The Happy Prince Page #11

The Happy Prince and Other Tales is a collection of stories for children by Oscar Wilde first published in May 1888. It contains five stories: "The Happy Prince", "The Nightingale and the Rose", "The Selfish Giant", "The Devoted Friend", and "The Remarkable Rocket".

• Children

								


“Well, I said Pylotechnic,” answered the Rocket, in a severe tone of
voice, and the Bengal Light felt so crushed that he began at once to
bully the little squibs, in order to show that he was still a person of
some importance.

“I was saying,” continued the Rocket, “I was saying—What was I saying?”

“You were talking about yourself,” replied the Roman Candle.

“Of course; I knew I was discussing some interesting subject when I was
so rudely interrupted.  I hate rudeness and bad manners of every kind,
for I am extremely sensitive.  No one in the whole world is so sensitive
as I am, I am quite sure of that.”

“What is a sensitive person?” said the Cracker to the Roman Candle.

“A person who, because he has corns himself, always treads on other
people’s toes,” answered the Roman Candle in a low whisper; and the
Cracker nearly exploded with laughter.

“Pray, what are you laughing at?” inquired the Rocket; “I am not
laughing.”

“I am laughing because I am happy,” replied the Cracker.

“That is a very selfish reason,” said the Rocket angrily.  “What right
have you to be happy?  You should be thinking about others.  In fact, you
should be thinking about me.  I am always thinking about myself, and I
expect everybody else to do the same.  That is what is called sympathy.
It is a beautiful virtue, and I possess it in a high degree.  Suppose,
for instance, anything happened to me to-night, what a misfortune that
would be for every one!  The Prince and Princess would never be happy
again, their whole married life would be spoiled; and as for the King, I
know he would not get over it.  Really, when I begin to reflect on the
importance of my position, I am almost moved to tears.”

“If you want to give pleasure to others,” cried the Roman Candle, “you
had better keep yourself dry.”

“Certainly,” exclaimed the Bengal Light, who was now in better spirits;
“that is only common sense.”

“Common sense, indeed!” said the Rocket indignantly; “you forget that I
am very uncommon, and very remarkable.  Why, anybody can have common
sense, provided that they have no imagination.  But I have imagination,
for I never think of things as they really are; I always think of them as
being quite different.  As for keeping myself dry, there is evidently no
one here who can at all appreciate an emotional nature.  Fortunately for
myself, I don’t care.  The only thing that sustains one through life is
the consciousness of the immense inferiority of everybody else, and this
is a feeling that I have always cultivated.  But none of you have any
hearts.  Here you are laughing and making merry just as if the Prince and
Princess had not just been married.”

“Well, really,” exclaimed a small Fire-balloon, “why not?  It is a most
joyful occasion, and when I soar up into the air I intend to tell the
stars all about it.  You will see them twinkle when I talk to them about
the pretty bride.”

“Ah! what a trivial view of life!” said the Rocket; “but it is only what
I expected.  There is nothing in you; you are hollow and empty.  Why,
perhaps the Prince and Princess may go to live in a country where there
is a deep river, and perhaps they may have one only son, a little
fair-haired boy with violet eyes like the Prince himself; and perhaps
some day he may go out to walk with his nurse; and perhaps the nurse may
go to sleep under a great elder-tree; and perhaps the little boy may fall
into the deep river and be drowned.  What a terrible misfortune!  Poor
people, to lose their only son!  It is really too dreadful!  I shall
never get over it.”

“But they have not lost their only son,” said the Roman Candle; “no
misfortune has happened to them at all.”

“I never said that they had,” replied the Rocket; “I said that they
might.  If they had lost their only son there would be no use in saying
anything more about the matter.  I hate people who cry over spilt milk.
But when I think that they might lose their only son, I certainly am very
much affected.”

“You certainly are!” cried the Bengal Light.  “In fact, you are the most
affected person I ever met.”

“You are the rudest person I ever met,” said the Rocket, “and you cannot
understand my friendship for the Prince.”

“Why, you don’t even know him,” growled the Roman Candle.

“I never said I knew him,” answered the Rocket.  “I dare say that if I
knew him I should not be his friend at all.  It is a very dangerous thing
to know one’s friends.”

“You had really better keep yourself dry,” said the Fire-balloon.  “That
is the important thing.”

“Very important for you, I have no doubt,” answered the Rocket, “but I
shall weep if I choose”; and he actually burst into real tears, which
flowed down his stick like rain-drops, and nearly drowned two little
beetles, who were just thinking of setting up house together, and were
looking for a nice dry spot to live in.

“He must have a truly romantic nature,” said the Catherine Wheel, “for he
weeps when there is nothing at all to weep about”; and she heaved a deep
sigh, and thought about the deal box.

But the Roman Candle and the Bengal Light were quite indignant, and kept
saying, “Humbug! humbug!” at the top of their voices.  They were
extremely practical, and whenever they objected to anything they called
it humbug.

Then the moon rose like a wonderful silver shield; and the stars began to
shine, and a sound of music came from the palace.

The Prince and Princess were leading the dance.  They danced so
beautifully that the tall white lilies peeped in at the window and
watched them, and the great red poppies nodded their heads and beat time.

Then ten o’clock struck, and then eleven, and then twelve, and at the
last stroke of midnight every one came out on the terrace, and the King
sent for the Royal Pyrotechnist.

“Let the fireworks begin,” said the King; and the Royal Pyrotechnist made
a low bow, and marched down to the end of the garden.  He had six
attendants with him, each of whom carried a lighted torch at the end of a
long pole.

It was certainly a magnificent display.

Whizz! Whizz! went the Catherine Wheel, as she spun round and round.
Boom!  Boom! went the Roman Candle.  Then the Squibs danced all over the
place, and the Bengal Lights made everything look scarlet.  “Good-bye,”
cried the Fire-balloon, as he soared away, dropping tiny blue sparks.
Bang! Bang! answered the Crackers, who were enjoying themselves
immensely.  Every one was a great success except the Remarkable Rocket.
He was so damp with crying that he could not go off at all.  The best
thing in him was the gunpowder, and that was so wet with tears that it
was of no use.  All his poor relations, to whom he would never speak,
except with a sneer, shot up into the sky like wonderful golden flowers
with blossoms of fire.  Huzza! Huzza! cried the Court; and the little
Princess laughed with pleasure.

“I suppose they are reserving me for some grand occasion,” said the
Rocket; “no doubt that is what it means,” and he looked more supercilious
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