The Selfish Giant
Oscar Wilde
Every afternoon,
as they were coming from school, the children used to go and play in the
Giant’s garden. It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and
there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve
peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink
and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and
sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen
to them. “How happy we are here!” they cried to each other. One day the Giant
came back. He had been to visit his friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed
with him for seven years. After the seven years were over he had said all that
he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he determined to return to
his own castle. When he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden.
“What are you doing here?” he cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran
away. “My own garden is my own garden,” said the Giant; “any one can understand
that, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself.” So he built a high
wall all round it, and put up a notice-board. TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED He
was a very selfish Giant. The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried
to play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and
they did not like it. They used to wander round the high wall when their
lessons were over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside. “How happy we
were there,” they said to each other. Then the Spring came, and all over the
country there were little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the
Selfish Giant it was still winter. The birds did not care to sing in it as
there were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom. Once a beautiful
flower put its head out from the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was
so sorry for the children that it slipped back into the ground again, and went
off to sleep. The only people who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost.
“Spring has forgotten this garden,” they cried, “so we will live here all the
year round.” The Snow covered up the grass with her great white cloak, and the
Frost painted all the trees silver. Then they invited the North Wind to stay with
them, and he came. He was wrapped in furs, and he roared all day about the
garden, and blew the chimney-pots down. “This is a delightful spot,” he said,
“we must ask the Hail on a visit.” So the Hail came. Every day for three hours
he rattled on the roof of the castle till he broke most of the slates, and then
he ran round and round the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in
grey, and his breath was like ice. “I cannot understand why the Spring is so
late in coming,” said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out
at his cold white garden; “I hope there will be a change in the weather.” But
the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn gave golden fruit to every
garden, but to the Giant’s garden she gave none. “He is too selfish,” she said.
So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind, and the Hail, and the Frost,
and the Snow danced about through the trees. One morning the Giant was lying
awake in bed when he heard some lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears
that he thought it must be the King’s musicians passing by. It was really only
a little linnet singing outside his window, but it was so long since he had
heard a bird sing in his garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful
music in the world. Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North
Wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open
casement. “I believe the Spring has come at last,” said the Giant; and he
jumped out of bed and looked out. What did he see? He saw a most wonderful
sight. Through a little hole in the wall the children had crept in, and they
were sitting in the branches of the trees. In every tree that he could see
there was a little child. And the trees were so glad to have the children back
again that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were waving their
arms gently above the children’s heads. The birds were flying about and
twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up through the green
grass and laughing. It was a lovely scene, only in one corner it was still
winter. It was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a
little boy. He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the
tree, and he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly. The poor tree was
still quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing and
roaring above it. “Climb up! little boy,” said the Tree, and it bent its
branches down as low as it could; but the boy was too tiny. And the Giant’s
heart melted as he looked out. “How selfish I have been!” he said; “now I know
why the Spring would not come here. I will put that poor little boy on the top
of the tree, and then I will knock down the wall, and my garden shall be the
children’s playground for ever and ever.” He was really very sorry for what he
had done. So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite softly, and
went out into the garden. But when the children saw him they were so frightened
that they all ran away, and the garden became winter again. Only the little boy
did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that he did not see the Giant
coming. And the Giant stole up behind him and took him gently in his hand, and
put him up into the tree. And the tree broke at once into blossom, and the
birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and
flung them round the Giant’s neck, and kissed him. And the other children, when
they saw that the Giant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and with
them came the Spring. “It is your garden now, little children,” said the Giant,
and he took a great axe and knocked down the wall. And when the people were
going to market at twelve o’clock they found the Giant playing with the
children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen. All day long they
played, and in the evening they came to the Giant to bid him good-bye. “But
where is your little companion?” he said: “the boy I put into the tree.” The
Giant loved him the best because he had kissed him. “We don’t know,” answered
the children; “he has gone away.” “You must tell him to be sure and come here
to-morrow,” said the Giant. But the children said that they did not know where
he lived, and had never seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad. Every
afternoon, when school was over, the children came and played with the Giant.
But the little boy whom the Giant loved was never seen again. The Giant was
very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his first little friend, and
often spoke of him. “How I would like to see him!” he used to say. Years went
over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble. He could not play about any more,
so he sat in a huge armchair, and watched the children at their games, and
admired his garden. “I have many beautiful flowers,” he said; “but the children
are the most beautiful flowers of all.” One winter morning he looked out of his
window as he was dressing. He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew that it
was merely the Spring asleep, and that the flowers were resting. Suddenly he
rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and looked. It certainly was a marvellous
sight. In the farthest corner of the garden was a tree quite covered with
lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and silver fruit hung down
from them, and underneath it stood the little boy he had loved. Downstairs ran
the Giant in great joy, and out into the garden. He hastened across the grass,
and came near to the child. And when he came quite close his face grew red with
anger, and he said, “Who hath dared to wound thee?” For on the palms of the
child’s hands were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on
the little feet. “Who hath dared to wound thee?” cried the Giant; “tell me,
that I may take my big sword and slay him.” “Nay!” answered the child; “but these
are the wounds of Love.” “Who art thou?” said the Giant, and a strange awe fell
on him, and he knelt before the little child. And the child smiled on the
Giant, and said to him, “You let me play once in your garden, to-day you shall
come with me to my garden, which is Paradise.” And when the children ran in
that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered
with white blossoms.
