The Happy Prince

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.

He was very much admired indeed. “He is as
beautiful as a weathercock,” remarked one of the Town
Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic
tastes; “only not quite so useful,” he added, fearing
lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was
not.

“Why can’t you be like the Happy Prince?”
asked a sensible 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 Charity
Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright
scarlet cloaks and their clean white pinafores.

“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 children 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, for he was in love with the most beautiful
Reed. He had met her early in the spring as he was flying
down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracted
by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.

“Shall I love you?” said the Swallow, who liked to
come to the point at once, 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 was his courtship,
and it lasted all through the summer.

“It is a ridiculous attachment,” twittered the
other Swallows; “she has no money, and far too many
relations”; and indeed the river was quite full of
Reeds. Then, when the autumn came they all flew away.

After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his
lady-love. “She has no conversation,” he said,
“and I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always
flirting with the wind.” And certainly, whenever the
wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtseys.
“I admit that she is domestic,” he continued,
“but I love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should
love travelling also.”

“Will you come away with me?” he said finally to
her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her
home.

“You have been trifling with me,” he cried.
“I am off to the Pyramids. Good-bye!” and he
flew away.

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
fine position, 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 he prepared to go to sleep; but
just 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. The Reed
used to like the rain, but that was merely her
selfishness.”

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 determined 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 human heart,” answered
the statue, “I did not know what tears were, for I lived in
the Palace of Sans-Souci, where sorrow is not allowed to
enter. 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, everything about me was so
beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and
happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness. So I lived,
and so I 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
chose 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 in a low musical
voice, “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 passion-flowers on a
satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen’s maids-of-honour
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 bring 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,
and talking to the large lotus-flowers. Soon they will go
to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there
himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow
linen, and embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain
of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered
leaves.”

“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 agility; 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
the sound of dancing. A beautiful girl came out on the
balcony with her lover. “How wonderful the stars
are,” he said to her, “and how wonderful is the power
of love!”

“I hope my dress will be ready in time for the
State-ball,” she answered; “I have ordered
passion-flowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are
so lazy.”

He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the
masts of the ships. He passed over the Ghetto, and saw the
old Jews bargaining with each other, and weighing out money in
copper scales. 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, and told him
what he had done. “It is curious,” 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 Professor of
Ornithology as he was passing over the bridge. “A
swallow in winter!” And he wrote a long letter about
it to the local newspaper. Every one quoted it, it was full
of so many words that they could not understand.

“To-night I go to Egypt,” said the Swallow, and he
was in high spirits at the prospect. 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, and on a great granite throne sits the God
Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when the
morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is
silent. At noon the yellow 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, and
in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered
violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red
as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is
trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, 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! I have no ruby now,” said the Prince;
“my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of
rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years
ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He
will sell it to the jeweller, 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 lying on the withered violets.

“I am beginning to be appreciated,” he cried;
“this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my
play,” and he looked quite happy.

The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour. 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-bye,” 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 and
look lazily about them. My companions are building a nest
in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are
watching them, and cooing to each other. 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 bring 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; of the Sphinx,
who is as old as the world itself, and lives in the desert, and
knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side
of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the
King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and
worships a large crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in
a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes;
and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves,
and are always at war with the butterflies.

“Dear little Swallow,” said the Prince, “you
tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything
is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery
so great as Misery. 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; the living always think that gold can make them
happy.”

Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till
the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after
leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the
children’s faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played
games in the street. “We have bread now!” they
cried.

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, everybody went about in furs,
and the little boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.

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 when the baker was not
looking 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-bye, 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 you must 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 the House of 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 right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully
hard frost.

Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square
below in company with the Town Councillors. 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 Councillors,
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, and he is golden no longer,” said the Mayor in fact,
“he is little better than a beggar!”

“Little better than a beggar,” said the Town
Councillors.

“And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!”
continued the Mayor. “We must really issue a
proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die
here.” And the Town Clerk made a note of the
suggestion.

So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince.
“As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer
useful,” said the Art Professor at the University.

Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a
meeting of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the
metal. “We must have another statue, of
course,” he said, “and it shall be a statue of
myself.”

“Of myself,” said each of the Town Councillors,
and they quarrelled. When I last heard of them they were
quarrelling still.

“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 most precious things in the
city,” said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel brought
Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.

“You have rightly chosen,” said God, “for in
my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore,
and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise
me.”