Happy Prince

Author: Oscar Wilde
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2005-05-01
Features: God has almost given me everything. I have genius, fame, social status, talent, and a spirit of challenge. I made art a philosophy and philosophy an art. I changed the hearts of people and the colors of things. Every word and action of mine is full of mystery to ponder. —Oscar Wilde
The statue of the Happy Prince stands tall in the city, a towering column adorned with thin gold leaves. His eyes are bright blue sapphires, and a large, sparkling red gem is embedded in his sword hilt. The world admires him greatly.
"He is as beautiful as a weather vane," said a city councilor who wanted to show off his artistic taste. Then, fearing he might be seen as impractical—though he was actually quite practical—he added, "But he is not as practical as a weather vane."
"Why can't you be like the Happy Prince?" asked a wise mother of her crying little boy who wanted the moon. "The Happy Prince never dreamed of crying for things."
"It is a joy to see such a happy person in the world," murmured a discouraged man as he gazed at the extraordinary statue.
"He looks like an angel," said the orphans as they came out of the church, draped in bright red cloaks and wearing clean, white kerchiefs around their necks.
"How do you know?" asked the math teacher. "You haven’t seen an angel."
"Ah! But we have—seen in dreams," the children replied.
The math teacher frowned and scowled, disapproving of the children’s dreams. One night, a little swallow flew over the city. His friends had already flown to Egypt six weeks earlier, but he stayed behind, too fond of the beautiful reed girl. He had met her in early spring while chasing a yellow butterfly along the river. He was captivated by her slender waist and stopped to talk to her.
"Can I love you?" asked the swallow, preferring to get straight to the point. The reed bent down, and he flew around her, gently stroking the water with his wings, creating ripples of silver. This was the swallow’s way of courting, and he did so all summer.
"This love is ridiculous," the other swallows laughed. "She has neither money nor many relatives." Indeed, there were reeds everywhere by the river. When autumn came, the swallows flew away. After they left, he felt lonely and began to dislike his lover.
"She cannot speak," he said. "And I worry she is a harlot—look how she flirts with the wind." It was true. Whenever the wind blew, the reed would perform an elegant bow.
"I admit she is a homemaker," the swallow continued. "But I love to travel, and my wife should love to travel too."
"Will you come with me?" he asked at last. But the reed shook her head, too attached to her home.
"You are just teasing me," he roared. "I am going to the pyramids! Goodbye!" And he flew away. He flew all day and arrived in the city at night.
"Where will I spend the night?" he said. "I hope the city is ready." Then he saw the statue on the tall column.
"I will stay there," he called out. "It is a good place, full of fresh air." So he made a nest between the statue’s legs.
"I have a golden bedroom," he whispered to himself after looking around, preparing to sleep. But just as he placed his head under his wing, a large drop of water fell on him.
"Is this incredible!" he exclaimed. "There are no clouds in the sky, the stars are clear and bright, yet it is raining. The weather in the North is terrible. The reed likes rain, but that is only selfish."
Another drop fell.
"A statue cannot even protect itself from the rain—what use is it?" he said. "I must find a good chimney for a nest." He decided to leave, but before he could spread his wings, another drop fell. He looked up and saw—Ah! What did he see? The Happy Prince’s eyes were filled with tears, streaming down his golden face. His face was beautiful under the moonlight, and the little swallow felt pity.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I am the Happy Prince," the statue replied.
"Why are you crying?" the swallow asked. "You are making me wet."
"When I had a heart and lived, I did not know what tears were," the statue said. "I lived in a carefree palace where sorrow could not enter. During the day, people played with me in the garden, and at night, I led the dance in the hall. Along the garden stood a high wall, but I never thought about what was beyond it. Everything around me was too beautiful. My servants called me the Happy Prince, and indeed, if joy is happiness, then I was truly happy. I lived and died like this. Now I am dead, and they have placed me so high that I can see all the ugliness and poverty in my city. Though my heart is made of lead, I cannot help but cry."
"Oh! Is he not a heartless golden statue?" the swallow thought to himself. Polite, he did not want to comment on others’ private matters.
"In the distance," the statue continued in a soft, pleasant voice, "there is a poor family living on a small street. A window is open, and I can see a woman sitting at a table. Her face is thin and tired, her hands rough and red from needle pricks, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering a lily for the queen’s maids to wear at the next court dance. In the corner of the room, a bed lies empty, with her sick child. The child has a fever and cries for oranges. His mother has only given him some water, so he cries constantly. Swallow, little swallow, would you take the red gem from my sword hilt and give it to her? My feet are fixed to this pedestal and cannot move."
"My friends are waiting for me in Egypt," the swallow said. "They are flying around the Nile, talking to large lotus flowers, and soon they will spend the night in the great pharaoh’s tomb. The pharaoh himself sleeps in his colorful coffin, his body wrapped in yellow linen and filled with preservatives. A green jade necklace adorns his neck, and his hands are like withered leaves."
"Swallow, little swallow," the prince said again, "won’t you stay with me one night and be my messenger? The child is so hungry, and his mother is heartbroken."
"I don’t like children," the swallow replied. "Last summer, I was by a river and met two mischievous boys, the miller’s sons, who always threw stones at me. Of course, they could never hit me—we swallows fly so fast. Besides, I come from a family known for speed; but anyway, it is impolite."
However, the Happy Prince’s sorrowful expression made the little swallow’s heart ache.
"It is too cold here," he said. "But I will stay with you one night and be your messenger."
"Thank you, little swallow," the prince said. So the swallow took the large red gem from the prince’s sword hilt, held it in his beak, and flew over the city’s rooftops toward the faraway poor family.
He flew over the cathedral’s tower, where he saw a white marble statue of an angel. He flew over the palace, hearing the sound of dancing. A beautiful girl and her lover walked on the rooftop.
"How wonderful the stars are," she said. "How wonderful love is!"
"I hope my dress is finished in time for the grand dance," she replied. "I have asked them to embroider lilies, but the seamstresses are too slow."
He flew over the river, seeing countless lanterns hanging from the ships’ masts. He flew over the Jewish quarter, where old Jews were haggling over goods, weighing coins on copper scales.
Finally, he arrived at the poor family’s house and looked inside. The feverish child was tossing in bed, and his mother was asleep, too tired to stay awake. The swallow flew inside and placed the large red gem on the woman’s thimble beside the table. Then he gently flew around the bed, fanning the child’s forehead with his wings.
"I feel so cool," the child said. "I must be getting better." And he fell into a sweet sleep.
Then the swallow returned to the Happy Prince and told him what he had done.
"You won’t believe it," he said, "though it is cold, I feel so warm now."
"That is because you did a good deed," the prince said.
So the little swallow began to think about the prince’s words, but he didn’t stay awake for long. He fell asleep. Thinking made him sleepy.
At dawn, he flew down to the river for a bath.
"This is incredible," said a professor of ornithology as he walked across the bridge. "Swarms of swallows in winter!" He wrote a long letter to the local newspaper about it. Everyone quoted his words, though many of the terms were hard to understand.
"I am going to Egypt tonight," the swallow said, feeling energetic at the thought of the faraway land. He visited all the city’s public monuments and sat on the top of the church for a long time. At each place, the sparrows chattered, "What a rare honored guest!" So he had a good time.
When the moon rose, he flew back to the Happy Prince.
"Are you going to Egypt?" he asked loudly. "I am leaving now."
"Swallow, little swallow," the prince said, "won’t you stay with me one more night?"
"Winter is coming," the swallow replied. "Cold snow will arrive. In Egypt, the sun hangs over green palm trees, and it is warm. Crocodiles lie lazily in the mud, surveying their surroundings. My friends are building nests in the temples of Baalbek, and pink and silver doves watch them work, whispering sweet nothings to each other. Dear prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you. Next spring, I will bring you two beautiful gems to replace the ones you have given away. The red gem will be redder than a rose, and the blue gem will be bluer than the sea."
"Down in the square," the Happy Prince said, "stands a little matchgirl. All her matches have fallen into the gutter and are no longer usable. If she does not take money home, her father will beat her, and she is crying. She has no shoes or socks, and nothing on her head. Please take my other eye and give it to her. Then her father won’t beat her."
"I will stay with you one more night," the swallow said. "But I cannot take your eyes, or you will become blind."
"Swallow, little swallow," the prince said, "do as I say."
So he took the prince’s other eye and flew to the matchgirl’s house. He landed in front of her and quietly placed the gem in her palm.
"What beautiful glass!" the girl exclaimed, smiling as she ran home.
Then the swallow returned to the prince.
"You are blind now," the swallow said. "I will stay with you forever."
"No, little swallow," the poor prince said. "You must go to Egypt."
"I will stay with you," the swallow said, and he fell asleep at the prince’s feet.
The next day, he sat on the prince’s shoulder all day, telling him about his adventures in foreign lands. He told him about the red herons standing in a long line on the Nile, catching goldfish with their beaks. He spoke of the Sphinx, ancient as the world, living in the desert and knowing all things. He told of the merchants, walking slowly with their camel herds, touching prayer beads made of amber. He spoke of the king of the moon mountain, whose skin was as black as ebony and who worshiped a huge crystal. He told of the green python sleeping in the palm tree, which required 20 monks to feed it with honey cakes. He spoke of the little dwarfs, riding flat leaves in the lakes and constantly fighting with butterflies.
"Dear little swallow," the prince said, "you have told me many wonderful things, but even more wonderful are the sufferings of men and women. Nothing is more inexplicable than suffering. Little swallow, fly over the city and tell me what you see."
So the swallow flew over the city and saw the rich people enjoying themselves in their beautiful mansions, while the beggars sat at the gates, starving. He flew into the dark alleys and saw hungry children with pale faces, staring blankly at the dim streets. Inside a bridge arch, two children held each other, trying to stay warm.
"We are so hungry!" they said.
"You cannot lie here," the guard shouted, and the children shuffled away into the rain.
Then he flew back and told the prince everything he had seen.
"I am covered in fine gold leaves," the prince said. "You take them piece by piece and give them to my poor people. The living believe gold will make them happy."
The swallow pecked off the pure gold leaves one by one until the Happy Prince was no longer golden. He gave these golden leaves to the poor people, and the children’s faces flushed with joy as they played games in the streets.
"We have bread now!" the children shouted.
Then it snowed, and after the snow came the cold. The streets looked white as silver, bright and dazzling; long icicles hung like crystal swords from the eaves. Everyone wore fur coats, and the children wore red hats to skate outdoors. The poor little swallow grew colder and colder, but he refused to leave the prince, for he loved him too much. He had to sneak some breadcrumbs from the baker’s shop to eat and flutter his wings to warm himself.
But in the end, he knew he was dying. His remaining strength was just enough to fly to the prince’s shoulder one last time.
"Goodbye, dear prince!" he whispered. "May I kiss your hand?"
"I am so glad you are finally going to Egypt, little swallow," the prince said. "You have stayed too long here. But you must kiss my lips, for I love you."
"I am not going to Egypt," the swallow said. "I am going to the house of death. Death is the brother of sleep, isn’t it?" Then he kissed the prince’s lips and fell dead at his feet.
At that moment, a strange crack came from inside the statue. Something had broken. In fact, the prince’s lead heart had split in two.
It was indeed a terrible cold winter day. The next morning, the mayor, accompanied by the city councilors, walked down to the square. They passed the column, and the mayor looked up at the statue.
"My goodness! The Happy Prince looks so ugly!" he said.
"He is terribly ugly!" the councilors exclaimed in unison, always agreeing with the mayor.
Afterward, they all walked forward to examine it.
"The red gem on his sword hilt is gone, and his blue eyes are missing. He is no longer golden," the mayor said. "In fact, he is not much better than a beggar!"
"Indeed, not much better than a beggar," the councilors agreed.
"Also, there is a dead bird lying at his feet!" the mayor continued. "We should issue a statement, prohibiting birds from dying here."
So the city clerk recorded this suggestion. Later, they knocked down the statue of the Happy Prince.
"Since he is no longer beautiful, he is no longer useful," said the university’s art professor. Then they melted the statue in a furnace. The mayor called a meeting to decide what to do with the metal, of course, they would have to cast a new statue."
"It should be my statue," he said.
"My statue," each councilor said, competing for the honor, and they argued.
Later, when I heard people talking about them, their argument was still not settled.
"What a strange and wonderful thing!" said the foreman of the foundry. "The broken lead heart wouldn’t melt in the furnace. We had to throw it away."
They threw it into the garbage heap, along with the dead swallow.
"Bring me the two most precious things in the city," God said to one of his angels. So the angel brought the lead heart and the dead bird to God.
"Your choice was perfect," God said. "For in my heavenly garden, birds can sing forever, and in my golden castle, the Happy Prince can praise me endlessly."