Saw The Happy Prince the other day; a superlative performance by Rupert Everett of course, but if we didn't know it to be a true story it might be tempting to dismiss it as overwrought melodrama. But it is a true - and quite appalling - story that I confess left me rather shaken at times.
Before seeing the film, and quite coincidentally, I came across two of Oscar Wilde's calling cards in the British Library, sitting quietly (possibly unobserved up till now?) among Add MS 81733. They simply read:
Sebastian Melmoth: Hotel de la Plage, Bernaval-sur-Mer, Dieppe
Unbearably poignant, obviously, but the chance to hold something that Oscar Wilde possessed, even something as mundane as a calling card! Not many get that chance.
