The Happy Prince

High above the city, on a tall column, stood the Happy Prince. He was covered all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two blue sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on the hilt of his sword.

The townspeople were very proud of him.

"He is as beautiful as a weathervane," said one of the Town Councillors, who wanted people to think he knew a great deal about art. "Only not quite so useful," he quickly added, because he was even more afraid that people would think him a dreamer.

And mothers would say to their fussy children:

"Be like the Happy Prince. He never cries, and he never begs for anything."

One autumn evening a little Swallow flew over the city. Her friends had left for Egypt six weeks before, but she had stayed behind. In the summer she had fallen in love with a Reed, so slim and slender that it simply took her breath away. The Swallow circled around the Reed all day long, and the Reed only nodded.

"But she never says a word," twittered the other swallows. "And she sways with every little breeze."

When autumn came, the Swallow asked:

"Will you fly away with me?"

The Reed shook her head: she loved her river far too much.

"So you were only playing with me!" squeaked the Swallow. "I’m off to the Pyramids. Goodbye!"

She flew all day long, and at nightfall she saw the city.

"Where shall I spend the night?"

Then she spotted the statue on the tall column.

"That will do nicely. It’s a fine spot, with plenty of fresh air."

She landed right between the Prince’s feet.

"I have a golden bedroom," the Swallow whispered happily, and tucked her head under her wing.

Drip! A large drop fell on her back.

"How strange! There isn’t a single cloud in the sky, the stars are clear and bright, and yet it’s raining."

Drip! Down came another.

"What use is a statue if it can’t even keep the rain off? I’d better go and look for a good chimney."

Drip! The Swallow looked up and froze. The Prince’s eyes were full of tears, and the tears were rolling down his golden cheeks. His face in the moonlight was so beautiful and so sad that the Swallow’s little heart ached.

"Who are you?" she asked softly.

"I am the Happy Prince."

"Then why are you crying? You’ve soaked me right through."

"When I was alive and had a human heart," answered the Prince, "I did not know what tears were. I lived in a palace where sadness was never allowed in. In the daytime I played with my friends in the garden, and in the evening I danced in the great hall. A tall wall ran all around the garden, and it never once occurred to me to ask what lay beyond it. Everyone called me the Happy Prince. And now they have set me up here, so high that I can see all the sorrow of my city. My heart is made of lead now, and yet I cannot help crying."

"Far, far away, in a narrow little street," the Prince went on, "there is a poor little house. One of the windows is open, and I can see a woman sitting at a table. Her face is thin and tired, and her fingers are pricked all over by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering flowers on a satin gown for a lady of the court to wear at the royal ball. And in the corner, on a bed, lies her little boy. He is ill, he has a fever, and he is asking for oranges. But his mother has nothing to give him except water from the river, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not take her the ruby from my sword? My feet are fastened to this column, and I cannot move."

"They are waiting for me in Egypt," said the Swallow. "My friends are already flying over the Nile and whispering with the lotus flowers."

"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow," begged the Prince, "stay with me for one night. The boy is so thirsty, and his mother is so sad."

"I’m not very fond of boys," muttered the Swallow. "Last year the miller’s sons threw pebbles at me. They missed, of course; we swallows are very nimble fliers. But still, it was rude."

But the Prince looked so sad that the Swallow felt awkward.

"It is very cold here," she sighed. "But I will stay with you for one night."

"Thank you, little Swallow."

She pecked the ruby out with her beak and flew off over the rooftops. She flew past the bell tower, where white marble angels stood. She flew past the palace, where music came pouring out. On the balcony a beautiful lady was saying to her suitor:

"I do hope my dress will be ready in time. I ordered flowers to be embroidered on it, but these seamstresses are so slow!"

The Swallow flew on, over the river, where lanterns swayed on the masts of the ships. At last, there was the little house. The boy was tossing and turning in bed, and his mother, worn out, had dozed off over her sewing. Hop! In through the window went the Swallow, and she laid the ruby on the table, next to the thimble. Then she circled quietly over the bed, fanning the boy’s hot forehead with her wings.

"How cool it feels," he whispered. "I must be getting better."

And he fell sweetly asleep.

The Swallow flew back to the Prince.

"It’s strange," she said. "It’s cold outside, but I feel warm."

"That is because you have done a good deed," said the Prince.

The Swallow began to think about it, and fell asleep. Thinking always made her sleepy.

The next day she bathed in the river and looked around the city, and in the evening she came to say goodbye.

"Have you any messages for Egypt? I’m leaving."

"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, stay with me one more night."

"They are waiting for me. There, by the waterfall, a hippopotamus dozes in the warm reeds, and a stone god sits on the rocks and gazes at the stars."

"Far away, at the other end of the city," said the Prince, "a young man sits in a little room right under the roof. His desk is covered with papers, and in a glass stand some withered violets. He is writing a play for the theatre, but he is too cold to hold his pen any longer. The fire in the grate has gone out, and he is so hungry that his head is spinning."

"All right," sighed the Swallow, for she had a kind heart. "Shall I take him another ruby?"

"I have no more rubies. All I have left are my eyes. They are made of rare sapphires, brought from India a thousand years ago. Pluck one out and take it to the young man. He will sell the stone, buy firewood and bread, and finish his play."

"Dear Prince, I cannot," said the Swallow, and she began to cry.

"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, do as I ask."

And so she did. She darted in through a hole in the roof. The young man was sitting with his head in his hands and did not hear the rustle of wings. And when he looked up, there on the withered violets lay a deep, deep blue stone.

"Someone appreciates me after all!" cried the young man. "This is from someone who likes my poems. Now I can finish my play!"

And his whole face lit up.

The next day the Swallow sat on a ship’s mast in the harbour and watched the sailors hauling chests out of the hold.

"Heave-ho!" they shouted.

"And I’m off to Egypt!" the Swallow shouted too, but nobody paid her any attention.

In the evening she flew to the Prince.

"I have come to say goodbye."

"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, stay with me one more night."

"It is winter now," said the Swallow. "Soon the cold snow will fall. But in Egypt the sun is warming the green palm trees, and the crocodiles are lazily basking in the warm mud. Dear Prince, I must go, but I will never forget you. In the spring I will bring you two stones in place of the ones you gave away: a ruby redder than a rose, and a sapphire as blue as the sea."

"Down below, in the square," said the Prince quietly, "stands a little girl who sells matches. They have fallen into a puddle and got soaked. If she brings nothing home, her father will scold her, and now she is crying. She has no shoes and no stockings, and nothing on her head. Pluck out my other eye and take it to her."

"I will stay with you one more night," said the Swallow, "but I cannot pluck out your eye. Then you would not be able to see anything at all!"

"Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, do as I ask."

And so she did. She swooped down, flew past the little girl, and the sapphire dropped right into her palm.

"What a pretty bit of glass!" cried the little girl, and ran home laughing.

The Swallow flew back to the Prince.

"Now you are blind," she said. "So I will stay with you forever."

"No, little Swallow, you must fly to Egypt."

"I will stay with you forever," the Swallow said again, and she fell asleep at his feet.

All the next day she sat on the Prince’s shoulder and told him about faraway lands. About the red ibises that stand in a row on the banks of the Nile and catch goldfish in their beaks. About the Sphinx, as old as the world itself, who lives in the desert and knows everything there is to know. About the merchants who walk slowly beside their camels, running strings of amber beads through their fingers. About the tiny little people who sail across a lake on broad leaves and are always arguing with the butterflies.

"Dear little Swallow," said the Prince, "you tell me of marvellous things. But the most marvellous thing in all the world is the sorrow of people. Fly over my city and tell me what you see."

The Swallow flew off. She saw the rich making merry in their brightly lit houses while beggars sat at their gates. She saw dark alleys and the pale little faces of hungry children. Under a bridge two little boys were hugging each other to keep a little warmer.

"Oh, how hungry we are," they whispered.

"You can’t lie here!" shouted the watchman, and the boys trudged off into the rain.

The Swallow told the Prince everything.

"I am covered with fine gold," he said. "Take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to the poor."

Leaf by leaf the Swallow took off the gold, until the Prince was grey and dull. Leaf by leaf she carried it all over the city. And the children’s faces grew rosy, and laughter rang out in the streets again.

"We have bread now!" the children shouted.

Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets glittered as if they were made of silver, long icicles hung from the eaves, and boys in red caps went skating on the ice.

The little Swallow grew colder and colder, but she would not leave the Prince, because she loved him very much. She picked up crumbs outside the bakery when the baker wasn’t looking, and tried to keep warm by flapping her wings.

But one evening she felt that she had almost no strength left. She could only just manage to fly up to the Prince’s shoulder.

"Goodbye, dear Prince! May I kiss your hand?"

"I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow. You have stayed here too long. But kiss me on the lips, for I love you."

"It is not to Egypt that I am going," whispered the Swallow. "I am going to the place where the quietest dreams are dreamed."

She kissed the Prince, nestled down at his feet, tucked her head under her wing, and fell into her very deepest sleep.

At that very moment something cracked inside the statue. Crack! The lead heart had broken in two.

The next morning the Mayor was walking through the square with the Town Councillors.

"Dear me! How shabby the Happy Prince looks!" he exclaimed.

"How shabby indeed!" chimed in the Councillors, who always agreed with him.

"The ruby has fallen out, his eyes are gone, and the gold has peeled off. Why, he is little better than a beggar!"

"Little better than a beggar," nodded the Councillors.

"And there’s even some bird lying at his feet!"

So they took the statue down and carried it off to the foundry to be melted. Then the Mayor called a meeting of the council: what should they put on the column now?

"A new statue, of course," he said. "Of me."

"No, of me!" said one Councillor.

"Of me!" said another.

And they quarrelled. They say they are still arguing to this day.

Meanwhile, at the foundry, the master scratched the back of his head.

"How strange! This broken heart won’t melt in the furnace."

So he put it on a little heap of dry leaves, right where the little Swallow lay sleeping.

That night a shining Angel came down from heaven. He had been told to bring back the two most precious things in the city. The Angel looked around for a long time, and then he gently picked up the lead heart and the little bird.

"You have chosen well," the Angel heard when he returned to heaven.

And he carried them into a garden where it is never winter. There the Swallow woke up, shook the last snowflakes from her wings, and began to sing. Now she will sing there forever. And beside her stands the Prince, smiling. He can see again, and all he sees is joy.