Happy Prince ()

Author: Oscar Wilde
Publisher:
Publishing Time: Not Available
Features: What you read here are some "different" fairy tales. The storytellers of these fairy tales are not ordinary fairy tale writers, but world-class literary giants. They seem to always be immersed in the emotional turmoil of creating epic works. However, one day, they suddenly calm down and focus solely on writing a pure story for children. These beautiful stories, written exclusively for children, also showcase the broad-mindedness and noble hearts of the great writers, making them exquisite works among fairy tales.
The statue of the Happy Prince stands tall above the city, perched on a high column. It is covered in thin gold leaf, its eyes made of bright blue sapphires, and a large, sparkling red gemon its hilt. The people of the world are filled with admiration for him. "He is as beautiful as a weather vane," said a city councilor who wanted to show off his artistic taste, then added, worried that people would see him as impractical (though he was quite practical), "but he is not as useful as a weather vane."
"Why can't you be like the Happy Prince?" asked a wise mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon. "The Happy Prince never dreamed of crying for things." "It makes me so happy to see someone so joyful in the world," murmured a discouraged man, gazing at the extraordinary statue. "He looks like an angel," said the children of the orphanage. They were coming out of the church, draped in bright red cloaks, with clean, white kerchiefs around their chests. "How do you know?" asked the math teacher. "You've never seen an angel." "Ah! But we have," replied the children. "We've seen them in our dreams." The math teacher frowned and tightened his expression, as he disapproved of children dreaming.
One night, a little swallow flew over the city. His friends had already flown to Egypt six weeks ago, 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 to him, and he flew around her in circles, gently brushing the water's surface with his wings, creating layers of silver ripples. This was the swallow's way of courtship, and he continued it throughout the summer.
"This kind of 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 very lonely and began to dislike his lover. "She can't speak," he said. "And I worry she is a harlot; you see, she always flirts with the wind." That was true—when 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 of course, my wife should love to travel too." "Will you come with me?" he asked. But the reed shook her head; she was too attached to her home. "You're just teasing me," he roared. "I'm going to the pyramids! Goodbye!" And he flew away.
He flew all day and only arrived in the city at night. "Where will I stay tonight?" he said. "I hope the city is ready." Then he saw the statue on the tall column. "I'll stay there," he called out. "It's a good place, full of fresh air." So he made his nest between the statue's legs. "I have a gold bedroom," he whispered to himself after looking around, preparing to sleep. But just as he placed his head under his wings, a large water droplet fell on him.
"Is this incredible!" he exclaimed. "There are no clouds in the sky, the stars are clear and bright, yet it's raining. The weather in the North is terrible. The reed likes rain, but that's just selfish." Another drop fell. "A statue can't even protect itself from the rain—what use is it?" he said. "I must find a good chimney for my 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 sympathy.
"Who are you?" he asked. "I am the Happy Prince." "Why are you crying?" the swallow asked again. "You're making me wet." "When I had a heart and lived," the statue said, "I didn't know what tears were. I lived in a carefree palace where sorrow couldn't 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 on the other side—I was too happy with what I had. My servants called me the Happy Prince, and indeed, if joy is happiness, then I was happier than anyone. I lived like this and died like this. Now that I am dead, 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. He was polite and didn't want to comment on others' private matters. "Far away," the statue continued in a low, pleasant voice, "in a small street, there lives a poor family. A window is open, and I can see a woman sitting at a table. Her thin face is filled with fatigue, her rough, red hands are covered in needle pricks, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering a water lily on silk clothes, which are for the queen's maids to wear at the next court dance. In the corner of the room, on a bed, lies her sick child. The child has a fever and cries for oranges. His mother gives him only a few sips of water and nothing else, so the child cries constantly. Swallow, little swallow, would you take off 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. Thinking of the distant place filled him with energy. He visited all the public monuments in the city and sat on the top of the church for a long time. Every time, the sparrows chirped, "What a rare and noble guest!" So he had a wonderful time. When the moon rose, he flew back to the Happy Prince.
"Is there anything you need to do in Egypt?" he asked loudly. "I'm leaving now." "Swallow, little swallow," the prince said, "would you stay with me one more night?" "My friends are waiting for me in Egypt," the swallow replied. "Tomorrow my friends will fly to the Second Cataract, where the hippos sleep in the papyrus thickets. The Egyptian god Menes sits on a huge granite throne, guarding the stars all night. Every time the stars twinkle, he lets out a joyful cry, then falls silent. At noon, yellow herds of lions descend from the mountains to drink by the river, their eyes like green gems, roaring louder than the roar of the cataracts."
"Swallow, little swallow," the prince said, "over there at the other end of the city, I see a young man living in an attic. He is studying at a desk covered in papers, a glass of withered violets beside him. He has brown curly hair, red lips like pomegranates, and big, drowsy eyes. He is trying to write a play for the theater manager, but he can't write because he is frozen. There is no fire in the fireplace, and hunger makes his head spin." "I will stay with you one more night," the swallow said, for he had a kind heart. "Shall I give him another red gem?" "Alas! I have no red gems left," the prince said. "Only my eyes remain. They are made of rare blue sapphires, mined over a thousand years ago in India. Take one out and give it to him. He can sell it to a jeweler for food and firewood to finish his play."
"My dear prince," the swallow said, "I cannot do that," and he cried. "Swallow, little swallow," the prince said, "do as I say." So the swallow took out one of the prince's eyes and flew to the student's attic. Since there was a hole in the roof, it was easy for the swallow to enter. He flew through the hole and into the room. The young man, with his hands covering his face, didn't hear the sound of the swallow's wings. When he lifted his head, he saw the beautiful blue gem placed on the withered violets.
"I am beginning to be appreciated," he exclaimed. "This must be from someone who admires me greatly. Now I can finish my play." A happy smile spread across his face.
The next day, the swallow flew to the harbor below. He sat on the mast of a large ship, watching sailors dragging big boxes out of the hold with ropes and their cries of "Heave ho! Heave ho!" One by one, the boxes were lifted.
"I'm going to Egypt!" the swallow whispered, but no one noticed him. When the moon rose again, he flew back to the Happy Prince.
"I'm here to say goodbye," he called. "Swallow, little swallow," the prince said, "won't you stay with me one more night?" "Winter has come," the swallow replied. "Cold snow is coming. In Egypt, the sun hangs on green palm trees, and it's warm. Crocodiles lie lazily in the mud, surveying their surroundings. My friends are building nests in the temples of the ancient city of Baalbek. Those pink and silver doves watch them work and whisper 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 make up for the ones you gave away. The red gem will be redder than a rose, and the blue gem will be bluer than the sea."
"At the square below," the Happy Prince said, "there stands a little matchgirl. All her matches have fallen into the ditch and are no longer usable. If she doesn't 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 out 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 out your eyes, or you will become blind." "Swallow, little swallow," the prince said, "do as I say." So the swallow took out the prince's other eye and flew down. He landed in front of the little girl and quietly placed the gem in her palm.
"What beautiful glass!" the girl exclaimed, laughing 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'm going to the house of death," the swallow said. "Death is the brother of sleep, isn't it?" Then he kissed the prince's lips and fell to the prince's feet, dead.
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. The next morning, the mayor, accompanied by city councilors, walked down to the square below. As they passed the column, the mayor looked up at the statue.
"My goodness! The Happy Prince looks so ugly!" he said.
"He is terribly ugly!" the city councilors exclaimed in unison, always agreeing with the mayor.
After that, they all went up to take a closer look.
"The red gem on his sword hilt has fallen off, and his blue gem eyes are gone. He is no longer made of gold," the mayor said. "In fact, he's not much better than a beggar!"
"Indeed, not much better than a beggar," the city councilors agreed.
"Also, there's 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 pushed over the statue of the Happy Prince.
"Since he is no longer beautiful, he is no longer useful," said the art professor at the university.
Then they placed the statue in the furnace to melt. The mayor also called a meeting of the city council 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 city councilor said, competing for it. They even argued.
Later, when I heard people talking about them, their argument was still not resolved.
"What a strange and wonderful thing!" the foreman at the foundry said. "That broken lead heart won't melt in the furnace. We have to throw it away."
So they threw it into the trash 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 God the lead heart and the dead bird.
"Your choice is perfect," God said. "Because in my heavenly garden, birds can sing forever, and in my golden castle, the Happy Prince can praise me endlessly."