CHAPTER XI.

Foryears,DorianGraycouldnotfreehimselffromtheinfluenceofthisbook.Orperhapsitwouldbemoreaccuratetosaythatheneversoughttofreehimselffromit.HeprocuredfromParisnolessthanninelarge-papercopiesofthefirstedition,andhadthemboundindifferentcolours,sothattheymightsuithisvariousmoodsandthechangingfanciesofanatureoverwhichheseemed,attimes,tohavealmostentirelylostcontrol.Thehero,thewonderfulyoungParisianinwhomtheromanticandthescientifictemperamentsweresostrangelyblended,becametohimakindofprefiguringtypeofhimself.And,indeed,thewholebookseemedtohimtocontainthestoryofhisownlife,writtenbeforehehadlivedit. Inonepointhewasmorefortunatethanthenovel’sfantastichero.Heneverknew—never,indeed,hadanycausetoknow—thatsomewhatgrotesquedreadofmirrors,andpolishedmetalsurfaces,andstillwaterwhichcameupontheyoungParisiansoearlyinhislife,andwasoccasionedbythesuddendecayofabeauthathadonce,apparently,beensoremarkable.Itwaswithanalmostcrueljoy—andperhapsinnearlyeveryjoy,ascertainlyineverypleasure,crueltyhasitsplace—thatheusedtoreadthelatterpartofthebook,withitsreallytragic,ifsomewhatoveremphasized,accountofthesorrowanddespairofonewhohadhimselflostwhatinothers,andtheworld,hehadmostdearlyvalued. ForthewonderfulbeautythathadsofascinatedBasilHallward,andmanyothersbesideshim,seemednevertoleavehim.Eventhosewhohadheardthemostevilthingsagainsthim—andfromtimetotimestrangerumoursabouthismodeoflifecreptthroughLondonandbecamethechatteroftheclubs—couldnotbelieveanythingtohisdishonourwhentheysawhim.Hehadalwaysthelookofonewhohadkepthimselfunspottedfromtheworld.MenwhotalkedgrosslybecamesilentwhenDorianGrayenteredtheroom.Therewassomethinginthepurityofhisfacethatrebukedthem.Hismerepresenceseemedtorecalltothemthememoryoftheinnocencethattheyhadtarnished.Theywonderedhowonesocharmingandgracefulashewascouldhaveescapedthestainofanagethatwasatoncesordidandsensual. Often,onreturninghomefromoneofthosemysteriousandprolongedabsencesthatgaverisetosuchstrangeconjectureamongthosewhowerehisfriends,orthoughtthattheywereso,hehimselfwouldcreepupstairstothelockedroom,openthedoorwiththekeythatneverlefthimnow,andstand,withamirror,infrontoftheportraitthatBasilHallwardhadpaintedofhim,lookingnowattheevilandagingfaceonthecanvas,andnowatthefairyoungfacethatlaughedbackathimfromthepolishedglass.Theverysharpnessofthecontrastusedtoquickenhissenseofpleasure.Hegrewmoreandmoreenamouredofhisownbeauty,moreandmoreinterestedinthecorruptionofhisownsoul.Hewouldexaminewithminutecare,andsometimeswithamonstrousandterribledelight,thehideouslinesthatsearedthewrinklingforeheadorcrawledaroundtheheavysensualmouth,wonderingsometimeswhichwerethemorehorrible,thesignsofsinorthesignsofage.Hewouldplacehiswhitehandsbesidethecoarsebloatedhandsofthepicture,andsmile.Hemockedthemisshapenbodyandthefailinglimbs. Thereweremoments,indeed,atnight,when,lyingsleeplessinhisowndelicatelyscentedchamber,orinthesordidroomofthelittleill-famedtavernnearthedockswhich,underanassumednameandindisguise,itwashishabittofrequent,hewouldthinkoftheruinhehadbroughtuponhissoulwithapitythatwasallthemorepoignantbecauseitwaspurelyselfish.Butmomentssuchasthesewererare.ThatcuriosityaboutlifewhichLordHenryhadfirststirredinhim,astheysattogetherinthegardenoftheirfriend,seemedtoincreasewithgratification.Themoreheknew,themorehedesiredtoknow.Hehadmadhungersthatgrewmoreravenousashefedthem. Yethewasnotreallyreckless,atanyrateinhisrelationstosociety.Onceortwiceeverymonthduringthewinter,andoneachWednesdayeveningwhiletheseasonlasted,hewouldthrowopentotheworldhisbeautifulhouseandhavethemostcelebratedmusiciansofthedaytocharmhisguestswiththewondersoftheirart.Hislittledinners,inthesettlingofwhichLordHenryalwaysassistedhim,werenotedasmuchforthecarefulselectionandplacingofthoseinvited,asfortheexquisitetasteshowninthedecorationofthetable,withitssubtlesymphonicarrangementsofexoticflowers,andembroideredcloths,andantiqueplateofgoldandsilver.Indeed,thereweremany,especiallyamongtheveryyoungmen,whosaw,orfanciedthattheysaw,inDorianGraythetruerealizationofatypeofwhichtheyhadoftendreamedinEtonorOxforddays,atypethatwastocombinesomethingoftherealcultureofthescholarwithallthegraceanddistinctionandperfectmannerofacitizenoftheworld.TothemheseemedtobeofthecompanyofthosewhomDantedescribesashavingsoughtto“makethemselvesperfectbytheworshipofbeauty.”LikeGautier,hewasoneforwhom“thevisibleworldexisted.” And,certainly,tohimlifeitselfwasthefirst,thegreatest,ofthearts,andforitalltheotherartsseemedtobebutapreparation.Fashion,bywhichwhatisreallyfantasticbecomesforamomentuniversal,anddandyism,which,initsownway,isanattempttoasserttheabsolutemodernityofbeauty,had,ofcourse,theirfascinationforhim.Hismodeofdressing,andtheparticularstylesthatfromtimetotimeheaffected,hadtheirmarkedinfluenceontheyoungexquisitesoftheMayfairballsandPallMallclubwindows,whocopiedhimineverythingthathedid,andtriedtoreproducetheaccidentalcharmofhisgraceful,thoughtohimonlyhalf-serious,fopperies. For,whilehewasbuttooreadytoacceptthepositionthatwasalmostimmediatelyofferedtohimonhiscomingofage,andfound,indeed,asubtlepleasureinthethoughtthathemightreallybecometotheLondonofhisowndaywhattoimperialNeronianRometheauthoroftheSatyricononcehadbeen,yetinhisinmosthearthedesiredtobesomethingmorethanamerearbiterelegantiarum,tobeconsultedonthewearingofajewel,ortheknottingofanecktie,ortheconductofacane.Hesoughttoelaboratesomenewschemeoflifethatwouldhaveitsreasonedphilosophyanditsorderedprinciples,andfindinthespiritualizingofthesensesitshighestrealization. Theworshipofthesenseshasoften,andwithmuchjustice,beendecried,menfeelinganaturalinstinctofterroraboutpassionsandsensationsthatseemstrongerthanthemselves,andthattheyareconsciousofsharingwiththelesshighlyorganizedformsofexistence.ButitappearedtoDorianGraythatthetruenatureofthesenseshadneverbeenunderstood,andthattheyhadremainedsavageandanimalmerelybecausetheworldhadsoughttostarvethemintosubmissionortokillthembypain,insteadofaimingatmakingthemelementsofanewspirituality,ofwhichafineinstinctforbeautywastobethedominantcharacteristic.Ashelookedbackuponmanmovingthroughhistory,hewashauntedbyafeelingofloss.Somuchhadbeensurrendered!andtosuchlittlepurpose!Therehadbeenmadwilfulrejections,monstrousformsofself-tortureandself-denial,whoseoriginwasfearandwhoseresultwasadegradationinfinitelymoreterriblethanthatfancieddegradationfromwhich,intheirignorance,theyhadsoughttoescapeNature,inherwonderfulirony,drivingouttheanchoritetofeedwiththewildanimalsofthedesertandgivingtothehermitthebeastsofthefieldashiscompanions. Yes:therewastobe,asLordHenryhadprophesied,anewHedonismthatwastorecreatelifeandtosaveitfromthatharshuncomelypuritanismthatishaving,inourownday,itscuriousrevival.Itwastohaveitsserviceoftheintellect,certainly,yetitwasnevertoacceptanytheoryorsystemthatwouldinvolvethesacrificeofanymodeofpassionateexperience.Itsaim,indeed,wastobeexperienceitself,andnotthefruitsofexperience,sweetorbitterastheymightbe.Oftheasceticismthatdeadensthesenses,asofthevulgarprofligacythatdullsth