The happy prince and oth.., p.15
The Happy Prince and Other Fairy Tales,
p.15
Of all the rooms this was the brightest and the most beautiful. The walls were covered with a pink-flowered Lucca damask, patterned with birds and dotted with dainty blossoms of silver; the furniture was of massive silver, festooned with florid wreaths, and swinging Cupids; in front of the two large fire-places stood great screens broidered with parrots and peacocks, and the floor, which was of sea-green onyx, seemed to stretch far away into the distance. Nor was he alone. Standing under the shadow of the doorway, at the extreme end of the room, he saw a little figure watching him. His heart trembled, a cry of joy broke from his lips, and he moved out into the sunlight. As he did so, the figure moved out also, and he saw it plainly.
The Infanta! It was a monster, the most grotesque monster he had ever beheld. Not properly shaped as all other people were, but hunch-backed, and crooked-limbed, with huge lolling head and mane of black hair. The little Dwarf frowned, and the monster frowned also. He laughed, and it laughed with him, and held its hands to its sides, just as he himself was doing. He made it a mocking bow, and it returned him a low reverence. He went towards it, and it came to meet him, copying each step that he made, and stopping when he stopped himself. He shouted with amusement, and ran forward, and reached out his hand, and the hand of the monster touched his, and it was as cold as ice. He grew afraid, and moved his hand across, and the monster’s hand followed it quickly. He tried to press on, but something smooth and hard stopped him. The face of the monster was now close to his own, and seemed full of terror. He brushed his hair off his eyes. It imitated him. He struck at it, and it returned blow for blow. He loathed it, and it made hideous faces at him. He drew back, and it retreated.
What is it? He thought for a moment, and looked round at the rest of the room. It was strange, but everything seemed to have its double in this invisible wall of clear water. Yes, picture for picture was repeated, and couch for couch. The sleeping Faun that lay in the alcove by the doorway had its twin brother that slumbered, and the silver Venus that stood in the sunlight held out her arms to a Venus as lovely as herself.
Was it Echo? He had called to her once in the valley, and she had answered him word for word. Could she mock the eye, as she mocked the voice? Could she make a mimic world just like the real world? Could the shadows of things have colour and life and movement? Could it be that——?
He started, and taking from his breast the beautiful white rose, he turned round, and kissed it. The monster had a rose of its own, petal for petal the same! It kissed it with like kisses, and pressed it to its heart with horrible gestures.
When the truth dawned upon him, he gave a wild cry of despair, and fell sobbing to the ground. So it was he who was misshapen and hunch-backed, foul to look at and grotesque. He himself was the monster, and it was at him that all the children had been laughing, and the little Princess who he had thought loved him—she, too, had been merely mocking at his ugliness, and making merry over his twisted limbs. Why had they not left him in the forest, where there was no mirror to tell him how loathsome he was? Why had his father not killed him, rather than sell him to his shame? The hot tears poured down his cheeks, and he tore the white rose to pieces. The sprawling monster did the same, and scattered the faint petals in the air. It grovelled on the ground, and, when he looked at it, it watched him with a face drawn with pain. He crept away, lest he should see it, and covered his eyes with his hands. He crawled, like some wounded thing, into the shadow, and lay there moaning.
And at that moment the Infanta herself came in with her companions through the open window, and when they saw the ugly little dwarf lying on the ground and beating the floor with his clenched hands, in the most fantastic and exaggerated manner, they went off into shouts of happy laughter, and stood all round him and watched him.
“His dancing was funny,” said the Infanta; “but his acting is funnier still. Indeed, he is almost as good as the puppets, only, of course, not quite so natural.” And she fluttered her big fan and applauded.
But the little Dwarf never looked up, and his sobs grew fainter and fainter, and suddenly he gave a curious gasp, and clutched his side. And then he fell back again, and lay quite still.
“This is capital,” said the Infanta, after a pause; “but now you must dance for me.”
“Yes,” cried all the children, “you must get up and dance, for you are as clever as the Barbary apes, and much more ridiculous.”
But the little Dwarf made no answer.
And the Infanta stamped her foot, and called out to her uncle, who was walking on the terrace with the Chamberlain, reading some despatches that had just arrived from Mexico, where the Holy Office had recently been established. “My funny little dwarf is sulking,” she cried, “you must wake him up and tell him to dance for me.”
They smiled at each other, and sauntered in, and Don Pedro stooped down, and slapped the Dwarf on the cheek with his embroidered glove. “You must dance,” he said, “petit monstre. You must dance. The Infanta of Spain and the Indies wishes to be amused.”
But the little Dwarf never moved.
“A whipping master should be sent for,” said Don Pedro wearily, and he went back to the terrace. But the Chamberlain looked grave, and he knelt beside the little Dwarf, and put his hand upon his heart. And after a few moments he shrugged his shoulders, and rose up, and having made a low bow to the Infanta, he said—
“Mi bella Princesa, your funny little dwarf will never dance again. It is a pity, for he is so ugly that he might have made the King smile.”
“But why will he not dance again?” asked the Infanta, laughing.
“Because his heart is broken,” answered the Chamberlain.
And the Infanta frowned, and her dainty rose-leaf lips curled in pretty disdain. “For the future let those who come to play with me have no hearts,” she cried, and she ran out into the garden.
Glossary
“After that” is a grammatical form no longer used in English; it means the same thing as “after.”
“Auto-da-fé” literally means “act of the faith,” and was a ceremony of the Roman Catholic Church used when sentence was pronounced on an accused person by the Inquisition (a church court that originated in Spain and Portugal and was used also in France). The ceremony was always followed immediately by execution of the sentence (which usually was death by torture), and the term “auto-da-fé” for centuries has been thought of as meaning the burning at the stake of a person accused of heresy (differing from the official teaching of the Church).
Barbary Coast or Barbary States was the term still used in the 19th century for the area of North Africa extending along the Mediterranean Sea from the west coast of Egypt westward to the Atlantic Ocean. In the early years of the United States of America, U.S. ships sailing near there were in danger of being attacked by “the Barbary pirates.”
Bithynia was a small but powerful kingdom in Anatolia (part of what is now Turkey) that remained independent of both Greek and Roman conquerors for several centuries before the birth of Christ. It became part of the Roman empire about 75 years before the birth of Christ. Hadrian reigned as Roman emperor A.D. 117-138.
Byres were cow barns in Great Britain.
“Carlots” was a diminutive form of “carl,” a word taken into the English language from the Old Norse karl; carl meant a male farm laborer, so carlot meant a farm boy.
“Couched” has several possible meanings, some related to the actions of human beings and others related to those of animals; as it is used in “The Fisherman and His Soul” and “The Star-Child,” it means “reclined” or “lay down.”
El Escorial was the name of an enormous royal monastery, including a palace, built in the final third of the 16th century near Madrid, Spain, at the command of King Philip II; it houses a famous art collection and library.
Faggots are bundles of sticks or of sawed sections of branches, used as firewood.
“Grabbled,” a word taken into the English language from the Dutch, means “to grope with one’s hand(s),” such as when a person cannot see what is being sought—for example, an object buried in mud.
“Gyves” was a word used in England from about the 13th century to mean fetters or shackles, such as metal handcuffs or ankle cuffs.
A haggard is what some British people call an open area of land between a farmhouse and a barn.
A hunch is a thick piece or a lump.
“Leman” is an Old English word meaning “one who is loved,” especially a woman with whom a man is having a sexual relationship without being married to her.
A mere is a lake or a pool of water.
Mi reina is “my queen” in Castilian (Spanish).
A monstrance is an enclosed container (usually with a hinged door, usually made of gold or other costly metal, and often encrusted with jewels) used in Roman Catholic Church ceremonies to hold consecrated Hosts (usually small wafers of unleavened bread) presented for the worship of the people.
Ormuz or Hormuz is the name of a strait (a narrow body of seawater) connecting the Persian Gulf with the Gulf of Oman. An island in the strait and an ancient town on the shore (in Iran) have the same name.
A pleasaunce is a pleasant place where rest and recreation can be enjoyed; specifically, the word was used in Middle English to refer to a formal garden or a small park adjacent to a mansion.
Purfled means trimmed with a decorative border.
Samarkand, an ancient Asian city in what is now Uzbekistan, was an important trading center on overland caravan routes first developed about A.D. 600 (600 years after Christ’s birth), by merchants traveling between eastern Asia and western Europe.
“Tells his beads” is a phrase that refers to the fact that Roman Catholics for many centuries have used a circlet of 55 beads, called a Rosary, to keep track of the prayers (50 Hail Marys and 5 Our Fathers—The Lord’s Prayer) recited, internally or aloud, as a devotional practice.
Trow is an old-fashioned way of saying “think.”
Oscar Wilde, The Happy Prince and Other Fairy Tales
