Omar, the hermit of the mountain Aubukabis, which rises on the east of
Mecca, and overlooks the city, found one evening a man sitting pensive
and alone, within a few paces of his cell. Omar regarded him with
attention, and perceived that his looks were wild and haggard, and that
his body was feeble and emaciated: the man also seemed to gaze stedfastly
on Omar; but such was the abstraction of his mind, that his eye did not
immediately take cognizance of its object. In the moment of recollection
he started as from a dream, he covered his face in confusion, and bowed
himself to the ground.—“Son of affliction,” said Omar, “who art thou,
and what is thy distress?” “My name,” replied the stranger, “is Hassan,
and I am a native of this city: the Angel of adversity has laid his hand
upon me; and the wretch whom thine eye compassionates, thou canst not
deliver.” “To deliver thee,” said Omar, “belongs to Him only, from whom
we should receive with humility both good and evil; yet hide not thy life
from me; for the burthen which I cannot remove, I may at least enable
thee to sustain.” Hassan fixed his eyes upon the ground, and remained
some time silent; then fetching a deep sigh, he looked up at the hermit,
and thus complied with his request.
It is now six years since our mighty lord the Calif Almalic, whose
memory be blessed, first came privately to worship in the temple of the
holy city. The blessings which he petitioned of the Prophet, as the
Prophet’s vicegerent, he was diligent to dispense; in the intervals of
his devotion, therefore, he went about the city, relieving distress,
and restraining oppression: the widow smiled under his protection, and
the weakness of age and infancy was sustained by his bounty. I, who
dreaded no evil but sickness, and expected no good beyond the reward of
my labour, was singing at my work, when Almalic entered my dwelling.
He looked round with a smile of complacency; perceiving that though
it was mean, it was neat, and that though I was poor, I appeared to
be content. As his habit was that of a pilgrim, I hastened to receive
him with such hospitality as was in my power; and my cheerfulness was
rather increased than restrained by his presence. After he had accepted
some coffee, he asked me many questions; and though by my answers I
always endeavoured to excite him to mirth, yet I perceived that he grew
thoughtful, and eyed me with a placid but fixed attention. I suspected
that he had some knowledge of me, and therefore inquired his country and
his name. “Hassan,” said he, “I have raised thy curiosity, and it shall
be satisfied: he who now talks with thee is Almalic, the sovereign of
the faithful, whose seat is the throne of Medina, and whose commission
is from above.” These words struck me dumb with astonishment, though I
had some doubt of their truth: but Almalic, throwing back his garment,
discovered the peculiarity of his vest, and put the royal signet upon his
finger. I then started up, and was about to prostrate myself before him,
but he prevented me: “Hassan,” said he, “forbear; thou art greater than
I, and from thee I have at once derived humility and wisdom.” I answered,
“Mock not thy servant, who is but as a worm before thee; life and death
are in thy hand, and happiness and misery are the daughters of thy
will.” “Hassan,” he replied, “I can no otherwise give life or happiness
than by not taking them away: thou art thyself beyond the reach of my
bounty, and possessed of felicity which I can neither communicate nor
obtain.—My influence over others fills my bosom with perpetual solicitude
and anxiety; and yet my influence over others extends only to their
vices, whether I would reward or punish. By the bow-string, I can repress
violence and fraud; and by the delegation of my power, I can transfer the
insatiable wishes of avarice and ambition from one object to another;
but with respect to virtue, I am impotent: if I could reward it, I would
reward it in thee. Thou art content, and hast therefore neither avarice
nor ambition: to exalt thee, would destroy the simplicity of thy life,
and diminish that happiness which I have no power either to increase
or continue.” He then rose up, and, commanding me not to disclose his
secret, departed.
As soon as I recovered from the confusion and astonishment in which the
Calif left me, I began to regret that my behaviour had intercepted his
bounty; and accused of folly, that cheerfulness which was the concomitant
of poverty and labour. I now repined at the obscurity of my station,
which my former insensibility had perpetuated: I neglected my labour,
because I despised the reward; I spent the day in idleness, forming
romantic projects to recover the advantages which I had lost; and at
night, instead of losing myself in that sweet and refreshing sleep, from
which I used to rise with new health, cheerfulness, and vigour, I dreamt
of splendid habits and a numerous retinue, of gardens, palaces, eunuchs,
and women, and waked only to regret the illusions that had vanished. My
health was at length impaired by the inquietude of my mind; I sold all
my moveables for subsistence: and reserved only a mattrass, upon which I
sometimes lay from one night to another.