The Picture of Dorian Gray 

A novel by Oscar Wilde

 

 

 

                The excerpt in Toibin from The Picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde, hardly does justice to the literary feat performed by Wilde, but it does lead one into a most interesting discussion, as the scene is undoubtedly the singularly most pivotal excerpt of the entire novel.  The eight pages (336-345) in Toibin are drawn from a very early point in the novel, and by that fact almost belying the veracity of the statement that such a scene could be at all instrumental to the work as a whole, or at least anything more important than typical background material.  Unlike many authors, however, who merely employ the beginnings of a novel as a wellspring from which to draw the subsequent scenes of the work from, Wilde explodes from the very beginning; dropping one into the middle of the action and leaving one almost floundering to catch up.  Only marginally employing the style of in media res, Wilde does not go back and elaborate upon what has already occurred, but instead plunges on into the work, drawing the reader with him and letting shards of explanation fall into place as one becomes aware of the intricate world that has been created. 

         

          This excerpt from Toibin places a young Dorian Gray at Basil Hallward’s studio, where he comes to sit for the painter, his friend.  At this instance, Dorian encounters one Lord Henry Wotten, also a friend of Basil and seemingly a sophisticated, worldly, and intriguing fellow.  It is here, as the painting of Dorian reaches completion, that Henry and Dorian become fast acquaintances and Dorian utters his soul burning plea for the picture to age and die in his place, while he remains forever young, in the state of perfection created by Basil’s brushstrokes; instigated by Lord Henry’s comments upon the hideousness of age.  At the time, Dorian’s words “I would give my soul for that!” seem merely an impassioned plea by a young man’s dreams for immortality, hardly an uncommon trait.  As this is a very early scene in the novel, one has no reason to believe it anything more than such a plea and it is only upon retrospection that one realizes that, with these words, Dorian has indeed traded his soul for the power he desired. 

 

          Upon contemplation of the novel, one must acknowledge that this circumstance could only have come about by the presence of Lord Henry, not merely in a wayward comment that sparked ideas within Dorian’s mind, but insidious comments that found their way into Dorian’s youthful mind and sparked a passion there that he had never known.  As before he had met Lord Henry, Dorian was thought by all of his acquaintance to be a wonderfully tempered and beautiful young man, so with the addition of Lord Henry, the only new factor in Dorian’s life, did Dorian slowly become a cruel and sadistic, tortured and tormented soul.  One may only come to the conclusion that whatever Lord Henry may truly have been, terming him the devil would not fall far short of the mark.

 

          As Dorian’s acquaintance with Lord Henry grew ever deeper, so did his exposure to all of the

meaner things in life.   To Dorian’s credit he did not immediately fall into such habits, but instead his soul slowly grew darker and more twisted, cruel and leering, as depicted by the once beautiful portrait now hidden in an abandoned room of Dorian’s home to which only he bore the key.  As Dorian’s soul grew darker, so did his visage in the portrait become ever more twisted and condemning.   From the first line of cruelty that appeared to twist his lips as he shattered the life of Sibyl Vane, an actress and his fiancée, shallowly abandoning her as she deliberately performed badly on stage for love of him; that she could not fake the love of Juliet (e.g. Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare) on stage when she felt such a burning passion for him alone.  As he left her, sobbing on the floor, having rejected her for having “lost” her art, having informed her that only her art had meaning to him and that without her art she was meaningless, she followed the tragic heroines of her plays and poisoned herself for love of him.  The obvious illogic and shallowness of his actions only emphasize Dorian’s descent into depravity.  From those lines of cruelty through every debauchery known to his time, Dorian’s portrait grew more twisted and vulgar while his form retained all the beauty and purity poured into the original canvas until he even coldly slew his old friend Basil, the originator of the great work, and blood appeared on the hands of the figure in the painting.

 

          The scene depicted in Toibin is the proverbial genie in a bottle, or perhaps a fuel tank with a label warning: Danger: Contents under extreme pressure.  Due to the scene’s early appearance, the true magnitude of the actions taken are not considered to be at all momentous, but merely the commonplace outbursts of emotion.  When the novel is read through, and this scene once again brought to mind, it is impossible not to see the delicate framework built by Wilde for his plot to grow within, but awe inspiring to acknowledge the immense double entendre created here.  In hindsight, it is possible to view the scene as a logical progression in which Lord Henry works to corrupt Dorian and also possible to view the exact moment at which Dorian trades his soul for youth. 

         

          However, to maintain a sense of balance Wilde does not merely bury the hapless form of Dorian in twisting plots and create in him the absence of all things good and a loathing and hatred for purity.  Even at his darkest Dorian is completely aware of what he has become, loathing both what he has done in the pursuit of his own pleasure and what he has become.  This is the true horror of Wilde’s genius, in this Wilde leaves, not a demon or slavering monster, but a human soul, still recognizable and infinitely both grotesque and pitiable.  With this mechanism Wilde reaches out to touch one and one’s own soul resounds with the agony of Dorian’s deeds, and thus one is forced to view and acknowledge all that Dorian is and also acknowledge that this is a man, once the epitome of his society and all that one could ever hope to attain in grace, charity, and goodness and that this is what has fallen, that this is what could happen to anyone.  It is with this acknowledgement of human frailty that Wilde truly strikes home.

 

          What is worth noting as well is that at no time in the gamut of Dorian’s life does he ever once blame Lord Henry for his position, instead trusting him as his dearest and most valued friend.  One can only assume that this is some art of Lord Henry’s at work, keeping Dorian close and becoming daily more twisted in spirit even as Lord Henry urges him onward into ever darker deeds and fouler things.  Lord Henry’s motivation may be partially displayed by a statement of Dorian’s “I did not say that I liked it Henry, I said that it fascinated me.”  To which Lord Henry replied, “So, you’ve noticed the difference, have you?”  This may be read that Lord Henry toyed with Dorian out of fascination for such a creature as pure as Dorian was and the possibilities of what Lord Henry might do with such a one, thus eliminating any possibility that Lord Henry truly did feel some affection for Dorian and that he might not be the cause of Dorian’s downfall.

                                                

          As Dorian reached his darkest days, by some intrepid force he seemed to truly realize what he had become and to despise himself.  This, more than anything else, declares for Dorian that he was not completely lost to depravity, but that, like any living human creature, he acknowledged an aesthetic sense and appreciation for beauty and purity and in a stunning display of willpower strove to halt and reverse his actions.  In this he acted upon an awareness of Lord Henry’s nature and pled with him not to influence anyone else.  As Dorian strove to overthrow his own nature and restore the beauty and purity to the portrait, and thus his own soul, he tried to turn from the deeds that had become his very existence.  As Dorian struggled to cleanse his soul, Lord Henry, without ever appearing to be anything but helpful and gentlemanly, bound him ever closer to the deeds that he despised, twisting thoughts and logic to suit ill actions and radiating a presence that warped whatever it came near. 

 

It is said that every contract has an egress, a loophole, a ray of light and hope in the midst of a world of darkness and it was thus with the bargain that Dorian made.  One must consider that if Dorian’s form and that of the portrait had switched places, what than would happen if the portrait were to be destroyed?  Would it be that Dorian’s soul, in the form of the portrait, would be released, the contract broken and reneged?  It was never indicated whether Dorian ever considered anything of the kind, but one wonders if it was not possible that Dorian’s inherently good nature, long buried and tormented, did not spur the fit of rage in which Dorian took up the same knife which he had employed to kill Basil and with it attacked the portrait, hoping to destroy the evidence of his twisted and corrupt soul.  As a cry of pain resounded through his house Dorian’s form switched once more with that of the portrait, restoring the original work to its canvas and all the depredations of Dorian’s soul, that had formerly been bourn by the artwork, returned to roost with their master and to rest in their true place upon his flesh.  His former servants found the distorted and grotesque form lying upon the floor, a knife buried to the hilt in its chest and recognizable only by the clothing and ornaments that it wore.

 

It is impossible to know whether Dorian achieved true repentance for his actions before he died, but all the evidence points at least in the direction of such an occurrence.  One of Dorian’s philosophies near his end states as much in that he says, “Not, ‘Forgive us our sins,’ but ‘Smite us for our iniquities,’ should be the prayer of man to a most just God.’  Thus showing his realization of his own unworthiness of such divine largess. 

 

Dorian’s actions and realizations are not the most disturbing instance at the completion and contemplation of this play though; that laurel goes to the continued existence of Lord Henry, untouched and seemingly untouchable by any of the actions he instigates.  Lord Henry’s own words inform one that Dorian is not a singular case, in referring to the Lord Bournemouth’s eldest son, “He is quite delightful and rather reminds me of you.”  These words infer that Dorian’s eminent end is acknowledged, even planned upon by Lord Henry and that he already has at least one entertaining replacement should Dorian suddenly remove himself from Lord Henry’s influence.  When Dorian hears this, he acknowledges at last at least some part of Lord Henry’s influence over him, as he refers to a book which was lent to him long ago by Lord Henry and which introduced to him the search for new and greater pleasures and sensations and sent him into a downward spiral of hedonism with, “Yet you poisoned me with a book once.  I should not forgive that.  Harry, promise me that you will never lend that book to anyone.  It does harm.”  Lord Henry deftly sidesteps this request and changes the topic, but it is interesting to note Dorian’s phrasing in this quote, most specifically, “I should not,” inferring that Dorian would like to blame Lord Henry for what he has done to him, but that he cannot, as if he had no choice in the matter.  This instant displays Lord Henry’s influence in the novel and Dorian’s inability to act against Lord Henry’s interests.

 

Thus, the most disturbing point in the novel is not the fractured and fallen soul of Dorian, although that is a great and horrible effect, but the fact of Lord Henry’s continued existence and the potential that he bears to re-enact exactly what he did with Dorian or perhaps an even greater misery.   Thus Wilde’s work stands, not only as a fictional depiction of possibility well within the constraints of reality, but as a warning to all who contemplate it not to allow such to ever occur, to them or another, lest one be forced to pay the price for such laxity of character.