Immortalità

pure, innocent appearance are symbols of bourgeois hypocrisy. Finally, the picture,

restored to its originally beauty, illustrates Wilde’s theories of art: art survives people,

art is eternal.

"No, you don't feel it now. Some day, when you are old and wrinkled and ugly, when

thought has seared your forehead with its lines, and passion branded your lips with its

hideous fires, you will feel it, you will feel it terribly. Now, wherever you go, you charm

the world. Will it always be so? . . . You have a wonderfully beautiful face, Mr. Gray.

Don't frown. You have. And beauty is a form of genius-- is higher, indeed, than genius,

as it needs no explanation. It is of the great facts of the world, like sunlight, or spring-

time, or the reflection in dark waters of that silver shell we call the moon. It cannot be

questioned. It has its divine right of sovereignty. It makes princes of those who have it.

You smile? Ah! when you have lost it you won't smile. . . . People say sometimes that

beauty is only superficial. That may be so, but at least it is not so superficial as

thought is. To me, beauty is the wonder of wonders. It is only shallow people who do

not judge by appearances. The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the

invisible. . . . Yes, Mr. Gray, the gods have been good to you. But what the gods give

they quickly take away. You have only a few years in which to live really, perfectly, and

fully. When your youth goes, your beauty will go with it, and then you will suddenly

discover that there are no triumphs left for you, or have to content yourself with those

mean triumphs that the memory of your past will make more bitter than defeats.

Every month as it wanes brings you nearer to something dreadful. Time is jealous of

you, and wars against your lilies and your roses. You will become sallow, and hollow-

cheeked, and dull-eyed. You will suffer horribly.... Ah! realize your youth while you

have it. Don't squander the gold of your days, listening to the tedious, trying to

improve the hopeless failure, or giving away your life to the ignorant, the common,

and the vulgar. These are the sickly aims, the false ideals, of our age. Live! Live the

wonderful life that is in you! Let nothing be lost upon you. Be always searching for

new sensations. Be afraid of nothing. . . . A new Hedonism-- that is what our century

wants. You might be its visible symbol.

With your personality there is nothing you could not do. The world belongs to you for a

season. . . . The moment I met you I saw that you were quite unconscious of what you

really are, of what you really might be. There was so much in you that charmed me

that I felt I must tell you something about yourself. I thought how tragic it would be if

you were wasted. For there is such a little time that your youth will last--such a little

time. The common hill-flowers wither, but they blossom again. The laburnum will be as

yellow next June as it is now. In a month there will be purple stars on the clematis, and

year

after year the green night of its leaves will hold its purple stars. But we never get back

our youth. The pulse of joy that beats in us at twenty becomes sluggish. Our limbs fail,

our senses rot. We degenerate into hideous puppets, haunted by the memory of the

passions of which we were too much afraid, and the

exquisite temptations that we had not the courage to yield to. Youth! Youth! There is

absolutely nothing in the world but youth!"

Dorian is the typical dandy, who thinks man should live his life fully, fulfilling his

wishes and his dream; if one represses his/her impulses, every repressed impulse and

all self-denial remain in one’s mind and poison it. Dorian believes youth is synonymous

with beauty and happiness.

For Basil Hallward and his friend Lord Henry Wotton, beauty and appearance have

become the ultimate values. Art can no longer be judged on moral bases but only on

aesthetic grounds. This discussion forms the prologue to the story itself, which moves

from typical Wildean comedy into a nightmare world of Gothic horror.

"How sad it is!" murmured Dorian Gray with his eyes still fixed upon his own portrait.

"How sad it is! I shall grow old, and horrible, and dreadful. But this picture will remain

always young. It will never be older than this particular day of June. . . . If it were only

the other way! If it were I who was to be always young, and the picture that was to

grow old! For that--for that--I would give everything! Yes, there is

nothing in the whole world I would not give! I would give my soul for that!"

Dorian confesses that he would give his soul for the beauty of eternal youth and

appropriates the eternal beauty of art to transform his life. At the moment he loses his

soul, the portrait ironically becomes his property. Slowly Dorian becomes notorious and

his name associated with unmentionable vices. Although he retains his youthful

beauty, the signs of his misdeeds appear on the portrait.

“The curiously carved mirror that Lord Henry had given to him, so many years ago

now, was standing on the table, and the white-limbed Cupids laughed round it as of

old. He took it up, as he had done on that night of horror when be had first noted the

change in the fatal picture, and with wild, tear-dimmed eyes looked into its polished

shield. Once, some one who had terribly loved him had written to him a mad letter,

ending with these idolatrous words: "The world is changed because you are made of

ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history." The phrases came back to his

memory, and he repeated them over and over to himself. Then he loathed his own

beauty, and flinging the mirror on the floor, crushed it into silver splinters beneath his

heel. It was his beauty that had ruined him, his beauty and the youth that he had

prayed for. But for those two things, his life might have been free from stain. His

beauty had been to him but a mask, his youth but a mockery. What was youth at best?

A green, an unripe time, a time of shallow moods, and sickly thoughts. Why had he

worn its livery? Youth had

spoiled him.”

“He looked round and saw the knife that had stabbed Basil Hallward. He had cleaned it

many times, till there was no stain left upon it. It was bright, and glistened. As it had

killed the painter, so it would kill the painter's work, and all that that meant. It 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. There was a cry heard, and a crash. The cry was so

horrible in its agony that the frightened servants woke and crept out of their rooms.

(…) When they entered, they found hanging upon the wall a splendid portrait of their

master as they had last seen him, in all the wonder of his exquisite youth and beauty.

Lying on the floor was a dead man, in evening dress, with a knife in his heart. He was

withered, wrinkled, and loathsome of visage. It was not till they had examined the

rings that they recognized who it was.”

Dorian ends the novel as a social outcast and, unable to endure the sight of the

portrait, cuts it to pieces. In doing do, however, he kills himself and the portrait

reacquires its original beauty. In some ways “The Picture of Dorian Gray” can be seen

as an extended meditation on the final words of John Keats’s “Ode on a Grecian Urn”

“Beauty is truth, truth beauty- that is all/ye know on earth and all ye need to know”.

Dorian giungerà alla conclusione che non ha importanza quanto tempo si viva ma

come si spenda la vita, della stessa opinione è lo scrittore latino Seneca.

De brevitate vitae

Seneca

La lunghezza effettiva della vita è data dal numero di giorni diversi che un individuo riesce a

vivere. Quelli uguali non contano. Luciano De Crescenzo

De brevitate vitae

Fin dalle prime battute del dialogo

dedicato a Paolino (padre della moglie) e scritto tra il

49 e il 62, appare evidente il pensiero di Seneca: la

quantità della vita, o meglio la sua presunta brevità, è

un problema senza importanza, anzi un falso

problema. Quel che conta è, infatti, la sua qualità,

come si vive la vita, come si usa il tempo; e

quest’ultimo non è tutt’uno con la fortuna, con la

sorte, con il mondo di cui siamo parte? Bisogna saper

vivere. E le occupazioni che ci distraggono e ci

distolgono dalla cura del nostro essere? Non ci rendiamo conto di cosa sia il tempo,

silenziosa scorre.

non gli diamo peso e intanto la vita

La riflessione sul tema del tempo, centrale in tutta l’opera di Seneca, trova

De brevitate vitae.

l’elaborazione più completa nel Al tempo “disperso” di quanti

inseguono i falsi miraggi di una carriera o del denaro si oppone il tempo dello spirito,

sapiens l’otium

quello in cui il coltiva la meditazione, la filosofia, nel senso più nobile.

La tesi di fondo del trattato è che la vita dell’uomo non è in sé breve, ma diviene tale

in quanto gli uomini sprecano il tempo che è loro concesso a causa di occupazioni e

impegni superflui, che allontanano l’obiettivo di conseguire la saggezza attraverso la

meditazione filosofica.

La maggior parte dei mortali, si lamenta della crudeltà della natura, poiché noi

nasciamo in un periodo di tempo troppo breve, questo lasso di tempo scorre tanto

velocemente, tanto rapidamente tanto che, tranne in alcuni casi, la vita abbandona gli

uomini prima che comincino a viverla.

E di questa disgrazia, che credono comune, non si dolse solo la folla o il volgo sciocco:

tale stato d’animo provocò la protesta anche di grandi uomini. Di qui l’esclamazione

del più grande dei medici che la vita è breve, l’arte lunga.(…) Non abbiamo poco

tempo, ma ne perdiamo molto; la vita è abbastanza lunga ed è stata concessa per la

realizzazione di grandi imprese a condizione che viene utilizzata tutta bene; ma

quando scorre nel lusso e nell’indifferenza, quando la si spreca in cose di nessun

conto, quando incombe l’ultimo momento, ci accorgiamo che è trascorsa la vita che

non abbiamo capito che è fuggita senza averne avvertito il passare. Non abbiamo una

vita breve, ma la rendiamo tale, non ne siamo poveri, ma la sprechiamo.(De brevitate

vitae,1, 1-4)

La verità è che, immersi nei desideri, fatichiamo a rivolgerci a noi stessi. La gente vive

con tanto affanno i propri desideri e vizi agisce contraddittoriamente quando si tratta

come fossero immortali desiderano ogni cosa senza freno né

di morire: - dice Seneca -

si danno pensiero del tempo o di se stessi, poi, quando sono malati, fanno di tutto per

salvarsi: quanta contraddizione si trova in essi. Che cos’hanno destinato alla buona

mente? Ben poco o niente della loro vita( De brevitate vitae 8, 2.)

Seneca fa l’esempio di uomo che, sebbene centenario, se facesse il resoconto del

proprio passato, si ritroverebbe con molti anni in meno, perché gli sono stati sottratti

in grande quantità da donne, creditori, litigi che gli hanno impedito di realizzarsi

pienamente o di pensare alla propria persona. Egli, dunque, non perché ha i capelli

bianchi ha davvero “vissuto a lungo”, ma è soltanto “stato al mondo a lungo”. Con

questo esempio l’autore cerca di dimostrare che il cattivo impiego della vita,

contribuisce a renderla breve, affrettando così il desiderio della morte, per la quale

volenti o nolenti, bisogna trovare il tempo..

non è facile vivere, e anzi per tutta la vita si deve imparare a vivere e a morire

…. .

Ognuno consuma

La quantità della vita non conta; conta il modo di spendere il tempo:

la propria vita e si tormenta per il desiderio del futuro e per la noia del presente.( De

Così vivono quanti tendono alle cose del mondo e pur desidererebbero

brevitate vitae 7, 3)

“Invece colui che usa ogni suo tempo a suo vantaggio ... non teme. Tutto

sottrarvisi.

gli è noto a sazietà. Per il resto, la fortuna disponga comunque voglia: la sua vita è al

sicuro”.( De brevitate vitae 7, 3.)

..perché non (elevarci) con tutto il nostro spirito da questo esiguo e caduco passar del

tempo verso quelle cose che sono immense, eterne e in comune con i migliori?