Book review: The Picture of Dorian Gray -1891 by Oscar Wilde - A Victorian era horror story with modern implications for Halloween 2010.

Pictures copied from frames of The Picture of Dorian Gray – BBC Play of the Month, 1976

Peter Firth as Dorian Gray, John Gielgud as Lord Henry Wotton, Jeremy Brett as Basil Hallward

John Gorrie - Director, Cedric Messina - Producer

Dear Readers,

Halloween is a time for horror stories. The definition of horror according to Merriam-Webster, is "an overwhelming and painful feeling caused by something frightfully shocking, terrifying, or revolting"

The Victorian era produced Jack the Ripper and classic horror stories including Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde ,1886 by Robert Louis Stevenson and Dracula ,1897 by Bram Stoker.  Written in-between these novels in 1891 by Oscar Wilde, is my personal favorite horror story, The Picture of Dorian Gray.

 

Wilde states in his introduction to The Picture of Dorian Gray, "Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex and vital."  His only novel has drawn diverse opinion on several levels through many generations.  Originally The Picture of Dorian Gray was an instant success and widely read for the obvious appeal of its principal story.  The not so subtle homosexual inuendo soon made the work to be considered scandalous and leading to the corruption of youth in its day. This made Wilde an enemy of many important men of the time including the Marquess of Queensberrry, the father of one of the corrupted youth.  Wilde was tried and imprisoned on corruption charges, lost his fortune, and died in Paris, November, 1900, destitute and friendless at the age of 46.

 

The basic plot of The Picture of Dorian Gray is an archetypal exploration of evil and horror.  It is enhanced by caustic wit, charm and exquisite prose. Characters are developed in wonderful complexity. As an example, Lord Henry, the satanic tormentor of Dorian, is noted to pick a daisy from the garden and then, as he toys with Dorian's sensibilities, tears the flower to pieces.  Interestingly, the homosexual aspects of the novel do not seem shocking in our modern times, and lend a naïve charm to the work, with hidden phraseology such as the word "curious" used as a substitute for "queer". Descriptions of these subtleties are explained in the Edmund White's introduction of the Oxford world's Classics edition, which I recommend.

 

Dorian Gray is introduced as an unspoiled 20-year-old aristocrat who becomes acquainted to two sophisticated men, the artist Basil Hallward, who falls in love with Dorian and produces a masterpiece portrait of the younger man, and Lord Henry Wotton, an Oxford friend of Mr. Hallward, who amuses himself with the corruption of Dorian, convincing Dorian to pursue a hedonistic lifestyle.

          Lord Henry - "Yes Mr. Gray, the Gods have been good to you. But what the Gods give, they quickly take away. You have only a few years in which to live really, perfectly and fully ... Be always searching for new sensations... For there is such a little time that your youth will last."

 

Lord Henry's words had found their mark. As Dorian stares at his own portrait he murmures, "How sad it is! I shall grow old, and horrible, and dreadful. But this picture will remain always young. It will never be older than this particular day of June... If it were only the other way! If it were I who was to be always young, and the picture that was to grow old! For that -- for that -- I would give everything! Yes, there is nothing in the whole world I would not give! I would give my soul for that!" Basil then presents the portrait to Dorian who displays it in his London home.

 

Dorian promptly pursues a lfe of unbridled pleasure and falls in love with the actress Sybil Vane, a commoner. After winning her love, he callously rejects her, and she leaves his home in despair. Dorian reflects on his portrait and observes a subtle change, "...there was a touch of cruelty in the mouth."  Dorian retires to sleep, and unknown to him, Sybil commits suicide. The next day, Lord Henry notifies Dorian of Sybil's death.  Dorian's reaction: "So I have murdered Sybil Vane, murdered her as surely as if I had cut her little throat with a knife. Yet the roses are not less lovely for all that. The birds sing just as happily in my garden...She had no right to kill herself. It was selfish of her."

 

Dorian, aided and encouraged by Lord Henry, pursues a downward spiral of obsessive self gratification. He explores the pleasures of  rare gems and "beautiful things that one can touch and handle. Old brocades, green bronzes, lacquer-work, carved ivories..."  He immerses himself in drugs and sexual experiences, corrupting men and women without regard to class distinction. Over a span of nearly two decades his friends and acquaintances marvel at his unchanging youth and reject the rumors of Dorian's decadence because of his purity of countenance. During this time, Dorian accepts his relationship with his portrait and finds some amusement in its degradation.

 

Basil Hallward is the only person identified in the novel ,other than Dorian, to view the changes in the portrait. Basil visits Dorian to counsel him regarding his behavior. Dorian presents his portrait to Basil who is shocked by the unexplainable hideous transformation of the painting, now almost unrecognizable as his original work. Viewing the montrosity they exchange words.

          Hallward - "You told me you had destroyed it."

          Dorian - "I was wrong.  It has destroyed me."

          Hallward -  "I don't believe it is my picture."

          Dorian - "Can't you see your ideal in it?"

          Hallward - "My ideal as you call it..."

          Dorian - "As you called it... It is the face of my soul."

          Hallward - "Christ!  What a thing I must have worshiped.  It has the eyes of a devil."

          Dorian - "Each of us has Heaven and Hell in him Basil."

          Hallward - "My God!  If it is true, and this is what you've done with your life, why you must be worse even than those who talk against you fancy you to be."

 

 Dorian is overcome with loathing for his former admirer and stabs him to death. Adding to his crimes, he blackmails another of his male encounters, Alan Campbell, into disposing of Basil Hallward's corpse.  Alan subsequently commits suicide. Dorian's does not become a suspect in the crimes and he remains unexposed, only subject to society gossip.

 

Dorian begins to question his deeds and actions. He considers beginning a new life and to pursue goodness. He performed what he felt was an honorable act, releasing a potential female conquest. He believes that this might begin to heal his soul. With hopefulness, he views his portrait but sees no evidence of change except for a new look of cunning and hypocrisy. He becomes confused as to the significance of his evil actions. He does not regret the murder of Basil Hallward who he blames for the painting.  He concludes that the problem is not his behavious as much as the existence of the portrait as a visible conscience.  If he would destroy the portrait, the action will destroy his past and set him free.

 

The conclusion:

          "He looked round, and saw the knife that stabbed Basil Hallward. He cleaned it many times, till there was no stain left upon it. It was bright, and glistened. As it had killed the painter, so it would kill the painter's work, and all that that meant. It would kill the past, and when that was dead he would be free. It would kill this monstrous soul life, and without its hideous warnings, he would be at peace. He seized the thing, and stabbed the picture with it."

          "There was a cry heard, and a crash. The cry was so horrible in its agony that the frightened servants woke, and crept out of their rooms... When they entered, they found hanging upon the wall a splendid portrait of their master as they had last seen him, in all the wonder of his exquisite youth and beauty. Lying on the floor was a dead man, in evening dress, with a knife in his heart. He was withered, wrinkled and loathsome of visage. It was not till they had examined the rings that they recognized who it was."

 

 

Oscar Wilde and The Picture of Dorian Gray come from a time that produced Charles Dickens, Lewis Caroll and the Communist manifesto. In our modern era "Greed is good."  What red-blooded American capitalist would not applaud Lord Henry's comments and the courage of Dorian Gray to pursue his God-given right to freely pursue his every desire. Who can condemn the actions of consenting adults. Are not good and evil, right and wrong, justice, moderation and compassion, antiquated terms.  To paraphrase Ecclesiastics, "Eat drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die."  Should not we open our eyes; the wicked of this world are not punished, criminals are those of the lower classes of society who are stupid enough to be caught or cannot pay to have laws changed in their favor. We recognize the expediency of circumstance.  For instance, no matter what compromised actions may be used to accumulate wealth, these become justified in time; in one or two generations, the heirs of these fortunes become our ruling class, our defacto nobility.

 

Modern man surely possesses superior technology and unlimited information. With our ability to find data instantly, how could it possibly matter if we do not have the time to transform this into knowledge, much less wisdom?  Should anyone question our pursuit of individualism at all costs?  Why should we study archaic philosophies espoused by long dead former sages such as Confucius, the Buddha, Jesus, and Mohammed?  Do their teachings really have any place in modern secular society?  Consider the inconvenience and burden that would result if we respected tradition and rituals, exhibited real generosity and compassion, or routinely treated others as we would wish to be treated.  Similar arguments must logically hold for the philosophical teachings of other has-beens such as Socrates, Plato and Marcus Aurelius.  Caveat Emptor!

 

Some may note that mistakes have happened in modern history, such as the development and use of atomic weapons, Hitler's Holocaust and Stalin's systematic murderous purges, but these are certainly exceptions that prove the rule of our modern superiority.  How can our sophisticated  societies ever repeat such atrocities.  If we would have any concerns for our future, we can take comfort that our elite educational institutions prefer not to trouble students with these types of questions for fear of deviating the future graduates and potential foundation donors from their pursuit of the acquisition of wealth that no doubt will improve the world economy and trickle down to improve the plight of our own working classes.  Does a middle class need to exist in a modern society?

 

Fortunately, these cynical views are not new or the moral dilemmas unique to our time.  For instance, no less than Leo Tolstoy (1828 -- 1910), a contemporary of Oscar Wilde, had considered such questions in his 1882 pamphlet, "A Confession". 

 

I do not presume to paraphrase him -- in his words:

 

            "With all my soul I wished to be good; but I was young, passionate, and alone, completely alone when I sought goodness. Every time I tried to express my most sincere   desire, which was to be morally good, I met with contempt and ridicule; but as soon as I yielded to low passions I was praised and encouraged. "

 

            "Ambition, love of power, covetousness, lasciviousness, pride, anger and revenge -- were all respected.  Yielding to those passions, I became like the grown-up folk and I felt that they approved of me."

 

            "...I cannot think of those years without horror, loathing, and heartache. I killed men in war, and challenged men to duels in order to kill them; I lost in cards, consumed the labor of the peasants, sentenced them to punishments, lived loosely and deceived people.  Lying, robbery, adultery of all kinds, drunkenness, violence, murder -- there was no crime I did not commit, and for all that people praised my conduct, and my contemporaries considered and consider me to be a comparatively moral man."

 

            "My question -- that which at the age of 50 brought me to the verge of suicide -- was the simplest of questions, lying in the soul of every man from the foolish child to the wisest elder: it was a question without answering which one cannot live, as I had found by experience. It was: "What will come of what I am doing today or shall do  tomorrow? -- What will come of my whole life?"

                       --Leo Tolstoy, "A Confession"