The Khalif Haroun er Reshid had a son, who, from the time he
attained the age of sixteen, renounced the world and walked in
the way of ascetics and devotees. He was wont to go out to the
tombs and say, 'Behold, ye that lie here once possessed the
world, but that was no deliverer for you [from death], and now
are ye come to your graves! Would God I knew what ye say and
what is said to you!' And he wept, as one weeps that is
troubled and fearful, and repeated the words of the poet:
Whene'er the funerals pass, my heart with fear is torn, And the
wailing of the mourners maketh me to mourn.
One day, as he sat among the tombs, according to his wont, his
father passed by, in all his state, surrounded by his viziers
and grandees and the officers of his household, who saw the
Khalif's son, with a gown of woollen stuff on his body and a
cowl of the same on his head, and said to one another, 'This
youth dishonours the Commander of the Faithful among Kings:
but, if he reproved him, he would leave his present way of
life.' The Khalif heard what they said; so he bespoke his son
of this, saying, 'O my son, thou puttest me to shame by thy
present way of life.' The young man looked at him and made no
reply: then he beckoned to a bird, that was perched on the
battlements of the palace, and said to it, 'O bird, I conjure
thee, by Him who created thee, alight upon my hand.' And
straightway it flew down and perched on his hand. Quoth he,
'Return to thy place;' and it did so. Then he said, 'Alight on
the hand of the Commander of the Faithful;' but it refused, and
he said to his father, 'It is thou that puttest me to shame,
amongst the friends of God, by thy love of the world; and now I
am resolved to depart from thee, never to return to thee, save
in the world to come.' Then he went down to Bassora, where he
fell to working with those that wrought in mud,[FN#133] taking,
as his day's hire, but a dirhem and a danic.[FN#134] With the
danic he fed himself and gave alms of the dirhem.
(Quoth Abou Aamir of Bassora), There fell down a wall in my
house: so I went out to the station of the artisans, to find
one who should set it up for me, and my eyes fell on a handsome
youth of a radiant countenance. So I accosted him and said to
him, "O my friend, dost thou seek work?" "Yes," answered he;
and I said, "Come with me and build a wall." "On two conditions,"
replied he. Quoth I, "What are they, O my friend?" "First,"
said he, "that my hire be a dirhem and a danic, and secondly,
that, when the Muezzin calls to prayer, thou shalt let me
go pray with the congregation." "It is well," answered I
and carried him to my house, where he fell to work, such work
as I never saw the like of. Presently, I named to him the
morning meal; but he said, "No;" and I knew that he was
fasting. When he heard the call to prayer, he said to me, "Thou
knowest the condition?" "Yes," answered I. So he loosed his
girdle and applying himself to the ablution, made it after a
fashion than which I never saw a goodlier; then went to the
mosque and prayed with the congregation and returned to his
work. He did the like upon the call to afternoon-prayer, and
when I saw him fall to work again thereafterward, I said to
him, "O my friend, the hours of labour are over for to-day; a
workman's day is but till the time of afternoon-prayer." "Glory
be to God," answered he, "my service is till the night." And he
ceased not to work till nightfall, when I gave him two dirhems.
Quoth he, "What is this?" "By Allah," answered I, "this is
[but] part of thy wage, because of thy diligence in my service."
But he threw me back the two pieces, saying, "I will have no
more than was agreed upon between us." I pressed him to take
them, but could not prevail upon him; so I gave him the dirhem
and the danic, and he went away.
Next morning early, I went to the station, but found him not;
so I enquired for him and was told that he came thither only on
Saturdays. So, when Saturday came, I betook me to the market
and finding him there, said to him, "In the name of God, do me
the favour to come and work for me." ["Willingly,"] said he,
"upon the conditions thou wottest of." "It is well," answered I
and carrying him to my house, stood watching him, unseen of
him, and saw him take a handful of mud and lay it on the wall,
when, behold, the stones ranged themselves one upon another;
and I said, "On this wise are the friends of God." He worked
out his day and did even more than before; and when it was
night, I gave him his hire, and he took it and went away.
When the third Saturday came round, I went to the standing, but
found him not; so I enquired for him and was told that he lay
sick in the hut of such a woman. Now this was an old woman,
renowned for piety, who had a hut of reeds in the burial-
ground. So I went thither and found him lying on the naked
earth, with a brick for a pillow and his face beaming with
light. I saluted him and he returned my salute; and I sat
down at his head, weeping over his tenderness of years and
strangerhood and submission to the will of his Lord. Then said
I to him, "Hast thou any need?" "Yes," answered he; and I said,
"What is it?" He replied, "Come hither tomorrow in the forenoon
and thou wilt find me dead. Wash me and dig my grave and tell
none thereof: but shroud me in this my gown, after thou hast
unsewn it and taken out what thou shalt find in the bosom,
which keep with thee. Then, when thou hast prayed over me and
laid me in the dust, go to Baghdad and watch for the Khalif
Haroun er Reshid, till he come forth, when do thou bear him my
salutation and give him what thou shalt find in the breast of
my gown." Then he made the profession of the Faith and glorified
his Lord in the most eloquent of words, reciting the following
verses:
Carry the trust of him on whom the wished-for death hath come
To Er Reshid, and thy reward with thy Creator stand!
"An exile greets thee," say, "who longed full sorely for thy
sight; With long desire he yearned for thee, far in a
foreign strand.
Nor hate nor weariness from thee estranged him, for, indeed, To
God Most High he was brought near by kissing thy right
hand.
But, O my father, 'twas his heart, shunning the vain delights
Of this thy world, that drove him forth to seek a distant
land!"
Then he betook himself to prayer, asking pardon of God and
blessing the Lord of the Just[FN#135] and repeating verses of
the Koran; after which he recited the following:
Let not prosperity delude thee, father mine; For fortune wastes
and life itself must pass away.
Whenas thou com'st to know of folk in evil plight, Think thou
must answer it upon the Judgment Day;
And when thou bearest forth the dead unto the tombs, Think that
thou, too, must pass upon the self-same way!
Then I left him and went home. On the morrow, I returned, at
the appointed hour, and found him indeed dead, the mercy of God
be on him! So I washed him and unsewing his gown, found in the
bosom a ruby worth thousands of diners and said to myself, "By
Allah, this youth was indeed abstracted from the things of this
world!" After I had buried him, I made my way to Baghdad and
going to the Khalif's palace, waited till he came forth, when I
accosted him in one of the streets and gave him the ruby, which
when he saw, he knew and fell down in a swoon. His attendants
laid hands on me, but he revived and bade them unhand me and
bring me courteously to the palace. They did his bidding, and
when he returned, he sent for me and carrying me into his
closet, said to me, "How doth the owner of this ruby?" Quoth I,
"He is dead;" and told him what had passed; whereupon he fell
a-weeping and said, "The son hath profited, but the father is
disappointed." Then he called out, saying, "Ho, such an one!"
And behold, a woman came out to him. When she saw me, she would
have withdrawn; but he said to her, "Come; and heed him not."
So she entered and saluted, and he threw her the ruby, which
when she knew, she gave a great shriek and fell down in a
swoon. As soon as she came to herself, she said, "O Commander
of the Faithful, what hath God done with my son?" And he said
to me, "Do thou tell her;" for he could not speak for weeping.
So I repeated the story to her, and she began to weep and say
in a failing voice, "How I have longed for thy sight, O
consolation of my eyes! Would I might have given thee to drink,
when thou hadst none to tend thee! Would I might have companied
with thee, whenas thou foundest none to cheer thee!" And she
poured forth tears and recited the following verses:
I weep for one to whom death came, an exile and in pain: Alone
he died, without a friend to whom he might complain.
Puissant and honoured and conjoined with those that loved him
dear, To live alone and seeing none, unfriended, he was
fain.
That which the days conceal shall yet be manifest to us: Not
one of us by death, indeed, unsmitten may remain.
O absent one, the Lord of all decreed thy strangerhood, And
thou left'st far behind the love that was betwixt us
twain!
Though death, my son, forbid me hope to see thee in this life,
Tomorrow, on the Reckoning-Day, we two shall meet again.
Quoth I, "O Commander of the Faithful, was he indeed thy son?"
"Yes," answered he; "and indeed, before I succeeded to this
office, he was wont to visit the learned and company with the
devout; but, when I became Khalif, he grew estranged from me
and withdrew himself apart. Then said I to his mother, 'This
thy son is absorbed in God the Most High, and it may be that
tribulations shall befall him and he be smitten with stress of
evil chance; wherefore, do thou give him this ruby, that it may
be to him a resource in the hour of need.' So she gave it him,
conjuring him to take it, and he obeyed her. Then he left the
things of our world to us and removed himself from us; nor did
he cease to be absent from us, till he went to the presence of
God (to whom belong might and majesty) with a holy and pure
mind." Then said he, "Come, show me his grave." So we repaired
to Bassora and I showed him his son's grave. When he saw it, he
wept and lamented, till he fell down in a swoon; after which he
came to himself and asked pardon of God, saying, "We are God's,
and to Him we return!" and invoked blessings on the dead. Then he
besought me of companionship; but I said to him, "O Commander of
the Faithful, verily, in thy son's case is for me the gravest of
admonitions!" And I recited the following verses:
'Tis I am the stranger! None harbours the wight, Though he lie
in his native city by night.
'Tis I am the exile! Nor children nor wife Nor comrades have I,
to take ruth on my plight.
The mosques are my refuge; I haunt them indeed: My heart from
their shelter shall never take flight.
To the Lord of all creatures, to God be the praise, Whilst yet
in the body abideth the spright!
THE SCHOOLMASTER WHO FELL IN LOVE BY
REPORT.
(Quoth one of the erudite), I passed once by a [school, in
which a] schoolmaster, comely of aspect and well dressed, was
teaching children; so I entered, and he rose and made me sit
with him. Then I examined him in the Koran and in syntax and
poetry and lexicography, and found him perfect in all that was
required of him and said to him, "God strengthen thy purpose!
Thou art indeed versed in all that is sought of thee." So I
frequented him awhile, discovering daily some new excellence
in him, and said to myself, "This is indeed a wonder in a
schoolmaster; for the understanding are agreed upon the lack of
wit of those that teach children." Then I separated myself from
him and sought him out and visited him [only] every few days,
till, one day, coming to see him as of wont, I found the school
shut and made enquiry of the neighbours, who said, "Some one is
dead in his house." So I said to myself, "It behoves me to pay
him a visit of condolence," and going to his house, knocked at
the door. A slave-girl came out to me and said, "What dost thou
want?" "I want thy master," answered I. Quoth she, "He is
sitting alone, mourning." "Tell him," rejoined I, "that his
friend so and so seeks to condole with him." She went in and
told him; and he said, "Admit him." So she brought me in to
him, and I found him seated alone and his head bound [with the
fillets of mourning]. "May God amply requite thee!" said I.
"This is a road all must perforce travel, and it behoves thee
to take patience. But who is dead unto thee?" "One who was
dearest and best beloved of the folk to me," answered he. Quoth
I, "Perhaps thy father?" He replied, "No;" and I said, "Thy
mother?" "No," answered he. "Thy brother?" "No." "One of thy
kindred?" "No." "Then," asked I, "what relation was the dead to
thee?" "My mistress," answered he. Quoth I to myself, "This is
the first sign of his lack of wit." Then I said to him, "There
are others than she and fairer;" and he answered, "I never saw
her, that I might judge whether or no there be others fairer
than she." Quoth I to myself, "This is another sign" Then I
said to him, "And how couldst thou fall in love with one thou
hast never seen?" Quoth he, "I was sitting one day at the
window, when there passed by a man, singing the following
verse:
Umm Amri,[FN#136] God requite thee thy generosity! Give back my
heart, prithee, wherever it may be!
When I heard this, I said to myself, 'Except this Umm Amri were
without equal in the world, the poets had not celebrated her in
amorous verse.' So I fell in love with her; but, two days
after, the same man passed, singing the following verse:
The jackass with Umm Amri departed; but, alas, Umm Amri! She
returned not again, nor did the ass.
Thereupon I knew that she was dead and mourned for her. This
was three days ago, and I have been mourning ever since." So I
left him and went away, having assured myself of the feebleness
of his wit.