Monthly Archives: October 2012

Wainewright the myth, Wainewright the man

“Pen, Pencil, and Poison” was a startling and satisfying read–or perhaps I should reverse the order of my description and specify my sensations in the order that I experienced them. When I first finished reading the essay, I found it to be most enjoyable, and sat silently, gently re-tracing the fascinating portrait of the man that it had unraveled under my nose; then, with a jolt, I came to the sudden realization that this essay was not in fact a short story or any sort of fictitious piece–it was, in fact, a piece of bona fide historical biography, a memoir written about someone who had genuinely lived and laughed and hated, who had painted real pictures of real women and published real articles in real journals, and dripped real strychnine crystals over the real living tongues of his flesh-and-blood kin! After this shocking revelation, of course I had the urge to go back and read it through again; but somehow, as soon as I flipped back to the first page and began afresh, I had to stop myself. I felt too much like a voyeur, panting at a keyhole, sneering at each and every movement that my prey made–innocent of the knowledge that his every twitch and tic was being lapped up by a hidden peeping-tom, becoming drunk with the power of seeing but not being seen, of making judgments without having to be judged himself.

I am not entirely sure how to account for my deluded belief that Thomas Griffiths Wainewright was a fictional character invented by Wilde. Perhaps it was simply that he bears such a strong resemblance to other characters that occur in Wilde’s written fiction, or to characters that appear in novels that have been known to exert influence upon Wilde: it seemed to me that Wainewright owed a great deal of his debonair charm to Lord Henry, his sensitivity to beauty to from Basil, his eclectic taste to des Esseintes, and his personal elegance (“the beautiful rings, his antique cameo breast-pin, and his pale lemon-coloured kid gloves”) seemed lifted directly from the personage of Dorian Gray. And there is the fascinating amorality of this devout aesthete, the fact that he poisoned (not metaphorically, but in physical actuality) his family and friends, that hearkens back to themes that can be found in Picture of Dorian Gray and Against Nature, for both Dorian and des Esseintes poison (metaphorically) their friends with dangerous opinions and habits which land them in squalor.

Maybe it was also that by now, I realize that Wilde has a tendency to consciously distance his own views from those expressed by his fictional characters. By making Lord Henry spew nonsensical paradoxes and by putting extravagant statements into Vivian’s mouth, the reader comes to assume that Wilde cannot possibly be committed to these crazy views, and many of his characters are merely mouthpieces for a specific, subjective worldview that does not necessarily seek universalizability. In “Pen, Pencil, and Poison”, there are excerpts from the criticism of Wainewright, which Wilde commentaries and evaluates. In fact, much of Wainewright’s written work has the same whimsical register as Wilde’s writing: it is only somewhat more prone to grandiloquence. So, forgive me for my error, but I thought that Wilde himself had penned these so-called “excerpts” and delivered his a kind of meta-criticism upon them in order to portray and experiment with a variety of viewpoints. Not entirely implausible, no?

In any case, there is no use in retroactively justifying my original mistake. The question, however remains: why could I not bring myself to read the essay once again? Where did that hesitation come from?

I can only offer a tentative answer, but after some navel-gazing it seems to me that I just wanted to like him too much. I simply didn’t want to marvelous personality, this fascinating multi-faceted being, to vanish from my fingertips, snatched away into calumny by the label “multiple murderer”. If I read the memoir over again, knowing that what he did had real impact upon the world and the people around him, I would be forced to pass judgment on Wainewright and come to some moral or intellectual conclusion about what his life amounted to. It would not be enough to merely marvel at the fantastic narrative arc of his life, I would have to formulate some concrete ideas about the man, his deeds, and his legacy. And I simply could not bring myself to do so because I was already so taken with the way in which Wilde had captured him: as a fictional creation, I could still unabashedly appreciate him. But, real person as he was, I am compelled to judge him for his heinous crimes, or to balance his positive versus negative influence upon to world, to ponder the question of whether artistic output redeems a man of his misdoings.

And these questions suddenly overwhelmed me, when all I wanted to do was the admire the whole person (crimes, art, and all). But I could only do so when he wasn’t real. As art, he was forgiveable–for art is a sort of great redeemer, that allows us to bypass moral considerations and pass on straight to aesthetic evaluation. And indeed, Wainewright is beautiful as a work of art; but as a man, few would bestow such high praise on him.

But this raises another question. If art indeed operates as a separate criterion for making value judgments about something, then should it be allowed to gain the upper hand all the time? When should it be subservient to other (moral and intellectual) concerns? Is it not exceedingly dangerous to allow the aesthetic impulse to run away unchecked if it is at the cost of the lives around you? As we ponder these questions, remember that they apply to both Wainewright himself (who was such an artist but also undoubtedly a murderer) and to ourselves, as we engage with works of art and allow them to move us, to influence us.

-LH

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A Wilde Family

Reading “The Decay of Lying” through the point of view of Oscar Wilde’s children made me start to think about the role of family in some of the Decadent works we have read so far. The connection is hard to make in “The Decay of Lying” because it is unclear why Wilde chose his sons as the main characters or what the actual significance is. Looking back at The Picture of Dorian Gray and Against Nature the family theme is a little clearer.

In Against Nature, Des Esseintes’ family is described in the prologue before the book even really begins. Huysmans traces the Des Esseintes lineage through the family portraits. Huysmans writes, “It was obvious that the decline of this ancient house had followed an inevitable course; the males had grown progressively more effeminate; as if  to perfect the work of the time, for two centuries the Des Esseintes intermarried their children, thus exhausting, through inbreeding, what little strength they possessed,” (3). The Des Esseintes family has become weaker and sicker and the current Des Esseintes is no exception. Throughout the novel his weakness, illness, and neurosis are described. It seems that Des Esseintes is merely following a family trend.

Similarly, Dorian also traces through his ancestry in The Picture of Dorian Gray. As Dorian examines the portraits of his predecessors, he sees pieces of himself in the various members of his family. He ponders whether he was, “bequeathed… some inheritance of sin and shame,” or influenced by past infamies (107-108). Dorian notes that he “had got from [his mother] his beauty, and his passion for the beauty of others,” (108). Like Des Esseintes, it seems that Dorian is just another link in a chain of similar family members. Wilde even writes, “There were times when it appeared to Dorian Gray that the whole of history was merely the record of his own life… It seemed to him that in some mysterious way their lives had been his own,” (108).

How unique are Dorian and Des Esseintes? Are they truly revolutionary or are they just members of eccentric families? Are their stories predetermined and inevitable? Both characters never have children, so is the line is severed. But Oscar Wilde had his two sons. Where does he see himself in this line of thought? Perhaps casting his sons in one of his witty and more pointed works is his way of expressing the hope that his legacy will continue.

IPN

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Poisoning as an Artistic Tool in Pen, Pencil and Poison

I was immediately struck by Oscar Wilde’s introduction in Pen, Pencil and Poison. He asserts that “it has constantly been made a subject of reproach against artists and men of letters that they are lacking in wholeness and completeness of nature.” (1093) He also says that it must necessarily be so; “to those who are pre-occupied with the beauty of form nothing else seems of much importance.” (ibid) Thomas Griffiths Wainewright therefore suffers from this lack thereof.

Aside from being a poet of art, and a maker of art, Wainewright was also skilled with the art of poison. Wilde reveres Wainewright’s ability to end the life of others as a form of art, as opposed to prescribing him with insanity within his work, caused by his extracurricular murderous activities. It is true that Wainewright has real passion for art and literature, as he strove to “to see and write brave things” (1094), but his agenda was more precisely geared towards gain of social status.  Wilde describes his dandy-like ways to us, and also his Dorian-esque features—he had an “influence [and a] strange fascination that he exercised on every one who knew him” (ibid). He emphasizes the fact that “a mask tells more than a face […] these disguises intensified his personality.” What I found most striking however was the fact that Wainewright wanted more so to influence people by being “somebody rather than [doing] something.” (1095)

Through this compelling homage to a murderer, Wilde outlines and glorifies a man who actually did not seem to have as much of an effect on British literary society as Wilde thought he did. A description I read online even states that “Wainwright has often been summarily dismissed as a mawkishly sentimental painter of women” (wikipedia).

Wilde’s obsession then truly rests on Wainewright’s aritistic capabilities as a murderer. Poisoning itself can therefore be considered an art within these terms. A man who knows how to poison without being caught or seen, has a certain morbid talent—killing. Wilde even explains that after having been sentenced he “[did not] give up his habit of poisoning […] but his hand seemed to have lost its cunning.” (1105) just like the poet’s hand can lose it’s creative skills.

Wilde finishes with a totally scandalous claim (much like his thoughts on life and nature coming out of art and not the other way around)—Wainewright “had a sincere love of art and nature […] there is no essential incongruity between crime and culture.” (1106). Essentially, Wainewright is the artist of death, his pen, pencil, and poison are all equal talents that can be “honored” (as Wilde would have it) as one. It seems that for Wilde, the artist’s hand creates beauty no matter the tool that creates it, or the violent reality of the finished product. Wilde is glorifying literature, art, and poison, all in the same breath.

MCR

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Huysmans and the Decadent Aesthetic of Madness: Boredom, Loneliness, and Psychoneurosis (Presentation handout)

INTRODUCTION

Since 1884, the readers of À Rebours have been challenged not only because of its extremely long and quite painful catalogues and descriptions, but also and above all, the mysterious literary topoi and the symbolism of À Rebours call into question the decadent aesthetic of the end of the century. À Rebours is considered the bible of French Decadence. But more importantly, des Esseintes’ anxieties and deliria are, to some extent, fascinating and denote a sort of alienation and disenchantment vis-à-vis a world in mutation. Des Esseintes’s behaviours underline the psycho-pathological symptoms of an important historical moment in the unfolding of history itself, namely la Fin de Siècle (the end of the nineteenth century). This period is also characterized by what has been called in French le Mal du siècle, which could be roughly translated as “the malady of the century.” This term is used to refer to the ennui (boredom), disenchantment, and melancholy experienced by young adults of Europe’s early 19th century. It is also associated with the rising of the Romantic Movement in French poetry. Approximately at the same time, Sigmund Freud deals with various cases of hysterical women that are increasing in modern and industrializing Europe. It is actually in an attempt to find a palliative to some barbaric practices used at that time to treat psychoneuroses and hysteria that Freud made his ground-breaking discoveries regarding the structure of the unconscious. One could say that des Esseintes embodies quite well the masculine flip side of the coin, namely madness and neurosis (névrose) associated with delusions and hallucinations, as it is very clear in the second part of the book. In this short presentation —followed up by an open discussion— we’ll try to tackle the problematic of an isolated life cut off from the world (in Fontenay) as opposed to a materialistic and hedonistic way of life (in Paris), and the existential crisis these two antithetic inclinations yield in des Esseintes’s mind.

CONTEMPORARY RECEPTION

À Rebours is actually the second part of a trilogy whose first work is À vau-l’eau (1882) and the third is En Rade (1887). On February 1884, Robert Caze announced the upcoming publication of “a detailed study on pessimism” (une étude appronfondie sur le pessimisme) in a French literary publication entitled “Opinion.” The first title Huysmans wanted to use for his novel was indeed: “Seul” (Alone), but apparently he changed his mind for some reason. Before the publication of À Rebours, one could say that Huysmans belongs to the Naturalist Movement in literature. Zola himself, the head of the Naturalist school of French fiction, soon became a friend and mentor to the young Huysmans after the publication of his first novel in 1876 (Marthe, histoire d’une fille. English: Marthe, the Story of a Girl). However, Huysmans’ association with the Naturalist group lasted until the publication of À Rebours, which constitutes genuinely a statement of a rupture vis-à-vis a certain type of literature, and, on the other hand, this novel is a critique of the over-idealised conception of Bohemian life in Paris (decadence and debauchery). In À Rebours, des Esseintes seems to have decided to leave such a way of life and consequently he decided to exile in a quiet and austere retreat in the countryside, and that is probably what appealed the modern reader in the first place (Ch. I: des Esseintes quotes Baudelaire: Any where out of the world). Now, let’s take a look at some comments about that piece of decadent literature by contemporary literary critiques:

  1. Guy de Maupassant (popular 19th-century French writer): “Le romancier J.K. Huysmans, dans son livre stupéfiant, qui a pour titre À Rebours, vient d’analyser et de raconter, de la façon la plus ingénieuse et la plus imprévue, la maladie d’un de ces dégoûtés […] Je ne pourrais tenter l’analyse complète du livre de Huysmans, de ce livre extravagant et désopilant, plein d’art, de fantaisie bizarre, de style pénétrant et subtil, de ce livre qu’on pourrait appeler ‘l’histoire d’une névrose.’” (Guy de Maupassant in “Par delà,” Gil Blas, 10-VI-1884).
  1. Jules Destrée (Walloon lawyer, cultural critic, and socialist politician): “Tout ce qui avait été pensé, écrit, peint dans ce genre, il l’a résumé, condensé, fondu, discuté, dans une œuvre hantante, puissamment suggestive et profondément orginale. Elle correspond presque, en prose, aux Fleurs du mal de Baudelaire.” (Jules Destrée, Le Journal de Charleroi, 4-VI-1884).

QUOTES BY CHAPTER

  • X : L’Orgue à parfums (the perfume organ)

“[L]e doute ne pouvait exister ; la névrose revenait, une fois de plus, sous l’apparence d’une nouvelle illusion des sens.” (197) / “[T]here could no longer be any doubt, his neurosis had returned once again, under the guise of this new delusion of the senses.” (135)

Des Esseintes étudiait, analysait l’âme de ces fluids, faisait l’exégèse de ces textes ; il se complaisait à jouer pour sa satisfaction personnelle, le rôle d’un psychologue, à démonter et à remonter les rouages d’une œuvre, à dévisser les pieces formant la structure d’une exhalaison composée […].” (201) / Des Esseintes studied an analysed the essence of these fluids, carried out an exegesis, so to speak, of their texts; he delighted in playing, for his own personal satisfaction, the role of a psychologist, taking apart and re-assembling the mechanism of a work, unscrewing the pieces that formed the structure of a compound flagrance […].” (138).

Comment: L’Orgue à parfums (the perfume organ): the composition of perfumes construed as an Art (comparison between the composition of perfumes and poetry, as if the words themselves and their composition could yield some sort of flavour). The smell/odour of the perfumes allows des Esseintes to travel, as it is the case in Proust’s À la recherche du temps perdu through the theme of involuntary explicit memory (somehow related to the Platonic anamnesis), the flagrances des Esseintes create allows him to travel and escape out of the trivial and mundane existence he very much despises (see any where out of the world in chapter I). He also sees himself alternatively as a poet, a psychologist, or even as an architect (trying to order the chaos of his mind). External stimuli (coming from his sensations, in particular olfactory perceptions) trigger hallucinations and waking dreams. Ultimately, too overwhelmed by those ‘transports,’ Des Esseintes collapses and passes out, as if dying, on the window sill (end of the chapter X). On a more general level, it seems to me that des Esseintes wants to turn his back on the material and tangible world (Nature), and sort of dedicate all his time to spiritual contemplation, stimulating his senses by various means.

  • XI : First visit of the Doctor of Fontenay and des Esseintes’ daydream in Dickens’ England

En somme, j’ai éprouvé et j’ai vu ce que je voulais éprouver et voir.” (226) / “In short, I’ve experienced and seen all I wanted to experience and see.” (160)

Comment: First visit of the Doctor of Fontenay (he prescribes Des Esseintes sedatives and rest), and interestingly enough, he reports all over the village how eccentric and strange the house’s interior design is. One recalls how des Esseintes choose the furniture and the colours for his house of Fontenay in a very elaborate manner (it takes almost two chapters for Huysman to describe that).

In chapter XI, Des Esseintes starts reading Dickens, and once again, through Art, he is transported in some sort of daydream wherein our anti-hero finds himself projected into the England of Charles Dickens, and meet some of the characters of this literary world created from scratch. In a sort of introspective delirium, Des Esseintes thinks of other travels, in Holland/Netherlands. When he comes back to the everyday reality, Des Esseintes pretty much feels like he just took a long journey.

  • XII : Catalogue of books and des Esseintes’ beloved Baudelaire

Baudelaire était allé plus loin ; il était descendu jusqu’au fond de l’inépluisable mine, s’était engagé à travers des galleries abandonnées ou inconnues, avait abouti à des districts de l’âme où se ramifiait les végétations monstueuses de la pensée.” (230) / “Baudelaire had gone further; he had descended to the very bottom of the inexhaustible mine, had penetrated abandoned or unexplored passage, had ended up in those regions of the soul that branch out into the monstrous growths of thoughts.” (163).

Et plus des Esseintes relisait Baudelaire, plus il reconnaissait un indicible charme à cet écrivain qui, dans un temps où le vers ne servait plus qu’à peindre l’aspect extérieur des êtres et des choses, était parvenu à exprimer l’inexprimable, grâce à une langue musculeuse et charnue, qui, plus que tout autres, possédait cette merveilleuse puissance de fixer avec une étrange santé, les plus tremblés, des esprits épuisés et des âmes tristes.” (231-232) / “And the more des Esseintes re-read Baudelaire, the more he recognized the indescribable charm of this writer who, in an age when poetry served only to paint the external aspect of beings and things, had succeeded in expressing the inexpressible thanks to a muscular and fleshy language which, more than any other, possessed that marvellous power to capture, un curiously vigorous terms, the most fleeting, the most elusive states of morbidity in exhausted minds and despondent soul.” (165)

  • XIII : La Nausée

“[…] à ce moment là, la vue de la viande déposée sur la table, lui souleva le cœur ; il prescrivit qu’on la fît disparaître, commanda des œufs à la coque, tenta d’avaler les mouillettes, mais elle lui barrèrent la gorge ; des nausées lui venaient aux lèvres ; il bu quelques gouttes de vin qui lui piquèrent, comme des pointes de feu, l’estomac. Il s’étancha la figure ; la sueur, tout à l’heure tiède, fluait, maintenant froide, le long des tempes ; il se prit à sucer quelques morceux de glace, pour tromper le mal de cœur ; ce fut en vain.” (254) / […] at that moment the sight of meat placed on the table made his stomach heave; he told them to remove it, ordered boiled eggs and tried to swallow some sippets, but they stuck in his throat ; waves of nausea rose to his lips; he drank a few drops of wine that picked his stomach like hot needles. He dried his face; the sweat that a moment earlier had been warm, now ran cold down his temples; he began to suck pieces of ice to relieve his sick stomach, but it was in vain.” (183-184).

Comment: Des Esseintes keeps brooding despondently, looses his appetite, and gets bad stomach cramps. This is a psycho-pathological symptom of his spleen, that fact that he sort of lost his joie de vivre. Nightmares, illusion of the senses, delusions, hallucinations, in short all the symptoms of des Esseintes’ neurosis. He even tried to install hydrotherapeutic equipment in his house (see chapter 9. How can one deal with hysteria and psychoneurosis in the nineteenth century without proper treatments or drugs?). New problem: anemia. Des Esseintes can’t eat anymore. Who or what will redeem this tormented soul?

  • XIV : Secular books (livres profanes, œuvres laïques, la littérature française, moderne, et profane: Balzac, Flaubert, Zola, de Goncourt, Stendhal, then Verlaine, Rimbaud, Mallarmé, and finally Aloysius Bertrand, Poe, and Baudelaire).
  • XV : The malady resumes its course with new and unexpected symptoms (nightmares, olfactory and auditory hallucinations, burning fevers, involuntary memories coming from des Esseintes’ childhood). Des Esseintes has recourse to a famous physician of Paris who prescribes him to get back to Paris. The doctor also mentions the hydropathic treatments (hydrotherapy), which were used in the 18th and 19th centuries to treat neurosis.
  • XVI : End: Conversion? Pessimism? Disenchantment? Irony? Deus ex machina?

GENERAL DISCUSSION

  • Concretely, what is wrong with des Esseintes? What are the cause(s) and the meaning of his ‘medical’ condition? In that regard, what do we learn from the doctor of Paris at the end of the book (chapter XV and XVI)? To which measure could one say that this information shed new light on des Esseintes’ existential crisis (cf. Bohemian life vs. Ascetic seclusion out of the world)?
  • From our previous discussion, how can we understand des Esseintes’s antipathy or esteem for those authors who are now considered classics of French literature (Balzac, Baudelaire, and Zola)? What does he like in Balzac as opposed to Zola (which are both supposed to belong to the Naturalist literary movement)? How could we envision the naturalism in the novels of Zola as opposed to what Huysmans seems to put forward in Against Nature? Is it a sort of anti-naturalism? What about Baudelaire?

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Husymans, Joris-Karl. À Rebours. Paris: Gallimard, 1977. Print

Guyaux, André, et al. Huysmans: Une esthétique de la décadence. Paris: Éditions Slatkine, 1987. Print

Lair, Samuel et al. J.-K. Huysmans: Littérature et religion. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2009. Print

Livi, François., J.-K. Huysmans: À rebours et l’esprit decadent. Paris: A.G. Nizet, 1991. Print.

– R.C.

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Des Esseintes’ Malady and the Tortoise

For this blog entry, I would like to come back on the chapter IV of À Rebours and, more particularly, on the anecdote of the tortoise. In this chapter, the reader learns that des Esseintes bought a tortoise near the Palais-Royal in Paris a couple of days before his departure for Fontenay. Indeed, while contemplating an Oriental carpet, des Esseintes thought that a magnificent moving object would embellish the carpet’s colours.

“[…] il serait bon de placer sur ce tapis quelque chose qui remuât et dont le ton foncé aiguisât la vivacité de ces teintes.” (118)

Unfortunately, when des Esseintes placed the tortoise on his Oriental carpet, the aesthetic effect he was aiming for was not achieved. The colours were still too dull, uniform, and brownish. Des Esseintes decided then to cover the tortoise’s carapace with gold. Still not perfectly satisfied, he decided then to encrust the carapace with various gems and precious stones. Turning the poor creature into a genuine work of art, des Esseintes adds more and more weight on the tortoise’s carapace. Des Esseintes gets his tortoise delivered to Fontenay and for once, he feels happy and good about himself: he eats with appetite and even decides to allow himself the luxury of drinking spirits, mixing them as they were various basic materials to compose complex perfumes (he uses what he calls his “orgue à bouche” that could clearly be compared with his “orgue à parfum.”) The taste of a whisky triggers an involuntary and quite unpleasant memory: that one time he got a tooth pulled out. By the time his daydream ends, des Esseintes notices that the tortoise is not moving anymore; the tortoise is dead because the extra-weight of the gems and precious stones crushed it.

It seems to me that the anecdote of the tortoise is quite similar to des Esseintes’ sad fate. In the case of des Esseintes, the gems and precious stones are the works of art (construed in a very broad sense) he loves so much: his authors (such as Baudelaire, Mallarmé, and Balzac for instance) and his painters (such as Gustave Moreau and Odilon Redon). In Fontenay, des Esseintes is too absorbed by contemplation and meditation and gets into a neurotic state of inertia and apathy. He cannot distinguish between the real and the fictional, and becomes mad. As the tortoise, des Esseintes is being crushed by those precious stones that constitute the ‘high-culture.’ Eventually des Esseintes needs to leave Fontenay and come back to Paris because his ascetic seclusion out of the world is literally killing him. – R.C.

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Storify of Our Literary Twitter Role Play: The Picture of Dorian Gray

Please click on this link to get to the Storify of our public literary Twitter role play about Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray.

It took place on Friday, October 26, 2012, under the hashtag #digwilde.

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Des Esseintes as a Catholic

Against Nature is an undeniably strange work of literature. It disregards a significant number of literary conventions of characterization. For example, Des Esseintes has no foils. There is little by way of plot development, so we don’t see his character develop over time of change in moments of crisis. Instead, we learn about Des Esseintes almost solely through his material possessions–we learn what kind of books he likes, what art he finds beautiful, what places he thinks are worth visiting, how he thinks turtles should be decorated, and so on and so forth. He rarely reflects on himself except in the context of material objects. Even some of his most internal characteristics–such as his various strains of crazy–are externalized and illuminated through his possessions and the attitude he has towards them. We spend all our time in his carefully constructed universe at Fontenay, but very little time actually in his head–except when he is discussing Catholicism. At the beginning of chapter 7, we are told he is living “on himself, feeding on his own substance” and that “The chaotic mass of readings and meditations on art that he had stored up during his solitude, like a dam to stem the flow of former memories, had been suddenly swept away , and the flood-tide was on the move, buffeting the present, the future, drowning everything beneath the waters of the past filling  his mind” (62). With all of his art drowning in the past, I expected him to reflect on his parents–not their portraits in the gallery, but his actual parents–and his childhood adventures. And he does–for about two paragraphs. The vast majority of this chapter, the self-substance on which he feeds, is about religion.

Although he insists that  his character is resistant to shaping, we learn that Catholicism has shaped the way he thinks and argues (65). He accepts Schopenhauer’s doctrine of pessimism, but not because Church doctrine is absolutely wrong. His view and the Church’s have a “common starting point,” but instead of justifying the evils of the world and holding the “vague hope” of an afterlife, he preaches the “nothingness of existence” and becomes a decadent hermit (69). He never questions the doctrine that human beings do have a soul and he acknowledges from his soul the Church’s “hereditary influence on humanity of centuries of time” (69). Is there a phenomenon in Catholicism of being “culturally Catholic” like there is in Judaism? Des Esseintes rejects original sin and considers God’s mercy extremely questionable, but he defines the substance of his soul as Catholic. He collects Catholic art and literature (which almost seems doubly significant, since he defines himself in such large part by the art on his walls and the books he reads), and he turns his bedroom into a luxurious monk’s cell. It’s not just fetishization of ritual. He fetishizes flowers, and when they die he throws them away. He doesn’t use Catholicism until it ceases to please his senses; he identifies in the most fundamental way as Catholic.

Which brings me to the ending. I don’t believe the conclusion is a standard conversion. He bristles at Catholicism in chapter 7 because he fears no longer being “absolute master” in his own house,  but at the end the doctor has already taken that agency from him (69). He is forced to leave his tiny, secluded, absolutely pure kingdom, surrender his absolute mastery, and return to the polluted world. He has to give up his strange proclivities and be normal, just like everybody else, which means he can no longer have an isolated half-Catholic, half-art cult religion of one. I don’t think he has suddenly begun believing in original sin and all the other dogma he disparages. He hasn’t suddenly begun trusting the Church as present in the world, which is corrupted and impure. I think the ending is his frustrated acceptance of the doctor’s command to stop being crazy, but he is still enough himself to want one of the few things left to him to be beautiful which–although this does not seem to be the case with flowers–seems to entail purity. Or at least purity of ritual. (No more potato starch!) And what more richly excessive and poetic way to purify a religion than to have a vengeful God rain fire from the sky (180)? And, if the pestilence must continue and he must be subject to it, at least he can pray for himself. He has such a low opinion of God’s mercy, I don’t think he believes God will give him faith or hope or guidance, but I think he’ll engage in the ritual anyway, because praying is what Catholic people do, and Des Esseintes has a Catholic soul. –LN

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Life as an Illusion: Embracing Absurdity in Against Nature

Des Esseintes lives in a world of his own artifice, where he imagines his own adventures, takes his mind on literary odysseys, and enhances his created world with smells and sounds.  Why this withdrawal from reality, this retreat into his own creation of a fake reality, this feeling that his own fabrications are superior and more worth his time than the world beyond?  At first, it seems as though pessimism plays a key role in the answer to this question, but perhaps the reason that Des Esseintes lives in his world of artifice has less to do with his pessimistic attitude toward society, and more to do with his recognition and embrace of absurdity.

After lamenting that “nothing remains that is pure and authentic…and the liberty we proclaim are both adulterated and derisory,” Des Essientes concludes, “I do not…consider it either more ridiculous or more insane to ask of my fellow men a degree of illusion barely as great as that which he expends each day for absurd purposes, to imagine that the town of Pantin is an artificial Nice, an imitation Menton.”  His critique of society is harsh, yet ultimately it is not the impurity and derision of society that drives him to his lifestyle, but rather it is that others are able to live so easily in the messy, corrupted world.  He states clearly that while he may chase illusions, he is no different than other people, who must create illusions in order to accept life in the absurdities of society.

Indeed, in his argument that he lives in no more of an illusion than anyone else, he suggests quite strongly that his illusion is superior.  He can create something better – if we’re to live in an illusion anyway, why not live in one where we have the power to make it the best it can be.  Des Esseintes creates perfumes more powerful and beautiful than the flowers whose scent he imitates.  His life is built upon the idea that his own artifices are superior to reality.

Yet then reality becomes blurred.  He begins imagining his scents, and cannot get them out of his nostrils even when he opens the window.  His artifice is more real to him than the actuality of fresh air.  Des Esseintes decides not to travel to London, because he feels like his imagination can take him there well enough, and then he doesn’t have to deal with the hassle of travel.  What then, is London at all?  What is fresh air?  Simply Des Esseintes’ imagination and creation.  And if indeed his life is no more of an illusion than anyone else’s, then the air people breathe is likewise their invention, their belief, what they expect to find in smells, and what memories and dreams they associate with it.  And London is the creation of each individual; its absurdities are created by the viewers.

Toward the end of the novel Des Esseintes “realized that the arguments of pessimism were incapable of giving him comfort, that only the impossible belief in a future life would give him peace.”  The very belief that would give him peace is “impossible,” and so it is truly in the absurd that he finds a degree of comfort.  His pessimistic views, which he certainly dwells on, are ultimately secondary to his acceptance that life is absurd, and that the only way for him to move through it is by living his own absurdity. -YG

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Hysteria in Huysmans

In Huysmans’ Against Nature, the protagonist, Des Esseintes suffers from an undiagnosed malady causing anxiety, among other things. At the end of the novel, his doctor, portrayed as amateurish at best, suggests he abandon his life at his country home of Fonteray and return to the bustling city of Paris. Although Des Esseintes malady is unclear, he appears to suffer from an inverted hysteria, the (often) woman’s illness popularly diagnosed in the late nineteenth century. Des Esseintes displays several of the hallmarks of hysteria: overstimulation of the mind, nervousness, paranoia. These symptoms emasculate him. The word “hysteria” itself derives from the same root as “uterus,” linking it clearly to women.

In many ways, Huysmans portrays Des Esseintes illness as an inverted hysteria. Des Esseintes leaves his busy life in Paris behind for a life of solitude at Fonteray, his family country home. It is at Fonteray that he encounters symptoms of hysteria. Most suffering from hysteria lives in cities and were prescribed extended visits to the country in order to calm their nerves. In the case of Des Esseintes, his prescription involves leaving behind his isolation in favor of the city. Des Esseintes mind is overstimulated simply by his own thoughts at Fonteray; perhaps his reimmersion in city life and interactions with others will calm his thoughts.

Hysteria, though diagnosed frequently during the period, has no basis on its own; it is an invented, catch-all illness for those suffering from anxiety disorders, generalized mental illness, and even stress. Des Esseintes does not ressemble the typical hysteria patient, though his behavior seems to point to underlying mental problems beyond sheer eccentricity. His distaste for social interactions, corruption of Auguste Langlois, and obsessive listing of knowledge and objects all point to greater issues. Nevertheless, the inversion of hysteria in the novel reinforces a femininity in Des Esseintes while underlining his peculiar, unique case.  -KJO

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A Moral in The Picture of Dorian Gray

The presence or lack of a moral in Oscar Wilde’s novel The Picture of Dorian Gray is a topic of uncertainty. In reading The Picture of Dorian Gray and in hearing conflicting thoughts about morality in the novel, I couldn’t help but create a mental division between two types of morals. One would be morals with direction, consisting of ones intended to lead the receiver of the moral to a particular action or inaction, and the other would be morals without direction, that are intended to demonstrate some element of life that might affect how a person formulates zir* own morals. I read The Picture of Dorian Gray as a novel that does indeed provide a moral, but of the second variety, without direction.

In one of our student presentations in class, the presenter showed us a quote by Oscar Wilde about the moral in The Picture of Dorian Gray. This quote was from a letter by Oscar Wilde to the editor of the St. James’s Gazette. Wilde wrote:

“And the moral is this: All excess, as well as all renunciation, brings its own punishment. The painter, Basil Hallward, worshipping physical beauty far too much, as most painters do, dies by the hand of one in whose soul he has created a monstrous and absurd vanity. Dorian Gray, having led a life of mere sensation and pleasure, tries to kill conscience, and at that moment kills himself. Lord Henry Wotton seeks to be merely the spectator of life. He finds that those who reject the battle are more deeply wounded than those who take part in it.”

It is unwise to take this, or perhaps any quote by Wilde, as the absolute Truth, especially as, in the Preface to The Picture of Dorian Gray, Wilde writes, “No artist desires to prove anything. Even things that are true can be proved.” However, I arrived to much the same conclusion as the first quote suggests, and so I think it is an interpretation with some support in the novel.

It is abundantly apparent that Basil Hallward reveres Dorian’s physical beauty to excess. When first describing Dorian to Lord Henry, Basil says almost nothing about Dorian as a complex person, though he repeatedly refers to Dorian’s “personality.” Rather, Basil describes how Dorian has become integral to his artistic expression, suggesting that Basil’s interest consists most essentially in Dorian’s physical beauty, since that can be represented in Basil’s art. As Basil is finishing the portrait and once he is done, almost everything that he says to Dorian is flattery of Dorian’s beauty. It is in this scene that Dorian becomes in love with the painting and with his own beauty. Basil is then killed by the person for whom he held this excessive admiration.

Dorian tries to renounce conscience by destroying the portrait after a life of hedonism in which the portrait was the only conscience he had. Dorian’s actions could be interpreted as excess in the amount of sensation and pleasure he sought, culminating in the final excess search for pleasure by destroying the one object in its way. His actions could also be interpreted as progressive renunciation of conscience, culminating in the destruction of the portrait. In either case, Dorian dies, and so experiences some punishment.

Both times that I read this novel I noted strange instances when Harry displays emotion that seem out of place with the image he creates of himself, such as a description of his “nervous fingers” during a conversation with Basil and the fear in Harry’s eye when he hears Dorian give a stifled groan and collapse in the next room. I had not before considered Lord Henry to be more deeply wounded than the others, as Wilde suggests he is. Regardless, Harry’s efforts to renounce an active role in his own life do not generate the carefree happiness one might expect from a character so bent escaping personal suffering.

The cases of these three characters seem, to me, strong demonstration that all excess and renunciation ultimately face their own punishment. However, I don’t see this demonstration as inviting any specific moral view. These characters have very different relationships with excess and renunciation, and all face punishment. Dorian’s actions could equally be interpreted as excess or renunciation and, in a way, so too could any of the characters’ actions. Excess can be a renunciation of the opposite idea, and vice versa. As a result, it’s difficult to extrapolate any directed moral from the story. It seems that no set of behavior is entirely safe. As a result, though I can’t help but be struck by the demonstrations of how characters suffer for their actions in The Picture of Dorian Gray and take this demonstration to be some kind of moral, I don’t think that it is a moral that compels a reader to any specific conclusion. Rather, it leaves us to decide for ourselves where to take our actions from here.

* I use “zir” as a possessive form of the generic, gender-neutral subject pronoun “ze.” This is used in order to be more inclusive than the traditional “she” and “he” pronouns allow, encompassing people who fall outside of gender binary as well as those who identify as women and men.

-M.P.

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Huysmans, Against Nature (Presentation handout)

Against Nature by Joris-Karl Huysmans

In-Class Presentation, October 17, 2012

By KJO

Biographical Information:

Joris-Karl Huysmans was born as Charles-Marie-Georges Huysmans on Februry 5, 1848 in Paris. His father, of Dutch origin, died when he was eight. After passing the baccalaureate, he took an administrative post in the Ministry of Interior. In 1870, he fought in the Franco-Prussian War. Following the war, he continued his work as a civil servant. He was made a chevalier in the Légion d’honneur in 1893 after 27 years as a bureaucrat.

Huysmans published Against Nature (A Rebours) in 1884 after having published several other works, which included Sac au dos, about his military service, and Marthe.  He continued to publish until his death, most notably La Cathédrale in 1898.

Huysmans died May 11, 1907. His funeral was held May 15, 1907 at Notre-Dame-des-Champs.

The Title:

The French title of the novel A Rebours does not translate. The phrase “refers to a contrary and paradoxical motion” (“Introduction” xiii). It is used in phrases such as “caresser un chat à rebours,” which means “to stroke a cat the wrong way” or “aller à rebours de la tendance générale,” which means “to run counter to the general trend.”

Miss Urania (pages 85-87):

Des Esseintes recalls a liaison with Miss Urania, an American acrobat, in Chapter 9. This coupling recalls the relationship between Jacques and Raoule in Monsieur Vénus. Masculine characteristics are attributed to Miss Urania. First comes her physical description, which includes “a sturdy body, sinewy legs, muscles of steel, and arms of cast iron,” all of which give her masculine or, more aptly, machine-like qualities.  He feels no intense lust for her but returns to the circus, “driven by a feeling that was difficult to define.” Her “feminine affectations became less and less apparent,” and “after toying with androgyny,” she becomes a man. Des Esseintes, perceiving this transition, redefines himself as the woman in their relationship. Their quick coupling ends when he resumes his “male role.” In what way does this relationship mirror that of Raoule and Jacques? What does this relationship reveal about Des Esseintes? Furthermore, how does this conversation about androgyny and reversed gender and sexual roles fit in the novels historical context?

Close reading: p. 85

Chapter 8 (pages 72-81):

In Chapter 8, Des Esseintes discusses his dislike of real flowers; he prefers artificial flowers. Flowers often serve as an example of beauty. Des Esseintes, instead, uses language associated with disease to describe flowers, transforming beauty into something grotesque. He is “dazzled” by the grotesque. Des Esseintes emphasizes the artificiality of flowers; he prefers the denial of their belonging to nature. In wanting to own flowers constructed artificially, he eliminates the fleeting beauty of flowers. Flowers become a tangible object to add to his collection for as long as he desires. How does the grotesque fit into Des Esseintes aestheticism? What role does artifice play in the novel? What do you make of the strange dream at the end of this chapter?

Close reading: p.74

Works Referenced

  • Huysmans, Joris-Karl. Against Nature. New York: Oxford University Press, 2009. Print.
  • “Joris-Karl Huysmans”. Encyclopædia Britannica. Encyclopædia Britannica Online.
  • Encyclopædia Britannica Inc., 2012. Web. 24 Oct. 2012
  • <http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/277825/Joris-Karl-Huysmans>.
  • White, Nicholas. Introduction. Against Nature. By Joris-Karl Huysmans. Trans. Margaret Muldoon. New York: Oxford University Press, 2009. Print.

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Haunting and Madness in both The Picture of Dorian Gray and À Rebours

While reading À rebours and The Portrait of Dorian Gray side by side, I was struck by a sense of hysteric madness in both Dorian and des Esseintes. The psychological affects of des Esseintes are much more clearly plotted for us than those of Dorian as the words neurosis, hysteria, and psychology are repeated throughout the novel. Dorian’s condition is much more obscure.

It seems both men come from a childhood that have marked them negatively—Dorian is the child of “Love and Death” as Lord Henry calls him, and des Esseintes recalls his childhood with an acute morbid negativity. Des Esseintes refers to his childhood often “par haine, et par mépris” (À rebours 88), and later actually says that he develops almost sadomasochistic tendencies because of his upbringing: “un besoin de vengeance de tristesse endure, une rage de salir par des turpitudes de souvenirs de famille, un désir furieux de panteler sur des cousins de chair, d’épuiser jusqu’à leur dernière gouttes, les plus véhémentes et les plus acres des folies charnelles.” (ibid) Not only this, but des Esseintes seems to perpetrate and encourage the cycle “en garda[nt] les deux vieux domestiques qui avaient siogné sa mere […] un ménage habitué à un emploi de garde-malade.” (98) He treats himself as a sick man and therefore becomes one all the more. He has true symptoms of a Freudian hysteric—he has a “toux nerveuse” (À rebours 182), he is “torturé par d’inexplicables repulsions, par des frémissements qui lui glaçaient l’échine.” (À rebours 181), and “le doute ne pouvait exister; la névrose revenait, une fois de plus, sous l’apparence d’une nouvelle illusion des sens.” (À rebours 215).

Dorian’s childhood and his mother’s beauty certainly cast a shadow on his upbringing but the source of his darkness is not as clearly defined. Although it does shape him, it is des Esseintes who “became to him a kind of prefiguring type of himself. And indeed, the whole book seemed to him to contain the story of his own life, written before he had lived it.” (Dorian Gray 97) Dorian begins to question his own behavior, “had some strange poisonous germ crept from body to body till it had reached his own? […] Were his own actions merely the dreams that the dead man had not dared to realize?”(Dorian Gray 107). His neurosis seems to grow as his obsession with his own beauty does; he begins to act like des Esseintes, he collects, he obsesses, he hallucinates, corrupts the young souls of others, all the while thinking he is exempt from any type of reprobation.

Finally the last connection to make is that of forced solitude, paranoia, and the ability to “travel” from one’s own home. We are fully aware of des Esseintes’s solitude, he talks about it incessantly, and he even goes so far as to say that “la solitude avait agi sur son cerveau, de même qu’un narcotique.” (À rebours 169). He is so fond of this isolation that he begins to sympathize with monastic life as a doctrine for his own life (À rebours 159). Dorian too begins to desire this sense of forced confinement, he starts to collect like des Esseintes and begins to change: “For these treasures and everything that he collected in his lovely house, were to be to him means of forgetfulness, modes by which he could escape, for a season, from the fear that seemed to him at times to be almost too great to be borne” (Dorian Gray 152). Des Esseintes on his end demonstrates this by his innate ability to travel to the ocean from his own bathtub (À rebours 102-103) but also his fictional trip to London. Des Esseintes describes it as “il se procurait ainsi, en ne bougeant point, les sensations rapides, Presque instantanées, d’un voyage au long cours, et ce plaisir du déplacement […]” (À rebours 101).

Both men reach a point of no return, des Esseintes ends up by removing himself “[…] de plus en plus, de la réalité et surtout du monde contemporain.” (À rebours 296) while Dorian begins to become intensely paranoid: “The next day he did not leave the house, and indeed, spent most of the time in his own room, sick with a wild terror of dying, and yet indifferent to life itself.” (Dorian Gray 146). What started as a decadent pleasure, a love for collecting, indulging in the ugly beauty of solitude, quickly becomes a nightmare from which the two main characters can not disentangle themselves.

MCR

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Twitter Role-Play: The Picture of Dorian Gray (Exercise #4)

This week, we’re having a little fun with our readings while engaging with The Picture of Dorian Gray in a playful, dramatic way: a PUBLIC ROLE -PLAY!

Please participate–IT’S EASY, AND ALL ARE WELCOME! 

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 26 … 10 days after Oscar Wilde’s birthday:

A DAY OF RECKONING FOR DORIAN GRAY

THE TASK: Pick a fictional character from Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray (or alternatively, from Huysmans’ Against Nature, or Rachilde’s Monsieur Vénus) and tweet a brief  statement (140 characters or less) addressed to Dorian Gray.   Give Dorian a piece of your mind!  Tell him what you think of him and his actions, lament or rejoice at his demise, assure him of your sympathy, flirt with him, insult him, adore him, ask him about his private doings, offer help, offer goods, give advice, heckle or praise, etc. etc., whatever tickles your fancy–tell Dorian what you’ve always wanted to tell him but never dared to say in public–until now! Your statement should sound pretty typical of your chosen character and include your character’s name at the beginning (examples below).

Possible fictional characters you might want to consider impersonating are

  • Lord Henry Wotton, Basil Hallward, Sibyl Vane, Alan Campbell, Hetty, Gladys, Lady Henry (from Dorian Gray)
  • Des Esseintes, a Jesuit priest, Miss Urania (from A rebours)
  • Raoule de Vénerande, Raittolbe, Jacques, Aunt Ermengarde, Marie Silvert (from Monsieur Vénus)
  • or any other character from these three novels you’d like to impersonate in order to “talk back” to Dorian

HOW TO PARTICIPATE:  Sign into twitter.com.  Compose one or as many tweets as you like to participate (maximum length 140 characters total, including spaces and punctuation).  Include the name of your chosen character at the start, and the hash tag #digwilde at the very end of your tweet (make sure you include a space before the #). Post your tweet any time on Friday, October 26, 2012.

As an alternative, if you are not a Twitter user:  your fictional character may leave Dorian a comment in the “Comments” section below, or send him an email at wildedecadents@gmail.com.

Be creative, be bold, be daring.  Snark, wit, and nostalgia are all welcome.  If you’re lucky, Dorian Gray will personally reply to you via our direct and personal line to the fictional and real dead, @wildedecadents!

Here a few practice tweets we already published last week (general statements by fictional characters in the novel), to get your creative juices flowing:

  • Basil: This is too much. Next time, I’m painting a landscape. #digwilde
  • Basil: If I am to truly appreciate my art, then I must not be left in a hansom cab, guys. #digwilde
  • Basil: The simpletons in this world have it the easiest. With nothing to look forward to, they’ll never be disappointed. #digwilde
  • James “Jim” Vane: Does anyone else not trust rich people?#99percent #digwilde
  • Lord H: If I didn’t exist, they would’ve had to invent me. #digwilde
  • Dorian Gray: Spent the longest time in the closet today: couldn’t decide what to wear for the Opera tonight. #digwilde

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Linking The Picture of Dorian Gray and Huysmans’ A rebours (Exercise #3)

TASK:

For this interpretive reading exercise, please pick one passage (one sentence or up to one paragraph long) from both Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray and from Huysmans’ A rebours (Against the Grain; Against Nature) that importantly links the two novels, in your opinion, for example with regard to common themes, characters, moods, ideas, style, plots points, etc.   Insert your passages below (indicate from which novel), and add a very brief explanation of the type of link you see.  

Public visitors to our blog are welcome to participate via the “Leave Comment” option below!

Page 156 of Dorian Gray :
“As for being poisoned by a book, there is no such thing as that. Art has no influence upon action. It annihilates the desire to act. It is superbly sterile. The books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world its own shame. That is all”
Page 65 of Against Nature :
” The reading of the Latin works he loved, works almost all composed by bishops and monks, had undoubtedly played a part in bringing on this crisis. Enveloped in a convent-like atmosphere that was scented with the heady, intoxicating perfume of incense, his nerves had become overwrought and, through associations of ideas, these books had, in the end, repressed the memories of his life as a young man, and brought back into the limelight these memories of his childhood years with the Jesuit Father.”

Explanation:  I find the juxtaposition of these two passages particularly interesting for two reasons. The first, is that both passages bring forth the question of the role of art : what is its impact ? What is its purpose? Is it that “beautiful things mean only Beauty” as Wilde put forth in the Preface of Dorian Gray, in certain respect foreshadowing the Parnassian ideal of “l’art pour l’art” (art for art’s sake). How do works of art influence those who witness or experience them, if at all?  This first point brings forth the second question which is implicit in both these passages, and that is the question of responsibility. Both Dorian Gray and Des Esseintes are quick to throw the blame for their less-than-ideal behavior and hedonism on the art they have allegedly been influenced by. But to what extent is this allegation fair? And, if it is, does this mean that art itself is the responsible party? We would need to accept a different definition and different connotations for the word “art”, where its representatives would no longer only be beautiful, but also potentially ugly and evil, as seems to be suggested by both of the novels (and by the decadent movement itself).

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Page 138 of À Rebours (Against Nature)

Des Esseintes étudiait, analysait l’âme de ces fluides, faisait l’exégèse de ces textes ; il se complaisait à jouer pour sa satisfaction personnelle, le rôle d’un psychologue, à démonter et à remonter les rouages d’une œuvre, à dévisser les pièces formant la structure d’une exhalaison composée […].” (201) / Des Esseintes studied an analysed the essence of these fluids, carried out an exegesis, so to speak, of their texts; he delighted in playing, for his own personal satisfaction, the role of a psychologist, taking apart and re-assembling the mechanism of a work, unscrewing the pieces that formed the structure of a compound perfume […].”

Ch. 11 of  The Picture of Dorian Gray

“And so [Dorian] would now study perfumes and the secrets of their manufacture, distilling heavily scented oils  and burning odorous gums from the East […] and seeking often to elaborate a real psychology of perfumes […] that are said to be able to expel melancholy from the soul.”

Explanation: The link in those two passages is quite obvious and pertain the idea according to which a certain form of art, in this case the art of creating complex perfumes, could cure the soul (as a ‘psychology’). In the chapter 11 of The Picture of Dorian Gray, Wilde draws on  this peculiar and yet mysterious representation of the Decadent aesthetic of the Fin de Siècle. This allegory of the art of mixing essences and composing perfumes is associated with the art of combining word, and meaning (alternatively through a ‘psychology’ or as ‘poetry’), that is to say, through something that is essentially intangible and spiritual.

– R.C.

The Picture of Dorian Gray, page 52 (Chapter 4):

“‘The only artists I have ever known, who are personally delightful, are bad artists. Good artists exist simply in what they make, and consequently are perfectly uninteresting in what they are. A great poet, a really great poet, is the most unpoetical of all creatures. But the inferior poets are absolutely fascinating. The worse their rhymes are, the more picturesque they look. The mere fact of having published a book of second-rate sonnets makes a man quite irresistible. he lives the poetry that he cannot write. The others write the poetry that they dare not realise.'” (Lord Henry)

A rebours, page 152 (Chapter 14):

“Des Esseintes, who, out of a loathing for the banal and the commonplace, would have welcomed the most laboured literary follies, the most flamboyant extravaganzas, passed many lighthearted hours with this book, in which the comic was intermingled with a chaotic energy, where single disconcerting lines would shine forth brilliantly from totally unintelligible poems like the litanies of his ‘Sommeil’, where at a certain point he described sleep as: ‘Obscène confesseur des dévotes mort-nées.'”

When I first read this passage from A rebours, I immediately thought of Lord Henry, and specifically of this interaction that he has with Dorian. On the surface, the two passages are quite different. One, that from A rebours, describes a specific work from a specific artist; the other discusses the nature of artists and their role in society in general. In both of these passages, however, what strikes me more than anything is the element of something beautiful shining through the “commonplace” murk. In the passage from The Picture of Dorian Gray, Lord Henry is drawing a distinction between life and art, and suggesting that one can excel only in one of these. In the case of the good artist, the artist’s work is the bright point in the rest of the artist’s boring life. In the case of the bad artist, the social interest that the artist exudes shines through the mediocrity of the person’s art. In the passage from A rebours, this is on a smaller scale. Des Esseintes contemplates poetry in which certain lines shine forth from the surrounding mediocrity. It is not the artist as a person that Des Esseintes is considering, but rather the artist’s work. In both cases, this reminds me of the nature of individuality and its importance in Decadent and other literary types, as in these passages there is something special about the subject (the person or the poem, respectively) that stands out. These passages also both remind me of the idea of pleasure for the moment. In the passage from The Picture of Dorian Gray, this moment is less temporal than conceptual, a moment of a person’s entire being rather than a moment of time. In A rebours, this moment can be temporal, in the space of time in which the poem is read, or spacial, if looking at the poem on a page and noting the phrases, or moments, that shine amongst the rest.

-M.P.

P. 165-166 of À rebours: “La verité c’est que je tâche simplement de préparer un assassin. Suis bien, en effet mon raisonnement. Ce garçon est vierge et a atteint l’âge où le sang bouillone […] il prendra l’habitude de ses jouissances que ses moyens lui interdisent. […] En poussant les choses à l’extrême, il tuera je l’espère […] alors mon but sera atteint, j’aurai contribué à créer un gredin, un ennemi de plus pour cette hideuse société qui nous rançonne. […] Fais aux autres ce que tu ne veux pas qu’ils te fassent; avec cette maxime tu iras loin.”

P. 135-136 of Dorian Gray: “As Dorian hurried up [the house’s] three rickety steps, the heavy odour of opium met him. He heaved a deep breath and his nostrils quivered with pleasure. When he entered, a young man with smooth yellow hair, who was bending over a lamp, lighting a long thin pipe, looked up at him, and nodded in a hesitating manner. ‘You here Adrian?’ muttered Dorian. ‘Where else should I be?’ he answered, listlessly. ‘None of the chaps will speak to me now.’ […] ‘I don’t care,’ he added with a sigh. ‘As long as one has this stuff, one doesn’t want friends. I think I have had too many friends.'”

Explanation:

In the above passages, we see two characters that both Dorian and des Esseintes have corrupted. Although each young man’s descent into darkness is different, both of the leading men knew what they were doing when they set out to do so (in one case the whore house, and in the other the opium den). Although the distortion of Adrian’s soul is less explicit, and less premeditated than the corruption of the 16 year old assassin, the end goal is one and the same. It must be said at this point, that Dorian has already been “poisoned” by Huysmans’s novel. Should we therefore associate his slandering of male youths as a result of his reading? When Basil enumerated the young men and women that have been negatively affected by Dorian’s decadent behavior, the reader is caught off guard. We know Dorian is slowly becoming a vile human being, but chapters have passed in which we know nothing of his behavior. All of a sudden the transformation is complete—Dorian is truly and totally changed by the yellow book, and our proof lies in Adrian’s filthy surroundings and addiction. Although he is an addict (as opposed to a killer), I see Adrian as the 16-year-old assassin a year or two after des Esseintes has met him, and therefore altered him.

MCR

From the Picture of Dorian Gray, page 159:

“[Dorian’s knife] would kill the past and when that was dead he would be free. It would kill this monstrous soul-life, and, without its hideous warnings, he would be at peace. He seized the thing, and stabbed the picture with it” (159).

From À rebours, page 180:

‘May you crumble into dust, society, old world, may you expire!’ claimed Des Esseintes, filled with indignation at the ignominious spectacle he was conjuring up, his protest shattering the nightmare that oppressed him…the soul sees nothing that upon reflection, it does not find distressing” (180).

Explanation: What stood out to me most here about these passages were the parallels in both word choice and meaning. In both passages, there are words used that connote strong or violent images; consider “kill”, “dead”, “monstrous soul-life”, and “hideous warnings” used in the Picture of Dorian Gray, along with “crumble into dust”, “ignominious spectacle”, “nightmare”, and “oppressed” in À rebours. This was clearly intentional, and it effectively reveals some of the more subtle feelings of the character at hand while at the same establishing a more somber mood. In addition, both passages mention destruction of the past, or of old society, which I thought was an important theme of both texts. Finally, the last sentence of the passage from À rebours– “the soul sees nothing that upon reflection, it does not find distressing” seemed to me something that could have absolutely been placed in the Picture of Dorian Gray. The double negative here makes it a bit hard to understand, but it seemed to be saying something like “when the soul reflects itself, it does not like what it sees”—which is perhaps one of the most important themes in Dorian Gray, therefore drawing further parallels between the two texts. -MG

From Against Nature, p. 18-19:

“The imagination could easily compensate for the vulgar reality of actual experience. In his view, it was possible to fulfill those desires reputed to be the most difficult to satisfy in normal life, by means of a trifling subterfuge, an approximate simulation of the object of those very desires.”

From the Picture of Dorian Gray, Ch. 11:

“And, certainly to him Life itself was the first, the greatest of the arts, and for it all the other arts seemed to be but a preparation.”

Explanation: Putting these two quotes in juxtaposition reveals a fundamental difference between Dorian Gray and Des Esseintes’ characters. While Des Esseintes scorns the real and buries himself within the artificial, Dorian actively pursues the real life experience. This dissonance of attitude toward the real reveals something of both men’s idea about art. For Des Esseintes, it is the artificial, above all, that holds artistic value. Its feat of simulating the real so well and so sufficiently makes it praiseworthy in its own right, especially since it is a direct product of human genius. There is also some sense that valuing the artificial above all has some utilitarian value: if the artificial is a sufficient replacement for the real, he need not bother with the real world that wearies and annoys him so much. Dorian, on the other hand, relishes the life experience as the ultimate form of art. This is a stark contrast from Des Esseintes’ subjugation of such experience to the higher ideal of artifice. By reversing this hierarchy and placing experience above all artifice – or perhaps exalting experience as the ultimate form of artifice – Dorian locates the most artistic value in the lived life. He roams the city while Des Esseintes shuts himself away; he is drawn to and fascinated by people whereas Des Esseintes spurns them. Whether the differences between the two can be put down merely to a difference in disposition – one is socially charismatic while the other is a misanthropic recluse – or a more fundamental difference their opinion of art is not clear. Given, however, that Dorian takes his inspiration from Des Esseintes, the contrast is interesting. -A.A.

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*** From Huysmans (beginning of Chapter VIII – third paragraph) : “He liked to compare a horticulturist’s shop to a microcosm in which all categories of society were represented: the flowers that are poor and coarse, the flowers of the slum, which are not truly at home unless reposing in a garret window-sill, their roots jammed into a milk bottle or an old pot, the sunflower for example; the pretentious, conformist, stupid flowers, like the rose, which belong exclusively in porcelain holders painted by young girls; finally the flowers of high lineage such as orchids, delicate and charming and quiveringly sensitive to cold, exotic flowers exiled in Paris to the warmth of glass palaces, princesses of the vegetable kingdom, living a segregated life, having no long anything in common with the plants of the street or the flora of the middle classes.”

*** From Wilde (toward the end of Chapter XI – sixth-to-last paragraph) : “Yet these whispered scandals only increased in the eyes of many his strange and dangerous charm. His great wealth was a certain element of security. Society — civilized society, at least — is never very ready to believe anything to the detriment of those who are both rich and fascinating. It feels instinctively that manners are of more importance than morals, and, in its opinion, the highest respectability is of much less value than the possession of a good chef. And, after all, it is a very poor consolation to be told that the man who has given one a bad dinner, or poor wine, is irreproachable in his private life. Even the cardinal virtues cannot atone for half-cold entrees, as Lord Henry remarked once, in a discussion on the subject, and there is possibly a good deal to be said for his view. For the canons of good society are, or should be, the same as the canons of art. Form is absolutely essential to it. It should have the dignity of a ceremony, as well as its unreality, and should combine the insincere character of a romantic play with the wit and beauty that make such plays delightful to us. Is insincerity such a terrible thing? I think not. It is merely a method by which we can multiply our personalities.”

*** Explanation – The first passage that drew my attention was the one from Huysmans’ novel, to which attention was brought during our class on Monday. My impression of the passage was that it was a perfect little dig at the expense of the realist/naturalist strain of fiction against which Huysmans was ostensibly reacting. The notion of the “microcosm” was what inspired this impression of mine; one thinks of the famous opening of Balzac’s “Père Goriot,” for example, and manner in which the reader is introduced to the characters through the architectonics of the Maison Vauquer. Moreover, the manner in which the flowers are described in terms of their living conditions, ones that are “ideal” or “less-than-ideal” depending upon what essential properties the organisms possess and what sorts of circumstances are required for those properties to fulfill their potentiality, for the organism to become what it is, so to speak, makes one think of the positivist outlook and broadly deterministic picture of social relations novels like Zola’s seem to evince. More properly to Huysmans’ novel, however, the passage underlines themes we’ve certainly discussed in class, perhaps foremost the delight in artificiality that is palpable throughout. However, in light of the novel’s preoccupations with the proper order of society, to which I suspect more credit is due than the one we’ve given it, this delight in artificiality would seem to consist in a celebration of humankind’s capacity to create a kind of “second nature” for itself (as evidenced by those flowers — exotic princesses — who, despite being utterly wrested from their proper place, nonetheless retain their sense of distinction and superiority in an otherwise alien environment to which they do not actually have claims to authority). Having hopefully made clear and plausible what I find interesting in this passage, though more could be said, I will now say something about Wilde’s passage, which I take to be expressing something of consonance. In his typically tart fashion, Wilde ascribes to Dorian (who cites Lord Henry approvingly in explicating his view) the thought that, in his case, appearances are what count, to put it simplistically. That is, to say the same thing in a relatively more complicated way, Wilde gives voice to what might be called a perversion of a broadly Hume-inspired picture of moral evaluation wherein reason is muted and impression-based sentiments get the upper-hand. It is thus, presumably, that seemingly superficial (and, for most of us, morally irrelevant) factors such as one’s dinner etiquette come to matter more than deeper (and, for most of us, morally relevant) factors such as how one comports oneself in morally loaded scenarios. The remarks that ensue having to do with how essential “form” is, how the canons of society are (or should be) the canons of art, how life should have the “dignity” and “unreality” of “ceremony,” and how it should have the insincerity of worthwhile plays, an insincerity that engenders a multifaceted (literally, “many-faced”) eruption of identity, all seem (to me, anyway) to strike several notes regarding artificiality in a way similar to the Huysmans passage I described above. Here, too, a kind of “second nature” (a “second moral nature,” to be precise) seems to be celebrated, though perhaps with a greater ambivalence or irony than in Huysmans. Nonetheless, both passages similarly express the sense in which the covering-over or doubling of “nature” (as some sort of foundational state of affairs) is a distinctly human activity, one from which it is unlikely to extricate itself. – DJM

From The Picture of Dorian Gray:

“Campbell buried his face in his hands, and a shudder passed through him.

‘Yes, it is my turn to dictate terms, Alan. You know what they are. The thing is quite simple. Come, don’t work yourself into this fever. The thing has to be done. Face it, and do it.'” (125)

From Against Nature:

“‘To take an extreme case, Auguste will– I hope– kill the man who turns up at the wrong moment while the lad’s trying to break into his desk; in that event I’ll have achieved my purpose, I’ll have contributed, as far as lies within my power, to create a scoundrel, one more enemy of this hideous society which is holding us to ransom.'” (60)

Explanation: Both of these scenes reveal the manipulative nature of the protagonists. Dorian uses blackmail to convince Campbell to conceal Basil’s murder. Des Esseintes purposefully manipulates a young, lower-class boy into a life of crime and perhaps murder. In addition to the negative Bildungsroman aspect of Dorian Gray (the novel and character), both of these instances can be seen as a degeneration of two males subservient to Dorian and Des Esseintes, who belong to the upper classes of society. – KJO

From The Picture of Dorian Gray:
(Pg 122-3) In a few moments Alan Campbell walked in, looking very stern and rather pale, his pallor being intensified by his coal-black hair and dark eyebrows…He spoke with slow deliberation. There was a look of contempt in the steady searching gaze that he turned on Dorian. He kept his hands in the pockets of his Astrakhan coat, and seemed not to have noticed the gesture with which he had been greeted.
From Against Nature:
(Pg 90) Des Esseintes examined him…He looked as if he should be in school, and was wretchedly dressed in a little cheviot jacket too tight round the hips…His face was disquieting; pale and drawn, with quite regular features under long black hair, it was lit up by great liquid eyes their blue-shadowed lids close toa nose stippled in gold by a few freckles; the mouth that opened beneath, though small, was bordered by thick lips divided down the centre with a groove, like a cherry. Face to face, they stared at one another for a moment, then the young man lowered his eyes and came nearer…[Des Esseintes] slowed his pace as he thoughtfully considered the young man’s mincing walk.
Explanation:
There is nothing really extraordinary about the two passages that I have chosen to compare, as the ones that I specifically had in mind earlier have already been discussed. But these in particular struck me as being significant because they bear witness to the encounter between the respective protagonist of each novel and their (former) lover. It is probably mere chance, but both Alan Campbell and the unnamed boy-lover that Des Esseintes takes on are described as pale, serious-faced young men, with black hair and a nervous, almost surly attitude. The in-depth characterization of these characters’ appearances, demeanor, and dress (in addition to the detailed description allotted to Jacques in Monsieur Vénus) may lead one to speculate that there may have been certain physical stereotypes that were identified with the gay sub-culture–just as we have clichés and stereotypes today, there may have been pre-conceived notions of how gay men and women dress and look, which Wilde and Huysmans invoke in their novels. -LH

From Against Nature, “Preface Written 20 Years After the Novel” 

“The truth is that Pride would have been the most splendid of sins to study, in its diabolical ramifications of cruelty towards others and of false humility, that Gluttony, dragging in its wake Lust, Sloth, and Covetousness, would have provided material for astonishing investigations, if these sins had been scrutinized by a Believer…” (pg 184)

From The Picture of Dorian Gray, Chapter 12

“‘…Come, I tell you. You have chattered enough about corruption. Now you shall look on it face to face.’ There was the madness of pride in every word he uttered. He stamped his foot upon the ground in his boyish insolent manner. He felt a terrible joy at the thought that someone else was to share his secret, and that the man who had painted the portrait that was the origin of all his shame was to be burdened for the rest of his life with the hideous memory of what he had done. ‘Yes,’ he continued, coming closer to him, and looking steadfastly into his stern eyes, ‘I shall show you my soul. You shall see the thing that you fancy only God can see.'” (pg 113-114)

Explanation: If it were historically possible, I would believe that Wilde wrote Picture as an answer to Huysmans’ challenge. I hadn’t thought of him this way before, but Dorian is perhaps one of the most obvious examples in all of literature of an investigation of the diabolical ramifications of pride. The first change to the portrait is the “touch of cruelty around the mouth” (74) from his appalling treatment of Sibyl Vane. Right before Dorian murders him, Basil tells him that his “prayer of pride” (115) had been answered. He is driven to stab the portrait at least in part by his proud refusal to confess his sins. Despite the corruption of the painting, this is no sensationalist piece with shocking tales of lust and gluttony littering every chapter; Dorian’s (mis)adventures are only implied and left to the reader’s imagination. By pushing Dorian’s other vices and excesses into the background, Wilde brings only Dorian’s pride into focus. And it is a masterful study. –LN

“I was putting into practice the layman’s parable, the allegory of universal education which aims at nothing less than transforming all men into Langloises, by – instead of permanently and mercifully putting out the eyes of the poor – by striving to force them to open their eyes wide, so that they may notice that some of their neighbours have destinies that are quite undeservedly more merciful, and enjoy pleasures that are keener and more multi-faceted and, consequently, more desirable and more precious … the fact is that since pain is an effect of education, since it deepens and sharpens in proportion as ideas spring up, the more one tries to polish the intelligence and to refine the nervous system of those poor devils, the more one will develop in them those fiercely long-lasting seeds of moral suffering and of hatred” (Huysman, 61).

“He was a marvelous type, too, this lad, whom by so curious a chance he had met in Basil’s studio; or could be fashioned into a marvelous type, at any rate … There was nothing that one could not do with him. He could be made a Titan or a toy … Yes; he would try to be to Dorian Gray what, without knowing it, the lad was to the painter who had fashioned the wonderful portrait. He would seek to dominate him – had already, indeed, half done so. He would make that wonderful spirit his own. There was something fascinating in this son of Love and Death.” (Wilde, 40).

Explanation: I think both Des Esseintes and Lord Henry bear an interest in “fashioning” others into what they would like. I’m curious as to whether or not Wilde thinks this exerting of influence and molding of others is inherently bad, as Des Esseintes seems to portray education. As a result, I put these two passages in juxtaposition but would also like to consider the overall trajectory of The Picture of Dorian Gray: after all, Dorian does decay after coming into contact with Lord Henry.

– E.R.

“the leaves were set with the stones of an intense, unequivocal green:  with asparagus-green chrysoberyls; with leek-green peridots; with olive-green olivines; and they stood out against the branches made of purplish-red almandine and ouvarovite, sparkling with a dry brilliance like those flakes of scale that shine on the inside of wine-casks,” (Huysmans, 37).

“He would often spend a whole day settling and resettling in their cases the various stones that he had collected, such as the olive-green chrysoberyl that turns red by lamp light, the cymophane with its wire-like line of silver, the pistachio-coloured peridot, rose-pink and wine-yellow topazes, carbuncles of fiery scarlet…” (Wilde, 102).

IPN

“After dissociating himself from contemporary life he had resolved to introduce into his retreat no larvae of aversions or regrets; he had therefore wanted paintings that were subtle, exquisite, steeped in an ancient vision, in an antique corruption, remote from our ways, remote from our time.” – Against Nature, p. 44

“Eternal youth, infinite passion, pleasures subtle and secret, wild joys and wilder sins – he was to have all these things.  The portrait was to bear the burden of his shame: that was all.” – The Picture of Dorian Gray, p. 84

Both Des Esseintes and Dorian Gray seek to escape from responsibility, shame and regret.  Des Esseintes does so by removing himself from the corruption “contemporary life,” and Dorian does so by allowing his portrait to carry his corruption.  Both men create an unreal world for themselves.  Des Esseintes is steeped in his dreams of antiquity, surrounded by images that suite his world, and Dorian plans a life of “eternal youth” and unchecked pleasure.  Neither wants to deal with the consequences of society, neither wants to bother with “regrets” or “shame,” and both want to live in a self-fashioned world. -YG

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“…go straight home…and keep in mind this quasi-biblical saying: ‘Do unto others as you would not have them do unto you”… A Rebours, p. 60

“There were moments when he looked on evil simply as a mode through which he could realize his conception of the beautiful.” The Picture of Dorian Gray, p. 109

These quotations suggest the subversion of traditional morality for the sake of aesthetics. In the first example, Des Esseintes urges Auguste to take up a life of crime, which Des Esseintes  hopes will escalate to murder. Des Esseintes corrupts the Golden Rule to coerce Auguste, and this inversion reveals much about Des Esseintes’s ideology. There is something prideful in his purposeful misrepresentation. In the same way, Dorian believes that the ultimate goal is Beauty, whether it is morally questionable—even “evil”—or not.  Alcibiades.

A rebours- The entirety of Chapter 10, but specifically the section which reads, ‘I’m going to have to very wary of these delicious, detestable activities which utterly drain me,’ (Pg. 101) and the entirety of the enveloping scents of  the French fragrances of ‘jasmine, hawthorn and verbena,’ among others.

The Picture of Dorian Gray- Pg. 100- ‘in his search for sensations that that would at once be new and beautiful, and possess that element of strangeness that is so essential to romance, he would often adopt certain modes of thought that he knew to be really alien to his nature, abandon himself to their subtle influences, and, then, having, as it were, caught their colour and satisfied his intellectual curiosity,’

A common theme running through both these novels is the idea that one can be enveloped or engrossed by art, to the point that it leads to a breakdown, either physical or mental. This is best encapsulated by the collapse of Des Esseintes in A Rebours and the obsession that Dorian develops with protecting his own personal ‘art.’ Both these sections make similar use of a rhythmic repetition that almost approaches tonal banality, thereby mimicking the enveloping nature of the fragrances and arts that entrap the souls of the two protagonists. While A Rebours contains a 5-page section purely focused on the various perfumes that Des Esseintes ingests, it is important to note that Dorian’s major  ruminations on arts, literature and fashion only come after he has read the ‘little yellow book’ that represents Huysmans’ masterpiece. Here, in a more microcosmic sense, Huysmans’ book itself is revealed to have profoundly affected Dorian’s spirit and rendered his fascination with transcending human impermanence. Therefore, it follows that we see in the two novels a shared belief in art’s inherent power and its ability to exert a powerful hysteria- note that Des Esseintes’ fainting spell would have been considered as traditionally feminine- upon men who should know better- note once again how much is made of the two characters’ education. Art as obsession is the key theme that binds these two novels.- DF

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Lord Henry’s Role

Lord Henry’s character is very interesting in The Picture of Dorian Gray because he is ultimately the only major character that remains alive at the end of the story. Seeing the developments of the characters throughout the story, he is the only character who manages to not become overly obsessive. Dorian with his beauty, Basil with Dorian, Sibyl to Dorian, and James Vane with Dorian’s death are all obsessive tendencies where their lives are dependent on something else. Strangely enough, everything ties back to Dorian who is formed into the self-destructive person by Lord Henry.  As a result, one cannot help but think of him as a villainous character. However, Lord Henry is never presented in a negative manner. He is clever, charming, and eloquent.

One can argue that he represents the devil, drawing a parallel to Faust by his beguiling manner. His first interactions with Dorian prove to bring about positive benefits for Dorian and those around him—Basil completes his portrait of Dorian, Dorian feels reinvigorated and curious, and Sibyl even finds herself mutually in love with Dorian. It is later when Dorian becomes too engrossed in his own beauty that every one of these characters ends up dead.

Furthermore, there is a manner in which he seems to be many steps ahead of the other characters. He emphasizes very heavily the importance of individuality stating, “’To be good is to be in harmony with one’s self,’ he replied, touching the thin stem of his glass with his pale, fine-pointed fingers. ‘Discord is to be forced to be in harmony with others. One’s own life—that is the important thing.’” He is almost warning Dorian not to be influenced by him, making Dorian’s death even more tragic. This combined with undertones of gothic representations of death in “pale, fine-pointed fingers” makes it very clear that Lord Henry is far more contemplative and conniving than he is depicted.

-HJ

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Filed under Week 5 Reviews: The Picture of Dorian Gray and Against Nature