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d　henry　had　first　stirred　in　him；　as　they　sat　together　in　the　garden　of　their　friend；　seemed　to　increase　with　gratification。　the　more　he　knew；　the　more　he　desired　to　know。　he　had　mad　hungers　that　grew　more　ravenous　as　he　fed　them。

yet　he　was　not　really　reckless；　at　any　rate　in　his　relations　to　society。　once　or　twice　every　month　during　the　winter；　and　on　each　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。　indeed；　there　were　many；　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　bine　something　of　the　real　culture　of　the　scholar　with　all　the　grace　and　distinction　and　perfect　manner　of　a　citizen　of　the　world。　to　them　he　seemed　to　be　of　the　pany　of　those　whom　dante　describes　as　having　sought　to　〃make　themselves　perfect　by　the　worship　of　beauty。〃　like　gautier；　he　was　one　for　whom　〃the　visible　world　existed。〃

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　bees　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　fopperies。

for；　while　he　was　but　too　ready　to　accept　the　position　that　was　almost　immediately　offered　to　him　on　his　ing　of　age；　and　found；　indeed；　a　subtle　pleasure　in　the　thought　that　he　might　really　bee　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　arbiter　elegantiarum；　to　be　consulted　on　the　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。

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；　of　which　a　fine　instinct　for　beauty　was　to　be　the　dominant　characteristic。　as　he　looked　back　upon　man　moving　through　history；　he　was　haunted　by　a　feeling　of　loss。　so　much　had　been　surrendered！　and　to　such　little　purpose！　there　had　been　mad　wilful　rejections；　monstrous　forms　of　self…torture　and　self…denial；　whose　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　panions。

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　unely　puritanism　that　is　having；　in　our　own　day；　its　curious　revival。　it　was　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。　its　aim；　indeed；　was　to　be　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。　but　it　was　to　teach　man　to　concentrate　himself　upon　the　moments　of　a　life　that　is　itself　but　a　moment。

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。　gradually　white　fingers　creep　through　the　curtains；　and　they　appear　to　tremble。　in　black　fantastic　shapes；　dumb　shadows　crawl　into　the　corners　of　the　room　and　crouch　there。　outside；　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　ing　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。　the　wan　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。　out　of　the　unreal　shadows　of　the　night　es　back　the　real　life　that　we　had　known。　we　have　to　resume　it　where　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。

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　inpatible　with　a　real　ardour　of　temperament；　and　that；　indeed；　according　to　certain　modern　psychologists；　is　often　a　condition　of　it。

it　was　rumoured　of　him　once　that　he　was　about　to　join　the　roman　catholic　munion；　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。　he　loved　to　kneel　down　on　the　cold　marble　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　〃panis　caelestis；〃　the　bread　of　angels；　or；　robed　in　the　garments　of　the　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。

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。　mysticism；　with　its　marvellous　power　of　making　mon　things　strange　to　us；　and　the　subtle