Love above all

The Nightingale and the Rose

Oscar Wilde

"The Nightingale and the Rose" is one of Oscar's Wilde short stories, which examines the nature
of love. We are introduces to the selfish characters who lack depth in their love.

"'She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses,' cried the young Student; 'but in all
my garden there is no red rose.'
From her nest in the holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves,
and wondered."

The story starts with a philosophy student and a Nightingale; it appears that the student is
deeply in love with his professor's daughter and his greatest desire is to dance with her at the prince's
ball, however, the girl of his dreams told him that the only way she would dance with him would be if
he would bring her a beautiful red rose- from the beginning, the author shows us that love has a price,
in this case a red rose as the symbol of passion and love, we meet the girl's somehow whorish
character.

" 'Here at last is a true lover,' said the Nightingale. 'Night after night have I sung of him, though I knew
him not: night after night have I told his story to the stars, and now I see him."

After seeing the boy cry, the Nightingale becomes the victim of his appearance and lets herself
be deceived in thinking that in this boy's heart lies the true meaning of love, a pure love dressed in
passion, one of such power that could overcome anything and fulfill itself, a supreme love we could
say, the type which could move mountains.

" 'Here indeed is the true lover,' said the Nightingale. 'What I sing of he suffers: what is joy to me, to
him is pain. Surely Love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds, and dearer than fine
opals."

Oscar Wilde continues his story with some kind of prediction reflected in the Nightingale's
toughts, as the delicate bird thinks to herself that love is more precious than any materialistic desire,
that it would even be ridiculous to think otherwise, that surely nothing can hold more importance than
the true feeling of a pure, young love- she believes that love is priceless and therefore it can not be
bought. The Nightingale empathizes with the boy's sorrow, understanding and not even doubting his
"true" love, almost feeling guilty for her song of love which to him it causes pain.

"Why is he weeping?' asked a little Green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air.
'Why, indeed?' said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam.
'Why, indeed?' whispered a Daisy to his neighbour, in a soft, low voice.
'He is weeping for a red rose,' said the Nightingale.
'For a red rose!' they cried; 'how very ridiculous!' and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic,
laughed outright."

We are shortly introduced to three characters: the Lizard, the Butterfly and the Daisy, whom at
the news of a young student weeping for a red rose, start mocking him; from my point of view, these
characters represent the "wake up call" or the realists of the story, ones who know the emptyness of the
world and know better than to believe in such non sense as true love. Blinded by her desire to believe
that the world is not as shallow as it seems, the Nightingale pays no attention to these characters and
thinks of them as ignorants, who do not know "the mystery of Love".

" 'There is a way,' answered the Tree; 'but it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you.'
'Tell it to me,' said the Nightingale, 'I am not afraid.' "
Determined to aid the student in fulfilling his love, the Nightingale wishes to bring him the red
rose and eventually finds a tree which would have red roses, if it were not for the heavy winter and the
merciless cold; the little bird does not want to accept failure, she is determined to find him the rose, so
she insists, finding out there is a way, but the tree thinks of it as being so horrible as it hesitates to even
say it.

"'If you want a red rose,' said the Tree, 'you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with
your own heart's-blood. You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must
sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins, and
become mine.' "
The little bird soon finds out that the only way for the student to meet with his one true love, is
her own life, for she must give to the tree her life-blood to make just one red rose bloom in splendor;
she must sacrifice herself.

"'Death is a great price to pay for a red rose,' cried the Nightingale, 'and Life is very dear to all. It is
pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold, and the Moon in her
chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley,
and the heather that blows on the hill. Yet Love is better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird
compared to the heart of a man?' "

Although acknowledging the actual meaning of this sacrifice, the fact that she will not be able
to enjoy life's sweet beauty and that her "dear" existence will end so suddenly and unexpected, the
Nightingale will not let anything, not even death, stand in the way of true love, because love is pure,
love is all, love is priceless, greater than life itself, because what is life in comparison with love? One's
existence is but an accident, while true love is a gift for the lucky ones, a feeling so difficult to possess
that only few are blessed enough to experience it.

" 'Be happy,' cried the Nightingale, 'be happy; you shall have your red rose (...) All that I ask of you in
return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, though she is wise, and
mightier than Power, though he is mighty. (...) The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but
he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him, for he only knew the things that are
written down in books."
 The Nightingale, being at peace with herself, that her death will have the greatest purpose, goes
to announce the student that he will have the precious rose, under the condition that the love that he
will offer, to be the purest of them all; however, the student, although ironically studying Philosophy, is
much to ignorant to understand her words, and disregards what he has been told, even thinking to
himself that the bird is nothing more than a pretty creature, a hypocrite one, whose song possesses no
feeling, only beauty trough its notes, thinking that the Nightingale is but a hollow bird. 'She has form,'
he said to himself, as he walked away through the grove - 'that cannot be denied to her; but has she got
feeling?

" 'Look, look!' cried the Tree, 'the rose is finished now;' but the Nightingale made no answer, for she
was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart."

Subleme in her death, the Nightingale made the supreme sacrifice and "gave birth" to the
infinitely precious rose, as when the flower bloomed in its sublime beauty, the bird slowly faded away
into nothingness, offering one last note, one to even make the moon tremble in the skies and linger for
a whyle longer, just to witness the great gesture and the miraculous transformation: from cherished life
to death, and from nothingness to the living expression of love.

" 'I am afraid it will not go with my dress,' she answered; 'and, besides, the Chamberlain's nephew has
sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers.' "

After softening our hearts to the point of tears, Oscar Wilde quickly transports us to another
universe, as it seems almost unpossible, such ungratefullness, the way the girl's promised love did not
even exist at all, for she was but a selfish human, ignorant of love's true meaning, opened to sell herself
for such empty earthly things as jewels. Her heart was rich, not with love, but with shallow treasures.

" 'Well, upon my word, you are very ungrateful,' said the Student angrily; and he threw the rose into
the street, where it fell into the gutter, and a cart-wheel went over it. "

How sad it is to see now that the student's "love" was only a passion, that even he is as ignorant
as the girl, that the poor creature-the Nightingale made the ultimate sacrifice and gave her own life for
this love to fulfill and to blosom just like the rose did, to grow in a life of love which would have made
their time spent together, rejoicing their love, more precious than the small bird's life.
How infinitely terrifying it is to acknowledge that darkness can hide under the face of love, that
nobody can be trusted for who they seem to be; how can one think so little of their own life, that it's
importance fades away in comparison with the sight of true love, not even their own love?
How empty is a world where materialism triumphs and love comes to die, where one would be
able to sacrifice their most precious gift-their life-in such selfness, only for the sacrifice to be, not
forgotten, but invisible?
How empty is our world..?
Eseu realizat de Solyom Iulia