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In "Oscar Wilde: An Idler's Impression," Edgar Saltus offers a rich, nuanced portrait of the flamboyant playwright and poet Oscar Wilde, encapsulating the aesthetic movements that shaped late 19th-century literature. Saltus employs a lyrical and conversational prose style, reflecting the spirit of decadence that Wilde himself epitomized. Through keen observations and anecdotes, Saltus navigates the complexities of Wilde's character, his wit, and his passionate pursuit of beauty, while situating Wilde within the broader cultural and literary contexts of his time, particularly the shared experiences and influences of the fin-de-siècle Parisian salon culture. Edgar Saltus, an American author and journalist, was deeply embedded in the same artistic circles that celebrated Wilde's genius. His experiences and interactions with contemporaries like Wilde provided him with a unique lens through which to engage with the themes of art, identity, and societal critique. Saltus's own literary inclinations, underscored by his appreciation for the aesthetic and philosophical nuances of his subjects, undoubtedly fueled his desire to explore Wilde's life and work with such depth and empathy. This book is a compelling read for anyone interested in Wilde's legacy and the intricacies of the literary world he inhabited. Saltus's keen intelligence and astute observations render this work not only an enticing biography but also a thoughtful exploration of art's relationship with society. Readers will find themselves richly rewarded with insights that resonate far beyond Wilde's time.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021
ears ago, in a Paris club, one man said to another: "Well, what's up?" The other shook a paper: "There is only one genius in England and they have put him in jail."
One may wonder though whether it were their doing, or even Wilde's, that put him there. One may wonder whether it were not the high fates who so gratified him in order that, from his purgatory, he might rise to a life more evolved. But that view is perhaps obvious. Wilde himself, who was the least mystic of men, accepted it. In the "De Profundis," after weighing his disasters, he said: "Of these things I am not yet worthy."
The genuflexion has been called a pose. It may have been. Even so, it is perhaps better to kneel, though it be in the gallery, than to stoop at nothing, and Wilde, who had stood very high, bent very low. He saw that there is one thing greater than greatness and that is humility.
Yet though he saw it, it is presumable that he forgot it. It is presumable that the grace which was his in prison departed in Paris. On the other hand it may not have. There are no human scales for any soul.
