道林格雷的画像_奥斯卡·王尔德-第32章

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ality；　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　antinomianism　that　always　seems　to　acpany　it；　moved　him　for　a　season；　and　for　a　season　he　inclined　to　the　materialistic　doctrines　of　the　darwinismus　movement　in　germany；　and　found　a　curious　pleasure　in　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。　yet；　as　has　been　said　of　him　before；　no　theory　of　life　seemed　to　him　to　be　of　any　importance　pared　with　life　itself。　he　felt　keenly　conscious　of　how　barren　all　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。

and　so　he　would　now　study　perfumes　and　the　secrets　of　their　manufacture；　distilling　heavily　scented　oils　and　burning　odorous　gums　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　ones　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；　and　seeking　often　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。

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　or　feigned　to　charmgreat　hooded　snakes　and　horrible　horned　adders。　the　harsh　intervals　and　shrill　discords　of　barbaric　music　stirred　him　at　times　when　schuberts　grace；　and　chopins　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；　and　loved　to　touch　and　try　them。　he　had　the　mysterious　juruparis　of　the　rio　negro　indians；　that　women　are　not　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。　he　had　painted　gourds　filled　with　pebbles　that　rattled　when　they　were　shaken；　the　long　clarin　of　the　mexicans；　into　which　the　performer　does　not　blow；　but　through　which　he　inhales　the　air；　the　harsh　ture　of　the　amazon　tribes；　that　is　sounded　by　the　sentinels　who　sit　all　day　long　in　high　trees；　and　can　be　heard；　it　is　said；　at　a　distance　of　three　leagues；　the　teponaztli；　that　has　two　vibrating　tongues　of　wood　and　is　beaten　with　sticks　that　are　smeared　with　an　elastic　gum　obtained　from　the　milky　juice　of　plants；　the　yotl…bells　of　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。　the　fantastic　character　of　these　instruments　fascinated　him；　and　he　felt　a　curious　delight　in　the　thought　that　art；　like　nature；　has　her　monsters；　things　of　bestial　shape　and　with　hid