A House of Pomegranates, Oscar Wilde [suggested reading TXT] 📗

a hooded merchant who had a cloak of cloth of

Tartary, and bare a lantern of pierced horn at the end of a jointed

reed. And the merchant said to him, ‘Why dost thou sit in the

market-place, seeing that the booths are closed and the bales

corded?’

 

And the young Fisherman answered him, ‘I can find no inn in this

city, nor have I any kinsman who might give me shelter.’

 

‘Are we not all kinsmen?’ said the merchant. ‘And did not one God

make us? Therefore come with me, for I have a guest-chamber.’

 

So the young Fisherman rose up and followed the merchant to his

house. And when he had passed through a garden of pomegranates and

entered into the house, the merchant brought him rose-water in a

copper dish that he might wash his hands, and ripe melons that he

might quench his thirst, and set a bowl of rice and a piece of

roasted kid before him.

 

And after that he had finished, the merchant led him to the guest-chamber, and bade him sleep and be at rest. And the young

Fisherman gave him thanks, and kissed the ring that was on his

hand, and flung himself down on the carpets of dyed goat’s-hair.

And when he had covered himself with a covering of black lamb’s-wool he fell asleep.

 

And three hours before dawn, and while it was still night, his Soul

waked him and said to him, ‘Rise up and go to the room of the

merchant, even to the room in which he sleepeth, and slay him, and

take from him his gold, for we have need of it.’

 

And the young Fisherman rose up and crept towards the room of the

merchant, and over the feet of the merchant there was lying a

curved sword, and the tray by the side of the merchant held nine

purses of gold. And he reached out his hand and touched the sword,

and when he touched it the merchant started and awoke, and leaping

up seized himself the sword and cried to the young Fisherman, ‘Dost

thou return evil for good, and pay with the shedding of blood for

the kindness that I have shown thee?’

 

And his Soul said to the young Fisherman, ‘Strike him,’ and he

struck him so that he swooned and he seized then the nine purses of

gold, and fled hastily through the garden of pomegranates, and set

his face to the star that is the star of morning.

 

And when they had gone a league from the city, the young Fisherman

beat his breast, and said to his Soul, ‘Why didst thou bid me slay

the merchant and take his gold? Surely thou art evil.’

 

But his Soul answered him, ‘Be at peace, be at peace.’

 

‘Nay,’ cried the young Fisherman, ‘I may not be at peace, for all

that thou hast made me to do I hate. Thee also I hate, and I bid

thee tell me wherefore thou hast wrought with me in this wise.’

 

And his Soul answered him, ‘When thou didst send me forth into the

world thou gavest me no heart, so I learned to do all these things

and love them.’

 

‘What sayest thou?’ murmured the young Fisherman.

 

‘Thou knowest,’ answered his Soul, ‘thou knowest it well. Hast

thou forgotten that thou gavest me no heart? I trow not. And so

trouble not thyself nor me, but be at peace, for there is no pain

that thou shalt not give away, nor any pleasure that thou shalt not

receive.’

 

And when the young Fisherman heard these words he trembled and said

to his Soul, ‘Nay, but thou art evil, and hast made me forget my

love, and hast tempted me with temptations, and hast set my feet in

the ways of sin.’

 

And his Soul answered him, ‘Thou hast not forgotten that when thou

didst send me forth into the world thou gavest me no heart. Come,

let us go to another city, and make merry, for we have nine purses

of gold.’

 

But the young Fisherman took the nine purses of gold, and flung

them down, and trampled on them.

 

‘Nay,’ he cried, ‘but I will have nought to do with thee, nor will

I journey with thee anywhere, but even as I sent thee away before,

so will I send thee away now, for thou hast wrought me no good.’

And he turned his back to the moon, and with the little knife that

had the handle of green viper’s skin he strove to cut from his feet

that shadow of the body which is the body of the Soul.

 

Yet his Soul stirred not from him, nor paid heed to his command,

but said to him, ‘The spell that the Witch told thee avails thee no

more, for I may not leave thee, nor mayest thou drive me forth.

Once in his life may a man send his Soul away, but he who receiveth

back his Soul must keep it with him for ever, and this is his

punishment and his reward.’

 

And the young Fisherman grew pale and clenched his hands and cried,

‘She was a false Witch in that she told me not that.’

 

‘Nay,’ answered his Soul, ‘but she was true to Him she worships,

and whose servant she will be ever.’

 

And when the young Fisherman knew that he could no longer get rid

of his Soul, and that it was an evil Soul and would abide with him

always, he fell upon the ground weeping bitterly.

 

And when it was day the young Fisherman rose up and said to his

Soul, ‘I will bind my hands that I may not do thy bidding, and

close my lips that I may not speak thy words, and I will return to

the place where she whom I love has her dwelling. Even to the sea

will I return, and to the little bay where she is wont to sing, and

I will call to her and tell her the evil I have done and the evil

thou hast wrought on me.’

 

And his Soul tempted him and said, ‘Who is thy love, that thou

shouldst return to her? The world has many fairer than she is.

There are the dancing-girls of Samaris who dance in the manner of

all kinds of birds and beasts. Their feet are painted with henna,

and in their hands they have little copper bells. They laugh while

they dance, and their laughter is as clear as the laughter of

water. Come with me and I will show them to thee. For what is

this trouble of thine about the things of sin? Is that which is

pleasant to eat not made for the eater? Is there poison in that

which is sweet to drink? Trouble not thyself, but come with me to

another city. There is a little city hard by in which there is a

garden of tulip-trees. And there dwell in this comely garden white

peacocks and peacocks that have blue breasts. Their tails when

they spread them to the sun are like disks of ivory and like gilt

disks. And she who feeds them dances for their pleasure, and

sometimes she dances on her hands and at other times she dances

with her feet. Her eyes are coloured with stibium, and her

nostrils are shaped like the wings of a swallow. From a hook in

one of her nostrils hangs a flower that is carved out of a pearl.

She laughs while she dances, and the silver rings that are about

her ankles tinkle like bells of silver. And so trouble not thyself

any more, but come with me to this city.’

 

But the young Fisherman answered not his Soul, but closed his lips

with the seal of silence and with a tight cord bound his hands, and

journeyed back to the place from which he had come, even to the

little bay where his love had been wont to sing. And ever did his

Soul tempt him by the way, but he made it no answer, nor would he

do any of the wickedness that it sought to make him to do, so great

was the power of the love that was within him.

 

And when he had reached the shore of the sea, he loosed the cord

from his hands, and took the seal of silence from his lips, and

called to the little Mermaid. But she came not to his call, though

he called to her all day long and besought her.

 

And his Soul mocked him and said, ‘Surely thou hast but little joy

out of thy love. Thou art as one who in time of death pours water

into a broken vessel. Thou givest away what thou hast, and nought

is given to thee in return. It were better for thee to come with

me, for I know where the Valley of Pleasure lies, and what things

are wrought there.’

 

But the young Fisherman answered not his Soul, but in a cleft of

the rock he built himself a house of wattles, and abode there for

the space of a year. And every morning he called to the Mermaid,

and every noon he called to her again, and at night-time he spake

her name. Yet never did she rise out of the sea to meet him, nor

in any place of the sea could he find her though he sought for her

in the caves and in the green water, in the pools of the tide and

in the wells that are at the bottom of the deep.

 

And ever did his Soul tempt him with evil, and whisper of terrible

things. Yet did it not prevail against him, so great was the power

of his love.

 

And after the year was over, the Soul thought within himself, ‘I

have tempted my master with evil, and his love is stronger than I

am. I will tempt him now with good, and it may be that he will

come with me.’

 

So he spake to the young Fisherman and said, ‘I have told thee of

the joy of the world, and thou hast turned a deaf ear to me.

Suffer me now to tell thee of the world’s pain, and it may be that

thou wilt hearken. For of a truth pain is the Lord of this world,

nor is there any one who escapes from its net. There be some who

lack raiment, and others who lack bread. There be widows who sit

in purple, and widows who sit in rags. To and fro over the fens go

the lepers, and they are cruel to each other. The beggars go up

and down on the highways, and their wallets are empty. Through the

streets of the cities walks Famine, and the Plague sits at their

gates. Come, let us go forth and mend these things, and make them

not to be. Wherefore shouldst thou tarry here calling to thy love,

seeing she comes not to thy call? And what is love, that thou

shouldst set this high store upon it?’

 

But the young Fisherman answered it nought, so great was the power

of his love. And every morning he called to the Mermaid, and every

noon he called to her again, and at night-time he spake her name.

Yet never did she rise out of the sea to meet him, nor in any place

of the sea could he find her, though he sought for her in the

rivers of the sea, and in the valleys that are under the waves, in

the sea that the night makes purple, and in the sea that the dawn

leaves grey.

 

And after the second