Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 384 I'm about to crack!
In August 1881, in London, the morning fog had not yet completely dissipated, and the sunlight struggled to penetrate the murky air, barely illuminating Baker Street.

At number 55 on the street corner, the glass window of the "Elliott & Fry" photo studio is polished to a shine, reflecting the blurry figures of passersby.

Inside the photography studio, Oscar Wilde had just finished a portrait shoot.

He wore a well-tailored velvet coat with a loose bow tie, and carried his cane and top hat.

He stood sideways in front of the backdrop, his gaze languid yet detached.

"Perfect! Mr. Wilde, this is absolutely the best portrait I have taken today, no, this month!"

Joseph Elliott, the owner of the photography studio, peeked out from behind the bulky wooden camera, his face beaming with admiration: "'Art for art's sake'! You've done it!"

After a while, Wilde took the rough wet plate photograph from his assistant and glanced at the frozen image.

He does look elegant in the photo, but the smile on his lips seems somewhat hollow.

He gently placed the photograph on the shelf beside him, his voice weary: “Dear Mr. Elliott, you flatter me too much.”

Ultimately, a successful portrait depends first and foremost on the subject themselves providing a work of art worthy of being documented.

He paid and stepped out of the photo studio, enveloped by the hustle and bustle of the London streets and the smell of coal smoke.

Actually, he wasn't as relaxed as he appeared in front of the camera.

Although the first printing of "Poetry," which I published at my own expense this year, has sold out, the cynical remarks from critics still echo in my ears.

The magazine "Punch" mocked him, saying, "His poet is Oscar Wilde, but his poetry is meek"; the Oxford Union voted to accuse him of "plagiarism";
Gilbert and Sullivan's hugely popular operetta "Peschkes" almost blatantly mocked his aestheticism.

He appears successful on the surface, but he knows he's quickly becoming a laughingstock in London's social circles.

Oscar Wilde strolled aimlessly down the street, and as he passed a newsstand, the vendor's cries caught his attention: "Read the newspaper! Read 'Good Words'! The latest issue!"
"The Sign of Four" is full of climaxes! Exclusive premiere: Mr. James Bond's touching fairy tale, "The Happy Prince"! A deeply moving story you can't miss!

“The Sign of Four…” Wilde instinctively wanted to ignore it.

He admired Lionel, but he preferred the intense and desperate aesthetic emotion in "Letter from an Unknown Woman".

He had little interest in detective stories like "A Study in Scarlet" or "The Sign of Four," always feeling they lacked the necessary "aesthetic appeal."

However, the words "The Happy Prince" resonated strangely with his state of mind at that moment.

He stopped and looked at the newsstand, where the latest issue of "Good Words" magazine was placed in the most prominent position.

The cover features a beautiful woodblock print:
A tall statue of a prince stands in the city. He is dressed in a magnificent robe, a sparkling gem is adorning the hilt of his sword, his face is compassionate, and his eyes are like stars.

He looked down at the model-like city and the tiny, ant-like crowd below, like a martyred saint.

The prince's eyes seemed to be filled with tears, creating a strange contrast to his reputation for "happiness";

A swallow perched at the foot of the statue, its head tilted back, as if listening, or perhaps trying to tell a story...

The whole scene is exquisite and solemn, and also conveys a deep sense of sorrow.

The scene struck Wilde instantly; he almost without hesitation bought a copy and then went straight back to his apartment in Chelsea.

The furnishings of his apartment reflected his consistent taste—

The oriental-style screen, peacock feather decorations, and scattered books and fabrics may look messy, but they all reveal meticulous craftsmanship.

He took off his coat, sank into the soft sofa, and eagerly opened "Good Words," heading straight to the page on "The Happy Prince."

The story begins—

The statue of the Happy Prince stands atop a tall stone pillar above the city.

His entire body was covered with thin sheets of pure gold leaf.

His eyes were made of a pair of bright blue sapphires, and a large ruby ​​glittered on the hilt of his sword.

...]

Oscar Wilde nodded slightly; the opening imagery did indeed align with his aesthetic sensibilities—magnificent and highly symbolic. He continued reading, seeing through the prince's eyes the ugliness and poverty of the city:

A seamstress is embroidering a ball gown for a palace maid in a dilapidated attic, while her child has a fever.
The young playwright was too cold to create on the rooftop;
The little match girl was trembling under the bridge...

So the Happy Prince asked the swallow that was preparing to fly south for the winter to remove all the jewels and gold pieces from his body and give them to the poor people who needed help.

Swallow was originally in a hurry to go to Egypt, but she was moved by the prince's kindness and delayed her trip time and time again.

Oscar Wilde's reading speed slowed down.

He saw the swallow die at the prince's feet because it had delayed for too long; and the prince, having become gray and ugly, was pushed down by the citizens and melted into a piece of metal.

Only that lead heart could not be melted; it was discarded in the garbage heap, alongside the swallow's corpse...

—This novel, or rather, this fairy tale, has come to an end.

Oscar Wilde felt a violent throbbing in his chest, as if something were gripping it tightly.

He instinctively covered his chest with his hand, took a deep breath, and tried to calm the surging emotions.

Oscar Wilde put down the magazine and remained silent for a long time.

He walked to his desk, spread out a beautiful notepad, picked up a quill pen, dipped it in ink, but his hand seemed to be trembling, so he hesitated to put pen to paper.

After a long while, he finally wrote a line:

"The Happy Prince's lead heart cracked, and my heart is about to crack too..."

This is not just a story about sacrifice and love; it is the destruction of beauty, an extreme sorrow and sublimity.

It tells the tragedy of a creature whose exterior is inlaid with jewels and gold, but whose core is heavy and gray lead, in a language as exquisite as poetry.

This contrast—the leaden heart and the dead bird, seemingly "worthless" in the eyes of the world—brought joy to those in need.

—It perfectly captured Wilde's deep-seated disdain for worldly standards and his pursuit of pure beauty.

Who is this "James Bond"? He had never heard of this name before; he must be a fledgling young writer.

The person who can write such a story must possess a sensitive and profound soul.

Oscar Wilde was determined to find this man and become his friend!

He tucked the book of "Good Words" into his pocket, put on his top hat, grabbed his cane, and rushed downstairs.

He was going to the "Gentlemen's Club" in Piccadilly, London, to tell everyone that a true prince had arrived in this beautiful country!

He once told many people that no "new writer" in Britain could compare to Lionel Sorel of France.

But today, he wants to take back those words in front of everyone!

"James Bond" is the British Lionel Sorel—even more pure and more aesthetically pleasing than the latter!

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Meanwhile, the latest issue of Good Words magazine was respectfully placed on Queen Victoria's desk in Windsor Castle by a court attendant.

The Queen was accustomed to browsing major publications to understand the intellectual trends and developments within the Empire.

She was aware of the colonial controversy surrounding "The Sign of Four," but she didn't care at all. In her view, it was just the author venting his frustrations, and she was used to it.

What she cared about most was the dramatic plot and logically rigorous reasoning of "The Sign of Four".

However, the fact that a fairy tale was highly recommended by the magazine "Good Words" today piqued the old woman's interest.

"The Happy Prince," well, the title sounds harmless and pleasant, perhaps offering a moment of leisure for reading.

After reading "The Sign of Four," she picked up the magazine and turned to that page...

(End of this chapter)