In Extremis

Neil Bartlett

• Publisher: Oberon Books
• Year: 2016
• Print ISBN: 9781840022056
• eBook ISBN: 9781783197934
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: British Drama
• Index: Literature

On the night of 24th March 1895, Mrs Robinson, a society palm-reader, agreed to see Oscar Wilde in her London flat. Wilde's lover, Lord Alfred Douglas, 'Bosie', was urging him to sue the Marquis of Queensberry (Bosie's father) for criminal libel. But Wilde's friends, wary of Queensberry's power, were warning him to leave town. In Extremis reveals the strange turmoil of that night, as a man at the height of his fame turns to a complete stranger for advice about a potentially life-changing decision.
In Extremis was first presented in November 2000 at the National Theatre alongside De Profundis to mark the centenary of Oscar Wilde's death.

Characters

Oscar Wilde

Mrs Robinson, a palm-reader

In Extremis was first performed at the Cottesloe Theatre on 3 November 2000, in tandem with Wilde’s De Profundis. It was also performed on the night of 30 November 2000, exactly one hundred years after Wilde’s death. The cast was as follows:

W, Corin Redgrave

R, Sheila Hancock

Director, Trevor Nunn

Think of a rather sombre, beautiful space,
more or less empty.

There are two chairs, facing each other, some good
distance apart.

They often say things the other doesn’t hear.

There is a letter on the floor by her chair.
This is the only prop.

In this script, R = Mrs Robinson, W = Oscar Wilde.

Perhaps:

She is sitting in a chair facing another empty chair.

We hear the sound of a clock ticking.

He enters. He sits, facing her, and.............says nothing.

She suspends the ticking of the clock with a small gesture –

R

There were only two people in the room that evening; and both of us are now dead.

And since no one else was in the room that night, if you want to know what he said – the actual words that he used – and that I used – well; I’m the only one who can tell you.

That is why you’ve come, isn’t it? To hear him. To hear what he really said.

Of course a lot of things weren’t actually said, out loud – much of that evening will have to be inferred, deduced. How can we ever really know what a man is or was thinking, you may say. Interpretation, fortunately, is my profession.

She looks at him, and us.

People often come to hear me speak and they sit there and I can tell what they’re thinking, they’re thinking, its all nonsense really, isn’t it, really, palm-reading, I mean how do I know she’s not just making it all up – not that that ever stops them paying to come and hear me. I can see it in their faces, “I shan’t believe you, whatever you say.”

Sometimes they even come right out and say it, they say, Mrs. Robinson, are you lying? And do you know, I always give them the same answer. Am I lying? No.

She looks at him again.

It’s extraordinary to think of him now. Dead, I mean. And so quickly, too. Such a big man, he was. Seemed to be.

Anyway...........

That evening, after he’d gone, I wrote a letter, to.....a friend. Someone rather well known. Forgive me if I refer to it now, but I do want to get the details right. Details, as he once said to me, are the only things that really interest.

Reading.

53 Mortimer St. West One

March 24th.

My dear,

I felt I must write, as much for my sake as yours: I am eager to preserve an accurate account of my most recent consultation, and also should not like to think of you or anyone else hearing of it first in the papers.

You will surely never guess who I received as a client late here this evening. Mr Wilde. Under the present circumstances, too! I have of course met him before, in January, at that last evening of Lady Narborough’s – you may recall the unfortunate incident of my telling Lady Fermor right out before everyone that she did not care a bit for music but was extremely fond of musicians.

It is so gratifying when a client is encouraged to return for a second reading. He doubtless recalled my success on the earlier occasion – I foresaw an imminent journey, and was quite right; he told me he had received tickets from Thomas Cook only hours prior to the party. You may have read of the trip in the St James Gazette last month. Algiers, I believe.

I cannot of course reveal what transpired on this occasion but I can only say that he seemed to me most satisfied, and left evidently content. I am glad for him. Tomorrow I am at Lady Merton’s and shall doubtless hear more of how the case is expected to proceed. It starts on Monday week, does it not? Shall you go?

Did I tell you by the way that the Duchess of Monmouth has introduced me to Lord Leighton, President of the Royal Academy? A most distinguished hand.

Believe me your affectionate friend,

– and so on.

Referring to the letter.

.......the 24th of March. 189.....5. I’d forgotten I met him twice. I wonder what time it was? – .......late,

I think......

Laying it down.

I should have kept a copy really – papers are so useful. So useful should any verification of what was said be required at a later date; hindsight, unlike foresight, is such an approximate art. And sceptics abound. Not everyone is as persuaded of my powers as the dear Duchess of Berwick, who so obligingly wrote in my book of testimonials after I had read her hand: “Mrs Robinson seemed able to recall my past more accurately than I could have done myself”. Some are sceptical, some anxious, some think it n...

Table of contents

• Front Cover
• Half-Title Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Contents
• Writing Wilde
• In Extremis