PoDG Essay

Scott Pero

AP English Language-Mr. George

February 23, 2010

After reading The Crucible, The Scarlet Letter, and The Picture of Dorian Gray, compose an argument on the subject of sin that incorporates characters from all three texts. Do you believe it is more successful to publicly bear your sins, or to deal with them privately? Be sure to distinguish a character’s end from how they deal with their sin.

Private Sin vs. Public: Round Two

Everything has its opposite. Every yang has its yin, every shadow has its light, and every evil has its greater good. Duality is an integral part of nature. For anything to truly be what it is, it needs something to exist to make it such. Without night, would day be what we imagine now? The contrast between something and its opposite is the best way to define anything. Even human nature consists of duality. Everyone sins, but it is our vices that best define our virtues. The good we draw from sinning is magnified by the sin itself. But how do we deal with that sin? Do we bear it in silence, or proclaim it from the mountaintops? Sin is best dealt with publicly, as demonstrated by the characters of The Crucible, The Scarlet Letter, and The Picture of Dorian Gray; the characters suffered from concealing their sins and benefited from revealing them to the world.

Like all secrets or emotions, if one keeps it bottled up inside, the result will be anything but propitious. Abigail Williams, the lecherous vixen of The Crucible, exemplifies this fact. Abigail sinned by sleeping with a married man, but she does not confess. Instead, she keeps it a secret, and uses it to fuel her actions. She ignores the fact that she has sinned, instead passing it off not as a sin, but as a loving act with truth behind it. Abigail obsesses over John so much that she tries to accuse his wife of witchcraft, using her sin as her motivation: “It were a fire you walked me through, and all my ignorance was burned away…God gave me the strength to call them liars, and God made men listen to me, and by God I will scrub the world clean for the love of Him! Oh John, I will make you such a wife when the world is white again!” (Miller 150). Abigail ignores her sin, and even goes so far as to bask in it, saying that it was strength sent from God. Denial is not just a phonetic version of a river in Egypt, it is exactly what Abigail does throughout the entire novel. She condemns others to their deaths, fueled by sinful passion. She masquerades as the mouthpiece of God, but is driven by sacrilege. Ultimately, her internalized sin is the reason Abigail’s fate is the worst of The Crucible’s main characters.

Because Abigail dismissed her sin, the sin was never resolved. It festered inside her, building and building without release. This is an excellent commentary on Miller’s part. The characters that do not confess their sin end up with horrible fates, but those who reveal their sin to the world for judgment are rewarded with absolution. Abigail’s plans are foiled by the man she so vehemently desired, and because of this, she flees, taking her sin with her. The bottled up sin haunts her, weighing her down like a constant rain cloud hovering over her. No matter what she does to stay dry, she will always end up drenched: “The legend has it that Abigail turned up later as a prostitute in Boston” (146). Abigail could have sought redemption for her sin, but instead, she denied its existence and kept it secret. Because she did not confess her sin, her iniquity followed her and she eventually became a prostitute. Undoubtedly, this fate could have been avoided if she had come clean about her sin. Dorian Gray, similar to Abigail, ignored his sin and kept it private, believing it to be pleasure in disguise.

Dorian Gray was extremely handsome. It is his one defining characteristic that stays true throughout The Picture of Dorian Gray. Dorian’s beauty compels the artist Basil Hallward to paint a portrait of Dorian. The picture’s celestial beauty, coupled with the influence of Basil’s friend Lord Henry Wotton, leads Dorian to his first great sin out of vanity: “‘I shall grow old, and horrible, and dreadful. But his picture will remain always young. […] If it were I who was to be always young, and the picture that was to grow old! For that […] there is nothing in the whole world I would not give! I would give my soul for that!’” (Wilde 28). Dorian unconsciously sells his soul so that he may live perpetually beautiful. He will never age, never wrinkle, and the portrait will bear the consequences of his actions instead of Dorian himself. Dorian soon discovers that not only does the portrait decay with age, but that it changes with each sin he commits. Dorian is unaffected, and everything he does has no repercussions on his own beauty. Dorian sees all of it as pleasure with no negative side effects. The effects in question slide off of him and affect the portrait, much like water sliding from a duck’s down.

Dorian’s sins affect the portrait, not himself. This is the ultimate free pass to life for Dorian—to have a scapegoat that bears all of life’s pain and suffering, while he only experience life’s ecstasies and joys. The portrait grows wretched from his sins, and so he hides it in his attic, shutting it off from the world: “No one could see it. He himself would not see it. Why should he watch the hideous corruption of his soul?”(125). Dorian’s portrait allows him to see the effect his actions have on his soul, a luxury no one has ever had before. Dorian, however, hides it away so that no one, not even himself, can see it. Dorian is the physical representation of keeping one’s sin private, or in Dorian’s case, locked in one’s attic. He simply sees the sins affecting his soul, but does nothing about them. Eventually, the culmination of this sin will lash out at Dorian.

Throughout the entire novel, Dorian has concealed his sin from the world in the form of his hidden portrait. Toward the end, however, he starts to feel the repercussions of his actions, especially for the murder of his friend, Basil Hallward. Dorian begins to see for the first time the extent of the damage he has done to his soul, and knows what he must do: "Yet it was his duty to confess, to suffer public shame, and to make public atonement. There was a God who called upon men to tell their sins to earth as well as to heaven.” (228). Dorian makes the choice to do good in hopes that the portrait will reverse itself. He actively wants to do the right thing. Despite the fact that he had ignored everything for the entire book, in the end he knows what to do. He knows he should confess, but he is simply unable to. No one would believe his story. It is far too preposterous. The important fact is that he knows and wants to both do good and confess. He simply does not have the means by which to do so. He may not actually confess or make his sin public, but the mere mindset of wanting to do so offers him a different fate than Abigail. She ignored her sins until the end, but Dorian knows he should make his sins public, and wants to do something about it.

So what does Dorian do? He stabs the only thing that will rid him of the burden he feels weighing him down—the painting. He wants his sin absolved and freed from his conscience, and the only way for Dorian to do that is by using the knife he had used to kill Basil: "As it had killed the painter, so it would kill the painter's work, and all that that meant. It would kill the past, and when that was dead he would be free. It would kill this monstrous soul-life, and without its hideous warnings he would be at peace. He seized the thing, and stabbed the picture with it" (229). By stabbing the painting, Dorian has stabbed his soul, effectively killing himself. The portrait is where his soul lies, and to finally release it, Dorian must destroy the cage that keeps it. His soul is now free to affect Dorian as it would have if he had not sold it away. This does two things. The portrait is free of Dorian's wretched soul, leaving it pure and perfect, just as it was meant to be. Dorian, however, must now take back the burden of his soul, and all the baggage that comes with it. The portrait's soul was dead long before Dorian took it back, and so Dorian was killed from the sheer severity of sin his soul had endured over all these years. The desire to be rid of his sin, which stemmed from and included the desire to make it public, drove him to his fate. What, though was his fate?

Dorian never told anyone of his painting, and those he did ended up dead. His sins are private and never shown to anyone, but he earnestly wanted to change. The desire to change still counts towards one’s redemption: it is the idea, not the action that counts. Because Dorian wanted to change for the better, he is redeemed in death. In the one moment in which all of sins caught up with him, Dorian was punished for them, and, as Dorian believes: "There was purification in punishment" (226). Dorian endured the punishment that has been waiting for him all his life, and in that punishment, he was purified. Dorian saw his portrait and said that, "when that was dead he would be free" (229) and that, "without its hideous warnings he would be at peace" (229). The portrait is dead, and Dorian must no longer endure its hideous warnings. Therefore, he is free and at peace. Dorian dealt with sin privately, but at his pivotal moment in the text, tried to deal with it publicly and come clean about his sins. The mere purpose of trying to release one’s sins publicly can redeem any sinner, as Dorian has exemplified. John Proctor also, like Abigail and Dorian, dealt with his sin privately, but unlike Dorian, he actually took action in regards to his sin.

John Proctor, the man who committed lechery with Abigail in The Crucible, tried to restrain his sin like Abigail. He too ignored his sin, but did not deny its sinful nature. Proctor knew he sinned, and it plagued him every day. He felt the remorse of his sin, but he also knew he had to keep quiet. It would ruin his name in the town of Salem, and that was the one thing he did not want to lose. For this reason Proctor tells no one about his sin, hoping—though he certainly feels the repercussions—that the magnitude of his sin will someday pass. His wife, Elizabeth, is the only other person besides Abigail that knows of his sin. Proctor not only tries to let his sin pass, but he is angered over the fact that Elizabeth brings it up: ““I wilted, and, like a Christian, I confessed...Some dream I had must have mistaken you for God that day. But you're not...and let you remember it! Let you look sometimes for the goodness in me, and judge me not” (Miller 55). The weight of Proctor’s sin was too much to bear, and so he confessed to his wife. Still, though he confessed, he is not free of his sin. His wife remembers, and as long as she remembers, so does Proctor. If neither had mentioned it, the threat of the sin would slowly diminish over time until it was a distant memory, but because it constantly made its presence known, it forced him to reveal his sin to the public.

In due time, Proctor revealed his sin and was met with salvation. Abigail, in her seige of terror on the town of Salem, condemned many—including Proctor’s wife, Elizabeth—as witches, all to have Proctor to herself. Proctor knew this was the real reason behind her actions, and the thought only added to the weight bearing down on him. He was constrained by his remorse, Abigail’s treachery, and the threat to Elizabeth’s life to reveal his sin to the world: “I have made a bell of my honor! I have rung the doom of my good name” (111). Not only does he confess to lechery, but he besmirches his own name in doing so. The sin and its aftermath grew to be too much, and burst violently out into the open. This will, ultimately, lead to his redemption, as Elizabeth states: “He have his goodness now. God forbid I take it from him!” (145). Because Proctor revealed his hidden secret, he attained redemption. If he did not free himself from the monstrous sin within, he would not have been able to ascend into absolution, but because he did, he was free of guilt and remorse. Proctor died, but he died for a cause he believed in, content to do so. Though Proctor kept his sin private for so long, the important fact is that he confessed in the end, making his sin public.

Like Proctor, Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale of The Scarlet Letter internalized the pain of his sin. Dimmesdale committed adultery with another woman, Hester, and sired a child with her. Dimmesdale, being the man of the cloth that he is, hated himself every moment for indulging in sin. He desired to be free of the sin more than anything, and he wanted the truth to be known. He could not, however, because he was so highly esteemed by the people. If their perfect reverend had sinned, it would cripple their entire faith. When he tries to hint at the wicked iniquity that plagues him, they only venerate him more: “They heard it all, and did but reverence him the more…he had spoken the very truth, and transformed it into the veriest falsehood. And yet, by the constitution of his nature, he loved the truth, and loathed the lie, as few men ever did. Therefore…he loathed his miserable self!” (Hawthorne 131). If Dimmesdale hated himself before, he utterly detested his very existence after his congregation did not believe him. It is through this perpetual cycle that Dimmesdale’s torment haunts him. He keeps his sin private, and in doing so, only burdens himself further. Dimmesdale even goes so far as to punish himself: “In Mr. Dimmesdale’s secret closet, under lock and key, there was a bloody scourge. Oftentimes, this protestant and Puritan divine had plied it on his own shoulders; laughing bitterly at himself all the while, and smiting so much the more pitilessly because of that bitter laugh” (132). Dimmesdale not only holds everything in, but literally and figuratively whips himself because of his sin. By internalizing his sin, he is only hurting himself more.

The only way for Dimmesdale to be free of his anguish is to make his sin public, but he is unable to because of the priesthood. This predicament troubles him for seven long years, during which he deteriorates physically and spiritually from both the pain he has inflicted upon himself and the pain of his sin. He is unable to rid himself of his sin until his last dying moments, where he admits the evil he has done to his entire congregation without fear: “With a convulsive motion, he tore away the ministerial band from before his breast. It was revealed!...the minister stood, with a flush of triumph in his face, as one who, in the crisis of acutest pain, had won a victory” (228). Dimmesdale won against his sin when he was finally able to confess. He was freed of the burdening chains his sin had constricted about him, and he was able to die at peace with the world. Dimmesdale, in making his sin public, conquered his enemies and was accepted by his daughter, who had, until his confession, shunned him. Everything was right with Dimmesdale, and all because he publicly confessed his sin to the people.

Hester Prynne, one of the protagonists of The Scarlet Letter, exemplifies the advantages of publicly bearing one’s sin. Hester slept with Dimmesdale even though she was already married, sharing in his sin of adultery. She deals with her sin like the rest of the characters, but the difference between Hester and the rest is that they chose to reveal their sin; Hester was forced to confess because she grew pregnant with her child, Pearl. Her secret was thus discovered due to the outward manifestation of her sin: “But the point which drew all eyes, and…transfigured the wearer…was that SCARLET LETTER, so fantastically embroidered and illuminated upon her bosom. It had the effect of a spell, taking her out of the ordinary relations with humanity, and enclosing her in a sphere by herself” (50). Hester’s sin was made public from the beginning, and she was forced to wear the scarlet ‘A’ because of it. Both the scarlet letter and her child were symbols of her sin, which, once derived, Hester bore proudly for all to see. She reveled in her sin, and because it was out in the open, she was partly freed from it. If she had somehow been able to keep it secret, she would have to bear it entirely. Because the entire town knows her sin, however, it is not only Hester’s to bear, but everyone else as well. She has gotten over the crucial step of admitting to the sin, and now because of that, she is not alone in dealing with it.

For seven long years, Hester endured the pain of the scarlet letter, but it was not all bad. In the beginning, she was ostracized from society and had to endure the condescending looks of others, but Hester took her pain and put all of her shame to good use: “Hester bestowed all her superfluous means in charity, on wretches less miserable than herself, and who not unfrequently insulted the hand that fed them” (77). Hester used her skill with a sowing needle to embroider for the town, without asking anything more. Having already accepted her role as a devilish sinner, she endeavors to partake in charity as a saint. She uses her public suffering to better herself. After years of Hester’s beneficence, the people began to see her differently: “Individuals in private life…had quite forgiven Hester Prynne for her frailty; nay, more, they had begun to look upon the scarlet letter as the token, not of that one sin…but of her many good deeds since” (147). Not only did Hester improve as a person, but her sin proved an effective way of bettering her stance in the public eye as well. People thought more of her, because she was able to do so much in spite of sinning so seriously. In the end, after her story had long since finished, she was even buried at King’s Chapel, a prestigious cemetery that anyone would be honored to lay to rest in.

All of the characters of the three stories had to cope with their sins, and all of them suffered in some way from that sin. The defining characteristic that shines through their tenebrous transgressions, however, is how they dealt with them. They were all sinners, but what they chose to do with their sin is what defines their end. Abigail ignored her sin, and viciously used it to her advantage; as payment, she spends the rest of her life in prostitution. Dorian indulged in hedonistic sin, letting his portrait take the brunt of the repercussions, but when he wanted to do something about it and make his sins public, he was redeemed. Proctor tried to let his sin pass, but he was soon left with no other alternative but to divulge his secret publicly. Because he did, he was able to die for a noble cause with his name untarnished. Dimmesdale punished himself in private for seven years before he was able to confess his sin to the public, but when he finally did, he was freed from the pressure of it and was able to die at peace with the world. Hester openly bore her sin for all to see, and used its publicity to better herself. Three out of the five characters publicly confessed their sins, with one extra trying to publicly confess, and those same few are the ones who die at peace. As The Crucible, The Scarlet Letter, and The Picture of Dorian Gray demonstrate, publicly bearing your sins is better than locking them away inside. Publicity is the first step towards freeing yourself from the sin. Privacy only allows the sin to consume you until all that is left is the desire you had confessed sooner.

Works Cited

Hawthorne, Nathaniel. The Scarlet Letter. New York: Bantam Dell, 1986

Miller, Arthur. The Crucible. United States of America: Penguin Books, 1976

Wilde, Oscar. The Picture of Dorian Gray. New York: Barnes & Noble Books, 2003

PoDG Character Analyses

Scott Pero

AP English—Mr. George

March 30, 2010

Dorian Gray

Dorian Gray is a narcissistic hedonist whose portrait ages for him after he is cursed with eternal youth.

Dorian is young and naïve, and on top of that, incredibly handsome. His beauty inspires his friend and artist Basil Hallward to paint Dorian’s portrait. While Basil is painting the portrait, Basil’s friend Lord Henry infects Dorian with his ideologies and witticisms, one of which is the importance and beauty and how it is fleeting. When Dorian sees the painting, he is angered that it will never age, while he does age. Dorian is obsessed with beauty, and, stemming from that, obsessed with pleasure. He would give his soul if the portrait aged while he did not, and, as he soon finds out, he got his wish: "Eternal youth, infinite passion, pleasures subtle and secret, wild joys and wilder sins--he was to have all these things. The portrait was to bear the burden of his shame" (109). Dorian sins excessively in order to attain pleasure and is not affected by any of it. His portrait, however, decays as he would normally. Dorian is also incredibly narcissistic and proud. He knows he is beautiful, and only cares about something if it pertains to him.

Dorian is like a marionette puppet. Basil acts as his maker, and Lord Henry is the puppeteer. Lord Henry leads Dorian around by his strings, telling him what to do and what to think. Dorian, the helpless puppet that he is, cannot do a thing about it except blindly accept and do what he is told. Meanwhile, Basil has had his puppet taken from him and used for a puppet show he was never intended to perform in.

Dorian and Narcissus of Greek Mythology: both are so obsessed with their looks that they lose their humanity in pursuit of it.

Scott Pero

AP English—Mr. George

March 30, 2010

Basil Hallward

Basil Hallward is an introverted artist who cares for a person that only lives to use him.

Basil Hallward is the artist that painted Dorian Gray’s portrait. He is very shy and quiet, and only seems to talk honestly with his two friends, Lord Henry and Dorian Gray. He is great friends with Dorian, and cares for him more than anything: “Of course I flatter him dreadfully. I find a strange pleasure in saying things to him that I know I shall be sorry for having said. As a rule, he is charming to me […] Now and then, however, he is horribly thoughtless, and seems to take a real delight in giving me pain” (13-14). Basil can never think anything bad about Dorian, and always wants the best for him even if Basil is hurt in the process. The only thing that matters to Basil more than his art is Dorian, because he is “the one person who gives to [Basil’s] art whatever charm it possesses: [Basil’s] life as an artist depends on him” (16). Dorian is the ultimate muse for Basil, and as such, Basil worships him. Dorian, on the other hand, could really care less for Basil after he met Lord Henry. Still, though, Basil persists until his untimely death at the hands of the very person he cared for, perhaps even loved.

Basil is like a parent caring for a young child. The parent would do anything to make sure that their child is safe from harm, and that they make the right choices. The child, however, feels that the parent is being to obsessive and becomes rebellious, lashing out at the caring parent.

Basil and Ray from The Princess and the Frog are a lot alike: they both care deeply for something that does not reciprocate; for Basil it is Dorian, for Ray, it is a star.

PoDG Witticisms

Scott Pero
AP English--Mr. George
March 29, 2010
Witticisms

"Women are like rivers one must wade through. The only trouble with water is that it cannot decide whether to tempestuously bombard you one moment or refreshingly soothe you the next."

"Art is simply a masquerade, a pretty picture masking the empty air behind it."

"Mirrors are always such a let-down. Mine always show someone I do not know."

"Rainy days are my best friends. They encourage me to catch up on sleep and keep me safe from the people I would otherwise be forced to see in the sunshine."

"A smart man looks at a paper and knows it is paper, while a genius man looks at it and knows the myriad of things he can do with it."

"To hate is to worship with reason. To love is to worship without it."

"Emotions are to the soul what muscles are to the body—their means of strength."

"Religion is simply a rule book for those who do not have their own."

"Music is the drug of the intellectual, and literature their alcohol. Society is their means of sobriety."

"Friends are the enemies you enjoy fighting with."

PoDG End of the Book

1.) "Yet it was his duty to confess, to suffer public shame, and to make public atonement. There was a God who called upon men to tell their sins to earth as well as to heaven. Nothing that he could do would cleanse him till he had told his own sin" (Wilde 228).

Throughout the entire novel, we see Dorian has concealed his sin from the world. No one knew of his monstrous portrait, and the few who did ended up dead. We see that for most of the novel, Dorian is perfectly fine with keeping his sin private, much like Abigail was in The Crucible. The difference between Dorian and Abigail, and even distinguishing between Proctor as well, as that, like Proctor, Dorian acknowledges his sin, but, different from Proctor, Dorian can actually see the consequences of his sin plainly before his eyes. Still, he chooses to ignore it. It is not harming him, so why should it matter? Toward the end, however, he starts to feel the repercussions of his actions. He makes the choice to do good, in hopes that the portrait would reverse itself. He actively wants to do the right thing. Despite the fact that he had ignored everything for the entire book, in the end he knows what to do. He knows he should confess, but he is simply unable to. No one would believe his story. It is far too preposterous. The important fact is that he knows and wants to both do good and confess. He simply does not have the means in which to do so. He may not actually confess or make his sin public, but the mere mindset of wanting to do so has to count for something.

2.) "As it had killed the painter, so it would kill the painter's work, and all that that meant. It would kill the past, and when that was dead he would be free. It would kill this monstrous soul-life, and without its hideous warnings he would be at peace" (229).

We see that Dorian has succeeded in killing himself and ending his misery. He knows that his actions do not affect him, but that they affect the portrait instead. Anything he might do to himself would probably just alter the portrait in some way and leave him unharmed. Suicide is a sin, therefore trying to kill himself would simply mar the portrait even more. The only way to kill himself is to kill the portrait. That is where his soul lies, and to finally release it, Dorian must destroy the cage that keeps it. His soul is now free to affect Dorian as it would have if he had not sold it away. This does two things. The portrait is free of Dorian's wretched soul, leaving it pure and perfect, just as it was meant to be. Dorian, however, must now take back the burden of his soul, and all the baggage that comes with it. The portrait's soul was dead long before Dorian took it back, and so Dorian was killed from the sheer severity of sin his soul had endured over all these years. So, Dorian is dead and the portrait is back to normal, but what of Dorian still? Was his end good or bad? Did he get the redemption he wanted, or was he cursed to eternal damnation. I believe the book tells us he was redeemed. Dorian sees his portrait and says that, "when that was dead he would be free," (229) and that, "without its hideous warnings he would be at peace" (229). The portrait is dead, and Dorian must no longer endure its hideous warnings. Therefore, he is free and at peace. Dorian may not have had to withstand the punishment from his actions, but his soul did. When it was reunited with him, Dorian took in all of the punishment that he had been pushing off. Dorian believed that, "There was purification in punishment" (226) and that, "Not 'Forgive us our sins' but 'Smite us for our iniquities' should be the prayer of man to a most just God" (226). Through punishment, the soul can be purified. Forgiveness leaves us with no idea of how our sin has affected us, but punishment justly redirects the sin back onto us. Dorian had endured some punishment near the end of his life, such as the burden he felt of his sins and the desire to be freed from his curse. His true punishment came when he was reunited with his soul. Through that punishment, Dorian was purified. Through his desire to be free and to do good, Dorian was redeemed.

PoDG Ch. 16-18

1.) "'To cure the soul by means of the senses, and the senses by means of the soul.' Yes, that was the secret. He had often tried it, and would try it again now. There were opium-dens, where one could buy oblivion--dens of horror, where the memory of old sins could be destroyed by the madness of sins that were new" (Wilde 189).

This is just like in Chapter 11. Dorian is using other vices to distract himself from the ones he's already given in to. By indulging in opium, he could forget everything that has happened to him. It is like the reset button on a video game. The only thing is, eventually, the same mistakes you made in the first level will catch up with you again. Dorian is looking for a clean white slate in a world full of black smudge marks. He's trying to find purity in drugs and the shady parts of town: "He wanted to be where no one would know who he was. He wanted to escape from himself" (193). His sins, especially Basil and Sibyl, are catching up with him. Those are two human lives that are no more because of his influence. Both are weighing down his conscience, and so he only wants oblivion: he wants everything to be erased and forgotten. That whole approach just seems childish to me, like he is some 5-year old. He messed up, and so now, instead of dealing with his wrongdoings, he wants a band-aid over his boo-boo and someone to kiss it to make it all better. Nothing is that easy, though. It is understandable, I guess, why he will not take responsibility for his actions. He is all about pleasure and a hedonist--nothing about responsibility would appeal to him.

2.) "Romance lives by repetition, and repetition converts an appetite into an art. Besides, each time that one loves is the only time one has ever loved. Difference of object does not alter singleness of passion. It merely intensifies it. We can have in life but one great experience at best, and the secret of life is to reproduce that experience as often as possible" (201).

Though I've never had a relationship, I think I've read and watched enough to understand this quote. When we love, we think that that love is the greatest, heavenliest thing imaginable. When that love does not work out, though, we think we did not truly love. then, when the next comes along, that love is the greatest. Hence, romance could be considered repetition. Just because it is a different love, does not mean that the severity of our passion is not any different. We still feel that same way. The last part of the quote applies particularly to Dorian: "We can have in life but one great experience at best, and the secret of life is to reproduce that experience as often as possible" (201). All Dorian tries to do is reproduce his pleasure. Dorian wants everlasting life, and so he tries to reproduce his 'great experience' as much as he can. That great experience is his youth, and so he lives as a youth, though now he should be nearly forty. He tries to act like a child, because he believes if he keeps acting like, his appetite for beauty will be quenched and he will stay beautiful.

PoDG Ch. 15

1.) "'No, I don't mean that. I didn't go to the club. I walked about. I forget what I did...How inquisitive you are, Harry! You always want to know what one has been doing. I always want to forget what I have been doing. I came in at half-past two, if you wish to know the exact time. I had left my latch-key at home, and my servant had to let me in. If you want any corroborative evidence on the subject you can ask him'" (Wilde 186).

Basil's death still haunts Dorian. Otherwise, Dorian would not be so fidgety and jumpy as he is when talking to Henry. Henry is simply asking him what he did the night before. What does Dorian do? He lashes out, turns the tables and goes on the offensive. Rather than answer the question forwardly, he complains that Henry always has to know everything about him. He equivocates, saying he forgets what he did. He goes out of his way to establish proof of what he says he did that night, as if he were being interrogated and needed an alibi. All Henry asked was if he went to the club or not. Dorian is still troubled by Basil's death. His memory is what made Dorian trip up like that. I think that murder is finally catching up to Dorian. Dorian has been able to commit a world of sin without batting an eye, but murder is an entirely new step for him that is far too much. Not only did he murder anyone, but he murdered a friend, a friend that cared about him and wanted the best for him. Basil, in turn, got a knife to the neck. I think that Dorian has been able to endure every sin up to this point: murder is the straw that broke the camel's back. Of course, this would have to concede that actually has a conscience and moral ideals, which I'm not entirely sure of. He may though, have sense enough to know the severity of his crime.

2.) "It was a small Chinese box. [...] He opened it. Inside was a green paste,* waxy in luster, the odor curiously heavy and persistent'" (188).

At the end of chapter 15, we are left with a question: what is inside the box? What is this paste that Dorian feels the need to see so suddenly? It is like he tried not to take the box out, which was hidden in what sounded like a secret compartment. Why would this be hidden, and why would Dorian hesitate to open it? The footnote at the bottom of the page gives us some insight: "*Wilde scholar H. Montgomery Hyde suggests this may be a poison or aphrodisiac drug" (188). If it turns out to be the latter, then my prediction will be completely null and void. If, however, this paste was the former, if it was a deadly poison that Dorian has hidden away in house, it may be more important. It sounds as though Dorian has been considering suicide. Before, at Lady Narborough's party, Dorian speaks of the end of the world: "'I wish it were fin du globe,' said Dorian, with a sigh. 'Life is a great disappointment'" (183). Dorian is basically saying that the world has no more interest for him. It is all one big let-down. This statement certainly does seem to exude such a pessimistic air on Dorian's part. I can not help but think of why Dorian would want to kill himself if he in theory could not be harmed. The portrait would take any wear and tear that his body would naturally go through. Any wrinkles lines age the portrait and not himself. That, though, makes sense why Dorian would want to end his life. It is the same radical concept of killing yourself when you are happiest. That way, you will leave at your happiest, and you will never be less happy. In Dorian's case, he cannot be any less beautiful than he is already, but he has already experienced everything he would have wanted. Killing himself now would mean that he would die beautiful. This is something he always wanted: immortal beauty. If he ends his life now, he would avoid the risk of his deal somehow ending too soon, or any other unforeseen detail. He could strike first before he himself is stricken down. I also think that it is a combination of this and the fact that he has murdered one of his friends that drive him to suicide. Murdering a friend is usually a big deal.

PoDG Ch. 14

1.) "'You leave me no alternative. I have a letter written already. [...] If you don't help me, I must send it. If you don't help me, I will send it. You know what the result will be. But you are going to help me. It is impossible for you to refuse now. I tried to spare you. You will do me the justice to admit that. You were stern, harsh, offensive. You treated me as no man has ever dared to treat me--no living man, at any rate. I bore it all. Now it is for me to dictate terms'" (Wilde 175).

Dorian does some serious acting in this chapter. It is interesting to note Dorian's behavior in his interaction with Alan Campbell, a spurned friend that Dorian calls for. At first, he pleads with Campbell to help him, worrying over the consequences should Dorian be found out. All the time, he acts like a damsel in distress, waving around a handkerchief for the knight to save her. After Campbell refuses to help him, Dorian completely switches gears. He turns into a completely different person, from damsel in distress to dastardly villain. He has completely switched personalities. He goes on to say he tried to spare Campbell from whatever earth-shattering threat he wrote on the paper, making himself look better while condescending Campbell.It reminds me of the quote on page 146: "Is insincerity such a terrible thing? I think not. It is merely a method by which we can multiply our personalities" (146). Dorian did not really care what happened to Campbell, did not really care about the friendship they had. Campbell is only a tool for Dorian to manipulate. Dorian exemplifies the quote because his insincerity created an entirely new personality for him to masquerade. The new Dorian is actually quite scary. He says to Campbell that, "'You were stern, harsh, offensive. You treated me as no man has ever dared to treat me--no living man, at any rate'" (175). The only other man to treat Dorian sternly, harshly, and offensively was Basil, and look what happened to him. Dorian turns Basil's death from something he fears into something he can use to coerce Campbell to help him. Dorian has had a taste for evil, and now he cannot stop.

2.) "What was that loathsome red dew that gleamed, wet and glistening, on one of the hands, as though the canvas had sweated blood? How horrible it was!--more horrible, it seemed to him for the moment, than the silent thing that he knew was stretched across the table, the thing whose grotesque, misshapen shadow on the spotted carpet showed him that it had not stirred, but was still there, as he had left it" (178).

No one likes change. It complicates things a lot of the time. People grow accustomed to the norm, the familiar, and the regular. When something changes even slightly, it can screw everything up. It is just like new seating plans in school--the perfect example. A student has grown accustomed to a certain seat. They've acclimated themselves to their spot in the classroom, gotten used to the people around them, and made that seat their own. Then, suddenly, the student is given a completely new seat. It may not seem like a big deal, but in some way, it can be frightening. It brings with it a world of new things to get used to. The new seat does not feel like the old one. The student can not see the board in the same way. The people they had just gotten used to are halfway across the room. This seat, too, will take a while to get used to. No on like changes, and people fear the new and foreign. They do not know about it, and so they fear it. This is the case when Dorian sees the portrait contrasted with Basil's body. Normally, we would consider a dead body far worse than a painting, but in this case there is something morbidly comforting about Basil's corpse. The painting, as it has for the entire novel thus far, has changed. It now shows for all to see the literal blood on Dorian's hands. Basil, though, remains unchanged. His body has stayed in the exact same spot. It has not moved at all, and has not changed. There is something comforting about the familiar. Dorian is relieved to find that Basil's body is the one thing around him that has not changed.