Nabokov Studies
Nabokov Studies
Nabokov Studies
Volume 2, Issue 2
Winter 2019
Amelia Hall
ISSN: 2515-0073
DOI: 10.25602/GOLD.v.v2i2.1349.g1468
volupte.gold.ac.uk
Amelia Hall
Cornell University
In an 1881 letter asking a friend to meet his mother, Oscar Wilde writes: ‘all brilliant people should
cross each other’s cycles, like some of the nicest planets’.1 In comparing the people in his social
circle to celestial bodies in orbit, Wilde sets forth an idea that will soon become literalized in images
within and surrounding his works. An illustration in Salomé (1894) renders Wilde the actual
‘(wo)man in the moon’, through placing his distinguishing physiognomy – slightly drooping eyes
and thick full lips – on a white circle [fig. 1], while many cartoons satirizing Wilde’s American
lecture tour put his head at the centre of a plant that seems to be more sun than flower. An 1881
Punch cartoon by Edward Sambourne, ‘O.W.’, features Wilde’s head as the only visible centre of a
sunflower, with crisp triangular petals extending outward so rigidly that they appear to emanate
from his body [fig. 2]. Another cartoon appearing in Judge magazine, entitled ‘A Thing of Beauty
Not a Joy Forever’, features a sunflower-adorned Wilde standing with his head and torso in the
centre of an enormous shape of ambiguous identification [fig. 3]. A very large orange circle with
small yellow triangles coming off it, the shape could either be an enormous sunflower or, given its
absence of a stem and leaves, a sun. Be he the face of the sun or the man in the moon, Wilde is,
In De Profundis (1897) Wilde writes: ‘[e]very single work of art is the fulfilment of a
prophecy. For every work of art is the conversion of an idea into an image.’2 These images, which
place Wilde within and at the centre of a cosmic universe, simultaneously fulfil the prophecy
provided in his 1881 letter comparing people to planets, and pre-emptively fulfil the prophecy
contained in the scientific metaphors of De Profundis, which likewise blur the boundaries between
human and planet, and describe Wilde as the sun-like centre of many orbits. Moving away from
the language of degeneration and biological decay that predominate in Wilde’s other works, De
the orbit of his own soul?’ (p. 1038) and tells his lover Lord Alfred Douglas that ‘you forced your
way into a life too large for you, one whose orbit transcended your power of vision no less than
your power of cyclic motion’ (p. 1051). De Profundis is constellated by astronomical figures that,
with their concomitant notions of circular time and bodies in orbit, provide Wilde with a way to
give shape to his constantly revolving thoughts and feelings. Rather than offering teleological
notions of time and influence, as metaphors from the biological sciences do, these celestial
analogies offer an understanding of time that is cyclical and regenerative, while also inviting us to
think of the problem of influence not in terms of moral corruption, but in terms of an imbalance
Fig. 3: James Albert Wales, ‘A Thing of Beauty Not a Joy Forever’, Judge (c. 1883).
the past two decades and given De Profundis’ abundance of astronomical language, it is rather
surprising that almost no one discusses his use of astronomy. Many essays about Wilde’s
relationship to science have discussed psychology (Heather Seagroatt), and more recent studies
have focused on brain science (Elisha Cohn), biological metaphors of degeneration (Stephan
Karschay), and evolution (George Lewis Levine and Michael Wainwright).3 Those that do discuss
Wilde and astronomy tend to focus on mythological meaning, or to give astronomy no more than
a passing mention en route to an argument about a different topic. For example, Joan Navarre reads
Salomé’s moon as symbolizing three lunar goddesses,4 while Kathleen McDougall briefly
acknowledges De Profundis’ combining of planet and parasite metaphor, but only to demonstrate
that Wilde’s relationship with Douglas was described in scientific terms.5 Bruce Haley momentarily
mentions astronomy so that he can point out that Wilde was not particularly interested in applying
the laws of homogeneity and equilibrium to it.6 This critical oversight likely stems from the fact
that Wilde’s references to astronomy typically lack the depth and intellectual grounding
characteristic of his engagement with other nineteenth-century scientific theories. When Wilde
does mention astronomy in his work, it often operates at the level of decoration or symbol – for
example, the sky that is ‘cloudless, and pierced by one solitary star’ in Dorian Gray (1890) or the
moon that represents female chastity in Salomé.7 Neither of these texts deploy astronomical
does. Recognizing that Wilde’s engagement with astronomy in De Profundis substantially departs
from his use of it in other works compels us to ask: why is it this text that features patterns pulled
from astronomy? Focusing upon Wilde’s invocation of the astronomical concept of orbit can
provide us with some answers. Though the word ‘orbit’ is only used twice in De Profundis, the text
is imbued with the language and forms of these astronomical circles, which render perceptible the
thought-processes of a man whose mind, by his own admission, could not stop ‘going in […]
circles.’8
defied generic classification, having been alternately deemed a love letter, elaboration of ethics,9
dramatic monologue, and spiritual autobiography,10 and duly dismissed as a text plagued by a
disorganized, rambling structure.11 Such criticisms arise in response to the fact that the text often
moves in circles, doubling and tripling back to consider issues already discussed. This essay
proposes that De Profundis’ elliptical thinking is not an obstacle, but rather a key to understanding
it, and further, that its elliptical quality is an intentional rhetorical strategy informed by Wilde’s
sophisticated understanding of astronomy. For the man trapped in prison with a mind moving in
circles, astronomy offered forms, patterns, and structures for thinking through his life that were
far more useful and pertinent than methods pulled from the biological sciences. Looking outward
to help himself see inward, Wilde compares his lover to a satellite planet, calculates the orbit of his
soul, and places himself, sun-like, in the centre of a solar-system of social circles.
Wilde’s journals and essays written during his time at Oxford indicate that he was familiar with the
basic principles and mathematical underpinnings of astronomy, and he could very well have gained
his knowledge of astronomy in the course of his classical studies. As Wilde aptly explains in his
1879 essay, ‘The Rise of Historical Criticism’, ‘The study of Greek, it has been well said, implies
the birth of criticism, comparison, and research […] a fragment of Pythagorean astronomy set
Copernicus thinking on that train of reasoning which has revolutionised the whole position of our
planet in the universe.’12 This statement demonstrates knowledge of the history of astronomy, and
allows us to consider the possibility that the study of Greek provided a foundation and starting-
point for Wilde’s knowledge of astronomy, just as the study of Greek provided the foundation for
Copernicus’ investigations into the heavens. A reading of Wilde’s Oxford notebooks reveals that
he encountered the ideas of astronomy in sources other than the classics. His notebooks indicate
that in addition to familiarity with the works of Pythagoras and Copernicus he was aware of the
In one notation discussing geometry, Wilde writes ‘Abstract Sciences (as Logic Geometry) give us
the forms of phenomena’.14 Wilde’s early readings in geometry provided a crucial foundation for
the relationship between astronomical language and textual form that De Profundis would later trace;
in particular, for its explicit and implicit references to ‘orbits’, which are themselves geometric
Apparently continuing his reading in the sciences after his Oxford education, Wilde’s adult
library contained both Herbert Spencer’s First Principles (1867) and Clifford’s Lectures and Essays
(1879).15 The latter contains many discussions of astronomy, some of which connect it to
[The geometer] knows, indeed, that the laws assumed by Euclid are true with an accuracy
that no direct experiment can approach, not only in this place where we are, but in places
at a distance from us that no astronomer has conceived; […] So, you see, there is a real
parallel between the work of Copernicus and his successors on the one hand, and the work
of Lobatcheswky and his successors on the other.16
Although it is not clear to what extent Wilde read Clifford’s text, recognizing that its linking
together of astronomy and geometry predates De Profundis allows us to consider the possibility that
Clifford’s work.
While in prison, Wilde wrote a letter to his friend More Adey describing his purpose for writing,
in which he lamented ‘I cling to my notebook: it helps me: before I had it my brain was going in
very evil circles.’17 When we realize that De Profundis was written to ease a mind that could not stop
moving in circles, it makes more sense that the text is densely imbricated with many scientific
circles of its own – specifically, the astronomical concept of orbit. The first time Wilde buttresses
his circular thinking with direct astronomical metaphor occurs when he asks: ‘Who can calculate
the orbit of his own soul?’ (p. 1038) Through saying that the plight of the human soul has an
of elliptical continuum. The idea of a soul being ‘in orbit’ allows us to think of it not as something
that is either steadily progressing towards good or regressing towards evil, but rather, as something
that is moving around in circles. The ambiguous morality suggested by the image of a soul-in-orbit
both aligns with and challenges the conceptions of morality in Wilde’s other works. On the one
hand, the idea of an orbiting soul does seem to suggest that morality is equivocal, a sentiment
indicated many places in Wilde’s work. But on the other hand, a soul in orbit is not obviously
progressing or degenerating in a linear fashion, as, for example, the soul of Dorian Gray seems to.
The presence of an orbit metaphor attunes a reader to the importance of circular patterns and
renders us better able to locate moments evincing Wilde’s circular thought processes in the text.
Beyond giving form to Wilde’s ceaseless circular thinking, the astronomical language in De
Profundis also articulates a cyclical understanding of time that is markedly different from the linear
temporality of devolution and degeneration that we typically find in Wilde’s works. In De Profundis,
Wilde observes that ‘with us time itself does not progress. It revolves. It seems to circle round one
centre of pain’ (p. 1009). Here we have an understanding of time and its movement articulated in
language that is quite astronomical; like a planet in orbit, time ‘revolves’ and ‘circles’ around one
person, akin to the sun or star at the centre of a solar system. This celestial conception of circularly
moving time finds its most apt articulation in the conclusion to De Profundis, where Wilde writes:
‘What lies before me is my past. I have got to make myself look on that with different eyes […].
It is only to be done fully by accepting it as an inevitable part of the evolution of my life and
character’ (p. 1059). Wilde uses ‘evolution’ here not only in its biological, but also in its
revolutionary sense.18 In placing his past before him rather than behind him, Wilde constructs the
story of his life not as a timeline, but rather as a time-circle. Like a planet always in orbit, he looks
ahead to see his past is progressing along a circular path, in which his history is always coming up
ahead in his future. In its dual evolutionary and revolutionary senses, his cyclical version of time
proves to be a positive, regenerative one. This idea finds fuller expression when he writes: ‘while
despair, and say “What an ending! What an appalling ending!”; now I try to say to myself […]
“What a beginning! What a wonderful beginning!”’ (p. 1038) In conceiving of his ending as a new
beginning, Wilde evinces a formulation of time that is circular rather than end-oriented. Just as any
point in a circle can be a beginning and an ending simultaneously, at this point in his life the
Recognizing that the image of a soul in orbit and a sense of cyclical time are present in De
which Wilde understood morality and human progress. If we return to the paragraph where Wilde
first uses the image of a soul in orbit, we discover a complex constellation of planetary metaphors,
whose purpose goes well beyond the mere literalization of thinking in circles. Wilde writes: ‘[t]he
final mystery is oneself. When one has weighed the sun in a balance, and measured the steps of
the moon, and mapped out the seven heavens star by star, there still remains oneself’ (p. 1038). In
these lines, Wilde specifically associates the practice of astronomy with the performing of
evaluative measurements, as the heavens are to be weighed, quantified, mapped out, and calculated.
This linking of astronomy with the process of measuring enables us to consider the possibility that
De Profundis’ astronomical metaphors are deployed in attempt to ‘measure out’ or evaluate aspects
of Wilde’s life.
Bodies in Orbit
When we turn to the language Wilde uses to describe his relationship with Douglas, we find him
using ideas from astronomy to evaluate their relationship – orbits, cyclical motion, and the
gravitational powers exerted by larger and smaller bodies of influence. This becomes particularly
apparent when he attempts to figure out what went wrong between them. Wilde again employs
the astronomical metaphor of human beings in orbit, but this time, he adds something new: a
In describing himself as a being with a large orbit and claiming that Douglas has an orbit-like ‘cyclic
motion’ that is transcended by his own, Wilde appears to be comparing himself and Douglas to
large extra-terrestrial objects. But Wilde adds something to the person-as-planet metaphor that
extends beyond being simply a clever demonstration of how he sits, sun-like, at the centre of many
social circles. These astronomy metaphors come coupled with considerations of size and
gravitational force. In a playful literalizing, Wilde uses knowledge of the gravity exerted by extra-
terrestrial bodies to describe the gravity of the situation with Douglas and suggests that he was the
massive influencing body – the gravity-exuding force – in his and Douglas’ relationship. In an
argument that boils down to ‘I’m big, and you’re small. Too small to handle me’, Wilde seems to
suggest that the forces between them were imbalanced. Continuing to assert that he is ‘large and
in charge’, Wilde proceeds in the rest of the astronomy-laden paragraph to ‘shrink’ Douglas down
to size, using ‘little’ three times to describe him. More specifically, in describing Douglas’ life as
contained within a ‘little sphere’, Wilde associates Douglas with a small spherical planet that forces
In comparing himself to a planet around which Douglas orbits, Wilde yet again provides
the prophecy that was to be fulfilled a few years later in another image of him – this time, a satirical
caricature by Max Beerbohm, ‘Oscar Wilde and Lord Alfred Douglas’ (1914), in which a very large,
very round Wilde sits across the table from a tiny Douglas, who seems to be his satellite [fig. 4].
The vast difference in size between these two men underscores the way in which the Wilde of De
Profundis uses celestial language to emphasize that he is (like the Wilde in this illustration) the
gravitational centre of the universe he creates. When Wilde uses astronomy to demonstrate that
the problem in his relationship with Douglas was its ‘entire want of proportion,’ he gives a
suggestions of corruption that were implied during the questioning at his trials. Namely, rather
than being a morally corrupting influence, Wilde was an ‘outsize influence’. The problem in his
relationship with Douglas was not that he corrupted Douglas, but rather, that his life was too large
Fig. 4: Max Beerbohm, ‘Oscar Wilde and Lord Alfred Douglas’ (1914).
In his Commonplace Book, Wilde notes that ‘modern science has shown us that both ethics
and motion are results of molecular action: motion in one direction may be an ellipse, in the other
a moral sentiment.’19 This early recording’s linking together of elliptical motion with morality and
modern science aptly speaks to De Profundis’ method of invoking the astronomical metaphor of
orbit in order to describe the progress of the soul and problems of influence – when the soul is in
orbit, morality becomes not a question of straight linear progress, but rather, a continuous, elliptical
concept; when Douglas forces himself into a life ‘whose orbit transcend[s] […his] power of cyclic
motion’, influence becomes not a question of moral corruption, but rather, a question of outsize
influence (p. 1051). Rather than motion in one direction being an ellipse or moral sentiment, the
sentiment. Moreover, this notion of an ‘ellipse’ can aid us in articulating exactly what formal
properties of De Profundis make it such an elliptical read. Rather than offering us witty, pointedly
paradoxical statements as he did in other works, Wilde offers a text of elliptical reasoning, in which
ideas, emotions, and astronomical motifs constantly cycle in and out of play. Wilde notes this
elliptical, ever-changing quality of his writing at De Profundis’ end: ‘How far I am away from the
true temper of soul, this letter in its changing, uncertain moods, its scorn and bitterness, its
aspirations and its failure to realise those aspirations, shows you quite clearly’ (p. 1059). The
strategic overlapping of literal and figurative ellipses in the text bespeaks that same artistic quality
that Max Beerbohm noted, upon saying that De Profundis is ‘the artistic essay of an artist’ in which
Generic Possibilities
Reflecting upon his writing in De Profundis, Wilde notes that ‘whatever is first in feeling comes
always last in form’ (p. 1051). In tracing De Profundis’ patterns of astronomical language, we learn
how densely layered circular forms helped Wilde give shape to his constantly revolving thoughts
and emotions. If we recall from geometry that circles are considered a ‘special case’ of the ellipse,
thinking – in both the semantic and geometric sense. Thus, the astronomical metaphors which
help give perceptible form to these elliptical patterns of thought are, in the end, the most apt
scientific metaphors through which Wilde could give shape to his thoughts. More broadly,
recognizing that De Profundis is constellated with celestial patterns enables us to better answer the
question of genre that it raises: beyond being a love letter, theological exposition, or personal essay,
it can also be understood as a star chart, of sorts, made by a man looking outward beyond the
borders of his earthly prison to the structures of the skies, which aid him in tracing the paths of
the most influential bodies in his life and help him to make sense of what happened when his
constructed in De Profundis, astrological charts typically feature a round circle, which contains
symbols for astrological signs and explanations of the signs. Wilde may have seen such a chart
during his lifetime, given that he asked a friend in 1885 ‘Will you cast the child’s horoscope for us?
[…] My wife is very anxious to know its fate, and has begged me to ask you to search the stars.’21
Moreover, the more scientifically-rigorous astronomical charts of the nineteenth century were
often bounded by a circular border, and featured a map of the cycles of stars and planets as they
rotated through the sky. The astronomical chart provides a fitting generic classification, then, for
a text characterized by thinking in circles, in which a man tries to make sense of the planet- and
star-like people who come into his orbit. In some sense, De Profundis was Wilde’s attempt to ‘search
the stars’ that crossed his life, as he spent his time in prison not only with a mind which could not
stop moving in circles, but which was also in ceaseless contemplation of the many circles of which
he had been a part; his wider social circle, his intimate inner circle, his circles of influence, and the
way in which his life had ‘come full circle’ since the publication of The Picture of Dorian Gray. This
chart of orbits provides a map of Wilde’s universe, with Wilde at its centre. Despite asserting that
it cannot be done, in De Profundis Wilde tries to ‘calculate the orbit’ of his own soul and chart a
1 Oscar Wilde, The Complete Letters of Oscar Wilde, ed. by Merlin Holland and Rupert Hart-Davis (New York: Henry
English Literature, 38.4 (1998), 741–59; Elisha Cohn, ‘“One single ivory cell”: Oscar Wilde and the Brain’, Journal of
Victorian Culture, 17.2 (2012), 183–205; Stephan Karschay, ‘Normalising the Degenerate: Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of
Dorian Gray and Marie Corelli’s The Sorrows of Satan’, in Degeneration, Normativity and the Gothic at the Fin De Siècle (New
York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015), pp. 168–208; George Lewis Levine, ‘Darwinian Mind and Wildean Paradox’, in
Darwin the Writer (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), pp. 149–85; and Michael Wainwright, ‘Oscar Wilde, the
Science of Heredity, and The Picture of Dorian Gray’, English Literature in Transition, 54.4 (2011), 494–522.
4 Joan Navarre, ‘The Moon as Symbol in Salome: Oscar Wilde’s Invocation of the Triple White Goddess’, in
Refiguring Oscar Wilde’s Salome, ed. by Michael Y. Bennett (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2011), pp. 71–86.
5 Kathleen McDougall, ‘Oscar Wilde: Sexuality and Creativity in the Social Organism’, Victorian Review, 23.2 (1997),
18).
juridical classification of himself’ as a sexual deviant; Jonathan Dollimore argues that De Profundis evinces ‘conscious
renunciation of [Wilde’s] transgressive aesthetic’; and Regenia Gagnier suggests that De Profundis is a text in which
Wilde ‘deplore[s] his materialism and sensuality as a weakness’. See Michael R. Doylen, ‘Oscar Wilde’s De Profundis:
Homosexual Self-Fashioning on the Other Side of Scandal’, Victorian Literature and Culture, 27.2 (1999), 547–66 (pp.
561–62); Jonathan Dollimore, Sexual Dissidence: Augustine to Wilde, Freud to Foucault (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991),
p. 95; and Regenia Gagnier, ‘Wilde and the Victorians’, in The Cambridge Companion to Oscar Wilde, ed. by Peter Raby
(New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997), pp. 18–33 (p. 20).
10 William Buckler, for one, argues that it is a ‘spiritual autobiography’ allowing for ‘the imaginative illustration of
[Wilde’s] aesthetic of the self’. See William E. Buckler, ‘Oscar Wilde’s Aesthetic of the Self: Art as Imaginative Self-
Realization in De Profundis’, Biography, 12.2 (1989), 95–115 (p. 95).
11 Richard Ellmann suggests that De Profundis is plagued by a ‘disjointed structure’ and Philippe Jullian disparages De
Profundis as a ‘venomous dossier’. See Richard Ellman, Oscar Wilde (New York: Knopf, 1988), p. 515, and Philippe
Jullian, Oscar Wilde, trans. by Violet Wyndham (New York: Viking Press, 1969), p. 350.
12 Wilde, ‘The Rise of Historical Criticism’, in The Complete Works of Oscar Wilde, pp. 1198–241 (p. 1240).
13 Wilde, Commonplace Book, in Oscar Wilde’s Oxford Notebooks: A Portrait of Mind in the Making, ed. by Philip E. Smith II
and Michael S. Helfand (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989), pp. 203, 207; and Wilde, Notebook kept at
Oxford, in Oscar Wilde’s Oxford Notebooks, ed. by Philip E. Smith II and Michael S. Helfand, pp. 15, 86.
14 Wilde, Commonplace Book, p. 13. Emphasis in the original.
15 See Wainwright, ‘Oscar Wilde, the Science of Heredity, and The Picture of Dorian Gray’, p. 496.
16 William Kingdon Clifford, Lectures and Essays, 2 vols, ed. by Leslie Stephen and Frederick Pollock (London:
turning’.
19 Wilde, Commonplace Book, in Oscar Wilde’s Oxford Notebooks, ed. by Philip E. Smith II and Michael S. Helfand, p.
125.
20 Max Beerbohm, A Peep into the Past and Other Prose Pieces, ed. by Rupert Hart-Davis (Brattleboro: The Stephen
kept at Oxford, in Oscar Wilde’s Oxford Notebooks, ed. by Philip E. Smith II and Michael S. Helfand, which contains two
more references to astrology. One quotation suggests that it ‘appears also in astrology which Comte says is the first
systematic attempt to frame a philosophy of history’ (p. 8). The other suggests ‘astrology and alchemy mark the time
before poetry and science had been differentiated’ (p. 22).