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Daily Children's Stories — The Star Child. Machine-transcribed; use the interactive transcript above to jump the player to any line.
The star-child. Once upon a time two poor woodcutters were making their way home through a great pine forest. It was winter and a night of bitter cold. The snow lay thick upon the ground, and upon the branches of the trees. The frost kept snapping the little twigs on either side of them as they passed, and when they came to the mountain torrent she was hanging motionless in air for the ice-king at kiss her. So cold was it that even the animals and the births did not know what to make of it. Ugh, snarled the wolf, as he limped through the brushwood with his tail between his legs. This is perfectly monstrous weather. Why doesn't the government look to it? We, we, we, we, twitter the green linets. The old earth is dead, and they have laid her out in her white shroud. The earth is going to be married, and this is her bridal dress, whispered the turtle dubs to each other. Their little pink feet were quite frostbissing, but they felt that it was their duty to take a romantic view of the situation. Nonsense, growl the wolf.
I tell you that it is all the fault of the government, and if you don't believe me I shall eat you. The wolf had a thoroughly practical mind, and was never as a loss for a good argument. Well, for my own part, said the woodpecker, who was a born philosopher. I don't care an atomic theory for explanations. If a thing is so, it is so, and it presented is terribly cold. Terribly cold it certainly was. The little squirrels who lived inside the tall fir tree kept rubbing each other's noses to keep themselves warm, and the rabbits cull themselves up in their holes, and did not venture even to look out of doors. The only people who seemed to enjoy it were the great hornet owls. Their feathers were quite stiff with brine, but they did not mind, and they rolled their large yellow eyes and called to each other across the forest. To it, to who? To it, to who? What a delightful weather we are having! On and on went the two woodcutters, blowing lustily upon their fingers and stamping with their huge iron-shot boots upon the cake snow.
Once they sank into a deep drift and came out as white as millers are, when the stones are grinding, and once they slipped of the hard smooth ice where the marsh water was frozen, and their faggets fell out of their bundles, and they had to pick them up and bind them together again, and once they thought that they had lost their way, and a great tarot seized on them, for they knew that the snow is cruel to those who sleep in our arms. But they put their trust in the good-saint Martin, who watches over all travelers, and retrace their steps and went wearily, and that lastly reached the outskirts of the forest and saw, far down in the valley beneath them, the lights of the village in which they dwelt. So overjoyed were they at their deliverance that they laughed aloud, and the earth seemed to them like a flower of silver, and the moon like a flower of gold. Yet, after that they had laughed they became sad, for they remembered their poverty, and one of them said to the other, why did we make Mary seeing that life is for the rich and not for such as we are? Better that we had died of cold in the forest, or that some wild beast had fallen upon us in slainess. Truly, answer this companion, much is given to some, and little is given to others.
Injustice has puzzled out the world, nor is there equal division of ord-saint for sorrow. But as they were bewailing them misery to each other, this strange thing happened. Their fell from heaven a very bright and beautiful star. It slipped down the side of the sky, passing by the other stars in its course, and, as they watched it wandering, it seemed to them to sink behind a clump of willotries that stood hard by a little sheepfold no more than a stone's throw away. Why, there is a crock of gold for whoever finds it, they cried, and they set to and ran, so eager were they for the gold. And one of them ran faster than its mate, and outstripped him, and forced his way through the willows, and came out on the other side, and low, there was indeed a thing of gold lying on the white snow. So he hastened towards it, and stooping down placed his hands upon it, and it was a cloak of golden tissue, curiously wrought with stars and wrapped in many folds. And he cried out to his comrade that he had found the treasure that had fallen from the sky, and when his comrade had come up, they sat them down in the snow, and loosened the
folds of the cloak, that they might divide the pieces of gold. But alas, no gold was in it, nor silver, nor indeed treasure of any kind, but only a little child who was asleep. And one of them said to the other, this is a bitter ending to our hope, nor have we any good fortune for what does the child profit to a man? Let us leave it here and go our way, seeing that we are poor men and have children of our own whose bread we may not give to another. But his companion answered him. Nay, but it were an evil thing to leave the child to perish here in the snow, and though I am as poor as thou art, and have many mouths to feed, and but little in the pot, yet will I bring it home with me, and my wife shall have care of it. So very tenderly he took up the child, and wrapped the cloak around it to shield it from the harsh cold, and made his way down the hill to the village, his comrade marveling much at his foolishness and softness of heart. And when they came to the village, his comrade said to him, though hast the child, therefore give me the cloak for it is meat that we should share.
But he answered him. Nay, for the cloak is neither mine nor thine, but the child's only, and he bathed in God's speed and went to his own house and knocked. And when his wife opened the door and saw that her husband had returned safe to her, she put her arms round his neck and kissed him, and took from his back the bundle of faggots, and brushed the snow off his boots, and bathed in come in. But he said to her, I have found something in the forest, and I have brought it to be to have care of it, and his third knot from the threshold. What is it, she cried, show it to me, for the house is bare, and we have need of many things. And he drew the cloak back and showed her the sleeping child. A lack good man, she murmured, have we not children enough of our own that thou must need spring a changeling to sit by the hearth? And who knows if it will not bring us bad fortune, and how shall we tend it, and she was wroth against him? Nay, but it is a star-child, he answered, and he told her the strange manner of the finding of it. But she would not be appeased but mocked at him and spoke angrily and cried, our children
lack bread, and shall we feed the child of another. Who is there who careeth for us, and who giveeth us food? Nay, but God careeth for the sparrows even and feedeth them, he answered. Do not the sparrows die of hunger in the winter, she asked. And is it not winter now? And the man answered nothing but stirred not from the threshold. And bitter wind from the forest came in through the open door and made her tremble, and she shivered and said to him, will thou not close the door? Ther comeeth a bitter wind unto the house, and I am cold. Into a house where a heart is hard comeeth there not always a bitter wind, he asked. And the woman answered him nothing but crept closer to the fire. And after a time she turned round and looked at him, and her eyes were full of tears, and she came in swiftly and placed the child in her arms, and she kissed it, and laid it in a little bed where the youngest of their own children was lying. And on the morrow the woodcutter took the curious cloak of gold and placed it in a great chest, and a chain of amber that was round the child's neck his wife took and set it in the chest also.
So the star child was brought up with the children of the woodcutter, and sat at the same board with them, and was their playmate. And every year he became more beautiful to look at, so that all those who dwelt in the village were filled with wonder, for while they were swarthy and black-haired he was white and delicate as sore ivory, and his curls were like the rings of the daffodil. His lips also were like the petals of a red flower, and his eyes were like violet by a river of pure water, and his body like the narcissus of a field where the mower comes not. Yet did his beauty work him evil, for he grew proud and cruel and selfish. The children of the woodcutter and the other children of the village he despised, saying that they were of mean parentage, while he was noble, being sprung from a star, and he made himself master over them and called them his servants. No pity had he for the poor, or for those who were blind or maimed or in any way afflicted, but would cast stones at them and drive them forth onto the highway and bid them to beg their bread elsewhere, so that non-save the outlaws came twice to that village to ask
for arms. Indeed, he was as one enamored of beauty, and would mock at the weekly and ill-favoured, and make gesture them, and himself he loved, and in summer, when the winds were still, he would lie by the well in the priests orchard, and look down at the marvel of his own face, and laugh for the pleasure he had in his fairness. Often did the woodcutter and his wife chide him, and say, we did not deal with thee as thou dealest with those who are left desolate, and have none to succor them, wherefore thou so cruel to all who need pity. Often did the old priests send for him, and seek to teach him the love of living things, saying to him, the fly is thy brother, do it no harm, the wild birds that roam through the forest have their freedom, snare them not for thy pleasure. Guard made the blind worm and the mole, and each has its place, who are dull to bring pain into God's world, even the cattle of the field praise him. But the starchild he did not there were, but would frown and flout, and go back to his companions and lead them, and his companions followed him, for he was fair and fleet afoot, and could
dance and pipe and make music. And wherever the starchild led them, they followed, and whatever the starchild made them do that did they. And when he pierced with a sharp reed the dim eyes of the mole, they laughed, and when he cast stones at the leper they laughed also, and in all things he ruled them, and they became hard of heart even as he was. Now they passed one day through the village a poor beggar woman. Her garments were torn and ragged, and her feet were bleeding from the rough road on which she had travelled, and she was in very evil plight, and being weary she sat her down under a chestnut tree to rest. But when the starchild saw her, he said to his companions, see, there she did the foul beggar woman under the fair and green-leaved tree. Come, let us drive her hence, for she is ugly and ill-favored. So he came near and threw stones at her, and mocked her, and she looked at him with terror in her eyes, nor did she move her gaze from him. And when the woodcutter, who was cleaving logs in a haggard heart by, saw what the starchild
was doing, he ran up and rebuked him and said to him, surely thou art hard of heart and know it's not mercy, for what evil has this poor woman done to thee that thou should street her in this wise. And the starchild grew red with anger and stamped his foot upon the ground and said, who out thou to question me what I do? I am no son of thine to do thy bidding. Thou speakest truly, and said the woodcutter. Did I show thee pity when I found thee in the forest? And when the woman had these words, she gave a loud cry and fell into a swoon, and the woodcutter carried her to his own house, and his wife had cared of her, and when she rose up from the swoon into which she had fallen, they said, meet and drink before her, and bade her have comfort. But she would neither eat nor drink, but said to the woodcutter. This thou not say that the child was found in the forest, and was it not ten years from this day? And what signs did thou find with him, she cried? There he not upon his neck a chain of amber, was not round him a cloak of gold tissue broided with stars. Truly, and said the woodcutter, it was even as though sayest.
And he took the cloak and the amber chain from the chest where they lay and showed them to her. And when she saw them she weft for joy and said, he's my little son whom I lost in the forest, I pray thee shall be the one who shall be the one who shall be the one who shall be the one who shall be the one who shall be the one who shall be the one who shall be the one who he sent for him quickly, for in search of him have I wandered over the whole world. So the woodcutter and his wife went out and called to the starchild and said to him, go into the house and there shall thou find thy mother who is waiting for thee. So he ran in, filled with wonder and great gladness, but when he saw her who was waiting there he laughed scornfully and said, why, where is my mother, for I see none here but this vile beggar woman? And the woman answered him, I am thy mother. How art mad to say so, cried the starchild angrily, I am no son of thine for thou art a beggar and ugly and in rags, therefore get thee hence and let me see thy foul face no more. Nay, but thou art indeed my little son whom I bear in the forest. She cried and she fell on her knees and held out her arms to him.
Therobber stole thee from me and left thee to die, she murmured. But I recognised thee when I saw thee and the signs also have I recognised, the cloak of golden tissue and the amber chain. Therefore I pray thee come with me, for over the whole world have I wandered in search of thee. Come with me my son, for I have need of thy love. But the starchild stirred not from his place but shut the doors of his heart against her, nor was there any sound heard, save the sound of the woman weeping for pain. And at last he spoke to her, and his voice was hard and bitter. If in very truth thou art my mother, he said, it had been better had stale, stayed away and not come here to bring me to shame, seeing that I thought I was the child of some star and not a beggar's child as thou tellest me that I am. Therefore get thee hence and let me see thee no more. Alas, my son, she cried, will thou not kiss me before I go, for I have suffered much to find thee. Nay, say the starchild, but thou art too foul to look at, and rather would I kiss the adder or the toad than thee. So the woman rose up and went away into the forest weeping bitterly.
And when the starchild saw that she had gone he was glad, and ran back to his play-mace that he might play with them. But when they beheld him coming they mocked him and said, why thou art as foul as the toad and as loathsome as the adder, get thee hence for we will not suffer thee to play with us, and they drave him out of the garden. And the starchild frowned and said to himself, what is this that they say to me? I will go to the well of water and look into it, and it shall tell me of my beauty. So he went to the well of water and looked into it, and lo, his face was as the face of a toad and his body was scaled like an adder. And he flung himself down on the grass and wept and said to himself, surely this has come upon me by reason of my sin, for I have denied my mother and driven her away and been proud and cruel to her, wherefore I will go and seek her through the whole world, nor will I rest till I have found her. And there came to him the little daughter of the woodcutter, and she put her hand upon his shoulder and said, what does it matter if thou hast lost thy comeliness? Day with us and I will not mock at thee.
And he said to her, nay, but I have been cruel to my mother, and as a punishment has this evil been sent to me, wherefore I must go hence and wander through the world till I find her, and she give me forgiveness. So he ran away into the forest and called out his mother to come to him, but there was no answer. All day long he called to her, and when the sun set, he lay down to sleep on a bed of leaves, and the birds and the animals fled from him. For they remember his cruelty, and he was alone, say, for the toad that watched him, and the slow ador that crawled past. And in the morning he rose up and plucked some bitter berries from the trees and ate them, and took his way through the great wood weeping sorely. And of everything that he met he made inquire of, per chance they had seen his mother. He said to the mole, thou canst go beneath the earth, tell me, is my mother there? And the mole answered, thou hast blinded my eyes, how should I know? He said to the Lynette, thou canst fly over the tops of the tall trees and canst see the whole world, tell me, canst see my mother? And the Lynette answered, thou hast slipped my wings for thy pleasure, how should I fly?
And to the little squirrel who lived in the fir tree and was lonely, he said, where is my mother? And the squirrel answered, thou hast slain mine, does thou seek dislaid I also? And the star child wept and bowed his head and prayed forgiveness of God's things, and went on through the forest, seeking for the beggar woman. And on the third day he came to the other side of the forest and went down into the plain. And when he passed through the villages the children mocked him and threw stones at him, and the carless would not suffer him even to sleep in the buyers, lest he might bring milgew on the stored corn. So far was he to look at, and their hired men drove him away, and there was none who had pity on him. Norkudi here, anywhere of the beggar woman, who was his mother, though for the space of three years he wandered over the world, and often seemed to see her on the road in front of him, and would call to her, and run after her till the sharp flints made his feet to bleed. But overtake her he could not, and those who dwelt by the way did ever deny that they had seen her, or any liked to her, and they made sport of his sorrow.
For the space of three years he wandered over the world, and in the world there was neither love nor loving kindness nor charity for him. But it was even such a world as he had made for himself in the days of his great pride. And one evening he came to the gate of a strong walled city that stood by a river, and weary and foot-sour though he was, he made to enter in. But soldiers who stood on guard dropped their halberts across the entrance and said roughly to him, what is thy business in the city? I am seeking for my mother, he answered, and I pray you to suffer me to pass, for it may be that she is in the city. But they mocked at him, and one of them wagged a black beard, and set down his shield and cried. Of the truth thy mother will not be merry when she sees thee, for thou art moral favor than the toad of the marsh or the adder that crawls in thin. Get thee gone, get thee gone, thy mother dwells not in the city. And another who held a yellow banner in his hand said to him, who is thy mother, and where for out thou seeking for her? And he answered, my mother is a beggar even as I am, and I have treated her evenly, and
I pray you to suffer me to pass that she may give me her forgiveness, if it be that she tarried in the city. But they would not, and pricked him with their spears. And as he turned away weeping, one whose armor was inlaid with guilt flowers, and on whose helmet crouched a lion that had wings, came up and made inquiry of the soldiers who it was who had sought entrance, and they said to him, it is a beggar and a child of a beggar, and we have driven him away. Nay, he cried laughing, but we will sell the foul thing for a slave, and his price shall be the price of a bowl of sweet wine. And an old and evil visaged man who was passing by called out, and said, I will buy him for that price. And when he had paid the prince, he took the starchild by one hand and led him into the city. And after that they had gone through many streets they came to a little door that was set in a wall that was covered with a pomegranate tree. And the old man touched the door with a ring of grave jasper and it opened, and they went down five steps of brass into a garden filled with black poppies and green jars of burnt
clay. The old man took then from his turban, a scarf of figured silk, and bound with it the eyes of the starchild and drove him in front of him. And when the scarf was taken off his eyes the starchild found himself in a dungeon that was lit by a lantern of horn. And the old man said before him some moldy bread on a trencher, and said, eat, and some brackish water in a cup and said, drink. And when he had eaten and drunk the old man went out, locking the door behind him and fascinating it with an iron chain. And on the morrow the old man who was indeed the subtlest of the magicians of Libya and had learned his art from one who dwelt in the tombs of the Nile, came into him and frowned at him and said, in a wood that is nightly the gate of the city of Jaur, there are three pieces of gold. One is of white gold and another is of yellow gold and the gold of the third one is red. Today thou shalt bring me the piece of white gold, and if thou bringest it not back I will beat thee with a hundred stripes. Get thee away quickly, and at sunset I will be waiting for thee at the door of the garden.
See that thou bringest the white gold, or it shall go ill with thee, for thou art my slave and I have bought thee for the price of a bowl of sweet wine. And he bound the eyes of the starchild with a scarf of figured silk, and led him through the house and through the garden of poppies and up the five steps of brass, and having opened the little door with his ring he set him in the street. And the starchild went out of the gate of the city, and came to the wood of which the magician had spoken to him. Now this wood was very fair to look at from without, and seemed full of singing birds and of sweet scented flowers, and the starchild entered it gladly. Yet did its beauty profit him little, for wherever he went, harsh bright as and thorn, shot up from the ground and encompassed him, and evil nettles stung him, and the sizzle pierced him with her daggers, so that he was in sore distress. Nor could he anywhere find the piece of white gold of which the magician had spoken, though he sought for it from morning to noon and from noon to sunset, and at sunset he set his face towards home, weeping bitterly, for he knew what fate was in store for him.
But when he had reached the outskirts of the wood he heard from a thicket a cry as of someone in pain, and for getting his own sorrow he ran back to the place and saw there a little hair caught in a trap that some hunter had said for it. And the starchild had pity on it and released it and said to it, I am myself but a slave, what may I give thee thy freedom? And the hair answered him and said, surely thou hast given me freedom, and what shall I give thee in return? And the starchild said to it, I am seeking for a piece of white gold, nor can I anywhere find it, and if I bring it not to my master he will beat me. "'Come thou with me,' said the hair, and I will lead thee to it, for I know where it is hidden and for what purpose. So the starchild went with the hair, and lo, in the cleft of a great oak tree he saw the piece of white gold that he was seeking, and he was filled with joy and seized it and said to the hair, the service that I did to thee thou hast rendered back again many times over, and the kindness that I showed thee thou hast repaid a hundredths fold. "'Nay,' answered the hair, but a stout dealt with me, so I did deal with thee, and it ran
away swiftly, and the starchild went towards the city. Now at the gate of the city there was seated one who was a leper, over his face hung a cow of grey linen, and through the eyelets his eyes gleamed like red coals. And when he saw the starchild coming he struck upon a wooden bowl and clattered his bell, and called out to him and said, "'Give me a piece of money, or I am a stuy of hunger. For they have thrust me out of the city, and there is no one who has pity on me.' "'Alas,' cried the starchild, "'I have but one piece of money in my wallet, and if I bring it not to my master he will beat me, for I am he slave.' But the leper entreated him, and prayed of him, till the starchild had pity and gave him the piece of white gold. And when he came to the magician's house the magician opened to him and brought him in and said to him, "'Hast thou the piece of white gold?' And the starchild answered, "'I have it not.' So the magician fell upon him and beat him, and said him before an empty trencher and said, "'Eat, and an empty cup and said drink, and flung him again into the dungeon.' And on the morrow the magician came to him and said, "'If today thou bringest me not the
piece of yellow gold, I will surely keep thee as my slave and give thee three hundred stripes.' So the starchild went to the wood, and all day long he searched for the piece of yellow gold, but nowhere could he find it. And at sunset he set him down and began to weep, and as he was weeping there came to him that little hair that he had rescued from the trap. And the hair said to him, "'Why out thou weeping? And what does thou seek in the wood?' And the starchild answered, "'I am seeking for a piece of yellow gold that is hidden here, and if I find it not my master will beat me and keep me as a slave. Follow me,' cried the hair, and he'd ran through the wood till it came to a pool of water, and at the bottom of the pool the piece of yellow gold was lying. "'How shall I thank thee,' said the starchild, "'for lo, this is the second time that you have secured me.' "'Nay, but thou had pity on me first,' said the hair, and he'd ran away swiftly. And the starchild took the piece of yellow gold and put it in his wallet and hurried to me the city, but the leper saw him coming, and ran to meet him and knelt down and cried,
give me a piece of money or a shall die of hunger,' and the starchild said to him, "'I have in my wallet but one piece of yellow gold, and if I bring it not to my master he will beat me and keep me as a slave.' But the leper entreated him soar so that the starchild had pity on him and gave him the piece of yellow gold. And when he came to the magician's house the magician opened to him and brought him in and said to him, "'Has thou the piece of yellow gold?' And the starchild said to him, "'I have not.' So the magician fell upon him and beat him and loaded him with chains and casting him again into the dungeon. And on the morrow the magician came to him and said, "'If today thou bringest me the piece of red gold I will set thee free, but if thou bringest it not I will surely slay thee.' So the starchild went to the wood and all day long he searched for the piece of red gold, but nowhere could he find it. And at evening he sat him down and went, and as he was weeping there came to him the little hair. And the hair said to him, "'The piece of red gold that thou seekest is in the cabin that is behind thee.
Therefore weep no more but be glad. How shall I reward thee?' cried the starchild, "'Follow this is the third time thou has secured me.' Nay, but thou hast pity on me first,' said the hair and it ran away swiftly. And the starchild entered the cabin, and in its farthest corner he found the piece of red gold. So he put it in his wallet and hurried to the city, and the leper seeing him coming, stood in the centre of the road and cried out and said to him, "'Give me the piece of red money or I must die,' and the starchild had pity on him again and gave him the piece of red gold saying, "'Thy need is greater than mine.' Yet his heart was heavy for he knew what evil fate awaited him. But low, as he passed through the gates of the city, the guards bowed down and made a basins to him saying, "'How beautiful is our Lord?' And a crowd of citizens followed him and cried out, surely there is none so beautiful in the whole world, so that the starchild wept and said to himself, "'They are mocking me and making light of my misery.' And so large was the concourse of the people that he lost the threads of his way and found
himself at last in a great square in which there was a palace of a king. And the gate of the palace opened, and the priests and the high officers of the city ran forth to meet him, and they obeys themselves before him and said, "'Thou art our Lord for whom we have been waiting and the son of our king.' And the starchild answered them and said, "'I am no king's son but the child of a poor beggar woman. And how say ye that I am beautiful, for I know that I am evil to look at?' Then he, whose armour was inlaid with guilt flowers, and on whose helmet crouched a line that had wings, held up a shield and cried, "'How set my Lord that he is not beautiful?' And the starchild looked, and low, his face was even as it had been, and his comeliness had come back to him, and he saw that in his eyes which he had not seen there before. And the priests and the high officers knelt down and said to him, "'It was prophesied of old that on this day should come he who was to rule over us, therefore let our Lord take this crown and this sector, and be in his justice and mercy our king over us.' But he said to them, "'I am not worthy, for I have denied the mother who bear me, nor
may I rest till I have found her and known her forgiveness. Therefore let me go, for I must wander again over the world, and may not tarry here, though ye bring me the crown and the sector. And as he spake, he turned his face from them towards the street that led to the gate of the city, and low, amongst the crowd that pressed round the soldiers, he saw the beggar woman who was his mother, and at her side stood the leper, who had sat by the road. And a cry of joy broke from his lips, and he ran over, and kneeling down he kissed the wounds on his mother's feet, and wet them with his tears. He bowed his head in the dust and sobbing, as one whose heart might break, he said to her, "'Mother, I denied thee in the hour of my pride, except me in the hour of my humility, mother I gave thee hatred, do thou give me love, mother, I rejected thee, received thy child now.' But the beggar woman answered him not a word, and he reached out his hands and clasped the white feet of the leper, and said to him, "'Thrice did I give thee of my mercy, bid my mother speak to me once, but the leper answered him not a word.' And he sobbed again and said, "'Mother, my suffering is greater than I can bear, give
me thy forgiveness and let me go back to the forest, and the beggar woman put her hand on his head, and said to him, rise, and the leper put his hand on his head, and said to him, rise also, and he rose up from his feet and looked at them, and low they were a king and a queen. And the queen said to him, "'This is thy father whom thou hast succour'd,' and the king said, "'This is thy mother whose feet thou hast washed with thy tears. And they fell on his neck and kissed him and brought him into the palace and clothed him in fair raiment, and set the crown upon his head and the scepter in his hand, and over the city that stood by the river he ruled and was its lord. Much justice and mercy did he show to all, and evil magician he banished, and to the wood cutter and his wife he sent many rich gifts, and to their children he gave high honour. Nor would he suffer any to be cruel to bird or beast, but taught love and loving kindness and charity, and to the poor he gave bread, and to the naked he gave raiment, and there was peace and plenty in the land. Yet ruled he not long, so great had been his suffering, and so bitter the fire of his
testing, for after the space of three years he died, and he you came after him ruled evenly. Here ends the starchild by Oscar Wilde.
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