29 pages • 58 minutes read
Oscar WildeA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Above all, “The Nightingale and the Rose” is about the nature of love and self-sacrifice. The story explores different meanings of the word “love,” particularly through the different loves of the Student and the Nightingale. Initially, the Student appears to be a “true lover,” but when reading the story with knowledge of its ending, the Student’s declarations of love and fantasies of the ball come across as showy, melodramatic, and stylized: The Student thinks that he is in love but may be more taken with the idea of love than the Professor’s daughter herself. His quick denunciation of love lends credence to this reading, especially as it seems motivated not by the bitterness of rejection but rather by a total misapprehension of love itself.
The Student’s actions stand in direct contrast to the Nightingale’s determined search for the red rose and sacrifice of her life for the Student’s “love.” Unlike the Student and the Professor’s daughter, she realizes that love is not quantifiable or commodifiable: It cannot be “set forth in the market-place” (59), but it is nonetheless exceptionally valuable, which is why she is willing to give her own “heart’s blood” and music to create the rose. The piercing of her heart with the thorn, which allows her “life-blood [to] flow into [the Rose-tree’s] veins, and become [the Rose-tree’s]” (61-62), emphasizes her surrender of selfhood for love; through her sacrifice, she becomes one with the symbol of love itself, the red rose.
When the Nightingale sings of love in nonspecific terms—i.e., between an anonymous boy and girl—it is, therefore, not an indication of shallowness (as with the Student) but rather of the extent to which she embodies love as an abstraction and ideal. Her song culminates in a celebration of “Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb” (65), suggesting that this is the highest kind of love. Such a love remains eternal for having been given so selflessly. The Nightingale thus emerges as the “true lover” of the story.
The story’s ending subverts what is expected of a tale about (romantic) love: The Student is rejected by the girl, who prefers a boy with more wealth, and then storms off, throwing the rose beneath the wheels of a cart and calling love “silly.” There is no happy ending for the story’s ostensible lovers, but the Nightingale’s sacrifice signifies that true love does exist, even if many people are too shallow to understand it.
In “The Nightingale and the Rose,” materialism comes in two forms: intellectual materialism and economic materialism. The Student represents the former, which roughly corresponds to both utilitarianism—a philosophy, prominent in the 19th century, that located the moral worth of a thing in its results rather than in the thing itself—and rationalism, which gained prominence as religious belief declined. The Student is an intellectual with no appreciation for what he cannot quantify. Most notably, he cannot appreciate the mysterious powers of beauty and love because he cannot reduce them to physical explanation or concrete valuation. His attempts to do so, as when he concludes a scientific name is necessary to express the rose’s beauty, are comical.
The Student himself seems to realize that he is lacking something when he laments, “I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched” (58), but he fails to change at the end of the story. Instead, he concludes that love is worthless because it does not “prove” anything and (worse yet) “mak[es] one believe things that are not true” (67). It does not occur to him that love might be “true” in a deeper sense that evades rational explanation, so he returns to his “great dusty book” (67)—a symbol of intellectualism. Its obvious disuse is the ultimate representation of the hollowness of materialism and pragmatism; if such philosophies were truly practical, presumably the book would not be dusty.
The Professor’s daughter represents a different kind of materialism (though a related one, in Wilde’s depiction). She is materialistic, caring only for wealth and fine goods, like the silk she is spinning or the “silver buckles” on the shoes of the man she prefers to the Student. What’s more, her appreciation of these objects does not lie even in a sense of luxury, which would at least entail some recognition of beauty. Rather, she bases her opinions on market value, telling the Student that “everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers” (66). This remark links her to the increasingly capitalist and consumerist world of 19th-century England. Like the Student, she fails to recognize the true value of the rose as an expression of love and sacrifice.
The story, therefore, suggests that materialism in all its forms merely distracts from the realities of the world and from life itself. The Student in particular is notably oblivious to his surroundings, misunderstanding the Nightingale when she speaks and not hearing her at all when she sings her last song. The Student’s evaluation that the Nightingale has no “feeling” or sincerity, which recalls Enlightenment theories about animals being mere machines without souls, could not be further from the truth and thus proves the pitfalls of purely intellectual theories.
In “The Nightingale and the Rose,” beauty and love are complementary and reciprocal forces. The fact that the red rose, symbol of love, is built out of music and blood signifies that the beauty of the Nightingale’s music is somehow connected to and encourages love. Likewise, love inspires the creation of beautiful things (such as the Nightingale’s song) and possesses beauty in and of itself.
Just as the Nightingale values love more than the humans of the tale, she, therefore, also appreciates beauty more. This appreciation is not confined to art or otherwise created works, but rather encompasses the beauty of the world itself:
[L]ife 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 (62).
While the Student and professor’s daughter are missing these wonders by focusing on more materialistic pursuits, the Nightingale fully immerses herself in the beauty of existence, which finds expression in her music. The Nightingale’s voice sounds like “water bubbling from a silver jar” (63)—imagery that associates her with the natural world (i.e., water) and evokes a sense of purity. Her creation of beautiful music is thus an act of love even before she sacrifices herself, reflecting her own joy in the world and delighting those who listen, like the Oak-tree.
By contrast, the Student’s dismissal of the Nightingale’s performance as “all style, without any sincerity” is connected to his inability to understand her sacrifice or the value of love (63). He also dismisses the arts as “selfish” and “do[ing] no practical good” (63), which proves ironic as the Nightingale’s singing produces a literal red rose. Her last burst of music is so beautiful that the moon “forg[ets] the dawn” and remains in the sky to listen to her (65), the red rose opens its petals, and even the distant shepherds and ocean hear her. The only person who seems not to hear her is the Student, despite the fact that she is just outside his window. The ultimate destruction of the rose, as it is thrown into a gutter and run over with a cart, signifies the dangers of being unappreciative of the “unpractical” values of beauty and art.
By Oscar Wilde