# The Vision of Almet (1803)

THE
VISION OF ALMET.
AND
To LIFE Pleaſing to GOD, thus is not Uſeful to MAN,
TWO EASTERN STORIES.
TO WHICH ARE ADDED.
THE ART OF GROWING RICH,
AN INSTRUCTIVE TALE.
STIRLING
PRINTED AND SOLD BY C RANDALL.
1803.
THE
Vision of Almet, &c.
ALMET the Derviſe, who watched the ſacred lamp in the ſepulchre of the Prophet as he one day roſe up from the devotions of the morning, which he had performed at the gate of the temple, with his body turned towards the Eaſt, and his forehead upon ⟨the⟩ earth, he ſaw before him a man in ⟨ſplendid⟩ apparel, attended by a long retinue, who gazed ſtedfaſtly on him, with ⟨a⟩ look of mournful complacency, and ⟨ſeemed⟩ deſirous to ſpeak, but unwilling ⟨to⟩ offend.
The Derviſe, after a ſhort ſilence, advanced and ſaluted him with the calm ⟨dignity⟩, which independence confers ⟨upon⟩ humility, requeſted that he would ⟨reveal⟩ his purpoſe.
​"Almet," ſaid the ſtranger, "thou ſeeſt before thee a man, whom the hand of Proſperity has overwhelmed with wretchedneſs. Whatever I once deſired as the means of happineſs, I now posseſs; but I am not yet happy, and therefore I deſpair. I regret the lapſe of time, becauſe it glides away without enjoyment; and as I expect nothing in the future but the vanities of the paſt. I do not wiſh that the future ſhould arrive. Yet I tremble leſt it ſhould be cut off; and my heart ſinks, when I anticipate the moment in which eternity ſhall cloſe even the vacuity of my life, like the ſeas upon the path of a ſhip, and leave no traces of my exiſtence more durable than the furrow which remains after the waves have united. If in the treaſures of thy wiſdom there is any precept to obtain felicity vouchſafe it to me: for this purpoſe I am come; a purpoſe which I yet fear to reveal, leſt, like all the former, it ſhould be diſappointed."
Almet liſtened with looks of astoniſhment and pity, to this complaint of a being in whom reason was known to be a pledge of immortality: but the serenity ​of his countenance ſoon returned; and ſtretching out his hands towards heaven. "Stranger," ſaid he, "the knowledge which I have received from the Prophet, I will communicate to thee.
"As I was ſitting once at the porch of the Temple penſive and alone mine eyes wandered among the multitude that was ſcattered before me: and while I remarked the warineſs and ſolicitude which was viſible in every countenance, I was ſuddenly ſtruck with a ſenſe of condition. Wretched mortals, ſaid I, to what purpoſe are you buſy? If to produce happineſs, by whom is it enjoyed? Do the linens of Egypt, and the ſilks of Perſia, beſtow felicity on thoſe who wear them, equal to the wretchedneſs of yonder ſlaves, whom I ſee leading the camels who bring them? Is the fierceneſs of the texture, or the ſplendor of the tints, regarded with delight by thoſe to whom cuſtom has tendered them familiar? Or, can the power of habit render others inſenſible of pain, who live only to traverſe the Deſert: a ſcene of dreadful uniformity, where a ⟨barren⟩ level is bounded only by the ​horizon; where no change of proſpect nor variety of images, relieve the traveller from a ſenſe of toil and danger; of whirlwinds which in a moment may bury him in the ſand; and of thirſt which the wealthy have given half their poſſeſſions to allay? Do thoſe on whom hereditary diamonds ſparkle with unregarded luſtre, gain from the poſſeſſion what is loſt by the wretch who ſeeks them in the mine; who lives excluded from the common bounties of nature; to whom even the viciſſitude of day and night is not known; who ſighs in perpetual darkneſs, and whoſe life is one mournful alternative of inſenſibility and labour? If thoſe are not happy who poſſeſſ in proportion as thoſe are wretched who beſtow, how vain a dream is the life of man! And if there is indeed ſuch difference in the value of exiſtence, how ſhall we acquit of partiality, the hand by which this difference has been made?
"While my thoughts thus multiplied, and my heart burnt within me, I became ſenſible of a ſudden influence from above.--The ſtreets and the crouds of Mecca ​diſappeared. I found myſelf ſitting on ⟨the⟩ declivity of a mountain, and perceived at my right hand an angel, whom ⟨I⟩ knew to be Azoran, the Miniſter of ⟨Reproof⟩. When I ſaw him I was afraid. ⟨I⟩ caſt my eyes on the ground, and was ⟨about⟩ to deprecate his anger, when he ⟨commanded⟩ me to be ſilent.
'Almet,' ſaid he, 'thou haſt devoted ⟨thy⟩ life to meditation that thy counſel might deliver ignorance from the mazes of error, and deter preſumption from the precipice of guilt; but the Book of Nature thou haſt read without underſtanding: it is again open before thee; look up, conſider it, and be wiſe'
"I looked up, and beheld an incloſure, beautiful as the Garden of Paradiſe, but of a ſmall extent. Through the middle, there was a green walk; at the end a wild deſert: and beyond, impenetrable darkneſs. The walk was ſhaded with trees of every kind, that were covered at once with bloſſoms and fruit; innumerable birds were ſinging in the branches; the graſs was intermingled which flowers, which impregnated the breeze with fragrance, and painted the ​path with beauty. On the one ſide flowed a gentle transparent ſtream which was juſt heard to murmur over the golden ſands that ſparkled at the bottom; and on the others were walks and bowers, fountains, grottos and caſcades, which diverſified the ſcene with endleſs variety, but did not conceal the bounds
"While I was gazing in the tranſport of delight and wonder on this enchanting ſpot, I perceived a man ſtealing along the walk with a thoughtful and deliberate pace his eyes were fixed on the earth and his arms croſsed on his boſom; he ſometimes ſtarted, as if a ſudden pang had ſeized him; his countenance expreſſed ſolicitude and terror; he looked round with a ſigh and having gazed a moment on the deſert that lay before him he ſeemed as if he wiſhed to ſtop, but was impelled forward by ſome invisible power: His features, however, ſoon ſettled again into a calm melancholy; his eyes were again fixed on the ground, and he went on as before, with apparent reluctance, but without emotion. I was ſtruck with this appearance, and turning haſtily to the angel, was about to enquire, ​what could produce ſuch felicity in a being ſurrounded by every object that could gratify every ſenſe; but he prevented my requeſt.
'The Book of Nature,' ſaid he, 'is before thee, look up, conſider it, and be wiſe.'
"I looked and beheld a valley between two mountains that were craggy and barren: On the path there was no verdure, and the mountains afforded no ſhade: the ſun burned in the Zenith, and every ſpring was dried up: But the valley terminated in a country that was pleaſant and fertile, ſhaded with woods and adorned with buildings At a ſecond view, I diſcovered a man in this valley, meagre, indeed, and naked but his countenance was cheerful and his deportment active: He kept his eye fixed on the country before him, and looked as if he would have run, but that he was reſtrained as the other had been impelled by ſome ſecret influence: Sometimes, indeed, I perceived a ſudden expreſſion of pain, and ſometimes he ſtepped ſhort, as if his foot was pierced by the aſperities of the way, but the ​ſprightlineſs of his countenance inſtantly returned, and he paſſed forward without appearance of repining or complaint.
I turned again toward the angel, impatient to enquire from what ſecret ſource happineſs is derived, in a ſituation ſo different from that in which it might have been expected; but he again prevented my requeſt: 'Almet,' ſaid he, 'remember what thou haſt ſeen, and let this memorial be written upon the tablet of thy heart. Remember, Almet, that the world in which thou art placed, is but the road to another, and that happineſs depend not upon the path, but the end: The value of this period of thy exiſtence is fixed by hope and fear. The wretch who wiſhed to linger in the garden, who looked round upon its limits with terror, was deſtitute of enjoyment, because he was deſtitute of hope, and was perpetually tormented with the dread of loſing that which he did enjoy. The ſong of the birds had been repeated till it was not heard, and the flowers had so often recurred, that their beauty was not ſeen; the rivers glided by unnoticed, and he feared to lift his eye to the ​proſpect, leſt he ſhould behold the waſte that circumſcribed it. But he that toiled through the valley was happy, becauſe he looked forward with hope. Thus, to the ſojourner upon earth, it is of little moment whether the path he treads be ſtrewed with flowers, or with thorns if he perceive himſelf to approach thoſe regions, in compariſon of which the thorns and the flowers of this wilderneſs loſe their diſtinction, and are both alike impotent to give pleaſure or pain.
'What then has eternal wiſdom unequally diſtributed? That which can make every ſtation happy and without which every ſtation must be wretched, is acquired by virtue; and virtue is poſſible to all, Remember, Almet, the viſion which thou haſt ſeen; and let my words be written on the tablet of thy heart, that thou mayeſt direct ihe wanderer to happineſs, and juſtify God to man.'
While the voice of Azoran was yet ſounding in my ear, the proſpect vaniſhed from before me, and I found myſelf again ſitting at the porch of the temple. The ſun was gone down, the multitude was retired to reſt, and the ſolemn quiet ​of midnight concurred with the reſolution of my doubts to complete the tranquillity of my mind.
"Such, my ſon, was the viſion which the Prophet vouchſafed me, not for my ſake only, but for thine. Thou haſt not found felicity in temporal things; and therefore thou art diſappointed. Let not inſtruction be loſt upon thee; but go thy way, let thy flock clothe the naked, and thy table feed the hungry; deliver the poor from oppreſſion, and let thy conversation be above. Thus ſhalt thou rejoice in Hope, and look forward to the end of life, as the conſummation of thy felicity."
Almet, in whose breast devotion kindled as he spake, returned into the Temple, and the stranger departed in peace.
No LIFE PLEASING to GOD, that is not USEFUL to MAN.
AN EASTERN STORY.
IT pleaſed the mighty ſovereign Abbas Caroſcan, from whom the Kings of the earth derive honour and dominion, to ſet Mirza, his ſervant over the province of Tauris. In the hand of Mirza, the balance of diſtribution was ſplendid with impartiality; and under his adminiſtration the weak were protected, the learned received honour, and the diligent became rich. Mirza, therefore, was beheld by every eye with complacency, while every tongue pronounced bleſſings on his head. But it was obſerved that he derived no joys from the benefits which he diffuſed, he became penſive and melancholy; he ſpent his leiſure in ſolitude; in his place he ſat motionleſs upon a ſofa; and when he went out, his walk was ſlow, and his eyes were fixed upon the ground. He applied to ​the buſiness of ſtate with reluctance; and reſolved to relinquiſh the toils of government of which he could no longer enjoy the reward.
He therefore obtained permiſſion to approach the throne of his Sovereign; and being aſked what was his requeſt, he made this reply.
"May the Lord of the World forgive the ſlave whom he hath honoured. If Mirza preſume again to lay the bounty of Abbas at his feet. Thou haſt given me the dominion of a country, fruitful as the gardens of Damascus; and of a city, glorious above all others, except that only which reflects the ſplendour of thy preſence. But the longeſt life is a period ſcarce ſufficient to prepare for death: All other buſineſs is vain and trivial, as the toils of emmits in the path of the traveller, under whoſe feet they periſh for ever; and all enjoyment is unſubſtantial and evaneſcent, as the colours of the bow that appear in the interval of a ſtorm. Suffer me, therefore, to prepare for the approach of eternity; let me give up my ſoul to meditation; let ſolitude and ſilence acquaint me with ​⟨the⟩ myſteries of devotion; let me forget ⟨the⟩ world, and by the world be ⟨forgotten⟩, till the moment arrives in which ⟨the⟩ vail of eternity ſhall fall, and I ſhall ⟨be⟩ found at the bar of the Almighty" ⟨Mirza⟩ then bowed himself to the earth, ⟨and⟩ ſtood ſilent.
By the command of Abbas it is recorded, that at theſe words he trembled ⟨upon⟩ that throne, at the footſtool of ⟨which⟩ the world pays homage: He ⟨looked⟩ round upon his nobles; but every ⟨countenance⟩ was pale, and every eye was ⟨upon⟩ the earth. No man opened his ⟨mouth⟩; and the King firſt broke ſilence, ⟨after⟩ it had continued near an hour.
"Mirza, terror and doubt are come ⟨upon⟩ me: I am alarmed, as a man who ⟨ſuddenly⟩ perceives that he is near the ⟨brink⟩ of a precipice, and is urged forward by an irreſiſtable force; but yet I ⟨know⟩ not whether my danger is a reality ⟨or⟩ a dream; I am as thou art a reptile ⟨on⟩ the earth: my life is a moment; and ⟨eternity⟩, in which days, and years, and ⟨ages⟩ are nothing, eternity is before me, ⟨for⟩ which I ſhould alſo prepare: But by ⟨whom⟩ then must the Faithful be ​governed? By theſe only, who have ⟨no⟩ fear of judgement? By thoſe alone ⟨whoſe⟩ life is brutal, becauſe, like brutes, ⟨they⟩ do not conſider that they ſhould die?--Or who, indeed, are the Faithful?--Are the buſy multitudes that crowd ⟨the⟩ city, in a ſtate of perdition? And is ⟨the⟩ cell of the Derviſe alone the gate of Paradiſe? To all, the life of a Derviſe ⟨is⟩ not poſſible: To all, therefore, it can not be a duty. Depart to the ⟨houſe⟩ which has in the city been prepared ⟨for⟩ thy reſidence; I ſhall meditate the reaſon of thy requeſt; and may He who illuminates the mind of the humble, enable me to determine with wiſdom!"
Mirza departed; and on the third day, having received no commands he again requeſted an audience, and it was granted. When he entered the royal preſence, ⟨his⟩ countenance appeared more cheerful; ⟨he⟩ drew a letter from his boſom, and having kiſſed it, he preſented it with his right hand.
"My lord," ſaid he, "I have learned by this letter, which I received from Coſrou, the Iman. who now ſtands before thee, in what manner life may be ⟨beſt⟩ ​⟨improved⟩. I am enabled to look back with pleaſure, and forward with hope; ⟨and⟩ I ſhall now rejoice ſtill to be the ⟨ſhadow⟩ of thy power at Tauris, and to ⟨keep⟩ thoſe honours which I ſo lately ⟨wiſhed⟩ to reſign."—The King, who had ⟨liſtened⟩ to Mirza with a mixture of ſurprize and curioſity, immediately gave the ⟨letter⟩ to Coſrou, and commanded that it ⟨ſhould⟩ be read. The eyes of the court were at once turned on the hoary ſage, whoſe countenance was ſuffuſed with an ⟨honeſt⟩ bluſh; and it was not without ⟨ſome⟩ heſitation that he read theſe words.
"To Mirza, whom the wiſdom of Abbas, our mighty lord has honoured with ⟨dominion⟩, be everlaſting health! When ⟨I⟩ heard thy purpoſe to ⟨withdraw⟩ the bleſſings of thy government from the ⟨thouſands⟩ of Tauris, my ⟨heart⟩ was wounded with the arrow of affliction, ⟨and⟩ my eyes became dim with ſorrow. But who ſhall ſpeak before the king, when he is troubled? And who ſhall boaſt of knowledge, when he is distreſſed by doubt? To thee I will relate the events of my youth, which thou haſt renewed before me; and thoſe truths which they ​taught me, may the Prophet multiply to thee.
"Under the inſtruction of the phyſician Aluazer, I obtained an early knowledge of his art To thoſe who were ſmitten with diſeaſes I could adminiſter plants, which the ſun had impregnated with the ſpirit of health. But the ſcenes of pain, languor, and mortality, which were perpetually riſing before me, made me often tremble for myſelf. I ſaw the grave open at my feet: I determined therefore to contemplate only the regions beyond it, and to deſpiſe every acquiſition which I could not keep. I conceived an opinion that as there was no merit but a voluntary poverty, and ſilent meditation, thoſe who deſired money were not proper objects of bounty; therefore money was deſpiſed. I buried mine in the earth; and renouncing ſociety I wandered into a wild and ſequeſtered part of the country; my dwelling was a cave by the ſide of a hill; I drank the running water from the ſpring, and ate ſuch fruits and herbs as I could find. To increaſe the auſterity of my life, I frequently watched all night, ſitting at the entrance ​⟨of⟩ the cave, with my face to the eaſt, ⟨reſigning⟩ myſelf to the ſecret influences ⟨of⟩ the Prophet, and expecting illumination from above One morning after ⟨my⟩ nocturnal vigil, juſt as I perceived the ⟨horizon⟩ glow at the approach of the ſun, ⟨the⟩ power of ſleep became irreſiſtable, ⟨and⟩ I ſunk under it. I imagined myſelf ⟨ſtill⟩ ſitting at the entrance of my cell; ⟨that⟩ the dawn increaſed, and that as I ⟨looked⟩ earneſtly for the firſt beam of day, ⟨a⟩ dark ſpot appeared to intercept it. I ⟨perceived⟩ that it was in motion; it increaſed in ſize as it drew near, and at ⟨length⟩ I diſcovered it to be an eagle I ⟨ſtill⟩ kept my eye fixed ſtedfaſtly upon it, and ſaw it alight at a ſmall diſtance, where I now diſcried a fox, whoſe two ⟨fore⟩-legs appeared to be broken. Before this fox the eagle laid part of a kid, which it had brought in its talons and diſappeared. When I awaked, I laid my fore-head upon the ground, and bleſſed the Prophet for the inſtruction of the morning, I reviewed my dream, and ſaid thus to myſelf, 'Coſrou thou haſt done well to renounce the tumult, and buſineſs and the vanities of life; ​but thou haſt as yet only done it in ⟨part⟩; Thou art ſtill every day buſied ⟨in the⟩ ſearch of food; thy mind is not ⟨wholly⟩ at reſt neither is thy truſt in Providence complete What art thou taught by this viſion? If thou haſt ſeen an eagle commiſſioned by Heaven to feed a fox that is lame, ſhall not the hand of Heaven alſo ſupply thee with food, when that which prevents thee from procuring it to thyſelf, it is not neceſſity, but devotion? I was now ſo confident of a miraculous ſupply, that I neglected to walk out for my repaſt, which, after the firſt day, I expected with an impatience that left me little power of attending unto any other object: This impatience, however, I laboured to ſuppreſs and perſiſted in my reſolution; but my eyes at length began to fail me, and my knees ſmote each other: I threw myſelf backward, and hoped my weakneſs would ſoon increaſe to inſenſibility But I was ſuddenly rouſed by the voice of an inviſible being, who pronounced theſe words: 'Coſrou, I'm the angel who by the command of the Almighty, have regiſtered the thoughts of thy heart, which I am now ​commiſſioned to reprove. Whilſt thou waſt ⟨attempting⟩ to become wiſe above that ⟨which⟩ is revealed thy folly has perverted ⟨the⟩ inſtructions which were vouchſafed ⟨to⟩ thee. Art thou diſabled as a fox? ⟨Haſt⟩ thou not rather the powers of the ⟨eagle⟩? Ariſe, let the eagle be the object ⟨of⟩ thy emulation. To pain and ſickneſs ⟨be⟩ thou again the meſſenger of eaſe and ⟨health⟩. Virtue is not reſt but action If ⟨thou⟩ doſt good to man as an evidence ⟨of thy⟩ love to God, thy virtue will be ⟨exalted⟩ from mortal to divine; and that ⟨happineſs⟩, which is the pledge of ⟨Paradiſe⟩, will be thy reward upon earth."
"At theſe words, I was not leſs ⟨aſtonished⟩ than if a mountain ⟨had⟩ been ⟨overturned⟩ at my feet. I humbled myſelf in ⟨the⟩ duſt; I returned to the city; I dug ⟨up⟩ my treaſure: I was liberal, yet I ⟨became⟩ rich. My ſkill in reſtoring health ⟨to the⟩ body, gave me frequent ⟨opportunities⟩ of curing the diſeaſes of the ſoul. ⟨I⟩ put on the ſacred veſtments; I grew ⟨eminent⟩ beyond my merit; and it was ⟨the⟩ pleaſure of the King that I ſhould ⟨ſtand⟩ before him. Now, therefore, be ⟨not⟩ offended; I boaſt of no knowledge ​that I have not recieved: As the ⟨ſands⟩ of the deſert drink up the drops of ⟨rain,⟩ or the dew of the morning; ſo do I ⟨alſo,⟩ who am but duſt, imbibe the ⟨inſtructions⟩ of the Prophet. Believe then, that ⟨it⟩ is he who tells thee all knowledge ⟨is⟩ prophane which terminates in ⟨thyſelf;⟩ and by a life waſted by ſpeculation, ⟨little⟩ even of this can be gained. When ⟨the⟩ gates of Paradiſe are thrown open ⟨before⟩ thee, thy mind ſhall be irradiated in ⟨a⟩ moment; here thou canſt little more ⟨than⟩ pile error upon error, there thou ⟨ſhalt⟩ build truth upon truth. Wait, therefore for the glorious viſion; and in ⟨the⟩ mean time, emulate the eagle. Much ⟨is⟩ in thy power, and, therefore, much ⟨is⟩ expected of thee. Though the ⟨Almighty⟩ alone can give virtue; yet, as a ⟨prince,⟩ thou mayeſt ſtimulate thoſe to ⟨beneficence⟩, who act from no higher ⟨motive⟩ than immediate intereſt; thou canſt ⟨not⟩ produce the principle, but mayeſt ⟨enforce⟩ the practice The relief of the poor ⟨is⟩ equal, whether they receive it from ⟨oſtentation⟩ or charity; and the effect ⟨of⟩ example is the ſame, whether it be ⟨intended⟩ to obtain the favour of God ⟨or⟩ ​⟨man⟩. Let thy virtue be thus diffuſed; ⟨and⟩ if thou believeſt with reverence, ⟨thou⟩ ſhalt be accepted above Farewel. ⟨May⟩ the ſmile of Him who reſides in the ⟨Heaven⟩ of Heavens be upon thee! And ⟨againſt⟩ thy name in the volume of His ⟨will⟩ may happineſs be written!"
The King, whose doubts like thoſe ⟨of⟩ Mirza, were now removed, looked ⟨up⟩ with a ſmile that communicated the ⟨joy⟩ of his mind. He diſmiſſed the prince ⟨to⟩ his government; and commanded ⟨theſe⟩ events to be recorded, to the end ⟨that⟩ poſterity may know, "That no life ⟨is⟩ pleaſing to God, but that which is ⟨uſeful⟩ to mankind!"
THE WAY TO GROW RICH.
COSMO de Medicis, Grand Duke of Tuſcany, concerning whom, on account of his prodigious wealth, it was ⟨rumoured⟩ that he had the art of, ⟨tranſmutation⟩. A noble Venetian who tho' ⟨he⟩ had but a ſmall fortune, was ⟨extremely⟩ well recommended to his Highneſs ​(and, by by his polite behaviour, added daily to his credit in that court, one ⟨day⟩ fairly put the queſtion, and aſked the duke if he had the philoſopher's ſtone ⟨or⟩ not? My friend ſaid the duke, I have: and becauſe I have a regard for you, ⟨I⟩ will give you the receipt in few words, I never bid another do that which I can ⟨do⟩ myſelf; I never put of till to-morrow what may be done to-day; nor do I ⟨ever⟩ think any matter so trivial as not to deſerve notice. The Venetian thanked his ⟨ſerene⟩ Highneſs for his ⟨ſecret⟩: and by obſerving his rules acquired a great eſtate How well ſhould I be pleaſed, if not a few ⟨of⟩ my readers ſhould do the like by obſerving mine!
THE END.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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