House of Pomegranates

Oscar Wilde

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pubOne.info thank you for your continued support and wish to present you this new edition. [TO MARGARET LADY BROOKE - THE RANEE OF SARAWAK]

Sujets

• Short story

Informations

• Publié par: Pub One Info
• Date de parution: 23 octobre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9782819919612
• Langue: English

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STORY 1 - THE YOUNG KING
[TO MARGARET LADY BROOKE - THE RANEE OFSARAWAK]
It was the night before the day fixed for hiscoronation, and the young King was sitting alone in his beautifulchamber. His courtiers had all taken their leave of him, bowingtheir heads to the ground, according to the ceremonious usage ofthe day, and had retired to the Great Hall of the Palace, toreceive a few last lessons from the Professor of Etiquette; therebeing some of them who had still quite natural manners, which in acourtier is, I need hardly say, a very grave offence.
The lad - for he was only a lad, being but sixteenyears of age - was not sorry at their departure, and had flunghimself back with a deep sigh of relief on the soft cushions of hisembroidered couch, lying there, wild-eyed and open-mouthed, like abrown woodland Faun, or some young animal of the forest newlysnared 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 himup, and whose son he had always fancied himself to be. The child ofthe old King's only daughter by a secret marriage with one muchbeneath her in station - a stranger, some said, who, by thewonderful magic of his lute-playing, had made the young Princesslove him; while others spoke of an artist from Rimini, to whom thePrincess had shown much, perhaps too much honour, and who hadsuddenly disappeared from the city, leaving his work in theCathedral unfinished - he had been, when but a week old, stolenaway from his mother's side, as she slept, and given into thecharge of a common peasant and his wife, who were without childrenof their own, and lived in a remote part of the forest, more than aday's ride from the town. Grief, or the plague, as the courtphysician stated, or, as some suggested, a swift Italian poisonadministered in a cup of spiced wine, slew, within an hour of herwakening, the white girl who had given him birth, and as the trustymessenger who bare the child across his saddle-bow stooped from hisweary horse and knocked at the rude door of the goatherd's hut, thebody of the Princess was being lowered into an open grave that hadbeen dug in a deserted churchyard, beyond the city gates, a gravewhere it was said that another body was also lying, that of a youngman of marvellous and foreign beauty, whose hands were tied behindhim with a knotted cord, and whose breast was stabbed with many redwounds.
Such, at least, was the story that men whispered toeach other. Certain it was that the old King, when on his deathbed,whether moved by remorse for his great sin, or merely desiring thatthe kingdom should not pass away from his line, had had the ladsent for, and, in the presence of the Council, had acknowledged himas his heir.
And it seems that from the very first moment of hisrecognition he had shown signs of that strange passion for beautythat was destined to have so great an influence over his life.Those who accompanied him to the suite of rooms set apart for hisservice, often spoke of the cry of pleasure that broke from hislips when he saw the delicate raiment and rich jewels that had beenprepared for him, and of the almost fierce joy with which he flungaside his rough leathern tunic and coarse sheepskin cloak. Hemissed, indeed, at times the fine freedom of his forest life, andwas always apt to chafe at the tedious Court ceremonies thatoccupied so much of each day, but the wonderful palace - JOYEUSE,as they called it - of which he now found himself lord, seemed tohim to be a new world fresh-fashioned for his delight; and as soonas he could escape from the council-board or audience-chamber, hewould run down the great staircase, with its lions of gilt bronzeand its steps of bright porphyry, and wander from room to room, andfrom corridor to corridor, like one who was seeking to find inbeauty an anodyne from pain, a sort of restoration fromsickness.
Upon these journeys of discovery, as he would callthem - and, indeed, they were to him real voyages through amarvellous land, he would sometimes be accompanied by the slim,fair-haired Court pages, with their floating mantles, and gayfluttering ribands; but more often he would be alone, feelingthrough a certain quick instinct, which was almost a divination,that the secrets of art are best learned in secret, and thatBeauty, like Wisdom, loves the lonely worshipper.
Many curious stories were related about him at thisperiod. It was said that a stout Burgo-master, who had come todeliver a florid oratorical address on behalf of the citizens ofthe town, had caught sight of him kneeling in real adoration beforea great picture that had just been brought from Venice, and thatseemed to herald the worship of some new gods. On another occasionhe had been missed for several hours, and after a lengthened searchhad been discovered in a little chamber in one of the northernturrets of the palace gazing, as one in a trance, at a Greek gemcarved with the figure of Adonis. He had been seen, so the taleran, pressing his warm lips to the marble brow of an antique statuethat had been discovered in the bed of the river on the occasion ofthe building of the stone bridge, and was inscribed with the nameof the Bithynian slave of Hadrian. He had passed a whole night innoting the effect of the moonlight on a silver image ofEndymion.
All rare and costly materials had certainly a greatfascination for him, and in his eagerness to procure them he hadsent away many merchants, some to traffic for amber with the roughfisher-folk of the north seas, some to Egypt to look for thatcurious green turquoise which is found only in the tombs of kings,and is said to possess magical properties, some to Persia forsilken carpets and painted pottery, and others to India to buygauze 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 wasto wear at his coronation, the robe of tissued gold, and theruby-studded crown, and the sceptre with its rows and rings ofpearls. Indeed, it was of this that he was thinking to-night, as helay back on his luxurious couch, watching the great pinewood logthat was burning itself out on the open hearth. The designs, whichwere from the hands of the most famous artists of the time, hadbeen submitted to him many months before, and he had given ordersthat the artificers were to toil night and day to carry them out,and that the whole world was to be searched for jewels that wouldbe worthy of their work. He saw himself in fancy standing at thehigh altar of the cathedral in the fair raiment of a King, and asmile played and lingered about his boyish lips, and lit up with abright lustre his dark woodland eyes.
After some time he rose from his seat, and leaningagainst the carved penthouse of the chimney, looked round at thedimly-lit room. The walls were hung with rich tapestriesrepresenting the Triumph of Beauty. A large press, inlaid withagate and lapis- lazuli, filled one corner, and facing the windowstood a curiously wrought cabinet with lacquer panels of powderedand mosaiced gold, on which were placed some delicate goblets ofVenetian glass, and a cup of dark-veined onyx. Pale poppies werebroidered on the silk coverlet of the bed, as though they hadfallen from the tired hands of sleep, and tall reeds of flutedivory bare up the velvet canopy, from which great tufts of ostrichplumes sprang, like white foam, to the pallid silver of the frettedceiling. A laughing Narcissus in green bronze held a polishedmirror above its head. On the table stood a flat bowl ofamethyst.
Outside he could see the huge dome of the cathedral,looming like a bubble over the shadowy houses, and the wearysentinels pacing up and down on the misty terrace by the river. Faraway, in an orchard, a nightingale was singing. A faint perfume ofjasmine came through the open window. He brushed his brown curlsback from his forehead, and taking up a lute, let his fingers strayacross the cords. His heavy eyelids drooped, and a strange languorcame over him. Never before had he felt so keenly, or with suchexquisite joy, the magic and the mystery of beautiful things.
When midnight sounded from the clock-tower hetouched a bell, and his pages entered and disrobed him with muchceremony, pouring rose-water over his hands, and strewing flowerson his pillow. A few moments after that they had left the room, hefell asleep.
And as he slept he dreamed a dream, and this was hisdream.
He thought that he was standing in a long, lowattic, amidst the whir and clatter of many looms. The meagredaylight peered in through the grated windows, and showed him thegaunt figures of the weavers bending over their cases. Pale,sickly-looking children were crouched on the huge crossbeams. Asthe shuttles dashed through the warp they lifted up the heavybattens, and when the shuttles stopped they let the battens falland pressed the threads together. Their faces were pinched withfamine, and their thin hands shook and trembled. Some haggard womenwere seated at a table sewing. A horrible odour filled the place.The air was foul and heavy, and the walls dripped and streamed withdamp.
The young King went over to one of the weavers, andstood by him and watched him.
And the weaver looked at him angrily, and said, 'Whyart 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 aman like myself. Indeed, there is but this difference between us -that he wears fine clothes while I go in rags, and that while I amweak from hunger he suffers not a little from overfeeding.'
'The land is free,' said the young King, 'and thouart no man's slave.'
'In war,' answered the weaver, 'the strong makeslaves 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 w