Constructing Wilde

Part 5

 When Oscar finally came out of his initial phase of hiding, it was to a wildly disappointing discovery; Frank had noised their dispute throughout all of their social circles and entirely cut him out of everything, which was hardly a surprise since his father had insisted that he cut Oscar out of everything. This annoyed Oscar and needled at him ceaselessly. He grew increasingly depressed and upon discovering that even some of his oldest friends would have nothing to do with him, he locked himself up in the two room apartment he'd acquisitioned and refused to see anyone.

His mother and brother did try to bring him out of the devastatingly despairing phase he'd entered, but they couldn't prevail against his stubborn refusal to come out of hiding; Oscar was quite stubborn when he felt it was a necessary behavior. Eventually, they quit trying and left him to himself.

So it was that, when a knock came at the door, Oscar was suitably surprised that anyone was coming to visit him at all. He forced himself out of his only chair and stared at the door sulkily; the decision was a rather difficult one at this point. He was so used to solitude by now that he hardly wanted anyone to encroach upon it. So he quite naturally wavered on indecision. Finally, with a world-weary sigh, he stomped the remaining feet to the door and opened it.

His landlady thrust an envelope at him with a distasteful huff. "Here. It just came by the morning post. Came from America. I wager you'll find that interesting at least, Mr. Wilde. Air out the apartments a bit this afternoon, would you? You've become quite a drag on the household, and the tenant next door is complaining that the stuffiness that comes from your room every time she passes is oppressive."

"Oh, well then," huffed Oscar. "I shall certainly try to keep my stuffy air to myself if it upsets the lady's delicate constitution."

She sniffed. "See to it that you do."

Oscar all but closed the door in her face as he tore open the letter; in truth, it was the first true interest he'd shown in anything for nearly a month now. Really, he hadn't shown any interest in much of anything since his heated argument with Frank; he still felt quite bitter about that, and he had no intention of ever reconciling with the man.

Frank, as was his habit, had ignored the instruction that he oughtn't to contact Oscar again; Oscar had savagely torn up his former friend's unopened letters and then burned the scraps in the fire with extreme satisfaction. One could hardly blame him; Frank's betrayal would've stung the most stalwart of souls, and Oscar had truly suffered more than he deserved over a tiny volume of poetry. It wasn't as if the poetry was all that scandalous, though Oscar supposed some who were still stuck in the old way of things would find it so.

He turned his attention back to the letter in his hands.

Dear Mr. Wilde, it read.

Upon seeing the success of your first volume of poetry and your entry into society as a leader of Aestheticism, we of Patience in New York would like you to come and tour America. We think you can introduce our patrons to the finest Aestheticism has to offer. Please inform us of your decision as soon as possible.

With warmest regards,

Mrs. Frank Leslie

Oscar read over the letter in astonishment yet again; his volume of poetry hadn't at all been a success. First of all, it had caused a tremendous break in his friendship with his oldest friends; second, the critics had torn it apart. More importantly, it was waning in popularity, and he doubted that trend was likely to change anytime soon. Still, he had no reason to stay. His social life was utterly and irreparably destroyed because of Frank's betrayal, and he had no way of making more money. His attempt to jumpstart his career as a poet had failed too; perhaps he would meet with more success in America.

"Well, this has come at a most opportune moment in my life," murmured he. "I would be a fool not to accept." Mind made up, he sat down to pen a reply; and with that, Oscar Wilde launched himself into a new stage of life, a new persona, and new heights of fame.

A/N: The poetry selections in this piece were from Oscar Wilde's original set of poems, the very volume that got him into so much trouble both in history and in this short story. I've done my very best to stay accurate to the events as they happened in history, and most of the little details are, to the best of my knowledge, correct. Oscar Wilde did have to pay for his own publisher; he did go through David Bogue, and  he was thrown out of the house he was living in with Frank Miles because his roommate's father disapproved of both his work and of him as a person. The letter he got was from Patience in New York and was sent by Mrs. Frank Leslie. This project was, originally, written for an honors project as part of a British Literature course I took this semester. My hope is that you've all learned something you didn't know and enjoyed the time taken to do so!

With warm regards,

Ariel Paiement