the_picture_of_dorian_gray
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| + | The Picture of Dorian Gray | ||
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| + | by | ||
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| + | Oscar Wilde | ||
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| + | CONTENTS | ||
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| + | </ | ||
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| + | < | ||
| + | |||
| + | <A NAME=" | ||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | THE PREFACE | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The artist is the creator of beautiful things. | ||
| + | conceal the artist is art's aim. The critic is he who can translate | ||
| + | into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful | ||
| + | things. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The highest as the lowest form of criticism is a mode of autobiography. | ||
| + | Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without | ||
| + | being charming. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the | ||
| + | cultivated. | ||
| + | beautiful things mean only beauty. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well | ||
| + | written, or badly written. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The nineteenth century dislike of realism is the rage of Caliban seeing | ||
| + | his own face in a glass. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The nineteenth century dislike of romanticism is the rage of Caliban | ||
| + | not seeing his own face in a glass. | ||
| + | of the subject-matter of the artist, but the morality of art consists | ||
| + | in the perfect use of an imperfect medium. | ||
| + | anything. | ||
| + | ethical sympathies. | ||
| + | unpardonable mannerism of style. | ||
| + | can express everything. | ||
| + | instruments of an art. Vice and virtue are to the artist materials for | ||
| + | an art. From the point of view of form, the type of all the arts is | ||
| + | the art of the musician. | ||
| + | actor' | ||
| + | Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. | ||
| + | the symbol do so at their peril. | ||
| + | that art really mirrors. | ||
| + | shows that the work is new, complex, and vital. | ||
| + | the artist is in accord with himself. | ||
| + | a useful thing as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for | ||
| + | making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | All art is quite useless.< | ||
| + | OSCAR WILDE | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | < | ||
| + | |||
| + | <A NAME=" | ||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | CHAPTER 1 | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light | ||
| + | summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through | ||
| + | the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate | ||
| + | perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was | ||
| + | lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry | ||
| + | Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured | ||
| + | blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to | ||
| + | bear the burden of a beauty so flamelike as theirs; and now and then | ||
| + | the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long | ||
| + | tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, | ||
| + | producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of | ||
| + | those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of | ||
| + | an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of | ||
| + | swiftness and motion. | ||
| + | way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous | ||
| + | insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, | ||
| + | seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. | ||
| + | was like the bourdon note of a distant organ. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the | ||
| + | full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, | ||
| + | and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist | ||
| + | himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago | ||
| + | caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many | ||
| + | strange conjectures. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As the painter looked at the gracious and comely form he had so | ||
| + | skilfully mirrored in his art, a smile of pleasure passed across his | ||
| + | face, and seemed about to linger there. | ||
| + | and closing his eyes, placed his fingers upon the lids, as though he | ||
| + | sought to imprison within his brain some curious dream from which he | ||
| + | feared he might awake. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is your best work, Basil, the best thing you have ever done," said | ||
| + | Lord Henry languidly. | ||
| + | Grosvenor. | ||
| + | gone there, there have been either so many people that I have not been | ||
| + | able to see the pictures, which was dreadful, or so many pictures that | ||
| + | I have not been able to see the people, which was worse. | ||
| + | is really the only place." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I don't think I shall send it anywhere," | ||
| + | back in that odd way that used to make his friends laugh at him at | ||
| + | Oxford. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry elevated his eyebrows and looked at him in amazement through | ||
| + | the thin blue wreaths of smoke that curled up in such fanciful whorls | ||
| + | from his heavy, opium-tainted cigarette. | ||
| + | dear fellow, why? Have you any reason? | ||
| + | are! You do anything in the world to gain a reputation. | ||
| + | you have one, you seem to want to throw it away. It is silly of you, | ||
| + | for there is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, | ||
| + | and that is not being talked about. | ||
| + | far above all the young men in England, and make the old men quite | ||
| + | jealous, if old men are ever capable of any emotion." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I know you will laugh at me," he replied, "but I really can't exhibit | ||
| + | it. I have put too much of myself into it." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry stretched himself out on the divan and laughed. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes, I knew you would; but it is quite true, all the same." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Too much of yourself in it! Upon my word, Basil, I didn't know you | ||
| + | were so vain; and I really can't see any resemblance between you, with | ||
| + | your rugged strong face and your coal-black hair, and this young | ||
| + | Adonis, who looks as if he was made out of ivory and rose-leaves. Why, | ||
| + | my dear Basil, he is a Narcissus, and you& | ||
| + | intellectual expression and all that. But beauty, real beauty, ends | ||
| + | where an intellectual expression begins. | ||
| + | of exaggeration, | ||
| + | sits down to think, one becomes all nose, or all forehead, or something | ||
| + | horrid. | ||
| + | How perfectly hideous they are! Except, of course, in the Church. | ||
| + | then in the Church they don't think. | ||
| + | age of eighty what he was told to say when he was a boy of eighteen, | ||
| + | and as a natural consequence he always looks absolutely delightful. | ||
| + | Your mysterious young friend, whose name you have never told me, but | ||
| + | whose picture really fascinates me, never thinks. | ||
| + | that. He is some brainless beautiful creature who should be always | ||
| + | here in winter when we have no flowers to look at, and always here in | ||
| + | summer when we want something to chill our intelligence. | ||
| + | yourself, Basil: | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You don't understand me, Harry," | ||
| + | not like him. I know that perfectly well. Indeed, I should be sorry | ||
| + | to look like him. You shrug your shoulders? | ||
| + | truth. | ||
| + | distinction, | ||
| + | faltering steps of kings. | ||
| + | fellows. | ||
| + | They can sit at their ease and gape at the play. If they know nothing | ||
| + | of victory, they are at least spared the knowledge of defeat. | ||
| + | live as we all should live& | ||
| + | disquiet. | ||
| + | from alien hands. | ||
| + | are& | ||
| + | shall all suffer for what the gods have given us, suffer terribly." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | studio towards Basil Hallward. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes, that is his name. I didn't intend to tell it to you." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "But why not?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh, I can't explain. | ||
| + | names to any one. It is like surrendering a part of them. I have | ||
| + | grown to love secrecy. | ||
| + | modern life mysterious or marvellous to us. The commonest thing is | ||
| + | delightful if one only hides it. When I leave town now I never tell my | ||
| + | people where I am going. | ||
| + | is a silly habit, I dare say, but somehow it seems to bring a great | ||
| + | deal of romance into one's life. I suppose you think me awfully | ||
| + | foolish about it?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Not at all," answered Lord Henry, "not at all, my dear Basil. | ||
| + | seem to forget that I am married, and the one charm of marriage is that | ||
| + | it makes a life of deception absolutely necessary for both parties. | ||
| + | never know where my wife is, and my wife never knows what I am doing. | ||
| + | When we meet& | ||
| + | down to the Duke' | ||
| + | most serious faces. | ||
| + | than I am. She never gets confused over her dates, and I always do. | ||
| + | But when she does find me out, she makes no row at all. I sometimes | ||
| + | wish she would; but she merely laughs at me." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I hate the way you talk about your married life, Harry," | ||
| + | Hallward, strolling towards the door that led into the garden. | ||
| + | believe that you are really a very good husband, but that you are | ||
| + | thoroughly ashamed of your own virtues. | ||
| + | fellow. | ||
| + | Your cynicism is simply a pose." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Being natural is simply a pose, and the most irritating pose I know," | ||
| + | cried Lord Henry, laughing; and the two young men went out into the | ||
| + | garden together and ensconced themselves on a long bamboo seat that | ||
| + | stood in the shade of a tall laurel bush. The sunlight slipped over | ||
| + | the polished leaves. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | After a pause, Lord Henry pulled out his watch. | ||
| + | going, Basil," | ||
| + | answering a question I put to you some time ago." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What is that?" said the painter, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You know quite well." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I do not, Harry." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Well, I will tell you what it is. I want you to explain to me why you | ||
| + | won't exhibit Dorian Gray's picture. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I told you the real reason." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "No, you did not. You said it was because there was too much of | ||
| + | yourself in it. Now, that is childish." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not | ||
| + | of the sitter. | ||
| + | not he who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who, on | ||
| + | the coloured canvas, reveals himself. | ||
| + | this picture is that I am afraid that I have shown in it the secret of | ||
| + | my own soul." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry laughed. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I will tell you," said Hallward; but an expression of perplexity came | ||
| + | over his face. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am all expectation, | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh, there is really very little to tell, Harry," | ||
| + | "and I am afraid you will hardly understand it. Perhaps you will | ||
| + | hardly believe it." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry smiled, and leaning down, plucked a pink-petalled daisy from | ||
| + | the grass and examined it. "I am quite sure I shall understand it," he | ||
| + | replied, gazing intently at the little golden, white-feathered disk, | ||
| + | "and as for believing things, I can believe anything, provided that it | ||
| + | is quite incredible." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The wind shook some blossoms from the trees, and the heavy | ||
| + | lilac-blooms, | ||
| + | languid air. A grasshopper began to chirrup by the wall, and like a | ||
| + | blue thread a long thin dragon-fly floated past on its brown gauze | ||
| + | wings. | ||
| + | beating, and wondered what was coming. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "The story is simply this," said the painter after some time. "Two | ||
| + | months ago I went to a crush at Lady Brandon' | ||
| + | artists have to show ourselves in society from time to time, just to | ||
| + | remind the public that we are not savages. | ||
| + | white tie, as you told me once, anybody, even a stock-broker, | ||
| + | a reputation for being civilized. | ||
| + | about ten minutes, talking to huge overdressed dowagers and tedious | ||
| + | academicians, | ||
| + | me. I turned half-way round and saw Dorian Gray for the first time. | ||
| + | When our eyes met, I felt that I was growing pale. A curious sensation | ||
| + | of terror came over me. I knew that I had come face to face with some | ||
| + | one whose mere personality was so fascinating that, if I allowed it to | ||
| + | do so, it would absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art | ||
| + | itself. | ||
| + | yourself, Harry, how independent I am by nature. | ||
| + | own master; had at least always been so, till I met Dorian Gray. | ||
| + | Then& | ||
| + | tell me that I was on the verge of a terrible crisis in my life. I had | ||
| + | a strange feeling that fate had in store for me exquisite joys and | ||
| + | exquisite sorrows. | ||
| + | not conscience that made me do so: it was a sort of cowardice. | ||
| + | no credit to myself for trying to escape." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | Conscience is the trade-name of the firm. That is all." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I don't believe that, Harry, and I don't believe you do either. | ||
| + | However, whatever was my motive& | ||
| + | to be very proud& | ||
| + | I stumbled against Lady Brandon. | ||
| + | soon, Mr. Hallward?' | ||
| + | voice?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes; she is a peacock in everything but beauty," | ||
| + | pulling the daisy to bits with his long nervous fingers. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I could not get rid of her. She brought me up to royalties, and | ||
| + | people with stars and garters, and elderly ladies with gigantic tiaras | ||
| + | and parrot noses. | ||
| + | met her once before, but she took it into her head to lionize me. I | ||
| + | believe some picture of mine had made a great success at the time, at | ||
| + | least had been chattered about in the penny newspapers, which is the | ||
| + | nineteenth-century standard of immortality. | ||
| + | face to face with the young man whose personality had so strangely | ||
| + | stirred me. We were quite close, almost touching. | ||
| + | It was reckless of me, but I asked Lady Brandon to introduce me to him. | ||
| + | Perhaps it was not so reckless, after all. It was simply inevitable. | ||
| + | We would have spoken to each other without any introduction. | ||
| + | of that. Dorian told me so afterwards. | ||
| + | destined to know each other." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "And how did Lady Brandon describe this wonderful young man?" asked his | ||
| + | companion. | ||
| + | guests. | ||
| + | gentleman covered all over with orders and ribbons, and hissing into my | ||
| + | ear, in a tragic whisper which must have been perfectly audible to | ||
| + | everybody in the room, the most astounding details. | ||
| + | like to find out people for myself. | ||
| + | exactly as an auctioneer treats his goods. | ||
| + | entirely away, or tells one everything about them except what one wants | ||
| + | to know." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Poor Lady Brandon! | ||
| + | listlessly. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear fellow, she tried to found a < | ||
| + | opening a restaurant. | ||
| + | she say about Mr. Dorian Gray?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh, something like, ' | ||
| + | inseparable. | ||
| + | anything& | ||
| + | Gray?' | ||
| + | once." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | the best ending for one," said the young lord, plucking another daisy. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Hallward shook his head. "You don't understand what friendship is, | ||
| + | Harry," | ||
| + | every one; that is to say, you are indifferent to every one." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "How horribly unjust of you!" cried Lord Henry, tilting his hat back | ||
| + | and looking up at the little clouds that, like ravelled skeins of | ||
| + | glossy white silk, were drifting across the hollowed turquoise of the | ||
| + | summer sky. "Yes; horribly unjust of you. I make a great difference | ||
| + | between people. | ||
| + | acquaintances for their good characters, and my enemies for their good | ||
| + | intellects. | ||
| + | I have not got one who is a fool. They are all men of some | ||
| + | intellectual power, and consequently they all appreciate me. Is that | ||
| + | very vain of me? I think it is rather vain." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I should think it was, Harry. | ||
| + | be merely an acquaintance." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear old Basil, you are much more than an acquaintance." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "And much less than a friend. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh, brothers! | ||
| + | and my younger brothers seem never to do anything else." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear fellow, I am not quite serious. | ||
| + | relations. | ||
| + | other people having the same faults as ourselves. | ||
| + | with the rage of the English democracy against what they call the vices | ||
| + | of the upper orders. | ||
| + | immorality should be their own special property, and that if any one of | ||
| + | us makes an ass of himself, he is poaching on their preserves. | ||
| + | poor Southwark got into the divorce court, their indignation was quite | ||
| + | magnificent. | ||
| + | proletariat live correctly." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I don't agree with a single word that you have said, and, what is | ||
| + | more, Harry, I feel sure you don't either." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry stroked his pointed brown beard and tapped the toe of his | ||
| + | patent-leather boot with a tasselled ebony cane. "How English you are | ||
| + | Basil! | ||
| + | puts forward an idea to a true Englishman& | ||
| + | do& | ||
| + | The only thing he considers of any importance is whether one believes | ||
| + | it oneself. | ||
| + | with the sincerity of the man who expresses it. Indeed, the | ||
| + | probabilities are that the more insincere the man is, the more purely | ||
| + | intellectual will the idea be, as in that case it will not be coloured | ||
| + | by either his wants, his desires, or his prejudices. | ||
| + | propose to discuss politics, sociology, or metaphysics with you. I | ||
| + | like persons better than principles, and I like persons with no | ||
| + | principles better than anything else in the world. | ||
| + | Mr. Dorian Gray. How often do you see him?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Every day. I couldn' | ||
| + | absolutely necessary to me." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "How extraordinary! | ||
| + | your art." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "He is all my art to me now," said the painter gravely. | ||
| + | think, Harry, that there are only two eras of any importance in the | ||
| + | world' | ||
| + | and the second is the appearance of a new personality for art also. | ||
| + | What the invention of oil-painting was to the Venetians, the face of | ||
| + | Antinous was to late Greek sculpture, and the face of Dorian Gray will | ||
| + | some day be to me. It is not merely that I paint from him, draw from | ||
| + | him, sketch from him. Of course, I have done all that. But he is much | ||
| + | more to me than a model or a sitter. | ||
| + | dissatisfied with what I have done of him, or that his beauty is such | ||
| + | that art cannot express it. There is nothing that art cannot express, | ||
| + | and I know that the work I have done, since I met Dorian Gray, is good | ||
| + | work, is the best work of my life. But in some curious way& | ||
| + | will you understand me?& | ||
| + | entirely new manner in art, an entirely new mode of style. | ||
| + | things differently, | ||
| + | life in a way that was hidden from me before. | ||
| + | of thought'& | ||
| + | Gray has been to me. The merely visible presence of this lad& | ||
| + | seems to me little more than a lad, though he is really over | ||
| + | twenty& | ||
| + | that that means? | ||
| + | school, a school that is to have in it all the passion of the romantic | ||
| + | spirit, all the perfection of the spirit that is Greek. | ||
| + | soul and body& | ||
| + | two, and have invented a realism that is vulgar, an ideality that is | ||
| + | void. Harry! if you only knew what Dorian Gray is to me! You remember | ||
| + | that landscape of mine, for which Agnew offered me such a huge price | ||
| + | but which I would not part with? It is one of the best things I have | ||
| + | ever done. And why is it so? Because, while I was painting it, Dorian | ||
| + | Gray sat beside me. Some subtle influence passed from him to me, and | ||
| + | for the first time in my life I saw in the plain woodland the wonder I | ||
| + | had always looked for and always missed." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Hallward got up from the seat and walked up and down the garden. | ||
| + | some time he came back. " | ||
| + | a motive in art. You might see nothing in him. I see everything in | ||
| + | him. He is never more present in my work than when no image of him is | ||
| + | there. | ||
| + | him in the curves of certain lines, in the loveliness and subtleties of | ||
| + | certain colours. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Then why won't you exhibit his portrait?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | all this curious artistic idolatry, of which, of course, I have never | ||
| + | cared to speak to him. He knows nothing about it. He shall never know | ||
| + | anything about it. But the world might guess it, and I will not bare | ||
| + | my soul to their shallow prying eyes. My heart shall never be put | ||
| + | under their microscope. | ||
| + | Harry& | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Poets are not so scrupulous as you are. They know how useful passion | ||
| + | is for publication. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I hate them for it," cried Hallward. | ||
| + | beautiful things, but should put nothing of his own life into them. We | ||
| + | live in an age when men treat art as if it were meant to be a form of | ||
| + | autobiography. | ||
| + | will show the world what it is; and for that reason the world shall | ||
| + | never see my portrait of Dorian Gray." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I think you are wrong, Basil, but I won't argue with you. It is only | ||
| + | the intellectually lost who ever argue. | ||
| + | fond of you?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The painter considered for a few moments. | ||
| + | after a pause; "I know he likes me. Of course I flatter him | ||
| + | dreadfully. | ||
| + | know I shall be sorry for having said. As a rule, he is charming to | ||
| + | me, and we sit in the studio and talk of a thousand things. | ||
| + | then, however, he is horribly thoughtless, | ||
| + | delight in giving me pain. Then I feel, Harry, that I have given away | ||
| + | my whole soul to some one who treats it as if it were a flower to put | ||
| + | in his coat, a bit of decoration to charm his vanity, an ornament for a | ||
| + | summer' | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Days in summer, Basil, are apt to linger," | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | of, but there is no doubt that genius lasts longer than beauty. | ||
| + | accounts for the fact that we all take such pains to over-educate | ||
| + | ourselves. | ||
| + | something that endures, and so we fill our minds with rubbish and | ||
| + | facts, in the silly hope of keeping our place. | ||
| + | well-informed man& | ||
| + | thoroughly well-informed man is a dreadful thing. | ||
| + | < | ||
| + | its proper value. | ||
| + | you will look at your friend, and he will seem to you to be a little | ||
| + | out of drawing, or you won't like his tone of colour, or something. | ||
| + | You will bitterly reproach him in your own heart, and seriously think | ||
| + | that he has behaved very badly to you. The next time he calls, you | ||
| + | will be perfectly cold and indifferent. | ||
| + | it will alter you. What you have told me is quite a romance, a romance | ||
| + | of art one might call it, and the worst of having a romance of any kind | ||
| + | is that it leaves one so unromantic." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | Dorian Gray will dominate me. You can't feel what I feel. You change | ||
| + | too often." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Ah, my dear Basil, that is exactly why I can feel it. Those who are | ||
| + | faithful know only the trivial side of love: it is the faithless who | ||
| + | know love's tragedies." | ||
| + | silver case and began to smoke a cigarette with a self-conscious and | ||
| + | satisfied air, as if he had summed up the world in a phrase. | ||
| + | a rustle of chirruping sparrows in the green lacquer leaves of the ivy, | ||
| + | and the blue cloud-shadows chased themselves across the grass like | ||
| + | swallows. | ||
| + | people' | ||
| + | seemed to him. One's own soul, and the passions of one's | ||
| + | friends& | ||
| + | himself with silent amusement the tedious luncheon that he had missed | ||
| + | by staying so long with Basil Hallward. | ||
| + | would have been sure to have met Lord Goodbody there, and the whole | ||
| + | conversation would have been about the feeding of the poor and the | ||
| + | necessity for model lodging-houses. Each class would have preached the | ||
| + | importance of those virtues, for whose exercise there was no necessity | ||
| + | in their own lives. | ||
| + | and the idle grown eloquent over the dignity of labour. | ||
| + | charming to have escaped all that! As he thought of his aunt, an idea | ||
| + | seemed to strike him. He turned to Hallward and said, "My dear fellow, | ||
| + | I have just remembered." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Where I heard the name of Dorian Gray." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Where was it?" asked Hallward, with a slight frown. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | told me she had discovered a wonderful young man who was going to help | ||
| + | her in the East End, and that his name was Dorian Gray. I am bound to | ||
| + | state that she never told me he was good-looking. Women have no | ||
| + | appreciation of good looks; at least, good women have not. She said | ||
| + | that he was very earnest and had a beautiful nature. | ||
| + | pictured to myself a creature with spectacles and lank hair, horribly | ||
| + | freckled, and tramping about on huge feet. I wish I had known it was | ||
| + | your friend." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am very glad you didn' | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I don't want you to meet him." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You don't want me to meet him?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Mr. Dorian Gray is in the studio, sir," said the butler, coming into | ||
| + | the garden. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You must introduce me now," cried Lord Henry, laughing. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The painter turned to his servant, who stood blinking in the sunlight. | ||
| + | "Ask Mr. Gray to wait, Parker: | ||
| + | man bowed and went up the walk. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Then he looked at Lord Henry. | ||
| + | said. "He has a simple and a beautiful nature. | ||
| + | right in what she said of him. Don't spoil him. Don't try to | ||
| + | influence him. Your influence would be bad. The world is wide, and | ||
| + | has many marvellous people in it. Don't take away from me the one | ||
| + | person who gives to my art whatever charm it possesses: | ||
| + | artist depends on him. Mind, Harry, I trust you." | ||
| + | slowly, and the words seemed wrung out of him almost against his will. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What nonsense you talk!" said Lord Henry, smiling, and taking Hallward | ||
| + | by the arm, he almost led him into the house. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | < | ||
| + | |||
| + | <A NAME=" | ||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | CHAPTER 2 | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As they entered they saw Dorian Gray. He was seated at the piano, with | ||
| + | his back to them, turning over the pages of a volume of Schumann' | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | to learn them. They are perfectly charming." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "That entirely depends on how you sit to-day, Dorian." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh, I am tired of sitting, and I don't want a life-sized portrait of | ||
| + | myself," | ||
| + | wilful, petulant manner. | ||
| + | blush coloured his cheeks for a moment, and he started up. "I beg your | ||
| + | pardon, Basil, but I didn't know you had any one with you." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "This is Lord Henry Wotton, Dorian, an old Oxford friend of mine. I | ||
| + | have just been telling him what a capital sitter you were, and now you | ||
| + | have spoiled everything." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You have not spoiled my pleasure in meeting you, Mr. Gray," said Lord | ||
| + | Henry, stepping forward and extending his hand. "My aunt has often | ||
| + | spoken to me about you. You are one of her favourites, and, I am | ||
| + | afraid, one of her victims also." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am in Lady Agatha' | ||
| + | funny look of penitence. | ||
| + | with her last Tuesday, and I really forgot all about it. We were to | ||
| + | have played a duet together& | ||
| + | she will say to me. I am far too frightened to call." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh, I will make your peace with my aunt. She is quite devoted to you. | ||
| + | And I don't think it really matters about your not being there. | ||
| + | audience probably thought it was a duet. When Aunt Agatha sits down to | ||
| + | the piano, she makes quite enough noise for two people." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "That is very horrid to her, and not very nice to me," answered Dorian, | ||
| + | laughing. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry looked at him. Yes, he was certainly wonderfully handsome, | ||
| + | with his finely curved scarlet lips, his frank blue eyes, his crisp | ||
| + | gold hair. There was something in his face that made one trust him at | ||
| + | once. All the candour of youth was there, as well as all youth' | ||
| + | passionate purity. | ||
| + | the world. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You are too charming to go in for philanthropy, | ||
| + | charming." | ||
| + | his cigarette-case. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The painter had been busy mixing his colours and getting his brushes | ||
| + | ready. | ||
| + | remark, he glanced at him, hesitated for a moment, and then said, | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | awfully rude of me if I asked you to go away?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry smiled and looked at Dorian Gray. "Am I to go, Mr. Gray?" | ||
| + | he asked. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh, please don't, Lord Henry. | ||
| + | moods, and I can't bear him when he sulks. | ||
| + | me why I should not go in for philanthropy." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I don't know that I shall tell you that, Mr. Gray. It is so tedious a | ||
| + | subject that one would have to talk seriously about it. But I | ||
| + | certainly shall not run away, now that you have asked me to stop. You | ||
| + | don't really mind, Basil, do you? You have often told me that you | ||
| + | liked your sitters to have some one to chat to." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Hallward bit his lip. "If Dorian wishes it, of course you must stay. | ||
| + | Dorian' | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry took up his hat and gloves. | ||
| + | but I am afraid I must go. I have promised to meet a man at the | ||
| + | Orleans. | ||
| + | Street. | ||
| + | you are coming. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | too. You never open your lips while you are painting, and it is | ||
| + | horribly dull standing on a platform and trying to look pleasant. | ||
| + | him to stay. I insist upon it." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Stay, Harry, to oblige Dorian, and to oblige me," said Hallward, | ||
| + | gazing intently at his picture. | ||
| + | am working, and never listen either, and it must be dreadfully tedious | ||
| + | for my unfortunate sitters. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "But what about my man at the Orleans?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The painter laughed. | ||
| + | that. Sit down again, Harry. | ||
| + | and don't move about too much, or pay any attention to what Lord Henry | ||
| + | says. He has a very bad influence over all his friends, with the | ||
| + | single exception of myself." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray stepped up on the dais with the air of a young Greek | ||
| + | martyr, and made a little < | ||
| + | had rather taken a fancy. | ||
| + | delightful contrast. | ||
| + | moments he said to him, "Have you really a very bad influence, Lord | ||
| + | Henry? | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "There is no such thing as a good influence, Mr. Gray. All influence | ||
| + | is immoral& | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | not think his natural thoughts, or burn with his natural passions. | ||
| + | virtues are not real to him. His sins, if there are such things as | ||
| + | sins, are borrowed. | ||
| + | actor of a part that has not been written for him. The aim of life is | ||
| + | self-development. To realize one's nature perfectly& | ||
| + | of us is here for. People are afraid of themselves, nowadays. | ||
| + | have forgotten the highest of all duties, the duty that one owes to | ||
| + | one's self. Of course, they are charitable. | ||
| + | clothe the beggar. | ||
| + | has gone out of our race. Perhaps we never really had it. The terror | ||
| + | of society, which is the basis of morals, the terror of God, which is | ||
| + | the secret of religion& | ||
| + | yet& | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Just turn your head a little more to the right, Dorian, like a good | ||
| + | boy," said the painter, deep in his work and conscious only that a look | ||
| + | had come into the lad's face that he had never seen there before. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "And yet," continued Lord Henry, in his low, musical voice, and with | ||
| + | that graceful wave of the hand that was always so characteristic of | ||
| + | him, and that he had even in his Eton days, "I believe that if one man | ||
| + | were to live out his life fully and completely, were to give form to | ||
| + | every feeling, expression to every thought, reality to every dream& | ||
| + | believe that the world would gain such a fresh impulse of joy that we | ||
| + | would forget all the maladies of mediaevalism, | ||
| + | Hellenic ideal& | ||
| + | may be. But the bravest man amongst us is afraid of himself. | ||
| + | mutilation of the savage has its tragic survival in the self-denial | ||
| + | that mars our lives. | ||
| + | that we strive to strangle broods in the mind and poisons us. The body | ||
| + | sins once, and has done with its sin, for action is a mode of | ||
| + | purification. | ||
| + | or the luxury of a regret. | ||
| + | to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for | ||
| + | the things it has forbidden to itself, with desire for what its | ||
| + | monstrous laws have made monstrous and unlawful. | ||
| + | the great events of the world take place in the brain. | ||
| + | brain, and the brain only, that the great sins of the world take place | ||
| + | also. You, Mr. Gray, you yourself, with your rose-red youth and your | ||
| + | rose-white boyhood, you have had passions that have made you afraid, | ||
| + | thoughts that have filled you with terror, day-dreams and sleeping | ||
| + | dreams whose mere memory might stain your cheek with shame& | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | what to say. There is some answer to you, but I cannot find it. Don't | ||
| + | speak. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | For nearly ten minutes he stood there, motionless, with parted lips and | ||
| + | eyes strangely bright. | ||
| + | influences were at work within him. Yet they seemed to him to have | ||
| + | come really from himself. | ||
| + | to him& | ||
| + | them& | ||
| + | but that he felt was now vibrating and throbbing to curious pulses. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Music had stirred him like that. Music had troubled him many times. | ||
| + | But music was not articulate. | ||
| + | another chaos, that it created in us. Words! | ||
| + | terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! | ||
| + | escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them! They | ||
| + | seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to | ||
| + | have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lute. Mere | ||
| + | words! | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Yes; there had been things in his boyhood that he had not understood. | ||
| + | He understood them now. Life suddenly became fiery-coloured to him. | ||
| + | It seemed to him that he had been walking in fire. Why had he not | ||
| + | known it? | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | With his subtle smile, Lord Henry watched him. He knew the precise | ||
| + | psychological moment when to say nothing. | ||
| + | interested. | ||
| + | produced, and, remembering a book that he had read when he was sixteen, | ||
| + | a book which had revealed to him much that he had not known before, he | ||
| + | wondered whether Dorian Gray was passing through a similar experience. | ||
| + | He had merely shot an arrow into the air. Had it hit the mark? How | ||
| + | fascinating the lad was! | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Hallward painted away with that marvellous bold touch of his, that had | ||
| + | the true refinement and perfect delicacy that in art, at any rate comes | ||
| + | only from strength. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | go out and sit in the garden. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear fellow, I am so sorry. | ||
| + | anything else. But you never sat better. | ||
| + | And I have caught the effect I wanted& | ||
| + | bright look in the eyes. I don't know what Harry has been saying to | ||
| + | you, but he has certainly made you have the most wonderful expression. | ||
| + | I suppose he has been paying you compliments. | ||
| + | word that he says." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "He has certainly not been paying me compliments. | ||
| + | reason that I don't believe anything he has told me." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You know you believe it all," said Lord Henry, looking at him with his | ||
| + | dreamy languorous eyes. "I will go out to the garden with you. It is | ||
| + | horribly hot in the studio. | ||
| + | drink, something with strawberries in it." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | tell him what you want. I have got to work up this background, so I | ||
| + | will join you later on. Don't keep Dorian too long. I have never been | ||
| + | in better form for painting than I am to-day. This is going to be my | ||
| + | masterpiece. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry went out to the garden and found Dorian Gray burying his | ||
| + | face in the great cool lilac-blossoms, | ||
| + | perfume as if it had been wine. He came close to him and put his hand | ||
| + | upon his shoulder. | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | senses but the soul." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The lad started and drew back. He was bareheaded, and the leaves had | ||
| + | tossed his rebellious curls and tangled all their gilded threads. | ||
| + | There was a look of fear in his eyes, such as people have when they are | ||
| + | suddenly awakened. | ||
| + | hidden nerve shook the scarlet of his lips and left them trembling. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | life& | ||
| + | of the soul. You are a wonderful creation. | ||
| + | think you know, just as you know less than you want to know." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray frowned and turned his head away. He could not help liking | ||
| + | the tall, graceful young man who was standing by him. His romantic, | ||
| + | olive-coloured face and worn expression interested him. There was | ||
| + | something in his low languid voice that was absolutely fascinating. | ||
| + | His cool, white, flowerlike hands, even, had a curious charm. | ||
| + | moved, as he spoke, like music, and seemed to have a language of their | ||
| + | own. But he felt afraid of him, and ashamed of being afraid. | ||
| + | it been left for a stranger to reveal him to himself? | ||
| + | Basil Hallward for months, but the friendship between them had never | ||
| + | altered him. Suddenly there had come some one across his life who | ||
| + | seemed to have disclosed to him life's mystery. | ||
| + | there to be afraid of? He was not a schoolboy or a girl. It was | ||
| + | absurd to be frightened. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Let us go and sit in the shade," | ||
| + | out the drinks, and if you stay any longer in this glare, you will be | ||
| + | quite spoiled, and Basil will never paint you again. | ||
| + | not allow yourself to become sunburnt. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What can it matter?" | ||
| + | the seat at the end of the garden. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It should matter everything to you, Mr. Gray." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | worth having." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I don't feel that, Lord Henry." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "No, you don't feel it now. Some day, when you are old and wrinkled | ||
| + | and ugly, when thought has seared your forehead with its lines, and | ||
| + | passion branded your lips with its hideous fires, you will feel it, you | ||
| + | will feel it terribly. | ||
| + | Will it always be so? ... You have a wonderfully beautiful face, Mr. | ||
| + | Gray. Don't frown. | ||
| + | higher, indeed, than genius, as it needs no explanation. | ||
| + | great facts of the world, like sunlight, or spring-time, | ||
| + | reflection in dark waters of that silver shell we call the moon. It | ||
| + | cannot be questioned. | ||
| + | makes princes of those who have it. You smile? | ||
| + | it you won't smile.... People say sometimes that beauty is only | ||
| + | superficial. | ||
| + | thought is. To me, beauty is the wonder of wonders. | ||
| + | shallow people who do not judge by appearances. | ||
| + | the world is the visible, not the invisible.... Yes, Mr. Gray, the | ||
| + | gods have been good to you. But what the gods give they quickly take | ||
| + | away. You have only a few years in which to live really, perfectly, | ||
| + | and fully. | ||
| + | you will suddenly discover that there are no triumphs left for you, or | ||
| + | have to content yourself with those mean triumphs that the memory of | ||
| + | your past will make more bitter than defeats. | ||
| + | brings you nearer to something dreadful. | ||
| + | wars against your lilies and your roses. | ||
| + | hollow-cheeked, | ||
| + | realize your youth while you have it. Don't squander the gold of your | ||
| + | days, listening to the tedious, trying to improve the hopeless failure, | ||
| + | or giving away your life to the ignorant, the common, and the vulgar. | ||
| + | These are the sickly aims, the false ideals, of our age. Live! Live | ||
| + | the wonderful life that is in you! Let nothing be lost upon you. Be | ||
| + | always searching for new sensations. | ||
| + | Hedonism& | ||
| + | symbol. | ||
| + | world belongs to you for a season.... The moment I met you I saw that | ||
| + | you were quite unconscious of what you really are, of what you really | ||
| + | might be. There was so much in you that charmed me that I felt I must | ||
| + | tell you something about yourself. | ||
| + | you were wasted. | ||
| + | last& | ||
| + | blossom again. | ||
| + | In a month there will be purple stars on the clematis, and year after | ||
| + | year the green night of its leaves will hold its purple stars. | ||
| + | never get back our youth. | ||
| + | becomes sluggish. | ||
| + | hideous puppets, haunted by the memory of the passions of which we were | ||
| + | too much afraid, and the exquisite temptations that we had not the | ||
| + | courage to yield to. Youth! | ||
| + | the world but youth!" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray listened, open-eyed and wondering. | ||
| + | from his hand upon the gravel. | ||
| + | for a moment. | ||
| + | globe of the tiny blossoms. | ||
| + | in trivial things that we try to develop when things of high import | ||
| + | make us afraid, or when we are stirred by some new emotion for which we | ||
| + | cannot find expression, or when some thought that terrifies us lays | ||
| + | sudden siege to the brain and calls on us to yield. | ||
| + | bee flew away. He saw it creeping into the stained trumpet of a Tyrian | ||
| + | convolvulus. | ||
| + | and fro. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Suddenly the painter appeared at the door of the studio and made | ||
| + | staccato signs for them to come in. They turned to each other and | ||
| + | smiled. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am waiting," | ||
| + | and you can bring your drinks." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | They rose up and sauntered down the walk together. | ||
| + | butterflies fluttered past them, and in the pear-tree at the corner of | ||
| + | the garden a thrush began to sing. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You are glad you have met me, Mr. Gray," said Lord Henry, looking at | ||
| + | him. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes, I am glad now. I wonder shall I always be glad?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | Women are so fond of using it. They spoil every romance by trying to | ||
| + | make it last for ever. It is a meaningless word, too. The only | ||
| + | difference between a caprice and a lifelong passion is that the caprice | ||
| + | lasts a little longer." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As they entered the studio, Dorian Gray put his hand upon Lord Henry' | ||
| + | arm. "In that case, let our friendship be a caprice," | ||
| + | flushing at his own boldness, then stepped up on the platform and | ||
| + | resumed his pose. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry flung himself into a large wicker arm-chair and watched him. | ||
| + | The sweep and dash of the brush on the canvas made the only sound that | ||
| + | broke the stillness, except when, now and then, Hallward stepped back | ||
| + | to look at his work from a distance. | ||
| + | streamed through the open doorway the dust danced and was golden. | ||
| + | heavy scent of the roses seemed to brood over everything. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | After about a quarter of an hour Hallward stopped painting, looked for | ||
| + | a long time at Dorian Gray, and then for a long time at the picture, | ||
| + | biting the end of one of his huge brushes and frowning. | ||
| + | finished," | ||
| + | long vermilion letters on the left-hand corner of the canvas. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry came over and examined the picture. | ||
| + | wonderful work of art, and a wonderful likeness as well. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear fellow, I congratulate you most warmly," | ||
| + | finest portrait of modern times. | ||
| + | yourself." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The lad started, as if awakened from some dream. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Is it really finished?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Quite finished," | ||
| + | to-day. I am awfully obliged to you." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "That is entirely due to me," broke in Lord Henry. | ||
| + | Gray?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian made no answer, but passed listlessly in front of his picture | ||
| + | and turned towards it. When he saw it he drew back, and his cheeks | ||
| + | flushed for a moment with pleasure. | ||
| + | as if he had recognized himself for the first time. He stood there | ||
| + | motionless and in wonder, dimly conscious that Hallward was speaking to | ||
| + | him, but not catching the meaning of his words. | ||
| + | beauty came on him like a revelation. | ||
| + | Basil Hallward' | ||
| + | charming exaggeration of friendship. | ||
| + | at them, forgotten them. They had not influenced his nature. | ||
| + | come Lord Henry Wotton with his strange panegyric on youth, his | ||
| + | terrible warning of its brevity. | ||
| + | now, as he stood gazing at the shadow of his own loveliness, the full | ||
| + | reality of the description flashed across him. Yes, there would be a | ||
| + | day when his face would be wrinkled and wizen, his eyes dim and | ||
| + | colourless, the grace of his figure broken and deformed. | ||
| + | would pass away from his lips and the gold steal from his hair. The | ||
| + | life that was to make his soul would mar his body. He would become | ||
| + | dreadful, hideous, and uncouth. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As he thought of it, a sharp pang of pain struck through him like a | ||
| + | knife and made each delicate fibre of his nature quiver. | ||
| + | deepened into amethyst, and across them came a mist of tears. | ||
| + | as if a hand of ice had been laid upon his heart. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | lad's silence, not understanding what it meant. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Of course he likes it," said Lord Henry. | ||
| + | is one of the greatest things in modern art. I will give you anything | ||
| + | you like to ask for it. I must have it." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is not my property, Harry." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Whose property is it?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "He is a very lucky fellow." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "How sad it is!" murmured Dorian Gray with his eyes still fixed upon | ||
| + | his own portrait. | ||
| + | dreadful. | ||
| + | older than this particular day of June.... If it were only the other | ||
| + | way! If it were I who was to be always young, and the picture that was | ||
| + | to grow old! For that& | ||
| + | is nothing in the whole world I would not give! I would give my soul | ||
| + | for that!" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You would hardly care for such an arrangement, | ||
| + | Henry, laughing. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I should object very strongly, Harry," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray turned and looked at him. "I believe you would, Basil. | ||
| + | You like your art better than your friends. | ||
| + | green bronze figure. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The painter stared in amazement. | ||
| + | that. What had happened? | ||
| + | and his cheeks burning. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | silver Faun. You will like them always. | ||
| + | Till I have my first wrinkle, I suppose. | ||
| + | loses one's good looks, whatever they may be, one loses everything. | ||
| + | Your picture has taught me that. Lord Henry Wotton is perfectly right. | ||
| + | Youth is the only thing worth having. | ||
| + | old, I shall kill myself." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Hallward turned pale and caught his hand. " | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | shall never have such another. | ||
| + | are you?& | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am jealous of everything whose beauty does not die. I am jealous of | ||
| + | the portrait you have painted of me. Why should it keep what I must | ||
| + | lose? Every moment that passes takes something from me and gives | ||
| + | something to it. Oh, if it were only the other way! If the picture | ||
| + | could change, and I could be always what I am now! Why did you paint | ||
| + | it? It will mock me some day& | ||
| + | into his eyes; he tore his hand away and, flinging himself on the | ||
| + | divan, he buried his face in the cushions, as though he was praying. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "This is your doing, Harry," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry shrugged his shoulders. | ||
| + | is all." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is not." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "If it is not, what have I to do with it?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You should have gone away when I asked you," he muttered. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I stayed when you asked me," was Lord Henry' | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | you both you have made me hate the finest piece of work I have ever | ||
| + | done, and I will destroy it. What is it but canvas and colour? | ||
| + | not let it come across our three lives and mar them." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray lifted his golden head from the pillow, and with pallid | ||
| + | face and tear-stained eyes, looked at him as he walked over to the deal | ||
| + | painting-table that was set beneath the high curtained window. | ||
| + | was he doing there? | ||
| + | of tin tubes and dry brushes, seeking for something. | ||
| + | the long palette-knife, | ||
| + | found it at last. He was going to rip up the canvas. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | With a stifled sob the lad leaped from the couch, and, rushing over to | ||
| + | Hallward, tore the knife out of his hand, and flung it to the end of | ||
| + | the studio. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am glad you appreciate my work at last, Dorian," | ||
| + | coldly when he had recovered from his surprise. | ||
| + | would." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | feel that." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Well, as soon as you are dry, you shall be varnished, and framed, and | ||
| + | sent home. Then you can do what you like with yourself." | ||
| + | across the room and rang the bell for tea. "You will have tea, of | ||
| + | course, Dorian? | ||
| + | simple pleasures?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I adore simple pleasures," | ||
| + | of the complex. | ||
| + | absurd fellows you are, both of you! I wonder who it was defined man | ||
| + | as a rational animal. | ||
| + | Man is many things, but he is not rational. | ||
| + | all& | ||
| + | had much better let me have it, Basil. | ||
| + | want it, and I really do." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "If you let any one have it but me, Basil, I shall never forgive you!" | ||
| + | cried Dorian Gray; "and I don't allow people to call me a silly boy." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You know the picture is yours, Dorian. | ||
| + | existed." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "And you know you have been a little silly, Mr. Gray, and that you | ||
| + | don't really object to being reminded that you are extremely young." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I should have objected very strongly this morning, Lord Henry." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Ah! this morning! | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | There came a knock at the door, and the butler entered with a laden | ||
| + | tea-tray and set it down upon a small Japanese table. | ||
| + | rattle of cups and saucers and the hissing of a fluted Georgian urn. | ||
| + | Two globe-shaped china dishes were brought in by a page. Dorian Gray | ||
| + | went over and poured out the tea. The two men sauntered languidly to | ||
| + | the table and examined what was under the covers. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Let us go to the theatre to-night," | ||
| + | to be something on, somewhere. | ||
| + | it is only with an old friend, so I can send him a wire to say that I | ||
| + | am ill, or that I am prevented from coming in consequence of a | ||
| + | subsequent engagement. | ||
| + | would have all the surprise of candour." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is such a bore putting on one's dress-clothes," | ||
| + | "And, when one has them on, they are so horrid." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | century is detestable. | ||
| + | only real colour-element left in modern life." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You really must not say things like that before Dorian, Harry." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | one in the picture?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I should like to come to the theatre with you, Lord Henry," | ||
| + | lad. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Then you shall come; and you will come, too, Basil, won't you?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I can't, really. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Well, then, you and I will go alone, Mr. Gray." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I should like that awfully." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The painter bit his lip and walked over, cup in hand, to the picture. | ||
| + | "I shall stay with the real Dorian," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Is it the real Dorian?" | ||
| + | across to him. "Am I really like that?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes; you are just like that." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "How wonderful, Basil!" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "At least you are like it in appearance. | ||
| + | sighed Hallward. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What a fuss people make about fidelity!" | ||
| + | even in love it is purely a question for physiology. | ||
| + | do with our own will. Young men want to be faithful, and are not; old | ||
| + | men want to be faithless, and cannot: that is all one can say." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | dine with me." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I can't, Basil." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "He won't like you the better for keeping your promises. | ||
| + | breaks his own. I beg you not to go." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray laughed and shook his head. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I entreat you." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The lad hesitated, and looked over at Lord Henry, who was watching them | ||
| + | from the tea-table with an amused smile. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I must go, Basil," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Very well," said Hallward, and he went over and laid down his cup on | ||
| + | the tray. "It is rather late, and, as you have to dress, you had | ||
| + | better lose no time. Good-bye, Harry. | ||
| + | me soon. Come to-morrow." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You won't forget?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "No, of course not," cried Dorian. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "And ... Harry!" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes, Basil?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I have forgotten it." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I trust you." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I wish I could trust myself," | ||
| + | Gray, my hansom is outside, and I can drop you at your own place. | ||
| + | Good-bye, Basil. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As the door closed behind them, the painter flung himself down on a | ||
| + | sofa, and a look of pain came into his face. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | < | ||
| + | |||
| + | <A NAME=" | ||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | CHAPTER 3 | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | At half-past twelve next day Lord Henry Wotton strolled from Curzon | ||
| + | Street over to the Albany to call on his uncle, Lord Fermor, a genial | ||
| + | if somewhat rough-mannered old bachelor, whom the outside world called | ||
| + | selfish because it derived no particular benefit from him, but who was | ||
| + | considered generous by Society as he fed the people who amused him. | ||
| + | His father had been our ambassador at Madrid when Isabella was young | ||
| + | and Prim unthought of, but had retired from the diplomatic service in a | ||
| + | capricious moment of annoyance on not being offered the Embassy at | ||
| + | Paris, a post to which he considered that he was fully entitled by | ||
| + | reason of his birth, his indolence, the good English of his dispatches, | ||
| + | and his inordinate passion for pleasure. | ||
| + | father' | ||
| + | foolishly as was thought at the time, and on succeeding some months | ||
| + | later to the title, had set himself to the serious study of the great | ||
| + | aristocratic art of doing absolutely nothing. | ||
| + | houses, but preferred to live in chambers as it was less trouble, and | ||
| + | took most of his meals at his club. He paid some attention to the | ||
| + | management of his collieries in the Midland counties, excusing himself | ||
| + | for this taint of industry on the ground that the one advantage of | ||
| + | having coal was that it enabled a gentleman to afford the decency of | ||
| + | burning wood on his own hearth. | ||
| + | the Tories were in office, during which period he roundly abused them | ||
| + | for being a pack of Radicals. | ||
| + | him, and a terror to most of his relations, whom he bullied in turn. | ||
| + | Only England could have produced him, and he always said that the | ||
| + | country was going to the dogs. His principles were out of date, but | ||
| + | there was a good deal to be said for his prejudices. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | When Lord Henry entered the room, he found his uncle sitting in a rough | ||
| + | shooting-coat, | ||
| + | Harry," | ||
| + | thought you dandies never got up till two, and were not visible till | ||
| + | five." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Pure family affection, I assure you, Uncle George. | ||
| + | something out of you." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | down and tell me all about it. Young people, nowadays, imagine that | ||
| + | money is everything." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | when they grow older they know it. But I don't want money. | ||
| + | people who pay their bills who want that, Uncle George, and I never pay | ||
| + | mine. Credit is the capital of a younger son, and one lives charmingly | ||
| + | upon it. Besides, I always deal with Dartmoor' | ||
| + | consequently they never bother me. What I want is information: | ||
| + | useful information, | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Well, I can tell you anything that is in an English Blue Book, Harry, | ||
| + | although those fellows nowadays write a lot of nonsense. | ||
| + | the Diplomatic, things were much better. | ||
| + | now by examination. | ||
| + | humbug from beginning to end. If a man is a gentleman, he knows quite | ||
| + | enough, and if he is not a gentleman, whatever he knows is bad for him." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Mr. Dorian Gray does not belong to Blue Books, Uncle George," | ||
| + | Lord Henry languidly. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Mr. Dorian Gray? Who is he?" asked Lord Fermor, knitting his bushy | ||
| + | white eyebrows. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "That is what I have come to learn, Uncle George. | ||
| + | who he is. He is the last Lord Kelso' | ||
| + | Devereux, Lady Margaret Devereux. | ||
| + | mother. | ||
| + | everybody in your time, so you might have known her. I am very much | ||
| + | interested in Mr. Gray at present. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | Of course.... I knew his mother intimately. | ||
| + | christening. | ||
| + | Devereux, and made all the men frantic by running away with a penniless | ||
| + | young fellow& | ||
| + | something of that kind. Certainly. | ||
| + | it happened yesterday. | ||
| + | months after the marriage. | ||
| + | said Kelso got some rascally adventurer, some Belgian brute, to insult | ||
| + | his son-in-law in public& | ||
| + | the fellow spitted his man as if he had been a pigeon. | ||
| + | hushed up, but, egad, Kelso ate his chop alone at the club for some | ||
| + | time afterwards. | ||
| + | and she never spoke to him again. | ||
| + | girl died, too, died within a year. So she left a son, did she? I had | ||
| + | forgotten that. What sort of boy is he? If he is like his mother, he | ||
| + | must be a good-looking chap." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "He is very good-looking," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I hope he will fall into proper hands," | ||
| + | should have a pot of money waiting for him if Kelso did the right thing | ||
| + | by him. His mother had money, too. All the Selby property came to | ||
| + | her, through her grandfather. | ||
| + | a mean dog. He was, too. Came to Madrid once when I was there. | ||
| + | I was ashamed of him. The Queen used to ask me about the English noble | ||
| + | who was always quarrelling with the cabmen about their fares. | ||
| + | made quite a story of it. I didn't dare show my face at Court for a | ||
| + | month. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I don't know," answered Lord Henry. | ||
| + | well off. He is not of age yet. He has Selby, I know. He told me so. | ||
| + | And ... his mother was very beautiful?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | Harry. | ||
| + | understand. | ||
| + | mad after her. She was romantic, though. | ||
| + | were. The men were a poor lot, but, egad! the women were wonderful. | ||
| + | Carlington went on his knees to her. Told me so himself. | ||
| + | at him, and there wasn't a girl in London at the time who wasn't after | ||
| + | him. And by the way, Harry, talking about silly marriages, what is | ||
| + | this humbug your father tells me about Dartmoor wanting to marry an | ||
| + | American? | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is rather fashionable to marry Americans just now, Uncle George." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | striking the table with his fist. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "The betting is on the Americans." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "They don't last, I am told," muttered his uncle. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "A long engagement exhausts them, but they are capital at a | ||
| + | steeplechase. | ||
| + | chance." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Who are her people?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry shook his head. " | ||
| + | their parents, as English women are at concealing their past," he said, | ||
| + | rising to go. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "They are pork-packers, | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I hope so, Uncle George, for Dartmoor' | ||
| + | pork-packing is the most lucrative profession in America, after | ||
| + | politics." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Is she pretty?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "She behaves as if she was beautiful. | ||
| + | the secret of their charm." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Why can't these American women stay in their own country? | ||
| + | always telling us that it is the paradise for women." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is. That is the reason why, like Eve, they are so excessively | ||
| + | anxious to get out of it," said Lord Henry. | ||
| + | I shall be late for lunch, if I stop any longer. | ||
| + | the information I wanted. | ||
| + | new friends, and nothing about my old ones." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Where are you lunching, Harry?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "At Aunt Agatha' | ||
| + | < | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | her charity appeals. | ||
| + | that I have nothing to do but to write cheques for her silly fads." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "All right, Uncle George, I'll tell her, but it won't have any effect. | ||
| + | Philanthropic people lose all sense of humanity. | ||
| + | distinguishing characteristic." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The old gentleman growled approvingly and rang the bell for his | ||
| + | servant. | ||
| + | and turned his steps in the direction of Berkeley Square. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | So that was the story of Dorian Gray's parentage. | ||
| + | been told to him, it had yet stirred him by its suggestion of a | ||
| + | strange, almost modern romance. | ||
| + | for a mad passion. | ||
| + | hideous, treacherous crime. | ||
| + | child born in pain. The mother snatched away by death, the boy left to | ||
| + | solitude and the tyranny of an old and loveless man. Yes; it was an | ||
| + | interesting background. | ||
| + | were. Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something | ||
| + | tragic. | ||
| + | blow.... And how charming he had been at dinner the night before, as | ||
| + | with startled eyes and lips parted in frightened pleasure he had sat | ||
| + | opposite to him at the club, the red candleshades staining to a richer | ||
| + | rose the wakening wonder of his face. Talking to him was like playing | ||
| + | upon an exquisite violin. | ||
| + | bow.... There was something terribly enthralling in the exercise of | ||
| + | influence. | ||
| + | some gracious form, and let it tarry there for a moment; to hear one's | ||
| + | own intellectual views echoed back to one with all the added music of | ||
| + | passion and youth; to convey one's temperament into another as though | ||
| + | it were a subtle fluid or a strange perfume: there was a real joy in | ||
| + | that& | ||
| + | and vulgar as our own, an age grossly carnal in its pleasures, and | ||
| + | grossly common in its aims.... He was a marvellous type, too, this lad, | ||
| + | whom by so curious a chance he had met in Basil' | ||
| + | fashioned into a marvellous type, at any rate. Grace was his, and the | ||
| + | white purity of boyhood, and beauty such as old Greek marbles kept for | ||
| + | us. There was nothing that one could not do with him. He could be | ||
| + | made a Titan or a toy. What a pity it was that such beauty was | ||
| + | destined to fade! ... And Basil? | ||
| + | how interesting he was! The new manner in art, the fresh mode of | ||
| + | looking at life, suggested so strangely by the merely visible presence | ||
| + | of one who was unconscious of it all; the silent spirit that dwelt in | ||
| + | dim woodland, and walked unseen in open field, suddenly showing | ||
| + | herself, Dryadlike and not afraid, because in his soul who sought for | ||
| + | her there had been wakened that wonderful vision to which alone are | ||
| + | wonderful things revealed; the mere shapes and patterns of things | ||
| + | becoming, as it were, refined, and gaining a kind of symbolical value, | ||
| + | as though they were themselves patterns of some other and more perfect | ||
| + | form whose shadow they made real: how strange it all was! He | ||
| + | remembered something like it in history. | ||
| + | in thought, who had first analyzed it? Was it not Buonarotti who had | ||
| + | carved it in the coloured marbles of a sonnet-sequence? | ||
| + | century it was strange.... Yes; he would try to be to Dorian Gray | ||
| + | what, without knowing it, the lad was to the painter who had fashioned | ||
| + | the wonderful portrait. | ||
| + | indeed, half done so. He would make that wonderful spirit his own. | ||
| + | There was something fascinating in this son of love and death. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Suddenly he stopped and glanced up at the houses. | ||
| + | passed his aunt's some distance, and, smiling to himself, turned back. | ||
| + | When he entered the somewhat sombre hall, the butler told him that they | ||
| + | had gone in to lunch. | ||
| + | passed into the dining-room. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Late as usual, Harry," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He invented a facile excuse, and having taken the vacant seat next to | ||
| + | her, looked round to see who was there. | ||
| + | the end of the table, a flush of pleasure stealing into his cheek. | ||
| + | Opposite was the Duchess of Harley, a lady of admirable good-nature and | ||
| + | good temper, much liked by every one who knew her, and of those ample | ||
| + | architectural proportions that in women who are not duchesses are | ||
| + | described by contemporary historians as stoutness. | ||
| + | her right, Sir Thomas Burdon, a Radical member of Parliament, who | ||
| + | followed his leader in public life and in private life followed the | ||
| + | best cooks, dining with the Tories and thinking with the Liberals, in | ||
| + | accordance with a wise and well-known rule. The post on her left was | ||
| + | occupied by Mr. Erskine of Treadley, an old gentleman of considerable | ||
| + | charm and culture, who had fallen, however, into bad habits of silence, | ||
| + | having, as he explained once to Lady Agatha, said everything that he | ||
| + | had to say before he was thirty. | ||
| + | one of his aunt's oldest friends, a perfect saint amongst women, but so | ||
| + | dreadfully dowdy that she reminded one of a badly bound hymn-book. | ||
| + | Fortunately for him she had on the other side Lord Faudel, a most | ||
| + | intelligent middle-aged mediocrity, as bald as a ministerial statement | ||
| + | in the House of Commons, with whom she was conversing in that intensely | ||
| + | earnest manner which is the one unpardonable error, as he remarked once | ||
| + | himself, that all really good people fall into, and from which none of | ||
| + | them ever quite escape. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "We are talking about poor Dartmoor, Lord Henry," | ||
| + | nodding pleasantly to him across the table. | ||
| + | really marry this fascinating young person?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I believe she has made up her mind to propose to him, Duchess." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "How dreadful!" | ||
| + | interfere." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am told, on excellent authority, that her father keeps an American | ||
| + | dry-goods store," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My uncle has already suggested pork-packing, | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | her large hands in wonder and accentuating the verb. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The duchess looked puzzled. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | anything that he says." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "When America was discovered," | ||
| + | give some wearisome facts. | ||
| + | subject, he exhausted his listeners. | ||
| + | her privilege of interruption. | ||
| + | discovered at all!" she exclaimed. | ||
| + | nowadays. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | Erskine; "I myself would say that it had merely been detected." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh! but I have seen specimens of the inhabitants," | ||
| + | duchess vaguely. | ||
| + | pretty. | ||
| + | Paris. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "They say that when good Americans die they go to Paris," | ||
| + | Thomas, who had a large wardrobe of Humour' | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | duchess. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "They go to America," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Sir Thomas frowned. | ||
| + | against that great country," | ||
| + | all over it in cars provided by the directors, who, in such matters, | ||
| + | are extremely civil. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "But must we really see Chicago in order to be educated?" | ||
| + | Erskine plaintively. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Sir Thomas waved his hand. "Mr. Erskine of Treadley has the world on | ||
| + | his shelves. We practical men like to see things, not to read about | ||
| + | them. The Americans are an extremely interesting people. They are | ||
| + | absolutely reasonable. I think that is their distinguishing | ||
| + | characteristic. Yes, Mr. Erskine, an absolutely reasonable people. I | ||
| + | assure you there is no nonsense about the Americans." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "How dreadful!" | ||
| + | reason is quite unbearable. | ||
| + | It is hitting below the intellect." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I do not understand you," said Sir Thomas, growing rather red. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I do, Lord Henry," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Was that a paradox?" | ||
| + | it was. Well, the way of paradoxes is the way of truth. | ||
| + | reality we must see it on the tight rope. When the verities become | ||
| + | acrobats, we can judge them." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Dear me!" said Lady Agatha, "how you men argue! | ||
| + | make out what you are talking about. | ||
| + | you. Why do you try to persuade our nice Mr. Dorian Gray to give up | ||
| + | the East End? I assure you he would be quite invaluable. | ||
| + | love his playing." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I want him to play to me," cried Lord Henry, smiling, and he looked | ||
| + | down the table and caught a bright answering glance. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "But they are so unhappy in Whitechapel," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I can sympathize with everything except suffering," | ||
| + | shrugging his shoulders. | ||
| + | ugly, too horrible, too distressing. | ||
| + | morbid in the modern sympathy with pain. One should sympathize with | ||
| + | the colour, the beauty, the joy of life. The less said about life's | ||
| + | sores, the better." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | with a grave shake of the head. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Quite so," answered the young lord. "It is the problem of slavery, | ||
| + | and we try to solve it by amusing the slaves." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The politician looked at him keenly. | ||
| + | then?" he asked. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry laughed. | ||
| + | except the weather," | ||
| + | contemplation. | ||
| + | through an over-expenditure of sympathy, I would suggest that we should | ||
| + | appeal to science to put us straight. | ||
| + | that they lead us astray, and the advantage of science is that it is | ||
| + | not emotional." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "But we have such grave responsibilities," | ||
| + | timidly. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry looked over at Mr. Erskine. | ||
| + | seriously. | ||
| + | how to laugh, history would have been different." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You are really very comforting," | ||
| + | felt rather guilty when I came to see your dear aunt, for I take no | ||
| + | interest at all in the East End. For the future I shall be able to | ||
| + | look her in the face without a blush." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "A blush is very becoming, Duchess," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Only when one is young," | ||
| + | blushes, it is a very bad sign. Ah! Lord Henry, I wish you would tell | ||
| + | me how to become young again." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He thought for a moment. | ||
| + | committed in your early days, Duchess?" | ||
| + | the table. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "A great many, I fear," she cried. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Then commit them over again," | ||
| + | youth, one has merely to repeat one's follies." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "A delightful theory!" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "A dangerous theory!" | ||
| + | shook her head, but could not help being amused. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | Nowadays most people die of a sort of creeping common sense, and | ||
| + | discover when it is too late that the only things one never regrets are | ||
| + | one's mistakes." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | A laugh ran round the table. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He played with the idea and grew wilful; tossed it into the air and | ||
| + | transformed it; let it escape and recaptured it; made it iridescent | ||
| + | with fancy and winged it with paradox. | ||
| + | on, soared into a philosophy, and philosophy herself became young, and | ||
| + | catching the mad music of pleasure, wearing, one might fancy, her | ||
| + | wine-stained robe and wreath of ivy, danced like a Bacchante over the | ||
| + | hills of life, and mocked the slow Silenus for being sober. | ||
| + | before her like frightened forest things. | ||
| + | press at which wise Omar sits, till the seething grape-juice rose round | ||
| + | her bare limbs in waves of purple bubbles, or crawled in red foam over | ||
| + | the vat's black, dripping, sloping sides. | ||
| + | improvisation. | ||
| + | and the consciousness that amongst his audience there was one whose | ||
| + | temperament he wished to fascinate seemed to give his wit keenness and | ||
| + | to lend colour to his imagination. | ||
| + | irresponsible. | ||
| + | followed his pipe, laughing. | ||
| + | but sat like one under a spell, smiles chasing each other over his lips | ||
| + | and wonder growing grave in his darkening eyes. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | At last, liveried in the costume of the age, reality entered the room | ||
| + | in the shape of a servant to tell the duchess that her carriage was | ||
| + | waiting. | ||
| + | cried. | ||
| + | him to some absurd meeting at Willis' | ||
| + | in the chair. | ||
| + | have a scene in this bonnet. | ||
| + | would ruin it. No, I must go, dear Agatha. | ||
| + | are quite delightful and dreadfully demoralizing. | ||
| + | know what to say about your views. | ||
| + | night. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "For you I would throw over anybody, Duchess," | ||
| + | bow. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Ah! that is very nice, and very wrong of you," she cried; "so mind you | ||
| + | come"; and she swept out of the room, followed by Lady Agatha and the | ||
| + | other ladies. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | When Lord Henry had sat down again, Mr. Erskine moved round, and taking | ||
| + | a chair close to him, placed his hand upon his arm. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You talk books away," he said; "why don't you write one?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am too fond of reading books to care to write them, Mr. Erskine. | ||
| + | should like to write a novel certainly, a novel that would be as lovely | ||
| + | as a Persian carpet and as unreal. | ||
| + | England for anything except newspapers, primers, and encyclopaedias. | ||
| + | Of all people in the world the English have the least sense of the | ||
| + | beauty of literature." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I fear you are right," | ||
| + | literary ambitions, but I gave them up long ago. And now, my dear | ||
| + | young friend, if you will allow me to call you so, may I ask if you | ||
| + | really meant all that you said to us at lunch?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I quite forget what I said," smiled Lord Henry. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Very bad indeed. | ||
| + | anything happens to our good duchess, we shall all look on you as being | ||
| + | primarily responsible. | ||
| + | The generation into which I was born was tedious. | ||
| + | are tired of London, come down to Treadley and expound to me your | ||
| + | philosophy of pleasure over some admirable Burgundy I am fortunate | ||
| + | enough to possess." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I shall be charmed. | ||
| + | It has a perfect host, and a perfect library." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You will complete it," answered the old gentleman with a courteous | ||
| + | bow. "And now I must bid good-bye to your excellent aunt. I am due at | ||
| + | the Athenaeum. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "All of you, Mr. Erskine?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Forty of us, in forty arm-chairs. We are practising for an English | ||
| + | Academy of Letters." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry laughed and rose. "I am going to the park," he cried. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As he was passing out of the door, Dorian Gray touched him on the arm. | ||
| + | "Let me come with you," he murmured. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "But I thought you had promised Basil Hallward to go and see him," | ||
| + | answered Lord Henry. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I would sooner come with you; yes, I feel I must come with you. Do | ||
| + | let me. And you will promise to talk to me all the time? No one talks | ||
| + | so wonderfully as you do." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | "All I want now is to look at life. You may come and look at it with | ||
| + | me, if you care to." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | < | ||
| + | |||
| + | <A NAME=" | ||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | CHAPTER 4 | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | One afternoon, a month later, Dorian Gray was reclining in a luxurious | ||
| + | arm-chair, in the little library of Lord Henry' | ||
| + | was, in its way, a very charming room, with its high panelled | ||
| + | wainscoting of olive-stained oak, its cream-coloured frieze and ceiling | ||
| + | of raised plasterwork, | ||
| + | long-fringed Persian rugs. On a tiny satinwood table stood a statuette | ||
| + | by Clodion, and beside it lay a copy of Les Cent Nouvelles, bound for | ||
| + | Margaret of Valois by Clovis Eve and powdered with the gilt daisies | ||
| + | that Queen had selected for her device. | ||
| + | parrot-tulips were ranged on the mantelshelf, | ||
| + | leaded panes of the window streamed the apricot-coloured light of a | ||
| + | summer day in London. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry had not yet come in. He was always late on principle, his | ||
| + | principle being that punctuality is the thief of time. So the lad was | ||
| + | looking rather sulky, as with listless fingers he turned over the pages | ||
| + | of an elaborately illustrated edition of Manon Lescaut that he had | ||
| + | found in one of the book-cases. The formal monotonous ticking of the | ||
| + | Louis Quatorze clock annoyed him. Once or twice he thought of going | ||
| + | away. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | At last he heard a step outside, and the door opened. | ||
| + | are, Harry!" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am afraid it is not Harry, Mr. Gray," answered a shrill voice. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He glanced quickly round and rose to his feet. "I beg your pardon. | ||
| + | thought& | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You thought it was my husband. | ||
| + | introduce myself. | ||
| + | my husband has got seventeen of them." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Not seventeen, Lady Henry?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Well, eighteen, then. And I saw you with him the other night at the | ||
| + | opera." | ||
| + | vague forget-me-not eyes. She was a curious woman, whose dresses | ||
| + | always looked as if they had been designed in a rage and put on in a | ||
| + | tempest. | ||
| + | was never returned, she had kept all her illusions. | ||
| + | picturesque, | ||
| + | Victoria, and she had a perfect mania for going to church. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "That was at Lohengrin, Lady Henry, I think?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes; it was at dear Lohengrin. | ||
| + | anybody' | ||
| + | people hearing what one says. That is a great advantage, don't you | ||
| + | think so, Mr. Gray?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The same nervous staccato laugh broke from her thin lips, and her | ||
| + | fingers began to play with a long tortoise-shell paper-knife. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian smiled and shook his head: "I am afraid I don't think so, Lady | ||
| + | Henry. | ||
| + | hears bad music, it is one's duty to drown it in conversation." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Ah! that is one of Harry' | ||
| + | Harry' | ||
| + | them. But you must not think I don't like good music. | ||
| + | I am afraid of it. It makes me too romantic. | ||
| + | pianists& | ||
| + | it is about them. Perhaps it is that they are foreigners. | ||
| + | are, ain't they? Even those that are born in England become foreigners | ||
| + | after a time, don't they? It is so clever of them, and such a | ||
| + | compliment to art. Makes it quite cosmopolitan, | ||
| + | never been to any of my parties, have you, Mr. Gray? You must come. I | ||
| + | can't afford orchids, but I spare no expense in foreigners. | ||
| + | one's rooms look so picturesque. | ||
| + | to look for you, to ask you something& | ||
| + | found Mr. Gray here. We have had such a pleasant chat about music. | ||
| + | have quite the same ideas. | ||
| + | But he has been most pleasant. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am charmed, my love, quite charmed," | ||
| + | dark, crescent-shaped eyebrows and looking at them both with an amused | ||
| + | smile. | ||
| + | old brocade in Wardour Street and had to bargain for hours for it. | ||
| + | Nowadays people know the price of everything and the value of nothing." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am afraid I must be going," | ||
| + | awkward silence with her silly sudden laugh. | ||
| + | with the duchess. | ||
| + | dining out, I suppose? | ||
| + | Thornbury' | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I dare say, my dear," said Lord Henry, shutting the door behind her | ||
| + | as, looking like a bird of paradise that had been out all night in the | ||
| + | rain, she flitted out of the room, leaving a faint odour of | ||
| + | frangipanni. | ||
| + | sofa. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Never marry a woman with straw-coloured hair, Dorian," | ||
| + | few puffs. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Why, Harry?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "But I like sentimental people." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Never marry at all, Dorian. | ||
| + | because they are curious: | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I don't think I am likely to marry, Harry. | ||
| + | That is one of your aphorisms. | ||
| + | everything that you say." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Who are you in love with?" asked Lord Henry after a pause. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "With an actress," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry shrugged his shoulders. | ||
| + | < | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You would not say so if you saw her, Harry." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Who is she?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Her name is Sibyl Vane." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Never heard of her." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "No one has. People will some day, however. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear boy, no woman is a genius. | ||
| + | never have anything to say, but they say it charmingly. | ||
| + | represent the triumph of matter over mind, just as men represent the | ||
| + | triumph of mind over morals." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear Dorian, it is quite true. I am analysing women at present, so | ||
| + | I ought to know. The subject is not so abstruse as I thought it was. | ||
| + | I find that, ultimately, there are only two kinds of women, the plain | ||
| + | and the coloured. | ||
| + | gain a reputation for respectability, | ||
| + | to supper. | ||
| + | mistake, however. | ||
| + | grandmothers painted in order to try and talk brilliantly. | ||
| + | < | ||
| + | can look ten years younger than her own daughter, she is perfectly | ||
| + | satisfied. | ||
| + | worth talking to, and two of these can't be admitted into decent | ||
| + | society. | ||
| + | her?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Never mind that. How long have you known her?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "About three weeks." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "And where did you come across her?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I will tell you, Harry, but you mustn' | ||
| + | After all, it never would have happened if I had not met you. You | ||
| + | filled me with a wild desire to know everything about life. For days | ||
| + | after I met you, something seemed to throb in my veins. | ||
| + | in the park, or strolled down Piccadilly, I used to look at every one | ||
| + | who passed me and wonder, with a mad curiosity, what sort of lives they | ||
| + | led. Some of them fascinated me. Others filled me with terror. | ||
| + | was an exquisite poison in the air. I had a passion for sensations.... | ||
| + | Well, one evening about seven o' | ||
| + | of some adventure. | ||
| + | with its myriads of people, its sordid sinners, and its splendid sins, | ||
| + | as you once phrased it, must have something in store for me. I fancied | ||
| + | a thousand things. | ||
| + | remembered what you had said to me on that wonderful evening when we | ||
| + | first dined together, about the search for beauty being the real secret | ||
| + | of life. I don't know what I expected, but I went out and wandered | ||
| + | eastward, soon losing my way in a labyrinth of grimy streets and black | ||
| + | grassless squares. | ||
| + | theatre, with great flaring gas-jets and gaudy play-bills. | ||
| + | Jew, in the most amazing waistcoat I ever beheld in my life, was | ||
| + | standing at the entrance, smoking a vile cigar. | ||
| + | ringlets, and an enormous diamond blazed in the centre of a soiled | ||
| + | shirt. 'Have a box, my Lord?' he said, when he saw me, and he took off | ||
| + | his hat with an air of gorgeous servility. | ||
| + | him, Harry, that amused me. He was such a monster. | ||
| + | me, I know, but I really went in and paid a whole guinea for the | ||
| + | stage-box. To the present day I can't make out why I did so; and yet if | ||
| + | I hadn' | ||
| + | romance of my life. I see you are laughing. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am not laughing, Dorian; at least I am not laughing at you. But you | ||
| + | should not say the greatest romance of your life. You should say the | ||
| + | first romance of your life. You will always be loved, and you will | ||
| + | always be in love with love. A < | ||
| + | people who have nothing to do. That is the one use of the idle classes | ||
| + | of a country. | ||
| + | for you. This is merely the beginning." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Do you think my nature so shallow?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "No; I think your nature so deep." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "How do you mean?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear boy, the people who love only once in their lives are really | ||
| + | the shallow people. | ||
| + | I call either the lethargy of custom or their lack of imagination. | ||
| + | Faithfulness is to the emotional life what consistency is to the life | ||
| + | of the intellect& | ||
| + | must analyse it some day. The passion for property is in it. There | ||
| + | are many things that we would throw away if we were not afraid that | ||
| + | others might pick them up. But I don't want to interrupt you. Go on | ||
| + | with your story." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Well, I found myself seated in a horrid little private box, with a | ||
| + | vulgar drop-scene staring me in the face. I looked out from behind the | ||
| + | curtain and surveyed the house. | ||
| + | cornucopias, | ||
| + | fairly full, but the two rows of dingy stalls were quite empty, and | ||
| + | there was hardly a person in what I suppose they called the | ||
| + | dress-circle. | ||
| + | was a terrible consumption of nuts going on." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It must have been just like the palmy days of the British drama." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Just like, I should fancy, and very depressing. | ||
| + | what on earth I should do when I caught sight of the play-bill. | ||
| + | do you think the play was, Harry?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I should think 'The Idiot Boy', or 'Dumb but Innocent' | ||
| + | used to like that sort of piece, I believe. | ||
| + | the more keenly I feel that whatever was good enough for our fathers is | ||
| + | not good enough for us. In art, as in politics, < | ||
| + | toujours tort</ | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "This play was good enough for us, Harry. | ||
| + | must admit that I was rather annoyed at the idea of seeing Shakespeare | ||
| + | done in such a wretched hole of a place. | ||
| + | a sort of way. At any rate, I determined to wait for the first act. | ||
| + | There was a dreadful orchestra, presided over by a young Hebrew who sat | ||
| + | at a cracked piano, that nearly drove me away, but at last the | ||
| + | drop-scene was drawn up and the play began. | ||
| + | gentleman, with corked eyebrows, a husky tragedy voice, and a figure | ||
| + | like a beer-barrel. Mercutio was almost as bad. He was played by the | ||
| + | low-comedian, | ||
| + | friendly terms with the pit. They were both as grotesque as the | ||
| + | scenery, and that looked as if it had come out of a country-booth. But | ||
| + | Juliet! | ||
| + | little, flowerlike face, a small Greek head with plaited coils of | ||
| + | dark-brown hair, eyes that were violet wells of passion, lips that were | ||
| + | like the petals of a rose. She was the loveliest thing I had ever seen | ||
| + | in my life. You said to me once that pathos left you unmoved, but that | ||
| + | beauty, mere beauty, could fill your eyes with tears. | ||
| + | Harry, I could hardly see this girl for the mist of tears that came | ||
| + | across me. And her voice& | ||
| + | at first, with deep mellow notes that seemed to fall singly upon one's | ||
| + | ear. Then it became a little louder, and sounded like a flute or a | ||
| + | distant hautboy. | ||
| + | that one hears just before dawn when nightingales are singing. | ||
| + | were moments, later on, when it had the wild passion of violins. | ||
| + | know how a voice can stir one. Your voice and the voice of Sibyl Vane | ||
| + | are two things that I shall never forget. | ||
| + | them, and each of them says something different. | ||
| + | follow. | ||
| + | everything to me in life. Night after night I go to see her play. One | ||
| + | evening she is Rosalind, and the next evening she is Imogen. | ||
| + | seen her die in the gloom of an Italian tomb, sucking the poison from | ||
| + | her lover' | ||
| + | Arden, disguised as a pretty boy in hose and doublet and dainty cap. | ||
| + | She has been mad, and has come into the presence of a guilty king, and | ||
| + | given him rue to wear and bitter herbs to taste of. She has been | ||
| + | innocent, and the black hands of jealousy have crushed her reedlike | ||
| + | throat. | ||
| + | women never appeal to one's imagination. | ||
| + | century. | ||
| + | easily as one knows their bonnets. | ||
| + | no mystery in any of them. They ride in the park in the morning and | ||
| + | chatter at tea-parties in the afternoon. | ||
| + | smile and their fashionable manner. | ||
| + | actress! | ||
| + | that the only thing worth loving is an actress?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh, yes, horrid people with dyed hair and painted faces." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | charm in them, sometimes," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I wish now I had not told you about Sibyl Vane." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You could not have helped telling me, Dorian. | ||
| + | you will tell me everything you do." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes, Harry, I believe that is true. I cannot help telling you things. | ||
| + | You have a curious influence over me. If I ever did a crime, I would | ||
| + | come and confess it to you. You would understand me." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | Dorian. | ||
| + | now tell me& | ||
| + | your actual relations with Sibyl Vane?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray leaped to his feet, with flushed cheeks and burning eyes. | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is only the sacred things that are worth touching, Dorian," | ||
| + | Lord Henry, with a strange touch of pathos in his voice. | ||
| + | should you be annoyed? | ||
| + | When one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one's self, and one | ||
| + | always ends by deceiving others. | ||
| + | romance. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Of course I know her. On the first night I was at the theatre, the | ||
| + | horrid old Jew came round to the box after the performance was over and | ||
| + | offered to take me behind the scenes and introduce me to her. I was | ||
| + | furious with him, and told him that Juliet had been dead for hundreds | ||
| + | of years and that her body was lying in a marble tomb in Verona. | ||
| + | think, from his blank look of amazement, that he was under the | ||
| + | impression that I had taken too much champagne, or something." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am not surprised." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Then he asked me if I wrote for any of the newspapers. | ||
| + | never even read them. He seemed terribly disappointed at that, and | ||
| + | confided to me that all the dramatic critics were in a conspiracy | ||
| + | against him, and that they were every one of them to be bought." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I should not wonder if he was quite right there. | ||
| + | hand, judging from their appearance, most of them cannot be at all | ||
| + | expensive." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Well, he seemed to think they were beyond his means," | ||
| + | "By this time, however, the lights were being put out in the theatre, | ||
| + | and I had to go. He wanted me to try some cigars that he strongly | ||
| + | recommended. | ||
| + | place again. | ||
| + | I was a munificent patron of art. He was a most offensive brute, | ||
| + | though he had an extraordinary passion for Shakespeare. | ||
| + | once, with an air of pride, that his five bankruptcies were entirely | ||
| + | due to 'The Bard,' as he insisted on calling him. He seemed to think | ||
| + | it a distinction." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It was a distinction, | ||
| + | people become bankrupt through having invested too heavily in the prose | ||
| + | of life. To have ruined one's self over poetry is an honour. | ||
| + | did you first speak to Miss Sibyl Vane?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "The third night. | ||
| + | going round. | ||
| + | me& | ||
| + | seemed determined to take me behind, so I consented. | ||
| + | not wanting to know her, wasn't it?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "No; I don't think so." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear Harry, why?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I will tell you some other time. Now I want to know about the girl." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | child about her. Her eyes opened wide in exquisite wonder when I told | ||
| + | her what I thought of her performance, | ||
| + | of her power. | ||
| + | grinning at the doorway of the dusty greenroom, making elaborate | ||
| + | speeches about us both, while we stood looking at each other like | ||
| + | children. | ||
| + | Sibyl that I was not anything of the kind. She said quite simply to | ||
| + | me, 'You look more like a prince. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Upon my word, Dorian, Miss Sibyl knows how to pay compliments." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You don't understand her, Harry. | ||
| + | in a play. She knows nothing of life. She lives with her mother, a | ||
| + | faded tired woman who played Lady Capulet in a sort of magenta | ||
| + | dressing-wrapper on the first night, and looks as if she had seen | ||
| + | better days." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I know that look. It depresses me," murmured Lord Henry, examining | ||
| + | his rings. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "The Jew wanted to tell me her history, but I said it did not interest | ||
| + | me." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You were quite right. | ||
| + | other people' | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Sibyl is the only thing I care about. | ||
| + | from? From her little head to her little feet, she is absolutely and | ||
| + | entirely divine. | ||
| + | night she is more marvellous." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "That is the reason, I suppose, that you never dine with me now. I | ||
| + | thought you must have some curious romance on hand. You have; but it | ||
| + | is not quite what I expected." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear Harry, we either lunch or sup together every day, and I have | ||
| + | been to the opera with you several times," | ||
| + | blue eyes in wonder. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You always come dreadfully late." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Well, I can't help going to see Sibyl play," he cried, "even if it is | ||
| + | only for a single act. I get hungry for her presence; and when I think | ||
| + | of the wonderful soul that is hidden away in that little ivory body, I | ||
| + | am filled with awe." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You can dine with me to-night, Dorian, can't you?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He shook his head. " | ||
| + | to-morrow night she will be Juliet." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "When is she Sibyl Vane?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I congratulate you." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "How horrid you are! She is all the great heroines of the world in | ||
| + | one. She is more than an individual. | ||
| + | has genius. | ||
| + | all the secrets of life, tell me how to charm Sibyl Vane to love me! I | ||
| + | want to make Romeo jealous. | ||
| + | hear our laughter and grow sad. I want a breath of our passion to stir | ||
| + | their dust into consciousness, | ||
| + | Harry, how I worship her!" | ||
| + | spoke. | ||
| + | excited. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry watched him with a subtle sense of pleasure. | ||
| + | he was now from the shy frightened boy he had met in Basil Hallward' | ||
| + | studio! | ||
| + | scarlet flame. | ||
| + | desire had come to meet it on the way. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "And what do you propose to do?" said Lord Henry at last. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I want you and Basil to come with me some night and see her act. I | ||
| + | have not the slightest fear of the result. | ||
| + | acknowledge her genius. | ||
| + | She is bound to him for three years& | ||
| + | months& | ||
| + | course. | ||
| + | bring her out properly. | ||
| + | me." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "That would be impossible, my dear boy." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes, she will. She has not merely art, consummate art-instinct, | ||
| + | her, but she has personality also; and you have often told me that it | ||
| + | is personalities, | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Well, what night shall we go?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Let me see. To-day is Tuesday. | ||
| + | Juliet to-morrow." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "All right. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Not eight, Harry, please. | ||
| + | curtain rises. | ||
| + | Romeo." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | reading an English novel. | ||
| + | seven. | ||
| + | him?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Dear Basil! | ||
| + | horrid of me, as he has sent me my portrait in the most wonderful | ||
| + | frame, specially designed by himself, and, though I am a little jealous | ||
| + | of the picture for being a whole month younger than I am, I must admit | ||
| + | that I delight in it. Perhaps you had better write to him. I don't | ||
| + | want to see him alone. | ||
| + | advice." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry smiled. | ||
| + | most themselves. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh, Basil is the best of fellows, but he seems to me to be just a bit | ||
| + | of a Philistine. | ||
| + | that." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | work. The consequence is that he has nothing left for life but his | ||
| + | prejudices, his principles, and his common sense. | ||
| + | have ever known who are personally delightful are bad artists. | ||
| + | artists exist simply in what they make, and consequently are perfectly | ||
| + | uninteresting in what they are. A great poet, a really great poet, is | ||
| + | the most unpoetical of all creatures. | ||
| + | absolutely fascinating. | ||
| + | picturesque they look. The mere fact of having published a book of | ||
| + | second-rate sonnets makes a man quite irresistible. | ||
| + | poetry that he cannot write. | ||
| + | dare not realize." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I wonder is that really so, Harry?" | ||
| + | perfume on his handkerchief out of a large, gold-topped bottle that | ||
| + | stood on the table. | ||
| + | Imogen is waiting for me. Don't forget about to-morrow. Good-bye." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As he left the room, Lord Henry' | ||
| + | to think. | ||
| + | Dorian Gray, and yet the lad's mad adoration of some one else caused | ||
| + | him not the slightest pang of annoyance or jealousy. | ||
| + | it. It made him a more interesting study. | ||
| + | enthralled by the methods of natural science, but the ordinary | ||
| + | subject-matter of that science had seemed to him trivial and of no | ||
| + | import. | ||
| + | vivisecting others. | ||
| + | worth investigating. | ||
| + | value. | ||
| + | pain and pleasure, one could not wear over one's face a mask of glass, | ||
| + | nor keep the sulphurous fumes from troubling the brain and making the | ||
| + | imagination turbid with monstrous fancies and misshapen dreams. | ||
| + | were poisons so subtle that to know their properties one had to sicken | ||
| + | of them. There were maladies so strange that one had to pass through | ||
| + | them if one sought to understand their nature. | ||
| + | reward one received! | ||
| + | note the curious hard logic of passion, and the emotional coloured life | ||
| + | of the intellect& | ||
| + | at what point they were in unison, and at what point they were at | ||
| + | discord& | ||
| + | One could never pay too high a price for any sensation. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He was conscious& | ||
| + | brown agate eyes& | ||
| + | words said with musical utterance, that Dorian Gray's soul had turned | ||
| + | to this white girl and bowed in worship before her. To a large extent | ||
| + | the lad was his own creation. | ||
| + | something. | ||
| + | secrets, but to the few, to the elect, the mysteries of life were | ||
| + | revealed before the veil was drawn away. Sometimes this was the effect | ||
| + | of art, and chiefly of the art of literature, which dealt immediately | ||
| + | with the passions and the intellect. | ||
| + | personality took the place and assumed the office of art, was indeed, | ||
| + | in its way, a real work of art, life having its elaborate masterpieces, | ||
| + | just as poetry has, or sculpture, or painting. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Yes, the lad was premature. | ||
| + | yet spring. | ||
| + | becoming self-conscious. It was delightful to watch him. With his | ||
| + | beautiful face, and his beautiful soul, he was a thing to wonder at. | ||
| + | It was no matter how it all ended, or was destined to end. He was like | ||
| + | one of those gracious figures in a pageant or a play, whose joys seem | ||
| + | to be remote from one, but whose sorrows stir one's sense of beauty, | ||
| + | and whose wounds are like red roses. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Soul and body, body and soul& | ||
| + | animalism in the soul, and the body had its moments of spirituality. | ||
| + | The senses could refine, and the intellect could degrade. | ||
| + | say where the fleshly impulse ceased, or the psychical impulse began? | ||
| + | How shallow were the arbitrary definitions of ordinary psychologists! | ||
| + | And yet how difficult to decide between the claims of the various | ||
| + | schools! | ||
| + | body really in the soul, as Giordano Bruno thought? | ||
| + | spirit from matter was a mystery, and the union of spirit with matter | ||
| + | was a mystery also. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He began to wonder whether we could ever make psychology so absolute a | ||
| + | science that each little spring of life would be revealed to us. As it | ||
| + | was, we always misunderstood ourselves and rarely understood others. | ||
| + | Experience was of no ethical value. | ||
| + | their mistakes. | ||
| + | warning, had claimed for it a certain ethical efficacy in the formation | ||
| + | of character, had praised it as something that taught us what to follow | ||
| + | and showed us what to avoid. | ||
| + | experience. | ||
| + | All that it really demonstrated was that our future would be the same | ||
| + | as our past, and that the sin we had done once, and with loathing, we | ||
| + | would do many times, and with joy. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | It was clear to him that the experimental method was the only method by | ||
| + | which one could arrive at any scientific analysis of the passions; and | ||
| + | certainly Dorian Gray was a subject made to his hand, and seemed to | ||
| + | promise rich and fruitful results. | ||
| + | was a psychological phenomenon of no small interest. | ||
| + | doubt that curiosity had much to do with it, curiosity and the desire | ||
| + | for new experiences, | ||
| + | passion. | ||
| + | boyhood had been transformed by the workings of the imagination, | ||
| + | changed into something that seemed to the lad himself to be remote from | ||
| + | sense, and was for that very reason all the more dangerous. | ||
| + | passions about whose origin we deceived ourselves that tyrannized most | ||
| + | strongly over us. Our weakest motives were those of whose nature we | ||
| + | were conscious. | ||
| + | experimenting on others we were really experimenting on ourselves. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | While Lord Henry sat dreaming on these things, a knock came to the | ||
| + | door, and his valet entered and reminded him it was time to dress for | ||
| + | dinner. | ||
| + | smitten into scarlet gold the upper windows of the houses opposite. | ||
| + | The panes glowed like plates of heated metal. | ||
| + | faded rose. He thought of his friend' | ||
| + | wondered how it was all going to end. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | When he arrived home, about half-past twelve o' | ||
| + | lying on the hall table. | ||
| + | Gray. It was to tell him that he was engaged to be married to Sibyl | ||
| + | Vane. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | < | ||
| + | |||
| + | <A NAME=" | ||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | CHAPTER 5 | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | in the lap of the faded, tired-looking woman who, with back turned to | ||
| + | the shrill intrusive light, was sitting in the one arm-chair that their | ||
| + | dingy sitting-room contained. | ||
| + | must be happy, too!" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Mrs. Vane winced and put her thin, bismuth-whitened hands on her | ||
| + | daughter' | ||
| + | see you act. You must not think of anything but your acting. | ||
| + | Isaacs has been very good to us, and we owe him money." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The girl looked up and pouted. | ||
| + | money matter? | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Mr. Isaacs has advanced us fifty pounds to pay off our debts and to | ||
| + | get a proper outfit for James. | ||
| + | pounds is a very large sum. Mr. Isaacs has been most considerate." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "He is not a gentleman, Mother, and I hate the way he talks to me," | ||
| + | said the girl, rising to her feet and going over to the window. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I don't know how we could manage without him," answered the elder | ||
| + | woman querulously. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Sibyl Vane tossed her head and laughed. | ||
| + | Mother. | ||
| + | rose shook in her blood and shadowed her cheeks. | ||
| + | the petals of her lips. They trembled. | ||
| + | swept over her and stirred the dainty folds of her dress. | ||
| + | him," she said simply. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | The waving of crooked, false-jewelled fingers gave grotesqueness to the | ||
| + | words. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The girl laughed again. | ||
| + | eyes caught the melody and echoed it in radiance, then closed for a | ||
| + | moment, as though to hide their secret. | ||
| + | a dream had passed across them. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Thin-lipped wisdom spoke at her from the worn chair, hinted at | ||
| + | prudence, quoted from that book of cowardice whose author apes the name | ||
| + | of common sense. | ||
| + | passion. | ||
| + | memory to remake him. She had sent her soul to search for him, and it | ||
| + | had brought him back. His kiss burned again upon her mouth. | ||
| + | eyelids were warm with his breath. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Then wisdom altered its method and spoke of espial and discovery. | ||
| + | young man might be rich. If so, marriage should be thought of. | ||
| + | Against the shell of her ear broke the waves of worldly cunning. | ||
| + | arrows of craft shot by her. She saw the thin lips moving, and smiled. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Suddenly she felt the need to speak. | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | I love him. I love him because he is like what love himself should be. | ||
| + | But what does he see in me? I am not worthy of him. And yet& | ||
| + | cannot tell& | ||
| + | feel proud, terribly proud. | ||
| + | Prince Charming?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The elder woman grew pale beneath the coarse powder that daubed her | ||
| + | cheeks, and her dry lips twitched with a spasm of pain. Sybil rushed | ||
| + | to her, flung her arms round her neck, and kissed her. " | ||
| + | Mother. | ||
| + | pains you because you loved him so much. Don't look so sad. I am as | ||
| + | happy to-day as you were twenty years ago. Ah! let me be happy for | ||
| + | ever!" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My child, you are far too young to think of falling in love. Besides, | ||
| + | what do you know of this young man? You don't even know his name. The | ||
| + | whole thing is most inconvenient, | ||
| + | to Australia, and I have so much to think of, I must say that you | ||
| + | should have shown more consideration. | ||
| + | is rich ..." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Mrs. Vane glanced at her, and with one of those false theatrical | ||
| + | gestures that so often become a mode of second nature to a | ||
| + | stage-player, | ||
| + | and a young lad with rough brown hair came into the room. He was | ||
| + | thick-set of figure, and his hands and feet were large and somewhat | ||
| + | clumsy in movement. | ||
| + | would hardly have guessed the close relationship that existed between | ||
| + | them. Mrs. Vane fixed her eyes on him and intensified her smile. | ||
| + | mentally elevated her son to the dignity of an audience. | ||
| + | that the < | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You might keep some of your kisses for me, Sibyl, I think," | ||
| + | lad with a good-natured grumble. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Ah! but you don't like being kissed, Jim," she cried. | ||
| + | dreadful old bear." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | James Vane looked into his sister' | ||
| + | to come out with me for a walk, Sibyl. | ||
| + | see this horrid London again. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My son, don't say such dreadful things," | ||
| + | a tawdry theatrical dress, with a sigh, and beginning to patch it. She | ||
| + | felt a little disappointed that he had not joined the group. | ||
| + | have increased the theatrical picturesqueness of the situation. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Why not, Mother? | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You pain me, my son. I trust you will return from Australia in a | ||
| + | position of affluence. | ||
| + | the Colonies& | ||
| + | your fortune, you must come back and assert yourself in London." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | that. I should like to make some money to take you and Sibyl off the | ||
| + | stage. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh, Jim!" said Sibyl, laughing, "how unkind of you! But are you | ||
| + | really going for a walk with me? That will be nice! I was afraid you | ||
| + | were going to say good-bye to some of your friends& | ||
| + | gave you that hideous pipe, or Ned Langton, who makes fun of you for | ||
| + | smoking it. It is very sweet of you to let me have your last | ||
| + | afternoon. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am too shabby," | ||
| + | park." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He hesitated for a moment. | ||
| + | too long dressing." | ||
| + | singing as she ran upstairs. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He walked up and down the room two or three times. | ||
| + | the still figure in the chair. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Quite ready, James," | ||
| + | some months past she had felt ill at ease when she was alone with this | ||
| + | rough stern son of hers. Her shallow secret nature was troubled when | ||
| + | their eyes met. She used to wonder if he suspected anything. | ||
| + | silence, for he made no other observation, | ||
| + | She began to complain. | ||
| + | they attack by sudden and strange surrenders. | ||
| + | contented, James, with your sea-faring life," she said. "You must | ||
| + | remember that it is your own choice. | ||
| + | solicitor' | ||
| + | the country often dine with the best families." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I hate offices, and I hate clerks," | ||
| + | right. | ||
| + | Don't let her come to any harm. Mother, you must watch over her." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I hear a gentleman comes every night to the theatre and goes behind to | ||
| + | talk to her. Is that right? | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You are speaking about things you don't understand, James. | ||
| + | profession we are accustomed to receive a great deal of most gratifying | ||
| + | attention. | ||
| + | was when acting was really understood. | ||
| + | present whether her attachment is serious or not. But there is no | ||
| + | doubt that the young man in question is a perfect gentleman. | ||
| + | always most polite to me. Besides, he has the appearance of being | ||
| + | rich, and the flowers he sends are lovely." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You don't know his name, though," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | has not yet revealed his real name. I think it is quite romantic of | ||
| + | him. He is probably a member of the aristocracy." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | James Vane bit his lip. "Watch over Sibyl, Mother," | ||
| + | over her." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My son, you distress me very much. Sibyl is always under my special | ||
| + | care. Of course, if this gentleman is wealthy, there is no reason why | ||
| + | she should not contract an alliance with him. I trust he is one of the | ||
| + | aristocracy. | ||
| + | a most brilliant marriage for Sibyl. | ||
| + | couple. | ||
| + | them." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The lad muttered something to himself and drummed on the window-pane | ||
| + | with his coarse fingers. | ||
| + | when the door opened and Sibyl ran in. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "How serious you both are!" she cried. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | Good-bye, Mother; I will have my dinner at five o' | ||
| + | packed, except my shirts, so you need not trouble." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She was extremely annoyed at the tone he had adopted with her, and | ||
| + | there was something in his look that had made her feel afraid. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Kiss me, Mother," | ||
| + | withered cheek and warmed its frost. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My child! my child!" | ||
| + | search of an imaginary gallery. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Come, Sibyl," | ||
| + | affectations. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | They went out into the flickering, wind-blown sunlight and strolled | ||
| + | down the dreary Euston Road. The passersby glanced in wonder at the | ||
| + | sullen heavy youth who, in coarse, ill-fitting clothes, was in the | ||
| + | company of such a graceful, refined-looking girl. He was like a common | ||
| + | gardener walking with a rose. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Jim frowned from time to time when he caught the inquisitive glance of | ||
| + | some stranger. | ||
| + | geniuses late in life and never leaves the commonplace. | ||
| + | however, was quite unconscious of the effect she was producing. | ||
| + | love was trembling in laughter on her lips. She was thinking of Prince | ||
| + | Charming, and, that she might think of him all the more, she did not | ||
| + | talk of him, but prattled on about the ship in which Jim was going to | ||
| + | sail, about the gold he was certain to find, about the wonderful | ||
| + | heiress whose life he was to save from the wicked, red-shirted | ||
| + | bushrangers. | ||
| + | whatever he was going to be. Oh, no! A sailor' | ||
| + | dreadful. | ||
| + | hump-backed waves trying to get in, and a black wind blowing the masts | ||
| + | down and tearing the sails into long screaming ribands! | ||
| + | leave the vessel at Melbourne, bid a polite good-bye to the captain, | ||
| + | and go off at once to the gold-fields. Before a week was over he was to | ||
| + | come across a large nugget of pure gold, the largest nugget that had | ||
| + | ever been discovered, and bring it down to the coast in a waggon | ||
| + | guarded by six mounted policemen. | ||
| + | three times, and be defeated with immense slaughter. | ||
| + | not to go to the gold-fields at all. They were horrid places, where | ||
| + | men got intoxicated, | ||
| + | language. | ||
| + | riding home, he was to see the beautiful heiress being carried off by a | ||
| + | robber on a black horse, and give chase, and rescue her. Of course, | ||
| + | she would fall in love with him, and he with her, and they would get | ||
| + | married, and come home, and live in an immense house in London. | ||
| + | there were delightful things in store for him. But he must be very | ||
| + | good, and not lose his temper, or spend his money foolishly. | ||
| + | only a year older than he was, but she knew so much more of life. He | ||
| + | must be sure, also, to write to her by every mail, and to say his | ||
| + | prayers each night before he went to sleep. | ||
| + | would watch over him. She would pray for him, too, and in a few years | ||
| + | he would come back quite rich and happy. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The lad listened sulkily to her and made no answer. | ||
| + | at leaving home. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Yet it was not this alone that made him gloomy and morose. | ||
| + | Inexperienced though he was, he had still a strong sense of the danger | ||
| + | of Sibyl' | ||
| + | mean her no good. He was a gentleman, and he hated him for that, hated | ||
| + | him through some curious race-instinct for which he could not account, | ||
| + | and which for that reason was all the more dominant within him. He was | ||
| + | conscious also of the shallowness and vanity of his mother' | ||
| + | and in that saw infinite peril for Sibyl and Sibyl' | ||
| + | Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge | ||
| + | them; sometimes they forgive them. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | His mother! | ||
| + | he had brooded on for many months of silence. | ||
| + | had heard at the theatre, a whispered sneer that had reached his ears | ||
| + | one night as he waited at the stage-door, had set loose a train of | ||
| + | horrible thoughts. | ||
| + | hunting-crop across his face. His brows knit together into a wedge-like | ||
| + | furrow, and with a twitch of pain he bit his underlip. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You are not listening to a word I am saying, Jim," cried Sibyl, "and I | ||
| + | am making the most delightful plans for your future. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What do you want me to say?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh! that you will be a good boy and not forget us," she answered, | ||
| + | smiling at him. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He shrugged his shoulders. | ||
| + | to forget you, Sibyl." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She flushed. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You have a new friend, I hear. Who is he? Why have you not told me | ||
| + | about him? He means you no good." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Stop, Jim!" she exclaimed. | ||
| + | love him." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Why, you don't even know his name," answered the lad. "Who is he? I | ||
| + | have a right to know." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "He is called Prince Charming. | ||
| + | boy! you should never forget it. If you only saw him, you would think | ||
| + | him the most wonderful person in the world. | ||
| + | him& | ||
| + | Everybody likes him, and I ... love him. I wish you could come to the | ||
| + | theatre to-night. He is going to be there, and I am to play Juliet. | ||
| + | Oh! how I shall play it! Fancy, Jim, to be in love and play Juliet! | ||
| + | To have him sitting there! | ||
| + | frighten the company, frighten or enthrall them. To be in love is to | ||
| + | surpass one's self. Poor dreadful Mr. Isaacs will be shouting ' | ||
| + | to his loafers at the bar. He has preached me as a dogma; to-night he | ||
| + | will announce me as a revelation. | ||
| + | only, Prince Charming, my wonderful lover, my god of graces. | ||
| + | poor beside him. Poor? What does that matter? | ||
| + | at the door, love flies in through the window. | ||
| + | rewriting. | ||
| + | for me, I think, a very dance of blossoms in blue skies." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "He is a gentleman," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "A prince!" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "He wants to enslave you." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I shudder at the thought of being free." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I want you to beware of him." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "To see him is to worship him; to know him is to trust him." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She laughed and took his arm. "You dear old Jim, you talk as if you | ||
| + | were a hundred. | ||
| + | know what it is. Don't look so sulky. | ||
| + | think that, though you are going away, you leave me happier than I have | ||
| + | ever been before. | ||
| + | difficult. | ||
| + | world, and I have found one. Here are two chairs; let us sit down and | ||
| + | see the smart people go by." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | They took their seats amidst a crowd of watchers. | ||
| + | across the road flamed like throbbing rings of fire. A white | ||
| + | dust& | ||
| + | The brightly coloured parasols danced and dipped like monstrous | ||
| + | butterflies. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She made her brother talk of himself, his hopes, his prospects. | ||
| + | spoke slowly and with effort. | ||
| + | players at a game pass counters. | ||
| + | communicate her joy. A faint smile curving that sullen mouth was all | ||
| + | the echo she could win. After some time she became silent. | ||
| + | she caught a glimpse of golden hair and laughing lips, and in an open | ||
| + | carriage with two ladies Dorian Gray drove past. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She started to her feet. "There he is!" she cried. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He jumped up and seized her roughly by the arm. "Show him to me. | ||
| + | Which is he? Point him out. I must see him!" he exclaimed; but at | ||
| + | that moment the Duke of Berwick' | ||
| + | it had left the space clear, the carriage had swept out of the park. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "He is gone," murmured Sibyl sadly. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I wish I had, for as sure as there is a God in heaven, if he ever does | ||
| + | you any wrong, I shall kill him." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She looked at him in horror. | ||
| + | like a dagger. | ||
| + | to her tittered. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Come away, Jim; come away," she whispered. | ||
| + | as she passed through the crowd. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | When they reached the Achilles Statue, she turned round. | ||
| + | pity in her eyes that became laughter on her lips. She shook her head | ||
| + | at him. "You are foolish, Jim, utterly foolish; a bad-tempered boy, | ||
| + | that is all. How can you say such horrible things? | ||
| + | what you are talking about. | ||
| + | wish you would fall in love. Love makes people good, and what you said | ||
| + | was wicked." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am sixteen," | ||
| + | help to you. She doesn' | ||
| + | that I was not going to Australia at all. I have a great mind to chuck | ||
| + | the whole thing up. I would, if my articles hadn't been signed." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh, don't be so serious, Jim. You are like one of the heroes of those | ||
| + | silly melodramas Mother used to be so fond of acting in. I am not | ||
| + | going to quarrel with you. I have seen him, and oh! to see him is | ||
| + | perfect happiness. | ||
| + | one I love, would you?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Not as long as you love him, I suppose," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I shall love him for ever!" she cried. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "And he?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "For ever, too!" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "He had better." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She shrank from him. Then she laughed and put her hand on his arm. He | ||
| + | was merely a boy. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | At the Marble Arch they hailed an omnibus, which left them close to | ||
| + | their shabby home in the Euston Road. It was after five o' | ||
| + | Sibyl had to lie down for a couple of hours before acting. | ||
| + | insisted that she should do so. He said that he would sooner part with | ||
| + | her when their mother was not present. | ||
| + | scene, and he detested scenes of every kind. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | In Sybil' | ||
| + | heart, and a fierce murderous hatred of the stranger who, as it seemed | ||
| + | to him, had come between them. Yet, when her arms were flung round his | ||
| + | neck, and her fingers strayed through his hair, he softened and kissed | ||
| + | her with real affection. | ||
| + | downstairs. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | His mother was waiting for him below. | ||
| + | unpunctuality, | ||
| + | meagre meal. The flies buzzed round the table and crawled over the | ||
| + | stained cloth. | ||
| + | street-cabs, | ||
| + | was left to him. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | After some time, he thrust away his plate and put his head in his | ||
| + | hands. | ||
| + | to him before, if it was as he suspected. | ||
| + | watched him. Words dropped mechanically from her lips. A tattered | ||
| + | lace handkerchief twitched in her fingers. | ||
| + | he got up and went to the door. Then he turned back and looked at her. | ||
| + | Their eyes met. In hers he saw a wild appeal for mercy. | ||
| + | him. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | vaguely about the room. She made no answer. | ||
| + | have a right to know. Were you married to my father?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She heaved a deep sigh. It was a sigh of relief. | ||
| + | the moment that night and day, for weeks and months, she had dreaded, | ||
| + | had come at last, and yet she felt no terror. | ||
| + | it was a disappointment to her. The vulgar directness of the question | ||
| + | called for a direct answer. | ||
| + | up to. It was crude. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My father was a scoundrel then!" cried the lad, clenching his fists. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She shook her head. "I knew he was not free. We loved each other very | ||
| + | much. If he had lived, he would have made provision for us. Don't | ||
| + | speak against him, my son. He was your father, and a gentleman. | ||
| + | Indeed, he was highly connected." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | An oath broke from his lips. "I don't care for myself," | ||
| + | "but don't let Sibyl.... It is a gentleman, isn't it, who is in love | ||
| + | with her, or says he is? Highly connected, too, I suppose." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | For a moment a hideous sense of humiliation came over the woman. | ||
| + | head drooped. | ||
| + | mother," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The lad was touched. | ||
| + | her. "I am sorry if I have pained you by asking about my father," | ||
| + | said, "but I could not help it. I must go now. Good-bye. Don't forget | ||
| + | that you will have only one child now to look after, and believe me | ||
| + | that if this man wrongs my sister, I will find out who he is, track him | ||
| + | down, and kill him like a dog. I swear it." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The exaggerated folly of the threat, the passionate gesture that | ||
| + | accompanied it, the mad melodramatic words, made life seem more vivid | ||
| + | to her. She was familiar with the atmosphere. | ||
| + | freely, and for the first time for many months she really admired her | ||
| + | son. She would have liked to have continued the scene on the same | ||
| + | emotional scale, but he cut her short. | ||
| + | and mufflers looked for. The lodging-house drudge bustled in and out. | ||
| + | There was the bargaining with the cabman. | ||
| + | vulgar details. | ||
| + | she waved the tattered lace handkerchief from the window, as her son | ||
| + | drove away. She was conscious that a great opportunity had been | ||
| + | wasted. | ||
| + | her life would be, now that she had only one child to look after. | ||
| + | remembered the phrase. | ||
| + | nothing. | ||
| + | they would all laugh at it some day. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | < | ||
| + | |||
| + | <A NAME=" | ||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | CHAPTER 6 | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I suppose you have heard the news, Basil?" | ||
| + | evening as Hallward was shown into a little private room at the Bristol | ||
| + | where dinner had been laid for three. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "No, Harry," | ||
| + | waiter. | ||
| + | interest me. There is hardly a single person in the House of Commons | ||
| + | worth painting, though many of them would be the better for a little | ||
| + | whitewashing." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | as he spoke. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Hallward started and then frowned. | ||
| + | cried. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is perfectly true." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "To whom?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "To some little actress or other." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I can't believe it. Dorian is far too sensible." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | Basil." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | he was married. | ||
| + | difference. | ||
| + | no recollection at all of being engaged. | ||
| + | never was engaged." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "But think of Dorian' | ||
| + | absurd for him to marry so much beneath him." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "If you want to make him marry this girl, tell him that, Basil. | ||
| + | sure to do it, then. Whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it | ||
| + | is always from the noblest motives." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I hope the girl is good, Harry. | ||
| + | some vile creature, who might degrade his nature and ruin his | ||
| + | intellect." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh, she is better than good& | ||
| + | sipping a glass of vermouth and orange-bitters. " | ||
| + | beautiful, and he is not often wrong about things of that kind. Your | ||
| + | portrait of him has quickened his appreciation of the personal | ||
| + | appearance of other people. | ||
| + | others. | ||
| + | appointment." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Are you serious?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Quite serious, Basil. | ||
| + | ever be more serious than I am at the present moment." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "But do you approve of it, Harry?" | ||
| + | down the room and biting his lip. "You can't approve of it, possibly. | ||
| + | It is some silly infatuation." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I never approve, or disapprove, of anything now. It is an absurd | ||
| + | attitude to take towards life. We are not sent into the world to air | ||
| + | our moral prejudices. | ||
| + | say, and I never interfere with what charming people do. If a | ||
| + | personality fascinates me, whatever mode of expression that personality | ||
| + | selects is absolutely delightful to me. Dorian Gray falls in love with | ||
| + | a beautiful girl who acts Juliet, and proposes to marry her. Why not? | ||
| + | If he wedded Messalina, he would be none the less interesting. | ||
| + | know I am not a champion of marriage. | ||
| + | that it makes one unselfish. | ||
| + | They lack individuality. | ||
| + | marriage makes more complex. | ||
| + | many other egos. They are forced to have more than one life. They | ||
| + | become more highly organized, and to be highly organized is, I should | ||
| + | fancy, the object of man's existence. | ||
| + | value, and whatever one may say against marriage, it is certainly an | ||
| + | experience. | ||
| + | passionately adore her for six months, and then suddenly become | ||
| + | fascinated by some one else. He would be a wonderful study." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You don't mean a single word of all that, Harry; you know you don't. | ||
| + | If Dorian Gray's life were spoiled, no one would be sorrier than | ||
| + | yourself. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry laughed. | ||
| + | is that we are all afraid for ourselves. | ||
| + | sheer terror. | ||
| + | neighbour with the possession of those virtues that are likely to be a | ||
| + | benefit to us. We praise the banker that we may overdraw our account, | ||
| + | and find good qualities in the highwayman in the hope that he may spare | ||
| + | our pockets. | ||
| + | contempt for optimism. | ||
| + | one whose growth is arrested. | ||
| + | merely to reform it. As for marriage, of course that would be silly, | ||
| + | but there are other and more interesting bonds between men and women. | ||
| + | I will certainly encourage them. They have the charm of being | ||
| + | fashionable. | ||
| + | can." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear Harry, my dear Basil, you must both congratulate me!" said the | ||
| + | lad, throwing off his evening cape with its satin-lined wings and | ||
| + | shaking each of his friends by the hand in turn. "I have never been so | ||
| + | happy. | ||
| + | yet it seems to me to be the one thing I have been looking for all my | ||
| + | life." He was flushed with excitement and pleasure, and looked | ||
| + | extraordinarily handsome. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I hope you will always be very happy, Dorian," | ||
| + | don't quite forgive you for not having let me know of your engagement. | ||
| + | You let Harry know." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "And I don't forgive you for being late for dinner," | ||
| + | Henry, putting his hand on the lad's shoulder and smiling as he spoke. | ||
| + | "Come, let us sit down and try what the new < | ||
| + | you will tell us how it all came about." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "There is really not much to tell," cried Dorian as they took their | ||
| + | seats at the small round table. | ||
| + | I left you yesterday evening, Harry, I dressed, had some dinner at that | ||
| + | little Italian restaurant in Rupert Street you introduced me to, and | ||
| + | went down at eight o' | ||
| + | Of course, the scenery was dreadful and the Orlando absurd. | ||
| + | You should have seen her! When she came on in her boy's clothes, she | ||
| + | was perfectly wonderful. | ||
| + | cinnamon sleeves, slim, brown, cross-gartered hose, a dainty little | ||
| + | green cap with a hawk's feather caught in a jewel, and a hooded cloak | ||
| + | lined with dull red. She had never seemed to me more exquisite. | ||
| + | had all the delicate grace of that Tanagra figurine that you have in | ||
| + | your studio, Basil. | ||
| + | round a pale rose. As for her acting& | ||
| + | to-night. She is simply a born artist. | ||
| + | absolutely enthralled. | ||
| + | nineteenth century. | ||
| + | had ever seen. After the performance was over, I went behind and spoke | ||
| + | to her. As we were sitting together, suddenly there came into her eyes | ||
| + | a look that I had never seen there before. | ||
| + | We kissed each other. | ||
| + | moment. | ||
| + | perfect point of rose-coloured joy. She trembled all over and shook | ||
| + | like a white narcissus. | ||
| + | my hands. | ||
| + | it. Of course, our engagement is a dead secret. | ||
| + | her own mother. | ||
| + | is sure to be furious. | ||
| + | year, and then I can do what I like. I have been right, Basil, haven' | ||
| + | I, to take my love out of poetry and to find my wife in Shakespeare' | ||
| + | plays? | ||
| + | secret in my ear. I have had the arms of Rosalind around me, and | ||
| + | kissed Juliet on the mouth." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes, Dorian, I suppose you were right," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Have you seen her to-day?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray shook his head. "I left her in the forest of Arden; I | ||
| + | shall find her in an orchard in Verona." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry sipped his champagne in a meditative manner. | ||
| + | particular point did you mention the word marriage, Dorian? | ||
| + | did she say in answer? | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear Harry, I did not treat it as a business transaction, | ||
| + | not make any formal proposal. | ||
| + | said she was not worthy to be my wife. Not worthy! | ||
| + | world is nothing to me compared with her." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Women are wonderfully practical," | ||
| + | practical than we are. In situations of that kind we often forget to | ||
| + | say anything about marriage, and they always remind us." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Hallward laid his hand upon his arm. " | ||
| + | Dorian. | ||
| + | any one. His nature is too fine for that." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry looked across the table. | ||
| + | he answered. | ||
| + | the only reason, indeed, that excuses one for asking any | ||
| + | question& | ||
| + | women who propose to us, and not we who propose to the women. | ||
| + | of course, in middle-class life. But then the middle classes are not | ||
| + | modern." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray laughed, and tossed his head. "You are quite incorrigible, | ||
| + | Harry; but I don't mind. It is impossible to be angry with you. When | ||
| + | you see Sibyl Vane, you will feel that the man who could wrong her | ||
| + | would be a beast, a beast without a heart. | ||
| + | one can wish to shame the thing he loves. | ||
| + | to place her on a pedestal of gold and to see the world worship the | ||
| + | woman who is mine. What is marriage? | ||
| + | it for that. Ah! don't mock. It is an irrevocable vow that I want to | ||
| + | take. Her trust makes me faithful, her belief makes me good. When I | ||
| + | am with her, I regret all that you have taught me. I become different | ||
| + | from what you have known me to be. I am changed, and the mere touch of | ||
| + | Sibyl Vane's hand makes me forget you and all your wrong, fascinating, | ||
| + | poisonous, delightful theories." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "And those are ...?" asked Lord Henry, helping himself to some salad. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh, your theories about life, your theories about love, your theories | ||
| + | about pleasure. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | in his slow melodious voice. | ||
| + | as my own. It belongs to Nature, not to me. Pleasure is Nature' | ||
| + | test, her sign of approval. | ||
| + | when we are good, we are not always happy." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Ah! but what do you mean by good?" cried Basil Hallward. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | Henry over the heavy clusters of purple-lipped irises that stood in the | ||
| + | centre of the table, "what do you mean by good, Harry?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "To be good is to be in harmony with one's self," he replied, touching | ||
| + | the thin stem of his glass with his pale, fine-pointed fingers. | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | life& | ||
| + | neighbours, if one wishes to be a prig or a Puritan, one can flaunt | ||
| + | one's moral views about them, but they are not one's concern. | ||
| + | individualism has really the higher aim. Modern morality consists in | ||
| + | accepting the standard of one's age. I consider that for any man of | ||
| + | culture to accept the standard of his age is a form of the grossest | ||
| + | immorality." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "But, surely, if one lives merely for one's self, Harry, one pays a | ||
| + | terrible price for doing so?" suggested the painter. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes, we are overcharged for everything nowadays. | ||
| + | the real tragedy of the poor is that they can afford nothing but | ||
| + | self-denial. Beautiful sins, like beautiful things, are the privilege | ||
| + | of the rich." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "One has to pay in other ways but money." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What sort of ways, Basil?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | consciousness of degradation." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry shrugged his shoulders. | ||
| + | charming, but mediaeval emotions are out of date. One can use them in | ||
| + | fiction, of course. | ||
| + | fiction are the things that one has ceased to use in fact. Believe me, | ||
| + | no civilized man ever regrets a pleasure, and no uncivilized man ever | ||
| + | knows what a pleasure is." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I know what pleasure is," cried Dorian Gray. "It is to adore some | ||
| + | one." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "That is certainly better than being adored," | ||
| + | some fruits. | ||
| + | humanity treats its gods. They worship us, and are always bothering us | ||
| + | to do something for them." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I should have said that whatever they ask for they had first given to | ||
| + | us," murmured the lad gravely. | ||
| + | have a right to demand it back." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "That is quite true, Dorian," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "This is," interrupted Dorian. | ||
| + | to men the very gold of their lives." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | small change. | ||
| + | put it, inspire us with the desire to do masterpieces and always | ||
| + | prevent us from carrying them out." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You will always like me, Dorian," | ||
| + | coffee, you fellows? | ||
| + | some cigarettes. | ||
| + | can't allow you to smoke cigars. | ||
| + | cigarette is the perfect type of a perfect pleasure. | ||
| + | and it leaves one unsatisfied. | ||
| + | you will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you | ||
| + | have never had the courage to commit." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What nonsense you talk, Harry!" | ||
| + | fire-breathing silver dragon that the waiter had placed on the table. | ||
| + | "Let us go down to the theatre. | ||
| + | have a new ideal of life. She will represent something to you that you | ||
| + | have never known." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I have known everything," | ||
| + | eyes, "but I am always ready for a new emotion. | ||
| + | that, for me at any rate, there is no such thing. | ||
| + | wonderful girl may thrill me. I love acting. | ||
| + | than life. Let us go. Dorian, you will come with me. I am so sorry, | ||
| + | Basil, but there is only room for two in the brougham. | ||
| + | us in a hansom." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | They got up and put on their coats, sipping their coffee standing. | ||
| + | painter was silent and preoccupied. | ||
| + | could not bear this marriage, and yet it seemed to him to be better | ||
| + | than many other things that might have happened. | ||
| + | they all passed downstairs. | ||
| + | arranged, and watched the flashing lights of the little brougham in | ||
| + | front of him. A strange sense of loss came over him. He felt that | ||
| + | Dorian Gray would never again be to him all that he had been in the | ||
| + | past. Life had come between them.... His eyes darkened, and the | ||
| + | crowded flaring streets became blurred to his eyes. When the cab drew | ||
| + | up at the theatre, it seemed to him that he had grown years older. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | < | ||
| + | |||
| + | <A NAME=" | ||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | CHAPTER 7 | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | For some reason or other, the house was crowded that night, and the fat | ||
| + | Jew manager who met them at the door was beaming from ear to ear with | ||
| + | an oily tremulous smile. | ||
| + | pompous humility, waving his fat jewelled hands and talking at the top | ||
| + | of his voice. | ||
| + | he had come to look for Miranda and had been met by Caliban. | ||
| + | Henry, upon the other hand, rather liked him. At least he declared he | ||
| + | did, and insisted on shaking him by the hand and assuring him that he | ||
| + | was proud to meet a man who had discovered a real genius and gone | ||
| + | bankrupt over a poet. Hallward amused himself with watching the faces | ||
| + | in the pit. The heat was terribly oppressive, and the huge sunlight | ||
| + | flamed like a monstrous dahlia with petals of yellow fire. The youths | ||
| + | in the gallery had taken off their coats and waistcoats and hung them | ||
| + | over the side. They talked to each other across the theatre and shared | ||
| + | their oranges with the tawdry girls who sat beside them. Some women | ||
| + | were laughing in the pit. Their voices were horribly shrill and | ||
| + | discordant. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What a place to find one's divinity in!" said Lord Henry. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | divine beyond all living things. | ||
| + | everything. | ||
| + | brutal gestures, become quite different when she is on the stage. | ||
| + | sit silently and watch her. They weep and laugh as she wills them to | ||
| + | do. She makes them as responsive as a violin. | ||
| + | and one feels that they are of the same flesh and blood as one's self." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "The same flesh and blood as one's self! Oh, I hope not!" exclaimed | ||
| + | Lord Henry, who was scanning the occupants of the gallery through his | ||
| + | opera-glass. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | understand what you mean, and I believe in this girl. Any one you love | ||
| + | must be marvellous, and any girl who has the effect you describe must | ||
| + | be fine and noble. | ||
| + | doing. | ||
| + | one, if she can create the sense of beauty in people whose lives have | ||
| + | been sordid and ugly, if she can strip them of their selfishness and | ||
| + | lend them tears for sorrows that are not their own, she is worthy of | ||
| + | all your adoration, worthy of the adoration of the world. | ||
| + | marriage is quite right. | ||
| + | now. The gods made Sibyl Vane for you. Without her you would have | ||
| + | been incomplete." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | you would understand me. Harry is so cynical, he terrifies me. But | ||
| + | here is the orchestra. | ||
| + | about five minutes. | ||
| + | to whom I am going to give all my life, to whom I have given everything | ||
| + | that is good in me." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | A quarter of an hour afterwards, amidst an extraordinary turmoil of | ||
| + | applause, Sibyl Vane stepped on to the stage. | ||
| + | lovely to look at& | ||
| + | that he had ever seen. There was something of the fawn in her shy | ||
| + | grace and startled eyes. A faint blush, like the shadow of a rose in a | ||
| + | mirror of silver, came to her cheeks as she glanced at the crowded | ||
| + | enthusiastic house. | ||
| + | to tremble. | ||
| + | Motionless, and as one in a dream, sat Dorian Gray, gazing at her. | ||
| + | Lord Henry peered through his glasses, murmuring, " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The scene was the hall of Capulet' | ||
| + | dress had entered with Mercutio and his other friends. | ||
| + | as it was, struck up a few bars of music, and the dance began. | ||
| + | the crowd of ungainly, shabbily dressed actors, Sibyl Vane moved like a | ||
| + | creature from a finer world. | ||
| + | plant sways in the water. | ||
| + | a white lily. Her hands seemed to be made of cool ivory. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Yet she was curiously listless. | ||
| + | eyes rested on Romeo. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P CLASS=" | ||
| + | Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,< | ||
| + | & | ||
| + | For saints have hands that pilgrims' | ||
| + | & | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | with the brief dialogue that follows, were spoken in a thoroughly | ||
| + | artificial manner. | ||
| + | of tone it was absolutely false. | ||
| + | all the life from the verse. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray grew pale as he watched her. He was puzzled and anxious. | ||
| + | Neither of his friends dared to say anything to him. She seemed to | ||
| + | them to be absolutely incompetent. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Yet they felt that the true test of any Juliet is the balcony scene of | ||
| + | the second act. They waited for that. If she failed there, there was | ||
| + | nothing in her. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She looked charming as she came out in the moonlight. | ||
| + | be denied. | ||
| + | worse as she went on. Her gestures became absurdly artificial. | ||
| + | overemphasized everything that she had to say. The beautiful passage& | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P CLASS=" | ||
| + | Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face,< | ||
| + | Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek< | ||
| + | For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night& | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | was declaimed with the painful precision of a schoolgirl who has been | ||
| + | taught to recite by some second-rate professor of elocution. When she | ||
| + | leaned over the balcony and came to those wonderful lines& | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P CLASS=" | ||
| + | & | ||
| + | I have no joy of this contract to-night:< | ||
| + | It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden;< | ||
| + | Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be< | ||
| + | Ere one can say, "It lightens." | ||
| + | This bud of love by summer' | ||
| + | May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet& | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | she spoke the words as though they conveyed no meaning to her. It was | ||
| + | not nervousness. Indeed, so far from being nervous, she was absolutely | ||
| + | self-contained. It was simply bad art. She was a complete failure. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Even the common uneducated audience of the pit and gallery lost their | ||
| + | interest in the play. They got restless, and began to talk loudly and | ||
| + | to whistle. The Jew manager, who was standing at the back of the | ||
| + | dress-circle, | ||
| + | the girl herself. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | When the second act was over, there came a storm of hisses, and Lord | ||
| + | Henry got up from his chair and put on his coat. "She is quite | ||
| + | beautiful, Dorian," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am going to see the play through," | ||
| + | bitter voice. | ||
| + | evening, Harry. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear Dorian, I should think Miss Vane was ill," interrupted | ||
| + | Hallward. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I wish she were ill," he rejoined. | ||
| + | callous and cold. She has entirely altered. | ||
| + | great artist. | ||
| + | actress." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | wonderful thing than art." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "They are both simply forms of imitation," | ||
| + | do let us go. Dorian, you must not stay here any longer. | ||
| + | good for one's morals to see bad acting. | ||
| + | will want your wife to act, so what does it matter if she plays Juliet | ||
| + | like a wooden doll? She is very lovely, and if she knows as little | ||
| + | about life as she does about acting, she will be a delightful | ||
| + | experience. | ||
| + | fascinating& | ||
| + | absolutely nothing. | ||
| + | The secret of remaining young is never to have an emotion that is | ||
| + | unbecoming. | ||
| + | cigarettes and drink to the beauty of Sibyl Vane. She is beautiful. | ||
| + | What more can you want?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Go away, Harry," | ||
| + | go. Ah! can't you see that my heart is breaking?" | ||
| + | to his eyes. His lips trembled, and rushing to the back of the box, he | ||
| + | leaned up against the wall, hiding his face in his hands. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Let us go, Basil," | ||
| + | voice, and the two young men passed out together. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | A few moments afterwards the footlights flared up and the curtain rose | ||
| + | on the third act. Dorian Gray went back to his seat. He looked pale, | ||
| + | and proud, and indifferent. | ||
| + | interminable. | ||
| + | and laughing. | ||
| + | to almost empty benches. | ||
| + | groans. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As soon as it was over, Dorian Gray rushed behind the scenes into the | ||
| + | greenroom. | ||
| + | on her face. Her eyes were lit with an exquisite fire. There was a | ||
| + | radiance about her. Her parted lips were smiling over some secret of | ||
| + | their own. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | When he entered, she looked at him, and an expression of infinite joy | ||
| + | came over her. "How badly I acted to-night, Dorian!" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | was dreadful. | ||
| + | idea what I suffered." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The girl smiled. | ||
| + | long-drawn music in her voice, as though it were sweeter than honey to | ||
| + | the red petals of her mouth. | ||
| + | you understand now, don't you?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Why I was so bad to-night. Why I shall always be bad. Why I shall | ||
| + | never act well again." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He shrugged his shoulders. | ||
| + | you shouldn' | ||
| + | bored. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She seemed not to listen to him. She was transfigured with joy. An | ||
| + | ecstasy of happiness dominated her. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | reality of my life. It was only in the theatre that I lived. | ||
| + | thought that it was all true. I was Rosalind one night and Portia the | ||
| + | other. | ||
| + | were mine also. I believed in everything. | ||
| + | with me seemed to me to be godlike. | ||
| + | I knew nothing but shadows, and I thought them real. You came& | ||
| + | beautiful love!& | ||
| + | reality really is. To-night, for the first time in my life, I saw | ||
| + | through the hollowness, the sham, the silliness of the empty pageant in | ||
| + | which I had always played. | ||
| + | conscious that the Romeo was hideous, and old, and painted, that the | ||
| + | moonlight in the orchard was false, that the scenery was vulgar, and | ||
| + | that the words I had to speak were unreal, were not my words, were not | ||
| + | what I wanted to say. You had brought me something higher, something | ||
| + | of which all art is but a reflection. | ||
| + | love really is. My love! My love! Prince Charming! | ||
| + | I have grown sick of shadows. | ||
| + | be. What have I to do with the puppets of a play? When I came on | ||
| + | to-night, I could not understand how it was that everything had gone | ||
| + | from me. I thought that I was going to be wonderful. | ||
| + | could do nothing. | ||
| + | The knowledge was exquisite to me. I heard them hissing, and I smiled. | ||
| + | What could they know of love such as ours? Take me away, Dorian& | ||
| + | me away with you, where we can be quite alone. | ||
| + | might mimic a passion that I do not feel, but I cannot mimic one that | ||
| + | burns me like fire. Oh, Dorian, Dorian, you understand now what it | ||
| + | signifies? | ||
| + | play at being in love. You have made me see that." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He flung himself down on the sofa and turned away his face. "You have | ||
| + | killed my love," he muttered. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She looked at him in wonder and laughed. | ||
| + | across to him, and with her little fingers stroked his hair. She knelt | ||
| + | down and pressed his hands to her lips. He drew them away, and a | ||
| + | shudder ran through him. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Then he leaped up and went to the door. " | ||
| + | killed my love. You used to stir my imagination. | ||
| + | stir my curiosity. | ||
| + | you were marvellous, because you had genius and intellect, because you | ||
| + | realized the dreams of great poets and gave shape and substance to the | ||
| + | shadows of art. You have thrown it all away. You are shallow and | ||
| + | stupid. | ||
| + | You are nothing to me now. I will never see you again. | ||
| + | think of you. I will never mention your name. You don't know what you | ||
| + | were to me, once. Why, once ... Oh, I can't bear to think of it! I | ||
| + | wish I had never laid eyes upon you! You have spoiled the romance of | ||
| + | my life. How little you can know of love, if you say it mars your art! | ||
| + | Without your art, you are nothing. | ||
| + | splendid, magnificent. | ||
| + | would have borne my name. What are you now? A third-rate actress with | ||
| + | a pretty face." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The girl grew white, and trembled. | ||
| + | and her voice seemed to catch in her throat. | ||
| + | Dorian?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | bitterly. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She rose from her knees and, with a piteous expression of pain in her | ||
| + | face, came across the room to him. She put her hand upon his arm and | ||
| + | looked into his eyes. He thrust her back. " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | A low moan broke from her, and she flung herself at his feet and lay | ||
| + | there like a trampled flower. | ||
| + | whispered. | ||
| + | all the time. But I will try& | ||
| + | across me, my love for you. I think I should never have known it if | ||
| + | you had not kissed me& | ||
| + | my love. Don't go away from me. I couldn' | ||
| + | away from me. My brother ... No; never mind. He didn't mean it. He | ||
| + | was in jest.... But you, oh! can't you forgive me for to-night? I will | ||
| + | work so hard and try to improve. | ||
| + | you better than anything in the world. | ||
| + | I have not pleased you. But you are quite right, Dorian. | ||
| + | have shown myself more of an artist. | ||
| + | couldn' | ||
| + | passionate sobbing choked her. She crouched on the floor like a | ||
| + | wounded thing, and Dorian Gray, with his beautiful eyes, looked down at | ||
| + | her, and his chiselled lips curled in exquisite disdain. | ||
| + | always something ridiculous about the emotions of people whom one has | ||
| + | ceased to love. Sibyl Vane seemed to him to be absurdly melodramatic. | ||
| + | Her tears and sobs annoyed him. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am going," | ||
| + | to be unkind, but I can't see you again. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She wept silently, and made no answer, but crept nearer. | ||
| + | hands stretched blindly out, and appeared to be seeking for him. He | ||
| + | turned on his heel and left the room. In a few moments he was out of | ||
| + | the theatre. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Where he went to he hardly knew. He remembered wandering through dimly | ||
| + | lit streets, past gaunt, black-shadowed archways and evil-looking | ||
| + | houses. | ||
| + | him. Drunkards had reeled by, cursing and chattering to themselves | ||
| + | like monstrous apes. He had seen grotesque children huddled upon | ||
| + | door-steps, and heard shrieks and oaths from gloomy courts. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As the dawn was just breaking, he found himself close to Covent Garden. | ||
| + | The darkness lifted, and, flushed with faint fires, the sky hollowed | ||
| + | itself into a perfect pearl. | ||
| + | rumbled slowly down the polished empty street. | ||
| + | the perfume of the flowers, and their beauty seemed to bring him an | ||
| + | anodyne for his pain. He followed into the market and watched the men | ||
| + | unloading their waggons. | ||
| + | cherries. | ||
| + | for them, and began to eat them listlessly. | ||
| + | midnight, and the coldness of the moon had entered into them. A long | ||
| + | line of boys carrying crates of striped tulips, and of yellow and red | ||
| + | roses, defiled in front of him, threading their way through the huge, | ||
| + | jade-green piles of vegetables. | ||
| + | sun-bleached pillars, loitered a troop of draggled bareheaded girls, | ||
| + | waiting for the auction to be over. Others crowded round the swinging | ||
| + | doors of the coffee-house in the piazza. | ||
| + | and stamped upon the rough stones, shaking their bells and trappings. | ||
| + | Some of the drivers were lying asleep on a pile of sacks. | ||
| + | and pink-footed, | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | After a little while, he hailed a hansom and drove home. For a few | ||
| + | moments he loitered upon the doorstep, looking round at the silent | ||
| + | square, with its blank, close-shuttered windows and its staring blinds. | ||
| + | The sky was pure opal now, and the roofs of the houses glistened like | ||
| + | silver against it. From some chimney opposite a thin wreath of smoke | ||
| + | was rising. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | In the huge gilt Venetian lantern, spoil of some Doge's barge, that | ||
| + | hung from the ceiling of the great, oak-panelled hall of entrance, | ||
| + | lights were still burning from three flickering jets: thin blue petals | ||
| + | of flame they seemed, rimmed with white fire. He turned them out and, | ||
| + | having thrown his hat and cape on the table, passed through the library | ||
| + | towards the door of his bedroom, a large octagonal chamber on the | ||
| + | ground floor that, in his new-born feeling for luxury, he had just had | ||
| + | decorated for himself and hung with some curious Renaissance tapestries | ||
| + | that had been discovered stored in a disused attic at Selby Royal. | ||
| + | he was turning the handle of the door, his eye fell upon the portrait | ||
| + | Basil Hallward had painted of him. He started back as if in surprise. | ||
| + | Then he went on into his own room, looking somewhat puzzled. | ||
| + | had taken the button-hole out of his coat, he seemed to hesitate. | ||
| + | Finally, he came back, went over to the picture, and examined it. In | ||
| + | the dim arrested light that struggled through the cream-coloured silk | ||
| + | blinds, the face appeared to him to be a little changed. | ||
| + | expression looked different. | ||
| + | touch of cruelty in the mouth. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He turned round and, walking to the window, drew up the blind. | ||
| + | bright dawn flooded the room and swept the fantastic shadows into dusky | ||
| + | corners, where they lay shuddering. | ||
| + | had noticed in the face of the portrait seemed to linger there, to be | ||
| + | more intensified even. The quivering ardent sunlight showed him the | ||
| + | lines of cruelty round the mouth as clearly as if he had been looking | ||
| + | into a mirror after he had done some dreadful thing. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He winced and, taking up from the table an oval glass framed in ivory | ||
| + | Cupids, one of Lord Henry' | ||
| + | into its polished depths. | ||
| + | did it mean? | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He rubbed his eyes, and came close to the picture, and examined it | ||
| + | again. | ||
| + | actual painting, and yet there was no doubt that the whole expression | ||
| + | had altered. | ||
| + | horribly apparent. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He threw himself into a chair and began to think. | ||
| + | flashed across his mind what he had said in Basil Hallward' | ||
| + | day the picture had been finished. | ||
| + | He had uttered a mad wish that he himself might remain young, and the | ||
| + | portrait grow old; that his own beauty might be untarnished, | ||
| + | face on the canvas bear the burden of his passions and his sins; that | ||
| + | the painted image might be seared with the lines of suffering and | ||
| + | thought, and that he might keep all the delicate bloom and loveliness | ||
| + | of his then just conscious boyhood. | ||
| + | fulfilled? | ||
| + | think of them. And, yet, there was the picture before him, with the | ||
| + | touch of cruelty in the mouth. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Cruelty! | ||
| + | dreamed of her as a great artist, had given his love to her because he | ||
| + | had thought her great. | ||
| + | shallow and unworthy. | ||
| + | him, as he thought of her lying at his feet sobbing like a little | ||
| + | child. | ||
| + | had he been made like that? Why had such a soul been given to him? | ||
| + | But he had suffered also. During the three terrible hours that the | ||
| + | play had lasted, he had lived centuries of pain, aeon upon aeon of | ||
| + | torture. | ||
| + | moment, if he had wounded her for an age. Besides, women were better | ||
| + | suited to bear sorrow than men. They lived on their emotions. | ||
| + | only thought of their emotions. | ||
| + | to have some one with whom they could have scenes. | ||
| + | him that, and Lord Henry knew what women were. Why should he trouble | ||
| + | about Sibyl Vane? She was nothing to him now. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | But the picture? | ||
| + | his life, and told his story. | ||
| + | beauty. | ||
| + | at it again? | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | No; it was merely an illusion wrought on the troubled senses. | ||
| + | horrible night that he had passed had left phantoms behind it. | ||
| + | Suddenly there had fallen upon his brain that tiny scarlet speck that | ||
| + | makes men mad. The picture had not changed. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Yet it was watching him, with its beautiful marred face and its cruel | ||
| + | smile. | ||
| + | met his own. A sense of infinite pity, not for himself, but for the | ||
| + | painted image of himself, came over him. It had altered already, and | ||
| + | would alter more. Its gold would wither into grey. Its red and white | ||
| + | roses would die. For every sin that he committed, a stain would fleck | ||
| + | and wreck its fairness. | ||
| + | unchanged, would be to him the visible emblem of conscience. | ||
| + | resist temptation. | ||
| + | any rate, listen to those subtle poisonous theories that in Basil | ||
| + | Hallward' | ||
| + | impossible things. | ||
| + | marry her, try to love her again. | ||
| + | must have suffered more than he had. Poor child! | ||
| + | and cruel to her. The fascination that she had exercised over him | ||
| + | would return. | ||
| + | be beautiful and pure. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He got up from his chair and drew a large screen right in front of the | ||
| + | portrait, shuddering as he glanced at it. "How horrible!" | ||
| + | to himself, and he walked across to the window and opened it. When he | ||
| + | stepped out on to the grass, he drew a deep breath. | ||
| + | air seemed to drive away all his sombre passions. | ||
| + | Sibyl. | ||
| + | name over and over again. | ||
| + | dew-drenched garden seemed to be telling the flowers about her. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | < | ||
| + | |||
| + | <A NAME=" | ||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | CHAPTER 8 | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | It was long past noon when he awoke. | ||
| + | on tiptoe into the room to see if he was stirring, and had wondered | ||
| + | what made his young master sleep so late. Finally his bell sounded, | ||
| + | and Victor came in softly with a cup of tea, and a pile of letters, on | ||
| + | a small tray of old Sevres china, and drew back the olive-satin | ||
| + | curtains, with their shimmering blue lining, that hung in front of the | ||
| + | three tall windows. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What o' | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "One hour and a quarter, Monsieur." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | How late it was! He sat up, and having sipped some tea, turned over | ||
| + | his letters. | ||
| + | hand that morning. | ||
| + | The others he opened listlessly. | ||
| + | of cards, invitations to dinner, tickets for private views, programmes | ||
| + | of charity concerts, and the like that are showered on fashionable | ||
| + | young men every morning during the season. | ||
| + | bill for a chased silver Louis-Quinze toilet-set that he had not yet | ||
| + | had the courage to send on to his guardians, who were extremely | ||
| + | old-fashioned people and did not realize that we live in an age when | ||
| + | unnecessary things are our only necessities; | ||
| + | very courteously worded communications from Jermyn Street money-lenders | ||
| + | offering to advance any sum of money at a moment' | ||
| + | most reasonable rates of interest. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | After about ten minutes he got up, and throwing on an elaborate | ||
| + | dressing-gown of silk-embroidered cashmere wool, passed into the | ||
| + | onyx-paved bathroom. | ||
| + | sleep. | ||
| + | dim sense of having taken part in some strange tragedy came to him once | ||
| + | or twice, but there was the unreality of a dream about it. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As soon as he was dressed, he went into the library and sat down to a | ||
| + | light French breakfast that had been laid out for him on a small round | ||
| + | table close to the open window. | ||
| + | seemed laden with spices. | ||
| + | blue-dragon bowl that, filled with sulphur-yellow roses, stood before | ||
| + | him. He felt perfectly happy. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Suddenly his eye fell on the screen that he had placed in front of the | ||
| + | portrait, and he started. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Too cold for Monsieur?" | ||
| + | table. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian shook his head. "I am not cold," he murmured. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Was it all true? Had the portrait really changed? | ||
| + | simply his own imagination that had made him see a look of evil where | ||
| + | there had been a look of joy? Surely a painted canvas could not alter? | ||
| + | The thing was absurd. | ||
| + | It would make him smile. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | And, yet, how vivid was his recollection of the whole thing! | ||
| + | the dim twilight, and then in the bright dawn, he had seen the touch of | ||
| + | cruelty round the warped lips. He almost dreaded his valet leaving the | ||
| + | room. He knew that when he was alone he would have to examine the | ||
| + | portrait. | ||
| + | had been brought and the man turned to go, he felt a wild desire to | ||
| + | tell him to remain. | ||
| + | back. The man stood waiting for his orders. | ||
| + | a moment. | ||
| + | The man bowed and retired. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Then he rose from the table, lit a cigarette, and flung himself down on | ||
| + | a luxuriously cushioned couch that stood facing the screen. | ||
| + | was an old one, of gilt Spanish leather, stamped and wrought with a | ||
| + | rather florid Louis-Quatorze pattern. | ||
| + | wondering if ever before it had concealed the secret of a man's life. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Should he move it aside, after all? Why not let it stay there? | ||
| + | was the use of knowing? If the thing was true, it was terrible. | ||
| + | was not true, why trouble about it? But what if, by some fate or | ||
| + | deadlier chance, eyes other than his spied behind and saw the horrible | ||
| + | change? | ||
| + | his own picture? | ||
| + | be examined, and at once. Anything would be better than this dreadful | ||
| + | state of doubt. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He got up and locked both doors. | ||
| + | looked upon the mask of his shame. | ||
| + | saw himself face to face. It was perfectly true. The portrait had | ||
| + | altered. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As he often remembered afterwards, and always with no small wonder, he | ||
| + | found himself at first gazing at the portrait with a feeling of almost | ||
| + | scientific interest. | ||
| + | incredible to him. And yet it was a fact. 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 that soul thought, they realized?& | ||
| + | made true? Or was there some other, more terrible reason? | ||
| + | shuddered, and felt afraid, and, going back to the couch, lay there, | ||
| + | gazing at the picture in sickened horror. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | One thing, however, he felt that it had done for him. It had made him | ||
| + | conscious how unjust, how cruel, he had been to Sibyl Vane. It was not | ||
| + | too late to make reparation for that. She could still be his wife. | ||
| + | His unreal and selfish love would yield to some higher influence, would | ||
| + | be transformed into some nobler passion, and the portrait that Basil | ||
| + | Hallward had painted of him would be a guide to him through life, would | ||
| + | be to him what holiness is to some, and conscience to others, and the | ||
| + | fear of God to us all. There were opiates for remorse, drugs that | ||
| + | could lull the moral sense to sleep. | ||
| + | the degradation of sin. Here was an ever-present sign of the ruin men | ||
| + | brought upon their souls. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Three o' | ||
| + | chime, but Dorian Gray did not stir. He was trying to gather up the | ||
| + | scarlet threads of life and to weave them into a pattern; to find his | ||
| + | way through the sanguine labyrinth of passion through which he was | ||
| + | wandering. | ||
| + | went over to the table and wrote a passionate letter to the girl he had | ||
| + | loved, imploring her forgiveness and accusing himself of madness. | ||
| + | covered page after page with wild words of sorrow and wilder words of | ||
| + | pain. There is a luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves, we | ||
| + | feel that no one else has a right to blame us. It is the confession, | ||
| + | not the priest, that gives us absolution. | ||
| + | letter, he felt that he had been forgiven. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Suddenly there came a knock to the door, and he heard Lord Henry' | ||
| + | voice outside. | ||
| + | can't bear your shutting yourself up like this." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He made no answer at first, but remained quite still. | ||
| + | still continued and grew louder. | ||
| + | in, and to explain to him the new life he was going to lead, to quarrel | ||
| + | with him if it became necessary to quarrel, to part if parting was | ||
| + | inevitable. | ||
| + | and unlocked the door. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am so sorry for it all, Dorian," | ||
| + | "But you must not think too much about it." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Do you mean about Sibyl Vane?" asked the lad. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes, of course," | ||
| + | pulling off his yellow gloves. | ||
| + | view, but it was not your fault. | ||
| + | her, after the play was over?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I felt sure you had. Did you make a scene with her?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I was brutal, Harry& | ||
| + | not sorry for anything that has happened. | ||
| + | myself better." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Ah, Dorian, I am so glad you take it in that way! I was afraid I | ||
| + | would find you plunged in remorse and tearing that nice curly hair of | ||
| + | yours." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I have got through all that," said Dorian, shaking his head and | ||
| + | smiling. | ||
| + | begin with. It is not what you told me it was. It is the divinest | ||
| + | thing in us. Don't sneer at it, Harry, any more& | ||
| + | me. I want to be good. I can't bear the idea of my soul being | ||
| + | hideous." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "A very charming artistic basis for ethics, Dorian! | ||
| + | on it. But how are you going to begin?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "By marrying Sibyl Vane." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | in perplexed amazement. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes, Harry, I know what you are going to say. Something dreadful | ||
| + | about marriage. | ||
| + | me again. | ||
| + | break my word to her. She is to be my wife." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Your wife! Dorian! ... Didn't you get my letter? | ||
| + | morning, and sent the note down by my own man." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Your letter? | ||
| + | was afraid there might be something in it that I wouldn' | ||
| + | cut life to pieces with your epigrams." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You know nothing then?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What do you mean?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry walked across the room, and sitting down by Dorian Gray, | ||
| + | took both his hands in his own and held them tightly. | ||
| + | said, "my letter& | ||
| + | is dead." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | A cry of pain broke from the lad's lips, and he leaped to his feet, | ||
| + | tearing his hands away from Lord Henry' | ||
| + | It is not true! It is a horrible lie! How dare you say it?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is quite true, Dorian," | ||
| + | the morning papers. | ||
| + | till I came. There will have to be an inquest, of course, and you must | ||
| + | not be mixed up in it. Things like that make a man fashionable in | ||
| + | Paris. | ||
| + | make one's < | ||
| + | interest to one's old age. I suppose they don't know your name at the | ||
| + | theatre? | ||
| + | round to her room? That is an important point." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian did not answer for a few moments. | ||
| + | Finally he stammered, in a stifled voice, " | ||
| + | inquest? | ||
| + | bear it! But be quick. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I have no doubt it was not an accident, Dorian, though it must be put | ||
| + | in that way to the public. | ||
| + | theatre with her mother, about half-past twelve or so, she said she had | ||
| + | forgotten something upstairs. | ||
| + | did not come down again. | ||
| + | floor of her dressing-room. She had swallowed something by mistake, | ||
| + | some dreadful thing they use at theatres. | ||
| + | but it had either prussic acid or white lead in it. I should fancy it | ||
| + | was prussic acid, as she seems to have died instantaneously." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes; it is very tragic, of course, but you must not get yourself mixed | ||
| + | up in it. I see by < | ||
| + | thought she was almost younger than that. She looked such a child, and | ||
| + | seemed to know so little about acting. | ||
| + | thing get on your nerves. | ||
| + | afterwards we will look in at the opera. | ||
| + | everybody will be there. | ||
| + | some smart women with her." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "So I have murdered Sibyl Vane," said Dorian Gray, half to himself, | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | Yet the roses are not less lovely for all that. The birds sing just as | ||
| + | happily in my garden. | ||
| + | on to the opera, and sup somewhere, I suppose, afterwards. | ||
| + | extraordinarily dramatic life is! If I had read all this in a book, | ||
| + | Harry, I think I would have wept over it. Somehow, now that it has | ||
| + | happened actually, and to me, it seems far too wonderful for tears. | ||
| + | Here is the first passionate love-letter I have ever written in my | ||
| + | life. Strange, that my first passionate love-letter should have been | ||
| + | addressed to a dead girl. Can they feel, I wonder, those white silent | ||
| + | people we call the dead? Sibyl! | ||
| + | Oh, Harry, how I loved her once! It seems years ago to me now. She | ||
| + | was everything to me. Then came that dreadful night& | ||
| + | only last night?& | ||
| + | She explained it all to me. It was terribly pathetic. | ||
| + | moved a bit. I thought her shallow. | ||
| + | made me afraid. | ||
| + | said I would go back to her. I felt I had done wrong. | ||
| + | dead. My God! My God! Harry, what shall I do? You don't know the | ||
| + | danger I am in, and there is nothing to keep me straight. | ||
| + | have done that for me. She had no right to kill herself. | ||
| + | selfish of her." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear Dorian," | ||
| + | and producing a gold-latten matchbox, "the only way a woman can ever | ||
| + | reform a man is by boring him so completely that he loses all possible | ||
| + | interest in life. If you had married this girl, you would have been | ||
| + | wretched. | ||
| + | always be kind to people about whom one cares nothing. | ||
| + | have soon found out that you were absolutely indifferent to her. And | ||
| + | when a woman finds that out about her husband, she either becomes | ||
| + | dreadfully dowdy, or wears very smart bonnets that some other woman' | ||
| + | husband has to pay for. I say nothing about the social mistake, which | ||
| + | would have been abject& | ||
| + | I assure you that in any case the whole thing would have been an | ||
| + | absolute failure." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I suppose it would," | ||
| + | and looking horribly pale. "But I thought it was my duty. It is not | ||
| + | my fault that this terrible tragedy has prevented my doing what was | ||
| + | right. | ||
| + | resolutions& | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Good resolutions are useless attempts to interfere with scientific | ||
| + | laws. Their origin is pure vanity. | ||
| + | They give us, now and then, some of those luxurious sterile emotions | ||
| + | that have a certain charm for the weak. That is all that can be said | ||
| + | for them. They are simply cheques that men draw on a bank where they | ||
| + | have no account." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | "why is it that I cannot feel this tragedy as much as I want to? I | ||
| + | don't think I am heartless. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You have done too many foolish things during the last fortnight to be | ||
| + | entitled to give yourself that name, Dorian," | ||
| + | his sweet melancholy smile. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The lad frowned. | ||
| + | "but I am glad you don't think I am heartless. | ||
| + | kind. I know I am not. And yet I must admit that this thing that has | ||
| + | happened does not affect me as it should. | ||
| + | like a wonderful ending to a wonderful play. It has all the terrible | ||
| + | beauty of a Greek tragedy, a tragedy in which I took a great part, but | ||
| + | by which I have not been wounded." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is an interesting question," | ||
| + | exquisite pleasure in playing on the lad's unconscious egotism, "an | ||
| + | extremely interesting question. | ||
| + | this: It often happens that the real tragedies of life occur in such | ||
| + | an inartistic manner that they hurt us by their crude violence, their | ||
| + | absolute incoherence, | ||
| + | of style. | ||
| + | an impression of sheer brute force, and we revolt against that. | ||
| + | Sometimes, however, a tragedy that possesses artistic elements of | ||
| + | beauty crosses our lives. | ||
| + | whole thing simply appeals to our sense of dramatic effect. | ||
| + | we find that we are no longer the actors, but the spectators of the | ||
| + | play. Or rather we are both. We watch ourselves, and the mere wonder | ||
| + | of the spectacle enthralls us. In the present case, what is it that | ||
| + | has really happened? | ||
| + | wish that I had ever had such an experience. | ||
| + | love with love for the rest of my life. The people who have adored | ||
| + | me& | ||
| + | always insisted on living on, long after I had ceased to care for them, | ||
| + | or they to care for me. They have become stout and tedious, and when I | ||
| + | meet them, they go in at once for reminiscences. | ||
| + | woman! | ||
| + | stagnation it reveals! | ||
| + | should never remember its details. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I must sow poppies in my garden," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "There is no necessity," | ||
| + | poppies in her hands. | ||
| + | wore nothing but violets all through one season, as a form of artistic | ||
| + | mourning for a romance that would not die. Ultimately, however, it did | ||
| + | die. I forget what killed it. I think it was her proposing to | ||
| + | sacrifice the whole world for me. That is always a dreadful moment. | ||
| + | It fills one with the terror of eternity. | ||
| + | it?& | ||
| + | next the lady in question, and she insisted on going over the whole | ||
| + | thing again, and digging up the past, and raking up the future. | ||
| + | buried my romance in a bed of asphodel. | ||
| + | assured me that I had spoiled her life. I am bound to state that she | ||
| + | ate an enormous dinner, so I did not feel any anxiety. | ||
| + | of taste she showed! | ||
| + | But women never know when the curtain has fallen. | ||
| + | sixth act, and as soon as the interest of the play is entirely over, | ||
| + | they propose to continue it. If they were allowed their own way, every | ||
| + | comedy would have a tragic ending, and every tragedy would culminate in | ||
| + | a farce. | ||
| + | art. You are more fortunate than I am. I assure you, Dorian, that not | ||
| + | one of the women I have known would have done for me what Sibyl Vane | ||
| + | did for you. Ordinary women always console themselves. | ||
| + | do it by going in for sentimental colours. | ||
| + | wears mauve, whatever her age may be, or a woman over thirty-five who | ||
| + | is fond of pink ribbons. | ||
| + | Others find a great consolation in suddenly discovering the good | ||
| + | qualities of their husbands. | ||
| + | one's face, as if it were the most fascinating of sins. Religion | ||
| + | consoles some. Its mysteries have all the charm of a flirtation, a | ||
| + | woman once told me, and I can quite understand it. Besides, nothing | ||
| + | makes one so vain as being told that one is a sinner. | ||
| + | egotists of us all. Yes; there is really no end to the consolations | ||
| + | that women find in modern life. Indeed, I have not mentioned the most | ||
| + | important one." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What is that, Harry?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh, the obvious consolation. | ||
| + | loses one's own. In good society that always whitewashes a woman. | ||
| + | really, Dorian, how different Sibyl Vane must have been from all the | ||
| + | women one meets! | ||
| + | death. | ||
| + | They make one believe in the reality of the things we all play with, | ||
| + | such as romance, passion, and love." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I was terribly cruel to her. You forget that." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am afraid that women appreciate cruelty, downright cruelty, more | ||
| + | than anything else. They have wonderfully primitive instincts. | ||
| + | have emancipated them, but they remain slaves looking for their | ||
| + | masters, all the same. They love being dominated. | ||
| + | splendid. | ||
| + | fancy how delightful you looked. | ||
| + | me the day before yesterday that seemed to me at the time to be merely | ||
| + | fanciful, but that I see now was absolutely true, and it holds the key | ||
| + | to everything." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What was that, Harry?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You said to me that Sibyl Vane represented to you all the heroines of | ||
| + | romance& | ||
| + | if she died as Juliet, she came to life as Imogen." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "She will never come to life again now," muttered the lad, burying his | ||
| + | face in his hands. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "No, she will never come to life. She has played her last part. But | ||
| + | you must think of that lonely death in the tawdry dressing-room simply | ||
| + | as a strange lurid fragment from some Jacobean tragedy, as a wonderful | ||
| + | scene from Webster, or Ford, or Cyril Tourneur. | ||
| + | lived, and so she has never really died. To you at least she was | ||
| + | always a dream, a phantom that flitted through Shakespeare' | ||
| + | left them lovelier for its presence, a reed through which Shakespeare' | ||
| + | music sounded richer and more full of joy. The moment she touched | ||
| + | actual life, she marred it, and it marred her, and so she passed away. | ||
| + | Mourn for Ophelia, if you like. Put ashes on your head because | ||
| + | Cordelia was strangled. | ||
| + | Brabantio died. But don't waste your tears over Sibyl Vane. She was | ||
| + | less real than they are." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | There was a silence. | ||
| + | and with silver feet, the shadows crept in from the garden. | ||
| + | colours faded wearily out of things. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | After some time Dorian Gray looked up. "You have explained me to | ||
| + | myself, Harry," | ||
| + | felt all that you have said, but somehow I was afraid of it, and I | ||
| + | could not express it to myself. | ||
| + | talk again of what has happened. | ||
| + | That is all. I wonder if life has still in store for me anything as | ||
| + | marvellous." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Life has everything in store for you, Dorian. | ||
| + | you, with your extraordinary good looks, will not be able to do." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "But suppose, Harry, I became haggard, and old, and wrinkled? | ||
| + | then?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Ah, then," said Lord Henry, rising to go, "then, my dear Dorian, you | ||
| + | would have to fight for your victories. | ||
| + | you. No, you must keep your good looks. | ||
| + | too much to be wise, and that thinks too much to be beautiful. | ||
| + | cannot spare you. And now you had better dress and drive down to the | ||
| + | club. We are rather late, as it is." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I think I shall join you at the opera, Harry. | ||
| + | anything. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | name on the door. But I am sorry you won't come and dine." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I don't feel up to it," said Dorian listlessly. | ||
| + | obliged to you for all that you have said to me. You are certainly my | ||
| + | best friend. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "We are only at the beginning of our friendship, Dorian," | ||
| + | Henry, shaking him by the hand. " | ||
| + | nine-thirty, | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As he closed the door behind him, Dorian Gray touched the bell, and in | ||
| + | a few minutes Victor appeared with the lamps and drew the blinds down. | ||
| + | He waited impatiently for him to go. The man seemed to take an | ||
| + | interminable time over everything. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As soon as he had left, he rushed to the screen and drew it back. No; | ||
| + | there was no further change in the picture. | ||
| + | of Sibyl Vane's death before he had known of it himself. | ||
| + | conscious of the events of life as they occurred. | ||
| + | that marred the fine lines of the mouth had, no doubt, appeared at the | ||
| + | very moment that the girl had drunk the poison, whatever it was. Or | ||
| + | was it indifferent to results? | ||
| + | passed within the soul? He wondered, and hoped that some day he would | ||
| + | see the change taking place before his very eyes, shuddering as he | ||
| + | hoped it. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Poor Sibyl! | ||
| + | death on the stage. | ||
| + | with him. How had she played that dreadful last scene? | ||
| + | him, as she died? No; she had died for love of him, and love would | ||
| + | always be a sacrament to him now. She had atoned for everything by the | ||
| + | sacrifice she had made of her life. He would not think any more of | ||
| + | what she had made him go through, on that horrible night at the | ||
| + | theatre. | ||
| + | figure sent on to the world' | ||
| + | love. A wonderful tragic figure? | ||
| + | remembered her childlike look, and winsome fanciful ways, and shy | ||
| + | tremulous grace. | ||
| + | picture. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He felt that the time had really come for making his choice. | ||
| + | his choice already been made? Yes, life had decided that for | ||
| + | him& | ||
| + | infinite passion, pleasures subtle and secret, wild joys and wilder | ||
| + | sins& | ||
| + | burden of his shame: that was all. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | A feeling of pain crept over him as he thought of the desecration that | ||
| + | was in store for the fair face on the canvas. | ||
| + | of Narcissus, he had kissed, or feigned to kiss, those painted lips | ||
| + | that now smiled so cruelly at him. Morning after morning he had sat | ||
| + | before the portrait wondering at its beauty, almost enamoured of it, as | ||
| + | it seemed to him at times. | ||
| + | which he yielded? | ||
| + | be hidden away in a locked room, to be shut out from the sunlight that | ||
| + | had so often touched to brighter gold the waving wonder of its hair? | ||
| + | The pity of it! the pity of it! | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | For a moment, he thought of praying that the horrible sympathy that | ||
| + | existed between him and the picture might cease. | ||
| + | answer to a prayer; perhaps in answer to a prayer it might remain | ||
| + | unchanged. | ||
| + | surrender the chance of remaining always young, however fantastic that | ||
| + | chance might be, or with what fateful consequences it might be fraught? | ||
| + | Besides, was it really under his control? | ||
| + | that had produced the substitution? | ||
| + | scientific reason for it all? If thought could exercise its influence | ||
| + | upon a living organism, might not thought exercise an influence upon | ||
| + | dead and inorganic things? | ||
| + | might not things external to ourselves vibrate in unison with our moods | ||
| + | and passions, atom calling to atom in secret love or strange affinity? | ||
| + | But the reason was of no importance. | ||
| + | prayer any terrible power. | ||
| + | alter. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | For there would be a real pleasure in watching it. He would be able to | ||
| + | follow his mind into its secret places. | ||
| + | the most magical of mirrors. | ||
| + | so it would reveal to him his own soul. And when winter came upon it, | ||
| + | he would still be standing where spring trembles on the verge of | ||
| + | summer. | ||
| + | mask of chalk with leaden eyes, he would keep the glamour of boyhood. | ||
| + | Not one blossom of his loveliness would ever fade. Not one pulse of | ||
| + | his life would ever weaken. | ||
| + | strong, and fleet, and joyous. | ||
| + | coloured image on the canvas? | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He drew the screen back into its former place in front of the picture, | ||
| + | smiling as he did so, and passed into his bedroom, where his valet was | ||
| + | already waiting for him. An hour later he was at the opera, and Lord | ||
| + | Henry was leaning over his chair. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | < | ||
| + | |||
| + | <A NAME=" | ||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | CHAPTER 9 | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As he was sitting at breakfast next morning, Basil Hallward was shown | ||
| + | into the room. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am so glad I have found you, Dorian," | ||
| + | last night, and they told me you were at the opera. | ||
| + | that was impossible. | ||
| + | gone to. I passed a dreadful evening, half afraid that one tragedy | ||
| + | might be followed by another. | ||
| + | me when you heard of it first. | ||
| + | edition of < | ||
| + | and was miserable at not finding you. I can't tell you how | ||
| + | heart-broken I am about the whole thing. | ||
| + | But where were you? Did you go down and see the girl's mother? | ||
| + | moment I thought of following you there. | ||
| + | paper. | ||
| + | intruding upon a sorrow that I could not lighten. | ||
| + | state she must be in! And her only child, too! What did she say about | ||
| + | it all?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear Basil, how do I know?" murmured Dorian Gray, sipping some | ||
| + | pale-yellow wine from a delicate, gold-beaded bubble of Venetian glass | ||
| + | and looking dreadfully bored. | ||
| + | come on there. | ||
| + | time. We were in her box. She is perfectly charming; and Patti sang | ||
| + | divinely. | ||
| + | a thing, it has never happened. | ||
| + | says, that gives reality to things. | ||
| + | woman' | ||
| + | he is not on the stage. | ||
| + | me about yourself and what you are painting." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You went to the opera?" | ||
| + | strained touch of pain in his voice. | ||
| + | Sibyl Vane was lying dead in some sordid lodging? | ||
| + | of other women being charming, and of Patti singing divinely, before | ||
| + | the girl you loved has even the quiet of a grave to sleep in? Why, | ||
| + | man, there are horrors in store for that little white body of hers!" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Stop, Basil! | ||
| + | "You must not tell me about things. | ||
| + | past is past." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You call yesterday the past?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What has the actual lapse of time got to do with it? It is only | ||
| + | shallow people who require years to get rid of an emotion. | ||
| + | is master of himself can end a sorrow as easily as he can invent a | ||
| + | pleasure. | ||
| + | use them, to enjoy them, and to dominate them." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | look exactly the same wonderful boy who, day after day, used to come | ||
| + | down to my studio to sit for his picture. | ||
| + | natural, and affectionate then. You were the most unspoiled creature | ||
| + | in the whole world. | ||
| + | talk as if you had no heart, no pity in you. It is all Harry' | ||
| + | influence. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The lad flushed up and, going to the window, looked out for a few | ||
| + | moments on the green, flickering, sun-lashed garden. | ||
| + | deal to Harry, Basil," | ||
| + | only taught me to be vain." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Well, I am punished for that, Dorian& | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I don't know what you mean, Basil," | ||
| + | don't know what you want. What do you want?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I want the Dorian Gray I used to paint," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | shoulder, "you have come too late. Yesterday, when I heard that Sibyl | ||
| + | Vane had killed herself& | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | Hallward, looking up at him with an expression of horror. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear Basil! | ||
| + | course she killed herself." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The elder man buried his face in his hands. | ||
| + | muttered, and a shudder ran through him. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | of the great romantic tragedies of the age. As a rule, people who act | ||
| + | lead the most commonplace lives. | ||
| + | wives, or something tedious. | ||
| + | and all that kind of thing. | ||
| + | finest tragedy. | ||
| + | played& | ||
| + | the reality of love. When she knew its unreality, she died, as Juliet | ||
| + | might have died. She passed again into the sphere of art. There is | ||
| + | something of the martyr about her. Her death has all the pathetic | ||
| + | uselessness of martyrdom, all its wasted beauty. | ||
| + | you must not think I have not suffered. | ||
| + | at a particular moment& | ||
| + | six& | ||
| + | brought me the news, in fact, had no idea what I was going through. | ||
| + | suffered immensely. | ||
| + | No one can, except sentimentalists. | ||
| + | You come down here to console me. That is charming of you. You find | ||
| + | me consoled, and you are furious. | ||
| + | remind me of a story Harry told me about a certain philanthropist who | ||
| + | spent twenty years of his life in trying to get some grievance | ||
| + | redressed, or some unjust law altered& | ||
| + | Finally he succeeded, and nothing could exceed his disappointment. | ||
| + | had absolutely nothing to do, almost died of < | ||
| + | confirmed misanthrope. | ||
| + | want to console me, teach me rather to forget what has happened, or to | ||
| + | see it from a proper artistic point of view. Was it not Gautier who | ||
| + | used to write about <i>la consolation des arts</ | ||
| + | little vellum-covered book in your studio one day and chancing on that | ||
| + | delightful phrase. | ||
| + | when we were down at Marlow together, the young man who used to say | ||
| + | that yellow satin could console one for all the miseries of life. I | ||
| + | love beautiful things that one can touch and handle. | ||
| + | green bronzes, lacquer-work, | ||
| + | luxury, pomp& | ||
| + | temperament that they create, or at any rate reveal, is still more to | ||
| + | me. To become the spectator of one's own life, as Harry says, is to | ||
| + | escape the suffering of life. I know you are surprised at my talking | ||
| + | to you like this. You have not realized how I have developed. | ||
| + | schoolboy when you knew me. I am a man now. I have new passions, new | ||
| + | thoughts, new ideas. | ||
| + | am changed, but you must always be my friend. | ||
| + | fond of Harry. | ||
| + | stronger& | ||
| + | happy we used to be together! | ||
| + | with me. I am what I am. There is nothing more to be said." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The painter felt strangely moved. | ||
| + | and his personality had been the great turning point in his art. He | ||
| + | could not bear the idea of reproaching him any more. After all, his | ||
| + | indifference was probably merely a mood that would pass away. There | ||
| + | was so much in him that was good, so much in him that was noble. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Well, Dorian," | ||
| + | you again about this horrible thing, after to-day. | ||
| + | name won't be mentioned in connection with it. The inquest is to take | ||
| + | place this afternoon. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian shook his head, and a look of annoyance passed over his face at | ||
| + | the mention of the word " | ||
| + | vulgar about everything of the kind. "They don't know my name," he | ||
| + | answered. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "But surely she did?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Only my Christian name, and that I am quite sure she never mentioned | ||
| + | to any one. She told me once that they were all rather curious to | ||
| + | learn who I was, and that she invariably told them my name was Prince | ||
| + | Charming. | ||
| + | Basil. | ||
| + | a few kisses and some broken pathetic words." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I will try and do something, Dorian, if it would please you. But you | ||
| + | must come and sit to me yourself again. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I can never sit to you again, Basil. | ||
| + | starting back. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The painter stared at him. "My dear boy, what nonsense!" | ||
| + | "Do you mean to say you don't like what I did of you? Where is it? | ||
| + | Why have you pulled the screen in front of it? Let me look at it. It | ||
| + | is the best thing I have ever done. Do take the screen away, Dorian. | ||
| + | It is simply disgraceful of your servant hiding my work like that. I | ||
| + | felt the room looked different as I came in." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My servant has nothing to do with it, Basil. | ||
| + | him arrange my room for me? He settles my flowers for me | ||
| + | sometimes& | ||
| + | on the portrait." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Too strong! | ||
| + | it. Let me see it." | ||
| + | room. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | A cry of terror broke from Dorian Gray's lips, and he rushed between | ||
| + | the painter and the screen. | ||
| + | must not look at it. I don't wish you to." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Not look at my own work! You are not serious. | ||
| + | at it?" exclaimed Hallward, laughing. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "If you try to look at it, Basil, on my word of honour I will never | ||
| + | speak to you again as long as I live. I am quite serious. | ||
| + | offer any explanation, | ||
| + | if you touch this screen, everything is over between us." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Hallward was thunderstruck. | ||
| + | amazement. | ||
| + | actually pallid with rage. His hands were clenched, and the pupils of | ||
| + | his eyes were like disks of blue fire. He was trembling all over. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "But what is the matter? | ||
| + | want me to," he said, rather coldly, turning on his heel and going over | ||
| + | towards the window. | ||
| + | shouldn' | ||
| + | Paris in the autumn. | ||
| + | varnish before that, so I must see it some day, and why not to-day?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "To exhibit it! You want to exhibit it?" exclaimed Dorian Gray, a | ||
| + | strange sense of terror creeping over him. Was the world going to be | ||
| + | shown his secret? | ||
| + | That was impossible. | ||
| + | at once. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes; I don't suppose you will object to that. Georges Petit is going | ||
| + | to collect all my best pictures for a special exhibition in the Rue de | ||
| + | Seze, which will open the first week in October. | ||
| + | only be away a month. | ||
| + | that time. In fact, you are sure to be out of town. And if you keep | ||
| + | it always behind a screen, you can't care much about it." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray passed his hand over his forehead. | ||
| + | perspiration there. | ||
| + | danger. | ||
| + | cried. | ||
| + | being consistent have just as many moods as others have. The only | ||
| + | difference is that your moods are rather meaningless. | ||
| + | forgotten that you assured me most solemnly that nothing in the world | ||
| + | would induce you to send it to any exhibition. | ||
| + | the same thing." | ||
| + | his eyes. He remembered that Lord Henry had said to him once, half | ||
| + | seriously and half in jest, "If you want to have a strange quarter of | ||
| + | an hour, get Basil to tell you why he won't exhibit your picture. | ||
| + | told me why he wouldn' | ||
| + | Basil, too, had his secret. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | the face, "we have each of us a secret. | ||
| + | tell you mine. What was your reason for refusing to exhibit my | ||
| + | picture?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The painter shuddered in spite of himself. | ||
| + | might like me less than you do, and you would certainly laugh at me. I | ||
| + | could not bear your doing either of those two things. | ||
| + | never to look at your picture again, I am content. | ||
| + | to look at. If you wish the best work I have ever done to be hidden | ||
| + | from the world, I am satisfied. | ||
| + | any fame or reputation." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "No, Basil, you must tell me," insisted Dorian Gray. "I think I have a | ||
| + | right to know." | ||
| + | had taken its place. | ||
| + | mystery. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Let us sit down, Dorian," | ||
| + | sit down. And just answer me one question. | ||
| + | picture something curious?& | ||
| + | strike you, but that revealed itself to you suddenly?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | hands and gazing at him with wild startled eyes. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I see you did. Don't speak. | ||
| + | Dorian, from the moment I met you, your personality had the most | ||
| + | extraordinary influence over me. I was dominated, soul, brain, and | ||
| + | power, by you. You became to me the visible incarnation of that unseen | ||
| + | ideal whose memory haunts us artists like an exquisite dream. | ||
| + | worshipped you. I grew jealous of every one to whom you spoke. | ||
| + | wanted to have you all to myself. | ||
| + | you. When you were away from me, you were still present in my art.... | ||
| + | Of course, I never let you know anything about this. It would have | ||
| + | been impossible. | ||
| + | understood it myself. | ||
| + | face, and that the world had become wonderful to my eyes& | ||
| + | wonderful, perhaps, for in such mad worships there is peril, the peril | ||
| + | of losing them, no less than the peril of keeping them.... | ||
| + | weeks went on, and I grew more and more absorbed in you. Then came a | ||
| + | new development. | ||
| + | Adonis with huntsman' | ||
| + | heavy lotus-blossoms you had sat on the prow of Adrian' | ||
| + | across the green turbid Nile. You had leaned over the still pool of | ||
| + | some Greek woodland and seen in the water' | ||
| + | your own face. And it had all been what art should be& | ||
| + | ideal, and remote. | ||
| + | determined to paint a wonderful portrait of you as you actually are, | ||
| + | not in the costume of dead ages, but in your own dress and in your own | ||
| + | time. Whether it was the realism of the method, or the mere wonder of | ||
| + | your own personality, | ||
| + | veil, I cannot tell. But I know that as I worked at it, every flake | ||
| + | and film of colour seemed to me to reveal my secret. | ||
| + | that others would know of my idolatry. | ||
| + | too much, that I had put too much of myself into it. Then it was that | ||
| + | I resolved never to allow the picture to be exhibited. | ||
| + | little annoyed; but then you did not realize all that it meant to me. | ||
| + | Harry, to whom I talked about it, laughed at me. But I did not mind | ||
| + | that. When the picture was finished, and I sat alone with it, I felt | ||
| + | that I was right.... Well, after a few days the thing left my studio, | ||
| + | and as soon as I had got rid of the intolerable fascination of its | ||
| + | presence, it seemed to me that I had been foolish in imagining that I | ||
| + | had seen anything in it, more than that you were extremely good-looking | ||
| + | and that I could paint. | ||
| + | mistake to think that the passion one feels in creation is ever really | ||
| + | shown in the work one creates. | ||
| + | fancy. | ||
| + | often seems to me that art conceals the artist far more completely than | ||
| + | it ever reveals him. And so when I got this offer from Paris, I | ||
| + | determined to make your portrait the principal thing in my exhibition. | ||
| + | It never occurred to me that you would refuse. | ||
| + | right. | ||
| + | Dorian, for what I have told you. As I said to Harry, once, you are | ||
| + | made to be worshipped." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray drew a long breath. | ||
| + | and a smile played about his lips. The peril was over. He was safe | ||
| + | for the time. Yet he could not help feeling infinite pity for the | ||
| + | painter who had just made this strange confession to him, and wondered | ||
| + | if he himself would ever be so dominated by the personality of a | ||
| + | friend. | ||
| + | was all. He was too clever and too cynical to be really fond of. | ||
| + | Would there ever be some one who would fill him with a strange | ||
| + | idolatry? | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is extraordinary to me, Dorian," | ||
| + | have seen this in the portrait. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I saw something in it," he answered, " | ||
| + | curious." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Well, you don't mind my looking at the thing now?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian shook his head. "You must not ask me that, Basil. | ||
| + | possibly let you stand in front of that picture." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You will some day, surely?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Well, perhaps you are right. | ||
| + | the one person in my life who has really influenced my art. Whatever I | ||
| + | have done that is good, I owe to you. Ah! you don't know what it cost | ||
| + | me to tell you all that I have told you." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear Basil," | ||
| + | felt that you admired me too much. That is not even a compliment." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It was not intended as a compliment. | ||
| + | have made it, something seems to have gone out of me. Perhaps one | ||
| + | should never put one's worship into words." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It was a very disappointing confession." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Why, what did you expect, Dorian? | ||
| + | picture, did you? There was nothing else to see?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "No; there was nothing else to see. Why do you ask? But you mustn' | ||
| + | talk about worship. | ||
| + | we must always remain so." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You have got Harry," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh, Harry!" | ||
| + | his days in saying what is incredible and his evenings in doing what is | ||
| + | improbable. | ||
| + | don't think I would go to Harry if I were in trouble. | ||
| + | go to you, Basil." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You will sit to me again?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You spoil my life as an artist by refusing, Dorian. | ||
| + | across two ideal things. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I can't explain it to you, Basil, but I must never sit to you again. | ||
| + | There is something fatal about a portrait. | ||
| + | I will come and have tea with you. That will be just as pleasant." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | now good-bye. I am sorry you won't let me look at the picture once | ||
| + | again. | ||
| + | about it." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As he left the room, Dorian Gray smiled to himself. | ||
| + | little he knew of the true reason! | ||
| + | instead of having been forced to reveal his own secret, he had | ||
| + | succeeded, almost by chance, in wresting a secret from his friend! | ||
| + | much that strange confession explained to him! The painter' | ||
| + | fits of jealousy, his wild devotion, his extravagant panegyrics, his | ||
| + | curious reticences& | ||
| + | There seemed to him to be something tragic in a friendship so coloured | ||
| + | by romance. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He sighed and touched the bell. The portrait must be hidden away at | ||
| + | all costs. | ||
| + | been mad of him to have allowed the thing to remain, even for an hour, | ||
| + | in a room to which any of his friends had access. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | < | ||
| + | |||
| + | <A NAME=" | ||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | CHAPTER 10 | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | When his servant entered, he looked at him steadfastly and wondered if | ||
| + | he had thought of peering behind the screen. | ||
| + | impassive and waited for his orders. | ||
| + | over to the glass and glanced into it. He could see the reflection of | ||
| + | Victor' | ||
| + | There was nothing to be afraid of, there. | ||
| + | on his guard. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Speaking very slowly, he told him to tell the house-keeper that he | ||
| + | wanted to see her, and then to go to the frame-maker and ask him to | ||
| + | send two of his men round at once. It seemed to him that as the man | ||
| + | left the room his eyes wandered in the direction of the screen. | ||
| + | that merely his own fancy? | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | After a few moments, in her black silk dress, with old-fashioned thread | ||
| + | mittens on her wrinkled hands, Mrs. Leaf bustled into the library. | ||
| + | asked her for the key of the schoolroom. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "The old schoolroom, Mr. Dorian?" | ||
| + | dust. I must get it arranged and put straight before you go into it. | ||
| + | It is not fit for you to see, sir. It is not, indeed." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I don't want it put straight, Leaf. I only want the key." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Well, sir, you'll be covered with cobwebs if you go into it. Why, it | ||
| + | hasn't been opened for nearly five years& | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He winced at the mention of his grandfather. | ||
| + | of him. "That does not matter," | ||
| + | the place& | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "And here is the key, sir," said the old lady, going over the contents | ||
| + | of her bunch with tremulously uncertain hands. | ||
| + | have it off the bunch in a moment. | ||
| + | there, sir, and you so comfortable here?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "No, no," he cried petulantly. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She lingered for a few moments, and was garrulous over some detail of | ||
| + | the household. | ||
| + | best. She left the room, wreathed in smiles. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As the door closed, Dorian put the key in his pocket and looked round | ||
| + | the room. His eye fell on a large, purple satin coverlet heavily | ||
| + | embroidered with gold, a splendid piece of late seventeenth-century | ||
| + | Venetian work that his grandfather had found in a convent near Bologna. | ||
| + | Yes, that would serve to wrap the dreadful thing in. It had perhaps | ||
| + | served often as a pall for the dead. Now it was to hide something that | ||
| + | had a corruption of its own, worse than the corruption of death | ||
| + | itself& | ||
| + | What the worm was to the corpse, his sins would be to the painted image | ||
| + | on the canvas. | ||
| + | would defile it and make it shameful. | ||
| + | live on. It would be always alive. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He shuddered, and for a moment he regretted that he had not told Basil | ||
| + | the true reason why he had wished to hide the picture away. Basil | ||
| + | would have helped him to resist Lord Henry' | ||
| + | more poisonous influences that came from his own temperament. | ||
| + | that he bore him& | ||
| + | not noble and intellectual. | ||
| + | of beauty that is born of the senses and that dies when the senses | ||
| + | tire. It was such love as Michelangelo had known, and Montaigne, and | ||
| + | Winckelmann, | ||
| + | But it was too late now. The past could always be annihilated. | ||
| + | Regret, denial, or forgetfulness could do that. But the future was | ||
| + | inevitable. | ||
| + | outlet, dreams that would make the shadow of their evil real. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He took up from the couch the great purple-and-gold texture that | ||
| + | covered it, and, holding it in his hands, passed behind the screen. | ||
| + | Was the face on the canvas viler than before? | ||
| + | was unchanged, and yet his loathing of it was intensified. | ||
| + | blue eyes, and rose-red lips& | ||
| + | expression that had altered. | ||
| + | Compared to what he saw in it of censure or rebuke, how shallow Basil' | ||
| + | reproaches about Sibyl Vane had been!& | ||
| + | account! | ||
| + | calling him to judgement. | ||
| + | the rich pall over the picture. | ||
| + | door. He passed out as his servant entered. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "The persons are here, Monsieur." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He felt that the man must be got rid of at once. He must not be | ||
| + | allowed to know where the picture was being taken to. There was | ||
| + | something sly about him, and he had thoughtful, treacherous eyes. | ||
| + | Sitting down at the writing-table he scribbled a note to Lord Henry, | ||
| + | asking him to send him round something to read and reminding him that | ||
| + | they were to meet at eight-fifteen that evening. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Wait for an answer," | ||
| + | here." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | In two or three minutes there was another knock, and Mr. Hubbard | ||
| + | himself, the celebrated frame-maker of South Audley Street, came in | ||
| + | with a somewhat rough-looking young assistant. | ||
| + | florid, red-whiskered little man, whose admiration for art was | ||
| + | considerably tempered by the inveterate impecuniosity of most of the | ||
| + | artists who dealt with him. As a rule, he never left his shop. He | ||
| + | waited for people to come to him. But he always made an exception in | ||
| + | favour of Dorian Gray. There was something about Dorian that charmed | ||
| + | everybody. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What can I do for you, Mr. Gray?" he said, rubbing his fat freckled | ||
| + | hands. | ||
| + | person. | ||
| + | sale. Old Florentine. | ||
| + | suited for a religious subject, Mr. Gray." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am so sorry you have given yourself the trouble of coming round, Mr. | ||
| + | Hubbard. | ||
| + | don't go in much at present for religious art& | ||
| + | picture carried to the top of the house for me. It is rather heavy, so | ||
| + | I thought I would ask you to lend me a couple of your men." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "No trouble at all, Mr. Gray. I am delighted to be of any service to | ||
| + | you. Which is the work of art, sir?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | covering and all, just as it is? I don't want it to get scratched | ||
| + | going upstairs." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "There will be no difficulty, sir," said the genial frame-maker, | ||
| + | beginning, with the aid of his assistant, to unhook the picture from | ||
| + | the long brass chains by which it was suspended. | ||
| + | shall we carry it to, Mr. Gray?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I will show you the way, Mr. Hubbard, if you will kindly follow me. | ||
| + | Or perhaps you had better go in front. | ||
| + | top of the house. | ||
| + | wider." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He held the door open for them, and they passed out into the hall and | ||
| + | began the ascent. | ||
| + | picture extremely bulky, and now and then, in spite of the obsequious | ||
| + | protests of Mr. Hubbard, who had the true tradesman' | ||
| + | of seeing a gentleman doing anything useful, Dorian put his hand to it | ||
| + | so as to help them. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | reached the top landing. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am afraid it is rather heavy," | ||
| + | door that opened into the room that was to keep for him the curious | ||
| + | secret of his life and hide his soul from the eyes of men. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He had not entered the place for more than four years& | ||
| + | since he had used it first as a play-room when he was a child, and then | ||
| + | as a study when he grew somewhat older. | ||
| + | well-proportioned room, which had been specially built by the last Lord | ||
| + | Kelso for the use of the little grandson whom, for his strange likeness | ||
| + | to his mother, and also for other reasons, he had always hated and | ||
| + | desired to keep at a distance. | ||
| + | little changed. | ||
| + | fantastically painted panels and its tarnished gilt mouldings, in which | ||
| + | he had so often hidden himself as a boy. There the satinwood book-case | ||
| + | filled with his dog-eared schoolbooks. | ||
| + | hanging the same ragged Flemish tapestry where a faded king and queen | ||
| + | were playing chess in a garden, while a company of hawkers rode by, | ||
| + | carrying hooded birds on their gauntleted wrists. | ||
| + | remembered it all! Every moment of his lonely childhood came back to | ||
| + | him as he looked round. | ||
| + | life, and it seemed horrible to him that it was here the fatal portrait | ||
| + | was to be hidden away. How little he had thought, in those dead days, | ||
| + | of all that was in store for him! | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | But there was no other place in the house so secure from prying eyes as | ||
| + | this. He had the key, and no one else could enter it. Beneath its | ||
| + | purple pall, the face painted on the canvas could grow bestial, sodden, | ||
| + | and unclean. | ||
| + | would not see it. Why should he watch the hideous corruption of his | ||
| + | soul? He kept his youth& | ||
| + | his nature grow finer, after all? There was no reason that the future | ||
| + | should be so full of shame. | ||
| + | purify him, and shield him from those sins that seemed to be already | ||
| + | stirring in spirit and in flesh& | ||
| + | very mystery lent them their subtlety and their charm. | ||
| + | day, the cruel look would have passed away from the scarlet sensitive | ||
| + | mouth, and he might show to the world Basil Hallward' | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | No; that was impossible. | ||
| + | upon the canvas was growing old. It might escape the hideousness of | ||
| + | sin, but the hideousness of age was in store for it. The cheeks would | ||
| + | become hollow or flaccid. | ||
| + | fading eyes and make them horrible. | ||
| + | brightness, the mouth would gape or droop, would be foolish or gross, | ||
| + | as the mouths of old men are. There would be the wrinkled throat, the | ||
| + | cold, blue-veined hands, the twisted body, that he remembered in the | ||
| + | grandfather who had been so stern to him in his boyhood. | ||
| + | had to be concealed. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Bring it in, Mr. Hubbard, please," | ||
| + | "I am sorry I kept you so long. I was thinking of something else." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | was still gasping for breath. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh, anywhere. | ||
| + | Just lean it against the wall. Thanks." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Might one look at the work of art, sir?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian started. | ||
| + | keeping his eye on the man. He felt ready to leap upon him and fling | ||
| + | him to the ground if he dared to lift the gorgeous hanging that | ||
| + | concealed the secret of his life. "I shan't trouble you any more now. | ||
| + | I am much obliged for your kindness in coming round." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Not at all, not at all, Mr. Gray. Ever ready to do anything for you, | ||
| + | sir." And Mr. Hubbard tramped downstairs, followed by the assistant, | ||
| + | who glanced back at Dorian with a look of shy wonder in his rough | ||
| + | uncomely face. He had never seen any one so marvellous. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | When the sound of their footsteps had died away, Dorian locked the door | ||
| + | and put the key in his pocket. | ||
| + | look upon the horrible thing. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | On reaching the library, he found that it was just after five o' | ||
| + | and that the tea had been already brought up. On a little table of | ||
| + | dark perfumed wood thickly incrusted with nacre, a present from Lady | ||
| + | Radley, his guardian' | ||
| + | spent the preceding winter in Cairo, was lying a note from Lord Henry, | ||
| + | and beside it was a book bound in yellow paper, the cover slightly torn | ||
| + | and the edges soiled. | ||
| + | Gazette</ | ||
| + | returned. | ||
| + | leaving the house and had wormed out of them what they had been doing. | ||
| + | He would be sure to miss the picture& | ||
| + | while he had been laying the tea-things. The screen had not been set | ||
| + | back, and a blank space was visible on the wall. Perhaps some night he | ||
| + | might find him creeping upstairs and trying to force the door of the | ||
| + | room. It was a horrible thing to have a spy in one's house. | ||
| + | heard of rich men who had been blackmailed all their lives by some | ||
| + | servant who had read a letter, or overheard a conversation, | ||
| + | up a card with an address, or found beneath a pillow a withered flower | ||
| + | or a shred of crumpled lace. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He sighed, and having poured himself out some tea, opened Lord Henry' | ||
| + | note. It was simply to say that he sent him round the evening paper, | ||
| + | and a book that might interest him, and that he would be at the club at | ||
| + | eight-fifteen. He opened < | ||
| + | it. A red pencil-mark on the fifth page caught his eye. It drew | ||
| + | attention to the following paragraph: | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <BR> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | INQUEST ON AN ACTRESS.& | ||
| + | Tavern, Hoxton Road, by Mr. Danby, the District Coroner, on the body of | ||
| + | Sibyl Vane, a young actress recently engaged at the Royal Theatre, | ||
| + | Holborn. | ||
| + | Considerable sympathy was expressed for the mother of the deceased, who | ||
| + | was greatly affected during the giving of her own evidence, and that of | ||
| + | Dr. Birrell, who had made the post-mortem examination of the deceased. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <BR> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He frowned, and tearing the paper in two, went across the room and | ||
| + | flung the pieces away. How ugly it all was! And how horribly real | ||
| + | ugliness made things! | ||
| + | having sent him the report. | ||
| + | marked it with red pencil. | ||
| + | more than enough English for that. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Perhaps he had read it and had begun to suspect something. | ||
| + | what did it matter? | ||
| + | death? | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | His eye fell on the yellow book that Lord Henry had sent him. What was | ||
| + | it, he wondered. | ||
| + | stand that had always looked to him like the work of some strange | ||
| + | Egyptian bees that wrought in silver, and taking up the volume, flung | ||
| + | himself into an arm-chair and began to turn over the leaves. | ||
| + | few minutes he became absorbed. | ||
| + | ever read. It seemed to him that in exquisite raiment, and to the | ||
| + | delicate sound of flutes, the sins of the world were passing in dumb | ||
| + | show before him. Things that he had dimly dreamed of were suddenly | ||
| + | made real to him. Things of which he had never dreamed were gradually | ||
| + | revealed. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | It was a novel without a plot and with only one character, being, | ||
| + | indeed, simply a psychological study of a certain young Parisian who | ||
| + | spent his life trying to realize in the nineteenth century all the | ||
| + | passions and modes of thought that belonged to every century except his | ||
| + | own, and to sum up, as it were, in himself the various moods through | ||
| + | which the world-spirit had ever passed, loving for their mere | ||
| + | artificiality those renunciations that men have unwisely called virtue, | ||
| + | as much as those natural rebellions that wise men still call sin. The | ||
| + | style in which it was written was that curious jewelled style, vivid | ||
| + | and obscure at once, full of < | ||
| + | expressions and of elaborate paraphrases, | ||
| + | of some of the finest artists of the French school of < | ||
| + | There were in it metaphors as monstrous as orchids and as subtle in | ||
| + | colour. | ||
| + | philosophy. | ||
| + | spiritual ecstasies of some mediaeval saint or the morbid confessions | ||
| + | of a modern sinner. | ||
| + | incense seemed to cling about its pages and to trouble the brain. | ||
| + | mere cadence of the sentences, the subtle monotony of their music, so | ||
| + | full as it was of complex refrains and movements elaborately repeated, | ||
| + | produced in the mind of the lad, as he passed from chapter to chapter, | ||
| + | a form of reverie, a malady of dreaming, that made him unconscious of | ||
| + | the falling day and creeping shadows. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Cloudless, and pierced by one solitary star, a copper-green sky gleamed | ||
| + | through the windows. | ||
| + | more. Then, after his valet had reminded him several times of the | ||
| + | lateness of the hour, he got up, and going into the next room, placed | ||
| + | the book on the little Florentine table that always stood at his | ||
| + | bedside and began to dress for dinner. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | It was almost nine o' | ||
| + | Lord Henry sitting alone, in the morning-room, | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am so sorry, Harry," | ||
| + | fault. | ||
| + | time was going." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes, I thought you would like it," replied his host, rising from his | ||
| + | chair. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I didn't say I liked it, Harry. | ||
| + | great difference." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Ah, you have discovered that?" murmured Lord Henry. | ||
| + | into the dining-room. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | < | ||
| + | |||
| + | <A NAME=" | ||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | CHAPTER 11 | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | For years, Dorian Gray could not free himself from the influence of | ||
| + | this book. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he never | ||
| + | sought to free himself from it. He procured from Paris no less than | ||
| + | nine large-paper copies of the first edition, and had them bound in | ||
| + | different colours, so that they might suit his various moods and the | ||
| + | changing fancies of a nature over which he seemed, at times, to have | ||
| + | almost entirely lost control. | ||
| + | in whom the romantic and the scientific temperaments were so strangely | ||
| + | blended, became to him a kind of prefiguring type of himself. | ||
| + | indeed, the whole book seemed to him to contain the story of his own | ||
| + | life, written before he had lived it. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | In one point he was more fortunate than the novel' | ||
| + | never knew& | ||
| + | grotesque dread of mirrors, and polished metal surfaces, and still | ||
| + | water which came upon the young Parisian so early in his life, and was | ||
| + | occasioned by the sudden decay of a beau that had once, apparently, | ||
| + | been so remarkable. | ||
| + | nearly every joy, as certainly in every pleasure, cruelty has its | ||
| + | place& | ||
| + | really tragic, if somewhat overemphasized, | ||
| + | despair of one who had himself lost what in others, and the world, he | ||
| + | had most dearly valued. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | For the wonderful beauty that had so fascinated Basil Hallward, and | ||
| + | many others besides him, seemed never to leave him. Even those who had | ||
| + | heard the most evil things against him& | ||
| + | rumours about his mode of life crept through London and became the | ||
| + | chatter of the clubs& | ||
| + | they saw him. He had always the look of one who had kept himself | ||
| + | unspotted from the world. | ||
| + | Dorian Gray entered the room. There was something in the purity of his | ||
| + | face that rebuked them. His mere presence seemed to recall to them the | ||
| + | memory of the innocence that they had tarnished. | ||
| + | so charming and graceful as he was could have escaped the stain of an | ||
| + | age that was at once sordid and sensual. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Often, on returning home from one of those mysterious and prolonged | ||
| + | absences that gave rise to such strange conjecture among those who were | ||
| + | his friends, or thought that they were so, he himself would creep | ||
| + | upstairs to the locked room, open the door with the key that never left | ||
| + | him now, and stand, with a mirror, in front of the portrait that Basil | ||
| + | Hallward had painted of him, looking now at the evil and aging face on | ||
| + | the canvas, and now at the fair young face that laughed back at him | ||
| + | from the polished glass. | ||
| + | quicken his sense of pleasure. | ||
| + | own beauty, more and more interested in the corruption of his own soul. | ||
| + | He would examine with minute care, and sometimes with a monstrous and | ||
| + | terrible delight, the hideous lines that seared the wrinkling forehead | ||
| + | or crawled around the heavy sensual mouth, wondering sometimes which | ||
| + | were the more horrible, the signs of sin or the signs of age. He would | ||
| + | place his white hands beside the coarse bloated hands of the picture, | ||
| + | and smile. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | There were moments, indeed, at night, when, lying sleepless in his own | ||
| + | delicately scented chamber, or in the sordid room of the little | ||
| + | ill-famed tavern near the docks which, under an assumed name and in | ||
| + | disguise, it was his habit to frequent, he would think of the ruin he | ||
| + | had brought upon his soul with a pity that was all the more poignant | ||
| + | because it was purely selfish. | ||
| + | That curiosity about life which Lord Henry had first stirred in him, as | ||
| + | they sat together in the garden of their friend, seemed to increase | ||
| + | with gratification. | ||
| + | had mad hungers that grew more ravenous as he fed them. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Yet he was not really reckless, at any rate in his relations to | ||
| + | society. | ||
| + | Wednesday evening while the season lasted, he would throw open to the | ||
| + | world his beautiful house and have the most celebrated musicians of the | ||
| + | day to charm his guests with the wonders of their art. His little | ||
| + | dinners, in the settling of which Lord Henry always assisted him, were | ||
| + | noted as much for the careful selection and placing of those invited, | ||
| + | as for the exquisite taste shown in the decoration of the table, with | ||
| + | its subtle symphonic arrangements of exotic flowers, and embroidered | ||
| + | cloths, and antique plate of gold and silver. | ||
| + | especially among the very young men, who saw, or fancied that they saw, | ||
| + | in Dorian Gray the true realization of a type of which they had often | ||
| + | dreamed in Eton or Oxford days, a type that was to combine something of | ||
| + | the real culture of the scholar with all the grace and distinction and | ||
| + | perfect manner of a citizen of the world. | ||
| + | the company of those whom Dante describes as having sought to "make | ||
| + | themselves perfect by the worship of beauty." | ||
| + | for whom "the visible world existed." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | And, certainly, to him life itself was the first, the greatest, of the | ||
| + | arts, and for it all the other arts seemed to be but a preparation. | ||
| + | Fashion, by which what is really fantastic becomes for a moment | ||
| + | universal, and dandyism, which, in its own way, is an attempt to assert | ||
| + | the absolute modernity of beauty, had, of course, their fascination for | ||
| + | him. His mode of dressing, and the particular styles that from time to | ||
| + | time he affected, had their marked influence on the young exquisites of | ||
| + | the Mayfair balls and Pall Mall club windows, who copied him in | ||
| + | everything that he did, and tried to reproduce the accidental charm of | ||
| + | his graceful, though to him only half-serious, | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | For, while he was but too ready to accept the position that was almost | ||
| + | immediately offered to him on his coming of age, and found, indeed, a | ||
| + | subtle pleasure in the thought that he might really become to the | ||
| + | London of his own day what to imperial Neronian Rome the author of the | ||
| + | Satyricon once had been, yet in his inmost heart he desired to be | ||
| + | something more than a mere < | ||
| + | wearing of a jewel, or the knotting of a necktie, or the conduct of a | ||
| + | cane. He sought to elaborate some new scheme of life that would have | ||
| + | its reasoned philosophy and its ordered principles, and find in the | ||
| + | spiritualizing of the senses its highest realization. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The worship of the senses has often, and with much justice, been | ||
| + | decried, men feeling a natural instinct of terror about passions and | ||
| + | sensations that seem stronger than themselves, and that they are | ||
| + | conscious of sharing with the less highly organized forms of existence. | ||
| + | But it appeared to Dorian Gray that the true nature of the senses had | ||
| + | never been understood, and that they had remained savage and animal | ||
| + | merely because the world had sought to starve them into submission or | ||
| + | to kill them by pain, instead of aiming at making them elements of a | ||
| + | new spirituality, | ||
| + | dominant characteristic. | ||
| + | history, he was haunted by a feeling of loss. So much had been | ||
| + | surrendered! and to such little purpose! | ||
| + | rejections, monstrous forms of self-torture and self-denial, | ||
| + | origin was fear and whose result was a degradation infinitely more | ||
| + | terrible than that fancied degradation from which, in their ignorance, | ||
| + | they had sought to escape; Nature, in her wonderful irony, driving out | ||
| + | the anchorite to feed with the wild animals of the desert and giving to | ||
| + | the hermit the beasts of the field as his companions. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Yes: there was to be, as Lord Henry had prophesied, a new Hedonism | ||
| + | that was to recreate life and to save it from that harsh uncomely | ||
| + | puritanism that is having, in our own day, its curious revival. | ||
| + | to have its service of the intellect, certainly, yet it was never to | ||
| + | accept any theory or system that would involve the sacrifice of any | ||
| + | mode of passionate experience. | ||
| + | itself, and not the fruits of experience, sweet or bitter as they might | ||
| + | be. Of the asceticism that deadens the senses, as of the vulgar | ||
| + | profligacy that dulls them, it was to know nothing. | ||
| + | teach man to concentrate himself upon the moments of a life that is | ||
| + | itself but a moment. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | There are few of us who have not sometimes wakened before dawn, either | ||
| + | after one of those dreamless nights that make us almost enamoured of | ||
| + | death, or one of those nights of horror and misshapen joy, when through | ||
| + | the chambers of the brain sweep phantoms more terrible than reality | ||
| + | itself, and instinct with that vivid life that lurks in all grotesques, | ||
| + | and that lends to Gothic art its enduring vitality, this art being, one | ||
| + | might fancy, especially the art of those whose minds have been troubled | ||
| + | with the malady of reverie. | ||
| + | curtains, and they appear to tremble. | ||
| + | shadows crawl into the corners of the room and crouch there. | ||
| + | there is the stirring of birds among the leaves, or the sound of men | ||
| + | going forth to their work, or the sigh and sob of the wind coming down | ||
| + | from the hills and wandering round the silent house, as though it | ||
| + | feared to wake the sleepers and yet must needs call forth sleep from | ||
| + | her purple cave. Veil after veil of thin dusky gauze is lifted, and by | ||
| + | degrees the forms and colours of things are restored to them, and we | ||
| + | watch the dawn remaking the world in its antique pattern. | ||
| + | mirrors get back their mimic life. The flameless tapers stand where we | ||
| + | had left them, and beside them lies the half-cut book that we had been | ||
| + | studying, or the wired flower that we had worn at the ball, or the | ||
| + | letter that we had been afraid to read, or that we had read too often. | ||
| + | Nothing seems to us changed. | ||
| + | comes back the real life that we had known. | ||
| + | we had left off, and there steals over us a terrible sense of the | ||
| + | necessity for the continuance of energy in the same wearisome round of | ||
| + | stereotyped habits, or a wild longing, it may be, that our eyelids | ||
| + | might open some morning upon a world that had been refashioned anew in | ||
| + | the darkness for our pleasure, a world in which things would have fresh | ||
| + | shapes and colours, and be changed, or have other secrets, a world in | ||
| + | which the past would have little or no place, or survive, at any rate, | ||
| + | in no conscious form of obligation or regret, the remembrance even of | ||
| + | joy having its bitterness and the memories of pleasure their pain. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | It was the creation of such worlds as these that seemed to Dorian Gray | ||
| + | to be the true object, or amongst the true objects, of life; and in his | ||
| + | search for sensations that would be at once new and delightful, and | ||
| + | possess that element of strangeness that is so essential to romance, he | ||
| + | would often adopt certain modes of thought that he knew to be really | ||
| + | alien to his nature, abandon himself to their subtle influences, and | ||
| + | then, having, as it were, caught their colour and satisfied his | ||
| + | intellectual curiosity, leave them with that curious indifference that | ||
| + | is not incompatible with a real ardour of temperament, | ||
| + | indeed, according to certain modern psychologists, | ||
| + | of it. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | It was rumoured of him once that he was about to join the Roman | ||
| + | Catholic communion, and certainly the Roman ritual had always a great | ||
| + | attraction for him. The daily sacrifice, more awful really than all | ||
| + | the sacrifices of the antique world, stirred him as much by its superb | ||
| + | rejection of the evidence of the senses as by the primitive simplicity | ||
| + | of its elements and the eternal pathos of the human tragedy that it | ||
| + | sought to symbolize. | ||
| + | pavement and watch the priest, in his stiff flowered dalmatic, slowly | ||
| + | and with white hands moving aside the veil of the tabernacle, or | ||
| + | raising aloft the jewelled, lantern-shaped monstrance with that pallid | ||
| + | wafer that at times, one would fain think, is indeed the "< | ||
| + | caelestis</ | ||
| + | Passion of Christ, breaking the Host into the chalice and smiting his | ||
| + | breast for his sins. The fuming censers that the grave boys, in their | ||
| + | lace and scarlet, tossed into the air like great gilt flowers had their | ||
| + | subtle fascination for him. As he passed out, he used to look with | ||
| + | wonder at the black confessionals and long to sit in the dim shadow of | ||
| + | one of them and listen to men and women whispering through the worn | ||
| + | grating the true story of their lives. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | But he never fell into the error of arresting his intellectual | ||
| + | development by any formal acceptance of creed or system, or of | ||
| + | mistaking, for a house in which to live, an inn that is but suitable | ||
| + | for the sojourn of a night, or for a few hours of a night in which | ||
| + | there are no stars and the moon is in travail. | ||
| + | marvellous power of making common things strange to us, and the subtle | ||
| + | antinomianism that always seems to accompany it, moved him for a | ||
| + | season; and for a season he inclined to the materialistic doctrines of | ||
| + | the < | ||
| + | tracing the thoughts and passions of men to some pearly cell in the | ||
| + | brain, or some white nerve in the body, delighting in the conception of | ||
| + | the absolute dependence of the spirit on certain physical conditions, | ||
| + | morbid or healthy, normal or diseased. | ||
| + | before, no theory of life seemed to him to be of any importance | ||
| + | compared with life itself. | ||
| + | intellectual speculation is when separated from action and experiment. | ||
| + | He knew that the senses, no less than the soul, have their spiritual | ||
| + | mysteries to reveal. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | And so he would now study perfumes and the secrets of their | ||
| + | manufacture, | ||
| + | from the East. He saw that there was no mood of the mind that had not | ||
| + | its counterpart in the sensuous life, and set himself to discover their | ||
| + | true relations, wondering what there was in frankincense that made one | ||
| + | mystical, and in ambergris that stirred one's passions, and in violets | ||
| + | that woke the memory of dead romances, and in musk that troubled the | ||
| + | brain, and in champak that stained the imagination; | ||
| + | to elaborate a real psychology of perfumes, and to estimate the several | ||
| + | influences of sweet-smelling roots and scented, pollen-laden flowers; | ||
| + | of aromatic balms and of dark and fragrant woods; of spikenard, that | ||
| + | sickens; of hovenia, that makes men mad; and of aloes, that are said to | ||
| + | be able to expel melancholy from the soul. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | At another time he devoted himself entirely to music, and in a long | ||
| + | latticed room, with a vermilion-and-gold ceiling and walls of | ||
| + | olive-green lacquer, he used to give curious concerts in which mad | ||
| + | gipsies tore wild music from little zithers, or grave, yellow-shawled | ||
| + | Tunisians plucked at the strained strings of monstrous lutes, while | ||
| + | grinning Negroes beat monotonously upon copper drums and, crouching | ||
| + | upon scarlet mats, slim turbaned Indians blew through long pipes of | ||
| + | reed or brass and charmed& | ||
| + | horrible horned adders. | ||
| + | barbaric music stirred him at times when Schubert' | ||
| + | beautiful sorrows, and the mighty harmonies of Beethoven himself, fell | ||
| + | unheeded on his ear. He collected together from all parts of the world | ||
| + | the strangest instruments that could be found, either in the tombs of | ||
| + | dead nations or among the few savage tribes that have survived contact | ||
| + | with Western civilizations, | ||
| + | the mysterious < | ||
| + | allowed to look at and that even youths may not see till they have been | ||
| + | subjected to fasting and scourging, and the earthen jars of the | ||
| + | Peruvians that have the shrill cries of birds, and flutes of human | ||
| + | bones such as Alfonso de Ovalle heard in Chile, and the sonorous green | ||
| + | jaspers that are found near Cuzco and give forth a note of singular | ||
| + | sweetness. | ||
| + | they were shaken; the long < | ||
| + | performer does not blow, but through which he inhales the air; the | ||
| + | harsh < | ||
| + | sit all day long in high trees, and can be heard, it is said, at a | ||
| + | distance of three leagues; the < | ||
| + | tongues of wood and is beaten with sticks that are smeared with an | ||
| + | elastic gum obtained from the milky juice of plants; the < | ||
| + | the Aztecs, that are hung in clusters like grapes; and a huge | ||
| + | cylindrical drum, covered with the skins of great serpents, like the | ||
| + | one that Bernal Diaz saw when he went with Cortes into the Mexican | ||
| + | temple, and of whose doleful sound he has left us so vivid a | ||
| + | description. | ||
| + | him, and he felt a curious delight in the thought that art, like | ||
| + | Nature, has her monsters, things of bestial shape and with hideous | ||
| + | voices. | ||
| + | box at the opera, either alone or with Lord Henry, listening in rapt | ||
| + | pleasure to " | ||
| + | of art a presentation of the tragedy of his own soul. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | On one occasion he took up the study of jewels, and appeared at a | ||
| + | costume ball as Anne de Joyeuse, Admiral of France, in a dress covered | ||
| + | with five hundred and sixty pearls. | ||
| + | years, and, indeed, may be said never to have left him. He would often | ||
| + | spend a whole day settling and resettling in their cases the various | ||
| + | stones that he had collected, such as the olive-green chrysoberyl that | ||
| + | turns red by lamplight, the cymophane with its wirelike line of silver, | ||
| + | the pistachio-coloured peridot, rose-pink and wine-yellow topazes, | ||
| + | carbuncles of fiery scarlet with tremulous, four-rayed stars, flame-red | ||
| + | cinnamon-stones, | ||
| + | alternate layers of ruby and sapphire. | ||
| + | sunstone, and the moonstone' | ||
| + | of the milky opal. He procured from Amsterdam three emeralds of | ||
| + | extraordinary size and richness of colour, and had a turquoise <i>de la | ||
| + | vieille roche</ | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He discovered wonderful stories, also, about jewels. | ||
| + | Clericalis Disciplina a serpent was mentioned with eyes of real | ||
| + | jacinth, and in the romantic history of Alexander, the Conqueror of | ||
| + | Emathia was said to have found in the vale of Jordan snakes "with | ||
| + | collars of real emeralds growing on their backs." | ||
| + | the brain of the dragon, Philostratus told us, and "by the exhibition | ||
| + | of golden letters and a scarlet robe" the monster could be thrown into | ||
| + | a magical sleep and slain. | ||
| + | Boniface, the diamond rendered a man invisible, and the agate of India | ||
| + | made him eloquent. | ||
| + | provoked sleep, and the amethyst drove away the fumes of wine. The | ||
| + | garnet cast out demons, and the hydropicus deprived the moon of her | ||
| + | colour. | ||
| + | that discovers thieves, could be affected only by the blood of kids. | ||
| + | Leonardus Camillus had seen a white stone taken from the brain of a | ||
| + | newly killed toad, that was a certain antidote against poison. | ||
| + | bezoar, that was found in the heart of the Arabian deer, was a charm | ||
| + | that could cure the plague. | ||
| + | aspilates, that, according to Democritus, kept the wearer from any | ||
| + | danger by fire. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The King of Ceilan rode through his city with a large ruby in his hand, | ||
| + | as the ceremony of his coronation. | ||
| + | Priest were "made of sardius, with the horn of the horned snake | ||
| + | inwrought, so that no man might bring poison within." | ||
| + | were "two golden apples, in which were two carbuncles," | ||
| + | gold might shine by day and the carbuncles by night. | ||
| + | strange romance 'A Margarite of America', | ||
| + | chamber of the queen one could behold "all the chaste ladies of the | ||
| + | world, inchased out of silver, looking through fair mirrours of | ||
| + | chrysolites, | ||
| + | had seen the inhabitants of Zipangu place rose-coloured pearls in the | ||
| + | mouths of the dead. A sea-monster had been enamoured of the pearl that | ||
| + | the diver brought to King Perozes, and had slain the thief, and mourned | ||
| + | for seven moons over its loss. When the Huns lured the king into the | ||
| + | great pit, he flung it away& | ||
| + | found again, though the Emperor Anastasius offered five hundred-weight | ||
| + | of gold pieces for it. The King of Malabar had shown to a certain | ||
| + | Venetian a rosary of three hundred and four pearls, one for every god | ||
| + | that he worshipped. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | When the Duke de Valentinois, | ||
| + | France, his horse was loaded with gold leaves, according to Brantome, | ||
| + | and his cap had double rows of rubies that threw out a great light. | ||
| + | Charles of England had ridden in stirrups hung with four hundred and | ||
| + | twenty-one diamonds. | ||
| + | marks, which was covered with balas rubies. | ||
| + | on his way to the Tower previous to his coronation, as wearing "a | ||
| + | jacket of raised gold, the placard embroidered with diamonds and other | ||
| + | rich stones, and a great bauderike about his neck of large balasses." | ||
| + | The favourites of James I wore ear-rings of emeralds set in gold | ||
| + | filigrane. | ||
| + | studded with jacinths, a collar of gold roses set with | ||
| + | turquoise-stones, | ||
| + | jewelled gloves reaching to the elbow, and had a hawk-glove sewn with | ||
| + | twelve rubies and fifty-two great orients. | ||
| + | the Rash, the last Duke of Burgundy of his race, was hung with | ||
| + | pear-shaped pearls and studded with sapphires. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | How exquisite life had once been! How gorgeous in its pomp and | ||
| + | decoration! | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Then he turned his attention to embroideries and to the tapestries that | ||
| + | performed the office of frescoes in the chill rooms of the northern | ||
| + | nations of Europe. | ||
| + | an extraordinary faculty of becoming absolutely absorbed for the moment | ||
| + | in whatever he took up& | ||
| + | ruin that time brought on beautiful and wonderful things. | ||
| + | rate, had escaped that. Summer followed summer, and the yellow | ||
| + | jonquils bloomed and died many times, and nights of horror repeated the | ||
| + | story of their shame, but he was unchanged. | ||
| + | or stained his flowerlike bloom. | ||
| + | things! | ||
| + | robe, on which the gods fought against the giants, that had been worked | ||
| + | by brown girls for the pleasure of Athena? | ||
| + | that Nero had stretched across the Colosseum at Rome, that Titan sail | ||
| + | of purple on which was represented the starry sky, and Apollo driving a | ||
| + | chariot drawn by white, gilt-reined steeds? | ||
| + | curious table-napkins wrought for the Priest of the Sun, on which were | ||
| + | displayed all the dainties and viands that could be wanted for a feast; | ||
| + | the mortuary cloth of King Chilperic, with its three hundred golden | ||
| + | bees; the fantastic robes that excited the indignation of the Bishop of | ||
| + | Pontus and were figured with " | ||
| + | rocks, hunters& | ||
| + | the coat that Charles of Orleans once wore, on the sleeves of which | ||
| + | were embroidered the verses of a song beginning "< | ||
| + | joyeux</ | ||
| + | thread, and each note, of square shape in those days, formed with four | ||
| + | pearls. | ||
| + | for the use of Queen Joan of Burgundy and was decorated with " | ||
| + | hundred and twenty-one parrots, made in broidery, and blazoned with the | ||
| + | king's arms, and five hundred and sixty-one butterflies, | ||
| + | were similarly ornamented with the arms of the queen, the whole worked | ||
| + | in gold." | ||
| + | black velvet powdered with crescents and suns. Its curtains were of | ||
| + | damask, with leafy wreaths and garlands, figured upon a gold and silver | ||
| + | ground, and fringed along the edges with broideries of pearls, and it | ||
| + | stood in a room hung with rows of the queen' | ||
| + | velvet upon cloth of silver. | ||
| + | fifteen feet high in his apartment. | ||
| + | Poland, was made of Smyrna gold brocade embroidered in turquoises with | ||
| + | verses from the Koran. | ||
| + | chased, and profusely set with enamelled and jewelled medallions. | ||
| + | had been taken from the Turkish camp before Vienna, and the standard of | ||
| + | Mohammed had stood beneath the tremulous gilt of its canopy. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | And so, for a whole year, he sought to accumulate the most exquisite | ||
| + | specimens that he could find of textile and embroidered work, getting | ||
| + | the dainty Delhi muslins, finely wrought with gold-thread palmates and | ||
| + | stitched over with iridescent beetles' | ||
| + | from their transparency are known in the East as "woven air," and | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | elaborate yellow Chinese hangings; books bound in tawny satins or fair | ||
| + | blue silks and wrought with < | ||
| + | < | ||
| + | velvets; Georgian work, with its gilt coins, and Japanese < | ||
| + | with their green-toned golds and their marvellously plumaged birds. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He had a special passion, also, for ecclesiastical vestments, as indeed | ||
| + | he had for everything connected with the service of the Church. | ||
| + | long cedar chests that lined the west gallery of his house, he had | ||
| + | stored away many rare and beautiful specimens of what is really the | ||
| + | raiment of the Bride of Christ, who must wear purple and jewels and | ||
| + | fine linen that she may hide the pallid macerated body that is worn by | ||
| + | the suffering that she seeks for and wounded by self-inflicted pain. | ||
| + | He possessed a gorgeous cope of crimson silk and gold-thread damask, | ||
| + | figured with a repeating pattern of golden pomegranates set in | ||
| + | six-petalled formal blossoms, beyond which on either side was the | ||
| + | pine-apple device wrought in seed-pearls. The orphreys were divided | ||
| + | into panels representing scenes from the life of the Virgin, and the | ||
| + | coronation of the Virgin was figured in coloured silks upon the hood. | ||
| + | This was Italian work of the fifteenth century. | ||
| + | green velvet, embroidered with heart-shaped groups of acanthus-leaves, | ||
| + | from which spread long-stemmed white blossoms, the details of which | ||
| + | were picked out with silver thread and coloured crystals. | ||
| + | bore a seraph' | ||
| + | woven in a diaper of red and gold silk, and were starred with | ||
| + | medallions of many saints and martyrs, among whom was St. Sebastian. | ||
| + | He had chasubles, also, of amber-coloured silk, and blue silk and gold | ||
| + | brocade, and yellow silk damask and cloth of gold, figured with | ||
| + | representations of the Passion and Crucifixion of Christ, and | ||
| + | embroidered with lions and peacocks and other emblems; dalmatics of | ||
| + | white satin and pink silk damask, decorated with tulips and dolphins | ||
| + | and < | ||
| + | many corporals, chalice-veils, | ||
| + | which such things were put, there was something that quickened his | ||
| + | imagination. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | For these treasures, and everything that he collected in his lovely | ||
| + | house, were to be to him means of forgetfulness, | ||
| + | could escape, for a season, from the fear that seemed to him at times | ||
| + | to be almost too great to be borne. | ||
| + | locked room where he had spent so much of his boyhood, he had hung with | ||
| + | his own hands the terrible portrait whose changing features showed him | ||
| + | the real degradation of his life, and in front of it had draped the | ||
| + | purple-and-gold pall as a curtain. | ||
| + | would forget the hideous painted thing, and get back his light heart, | ||
| + | his wonderful joyousness, his passionate absorption in mere existence. | ||
| + | Then, suddenly, some night he would creep out of the house, go down to | ||
| + | dreadful places near Blue Gate Fields, and stay there, day after day, | ||
| + | until he was driven away. On his return he would sit in front of the | ||
| + | picture, sometimes loathing it and himself, but filled, at other | ||
| + | times, with that pride of individualism that is half the | ||
| + | fascination of sin, and smiling with secret pleasure at the misshapen | ||
| + | shadow that had to bear the burden that should have been his own. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | After a few years he could not endure to be long out of England, and | ||
| + | gave up the villa that he had shared at Trouville with Lord Henry, as | ||
| + | well as the little white walled-in house at Algiers where they had more | ||
| + | than once spent the winter. | ||
| + | that was such a part of his life, and was also afraid that during his | ||
| + | absence some one might gain access to the room, in spite of the | ||
| + | elaborate bars that he had caused to be placed upon the door. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He was quite conscious that this would tell them nothing. | ||
| + | that the portrait still preserved, under all the foulness and ugliness | ||
| + | of the face, its marked likeness to himself; but what could they learn | ||
| + | from that? He would laugh at any one who tried to taunt him. He had | ||
| + | not painted it. What was it to him how vile and full of shame it | ||
| + | looked? | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Yet he was afraid. | ||
| + | Nottinghamshire, | ||
| + | who were his chief companions, and astounding the county by the wanton | ||
| + | luxury and gorgeous splendour of his mode of life, he would suddenly | ||
| + | leave his guests and rush back to town to see that the door had not | ||
| + | been tampered with and that the picture was still there. | ||
| + | should be stolen? | ||
| + | the world would know his secret then. Perhaps the world already | ||
| + | suspected it. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | For, while he fascinated many, there were not a few who distrusted him. | ||
| + | He was very nearly blackballed at a West End club of which his birth | ||
| + | and social position fully entitled him to become a member, and it was | ||
| + | said that on one occasion, when he was brought by a friend into the | ||
| + | smoking-room of the Churchill, the Duke of Berwick and another | ||
| + | gentleman got up in a marked manner and went out. Curious stories | ||
| + | became current about him after he had passed his twenty-fifth year. It | ||
| + | was rumoured that he had been seen brawling with foreign sailors in a | ||
| + | low den in the distant parts of Whitechapel, | ||
| + | thieves and coiners and knew the mysteries of their trade. | ||
| + | extraordinary absences became notorious, and, when he used to reappear | ||
| + | again in society, men would whisper to each other in corners, or pass | ||
| + | him with a sneer, or look at him with cold searching eyes, as though | ||
| + | they were determined to discover his secret. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Of such insolences and attempted slights he, of course, took no notice, | ||
| + | and in the opinion of most people his frank debonair manner, his | ||
| + | charming boyish smile, and the infinite grace of that wonderful youth | ||
| + | that seemed never to leave him, were in themselves a sufficient answer | ||
| + | to the calumnies, for so they termed them, that were circulated about | ||
| + | him. It was remarked, however, that some of those who had been most | ||
| + | intimate with him appeared, after a time, to shun him. Women who had | ||
| + | wildly adored him, and for his sake had braved all social censure and | ||
| + | set convention at defiance, were seen to grow pallid with shame or | ||
| + | horror if Dorian Gray entered the room. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Yet these whispered scandals only increased in the eyes of many his | ||
| + | strange and dangerous charm. | ||
| + | security. | ||
| + | believe anything to the detriment of those who are both rich and | ||
| + | fascinating. | ||
| + | importance than morals, and, in its opinion, the highest respectability | ||
| + | is of much less value than the possession of a good < | ||
| + | all, it is a very poor consolation to be told that the man who has | ||
| + | given one a bad dinner, or poor wine, is irreproachable in his private | ||
| + | life. Even the cardinal virtues cannot atone for half-cold < | ||
| + | Lord Henry remarked once, in a discussion on the subject, and there is | ||
| + | possibly a good deal to be said for his view. For the canons of good | ||
| + | society are, or should be, the same as the canons of art. Form is | ||
| + | absolutely essential to it. It should have the dignity of a ceremony, | ||
| + | as well as its unreality, and should combine the insincere character of | ||
| + | a romantic play with the wit and beauty that make such plays delightful | ||
| + | to us. Is insincerity such a terrible thing? | ||
| + | merely a method by which we can multiply our personalities. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Such, at any rate, was Dorian Gray's opinion. | ||
| + | shallow psychology of those who conceive the ego in man as a thing | ||
| + | simple, permanent, reliable, and of one essence. | ||
| + | being with myriad lives and myriad sensations, a complex multiform | ||
| + | creature that bore within itself strange legacies of thought and | ||
| + | passion, and whose very flesh was tainted with the monstrous maladies | ||
| + | of the dead. He loved to stroll through the gaunt cold picture-gallery | ||
| + | of his country house and look at the various portraits of those whose | ||
| + | blood flowed in his veins. | ||
| + | Francis Osborne, in his Memoires on the Reigns of Queen Elizabeth and | ||
| + | King James, as one who was " | ||
| + | face, which kept him not long company." | ||
| + | that he sometimes led? Had some strange poisonous germ crept from body | ||
| + | to body till it had reached his own? Was it some dim sense of that | ||
| + | ruined grace that had made him so suddenly, and almost without cause, | ||
| + | give utterance, in Basil Hallward' | ||
| + | so changed his life? Here, in gold-embroidered red doublet, jewelled | ||
| + | surcoat, and gilt-edged ruff and wristbands, stood Sir Anthony Sherard, | ||
| + | with his silver-and-black armour piled at his feet. What had this | ||
| + | man's legacy been? Had the lover of Giovanna of Naples bequeathed him | ||
| + | some inheritance of sin and shame? | ||
| + | dreams that the dead man had not dared to realize? | ||
| + | fading canvas, smiled Lady Elizabeth Devereux, in her gauze hood, pearl | ||
| + | stomacher, and pink slashed sleeves. | ||
| + | and her left clasped an enamelled collar of white and damask roses. | ||
| + | a table by her side lay a mandolin and an apple. | ||
| + | green rosettes upon her little pointed shoes. | ||
| + | the strange stories that were told about her lovers. | ||
| + | of her temperament in him? These oval, heavy-lidded eyes seemed to | ||
| + | look curiously at him. What of George Willoughby, with his powdered | ||
| + | hair and fantastic patches? | ||
| + | saturnine and swarthy, and the sensual lips seemed to be twisted with | ||
| + | disdain. | ||
| + | were so overladen with rings. | ||
| + | century, and the friend, in his youth, of Lord Ferrars. | ||
| + | second Lord Beckenham, the companion of the Prince Regent in his | ||
| + | wildest days, and one of the witnesses at the secret marriage with Mrs. | ||
| + | Fitzherbert? | ||
| + | and insolent pose! What passions had he bequeathed? | ||
| + | looked upon him as infamous. | ||
| + | The star of the Garter glittered upon his breast. | ||
| + | portrait of his wife, a pallid, thin-lipped woman in black. | ||
| + | also, stirred within him. How curious it all seemed! | ||
| + | with her Lady Hamilton face and her moist, wine-dashed lips& | ||
| + | what he had got from her. He had got from her his beauty, and his | ||
| + | passion for the beauty of others. | ||
| + | Bacchante dress. | ||
| + | spilled from the cup she was holding. | ||
| + | had withered, but the eyes were still wonderful in their depth and | ||
| + | brilliancy of colour. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Yet one had ancestors in literature as well as in one's own race, | ||
| + | nearer perhaps in type and temperament, | ||
| + | with an influence of which one was more absolutely conscious. | ||
| + | were times when it appeared to Dorian Gray that the whole of history | ||
| + | was merely the record of his own life, not as he had lived it in act | ||
| + | and circumstance, | ||
| + | had been in his brain and in his passions. | ||
| + | them all, those strange terrible figures that had passed across the | ||
| + | stage of the world and made sin so marvellous and evil so full of | ||
| + | subtlety. | ||
| + | been his own. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The hero of the wonderful novel that had so influenced his life had | ||
| + | himself known this curious fancy. | ||
| + | crowned with laurel, lest lightning might strike him, he had sat, as | ||
| + | Tiberius, in a garden at Capri, reading the shameful books of | ||
| + | Elephantis, while dwarfs and peacocks strutted round him and the | ||
| + | flute-player mocked the swinger of the censer; and, as Caligula, had | ||
| + | caroused with the green-shirted jockeys in their stables and supped in | ||
| + | an ivory manger with a jewel-frontleted horse; and, as Domitian, had | ||
| + | wandered through a corridor lined with marble mirrors, looking round | ||
| + | with haggard eyes for the reflection of the dagger that was to end his | ||
| + | days, and sick with that ennui, that terrible < | ||
| + | on those to whom life denies nothing; and had peered through a clear | ||
| + | emerald at the red shambles of the circus and then, in a litter of | ||
| + | pearl and purple drawn by silver-shod mules, been carried through the | ||
| + | Street of Pomegranates to a House of Gold and heard men cry on Nero | ||
| + | Caesar as he passed by; and, as Elagabalus, had painted his face with | ||
| + | colours, and plied the distaff among the women, and brought the Moon | ||
| + | from Carthage and given her in mystic marriage to the Sun. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Over and over again Dorian used to read this fantastic chapter, and the | ||
| + | two chapters immediately following, in which, as in some curious | ||
| + | tapestries or cunningly wrought enamels, were pictured the awful and | ||
| + | beautiful forms of those whom vice and blood and weariness had made | ||
| + | monstrous or mad: Filippo, Duke of Milan, who slew his wife and | ||
| + | painted her lips with a scarlet poison that her lover might suck death | ||
| + | from the dead thing he fondled; Pietro Barbi, the Venetian, known as | ||
| + | Paul the Second, who sought in his vanity to assume the title of | ||
| + | Formosus, and whose tiara, valued at two hundred thousand florins, was | ||
| + | bought at the price of a terrible sin; Gian Maria Visconti, who used | ||
| + | hounds to chase living men and whose murdered body was covered with | ||
| + | roses by a harlot who had loved him; the Borgia on his white horse, | ||
| + | with Fratricide riding beside him and his mantle stained with the blood | ||
| + | of Perotto; Pietro Riario, the young Cardinal Archbishop of Florence, | ||
| + | child and minion of Sixtus IV, whose beauty was equalled only by his | ||
| + | debauchery, and who received Leonora of Aragon in a pavilion of white | ||
| + | and crimson silk, filled with nymphs and centaurs, and gilded a boy | ||
| + | that he might serve at the feast as Ganymede or Hylas; Ezzelin, whose | ||
| + | melancholy could be cured only by the spectacle of death, and who had a | ||
| + | passion for red blood, as other men have for red wine& | ||
| + | Fiend, as was reported, and one who had cheated his father at dice when | ||
| + | gambling with him for his own soul; Giambattista Cibo, who in mockery | ||
| + | took the name of Innocent and into whose torpid veins the blood of | ||
| + | three lads was infused by a Jewish doctor; Sigismondo Malatesta, the | ||
| + | lover of Isotta and the lord of Rimini, whose effigy was burned at Rome | ||
| + | as the enemy of God and man, who strangled Polyssena with a napkin, and | ||
| + | gave poison to Ginevra d'Este in a cup of emerald, and in honour of a | ||
| + | shameful passion built a pagan church for Christian worship; Charles | ||
| + | VI, who had so wildly adored his brother' | ||
| + | him of the insanity that was coming on him, and who, when his brain had | ||
| + | sickened and grown strange, could only be soothed by Saracen cards | ||
| + | painted with the images of love and death and madness; and, in his | ||
| + | trimmed jerkin and jewelled cap and acanthuslike curls, Grifonetto | ||
| + | Baglioni, who slew Astorre with his bride, and Simonetto with his page, | ||
| + | and whose comeliness was such that, as he lay dying in the yellow | ||
| + | piazza of Perugia, those who had hated him could not choose but weep, | ||
| + | and Atalanta, who had cursed him, blessed him. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | There was a horrible fascination in them all. He saw them at night, | ||
| + | and they troubled his imagination in the day. The Renaissance knew of | ||
| + | strange manners of poisoning& | ||
| + | torch, by an embroidered glove and a jewelled fan, by a gilded pomander | ||
| + | and by an amber chain. | ||
| + | were moments when he looked on evil simply as a mode through which he | ||
| + | could realize his conception of the beautiful. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | < | ||
| + | |||
| + | <A NAME=" | ||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | CHAPTER 12 | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | It was on the ninth of November, the eve of his own thirty-eighth | ||
| + | birthday, as he often remembered afterwards. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He was walking home about eleven o' | ||
| + | had been dining, and was wrapped in heavy furs, as the night was cold | ||
| + | and foggy. | ||
| + | a man passed him in the mist, walking very fast and with the collar of | ||
| + | his grey ulster turned up. He had a bag in his hand. Dorian | ||
| + | recognized him. It was Basil Hallward. | ||
| + | which he could not account, came over him. He made no sign of | ||
| + | recognition and went on quickly in the direction of his own house. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | But Hallward had seen him. Dorian heard him first stopping on the | ||
| + | pavement and then hurrying after him. In a few moments, his hand was | ||
| + | on his arm. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | you in your library ever since nine o' | ||
| + | your tired servant and told him to go to bed, as he let me out. I am | ||
| + | off to Paris by the midnight train, and I particularly wanted to see | ||
| + | you before I left. I thought it was you, or rather your fur coat, as | ||
| + | you passed me. But I wasn't quite sure. Didn't you recognize me?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "In this fog, my dear Basil? | ||
| + | Square. | ||
| + | at all certain about it. I am sorry you are going away, as I have not | ||
| + | seen you for ages. But I suppose you will be back soon?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | a studio in Paris and shut myself up till I have finished a great | ||
| + | picture I have in my head. However, it wasn't about myself I wanted to | ||
| + | talk. Here we are at your door. Let me come in for a moment. | ||
| + | something to say to you." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I shall be charmed. | ||
| + | languidly as he passed up the steps and opened the door with his | ||
| + | latch-key. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The lamplight struggled out through the fog, and Hallward looked at his | ||
| + | watch. | ||
| + | till twelve-fifteen, | ||
| + | way to the club to look for you, when I met you. You see, I shan't | ||
| + | have any delay about luggage, as I have sent on my heavy things. | ||
| + | have with me is in this bag, and I can easily get to Victoria in twenty | ||
| + | minutes." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian looked at him and smiled. | ||
| + | to travel! | ||
| + | get into the house. | ||
| + | Nothing is serious nowadays. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Hallward shook his head, as he entered, and followed Dorian into the | ||
| + | library. | ||
| + | hearth. | ||
| + | stood, with some siphons of soda-water and large cut-glass tumblers, on | ||
| + | a little marqueterie table. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You see your servant made me quite at home, Dorian. | ||
| + | everything I wanted, including your best gold-tipped cigarettes. | ||
| + | a most hospitable creature. | ||
| + | you used to have. What has become of the Frenchman, by the bye?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian shrugged his shoulders. | ||
| + | maid, and has established her in Paris as an English dressmaker. | ||
| + | Anglomania is very fashionable over there now, I hear. It seems silly | ||
| + | of the French, doesn' | ||
| + | servant. | ||
| + | often imagines things that are quite absurd. | ||
| + | devoted to me and seemed quite sorry when he went away. Have another | ||
| + | brandy-and-soda? | ||
| + | hock-and-seltzer myself. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | and coat off and throwing them on the bag that he had placed in the | ||
| + | corner. | ||
| + | Don't frown like that. You make it so much more difficult for me." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What is it all about?" | ||
| + | himself down on the sofa. "I hope it is not about myself. | ||
| + | of myself to-night. I should like to be somebody else." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is about yourself," | ||
| + | I must say it to you. I shall only keep you half an hour." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian sighed and lit a cigarette. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is not much to ask of you, Dorian, and it is entirely for your own | ||
| + | sake that I am speaking. | ||
| + | the most dreadful things are being said against you in London." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I don't wish to know anything about them. I love scandals about other | ||
| + | people, but scandals about myself don't interest me. They have not got | ||
| + | the charm of novelty." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "They must interest you, Dorian. | ||
| + | good name. You don't want people to talk of you as something vile and | ||
| + | degraded. | ||
| + | that kind of thing. | ||
| + | you, I don't believe these rumours at all. At least, I can't believe | ||
| + | them when I see you. Sin is a thing that writes itself across a man's | ||
| + | face. It cannot be concealed. | ||
| + | There are no such things. | ||
| + | itself in the lines of his mouth, the droop of his eyelids, the | ||
| + | moulding of his hands even. Somebody& | ||
| + | you know him& | ||
| + | never seen him before, and had never heard anything about him at the | ||
| + | time, though I have heard a good deal since. | ||
| + | price. | ||
| + | that I hated. | ||
| + | about him. His life is dreadful. | ||
| + | bright, innocent face, and your marvellous untroubled youth& | ||
| + | believe anything against you. And yet I see you very seldom, and you | ||
| + | never come down to the studio now, and when I am away from you, and I | ||
| + | hear all these hideous things that people are whispering about you, I | ||
| + | don't know what to say. Why is it, Dorian, that a man like the Duke of | ||
| + | Berwick leaves the room of a club when you enter it? Why is it that so | ||
| + | many gentlemen in London will neither go to your house or invite you to | ||
| + | theirs? | ||
| + | last week. Your name happened to come up in conversation, | ||
| + | connection with the miniatures you have lent to the exhibition at the | ||
| + | Dudley. | ||
| + | artistic tastes, but that you were a man whom no pure-minded girl | ||
| + | should be allowed to know, and whom no chaste woman should sit in the | ||
| + | same room with. I reminded him that I was a friend of yours, and asked | ||
| + | him what he meant. | ||
| + | It was horrible! | ||
| + | was that wretched boy in the Guards who committed suicide. | ||
| + | his great friend. | ||
| + | with a tarnished name. You and he were inseparable. | ||
| + | Singleton and his dreadful end? What about Lord Kent's only son and | ||
| + | his career? | ||
| + | seemed broken with shame and sorrow. | ||
| + | Perth? | ||
| + | associate with him?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Stop, Basil. | ||
| + | said Dorian Gray, biting his lip, and with a note of infinite contempt | ||
| + | in his voice. | ||
| + | It is because I know everything about his life, not because he knows | ||
| + | anything about mine. With such blood as he has in his veins, how could | ||
| + | his record be clean? | ||
| + | Did I teach the one his vices, and the other his debauchery? | ||
| + | silly son takes his wife from the streets, what is that to me? If | ||
| + | Adrian Singleton writes his friend' | ||
| + | keeper? | ||
| + | their moral prejudices over their gross dinner-tables, | ||
| + | about what they call the profligacies of their betters in order to try | ||
| + | and pretend that they are in smart society and on intimate terms with | ||
| + | the people they slander. | ||
| + | have distinction and brains for every common tongue to wag against him. | ||
| + | And what sort of lives do these people, who pose as being moral, lead | ||
| + | themselves? | ||
| + | of the hypocrite." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | enough I know, and English society is all wrong. | ||
| + | why I want you to be fine. You have not been fine. One has a right to | ||
| + | judge of a man by the effect he has over his friends. | ||
| + | lose all sense of honour, of goodness, of purity. | ||
| + | with a madness for pleasure. | ||
| + | led them there. | ||
| + | you are smiling now. And there is worse behind. | ||
| + | are inseparable. | ||
| + | not have made his sister' | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Take care, Basil. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I must speak, and you must listen. | ||
| + | Lady Gwendolen, not a breath of scandal had ever touched her. Is there | ||
| + | a single decent woman in London now who would drive with her in the | ||
| + | park? Why, even her children are not allowed to live with her. Then | ||
| + | there are other stories& | ||
| + | dawn out of dreadful houses and slinking in disguise into the foulest | ||
| + | dens in London. | ||
| + | them, I laughed. | ||
| + | about your country-house and the life that is led there? | ||
| + | don't know what is said about you. I won't tell you that I don't want | ||
| + | to preach to you. I remember Harry saying once that every man who | ||
| + | turned himself into an amateur curate for the moment always began by | ||
| + | saying that, and then proceeded to break his word. I do want to preach | ||
| + | to you. I want you to lead such a life as will make the world respect | ||
| + | you. I want you to have a clean name and a fair record. | ||
| + | get rid of the dreadful people you associate with. Don't shrug your | ||
| + | shoulders like that. Don't be so indifferent. | ||
| + | influence. | ||
| + | corrupt every one with whom you become intimate, and that it is quite | ||
| + | sufficient for you to enter a house for shame of some kind to follow | ||
| + | after. | ||
| + | it is said of you. I am told things that it seems impossible to doubt. | ||
| + | Lord Gloucester was one of my greatest friends at Oxford. | ||
| + | a letter that his wife had written to him when she was dying alone in | ||
| + | her villa at Mentone. | ||
| + | confession I ever read. I told him that it was absurd& | ||
| + | thoroughly and that you were incapable of anything of the kind. Know | ||
| + | you? I wonder do I know you? Before I could answer that, I should | ||
| + | have to see your soul." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "To see my soul!" muttered Dorian Gray, starting up from the sofa and | ||
| + | turning almost white from fear. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | voice, "to see your soul. But only God can do that." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | A bitter laugh of mockery broke from the lips of the younger man. "You | ||
| + | shall see it yourself, to-night!" | ||
| + | table. | ||
| + | it? You can tell the world all about it afterwards, if you choose. | ||
| + | Nobody would believe you. If they did believe you, they would like me | ||
| + | all the better for it. I know the age better than you do, though you | ||
| + | will prate about it so tediously. | ||
| + | chattered enough about corruption. | ||
| + | face." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | There was the madness of pride in every word he uttered. | ||
| + | his foot upon the ground in his boyish insolent manner. | ||
| + | terrible joy at the thought that some one else was to share his secret, | ||
| + | and that the man who had painted the portrait that was the origin of | ||
| + | all his shame was to be burdened for the rest of his life with the | ||
| + | hideous memory of what he had done. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | his stern eyes, "I shall show you my soul. You shall see the thing | ||
| + | that you fancy only God can see." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Hallward started back. "This is blasphemy, Dorian!" | ||
| + | must not say things like that. They are horrible, and they don't mean | ||
| + | anything." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You think so?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I know so. As for what I said to you to-night, I said it for your | ||
| + | good. You know I have been always a stanch friend to you." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | A twisted flash of pain shot across the painter' | ||
| + | a moment, and a wild feeling of pity came over him. After all, what | ||
| + | right had he to pry into the life of Dorian Gray? If he had done a | ||
| + | tithe of what was rumoured about him, how much he must have suffered! | ||
| + | Then he straightened himself up, and walked over to the fire-place, and | ||
| + | stood there, looking at the burning logs with their frostlike ashes and | ||
| + | their throbbing cores of flame. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am waiting, Basil," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He turned round. | ||
| + | give me some answer to these horrible charges that are made against | ||
| + | you. If you tell me that they are absolutely untrue from beginning to | ||
| + | end, I shall believe you. Deny them, Dorian, deny them! Can't you see | ||
| + | what I am going through? | ||
| + | corrupt, and shameful." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray smiled. | ||
| + | upstairs, Basil," | ||
| + | to day, and it never leaves the room in which it is written. | ||
| + | show it to you if you come with me." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I shall come with you, Dorian, if you wish it. I see I have missed my | ||
| + | train. | ||
| + | read anything to-night. All I want is a plain answer to my question." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "That shall be given to you upstairs. | ||
| + | will not have to read long." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | < | ||
| + | |||
| + | <A NAME=" | ||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | CHAPTER 13 | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He passed out of the room and began the ascent, Basil Hallward | ||
| + | following close behind. | ||
| + | night. | ||
| + | rising wind made some of the windows rattle. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | When they reached the top landing, Dorian set the lamp down on the | ||
| + | floor, and taking out the key, turned it in the lock. "You insist on | ||
| + | knowing, Basil?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am delighted," | ||
| + | harshly, "You are the one man in the world who is entitled to know | ||
| + | everything about me. You have had more to do with my life than you | ||
| + | think"; | ||
| + | cold current of air passed them, and the light shot up for a moment in | ||
| + | a flame of murky orange. | ||
| + | whispered, as he placed the lamp on the table. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Hallward glanced round him with a puzzled expression. | ||
| + | as if it had not been lived in for years. | ||
| + | curtained picture, an old Italian < | ||
| + | book-case& | ||
| + | a table. | ||
| + | standing on the mantelshelf, | ||
| + | with dust and that the carpet was in holes. | ||
| + | behind the wainscoting. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "So you think that it is only God who sees the soul, Basil? | ||
| + | curtain back, and you will see mine." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The voice that spoke was cold and cruel. | ||
| + | playing a part," muttered Hallward, frowning. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You won't? Then I must do it myself," | ||
| + | the curtain from its rod and flung it on the ground. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | An exclamation of horror broke from the painter' | ||
| + | dim light the hideous face on the canvas grinning at him. There was | ||
| + | something in its expression that filled him with disgust and loathing. | ||
| + | Good heavens! it was Dorian Gray's own face that he was looking at! | ||
| + | The horror, whatever it was, had not yet entirely spoiled that | ||
| + | marvellous beauty. | ||
| + | some scarlet on the sensual mouth. | ||
| + | of the loveliness of their blue, the noble curves had not yet | ||
| + | completely passed away from chiselled nostrils and from plastic throat. | ||
| + | Yes, it was Dorian himself. | ||
| + | recognize his own brushwork, and the frame was his own design. | ||
| + | idea was monstrous, yet he felt afraid. | ||
| + | and held it to the picture. | ||
| + | traced in long letters of bright vermilion. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | It was some foul parody, some infamous ignoble satire. | ||
| + | done that. Still, it was his own picture. | ||
| + | if his blood had changed in a moment from fire to sluggish ice. His | ||
| + | own picture! | ||
| + | looked at Dorian Gray with the eyes of a sick man. His mouth twitched, | ||
| + | and his parched tongue seemed unable to articulate. | ||
| + | across his forehead. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The young man was leaning against the mantelshelf, | ||
| + | that strange expression that one sees on the faces of those who are | ||
| + | absorbed in a play when some great artist is acting. | ||
| + | real sorrow in it nor real joy. There was simply the passion of the | ||
| + | spectator, with perhaps a flicker of triumph in his eyes. He had taken | ||
| + | the flower out of his coat, and was smelling it, or pretending to do so. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What does this mean?" cried Hallward, at last. His own voice sounded | ||
| + | shrill and curious in his ears. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Years ago, when I was a boy," said Dorian Gray, crushing the flower in | ||
| + | his hand, "you met me, flattered me, and taught me to be vain of my | ||
| + | good looks. | ||
| + | explained to me the wonder of youth, and you finished a portrait of me | ||
| + | that revealed to me the wonder of beauty. | ||
| + | now, I don't know whether I regret or not, I made a wish, perhaps you | ||
| + | would call it a prayer...." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I remember it! Oh, how well I remember it! No! the thing is | ||
| + | impossible. | ||
| + | paints I used had some wretched mineral poison in them. I tell you the | ||
| + | thing is impossible." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Ah, what is impossible?" | ||
| + | window and leaning his forehead against the cold, mist-stained glass. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You told me you had destroyed it." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I was wrong. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I don't believe it is my picture." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My ideal, as you call it..." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "As you called it." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "There was nothing evil in it, nothing shameful. | ||
| + | an ideal as I shall never meet again. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is the face of my soul." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | devil." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Each of us has heaven and hell in him, Basil," | ||
| + | wild gesture of despair. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Hallward turned again to the portrait and gazed at it. "My God! If it | ||
| + | is true," he exclaimed, "and this is what you have done with your life, | ||
| + | why, you must be worse even than those who talk against you fancy you | ||
| + | to be!" He held the light up again to the canvas and examined it. The | ||
| + | surface seemed to be quite undisturbed and as he had left it. It was | ||
| + | from within, apparently, that the foulness and horror had come. | ||
| + | Through some strange quickening of inner life the leprosies of sin were | ||
| + | slowly eating the thing away. The rotting of a corpse in a watery | ||
| + | grave was not so fearful. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | His hand shook, and the candle fell from its socket on the floor and | ||
| + | lay there sputtering. | ||
| + | he flung himself into the rickety chair that was standing by the table | ||
| + | and buried his face in his hands. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Good God, Dorian, what a lesson! | ||
| + | answer, but he could hear the young man sobbing at the window. | ||
| + | Dorian, pray," he murmured. | ||
| + | one's boyhood? | ||
| + | Wash away our iniquities.' | ||
| + | your pride has been answered. | ||
| + | answered also. I worshipped you too much. I am punished for it. You | ||
| + | worshipped yourself too much. We are both punished." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray turned slowly around and looked at him with tear-dimmed | ||
| + | eyes. "It is too late, Basil," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is never too late, Dorian. | ||
| + | remember a prayer. | ||
| + | as scarlet, yet I will make them as white as snow'?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Those words mean nothing to me now." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | God! Don't you see that accursed thing leering at us?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray glanced at the picture, and suddenly 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. The mad passions of a hunted animal | ||
| + | stirred within him, and he loathed the man who was seated at the table, | ||
| + | more than in his whole life he had ever loathed anything. | ||
| + | wildly around. | ||
| + | that faced him. His eye fell on it. He knew what it was. It was a | ||
| + | knife that he had brought up, some days before, to cut a piece of cord, | ||
| + | and had forgotten to take away with him. He moved slowly towards it, | ||
| + | passing Hallward as he did so. As soon as he got behind him, he seized | ||
| + | it and turned round. | ||
| + | to rise. He rushed at him and dug the knife into the great vein that | ||
| + | is behind the ear, crushing the man's head down on the table and | ||
| + | stabbing again and again. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | There was a stifled groan and the horrible sound of some one choking | ||
| + | with blood. | ||
| + | waving grotesque, stiff-fingered hands in the air. He stabbed him | ||
| + | twice more, but the man did not move. Something began to trickle on | ||
| + | the floor. | ||
| + | he threw the knife on the table, and listened. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He could hear nothing, but the drip, drip on the threadbare carpet. | ||
| + | opened the door and went out on the landing. | ||
| + | quiet. | ||
| + | balustrade and peering down into the black seething well of darkness. | ||
| + | Then he took out the key and returned to the room, locking himself in | ||
| + | as he did so. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The thing was still seated in the chair, straining over the table with | ||
| + | bowed head, and humped back, and long fantastic arms. Had it not been | ||
| + | for the red jagged tear in the neck and the clotted black pool that was | ||
| + | slowly widening on the table, one would have said that the man was | ||
| + | simply asleep. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | How quickly it had all been done! He felt strangely calm, and walking | ||
| + | over to the window, opened it and stepped out on the balcony. | ||
| + | had blown the fog away, and the sky was like a monstrous peacock' | ||
| + | tail, starred with myriads of golden eyes. He looked down and saw the | ||
| + | policeman going his rounds and flashing the long beam of his lantern on | ||
| + | the doors of the silent houses. | ||
| + | gleamed at the corner and then vanished. | ||
| + | was creeping slowly by the railings, staggering as she went. Now and | ||
| + | then she stopped and peered back. Once, she began to sing in a hoarse | ||
| + | voice. | ||
| + | stumbled away, laughing. | ||
| + | gas-lamps flickered and became blue, and the leafless trees shook their | ||
| + | black iron branches to and fro. He shivered and went back, closing the | ||
| + | window behind him. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Having reached the door, he turned the key and opened it. He did not | ||
| + | even glance at the murdered man. He felt that the secret of the whole | ||
| + | thing was not to realize the situation. | ||
| + | fatal portrait to which all his misery had been due had gone out of his | ||
| + | life. That was enough. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Then he remembered the lamp. It was a rather curious one of Moorish | ||
| + | workmanship, | ||
| + | steel, and studded with coarse turquoises. | ||
| + | by his servant, and questions would be asked. | ||
| + | moment, then he turned back and took it from the table. | ||
| + | help seeing the dead thing. | ||
| + | long hands looked! | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Having locked the door behind him, he crept quietly downstairs. | ||
| + | woodwork creaked and seemed to cry out as if in pain. He stopped | ||
| + | several times and waited. | ||
| + | the sound of his own footsteps. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | When he reached the library, he saw the bag and coat in the corner. | ||
| + | They must be hidden away somewhere. | ||
| + | was in the wainscoting, | ||
| + | disguises, and put them into it. He could easily burn them afterwards. | ||
| + | Then he pulled out his watch. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He sat down and began to think. | ||
| + | were strangled in England for what he had done. There had been a | ||
| + | madness of murder in the air. Some red star had come too close to the | ||
| + | earth.... And yet, what evidence was there against him? Basil Hallward | ||
| + | had left the house at eleven. | ||
| + | of the servants were at Selby Royal. | ||
| + | Paris! | ||
| + | train, as he had intended. | ||
| + | be months before any suspicions would be roused. | ||
| + | could be destroyed long before then. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | A sudden thought struck him. He put on his fur coat and hat and went | ||
| + | out into the hall. There he paused, hearing the slow heavy tread of | ||
| + | the policeman on the pavement outside and seeing the flash of the | ||
| + | bull' | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | After a few moments he drew back the latch and slipped out, shutting | ||
| + | the door very gently behind him. Then he began ringing the bell. In | ||
| + | about five minutes his valet appeared, half-dressed and looking very | ||
| + | drowsy. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am sorry to have had to wake you up, Francis," | ||
| + | "but I had forgotten my latch-key. What time is it?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Ten minutes past two, sir," answered the man, looking at the clock and | ||
| + | blinking. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Ten minutes past two? How horribly late! You must wake me at nine | ||
| + | to-morrow. I have some work to do." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "All right, sir." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Did any one call this evening?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Mr. Hallward, sir. He stayed here till eleven, and then he went away | ||
| + | to catch his train." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "No, sir, except that he would write to you from Paris, if he did not | ||
| + | find you at the club." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "That will do, Francis. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "No, sir." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The man shambled down the passage in his slippers. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray threw his hat and coat upon the table and passed into the | ||
| + | library. | ||
| + | biting his lip and thinking. | ||
| + | of the shelves and began to turn over the leaves. | ||
| + | Hertford Street, Mayfair." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | < | ||
| + | |||
| + | <A NAME=" | ||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | CHAPTER 14 | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | At nine o' | ||
| + | chocolate on a tray and opened the shutters. | ||
| + | peacefully, lying on his right side, with one hand underneath his | ||
| + | cheek. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The man had to touch him twice on the shoulder before he woke, and as | ||
| + | he opened his eyes a faint smile passed across his lips, as though he | ||
| + | had been lost in some delightful dream. | ||
| + | His night had been untroubled by any images of pleasure or of pain. | ||
| + | But youth smiles without any reason. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He turned round, and leaning upon his elbow, began to sip his | ||
| + | chocolate. | ||
| + | sky was bright, and there was a genial warmth in the air. It was | ||
| + | almost like a morning in May. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Gradually the events of the preceding night crept with silent, | ||
| + | blood-stained feet into his brain and reconstructed themselves there | ||
| + | with terrible distinctness. | ||
| + | suffered, and for a moment the same curious feeling of loathing for | ||
| + | Basil Hallward that had made him kill him as he sat in the chair came | ||
| + | back to him, and he grew cold with passion. | ||
| + | sitting there, too, and in the sunlight now. How horrible that was! | ||
| + | Such hideous things were for the darkness, not for the day. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He felt that if he brooded on what he had gone through he would sicken | ||
| + | or grow mad. There were sins whose fascination was more in the memory | ||
| + | than in the doing of them, strange triumphs that gratified the pride | ||
| + | more than the passions, and gave to the intellect a quickened sense of | ||
| + | joy, greater than any joy they brought, or could ever bring, to the | ||
| + | senses. | ||
| + | of the mind, to be drugged with poppies, to be strangled lest it might | ||
| + | strangle one itself. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | When the half-hour struck, he passed his hand across his forehead, and | ||
| + | then got up hastily and dressed himself with even more than his usual | ||
| + | care, giving a good deal of attention to the choice of his necktie and | ||
| + | scarf-pin and changing his rings more than once. He spent a long time | ||
| + | also over breakfast, tasting the various dishes, talking to his valet | ||
| + | about some new liveries that he was thinking of getting made for the | ||
| + | servants at Selby, and going through his correspondence. | ||
| + | the letters, he smiled. | ||
| + | times over and then tore up with a slight look of annoyance in his | ||
| + | face. "That awful thing, a woman' | ||
| + | said. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | After he had drunk his cup of black coffee, he wiped his lips slowly | ||
| + | with a napkin, motioned to his servant to wait, and going over to the | ||
| + | table, sat down and wrote two letters. | ||
| + | other he handed to the valet. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Take this round to 152, Hertford Street, Francis, and if Mr. Campbell | ||
| + | is out of town, get his address." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As soon as he was alone, he lit a cigarette and began sketching upon a | ||
| + | piece of paper, drawing first flowers and bits of architecture, | ||
| + | then human faces. | ||
| + | seemed to have a fantastic likeness to Basil Hallward. | ||
| + | getting up, went over to the book-case and took out a volume at hazard. | ||
| + | He was determined that he would not think about what had happened until | ||
| + | it became absolutely necessary that he should do so. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | When he had stretched himself on the sofa, he looked at the title-page | ||
| + | of the book. It was Gautier' | ||
| + | Japanese-paper edition, with the Jacquemart etching. | ||
| + | of citron-green leather, with a design of gilt trellis-work and dotted | ||
| + | pomegranates. | ||
| + | turned over the pages, his eye fell on the poem about the hand of | ||
| + | Lacenaire, the cold yellow hand "< | ||
| + | its downy red hairs and its "< | ||
| + | white taper fingers, shuddering slightly in spite of himself, and | ||
| + | passed on, till he came to those lovely stanzas upon Venice: | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P CLASS=" | ||
| + | Sur une gamme chromatique,< | ||
| + | & | ||
| + | La Venus de l' | ||
| + | & | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P CLASS=" | ||
| + | Les domes, sur l'azur des ondes< | ||
| + | & | ||
| + | S' | ||
| + | & | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P CLASS=" | ||
| + | L' | ||
| + | & | ||
| + | Devant une facade rose,< | ||
| + | & | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <BR> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | How exquisite they were! As one read them, one seemed to be floating | ||
| + | down the green water-ways of the pink and pearl city, seated in a black | ||
| + | gondola with silver prow and trailing curtains. | ||
| + | to him like those straight lines of turquoise-blue that follow one as | ||
| + | one pushes out to the Lido. The sudden flashes of colour reminded him | ||
| + | of the gleam of the opal-and-iris-throated birds that flutter round the | ||
| + | tall honeycombed Campanile, or stalk, with such stately grace, through | ||
| + | the dim, dust-stained arcades. | ||
| + | kept saying over and over to himself: | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P CLASS=" | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | & | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The whole of Venice was in those two lines. | ||
| + | that he had passed there, and a wonderful love that had stirred him to | ||
| + | mad delightful follies. | ||
| + | like Oxford, had kept the background for romance, and, to the true | ||
| + | romantic, background was everything, or almost everything. | ||
| + | been with him part of the time, and had gone wild over Tintoret. | ||
| + | Basil! | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He sighed, and took up the volume again, and tried to forget. | ||
| + | of the swallows that fly in and out of the little < | ||
| + | the Hadjis sit counting their amber beads and the turbaned merchants | ||
| + | smoke their long tasselled pipes and talk gravely to each other; he | ||
| + | read of the Obelisk in the Place de la Concorde that weeps tears of | ||
| + | granite in its lonely sunless exile and longs to be back by the hot, | ||
| + | lotus-covered Nile, where there are Sphinxes, and rose-red ibises, and | ||
| + | white vultures with gilded claws, and crocodiles with small beryl eyes | ||
| + | that crawl over the green steaming mud; he began to brood over those | ||
| + | verses which, drawing music from kiss-stained marble, tell of that | ||
| + | curious statue that Gautier compares to a contralto voice, the "< | ||
| + | charmant</ | ||
| + | time the book fell from his hand. He grew nervous, and a horrible fit | ||
| + | of terror came over him. What if Alan Campbell should be out of | ||
| + | England? | ||
| + | might refuse to come. What could he do then? Every moment was of | ||
| + | vital importance. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | They had been great friends once, five years before& | ||
| + | inseparable, | ||
| + | When they met in society now, it was only Dorian Gray who smiled: | ||
| + | Campbell never did. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He was an extremely clever young man, though he had no real | ||
| + | appreciation of the visible arts, and whatever little sense of the | ||
| + | beauty of poetry he possessed he had gained entirely from Dorian. | ||
| + | dominant intellectual passion was for science. | ||
| + | spent a great deal of his time working in the laboratory, and had taken | ||
| + | a good class in the Natural Science Tripos of his year. Indeed, he was | ||
| + | still devoted to the study of chemistry, and had a laboratory of his | ||
| + | own in which he used to shut himself up all day long, greatly to the | ||
| + | annoyance of his mother, who had set her heart on his standing for | ||
| + | Parliament and had a vague idea that a chemist was a person who made up | ||
| + | prescriptions. | ||
| + | played both the violin and the piano better than most amateurs. | ||
| + | fact, it was music that had first brought him and Dorian Gray | ||
| + | together& | ||
| + | be able to exercise whenever he wished& | ||
| + | without being conscious of it. They had met at Lady Berkshire' | ||
| + | night that Rubinstein played there, and after that used to be always | ||
| + | seen together at the opera and wherever good music was going on. For | ||
| + | eighteen months their intimacy lasted. | ||
| + | Selby Royal or in Grosvenor Square. | ||
| + | Gray was the type of everything that is wonderful and fascinating in | ||
| + | life. Whether or not a quarrel had taken place between them no one | ||
| + | ever knew. But suddenly people remarked that they scarcely spoke when | ||
| + | they met and that Campbell seemed always to go away early from any | ||
| + | party at which Dorian Gray was present. | ||
| + | strangely melancholy at times, appeared almost to dislike hearing | ||
| + | music, and would never himself play, giving as his excuse, when he was | ||
| + | called upon, that he was so absorbed in science that he had no time | ||
| + | left in which to practise. | ||
| + | seemed to become more interested in biology, and his name appeared once | ||
| + | or twice in some of the scientific reviews in connection with certain | ||
| + | curious experiments. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | This was the man Dorian Gray was waiting for. Every second he kept | ||
| + | glancing at the clock. | ||
| + | agitated. | ||
| + | looking like a beautiful caged thing. | ||
| + | His hands were curiously cold. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The suspense became unbearable. | ||
| + | feet of lead, while he by monstrous winds was being swept towards the | ||
| + | jagged edge of some black cleft of precipice. | ||
| + | for him there; saw it, indeed, and, shuddering, crushed with dank hands | ||
| + | his burning lids as though he would have robbed the very brain of sight | ||
| + | and driven the eyeballs back into their cave. It was useless. | ||
| + | brain had its own food on which it battened, and the imagination, | ||
| + | grotesque by terror, twisted and distorted as a living thing by pain, | ||
| + | danced like some foul puppet on a stand and grinned through moving | ||
| + | masks. | ||
| + | slow-breathing thing crawled no more, and horrible thoughts, time being | ||
| + | dead, raced nimbly on in front, and dragged a hideous future from its | ||
| + | grave, and showed it to him. He stared at it. Its very horror made | ||
| + | him stone. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | At last the door opened and his servant entered. | ||
| + | upon him. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Mr. Campbell, sir," said the man. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | A sigh of relief broke from his parched lips, and the colour came back | ||
| + | to his cheeks. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Ask him to come in at once, Francis." | ||
| + | again. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The man bowed and retired. | ||
| + | looking very stern and rather pale, his pallor being intensified by his | ||
| + | coal-black hair and dark eyebrows. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I had intended never to enter your house again, Gray. But you said it | ||
| + | was a matter of life and death." | ||
| + | spoke with slow deliberation. | ||
| + | steady searching gaze that he turned on Dorian. | ||
| + | the pockets of his Astrakhan coat, and seemed not to have noticed the | ||
| + | gesture with which he had been greeted. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | person. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Campbell took a chair by the table, and Dorian sat opposite to him. | ||
| + | The two men's eyes met. In Dorian' | ||
| + | that what he was going to do was dreadful. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | After a strained moment of silence, he leaned across and said, very | ||
| + | quietly, but watching the effect of each word upon the face of him he | ||
| + | had sent for, "Alan, in a locked room at the top of this house, a room | ||
| + | to which nobody but myself has access, a dead man is seated at a table. | ||
| + | He has been dead ten hours now. Don't stir, and don't look at me like | ||
| + | that. Who the man is, why he died, how he died, are matters that do | ||
| + | not concern you. What you have to do is this& | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Stop, Gray. I don't want to know anything further. | ||
| + | have told me is true or not true doesn' | ||
| + | decline to be mixed up in your life. Keep your horrible secrets to | ||
| + | yourself. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Alan, they will have to interest you. This one will have to interest | ||
| + | you. I am awfully sorry for you, Alan. But I can't help myself. | ||
| + | are the one man who is able to save me. I am forced to bring you into | ||
| + | the matter. | ||
| + | about chemistry and things of that kind. You have made experiments. | ||
| + | What you have got to do is to destroy the thing that is upstairs& | ||
| + | destroy it so that not a vestige of it will be left. Nobody saw this | ||
| + | person come into the house. | ||
| + | supposed to be in Paris. | ||
| + | missed, there must be no trace of him found here. You, Alan, you must | ||
| + | change him, and everything that belongs to him, into a handful of ashes | ||
| + | that I may scatter in the air." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You are mad, Dorian." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You are mad, I tell you& | ||
| + | help you, mad to make this monstrous confession. | ||
| + | to do with this matter, whatever it is. Do you think I am going to | ||
| + | peril my reputation for you? What is it to me what devil' | ||
| + | are up to?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It was suicide, Alan." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am glad of that. But who drove him to it? You, I should fancy." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Do you still refuse to do this for me?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Of course I refuse. | ||
| + | don't care what shame comes on you. You deserve it all. I should not | ||
| + | be sorry to see you disgraced, publicly disgraced. | ||
| + | me, of all men in the world, to mix myself up in this horror? | ||
| + | have thought you knew more about people' | ||
| + | Henry Wotton can't have taught you much about psychology, whatever else | ||
| + | he has taught you. Nothing will induce me to stir a step to help you. | ||
| + | You have come to the wrong man. Go to some of your friends. | ||
| + | come to me." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Alan, it was murder. | ||
| + | me suffer. | ||
| + | the marring of it than poor Harry has had. He may not have intended | ||
| + | it, the result was the same." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | inform upon you. It is not my business. | ||
| + | in the matter, you are certain to be arrested. | ||
| + | crime without doing something stupid. | ||
| + | with it." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You must have something to do with it. Wait, wait a moment; listen to | ||
| + | me. Only listen, Alan. All I ask of you is to perform a certain | ||
| + | scientific experiment. | ||
| + | horrors that you do there don't affect you. If in some hideous | ||
| + | dissecting-room or fetid laboratory you found this man lying on a | ||
| + | leaden table with red gutters scooped out in it for the blood to flow | ||
| + | through, you would simply look upon him as an admirable subject. | ||
| + | would not turn a hair. You would not believe that you were doing | ||
| + | anything wrong. | ||
| + | benefiting the human race, or increasing the sum of knowledge in the | ||
| + | world, or gratifying intellectual curiosity, or something of that kind. | ||
| + | What I want you to do is merely what you have often done before. | ||
| + | Indeed, to destroy a body must be far less horrible than what you are | ||
| + | accustomed to work at. And, remember, it is the only piece of evidence | ||
| + | against me. If it is discovered, I am lost; and it is sure to be | ||
| + | discovered unless you help me." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I have no desire to help you. You forget that. I am simply | ||
| + | indifferent to the whole thing. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Alan, I entreat you. Think of the position I am in. Just before you | ||
| + | came I almost fainted with terror. | ||
| + | day. No! don't think of that. Look at the matter purely from the | ||
| + | scientific point of view. You don't inquire where the dead things on | ||
| + | which you experiment come from. Don't inquire now. I have told you | ||
| + | too much as it is. But I beg of you to do this. We were friends once, | ||
| + | Alan." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "The dead linger sometimes. | ||
| + | sitting at the table with bowed head and outstretched arms. Alan! | ||
| + | Alan! If you don't come to my assistance, I am ruined. | ||
| + | hang me, Alan! Don't you understand? | ||
| + | have done." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "There is no good in prolonging this scene. | ||
| + | anything in the matter. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You refuse?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I entreat you, Alan." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is useless." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The same look of pity came into Dorian Gray's eyes. Then he stretched | ||
| + | out his hand, took a piece of paper, and wrote something on it. He | ||
| + | read it over twice, folded it carefully, and pushed it across the | ||
| + | table. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Campbell looked at him in surprise, and then took up the paper, and | ||
| + | opened it. As he read it, his face became ghastly pale and he fell | ||
| + | back in his chair. | ||
| + | felt as if his heart was beating itself to death in some empty hollow. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | After two or three minutes of terrible silence, Dorian turned round and | ||
| + | came and stood behind him, putting his hand upon his shoulder. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am so sorry for you, Alan," he murmured, "but you leave me no | ||
| + | alternative. | ||
| + | the address. | ||
| + | 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. | ||
| + | me& | ||
| + | dictate terms." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Campbell buried his face in his hands, and a shudder passed through him. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes, it is my turn to dictate terms, Alan. You know what they are. | ||
| + | The thing is quite simple. | ||
| + | The thing has to be done. Face it, and do it." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | A groan broke from Campbell' | ||
| + | ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece seemed to him to be dividing | ||
| + | time into separate atoms of agony, each of which was too terrible to be | ||
| + | borne. | ||
| + | forehead, as if the disgrace with which he was threatened had already | ||
| + | come upon him. The hand upon his shoulder weighed like a hand of lead. | ||
| + | It was intolerable. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Come, Alan, you must decide at once." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I cannot do it," he said, mechanically, | ||
| + | things. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You must. You have no choice. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He hesitated a moment. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes, there is a gas-fire with asbestos." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I shall have to go home and get some things from the laboratory." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "No, Alan, you must not leave the house. | ||
| + | notepaper what you want and my servant will take a cab and bring the | ||
| + | things back to you." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Campbell scrawled a few lines, blotted them, and addressed an envelope | ||
| + | to his assistant. | ||
| + | he rang the bell and gave it to his valet, with orders to return as | ||
| + | soon as possible and to bring the things with him. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As the hall door shut, Campbell started nervously, and having got up | ||
| + | from the chair, went over to the chimney-piece. He was shivering with a | ||
| + | kind of ague. For nearly twenty minutes, neither of the men spoke. | ||
| + | fly buzzed noisily about the room, and the ticking of the clock was | ||
| + | like the beat of a hammer. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As the chime struck one, Campbell turned round, and looking at Dorian | ||
| + | Gray, saw that his eyes were filled with tears. | ||
| + | the purity and refinement of that sad face that seemed to enrage him. | ||
| + | "You are infamous, absolutely infamous!" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Hush, Alan. You have saved my life," said Dorian. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Your life? Good heavens! what a life that is! You have gone from | ||
| + | corruption to corruption, and now you have culminated in crime. | ||
| + | doing what I am going to do& | ||
| + | life that I am thinking." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Ah, Alan," murmured Dorian with a sigh, "I wish you had a thousandth | ||
| + | part of the pity for me that I have for you." He turned away as he | ||
| + | spoke and stood looking out at the garden. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | After about ten minutes a knock came to the door, and the servant | ||
| + | entered, carrying a large mahogany chest of chemicals, with a long coil | ||
| + | of steel and platinum wire and two rather curiously shaped iron clamps. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Shall I leave the things here, sir?" he asked Campbell. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | errand for you. What is the name of the man at Richmond who supplies | ||
| + | Selby with orchids?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | personally, and tell him to send twice as many orchids as I ordered, | ||
| + | and to have as few white ones as possible. | ||
| + | white ones. It is a lovely day, Francis, and Richmond is a very pretty | ||
| + | place& | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "No trouble, sir. At what time shall I be back?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian looked at Campbell. | ||
| + | he said in a calm indifferent voice. | ||
| + | the room seemed to give him extraordinary courage. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Campbell frowned and bit his lip. "It will take about five hours," | ||
| + | answered. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It will be time enough, then, if you are back at half-past seven, | ||
| + | Francis. | ||
| + | have the evening to yourself. | ||
| + | want you." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Thank you, sir," said the man, leaving the room. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Now, Alan, there is not a moment to be lost. How heavy this chest is! | ||
| + | I'll take it for you. You bring the other things." | ||
| + | and in an authoritative manner. | ||
| + | left the room together. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | When they reached the top landing, Dorian took out the key and turned | ||
| + | it in the lock. Then he stopped, and a troubled look came into his | ||
| + | eyes. He shuddered. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is nothing to me. I don't require you," said Campbell coldly. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian half opened the door. As he did so, he saw the face of his | ||
| + | portrait leering in the sunlight. | ||
| + | curtain was lying. | ||
| + | forgotten, for the first time in his life, to hide the fatal canvas, | ||
| + | and was about to rush forward, when he drew back with a shudder. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | What was that loathsome red dew that gleamed, wet and glistening, on | ||
| + | one of the hands, as though the canvas had sweated blood? | ||
| + | it was!& | ||
| + | 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. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He heaved a deep breath, opened the door a little wider, and with | ||
| + | half-closed eyes and averted head, walked quickly in, determined that | ||
| + | he would not look even once upon the dead man. Then, stooping down and | ||
| + | taking up the gold-and-purple hanging, he flung it right over the | ||
| + | picture. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | There he stopped, feeling afraid to turn round, and his eyes fixed | ||
| + | themselves on the intricacies of the pattern before him. He heard | ||
| + | Campbell bringing in the heavy chest, and the irons, and the other | ||
| + | things that he had required for his dreadful work. He began to wonder | ||
| + | if he and Basil Hallward had ever met, and, if so, what they had | ||
| + | thought of each other. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Leave me now," said a stern voice behind him. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He turned and hurried out, just conscious that the dead man had been | ||
| + | thrust back into the chair and that Campbell was gazing into a | ||
| + | glistening yellow face. As he was going downstairs, he heard the key | ||
| + | being turned in the lock. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | It was long after seven when Campbell came back into the library. | ||
| + | was pale, but absolutely calm. "I have done what you asked me to do," | ||
| + | he muttered. "And now, good-bye. Let us never see each other again." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You have saved me from ruin, Alan. I cannot forget that," said Dorian | ||
| + | simply. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As soon as Campbell had left, he went upstairs. | ||
| + | smell of nitric acid in the room. But the thing that had been sitting | ||
| + | at the table was gone. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | < | ||
| + | |||
| + | <A NAME=" | ||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | CHAPTER 15 | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | That evening, at eight-thirty, | ||
| + | button-hole of Parma violets, Dorian Gray was ushered into Lady | ||
| + | Narborough' | ||
| + | throbbing with maddened nerves, and he felt wildly excited, but his | ||
| + | manner as he bent over his hostess' | ||
| + | ever. Perhaps one never seems so much at one's ease as when one has to | ||
| + | play a part. Certainly no one looking at Dorian Gray that night could | ||
| + | have believed that he had passed through a tragedy as horrible as any | ||
| + | tragedy of our age. Those finely shaped fingers could never have | ||
| + | clutched a knife for sin, nor those smiling lips have cried out on God | ||
| + | and goodness. | ||
| + | demeanour, and for a moment felt keenly the terrible pleasure of a | ||
| + | double life. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | It was a small party, got up rather in a hurry by Lady Narborough, who | ||
| + | was a very clever woman with what Lord Henry used to describe as the | ||
| + | remains of really remarkable ugliness. | ||
| + | wife to one of our most tedious ambassadors, | ||
| + | husband properly in a marble mausoleum, which she had herself designed, | ||
| + | and married off her daughters to some rich, rather elderly men, she | ||
| + | devoted herself now to the pleasures of French fiction, French cookery, | ||
| + | and French < | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian was one of her especial favourites, and she always told him that | ||
| + | she was extremely glad she had not met him in early life. "I know, my | ||
| + | dear, I should have fallen madly in love with you," she used to say, | ||
| + | "and thrown my bonnet right over the mills for your sake. It is most | ||
| + | fortunate that you were not thought of at the time. As it was, our | ||
| + | bonnets were so unbecoming, and the mills were so occupied in trying to | ||
| + | raise the wind, that I never had even a flirtation with anybody. | ||
| + | However, that was all Narborough' | ||
| + | short-sighted, | ||
| + | never sees anything." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Her guests this evening were rather tedious. | ||
| + | explained to Dorian, behind a very shabby fan, one of her married | ||
| + | daughters had come up quite suddenly to stay with her, and, to make | ||
| + | matters worse, had actually brought her husband with her. "I think it | ||
| + | is most unkind of her, my dear," she whispered. | ||
| + | stay with them every summer after I come from Homburg, but then an old | ||
| + | woman like me must have fresh air sometimes, and besides, I really wake | ||
| + | them up. You don't know what an existence they lead down there. | ||
| + | pure unadulterated country life. They get up early, because they have | ||
| + | so much to do, and go to bed early, because they have so little to | ||
| + | think about. | ||
| + | the time of Queen Elizabeth, and consequently they all fall asleep | ||
| + | after dinner. | ||
| + | and amuse me." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian murmured a graceful compliment and looked round the room. Yes: | ||
| + | it was certainly a tedious party. | ||
| + | before, and the others consisted of Ernest Harrowden, one of those | ||
| + | middle-aged mediocrities so common in London clubs who have no enemies, | ||
| + | but are thoroughly disliked by their friends; Lady Ruxton, an | ||
| + | overdressed woman of forty-seven, | ||
| + | trying to get herself compromised, | ||
| + | her great disappointment no one would ever believe anything against | ||
| + | her; Mrs. Erlynne, a pushing nobody, with a delightful lisp and | ||
| + | Venetian-red hair; Lady Alice Chapman, his hostess' | ||
| + | dull girl, with one of those characteristic British faces that, once | ||
| + | seen, are never remembered; and her husband, a red-cheeked, | ||
| + | white-whiskered creature who, like so many of his class, was under the | ||
| + | impression that inordinate joviality can atone for an entire lack of | ||
| + | ideas. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He was rather sorry he had come, till Lady Narborough, looking at the | ||
| + | great ormolu gilt clock that sprawled in gaudy curves on the | ||
| + | mauve-draped mantelshelf, | ||
| + | so late! I sent round to him this morning on chance and he promised | ||
| + | faithfully not to disappoint me." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | It was some consolation that Harry was to be there, and when the door | ||
| + | opened and he heard his slow musical voice lending charm to some | ||
| + | insincere apology, he ceased to feel bored. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | But at dinner he could not eat anything. | ||
| + | untasted. | ||
| + | insult to poor Adolphe, who invented the < | ||
| + | now and then Lord Henry looked across at him, wondering at his silence | ||
| + | and abstracted manner. | ||
| + | with champagne. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | round, "what is the matter with you to-night? You are quite out of | ||
| + | sorts." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I believe he is in love," cried Lady Narborough, "and that he is | ||
| + | afraid to tell me for fear I should be jealous. | ||
| + | certainly should." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Dear Lady Narborough," | ||
| + | love for a whole week& | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "How you men can fall in love with that woman!" | ||
| + | "I really cannot understand it." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is simply because she remembers you when you were a little girl, | ||
| + | Lady Narborough," | ||
| + | your short frocks." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "She does not remember my short frocks at all, Lord Henry. | ||
| + | remember her very well at Vienna thirty years ago, and how < | ||
| + | she was then." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "She is still < | ||
| + | fingers; "and when she is in a very smart gown she looks like an | ||
| + | < | ||
| + | full of surprises. | ||
| + | When her third husband died, her hair turned quite gold from grief." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "How can you, Harry!" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is a most romantic explanation," | ||
| + | third husband, Lord Henry! | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I don't believe a word of it." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Well, ask Mr. Gray. He is one of her most intimate friends." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Is it true, Mr. Gray?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "She assures me so, Lady Narborough," | ||
| + | whether, like Marguerite de Navarre, she had their hearts embalmed and | ||
| + | hung at her girdle. | ||
| + | had any hearts at all." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Four husbands! | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "< | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh! she is audacious enough for anything, my dear. And what is Ferrol | ||
| + | like? I don't know him." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "The husbands of very beautiful women belong to the criminal classes," | ||
| + | said Lord Henry, sipping his wine. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lady Narborough hit him with her fan. "Lord Henry, I am not at all | ||
| + | surprised that the world says that you are extremely wicked." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "But what world says that?" asked Lord Henry, elevating his eyebrows. | ||
| + | "It can only be the next world. | ||
| + | terms." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | shaking her head. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry looked serious for some moments. | ||
| + | monstrous," | ||
| + | things against one behind one's back that are absolutely and entirely | ||
| + | true." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I hope so," said his hostess, laughing. | ||
| + | worship Madame de Ferrol in this ridiculous way, I shall have to marry | ||
| + | again so as to be in the fashion." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You will never marry again, Lady Narborough," | ||
| + | "You were far too happy. | ||
| + | detested her first husband. | ||
| + | adored his first wife. Women try their luck; men risk theirs." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "If he had been, you would not have loved him, my dear lady," was the | ||
| + | rejoinder. | ||
| + | they will forgive us everything, even our intellects. | ||
| + | ask me to dinner again after saying this, I am afraid, Lady Narborough, | ||
| + | but it is quite true." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Of course it is true, Lord Henry. | ||
| + | your defects, where would you all be? Not one of you would ever be | ||
| + | married. | ||
| + | that that would alter you much. Nowadays all the married men live like | ||
| + | bachelors, and all the bachelors like married men." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "< | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "< | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I wish it were < | ||
| + | great disappointment." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Ah, my dear," cried Lady Narborough, putting on her gloves, " | ||
| + | tell me that you have exhausted life. When a man says that one knows | ||
| + | that life has exhausted him. Lord Henry is very wicked, and I | ||
| + | sometimes wish that I had been; but you are made to be good& | ||
| + | so good. I must find you a nice wife. Lord Henry, don't you think | ||
| + | that Mr. Gray should get married?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am always telling him so, Lady Narborough," | ||
| + | bow. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Well, we must look out for a suitable match for him. I shall go | ||
| + | through Debrett carefully to-night and draw out a list of all the | ||
| + | eligible young ladies." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "With their ages, Lady Narborough?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Of course, with their ages, slightly edited. | ||
| + | in a hurry. | ||
| + | alliance, and I want you both to be happy." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What nonsense people talk about happy marriages!" | ||
| + | Henry. | ||
| + | her." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Ah! what a cynic you are!" cried the old lady, pushing back her chair | ||
| + | and nodding to Lady Ruxton. | ||
| + | again. | ||
| + | Andrew prescribes for me. You must tell me what people you would like | ||
| + | to meet, though. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I like men who have a future and women who have a past," he answered. | ||
| + | "Or do you think that would make it a petticoat party?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I fear so," she said, laughing, as she stood up. "A thousand pardons, | ||
| + | my dear Lady Ruxton," | ||
| + | cigarette." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Never mind, Lady Narborough. | ||
| + | going to limit myself, for the future." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Pray don't, Lady Ruxton," | ||
| + | thing. | ||
| + | feast." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lady Ruxton glanced at him curiously. | ||
| + | to me some afternoon, Lord Henry. | ||
| + | murmured, as she swept out of the room. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Now, mind you don't stay too long over your politics and scandal," | ||
| + | cried Lady Narborough from the door. "If you do, we are sure to | ||
| + | squabble upstairs." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The men laughed, and Mr. Chapman got up solemnly from the foot of the | ||
| + | table and came up to the top. Dorian Gray changed his seat and went | ||
| + | and sat by Lord Henry. | ||
| + | the situation in the House of Commons. | ||
| + | The word < | ||
| + | mind& | ||
| + | alliterative prefix served as an ornament of oratory. | ||
| + | Union Jack on the pinnacles of thought. | ||
| + | race& | ||
| + | the proper bulwark for society. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | A smile curved Lord Henry' | ||
| + | Dorian. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Are you better, my dear fellow?" | ||
| + | sorts at dinner." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am quite well, Harry. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You were charming last night. | ||
| + | you. She tells me she is going down to Selby." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "She has promised to come on the twentieth." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Is Monmouth to be there, too?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh, yes, Harry." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "He bores me dreadfully, almost as much as he bores her. She is very | ||
| + | clever, too clever for a woman. | ||
| + | weakness. | ||
| + | precious. | ||
| + | White porcelain feet, if you like. They have been through the fire, | ||
| + | and what fire does not destroy, it hardens. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "How long has she been married?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "An eternity, she tells me. I believe, according to the peerage, it is | ||
| + | ten years, but ten years with Monmouth must have been like eternity, | ||
| + | with time thrown in. Who else is coming?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh, the Willoughbys, | ||
| + | Clouston, the usual set. I have asked Lord Grotrian." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I like him," said Lord Henry. | ||
| + | him charming. | ||
| + | being always absolutely over-educated. He is a very modern type." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I don't know if he will be able to come, Harry. | ||
| + | Monte Carlo with his father." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Ah! what a nuisance people' | ||
| + | the way, Dorian, you ran off very early last night. | ||
| + | eleven. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian glanced at him hurriedly and frowned. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "No, Harry," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Did you go to the club?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | didn't go to the club. I walked about. | ||
| + | inquisitive you are, Harry! | ||
| + | doing. | ||
| + | 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." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry shrugged his shoulders. | ||
| + | Let us go up to the drawing-room. No sherry, thank you, Mr. Chapman. | ||
| + | Something has happened to you, Dorian. | ||
| + | not yourself to-night." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | come round and see you to-morrow, or next day. Make my excuses to Lady | ||
| + | Narborough. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "All right, Dorian. | ||
| + | The duchess is coming." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I will try to be there, Harry," | ||
| + | drove back to his own house, he was conscious that the sense of terror | ||
| + | he thought he had strangled had come back to him. Lord Henry' | ||
| + | questioning had made him lose his nerve for the moment, and he wanted | ||
| + | his nerve still. | ||
| + | winced. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Yet it had to be done. He realized that, and when he had locked the | ||
| + | door of his library, he opened the secret press into which he had | ||
| + | thrust Basil Hallward' | ||
| + | piled another log on it. The smell of the singeing clothes and burning | ||
| + | leather was horrible. | ||
| + | everything. | ||
| + | Algerian pastilles in a pierced copper brazier, he bathed his hands and | ||
| + | forehead with a cool musk-scented vinegar. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Suddenly he started. | ||
| + | nervously at his underlip. | ||
| + | Florentine cabinet, made out of ebony and inlaid with ivory and blue | ||
| + | lapis. | ||
| + | and make afraid, as though it held something that he longed for and yet | ||
| + | almost loathed. | ||
| + | He lit a cigarette and then threw it away. His eyelids drooped till | ||
| + | the long fringed lashes almost touched his cheek. | ||
| + | the cabinet. | ||
| + | lying, went over to it, and having unlocked it, touched some hidden | ||
| + | spring. | ||
| + | instinctively towards it, dipped in, and closed on something. | ||
| + | small Chinese box of black and gold-dust lacquer, elaborately wrought, | ||
| + | the sides patterned with curved waves, and the silken cords hung with | ||
| + | round crystals and tasselled in plaited metal threads. | ||
| + | Inside was a green paste, waxy in lustre, the odour curiously heavy and | ||
| + | persistent. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He hesitated for some moments, with a strangely immobile smile upon his | ||
| + | face. Then shivering, though the atmosphere of the room was terribly | ||
| + | hot, he drew himself up and glanced at the clock. | ||
| + | minutes to twelve. | ||
| + | he did so, and went into his bedroom. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As midnight was striking bronze blows upon the dusky air, Dorian Gray, | ||
| + | dressed commonly, and with a muffler wrapped round his throat, crept | ||
| + | quietly out of his house. | ||
| + | horse. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The man shook his head. "It is too far for me," he muttered. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Here is a sovereign for you," said Dorian. | ||
| + | you drive fast." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "All right, sir," answered the man, "you will be there in an hour," and | ||
| + | after his fare had got in he turned his horse round and drove rapidly | ||
| + | towards the river. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | < | ||
| + | |||
| + | <A NAME=" | ||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | CHAPTER 16 | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | A cold rain began to fall, and the blurred street-lamps looked ghastly | ||
| + | in the dripping mist. The public-houses were just closing, and dim men | ||
| + | and women were clustering in broken groups round their doors. | ||
| + | some of the bars came the sound of horrible laughter. | ||
| + | drunkards brawled and screamed. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lying back in the hansom, with his hat pulled over his forehead, Dorian | ||
| + | Gray watched with listless eyes the sordid shame of the great city, and | ||
| + | now and then he repeated to himself the words that Lord Henry had said | ||
| + | to him on the first day they had met, "To cure the soul by means of the | ||
| + | senses, and the senses by means of the soul." | ||
| + | secret. | ||
| + | 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. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The moon hung low in the sky like a yellow skull. | ||
| + | huge misshapen cloud stretched a long arm across and hid it. The | ||
| + | gas-lamps grew fewer, and the streets more narrow and gloomy. | ||
| + | man lost his way and had to drive back half a mile. A steam rose from | ||
| + | the horse as it splashed up the puddles. | ||
| + | were clogged with a grey-flannel mist. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "To cure the soul by means of the senses, and the senses by means of | ||
| + | the soul!" | ||
| + | sick to death. | ||
| + | blood had been spilled. | ||
| + | was no atonement; but though forgiveness was impossible, forgetfulness | ||
| + | was possible still, and he was determined to forget, to stamp the thing | ||
| + | out, to crush it as one would crush the adder that had stung one. | ||
| + | Indeed, what right had Basil to have spoken to him as he had done? Who | ||
| + | had made him a judge over others? | ||
| + | dreadful, horrible, not to be endured. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | On and on plodded the hansom, going slower, it seemed to him, at each | ||
| + | step. He thrust up the trap and called to the man to drive faster. | ||
| + | The hideous hunger for opium began to gnaw at him. His throat burned | ||
| + | and his delicate hands twitched nervously together. | ||
| + | horse madly with his stick. | ||
| + | laughed in answer, and the man was silent. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The way seemed interminable, | ||
| + | sprawling spider. | ||
| + | thickened, he felt afraid. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Then they passed by lonely brickfields. | ||
| + | he could see the strange, bottle-shaped kilns with their orange, | ||
| + | fanlike tongues of fire. A dog barked as they went by, and far away in | ||
| + | the darkness some wandering sea-gull screamed. | ||
| + | rut, then swerved aside and broke into a gallop. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | After some time they left the clay road and rattled again over | ||
| + | rough-paven streets. | ||
| + | fantastic shadows were silhouetted against some lamplit blind. | ||
| + | watched them curiously. | ||
| + | gestures like live things. | ||
| + | heart. | ||
| + | an open door, and two men ran after the hansom for about a hundred | ||
| + | yards. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | It is said that passion makes one think in a circle. | ||
| + | hideous iteration the bitten lips of Dorian Gray shaped and reshaped | ||
| + | those subtle words that dealt with soul and sense, till he had found in | ||
| + | them the full expression, as it were, of his mood, and justified, by | ||
| + | intellectual approval, passions that without such justification would | ||
| + | still have dominated his temper. | ||
| + | the one thought; and the wild desire to live, most terrible of all | ||
| + | man's appetites, quickened into force each trembling nerve and fibre. | ||
| + | Ugliness that had once been hateful to him because it made things real, | ||
| + | became dear to him now for that very reason. | ||
| + | reality. | ||
| + | disordered life, the very vileness of thief and outcast, were more | ||
| + | vivid, in their intense actuality of impression, than all the gracious | ||
| + | shapes of art, the dreamy shadows of song. They were what he needed | ||
| + | for forgetfulness. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Suddenly the man drew up with a jerk at the top of a dark lane. Over | ||
| + | the low roofs and jagged chimney-stacks of the houses rose the black | ||
| + | masts of ships. | ||
| + | yards. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | trap. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian started and peered round. | ||
| + | having got out hastily and given the driver the extra fare he had | ||
| + | promised him, he walked quickly in the direction of the quay. Here and | ||
| + | there a lantern gleamed at the stern of some huge merchantman. | ||
| + | light shook and splintered in the puddles. | ||
| + | outward-bound steamer that was coaling. | ||
| + | a wet mackintosh. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He hurried on towards the left, glancing back now and then to see if he | ||
| + | was being followed. | ||
| + | shabby house that was wedged in between two gaunt factories. | ||
| + | the top-windows stood a lamp. He stopped and gave a peculiar knock. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | After a little time he heard steps in the passage and the chain being | ||
| + | unhooked. | ||
| + | word to the squat misshapen figure that flattened itself into the | ||
| + | shadow as he passed. | ||
| + | curtain that swayed and shook in the gusty wind which had followed him | ||
| + | in from the street. | ||
| + | which looked as if it had once been a third-rate dancing-saloon. Shrill | ||
| + | flaring gas-jets, dulled and distorted in the fly-blown mirrors that | ||
| + | faced them, were ranged round the walls. | ||
| + | tin backed them, making quivering disks of light. | ||
| + | covered with ochre-coloured sawdust, trampled here and there into mud, | ||
| + | and stained with dark rings of spilled liquor. | ||
| + | crouching by a little charcoal stove, playing with bone counters and | ||
| + | showing their white teeth as they chattered. | ||
| + | head buried in his arms, a sailor sprawled over a table, and by the | ||
| + | tawdrily painted bar that ran across one complete side stood two | ||
| + | haggard women, mocking an old man who was brushing the sleeves of his | ||
| + | coat with an expression of disgust. | ||
| + | him," laughed one of them, as Dorian passed by. The man looked at her | ||
| + | in terror and began to whimper. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | At the end of the room there was a little staircase, leading to a | ||
| + | darkened chamber. | ||
| + | heavy odour of opium met him. He heaved a deep breath, and his | ||
| + | nostrils quivered with pleasure. | ||
| + | smooth yellow hair, who was bending over a lamp lighting a long thin | ||
| + | pipe, looked up at him and nodded in a hesitating manner. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You here, Adrian?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Where else should I be?" he answered, listlessly. | ||
| + | will speak to me now." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I thought you had left England." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | last. George doesn' | ||
| + | with a sigh. "As long as one has this stuff, one doesn' | ||
| + | I think I have had too many friends." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian winced and looked round at the grotesque things that lay in such | ||
| + | fantastic postures on the ragged mattresses. | ||
| + | gaping mouths, the staring lustreless eyes, fascinated him. He knew in | ||
| + | what strange heavens they were suffering, and what dull hells were | ||
| + | teaching them the secret of some new joy. They were better off than he | ||
| + | was. He was prisoned in thought. | ||
| + | eating his soul away. From time to time he seemed to see the eyes of | ||
| + | Basil Hallward looking at him. Yet he felt he could not stay. The | ||
| + | presence of Adrian Singleton troubled him. He wanted to be where no | ||
| + | one would know who he was. He wanted to escape from himself. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am going on to the other place," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "On the wharf?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "That mad-cat is sure to be there. | ||
| + | now." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian shrugged his shoulders. | ||
| + | Women who hate one are much more interesting. | ||
| + | better." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Much the same." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I like it better. | ||
| + | something." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I don't want anything," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Never mind." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Adrian Singleton rose up wearily and followed Dorian to the bar. A | ||
| + | half-caste, in a ragged turban and a shabby ulster, grinned a hideous | ||
| + | greeting as he thrust a bottle of brandy and two tumblers in front of | ||
| + | them. The women sidled up and began to chatter. | ||
| + | back on them and said something in a low voice to Adrian Singleton. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | A crooked smile, like a Malay crease, writhed across the face of one of | ||
| + | the women. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "For God's sake don't talk to me," cried Dorian, stamping his foot on | ||
| + | the ground. | ||
| + | to me again." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Two red sparks flashed for a moment in the woman' | ||
| + | flickered out and left them dull and glazed. | ||
| + | raked the coins off the counter with greedy fingers. | ||
| + | watched her enviously. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | What does it matter? | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You will write to me if you want anything, won't you?" said Dorian, | ||
| + | after a pause. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Good night, then." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Good night," | ||
| + | his parched mouth with a handkerchief. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian walked to the door with a look of pain in his face. As he drew | ||
| + | the curtain aside, a hideous laugh broke from the painted lips of the | ||
| + | woman who had taken his money. | ||
| + | hiccoughed, in a hoarse voice. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Curse you!" he answered, " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She snapped her fingers. | ||
| + | called, ain't it?" she yelled after him. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The drowsy sailor leaped to his feet as she spoke, and looked wildly | ||
| + | round. | ||
| + | rushed out as if in pursuit. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray hurried along the quay through the drizzling rain. His | ||
| + | meeting with Adrian Singleton had strangely moved him, and he wondered | ||
| + | if the ruin of that young life was really to be laid at his door, as | ||
| + | Basil Hallward had said to him with such infamy of insult. | ||
| + | lip, and for a few seconds his eyes grew sad. Yet, after all, what did | ||
| + | it matter to him? One's days were too brief to take the burden of | ||
| + | another' | ||
| + | paid his own price for living it. The only pity was one had to pay so | ||
| + | often for a single fault. | ||
| + | In her dealings with man, destiny never closed her accounts. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | There are moments, psychologists tell us, when the passion for sin, or | ||
| + | for what the world calls sin, so dominates a nature that every fibre of | ||
| + | the body, as every cell of the brain, seems to be instinct with fearful | ||
| + | impulses. | ||
| + | will. They move to their terrible end as automatons move. Choice is | ||
| + | taken from them, and conscience is either killed, or, if it lives at | ||
| + | all, lives but to give rebellion its fascination and disobedience its | ||
| + | charm. | ||
| + | sins of disobedience. | ||
| + | evil, fell from heaven, it was as a rebel that he fell. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Callous, concentrated on evil, with stained mind, and soul hungry for | ||
| + | rebellion, Dorian Gray hastened on, quickening his step as he went, but | ||
| + | as he darted aside into a dim archway, that had served him often as a | ||
| + | short cut to the ill-famed place where he was going, he felt himself | ||
| + | suddenly seized from behind, and before he had time to defend himself, | ||
| + | he was thrust back against the wall, with a brutal hand round his | ||
| + | throat. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He struggled madly for life, and by a terrible effort wrenched the | ||
| + | tightening fingers away. In a second he heard the click of a revolver, | ||
| + | and saw the gleam of a polished barrel, pointing straight at his head, | ||
| + | and the dusky form of a short, thick-set man facing him. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What do you want?" he gasped. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Keep quiet," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You are mad. What have I done to you?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You wrecked the life of Sibyl Vane," was the answer, "and Sibyl Vane | ||
| + | was my sister. | ||
| + | door. I swore I would kill you in return. | ||
| + | you. I had no clue, no trace. | ||
| + | you were dead. I knew nothing of you but the pet name she used to call | ||
| + | you. I heard it to-night by chance. | ||
| + | to-night you are going to die." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray grew sick with fear. "I never knew her," he stammered. | ||
| + | never heard of her. You are mad." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You had better confess your sin, for as sure as I am James Vane, you | ||
| + | are going to die." | ||
| + | what to say or do. "Down on your knees!" | ||
| + | one minute to make your peace& | ||
| + | India, and I must do my job first. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian' | ||
| + | what to do. Suddenly a wild hope flashed across his brain. | ||
| + | cried. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | matter?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | voice. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | James Vane hesitated for a moment, not understanding what was meant. | ||
| + | Then he seized Dorian Gray and dragged him from the archway. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dim and wavering as was the wind-blown light, yet it served to show him | ||
| + | the hideous error, as it seemed, into which he had fallen, for the face | ||
| + | of the man he had sought to kill had all the bloom of boyhood, all the | ||
| + | unstained purity of youth. | ||
| + | summers, hardly older, if older indeed at all, than his sister had been | ||
| + | when they had parted so many years ago. It was obvious that this was | ||
| + | not the man who had destroyed her life. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He loosened his hold and reeled back. "My God! my God!" he cried, "and | ||
| + | I would have murdered you!" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray drew a long breath. | ||
| + | committing a terrible crime, my man," he said, looking at him sternly. | ||
| + | "Let this be a warning to you not to take vengeance into your own | ||
| + | hands." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | word I heard in that damned den set me on the wrong track." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You had better go home and put that pistol away, or you may get into | ||
| + | trouble," | ||
| + | street. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | James Vane stood on the pavement in horror. | ||
| + | to foot. After a little while, a black shadow that had been creeping | ||
| + | along the dripping wall moved out into the light and came close to him | ||
| + | with stealthy footsteps. | ||
| + | round with a start. | ||
| + | the bar. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Why didn't you kill him?" she hissed out, putting haggard face quite | ||
| + | close to his. "I knew you were following him when you rushed out from | ||
| + | Daly' | ||
| + | and he's as bad as bad." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "He is not the man I am looking for," he answered, "and I want no man's | ||
| + | money. | ||
| + | forty now. This one is little more than a boy. Thank God, I have not | ||
| + | got his blood upon my hands." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The woman gave a bitter laugh. | ||
| + | "Why, man, it's nigh on eighteen years since Prince Charming made me | ||
| + | what I am." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You lie!" cried James Vane. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She raised her hand up to heaven. | ||
| + | she cried. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | They say he has sold himself to the devil for a pretty face. It's nigh | ||
| + | on eighteen years since I met him. He hasn't changed much since then. | ||
| + | I have, though," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You swear this?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I swear it," came in hoarse echo from her flat mouth. | ||
| + | me away to him," she whined; "I am afraid of him. Let me have some | ||
| + | money for my night' | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He broke from her with an oath and rushed to the corner of the street, | ||
| + | but Dorian Gray had disappeared. | ||
| + | vanished also. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | < | ||
| + | |||
| + | <A NAME=" | ||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | CHAPTER 17 | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | A week later Dorian Gray was sitting in the conservatory at Selby | ||
| + | Royal, talking to the pretty Duchess of Monmouth, who with her husband, | ||
| + | a jaded-looking man of sixty, was amongst his guests. | ||
| + | and the mellow light of the huge, lace-covered lamp that stood on the | ||
| + | table lit up the delicate china and hammered silver of the service at | ||
| + | which the duchess was presiding. | ||
| + | among the cups, and her full red lips were smiling at something that | ||
| + | Dorian had whispered to her. Lord Henry was lying back in a | ||
| + | silk-draped wicker chair, looking at them. On a peach-coloured divan | ||
| + | sat Lady Narborough, pretending to listen to the duke's description of | ||
| + | the last Brazilian beetle that he had added to his collection. | ||
| + | young men in elaborate smoking-suits were handing tea-cakes to some of | ||
| + | the women. | ||
| + | more expected to arrive on the next day. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What are you two talking about?" | ||
| + | the table and putting his cup down. "I hope Dorian has told you about | ||
| + | my plan for rechristening everything, Gladys. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "But I don't want to be rechristened, | ||
| + | looking up at him with her wonderful eyes. "I am quite satisfied with | ||
| + | my own name, and I am sure Mr. Gray should be satisfied with his." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear Gladys, I would not alter either name for the world. | ||
| + | both perfect. | ||
| + | orchid, for my button-hole. It was a marvellous spotted thing, as | ||
| + | effective as the seven deadly sins. In a thoughtless moment I asked | ||
| + | one of the gardeners what it was called. | ||
| + | specimen of < | ||
| + | sad truth, but we have lost the faculty of giving lovely names to | ||
| + | things. | ||
| + | quarrel is with words. | ||
| + | literature. | ||
| + | to use one. It is the only thing he is fit for." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Then what should we call you, Harry?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "His name is Prince Paradox," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I recognize him in a flash," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I won't hear of it," laughed Lord Henry, sinking into a chair. | ||
| + | a label there is no escape! | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You wish me to defend my throne, then?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I give the truths of to-morrow." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I prefer the mistakes of to-day," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You disarm me, Gladys," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Of your shield, Harry, not of your spear." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I never tilt against beauty," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "That is your error, Harry, believe me. You value beauty far too much." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "How can you say that? I admit that I think that it is better to be | ||
| + | beautiful than to be good. But on the other hand, no one is more ready | ||
| + | than I am to acknowledge that it is better to be good than to be ugly." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | "What becomes of your simile about the orchid?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | Tory, must not underrate them. Beer, the Bible, and the seven deadly | ||
| + | virtues have made our England what she is." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You don't like your country, then?" she asked. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I live in it." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "That you may censure it the better." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Would you have me take the verdict of Europe on it?" he inquired. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What do they say of us?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "That Tartuffe has emigrated to England and opened a shop." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Is that yours, Harry?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I give it to you." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I could not use it. It is too true." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You need not be afraid. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "They are practical." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "They are more cunning than practical. | ||
| + | they balance stupidity by wealth, and vice by hypocrisy." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Great things have been thrust on us, Gladys." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "We have carried their burden." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Only as far as the Stock Exchange." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She shook her head. "I believe in the race," she cried. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It represents the survival of the pushing." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It has development." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Decay fascinates me more." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What of art?" she asked. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is a malady." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "An illusion." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "The fashionable substitute for belief." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You are a sceptic." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What are you?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "To define is to limit." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Give me a clue." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You bewilder me. Let us talk of some one else." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Our host is a delightful topic. | ||
| + | Charming." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Ah! don't remind me of that," cried Dorian Gray. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Our host is rather horrid this evening," | ||
| + | colouring. | ||
| + | scientific principles as the best specimen he could find of a modern | ||
| + | butterfly." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Well, I hope he won't stick pins into you, Duchess," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh! my maid does that already, Mr. Gray, when she is annoyed with me." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "And what does she get annoyed with you about, Duchess?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "For the most trivial things, Mr. Gray, I assure you. Usually because | ||
| + | I come in at ten minutes to nine and tell her that I must be dressed by | ||
| + | half-past eight." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "How unreasonable of her! You should give her warning." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I daren' | ||
| + | one I wore at Lady Hilstone' | ||
| + | of you to pretend that you do. Well, she made it out of nothing. | ||
| + | good hats are made out of nothing." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Like all good reputations, | ||
| + | effect that one produces gives one an enemy. | ||
| + | a mediocrity." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Not with women," | ||
| + | the world. | ||
| + | one says, love with our ears, just as you men love with your eyes, if | ||
| + | you ever love at all." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It seems to me that we never do anything else," murmured Dorian. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Ah! then, you never really love, Mr. Gray," answered the duchess with | ||
| + | mock sadness. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear Gladys!" | ||
| + | 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. | ||
| + | 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." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Even when one has been wounded by it, Harry?" | ||
| + | a pause. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The duchess turned and looked at Dorian Gray with a curious expression | ||
| + | in her eyes. "What do you say to that, Mr. Gray?" she inquired. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian hesitated for a moment. | ||
| + | laughed. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Even when he is wrong?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Harry is never wrong, Duchess." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "And does his philosophy make you happy?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I have never searched for happiness. | ||
| + | searched for pleasure." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "And found it, Mr. Gray?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The duchess sighed. | ||
| + | don't go and dress, I shall have none this evening." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Let me get you some orchids, Duchess," | ||
| + | feet and walking down the conservatory. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You are flirting disgracefully with him," said Lord Henry to his | ||
| + | cousin. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "If he were not, there would be no battle." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Greek meets Greek, then?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am on the side of the Trojans. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "They were defeated." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "There are worse things than capture," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You gallop with a loose rein." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Pace gives life," was the < | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I shall write it in my diary to-night." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "That a burnt child loves the fire." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am not even singed. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You use them for everything, except flight." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You have a rival." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He laughed. | ||
| + | him." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You fill me with apprehension. | ||
| + | who are romanticists." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Men have educated us." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "But not explained you." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She looked at him, smiling. | ||
| + | go and help him. I have not yet told him the colour of my frock." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Ah! you must suit your frock to his flowers, Gladys." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "That would be a premature surrender." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I must keep an opportunity for retreat." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "In the Parthian manner?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "They found safety in the desert. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Women are not always allowed a choice," | ||
| + | finished the sentence before from the far end of the conservatory came | ||
| + | a stifled groan, followed by the dull sound of a heavy fall. Everybody | ||
| + | started up. The duchess stood motionless in horror. | ||
| + | his eyes, Lord Henry rushed through the flapping palms to find Dorian | ||
| + | Gray lying face downwards on the tiled floor in a deathlike swoon. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He was carried at once into the blue drawing-room and laid upon one of | ||
| + | the sofas. | ||
| + | with a dazed expression. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What has happened?" | ||
| + | Harry?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear Dorian," | ||
| + | all. You must have overtired yourself. | ||
| + | to dinner. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "No, I will come down," he said, struggling to his feet. "I would | ||
| + | rather come down. I must not be alone." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He went to his room and dressed. | ||
| + | gaiety in his manner as he sat at table, but now and then a thrill of | ||
| + | terror ran through him when he remembered that, pressed against the | ||
| + | window of the conservatory, | ||
| + | face of James Vane watching him. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | < | ||
| + | |||
| + | <A NAME=" | ||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | CHAPTER 18 | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The next day he did not leave the house, and, indeed, spent most of the | ||
| + | time in his own room, sick with a wild terror of dying, and yet | ||
| + | indifferent to life itself. | ||
| + | tracked down, had begun to dominate him. If the tapestry did but | ||
| + | tremble in the wind, he shook. | ||
| + | the leaded panes seemed to him like his own wasted resolutions and wild | ||
| + | regrets. | ||
| + | peering through the mist-stained glass, and horror seemed once more to | ||
| + | lay its hand upon his heart. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | But perhaps it had been only his fancy that had called vengeance out of | ||
| + | the night and set the hideous shapes of punishment before him. Actual | ||
| + | life was chaos, but there was something terribly logical in the | ||
| + | imagination. | ||
| + | of sin. It was the imagination that made each crime bear its misshapen | ||
| + | brood. | ||
| + | the good rewarded. | ||
| + | upon the weak. That was all. Besides, had any stranger been prowling | ||
| + | round the house, he would have been seen by the servants or the | ||
| + | keepers. | ||
| + | gardeners would have reported it. Yes, it had been merely fancy. | ||
| + | Sibyl Vane's brother had not come back to kill him. He had sailed away | ||
| + | in his ship to founder in some winter sea. From him, at any rate, he | ||
| + | was safe. Why, the man did not know who he was, could not know who he | ||
| + | was. The mask of youth had saved him. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | And yet if it had been merely an illusion, how terrible it was to think | ||
| + | that conscience could raise such fearful phantoms, and give them | ||
| + | visible form, and make them move before one! What sort of life would | ||
| + | his be if, day and night, shadows of his crime were to peer at him from | ||
| + | silent corners, to mock him from secret places, to whisper in his ear | ||
| + | as he sat at the feast, to wake him with icy fingers as he lay asleep! | ||
| + | As the thought crept through his brain, he grew pale with terror, and | ||
| + | the air seemed to him to have become suddenly colder. | ||
| + | wild hour of madness he had killed his friend! | ||
| + | memory of the scene! | ||
| + | back to him with added horror. | ||
| + | and swathed in scarlet, rose the image of his sin. When Lord Henry | ||
| + | came in at six o' | ||
| + | break. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | It was not till the third day that he ventured to go out. There was | ||
| + | something in the clear, pine-scented air of that winter morning that | ||
| + | seemed to bring him back his joyousness and his ardour for life. But | ||
| + | it was not merely the physical conditions of environment that had | ||
| + | caused the change. | ||
| + | anguish that had sought to maim and mar the perfection of its calm. | ||
| + | With subtle and finely wrought temperaments it is always so. Their | ||
| + | strong passions must either bruise or bend. They either slay the man, | ||
| + | or themselves die. Shallow sorrows and shallow loves live on. The | ||
| + | loves and sorrows that are great are destroyed by their own plenitude. | ||
| + | Besides, he had convinced himself that he had been the victim of a | ||
| + | terror-stricken imagination, | ||
| + | something of pity and not a little of contempt. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | After breakfast, he walked with the duchess for an hour in the garden | ||
| + | and then drove across the park to join the shooting-party. The crisp | ||
| + | frost lay like salt upon the grass. | ||
| + | blue metal. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | At the corner of the pine-wood he caught sight of Sir Geoffrey | ||
| + | Clouston, the duchess' | ||
| + | his gun. He jumped from the cart, and having told the groom to take | ||
| + | the mare home, made his way towards his guest through the withered | ||
| + | bracken and rough undergrowth. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Have you had good sport, Geoffrey?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Not very good, Dorian. | ||
| + | open. I dare say it will be better after lunch, when we get to new | ||
| + | ground." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian strolled along by his side. The keen aromatic air, the brown | ||
| + | and red lights that glimmered in the wood, the hoarse cries of the | ||
| + | beaters ringing out from time to time, and the sharp snaps of the guns | ||
| + | that followed, fascinated him and filled him with a sense of delightful | ||
| + | freedom. | ||
| + | high indifference of joy. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Suddenly from a lumpy tussock of old grass some twenty yards in front | ||
| + | of them, with black-tipped ears erect and long hinder limbs throwing it | ||
| + | forward, started a hare. It bolted for a thicket of alders. | ||
| + | Geoffrey put his gun to his shoulder, but there was something in the | ||
| + | animal' | ||
| + | cried out at once, " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What nonsense, Dorian!" | ||
| + | into the thicket, he fired. | ||
| + | hare in pain, which is dreadful, the cry of a man in agony, which is | ||
| + | worse. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Good heavens! | ||
| + | ass the man was to get in front of the guns! Stop shooting there!" | ||
| + | called out at the top of his voice. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The head-keeper came running up with a stick in his hand. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | ceased along the line. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | "Why on earth don't you keep your men back? Spoiled my shooting for | ||
| + | the day." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian watched them as they plunged into the alder-clump, | ||
| + | lithe swinging branches aside. | ||
| + | a body after them into the sunlight. | ||
| + | seemed to him that misfortune followed wherever he went. He heard Sir | ||
| + | Geoffrey ask if the man was really dead, and the affirmative answer of | ||
| + | the keeper. | ||
| + | faces. | ||
| + | voices. | ||
| + | boughs overhead. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | After a few moments& | ||
| + | endless hours of pain& | ||
| + | and looked round. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | stopped for to-day. It would not look well to go on." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I wish it were stopped for ever, Harry," | ||
| + | whole thing is hideous and cruel. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He could not finish the sentence. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am afraid so," rejoined Lord Henry. | ||
| + | shot in his chest. | ||
| + | let us go home." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | They walked side by side in the direction of the avenue for nearly | ||
| + | fifty yards without speaking. | ||
| + | said, with a heavy sigh, "It is a bad omen, Harry, a very bad omen." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What is?" asked Lord Henry. | ||
| + | fellow, it can't be helped. | ||
| + | get in front of the guns? Besides, it is nothing to us. It is rather | ||
| + | awkward for Geoffrey, of course. | ||
| + | makes people think that one is a wild shot. And Geoffrey is not; he | ||
| + | shoots very straight. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian shook his head. "It is a bad omen, Harry. | ||
| + | something horrible were going to happen to some of us. To myself, | ||
| + | perhaps," | ||
| + | pain. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The elder man laughed. | ||
| + | Dorian. | ||
| + | are not likely to suffer from it unless these fellows keep chattering | ||
| + | about this thing at dinner. | ||
| + | tabooed. | ||
| + | does not send us heralds. | ||
| + | Besides, what on earth could happen to you, Dorian? | ||
| + | everything in the world that a man can want. There is no one who would | ||
| + | not be delighted to change places with you." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "There is no one with whom I would not change places, Harry. | ||
| + | laugh like that. I am telling you the truth. | ||
| + | has just died is better off than I am. I have no terror of death. | ||
| + | is the coming of death that terrifies me. Its monstrous wings seem to | ||
| + | wheel in the leaden air around me. Good heavens! don't you see a man | ||
| + | moving behind the trees there, watching me, waiting for me?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry looked in the direction in which the trembling gloved hand | ||
| + | was pointing. | ||
| + | you. I suppose he wants to ask you what flowers you wish to have on | ||
| + | the table to-night. How absurdly nervous you are, my dear fellow! | ||
| + | must come and see my doctor, when we get back to town." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian heaved a sigh of relief as he saw the gardener approaching. | ||
| + | man touched his hat, glanced for a moment at Lord Henry in a hesitating | ||
| + | manner, and then produced a letter, which he handed to his master. | ||
| + | "Her Grace told me to wait for an answer," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian put the letter into his pocket. | ||
| + | coming in," he said, coldly. | ||
| + | the direction of the house. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "How fond women are of doing dangerous things!" | ||
| + | "It is one of the qualities in them that I admire most. A woman will | ||
| + | flirt with anybody in the world as long as other people are looking on." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "How fond you are of saying dangerous things, Harry! | ||
| + | instance, you are quite astray. | ||
| + | don't love her." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "And the duchess loves you very much, but she likes you less, so you | ||
| + | are excellently matched." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You are talking scandal, Harry, and there is never any basis for | ||
| + | scandal." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "The basis of every scandal is an immoral certainty," | ||
| + | lighting a cigarette. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You would sacrifice anybody, Harry, for the sake of an epigram." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "The world goes to the altar of its own accord," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I wish I could love," cried Dorian Gray with a deep note of pathos in | ||
| + | his voice. | ||
| + | desire. | ||
| + | become a burden to me. I want to escape, to go away, to forget. | ||
| + | was silly of me to come down here at all. I think I shall send a wire | ||
| + | to Harvey to have the yacht got ready. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Safe from what, Dorian? | ||
| + | what it is? You know I would help you." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I can't tell you, Harry," | ||
| + | only a fancy of mine. This unfortunate accident has upset me. I have | ||
| + | a horrible presentiment that something of the kind may happen to me." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What nonsense!" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I hope it is, but I can't help feeling it. Ah! here is the duchess, | ||
| + | looking like Artemis in a tailor-made gown. You see we have come back, | ||
| + | Duchess." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I have heard all about it, Mr. Gray," she answered. | ||
| + | terribly upset. | ||
| + | How curious!" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes, it was very curious. | ||
| + | whim, I suppose. | ||
| + | am sorry they told you about the man. It is a hideous subject." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is an annoying subject," | ||
| + | psychological value at all. Now if Geoffrey had done the thing on | ||
| + | purpose, how interesting he would be! I should like to know some one | ||
| + | who had committed a real murder." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "How horrid of you, Harry!" | ||
| + | Harry, Mr. Gray is ill again. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian drew himself up with an effort and smiled. | ||
| + | Duchess," | ||
| + | all. I am afraid I walked too far this morning. | ||
| + | Harry said. Was it very bad? You must tell me some other time. I | ||
| + | think I must go and lie down. You will excuse me, won't you?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | They had reached the great flight of steps that led from the | ||
| + | conservatory on to the terrace. | ||
| + | Dorian, Lord Henry turned and looked at the duchess with his slumberous | ||
| + | eyes. "Are you very much in love with him?" he asked. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She did not answer for some time, but stood gazing at the landscape. | ||
| + | "I wish I knew," she said at last. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He shook his head. " | ||
| + | that charms one. A mist makes things wonderful." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "One may lose one's way." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "All ways end at the same point, my dear Gladys." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What is that?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It was my < | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It came to you crowned." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am tired of strawberry leaves." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "They become you." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Only in public." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You would miss them," said Lord Henry. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I will not part with a petal." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Old age is dull of hearing." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Has he never been jealous?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I wish he had been." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He glanced about as if in search of something. | ||
| + | for?" she inquired. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "The button from your foil," he answered. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She laughed. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It makes your eyes lovelier," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | She laughed again. | ||
| + | fruit. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Upstairs, in his own room, Dorian Gray was lying on a sofa, with terror | ||
| + | in every tingling fibre of his body. Life had suddenly become too | ||
| + | hideous a burden for him to bear. The dreadful death of the unlucky | ||
| + | beater, shot in the thicket like a wild animal, had seemed to him to | ||
| + | pre-figure death for himself also. He had nearly swooned at what Lord | ||
| + | Henry had said in a chance mood of cynical jesting. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | At five o' | ||
| + | pack his things for the night-express to town, and to have the brougham | ||
| + | at the door by eight-thirty. He was determined not to sleep another | ||
| + | night at Selby Royal. | ||
| + | in the sunlight. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Then he wrote a note to Lord Henry, telling him that he was going up to | ||
| + | town to consult his doctor and asking him to entertain his guests in | ||
| + | his absence. | ||
| + | the door, and his valet informed him that the head-keeper wished to see | ||
| + | him. He frowned and bit his lip. "Send him in," he muttered, after | ||
| + | some moments' | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As soon as the man entered, Dorian pulled his chequebook out of a | ||
| + | drawer and spread it out before him. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I suppose you have come about the unfortunate accident of this | ||
| + | morning, Thornton?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes, sir," answered the gamekeeper. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Was the poor fellow married? | ||
| + | asked Dorian, looking bored. | ||
| + | in want, and will send them any sum of money you may think necessary." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "We don't know who he is, sir. That is what I took the liberty of | ||
| + | coming to you about." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | Wasn't he one of your men?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "No, sir. Never saw him before. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The pen dropped from Dorian Gray's hand, and he felt as if his heart | ||
| + | had suddenly stopped beating. | ||
| + | a sailor?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes, sir. He looks as if he had been a sort of sailor; tattooed on | ||
| + | both arms, and that kind of thing." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Was there anything found on him?" said Dorian, leaning forward and | ||
| + | looking at the man with startled eyes. " | ||
| + | name?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Some money, sir& | ||
| + | kind. A decent-looking man, sir, but rough-like. A sort of sailor we | ||
| + | think." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian started to his feet. A terrible hope fluttered past him. He | ||
| + | clutched at it madly. | ||
| + | must see it at once." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is in an empty stable in the Home Farm, sir. The folk don't like | ||
| + | to have that sort of thing in their houses. | ||
| + | bad luck." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "The Home Farm! Go there at once and meet me. Tell one of the grooms | ||
| + | to bring my horse round. | ||
| + | myself. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | In less than a quarter of an hour, Dorian Gray was galloping down the | ||
| + | long avenue as hard as he could go. The trees seemed to sweep past him | ||
| + | in spectral procession, and wild shadows to fling themselves across his | ||
| + | path. Once the mare swerved at a white gate-post and nearly threw him. | ||
| + | He lashed her across the neck with his crop. She cleft the dusky air | ||
| + | like an arrow. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | At last he reached the Home Farm. Two men were loitering in the yard. | ||
| + | He leaped from the saddle and threw the reins to one of them. In the | ||
| + | farthest stable a light was glimmering. | ||
| + | that the body was there, and he hurried to the door and put his hand | ||
| + | upon the latch. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | There he paused for a moment, feeling that he was on the brink of a | ||
| + | discovery that would either make or mar his life. Then he thrust the | ||
| + | door open and entered. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | On a heap of sacking in the far corner was lying the dead body of a man | ||
| + | dressed in a coarse shirt and a pair of blue trousers. | ||
| + | handkerchief had been placed over the face. A coarse candle, stuck in | ||
| + | a bottle, sputtered beside it. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray shuddered. | ||
| + | the handkerchief away, and called out to one of the farm-servants to | ||
| + | come to him. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Take that thing off the face. I wish to see it," he said, clutching | ||
| + | at the door-post for support. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | When the farm-servant had done so, he stepped forward. | ||
| + | broke from his lips. The man who had been shot in the thicket was | ||
| + | James Vane. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He stood there for some minutes looking at the dead body. As he rode | ||
| + | home, his eyes were full of tears, for he knew he was safe. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | < | ||
| + | |||
| + | <A NAME=" | ||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | CHAPTER 19 | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "There is no use your telling me that you are going to be good," cried | ||
| + | Lord Henry, dipping his white fingers into a red copper bowl filled | ||
| + | with rose-water. "You are quite perfect. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray shook his head. "No, Harry, I have done too many dreadful | ||
| + | things in my life. I am not going to do any more. I began my good | ||
| + | actions yesterday." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Where were you yesterday?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "In the country, Harry. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear boy," said Lord Henry, smiling, " | ||
| + | country. | ||
| + | people who live out of town are so absolutely uncivilized. | ||
| + | Civilization is not by any means an easy thing to attain to. There are | ||
| + | only two ways by which man can reach it. One is by being cultured, the | ||
| + | other by being corrupt. | ||
| + | either, so they stagnate." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | both. It seems terrible to me now that they should ever be found | ||
| + | together. | ||
| + | think I have altered." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You have not yet told me what your good action was. Or did you say | ||
| + | you had done more than one?" asked his companion as he spilled into his | ||
| + | plate a little crimson pyramid of seeded strawberries and, through a | ||
| + | perforated, shell-shaped spoon, snowed white sugar upon them. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I can tell you, Harry. | ||
| + | else. I spared somebody. | ||
| + | mean. She was quite beautiful and wonderfully like Sibyl Vane. I | ||
| + | think it was that which first attracted me to her. You remember Sibyl, | ||
| + | don't you? How long ago that seems! | ||
| + | own class, of course. | ||
| + | really loved her. I am quite sure that I loved her. All during this | ||
| + | wonderful May that we have been having, I used to run down and see her | ||
| + | two or three times a week. Yesterday she met me in a little orchard. | ||
| + | The apple-blossoms kept tumbling down on her hair, and she was | ||
| + | laughing. | ||
| + | Suddenly I determined to leave her as flowerlike as I had found her." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I should think the novelty of the emotion must have given you a thrill | ||
| + | of real pleasure, Dorian," | ||
| + | your idyll for you. You gave her good advice and broke her heart. | ||
| + | That was the beginning of your reformation." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | Hetty' | ||
| + | there is no disgrace upon her. She can live, like Perdita, in her | ||
| + | garden of mint and marigold." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "And weep over a faithless Florizel," | ||
| + | leaned back in his chair. | ||
| + | boyish moods. | ||
| + | with any one of her own rank? I suppose she will be married some day | ||
| + | to a rough carter or a grinning ploughman. | ||
| + | met you, and loved you, will teach her to despise her husband, and she | ||
| + | will be wretched. | ||
| + | think much of your great renunciation. | ||
| + | poor. Besides, how do you know that Hetty isn't floating at the | ||
| + | present moment in some starlit mill-pond, with lovely water-lilies | ||
| + | round her, like Ophelia?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I can't bear this, Harry! | ||
| + | the most serious tragedies. | ||
| + | what you say to me. I know I was right in acting as I did. Poor | ||
| + | Hetty! | ||
| + | the window, like a spray of jasmine. | ||
| + | more, and don't try to persuade me that the first good action I have | ||
| + | done for years, the first little bit of self-sacrifice I have ever | ||
| + | known, is really a sort of sin. I want to be better. | ||
| + | better. | ||
| + | I have not been to the club for days." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "The people are still discussing poor Basil' | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I should have thought they had got tired of that by this time," said | ||
| + | Dorian, pouring himself out some wine and frowning slightly. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear boy, they have only been talking about it for six weeks, and | ||
| + | the British public are really not equal to the mental strain of having | ||
| + | more than one topic every three months. | ||
| + | lately, however. | ||
| + | suicide. | ||
| + | Scotland Yard still insists that the man in the grey ulster who left | ||
| + | for Paris by the midnight train on the ninth of November was poor | ||
| + | Basil, and the French police declare that Basil never arrived in Paris | ||
| + | at all. I suppose in about a fortnight we shall be told that he has | ||
| + | been seen in San Francisco. | ||
| + | disappears is said to be seen at San Francisco. | ||
| + | delightful city, and possess all the attractions of the next world." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What do you think has happened to Basil?" | ||
| + | Burgundy against the light and wondering how it was that he could | ||
| + | discuss the matter so calmly. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I have not the slightest idea. If Basil chooses to hide himself, it | ||
| + | is no business of mine. If he is dead, I don't want to think about | ||
| + | him. Death is the only thing that ever terrifies me. I hate it." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | trellis of an open vinaigrette box, "one can survive everything | ||
| + | nowadays except that. Death and vulgarity are the only two facts in | ||
| + | the nineteenth century that one cannot explain away. Let us have our | ||
| + | coffee in the music-room, Dorian. | ||
| + | with whom my wife ran away played Chopin exquisitely. | ||
| + | I was very fond of her. The house is rather lonely without her. Of | ||
| + | course, married life is merely a habit, a bad habit. | ||
| + | regrets the loss even of one's worst habits. | ||
| + | the most. They are such an essential part of one's personality." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian said nothing, but rose from the table, and passing into the next | ||
| + | room, sat down to the piano and let his fingers stray across the white | ||
| + | and black ivory of the keys. After the coffee had been brought in, he | ||
| + | stopped, and looking over at Lord Henry, said, " | ||
| + | occur to you that Basil was murdered?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry yawned. | ||
| + | Waterbury watch. | ||
| + | enough to have enemies. | ||
| + | painting. | ||
| + | possible. | ||
| + | and that was when he told me, years ago, that he had a wild adoration | ||
| + | for you and that you were the dominant motive of his art." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I was very fond of Basil," | ||
| + | voice. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh, some of the papers do. It does not seem to me to be at all | ||
| + | probable. | ||
| + | the sort of man to have gone to them. He had no curiosity. | ||
| + | chief defect." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "What would you say, Harry, if I told you that I had murdered Basil?" | ||
| + | said the younger man. He watched him intently after he had spoken. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I would say, my dear fellow, that you were posing for a character that | ||
| + | doesn' | ||
| + | It is not in you, Dorian, to commit a murder. | ||
| + | your vanity by saying so, but I assure you it is true. Crime belongs | ||
| + | exclusively to the lower orders. | ||
| + | degree. | ||
| + | simply a method of procuring extraordinary sensations." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "A method of procuring sensations? | ||
| + | has once committed a murder could possibly do the same crime again? | ||
| + | Don't tell me that." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Oh! anything becomes a pleasure if one does it too often," | ||
| + | Henry, laughing. | ||
| + | I should fancy, however, that murder is always a mistake. | ||
| + | never do anything that one cannot talk about after dinner. | ||
| + | pass from poor Basil. | ||
| + | a really romantic end as you suggest, but I can't. I dare say he fell | ||
| + | into the Seine off an omnibus and that the conductor hushed up the | ||
| + | scandal. | ||
| + | on his back under those dull-green waters, with the heavy barges | ||
| + | floating over him and long weeds catching in his hair. Do you know, I | ||
| + | don't think he would have done much more good work. During the last | ||
| + | ten years his painting had gone off very much." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian heaved a sigh, and Lord Henry strolled across the room and began | ||
| + | to stroke the head of a curious Java parrot, a large, grey-plumaged | ||
| + | bird with pink crest and tail, that was balancing itself upon a bamboo | ||
| + | perch. | ||
| + | of crinkled lids over black, glasslike eyes and began to sway backwards | ||
| + | and forwards. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | his pocket; "his painting had quite gone off. It seemed to me to have | ||
| + | lost something. | ||
| + | great friends, he ceased to be a great artist. | ||
| + | you? I suppose he bored you. If so, he never forgave you. It's a | ||
| + | habit bores have. By the way, what has become of that wonderful | ||
| + | portrait he did of you? I don't think I have ever seen it since he | ||
| + | finished it. Oh! I remember your telling me years ago that you had | ||
| + | sent it down to Selby, and that it had got mislaid or stolen on the | ||
| + | way. You never got it back? What a pity! it was really a | ||
| + | masterpiece. | ||
| + | belonged to Basil' | ||
| + | mixture of bad painting and good intentions that always entitles a man | ||
| + | to be called a representative British artist. | ||
| + | it? You should." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I forget," | ||
| + | it. I am sorry I sat for it. The memory of the thing is hateful to | ||
| + | me. Why do you talk of it? It used to remind me of those curious | ||
| + | lines in some play& | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P CLASS=" | ||
| + | "Like the painting of a sorrow,< | ||
| + | A face without a heart."< | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Yes: that is what it was like." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Lord Henry laughed. | ||
| + | his heart," | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian Gray shook his head and struck some soft chords on the piano. | ||
| + | "' | ||
| + | heart.'" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The elder man lay back and looked at him with half-closed eyes. "By | ||
| + | the way, Dorian," | ||
| + | he gain the whole world and lose& | ||
| + | soul'?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The music jarred, and Dorian Gray started and stared at his friend. | ||
| + | "Why do you ask me that, Harry?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear fellow," | ||
| + | "I asked you because I thought you might be able to give me an answer. | ||
| + | That is all. I was going through the park last Sunday, and close by | ||
| + | the Marble Arch there stood a little crowd of shabby-looking people | ||
| + | listening to some vulgar street-preacher. As I passed by, I heard the | ||
| + | man yelling out that question to his audience. | ||
| + | rather dramatic. | ||
| + | A wet Sunday, an uncouth Christian in a mackintosh, a ring of sickly | ||
| + | white faces under a broken roof of dripping umbrellas, and a wonderful | ||
| + | phrase flung into the air by shrill hysterical lips& | ||
| + | good in its way, quite a suggestion. | ||
| + | that art had a soul, but that man had not. I am afraid, however, he | ||
| + | would not have understood me." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | sold, and bartered away. It can be poisoned, or made perfect. | ||
| + | is a soul in each one of us. I know it." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Do you feel quite sure of that, Dorian?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Quite sure." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Ah! then it must be an illusion. | ||
| + | certain about are never true. That is the fatality of faith, and the | ||
| + | lesson of romance. | ||
| + | you or I to do with the superstitions of our age? No: we have given | ||
| + | up our belief in the soul. Play me something. | ||
| + | Dorian, and, as you play, tell me, in a low voice, how you have kept | ||
| + | your youth. | ||
| + | you are, and I am wrinkled, and worn, and yellow. | ||
| + | wonderful, Dorian. | ||
| + | to-night. You remind me of the day I saw you first. | ||
| + | cheeky, very shy, and absolutely extraordinary. | ||
| + | course, but not in appearance. | ||
| + | To get back my youth I would do anything in the world, except take | ||
| + | exercise, get up early, or be respectable. | ||
| + | like it. It's absurd to talk of the ignorance of youth. | ||
| + | people to whose opinions I listen now with any respect are people much | ||
| + | younger than myself. | ||
| + | them her latest wonder. | ||
| + | I do it on principle. | ||
| + | happened yesterday, they solemnly give you the opinions current in | ||
| + | 1820, when people wore high stocks, believed in everything, and knew | ||
| + | absolutely nothing. | ||
| + | wonder, did Chopin write it at Majorca, with the sea weeping round the | ||
| + | villa and the salt spray dashing against the panes? | ||
| + | romantic. | ||
| + | is not imitative! | ||
| + | that you are the young Apollo and that I am Marsyas listening to you. | ||
| + | I have sorrows, Dorian, of my own, that even you know nothing of. The | ||
| + | tragedy of old age is not that one is old, but that one is young. | ||
| + | amazed sometimes at my own sincerity. | ||
| + | What an exquisite life you have had! You have drunk deeply of | ||
| + | everything. | ||
| + | has been hidden from you. And it has all been to you no more than the | ||
| + | sound of music. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I am not the same, Harry." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yes, you are the same. I wonder what the rest of your life will be. | ||
| + | Don't spoil it by renunciations. | ||
| + | Don't make yourself incomplete. | ||
| + | not shake your head: you know you are. Besides, Dorian, don't deceive | ||
| + | yourself. | ||
| + | question of nerves, and fibres, and slowly built-up cells in which | ||
| + | thought hides itself and passion has its dreams. | ||
| + | yourself safe and think yourself strong. | ||
| + | in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once | ||
| + | loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a line from a forgotten | ||
| + | poem that you had come across again, a cadence from a piece of music | ||
| + | that you had ceased to play& | ||
| + | like these that our lives depend. | ||
| + | somewhere; but our own senses will imagine them for us. There are | ||
| + | moments when the odour of < | ||
| + | have to live the strangest month of my life over again. | ||
| + | change places with you, Dorian. | ||
| + | both, but it has always worshipped you. It always will worship you. | ||
| + | You are the type of what the age is searching for, and what it is | ||
| + | afraid it has found. | ||
| + | never carved a statue, or painted a picture, or produced anything | ||
| + | outside of yourself! | ||
| + | music. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Dorian rose up from the piano and passed his hand through his hair. | ||
| + | "Yes, life has been exquisite," | ||
| + | have the same life, Harry. | ||
| + | things to me. You don't know everything about me. I think that if you | ||
| + | did, even you would turn from me. You laugh. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Why have you stopped playing, Dorian? | ||
| + | nocturne over again. | ||
| + | hangs in the dusky air. She is waiting for you to charm her, and if | ||
| + | you play she will come closer to the earth. | ||
| + | the club, then. It has been a charming evening, and we must end it | ||
| + | charmingly. | ||
| + | you& | ||
| + | your neckties, and has begged me to introduce him to you. He is quite | ||
| + | delightful and rather reminds me of you." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "I hope not," said Dorian with a sad look in his eyes. "But I am tired | ||
| + | to-night, Harry. | ||
| + | want to go to bed early." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Do stay. You have never played so well as to-night. There was | ||
| + | something in your touch that was wonderful. | ||
| + | than I had ever heard from it before." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "It is because I am going to be good," he answered, smiling. | ||
| + | little changed already." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "You cannot change to me, Dorian," | ||
| + | always be friends." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Yet you poisoned me with a book once. I should not forgive that. | ||
| + | Harry, promise me that you will never lend that book to any one. It | ||
| + | does harm." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "My dear boy, you are really beginning to moralize. | ||
| + | going about like the converted, and the revivalist, warning people | ||
| + | against all the sins of which you have grown tired. | ||
| + | delightful to do that. Besides, it is no use. You and I are what we | ||
| + | are, and will be what we will be. As for being poisoned by a book, | ||
| + | there is no such thing as that. Art has no influence upon action. | ||
| + | annihilates the desire to act. It is superbly sterile. | ||
| + | the world calls immoral are books that show the world its own shame. | ||
| + | That is all. But we won't discuss literature. | ||
| + | am going to ride at eleven. | ||
| + | to lunch afterwards with Lady Branksome. | ||
| + | wants to consult you about some tapestries she is thinking of buying. | ||
| + | Mind you come. Or shall we lunch with our little duchess? | ||
| + | she never sees you now. Perhaps you are tired of Gladys? | ||
| + | you would be. Her clever tongue gets on one's nerves. | ||
| + | case, be here at eleven." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Must I really come, Harry?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | " | ||
| + | been such lilacs since the year I met you." | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Very well. I shall be here at eleven," | ||
| + | Harry." | ||
| + | had something more to say. Then he sighed and went out. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | < | ||
| + | |||
| + | <A NAME=" | ||
| + | <H3 ALIGN=" | ||
| + | CHAPTER 20 | ||
| + | </H3> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | It was a lovely night, so warm that he threw his coat over his arm and | ||
| + | did not even put his silk scarf round his throat. | ||
| + | smoking his cigarette, two young men in evening dress passed him. He | ||
| + | heard one of them whisper to the other, "That is Dorian Gray." He | ||
| + | remembered how pleased he used to be when he was pointed out, or stared | ||
| + | at, or talked about. | ||
| + | the charm of the little village where he had been so often lately was | ||
| + | that no one knew who he was. He had often told the girl whom he had | ||
| + | lured to love him that he was poor, and she had believed him. He had | ||
| + | told her once that he was wicked, and she had laughed at him and | ||
| + | answered that wicked people were always very old and very ugly. What a | ||
| + | laugh she had!& | ||
| + | been in her cotton dresses and her large hats! She knew nothing, but | ||
| + | she had everything that he had lost. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | When he reached home, he found his servant waiting up for him. He sent | ||
| + | him to bed, and threw himself down on the sofa in the library, and | ||
| + | began to think over some of the things that Lord Henry had said to him. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Was it really true that one could never change? | ||
| + | for the unstained purity of his boyhood& | ||
| + | Lord Henry had once called it. He knew that he had tarnished himself, | ||
| + | filled his mind with corruption and given horror to his fancy; that he | ||
| + | had been an evil influence to others, and had experienced a terrible | ||
| + | joy in being so; and that of the lives that had crossed his own, it had | ||
| + | been the fairest and the most full of promise that he had brought to | ||
| + | shame. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Ah! in what a monstrous moment of pride and passion he had prayed that | ||
| + | the portrait should bear the burden of his days, and he keep the | ||
| + | unsullied splendour of eternal youth! | ||
| + | that. Better for him that each sin of his life had brought its sure | ||
| + | swift penalty along with it. There was purification in punishment. | ||
| + | Not " | ||
| + | the prayer of man to a most just God. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | The curiously carved mirror that Lord Henry had given to him, so many | ||
| + | years ago now, was standing on the table, and the white-limbed Cupids | ||
| + | laughed round it as of old. He took it up, as he had done on that | ||
| + | night of horror when he had first noted the change in the fatal | ||
| + | picture, and with wild, tear-dimmed eyes looked into its polished | ||
| + | shield. | ||
| + | mad letter, ending with these idolatrous words: "The world is changed | ||
| + | because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips | ||
| + | rewrite history." | ||
| + | them over and over to himself. | ||
| + | flinging the mirror on the floor, crushed it into silver splinters | ||
| + | beneath his heel. It was his beauty that had ruined him, his beauty | ||
| + | and the youth that he had prayed for. But for those two things, his | ||
| + | life might have been free from stain. | ||
| + | mask, his youth but a mockery. | ||
| + | unripe time, a time of shallow moods, and sickly thoughts. | ||
| + | worn its livery? | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | It was better not to think of the past. Nothing could alter that. It | ||
| + | was of himself, and of his own future, that he had to think. | ||
| + | Vane was hidden in a nameless grave in Selby churchyard. | ||
| + | had shot himself one night in his laboratory, but had not revealed the | ||
| + | secret that he had been forced to know. The excitement, such as it | ||
| + | was, over Basil Hallward' | ||
| + | already waning. | ||
| + | death of Basil Hallward that weighed most upon his mind. It was the | ||
| + | living death of his own soul that troubled him. Basil had painted the | ||
| + | portrait that had marred his life. He could not forgive him that. It | ||
| + | was the portrait that had done everything. | ||
| + | him that were unbearable, and that he had yet borne with patience. | ||
| + | murder had been simply the madness of a moment. | ||
| + | his suicide had been his own act. He had chosen to do it. It was | ||
| + | nothing to him. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | A new life! That was what he wanted. | ||
| + | for. Surely he had begun it already. | ||
| + | thing, at any rate. He would never again tempt innocence. | ||
| + | good. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | As he thought of Hetty Merton, he began to wonder if the portrait in | ||
| + | the locked room had changed. | ||
| + | had been? Perhaps if his life became pure, he would be able to expel | ||
| + | every sign of evil passion from the face. Perhaps the signs of evil | ||
| + | had already gone away. He would go and look. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He took the lamp from the table and crept upstairs. | ||
| + | door, a smile of joy flitted across his strangely young-looking face | ||
| + | and lingered for a moment about his lips. Yes, he would be good, and | ||
| + | the hideous thing that he had hidden away would no longer be a terror | ||
| + | to him. He felt as if the load had been lifted from him already. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He went in quietly, locking the door behind him, as was his custom, and | ||
| + | dragged the purple hanging from the portrait. | ||
| + | indignation broke from him. He could see no change, save that in the | ||
| + | eyes there was a look of cunning and in the mouth the curved wrinkle of | ||
| + | the hypocrite. | ||
| + | possible, than before& | ||
| + | brighter, and more like blood newly spilled. | ||
| + | been merely vanity that had made him do his one good deed? Or the | ||
| + | desire for a new sensation, as Lord Henry had hinted, with his mocking | ||
| + | laugh? | ||
| + | finer than we are ourselves? | ||
| + | red stain larger than it had been? It seemed to have crept like a | ||
| + | horrible disease over the wrinkled fingers. | ||
| + | painted feet, as though the thing had dripped& | ||
| + | that had not held the knife. | ||
| + | confess? | ||
| + | that the idea was monstrous. | ||
| + | would believe him? There was no trace of the murdered man anywhere. | ||
| + | Everything belonging to him had been destroyed. | ||
| + | what had been below-stairs. The world would simply say that he was mad. | ||
| + | They would shut him up if he persisted in his story.... Yet it was | ||
| + | his duty to confess, to suffer public shame, and to make public | ||
| + | atonement. | ||
| + | earth as well as to heaven. | ||
| + | till he had told his own sin. His sin? He shrugged his shoulders. | ||
| + | The death of Basil Hallward seemed very little to him. He was thinking | ||
| + | of Hetty Merton. | ||
| + | that he was looking at. Vanity? | ||
| + | been nothing more in his renunciation than that? There had been | ||
| + | something more. At least he thought so. But who could tell? ... No. | ||
| + | There had been nothing more. Through vanity he had spared her. In | ||
| + | hypocrisy he had worn the mask of goodness. | ||
| + | had tried the denial of self. He recognized that now. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | But this murder& | ||
| + | burdened by his past? Was he really to confess? | ||
| + | only one bit of evidence left against him. The picture itself& | ||
| + | was evidence. | ||
| + | it had given him pleasure to watch it changing and growing old. Of | ||
| + | late he had felt no such pleasure. | ||
| + | When he had been away, he had been filled with terror lest other eyes | ||
| + | should look upon it. It had brought melancholy across his passions. | ||
| + | Its mere memory had marred many moments of joy. It had been like | ||
| + | conscience to him. Yes, it had been conscience. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | He looked round and saw the knife that had stabbed Basil Hallward. | ||
| + | had cleaned it many times, till there was no stain left upon it. It | ||
| + | was bright, and glistened. | ||
| + | kill the painter' | ||
| + | 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. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | There was a cry heard, and a crash. | ||
| + | agony that the frightened servants woke and crept out of their rooms. | ||
| + | Two gentlemen, who were passing in the square below, stopped and looked | ||
| + | up at the great house. | ||
| + | brought him back. The man rang the bell several times, but there was | ||
| + | no answer. | ||
| + | all dark. After a time, he went away and stood in an adjoining portico | ||
| + | and watched. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Whose house is that, Constable?" | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | "Mr. Dorian Gray' | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | They looked at each other, as they walked away, and sneered. | ||
| + | them was Sir Henry Ashton' | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | Inside, in the servants' | ||
| + | were talking in low whispers to each other. | ||
| + | and wringing her hands. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | After about a quarter of an hour, he got the coachman and one of the | ||
| + | footmen and crept upstairs. | ||
| + | They called out. Everything was still. | ||
| + | to force the door, they got on the roof and dropped down on to the | ||
| + | balcony. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | |||
| + | <P> | ||
| + | When they entered, they found hanging upon the wall a splendid portrait | ||
| + | of their master as they had last seen him, in all the wonder of his | ||
| + | exquisite youth and beauty. | ||
| + | evening dress, with a knife in his heart. | ||
| + | and loathsome of visage. | ||
| + | that they recognized who it was. | ||
| + | </P> | ||
| + | </ | ||
the_picture_of_dorian_gray.txt · Last modified: 2020/06/06 22:54 by briancarnell