Character List

Basil Hallward

A reclusive painter much respected by the London aristocracy. He admires Dorian to the point of
adulation and paints many portraits of him, finally creating his masterpiece, the titular picture. Basil
introduces Dorian to Lord Henry Wotton.
Lord Henry Wotton

A champion of sensual pleasure, notorious among London's high society for his dazzling conversation
and brazenly immoral views. He values beauty above all else, and is chiefly responsible for Dorian's
corruption.
Dorian Gray

A physically beautiful young man, naive and good-hearted until corrupted by vanity. Dorian makes a
faustian bargain: his body remains young and beautiful, while his portrait alters to reflect his age and
increasingly guilty conscience. He eventually seems to bring corruption, pain, and death to all
inhabitants of the social circles in which he moves.
Lord George Fermor

Henry Wotton's uncle, an idle, impatient aristocrat. Henry calls on him to elicit information about
Dorian's background. He is a portrait of a typical self-centered, elderly aristocrat whose money allows
him to devote his life to purely fanciful and superficial endeavors.
Sybil Vane

A beautiful, 17-year-old Shakespearean actress, and Dorian's first love. The pair are smitten with each
other and are engaged to be married until Dorian sees her perform badly, and, disillusioned, treats her
with extreme cruelty. Broken-hearted, she commits suicide.
Mrs Vane

Sybil's aging, single mother. Mrs Vane is also an actress, and both she and her daughter struggle to
support their small family through their craft. She is most comfortable when her real life is as
melodramatic as it is on the stage.
James Vane

Sibyl's younger, fiercely protective brother, who leaves England to become a sailor. He is suspicious of
his sister's lover from the start, and swears to hunt the man down if he causes her any harm. After
Sibyl's death, he dedicates himself to finding his sister's "Prince Charming", and is eventually killed by
a wayward hunting bullet while trying to take his revenge on Dorian.
Mr Isaacs

The man who runs the decrepit theater where Sybil performs. The Vanes are deeply in debt to him. He
is a sterotypical portrait of an old Jewish man, whom Dorian and Basil find contemptible, and whom
Lord Henry finds amusing.
Victor

Dorian's faithful first servant, of whom he is unnecessarily suspicious. Victor has been replaced by
another servant by the second half of the novel, although the details of his dismissal are never
disclosed. We are left to surmise that either Dorian's paranoia became too great, or that Victor
eventually grew unable to bear his master's increasingly corrupt nature.
Mr Hubbard

A celebrated London frame-maker whom Dorian calls upon to help him hide the portrait in the attic.
He appears only once in the novel, but stokes Dorian's growing paranoia by being puzzled when the
protagonist adamantly refuses to uncover the painting for him to see it.
Adrian Singleton

A promising young member of society whose life takes a turn for the worse when he befriends Dorian.
Adrian ends up addicted to opium, spending all of his time and money in filthy, dilapidated drug dens.
Alan Campbell

A talented chemist and musician who is close to Dorian until their friendship comes to a bitter end as a
consequence of Dorian's increasingly bad reputation. Dorian forces him to assist in the disposal of
Basil's body using blackmail, and Alan later commits suicide.
Lady Narborough

The widow of a wealthy man, and the mother of richly married daughters. She hosts a great many
parties, and is very fond of Dorian and Lord Henry.
Sir Geoffrey Clouston

A London socialite and guest of Lady Narborough who shoots James Vane in a hunting accident. Unlike
most of the aristocrats present at the incident, he appears to be quite disturbed by the idea of having
taken a human life.
Lady Alice Chapman

Lady Narborough's decidedly unremarkable daughter, a minor character whom Wilde uses to display
Lord Henry's superficiality.
Duchess of Monmouth

Gladys, a clever and pretty young aristocrat who nearly matches Lord Henry in conversational wit. She
freely and lightly admits to numerous adulterous affairs, and flirts with Dorian at one of his parties.
Hetty Merton

A beautiful young village girl who falls in love with Dorian and reminds him of Sybil Vane. Dorian
consciously - and hypocritically - refrains from corrupting her in an attempt to begin living a good life,
and to purify his soul. She does not believe Dorian when he tells her that he is wicked, because he
looks so young and innocent. She is the last young woman with whom Dorian is romantically linked.

Major Themes

Art as a Mirror

This theme is exemplified by the titular portrait. Dorian Gray's image reflects his conscience and his
true self, and serves as a mirror of his soul. This fact echoes Wilde's statement (found in the preface)
that "It is the spectator...that art really mirrors." However, this theme first appears earlier in the
preface, with Wilde's contention that "the nineteenth-century dislike of realism is the rage of Caliban
seeing his own face in a glass." Realism is a genre of artistic expression that is said to have shown the
19th century its own reflection. The fear that Dorian expresses when viewing the painting, and the
emotions that he seeks to escape through sin, drug addiction, and even murder, might be considered
an expression of his rage at laying eyes upon his true self. The idea of reflectivity also recalls a major
mythical influence on the novel: the story of Narcissus. Dorian, like Narcissus, falls in love with his
own image, and is ultimately destroyed by it.
The Art of Living (or Living through Art)

This theme is expressed most prominently in the character of Lord Henry, and in the "new hedonism"
he espouses. Lord Henry openly approaches life as an art form, seeking to sculpt Dorian's personality,
and treating even his most casual speeches as dramatic performances. Most notably, he pursues new
sensations and impressions of beauty with the amorality of an artist: as Wilde writes in the preface,
"No artist has ethical sympathies." This latter characteristic is the one that leaves the deepest
impression on Dorian's character. However, although both men fancy themselves artists at living, their
flaw lies in their blatant violation of the rule given in the first line of the preface: "To reveal art and
conceal the artist is art's aim." Dorian and Lord Henry both strive to reveal themselves in their "art."

Wilde also explores this theme by blurring the line between life and art. Characters in the novel
include actresses who live as though they are constantly on stage, and a painter who values a
friendship predominantly because the relationship improves his ability to paint. Dorian himself
consciously bases his life and actions on a work of art: a book given to him by Lord Henry.

Vanity as Original Sin

Dorian's physical beauty is his most cherished attribute, and vanity is, as a consequence, his most
crippling vice. Once a sense of the preciousness of his own beauty has been instilled in him by Lord
Henry, all of Dorian's actions, from his wish for undying youth at the beginning of the novel to his
desperate attempt to destroy the portrait at the end, are motivated by vanity. Even his attempts at
altruism are driven by a desire to improve the appearance of his soul. Throughout the novel, vanity
haunts Dorian, seeming to damn his actions before he even commits them; vanity is his original sin.
Dorian's fall from grace, then, is the consequence of his decision to embrace vanity - and indeed, all
new and pleasurable feelings - as a virtue, at the behest of Lord Henry, his corrupter. In the preface
to the novel, Wilde invites us to ponder the inescapability of vanity in our own relationship to art when
he states that "it is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors." If we see ourselves in art, and
find art to be beautiful, then it follows that we, like Dorian, are in fact admiring our own beauty.

The Duplicity of One's Public and Private Selves

This theme is prominent in much of Wilde's work. It plays a central role in The Importace of Being
Earnest, and is prominent throughout this novel, as well. In addition to the protagonist, many of the
novel's characters are greatly concerned with their reputations. Lord Henry and Basil Hallward both
counsel Dorian on how to best preserve his good status in the public eye. When crimes are committed,
it is not personal absolution that anyone is concerned with, but whether or not the guilty party will be
held responsible by the public. In this way, each character in the novel possesses an awareness of a
split identity: one that is defined by the public, and one that they define themselves. The figure of
Dorian is an allegorical representation of this condition. The portrait is a literal visualization of Dorian's
private self, the state of his soul, while Dorian himself looks perpetually young, beautiful, and
innocent.

Much of Wilde's social commentary in the novel springs from his manipulation of this theme. People's
responses to Dorian constantly highlight the overwhelming superficiality of Victorian London (if not
people in general). Because Dorian always looks innocent, most of the people he encounters assume
that he is a good, kind person. Dorian literally gets away with murder because people are
automatically more willing to believe their eyes than anything else.

The Value of Beauty and Youth

Lord Henry claims to value beauty and youth above all else. It is this belief, when imparted to Dorian,
that drives the protagonist to make the wish that ultimately damns him. When Dorian realizes that he
will keep his youthful appearance regardless of whatever immoral actions he indulges in, he considers
himself free of the moral constraints faced by ordinary men. He values his physical appearance more
than the state of his soul, which is openly displayed by the ever-increasing degradation of the portrait.
This superficial faith in the ultimate value of youth and beauty is therefore the driving mechanism
behind the protagonist's damnation. In this way, The Picture of Dorian Gray may be read as a
moralistic tale warning against the dangers of valuing one's appearance too highly, and of neglecting
one's conscience.

It is important to bear in mind that the beauty that Dorian incessantly pursues is a beauty defined by
a purely artistic sensibility, as opposed to a humanitarian one. When faced with the news of his
fiance's suicide, Dorian views the event as satisfyingly melodramatic. His obsession with aesthetic
beauty prevents Dorian from attending to the pangs of his own conscience.

Influence and Corruption

Dorian begins the novel as an innocent youth. Under Lord Henry's influence he becomes corrupt, and
eventually begins corrupting other youths himself. One of the major philosophical questions raised by
this novel is that of where to locate the responsibility for a person's misdeeds. If one engages in a
moralistic reading, The Picture of Dorian Gray can be seen as a lesson in taking responsibility for one's
actions. Dorian often points to Lord Henry as the source of his corruption. However, when
contemplating the plights of others, Dorian lays the blame at their own feet rather than considering
the role that he might have played in their downfall.

Homosexuality

This is the theme that Wilde was alluding to when he wrote of the "note of Doom that like a purple
thread runs through the cold cloth of Dorian Gray" in a letter to his young lover, Bosie, following his
ruinous court appearances. He calls the theme of homosexuality a "note of doom" because sodomy
and homosexuality in general were severly punishable offenses in Victorian England, and it was under
such charges that Wilde was brought to trial.

In the novel, there are strong homosexual undertones in the relationships between the three central
characters (Dorian, Lord Henry, and Basil Hallward), as well as between Dorian and several of the
young men whose lives he is said to have "ruined", most notably Alan Campbell. In his revision of the
novel for its official release, after it appeared in Lippincott's Monthly Magazine, Wilde removed all of
the most blatant references to homosexuality. However, the idea of sexual affection between men
proved too integral to the characters and their interactions to be entirely expunged from the novel.
This theme has prompted many critics to read the novel as the story of a man's struggle with his
socially unacceptable proclivities. Indeed, some feel that Wilde was working out his own conflicted
feelings on the subject through the novel.

the Preface & Chapters 1 & 2

Summary

The preface is a collection of free-standing statements that form a manifesto about the purpose of art,
the role of the artist, and the value of beauty. Signed by Oscar Wilde, the preface serves as a primer
for how Wilde intends the novel to be read. He defines the artist as "the creator of beautiful things,"
and the critic as "he who can translate into another manner or new material his impression of
beautiful things." He condemns anyone who finds ugliness where there is beauty as "corrupt." He
states that a book can be neither moral or immoral, and that morality itself serves only as "part of the
subject matter" of art. Since art exists solely to communicate beauty, Wilde warns against reading too
much into any work of art: "Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril." The preface ends
with the whimsical statement that "All art is quite useless"; earlier, however, we are told that the
"only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely."

Chapter 1 opens with a description of Basil Hallward, a respected but reclusive painter, who is
entertaining his friend, Lord Henry Wotton. It is a beautiful spring day. Lord Henry admires Basil's
latest work-in-progress, a full-length portrait of a beautiful young man, and urges him to show it at a
gallery. Basil says that he never will because he has "put too much of myself into it." Lord Henry
laughs at him, mistaking his meaning, and says that the painter is nothing like the boy in the picture.
In the following discussion, it becomes clear that Lord Henry often speaks in elaborate, cynical, even
paradoxical aphorisms, while Basil is a simpler man with more purely romantic values. Basil clarifies
his earlier statement by saying that "every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the
artist, not of the sitter."

The discussion turns towards the sitter, whom Basil describes as a delightfully pure and naive young
man named Dorian Gray. Lord Henry insists on meeting the man, but Basil refuses. He wants to
protect the boy's innocent purity from Lord Henry's cynical, sensualist influence. It becomes clear that
Basil has very strong feelings for Dorian, bordering on adulation. To Basil's chagrin, the butler
announces Dorian's unexpected arrival, and the artist implores of Lord Henry: "He has a simple and a
beautiful nature...Don't spoil him...Don't take away from me the one person who gives my art
whatever charm it posseses."

Lord Henry and Dorian are introduced, and begin talking as Basil prepares his paints and brushes.
Henry is immediately taken by the boy's charm and good looks, and Dorian is quickly impressed with
Henry's conversational acumen and firmly unorthodox views of morality. Controlling his jealousy, Basil
asks Henry to leave so that Dorian can pose for the picture in peace. Dorian insists that Henry stay,
Basil relents, and Henry continues to dazzle the model with an impromtu lecture on how people ought
to be less inhibited so that one might "realise one's nature perfectly." As he paints, Basil notes that "a
look had come into the lad's face that he had never seen before." It is this look of revelation that the
artist captures in his painting. Lord Henry's lecture makes Dorian feel that "entirly fresh influences
were at work within him," and he marvels that "mere words" could have this effect. Lord Henry sees
clearly the effect that he has on Dorian, and is proud of it. Dorian and his new friend adjourn to the
garden as Basil puts the finishing touches on his work. In the garden, Henry tells the boy that
"Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul," and that
he has "the most marvellous youth, and youth is the one thing worth having." The conversation then
turns towards beauty, and Henry asserts that it has "the divine right of soverignity," that beauty gives
power to those who have it, and that nothing in the world is greater. He warns Dorian that his beauty
will someday fade, a prospect that horrifies the impressionable young man.

Basil then informs the pair that the painting is complete. Upon seeing the painting, Dorian is
overwhelmed with joy and wonder at its beauty. It is his first unabashed immersion into vanity. As
soon as he thinks of how precious his beauty is, however, he remembers Lord Henry's statement
about the fleetingness of youth and flies into a fit, becoming enraged at the portrait because it will
always retain its beauty, while he is destined to grow old. In a fit of passion, he thinks, "If only it were
the other way! If only it were I who was to be always young, and the picture was to grow old! For
that...I would give my soul for that!" Seeing Dorian's distress, Basil grabs a knife and moves to
destroy the painting. Dorian stops him, saying that it would be murder, and that he is in love with the
work. Basil promises to give the picture to Dorian as a gift, and tells him that it will be delivered to
him as soon as it is dried and lacquered.

Lord Henry is fascinated by Dorian's behavior, and the two make plans to go to the theater together
that night. Basil objects, and asks Dorian to dine with him instead. Dorian declines and leaves with
Lord Henry, saying that he will call on Basil tomorrow.

Analysis

The preface was not included in the first printings of the novel, but was added later by Wilde as a
direct response to accusations of immorality and indecency. Several of the statements made in the
preface are thus purely defensive: for example, Wilde writes that "When critics disagree the artist is in
accordance with himself." However, the preface also establishes many of the novel's major themes
and provides the reader with a means of interpreting different aspects of the story.

The opening chapters introduce us to the novel's major players. We learn a great deal about Lord
Henry, Basil, and Dorian, and are provided with information that will inform the development of the
story. The ways that Wilde portrays each character's personality are particularly notable. For instance,
the reader meets the incomplete portrait of Dorian before Dorian himself even makes his first
appearance. Dorian exists as a beautiful but essentially superficial image first and foremost, even
before he exists as a human being. After all, the title of the book is The Picture of Dorian Gray,
suggesting that the novel is about the image of the man, rather than about the man himself. In this
manner, Wilde begins to blur the distinction between man and image (a practice that begins in earnest
when the picture comes to reflect the true nature of Dorian's soul), raising questions as to the true
location of one's identity, and the value of superficiality. Lord Henry remarks that "It is only shallow
people who do not judge by appearances" (21), and Wilde offers the reader no choice but to do so in
this instance. Like Basil, who seems more smitten with Dorian as a model than as a person, like Lord
Henry, who claims to value beauty above all else, and like Victorian society in general, the book itself
seems more concerned with the image of the protagonist than with the man himself.

At times, both Basil and Lord Henry seem to ascribe to ideals consistent with those of the author. Basil
asserts that "there is nothing that art cannot express"; is a dirct rephrasing of the line "the artist can
express everything" from the preface. Lord Henry's habit of constantly spouting "profound" aphorisms
and his languid, sensual personality recall Wilde's own social persona. However, to assume that either
character is intended to be read as a representation of Wilde himself is a fallacy. Both characters also
express opinions that directly contradict with the beliefs found in the preface; a fact that becomes
clearer as the novel progresses.

Basil's reclusiveness is mentioned early on almost as an afterthought, but plays an important role later
in the novel. Since he customarily withdraws from society on a regular basis, his absence is
unremarkable when he eventually disappears for good. Another notable aspect of Basil's character is
his personal devotion to Dorian. There are a number of indications that the painter is smitten with
Dorian on more than a professional level. These feelings, based on Dorian's beauty and purity,
eventually lead to rejection by the boy, and ultimately to Basil's alleged inability to create any more
great art.

The second chapter, in which Dorian himself makes his first appearance, describes the beginning of
Dorian's corruption at the hands of Lord Henry. It also introduces Dorian's inadvertantly faustian
bargain, as the boy pleads for the picture to age in his place. Worth noting is the fact that Lord Henry
invites Dorian into Basil's garden as he delivers his lecture on youth, beauty, and the value of
immorality. This Eden-like setting emphasizes the fact that Dorian's response to Henry's words
represents the boy's fall from grace; it is Dorian's original sin.

Dorian's initial response to the portrait recalls the statement made in the preface that "Those who find
ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming." The painting is a masterpiece,
certainly a "beautiful thing," but the image sparks jealousy and hatred in Dorian because it reminds
him of the fleeting nature of his own youth. He is already "corrupt without being charming," but this
marks the starting point of his steady fall from grace. Basil's attempt to destroy the painting with a
knife, and Dorian's exclamation that "It would be murder" foreshadows the events that take place in
chapters 13 and 20.

Chapter 3

Summary

The next day, at "half-past twelve", Lord Henry visits his uncle, the grumpy Lord George Fermor, to
learn what he can about Dorian Gray's past. Lord Fermor is old and idle, having spent most of his life
moving apathetically through London's aristocratic social circles, devoting himself "to the serious study
of the great aristocratic art of doing absolutely nothing." He is therefore an ideal resource for
information concerning people's private lives. All Lord Henry has to do is mention that Dorian "is the
last Lord Kelso's grandson."

Lord Fermor informs his nephew that Dorian's mother was Margaret Devereux, the beautiful daughter
of Lord Kelso, who upset her father and caused a scandal by eloping with a poor man of a lower class.
Lord Kelso, a bitter man, sought his revenge by paying a young Belgian to insult his unwanted son-in-
law. Dorian's father was apparently killed in the resulting fight, and his mother died only several
months later. The specific conditions of the deaths are never disclosed. Custody of Dorian fell to Lord
Kelso, who was socially ostracized for causing the whole ordeal. Kelso was notoriously mean-spirited
and quarrelsome, always making scenes by viciously haggling with cabmen and the like.

Henry leaves Lord Fermor's home to attend a luncheon at the house of his aunt, Lady Agatha. On the
way, he reflects on how fascinating he finds the story of Dorian's origin, thinking that it makes his life
"a strange, almost modern, romance." Henry is excited by the prospect of shaping the young man's
personality by opening his eyes to the world of sensuality that Henry is so devoted to. He thinks that
the boy "could be fashioned into a marvelous type," and that "He would dominate him...He would
make that wonderful spirit his own." At this point, we learn just how manipulative Henry truly is.

Henry arrives at the lunch gathering rather late, as is his custom. Once at the table, he soon
dominates the conversation, impressing the guests with the cleverness of his speech and playfully
offending them with the beliefs that "To get back one's youth, one has merely to repeat one's follies,"
and that people "discover when it is too late that the only things one never regrets are one's
mistakes." The man's charming tirade is described in terms of juggling and acrobatics. Dorian is
among the guests, and Henry is performing primarily for his sake.

His efforts are not in vain: once the lunch is finished, Dorian approaches him with words of
admiration, saying that "No one talks so wonderfully as you do." He accompanies Lord Henry to the
park instead of calling on Basil as he had promised.

Analysis

Instead of being driven by friendly affection, Henry is interested in Dorian as an artistic or scientific
project. Dorian's purity and innocence are, to him, a blank canvas on which he can paint a personality
so as to lead Dorian towards a lifestyle that Henry finds artistically pleasing. This is a prominent
thread in the novel's thematic exploration of the relationship between life and art. That Henry refers to
Dorian's early life as "a strange, almost modern, romance" is indicative of the man's need to view life
in artistic, as opposed to ethical, terms. (The coldness of this need will be even more damning to
Henry's character later, in his interpretation of Sybil Vane's suicide.)

Henry fancies himself an artist, a sculptor or painter of personalities; he uses his charm, wit, and
scandalous views as his paintbrush or chisel. Nevertheless, as curious as he is to see Dorian's
character evolve into its own fascinating shape, Henry's deepest motivation is unabashedly selfish and
vain. He wants to "be to Dorian Gray what, without knowing it, the lad was to the painter." He wants
to be adored, and to turn Dorian into a more physically attractive version of himself. This echoes the
belief expressed in the preface that "the only excuse for making a useless [i.e. "artistic"] thing is that
one admires it intensely." However, although he certainly admires it, Henry's "art" is fundamentally
flawed according to the first line of the preface: "To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim."
Henry wants his "art" (Dorian) to reveal the "artist" (himself). This suggests another major theme that
explores the value of superficiality and the discrepancy between one's interior self and how one is
perceived by others.

As far plot development, this chapter offers very little. We learn crucial information about Dorian's
past, facts that inform our assessment of his character, making him seem more tragic and romantic
than he might otherwise. However, most of its pages are devoted to a colorful description of the
people and the conversation at Lady Agatha's lunch table. Indeed, Henry's conversational acrobatics in
this chapter are the closest example we have of Wilde's own conversational style.

However, this is not to suggest that the content of this chapter is extraneous. All of Henry's witticisms
also reverberate strongly with the major themes of the novel. For instance, Henry remarks that he
"can sympathise with everything, except suffering...One should sympathise with the colour, the
beauty, the joy of life. The less said about life's sores the better." This sentiment, of course,
exemplifies Dorian's later outlook on life, when his "sores" are concealed within the portrait.

Henry also states that "I can stand brute force, but brute reason is quite unbearable. There is
something unfair about its use. It is hitting below the intellect." Witty word play aside, this is a pithy
expression of a central tenet of the Victorian Age's "New Hedonism." Feelings, sensations, and
emotions were considered important, not cold intellectualism. Once again, Henry voices a notion that
will dominate Dorian's actions later in the novel.

Chapter 4

Summary

A month later, Dorian pays a visit to Henry, finding his wife at home. She is pleased to meet the man
with whom her husband has become so preoccupied. After Dorian's comment that one is obligated to
engage in conversation when bad music is being performed, she remarks that "that is one of Harry's
views...I always hear Harry's views from his friends, that is the only way I get to know them." Henry
(or "Harry") arrives, and his wife exits. Henry tells Dorian never to marry a woman as sentimental as
his wife, a trait which he blames on the fairness of her hair.

Dorian delivers the news that he has come to share: he is in love with a girl named Sybil Vane. She is
an actress who plays all of the young leading female roles at a theater devoted solely to
Shakespeare's works. The theater and the rest of the cast are of very poor quality, but Sybil is
apparently a brilliant actress and stunningly beautiful. Dorian went backstage to meet her after the
third performance he had attended, and found her to be completely unaware of her own skill,
seemingly unable to separate real life from that of the stage. He tells Henry that she prefers to call
him "Prince Charming," because, as Dorian says, "She regarded me merely as a person in a play. She
knows nothing of life." This purity and naiveté is indescribably charming to Dorian: he has fallen
madly in love, and tells Henry that he worships Sybil and that she is the only thing that matters to
him.

Dorian convinces Henry to come with him to see her play Juliet in the next day's production. Henry
says that he will invite Basil. At the mention of the painter's name, Dorian remarks that he feels guilty
for having ignored the painter for several weeks, since he appreciates the masterful portrait despite
being "a little jealous of the picture for being a whole month younger than I am."

The conversation turns towards the character of artists, and Henry insists that the better the artist,
the duller his personality, and that only truly terrible artists are worth spending time with. Dorian
eventually takes his leave. Later that night, Henry returns home to find a telegram from Dorian
informing him that he and Sybil are engaged to be married.

Analysis

This chapter describes a key moment in the development of Dorian's personality. Henry is not jealous
of Dorian's fascination with another person, but pays careful attention to Dorian's impression of his
own emotional state. Recognizing his influence at work on the boy brings "a gleam of pleasure into his
brown agate eyes"; he is like an artist proudly admiring his work. Henry's views are elucidated by the
statement that "a complex personality...was indeed, in its way, a real work of art." Henry's beliefs are
delivered in the voice of the narrator; this technique, called "free indirect discourse", is one that Wilde
frequently used.
The nature of Dorian's love reflects Henry's devotion to life as art. Sybil is described as almost
completely devoid of her own personality, and only able to behave as if she is in a play. Dorian is in
love with the characters she plays, with her talent, and with her beauty, but not with her. He values
everything superficial about her, as is revealed when she tries to show her true self to him.

Early in their conversation, after telling Henry how much he treasures his words and trusts his
judgment, Dorian states, "If ever I did a crime I would confess it to you. You would understand me."
This boldly foreshadows later events in the novel, and is also an indication of the commencement of
Dorian's degradation. The young man that was innocent and good-hearted only a month before now
freely considers criminal actions for the sake of having a new sensation, without giving a single
thought to the possibility of a guilty conscience.

Dorian criticizes Sybil for treating him like a person in a play, but is blind to the fact that he has fallen
in love with the characters she plays, and hardly even knows the girl herself. Dorian has begun to
whole-heartedly devote himself to artistic ideals, mistakenly assuming that they are his reality.
Indeed, when Sybil begins to show a glimmer of the person behind her characters, Dorian's reaction is
not very pleasant. Earlier, however, he doesn't even hesitate to propose to a girl he hardly knows; a
testament to his misguided devotion to artistry and artifice.

Henry realizes the error of Dorian's ways, but instead of pointing them out for the sake of his friend's
well-being, he anticipates the fun he will have observing the repercussions. Dorian's blossoming self-
centeredness is a successful manifestation of Henry's influence. Interestingly, this is the first chapter
in which Dorian actually has more dialogue than Henry. Until this point, we have witnessed Dorian's
reactions only through Henry's eyes, and through narrative comments. Dorian only actually begins to
take the spotlight once his corruption is underway.

Chapter 5

Summary

Sybil Vane tells her mother all about her love for Dorian, but only refers to him as "Prince Charming,"
since she has promised not to disclose his true name to anyone. Mrs Vane is greatly distressed over
her daughter's well-being and the family's financial status. She reminds Sybil that they owe money to
Mr Isaacs, the theater owner, but Sybil doesn't care about anything but her Prince Charming. Mrs
Vane is full of affectations, always seeming to behave as if she is on stage.

Sybil's younger brother James enters, wanting to walk with his sister and bid farewell to his mother,
as he is leaving for Australia to become a sailor. James is not an actor, and hates the city and the
stage. He is a very serious, stocky young man. It is his hope that he will never have to return to
London, and will make enough money to keep his mother and sister from having to act. When Sybil
leaves to prepare for their walk, James urges his mother to protect her. He is very jealous, protective
of his sister, and suspicious of the situation, since Sybil doesn't even seem to know her suitor's name.
Mrs Vane reminds her son that Prince Charming is a gentleman, and that it could be a very profitable
marriage for the family.

Sybil returns, and the siblings leave. On their walk, other people stare at them because Sybil's beauty
contrasts with James's stocky, disheveled appearance. Sybil romanticizes her brother's life as a sailor:
she is sure that he will find gold in a distant land, fight off robbers, and rescue a beautiful heiress.
James is distressed about his sister's affair, and tells her that he doesn't trust her suitor.

Sybil defends Dorian, always referring to him as "Prince Charming", and tells James that he will only
understand her feelings once he falls in love himself. Sybil spots Dorian riding by and James runs to
see what he looks like, but the carriage drives off. James states, "I wish I had [seen him], for as sure
as there is a God in heaven, if he ever does you any wrong, I shall kill him." Sybil scolds her brother
for being bad-tempered, and doesn't take his threat seriously.
After returning home for dinner, James tells his mother that "if this man ever wrongs my sister, I will
find out who he is, track him down, and kill him like a dog." The melodrama of the statement and the
theatrical manner of its delivery make Mrs Vane admire her son, because she is only truly comfortable
when life mimics the theater. James's departure, however, disappoints her, because the potentially
heart-jerking farewell "was lost in vulgar details" of haggling with a cab driver.

Analysis

This is one of the few chapters in the novel that does not focus primarily on Dorian or Lord Henry. Like
the preface, and all of the later chapters dealing with James Vane, this chapter was absent from the
original version of the novel printed in Lippincott's Monthly. This fact is made apparent from the tone
of writing: by introducing three new characters that barely interact with the main players of the story,
this chapter seems to deviate from the plot.

However, Wilde does use the Vanes to further explore the complex relationship between life and art.
Sybil and her mother both seem to be stuck in theatrical mentalities. This is most striking in the
character of Mrs Vane, who is actually disappointed when the events in her life don't live up to the
melodrama of the theater. She appreciates Sybil's love-stricken outbursts because they are worthy of
the stage. When James enters their room, "she mentally elevated her son to the dignity of an
audience. She felt sure that the tableau was interesting." She is disappointed with the farewell of her
only son, because "It was crude. It reminded her of a bad rehearsal." To Mrs Vane, life has become a
shadow of her art.

Sybil is similarly afflicted, but to a lesser degree. The theatricality of her actions can be attributed to
her naiveté and the intensity of her love for Dorian. This love exists in the real world, and thus
saves Sybil from the need to feel that she is constantly in a play. Ironically, this desire to live in the
"real world" and experience true love eventually leads to her death.

The threats made by James, which are dismissed by Sybil as byproducts of the over-zealousness of
youth, return to haunt Dorian in the later chapters (specifically chapters 15-18). James comes to
represent the inescapable consequences of Dorian's past transgressions. The threats that Sybil finds
so harmless and endearing prove to be earnest declarations of intent.

When Dorian drives by in a carriage, unseen by James but noticed by Sybil, Wilde is emphasizing the
discrepency between their social classes. Dorian rides in an expensive carriage, while the Vanes walk
the filthy streets. This discrepency is the source of much of James's rage and frustration, and also
Sybil's tragically idealistic hopes for a better life.

Chapters 6 & 7

Summary

Lord Henry and Basil Hallward discuss Dorian's engagement at the painter's house. They are planning
to dine with Dorian before going to see Sybil's performance that night. Basil can't believe that Dorian
is really engaged, saying that Dorian "is far too sensible" to make such a rash decision. To this, Henry
replies that "Dorian is far too wise not to do foolish things now and then." Basil is taken aback by
Henry's detached, artistic fascination with Dorian's life. The artist disapproves of Dorian's actions, and
is worried about the boy's emotional health; Henry, however, is delighted, knowing that whatever the
outcome is, it will be greatly entertaining.

Dorian arrives, insisting that he be congratulated. Basil says that was hurt to hear about the
engagement from Henry, and not from Dorian himself. Henry quickly changes the subject. Dorian
wants Basil to approve of his actions, saying "I have been right, Basil, haven't I, to take my love out
of poetry, and to find my wife in Shakespeare's plays?" Basil reluctantly agrees with Dorian. When
Henry cynically remarks about the business-like nature of marriage, Basil objects, saying that Dorian
"is not like other men. He would never bring misery upon anyone. His nature is too fine for that."
Henry continues to philosophize about the nature of women and how they act when in love. To him,
"Women treat us just as humanity treats its gods. They worship us and are always bothering us to do
something for them." Dorian is sure that Sybil's acting will put an end to Henry's cynicism and
reconcile all disagreements between the three men. When they see her perform, they will be too
overwhelmed by her beauty to consider anything else. The three men leave to see the play, Romeo
and Juliet.

The theater is surprisingly crowded that night. Once seated in their box, Lord Henry observes the
obnoxious, unrefined behavior of the lower-class theatergoers. Basil comforts Dorian against Henry's
cynicism. The play begins, and they all note that the orchestra is terrible. Finally, Sybil appears on
stage. She looks beautiful, but acts terribly. Her voice is exquisite, but "from the point of view of tone"
is "absolutely false." Dorian is horrified and confused. The other two men are disappointed, but are too
polite to make any remarks. Her performance, usually the one saving grace in the theater's otherwise
dreadful productions, only gets worse as the play progresses. After the second act, the audience
hisses, and Dorian's guests stand to leave. Basil tries to comfort the boy, saying that Sybil must be ill,
and that he shouldn't be upset, since "Love is a more wonderful thing than art" anyway, to which
Henry replies that "They are both simply forms of imitation". Dorian is inconsolable. Henry tells him to
cheer up, since "the secret of remaining young is never to have an emotion that is unbecoming."

The two men leave, and Dorian forces himself to suffer through the rest of the performance.
Afterwards, he rushes backstage to confront Sybil. She is delighted to see him and surprised at his
anger, since she had assumed that he would know the reason for her terrible performance. When he
demands to be told why she performed badly, she tells him that having met him, she can no longer
believe in the theater. Before Dorian, she says, "acting was the one reality of my life," and now he has
"freed my soul from prison" and "taught me what reality really is." Having experienced true love, she
says, "it would be profanation for me to play at being in love." Dorian is horrified, disgusted, and
completely unable to love her anymore. She can't believe it, and when he pulls away from her touch,
she falls to the floor, groveling at his feet. Dorian feels repulsion rather than empathy, and leaves her
sobbing on the floor.

Strangely numb and unable to come to terms with Sybil's lost talent or his unexpected callousness
towards her, Dorian aimlessly wanders the city until dawn. He returns home, where he happens to
glance at Basil's portrait, and is puzzled to find that the facial expression is slightly different: there
seems to be "a touch of cruelty in the mouth." He rubs his eyes and changes the lighting, but is
certain that the picture has changed. The cruelty in the expression reminds him of his cruelty to Sybil,
but he feels wronged for the misery that she has caused him with her bad acting, and consoles himself
by thinking that "women were better suited to bear sorrow than men...When they took lovers, it was
merely to have someone with whom they could have scenes. Lord Henry told him that, and Lord
Henry knew what women were." Unable to make any sense of the picture's transformation, he
realizes, after much pondering, that "It held the secret of his life, and told his story...changed or
unchanged, [it] would be to him the visible emblem of conscience." Exhausted, he covers the portrait
with a screen, and goes to sleep.

Analysis

Dorian's relationship with Sybil is the first major casualty of the devotion to sensual pleasure inspired
by Lord Henry. Valuing artistic beauty above all else allows Dorian to confuse his love for Sybil's acting
with a love for Sybil herself. She seems to be the perfect wife, because Dorian believes that she can
offer him all of Shakespeare's heroines in a single body. Indeed, Dorian remarks to Basil that he has
"had the arms of Rosalind around me, and kissed Juliet on the mouth." Dorian's love is a means of
escaping reality; therefore, Sybil's awareness of "what reality really is" is unacceptable.

His resulting cruelty towards her is the first undeniable mark of the corruption of Dorian's character,
and therefore causes the first visible change in his portrait. He considers the aesthetic pain caused by
her poor acting to be on par with Sybil's emotional devastation at his rejection. This belief is rooted in
the sentiment expressed by Lord Henry before the trio leaves for the play, when he says "I love
acting. It is so much more real than life." This statement is a clear indication of Henry's continuing
influence on Dorian.

We are also reminded of the statement in the preface that "Those who go beneath the surface [of art]
do so at their peril." Dorian is not prepared to see the person beneath the surface of Sybil's acting.
The preface also states that "It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors." Dorian saw
himself reflected in Sybil's acting, because it was artful, but once her acting is revealed as artless, he
can no longer see himself in it, and his feelings for her disappear. What he thought was love for Sybil
is really a form of vanity; the pain of enduring her poor performance is actually the pain of not seeing
his own reflection.

In Chapter 7, Dorian undergoes several dramatic changes of character: he transforms from a devoted
lover, to a bitter art critic, to a cruel betrayer, and seemingly back to a devoted lover. This final
change is, however, superficial. He decides to do the honorable thing and marry Sybil, but only when
faced with the possibility of watching the beautiful image in the portrait succumb to degradation. The
corruption of Dorian's soul has begun in earnest, as reflected by the first visible change in the portrait.

Interestingly, this chapter marks a turning point in the narrative: the focus switches from Lord Henry
to Dorian. Now that Henry's influence has begun to show its effects, the narrative no longer appears
as concerned with Lord Henry himself. At this point, the story begins to focus solely on Dorian as a
corrupt figure. At the end of the chapter, as Dorian feebly resolves to spend less time with Lord Henry
and to marry Sybil, he is acting more out of vanity than out of love or a true sense of morality; a fact
that will be revealed when the portrait fails to change for the better. This is not the last time Dorian
will fail to recognize the vanity that lies behind his decisions.

Chapter 8

Summary

Dorian is awoken by Victor, his servant, after having slept until 1:15 in the afternoon. He sees that he
has received a letter from Lord Henry, but leaves it unopened. He feels refreshed and eats breakfast
happily, the previous night feeling like nothing more than a dream. His pleasant afternoon is
interrupted, however, when he sees the screen that he has thrown over the portrait. He thinks himself
foolish for imagining that the painting might have changed, but decides to check it again just to make
sure. Nervous that he might be acting strangely, he throws Victor out of the room, locks all of the
doors, and draws the curtains. Sure enough, "It was perfectly true. The painting had altered." He
wonders how this could possible, whether there is a scientific explanation, or a darker, metaphysical
cause for the change. The cruel expression on the face in the portrait reminds him of his poor
treatment of Sybil. Stricken with guilt, Dorian writes her a passionate love letter, filling "page after
page with wild words of sorrow and wilder words of pain."

Writing the letter is deeply cathartic. As soon as he finishes, Lord Henry arrives. Dorian tells him that
although he saw Sybil and was brutal towards her, he doesn't regret any of it, since "It has taught me
how to know myself better." Henry is delighted to find Dorian in good spirits, but when the young man
tells him that he plans to cleanse his soul by marrying the poor actress, it is clear that there has been
a misunderstanding. Sybil Vane, as Henry had written to Dorian in the unopened letter, has killed
herself with poison.

Henry says that there will be an inquest, but that Dorian has nothing to worry about since nobody saw
him go backstage or leave the theater, and since Sybil never even told anyone her fiancé's real
name. Henry urges Dorian not to get involved with the situation, as such a scandal would destroy his
reputation. He asks Dorian to come see the opera with him that night. After his initial shock passes,
Dorian responds to the news of Sybil's death with a strange detachment. "So I have murdered Sybil
Vane," he thinks, "as surely as if I had cut her little throat with a knife. Yet the roses are not less
lovely for all that."
Under Henry's direction, Dorian comes to appreciate Sybil's death as "a wonderful ending to a
wonderful play." Dorian is briefly disturbed by his emotional detachment, but Henry soon assuages his
guilt, saying that life's tragedies often "hurt us by...their entire lack of style." Since Sybil died so
dramatically, and for such a pure purpose as love, the situation is actually one, Henry believes, that
Dorian should take satisfaction and pleasure in. Henry goes so far as to state that since the girl was
only ever alive on stage, and since Dorian's love for her was rooted in his admiration for the various
heroines she portrayed, that "The girl never really lived, and so she has never really died...don't waste
your tears over Sybil Vane. She was less real than [Shakespeare's characters] are." Dorian thanks
Henry for being such a good and true friend.

Henry leaves, and Dorian again looks at the picture. The mean sneer has not shifted, making Dorian
think that it had "received the news of Sybil Vane's death before he had known of it himself." After
further contemplation, Dorian consoles himself by thinking that since the picture displays his true
character, it must "bear the burden of his shame," thus leaving him to enjoy a guilt-free life. He sees
no reason to consider why the picture changes, and decides to allow himself to simply be entertained
by its progress. The chapter ends with Dorian leaving to meet Lord Henry at the opera.

Analysis

Once again, Dorian displays alarming capriciousness and a disturbing blindness to his own vanity. He
writes to Sybil in a passion, taking all of the blame for his actions, but the narrator comments that
"there is a luxury in self-reproach." He takes pleasure in his confession, privately praising his own
"selflessness". He falls into a brief spell of grief upon hearing the news of Sybil's suicide, but proves to
be far from inconsolable. Lord Henry, playing the devil to Dorian's Faust, shows him the means by
which to transform his pain and guilt into a new, pleasurable experience, for which only the portrait
will pay the price.

In this chapter, the symbolic significance of the portrait is clearly spelled out for us: "here was a
visible symbol of the degradation of sin...an ever present sign of the ruin men bring upon their souls."
This realization prompts Dorian to exclaim that he "can't bear the idea of my soul being hideous."
Dorian fears physical ugliness; in other words, it is vanity, not morality, that defines Dorian's
relationship with his soul. A similar type of selfishness appears when Dorian writes his love letter to
Sybil. We are told that "There is a luxury in self-reproach...When Dorian had finished the letter, he felt
that he had been forgiven." Even in the throes of guilt, Dorian does not need Sybil to grant the
forgiveness that only she can rightly give, nor does it occur to him that Sybil would do anything other
than immediately accept his apology and agree to be his wife.

Dorian's comment that Sybil's death seems "to be like simply a wonderful ending to a wonderful play"
continues the theme of life imitating art. It also recalls Dorian's obsession with the characters that
Sybil portrayed. He became disappointed in her when she tried to be her own person, and rejected the
falseness of playing a role. Now, her death has given Dorian the ability to once again view Sybil as a
character in a play. When Lord Henry encourages this interpretation of the tragedy, he ensures that
Dorian passes the point of no return on his descent into immorality.

Dorian's statement that he has "murdered her...as if I had cut her little throat with a knife" not only
displays a disturbing tendency to relish in unnecessarily morbid details, but also foreshadows Basil's
murder in chapter 13, and recalls Basil's threat to destroy the painting with a knife in chapter 2. The
image of death by stabbing hovers in the air throughout the novel.

This chapter also contains the closest thing Wilde offers as to an explanation of how the portrait has
acquired such metaphysical properties. However, it is not actually an explanation at all, but merely
idle conjecture from Dorian: "Was there some subtle affinity between the chemical atoms, that shaped
themselves into form and colour on the canvas, and the soul that was within him? Could it be that
what the soul thought, they realized? - that what it dreamed, they made true? Or was there some
other, darker reason?" Dorian is briefly disturbed by the possibility that black magic is at work, but he
soon shrugs off this fear, and the question of how and why the portrait changes is never again raised.
Chapter 11

Summary

Over the next several years, Dorian becomes obsessed with the book given to him by Lord Henry. He
buys multiple copies of the "first edition, and [has] them bound in different colors so that they might
suit his moods." To Dorian, "the whole book...seemed to contain the story of his own life, written
before he had lived it." Like the book's young hero, Dorian begins immersing himself in varied
interests, including religion, mysticism, music, jewels, ancient tapestries, and the study of his own
ancestors. Dorian is, however, quick to change obsessions once they no longer interest him, following
the whims of his desire with the passion of an artist. He clings to each current obsession fervently,
studying it and acquiring as many fanciful examples of it as he can find. He buys extravagent gowns
covered in hundreds of pearls to feed his interest in jewels, and ancient, golden-threaded tapestries to
nourish his curiosity about embroidery. As soon as a given subject has exhausted itself in his mind,
however, he drops it in favor of his next interest. For the next 18 years, capriciousness is a way of life
for Dorian. In fact, Dorian's attitude recalls Lord Henry's own: "certainly, to him, Life itself was the
first, the greatest, of the arts." No matter how intensely Dorian embraces a subject, "no theory of life
seemed to him to be of any importance compared with life itself. He felt keenly conscious of how
barren all intellectual speculation is when separated from action and experiment."

Dorian's "experiments" are often social in nature. He becomes notorious among London's aristocratic
circles as a trend-setter, wearing the latest fashions and looked to as a judge of tastefulness. Young
men emulate him, and young women are drawn to him. Those whom he befriends, however, are often
ruined, and Dorian is eventually disdained as much as he is admired. Lord Henry seems to be the only
close friend who sticks by Dorian over the years. Gossip begins following Dorian wherever he goes,
and he becomes infamous, even despicable, in some social circles. He does, however, remain as
attractive and fashionable as ever, and continues to be admired for his exquisite taste. No matter how
poorly people speak of him, his youthful beauty and the boyish innocence of his face never fail to win
him new friends.

Dorian also takes to making periodic visits to the attic to watch the painting transform, "wondering
sometimes which were the more horrible, the signs of sin or the signs of age." At first, as the painting
grows uglier, Dorian becomes "more and more enamored of his own beauty, more and more
interested in the corruption of his soul." He even begins to mock the portrait. Over time, however, his
various obsessions and social excursions become ways for him to escape what he knows to be the
truth of his soul.

Analysis

This chapter initiates the second half of the novel, in which Lord Henry's influence has fully bloomed
and Dorian has become his own person, with his own interests, convictions, and notoreity amongst
London's aristocracy. After this chapter, the protagonist is no longer a corruptable youth, and is rather
a full-fledged corruptor in his own right. We learn that Dorian's personality, charming as it may be, is
defined by capriciousness, and a passion for new pleasures.

Dorian's obsession with Lord Henry's book may be interpreted in a number of different ways. The plot
reminds him of his own life; the hero reminds him of himself. The narrator mentions "the latter part of
the book, with its really tragic...account of the sorrow and despair of one who had himself lost what in
others, and in the world, he most dearly valued." This is a fitting description for the end of Dorian
Gray, as well. The question remains, however, of whether the book happens to describe Dorian's
character, or whether Dorian is changing to mimic the book's protagonist. Once again, Wilde is
blurring the distinction between life and art.

Indeed, we learn in this chapter that for Dorian, life and art are interchangeable. Like Lord Henry, he
considers pleasure and aesthetic value more important than anything else. To him, any new and
pleasurable experience is worth having, even if that experience is hurtful to others. The chapter closes
with the statement that "There were moments when he looked on evil simply as a mode through
which he could realize his conception of the beautiful." In these moments, Dorian is the most
degraded, and his soul suffers the most disfiguration.

Dorian reaches a point where he can only be happy when he forgets about the picture in his attic. He
manages to avoid facing it for weeks at a time, but like any addict, he can't force himself to stay away
from it for very long. The corruption of his soul torments him, and he escapes that torment by
indulging in vices that aggravate his corruption and torment him further. This vicious cycle consciously
mimics the patterns of withdrawal and greater dependence commonly faced by drug addicts, an
analogy that becomes much more explicit in later chapters, when we learn of Dorian's dependence on
opium.

The struggle to deny the nagging guilt he feels when faced with the portrait lies beneath all of Dorian's
actions, which brings the nature of his fervent passion for his capricious endeavors into question. Is he
naturally such a passionate person, or does his passion spring from a desperate need to occupy his
mind with anything other than the undeniable and monstrous corruption of his soul?

Chapters 12 & 13

Summary

Late one night, Dorian runs into Basil Hallward on the street. Basil is delighted to see him, as he has
been searching for Dorian all night, wanting to say goodbye before leaving on a six month trip to
Paris. Basil has several hours before his train leaves, and the two adjourn to Dorian's home. The
painter tells Dorian that he has been worried because "the most dreadful things are being said against
[him] in London." Dorian is annoyed, and tells his friend that he doesn't care for gossip, but makes no
effort to defend himself. Disconcerted by his friend's apathy, Basil goes on to assure Dorian that,
vicious and damning as many of the rumors are, he doesn't believe them because he trusts that
Dorian is a good person, and that "sin is a thing that writes itself across a man's face. It cannot be
concealed." Dorian looks as young and innocent as ever, and Basil believes his eyes.

Once the artist begins listing the names of people whom Dorian is said to have led astray, Dorian
rebukes him, saying that he doesn't know what he's talking about, and warning him to mind his own
business. He argues that no person is without sin or temptation, and that corruption is not a thing that
can be taught. Dorian only feels responsible for showing people their true selves. During their
discussion, Basil remarks that he feels as if he doesn't know Dorian at all, and that in order to know
him "I should have to see your soul." This sends Dorian into an odd state of defensive paranoia.
Laughing, he tells Basil that "You shall see [my soul] yourself tonight!" Basil is confused and
frightened by Dorian's words. He wants his friend to deny the charges against him, and is unsure
whether Dorian's refusal to do so amounts to an admission that they are, in fact, true. To answer all of
Basil's doubts, Dorian invites the painter upstairs, to view his "diary".

They ascend the stairs in Dorian's house, and enter the attic. Dorian tells Basil to open the curtain if
he wishes to see his soul. Basil, thinking his friend is mad, hesitates, and Dorian reveals the painting
himself. The artist is horrified, and at first doesn't even recognize Dorian in "the hideous face on the
canvas grinning at him." He refuses to believe that it's actually his own painting, thinking it to be
some "foul parody," until he recognizes the frame, and finds his own signature at the bottom. Dorian
observes Basil's horrified reaction with apathy, and reminds him of the wish he made years ago at the
painter's studio, right after the portrait had been completed. Basil is overwhelmed by disgust, unsure
of what to believe, and exclaims that Dorian must have been a devil all along, and that if this picture
accurately reflects the man's soul, that he "must be worse even than those who talk against you fancy
you to be!"

He urges Dorian to repent, to try and save his soul, at which point "an uncontrollable feeling of hatred
for Basil Hallward came over him, as though it had been suggested to him by the image on the
canvas, whispered into his ear by those grinning lips." In a frenzy, Dorian grabs a knife and plunges it
into Basil's neck, stabbing him repeatedly, and then holds him down until he stops struggling and dies,
a pool of blood spreading out across the table and weaving through the feet of his chair.

Dorian is surprised at the ease with which he performed the murder. He feels relieved by the thought
that the man "who had painted the fatal portrait to which all his misery had been due, had gone out of
his life." He leaves the attic and determines that he will be able to get away with his crime, since Basil
was supposed to leave for Paris that night, and since no one knew of his visit. He will destroy Basil's
bag and overcoat, but in order to get rid of the body, he must call on Alan Campbell.

Analysis

Basil speaks at length about Dorian's alleged sins, but never actually states what these sins are, only
saying that Dorian's "name was implicated in the most terrible confession I'd ever read." This
propensity for only indirectly acknowledging the breaking of social taboos is an interesting tendency
found in Victorian society, one shared by the narrator of Dorian Gray. We have read that there are
rumors of Dorian's misdeeds but unless we witness them first-hand, as we do the murder, we never
learn what they actually are. Like Basil, we can only assume the worst, based on the hideousness of
the portrait.

That Wilde chooses to portray Dorian's transgressions in such a manner is worth noting. The narrator
is clearly omniscient: he certainly appears capable of informing us about what, exactly, Dorian has
done to spark so much gossip and disdain, but by only hinting at the nature of Dorian's
transgressions, Wilde establishes a palpable sense of their illicitness, leading the reader to look for
clues while also reinforcing the sense of Dorian's degradation.

Basil's condemnation of Dorian's sins, and his fervent desire for Dorian to repent, indicate a religiosity
in the artist that was absent in our last encounter with him. Basil has acquired a sharply refined
ethical sensibility. This may explain the decline in his artistic output, since Wilde states in the preface
that "An ethical sympathy in an artist is an unpardonable mannerism of style." This "unpardonable
mannerism" is partially responsible for Dorian's murderous rage, as it offends his artistic sensibility,
which is the only claim to purity that he now feels justified in clinging to. We are, however, told that
the murder is prompted most directly by the portrait itself: "an uncontrollable feeling of hatred...came
over him, as though it had been suggested to him by the image on the canvas." The image confronts
Dorian with his shameful life, and Dorian blames Basil, the painter, for the pain that he feels.

When the artist confronts Dorian, it is too much for him to bear, and he is driven to murder by "the
mad passions of a hunted animal." Ever since he first encountered Lord Henry, Dorian has made a
point of surrendering to his passions. Now, even the urge towards murderous violence cannot be
checked. Try as he might in later chapters, he is never able to write off this crime as simply another
new and exciting "artistic" experience, as he was able to do with Sybil's death.

Violent images involving knives are found in several instances throughout the novel: in addition to
Basil's murder, they are found when Basil threatens to destroy the portrait in chapter 2, and when
Dorian reflects that he has killed Sybil as if he had "cut her little throat with a knife" in chapter 8.

Chapter 14

Summary

Dorian awakes from a dreamless sleep and gradually remembers the terrible events of the previous
night. He writes a letter summoning Alan Campbell, and sends his servant to deliver it. While he is
waiting, he distracts himself from his guilt by reading poetry from a book given to him by a man
named Adrian Singleton, and reflects on the course of his friendship with Alan Campbell.

The two men first met at a party. Alan was a man of science, a chemist, but the two initially bonded
over their shared love of music. Alan "was an extremely clever young man," but "whatever little sense
of the beauty of poetry he possessed he had gained entirely from Dorian." For a while the two were
inseparable, but for unspecified reasons Alan began leaving parties whenever Dorian showed up and
refusing to speak with him or interact with him in any way. Alan withdrew from society almost
entirely, immersing himself in his experiments.

The long wait nags at Dorian, but Alan eventually arrives. Dorian speaks cordially, but his guest is
cold, curt, and suspicious of his host's motives. Cutting to the chase, Dorian tells him that he needs
him to get rid of a dead body, the result of a suicide. Alan refuses and wants nothing to do with the
situation - or with Dorian at all, for that matter. Dorian, hoping to win Alan's sympathy, confesses that
it was murder, and says that he only needs Alan to pretend to carry out an experiment. It becomes
clear that Alan is determined to resist all of Dorian's tactics.

Reluctantly, Dorian turns to blackmail, showing him a letter that he promises to send unless the
scientist agrees to help. Alan succumbs to "the disgrace with which he was threatened," and writes a
letter for his assistant, detailing the tools to be brought at once to Dorian's house. The tools are
delivered, and Dorian dismisses his servant for the evening so that he does not become suspicious.

The two men haul the heavy trunk of tools upstairs. Dorian realizes that for the first time he has
forgotten to cover the painting before leaving the attic. He rushes to throw the curtain over it, but
before he does so he notices the sickening gleam of red blood on the hands of his doppelganger. Alan
arrives with the trunk, locks himself in the attic, and goes to work. Around seven in the evening, the
deed is done. Basil's body has been incinerated, and Alan leaves with the words "Let us never see
each other again."

Analysis

Until now, we have heard the names Alan Campbell and Adrian Singleton mentioned on the list of
names of those Dorian has corrupted, but this chapter contains the first instance of a face-to-face
interaction with one of them. Aside from Sybil, these two are the only people whose lives Dorian has
ruined who actually appear in the book. Once again, the narrator refuses to state the reasons for the
bitterness Alan displays towards Dorian, or the content of Dorian's blackmail letter, but these
omissions only heighten our sense of how allegedly unspeakable their transgressions must have been.
We learn that Alan no longer wishes to show his face in public, and we have learned in earlier chapters
that Adrian is likewise ostracized. The likeliest causes for this shame - homosexual encounters - are,
however, only tacitly present.

When Wilde himself stood trial for accusations of sodomy in the years following this book's publication,
he wrote of "the note of doom that...runs through...Dorian Gray"; it was instances such as these that
Wilde was referring to. Wilde revised later editions of the book in an effort to reduce the prominence
of the homosexual undertones, but they were too integral an aspect of the interactions between the
main characters to be eliminated entirely.

Dorian's cordiality towards Alan when his guest first arrives is a facade. His seeming reluctance to
blackmail the man is insincere, an indication that Dorian actually takes pleasure from the manipulative
power he holds over Alan. Alan is not fooled by Dorian's pretense of kindness, but has no choice but to
comply with his wishes. In this interaction, we witness how refined Dorian's capacity for social
persuasion has become during the 18 years glossed over in chapter 11. He has been a good student of
Lord Henry, now equalling, or parhaps surpassing, the older man's powers of manipulation.

The poem that Dorian reads while waiting for Alan is significant for several reasons. First, it is from a
book given to him by Adrian Singleton. Dorian relies on the gift of a man that he has somehow
betrayed for comfort. The lines that he repeats over and over to himself, "Devant une facade rose/
Sur le marbre d'un escalier," are translated as "Upon a red-faced town/ On the marble of a stairway."
These lines seem to encapsulate Venice for Dorian, who has visited the city with Basil. Remembering
the painter, however, only leads him to remark "Poor Basil! What a horrible way to die!" Dorian is
unwilling to openly admit that he is directly responsibile for Basil's death. In fact, Dorian instead
blames Basil for the suffering caused by the painting. This is, of course, highly delusional behavior. It
would make more sense to blame Lord Henry, his corruptor, but even this would be inaccurate. Dorian
himself is responsible for wishing the enchantment into existence. However, the genuine acceptance of
responsibility for his misdeeds is well beyond Dorian's ethical capacities at this point.

Chapters 15 & 16

Summary

Later that evening, Dorian attends a party thrown by Lady Narborough, a wealthy widow and popular
socialite. He acts naturally and comfortably, charming his hostess and successfully masking his
tortured conscience, but is unable to stomach any food. Most of the guests are dull and witless, so
Dorian is glad when Lord Henry arrives. As usual, Dorian delights in Henry's paradoxical, slightly
offensive witticisms. The evening goes smoothly until Dorian is asked how he spent the previous night.
He founders and retracts several answers, clearly discombobulated and unnecessarily defensive.
Henry can easily see that something is wrong, but when he tries to get Dorian to share his troubles,
the younger man excuses himself, saying that he is "out of temper" and "must go home."

Once home, Dorian faces the fact that Basil's belongings, which he had left in Dorian's closet, still
have to be destroyed. He throws them into his fireplace, feeling sick at the smell of burning fabric and
leather. He is then overcome by an unspecified "mad craving." He examines "a small Chinese box of
black and gold-dust lacquer" taken from one of his cabinets, and decides to leave. His cab driver at
first refuses to take him where he wants to go, but soon relents and accepts Dorian's bribe.

During the long cab ride, Dorian remembers Lord Henry's words from their first meeting: "To cure the
soul by means of the senses, and the senses by means of the soul." He feels as if his soul is quite sick,
and takes comfort in the idea of curing it. He dismounts from the cab and walks several blocks,
nervously checking behind him, until he finds a small, dilapidated house hidden in an alley between
two factories.

He enters the house, which is revealed to be an opium den. Inside are groups of haggard, complacent,
disheveled individuals. Among them is Adrian Singleton, who joins Dorian at the bar. They are
harassed by two women, and Dorian walks out of the place. As he is leaving, one of the women calls
him "Prince Charming," at which point an unrecognized sailor springs to his feet and pursues Dorian
outside. The sailor grabs Dorian by the throat, brings him to his knees, and points a revolver in his
face, telling him that he is the brother of Sybil Vane, whom Dorian drove to suicide. He only knew his
sister's lover by the nickname "Prince Charming." Dorian pretends to have never heard of Sybil Vane,
and tells James to hold his face under the lamplight. James complies, and realizes that he has made a
mistake: Sybil died 18 years ago, making her lover nearly 40, but the person standing before him
looks no older than 20. James is embarrassed, and begs Dorian's forgiveness. Dorian chides him for
his behavior and flees.

James then speaks with the two women from the bar and learns that Dorian is much older than he
seems. One of the women remarks that "it's nigh on eighteen year since Prince Charming made me
what I am." Realizing that he has been deceived, James rushes after Dorian in an outrage, but turns
the corner to find that the villain has already disappeared.

Analysis

Dorian succumbs to paranoia at Lady Narborough's home, but his fear of being discovered prove
unnecessary. His hostess tells him that "you are made to be good - you look so good." The inability to
accept the possibility that a young, innocent appearance hides anything other than an innocent,
beautiful personality is a common one in Dorian's social circle; this superficiality is what allows him to
maintain a level of respect and admiration, despite the preponderance of nasty rumors, and even
despite the guilt of a murder weighing on his conscience.
Wilde uses Dorian's group of friends to parody the superficiality of London's aristocracy. Lord Henry's
convictions that beauty is the most important thing in the world and that physical beauty is the
greatest asset a person can have seem to be shockingly accurate, at least amongst people such as
those whom Dorian and Henry associate with. This raises an important question: if Lord Henry's
morally shallow beliefs are justified, can we condemn his character for espousing them?

Dorian's odd mannerisms while handling the ornate box of opium and his discreet flight to the opium
den reveal an addiction that we have been thus far unaware of. Dorian has always escaped his guilt by
immersing himself in pleasurable distractions, but his lapse into addiction signifies that he has sunk to
yet a lower level of degradation. This addiction also reminds us of the nature of Dorian's relationship
to the portrait. Like an addict, Dorian cannot refrain from seeking out and indulging himself in new
guilty pleasures. And, like an addict, Dorian cannot help but return to the attic and bask in the horror
of his disfigured soul.

Adrian's presence in the opium den bothers Dorian because he "wanted to be where no one knew who
he was. He wanted to escape from himself." His past, however, haunts him no matter where he turns.
One might expect Dorian to take some solace from the fact that, unlike Alan Campbell, Adrian is
willing to interact with Dorian, but other people mean so little to Dorian at this point that he can only
view Adrian as a nuisance. Instead of taking pity on Adrian's deplorable state, Dorian is repulsed.

The inescapability of the past is also exemplified by the reappearance of Sybil's vengeful brother.
James Vane seeks revenge for the very first instance of Dorian's corruption: the act of selfish vanity
that caused the initial change in the painting. James's determination to avenge his sister's death
represents the culmination of all of Dorian's sins, returning to hunt him down. However, superficiality
does not fail Dorian yet; in this first encounter with James, Dorian's face literally saves his life.

Chapters 17 & 18

Summary

The chapter begins with Dorian and Lord Henry chatting with Gladys, the Duchess of Monmouth,
during a party at a conservatory. Many guests are gathered there for an extended visit as guests of
Dorian's. The guests discuss names, love, and of course the virtues of beauty. Gladys shows herself to
be quite witty, holding her own in a tete-a-tete with Lord Henry. After Henry playfully mentions
Dorian's old nickname, Prince Charming, she asks whether Dorian has ever truly been in love.
Disturbed by the reminder of his recent confrontation, Dorian excuses himself, saying that he must
pick orchids for the duchess.

Dorian takes a long time to return, and as Henry wonders about his whereabouts, a disturbed cry is
heard from the other room. Lord Henry rushes to the scene, and finds that Dorian has fainted. Henry
insists that he stay in bed and recover, but Dorian doesn't want to be alone. All of the guests assume
that he has merely collapsed from exhaustion. Dorian, however, doesn't tell them the real reason for
his distress: he fainted upon seeing the face of James Vane, spying on him through the conservatory
window.

Dorian spends the next three days inside, "sick with a wild terror of dying, and yet indifferent to life
itself." He eventually convinces himself that the face was a hallucination brought on by his conscience
as a result of suppressing his guilt for so long. When Dorian finally goes outdoors, he and Lord Henry
accompany Sir Geoffrey Clouston, the duchess's brother, on a short hunting excursion. Geoffrey aims
at a hare, and Dorian instinctively cries out, urging him not to shoot it. Two screams are heard after
the shot is fired: "the cry of a hare in pain, which is dreadful," and "the cry of a man in agony, which
is worse." Geoffrey assumes that the man he has shot is a "beater," one of the men employed by the
conservatory to drive the game into the open for the hunters.

All hunting is called off for the day, so that the guests don't appear too callous, and Lord Henry
informs Geoffrey that the man who has been shot is dead. Later, Henry and Dorian again chat with
Gladys. We learn that Geoffrey is upset, but Henry blames the beater for everything and sees no
reason for any remorse. He wishes, however, "that he had done the thing on purpose," and proclaims
that "I should like to know someone who had committed a real murder." Dorian must excuse himself
to lie down.

He lies on a sofa upstairs, terrified, feeling as if the unexpected stranger's death is a sure sign that his
own is imminent. He is nearly paralyzed with fear and decides to leave for a doctor, but before he can
his valet sends the gamekeeper in. Knowing it must be about the dead beater, Dorian questions
whether the victim had had a wife or any dependents, and offers "any sum of money you may think
necessary" to provide for their needs. However, the gamekeeper has arrived to inform Dorian that the
dead man was not an employee, and that no one has been able to identify him. Dorian frantically rides
to the farm house where the body is being kept, and discovers that the dead man is James Vane. He
is overjoyed, his eyes "full of tears, for he knew he was safe."

Analysis

The discussion of names and Henry's comment that "I never quarrel with actions [but] with words"
prompt us to consider the significance of names in the novel, and the theme of the power of words.
Upon first meeting Lord Henry in chapter 2, and first hearing the man's intoxicatingly sensuous view
of the world, Dorian thinks to himself: "Words! Mere words! How terrible they were!...One could not
escape from them." It is Henry's conversational acumen that enables him to influence Dorian so
profoundly, and it is a book (Henry's gift, which Dorian obsesses over in chapter 11) that Dorian
considers to be primarily responsible for his own corruption.

By placing such emphasis on the power of words, written or spoken, Wilde is indirectly commenting on
the power of the literary art. Fittingly, Henry follows his earlier comment with the remark, "That is the
reason I hate vulgar realism in literature." This comment is not merely an expression of yet another of
Henry's distinctive beliefs, but an invitation for the reader to consider the value of the fantastic
elements included in The Picture of Dorian Gray.

The Duchess of Monmouth is one of the few characters in the book who seems capable of holding her
own in conversation against Lord Henry's sharp, unorthodox witticisms. When she says to Henry that
"You value beauty far too much," she unknowingly hits on the reason for Dorian's guilt. When Dorian
leaves to pick flowers, we are reminded of the first chapter, when Henry picked a flower from Basil's
garden and slowly pulled it apart, petal by petal. As Henry's earlier action symbolized his role as both
an admirer and a destroyer of delicate beauty, Dorian's action reveals that he has now symbolically
replaced his mentor in this way as well.

The insensitivity of the party-goers upon hearing that a man has been shot is so extreme that it reads
as a parody. Sir Geoffrey's first response upon learning that he has shot a man is annoyance; he says
that the event "spoiled my shooting for the day." Lord Henry handles the news with typically
superficial concern, saying that hunting must cease for the day because "It would not look well to go
on." For all of the seeming profundity of the sayings that Henry spouts in conversation, he proves
himself to be, in times of crisis, incapable of viewing the world in terms of anything but appearances.
His comments in this chapter remind us of the superficial nature of his comfort to Dorian immediately
after Sybil's death (chapter 8), when he recommended that Dorian not sulk or involve himself with the
investigation so as to preserve his reputation.

Dorian himself displays some distress upon hearing of the man's death, but not for humanitarian
reasons. He urges Sir Geoffrey not to shoot, but only because the intended target, a rabbit, strikes
him as beautiful. Perhaps, since Dorian has felt like a hunted creature ever since his encounter with
James Vane outside of the opium den, he sympathizes with the creature. The emotional pain Dorian
feels after learning that a man is dead is the consequence of his own self-pity: he considers the event
a "bad omen," not a tragedy in its own right. Dorian displays his true insensitivity when his immediate
reaction to the news is to reach for his checkbook. He is not compelled to comfort the family of what
he assumes to be a dead employee, or even to express his condolences, but rather instinctually
attempts to make the problem go away by throwing money at it.
Discovering that the dead man is James Vane causes Dorian to rejoice for several reasons. First and
foremost, he no longer has to fear for his life. However, it also means that he was not hallucinating
when he saw James's face through the window. Dorian may be cripplingly paranoid, but he is not
insane. Finally, since James's appearance was intended to make Dorian pay for his hand in Sybil's
death, now that James is dead, Dorian may once again convince himself that he has escaped
unscathed from the sins of his past.

Chapter 19

Summary

Several months later, Dorian is back in London, conversing with Lord Henry at the older man's house.
Dorian, it seems, has decided to change his ways. Henry tells him that he is perfect the way he is and
that there's no use trying to change, but Dorian replies that "I have done too many dreadful things in
my life," and that "I began my good actions yesterday." His so-called "good action" was his treatment
of Hetty, a beautiful young peasant girl who reminded him of Sybil Vane. She fell in love with Dorian,
but instead of taking advantage of her and breaking her heart, as was his usual way, he "determined
to leave her as flower-like as [he] had found her."

Henry mocks him and asks whether he's sure that Hetty "isn't floating at the present moment in some
star-lit millpond...like Ophelia." This upsets Dorian, as he desperately wants to believe in the value of
his good intentions. The conversation turns towards the whereabouts of Basil Hallward. The painter's
disappearance, now six weeks old, is still the talk of the town, along with Henry's divorce and the
suicide of Alan Campbell. Henry asks Dorian to play Chopin for him, because "The man with whom my
wife ran away played Chopin exquisitely."

At the piano, Dorian nonchalantly asks what Henry would think if he told him that he had murdered
Basil. "I would say," he responds, "that you were posing for a character that didn't suit you." Such
crimes, Henry believes, are the specialty of the lower classes. Besides, Henry cannot imagine that
Basil would have met such a romantic end, because his paintings had steadily declined in the years
following his soiled friendship with Dorian. His painting of Dorian was, apparently, his final
masterpiece. Henry believes that the painting was stolen a long time ago, and Dorian claims to have
forgotten all about it.

Henry catches Dorian off-guard by paraphrasing the Bible, asking him: "what does it profit a man if he
gain the whole world and lose...his soul?" When Dorian is startled by this statement, Henry just
laughs, telling him that he heard a preacher posing this quesiton to a crowd during a walk through the
park on a rainy day. Henry describes his amusement at the spectacle of the somber crowd standing in
the rain, listening to "an uncouth Christian in a macintosh." He apparently wanted to tell the preacher
that "Art had a soul, but that man did not."

Henry's light-heartedness offends Dorian, who says that "The soul is a terrible reality...It can be
poisoned or made perfect." He tells Henry that he is certain of this fact, to which Henry replies, "then
it must be an illusion. The things one feels absolutely certain about are never true." Dorian begins to
play a nocturne by Chopin, which greatly affects Henry and prompts a rambling tirade on romance and
how exquisite Dorian's life has been. Dorian agrees, but reminds Henry that he has turned over a new
leaf, and that he will never forgive him for his corrupting influence. On his way out, Henry invites
Dorian to lunch the next day, and Dorian reluctantly agrees to accompany the older man.

Analysis

When telling Henry about Hetty, Dorian insists that she will "live, like Perdita, in her garden," to which
Henry asks "how do you know that Hetty isn't floating...like Ophelia?" These are both Shakespearean
characters (from The Winter's Tale and Hamlet, respectively) that Sybil used to play on stage. Dorian
has already stated that Hetty reminds him of Sybil, whom he loved because of all the characters she
represented to him. Dorian now seeks to make amends for his treatment of Sybil vicariously, through
Hetty; he thinks of her as Perdita, a character who meets a happy ending. Lord Henry's allusion to the
tragic character of Ophelia is unbearable to Dorian because it reminds him of the actual circumstances
of Sybil's death, and his callous decision to view it as a theatrical drama.

Shakespeare is also evoked after Henry inquires about the state of Basil's painting. While playing the
piano, Dorian says that the picture reminded him of certain lines from Hamlet: "Like the painting of a
sorrow,/ A face without a heart." This lines relate directly and poignantly to Dorian's condition. They
not only refer to the painting, but to Dorian himself, who now feels reduced to "a face without a
heart." When Henry tires to coax Dorian out of his somber mood with the line "If a man treats life
artistically, his brain is his heart", Dorian only repeats the quotation. It is if Dorian is trying to
obliquely communicate his true plight to Henry. He has already attempted, albeit unsuccessfully, to
confess to Basil's murder. Dorian is hopelessly isolated even from his oldest remaining friend. Before
leaving to return home, Dorian hesitates at the door, "as if he had something more to say," but says
nothing, a further indication of his pathetic lonliness.

Although Henry fancies himself to be Dorian's best friend, he tells Dorian that, after all their years
together, "you are still the same." This reminds us that, for all of his seeming wisdom, Lord Henry can
still only take things at face value; to him, looking the same and being the same are one and the
same thing. He has no clue as to the true degradation of Dorian's character.

Henry's earlier comment that a man ought to "treat life artistically," one of the major themes of the
book, is best considered in conjunction with the closing remark of the preface, that "All art is quite
useless." Considering that this is the opinion of the author, it is clear that trying to make a work of art
out of one's life will not be very rewarding in Dorian Gray.

Dorian remarks that Henry "poisoned me with a book once," and tells his friend to "promise me that
you will never lend that book to anyone. It does harm." Dorian has done precisely what the preface
warns against when it declares that "All art is...surface," and that "Those who go beneath the surface
do so at their peril." He has gone so deeply "beneath the surface" of the book that he has transformed
it into a sort of outline for his own life. The corruption of his soul, and the ruin of his life, is what this
"peril" has wrought on Dorian.

Chapter 20

Summary

During the walk home from Henry's, Dorian enjoys the warm evening. He is annoyed when several
people mutter his name in astonishment as he passes, an occurence that used to please him, but he
cheers himself by thinking of the beautiful and innocent Hetty, and his recent "good action." She had
been hopelessly naive, but this was her charm, "she had everything that he had lost." He arrives at
home and looks at his face in a mirror given to him by Henry long ago, but is so overcome with
loathing that he shatters the mirror on the floor. He tries to focus on the future, to block out people
like James Vane, now "hidden in a nameless grave," Alan Campbell, who shot himself without
betraying Dorian's secret, or Basil Hallward, who Dorian "murdered in the madness of a moment." He
attempts to assuage his guilt by blaming all of his troubles on Basil's portrait, and by contemplating
the new life he has begun. He thinks of Hetty, the preservation of whose innocence he holds as proof
of his newfound goodness, and wonders whether his good deed has caused his portrait to change for
the better. He climbs to the attic, locks the door behind him, and throws the curtain from the picture.

A horrified gasp escapes his lips when he sees "no change, save that in the eyes there was a look of
cunning, and in the mouth the curved wrinkle of the hypocrite." Dorian realizes that his kindness
towards Hetty was either an act of vanity, driven by his desire to improve the appearance of his soul,
or simply a different sort of selfishness, driven by "the desire for a new sensation." Desperate to
escape his past crimes, Dorian sees the painting as the one piece of evidence revealing his guilt: "It
had been like a conscience to him...He would destroy it." The knife on the table, he notices, is still
stained with Basil's blood. He takes it, cleans it several times, and stabs the picture.
Dorian's servants are awoken by a dreadful shriek. It is so loud that two passing gentlemen hear it
from the sidewalk and fetch a policeman to the house. The policeman informs them that it is Dorian
Gray's residence, and the men walk away, sneering, without reporting the scream. The servants
cannot open the locked door of the attic, so they manage to climb in through the roof. They find the
body of a "withered, wrinkled, and loathsome" man, lying on the floor with a knife in his chest. They
only recognize their master from the rings on his fingers.

Analysis

While thinking of Hetty, Dorian remembers telling her that he was a very wicked man, to which she
responded that "wicked people were always very old and very ugly." Like the shallow people of
Dorian's class, the "pure" Hetty assumes that appearance is everything. While this superficiality is
precisely what allows Dorian to win so many hearts, it also prevents anyone from truly knowing who
he is.

Dorian resolves to undo his past, to block it from his thoughts, and to focus on ensuring a positive
future. He crushes the mirror given to him by Lord Henry, a symbolic rejection of his own vanity and
the corrupting influence of Henry's friendship. He desperately clings to his treatment of Hetty as an
indicator that it is possible to cleanse his soul, but it is too little, too late. Even this seemingly
conscientious gesture was committed out of the hedonistic desire to experience an unfamiliar
sensation, and the vain wish to improve the appearance of his soul, as depicted in the portrait. Vanity,
not morality, drove his action, proving once again that Dorian is a condemned soul.

When Dorian kills himself by trying to destroy the painting, the picture and the man once again trade
appearances. The man in the portrait becomes young and beautiful, while the real Dorian becomes old
and disfigured by guilt. Dorian has unwittingly realized the fear he had upon first seeing the painting:
that he would wither and die, while the painting would remain young and beautiful forever.
Furthermore, since the painting has been restored to its original appearance, the masterpiece of Basil
Hallward is returned to the world. Dorian, seeing the knife, thinks that "As it had killed the painter, so
it would kill the painter's work" (177), but the work and the painter are instead granted the
immortality of artistic greatness, while Dorian himself is destroyed.

The weapon used by Dorian is the same one he had used to kill Basil. Ironically, Basil offered to
destroy the painting with a knife as soon as he sensed Dorian's negative reaction to it (chapter 2), but
Dorian's newfound vanity and appreciation for artistic beauty prompted him to throw his own body in
front of the image. Eighteen years and eighteen chapters later, Dorian decides to do precisely what he
had prevented from happening, and once again his body throws itself before the painting, subject to
the dangers of its beauty.

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