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1Yes: there was to be, as Lord Henry had prophesied, a new Hedonism that was to recreate life and to save it from that
2harsh uncomely puritanism that is having, in our own day, its curious revival. It was to have its service of the
3intellect, certainly, yet it was never to accept any theory or system that would involve the sacrifice of any mode of
4passionate experience. Its aim, indeed, was to be experience itself, and not the fruits of experience, sweet or bitter
5as they might be. Of the asceticism that deadens the senses, as of the vulgar profligacy that dulls them, it was to know
6nothing. But it was to teach man to concentrate himself upon the moments of a life that is itself but a moment. There
7are few of us who have not sometimes wakened before dawn, either after one of those dreamless nights that make us almost
8enamoured of death, or one of those nights of horror and misshapen joy, when through the chambers of the brain sweep
9phantoms more terrible than reality itself, and instinct with that vivid life that lurks in all grotesques, and that
10lends to Gothic art its enduring vitality, this art being, one might fancy, especially the art of those whose minds have
11been troubled with the malady of reverie. Gradually white fingers creep through the curtains, and they appear to
12tremble. In black fantastic shapes, dumb shadows crawl into the corners of the room and crouch there. Outside, there is
13the stirring of birds among the leaves, or the sound of men going forth to their work, or the sigh and sob of the wind
14coming down from the hills and wandering round the silent house, as though it feared to wake the sleepers and yet must
15needs call forth sleep from her purple cave. Veil after veil of thin dusky gauze is lifted, and by degrees the forms and
16colours of things are restored to them, and we watch the dawn remaking the world in its antique pattern. The wan mirrors
17get back their mimic life. The flameless tapers stand where we had left them, and beside them lies the half-cut book
18that we had been studying, or the wired flower that we had worn at the ball, or the letter that we had been afraid to
19read, or that we had read too often. Nothing seems to us changed. Out of the unreal shadows of the night comes back the
20real life that we had known. We have to resume it where we had left off, and there steals over us a terrible sense of
21the necessity for the continuance of energy in the same wearisome round of stereotyped habits, or a wild longing, it may
22be, that our eyelids might open some morning upon a world that had been refashioned anew in the darkness for our
23pleasure, a world in which things would have fresh shapes and colours, and be changed, or have other secrets, a world in
24which the past would have little or no place, or survive, at any rate, in no conscious form of obligation or regret, the
25remembrance even of joy having its bitterness and the memories of pleasure their pain. It was the creation of such
26worlds as these that seemed to Dorian Gray to be the true object, or amongst the true objects, of life; and in his
27search for sensations that would be at once new and delightful, and possess that element of strangeness that is so
28essential to romance, he would often adopt certain modes of thought that he knew to be really alien to his nature,
29abandon himself to their subtle influences, and then, having, as it were, caught their colour and satisfied his
30intellectual curiosity, leave them with that curious indifference that is not incompatible with a real ardour of
31temperament, and that, indeed, according to certain modern psychologists, is often a condition of it. It was rumoured of
32him once that he was about to join the Roman Catholic communion, and certainly the Roman ritual had always a great
33attraction for him. The daily sacrifice, more awful really than all the sacrifices of the antique world, stirred him as
34much by its superb rejection of the evidence of the senses as by the primitive simplicity of its elements and the
35eternal pathos of the human tragedy that it sought to symbolize. He loved to kneel down on the cold marble pavement and
36watch the priest, in his stiff flowered dalmatic, slowly and with white hands moving aside the veil of the tabernacle,
37or raising aloft the jewelled, lantern-shaped monstrance with that pallid wafer that at times, one would fain think, is
38indeed the "panis cælestis," the bread of angels, or, robed in the garments of the Passion of Christ, breaking the Host
39into the chalice and smiting his breast for his sins. The fuming censers that the grave boys, in their lace and scarlet,
40tossed into the air like great gilt flowers had their subtle fascination for him. As he passed out, he used to look with
41wonder at the black confessionals and long to sit in the dim shadow of one of them and listen to men and women
42whispering through the worn grating the true story of their lives. But he never fell into the error of arresting his
43intellectual development by any formal acceptance of creed or system, or of mistaking, for a house in which to live, an
44inn 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
45moon is in travail. Mysticism, with its marvellous power of making common things strange to us, and the subtle
46antinomianism that always seems to accompany it, moved him for a season; and for a season he inclined to the
47materialistic doctrines of the Darwinismus movement in Germany, and found a curious pleasure in tracing the thoughts and
48passions of men to some pearly cell in the brain, or some white nerve in the body, delighting in the conception of the
49absolute dependence of the spirit on certain physical conditions, morbid or healthy, normal or diseased. Yet, as has
50been said of him before, no theory of life seemed to him to be of any importance compared with life itself. He felt
51keenly conscious of how barren all intellectual speculation is when separated from action and experiment. He knew that
52the senses, no less than the soul, have their spiritual mysteries to reveal. And so he would now study perfumes and the
53secrets of their manufacture, distilling heavily scented oils and burning odorous gums from the East. He saw that there
54was no mood of the mind that had not its counterpart in the sensuous life, and set himself to discover their true
55relations, wondering what there was in frankincense that made one mystical, and in ambergris that stirred one's
56passions, and in violets that woke the memory of dead romances, and in musk that troubled the brain, and in champak that
57stained the imagination; and seeking often to elaborate a real psychology of perfumes, and to estimate the several
58influences of sweet-smelling roots and scented, pollen-laden flowers; of aromatic balms and of dark and fragrant woods;
59of spikenard, that sickens; of hovenia, that makes men mad; and of aloes, that are said to be able to expel melancholy
60from the soul.
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