Poems in Prose / Oscar Wilde

THE ARTIST

ONE evening there came into his soul the desire to fashion an image

of THE PLEASURE THAT ABIDETH FOR A MOMENT. And he went forth into

the world to look for bronze. For he could think only in bronze.

But all the bronze of the whole world had disappeared, nor anywhere

in the whole world was there any bronze to be found, save only the

bronze of the image of THE SORROW THAT ENDURETH FOR EVER.

Now this image he had himself, and with his own hands, fashioned,

and had set it on the tomb of the one thing he had loved in life.

On the tomb of the dead thing he had most loved had he set this

image of his own fashioning, that it might serve as a sign of the

love of man that dieth not, and a symbol of the sorrow of man that

endureth for ever. And in the whole world there was no other

bronze save the bronze of this image.

And he took the image he had fashioned, and set it in a great

furnace, and gave it to the fire.

And out of the bronze of the image of THE SORROW THAT ENDURETH FOR

EVER he fashioned an image of THE PLEASURE THAT ABIDETH FOR A

MOMENT.

THE DOER OF GOOD

It was night-time and He was alone.

And He saw afar-off the walls of a round city and went towards the

city.

And when He came near He heard within the city the tread of the

feet of joy, and the laughter of the mouth of gladness and the loud

noise of many lutes. And He knocked at the gate and certain of the

gate-keepers opened to Him.

And He beheld a house that was of marble and had fair pillars of

marble before it. The pillars were hung with garlands, and within

and without there were torches of cedar. And He entered the house.

And when He had passed through the hall of chalcedony and the hall

of jasper, and reached the long hall of feasting, He saw lying on a

couch of sea-purple one whose hair was crowned with red roses and

whose lips were red with wine.

And He went behind him and touched him on the shoulder and said to

him, 'Why do you live like this?'

And the young man turned round and recognised Him, and made answer

and said, 'But I was a leper once, and you healed me. How else

should I live?'

And He passed out of the house and went again into the street.

And after a little while He saw one whose face and raiment were

painted and whose feet were shod with pearls. And behind her came,

slowly as a hunter, a young man who wore a cloak of two colours.

Now the face of the woman was as the fair face of an idol, and the

eyes of the young man were bright with lust.

And He followed swiftly and touched the hand of the young man and

said to him, 'Why do you look at this woman and in such wise?'

And the young man turned round and recognised Him and said, 'But I

was blind once, and you gave me sight. At what else should I

look?'

And He ran forward and touched the painted raiment of the woman and

said to her, 'Is there no other way in which to walk save the way

of sin?'

And the woman turned round and recognised Him, and laughed and

said, 'But you forgave me my sins, and the way is a pleasant way.'

And He passed out of the city.

And when He had passed out of the city He saw seated by the

roadside a young man who was weeping.

And He went towards him and touched the long locks of his hair and

said to him, 'Why are you weeping?'

And the young man looked up and recognised Him and made answer,

'But I was dead once, and you raised me from the dead. What else

should I do but weep?'

THE DISCIPLE

When Narcissus died the pool of his pleasure changed from a cup of

sweet waters into a cup of salt tears, and the Oreads came weeping

through the woodland that they might sing to the pool and give it

comfort.

And when they saw that the pool had changed from a cup of sweet

waters into a cup of salt tears, they loosened the green tresses of

their hair and cried to the pool and said, 'We do not wonder that

you should mourn in this manner for Narcissus, so beautiful was

he.'

'But was Narcissus beautiful?' said the pool.

'Who should know that better than you?' answered the Oreads. 'Us

did he ever pass by, but you he sought for, and would lie on your

banks and look down at you, and in the mirror of your waters he

would mirror his own beauty.'

And the pool answered, 'But I loved Narcissus because, as he lay on

my banks and looked down at me, in the mirror of his eyes I saw

ever my own beauty mirrored.'

THE MASTER

Now when the darkness came over the earth Joseph of Arimathea,

having lighted a torch of pinewood, passed down from the hill into

the valley. For he had business in his own home.

And kneeling on the flint stones of the Valley of Desolation he saw

a young man who was naked and weeping. His hair was the colour of

honey, and his body was as a white flower, but he had wounded his

body with thorns and on his hair had he set ashes as a crown.

And he who had great possessions said to the young man who was

naked and weeping, 'I do not wonder that your sorrow is so great,

for surely He was a just man.'

And the young man answered, 'It is not for Him that I am weeping,

but for myself. I too have changed water into wine, and I have

healed the leper and given sight to the blind. I have walked upon

the waters, and from the dwellers in the tombs I have cast out

devils. I have fed the hungry in the desert where there was no

food, and I have raised the dead from their narrow houses, and at

my bidding, and before a great multitude, of people, a barren fig-

tree withered away. All things that this man has done I have done

also. And yet they have not crucified me.'

THE HOUSE OF JUDGMENT

And there was silence in the House of Judgment, and the Man came

naked before God.

And God opened the Book of the Life of the Man.

And God said to the Man, 'Thy life hath been evil, and thou hast

shown cruelty to those who were in need of succour, and to those

who lacked help thou hast been bitter and hard of heart. The poor

called to thee and thou didst not hearken, and thine ears were

closed to the cry of My afflicted. The inheritance of the

fatherless thou didst take unto thyself, and thou didst send the

foxes into the vineyard of thy neighbour's field. Thou didst take

the bread of the children and give it to the dogs to eat, and My

lepers who lived in the marshes, and were at peace and praised Me,

thou didst drive forth on to the highways, and on Mine earth out of

which I made thee thou didst spill innocent blood.'

And the Man made answer and said, 'Even so did I.'

And again God opened the Book of the Life of the Man.

And God said to the Man, 'Thy life hath been evil, and the Beauty I

have shown thou hast sought for, and the Good I have hidden thou

didst pass by. The walls of thy chamber were painted with images,

and from the bed of thine abominations thou didst rise up to the

sound of flutes. Thou didst build seven altars to the sins I have

suffered, and didst eat of the thing that may not be eaten, and the

purple of thy raiment was broidered with the three signs of shame.

Thine idols were neither of gold nor of silver that endure, but of

flesh that dieth. Thou didst stain their hair with perfumes and

put pomegranates in their hands. Thou didst stain their feet with

saffron and spread carpets before them. With antimony thou didst

stain their eyelids and their bodies thou didst smear with myrrh.

Thou didst bow thyself to the ground before them, and the thrones

of thine idols were set in the sun. Thou didst show to the sun thy

shame and to the moon thy madness.'

And the Man made answer and said, 'Even so did I.'

And a third time God opened the Book of the Life of the Man.

And God said to the Man, 'Evil hath been thy life, and with evil

didst thou requite good, and with wrongdoing kindness. The hands

that fed thee thou didst wound, and the breasts that gave thee suck

thou didst despise. He who came to thee with water went away

thirsting, and the outlawed men who hid thee in their tents at

night thou didst betray before dawn. Thine enemy who spared thee

thou didst snare in an ambush, and the friend who walked with thee

thou didst sell for a price, and to those who brought thee Love

thou didst ever give Lust in thy turn.'

And the Man made answer and said, 'Even so did I.'

And God closed the Book of the Life of the Man, and said, 'Surely I

will send thee into Hell. Even into Hell will I send thee.'

And the Man cried out, 'Thou canst not.'

And God said to the Man, 'Wherefore can I not send thee to Hell,

and for what reason?'

'Because in Hell have I always lived,' answered the Man.

And there was silence in the House of Judgment.

And after a space God spake, and said to the Man, 'Seeing that I

may not send thee into Hell, surely I will send thee unto Heaven.

Even unto Heaven will I send thee.'

And the Man cried out, 'Thou canst not.'

And God said to the Man, 'Wherefore can I not send thee unto

Heaven, and for what reason?'

'Because never, and in no place, have I been able to imagine it,'

answered the Man.

And there was silence in the House of Judgment.

THE TEACHER OF WISDOM

From his childhood he had been as one filled with the perfect

knowledge of God, and even while he was yet but a lad many of the

saints, as well as certain holy women who dwelt in the free city of

his birth, had been stirred to much wonder by the grave wisdom of

his answers.

And when his parents had given him the robe and the ring of manhood

he kissed them, and left them and went out into the world, that he

might speak to the world about God. For there were at that time

many in the world who either knew not God at all, or had but an

incomplete knowledge of Him, or worshipped the false gods who dwell

in groves and have no care of their worshippers.

And he set his face to the sun and journeyed, walking without

sandals, as he had seen the saints walk, and carrying at his girdle

a leathern wallet and a little water-bottle of burnt clay.

And as he walked along the highway he was full of the joy that

comes from the perfect knowledge of God, and he sang praises unto

God without ceasing; and after a time he reached a strange land in

which there were many cities.

And he passed through eleven cities. And some of these cities were

in valleys, and others were by the banks of great rivers, and

others were set on hills. And in each city he found a disciple who

loved him and followed him, and a great multitude also of people

followed him from each city, and the knowledge of God spread in the

whole land, and many of the rulers were converted, and the priests

of the temples in which there were idols found that half of their

gain was gone, and when they beat upon their drums at noon none, or

but a few, came with peacocks and with offerings of flesh as had

been the custom of the land before his coming.

Yet the more the people followed him, and the greater the number of

his disciples, the greater became his sorrow. And he knew not why

his sorrow was so great. For he spake ever about God, and out of

the fulness of that perfect knowledge of God which God had Himself

given to him.

And one evening he passed out of the eleventh city, which was a

city of Armenia, and his disciples and a great crowd of people

followed after him; and he went up on to a mountain and sat down on

a rock that was on the mountain, and his disciples stood round him,

and the multitude knelt in the valley.

And he bowed his head on his hands and wept, and said to his Soul,

'Why is it that I am full of sorrow and fear, and that each of my

disciples is an enemy that walks in the noonday?' And his Soul

answered him and said, 'God filled thee with the perfect knowledge

of Himself, and thou hast given this knowledge away to others. The

pearl of great price thou hast divided, and the vesture without

seam thou hast parted asunder. He who giveth away wisdom robbeth

himself. He is as one who giveth his treasure to a robber. Is not

God wiser than thou art? Who art thou to give away the secret that

God hath told thee? I was rich once, and thou hast made me poor.

Once I saw God, and now thou hast hidden Him from me.'

And he wept again, for he knew that his Soul spake truth to him,

and that he had given to others the perfect knowledge of God, and

that he was as one clinging to the skirts of God, and that his

faith was leaving him by reason of the number of those who believed

in him.

And he said to himself, 'I will talk no more about God. He who

giveth away wisdom robbeth himself.'

And after the space of some hours his disciples came near him and

bowed themselves to the ground and said, 'Master, talk to us about

God, for thou hast the perfect knowledge of God, and no man save

thee hath this knowledge.'

And he answered them and said, 'I will talk to you about all other

things that are in heaven and on earth, but about God I will not

talk to you. Neither now, nor at any time, will I talk to you

about God.'

And they were wroth with him and said to him, 'Thou hast led us

into the desert that we might hearken to thee. Wilt thou send us

away hungry, and the great multitude that thou hast made to follow

thee?'

And he answered them and said, 'I will not talk to you about God.'

And the multitude murmured against him and said to him, 'Thou hast

led us into the desert, and hast given us no food to eat. Talk to

us about God and it will suffice us.'

But he answered them not a word. For he knew that if he spake to

them about God he would give away his treasure.

And his disciples went away sadly, and the multitude of people

returned to their own homes. And many died on the way.

And when he was alone he rose up and set his face to the moon, and

journeyed for seven moons, speaking to no man nor making any

answer. And when the seventh moon had waned he reached that desert

which is the desert of the Great River. And having found a cavern

in which a Centaur had once dwelt, he took it for his place of

dwelling, and made himself a mat of reeds on which to lie, and

became a hermit. And every hour the Hermit praised God that He had

suffered him to keep some knowledge of Him and of His wonderful

greatness.

Now, one evening, as the Hermit was seated before the cavern in

which he had made his place of dwelling, he beheld a young man of

evil and beautiful face who passed by in mean apparel and with

empty hands. Every evening with empty hands the young man passed

by, and every morning he returned with his hands full of purple and

pearls. For he was a Robber and robbed the caravans of the

merchants.

And the Hermit looked at him and pitied him. But he spake not a

word. For he knew that he who speaks a word loses his faith.

And one morning, as the young man returned with his hands full of

purple and pearls, he stopped and frowned and stamped his foot upon

the sand, and said to the Hermit: 'Why do you look at me ever in

this manner as I pass by? What is it that I see in your eyes? For

no man has looked at me before in this manner. And the thing is a

thorn and a trouble to me.'

And the Hermit answered him and said, 'What you see in my eyes is

pity. Pity is what looks out at you from my eyes.'

And the young man laughed with scorn, and cried to the Hermit in a

bitter voice, and said to him, 'I have purple and pearls in my

hands, and you have but a mat of reeds on which to lie. What pity

should you have for me? And for what reason have you this pity?'

'I have pity for you,' said the Hermit, 'because you have no

knowledge of God.'

'Is this knowledge of God a precious thing?' asked the young man,

and he came close to the mouth of the cavern.

'It is more precious than all the purple and the pearls of the

world,' answered the Hermit.

'And have you got it?' said the young Robber, and he came closer

still.

'Once, indeed,' answered the Hermit, 'I possessed the perfect

knowledge of God. But in my foolishness I parted with it, and

divided it amongst others. Yet even now is such knowledge as

remains to me more precious than purple or pearls.'

And when the young Robber heard this he threw away the purple and

the pearls that he was bearing in his hands, and drawing a sharp

sword of curved steel he said to the Hermit, 'Give me, forthwith

this knowledge of God that you possess, or I will surely slay you.

Wherefore should I not slay him who has a treasure greater than my

treasure?'

And the Hermit spread out his arms and said, 'Were it not better

for me to go unto the uttermost courts of God and praise Him, than

to live in the world and have no knowledge of Him? Slay me if that

be your desire. But I will not give away my knowledge of God.'

And the young Robber knelt down and besought him, but the Hermit

would not talk to him about God, nor give him his Treasure, and the

young Robber rose up and said to the Hermit, 'Be it as you will.

As for myself, I will go to the City of the Seven Sins, that is but

three days' journey from this place, and for my purple they will

give me pleasure, and for my pearls they will sell me joy.' And he

took up the purple and the pearls and went swiftly away.

And the Hermit cried out and followed him and besought him. For

the space of three days he followed the young Robber on the road

and entreated him to return, nor to enter into the City of the

Seven Sins.

And ever and anon the young Robber looked back at the Hermit and

called to him, and said, 'Will you give me this knowledge of God

which is more precious than purple and pearls? If you will give me

that, I will not enter the city.'

And ever did the Hermit answer, 'All things that I have I will give

thee, save that one thing only. For that thing it is not lawful

for me to give away.'

And in the twilight of the third day they came nigh to the great

scarlet gates of the City of the Seven Sins. And from the city

there came the sound of much laughter.

And the young Robber laughed in answer, and sought to knock at the

gate. And as he did so the Hermit ran forward and caught him by

the skirts of his raiment, and said to him: 'Stretch forth your

hands, and set your arms around my neck, and put your ear close to

my lips, and I will give you what remains to me of the knowledge of

God.' And the young Robber stopped.

And when the Hermit had given away his knowledge of God, he fell

upon the ground and wept, and a great darkness hid from him the

city and the young Robber, so that he saw them no more.

And as he lay there weeping he was ware of One who was standing

beside him; and He who was standing beside him had feet of brass

and hair like fine wool. And He raised the Hermit up, and said to

him: 'Before this time thou hadst the perfect knowledge of God.

Now thou shalt have the perfect love of God. Wherefore art thou

weeping?' And he kissed him.

FOOTNOTES:

(1) Plato's LAWS; AEschylus' PROMETHEUS BOUND.

(2) Somewhat in the same spirit Plato, in his LAWS, appeals to the

local position of Ilion among the rivers of the plain, as a proof

that it was not built till long after the Deluge.

(3) Plutarch remarks that the ONLY evidence Greece possesses of the

truth that the legendary power of Athens is no 'romance or idle

story,' is the public and sacred buildings. This is an instance of

the exaggerated importance given to ruins against which Thucydides

is warning us.

(4) The fictitious sale in the Roman marriage PER COEMPTIONEM was

originally, of course, a real sale.

(5) Notably, of course, in the case of heat and its laws.

(6) Cousin errs a good deal in this respect. To say, as he did,

'Give me the latitude and the longitude of a country, its rivers

and its mountains, and I will deduce the race,' is surely a glaring

exaggeration.

(7) The monarchical, aristocratical, and democratic elements of the

Roman constitution are referred to.

(8) Polybius, vi. 9. [Greek text which cannot be reproduced]

(9) [Greek text which cannot be reproduced]

(10) The various stages are [Greek text which cannot be

reproduced], [Greek text which cannot be reproduced].

(11) Polybius, xii. 24.

(12) Polybius, i. 4, viii. 4, specially; and really PASSIM.

(13) He makes one exception.

(14) Polybius, viii. 4.

(15) Polybius, xvi. 12.

(16) Polybius, viii. 4: [Greek text which cannot be reproduced]

(17) Polybius resembled Gibbon in many respects. Like him he held

that all religions were to the philosopher equally false, to the

vulgar equally true, to the statesman equally useful.

(18) Cf. Polybius, xii. 25, [Greek text which cannot be reproduced]

(19) Polybius, xxii. 8.

(20) I mean particularly as regards his sweeping denunciation of

the complete moral decadence of Greek society during the

Peloponnesain War, which, from what remains to us of Athenian

literature, we know must have been completely exaggerated. Or,

rather, he is looking at men merely in their political dealings:

and in politics the man who is personally honourable and refined

will not scruple to do anything for his party.

(21) Polybius, xii. 25.

(22) THE TWO PATHS, Lect. iii. p. 123 (1859 ed.).

THE END.