A House of Pomegranates
A House of Pomegranates THE YOUNG KINGTHE BIRTHDAY OF THE INFANTATHE FISHERMAN AND HIS SOULTHE STAR-CHILDCopyright
A House of Pomegranates
Oscar Wilde
THE YOUNG KING
TOMARGARET LADY BROOKE[THE RANEE OF SARAWAK]It was the night before the day fixed for his coronation, and
the young King was sitting alone in his beautiful chamber.
His courtiers had all taken their leave of him, bowing their heads
to the ground, according to the ceremonious usage of the day, and
had retired to the Great Hall of the Palace, to receive a few last
lessons from the Professor of Etiquette; there being some of them
who had still quite natural manners, which in a courtier is, I need
hardly say, a very grave offence.The lad—for he was only a lad, being but sixteen years of
age—was not sorry at their departure, and had flung himself back
with a deep sigh of relief on the soft cushions of his embroidered
couch, lying there, wild eyed and open mouthed, like a
brown woodland Faun, or some young animal of the forest newly
snared by the hunters.And, indeed, it was the hunters who had found him, coming
upon him almost by chance as, bare limbed and pipe in hand, he
was following the flock of the poor goatherd who had brought him
up, and whose son he had always fancied himself to be. The
child of the old King’s only daughter by a secret marriage with one
much beneath her in station—a stranger, some said, who, by the
wonderful magic of his lute-playing, had made the young Princess
love him; while others spoke of an artist from Rimini, to whom the
Princess had shown much, perhaps too much honour, and who had
suddenly disappeared from the city, leaving his work in the
Cathedral unfinished—he had been, when but a week old, stolen away
from his mother’s side, as she slept, and given into the charge of
a common peasant and his wife, who were without children of their
own, and lived in a remote part of the forest, more than a day’s
ride from the town. Grief, or the plague, as the court
physician stated, or, as some suggested, a swift Italian poison
administered in a cup of spiced wine, slew, within an hour of her
wakening, the white girl who had given him birth, and as the trusty
messenger who bare the child across his saddle-bow stooped from his
weary horse and knocked at the rude door of the goatherd’s hut, the
body of the Princess was being lowered into an open grave that had
been dug in a deserted churchyard, beyond the city gates, a grave
where it was said that another body was also lying, that of a young
man of marvellous and foreign beauty, whose hands were tied behind
him with a knotted cord, and whose breast was stabbed with many red
wounds.Such, at least, was the story that men whispered to each
other. Certain it was that the old King, when on his
deathbed, whether moved by remorse for his great sin, or merely
desiring that the kingdom should not pass away from his line, had
had the lad sent for, and, in the presence of the Council, had
acknowledged him as his heir.And it seems that from the very first moment of his
recognition he had shown signs of that strange passion for beauty
that was destined to have so great an influence over his
life. Those who accompanied him to the suite of rooms set
apart for his service, often spoke of the cry of pleasure that
broke from his lips when he saw the delicate raiment and rich
jewels that had been prepared for him, and of the almost fierce joy
with which he flung aside his rough leathern tunic and coarse
sheepskin cloak. He missed, indeed, at times the fine freedom
of his forest life, and was always apt to chafe at the tedious
Court ceremonies that occupied so much of each day, but the
wonderful palace—Joyeuse, as
they called it—of which he now found himself lord, seemed to him to
be a new world fresh-fashioned for his delight; and as soon as he
could escape from the council-board or audience-chamber, he would
run down the great staircase, with its lions of gilt bronze and its
steps of bright porphyry, and wander from room to room, and from
corridor to corridor, like one who was seeking to find in beauty an
anodyne from pain, a sort of restoration from
sickness.Upon these journeys of discovery, as he would call them—and,
indeed, they were to him real voyages through a marvellous land, he
would sometimes be accompanied by the slim, fair-haired Court
pages, with their floating mantles, and gay fluttering ribands; but
more often he would be alone, feeling through a certain quick
instinct, which was almost a divination, that the secrets of art
are best learned in secret, and that Beauty, like Wisdom, loves the
lonely worshipper.Many curious stories were related about him at this
period. It was said that a stout Burgo-master, who had come
to deliver a florid oratorical address on behalf of the citizens of
the town, had caught sight of him kneeling in real adoration before
a great picture that had just been brought from Venice, and that
seemed to herald the worship of some new gods. On another
occasion he had been missed for several hours, and after a
lengthened search had been discovered in a little chamber in one of
the northern turrets of the palace gazing, as one in a trance, at a
Greek gem carved with the figure of Adonis. He had been seen,
so the tale ran, pressing his warm lips to the marble brow of an
antique statue that had been discovered in the bed of the river on
the occasion of the building of the stone bridge, and was inscribed
with the name of the Bithynian slave of Hadrian. He had
passed a whole night in noting the effect of the moonlight on a
silver image of Endymion.All rare and costly materials had certainly a great
fascination for him, and in his eagerness to procure them he had
sent away many merchants, some to traffic for amber with the rough
fisher-folk of the north seas, some to Egypt to look for that
curious green turquoise which is found only in the tombs of kings,
and is said to possess magical properties, some to Persia for
silken carpets and painted pottery, and others to India to buy
gauze and stained ivory, moonstones and bracelets of jade,
sandal-wood and blue enamel and shawls of fine wool.But what had occupied him most was the robe he was to wear at
his coronation, the robe of tissued gold, and the ruby-studded
crown, and the sceptre with its rows and rings of pearls.
Indeed, it was of this that he was thinking to-night, as he lay
back on his luxurious couch, watching the great pinewood log that
was burning itself out on the open hearth. The designs, which
were from the hands of the most famous artists of the time, had
been submitted to him many months before, and he had given orders
that the artificers were to toil night and day to carry them out,
and that the whole world was to be searched for jewels that would
be worthy of their work. He saw himself in fancy standing at
the high altar of the cathedral in the fair raiment of a King, and
a smile played and lingered about his boyish lips, and lit up with
a bright lustre his dark woodland eyes.After some time he rose from his seat, and leaning against
the carved penthouse of the chimney, looked round at the dimly-lit
room. The walls were hung with rich tapestries representing
the Triumph of Beauty. A large press, inlaid with agate and
lapis-lazuli, filled one corner, and facing the window stood a
curiously wrought cabinet with lacquer panels of powdered and
mosaiced gold, on which were placed some delicate goblets of
Venetian glass, and a cup of dark-veined onyx. Pale poppies
were broidered on the silk coverlet of the bed, as though they had
fallen from the tired hands of sleep, and tall reeds of fluted
ivory bare up the velvet canopy, from which great tufts of ostrich
plumes sprang, like white foam, to the pallid silver of the fretted
ceiling. A laughing Narcissus in green bronze held a polished
mirror above its head. On the table stood a flat bowl of
amethyst.Outside he could see the huge dome of the cathedral, looming
like a bubble over the shadowy houses, and the weary sentinels
pacing up and down on the misty terrace by the river. Far
away, in an orchard, a nightingale was singing. A faint
perfume of jasmine came through the open window. He brushed
his brown curls back from his forehead, and taking up a lute, let
his fingers stray across the cords. His heavy eyelids
drooped, and a strange languor came over him. Never before
had he felt so keenly, or with such exquisite joy, the magic and
the mystery of beautiful things.When midnight sounded from the clock-tower he touched a bell,
and his pages entered and disrobed him with much ceremony, pouring
rose-water over his hands, and strewing flowers on his
pillow. A few moments after that they had left the room, he
fell asleep.And as he slept he dreamed a dream, and this was his
dream.He thought that he was standing in a long, low attic, amidst
the whir and clatter of many looms. The meagre daylight
peered in through the grated windows, and showed him the gaunt
figures of the weavers bending over their cases. Pale,
sickly-looking children were crouched on the huge crossbeams.
As the shuttles dashed through the warp they lifted up the heavy
battens, and when the shuttles stopped they let the battens fall
and pressed the threads together. Their faces were pinched
with famine, and their thin hands shook and trembled. Some
haggard women were seated at a table sewing. A horrible odour
filled the place. The air was foul and heavy, and the walls
dripped and streamed with damp.The young King went over to one of the weavers, and stood by
him and watched him.And the weaver looked at him angrily, and said, ‘Why art thou
watching me? Art thou a spy set on us by our
master?’
‘Who is thy master?’ asked the young King.
‘Our master!’ cried the weaver, bitterly. ‘He is a man
like myself. Indeed, there is but this difference between
us—that he wears fine clothes while I go in rags, and that while I
am weak from hunger he suffers not a little from
overfeeding.’
‘The land is free,’ said the young King, ‘and thou art no
man’s slave.’
‘In war,’ answered the weaver, ‘the strong make slaves of the
weak, and in peace the rich make slaves of the poor. We must
work to live, and they give us such mean wages that we die.
We toil for them all day long, and they heap up gold in their
coffers, and our children fade away before their time, and the
faces of those we love become hard and evil. We tread out the
grapes, and another drinks the wine. We sow the corn, and our
own board is empty. We have chains, though no eye beholds
them; and are slaves, though men call us free.’
‘Is it so with all?’ he asked,
‘It is so with all,’ answered the weaver, ‘with the young as
well as with the old, with the women as well as with the men, with
the little children as well as with those who are stricken in
years. The merchants grind us down, and we must needs do
their bidding. The priest rides by and tells his beads, and
no man has care of us. Through our sunless lanes creeps
Poverty with her hungry eyes, and Sin with his sodden face follows
close behind her. Misery wakes us in the morning, and Shame
sits with us at night. But what are these things to
thee? Thou art not one of us. Thy face is too
happy.’ And he turned away scowling, and threw the shuttle
across the loom, and the young King saw that it was threaded with a
thread of gold.And a great terror seized upon him, and he said to the
weaver, ‘What robe is this that thou art weaving?’
‘It is the robe for the coronation of the young King,’ he
answered; ‘what is that to thee?’And the young King gave a loud cry and woke, and lo! he was
in his own chamber, and through the window he saw the great
honey-coloured moon hanging in the dusky air.And he fell asleep again and dreamed, and this was his
dream.He thought that he was lying on the deck of a huge galley
that was being rowed by a hundred slaves. On a carpet by his
side the master of the galley was seated. He was black as
ebony, and his turban was of crimson silk. Great earrings of
silver dragged down the thick lobes of his ears, and in his hands
he had a pair of ivory scales.The slaves were naked, but for a ragged loin-cloth, and each
man was chained to his neighbour. The hot sun beat brightly
upon them, and the negroes ran up and down the gangway and lashed
them with whips of hide. They stretched out their lean arms
and pulled the heavy oars through the water. The salt spray
flew from the blades.At last they reached a little bay, and began to take
soundings. A light wind blew from the shore, and covered the
deck and the great lateen sail with a fine red dust. Three
Arabs mounted on wild asses rode out and threw spears at
them. The master of the galley took a painted bow in his hand
and shot one of them in the throat. He fell heavily into the
surf, and his companions galloped away. A woman wrapped in a
yellow veil followed slowly on a camel, looking back now and then
at the dead body.As soon as they had cast anchor and hauled down the sail, the
negroes went into the hold and brought up a long rope-ladder,
heavily weighted with lead. The master of the galley threw it
over the side, making the ends fast to two iron stanchions.
Then the negroes seized the youngest of the slaves and knocked his
gyves off, and filled his nostrils and his ears with wax, and tied
a big stone round his waist. He crept wearily down the
ladder, and disappeared into the sea. A few bubbles rose
where he sank. Some of the other slaves peered curiously over
the side. At the prow of the galley sat a shark-charmer,
beating monotonously upon a drum.After some time the diver rose up out of the water, and clung
panting to the ladder with a pearl in his right hand. The
negroes seized it from him, and thrust him back. The slaves
fell asleep over their oars.Again and again he came up, and each time that he did so he
brought with him a beautiful pearl. The master of the galley
weighed them, and put them into a little bag of green
leather.The young King tried to speak, but his tongue seemed to
cleave to the roof of his mouth, and his lips refused to
move. The negroes chattered to each other, and began to
quarrel over a string of bright beads. Two cranes flew round
and round the vessel.Then the diver came up for the last time, and the pearl that
he brought with him was fairer than all the pearls of Ormuz, for it
was shaped like the full moon, and whiter than the morning
star. But his face was strangely pale, and as he fell upon
the deck the blood gushed from his ears and nostrils. He
quivered for a little, and then he was still. The negroes
shrugged their shoulders, and threw the body
overboard.And the master of the galley laughed, and, reaching out, he
took the pearl, and when he saw it he pressed it to his forehead
and bowed. ‘It shall be,’ he said, ‘for the sceptre of the
young King,’ and he made a sign to the negroes to draw up the
anchor.And when the young King heard this he gave a great cry, and
woke, and through the window he saw the long grey fingers of the
dawn clutching at the fading stars.And he fell asleep again, and dreamed, and this was his
dream.He thought that he was wandering through a dim wood, hung
with strange fruits and with beautiful poisonous flowers. The
adders hissed at him as he went by, and the bright parrots flew
screaming from branch to branch. Huge tortoises lay asleep
upon the hot mud. The trees were full of apes and
peacocks.On and on he went, till he reached the outskirts of the wood,
and there he saw an immense multitude of men toiling in the bed of
a dried-up river. They swarmed up the crag like ants.
They dug deep pits in the ground and went down into them.
Some of them cleft the rocks with great axes; others grabbled in
the sand.They tore up the cactus by its roots, and trampled on the
scarlet blossoms. They hurried about, calling to each other,
and no man was idle.From the darkness of a cavern Death and Avarice watched them,
and Death said, ‘I am weary; give me a third of them and let me
go.’ But Avarice shook her head. ‘They are my
servants,’ she answered.And Death said to her, ‘What hast thou in thy
hand?’
‘I have three grains of corn,’ she answered; ‘what is that to
thee?’
‘Give me one of them,’ cried Death, ‘to plant in my garden;
only one of them, and I will go away.’
‘I will not give thee anything,’ said Avarice, and she hid
her hand in the fold of her raiment.And Death laughed, and took a cup, and dipped it into a pool
of water, and out of the cup rose Ague. She passed through
the great multitude, and a third of them lay dead. A cold
mist followed her, and the water-snakes ran by her
side.And when Avarice saw that a third of the multitude was dead
she beat her breast and wept. She beat her barren bosom, and
cried aloud. ‘Thou hast slain a third of my servants,’ she
cried, ‘get thee gone. There is war in the mountains of
Tartary, and the kings of each side are calling to thee. The
Afghans have slain the black ox, and are marching to battle.
They have beaten upon their shields with their spears, and have put
on their helmets of iron. What is my valley to thee, that
thou shouldst tarry in it? Get thee gone, and come here no
more.’
‘Nay,’ answered Death, ‘but till thou hast given me a grain
of corn I will not go.’But Avarice shut her hand, and clenched her teeth. ‘I
will not give thee anything,’ she muttered.And Death laughed, and took up a black stone, and threw it
into the forest, and out of a thicket of wild hemlock came Fever in
a robe of flame. She passed through the multitude, and
touched them, and each man that she touched died. The grass
withered beneath her feet as she walked.And Avarice shuddered, and put ashes on her head. ‘Thou
art cruel,’ she cried; ‘thou art cruel. There is famine in
the walled cities of India, and the cisterns of Samarcand have run
dry. There is famine in the walled cities of Egypt, and the
locusts have come up from the desert. The Nile has not
overflowed its banks, and the priests have cursed Isis and
Osiris. Get thee gone to those who need thee, and leave me my
servants.’
‘Nay,’ answered Death, ‘but till thou hast given me a grain
of corn I will not go.’
‘I will not give thee anything,’ said Avarice.