The Wilde stories were written in the late 19th century and were ostensibly for children: they have an inherently didactic function, even if that sometimes contrasts with Wilde's languid, wry tone. They're also old-fashioned fairy tales; they never say their morals, though their morals are entirely clear. Russell, as he usually do in his adaptations, uses a lot of the original prose, but lays it out as gorgeous pages - these are text-heavy stories, but ingeniously constructed and entirely comics.
This time out, Russell has two more stories, and their morals are, respectively, "relationships should be reciprocal" and "don't sacrifice yourself for someone who doesn't deserve it." I am resolutely not checking the timeline and making a comment about Bosie here.
The book is The Fairy Tales of Oscar Wilde, Vol.4: The Devoted Friend/The Nightingale and the Rose, an awfully long title for a book only thirty-four pages long.
"The Devoted Friend" has yet another small innocent tormented and destroyed by the world, like the dwarf in "The Birthday of the Infanta." This time, he's not quite as small and not quite as innocent - a relatively normal man, on the smaller side, and one filled with the milk of human kindness possibly too much. He's Hans, who is poor but grows flowers in a lovely garden and could live on the proceeds. His "friend," never given a name, is the much richer, much more self-satisfied local miller, who imposes on Hans incessantly under the guise of their "friendship." Which is, blatantly, one-sided: the miller asks for favors and takes things; Hans gives. In particular, the miller promises to give Hans his old, broken wheelbarrow, and, using that as leverage, gets Hans to do a lot of free labor for him (worth vastly more than the wheelbarrow), which, of course, inevitably leads to Hans's tragic death. The miller takes the wrong lesson, as of course he must.
The whole thing is framed as a story told by a linnet to a water rat, adding some more humor - the water-rat is no more interested in the lesson or moral than the miller was, and for the same reasons.
"The Nightingale and the Rose" is mostly a conversation and relationship between the two title characters. They both live in the garden outside the window of a "young student," who is in love with the daughter of his professor, and wants to give her a perfect red rose to show his devotion. But, alas! there are other beautiful flowers in the garden, but no actual perfect red roses. The nightingale, besotted with the student's "true love," is willing to do anything to give him what he wants. And the rose tree says that's possible: if the nightingale spends the entire night singing beautifully, thrusting his body onto a thorn of the tree, until it dies at daybreak, one perfect rose will be stained red by his blood. The nightingale does so, which is sad and beautiful, and does produce the rose.
The student takes the rose, presents it to his love, and learns that she doesn't actually like red roses as much as jewels, which another suitor has already given her. So he discards the rose, and gives up love for philosophy.
So that's two tragic improving stories in one short book, for those looking for such things. Wilde makes them amusing, and doesn't telegraph his morals too much. And Russell's adaptation is, as always, lovely and true to the originals.
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