The Unspeakable In Pursuit Of The Uneatable


by Michelle Duffy - Date: 2007-01-18 - Word Count: 2058 Share This!

In the last few months of his life, he lived the very existence that he had feared virtually all his life. Broke, down trodden and almost destitute, the end of a the greatest living Victorian playwright, poet and thinker ever to tread the evil Earth should have been one of dignity and of superior grace. Instead, he lay, suffering what he would have been disappointed with - an ear infection (that later proved to be meningitis) and no real amount of mourners at his bedside. He had taught the world of the stiff Victorian values and what they had truly meant to someone who had felt a deep disconnection with the outside world. He had turned the establishment up side down; he had freely spoke in aesthetic terms that had once only been left to baggy shirted poets dying of syphilis. He captured the essence of Victorian life through both men and women and made a mockery of everything that they had stood for. Not unlike Miller for that instance, he also delved deep into the soul of a human life and bared it wide open to all as being evil and sinister in it's daily actions.

Yet, he appeared, as we read about him now, flamboyant, gay (in it's truest sense) and colourful. He had left behind him a legacy of satire, wit and dry humour that was decades before his time. Since his death on November 30 1900, there have been imitators, satirists, philosophers who have dived in to his works like dipping into great pools of analysis. Describing, dissecting and remarking on each line he ever wrote, we learn about not just his observations of the tight lipped world around him but how troubled he was within is own soul. Many thinkers and Wilde followers have argued since that he was simply an intelligence before his time - once being mocked for his love of beauty and all things created in a God like fashion, he would, it would seem, be more at home in this era, striding most graciously down the Kings Road, stopping every so often to glance inside some colourful boutique. Yet, with this surreal vision, we realise how, as character of sadness he truly was, yet his beginnings were of such hopes for a young man's future…

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Born into a well to do Anglo-Irish family in Dublin on October 16th, 1854, he was immediately surrounded with not just the statutory gurgles and choochi coo's of the adult world, but straight into an existence of knowledge and self growth. Whilst his father was not just a highly admired surgeon and a great writer of books on archaeology and folklore, his mother was a highly acclaimed writer, who held many an afternoon tea with the greatest literature creators of the 19th Century. What child could not fail to inherit such deeply intellectual talents from his parents? Perhaps due to his parents incredible brains, Oscar was doomed to roam the world in inner conflict right from the start. Yet he was completely at awe with his upbringing and his love of literature and books on anything grew naturally to him. He was taught at home by his parents and then didn't attend school until his was almost 10 years old. Perhaps it was the distance from other children other than his own brother and sister, (she died when Oscar was only 13 and this affected him deeply for the rest of his life) that perhaps triggered an unhappiness within. It had certainly given him great power to observe the adults, warts and all, around him most closely.

Attending Oxford, he started to gather together pieces of scribbled poetry whilst studying English at Magdalen College. Not the greatest poet in his dormitory, as his intellectual brain was still in it's infancy. Like Arthur Miller, he went on to receive awards for various prose although many failed. He was around this time in his life, a member of a student group full of Victorian hippies all trying to grow their hair and wear colourful and unusual clothes in a Bohemian fashion. They sat around and discussed art, poetry, beauty, wit and philosophy (as boys do, as one is put in mind of the film, 'Dead Poets Society.) However these young men were innovative thinkers of their generation and already anti establishment to the hilt; if only dope had been passed around, we may have been exposed to Monty Python a heck of a lot earlier.

He eventually married in 1884 after having his heart broken by another woman who left him for Bram Stoker. (what on Earth for?) He had been so much in love that he vowed never to return to Ireland again. He kept to this, surprisingly and only visited briefly twice in the rest of his life. He had wed Constance Lloyd, a pretty girl whose character was not going to bound him in any such way. She was a devoted wife and mother to their two sons and was well educated and independent in her own right, whilst Wilde was free to write and edit the Woman's World magazine and give lectures, mostly away from home. He had been used lecturing the curious middle classes on Aestheticism (The Justin and Colin of his time) and wrote a lengthy series of children's fairy tales that were widely received.

Indulging further into his obsession with aestheticism, he lavishly spent their money (her allowance) on fanciful things and wildly decadent decoration for the house. At this time he had written some poetry (published) and a handful of mediocre plays, thus resulting in very little in the way of a good wage. Whilst struggling with money and the keeping of a wife and two fats growing sons, he was already battling with his inner feelings as a husband and father. Although he never lay anything before his domestic duties, he had known for a long time that his attractions for anything lustful where of a homosexual nature. As in Victorian England, the act of such an 'unbiblical' manner was a crime and came with a punishment of imprisonment. Wilde had mixed in circles where 'rent boys' were available to him, thus a need was, temporarily, eased. In wasn't long before his inner battle was raised even more when he believed that within himself, there was an evil that couldn't be cured. His plays were seen, on the surface as being witty, satirical and a jibe at the upper Victorian classes and their lack of education.

Below that surface, he portrayed every character as someone of sinisterism and evil thoughts against one another. In his black and depressing novel, 'The Picture Of Dorian Gray,' (published 1891) there were strong similar characterisations made between Gray and Wilde. It was later used against him at his trial for indecent acts as a written character witness. He was cross questioned and firmly accused of writing an autobiography instead of a novel. (How strange minded the Vic's were!) Yet his story was of a being who was gradually eaten up by his own evil thoughts that it drives him to suicide. Critically immoral, the Victorians ruled it out as a damaging piece of work whose strength was only for the eyes of madmen. Despite this and perhaps secretly pleased with the passions he was stirring amongst the London audience, he published it even so.

There then followed a series of four plays that focussed on the absurdity of the adult behaviour between the players and towards each other. Politically correct and up standing, they were laced rather beautifully with wit, farcical attractiveness and well observed in the mannerisms of the human being. They touched us with the relationships between the generations and more importantly, between men and women. He was, undoubtedly, a great philosopher of the interactions of men and women. After writing and editing a leading woman's magazine, he had got to realised the failings of each sex. Thus pleasing a heterosexual crowd so much so, that when he was eventually arrested in May 1895 for gross indecency, it was an incredible shock to his vast admiring audience. It was made even more incredible when it was also in this year that he achieved the two most highly acclaimed plays of his life. 'An Ideal Husband,' and 'The Importance Of Being Earnest.'

Regaining his wit and astute sarcasm for his trial, the sentence may not have been so destructive to his spirit if it wasn't for the way he was standing in the dock in the first place. After accusing his lover's father of libel, (the 9th Marquis of Queensberry,) the tables were quickly turned upon Wilde. Since Lord Alfred's father had continually cornered the lovers with firing questions, Wilde had always managed to out wit the inquisitive old man. Strangely, it was Lord Alfred who urged Wilde to take him to court. To keep his long term lover close to him and to protect him, Wilde agreed, although he was warned against the idea by other close watchers. Unfortunately the tables were violently turned when after the case was thrown out, the prosecuting council learnt of Wilde's previously unknown sexual behaviour and Wilde was arrested instead. He was found guilty and sentenced to two years hard labour, which he survived, quite broken in spirit, but still however, alive. It was argued by many of those close to Wilde and his social circle that why wasn't every upper class boy accused of sodomy as it was apparently an activity of the highly educated snobs?

He continued to write and within his time at Reading prison, he wrote a letter which is now on display at the British Museum but was not allowed to be made public until 1960.

Many critiques have been published about the uncompleted works of Oscar Wilde. He had left amongst an elaborate life, a large collection of never seen before poems, play and prose of all sorts. They have been, in a scattered manner, published since his death. His son, Vyvyan published some prose and grandson's after him, have continued to carry on his memory, publishing more work. Yet it's the mind behind the wit, intelligence and observational humour that we still are captivated by today. He has been mentioned in pop music, (The Smiths' 'Cemetery Gates,' and James Blunt's 'Tears and Rain,' are recent examples of this.) As well as many theatre triumphs and fanatical flops have graced our West End on the life and loves of this unusual playwright. Never, I don't think, have the literature circles felt such a magnetic pull towards an influential writer.

Many websites can be found in relation to the dissecting of his works and of the man himself. You can read the entire novel, 'The Picture Of Dorian Gray,' online if you really are in a good mood or you can find other sites that will talk endless hours to you about the misconceptions of Oscar Wilde, as if we should be finding some way to forgive ourselves for putting to sleep a man who taught us about life and behaviour light years away from the biological and the mathematical theories. He was, through characters, the stand up, alternative comic of his day, yet we still don't give him that credit and only remember him as an old fag who was self indulgent and flamboyant.

He once said, 'Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative,' and that is exactly what he gave us. His life was very much inconsistent and it is for this that we find a certain curiousness. Yet although he was at battle with himself for most of his life, he must have found, if only for a brief moment, a certain inner peace. He also said, 'You can survive everything, except death, and live down everything except a good reputation,' and this to me means that he knew how much his work would be forever admired and adored long after his own existence, so the rest of it, didn't really matter.

"The aim of life is self-development. To realise one's nature perfectly - that is what each of us is here for" (Oscar Wilde.)

Works to adore and admire;

'The Picture Of Dorian Gray' - 1891

'Salome' - 1894

'A Woman Of No Importance' - 1893

'An Ideal Husband' - 1895

'The Importance Of Being Earnest' - 1895

Stephen Fry very wonderfully played a long awaited role as Oscar in the film, 'Wilde.' 1997.

©Michelle Duffy (sam1942 on ciao and dooyoo) 2006

http://www.oscarwilde.com


Related Tags: english, poetry, playwright, comedy, oscar wilde

Michelle is a freelance writer in the South of England and owner of the websites, http://www.generationsounds.co.uk, http://nevermindthebloggers.bravehost.com and their successful sister, 'Never Mind The Bloggers' at http://paperback-writer29.tripod.com. She has been writing over the two years, for five major consumer websites across the world and is one of the only two music category advisors for one website in the U.K. Her websites promote young, amateur and professional bands/artists/musicians and their fan clubs whilst also reviewing them for local and world wide promotion. She has also launched the blogs; 'The Ramblings Of An Old Rocker,' 'Bohemian Waffle,' 'The Rhythm Rock And Blues Machine,' 'The Moped's Musings,' 'Generation Sound Suite' and 'Rock Cocoon.' She is currently working on two shops selling her music styled artwork on cafepress.com.

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