The first lamb is led to the slaughter, although we now know that the real sacrifice of this novel is going to be Dorian, not Sybil. Because by trampling upon her in a show of utter cruelty, Dorian shows us with his actions that he is the doomed one in the novel--the one who will fall into sin.
That said, it's still quite murky as to whether the novel wants to romanticize Dorian's actions. The entire matter is wrapped up in an aura of theatrical tragedy, much like the plays Sybil acted in; then again, the whole matter is still quite ugly. I'm not fooled by Dorian's passionate letter of repentance; it's clear that the visible manifestation of his own evils bothered him more than Sybil's distress, the marring of his portrait more than the poor girl's feelings. Even Lord Henry is shaken at first--of course, he later comes to enjoy the boy's fluctuations in emotions, being the twisted man that he is. The whole misadventure with Sybil also reflects Dorian's own family history in many ways, seeing that his mother also perished in a fit of love-induced passion. It didn't end well for her, so the reader begins to suspect that Dorian won't meet a happy ending either, by reading the foreshadowing.
Sybil's brother James serves as a sort of foil to Dorian; he's the most interesting character for me. If things are left as they are, he could very well act as Dorian's judge and executioner, thereby answering my previous questions about how much of Wilde's views are merged into the novel. Will Dorian meet a proper punishment at the hands of the brother of she who he wronged? Or will he somehow escape rightful judgement? (I already know the answer to this question, however, which will bring me to a rather disheartening conclusion--but that is another topic for another day.) If he were to meet his death at the hands of Vane, then it would be reasonable to conclude that Wilde still wanted to give the fairest of endings to our murky protagonist. A failure to do so would mean that Wilde is imposing his own moral code on the novel, something that transcends our typical view of "punishing the sinner", and would make more of a tragic hero of Dorian. Exactly what our smirking, smug Lord Henry would have thought of, and in sync with the views expressed in the prologue: "No art is ever morbid. The artist can express everything."
I expressed my distress over Wilde's apparent disregard for morals in my previous journal entry, but the more I consider his life, the more it becomes understandable for me. He was a bi/homosexual in an era where anything other than heterosexuality was considered unspeakable taboo; he was a brilliant artist in a sea of mundane people; he was so different from the rest of his contemporaries that he probably did not find a good reason to bind himself to the same moral codes as they. And Lord Henry, the epitome of unconventionality, must be his avatar--perhaps not everything he says might reflect his views, and some things may be exaggerated for the sake of character establishment and symbolism, but Henry is in fact the closest we have to Wilde himself.
