Graves Grimoire: The Magick of a Fabulous Life: July 2010

THE HARLOT'S HOUSE
by: Oscar Wilde

E caught the tread of dancing feet,
We loitered down the moonlit street,
And stopped beneath the harlot's house.

Inside, above the din and fray,
We heard the loud musicians play
The "Treues Liebes Herz" of Strauss.

Like strange mechanical grotesques,
Making fantastic arabesques,
The shadows raced across the blind.

We watched the ghostly dancers spin
To sound of horn and violin,
Like black leaves wheeling in the wind.

Like wire-pulled automatons,
Slim silhouetted skeletons
Went sidling through the slow quadrille.

The took each other by the hand,
And danced a stately saraband;
Their laughter echoed thin and shrill.

Sometimes a clockwork puppet pressed
A phantom lover to her breast,
Sometimes they seemed to try to sing.

Sometimes a horrible marionette
Came out, and smoked its cigarette
Upon the steps like a live thing.

Then, turning to my love, I said,
"The dead are dancing with the dead,
The dust is whirling with the dust."

But she--she heard the violin,
And left my side, and entered in:
Love passed into the house of lust.

Then suddenly the tune went false,
The dancers wearied of the waltz,
The shadows ceased to wheel and whirl.

And down the long and silent street,
The dawn, with silver-sandalled feet,
Crept like a frightened girl.

'The Harlot's House' was originally published in The Dramatic Review (April, 1885

Oscar Wilde: Witty playwright, scandalous author, legendary raconteur, sartorial legend, and more. His words touched on the essence of sensuality, explored the hypocritical views of society, and inspired (as well as angered) oh-so-many of the late Nineteenth Century public.
The protagonist (or antagonist, depending on how you look at it) in Wilde's only novel, the depraved, downward-spiraling, voluptuary Dorian Gray is emblematic, and hard not to find appealing in some ways: his possession of everlasting beauty unmarred by the ravages of time or excess, access to unlimited amounts of money, friends in both high and low places, and a hell-bent mission to live life to the fullest, regardless of the moral implications.
Victorian mores of the time found Wilde's total disregard for propriety and eschewment of prevalent Christian values outrageous, unnatural, and ultimately, unacceptable; perceived homosexual undertones in his work and vocal disapproval of his so called debauched personal life led to one of the more memorable travesties of justice in English history and left a black mark on the face of Literature. The price Wilde had to pay for his art and his lifestyle was sadly a very dear one. In honour of Oscar's zest for life and search for the soul of art, we celebrate a modern take on the Victorian Decadent aesthetic; which in a ironic turn is now symbolic of a faction of a contemporary Decadent (some say subversive) lifestyle, the Modern Gothic.