Hassan: The Story of Hassan of Baghdad and How He Came to Make the Golden Journey to Samarkand Part 13

Ha.s.sAN With joy? Do I know what is true or false? Do I know if the Caliph is the Caliph? And if the Caliph is the Caliph may he not mock me too?

What is joy? Let me look at that balcony for joy. I dare not look, I fear she is there. Ah. it is she.

(YASMIN takes the rose from her hair and flings it at Ha.s.sAN, then retires within.)

ISHAK Are you fortunate in love as well as in life, O Ha.s.san? But come away.

This conduct ill beseems a minister of state; you are not un.o.bserved.

Ha.s.sAN I am coming. The rose is poisoned.

ISHAK O friend, is this talk for the ardent lover?

Ha.s.sAN Are you my friend? You, Ishak, the glorious singer of Islam?

And if you are my friend, are you like those who were my friends before?

ISHAK Last night, I found you lying like a filthy corpse beneath this window, but I knew by your lute and your countenance that you were a poet, like myself, and I was sorry to think you dead.

Ha.s.sAN A poet? I? I am a confectioner.

ISHAK You are my friend, Ha.s.san.

Ha.s.sAN Then consider this rose. This rose is more bitter than colocynth.

For, look you, friend, had she not flung this rose, I would have said she hated me and loved another; it is well. She had the right to hate and love. She could hate and she could love. But now, ah, tell me, you who seem to be my friend, are all you poets liars?

ISHAK Ya, Ha.s.san, but we tell excellent lies.

Ha.s.sAN Why do you say that beauty has a meaning? Why do you not say that beauty is hollow as a drum? Why do you not say that it is sold?

ISHAK All this disillusionment because a fair lady flung you a rose!

Ha.s.sAN Last night I baked sugar and she flung me water: this morning I bake gold and she flings me a rose.

Empty, empty, I tell you, friend, all the blue sky.

ISHAK Come, forget her and come away. I will instruct you in the pleasures of the court.

Ha.s.sAN Forget, forget? O rose of morning and O rose of evening, vainly for me shall you fade on domes of ebony or azure.

This rose has faded, and this rose is bitter, and this rose is nothing but the world.

CURTAIN

ACT III

SCENE I

The Garden of the CALIPH's palace: in front of a pavilion.

The CALIPH: Ha.s.sAN in fine raiment, a sword of honour at his side.

CALIPH Yes, what the chief Eunuch told you is all true, my Ha.s.san.

Our late host, the King of the Beggars, was captured hiding in the gutter of his roof. This evening I shall judge him and his crew in full divan. And in the divan thou shalt appear, O Ha.s.san, clothed in thy robe of ceremony, and seated on my right hand.

Ha.s.sAN Alas, O Serene Splendour, thy servant is a man of humble origin and limited desires. I am one who would obey the old poet's behest:

Give all thy day to dreaming and all thy night to sleep: Let not Ambition's Tyger devour Contentment's Sheep!

I am not one to open my mouth at divans, or to strut among courtiers in robes of state. Sir, excuse me from these things.

Dispose thy favour like a high golden wall, and protect the life of your servant from the wind of complication.

But at evening, when G.o.d flings roses through the sky, call me then to some calm pavilion, and let us hear Ishak play and let us hear Ishak sing, till you forget you are Lord of all the World, and I forget I am a base-born tradesman; till we discover the speech of things that have no life, and know what the clods of earth are saying to the roots of the garden trees.

CALIPH Have no fear. You shall inhabit the place I shall a.s.sign you in untroubled peace, and meditate till your beard grows into the soil and you become wiser than Aflatun.

But in this case you are a witness and must be present at my divan, be it but for this once only. And you shall call me Emir of the Faithful, Redresser of Wrong, the Shadow of G.o.d on Earth, and Peac.o.c.k of the World.

But in this garden you are Ha.s.san, and I am your friend Haroun, and you must address me as a friend a friend.

Ha.s.sAN (Kissing the CALIPH's hand) O master, you speak gently, but I must fear you all the more.

CALIPH But why? I am but a kindly man. I love single-heartedness in men as I love simplicity in my palace. There you have seen floors with but one carpet--but that carpet like a meadow. You have seen walls with but one curtain--but that curtain a sunset on the sea. You have seen white rooms all naked marble: but they await my courtiers, all dressed like flowers.

If, therefore, I avoid complexity in the matter of walls and floors, shall I not be simple in the things of heart and soul?

Shall I not, Ha.s.san, be just your friend?

Ha.s.sAN Master, I find thy friends.h.i.+p like thy palace, endowed with all the charm of beauty and the magic of surprise. As thou knowest, I am but a man of the streets of Bagdad, and there men say, "The Caliph's Palace, Mashallah! The walls are stiff with gold and the ceilings plated with silver, and the urinals thereof are lined with turquoise blue." And hearing men say this, many a time hath Ha.s.san the Confectioner stroked the chin of Ha.s.san the Confectioner saying, "O, Ha.s.san, thy back parlour is less ugly than that, with its tub for boiling sugar, and its one good Bokhara carpet hanging on the wall.

And twelve months did I work at the tub, boiling sugar to buy that carpet."

CALIPH What a man you are for poetry and carpets! When you tread on a carpet, you drop your eyes to earth to catch the pattern and when you hear a poem, you raise your eyes to heaven to hear the tune.

Whoever saw a confectioner like this? When did you learn poetry, Ha.s.san of my heart?

Ha.s.sAN In that great school, the Market of Bagdad. For thee, Master of the World, poetry is a princely diversion, but for us it was a deliverance from h.e.l.l.