Classics and the Western Canon discussion
Interim Readings
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Oscar Wilde: The Portrait of Mr. W. H.
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And, of course, in addition to the story and any comments on critical analysis, there are some delightful Wilde zingers embedded in it which are worth finding and making a note of.Such as, for starters:
It is always a silly thing to give advice, but to give good advice is absolutely fatal. I hope you will never fall into that error. If you do, you will be sorry for it.
Wow. I see 21 views, and no follow up posts.Was this book intimidating somehow?
I thought it was great. I had never read it before, but it was a bit like the dialogues in Intentions, "The Decay of Lying" and "The Critic as Artist,"-
And I was always under the impression that it was an essay, not a story, but I was wrong.
And Oscar Wilde, so light and yet so profound. Half Nietzsche, half P. G. Wodehouse.
At least, I highlighted this because it had the "tone" of Wodehouse, I thought:
‘It was a wonderful evening, and we sat up almost till dawn reading and re-reading the Sonnets. After some time, however, I began to see that before the theory could be placed before the world in a really perfected form, it was necessary to get some independent evidence about the existence of this young actor, Willie Hughes. If this could be once established, there could be no possible doubt about his identity with Mr. W. H.; but otherwise the theory would fall to the ground. I put this forward very strongly to Cyril, who was a good deal annoyed at what he called my Philistine tone of mind, and indeed was rather bitter upon the subject.
(maybe that last sentence ISN'T an arch joke, but I thought it was funny)
So at the end Erskine writes that he is going to die by his own hand, but it turns out he died of consumption. What's up with that?
Erskine had known for months he was dying when he sent the letter to the narrator in which he declared his intention to commit suicide, i.e. to replicate Cyril’s grand gesture, to “die for a literary theory.” But that turned out to be as false as Cyril’s manufactured evidence with the painting. Wilde is debunking the “grand gesture” here.He also takes a jab at literary critics and literary criticism, specifically the volumes that have been written about Shakespeare and the volumes about the identity of W.H.
Wilde loved to debunk anything to do with the establishment. I think what he may be doing in this story is showing literary critics how ludicrous some of their theories can be and the extreme measures they take to convince others.
Cyril manufactures evidence; the narrator initially embraces the theory of WH's identity with gusto and for no apparent reason. He researches the subject and then rejects the theory. Erskine moves in the opposite direction based on the narrator's research. They flip flop.
Wilde proposes that literary criticism is an arbitrary activity—that critics sometimes approach a work with a theory, distort the text to adhere to their preconceived notions, and go to extreme measures to convince others. What he describes is not good literary criticism but literary criticism gone awry.
As was his habit, Wilde exaggerates wildly.
Perhaps there were two "forged" suicides?
Also, I think it goes a little deeper than "literary criticism," and the Willy Hews debate becomes a fable on faith and religion. Maybe this is in the passing shadow of Hume "On Miracles."
But yes, a mere summary of the 19th C. theories of the sonnets is enough to make them all seem slightly ludicrous:
Nor would he allow for a moment that the Sonnets are mere satires on the work of Drayton and John Davies of Hereford. To him, as indeed to me, they were poems of serious and tragic import, wrung out of the bitterness of Shakespeare’s heart, and made sweet by the honey of his lips. Still less would he admit that they were merely a philosophical allegory, and that in them Shakespeare is addressing his Ideal Self, or Ideal Manhood, or the Spirit of Beauty, or the Reason, or the Divine Logos, or the Catholic Church. He felt, as indeed I think we all must feel, that the Sonnets are addressed to an individual,—to a particular young man whose personality for some reason seems to have filled the soul of Shakespeare with terrible joy and no less terrible despair.
(perhaps there are some "straw men" here?)
David wrote: "Perhaps there were two "forged" suicides?"it's possible, but there's really nothing in the text to support that since Cyril shot himself with a revolver. He left a suicide note. Erskine did the same--although his was fake.
Christopher wrote: "Maybe this is in the passing shadow of Hume"It does demonstrate a fallibility and a weakness of deductive reasoning by showing confirmation bias filters the facts to fit a favored assumption.
Could we say, at least according to this story, that the first casualty of art, or art critics, is truth?
Tamara wrote: "David wrote: "Perhaps there were two "forged" suicides?"it's possible, but there's really nothing in the text to support that since Cyril shot himself with a revolver. He left a suicide note. Ers..."
As for bringing the whole thing before the world - the world thinks that Cyril Graham shot himself by accident. The only proof of his suicide was contained in the letter to me, and of this letter the public never heard anything. To the present day Lord Crediton thinks that the whole thing was accidental.'The above passage and the fact that we know Erskine's suicide note was false and purposefully misleading suggested to me the possibility that Cyril's suicide note may have also been false and purposely misleading. That is my hypothesis, but I won't kill myself trying to prove it. :)
David wrote: "Could we say, at least according to this story, that the first casualty of art, or art critics, is truth?Oscar Wilde: "Truth is what's left over when you run out of lies."
David wrote: "That is my hypothesis, but I won't kill myself trying to prove it. :) "No need for such drastic measures to prove your hypothesis. It's credible.
The only problem is that it's a bit of a stretch.
Cyril just happens to shoot himself accidentally after he writes his suicide note. It seems a bit too coincidental. But I guess it's possible.
Wilde seems to play with the Victorian conceptions of honor.Does he honor his friend by publishing his edition of the Sonnets, or does he honor him by not revealing that his death was suicide?
And was it "martyrdom"? Was it shame at having forged evidence that made him commit suicide?
It is very funny that once the narrator converts his friend with his letter, he himself feels disburdened and becomes (wait for it) a skeptic.
Christopher wrote: "Wilde seems to play with the Victorian conceptions of honor...."I think that's very possible. He debunked Victorian morals, their code of honor, just about everything they stood for. He seems to be holding honor up for ridicule. It's as if he is suggesting honor cannot be that "honorable" if someone is willing to die just to prove his literary theory. He strips honor of its dignity.
Why would Erskine write a fake suicide note that would so easily be revealed as such? Maybe the note was sincere, but he lost his nerve?
Tamara wrote: "What he describes is not good literary criticism but literary criticism gone awry. ..."To pick up where we left off on the subject of literary criticism, I have a question here: Cyril and the narrator supported their theory with plenty of text. Why do you say it is not good?
Nemo wrote: "Cyril and the narrator supported their theory with plenty of text. Why do you say it is not good?"Well, it's a theory built on extremely shaky foundations - the undoubted punning on Will/will/willie (the latter is English childish slang for penis) is far more likely to be a playful reference to Shakespeare's own first name - this playing on the slippage between author and fictional narrator is a characteristic of Renaissance sonnet sequences e.g. Philip Sidney giving his narrator, Astrophil, some of his own biographical details even though Astrophil is not him.
That Cyril forges the portrait to 'prove' his theory is not just fraudulent but also is an attempt to close down all other interpretations of the sonnets and 'fix' them to a single meaning, something which goes against the fundamental nature of reading as interpretation.
What Wilde seems to be drawing attention to in this very clever, witty little story is the personal investment of Cyril's reading which duplicates the close, homoerotic attachment between him and Erskine. In order to fit his theory, he suppresses or ignores the later 'Dark Lady' sonnets. And it really doesn't make sense that a boy-actor whose trade depends on him being beardless and having an unbroken voice (13? 14?) should be being encouraged to marry and procreate as he is in the opening section of the sonnets.
Great story - thanks, Everyman!
Nemo wrote: "Tamara wrote: "What he describes is not good literary criticism but literary criticism gone awry. ..."To pick up where we left off on the subject of literary criticism, I have a question here: Cy..."
I’m delighted to see I’m not the only one who is predictable. As soon as I sent that message, I knew Nemo will jump all over it.
I offer two of many examples of poor literary criticism/flimsy evidence:
"Every alien pen has got my use
And under thee their poesy disperse,"
the play upon words (use Hughes) being of course obvious,
It is far from “obvious” that “use” is a play on “Hughes.”
. . . the surname was, according to him, hidden in the eighth line of the 20th Sonnet, where Mr. W. H. is described as--
"A man in hew, all Hews in his controwling."
I have an edition of the Norton facsimile of Shakespeare’s First Folio. It was the textbook we were required to use in our graduate seminar on Shakespeare. It’s challenging to read until you get accustomed to it. The spelling and capitalization are irregular by modern standards. Words are spelled differently. “S” looks like “F” and vice versa, for example. And letters are capitalized in the middle of a sentence for no apparent reason.
What he reads as “w” is actually “u” so the word is “hue” not “hews.”
A link to an image of the first folio.
https://www.google.com/search?hl=en&a...
Roman Clodia wrote: "Nemo wrote: "Cyril and the narrator supported their theory with plenty of text. Why do you say it is not good?"Well, it's a theory built on extremely shaky foundations - the undoubted punning on ..."
Great post, Roman!
Roman Clodia wrote: "Nemo wrote: "Cyril and the narrator supported their theory with plenty of text. Why do you say it is not good?"Well, it's a theory built on extremely shaky foundations - the undoubted punning on ..."
I agree that inferring the name of the actor from the text is a bit of a stretch, but what is said about the relationship between the actor and the art of the playwright is fascinating. The narrator's explanation that the exhortation to marriage and procreation in the opening section is to be understood metaphorically also sounds plausible to me. These are the points I like to see you and Tamara address as literary critics.
Cyril's forgery takes nothing away from the textual analysis that is done, and shouldn't be used against it, I think.
Tamara wrote: "..I.’m delighted to see I’m not the only one who is predictable. As soon as I sent that message, I knew Nemo will jump all over it..."To paraphrase Plato, predictability is a sign of intelligence. :)
Nemo wrote: "Cyril's forgery takes nothing away from the textual analysis that is done, and shouldn't be used against it, I think. "I found this a very intriguing statement.
If we treat the claim that Willie Hughes is Mr. W.H. as a meme then it should be clear it is not to be valued as a true matter of fact, but possibly valued as used by Mr. Wilde for some entertainment or as a morally instructive bad example.
But should we hold any forgeries that supports the truth of a false meme against the false meme itself? I suggest that it may be a matter of timing. There may come a time when those forgeries told in support of the truth of the false meme become not only other false memes themselves but become the foundation on which the false meme cannot be believed, by normally reasonable people, without. It seems to me when this point is reached and the false meme cannot continue to exist without the lies that support it that the lies may then be held against the false meme itself for continuing the false meme's existence perceived as a true one.
Nemo wrote: "but what is said about the relationship between the actor and the art of the playwright is fascinating.... These are the points I like to see you and Tamara address as literary critics."Well yes, but to go back to Tamara's point about flimsy evidence, Cyril's theory is based on huge leaps to make connections that can't be substantiated either by the sonnet texts or theatrical evidence. For example, he says:
'the art of which S speaks talks in the Sonnets is not the art of the sonnets themselves, which indeed were to him but slight and secret things - it is the art of the dramatist to which he is always alluding.'
Where's the textual evidence that the sonnets are either 'slight' or 'secret'? In the C16th poetry has a kind of cultural value that plays don't have - plays are seen as ephemeral, they are performed a few times in the theatre then the audience wants something new. When they were published in S's lifetime, they were quartos - flimsy pamphlets, only a few of which survive. The sonnets, in contrast, were published as a book.
The plays that were published in quarto were never 'definitive' in any way: they were often printed based on the recall of audience members or actors, and the text itself was amended freely according to performance needs. S's plays were never 'fixed' (itself a problematic concept) until the 1623 First Folio, seven years after S's death in 1616. There's no evidence that he would ever have expected his plays to last.
In contrast, the sonnets talk about themselves as vehicles for lasting fame e.g. sonnet 18 ('Shall I compare thee') which ends 'So long lives this [i.e. this poem], and this gives life to thee' - a favourite trope of poetry drawing on e.g. the end of Ovid's Metamorphoses whose last word is 'vivam', 'I shall live', i.e. through the power of the verse.
More prosaically, Cyril's theory is that the sonnets were written in 1598 and that 'Willie Hughes' was 'surely none other than the boy-actor for whom he created Viola and Imogen, Juliet and Rosalind, Portia and Desdemona, and Cleopatra herself'. But many of these plays weren't written by 1598: only Romeo & Juliet (1595) and The Merchant of Venice (1596-7) would fit.
More pressingly, a boy-actor who could play Juliet in 1595 could hardly be expected to also play Imogen in 1610-11: they would be well past puberty, sporting a beard and a man's voice!
As for marriage and procreation being treated metaphorically, I don't buy this. The sonnets are too steeped in the physicalities of sex: e.g. sonnet 4 with its masturbatory imagery (hope I don't offend anyone...): 'why dost thou spend | upon theyself thy beauty's legacy' (4.1-2) and 'For having traffic with thyself alone' (4.9).
I could go on but fear this is already way too long... sorry!
I wouldn't try to refute the "Willie Hughes" theory so literally- it's playing a square's game, or playing 'straight man' to a jester.But bear in mind the Cyril was an 'effeminate' pretty boy who himself played Rosalind - his Willie Hughes theory is basically that someone like himself inspired Shakespeare.
The fact that William Hughes is not included in the list of players is PROOF of the theory, for he betrayed Shakespeare by going to play Gaveston for Christopher Marlowe's company.
This is all a bit tongue in cheek.
But of course, to say that Shakespeare cared relatively little about the sonnets is meant to be a paradox. In his day, his plays were considered ephemeral, and only poetry could claim immortality, but wasn't Shakespeare genius enough, and far-sighted enough, to estimate his work the way posterity eventually would?
I think there is also paradox in the way the theory 'lacks proof,' and yet, to anyone who 'has faith,' appears to be a key to the sonnets, and to Shakespeare's heart.
But the fact that people are either rapt up in this theory, or dismiss it ("rapt up"?)- makes it sort of like love itself. It either consumes us, or drives us to suicide.
Shakespeare is either writing sonnets to W. H., or has been betrayed by him.
Of course, the next twist, for those who remember Shakespeare in Love, is that the sonnets were inspired by a girl who dressed as a boy so she could play a girl.
Roman Clodia wrote: "...There's no evidence that he would ever have expected his plays to last..."Shakespeare is a great student of Greek tragedy. If the plays of the Greek tragedians could last for many centuries, ephemeral and evershifting though they were, I think Shakespeare would have had to grossly underestimate his own artistry not to expect the same for his own plays.
The point about the plays being written before 1598 is to eliminate Lord Pembroke as W.H. --he was too young to be the object of dedication.
The inevitable aging of the actor is related to the narrator's point about the relationship between the actor and the art of the playwright. Could the actor continue to inspire the playwright in spite of his physical change? Could the actor mature in a way that embodies the playwright's art?
Finally, even if we grant the sexuality in the sonnets, it doesn't follow that the sonnets have no metaphorical meanings at the same time.
Christopher wrote: "....the fact that people are either rapt up in this theory, or dismiss it ("rapt up"?)- makes it sort of like love itself. It either consumes us, or drives us to suicide.."I happen to be someone who is not emotionally invested in the sonnets in any way whatsoever -- I couldn't care less who or what W.H. was, which perhaps makes me an objective observer and a perfect juror in the case, being open to arguments and evidence presented by both sides...
Patrice, "did he or didn't he know Greek tragedy"?It depends on your faith... (wink wink).
Straight answer is: he probably did know the plays of Seneca, which are derived from Greek tragedy.
But actually, his dramatic art was probably much less hampered by attention to the "unities" than a pedantic 'classicist' like Ben Jonson.
Now, Racine v. Shakespeare I'm not going to get into...
Roger wrote: "Why would Erskine write a fake suicide note that would so easily be revealed as such? Maybe the note was sincere, but he lost his nerve?"As Tamara mentioned, Erskine's lie about his death parallels Cyril's forgery of the portrait of Willie Hughes. Erskine believed in the theory of Willie Hughes up until his death, and used his tuberculosis as an opportunity to attempt persuade the narrator of Willie Hughe's existence.
Perhaps Erskine was hoping, as he had not been in contact with the narrator for 2 years, that the narrator would not attend the funeral, or would take action to spread the theory immediately, before he made the journey. This sort of action is consistent with Wilde's hyperbole of a literary critic consumed by his theory, stretching reality by any means necessary to prove it.
Christopher wrote: "Also, I think it goes a little deeper than "literary criticism," and the Willy Hews debate becomes a fable on faith and religion. Maybe this is in the passing shadow of Hume "On Miracles."
But y..."
I agree that this story rings with a critique of religious speculation, as well as literary criticism. The characters' theories are like religious beliefs in that they are propelled by an all-consuming passion, are not supported by direct evidence, and terminate with martyrdom.
The statements
and
Don't make a fool of yourself, and don't follow a trail that leads nowhere. You start by assuming the existence of the very person whose existence is the thing to be proved.
are suggestive of a common criticism of religious arguments that assume the existence of God.
The one Haw in the theory is that it presupposes the existence of the person whose existence is the subject of dispute.
Actually, it remind me of what we just read, in Hume, on making inferences about effects based on an inferred divine cause.
Wilde reportedly said that he "almost believed" in Willie Hughes, just as he "almost believed" in Catholicism. The story reminds me once again that reading, and interpreting, is as much a creative act as is writing. I wonder at the same time if forgery isn't also a creative act, albeit it one with a deceitful design.
We might also ask: Is a forgery inherently without beauty?
This wasn't the portrait I was thinking of when I went looking for images, but it is striking, doncha think?:retry:
This is satire, but it seems to be more than just that. I have a strong hunch that Wilde’s own passions are involved. The quantity of the evidence presented for the Willie Hughes thesis bursts the framework of a short story, and this is only the condensed version! After Wilde’s demise a manuscript twice as long was discovered with even more historical-literary considerations*. Wikipedia also reports Alfred Douglas testifying that Wilde (at some time?) supported the Hughes theory. And it’s not difficult to see the attraction it must have had for him. Willie Hughes, taken to be the 'Fair Youth', the object of Shakespeare's passions in the Sonnets, his male version of the Belle Dame sans Merci. A literary scandal no one was supposed to talk about: yes, Wilde must have liked the theory very much. So I see him here torn between a strong will to believe and his equally strong critical sense, in a tale that becomes ultimately one of self-mockery.
Like Christopher I could not help reading this also as a fable on faith and religion. With belief comes strife, fabricated proof (all for the good cause), martyrdom. And then, fading fervour, a fake martyr, apostasy, regret and some lingering doubt. We can’t know whether this is a level intended by Wilde, but as it does add something it certainly deserves consideration (b.t.w. I would not be amazed to find the demand to disprove the existence of Willie included in the longer version).
* I found it in the B&N 'Collected Oscar Wilde'.
Wendel wrote: "This is satire, but it seems to be more than just that. I have a strong hunch that Wilde’s own passions are involved here..."I agree that Wilde is involved in the theory himself, but it is not obvious to me why it is more of a scandal than the alternatives. Shakespeare was passionate about the "Fair Youth", regardless whether the latter was a young actor named Willie Hughes.
It is possible that Wilde, who was a playwright himself, had some insight into the mind of another, and some aspects of the relationship between the playwright and the actors that are not known to others.
http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-sto...
I enjoyed the story as a story immensely, and the creativity of it (and the research Wilde must have done), and hope you do, too.
But I have an ulterior motive for including it at this time. For several recent weeks we had a delightful discussion, in the later hundred or so posts of the "Planning for our Fifth 2017 read," of personal opinion vs. critical analysis.
This story seems to me to raise another important question of literary analysis: how far is it reasonable for a critic to go to try to (choose one: a) impose their theories on a work; b) develop through highly selective choice of passages a theory of the work which fits their particular choice of literary analysis, such as feminist, Marxist, postmodern, etc.)
The extent of Cyril Graham's careful selection and interpretation of the sonnets to fit into his theory is astonishing, not to mention highly creative. But it it really any more extreme than some of the theories we have read which try to interpret classic works to reflect strongly held views of highly opinionated critics?
At any rate, read the story for fun, and then if the issue amuses you, think about whether the story does have something to say about certain fields of literary criticism, or whether I'm just an old curmudgeon not appreciating creative scholarship.