Salomé: A Tragedy in One Act
1893
Salomé: A Tragedy in One Act
1893
Translated by Alfred Bruce Douglas
Salomé is Oscar Wilde's single foray into tragedy, and it burns with a beauty that wounds. Written in French in 1892, this one-act gem anatomizes desire as a force that devours both the desired and the desirer. On the terrace of Herod's palace, the young princess fixates on Jokanaan, the imprisoned prophet whose body she has never touched, whose voice she cannot stop hearing. His rejection only intensifies her hunger. When Herod offers her anything she wishes in exchange for her dance, Salomé names her price: the prophet's head. The play's shattering final image finds her clutching that severed face, kissing the cold lips, and discovering that victory tastes of ash. Wilde constructs his tragedy in language so lush it becomes almost unbearable, each line saturated with color, scent, and unspoken longing. The result is not merely a biblical retelling but a meditation on the impossibility of desire, the way we destroy ourselves pursuing what can never satisfy. It remains a landmark of the Aesthetic movement, a work that proves Wilde could make darkness as seductive as wit.
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“The mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death.””
— Oscar Wilde
“It is not wise to find symbols in everything that one sees. It makes life too full of terrors.””
— Oscar Wilde
“How pale the Princess is! Never have I seen her so pale. She is like the shadow of a white rose in a mirror of silver.””
— Oscar Wilde
“Salomé, Salomé, dance for me. I pray thee dance for me. I am sad to-night. Yes, I am passing sad to-night. When I came hither I slipped in blood, which is an evil omen; and I heard, I am sure I heard in the air a beating of wings, a beating of giant wings. I cannot tell what they mean .... I am sad to-night. Therefore dance for me. Dance for me, Salomé, I beseech you. If you dance for me you may ask of me what you will, and I will give it you, even unto the half of my kingdom.””
— Oscar Wilde
“Neither at things, nor at people should one look. Only in mirrors should one look, for mirrors do but show us masks.””
— Oscar Wilde
“The long black nights, when the moon hides her face, when the stars are afraid, are not so black. The silence that dwells in the forest is not so black. There is nothing in the world so black as thy hair.””
— Oscar Wilde
“I am athirst for thy beauty; I am hungry for thy body; and neither wine nor apples can appease my desire. What shall I do now, Iokanaan? Neither the floods nor the great waters can quench my passion. I was a princess, and thou didst scorn me. I was a virgin, and thou didst take my virginity from me. I was chaste, and thou didst fill my veins with fire . . .””
— Oscar Wilde
“Look at the moon! How strange the moon seems! She is like a woman rising from a tomb. She is like a dead woman. You would fancy she was looking for dead things.””
— Oscar Wilde
“Ah! thou wouldst not suffer me to kiss thy mouth, Iokanaan. Well! I will kiss it now. I will bite it with my teeth as one bites a ripe fruit. Yes, I will kiss thy mouth, Iokanaan. I said it; did I not say it? I said it. Ah! I will kiss it now . . . . But wherefore dost thou not look at me, Iokanaan? Thine eyes that were so terrible, so full of rage and scorn, are shut now. Wherefore are they shut? Open thine eyes! Lift up thine eyelids, Iokanaan! Wherefore dost thou not look at me? Art thou afraid of me, Iokanaan, that thou wilt not look at me?””
— Oscar Wilde
