"Come," said the Sultan to his hasheesh-eater in the very furthest
lands that know Bagdad, "dream to me now of London."
And the hasheesh-eater made a low obeisance and seated himself
cross-legged upon a purple cushion broidered with golden poppies, on
the floor, beside an ivory bowl where the hasheesh was, and having
eaten liberally of the hasheesh blinked seven times and spoke thus:
"O Friend of God, know then that London is the desiderate town even of
all Earth's cities. Its houses are of ebony and cedar which they roof
with thin copper plates that the hand of Time turns green. They have
golden balconies in which amethysts are where they sit and watch the
sunset. Musicians in the gloaming steal softly along the ways; unheard
their feet fall on the white sea-sand with which those ways are
strewn, and in the darkness suddenly they play on dulcimers and
instruments with strings. Then are there murmurs in the balconies
praising their skill, then are there bracelets cast down to them for
reward and golden necklaces and even pearls.
"Indeed but the city is fair; there is by the sandy ways a paving all
alabaster, and the lanterns along it are of chrysoprase, all night
long they shine green, but of amethyst are the lanterns of the
balconies.
"As the musicians go along the ways dancers gather about them and
dance upon the alabaster pavings, for joy and not for hire. Sometimes
a window opens far up in an ebony palace and a wreath is cast down to
a dancer or orchids showered upon them.
"Indeed of many cities have I dreamt but of none fairer, through many
marble metropolitan gates hasheesh has led me, but London is its
secret, the last gate of all; the ivory bowl has nothing more to show.
And indeed even now the imps that crawl behind me and that will not
let me be are plucking me by the elbow and bidding my spirit return,
for well they know that I have seen too much. 'No, not London,' they
say; and therefore I will speak of some other city, a city of some
less mysterious land, and anger not the imps with forbidden things. I
will speak of Persepolis or famous Thebes."
A shade of annoyance crossed the Sultan's face, a look of thunder that
you had scarcely seen, but in those lands they watched his visage
well, and though his spirit was wandering far away and his eyes were
bleared with hasheesh yet that storyteller there and then perceived
the look that was death, and sent his spirit back at once to London as
a man runs into his house when the thunder comes.
"And therefore," he continued, "in the desiderate city, in London, all
their camels are pure white. Remarkable is the swiftness of their
horses, that draw their chariots that are of ivory along those sandy
ways and that are of surpassing lightness, they have little bells of
silver upon their horses' heads. O Friend of God, if you perceived
their merchants! The glory of their dresses in the noonday! They are
no less gorgeous than those butterflies that float about their
streets. They have overcloaks of green and vestments of azure, huge
purple flowers blaze on their overcloaks, the work of cunning needles,
the centres of the flowers are of gold and the petals of purple. All
their hats are black--" ("No, no," said the Sultan)--"but irises are
set about the brims, and green plumes float above the crowns of them.
"They have a river that is named the Thames, on it their ships go up
with violet sails bringing incense for the braziers that perfume the
streets, new songs exchanged for gold with alien tribes, raw silver
for the statues of their heroes, gold to make balconies where the
women sit, great sapphires to reward their poets with, the secrets of
old cities and strange lands, the earning of the dwellers in far
isles, emeralds, diamonds, and the hoards of the sea. And whenever a
ship comes into port and furls its violet sails and the news spreads
through London that she has come, then all the merchants go down to
the river to barter, and all day long the chariots whirl through the
streets, and the sound of their going is a mighty roar all day until
evening, their roar is even like--"
"Not so," said the Sultan.
"Truth is not hidden from the Friend of God," replied the
hasheesh-eater, "I have erred being drunken with the hasheesh, for in
the desiderate city, even in London, so thick upon the ways is the
white sea-sand with which the city glimmers that no sound comes from
the path of the charioteers, but they go softly like a light
sea-wind." ("It is well," said the Sultan.) "They go softly down to
the port where the vessels are, and the merchandise in from the sea,
amongst the wonders that the sailors show, on land by the high ships,
and softly they go though swiftly at evening back to their homes.
"O would that the Munificent, the Illustrious, the Friend of God, had
even seen these things, had seen the jewellers with their empty
baskets, bargaining there by the ships, when the barrels of emeralds
came up from the hold. Or would that he had seen the fountains there
in silver basins in the midst of the ways. I have seen small spires
upon their ebony houses and the spires were all of gold, birds
strutted there upon the copper roofs from golden spire to spire that
have no equal for splendour in all the woods of the world. And over
London the desiderate city the sky is so deep a blue that by this
alone the traveller may know where he has come, and may end his
fortunate journey. Nor yet for any colour of the sky is there too
great heat in London, for along its ways a wind blows always from the
South gently and cools the city.
"Such, O Friend of God, is indeed the city of London, lying very far
off on the yonder side of Bagdad, without a peer for beauty or
excellence of its ways among the towns of the earth or cities of song;
and even so, as I have told, its fortunate citizens dwell, with their
hearts ever devising beautiful things and from the beauty of their own
fair work that is more abundant around them every year, receiving new
inspirations to work things more beautiful yet."
"And is their government good?" the Sultan said.
"It is most good," said the hasheesh-eater, and fell backwards upon
the floor.
He lay thus and was silent. And when the Sultan perceived he would
speak no more that night he smiled and lightly applauded.
And there was envy in that palace, in lands beyond Bagdad, of all that
dwell in London.