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Über den Atlantik schauen und zurück ins Paris von 1899

2022-07-20 01:41

Liebe Leserschaft meines Blogs,

während in Ostfriesland eher tropische Nächte als Hundstage Schlaflosigkeit verursachen und uns für jeden Geschmack viel zu früh erwachen lassen, ist es der frühe Vogel, der sich an Bildern labt, die Oscar Wildes Ausflug in die Pariser Umgebung in den damaligen Kontext stellen. John Cooper hat in seinem letzten Blog eben 14 Ansichtskarten hochgeladen, deren Inhalt mich daran denken ließ, wie das Individuum Wilde uns wahrzunehmen erlaubt, was bereits für alle auf dem Spiele stand...

At long last: How Oscar Wilde and the "Jewish Question" are related by reading "The Picture of Dorian Gray"

2022-07-01 09:29

Dear readers of my blog,

this is only to whet your appetite for what is coming soon. Things have accumulated in the past few weeks, so I need some days to write up what my most recent readings on "poisoned thinking", "poisoned language" and the "poisoned book" from "The Picture of Dorian Gray" amount to.

All best wishes,

Jörg W. Rademacher

Endlich: Wie Oscar Wilde und die "Judenfrage" verbunden sind beim Lesen von "Das Bildnis des Dorian Gray"

2022-07-01 09:27

Liebe Leser meines Blogs,

hiermit möchte ich nur Interesse an dem wecken, das bald kommt. In den letzten hat sich vieles gefügt, also brauche ich ein paar Tage, um aufzuschreiben, was meine Leseaktivität zu "vergiftetem Denken", "vergifteter Sprache" und dem "vergifteten Buch" aus "Das Bildnis des Dorian Gray" ergeben hat.

Allerbeste Grüße,

Jörg W. Rademacher

Wildes Hauptwerk

Alles über
"Das Bildnis des Dorian Gray"

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Über mich

Jörg W. Rademacher (*1962), born and bred in Westphalia. Attended university at Münster, Dundee and Lille. State exam in 1988. Ph.D. In 1993. Scholar, language teacher as well as writer and translator at Münster until 2002. Since 2002 secondary school teacher, writer and translator in East Frisia. Working on Wilde since 1988. Publishing on Wilde since 2000 as biographer and editor and translator, on a regular basis with Elsinor Verlag since 2012, since 2015 also editor and translator of Oscar Wilde calendars.

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January

Willie Wilde
Salome

The sight of me was as a devouring flame
Burning their hearts with fire, so wantonly
That night I danced for all his men to see !
Fearless and reckless; for all maiden shame
Strange passion-poisons throbbing overcame
As every eye was riveted on me,
And every soul was mine, mine utterly, –
And thrice each throat cried out aloud my name !

“Ask what thou wilt,” black-bearded Herod said,
God wot a weird thing do I crave for prize :
“Give me, I pray thee, presently the head
Of John the Baptist.” ’Twixt my hand it lies.
“Ah mother ! see ! the lips, the half-closed eyes –
Dost think he hates us still now he is dead ?”

Once more, William Wilde’s sonnet “Salome” is there to start the New Year. The image of the head is shocking, it is true, but then facing the reality of a New Year may be shocking again and again.

February

Egon Günther
white morning

(erich mühsam in memoriam)

early on madness wakes from his dream
and shaking stretches long
his limbs when outside wildly rages the stream
drowning out the birds’ songs

close-by stands the fiend
high rises the flood
the guard presses on
roughly into the latrines
far from any friend
depressed is his mood
prepared for war
are only the machines

the white murder undermines
the crumbling dam
that hardly holds in check the hateful pack
many a one in his heart
now feels cold & clammy
deeming himself already the scum’s rich picking
just under the veneer of civilization
wrongfulness – vulgar & naked beast that be –
brashly baring his teeth & also showing his face
the drummer of the nation
conjuring baneful times to be
the press spitting slander across time & space

the murdered’s regards from the grave
are not for you – the murderers
you who with barbarous affectation gave
more support to the law of might
that you ruled to be right:

the tradition of master & slaves
withal the arbitrariness of ancient privilege
you are no adversaries earning his respect
all but despicable torturer knaves
even though arrogantly to subject
you strove the world to your tyranny

in his grave he can but scoff at you
and should you win the world even
with fraud & might & steel
your dream of the master race ne’er comes true
as will prove future’s reel

The poem “white morning” by the German poet, painter, writer, and translator Egon Günther had to be omitted from last year’s edition for lack of space. Like Oscar Wilde, the German Jewish socialist Erich Mühsam (1878-1934) endured much before he was even killed in prison for his convictions.

March

Oscar Wilde
By the Arno

The oleander on the wall
Grows crimson in the dawning light,
Though the grey shadows of the night
Lie yet on Florence like a pall.

The dew is bright upon the hill,
And bright the blossoms overhead,
But oh ! the grasshoppers have fled,
The little Attic song is still.

Only the leaves are gently stirred.
By the soft breathing of the gale
And in the almond-scented vale
The lonely nightingale is heard.

The day will make thee silent soon,
O nightingale sing on for love !
While yet upon the shadowy grove
Splinter the arrows of the moon.

Before across the silent lawn
In sea-green vest the morning steals,
And to love’s frightened eyes reveals
The long white fingers of the dawn

Fast climbing up the eastern sky
To grasp and slay the shuddering night,
All careless of my heart’s delight,
Or if the nightingale should die.

Poems by Wilde such as “By the Arno.” (March), “From Spring Days to Winter (for Music.)” (April), “San Miniato.” (May), “At Verona.” (June), and “Italia.” (July) record each specific moments in more or less clearly defined places. “By the Arno” has an explicitly Florence setting, breathing a romantic atmosphere redolent not only of Tuscany but of an Oxford college lawn at the dawn of day, also alluding to John Keats.

April

Oscar Wilde
From Spring Days to Winter

(for Music.)

In the glad spring when leaves are green,
O merrily the throstle sings !
I sought, amid the tangled sheen,
Love whom mine eyes had never seen,
O the glad dove has golden wings !

Between the blossoms red and white,
O merrily the throstle sings !
My love first came into my sight,
O perfect vision of delight,
O the glad dove has golden wings !

The yellow apples glowed like fire.
O merrily the throstle sings !
O Love too great for lip or lyre,
Blown rose of love and of desire,
O the glad dove has golden wings !

But now with snow the tree is grey
Ah, sadly now the throstle sings !
My love is dead ; ah ! well-a-day,
See at her silent feet I lay
A dove with broken wings !

Ah, Love ! ah, Love ! that thou wert slain –
Fond Dove, fond Dove return again.

“From Spring Days to Winter (for Music.)” contains the elements of the Italian tricolour, so that it might also be set in Italy whereas the poem in general still reflects a romantic view of the seasons.

May

Oscar Wilde
San Miniato

See, I have climbed the mountain side
Up to this holy house of God,
Where once that Angel-Painter trod
Who saw the heavens opened wide,

And throned upon the crescent moon
The Virginal white Queen of Grace, –
Mary ! could I but see thy face
Death could not come at all too soon.

O crowned by God with thorns and pain !
Mother of Christ ! O mystic wife !
My heart is weary of this life
And over-sad to sing again.

O crowned by God with love and flame !
O crowned by Christ the Holy One !
O listen ere the searching sun
Show to the world my sin and shame !

Likewise “San Miniato” (al Monte) takes you on an imagined or real tour to a church located on the hills beyond the Arno while also referring to the history of art and religion.

Oscar Wilde Blog

by Jörg W. Rademacher