The plot is very familiar. Gorgeous, young, well-to-do and
well-connected Dorian Gray has his portrait painted by a society painter, Basil
Hallward. Dorian unknowingly makes a Mephistophilian pact to preserve his
beauty, and for his portrait to bear the signs of aging and sin. He is taken in
hand, and led astray, by Hallward’s friend, the dangerous Lord Henry Wotton. His treatment of
a young actress, Sibyl Vane, who falls in love with him and who he brutally
rejects, leading to her suicide, is the first time he notices a change in the painting.
Gray is psychopathically narcissistic – everything is judged by its impact on
him. He goes to the opera after hearing Sibyl has died, and when chastised for
this says “Don’t talk about horrid subjects. If one doesn’t talk about a thing,
it has never happened” (87) Accepting his fate, he hides the painting,
eventually killing Hallward to avoid exposure, and dives into a life of
excess, sin, and hedonism. Wilde goes as far as he can to describe this life,
dropping hints about many of the elements, including some more conventional,
heterosexual affairs, which frankly is fooling no-one.
There’s a unavoidable biographical element to this novel.
Wilde’s own life followed the same self-destructive arc as Gray’s, although
what is more remarkable is that the novel came first – Wilde was well aware
where his recklessness would lead, but embraced his fate in any event. He foresees
it all – the social ostracism (“when he used to reappear again in society, men
would whisper to each other in corners, or pass him with a sneer, or look at
him with cold, searching eyes, as though they were determined to discover his
secret” (113) – the damage caused to friends and relatives – “Women who had
wildly (note the choice of adjective) adored him, and for his sake had braved
all social censure and set convention at defiance, were seen to grow pallid
with shame or horror if Dorian Gray entered the room” (113), the damage to his
health and (he believed) his soul, and yet could not steer a different course.
There are four great 19th century English horror novels
(that is, novels written in English) that
explore identify and sexuality – ‘Frankenstein’, ‘Dracula’, ‘Dr Jekyll and Mr
Hyde’, and ‘The Portrait of Dorian Gray.’ (In many ways ‘Dr Jekyll’ is probably
the least flawed of this quartet, and I will aim to review it shortly to
complete the set). All are in their different ways about the horror of the divided self. ‘Gray’ has many flaws – the sections where Wilde expanded the
text for publication as a novel show strong signs of padding, for example, and
the aphorisms, which individually are witty and clever, when they appear in
such intensity have an artificial, false note. But despite these, this is a
stunning novel, tragic in the light of what we now know about Wilde’s own fate,
but also complex and brave. Superficially it is a parable about the price of sin, but in making Gray and Wotton such charismatic characters Wilde makes it clear where his sympathies and interests lie.
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