The Happy Prince

The Happy Prince

High above the city, on a slender column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince.

His whole body was covered with thin leaves of gold. His eyes shone with two blue sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on the hilt of his sword.

People crossed the square and admired him.

“That is what happiness should look like,” some said.

“What a beautiful prince!” others exclaimed.

But the Prince himself was silent.

When he had been alive, he had lived in a palace behind high walls. Music was always playing there, flowers bloomed in the gardens, and the people around him protected him from everything sad.

He truly believed himself happy because he knew almost nothing about how difficult life could be for others.

Now, as a statue high above the city, he could see everything.

One autumn night, a Swallow flew into the city. Her companions had left for warmer lands long ago, but she had stayed behind and was now hurrying south.

“I’ll spend the night here,” the Swallow decided when she saw the statue. “It’s high up, the air is fresh, and I don’t even need a golden roof.”

She settled between the Prince’s feet and was just about to fall asleep when a large drop fell on her.

“How strange,” said the Swallow. “The sky is clear.”

A second drop fell.

The Swallow looked up and saw tears running down the Prince’s golden cheeks.

“Why are you crying?” she asked.

“When I was alive, I knew nothing of sorrow,” the Prince replied. “But now I can see the whole city, and I cannot help noticing the suffering of others.”

He asked the Swallow to look toward a small house in a distant street.

A tired seamstress sat at a table, working late into the night. Her little son lay in bed with a hot forehead and asked for something cool.

His mother had almost no money left.

“There is a ruby on my sword,” said the Prince. “Take it to her.”

“But I must fly to the warm countries,” the Swallow answered. “The others are already waiting for me.”

“Stay just one night.”

The Swallow looked at the Prince’s sorrowful face and agreed.

She pecked the ruby from the sword hilt, flew over the rooftops, and left the jewel beside the seamstress. Then she gently fanned the child’s forehead with her wings.

“How cool it feels,” the boy whispered, and fell asleep.

The next day, the Swallow returned to the Prince.

“Now I am leaving.”

“Swallow, stay one more night,” he asked.

The Prince could see a young writer in a little room beneath a roof. The young man was trying to finish his work, but he was so cold and hungry that he could not concentrate.

“Take one of my sapphires and give it to him.”

The Swallow was alarmed.

“But that is your eye.”

“Please, take it.”

The Swallow carefully removed the sapphire and flew to the young man. When he saw the jewel, he understood that he could buy food, warm his room, and finish his work in peace.

The next evening, the Swallow said again,

“Prince, now I truly must go.”

But the Prince had seen a little match seller in the square. Her matches had become wet, and the girl was crying because she was afraid to go home without any money.

“Give her my other sapphire.”

“Then you will not be able to see,” said the Swallow.

“I have already seen enough to know that she needs help.”

The Swallow did as he asked.

When she returned, the Prince’s eyes no longer shone.

“Now you are blind,” said the bird. “I will not leave you alone.”

“But the cold is coming. You must fly south.”

“I will stay with you a little longer.”

From then on, the Swallow became the Prince’s eyes.

She flew over the city and told him what she saw: children shivering beside dark houses; old people without enough food; families counting their last coins; people whom everyone else simply failed to notice.

“There is still gold on me,” said the Prince. “Take it off leaf by leaf and carry it to those who need it.”

The Swallow began removing the thin golden leaves from the statue.

She took one to a family that had no money for supper.

Another went to a child who needed warm clothes.

A third went to an old woman who lived alone.

And so it continued, day after day.

The Happy Prince became less and less splendid. The gold disappeared, the sapphires were gone, and the ruby had long since found a new owner.

But in many dark rooms there was now light, food, and hope.

Winter came.

Frost lay on the rooftops, a thin skin of ice covered the water, and it became harder and harder for the Swallow to fly.

“Now you truly must leave,” said the Prince. “I do not want you to stay here because of me and freeze.”

“I know,” the Swallow answered softly. “But first I will say goodbye.”

She settled on the Prince’s shoulder.

“May I kiss you?”

“I am glad that at last you are going to the warm countries,” he said.

But the Swallow was already too weak from the cold.

She touched the Prince’s lips with her beak, fell at his feet, and became still.

At that same moment, something cracked inside the statue.

It was the Prince’s leaden heart breaking in two.

The next morning, the city officials crossed the square.

“How shabby our Prince has become,” said one. “No gold, no jewels.”

“And there is a dead bird at his feet,” another added.

They decided to take down the statue.

It was sent to a workshop so the metal could be melted. But for some reason, the leaden heart would not melt. It was thrown away together with the little Swallow.

Yet the story did not end there.

The tale says that one day a heavenly messenger was asked to find the two most precious things in the whole city.

He visited rich houses, looked into chests filled with jewels, and saw costly ornaments and piles of golden coins.

Then he found the broken leaden heart and the little Swallow.

Those were the two things he named most precious.

Not because the heart was made of valuable metal. It was made of ordinary lead.

And not because the Swallow was rare or magnificent.

But because both of them had given what they had so that someone else’s burden might become a little lighter.

For a long time, people remembered the golden statue of the Happy Prince. But his true happiness had not begun when everyone admired him.

It began when he saw another person’s pain and did not turn away.

And the Swallow, who at first only wanted to reach the warm countries as quickly as possible, discovered a different kind of journey: sometimes the greatest warmth does not come from the sun, but from caring for someone beside you.

And the Swallow, who at first only wanted to reach the warm countries as quickly as possible, discovered a different kind of journey: sometimes the greatest warmth does not come from the sun, but from caring for someone beside you.