The Devoted Friend

"The Devoted Friend" is a short story by Oscar Wilde that explores themes of friendship, selflessness, and exploitation. The narrative is framed as a conversation between a water rat and a wise old owl, who recount the tale of a kind-hearted but naive gardener and his manipulative friend, the selfish rich man. The gardener’s unwavering generosity and willingness to help his friend ultimately lead to his undoing, revealing the darker side of human relationships and the concept of true friendship. With Wilde's characteristic wit and moral insight, the story critiques the superficial nature of some friendships while championing genuine devotion and sacrifice.

• Short story

								
ONE morning the old Water-rat put his head out of his hole.  He had
bright beady eyes and stiff grey whiskers and his tail was like a long
bit of black india-rubber.  The little ducks were swimming about in the
pond, looking just like a lot of yellow canaries, and their mother, who
was pure white with real red legs, was trying to teach them how to stand
on their heads in the water.

“You will never be in the best society unless you can stand on your
heads,” she kept saying to them; and every now and then she showed them
how it was done.  But the little ducks paid no attention to her.  They
were so young that they did not know what an advantage it is to be in
society at all.

“What disobedient children!” cried the old Water-rat; “they really
deserve to be drowned.”

“Nothing of the kind,” answered the Duck, “every one must make a
beginning, and parents cannot be too patient.”

“Ah! I know nothing about the feelings of parents,” said the Water-rat;
“I am not a family man.  In fact, I have never been married, and I never
intend to be.  Love is all very well in its way, but friendship is much
higher.  Indeed, I know of nothing in the world that is either nobler or
rarer than a devoted friendship.”

“And what, pray, is your idea of the duties of a devoted friend?” asked a
Green Linnet, who was sitting in a willow-tree hard by, and had overheard
the conversation.

“Yes, that is just what I want to know,” said the Duck; and she swam away
to the end of the pond, and stood upon her head, in order to give her
children a good example.

“What a silly question!” cried the Water-rat.  “I should expect my
devoted friend to be devoted to me, of course.”

“And what would you do in return?” said the little bird, swinging upon a
silver spray, and flapping his tiny wings.

“I don’t understand you,” answered the Water-rat.

“Let me tell you a story on the subject,” said the Linnet.

“Is the story about me?” asked the Water-rat.  “If so, I will listen to
it, for I am extremely fond of fiction.”

“It is applicable to you,” answered the Linnet; and he flew down, and
alighting upon the bank, he told the story of The Devoted Friend.

“Once upon a time,” said the Linnet, “there was an honest little fellow
named Hans.”

“Was he very distinguished?” asked the Water-rat.

“No,” answered the Linnet, “I don’t think he was distinguished at all,
except for his kind heart, and his funny round good-humoured face.  He
lived in a tiny cottage all by himself, and every day he worked in his
garden.  In all the country-side there was no garden so lovely as his.
Sweet-william grew there, and Gilly-flowers, and Shepherds’-purses, and
Fair-maids of France.  There were damask Roses, and yellow Roses, lilac
Crocuses, and gold, purple Violets and white.  Columbine and Ladysmock,
Marjoram and Wild Basil, the Cowslip and the Flower-de-luce, the Daffodil
and the Clove-Pink bloomed or blossomed in their proper order as the
months went by, one flower taking another flower’s place, so that there
were always beautiful things to look at, and pleasant odours to smell.

“Little Hans had a great many friends, but the most devoted friend of all
was big Hugh the Miller.  Indeed, so devoted was the rich Miller to
little Hans, that he would never go by his garden without leaning over
the wall and plucking a large nosegay, or a handful of sweet herbs, or
filling his pockets with plums and cherries if it was the fruit season.

“‘Real friends should have everything in common,’ the Miller used to say,
and little Hans nodded and smiled, and felt very proud of having a friend
with such noble ideas.

“Sometimes, indeed, the neighbours thought it strange that the rich
Miller never gave little Hans anything in return, though he had a hundred
sacks of flour stored away in his mill, and six milch cows, and a large
flock of woolly sheep; but Hans never troubled his head about these
things, and nothing gave him greater pleasure than to listen to all the
wonderful things the Miller used to say about the unselfishness of true
friendship.

“So little Hans worked away in his garden.  During the spring, the
summer, and the autumn he was very happy, but when the winter came, and
he had no fruit or flowers to bring to the market, he suffered a good
deal from cold and hunger, and often had to go to bed without any supper
but a few dried pears or some hard nuts.  In the winter, also, he was
extremely lonely, as the Miller never came to see him then.

“‘There is no good in my going to see little Hans as long as the snow
lasts,’ the Miller used to say to his wife, ‘for when people are in
trouble they should be left alone, and not be bothered by visitors.  That
at least is my idea about friendship, and I am sure I am right.  So I
shall wait till the spring comes, and then I shall pay him a visit, and
he will be able to give me a large basket of primroses and that will make
him so happy.’

“‘You are certainly very thoughtful about others,’ answered the Wife, as
she sat in her comfortable armchair by the big pinewood fire; ‘very
thoughtful indeed.  It is quite a treat to hear you talk about
friendship.  I am sure the clergyman himself could not say such beautiful
things as you do, though he does live in a three-storied house, and wear
a gold ring on his little finger.’

“‘But could we not ask little Hans up here?’ said the Miller’s youngest
son.  ‘If poor Hans is in trouble I will give him half my porridge, and
show him my white rabbits.’

“‘What a silly boy you are!’ cried the Miller; ‘I really don’t know what
is the use of sending you to school.  You seem not to learn anything.
Why, if little Hans came up here, and saw our warm fire, and our good
supper, and our great cask of red wine, he might get envious, and envy is
a most terrible thing, and would spoil anybody’s nature.  I certainly
will not allow Hans’ nature to be spoiled.  I am his best friend, and I
will always watch over him, and see that he is not led into any
temptations.  Besides, if Hans came here, he might ask me to let him have
some flour on credit, and that I could not do.  Flour is one thing, and
friendship is another, and they should not be confused.  Why, the words
are spelt differently, and mean quite different things.  Everybody can
see that.’

“‘How well you talk!’ said the Miller’s Wife, pouring herself out a large
glass of warm ale; ‘really I feel quite drowsy.  It is just like being in
church.’

“‘Lots of people act well,’ answered the Miller; ‘but very few people
talk well, which shows that talking is much the more difficult thing of
the two, and much the finer thing also’; and he looked sternly across the
table at his little son, who felt so ashamed of himself that he hung his
head down, and grew quite scarlet, and began to cry into his tea.
However, he was so young that you must excuse him.”

“Is that the end of the story?” asked the Water-rat.

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