Basil Hallward in Dorian Gray

Basil Hallward in Oscar Wilde's "The Picture of Dorian Gray"

The three central characters of Oscar Wilde’s 1891 novel The Picture of Dorian Gray establish, in the first few chapters, a neat and tidy ménage a trois, enabling the author to showcase the warring tensions within his own contradictory personality. Lord Henry Wotton, Dorian Gray and Basil Hallward are three privileged fin de siècle intellectuals. They exemplify and explore different aspects of Wilde’s attitudes towards art and society, views that he either publically expressed or, more privately, experienced.

Basil Hallward is an accomplished and celebrated society artist who, with Dorian Gray as his model, finds a new, higher level of inspiration than he had ever felt before. He “suffers” for his consistency, honour and Victorian sense of morality and duty, bourgeois characteristics scorned by bohemians. The Gods have given him unfashionable principles. Lord Henry and Dorian flourish, while Basil diminishes in stature, fades from the novel and is eventually disposed of. If Basil’s character is, then, so easily disposed of, what does this tell us about Wilde himself?

High Aesthetic Principles

While maintaining the public façade of a happy marriage, Wilde privately enjoyed “feasting with panthers”, his euphemism for exploring an ever-expanding notion of sexual morality. Embodied in Lord Henry’s attitude, this autobiographical element of the novel weighed heavily against Wilde in when he was on trial for indecent behaviour in 1895. Transcripts of the trial show that he was unable to dissuade a jury that his novel was anything other than a reflection of his own dissolute lifestyle. Wilde was aware that the novel suggested his own life; in a letter to Ralph Payne in 1894, Wilde famously wrote “Basil Hallward is what I think I am; Lord Henry what the world thinks me; Dorian is what I would like to be in other ages, perhaps.” (p.116). However, this statement may not be a clarification; it is equally likely to represent Wilde’s penchant for paradox and obfuscation.

If anything, Basil is in control at the outset. He has “discovered” Dorian and, in painting him naturalistically in modern dress, has created something both marvellous and magical. Initially, it seems that Basil’s great masterpiece has emerged due to the artist’s commitment to the highest aesthetic principles and philosophies. After all, what other explanation is there? The brilliance of Basil’s painting, representing the pinnacle of his career, seems tied in to the artist’s single-minded dedication to the simultaneous creation of both “truth” and “beauty”; Dorian, whose looks and bearing have captivated Basil, is represented unadorned, as he appears. Basil’s integrity and commitment to the truth of aestheticism, coupled with Dorian’s powerful presence, have combined to produce a perfect portrait of beauty.

Beneath The Surface

Basil is protective of his protégée; he fears Lord Henry’s influence, and tries to keep Dorian all to himself. Strongly emphasising the “Platonic” and inspirational nature of his love for Dorian, Basil seems to be the perfect aesthete, extolling the abstract sense of beauty. His decision not to display the painting seems to stem from his commitment to the creed of aestheticism- his desire “to conceal the artist” implies that the surface of the painting contains everything anyone needs to know about it- as “those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril”. Basil adheres to the highest artistic principles; Wilde’s belief that “no artist ever seeks to prove anything” finds voice here, and we are directed back to Wilde himself, famously and publicly an advocate of Walter Pater’s aesthetic doctrines. It did not take much imagination for even the most casual reader of the time to suspect that in his three main characters, Wilde was suggesting versions of himself, with Basil representing an idealised version of the artistic integrity he so readily presented. Yet there is some unease in Basil. Crucially, he finds it difficult to accept the aesthetic rule that his artistic creation can be more beautiful than its source material; his painting may be wonderful, but Basil ruefully acknowledges that Dorian is a work of art himself.

When Wilde stated that “Basil is who I think I am”, he surely did not expect to be taken at face value. After all, his epigrams and aphorisms suggest that nearly everything he expresses is ambiguous, ironic and, questionable. Yet, though his trial, it became evident that, to complete the quote, “Lord Henry is what the public thinks me” and that Dorian was what the public thought he “could become”; if this had not already occurred. As Lord Henry and Dorian move centre-stage, Basil is a character that Wilde seems less committed to, reflected in the character’s self-awareness; the artist’s continued allegiance to the aesthetic code has not shifted, despite finding Dorian equal in beauty to his painting. Basil cannot come to terms with the changes within himself.

A Terrible Crisis

We note prevarication in the artist. Perhaps, Basil is unable to recognise the truth behind his unwillingness to display the painting; this truth might lie too deep within him. While “the foundation of Basil’s actions is his belief in a moral order, “(Liebman, p.303), Dorian’s beauty has inspired Basil to face a “terrible crisis” in his life. He is forced to accept the “secret of his own soul”- the truth of his own sexuality- which he feels is so clearly evident in the painting. This has been tough, as he knows that it is “better not to be different from one’s fellows”. In assuming this facade, Basil has realised that he has “grown to love secrecy”…it makes life “mysterious and marvellous”. Like Algy in The Importance of Being Earnest, Basil accepts that his only alternative is to cultivate a Bunbury-style alter-ego. He knows that the painting of Dorian displays more than Platonic love, and could reveal to the world his true nature, which he is fighting to suppress. For Wilde, such reticence denies the possibility of true artistic integrity.

Lord Henry recommends hedonism; Dorian cannot resist, and lives a wild, carefree life, but Basil struggles on with a dilemma he finds impossible to resolve. He cannot live by Lord Henry’s maxim- that “the only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it”. As a result, he gives up the fight, turns in upon himself and locks himself away. Wilde depicts a weakened Basil in Chapter Two. In decline, Basil epitomises the notion that “every impulse that we strive to strangle broods in the mind, and poisons us.” He cannot be true to himself; he is “too much afraid of life”. This denial has some very powerful repercussions.

Destructive Potency

Firstly, there is Dorian’s engagement to Sibyl Vane, which provokes an interesting response in Basil. Despite being an advocate of “truth and beauty”, he articulates his opposition by reminding Dorian of Dorian and Basil’s distance socially, reasoning that such a match would be a disaster. While this is in all probability true, we sense this is a considered rather than emotional response; by failing to appreciate romance, and to embrace his true nature, Basil’s “poisoning” has begun; he falls back upon Victorian notions of duty and responsibility. Any sense of spontaneity and inspiration that, as an artist he would have previously instinctively felt, is disregarded. We are not sure whether such behaviour is consciously disingenuous, but for Wilde, it is akin to death itself.

Secondly, it is important to remember that Dorian’s “subtle influence” has inspired a magical, supernatural quality in Basil’s creation, and despite the artist’s apparent equivocation, this energy has not dissipated; in fact, it is about to rise again, but in a different, disappointing guise. Basil telepathically assumes Dorian’s burden of conscience when Dorian relinquishes the energy of his guilt over Sibyl’s suicide. As Lord Henry explains away the need for remorse, Dorian is a more than willing listener. His guilt disappears, but Basil cannot control this magical, mysterious connection between himself and Dorian. This second, intuitive, enchanted transfer of feelings reminds us of the initial spark that led to the portrait’s supernatural qualities. Wilde intends us to understand that Basil clearly has something special. Wilde has described two examples of paranormal connection, and as readers we may continue to believe that this power is a natural extension of Basil’s almost religious belief in the power of art, truth and beauty. Yet that line is beginning to wear a bit thin. The reader begins to recognise the destructive potency of Basil repressing his sexuality.

Rigid Views

Basil’s conventional morality, as seen in his castigation of Dorian’s heartless treatment of Sybil, can be read as a weakness, an inability to sustain the demands of Pater’s aestheticism. However, it must also be a strong suggestion that Wilde himself is questioning the excesses of amorality and detachment that, until now, has driven him in both his art and his lifestyle. Is it as this point that Wilde, then, uses Basil’s weakening to cast doubts upon his own hitherto uncompromising aestheticism? Richard Ellman, perhaps Wilde’s most erudite biographer, suggests that Wilde here wanted it recognised that such rigid views were now, for him a “problem”. Wilde is perhaps redefining his artistic philosophy. But towards what sort of new aesthetic perspective? When Wilde states that “Basil is who I think I am”, is he referring to an idealised existence in which art and life must be guided by greater levels of social responsibility (and not the free-for-all “New Hedonism” that Lord Henry proposes)? Perhaps this position represents Basil’s true role in the novel.

Artistic Perspective

For all the magic that he has inspired, Basil’s concerns come to reflect normal human emotions. He cannot understand or accept the amorality of Dorian’s hard hearted dismissal of Sibyl, even though he disapproves. “Love is a more wonderful thing than Art”, he now concedes to himself, when Dorian states he prefers Sibyl the actress to the ‘real’ Sybil. He cannot accept Dorian’s claim that she is better off dead than being a living but “wooden” actress. This puts the more extreme notions of aestheticism into perspective. Ideas that artistic expression must transcend life, compassion and human values now have no place in Basil’s world, with its diluted version of Wilde’s earlier beliefs. Yet are we being guided towards despising Basil for his bourgeois surrender- or being led by Wilde towards a realisation that any other way is hopeless?

Ironically, Dorian asks Basil to draw a picture of Sybil, to which he agrees, but this triggers memories of Dorian’s portrait, which he asks to see, and is denied; Basil then seemingly changes his mind on the spot and decides to display the picture in Paris. His artistic perspective means that he tells Dorian he now believes that “art conceals the artist far more completely than it ever reveals him.”

The new nagging, judgemental Basil is, despite the integrity of his pleas, not likely to win Dorian over. Basil continues despite knowing this. But his usefulness as a character is over. He has nowhere else to go. A career in Paris beckons, and this would have been a tidy way to remove him from the narrative, but Wilde seems determined to render his by-now somewhat self-righteous advice into a final straw for the morally bankrupt Dorian, desperate to silence any trace of conscience. We almost accept that Basil has brought his death upon himself.

Who Is Basil?

There is an argument that anything that happens in the last third of the novel is irrelevant anyway; biographer Frank Harris, who knew Wilde, contended that the ending was “written offhand to complete the story… (it) tails off into insignificance…” (p.71). It is possible that Basil’s death might well be just another “insignificance”. But as a character, he represents a fascinating aspect of many of the themes that are woven through The Picture of Dorian Gray. Wilde is careful to show that Basil illuminates all that is aspirational and noble about the purest forms of aestheticism; he is pitifully human in his inability to confront and accept his homosexuality. He is a brave and true friend to Dorian as he seems to be the only voice of control and admonishment, and in creating the portrait, certainly is a powerful conduit, at least, for formidable energies and inexplicable forces.

The reader might not trust Wilde when he states that “Basil is who I think I am”. Knowledge of Wilde’s own lifestyle suggests that he would not have validated the character of Basil, and after an initially positive introduction, Basil’s stature diminishes throughout the novel. But, perhaps, Wilde saw a need to balance the nihilistic hedonism of his own aestheticism with some traditional morality. Instead of becoming aestheticism’s first heroic martyr, Dorian may well represent a warning regarding self-obsession and over-indulgence, as “all excess as well as all renunciation brings its own punishment.” (Wilde’s letter to St. James Gazette, June 26, 1890). If so, Basil Hallward’s influence certainly played a key role in restoring this balance. If we read Dorian’s downfall as the result of his taking the wrong path, Basil’s opposition to his amorality is vindicated.

Basil Hallward may have “suffered” for the conscience and integrity the Gods have given him, but these attributes may have proved to be valuable after all.