Oscar Wilde, whose writing it is said was way ahead of its time, was a fascinating character, contentious, outrageous, yet prophetic and challenging. It was his inflated perception of himself that made him larger than life and so ludicrous to certain people at times. Someone, I forget who, described his life as an ongoing performance.
The other day I was reading a piece entitled, “The Anecdotal Wilde” and found this little anecdote describing his sheer confidence in himself. I just had to smile when I read it.
While watching a well-known French poet making a scene at a banquet because he hadn’t been seated at the head table, Wilde was absolutely struck by the absurdity of the protest.
“Could anything be more petty,” he asked, “a greater revelation of insignificance? Now for me, the highest place is always where I am myself.”
Was he delusional, or just plain confident? It’s always hard to tell with Oscar Wilde.