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Summaries and Commentaries
The Picture of Dorian Gray opens in the London studio of Basil Hallward, an artist. With him, reclining and smoking a cigarette, is Lord Henry “Harry” Wotton. Basil is finishing painting a portrait of “a young man of extraordinary personal beauty.” Lord Henry praises the portrait as the best work that Basil has done and insists that it must be shown at a suitable gallery. To Lord Henry’s surprise, Basil states that he will not show it anywhere: “I have put too much of myself in it.”
Basil tries to keep the painting’s subject’s identity a secret from Lord Henry, then accidentally discloses that the beautiful young man’s name is Dorian Gray. Basil admits that he prefers to keep favorite people to himself, not even telling others their names because he feels he might lose a part of them. In fact, he has “grown to love secrecy.” Even when he takes a trip, he keeps the destination private, a revelation that becomes important later in the story. Lord Henry answers that he understands, but he is more interested in Basil’s reason for not exhibiting the portrait.
Basil responds that any painting done with true feeling reveals more of the artist than it does the subject. He fears that the painting will reveal the secret of his soul.
Basil explains how he met Dorian at Lady Brandon’s home. He felt terror upon first seeing Dorian because he sensed that the young man’s personality was so powerful that it could absorb him. More important, Dorian inspires a fresh approach to art in Basil, allowing him to produce the best work of his professional life. Because Basil worries that the public will detect his personal and artistic idolatry of Gray, he will not exhibit the portrait. Echoing a basic tenet of Aestheticism, he suggests that an artist should create beautiful work for its own sake; art shouldn’t mean anything. He dismisses artists and critics who see art as a means for biographical expression, and he refuses to have his work thought of in that way.
When Lord Henry expresses his desire to meet Gray, Basil explains that he wants to keep Dorian and the painting hidden away so that neither Dorian nor the world will ever know about his “curious artistic idolatry.” Lord Henry suggests that Basil’s feeling may pass and that he will eventually become indifferent to Dorian, but Basil disagrees.
At that moment, the butler enters, announcing the arrival of Dorian, and Lord Henry laughs that they must meet now. Before entering the studio where Dorian is waiting, Basil asks Lord Henry not to influence or take away the person who inspires him as an artist.
Chapter 1 introduces two of the major characters of the book, and the reader learns a good deal about them. Basil is an artist of apparently independent means. He is secretive, and Wilde even mentions that Basil has disappeared without notice in the past. In addition, the distinctive toss of his head, the one that “used to make his friends laugh at him at Oxford,” characterizes Basil as someone who is thought of as an odd, yet endearing, fellow Although Basil claims to be independent, he is instantly overpowered by Dorian upon meeting him, becoming dependent on Dorian immediately as his muse, spirit, art, and life. Basil’s attraction to Dorian seems to be both professional and personal. Dorian inspires Basil to a new vision of art, combining Greek perfection with Romantic passion. However, there is every implication of something more personal in the attraction. Basil is also a jealous person, wanting to keep Dorian from Lord Henry so that he can have Dorian all to himself.
The other main character introduced in Chapter 1 is Lord Henry Wotton, a very intelligent, confident, manipulative man. He decadently smokes opium-tainted cigarettes and has a commanding presence no matter where he is or whom he socializes with. He is very judgmental and enjoys sounding profound. Like Wilde himself, Lord Henry often speaks in aphorisms. As he speaks with Basil, Lord Henry picks a daisy from the grass to examine it, later pulling the daisy apart, an act that symbolizes his role throughout the novel as a manipulator and destroyer of beauty for his own amusement.
Although it may seem strange to categorize a painting as a character, Basil’s portrait of Dorian plays such an important role in the book that the reader is actually introduced to the painting as if it were a character before meeting Dorian himself. Perhaps Wilde is indicating that Dorian’s reputation for physical beauty precedes him and is more important to his character than any other attribute. In any case, the presence of the portrait in Chapter 1 allows the reader to hear something about Dorian before his character appears in the novel. Basil speaks at length about Dorian, stating that he is charming, but also that “Now and then, however, he is horribly thoughtless, and seems to take a real delight in giving me pain.” This characterization links Dorian with Lord Henry as a manipulator and foreshadows their close relationship later in the story.
Chapter 1 also introduces some of the major themes of the novel: the importance and power of beauty in relation to the intellect and the soul, and the fleeting nature of beauty. While discussing the merits of beauty as opposed to intellect, Basil states that there is “a fatality about all physical and intellectual distinction, the sort of fatality that seems to dog through history the faltering steps of kings.” Basil’s statement indicates that physical and intellectual excellence are often the downfall of those who possess them. The reader should note how Basil’s statement rings true throughout the novel.
Wilde claimed that Lord Henry represented his public image but that the author actually was more like Basil and yearned to be more like Dorian. While the reader must always take care in accepting Wilde’s comments at face value, he was like Basil in that he was a creative artist and privately perhaps less secure than his public image. He certainly did admire youth and beauty, which Dorian possesses. Still, Lord Henry is the Wildean character in this novel: bright, witty, and controlling.

Basil wants to finish the portrait of Dorian and asks Lord Henry to leave, but Dorian insists that he remain. Dorian has “taken a fancy” to Lord Henry.
Dorian is intrigued that Lord Henry might be a “very bad influence.” Lord Henry responds prophetically with one of his aphorisms: “There is no such thing as a good influence, Mr. Gray. All influence is immoral”—that is, to influence someone is to alter his view of himself. In a key statement that echoes Wilde’s personal philosophy, Lord Henry asserts, “The aim of life is self-develop-ment. To realize one’s nature perfectly—that is what each of us is here for.” He laments that humanity has lost courage, and he presents a monologue on courage, fear, living life fully, and the virtues of yielding to temptation.
Dorian senses “entirely fresh influences” at work on him and begs Lord Henry to stop his speech. Dorian wants to try not to think. After a few minutes of silence, Dorian and Lord Henry retire to the garden; Basil says he must finish up the portrait’s background but will join them shortly.
In the garden, Lord Henry continues to influence Dorian. He tells the young man that only the senses can cure the soul just as the soul is the only remedy for the senses. Speaking at length on the virtues of youth and beauty, claiming that “Beauty is a form of Genius,” he urges Dorian to be selfish with his youth while he has it and to seek a “new Hedonism,” elevating the pursuit of pleasure to a dominating level. Youth and beauty are the finest of all treasures, and they should be cherished and guarded because they so quickly fade. In fact, he asserts, “There is absolutely nothing in the world but youth.”
Dorian is frightened but stirred by Lord Henry’s speech. Basil interrupts and asks the two to rejoin him in the studio so that he can finish the portrait.
When Dorian looks at the painting, he is quite moved, as if he sees himself for the first time. Recalling the words of Lord Henry, he first recognizes the extraordinary beauty and youth in the portrait and then is pained by the thought of losing it. He envies the figure in the painting, saying that he would give his soul to be young forever as the painting will be. Influenced by Lord Henry’s words on youth and beauty, he is terrified of aging. He fears that he will lose everything when he loses his good looks. Impulsively vowing that he will kill himself when he grows old, he repeats his wish that the portrait might age while he remains young.
Basil accuses Lord Henry of causing all this turmoil, but Lord Henry says that he has merely brought forth the true Dorian. Basil decides to destroy the portrait rather than have it upset the lives of the three men, but Dorian stops him. “It would be murder,” Dorian says.
After a sense of calm is restored, Lord Henry invites Dorian to join him at the theater that evening and offers the young man a ride home in his carriage. Basil protests but concludes that he will stay with “the real Dorian,” the portrait. He reminds Lord Henry that he trusts him not to influence Dorian further. Lord Henry laughingly responds, “I wish I could trust myself.”
Chapter 2 is one of the most important chapters in the novel. First, it introduces the title character, Dorian. The reader is assured of his physical beauty, with his “finely curved scarlet lips, his frank blue eyes, his crisp gold hair.” Basil and Lord Henry are older, perhaps in their early thirties, but Dorian is past twenty and no child. Still, he has retained remarkable innocence and even “purity.” He seems less mature than his years: He pouts; he is petulant; he acts spoiled. He blushes, becomes unreasonably upset, and cries.
Lord Henry, who enjoys manipulating people, spots Dorian’s vulnerability immediately and goes to work. He soon has planted the seeds of terror in the young man, an unreasonable and immature fear of growing old and losing his youthful beauty. When Basil complains about Lord Henry’s manipulating Dorian, Lord Henry responds that he is merely bringing out the true Dorian, and maybe he is.
Dorian is easily swayed by Lord Henry’s seductive ideas, revealing that Dorian’s true morals are vague, to say the least. At the beginning of the chapter, Dorian has no greater friend than Basil, but by the end of the chapter, he has abandoned Basil for Lord Henry after a very short afternoon. The reader might first attribute Dorian’s weakness and fickle nature to youth, but the change in his nature occurs only after he has realized the importance of his own beauty, a very worldly attitude. In this short chapter, the reader not only meets the main character of the book; the reader also witnesses a complete transition in his nature from innocence to self-involved worldliness. Dorian’s fall from grace takes place in just a few short pages.
Chapter 2 is also very important because it introduces the vehicle that propels the rest of the story—Dorian’s wish that the painting show those horrible signs of age that he fears, leaving him forever young. Dorian’s wish about the painting introduces the Faust theme, which Wilde develops throughout the book. (The Faust legend was well known to Wilde through popular culture.) Faust, legend has it, sold his soul to the devil in exchange for knowledge and power. The Faust legend raises the question of eternal damnation due to the unpardonable sin of despair. Certainly it is a sin for the Faustian character to make a pact with the devil. However, he can escape, even at the end of his life, if he repents and asks for God’s forgiveness. Usually, the character feels he is beyond God’s help, which is an insult to God, who is all-powerful, according to Christian philosophy. Despair is the only unpardonable sin because it keeps the sinner from asking for God’s help.
As Dorian’s character evolves throughout the novel, the reader should keep in mind the Faust legend and how Oscar Wilde applies it to Dorian’s character. In light of the Faust legend, the reader might ask at this point what Lord Henry’s role is. If he is not the devil literally, he certainly seems to be playing the devil’s part. More accurately, he plays the devil’s advocate, leading Dorian into an unholy pact by manipulating his innocence and insecurity. Lord Henry’s role in Dorian’s downfall is implied rather than explicitly defined, and the reader need not conclude that Lord Henry is aware of his demonic role. However, he does enjoy controlling people and playing with their minds. In the context of the Faust theme, perhaps he is the devil’s unwitting representative.
As the chapter opens, it is half-past noon the next day. Lord Henry calls on his uncle, Lord Fermor, to learn about Dorian’s heritage. The uncle is a delightful old curmudgeon—wealthy, cynical, and very knowledgeable about everyone else’s private business. He and Lord Henry get along well, and the old man is pleased to tell him all about Dorian’s past. Dorian is the grandson of Lord Kelso and the son of Kelso’s daughter, Margaret Devereux. Lady Margaret was an extremely beautiful woman who displeased her father by marrying beneath her; she married a penniless, low-level soldier, as Lord Fermor recalls. Kelso reportedly hired “some Belgian brute” to insult the husband and lure him into a duel, in which he was killed. Lady Margaret was with child: Dorian. She died within a year or so of the duel. Kelso is dead and probably left his fortune to Dorian. The mother had money of her own, so Dorian should be well off financially. After some casual conversation about the charming, deceptive nature of American girls, Lord Henry is off to his Aunt Agatha’s for lunch.
Dorian also attends the luncheon, and Lord Henry dominates the conversation, delighting his audience at the table with a number of aphorisms—for example, “I can sympathize with everything except suffering.” (A devout Aesthetic, Lord Henry wants people to sympathize with beauty, the use of color, and the joy of life.) To an aging duchess, he suggests, “To get back one’s youth, one has merely to repeat one’s follies.” Lord Henry then launches into a triumphant monologue in praise of folly that echoes his speech to Dorian the day before in Basil’s garden.
After the luncheon, Lord Henry and Dorian leave together.
The chief contribution of this entertaining chapter is that the reader learns about Dorian’s background. Fermor’s details about Dorian’s troubled family establish the young man as a romantic and tragic figure.
The only other important information that the reader gets in this chapter is about the relationship between Dorian and Lord Henry, which appears to be solidifying quickly. Early in the chapter, Lord Henry recalls that talking with Dorian the night before had been like “playing upon an exquisite violin.” He likens his influence on Dorian to a sculptor’s shaping of a statue out of beautiful marble. Lord Henry is not subtle about his motives toward Dorian: “He would seek to dominate him—had already, indeed, half done so.”
Readers should note the ironic contrast of Lord Henry’s speeches and his actions. In Chapter 2, he advises Dorian that all influence is bad because it corrupts a person’s true spirit; in this chapter, he willfully states that he intends to influence Dorian’s development. At the end of the chapter, Dorian has fallen fully under the spell of Lord Henry’s influence. For example, Dorian backs out of his afternoon appointment with Basil, saying, “I would sooner come with you [Lord Henry]; yes, I feel I must come with you.”
The luncheon, which spans the bulk of the chapter and does little to progress the plot or enlighten the reader, seems to have been devised to entertain the reader and show off Lord Henry’s clever table talk. Lord Henry is witty, but it is no accident that friends of Wilde recognized several of the author’s favorite lines as they came out of Lord Henry’s mouth
While Dorian breakfasts the next morning, Basil arrives, upset about Sibyl’s death and concerned for Dorian. Basil had come by Dorian’s home the night before but was told that Dorian was at the opera. Basil cannot believe that Dorian could have gone to the opera so soon after Sibyl’s suicide, and he is concerned that “one tragedy might be followed by another.”
Dorian is bored and indifferent about Sybil. He tells Basil that Sibyl’s mother has a son but that he has no idea how the woman is faring. Beyond that, he wants no more talk of “horrid subjects.” Instead, he asks about Basil’s paintings.
Basil is astonished at Dorian’s indifference. He asks Dorian how he could attend the opera while Sibyl Vane lay dead but not yet buried. Dorian tries to interrupt. Echoing his mentor, Lord Henry, he observes that a person who is “master of himself can end a sorrow as easily as he can invent a pleasure.”
Basil continues, saying that Dorian’s attitude is “horrible.” He accuses Dorian of having no heart and blames the change in Dorian on Lord Henry’s influence.
Dorian retorts that he owes “a great deal” to Lord Henry, more than he owes to Basil, who “only taught me to be vain.” Basil sadly responds, “Well, I am punished for that, Dorian—or shall be some day,” a major foreshadowing of events to come in the novel.
Basil is even more distraught when he learns that Sibyl’s death was a suicide. Dorian, however, again echoes Lord Henry by calling Sibyl’s death “one of the great romantic tragedies of the age.” Besides, Dorian points out, he did grieve; however, he recalls, it soon passed. He repeats a self-serving anecdote about his own life and concedes that he has indeed changed. He admits that Basil may be “better” than Lord Henry, but the latter is stronger. Basil, he concludes, is too afraid of life.
The subject turns to art. Dorian asks Basil to make a drawing of Sibyl, and Basil agrees to try making the portrait. More importantly, he asks Dorian to sit for him again. That would be impossible, says Dorian. Basil then asks to see the portrait because he now plans to exhibit it in Paris.
Dorian is horrified that Basil wants to exhibit the portrait; he fears that his secret would be revealed to the whole world. Dorian reminds Basil of his promise never to exhibit the portrait and asks why he has changed his mind. Basil explains that he didn’t want to exhibit the portrait for fear that others might see his feelings for Dorian in it. Since that time, he has come to the conclusion that “art conceals the artist far more completely than it ever reveals him,” and that he doesn’t fear others seeing the portrait. Basil finally agrees not to exhibit the portrait and leaves.
At the end of the chapter, Dorian marvels at how he was spared from telling his own secret and, instead, managed to manipulate his friend into telling his secret. He vows to keep the portrait hidden away forever.
Wilde uses this chapter to continue his character development of both Basil and Dorian. Basil shows himself to be a decent, caring human being who is as concerned for Sibyl and her mother as he is for Dorian. Unlike Lord Henry, he does not encourage Dorian to turn away from the girl’s death or treat it like some entertaining fantasy. In a moment of heightened irony, Dorian accuses Basil of being “too much afraid of life.” In fact, Dorian is afraid that Basil will see the portrait and thus learn of his secret pact. As for Dorian, he shows himself to be fully immersed in his new life of selfishness and manipulation. For example, when Dorian learns of Basil’s strange admiration for him, an admiration that has obviously had a major impact on Basil, Dorian is simply pleased to be adored by Basil. As he wonders if he will ever feel that way toward someone, it becomes evident that he already does—while he respects Lord Henry, Dorian only adores himself. When he gets Basil to admit his secret without having to reveal his own, he feels pleasure at having manipulated the situation so completely to his own advantage. His decision at the end of the chapter to hide the painting reveals his commitment to a life of vanity and self-gratification.
Wilde also shows the reader the tension that Dorian feels about keeping his pact a secret. Dorian becomes gripped with raging fear when he hears that Basil wants to see the painting and to show it to others—he is so afraid that he actually breaks into a sweat. Dorian’s fear points to an important theme in the book: A life devoted solely to the pursuit of selfish pleasure will always be marred by self-con-scious fear. Dorian has what he wants—eternal youth and a life filled with pleasure—but he can’t fully enjoy his life for fear that his secret will be discovered. Dorian’s fear in this chapter is the first sign that Dorian’s new life will be a study in disappointment.
Readers should note that this chapter contains several ironic allusions that become important later in the story. For example, Dorian makes a fleeting and flippant reference about Sibyl’s brother; when Dorian mentions James, the reader is reminded of the brother’s promise to kill anyone who harms Sybil. The repeated references to the brother remind the reader of his presence and foreshadow his later reemergence in the book. As the novel progresses, the reader also will see the irony in Dorian’s statement that he would turn to Basil in a time of trouble.
For most of this chapter, Dorian is concerned with moving the portrait to an attic room where it will be safely hidden. He calls for Victor, his servant, who enters the room. It occurs to Dorian that the servant has had access to the portrait and may have looked behind the screen. He tells Victor to summon the housekeeper, Mrs. Leaf, and then to go to Mr. Hubbard, the frame maker, and ask him to send over two of his men. From Mrs. Leaf, Dorian wants the key to his old schoolroom, a spacious attic area. Mrs. Leaf wants to clean the schoolroom before Dorian sees it; Dorian finally secures the key and sends Mrs. Leaf away. Dorian locates a piece of richly-colored fabric with which to cover the portrait. Ironically, the fabric previously had been used to cover coffins, and Dorian contemplates that it will now conceal the death and degeneration of the portrait. For a moment, he wonders if he should have confessed his secret to Basil after all and asked his assistance in escaping Lord Henry’s influence. He realizes that Basil could have saved him from the sins he will surely commit, but he decides that it is “too late now.” The future looks inevitably bleak to Dorian.
Dorian covers it just before Victor returns with the movers. Dorian is suspicious of Victor, worried that he may discover the secret of the portrait and blackmail him. He sends the servant on another errand to get him out of the house, carrying a note to Lord Henry requesting reading material and reminding his mentor of dinner plans that evening. Mr. Hubbard arrives with a rugged-looking assistant, and the two men carry the painting up the stairs to the schoolroom.
When Dorian reaches the attic, he is flooded with childhood memories and regrets having to leave the portrait there to decay. However, the attic is the most secure and private place for it because Dorian has the only key to the room. He briefly considers that his nature might improve and that the evil already lurking in his soul may pass. Even so, the portrait will age, and Dorian hates the hideousness of growing old. He continues with his plans to conceal the portrait.
After the movers leave, Dorian locks the door to the schoolroom and goes down to the library. Victor has already returned, leaving Dorian’s tea and, from Lord Henry, a note, a well-worn book bound in yellow paper, and a newspaper. In the newspaper, Lord Henry has marked an article regarding the inquest into the death of Sibyl Vane. Dorian finds the article about Sibyl’s death horribly ugly, and he frets that ugliness makes things seem too real. He is annoyed with Lord Henry for marking the article, which Victor may have noticed. Still, he reasons that he shouldn’t worry about Victor reading the article because he did not kill the girl.
Dorian finds the book more interesting. He begins reading, and in a short time he is engrossed by it. The book tells a story in which the sins of the world seem to be passing in review before him. Fascinated by this novel with no plot and only one character, he reads until Victor reminds him of his appointment with Lord Henry. Finally, Dorian dresses for dinner.
When Dorian meets Lord Henry at the club, Lord Henry seems quietly pleased—and not at all surprised—that Dorian should like the book that he sent to him.
Throughout the first half of this chapter, Dorian is fraught with paranoia and fear that Victor will discover the secret of the portrait. Continuing the theme that was established in the preceding chapter, Dorian isn’t enjoying the life he has chosen—even though he craves it more than anything. Instead of a life of glorious exploration and passion, he spends his time scheming and worrying.
Dorian seals his commitment to a life of vanity and debauchery when he hides and locks the portrait in the attic schoolroom. He rationalizes that he might, in fact, become more virtuous and reverse the moral decay reflected in the picture, but even he seems to know that will never happen. He seems to be thoroughly infected with the cynicism that Lord Henry has shown throughout the book; Dorian has been a good student of his mentor. It is enough for Dorian that he would wither and age without the portrait. He cannot and will not destroy the picture or attempt to negate the Faustian contract, if only because of his obsession with youthful beauty.
The first ten chapters of the novel cover a time span of about a month after Dorian and Lord Henry meet. In that time, Lord Henry’s influence increases, and Dorian changes significantly. As Basil points out, Dorian is not the innocent, well-meaning young man who first posed for him. With Lord Henry’s encouragement, Dorian has become self-absorbed and cruel. At first, Dorian may not have been aware of the seriousness of his wish to remain youthful while the portrait aged. By the time that he hides the portrait in the attic, however, he has every reason to know the consequences. He knows that the pact will “breed horrors and yet will never die.”
In this chapter, Dorian seems resigned to his fate. As in the Faust legends, the central character seems to feel beyond hope. According to the Faust legend, he could save himself if he would only repent and seek absolution. Dorian does consider turning to Basil, confessing, and seeking a more enlightened path. His ultimate decision, however, is not just based on despair. True to the Faust legend, he truly craves the benefits of the bargain.
Having chosen, Dorian immediately falls under the power of the “yellow book” sent by Lord Henry. It is well-worn, and the reader can assume that Lord Henry knows its contents and anticipates its effect on Dorian. Dorian is enthralled by the story and immediately adopts it as a blueprint for his life. Note that Wilde ironically chooses a book to provide the guidelines for Dorian’s life of debauchery.
Wilde’s devotion, even obsession, to his art is indicated by an incident regarding Chapter 10. Although Wilde affected the airs of a dilettante, he was industrious and productive. After submitting The Picture of Dorian Gray for proofreading, he went to France for a much-deserved break. His editors received a startling telegram from Paris: “Stop all proofs. Wilde.” The author returned in person to change the name of one character. The picture framer in the tenth chapter originally was named “Ashton.” Wilde had decided that “Ashton is a gentleman’s name.” He changed it to “Hubbard,” which he felt was more fitting for a tradesman.
As the chapter begins, the narrator announces that years have passed. Dorian has spent the time developing his credo of life under the influence of the yellow book and, to a lesser degree now, Lord Henry Dorian’s licentious behavior is the source of people’s gossip, but those who see him in person dismiss such gossip because the “purity of his face” makes such tales seem impossible. Often, Dorian creeps up to the attic to look at the figure in the portrait, now bloated, ugly, and aged. On such occasions, he laughingly contrasts his face in a mirror with that in the painting. If anything, he has become even more enamored with his good looks.
He has “mad hungers” that become “more ravenous” as he feeds them. At times he takes a room in a shabby tavern by the docks, disguising himself and using an assumed name. However, he observes his obligations in polite society and is idolized by many of the young men of his class because he lives his life surrounded by beauty. His life is his primary and most important work of art.
Dorian seeks a “new Hedonism” to combat the Puritanism of Victorian England. He wants life without obligation or regret, and he is not terribly concerned if others are hurt along the way.
Rumors grow as Dorian passes his twenty-fifth year and approaches thirty. Many find him charming; others shun him. His face, however, reveals no debauchery. His appearance is innocent. Only his soul has been “poisoned by a book.”
The bulk of Chapter 11 lists, page after page, the various pursuits of Dorian’s adult life. In these lists, Wilde shows the result of Dorian’s chosen path. The reader sees the peculiar kind of hell that Dorian inhabits because of his pact; Wilde delivers a strong judgement against the dangers of decadence.
The lengthy passages describing Dorian’s study of perfumes, music, jewels, and embroideries border on being tedious. Wilde was too good a writer to include these passages merely to show off his knowledge of these subjects. These overly-detailed passages transport the reader into the world that Dorian has created for himself, one in which the passionate pursuit of pleasure has become a monotonous, vain, never-ending stream of meaningless and trivial debauchery. No matter how much Dorian indulges his passions, he is never satisfied. By the end of the chapter, the narrator states of Dorian, “There were moments when he looked on evil simply as a mode through which he could realise his conception of the beautiful.”
Dorian’s life seems to be one of floating from one passion to the next, completely at his own whim. And yet, he remains tethered to the portrait and his fear that his secret will be discovered. He lives in a gilded cage, a prisoner of his passions and his fears.
It is the evening before Dorian’s thirty-eighth birthday, and he has dined with Lord Henry. Around eleven o’clock, wrapped in furs against the cold, he walks through the heavy fog toward home. Basil passes him on the street from the opposite direction. Dorian, not eager to encounter the old friend, continues toward his house; Basil, however, turns and quickly catches up.
Basil plans to leave for Paris, catching a night train to the English Channel. He feels fortunate to find Dorian since he must talk with him and has been waiting for him at Dorian’s home. Dorian and Basil go to Dorian’s home.
Basil, discussing Dorian’s reputation, notes that horrible things are being said about his young friend. Dorian’s friendship seems destructive or even fatal to very young men: One committed suicide; another was forced to leave England with a “tarnished name”; a third found a “dreadful end”; a fourth lost his career; a fifth lost his social standing.
Dorian responds with contempt. He is interested only in the scandals of others; his own so-called scandals lack “the charm of novelty.” He answers that he is not responsible for the flaws of his acquaintances.
Basil persists. Dorian’s effect on his friends speaks for itself. He has “filled them with a madness for pleasure.” Then there is Lady Gwendolyn, Lord Henry’s sister. Prior to knowing Dorian, “not a breath of scandal had ever touched her.” Now, no decent lady will even drive in the park with her. The list goes on. Dorian has been seen sneaking out of “dreadful houses” and visiting “the foulest dens” in London.
Basil wants to hear Dorian deny the accusations against him. Basil says that he can’t believe the rumors when he sees Dorian’s innocent and pure face. However, he needs to know the truth, to see Dorian’s soul; but, as Basil says, only God can do that.
Dorian laughs bitterly at Basil’s preaching. He agrees to allow Basil to see his soul—the portrait. Mad with pride, he tells Basil that no one will believe it if Basil should tell them what he sees, or they will simply admire Dorian the more. He leads Basil up the stairs to see the portrait.
In the attic schoolroom, Dorian challenges Basil: “So you think it is only God who sees the soul, Basil? Draw the curtain back, and you will see mine.” Basil hesitates, and Dorian tears the curtain from its rod and flings it to the floor. Basil is horrified to see the hideous face in the painting with its evil grin. The face is recognizable as Dorian’s, but it is aged and corrupt. Basil is overcome by “disgust and loathing” and asks Dorian to explain what the image in the portrait means.
Dorian recalls the wish that he made that fateful day in Basil’s studio, and Basil is horrified and incredulous. Basil tries to rationalize the change in the portrait: Mildew has transformed the portrait, or perhaps the paints were fouled. Besides, Dorian had told him that he destroyed the painting. Dorian corrects him: “I was wrong. It has destroyed me.” He bitterly asks if Basil can still see his “ideal” in the portrait. It is, after all, the face of Dorian’s soul.
Basil is overcome with the ugliness of the portrait and collapses in a chair. He implores Dorian to pray, pointing out that if Dorian’s previous prayer of pride was answered, surely his prayer of repentance will be, too.
Dorian’s eyes fill with tears, and he is momentarily filled with despair. “It is too late, Basil,” he answers. Basil pleads that it is never too late. They must repent; he, too, is guilty, but they can still be forgiven.
At that moment, Dorian looks at the portrait, and it seems to send him a command. An “uncontrollable feeling of hatred for Basil Hallward” overwhelms him. He grabs a knife lying on a nearby chest and plunges it into a large vein behind Basil’s ear. He stabs his old friend repeatedly, and after a brief struggle, Basil is dead.
Quietly Dorian returns to the library and hides Basil’s bag and coat in a secret closet where he keeps his disguises. Collecting his thoughts, he realizes that many men are hanged for what he has just done. However, there is little evidence against him. Basil had the odd habit of disappearing without telling people where he was going, and people will think he has gone to Paris. Feeling no remorse, Dorian quickly thinks of a plan to disguise his actions.
Carefully he leaves the house, taking care to avoid the notice of a policeman on the street. Then he turns and rings his own doorbell. It takes nearly five minutes for Francis, the valet, to answer. Dorian establishes an alibi by checking the time with Francis: ten past two in the morning. He asks if anyone visited in his absence. Francis says that Mr. Hallward stayed until eleven, when he left to catch his train. Dorian asks to be wakened at nine in the morning, and Francis shuffles back to bed.
Dorian reflects on the situation in the library. The chapter ends as Dorian takes down a directory and locates a name and address: Alan Campbell, 152, Hertford Street, Mayfair.
Ever the playwright, Wilde divides this climactic action into two chapters in order to create a dramatic pause before the men ascend the staircase to view the portrait. Chapter 12 serves only to bring the two characters together and set up the critical events in Chapter 13. The three key events in Chapter 13 build to a dramatic climax just as they might on the stage. The first event is the shocking unveiling of the portrait. Unlike Lord Henry—and now—Dorian, Basil is a relatively unassuming, decent man. He has come to see Dorian because he is genuinely concerned about his young friend who has built quite a chilling reputation for himself in the past eighteen years. Basil wants to be told that the rumors about Dorian are wrong; his motivations for confronting Dorian are entirely selfless and honest. When he sees the painting, the sin it reveals leaves Basil shaken.
The second key event in Chapter 13—Basil’s asking Dorian to absolve his sins—is an essential ingredient in the Faust theme. Realizing what has taken place with the portrait and Dorian’s life, and feeling some guilt for his own involvement, Basil pleads with Dorian to let go of his pride and pray for absolution. His concern for Dorian’s corrupted soul can be seen as the only truly good and pure act in the novel, and it provides a striking and tragic contrast to Dorian’s response: “It is too late, Basil,” and “Those words mean nothing to me now.”
Typically, the central figure in the Faust legend indulges in despair, feeling that his sin is so great that he no longer can be saved. He cannot be saved because the combination of pride and despair keep him from seeking forgiveness. Dorian’s problem is essentially this, his unwillingness to ask for forgiveness. In addition, there is the question of whether Dorian even wants to change his life. He states that he does not know whether he regrets the wish that evidently made the contract.
At this point, the third important event of the chapter occurs. Dorian seems to receive some sort of message from the image on the canvas and is driven to murder his old friend. Basil’s death conveniently removes the most immediate and serious threat to Dorian’s way of life and his pact with the forces of evil. After the murder, he feels oddly calm and goes about the business of removing evidence and establishing an alibi.
In the coolness of Dorian’s actions after he kills Basil, the reader sees that Dorian has spoken at least a few truthful words during his corrupt life—his admission that it is too late to save his soul. Dorian kills the only real friend he has, and with that, he kills the only chance he has to redeem his soul.
The next morning, Dorian wakes from a long and untroubled sleep, but the events of the previous night begin to bother him. Basil is still in the attic room, sitting dead in the sunlight. Dorian feels that he must take action reasonably soon.
At breakfast, he looks at the morning mail. He writes two letters, sticking one in his pocket and directing Francis, his newly hired servant, to deliver the other to Mr. Campbell.
As he waits to hear from Mr. Campbell, Dorian seeks distraction. He sketches, but every drawing he does reminds him of Basil. Finally, he pulls a book at random from the shelf. It is Théophile Gautier’s Emaux et Camées, a book of poems that inspired other French Aesthetes, including Charles Baudelaire. Especially touched by a poem about Venice, he is momentarily transported from the horrible situation he finds himself in.
As he thinks about Venice, he suddenly recalls that Basil was with him during his last visit there; although he tries to read other poems, his attempts to distract himself fail and he is drawn back to the reality of the murder. He grows increasingly more nervous and wonders what he will do if he cannot find Alan Campbell. Campbell is a passionate scientist, very knowledgeable, and has his own laboratory. The man had been a close friend of Dorian’s five years before, but their friendship ended abruptly.
Time passes so slowly that it seems to stop. In a typically self-centered moment, Dorian imagines a “hideous future” for himself. Finally, the servant announces Campbell’s arrival.
Campbell clearly feels bitterly hostile toward Dorian. He is there only because Dorian’s letter mentioned a “matter of life and death.”
Dorian confirms the graveness of the situation and confides that there is a corpse in the attic room, dead now ten hours. Campbell interrupts, saying that he does not want to hear more about the matter.
Dorian first claims that the body is that of a suicide but finally admits to having committed murder. He blames the victim for shaping his life, although perhaps unwittingly. He pleads with Campbell to help, reasoning that because Campbell often works with corpses, he will know how to destroy a body. The job will be no worse than many that Campbell has performed on corpses at the morgue.
When Campbell still refuses to help, Dorian writes a few words on a piece of paper and gives the secret message to Campbell. As the scientist reads the brief note, he turns white and falls back in his chair. Dorian expresses pity for Campbell’s situation but announces that he has already written a letter regarding the secret. He threatens to send the letter unless Campbell cooperates. Campbell makes one last, lame effort to avoid helping Dorian. He says that he cannot do the job. When Dorian reminds him that he has no choice, Campbell finally gives in; he writes a list of the required equipment, and Francis is dispatched to Campbell’s laboratory to pick up the supplies.
Upstairs, Dorian discovers that he forgot to cover the portrait when he left the room the previous night. There is a “loathsome red dew . . . wet and glistening” on one of the hands in the picture. Momentarily, the portrait seems more real and horrible to Dorian than Basil’s corpse. Dorian hastily covers the portrait, and Campbell brings in his equipment.
The job takes the full five hours that Campbell has predicted. Dorian is waiting downstairs in the library when Campbell enters, pale but calm, well after seven that evening. The scientist curtly states that he has done what he was asked to do and hopes never to see Dorian again. He then leaves.
When Dorian enters the attic room, he detects a horrible smell. However, there is no sign of Basil Howard.
Throughout the novel, Wilde only hints at the nature of Dorian’s secret life, leaving the reader to wonder what sins Dorian commits. Wilde surely could have been more specific about Dorian’s secretive passions, but he deliberately keeps the issue vague so that readers must define sin for themselves. In this way, Wilde draws readers closer to the story.

In a similar way, Wilde doesn’t say what secret Dorian holds over Campbell. Most likely, it is something that the scientist did years ago while under Dorian’s influence. In any case, Dorian is fully aware that blackmailing Campbell into helping him is dreadful, but he doesn’t hesitate for a moment to do so. In fact, he scolds Campbell for not wanting to help him at first, and he even seems to take pleasure in forcing Campbell to comply eventually. Dorian has become dominated by the evil of his secrets, and he in turn seeks to dominate and control those around him. At this point in the story, Dorian shows that he has surpassed his mentor—Lord Henry—in his power to manipulate.
The interlude concerning Gautier’s poetry works within the context of this novel. The poem is translated:
On a colorful scale,
Her breast dripping with pearls,
The Venus of the Adriatic
Draws her pink and white body out of the water.
The domes, on the azure of the waves
Following the pure contour of the phrase,
Swell like rounded breasts
Lifted by a sigh of love.
The skiff lands and drops me off,
Casting its rope to the pillar,
In front of a pink façade
On the marble of a staircase.
The beautiful poem about Venice contrasts with the horror of Dorian’s situation and briefly carries him away to a happier, more beautiful time and place. The recollection that Basil had been with him, however, startles Dorian back to reality. The idle pleasures that Dorian uses to amuse himself can’t erase, or even distract him from, the evil that he has committed. Strangely, the passions that drove him to the mad act of murder no longer hold any pleasure for him.
Note that Dorian defends Lord Henry but is quite willing to blame Basil for the loss of his soul. While Basil created the portrait, he was never part of the pact and never tried to manipulate Dorian toward a life of self-serving debauchery and vanity. Dorian, of course, is not about to put the responsibility where it belongs—on himself. In fact, by the end of the chapter, Dorian has emotionally and psychologically divorced himself from Basil entirely, referring to him as “the thing that had been sitting at the table.” It appears that Dorian has begun to lose touch with even his self-centered version of reality.
After the intensity of the previous three chapters, Wilde interjects this chapter as a dramatic pause. Like a light interlude in a play following profound action, Chapter 15 is more style than substance.
The opening scene of the chapter is a dinner party at Lady Narborough’s. Dorian arrives only an hour or so after Campbell’s departure from his home. At first, Dorian is bored with the party. It includes a flirtatious but elderly hostess and several guests whose only distinction is their mediocrity. Dorian is relieved when Lord Henry arrives.
At dinner, Dorian eats nothing but drinks several glasses of champagne; in fact, his thirst increases as he drinks, perhaps an allusion to his unquenchable passions. Lord Henry asks if his old protégé is feeling out of sorts; Lady Narborough concludes that Dorian must be in love. Dorian manages to mutter that he has not been in love for a whole week.
Despite the clever table talk, Dorian is distracted and irritable. For example, when Lord Henry questions him about his whereabouts the previous evening, Dorian becomes agitated and gives an excessively defensive and lengthy response. Lord Henry notes that there must be something wrong with Dorian, but he is characteristically unconcerned. Dorian continues to feel out of sorts, and he leaves the party early, asking Lord Henry to make excuses to the hostess for him. Again, readers should note that Dorian is so preoccupied with his secret life that he can’t enjoy the pleasures for which he has given up his soul. Now Dorian has the weight of two secrets to bear—the portrait and Basil’s death.
At home, Dorian burns Basil’s hat and bag, the last of the evidence that Basil was ever there. He tries to relax, but a Florentine cabinet between two windows catches his attention. He stares at the cabinet, lights a cigarette, and then throws it away. Finally, he walks to the cabinet and removes a small Chinese box. In the box is a “green paste, waxy in lustre, the odour curiously heavy and persistent.” The reader can assume that the paste is an opiate of some kind. Dorian dresses as a commoner, hails a cab, and takes off toward the river.
As Dorian rides toward his destination, he recalls Lord Henry’s saying, the first day they met, “To cure the soul by means of the senses, and the senses by means of the soul.” Dorian intends to do just that. He is heading for an opium den, where old sins are forgotten and new ones found. Dorian craves opium. He feels afraid, and he is certain that there is no way to atone for his sins. The best he can hope for is to forget. In just three days, he thinks, he can find freedom by losing himself in the drug. The carriage arrives at the intended destination, and Dorian enters the shabby inn. At the end of the hall inside, he pulls aside a tattered curtain and enters a long, dark, low room. Dorian climbs a small staircase at the end of the room, leading to an even darker room.
In the upper chamber, Dorian finds Adrian Singleton, one of the young men whom Basil accused Dorian of corrupting. However, Dorian decides not to stay. Adrian’s presence bothers him; he prefers to be where no one knows him. At times, Dorian thinks he sees Basil’s eyes following him.
Dorian calls Adrian to the bar for a farewell shot of brandy. A woman approaches Dorian, but he gives her some money and tells her to leave. She is not so easily dissuaded. As Dorian is leaving, she shouts after him: “Prince Charming is what you like to be called, ain’t it?” Her shouting startles a drowsy sailor who looks around rabidly and hurries out in pursuit of Dorian.
Dorian hurries toward a different opium den. As he takes a short cut through a den archway, someone suddenly grabs him from behind and shoves him against a wall, his hand choking Dorian, who hears the click of a revolver.
The man who chokes Dorian is James Vane, brother of Sibyl Vane, the actress who killed herself eighteen years before. He has sought Dorian, not even knowing the real name of “Prince Charming” all this time. Having heard his sister’s pet name for the “gentleman” who did her wrong, James feels certain that he finally has found the cad. Dorian denies ever knowing the girl and asks how long ago this all took place. When James replies that it was eighteen years, Dorian laughs triumphantly and implores James merely to look at him under a nearby street lamp. James sees the face of a twenty-year-old lad. Clearly, he has erred. He apologizes and releases Dorian, who disappears into the night.
As James stands trembling at his mistake, the woman from the bar appears and asks why James did not kill Dorian. The woman bitterly tells him that it has been eighteen years since “Prince Charming” made her what she is. She swears this before God and adds, “They say he sold himself to the devil for a pretty face.” She asks James for money for her room that night, but he is interested only in pursuing Dorian. Dorian, however, is gone.
In some of the finest descriptive writing in the novel, Wilde finally allows the reader to see Dorian’s secret world. The opening paragraphs of the chapter set the scene for taking the reader into the hell that is Dorian’s chosen life.
The opium den is a city of lost souls, a city that Dorian easily moves within. Appropriately, Dorian muses on his own salvation as he rides toward the den. True to the Faust legend, he is certain that he has no hope for atonement. He believes that forgiveness is not possible. The best he can hope for is the numb of opium.
Most important in this chapter is that the reader sees Dorian suffering from a physical as well as a mental addiction. His hands tremble as he rides to the opium den, and the reader can only surmise that he is heading to the den to satisfy both a physical and a mental need. Although Dorian may not age, he has not escaped the personal prison created by his own desires. Even in the opium den, he can’t escape the paranoid feeling that Basil’s eyes are watching him. Dorian’s physical and mental addiction to opium is significant because it is the first sign the reader sees that although Dorian cannot be destroyed by nature, he can destroy himself.
Wilde’s descriptive style in this chapter is Gothic in its grotesque, macabre, and fantastic imagery and chilling detail. He fashions a mood of desolation and despair. His similes, which appear seldom in other chapters, are very effective in relating the grimness of the world Dorian now occupies. He creates revealing similarities with the use of “like” and “as”—for example, the “moon hung low in the sky like a yellow skull,” and the streets are “like the black web of some sprawling spider.” Note that the moon resembles a “yellow skull,” an allusion to death that so pervades the novel in these late chapters.
In no small way, the dangers of excess even threaten Dorian’s Aestheticism. Instead of admiring beauty, he craves ugliness. He once detested ugliness because it made things too real, but now he pursues it as his one reality: “The coarse brawl, the loathsome den, the crude violence of disordered life, the very vileness of thief and outcast, were more vivid, in their intense factuality of impression, than all the gracious shapes of art, the dreamy shadows of song.” Wilde reveals the dangers of Aestheticism gone so wrong that it is the opposite of itself. At the same time, Wilde is not teaching or preaching. As he says in the preface to the novel, there is no such thing as a “moral” or “immoral” book. Books are simply written well or badly. In this chapter, Wilde writes very, very well.
One week has passed, and Dorian has retreated to his country estate, Selby Royal. His guests include the beautiful Duchess of Monmouth (Gladys); her older, boring, somewhat jaded husband; Lady Narborough, old and flirtatious but seldom boring; and Lord Henry. The conversation is light and superficial. Lord Henry wants to re-christen (rename) some things—especially, flowers. Beautiful objects should have beautiful names, he says. The duchess asks what new name Lord Henry shall have, and Dorian immediately answers appropriately, “Prince Paradox.” The duchess tries to flirt with Dorian, and he excuses himself to fetch her some of his orchids. Lord Henry lightheartedly warns the duchess about loving Dorian.
Suddenly the group hears a muted groan and the sound of a heavy fall. Lord Henry rushes to find that Dorian has fainted. When Dorian comes to, he refuses to be alone. Despite his condition, he joins the others at dinner and tries to act jolly. Now and then, however, terror shoots through him as he recalls the cause of his faint: the face of James Vane observing him through a window.
Dorian spends most of the next day in his room. Feeling hunted, stalked, and sick with fear of death, he alternates between the certainty of punishment and an equal certainty that the wicked receive no such fate in this world. He concludes that the only morality is the success of the strong and the failure of the weak.
On the third day, Dorian finally goes out. He has decided that he imagined James’ face in the window. After breakfast, he strolls in the garden with the duchess for an hour. Then he joins her brother, Sir Geoffrey Clouston, and others who are shooting birds. A hare bursts forth, and Sir Geoffrey aims, but Dorian so admires the beauty and grace of the animal that he cries, “Let it live.” Lord Geoffrey finds Dorian’s plea silly and fires as the hare jumps into a thicket. Two sounds come from the brush: the cry of a hare and the cry of a man.
Incredibly, a dead human body is pulled from the brush. Lord Henry recommends calling off the hunt for the day. Dorian would like to cancel the “hideous and cruel” hunt for good; he fears that the death is a bad omen.
Lord Henry laughs at Dorian’s concern, saying that the only thing horrible in life is boredom. There are no omens, he says.
In his room, Dorian lies in terror on the sofa. Later, he calls his servant and tells him to pack. Dorian will leave at eight-thirty to catch the night express to London. He writes a note to Lord Henry, asking him to take care of the guests because he is going to London to see his doctor.
Thornton, Dorian’s chief gamekeeper, enters with startling news. The dead man cannot be identified. He was not one of the beaters, after all. In fact, he seems to be a sailor, armed with a gun.
Dorian rushes to where the body lies. Identifying the body as James Vane’s, Dorian feels safe at last.
Wilde makes excellent use of contrast in the setting of these chapters. Life at Selby Royal could not be more different from the secret world of Dorian Gray. Wilde writes about bright conversations, bright lights, and bright days. Such idyllic life adds to Dorian’s discomfort when terror twice invades his country estate. Early on, he is seeking orchids but finds the face of James Vane. Just as he is recovering from the shock, a man is ominously killed by accident. Dorian decides to flee because, he realizes, “Death walked there in the sunlight.” He expects evil in the opium den, not in the fresh air of Selby Royal. Dorian’s tragic fate haunts him wherever he goes. Before, Dorian felt that his situation was hopeless; now, he is beginning to learn what hopelessness really feels like.
Wilde exposes the egocentricity of class distinction through the death of what seems to be a lowly beater. First, Sir Geoffrey is annoyed that the “ass” got out in front of the guns. It ruins his shooting for the whole day. Then Lord Henry comments, “It is rather awkward for Geoffrey, of course. It does not do to pepper beaters. It makes people think that one is a wild shot.” Incredibly, Lord Henry is more concerned with his shooting partner’s reputation than with a man’s death.
Even Dorian seems to have little more compassion for the man than he has for the hare. He dislikes shooting and killing, but his chief concern, as usual, is himself. He sees the death as a bad omen, a threat to himself. When Thornton comes to Dorian’s room, the master immediately pulls his chequebook out of a drawer. It may be kind of him to want to pay the family of the dead man, but Dorian would not think of visiting them or the corpse until he suspects that it might be James Vane.
Dorian’s ultimate relief is ironic. Even as he feels joy at seeing James Vane dead, he is far from safe.
Approximately six months have passed. As Chapter 19 opens, Dorian and Lord Henry apparently have just dined at the older man’s home. Despite recently having gone through a divorce, Lord Henry is his usual witty self. Dorian seems more pensive, even grave. They are discussing Dorian’s vow to change his behavior. Lord Henry says that Dorian is perfectly fine as he is. Dorian, however, says that he has done “too many dreadful things” in his life. He wants to reform. In fact, he began the previous day. He was staying alone at a small inn in the country and was seeing a young girl named Hetty Merton. She reminded him of Sibyl Vane in her beauty and innocence. A simple village girl, Dorian is fairly sure that he loved her. They were to run off together that morning at dawn, but he spared the child by leaving her “as flowerlike as I had found her.”
Lord Henry brings up the disappearance of Basil; he also mentions his own divorce and Alan Campbell’s suicide. Lord Henry allows that only death and vulgarity cannot be explained. He asks Dorian to play the piano. Dorian plays for a while but stops and asks Lord Henry if he ever thought that Basil might have been murdered. Lord Henry dismisses the idea with a quip. When Dorian asks what Lord Henry would say if Dorian claimed to be the murderer, Lord Henry states that the crime does not suit Dorian; it is too vulgar. Lord Henry then asks about Basil’s portrait of Dorian. Dorian confirms that it was lost or stolen, but he never cared much for it anyway.
Lord Henry tells of walking through the park the previous Sunday and observing a group of people listening to a preacher who asked, “What does it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?” (See Mark 8:36 in the New Testament for the precise language.) Lord Henry found this “uncouth Christian” to be “curious” and “hysterical.” Dorian, however, is not amused.
Lord Henry has no interest in a serious discussion and indirectly asks Dorian to reveal the secret of his youth. To retrieve his youth, says the older man, “I would do anything in the world, except take exercise, get up early, or be respectable.” He wishes he could change places with Dorian, and he is pleased that the younger man has never actually “done anything.” Dorian’s life has been his art.
For once, Dorian is in no mood for flattery and says he wishes to retire early. The subject of the “yellow book” occurs to Dorian, and he asks Lord Henry never to lend the destructive volume to anyone else. They agree to meet the next morning.
Back home, Dorian wonders if he will ever really change. He reflects on Basil’s death and Alan Campbell’s suicide, but what really bothers him is the death of his own soul. He rationalizes that Basil painted the damaging portrait and said “unbearable” things to Dorian. Alan Campbell’s suicide was the man’s own doing, not Dorian’s. They are nothing to him.
His own life is his only concern. Wondering if the portrait has changed since his virtuous behavior toward Hetty Merton, he creeps upstairs to see.
In the attic room, Dorian lifts the cloth off the portrait. If anything, the picture looks even more evil. Around the eyes there is “a look of cunning and in the mouth the curved wrinkle of the hypocrite.” Blood has spread over the fingers, onto the feet, even to the other hand. Dorian shudders. He wonders if he should confess Basil’s murder but dismisses the idea.
The portrait itself is the only evidence against him. He no longer enjoys its record of his debauchery. He worries that it will be discovered and decides to destroy it. The knife he used to murder Basil is still in the room. Using it to “kill the past,” he grabs the knife and stabs the portrait.
The servants are awakened by a horrible scream and a crash. Two passersby outside are so alarmed that they summon a policeman. No one inside Dorian’s house responds when the officer rings at the door.
After fifteen minutes or so, Francis ascends the staircase with two other servants. No one answers their knock on the attic door, and they cannot force it open. They climb to the roof, drop to the balcony, open a window, and go into the attic. There, they find an old and ugly man lying in front of their master’s portrait. In the portrait, Dorian appears as beautiful and young as he had the day before.
In the Faust legend, the main character ultimately confronts the loss of his soul but is incapable of seeking redemption through confession and absolution. He despairs and feels that he is beneath pardon or that there is no God or power strong enough to save him. In this sense, the Faust protagonist still suffers the sin of pride in that he sees his own case as so special that it is beyond God’s help. Despair is the one unpardonable sin because the sinner is incapable of asking to be pardoned. Traditionally, despair is symbolized by suicide.
In the closing chapters of The Picture of Dorian Gray, Dorian’s behavior and attitude are consistent with this Faust tradition. Dorian has matured from the naïve, vain youth in Basil’s studio. He has grown into a man who was at first despicable but in the end is almost likable. Perhaps he is more pitiable than likable. However, he cannot find salvation because he is incapable of setting aside his pride, confessing, and asking for absolution.
In Chapter 19, as the after-dinner scene opens at Lord Henry’s, Dorian is bursting with pride because of a recent act of decency. He has returned Hetty Merton to her country life after winning her devotion. Unfortunately, instead of seeing this act as only one small step, Dorian expects instant reward. When he checks the portrait for some sign of his newfound virtue, he finds only a look of cunning about the eyes and a wrinkle of hypocrisy in the mouth. There seems to be fresh blood on the hands. Instead of redeeming his soul, his act of supposed redemption has tarnished his soul even more because the act was motivated by selfishness.
Dorian cannot redeem his soul because he is still primarily interested in himself. He dismisses the deaths of Basil and Alan Campbell. The first, he decides, was inevitable; the second made his own choice. In neither case does Dorian accept his own responsibility. Still, he is torn because he realizes that the “soul is a terrible reality.” He thinks that a person should pray for punishment, but he fails to understand that the only way of absolving immoral responsibility is to pray for forgiveness.
In the novel’s powerful final paragraphs, Dorian, in effect, commits suicide. He despises the figure in the portrait, but that is who he has become. When he slashes at the painting with the knife, appropriately the same knife that killed Basil, Dorian kills himself. The horrible cry, which awakens the servants and startles the men on the street, carries with it the agony of eighteen years of horror.