Fame is a Fickle Friend

I've become a fan of Oscar Wilde, the tragic Victorian playwright, arrested while his star was in the ascendant. I was intrigued to see a statue tribute to him in Galway last month, a gift of the Estonian Government to the Irish people. Wilde transgressed the mores of his time, but I hope he had an inkling that history would be kinder to him. I recently read a biography of Wilde, penned by a contemporary, and viewed an old black and white film of his play, The Importance of Being Earnest. Later, I also read a copy of the play and enjoyed it greatly, noticing elements in print I'd missed in the filmed portrayal. When he was arrested, he was denied bail. His creditors ransacked his house and took his plays, so he died a pauper in Paris, surviving on the benevolence of patrons. A friend later bought back the copyrights to create a legacy for his sons. The treatment of Oscar Wilde in his day is a sad indictment against the fickleness of fame and the cruelty of society towards people who flout its rules. Looking back, I guess Oscar felt his stature gave him immunity. He was an Irishman in London who pushed the envelope too far and ultimately, paid the price.