Hassan: The Story of Hassan of Baghdad and How He Came to Make the Golden Journey to Samarkand Part 14

Allah made poetry a cheap thing to buy and a simple thing to understand.

He gave men dreams by night that they might learn to dream by day.

Men who work hard have special need of these dreams.

All the town of Bagdad is pa.s.sionate for poetry, O Master.

Dost thou not know what great crowds gather to hear the epic of Antari sung in the streets at evening? I have seen cobblers weep and butchers bury their great faces in their hands!

CALIPH By Eblis and the powers of h.e.l.l, should I not know this, and know that therein lies the secret of the strength of Islam?

In poems and in tales alone shall live the eternal memory of this city when I am dust and thou art dust, when the Bedouin shall build his hut upon my garden and drive his plough beyond the ruins of my palace, and all Bagdad is broken to the ground. Ah, if there shall ever arise a nation whose people have forgotten poetry or whose poets have forgotten the people, though they send their ships around Taprobane and their armies across the hills of Hindustan, though their city be greater than Babylon of old, though they mine a league into earth or mount to the stars on wings--what of them?

Ha.s.sAN They will be a dark patch upon the world.

CALIPH Well said! By your luck you have saved the life of the Caliph, O Ha.s.san; but by your conversation you have won the friendship of Haroun.

Indeed--but at what are you gazing as if enchanted?

Ha.s.sAN What a beautiful fountain, with the silver dolphin and the naked boy.

CALIPH A Greek of Constantinople made it, who came travelling hither in the days of my father, the Caliph El Madhi (may earth be gentle to his body and Paradise refreshing to his soul!).

He showed this fountain to my father, who was exceptionally pleased, and asked the Greek if he could make more as fine. "A hundred,"

replied the delighted infidel. Whereupon my father cried, "Impale the pig." Which having been done, this fountain remains the loveliest in the world.

Ha.s.sAN (With anguish) O Fountain, dost thou never run with blood?

CALIPH Why, what is the matter, Ha.s.san?

Ha.s.sAN You have told a tale of death and tyranny, O Master of the World.

CALIPH (In a sudden and towering rage) Do you accuse my father of tyranny, O fellow, for slaying a filthy Christian?

Ha.s.sAN (Prostrating himself) I meant no offence. My life is at your feet.

But you bade me talk to you as a friend.

CALIPH Not Ishak, not Ishak himself, who has been my friend for years, would dare address me thus. (Bursting into laughter) Rise, Ha.s.san. Thy impudence has a monstrous beauty, like the hindquarters of an elephant.

Ha.s.sAN Forgive me, forgive me.

CALIPH I forgive you with all my heart, but, I advise you, speak in conformity with your character and of things you understand, and never leave the Garden of Art for the Palace of Action.

Trouble not your head with the tyranny of Princes, or you may catch a cold therein from the Wind of Complication.

Keep to your poetry and carpets, Ha.s.san, and make no reference to politics, for which even the market of Bagdad is an insufficient school.

Ha.s.sAN (Dolefully) I hear and obey.

CALIPH Forget it now; set your mind on pleasant things. Have you noticed this little pavilion in front of which we have talked so long?

This is your little house, good Ha.s.san, where you shall find a shelter from the wind you so much dislike and all all other blasts that harm or chill.

Ha.s.sAN My little house?

CALIPH I chose it for you, knowing your disposition. Here in this remote corner of the garden you will hear no noise of street or Palace, but enjoy complete repose.

Ha.s.sAN (With rapture) Mine, this little house? Mine, this sweet-scented door!

CALIPH Knock on it and see.

(Ha.s.sAN knocks. A door opens and ALDER, WILLOW, JUNIPER, and TAMARISK appear. TAMARISK the youngest, has somewhat of a mouse's squeak.)

ALDER (To CALIPH with prostration) O, Emir of the Faithful!

WILLOW (To CALIPH with prostration) O, Redresser of Wrong!

JUNIPER (To CALIPH with prostration) O, Shadow of G.o.d on earth!

TAMARISK (To CALIPH with prostration) O, Peac.o.c.k of the World!

ALDER (To Ha.s.sAN with prostration) Master!

WILLOW (To Ha.s.sAN with prostration) Master!

JUNIPER (To Ha.s.sAN with prostration) Master!

TAMARISK (To Ha.s.sAN with prostration) Master!

(They stand, their hands in their sleeves, across the doorway.)

Ha.s.sAN But these are the slaves of the King of the Beggars, who bathed me, and anointed me, and brought back my soul into my eyes, whence a woman had all but driven it forever.

CALIPH I have rescued them from the ruin of their master's house as their polite and finished manners deserve, and I have given them to you since you are likely to need and appreciate their service.

Ha.s.sAN And so faces not altogether strange will welcome me to my home.

(Kneels and kisses Caliph's hand.)

CALIPH Say not a word. For the pen of happiness hath written on thy face the ode of grat.i.tude.

(To SLAVES) Is all ready?

ALDER (Pompously) Ready, O Gardener of the Vale of Islam.

WILLOW Prepared, O Lion...

CALIPH Enough! Conduct your master into his house, show him all there is inside, and serve him faithfully.

Enter with them, Ha.s.san; delicious has been our converse, but Jafar, the Vizier has been awaiting me some two hours.

(As Ha.s.san is about to prostrate himself) No, it is thus Haroun takes leave of his friends.

(Kisses him on both cheeks. Ha.s.sAN watches till he is out of sight, pensive. Then he goes to the fountain and observes it a moment.

Then advances slowly to the folding door of the pavilion which ALDER and WILLOW hold open for him.)

ALDER Fortunate be thy entry!

WILLOW Prosperous thy sojourn!

JUNIPER Quiet thy days!

TAMARISK And riotous thy nights!