance and she beseeches me to loan him this gold that he may become a prosperous merchant and repay me from his profits.”
“My friend,” resumed Mathon, “’tis a worthy subject thou bringest to discuss. Gold bringeth unto its possessor responsibility and a changed position with his fellow men. It bringeth fear lest he lose it or it be tricked away from him. It bringeth a feeling of power and ability to do good. Likewise, it bringeth opportunities whereby his very good intentions may bring him into difficulties.
“Didst ever hear of the farmer of Nineveh who could understand the language of animals? I wot not, for ‘tis not the kind of tale men like to tell over the bronze caster’s forge. I will tell it to thee for thou shouldst know that to borrowing and lending there is more than the passing of gold from the hands of one to the hands of another.
“This farmer, who could understand what the animals said to each other, did linger in the farm yard each evening just to listen to their words. One evening he did hear the ox bemoaning to the ass the hardness of his lot: ‘I do labour pulling the plow from morning until night. No matter how hot the day, or how tired my legs, or how the bow doth chafe my neck, still I must work. But you are a creature of leisure. You are trapped with a colourful blanket and do nothing more than carry our master about where he wishes to go. When he goes nowhere you do rest and eat the green grass all the day.’
“”Now the ass, in spite of his vicious heels, was a goodly fellow and sympathized with the ox. ‘My good friend, he replied, ‘you do work very hard and I would help ease your lot. Therefore, will I tell you how you may have a day of rest. In the morning when the slave comes to fetch you to the plow, lie upon the ground and bellow much that he may say you are sick and cannot work.’
“So the ox took the advice of the ass and the next morning the slave returned to the farmer and told him the ox was sick and could not pull the plow.
“’Then,’ said the farmer, ‘hitch the ass to the plow for the plowing must go on.’
“All that day the ass, who had only intended to help his friend, found himself compelled to do the ox’s task. When night came and he was released from the plow his heart was bitter and his legs were weary and his neck was sore where the bow had chafed it.
“The farmer lingered in the barnyard to listen.
“The ox began first. ‘You are my good friend. Because of your wise advice I have enjoyed a day of rest.’
“’And I,’ retorted the ass, ‘am like many another simplehearted one who starts to help a friend and ends up by doing his task for him. Hereafter you draw your own plow, for I did hear the master tell the slave to send for the butcher were you sick again. I wish he would, for you are a lazy fellow.’ Thereafter they spoke to each other no more --this ended their friendship. Canst thou tell the moral to this tale, Rodan?”
“’Tis a good tale,” responded Rodan, “but I see not the moral.”
“I thought not that you would. But it is there and simple too. Just this: If you desire to help thy friend, do so in a way that will not bring thy friend’s burdens upon thyself.”
“I had not thought of that. It is a wise moral. I wish not to assume the burdens of my sister’s husband. But tell me. You lend to many. Do not the borrowers repay?”
Mathon smiled the smile of one whose soul is rich with much experience. “Could a loan be well made if the borrower cannot repay? Must not the lender be wise and judge carefully whether his gold can perform a useful purpose to the borrower and return to him once more; or whether it will be wasted by one unable to use it wisely and leave him without his treasure, and leave the borrower with a debt he cannot repay? I will show to thee the tokens in my token chest and let them tell thee some of their stories.”
Into the room he brought a chest as long as his arm covered with red pigskin and ornamented with bronze designs. He placed it upon the floor and squatted before it, both hands upon the lid.
“From each person to whom I lend, I do exact a token for my token chest, to remain there until the loan is repaid. When they repay I give back, but if they never repay it will always remind me of one who was not faithful to my confidence.
“The safest loans, my token box tells me, are to those whose possessions are of more value than the one they desire. They own lands, or jewels, or camels, or other things which could be sold to repay the loan. Some of the tokens given to me are jewels of more value than the loan. Others are promises that if the loan be not repaid as agreed they will deliver to me certain property settlement. On loans like those I am assured that my gold will be returned with the rental thereon, for the loan is based on property.
“In another class are those who have the capacity to earn. They are such as you, who labour or serve and are paid. They have income and if they are honest and suffer no misfortune, I know that they also can repay the gold I loan them and the rental to which I am entitled. Such loans are based on human effort.
“Others are those who have neither property nor assured earning capacity. Life is hard and there will always be some who cannot adjust themselves to it. Alas for the loans I make them, even though they be no larger than a pence, my token box may censure me in the years to come unless they be guaranteed by good friends of the borrower who know him honourable.”
Mathon released the clasp and opened the lid. Rodan leaned forward eagerly.
At the top of the chest a bronze neck-piece lay upon a scarlet cloth. Mathon picked up the piece and patted it affectionately. “This shall always remain in my token chest because the owner has passed on into the great darkness. I treasure, it, his token, and I treasure his memory; for he was my good friend. We traded together with much success until out of the east he brought a woman to wed, beautiful, but not like our women. A dazzling creature. He spent his gold lavishly to gratify her desires. He came to me in distress when his gold was gone. I counselled with him. I told him I would help him to once more master his own affairs. He swore by the sign of the Great Bull that he would. But it was not to be. In a quarrel she thrust a knife into the heart he dared her to pierce.”
“And she?” questioned Rodan.
“Yes, of course, this was hers.” He picked up the scarlet cloth. “In bitter remorse she threw herself into the Euphrates. These two loans will never be repaid. The chest tells you, Rodan, that humans in the throes of great emotions are not safe risks for the gold lender.
“Here! Now this is different.” He reached for a ring carved of ox bone. “This belongs to a farmer. I buy the rugs of his women. The locusts came and they had not food. I helped him and when the new crop came he repaid me. Later he came again and told of strange goats in a distant land as described by a traveler. They had long hair so fine and soft it would weave into rugs more beautiful than any ever seen in Babylon. He wanted a herd but he had no money. So I did lend him gold to make the journey and bring back goats. Now his herd is begun and next year I shall surprise the lords of Babylon with the most expensive rugs it has been their good fortune to buy. Soon I must return his ring. He doth insist on repaying promptly.”
“Some borrowers do that?” queried Rodan.
“If they borrow for purposes that bring money back to them, I find it so. But if they borrow because of their indiscretions, I warn thee to be cautious if thou wouldst ever have thy gold back in hand again.”
“Tell me about this,” requested Rodan, picking up a heavy gold bracelet inset with jewels in rare designs.
“The women do appeal to my good friend,” bantered Mathon.
“I am still much younger than you,” retorted Rodan.
“I grant that, but this time thou doth suspicion romance where it not. The owner of this is fat and wrinkled and doth talk so much and say so little she drives me mad. Once they had much money and were good customers, but ill times came upon them. She has a son of whom she would make a merchant. So she came to me and borrowed gold that he might become a partner of a caravan owner who travels with his camels bartering in one city what he buys in another.
“This man proved a rascal for he left the poor boy in a distant city without money and without friends, pulling out early while the youth slept. Perhaps when this youth has grown to manhood, he will repay; until then I get no rental for the loan --only much talk. But I do admit the jewels are worthy of the loan.”
“Did this lady ask thy advice as to the wisdom of the loan?”
“Quite otherwise. She had pictured to herself this son of hers as a wealthy and powerful man of Babylon. To suggest the contrary was to infuriate her. A fair rebuke I had. I knew the risk for this inexperienced boy, but as she offered security I could not refuse her.
“This,” continued Mathon, waving a bit of pack rope tied into a knot, “belongs to Nebatur, the camel trader. When he would buy a herd larger than his funds he brings to me this knot and I lend to him according to his needs. He is a wise trader. I have confidence in his good judgment and can lend him freely. Many other merchants of Babylon have my confidence because of their honourable behaviour. Their tokens come and go frequently in my token box. Good merchants are an asset to our city and it profits me to aid them to keep trade moving that Babylon be prosperous.”
Mathon picked out a beetle carved in turquoise and tossed in contemptuously on the floor. “A bug from Egypt. The lad who owns this does not care whether I ever receive back my gold. When I reproach him he replies, ‘How can I repay when ill fate pursues me? You have plenty more.’ What can I do? The token is his father’s --a worthy man of small means who did pledge his land and herd to back his son’s enterprises. The youth found success at first and then was overzealous to gain great wealth. His knowledge was immature. His enterprises collapsed.
“Youth is ambitious. Youth would take short cuts to wealth and the desirable things for which it stands. To secure wealth quickly youth often borrows unwisely. Youth, never having had experience, cannot realize that hopeless debt is like a deep it into which one may descend quickly and where one may struggle vainly for many days. It is a pit of sorrow and regrets where the brightness of the sun is overcast and night is made unhappy by restless sleeping. Yet, I do not discourage borrowing gold. I encourage it. I recommend it if it be for a wise purpose. I myself made my first real success as a merchant with borrowed gold.
“Yet, what should the lender do in such a case? The youth is in despair and accomplishes nothing. He is discouraged. He makes no effort to repay. My heart turns against depriving the father of his land and cattle.”
“You tell me much that I am interested to hear,” ventured Rodan, “but, I hear no answer to my question. Should I lend my fifty pieces of gold to my sister’s husband? They mean much to me.”
“Thy sister is a sterling woman whom I do much esteem. Should her husband come to me and ask to borrow fifty pieces of gold I should ask him for what purpose he would use it.
“If he answered that he desired to become a merchant like myself and deal in jewels and rich furnishings. I would say, ‘What knowledge have you of the ways of trade? Do you know where you can buy at lower cost? Do you know where you can sell at a fair price?’ Could he say ‘Yes’ to these questions?”
“No, he could not,” Rodan admitted. “He has helped me much in making spears and he has helped some in the shops.”
“Then, would I say to him that his purpose was not wise. Merchants must learn their trade. His ambition, though worthy, is not practical and I would not lend him any gold.
“
But, supposing he could say: ‘Yes, I have helped merchants much. I know how to travel to Smyrna and to buy at low costs the rugs the housewives weave. I also know many of the rich people of Babylon to whom I can sell these at a large profit.’ Then I would say: ‘Your purpose is wise and your ambition honourable. I shall be glad to lend you the fifty pieces of gold if you can give me security that they will be returned.” But would he say, ‘I have no security other than that I am an honoured man and will pay you well for the loan.’ Then would I reply, ‘I treasure much each piece of gold. Were the robbers to take it from you as you journeyed to Smyrna or take the rugs from you as you returned, then you would hae no means of repaying me and my gold would be gone.’
“Gold, you see, Rodan, is the merchandise of the lender of money. It is easy to lend. If it is lent unwisely then it is difficult to get back. The wise lender wishes not the risk of the undertaking but the guarantee of safe repayment.
“’Tis well,” he continued, “to assist those that are in trouble, ‘this well to help those upon whom fate has laid a heavy hand. ‘Tis well to help those who are starting that they may progress and become valuable citizens. But help must be given wisely, lest, like the farmer’s ass, in our desire to help we but take upon ourselves the burden that belongs to another.
“Again I wandered from thy question, Rodan, but hear my answer: Keep thy fifty pieces of gold. What thy labour earns for thee and what is given thee for reward is thine own and no man can put an obligation upon thee to part with it unless it do be thy wish. If thee wouldst lend it so that it may earn thee more gold, then lend with caution and in many places. I like not idle gold, even less I like too much of risk.
“How many years hast thou laboured as a spearmaker?”
“Fully three.”
“How much besides the King’s gift hast saved?”
“Three gold pieces.”
“Each year that thou hast laboured thou has denied thyself good things to save from thine earnings one piece of gold?”
“’Tis as you say.”
“Then mightest save in fifty years of labour fifty pieces of gold by thy self-denial?”
“A lifetime of labour it would be.”
“Thinkest thou thy sister would wish to jeopardize the savings of fifty years of labour over the bronze melting pot that her husband might experiment on being a merchant?”
“Not if I spoke in your words.”
“Then go to her and say: ‘Three years I have laboured each day except fast days, from morning until night, and I have denied myself many things that my heart craved. For each year of labour and self-denial I have to show one piece of gold. Thou art my favoured sister and I wish that thy husband may engage in business in which he will prosper greatly. If he will submit to me a plan that seems wise and possible to my friend, Mathon, then will I gladly lend him my savings of an entire year that he may have an opportunity to prove that he can succeed.’ Do that, I say, and if he was within him the soul to succeed he can prove it. If he fails he will not owe thee more than he can hope some day to repay.
“I am a gold lender because I own more gold than I can use in my own trade. I desire my surplus gold to labour for others and thereby earn more gold. I do not wish to take risk of losing my gold for I have laboured much and denied myself much to secure it. Therefore, I will no longer lend any of it where I am not confident that it is safe and will be returned to me. Neither will I lend it where I am not convinced that its earnings will be promptly paid to me.
“I have told to thee, Rodan, a few of the secrets of my token chest. From them you may understand the weakness of men and their eagerness to borrow that which they have no certain means to repay. From this you can see how often their high hopes of the great earnings they could make, if they but had gold, are but false hopes they have not the ability or training to fulfill.
“Thou, Rodan, now have gold which thou shouldst put to earning more gold for thee. Thou art about to become even as I, a gold lender. If thou dost safely preserve thy treasure it will produce liberal earnings for thee and be a rich source of pleasure and profit during all thy days. But if thou dost let it escape from thee, it will be a source of constant sorrow and regret as long as thy memory doth last.
“What desirest thou most of this gold in thy wallet?”
“To keep it safe.”
“Wisely spoken,” replied Mathon approvingly. “Thy first desire is for safety. Thinkest thou that in the custody of thy sister’s husband it would be truly safe from possible loss?”
“I fear not, for he is not wise in guarding gold.”
“Then be not swayed by foolish sentiments of obligation to trust thy treasure to any person. If thou wouldst help thy family or thy friends, find other ways than risking the loss of thy treasure. Forget not that gold slippeth away in unexpected ways from those unskilled in guarding it. As well waste thy treasure in extravagance as let others lose it for thee.
“What next after safety dost desire of this treasure of thine?”
“That it earn more gold.”
“Again thou speakest with wisdom. It should be made to earn and grow larger. Gold wisely lent may even double itself with its earnings before a man like you groweth old.. If you risk losing it you risk losing all that it would earn as well.
“Therefore, be not swayed by the fantastic plans of impractical men who think they see ways to force thy gold to make earnings unusually large. Such plans are the creations of dreamers unskilled in the safe and dependable laws of trade. Be conservative in what thou expect it to earn that thou mayest keep and enjoy thy treasure. To hire it out with a promise of usurious returns is to invite loss.
“Seek to associate thyself with men and enterprises whose success is established that thy treasure may earn liberally under their skilful use and be guarded safely by their wisdom and experience.
“Thus, mayest thou avoid the misfortunes that follow most of the sons of men to whom the gods see fit to entrust gold.”
When Rodan would thank him for his wise advice he would not listen, saying, “The king’s gift shall teach thee much wisdom. If wouldst keep thy fifty pieces of gold thou must be discreet indeed. Many uses will tempt thee. Much advice will be spoken to thee. Numerous opportunities to make large profits will be offered thee. The stories from my token box should warn thee, before thou let any piece of gold leave thy pouch to be sure that thou hast a safe way to pull it back again. Should my further advice appeal to thee, return again. It is gladly given.
“’E’re thou goest read this which I have carved beneath the lid of my token box. It applies equally to the borrower and the lender:
BETTER A LITTLE CAUTION THAN A GREAT REGRET
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
The Richest Man In Babylon, Meet The Goddess Of Good Luck
Meet the Goddess of Good Luck
“If a man be lucky, there is no foretelling the possible extent of his good fortune. Pitch him into the Euphrates and like as not he will swim out with a pearl in his hand.”
-Babylonian Proverb.
The desire to be lucky is universal. It was just as strong in the breasts of men four thousand years ago in ancient Babylon as it is in the hearts of men today. We all hope to be favoured by the whimsical Goddess of Good Luck. Is there some way we can meet her and attract, not only her favourable attention, but her generous favours?
Is there a way to attract good luck?
That is just what the men of ancient Babylon wished to know. It is exactly what they decided to find out. They were shrewd men and keen thinkers. That explains why their city became the richest and most powerful city of their time.
In that distant past, they had no schools or colleges. Nevertheless they had a center of learning and a very practical one it was. Among the towered buildings in Babylon was one that ranked in importance with the Palace of the King, the Hanging Gardens and the temples of the Gods. You will find scant mention of it in the history books, more likely no mention at all, yet it exerted a powerful influence upon the thought of that time.
This building was the Temple of Learning where the wisdom of the past was expounded by voluntary teachers and where subjects of popular interest were discussed in open forums. Within its walls all men met as equals. The humblest of slaves could dispute with impunity the opinions of a prince of the royal house.
Among the many who frequented the Temple of Learning, was a wise rich man named Arkad, called the richest man in Babylon. He had his own special hall where almost any evening a large group of men, some old, some very young, but mostly middle-aged, gathered to discuss and argue interesting subjects. Suppose we listen in to see whether they knew how to attract good luck.
The sun had just set like a great red ball of fire shining through the haze of desert dust when Arkad strolled to his accustomed platform. Already full four score men were awaiting his arrival, reclining on their small rugs spread upon the floor. More were still arriving.
“What shall we discuss this night?” Arkad inquired.
After a brief hesitation, a tall cloth weaver addressed him, arising as was the custom. “I have a subject I would like to hear discussed yet hesitate to offer lest it seem ridiculous to you, Arkad, and my good friends here.”
Upon being urged to offer it, both Arkad and by calls from the others, he continued: “This day I have been lucky, for I have found a purse in which there are pieces of gold. To continue to be lucky is my great desire. Feeling that all men share with me this desire, I do suggest we debate how to attract good luck that we may discover ways it can be enticed to one.”
“A most interesting subject has been offered,” Arkad commented, “one most worthy of our discussion. To some men, good luck bespeaks but a chance happening that, like an accident, may befall one without purpose or reason. Others do believe that the instigator of all good fortune is our most bounteous goddess, Ashtar, ever anxious to reward with generous gifts those who please her. Speak up, my friends, what say you, shall we seek to find if there be means by which good luck may be enticed to visit each and all of us?”
“Yea! Yea! And much of it!” responded the growing group of eager listeners.
Thereupon Arkad continued, “To start our discussion, let us first hear from those among us who have enjoyed experiences similar to that of the cloth weaver in finding or receiving, without effort upon their part, valuable treasures or jewels.”
There was a pause in which all looked about expecting someone to reply but no one did.
“What, no one?” Arkad said, “then rare indeed must be this kind of good luck. Who now will offer a suggestion as to where we shall continue our search?”
“That I will do,” spoke a well-robed young man, arising. “When a man speaketh of luck is it not natural that his thoughts turn to the gambling tables? Is it not there we find many men courting the favour of the goddess in hope she will bless them with rich winnings?”
As he resumed his seat a voice called, “Do not stop! Continue thy story! Tell us, didst thou find favour with the goddess at the gaming tables? Did she turn the cubes with the red side up so thou filled thy purse at the dealer’s expense or did she permit the blue sides to come up so the dealer raked in thy hard-earned pieces of silver?”
The young man joined the good-natured laughter, then replied, “I am not averse to admitting she seemed not to know I was even there. But how about the rest of you? Have you found her waiting about such places to roll the cubes in your favour? We are eager to hear as well as to learn.”
“A wise start,” broke in Arkad. “We meet here to consider all sides of each question. To ignore the gaming table would be to overlook an instinct common to most men, the love of taking a chance with a small amount of silver in the hope of winning much gold.”
“That doth remind me of the races but yesterday,” called out another listener. “If the goddess frequents the gaming tables, certainly she dost not overlook the races where the gilded chariots and the foaming horses offer far more excitement. Tell us honestly, Arkad, didst she whisper to you to place your bet upon those grey horses from Nineveh yesterday? I was standing just behind thee and could scarce believe my ears when I heard thee place thy bet upon the greys. Thou knowest as well as any of us that no team in all Assyria can beat our beloved bays in a fair race.
“Didst the goddess whisper in they ear to bet upon they greys because at the last turn the inside black would stumble and so interfere with our bays that the greys would win the race and score an unearned victory?”
Arkad smiled indulgently at the banter. “What reason have we to feel the good goddess would take that much interest in any man’s bet upon a horse race? To me she is a goddess of love and dignity whose pleasure it is to aid those who are in need and to reward those who are deserving. I look to find her, not at the gaming tables or the races where men lose more gold than they win but in other places where the doings of men are more worth-while and more worthy of reward.
“In tilling the soil, in honest trading, in all of man’s occupations, there is opportunity to make a profit upon his efforts and his transactions. Perhaps not all the time will he be rewarded because sometimes his judgment may be faulty and other times the winds and the weather may defeat his efforts. Yet, if he persists, he may usually expect to realize his profit. This is so because the chances of profit are always in his favour.
“But, when a man playeth the games, the situation is reversed for the chances of profit are always against him and always in favour of the game keeper. The game is so arranged that it will always favour the keeper. It is his business at which he plans to make a liberal profit for himself from the coins bet by the players. Few players realize how certain are the game keeper’s profits and how uncertain are their own chances to win.
“For example, let us consider wagers placed upon the cube. Each time it is cast we bet which side will be uppermost. If it be the red side the game master pays to us four times our bet. But if any other of the five sides come uppermost, we lost our bet. Thus the figures show that for each cast we have five chances to lose, but because the red pays four for one, we have four chances to win. In a night’s play the game master can expect to keep for his profit one-fifth of all the coins wagered. Can a man expect to win more than occasionally against odds so arranged that he should lose one-fifth of all his bets?”
“Yet some men do win large sums at times,” volunteered one of the listeners.
“Quite so, they do,” Arkad continued. “Realizing this, the question comes to me whether money secured in such ways brings permanent value to those who are thus lucky. Among my acquaintances are many of the successful men of Babylon, yet among them I am unable to name a single one who started his success from such a source.
“You who are gathered here tonight know many more of our substantial citizens. To me it would be of much interest to learn how many of our successful citizens can credit the gaming tables with their start to success. Suppose each of you tell of those you know. What say you?”
After a prolonged silence, a wag ventured, “Wouldst thy inquiry include the game keepers?”
“If you think of no one else,” Arkad responded. “If not one of you can think of anyone else, then how about yourselves? Are there any consistent winners with us who hesitate to advise such a source for their incomes.
His challenge was answered by a series of groans from the rear taken up and spread amid much laughter.
“It would seem we are not seeking good luck in such places as the goddess frequents,” he continued. “Therefore let us explore other fields. We have not found it in picking up lost wallets. Neither have we found it haunting the gaming tables. As to the races, I must confess to have lost far more coins there than I have ever won.
“Now, suppose we consider our trades and businesses. Is it not natural if we conclude a profitable transaction to consider it not good luck but a just reward for our efforts? I am inclined to think we may be overlooking the gifts of the goddess. Perhaps she really does assist us when we do not appreciate her generosity. Who can suggest further discussion?”
Thereupon an elderly merchant arose, smoothing his genteel white robe. “With thy permission, most honourable Arkad and my friends, I offer a suggestion. If, as you have said, we take credit to our industry and ability for our business success, why not consider the successes we almost enjoyed but which escaped us, happenings which would have been most profitable. They would have been rare examples of good luck if they had actually happened. Because they were not brought to fulfillment we cannot consider them as our just rewards. Surely many men here have such experiences to relate.”
“Here is a wise approach,” Arkad approved. “Who among you have had good luck within your grasp only to see it escape?”
Many hands were raised, among them that of the merchant. Arkad motioned to him to speak. “As you suggested this approach, we should like to hear first from you.”
“I will gladly relate a tale,” he resumed, “that doth illustrate how closely unto a man good luck may approach and how blindly he may permit it to escape, much to his loss and later regret.
“Many years ago, when I was a young man, just married and well-started to earning, my father did come one day and urge most strongly that I enter upon an investment. The son of one of his good friends had taken notice of a barren tract of land not far beyond the outer walls of our city. It lay high above the canal where no water could reach it.
“The son of my father’s friend devised a plan to purchase this land, build three large water wheels that could be operated by oxen and thereby raise the life-giving waters to the fertile soil. This accomplished, he planned to divide into small tracts and sell to the residents of the city for herb patches.
“The son of my father’s friend did not possess sufficient gold to complete such an undertaking. Like myself, he was a young man earning a fair sum. His father, like mine, was a man of large family and small means. He, therefore, decided to interest a group of men to enter the enterprise with him. The group was to comprise twelve, each of whom must be a money earner and agree to pay one-tenth of his earnings into the enterprise until the land was made ready for sale. All would then share justly in the profits in proportion to their investment.
“’Thou, my son,’ bespoke my father unto me, ‘art now in thy young manhood. It is my deep desire that thou begin the building of a valuable estate for thyself that thou mayest become respected among men. I desire to see thou profit from a knowledge of the thoughtless mistakes of thy father.”
“’This do I most ardently desire, my father,’ I replied.
“’Then, this do I advise. Do what I should have done at thy age. From thy earnings keep out one-tenth to put into favourable investments. With this one-tenth of thy earnings and what it will also earn, thou canst, before thou art my age, accumulate for thyself a valuable estate.’
“Thy words are words of wisdom, my father. Greatly do I desire riches. Yet there are many uses to which my earnings are called. Therefore, do I hesitate to do as thou dost advise. I am young. There is plenty of time.”
“’So I thought at thy age, yet behold, many years have passed and I have not yet made the beginning.’
“’We live in a different age, my father. I shall avoid thy mistakes.’
“’Opportunity stands before thee, my son. It is offering a chance that may lead to wealth. I beg of thee, do not delay. Go upon the morrow to the son of my friend and bargain with him to pay ten per cent of thy earnings into this investment. Go promptly upon the morrow. Opportunity waits for no man. Today it is here; soon it is gone. Therefore, delay not!’
“In spite of the advice of my father, I did hesitate. There were beautiful new robes just brought by the tradesmen from the East, robes of such richness and beauty my good wife and I felt we must each possess one. Should I agree to pay one-tenth of my earnings into the enterprise, we must deprive ourselves of these and other pleasures we dearly desired. I delayed making a decision until it was too late, much to my subsequent regret. The enterprise did prove to be more profitable than any man had prophesied. This is my tale, showing how I did permit good luck to escape.”
“In this tale we see how good luck waits to come to that man who accepts opportunity,” commented a swarthy man of the desert. “To the building of an estate there must always be the beginning. That start may be a few pieces of gold or silver which a man diverts from his earnings to his first investment. I, myself, am the owner of many herds. The start of my herds I did begin when I was a mere boy and did purchase with one piece of silver a young calf. This, being the beginning of my wealth, was of great importance to me.
“To take his first start to building an estate is as good luck as can come to any man. With all men, that first step, which changes them from men who earn from their own labour to men who draw dividends from the earnings of their gold, is important. Some, fortunately, take it when young and thereby outstrip in financial success those who do take it later or those unfortunate men, like the father of this merchant, who never take it.
“Had our friend, the merchant, taken this step in his early manhood when this opportunity came to him, this day he would be blessed with much more of this world’s goods. Should the good luck of our friend, the cloth weaver, cause him to take such a step at this time, it will indeed be but the beginning of much greater good fortune.
“Thank you! I like to speak, also.” A stranger from another country arose. “I am a Syrian. Not so well do I speak your tongue. I wish to call this friend, the merchant, a name. Maybe you think it not polite, this name. Yet I wish to call him that. But, alas, I not know your word for it. If I do call it in Syrian, you will not understand. Therefore, please some good gentlemen, tell me that right name you call man who puts off doing those things that mighty good for him.”
“Procrastinator,” called a voice.
“That’s him,” shouted the Syrian, waving his hands excitedly, “he accepts not opportunity when she comes. He waits. He says I have much business right now. Bye and bye I talk to you. Opportunity, she will not wait for such slow fellow. She thinks if a man desires to be lucky he will step quick. Any man who not step quick when opportunity comes, he big procrastinator like our friend, this merchant.”
The merchant arose and bowed good naturedly in response to the laughter. “My admiration to thee, stranger within our gates, who hesitates not to speak the truth.”
“And now let us hear another tale of opportunity. Who has for us another experience?” demanded Arkad.
“I have,” responded a red-robed man of middle age. “I am a buyer of animals, mostly camels and horses. Sometimes I do also buy the sheep and goats. The tale I am about to relate will tell truthfully how opportunity came one night when I did least expect it. Perhaps for this reason I did let it escape. Of this you shall be the judge.
“Returning to the city one evening after a disheartening ten-days’ journey in search of camels, I was much angered to find the gates of the city closed and locked. While my slaves spread our tent for the night, which we looked to spend with little food and no water, I was approached by an elderly farmer who, like ourselves, found himself locked outside.
“’Honoured sir,’ he addressed me, ‘from thy appearance, I do judge thee to be a buyer. If this be so, much would I like to sell to thee the most excellent flock of sheep just driven up. Alas, my good wife lies very sick with the fever. I must return with all haste. Buy thou my sheep that I and my slaves may mount our camels and travel back without delay.’
“So dark it was that I could not see his flock, but from the bleating I did know it must be large. Having wasted ten days searching for camels I could not find, I was glad to bargain with him. In his anxiety, he did set a most reasonable price. I accepted, well knowing my slaves could drive the flock through the city gates in the morning and sell at a substantial profit.
“The bargain concluded, I called my slaves to bring torches that we might count the flock which the farmer declared to contain nine hundred. I shall not burden you, my friends, with a description of our difficulty in attempting to count so many thirsty, restless, milling sheep. It proved to be an impossible task. Therefore, I bluntly informed the farmer I would count them at daylight and pay him then.
“’Please, most honourable sir,’ he pleaded, ‘pay me but two-thirds of the price tonight that I may be on my way. I will leave my most intelligent and educated slave to assist to make the count in the morning. He is trustworthy and to him thou canst pay the balance.’
“But I was stubborn and refused to make payment that night. Next morning, before I awoke, the city gates opened and four buyers rushed out in search of flocks. They were most eager and willing to pay high prices because the city was threatened with siege, and food was not plentiful. Nearly three times the price at which he had offered the flock to me did the old farmer receive for it. Thus was rare good luck allowed to escape.”
“Here is a tale most unusual,” commented Arkad. “What wisdom doth it suggest?”
“The wisdom of making a payment immediately when we are convinced our bargain is wise,” suggested a venerable saddle maker. “If the bargain be good, then dost thou need protection against thy own weaknesses as much as against any other man. We mortals are changeable. Alas, I must say more apt to change our minds when right than wrong. Wrong, we are stubborn indeed. Right, we are prone to vacillate and let opportunity escape. My first judgment is my best. Yet always have I found it difficult to compel myself to proceed with a good bargain when made. Therefore, as a protection against my own weaknesses, I do make a prompt deposit thereon. This doth save me from later regrets for the good luck that should have been mine.”
“Thank you! Again I like to speak.” The Syrian was upon his feet once more. “These tales much alike. Each time opportunity fly away for same reason. Each time she come to procrastinator, bringing good plan. Each time they hesitate, not say, right now best time, I do it quick. How can men succeed that way?”
“Wise are they words, my friend,” responded the buyer. “Good luck fled from procrastination in both these tales. Yet, this is not unusual. The spirit of procrastination is within all men. We desire riches; yet, how often when opportunity doth appear before us, that spirit of procrastination from within doth urge various delays in our acceptance. In listening to it we do become our own worst enemies.
“In my younger days I did not know it by this long word our friend from Syria doth enjoy. I did think at first it was my own poor judgment that did cause me loss of many profitable trades. Later, I did credit it to my stubborn disposition. At last, I did recognize it for what it was --a habit of needless delaying where action was required, action prompt and decisive. How I did hate it when its true character stood revealed. With the bitterness of a wild ass hitched to a chariot, I did break loose from this enemy to my success.”
“Thank you! I like ask question from Mr. Merchant.” The Syrian was speaking. “You wear fine robes, not like those of poor man. You speak like successful man. Tell us, do you listen now when procrastination whispers in your ear?”
“Like our friend the buyer, I also had to recognize and conquer procrastination,” responded the merchant. “To me, it proved to be an enemy, ever watching and waiting to thwart my accomplishments. The tale I did relate is but one of many similar instances I could tell to show how it drove away my opportunities. ‘Tis not difficult to conquer, once understood. No man willingly permits the thief to rob his bins of grain. Nor does nay man willingly permit an enemy to drive away his customers and rob him of his profits. When once I did recognize that such acts as these my enemy was committing, with determination I conquered him. So must every man master his own spirit of procrastination before he can expect to share in the rich treasures of Babylon.
“What sayest, Arkad? Because thou art the richest man in Babylon, many do proclaim thee to be the luckiest. Dost agree with me that no man can arrive at a full measure of success until he hath completely crushed the spirit of procrastination within him?”
“It is even as thou sayest,” Arkad admitted. “During my long life I have watched generation following generation, marching forward along those avenues of trade, science and learning that lead to success in life. Opportunities came to all these men. Some grasped theirs and moved steadily to the gratification of their deepest desires, but the majority hesitated, faltered and fell behind.”
Arkad turned to the cloth weaver. “Thou didst suggest that we debate good luck. Let us hear what thou now thinkest upon the subject.”
“I do see good luck in a different light. I had thought of it as something most desirable that might happen to a man without effort upon his part. Now, I do realize such happenings are not the sort of thing one may attract to himself. From our discussion have I learned that to attract good luck to oneself it is necessary to take advantage of opportunities. Therefore, in the future, I shall endeavour to make the best of such opportunities as do come to me.”
“Thou hast well grasped the truths brought forth in our discussion,” Arkad replied. “Good luck, we do find, often follows opportunity but seldom comes otherwise. Our merchant friend would have found great good luck had he accepted the opportunity the good goddess did present to him. Our friend the buyer, likewise, would have enjoyed good luck had he completed the purchase of the flock and sold at such a handsome profit.
“We did pursue this discussion to find a means by which good luck could be enticed to us. I feel that we have found the way. Both the tales did illustrate how good luck follows opportunity. Herein lies a truth that many similar tales of good luck, won or lost, could not change. The truth is this: Good luck can be enticed by accepting opportunity.
“Those eager to grasp opportunities for their betterment, do attract the interest of the good goddess. She is ever anxious to aid those who please her. Men of action please her best.
“Action will lead thee forward to the successes thou dost desire.”
MEN OF ACTION ARE FAVOURED BY THE GODDESS OF GOOD LUCK
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