The Picture Of Dorian Gray - Chapter 16

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Episode Transcript

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Chapter sixteen of the Picture of DorrianGray by Oscar Wilde red by Bumnefeld.
A cold rain began to fall,and the blurred street lamps looked ghastly in
the dripping mist. The public houseswere just closing and dim. Men and
women were clustering in broken groups roundtheir doors. From some of the bars

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came the sound of horrible laughter.In others, drunkards brawled and screamed.
Lying back in the hansom with hishat pulled over his forehead, Dorrian Gray
watched with listless eyes the sordid shameof the great city. And now and
then he repeated to himself the wordsthat Lord Henry had said to him on

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the first day they had met.To cure the soul by means of the
senses, and the senses by meansof the soul. Yes, that was
the secret. He had often triedit, and would try again. Now.
There were opium dens where one couldbuy oblivion, dens of horror,

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where the memory of old sins couldbe destroyed by the madness of sins that
were new. The moon hung lowin the sky like a yellow skull.
From time to time a huge,misshapen cloud stretched a long arm across it
and hid it. The gas lampsgrew fewer, and the streets more narrow
and gloomy. Once the man losthis way and had to drive back half

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a mile, a steam rose fromthe horse as it splashed up the puddles.
The side windows of the hansom wereclogged with a gray flannel mist.
To cure the soul by means ofthe senses, and the senses by means
of the soul, how the wordsrang in his ears. His soul certainly

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was sick to death. Was ittrue that the senses could cure it?
Innocent blood had been spilled? Whatcould atone for that? Ah? For
that there was no atonement. Butthough forgiveness was impossible, forgetfulness was possible

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still, and he was determined toforget, to stamp the thing out,
to crush it, as one wouldcrush the adder that had stung one.
Indeed, what right had Basil tohave spoken to him as he had done?
Who had made him a judge overothers? He had said things that
were dreadful, horrible, not tobe endured. On and on a plotted,

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the hansom going slower, it seemedto him at each step he thrust
up the trap and called to theman to drive faster. The hideous hunger
for opium began to gnaw at him. His throat burned, and his delicate
hands twitched nervously. Together he struckat the horse madly with his stick.

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The driver laughed and whipped up.He laughed in answer, and the man
was silent. The way seemed interminable, and the streets like the black web
of some sprawling spider. The monotonybecame unbearable, and as the mist thickened,
he felt afraid. Then they passedby lonely brickfields. The fog was

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lighter here, and he could seethe strange bottle shaped kilns with their orange
fanlike tongues of fire. A dogbarked as they went by, and far
away in the darkness, some wanderingsea gull screamed. The horse stumbled in
a rut, then swerved aside andbroke into a gallop. After some time

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they left the clay road and rattledagain over rough paven streets. Most of
the windows were dark, but nowand then fantastic shadows were silhouetted against some
lamplet blind. He watched them curiously. They moved like monstrous marionettes, and
made gestures like live things. Hehated them. A dull rage was in

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his heart. As they turned acorner, a woman yelled something at them
from an open door, and twomen ran after the hansom for about a
hundred yards. The driver beat atthem with his whip. It is said
that passion makes one think in acircle, certainly with hideous iteration. The

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bitten lips of Dorian Gray shap'd andreshaped those subtle words that dealt with soul
and sense, till he had foundin them the whole expression, as it
were, of his mood, andjustified by an intellectual approval. Passions that
without such justification would still have dominatedhis temper. From cell to cell of

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his brain crept The one thought andthe wild desire to live, most terrible
of all man's appetites, quickened intoforce, each trembling nerve and fiber.
Ugliness that had once been hateful tohim because it made things real, became
dear to him now for that veryreason. Ugliness was the one reality,

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the coarse brawl, the loathsome denthe crude violence of disordered life, the
very vileness of thief, and outcastwere more vivid in their intense actuality of
impression than all the gracious shapes ofart, the dreamy shadows of song.
They were what he needed for forgetfulness. In three days he would be free.

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Suddenly, the man drew up witha jerk at the top of a
dark lane. Over the low roofsand jagged chimney stacks of the houses rose
the black masts of ships. Reathof white mist clung like ghostly sails to
the yards. Somewhere about here,sir, ain't it, he asked huskily

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through the trap. Dorrian started andpeered round. This will do, he
answered, And, having got outhastily and given the driver the extra fare
he had promised him, he walkedquickly in the direction of the key.
Here and there a lantern gleamed atthe stern of some huge merchantman. The

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light shook and splintered in the puddles. A red glare came from an outward
bound steamer that was coaling. Theslimy pavement looked like a wet mackintosh.
He hurried on towards the left,glancing back now and then to see if
he was being followed. In aboutseven or eight minutes, he reached a

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small shabby house that was wedged inbetween two gaunt factories. In one of
the top windows stood a lamp.He stopped and gave a peculiar knock.
After a little time, he heardsteps in the passage and the chain being
unhooked. The door opened quietly,and he went in without saying a word

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to the squat, misshapen figure thatflattened itself into the shadow as he passed.
At the end of the hall hunga tattered green curtain that swayed and
shook in the gusty wind which hadfollowed him in from the street. He
dragged it aside and entered a long, low room which looked as if it
had once been a third rate dancingsaloon. Shrill flaring gas jets dulled and

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distorted in the fly blown mirrors thatfaced them were ranged round the walls.
Greasy reflectors of ribbed tin backed them, making quivering discs of light. The
floor was covered with ochre colored sawdust, trample here and there into mud,
and stained with dark rings of spilledliquor. Some melee's were crouching by a

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little charcoal stove, playing with bonecounters and showing their white teeth as they
chattered. In one corner, withhis head buried in his arms, a
sailor sprawled over a table, andby the toddrolly painted bar that ran across
one complete side stood two haggard womenmocking with an old man who was brushing

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the sleeves of his coat with anexpression of disgust. Hey, thanks,
he's got red ants on him,laughed one of them. As Dorian passed
by, the man looked at herin terror and began to whimper. At
the end of the room, therewas a little staircase leading to a darkened
chamber. As Dorion hurried up itsthree rickety steps, the heavy odor of

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opium met him. He heaved adeep breath, and his nostrils quivered with
pleasure. When he entered, ayoung man with smooth yellow hair, who
was bending over a lamp lighting along, thin pipe, looked up at
him and nodded in a hesitating manner. You here, Adrian muttered, Dorrian,

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Where else should I be? Heanswered listlessly, None of the chaps
will speak to me now. Ithought you had left England. Darlington is
not going to do anything. Mybrother paid the Bill at last. George
doesn't speak to me either. Idon't care, he added with a sigh.

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As long as one has this stuff, one doesn't want friends. I
think I have had too many friends. Dorrian winced and looked round at the
grotesque things that lay in such fantasticpostures on The ragged mattresses, the twisted
limbs, the gaping mouths, thestaring, lustreless eyes fascinated him. He

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knew in what strange heavens they weresuffering, 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 memory,like a horrible malady was eating his
soul away. From time to timehe seemed to see the eyes of Basil

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Howard looking at him. Yet hefelt he could not stay. The presence
of Adrian singled and troubled him.He wanted to be where no one would
know who he was. He wantedto escape from himself. I am going
on to the other place, hesaid, after a pause, on the

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wharf. Yes, that mad catis sure to be there. They won't
have her in this place now.Dorrian shrugged his shoulders. I am sick
of women who love one, womenwho hate one are much more interesting.
Besides, the stuff is better,much the same. I like it.

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Better, come and have something todrink. I must have something. I
don't want anything, murmured the youngman. Never mind. Adrian Singleton rose
up wearily and followed Dorry into thebar. A half cast in ragged turban

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and a shabby ulster grinned a hideousgreeting as he thrust a bottle of brandy
and two tumblers in front of them. The women sidled up and began to
chatter. Dorrian turned his back onthem and said something in a low voice
to Arian Singleton. A crooked smilelike a melee crease writhed across the face

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of one of the women. Weare very proud to night, she sneered.
For God's sake, don't talk tome, cried Dorian, stamping his
foot on the ground. What doyou want? Money? Here it is,
don't ever talk to me again.Two red sparks flashed for a moment,

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and the woman's sodden eyes then flickeredout and left them dull and glazed.
She tossed her head and raked thecoins off the counter with greedy fingers.
Her companion watched her enviously. It'sno use, sighed Adrian Singleton.
I don't care to go back.What does it matter. I am quite

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happy here. You will write tome if you want anything, won't you,
said Dorian after a pause. Perhapsgood night, then good night,
answered the young man, Passing upthe steps and wiping his parched mouth with
a handkerchief, dorr And walked tothe door with a look of pain in

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his face. As he drew thecurtain aside, A hideous laugh broke from
the painted lips of the woman whohad taken his money. There goes the
devil's bargain, she hiccoughed in ahoarse voice. Curse you, he answered,
Don't call me that. She snappedher fingers. Prince charming is what

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you like to be called, ain'tit, she yelled after him. The
drowsy sailor leaped to his feet asshe spoke, and looked wildly around.
The sound of the shutting of thedoor fell on his ear. He rushed
out, as if in pursuit.Dorring Gray hurried along the key through the

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drizzling rain. His meeting with AdrianSingleton had strangely moved him, and he
wondered if the ruin of that younglife was really to be laid at his
door, as Basil Hallward had saidto him, with such infamy insult.
He bit his lip, and fora few seconds his eyes grew sad.

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Yet, after all, what didit matter to him? One's days were
too brief to take the burden ofanother's errors on one's shoulders. Each man
lived his own life and paid hisown price for living it. The only
pity was one had to pay sooften for a single fault, One had

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to pay over and over again.Indeed, in her dealings with man,
Destinied never closed her account. Thereare moments, psychologists tell us, when
the passion for sin, or forwhat the world calls sin, so it
dominates a nature that every fiber ofthe body, as every cell of the

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brain, seems to be instinct withfearful impulses. Men and women at such
moments lose the freed him of theirwill. They moved to the terrible end
as ottomatons move. Choice is takenfrom them, and conscience is either killed,
or, if it lives at all, lives but to give rebellion its

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fascination and disobedience its charm. Forall sins, as theologians weary not of
reminding us, are sins of disobedience. When that high spirits, that morning
star of evil fell from heaven,it was as a rebel that he fell,

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callous, concentrated on evil, withstained mind and soul hungry for rebellion.
Dorrian Gray hastened on, quickening hisstep as he went. But as
he darted aside into a dim archwaythat had served him often as a short
cut to the ill famed place wherehe was going, he felt himself suddenly
seized to run behind, and beforehe had time to defend himself, he

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was thrust back against the wall witha brutal hand round his throat. He
struggled madly for life, and bya terrible effort, wrenched the tightening fingers
away. In a second he heardthe click of a revolver, and saw
the gleam of a polished barrel pointingstraight at his head, and the dusky

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form of a short, thickset manfacing him. What do you want,
he gasped, Keep quiet, saidthe man. If you stir, I
shoot you. You're mad? Whathave I done to you? You wrecked
the life of Sibyl Vain was theanswer. And Sibyl Vain was my sister.

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She killed herself. I know it. Her death is at your door.
By swore I would kill you inreturn. For years I have sought
you. I had no clue tracethe two people who could have described you
were dead. I knew nothing ofyou but the pet name she used to

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call you. I heard it tonight, by chance, make your peace
with God, for to night youare going to die. Dorian Gray grew
sick with fear. I never knewher, he stammered, I never heard
of her. You are mad.You had better confess your sin, for

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as sure as I am, JamesVain, you are going to die.
There was a horrible moment. Dorriandid not know what to say or do.
Down on your knees, growled theman. I give you one minutes
to make your peace. No more. I go on board to night for

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India, and I must do myjob first. One minute, That's all.
Dorian's arms fell to his side,Paralyzed with terror, he did not
know what to do. Suddenly,a wild hope flushed across his brain.
Stop, he cried, how longago is it since your sister died.

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Quick. Tell me eighteen years,said the man. Why do you ask
me? What do years matter?Eighteen years, laughed Dorian Gray, with
a touch of triumph in his voice. Eighteen years. Sat me under the
lamp and look at my face.James Vane hesitated for a moment, not

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understanding what was meant. Then heseized Dorian Gray and dragged him from the
archway. Dim and wavering as wasthe wind blown light. Yet it serves
to show him the hideous error,as it seemed into which he had fallen.
For the face of the man hehad sought to kill, all the

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bloom of boyhood, all the unstainedpurity of youth, he seemed little more
than a lad of twenty summers,hardly older, if older indeed at all,
than his sister had been when theyhad parted so many years ago.
It was obvious that this was notthe man who had destroyed her life.

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He loosened his hold and reeled back. My God, he cried, and
I would have murdered you. DoringGray drew a long breath. You have
been on the brink of committing aterrible crime, my man, he said,
looking at him sternly. Let thisbe a warning to you not to

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take vengeance into your own hands.Forgive me, sir, muttered James Vain.
I was deceived. A chance wordI heard in that damned den set
me on the wrong track. Youhad better go home now and put that
pistol away, or you make itinto trouble, said Dorian, turning on

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his heel and going slowly down thestreet. James Vane stood on the pavement
in horror. He was trembling fromhead to foot. After a little while,
a black shadow that had been creepingalong the dripping wall moved out into
the light and came closer to himwith stealthy footsteps. He felt a hand

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laid on his arm and looked roundwith a start. It was one of
the women who had been drinking atthe bar. Why didn't you kill him?
She has stopped, putting haggard facequite close to his. I knew
you were following him when you rushedout from Daily's, you fool. You
should have killed him. He haslots of money, and he's as bad

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as bad. He is not theman I am looking for, he answered,
And I want no man's money.I want a man's life. The
man who's a life I want mustbe nearly forty now. This one is
little more than a boy. Thankgod I have not got his blood upon

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my hands. The woman gave abitter laugh. Little more than a boy,
she sneered, Why man, it'snigh on eighteen years since Prince Charming
made me? What I am?You lie, cried James vain. She
raised her hand up to Heaven beforeGod. I am telling the truth,

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she cried, before God. Strikeme dumb if it ain't so. He
is the worst one that comes here. 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 sincethen I have, though, she added,

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with a sickly leer. You swearthis, I swear, it came
in hoarse echo from her flat mouth. But don't give me away to him,
she whined, I am afraid ofhim. Let me have some money
for my night's lodging. He brokefrom her with an oath and rushed to

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the corner of the street, butDorry and Gray had disappeared. When he
looked back. The woman had vanishedalso. End of chapter sixteen