I am a literary giant in Russia

Chapter 259 A Night of Literary Recitation and the Saddest Fairy Tale (7k)

Looking to read the latest newspapers? Thinking of publishing a new short story?
Upon hearing Mikhail's words, a multitude of thoughts immediately flashed through Sanders' mind.

In fact, many things did not go smoothly during the time Mikhail was away.

As detective novels like "A Study in Scarlet" have become increasingly popular, it's inevitable that some in the British literary world will raise objections to gain attention or to defend what they see as literary traditions.

This kind of thing is perfectly normal in Britain. Even for Dickens, those learned critics could be dismissive of his works, but that doesn't stop readers from eagerly anticipating Dickens' next novel.

Due to the popularity of Sherlock Holmes, Mikhail was naturally dragged out and interrogated, especially during his time away from England. No matter how much criticism was leveled at this foreigner, he couldn't retaliate, so such criticism has obviously increased a lot recently.

Critics mostly focused on the crude writing style and the fact that the novels were almost entirely market-driven, saying that such novels were just another form of vulgar, sensational crime and mystery novels.

Of course, praise and criticism always coexist, it's just that there has been more criticism lately. Moreover, in Sanders' view, some critics are simply talking nonsense.

After all, how can you expect a foreigner's novel to be well-written and beautifully styled? Is he British or are you British?
However, some critics seem to have realized this problem, so in their reviews, Mikhail's Russian identity is deliberately obscured or even ignored, treating him as a new British writer.

Although Sanders felt these comments weren't worth paying too much attention to, true geniuses are always proud and arrogant. What if Mr. Mikhail saw these comments and wanted to prove himself? Is that why he wanted to publish another novel?
But that's a complete waste of time that would have been spent writing the Sherlock Holmes series!
After all, it takes a lot of effort to polish a concise and beautiful article.

Just as Sanders was thinking about how to tactfully persuade Mikhail, Mikhail pushed a copy of The Times towards him and pointed to an advertisement, saying, "Are you familiar with this Field Lane Free School for Poor Children that is seeking donations? Is its situation true?"

Ok?
Sanders was almost completely stunned. After he came to his senses, he quickly said, "I've heard of this school. It's located on Saffronhill Street in the Old Town. It claims to be the first school to provide free education for the poor, but charitable schools are not uncommon in London."

It's said to have a good reputation, but many of the boys and girls there used to make a living through theft and prostitution..."

At this point, Sanders, whose knowledge of the school was limited to hearsay, could no longer provide any further information.

Seeing that Sanders could only explain so far, Mikhail thought for a moment and then said, "Could you please show me around? I'm not quite sure where this neighborhood is located."

"of course."

Although he would never normally go to such a place, Sanders immediately agreed since it was Mikhail's request.

On their way to the school, Mikhail told Sanders about his plans:

"In your opinion, if I were to organize a charity literary reading, would London's high society be interested in attending?"

"Of course! First of all, people in London's literary circles will definitely want to meet you. People in the publishing and press will want to talk to you about cooperation. And because of your reputation among French noblewomen and some rumors, some ladies in high society are very interested in you. In addition, some gentlemen in high society are also very interested in you because of your superb gambling skills and the existence of Sherlock Holmes."
However, you haven't seemed to express such a desire recently, leading many to speculate whether you have a prejudice against the British upper class.

Mikhail: “?”

It sounds like I'm quite popular.
"If it's open to the public, would the public be interested in participating?"

"I can't give you a definite answer on that, but considering the bestseller status of your Christmas books and A Study in Scarlet, I think you shouldn't have any worries."

"Then what reason do I have not to give it a try?"

Mikhail, pressing down his hat brim in the wind, said, "I've wanted to try it for a long time, but I felt the timing might not be right yet."

One of the things writers can do these days is to give speeches in various places, express their views on certain issues, and, most practically, to solicit sponsorships. This is even more prevalent in Britain, where there are even dedicated organizations and associations responsible for these matters.

Just like Dickens during this period, he arranged some things in the name of the Writers' Association, such as performing at the Trade Hall in Manchester and then doing two performances at the Music Hall in Liverpool.

Wherever Dickens went, he was met with the same success, with enthusiastic audiences waving hats and handkerchiefs to welcome him and his actors.

It must be said that Dickens was so popular in Britain for two reasons. First, his works were accessible to the general public and spoke for them, making them very impactful. Second, Dickens was also a true social activist, performing for the public, advocating for them, and even using his influence to accomplish certain things.

Just as in 1846, Dickens was planning to establish an asylum or refuge specifically for fallen women. Moreover, as soon as the plan was proposed, he detailed the nature and system of the asylum, including education and discipline, practical training, daily life, and the general outline of the architectural design.

The plan was so detailed and complete that it seemed as if it had been prepared in advance, and Dickens did indeed carry it out, which earned him a great reputation.

For writers, gaining fame in cultural circles and even high society often only requires a high level of literary creation. However, to truly have a special reputation among the public, it is not enough to just talk about it or shout slogans. They will pay attention to some more specific matters that are more closely related to them.

Mikhail wasn't necessarily seeking such prestige, but rather, there were far too many things about this era that he found objectionable, and given the opportunity, he genuinely wanted to do something about it.

Mikhail's idea was both complex and simple, but Sanders was stunned for a long time after hearing it. He never expected that Mikhail would have such an idea.

After all, writers gain nothing from charitable activities like this except a little fame, and for Mikhail, a foreigner, such fame doesn't bring him much benefit.

So, setting aside these external factors, Sanders only saw a broad and profound soul.
Thinking about this, Sanders felt ashamed of his initial assumption that Mikhail wanted to prove himself. However, precisely because of this, Sanders felt compelled to remind Mikhail:

"Since you have such plans, I must remind you that your *A Study in Scarlet* might not be suitable for such gatherings of high society, while *The Gift of the Magi* would be much better, but those alone seem somewhat lacking in appeal."

"Don't worry, I already had my new novel ready when I saw this advertisement in the newspaper when I got back."

Sanders: "?"

What are you talking about? Didn't you just get back today?

Moreover, those in high society want to hear novels with exquisite and beautiful language or those that are vivid and moving enough; anything too simple is simply unacceptable!

Just as Sanders felt like a thousand horses were galloping through his mind, Mikhail suddenly stopped, walked up to a stall, and said quite skillfully, "Mr. John, give me fifty servings of fish and chips."

Upon hearing this, Sanders finally understood why Mikhail had asked him if he had a cloth bag.

Are these for the children? Mr. Mikhail is so thoughtful.
Thinking of this, Sanders immediately etched the story of Mikhail and fish and chips into his mind.

After spending quite some time, the two finally continued walking forward. As they walked, both Mikhail and Sanders became more aware of exactly what kind of area they were heading to.

This place seemed to be the dirtiest and worst place in London, rife with filth, disease, and all sorts of illegality. Its inhabitants were separated from the rest of the city by a ditch wider than the street, as if they were a separate community, often unconsciously heading toward prison and the gallows.

As for the Field Lane School, it looked quite old and dilapidated, a completely run-down building that had been neglected for years. When Mikhail and his companion went inside, they were greeted by a foul stench.

After Mikhail explained their purpose to the person in charge, they soon met the boys and girls living there. They were disheveled, looked quite dirty and thin, and acted very casually.

When the two well-dressed men appeared before the children, perhaps because their clothes were so out of place, the children burst into laughter as soon as they entered.

Although he had seen many such scenes before, seeing them again still made Mikhail feel much heavier.

Mikhail didn't seem to care about the children's laughter. He simply took out the things he had bought in advance, and as soon as the aroma wafted out, the children quieted down and stared intently at Mikhail.

After Mikhail, with the help of the person in charge, distributed the items one by one, the scene became somewhat chaotic. As the children began to wolf down their food, Mikhail asked the person in charge some questions, and later asked the children some questions as well.

After confirming the situation and the school's future plans, Mikhail shook hands firmly with the person in charge and said, "Leave it to us. We hope we can provide some help to these children."

Once he made up his mind to do this, Mikhail and everyone he knew in England who was willing to help him got to work. After all, charity work isn't something you can just do on a whim. Once it was decided, the next steps were to contact relevant charities and parishes for guarantees and impartiality, determine the location for the literary reading, try to invite certain people, and place advertisements.
As Mikhail and his team pushed the matter forward step by step, it wasn't long before people gradually learned about it through social media and advertisements.

Upon hearing the news, almost everyone was surprised and shocked, with some even speculating whether Mikhail had ulterior motives or wanted to achieve some purpose through this incident.
"A Russian writer is holding charity literary readings in Britain? Is he trying to satirize Britain again, or those who criticize him?" "Is he trying to gain acceptance from British society through this event? Does he plan to settle in Britain? Is he trying to curry favor with us British people?"

"What an unexpected move! What is he thinking?"

Clearly, these people do not see this as a simple act of kindness.

Different groups and different people often have different views and ideas about this matter. For example, the ladies of London's high society gathered together to discuss this topic:
"I never expected to see him like this. Is he really as charming as the rumors say?"

"But it is said that he is in poor health, and even in a place like Paris, there has been no news with clear evidence."

"Will he recite his beautiful poems? Or has he written something else? I really don't understand why 'A Study in Scarlet' is so popular."

……

Meanwhile, Jasper, the brave man who had already swum across the Thames and regained his reputation, exclaimed upon hearing the news: "Does he think the gentlemen and ladies of high society would enjoy him reciting his detective novels? Impossible! These people would never easily dabble in something that appeals to the masses; it would damage their reputation!"

After shouting, Jasper's gambling addiction intensified, but the thought of the thick Thames River eventually calmed him down.
As for some discerning and knowledgeable writers and critics in the cultural sphere, as well as those who had previously criticized Mikhail's English works, their opinions were relatively unified:

"First of all, a work like 'A Study in Scarlet' should never appear in such a setting unless the author has absolutely no desire for his reputation! It is a novel that is even shallower and more popular than Dickens's works, and it is unimaginable that it would be so widely welcomed."

"His reputation seems impressive, but how many of his works are actually worthy of being read in high society? 'The Cop and the Anthem' is rather undignified, and 'The Gift of the Magi' is too short and, in my opinion, not very good. What other works can he produce? Perhaps he's just translating his earlier works?"

"His English novels to date are, in my opinion, completely unworthy of reading! He has absolutely no understanding of what constitutes beautiful language! In this respect, he is as crude as Dickens. Therefore, I can quite suspect that his English poems may have been bought."

……

Of course, many people believe this is simply a good deed, especially those who remember Mikhail's previous donation, and whose reaction to the related advertisements in the newspapers was quite enthusiastic:

"I'm not surprised at all that such a kind gentleman would do this. His previous donation had already helped many people, and this time he must be trying to use his influence to help even more people!"

"Only writers like this deserve the public's love and attention! If a Russian writer can achieve this, what are our British writers doing?"

"What Russian writer?! I think he's already planning to settle in London! In my eyes, he's already British, and much friendlier than many British people!"

……

Amidst so much attention and discussion, and as time went on, Mikhail's charitable literary reading finally began.

On an ordinary day, as night fell over the rooftops of London and gaslights cast a hazy yellow glow in the mist, it should have been a quiet night. But a medium-sized clubhouse in London stood out brightly tonight.

Since the first literary reading was primarily aimed at London's high society and cultural circles, the venue that Mikhail and his group chose, although not very large, was decorated and furnished in a rather respectable and even luxurious manner.

As time slowly passed, the hall gradually filled with people. The candle flames danced on the candelabra, casting golden shadows. On a high platform not far away, a podium covered with deep red velvet stood in the center, with a bouquet of roses placed beside it.

Just as the gentlemen and ladies of London's high society began to look on with curiosity, the people in the publishing and press began to write furiously, and the writers and critics of London's literary circles scrutinized everything with critical eyes, Mikhail, who had just been greeting some people, stepped onto the podium when the time came.

His attire today seemed to follow high society fashion perfectly, but upon closer inspection, it appeared to have been modified and adorned with many decorations, which immediately caught the attention of many people.

Even the most discerning people had to admit that this young man was indeed good-looking.

After the literary reading officially began, Mikhail gave a brief opening speech, and then quickly got to the point: "Ladies and gentlemen, today I will be presenting a completely new story."

A completely new story?
While some people were still in a daze, Mikhail slowly recited in his exquisite, almost poetic language:

"The statue of the Happy Prince stands high above the city—atop a tall stone pillar. He is covered from head to toe in thin gold leaf, his eyes are made of bright sapphires, and a large, gleaming red gem is set in the hilt of his sword."

People admired him greatly. "He's as beautiful as a weathervane," said a city councilor who wanted to show off his artistic taste, then added, worried that people would see him as impractical, though he was actually quite pragmatic, "just not as practical as a weathervane."

After the rather cheerful name of the Happy Prince appeared, another exceptionally poetic story followed:

One night, a little swallow flew over the city. His friends had flown to Egypt six weeks earlier, but he stayed behind because he was too captivated by the incomparably beautiful Miss Reed.

But this swallow was heartbroken. When he went to Egypt to find his companions, one night he spent the night at the statue of the Happy Prince. When he wanted to leave because the statue could not keep out the rain, he saw tears in the Happy Prince's eyes:
"Then why are you crying?" Yanzi asked again, "You've soaked me."

“Back when I lived with a human heart,” the statue spoke, “I didn’t know what tears were, because I lived in a carefree palace, a place where sorrow couldn’t enter.”
I lived like this, and I will die like this. And now that I am dead, they have placed me here so high, so that I can see all the ugliness and poverty in my city. Though my heart is made of lead, I still cannot help but weep.

Even though some in the audience could tell it sounded like a fairy tale, the poetic language, subtle melancholy, and suspense still drew them in.

“In the distance,” the statue continued in a low, melodious voice, “there lives a poor family on a small street. A window is open, and through it I can see a woman sitting at a table. Her thin face is filled with weariness, and her rough, red hands are covered with needle marks, for she is a seamstress.”

She was embroidering passionflowers onto a satin dress, which the Queen's favorite maid was preparing to wear at the next court ball. In the corner of the room, on a bed, lay her sick child. The child had a fever and was crying for oranges. His mother had nothing to give him except a few sips of river water, so the child cried incessantly.

Swallow, swallow, little swallow, would you take the ruby ​​from the hilt of my sword and give it to her? My feet are fixed to this base, I can't move.

The swallow initially disagreed, but it eventually softened and did it for the Happy Prince.

But the Happy Prince didn't seem to stop there. In the following moments, he turned his gaze to the young man writing a play while starving, and to the little match girl.
During this process, the Happy Prince and the Swallow's relationship is getting better and better, and the Happy Prince asks the Swallow to look after the city for him:
"Then the swallow flew over the city and saw the rich reveling in their beautiful mansions, while the beggars sat starving at their doorsteps. He flew into the dark alley and saw hungry children with pale faces staring listlessly at the dim street. In the arch of a bridge, two children clung to each other, trying to keep each other warm."
He then flew back and told the prince everything he had seen.

“I am covered in the finest gold leaf,” said the prince. “Take it off piece by piece and give it to my poor people. The living believe that gold will bring them happiness.”

The number of happy people increased, but as the weather grew colder, the swallows died because they couldn't make it to Egypt in time.
"Then he kissed the Happy Prince's lips, and then fell at the Prince's feet and died."

At that moment, a strange cracking sound came from inside the statue, as if something had shattered. In fact, the prince's lead heart had broken in two.

As Mikhail read the story, some listeners had already let out soft sighs. When they heard this part, some felt as if the candlelight had stopped, and several sentimental ladies even wiped away their tears.

As for the literary figures and critics present who originally only intended to find fault, at this moment their minds were filled with these beautiful, poetic words.
Is there really any Briton present who can surpass his ability to use the English language?!
Such a beautiful story and such beautiful language
But the story didn't end there; the next day:

The mayor looked up at the statue and exclaimed, "My God! How ugly the Happy Prince is!"

"It's absolutely hideous!" the city councilors exclaimed in unison, always echoing the mayor's tone. Afterward, they all stepped forward to examine him more closely. The mayor said, "Actually, he's not much better than a beggar!"

“And there’s a dead bird lying at his feet!” the mayor continued. “We should really issue a statement banning birds from dying in this place.” So the city clerk took note of the suggestion.

Later they toppled the statue of the Happy Prince.
“What a strange thing!” said the foreman at the foundry. “This broken lead core won’t melt in the furnace. We’ll have to throw it away.” So they threw it in the rubbish heap, where the dead swallow lay beside it.

When he reached this point, Mikhail stopped reading, and many of his listeners seemed to have fallen into anger, so much so that someone rather presumptuously asked, "Respected Mr. Mikhail, is there anything else? Is it really going to end here?"

Upon hearing these words, Mikhail ultimately uttered the ending, the one that was neither entirely beautiful nor entirely ironic:

“Bring me the two most precious things in the city,” God said to one of his angels. So the angel brought God a leaden heart and a dead bird.

“You have made the right choice,” God said, “for in my garden of paradise, the birds can sing forever, and in my golden castle, the Happy Prince can praise me to his heart’s content.”

(End of this chapter)