Mr. Grancy's reliance on his wife—and on the portrait—essentially kills him in the end, creating an element of situational irony that defines Wharton’s social critique. As established throughout the first three sections, Mr. Grancy is clearly dependent on his wife for his happiness and meaning in his life. After her death, he deteriorates rapidly and imagines that she is still with him through the painting. Then, he becomes dependent on the painting to make himself happy throughout his life.
For example, when he returns home after going to Rome, Mr. Grancy describes his eager desire to see the portrait again:
I landed in the morning and came straight down here. The thought of seeing her portrait possessed me and my heart beat like a lover’s as I opened the library door.
He is moved to lust ad desire by the thought of his wife’s image alone, which he has built up so much that he imagines that her spirit is alive in the painting. Yet, the ultimate irony is revealed when the portrait effectively kills him: the only thing that brings him happiness eventually leads to his decline.
To that end, when Mr. Grancy’s life has nearly come to a close, he remarks that his wife is looking even older in her portrait, as if foretelling his death. He tells the narrator:
‘You see she was right after all,’ he said. [...] ‘My wife.’ He indicated the picture. ‘Of course I knew she had no hope from the first. I saw that—’ he lowered his voice—'after Claydon had been here. But I wouldn’t believe it at first!'
At this point, Mr. Grancy believes that the portrait “knew” he was getting sick and about to die. The portrait becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy for Grancy, leading to his decline. His possessive love and objectification of his wife are used against him by Claydon, who is willing to essentially kill him to possess the portrait for himself.
Mr. Grancy's reliance on his wife—and on the portrait—essentially kills him in the end, creating an element of situational irony that defines Wharton’s social critique. As established throughout the first three sections, Mr. Grancy is clearly dependent on his wife for his happiness and meaning in his life. After her death, he deteriorates rapidly and imagines that she is still with him through the painting. Then, he becomes dependent on the painting to make himself happy throughout his life.
For example, when he returns home after going to Rome, Mr. Grancy describes his eager desire to see the portrait again:
I landed in the morning and came straight down here. The thought of seeing her portrait possessed me and my heart beat like a lover’s as I opened the library door.
He is moved to lust ad desire by the thought of his wife’s image alone, which he has built up so much that he imagines that her spirit is alive in the painting. Yet, the ultimate irony is revealed when the portrait effectively kills him: the only thing that brings him happiness eventually leads to his decline.
To that end, when Mr. Grancy’s life has nearly come to a close, he remarks that his wife is looking even older in her portrait, as if foretelling his death. He tells the narrator:
‘You see she was right after all,’ he said. [...] ‘My wife.’ He indicated the picture. ‘Of course I knew she had no hope from the first. I saw that—’ he lowered his voice—'after Claydon had been here. But I wouldn’t believe it at first!'
At this point, Mr. Grancy believes that the portrait “knew” he was getting sick and about to die. The portrait becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy for Grancy, leading to his decline. His possessive love and objectification of his wife are used against him by Claydon, who is willing to essentially kill him to possess the portrait for himself.
