Summary
“The Birthday of the Infanta”
it is the birthday of the Infanta, who even though she is a real Spanish princess only has a birthday once a year like everyone else. It is a gloriously beautiful day and the Princess is thrilled because today she is allowed to play with children not of her own rank (there are none of her own rank, so she always plays alone).
The children gambol about gracefully while the sad King watches them. His brother Don Pedro of Aragon, whom he hates, and his confessor, the Grand Inquisitor of Granada, stand at his side. The King is melancholy because the Infanta’s mother, who had come from France, died here in Spain just six months after bearing the Infanta. A Moorish physician had embalmed her, and her body sleeps in the black marble chapel of the palace. The King visits her once a month and kneels and sobs by her side.
He saw her today, and was thrown back into the memories of their early days together. Some in the kingdom thought he loved her too much, and risked Spain’s power during the wars with England. He would have abdicated and retired by now, but did not want to leave his daughter with his cruel brother (who was even suspected of having a hand in the Queen’s death).
The King watches his daughter and remembers her mother’s grace and beauty and petulant manners. The shrill sounds of children and the bright sun bother him.
The Infanta is miffed that her father is not down with her on her birthday, and wonders what silly affairs of state he is involved with. She thinks her uncle and the Grand Inquisitor are much better because they came out and paid her compliments.
The festivities are starting. Don Pedro walks his niece to a specially erected pavilion and she sits with the other children in their order of precedence. Noble boys dressed as toreadors come before her. The handsomest is the Count de Tierra-Nueva.
There is then a mock bullfight, with the bull made out of wicker-work. It is realistic, though, and the crowd is delighted. The young Count brings the bull down and gives it the coup-de-grace.
After the fight there are tightrope walkers and a semi-classical tragedy, then an African juggler and a solemn minuet performed by the dancing boys from the church of Nuestra Senora Del Pilar. There is also a dance performed by the Egyptian gipsies, who, when they see Don Pedro, are privately terrified because he had two of their tribe hanged for sorcery a few weeks prior.
The gipsies dance and sing wild love songs, and then bring in a shaggy bear and a Barbary ape. The best part of the whole morning is the little Dwarf that they bring in. It is a terrible, grotesque little monster that is completely unconscious of his own ugliness. He dances and bows and is fascinated by the little Infanta.
To tease him, she pulls out a white rose in her hair and throws it to him. He takes the rose and kisses it and sinks to a knee. The Infanta and her companions laugh uproariously.
When the dance is done, the Infanta wants it repeated, but her uncle says the creature can dance for her after the hour of siesta. The children retire to their apartments.
The Dwarf is thrilled he will get to dance again, and he runs into the garden in a frenzy of delight. The flowers dislike his ugly appearance and curl away in disgust. Only the birds like him, for he had been kind to them during the winter when he fed them crumbs. He gleefully shows off his white rose. The lizards also like him, philosophically telling themselves that not everyone can be beautiful.
The Dwarf hears none of the flowers’ censure, and wishes he could see the Infanta right now. He had never been in a palace but he knows he could do lovely tricks for the Princess and amuse her. Maybe she would come into the forest and play with him, and when she tired he could lay her down on a soft bed of moss.
The Dwarf becomes impatient and wonders where everyone is. The palace seems asleep. He finds a tiny door to enter and comes into a splendid hall. He reaches the end of the hall and opens a black velvet curtain. He finds another, even prettier, room used for councils. As it is also empty, though, he moves to another room. Here is the throne of the King, ornate and magnificent. The Dwarf cares nothing for it, though, and just wants to see the Princess.
He passes into another room. To his surprise, he sees a figure watching him. He is utterly shocked, for it is a monstrous thing and it mocks his own gestures. Its eyes are full of terror and it makes hideous faces at him. Everything in this room seems strange and doubled.
Suddenly, though, the Dwarf realizes the truth, and breaks down into sobs. He sees himself as the monster, as the target of the Infanta’s mockery. He cries hot tears and rips up the rose. He crawls like a wounded thing into the shadows and is still.
The Infanta and her friends enter, and when they see the dwarf they laugh and clap. They hope he will dance, but he cries softly, then is still again.
Annoyed, the Infanta cries out to her uncle. He comes in with the Chamberlain. The latter stoops down and says the dwarf is dead because its heart is broken. The Infanta huffs that in the future the things that come to play with her must have no hearts.
“The Star-Child”
One cold winter evening two Woodcutters are making their way home. Even the animals and birds do not know what to make of the cold; only the owls seem to enjoy it. The Woodcutters trudge and bluster through the snow, afraid that they have lost their way. Finally they see the lights of the village below them, and laugh in delight.
After a moment, though, they cease laughing and remember how poor they are. Suddenly, a bright and beautiful star falls from heaven right near a clump of willow trees. Excited because they think it may be gold, they run to it. What they find, though, is a baby wrapped in a golden, starry mantle. One man sighs that they ought to leave it there, but the other decides to bring it home to his wife.
When he comes home, his wife is not pleased with the addition of another child since they have enough to feed, but her heart thaws.
The couple brings up the child as one of their own. Every year, he becomes more and more beautiful; he is delicate and white and pure. However, he becomes prideful and selfish and cruel. He has no pity for anyone, laughs at the weak and ill-favored, and cares only for beauty. The Priest tries to talk to him and the Woodcutter and his wife chide him, but he does not change. He has a hard heart, and hardens the heart of the other children who play with him.
One day, an ugly and poor Beggar-woman comes through the village. She sits by a tree. The Star-Child finds her grotesque and throws stones at her. The Woodcutter hears this and rebukes him, reminding him of finding him in the forest. When the woman hears this she swoons, so the Woodcutter brings her inside.
After she revives, she tells the Woodcutter and his wife that the Star-Child is her son, lost in the forest when he was a baby. She mentions the cloak and chain of amber on his neck. The Star-Child is brought again, and he is affronted by the woman’s ugliness.
The woman tells him he is her son, stolen by robbers and left to die. The boy’s heart is cold and he orders her away. She weeps and departs.
When the other children see the Star-Child, though, they tell him he is ugly and they mock him. He is confused but looks into a well and sees it is true. Then he knows what he has done; he is reaping what he has sown by driving his mother away. He decides he must seek her in the world and not rest until he finds her.
The Star-Child leaves the next morning. He tries asking the animals for help, but they remind him of how cruel he was to them. He feels the weight of his cruelty and asks for God’s forgiveness. He passes through village after village, and children throw stones at him. He wanders for three years and finds no love or kindness or charity for himself.
Finally, one day he comes to a gate of a strong-walled city near a river. Soldiers bar his entrance but he says he is looking for his mother. They mock him and turn him away. He cries and cries. An evil-looking man decides to buy him for a slave. He takes the boy down into a dungeon and throws him in with a little food and water.
The old man is a Libyan magician and tells the Star-Child that he will be tasked with finding three pieces of gold in the neighboring wood—a white gold piece, a yellow gold piece, and a red gold piece. If he does not bring the white gold one back today, he will be beaten. He binds the boy’s eyes as he did when he brought him into the house, leads him outside, and leaves him alone.
The Star-Child wanders into the woods. It is tough going with the nettles and thorns. He hears a cry of something in pain and finds a little Hare caught in a trap. He releases him and the Hare gratefully asks if he can repay the act of kindness. The Star-Child tells him of the piece of white gold, and the Hare takes him to an oak tree where it is found. The Child is very grateful and the Hare simply says he dealt with him the way he was dealt with.
On the way back into the city the Star-Child sees a leper sitting before the gate. The leper asks the boy for money or he will die from hunger. The Star-Child cries out that all he has is the money in his purse, but he gives it to the leper. That evening, the Magician beats him and tells him to get the yellow gold the next day.
The Star-Child sets out for the yellow gold, and much is the same—the Hare helps him, the gold is procured, and the boy gives it to the needy leper he encounters before the gate. This happens the third day with the red gold.
As the Star-Child enters the city empty-handed for the third time, the guards bow before him and call him their Lord. High officers rush toward him and call him the son of their lord. The Star-Child weeps because he thinks he is being mocked, and says he is the child of a beggar-woman and is ugly. One man holds up a helmet to the boy’s face and the boy sees that he is beautiful once more.
The priests and high officers tell him there was a prophecy of this day. The Star-Child shakes his head and says he is not worthy. Suddenly he espies his mother and rushes over to where she sits with the leper. He gushes apologies to her and begs her to accept him in the hour of his humility and to give him over. He also asks the leper to bid his mother speak to him. Both tell him to rise, and to his surprise he sees the King and Queen standing before him. They kiss him and crown him and bring him to the palace.
The King and Queen banish the Magician and reward the Woodcutter and his wife. The Star-Child says everyone in the kingdom must be kind to birds and beasts alike.
The boy rules for three years but his suffering had been so great that he perishes. The ruler after him rules evilly.
Analysis
“The Birthday of the Infanta” features a spoiled, selfish central character whose indifference to anything except for her own happiness and pleasure is paramount; nevertheless, she is never humbled or punished and remains this way even after the Dwarf dies in grotesque paroxysms of misery. She and her Court friends retain their childish innocence and do not have to confront anything concerning, particularly evinced in the fake bullfight that elides any presence or blood or death and the rendering of the Sophinisba play that is carried out by marionettes. As Justin T. Jones writes, “as long as the spectacles contain no vestiges of reality, they hold no ugly appeals to conscience and do not threaten the pure beauty of the Infanta’s fairy tale world.”
When the Dwarf brings ugliness into this world, the Infanta remains untroubled and any bourgeois preoccupation with pain and suffering is negated. By looking into the Infanta’s mirror and seeing his ugliness, he has “looked through the mirrored window into the real world and introduced cruel realities into the palace of art.” He realizes how absurd his imaginings of a paradisiacal relationship with the Infanta were, and symbolically destroys the rose she gave him; this leads to his own death, and the removal of ugliness from beauty. The Infanta thinks he is acting even to the moment of his end, refusing to admit any pangs of conscience. Thus, “[she] is allowed to maintain her aesthetic purity in the opulent Spanish Court in spite of the invasion of ugly morality.” Another interpretation of the tale is put forth by Sarah Marsh, who suggests that it “censures the misuse of political authority by representing it as a spoiled, mean-spirited child.”
“The Star-Child” features a central character also consumed by his own beauty, desire for pleasure, and pride. He looks down upon his inferiors and mistreats his own mother because her ugliness offends him. When an understanding of morality and suffering finally pervades him, his life disintegrates into ugliness, struggle, suffering, manipulation, and, after a few years of improvement, death. He leaves his metaphorical palace of art, unlike the Infanta, and undergoes a paradigm shift. The forceful lessons of kindness and charity he learned, Jones writes, “do nothing to permanently improve his kingdom: the king who succeeded him ‘ruled evilly’… Once compulsive morality has entered the story, there can be no happily ever after.”
Finally, there are a few ways to discuss these two tales in relation to each other and one of the most fascinating is how Wilde describes feminine and male beauty. His Infanta is described, as Naomi Wood writes, “only… by her dress, her gold aureole of hair, and her ‘pale little face,’ apparently modeled on ‘Las Meninas’ by Velazquez.” The Star-Child, however, is described in a much richer, more detailed fashion: “Adolescent male beauty is celebrated in most of the stories, and the adjectives recall Wilde’s epithets for his objects of desire—descriptions of boys as fauns, their attributes ‘gilded’ and floral.” This simple comparison reveals Wilde’s embedding of the stories with homosexual themes, even if it is as subtle and delicate as possible.
