The Complete Short Fiction by Oscar Wilde, Ian Small Read Free Book Online

there is no modern edition of Wilde’s poems, and the ‘Poems in Prose’ (in their entirety) are relatively inaccessible for the general reader. Moreover, all are informed by a strong narrative structure and have a generic relationship with some of the stories.
    Unlike the volumes of stories, the texts for both ‘The Portrait of Mr. W. H.’ and the ‘Poems in Prose’ are taken from periodicals. (‘The Portrait of Mr. W. H.’ is from
Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine
, July, 1889, and the six ‘Poems in Prose’ from
The Fortnightly Review
, July, 1894.) There is a second and much longer version of ‘The Portrait of Mr. W. H.’, which was printed posthumously. The reasons for not taking this work as base-text are two-fold. In the first instance it is much more literary criticism than prose fiction; more importantly, although there is clear evidence that Wilde wished to extend the original periodical essay of ‘The Portrait of Mr. W. H.’ into a book, we have no way of knowing whether the posthumous text in fact does represent that intention. (For details of this issue, see Horst Schroeder,
Oscar Wilde, ‘The Portrait of Mr. W.H.’ – Its Composition, Publication and Reception
, Braunschweig, 1984.)
    Finally I print one fugitive text as an appendix. It is a fragment of a hitherto unknown poem in prose, ‘Elder-tree’; the manuscript of it is in the William Andrews Clark Memorial Library at the University of California, Los Angeles. It was first published in my
Oscar Wilde Revalued
(1993).

The Happy Prince and Other Tales
    To Carlos Blacker 1
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.
    â€˜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.’
    â€˜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.
    â€˜He looks just like an angel,’ said the Charity Children 1 as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks, and their clean white pinafores.
    â€˜How do you know?’ said the Mathematical Master, ‘you have never seen one.’
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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.
    â€˜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