“’Like all good reputations, Gladys,’ interrupted Lord Henry. ‘Every effect that one produces gives one an enemy. To be popular one must be a mediocrity.’
‘Not with women,’ said the Duchess, shaking her head; ‘and women rule the world. I assure you we can’t bear mediocrities. We women, as someone says, love with our ears, just as you men love with your eyes, if you ever love at all’
‘It seems to me that we never do anything else,’ murmured Dorian
‘Ah! Then, you never really love, Mr. Gray,’ answered the Duchess with mock sadness.
‘My dear Gladys!’ cried Lord Henry. ‘How can you say that? Romance lives by repetition and repetition converts an appetite into an art.’” (Page 154)
When I came across this particular passage it seemed to correlate strongly to leadership. Leadership; however, is not mediocrity, but rather, being so un-mediocre that mediocrity and enemies don’t break you down. It is true that popularity and ‘good’ reputations require mediocrity, but it is for that reason that I desire to not desire that shallowness. Mediocrity seems to be blasphemous in nature, given that we have the potential for greatness, settling for mediocrity must slap our Image-Giver right in the face.
The next paragraph comes from perhaps my overall favorite character in the novel, Gladys. She represents the intellectually perfect woman to me. She is not overly feminist, or pompously independent, but rather she is individual, confident, philosophically wise, sultry, and enticing. And so right when she makes her claim that women rule the world. Well men figurehead the world. Women rule the world. Equally true that they refuse mediocrity. Men are pressured to be exceptional at at least something to be desired by a woman, and they must be either exceptional at everything or exceptional at nothing to be popular to other guys. The cliché of men loving with their eyes and women with their ears is so clearly true, despite its cliché. However the next part caught me off guard. I have hopefully already established that I tend to think similarly to Lord Henry and with that the case I took the hot side of this burn from Gladys. I was so used to Wilde blowing smoke in Lord Henry and thus mine rear that this statement came as a shock. I spent awhile thinking that maybe it was just a part where I disagreed with Lord Henry. But I came to the somewhat depressing realization that that was my problem. I was like Harry in my unwillingness to admit wrong. The rest of this passage continues with Lord Henry babbling like a fool about love being new every time it happens. Too many men feel this way. If it is ephemeral than it is not love. Gladys was convicting in her words, “Ah! Then you never really love, Mr. Gray.” If one loves everything, what separates that from loving nothing? Love is love, because it is rare, exclusive; valuable. If you take the rarity out of love, it is meaningless. If you take the exclusiveness out of love, it is meaningless. Romance lives by an eternal flame of passion not repetition, repetition produces a habitual love. An all action no feeling love. And if that is the case than there is no love there at all.
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