(_Especially suitable in winter season_)
High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy
Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he
had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt.
“Why can’t you be like the Happy Prince?” asked a mother of her little
boy who was crying for the moon. “The Happy Prince never dreams of crying
for anything.”
“I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy,” muttered a
disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.
“He looks just like an angel,” said the Orphan Children, as they came out
of the cathedral.
“How do you know?” said the Mathematical Master, “you have never seen
one.”
“Ah! but we have, in our dreams,” answered the children; and the
Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not
approve of dreaming.
One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had
gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind with the
beautiful Reed. He had seen her early in the spring as he was flying down
the river after a big yellow moth, and had stopped to talk to her.
“Shall I love you?” said he. “Shall I love you?” And the Reed made him
a low bow. So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his
wings, and making silver ripples. This lasted through the summer.
Then, when the autumn came, the other swallows all flew away. After they
had gone he felt lonely.
“I am off to the Pyramids,” said he to the Reed. “Good-by!” and he flew
after them.
All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city. “Where
shall I put up?” he said; “I hope the town has made preparations.”
Then he saw the statue on the tall column.
“I will put up there,” he cried; “it is a high place with plenty of
fresh air.” So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.
“I have a golden bedroom,” he said softly to himself as he looked round
and prepared to go to sleep; but as he was putting his head under his
wing a large drop of water fell on him. “What a curious thing!” he cried;
“there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and
bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is
really dreadful.”
Then another drop fell.
“What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?” he said; “I
must look for a good chimney-pot,” and he made up his mind to fly away.
But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up
and saw—Ah! what did he see?
The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were
running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the
moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.
“Who are you?” he said.
“I am the Happy Prince.”
“Why are you weeping then?” asked the Swallow. “You have quite drenched
me.”
“When I was alive and had a heart to feel,” answered the statue, “I lived
in a palace. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden,
and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall. Round the garden
ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it. My
courtiers called me the Happy Prince. So I lived and died. And now that I
am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness
and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead, yet I
cannot choose but weep.”
“What! is he not solid gold?” said the Swallow to himself. He was too
polite to make any personal remarks out loud.
“Far away,” continued the statue, “far away in a little street there is
a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a
woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse,
red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is
embroidering flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the queen’s
maids-of-honor to wear at the next court-ball. In a bed in the corner of
the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for
oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is
crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not take her the ruby
out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot
move.”
“I am waited for in Egypt,” said the Swallow. “My friends are flying up
and down the Nile.”
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay
with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and
the mother so sad.”
“I don’t think I like boys,” answered the Swallow. “Last summer, when I
was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller’s sons,
who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course;
we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family
famous for its swiftness; but still it was a mark of disrespect.”
But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry. “It
is very cold here,” he said; “but I will stay with you for one night and
be your messenger.”
“Thank you, little Swallow,” said the Prince.
So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince’s sword, and
flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.
He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were
sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard a beautiful girl say, “I
hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball. I have ordered
flowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy.”
At last he came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing
feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so
tired. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the
woman’s thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy’s
forehead with his wings. “How cool I feel,” said the boy, “I must be
getting better;” and he sank into a delicious slumber.
Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince. “It is strange,” he
remarked, “but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold.”
“That is because you have done a good action,” said the Prince. And the
little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking always
made him sleepy.
When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. “What a
remarkable phenomenon,” said the Bird Professor as he was passing over
the bridge. “A swallow in winter!” And he wrote a long letter about it to
the local newspaper.
“To-night I go to Egypt,” said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits.
He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the
church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each
other, “What a distinguished stranger!” so he enjoyed himself very much.
When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. “Have you any
commissions for Egypt?” he cried; “I am just starting.”
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay
with me one night longer?”
“I am waited for in Egypt,” answered the Swallow. “To-morrow my friends
will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there among
the bulrushes. At noon the lions come down to the water’s edge to drink.
They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar
of the cataract.”
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “far away across the
city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered
with papers. He is trying to finish a play, but he is too cold to write
any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.”
“I will wait with you one night longer,” said the Swallow, who really had
a good heart. “Shall I take him another ruby?”
“Alas!” said the Prince; “my eyes are all that I have left. But they are
made of rare sapphires, brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck
out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweler, and
buy food and firewood, and finish his play.”
“Dear Prince,” said the Swallow, “I cannot do that;” and he began to weep.
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “do as I command
you.”
So the Swallow plucked out the Prince’s eye, and flew away to the
student’s garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in
the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man
had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the
bird’s wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire.
“Now I can finish my play,” he cried, and he looked quite happy.
The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbor. He sat on the mast of a
large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold
with ropes. “Heave a-hoy!” they shouted as each chest came up. “I am
going to Egypt,” cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon
rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.
“I am come to bid you good-by,” he cried.
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay
with me one night longer?”
“It is winter,” answered the Swallow, “and the chill snow will soon
be here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the
crocodiles lie in the mud. My companions are building a nest. Dear
Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I
will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given
away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be
as blue as the great sea.”
“In the square below,” said the Happy Prince, “there stands a little
match-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all
spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not take home some money,
and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is
bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not
beat her.”
“I will stay with you one night longer,” said the Swallow, “but I cannot
pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then.”
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “do as I command
you.”
So he plucked out the Prince’s other eye, and darted down with it. He
swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her
hand. “What a lovely bit of glass!” cried the little girl; and she ran
home, laughing.
Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. “You are blind now,” he said,
“so I will stay with you always.”
“No, little Swallow,” said the poor Prince, “you must go away to Egypt.”
“I will stay with you always,” said the Swallow, and he slept at the
Prince’s feet.
All the next day he sat on the Prince’s shoulder, and told him stories
of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, who
stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold-fish in their
beaks; and of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in
the desert, and knows everything.
“Dear little Swallow,” said the Prince, “you tell me of marvelous things,
but fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there.”
So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry
in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates.
He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children
looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a
bridge two little boys were lying in one another’s arms to try and keep
themselves warm. “How hungry we are!” they said. “You must not lie here,”
shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.
Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.
“I am covered with fine gold,” said the Prince, “you must take it off,
leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor.”
Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy
Prince looked quite dull and gray. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he
took to the poor. “We have bread now!” they cried. And the children’s
faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street.
Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets looked
as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long
icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses.
The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave
the Prince; he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the
baker’s door, and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.
But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to
fly up to the Prince’s shoulder once more. “Good-by, dear Prince!” he
murmured. “Will you let me kiss your hand?”
“I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow,” said the
Prince, “you have stayed too long here; but kiss me on the lips, for I
love you.”
“It is not to Egypt that I am going,” said the Swallow. “I am going to
Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?”
And he kissed the happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his
feet.
At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something
had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped in two. It
certainly was a hard frost.
Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in
company with the Town Councilors. As they passed the column he looked up
at the statue. “Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!” he said.
“How shabby indeed!” cried the Town Councilors, who always agreed with
the Mayor, and they went up to look at it.
“The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone,” said the
Mayor; “in fact, he is little better than a beggar!”
So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince and sent it to be
melted in a furnace.
“What a strange thing!” said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry.
“This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it
away.” So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also
lying.
“Bring me the two precious things in the city,” said God to one of His
Angels; and the Angel took Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.
“You have chosen rightly,” said God; “in my garden of Paradise this
little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy
Prince shall praise me.”
—OSCAR WILDE