Work Text:
Letter from Basil Hallward to Dorian Gray
Dearest Dorian,
I understand why you fled from our sitting. Harry is a little much, all of his raving about “youth and nothing but youth!” You must know that he means nothing that he says. It is all to provoke. I’m sure you will look very wonderfully youthful for many years, if that is what concerns you. It will be the regret of my life not to finish your portrait, but no matter. You said it felt as though I was stealing your soul - well, I felt the same way about you. Let us be honest with each other always, dear boy. I'm sure we can never shock one another.
I have found a new subject to paint in any case. Dorian, it is the strangest story. I feel I can tell you, as I have always been able to tell you strange and wonderful things.
I was in the garden that evening, after you ran from us both. Harry had had his sport with me (and you) and had left me too, and I sat in silence and contemplation (and brandy, of course). And then, in the twilight, I saw a huge shape emerge from behind my lime trees. A man - perfect in form, in proportion, in bone structure and muscle, but at a huge scale. Concealed in my garden! I was frightened at first, but he spoke to me at once. He said he had only hidden there to learn from me.
I believe he must have run off from one of those traveling shows. He says he has no family. He says he was not born and he does not know if he has a soul. Poor man, perhaps he truly has forgotten where he came from.
But sometimes…this is fancy, of course…but sometimes I wonder if he is a fallen angel. He has many scars, and those on his back could be imagined to have once been wings. I know you will mock me for this flight of imagination, but there we are. Anyhow, I have taken him in and am nursemaiding him as though I was born to it. He eats copiously, his skin improves in colour. His scars are fading. And I paint, and paint and paint.
Yours ever,
Basil
Letter from Mr E. Hyde to Mr D. Gray
Dear Mr Gray,
Thank you for your note of interest in my patented Elixir. My shop is open by appointment on Thursday evenings only, and I cordially invite you to attend at 9pm.
Yours sincerely,
Mr E. Hyde
Letter from Mr E. Hyde to Mr D. Gray
Dear Mr Gray,
I write to enquire about the first dose of my Elixir and how it has suited you. As I said when we met, once you have begun to take it, you must continue. Such youth and beauty as you possess will take significant upkeep (If only I could bottle that, I would make my fortune). Yes, I do mean to compliment you. Please write by return.
Yours sincerely,
Mr E Hyde
CUTTING FROM THE DAILYGRAPH 7 MAY
From A Correspondent
A strange and violent storm has been experienced here in London, leading to some varied and interesting reports. Though thunderstorms are not unusual in May, the duration and intensity of this one has left the residents of Hampstead startled.
But it was not the storm itself which has caused consternation amongst the Londoners who commonly use Hampstead Heath, but what was sighted there while the storm raged.
A figure stood atop Parliament Hill, inhuman in its proportions and its indifference to the tumult around it. He seemed to tilt his great head to the sky, and invite the lightning which then struck him again and again, before sinking to his knees.
Dr J. Seward of Bethlehem Hospital, who happened to be walking on the Heath, assured this Correspondent that the monstrous figure was most likely an Optical Illusion, a strange shadow thrown against the sky by the effect of cloud, rain and lightning. His companions - Lord Godalming, and Mr Quincey P. Morris of Texas had started up the hill to see, the Doctor said, if the man needed assistance. “I must join them,” Seward told me. “I will be happy to admit the man to my hospital.”
Mr Morris returned down the hill then proclaiming "It is not him!" but before I could ask further, a great mist came now rolling across the Heath, as thick as a December fog coming in off the Thames, obscuring the figure, and the men who went to aid it. A most unusual phenomenon in this fair month of May. Indeed it caused an Omnibus to lose its way and collide with a milk cart. The spilled curds attracted a vile pack of rats, appearing immediately from the drains so well designed by Mr Bazalgette after the Great Stink which afflicted our city.
And lest Readers be concerned that this great storm affected London commerce, then be reassured that one Londoner did not miss his opportunity. A Mr R. M. Renfield was at once at hand to assist, being a renowned Rat Catcher and - as printed on his card - having assisted Lord Henry Wotton and a foreign Count Dracula with varied infestations of their homes.
8th May - a note from Mr Hyde to Dr Jekyll
I have been Edward Hyde now this last fortnight, and I do not know now how you can ever return. I write this so I can make sure we remember this passion we feel.
The things that you, Doctor, despair of as so unnatural, those impulses that you found so unbearable that you created me as a vessel for them - they now consume me. Before this I hated what my body and heart wanted so deeply, I equated it to violence, to murder. I committed those with relish. But never committed the crime of love.
He came to purchase my Elixir. I understood at once of course why he would want to preserve his youth, for he is in the full flower of it. So fair and unblemished. But of course my elixir does nothing, as we know, Doctor. The trickery of it used to make me laugh. Only we know the potion that might preserve his youth. He is lucky he smiled at me - I might have killed him just for his beauty had he shunned me.
You may know all this already, I cannot tell what you know - and I must go. Renfield is at the door with the ingredients I requested from him. God save us from knowing where he gets them.
Letter from Dorian to Basil
Dear Basil,
I do not know what to make of your Angel. Have you succumbed to opium as so many artists do? But no, I shall not mock you. How could I when I have found myself a Demon?
I tried not to listen to Lord Henry, Basil. But his words have wormed their way under my skin. I may be youthful for some years, Basil, but what if I want it always? Harry has sent me a book, too (should I read it? I’m frightened to). It is his fault I have found this Demon, who has promised me my heart’s desire. But don’t worry - he hasn’t hurt me or snatched away my soul, he has enchanted me in some other way. He is small and dark, with the brightest eyes I have ever seen, and says everything with a sneer. Perhaps he despises me. I think about him all the time. I believe you would want to paint him, Basil, though God knows, you couldn’t show the painting anywhere.
Jack Seward - phonograph recording, May 9th
The three of us met this evening. The usual distraction occurred between us all, having not been together for a few days. How inventive my friends are! Quincey was especially enthusiastic, and with the use of the reins from his… [Phonograph Record is Scratched here] struck me [Phonograph Record is Scratched here] and Art finished me with [Phonograph Record is Scratched here]. I remember it all as I sit here now, with a trembling satisfaction. My dearest companions.
But then, to business. Ever since Miss Murray freed Miss Westenra from the clutches of this demon Count, we have been on his trail. Lucy and dear Arthur have lost any notion of marrying, being both distracted by other things. “Lord, who would be a married woman when she could be an heiress!” Lucy has exclaimed, and I cannot fault her in the sentiment. They have set up as a detective agency, Miss Westenra now being an Heiress and able to settle money on Mina and supply all necessaries for their endeavour. They have had most wonderful success, though a few mysteries still remain on their books. Mr Harker will return soon from his attempts to trace his predecessor's path through the country, for Mr Renfield grows now as dangerous as his master.
Quincey resides with me now, and Art comes to us often. We talk of traveling again together to find the Demon's castle and destroy it all, but until we finish hunting him down here in London, we cannot. He has found a young English Lord and captivated him, and the man fades before our eyes.
Note from Dorian Gray to Edward Hyde
Mr Hyde,
I am starting to doubt the effectiveness of your elixir. After Ascot this past week-end, my skin has darkened, and my nose is freckled. You promised no change to my looks! I met Lord Henry at our club last night, and he remarked upon it. He was with his new and constant companion, a Count from Romania. I cannot recollect his name. He said he had a way to preserve my youth. Then he invited me to hunt with him, and Harry of course.
Lord Godalming interrupted us, I cannot think what led him to be so rude; he was with that strange Doctor from the asylum and that great tall American friend of his. By the time I turned back to Harry and his Count they had gone, and the waiter was making a great fuss about some fog that had come in at the window, so moved us away from the table and all was in confusion. I simply went home.
I will come to you soon, but make up the next elixir a little more strongly!
Yours,
Gray
Letter from Mr E. Hyde to Mr D. Gray
Mr Gray,
I write this in great haste. Ignore this Count of Lord Henry’s. He does not have the secret to youth, he will merely steal yours. I know him, I have met him in the worst of my haunts! He cannot touch me - my blood, he says, is full of poison - but he WILL hurt you. Have you not seen how sickly Lord Henry looks these past weeks? I have. He has come to me looking for a potion, but I can’t cure what ails him. If you don’t believe me, look to Lord Godalming, he will tell you all.
Yours,
Edward Hyde
P.S. You will be perfectly charming with a freckled nose, I’m sure.
10th July - a note from Mr Hyde to Dr Jekyll
Still I remain Hyde, week after week. Will you return?
Mr Gray tells me I am taller. Mr Gray tells me I can call him Dorian and now I am Edward to him. Do I remember every word Mr Gray ever says to me? I believe I do.
He craves all the experience of the world, lets me take him around to the lowest dens of Whitechapel, joins me in brawling with the dockers at Wapping. We have bet on everything from cock fights to bear baits, we have rigged card games in the Hells, we have emptied all dull opiates to our veins.
And it palls on me.
Nothing can compare to the company of Mr Gray himself. I would protect him from anything. Though I am free to commit whichever vice I fancy, I fancy none, but one. I want Mr Gray's lips on mine. I want him, all of him. Why have I not just taken him, then? Because then, I could only have him once. I want him always.
I grow taller, Henry Jekyll. I grow stronger. I believe I look more like you now, but younger. Or perhaps I look older. I have a streak of grey in my hair. Could it be our two natures can yet marry in the end? For we were so afraid of this part of our nature, the longing for someone like Dorian, that we splintered ourselves in two. I could satisfy my body - I have done so. Yet it seems I have a heart to satisfy, and I do not think you planned for that.
Well, here is the end to it all. I plan to tell him that his Elixir is just cocoa wine and sugar-water. If he leaves me then, perhaps I'll kill him. Perhaps he will kill me first.
To Messrs Murray and Westenra of the Carfax Detective Agency
I wish someone to investigate my husband and you come well recommended after your assistance in Lady Godley’s recent divorce. I believe his new companion is leading him into terrible danger. Now, I am not a jealous or a silly woman. I find no displeasure in my husband finding joy in another’s companionship. But what I cannot abide is his refusal to rise from his bed before 7 o’clock, his most dreadful appearance, and the constant aroma of blood. I hope that it is merely opium and bare knuckle boxing. I suspect that it is something worse. Either way, it really must be stopped, it is increasingly tiresome.
Yours in hope,
Lady Henry Wotton
Dear Basil,
I have not seen you in months, it seems. How is your creature? Your Angel? I am a creature of the night, creeping through London with my Demon by my side. I believe I cannot do without him, though I cannot say I know him. Isn't it always better that way? What was that tiresome thing Harry said once? The only difference between a caprice and a lifelong passion is that the caprice lasts a little longer. Well, Edward is my caprice, my first, my only. He will no doubt tire of me soon. He likes to compliment me, but I believe it is to see my discomfort. And it is not discomfort, Basil, but me trying to hide my delight! I squirm and blush like a debutant. God help me!
I worry that he is not keeping his promise to me. This elixir Never mind that, though. I never keep my promises either.
Your friend,
Dorian
14th July - a note from Mr Hyde to Dr Jekyll
I had planned to tell Dorian all, but he came to me tonight all in a blaze. You know his golden looks - his hair, the tint of his skin, that full red mouth that glories in saying the most foul things in the politest of tones. He came into our dissecting room and threw his hat across the room in a passion. I could only stare.
"It is not working!"
With that he picked up the bottle of elixir I had prepared for him, and threw it against the wall. It smashed of course, in the most glorious way. My whole being thrilled to the violence. He came across the room to me in a ferment of rage and fear, taking hold of the front of my coat and hauling me close to him.
"Look at me," he demanded.
I did. Oh how I did. Those amethyst eyes of his glared back into mine.
"I have a scar," he said, gesturing with his manicured hand. "Up by my temple, from that fight we got in at Camden Hell. It has not faded. I have freckles scattered across my nose. And this past week my valet has insisted on shaving me once in the morning and again in the evening, as my beard grows in faster now, he says. "It comes with age," he said to me and I threw the soap at him in a passion. You - you charlatan!"
I confess I began to laugh. He shook me. I did not stop. He put his hand to my throat and pushed me down upon the dissecting table.
"What is it you want, Dorian?" I asked, struggling beneath him. "Is it to captivate? For you can do that with your fortune you know. Do you wish people to want you? You will have beauty all your life long, even if it is not the youthful kind. What are you frightened of?"
"So it is all a lie?"
I smiled.
"You are despicable," he said, eyes welling. A tear dropped from him onto my cheek and I pressed my finger to it. I brushed another from his cheek.
"I am frightened of being alone," he said at last. "Isnt everyone? I do not wish to decay. I would give you my soul for my youth, willingly!"
"And what would I do with that?" I asked. "It is not your soul I want." My hand was still on his face, his tears still spilling on it.
"I cannot bear it," he whispered. "Why must it happen?"
"Experience does not decay us, it enhances us," I said. "Endless youth causes atrophy. Endless innocence makes us a burden and a bore. Why would you want either?"
"I...don't know," he said quietly, his breath brushing against my lips.
Our mouths were so close. It took only an arch of my neck and a dip of his head to bring them together. And then - glory. It was everything you and I could have imagined it to be. This, exactly this, was what you made me for. You would never have kissed him - I never want to stop. I kissed him over and over, long, and hard and open mouthed. And then...the rest.
He stayed all night. I didn't kill him. He didn't kill me.
Perhaps we have killed you.
Note from Dorian to Edward - 15th July
Edward,
Burn this the instant you receive it, but I must see you tonight. I can think of nothing else but your mouth. Come to me.
Dorian
Telegram from Lucy Westenra to Miss Mina Murray
"Darling. - Have found the blighter. -A Mr Hyde spilled the beans. -Tell Art he is where we suspected. -The companion may yet be saved. LUCY"
Review of the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition - July 18~~
...a very tame collection if it were not for Basil Hallward's contribution. Mr Hallward, known for his society portraits - none of which have been accepted to the Academy before - has produced a painting which dominates the main exhibition room and causes a constant press which the curators must attempt to dissipate most of the day. Fallen Angel is not a demon, but a giant of a man, standing above us all, half turned away from us and half towards us. The great scars on his back suggest wings, or past punishment. A great storm rages in the sky above him. The painting stands quite 20 feet in height and reminds us all of the Frailty of our Humanity. [painting is not for sale]
Dear Basil,
I saw your submission to the Royal Academy, I’m glad you didn’t listen to Harry about showing it. It has quite taken the Summer Exhibition by storm. Your Angel - is he truly real? I feel you have quite fallen in love with him the way you did once with me. And Harry too is besotted with this Count of his, but does not look at all well. And - this is quite cruel of me - but for all Harry’s predilection for youth, the Count looks quite quite ancient in some lights. How love can change a person!
I am with Mr Hyde all the time now. Perhaps he has stolen my soul, the way that I once thought your portrait might. His promises were lies, but it does not matter. I find I do not care, just as he does not care about my youth remaining or not. In fact I think he rather hates my beauty and would like very much for it to fade. But he won’t mar it himself, he says, even if I wonder how it would feel if he did; one of his flashes of deathly violence. Scarred, like your Angel.
He says he is a splinter of another man's soul. He says the other man may come back some day. He says many bewildering and wonderful things. Now I know why my parents died for love.
Dorian
CUTTING FROM THE DAILYGRAPH 13th August
Tragic Shooting Accident during Hunt
A Correspondent
Tragedy struck a hunting party last night, during a hunt for the renowned and elusive Royal stag on Lord Goldalming’s country estate. A foreign Count, Count Dracula, lately of Transylvania, was shot and killed in a most shocking accident.
The hunting party was made up of Lord Godalming himself, accompanied by Lord and Lady Henry Wotton, Doctors Seward and Van Helsing, a Mr Morris of Texas, and of course the Count.
“I cannot think how it happened,” Lord Godalming’s gamekeeper told this Correspondent this morning. “All the guns were in perfect order. His Grace had not told me anyone would be arriving. Spur of the moment, Mr Morris told me. Perhaps in the rush to hunt, mistakes were made.”
Witnesses state that it was Lady Wotton’s gun which misfired and led to the tragedy. The Doctors rushed to the Count’s aid and attempted to remove the bullets with such tools as they had. However attempts to extract the bullet from his chest with a stick and from his throat with a knife were in vain.
Lord Henry was reported to be in a swoon and had to be carried from the scene. Lady Henry by contrast is said to be bearing up stoically. “You shan’t need to go hunting again, Henry dear,” she was heard to say.
Lord Godalming has employed detectives from Murray and Easternra Detective Agency to investigate the matter and ensure that no sabotage occurred.
Letter from Mr Utterson Esq. re: matter of Estate of Count Dracula
Dear Mr Renfield,
I am sending you the Title Deeds of Carfax Abbey. I understand this may be surprising to you, but the law is clear. The Deeds are in your name, as you procured the property on his behalf. Due to your unfortunate illness, the papers were never transferred to the Count, or signed by him. The property is yours to dispose of as you wish.
With all best wishes,
Mr Utterson
THE DAILYGRAPH
7th September 18~~
NEWS FROM LONDON SOCIETY
Basil Hallward, after a triumphant show at the Royal Academy this season, has departed London for Switzerland. The renowned Society painter has declined all commissions for portraits of the beauties of Society these last three months, instead devoting himself to painting the fantastical figure which so captivated patrons of the Academy this summer. Gossips say he left in a closed carriage, with a mysterious companion. Perhaps we shall hear tell of an elopement soon?
Lord Henry Wotton is remarked to be a much reformed character these days. The catalogue at Sothebys betrays the number of antique crucifixes he has purchased in recent months, and Lady Henry’s maid (lately dismissed) says he even wears one at his throat. Perhaps the Rake’s Progress has been halted?
Lord Godalming has shut up his London residence and launched an expedition into the Carpathian Mountains. He is accompanied by Mr Morris, of Texas which is sad news for the ladies of London, who very much enjoyed his lasso demonstration at Vauxhall Gardens this summer. A Dr John Seward accompanies both - some have suggested in a professional capacity, as surely such a journey at this time of year is madness. We could not pass comment.
THE DAILYGRAPH
7th September 19~~
NEWS FROM LONDON SOCIETY
If London gossips are to be believed, Dorian Gray has returned to the city. After years of absence - following the scandals we cannot speak of, even here! - he has opened up his Grosvenor Square residence again. He was not recognised by his housekeeper at first, for the handsome older gentleman who arrived could not be "Mr Dorian"! London should know that he has grown a fine moustache and even has a suspicion of grey hair at his temples, yet is as devastatingly handsome and as unmarried as he ever was. He was accompanied by his ever-present companion, Dr Hyde, (the tall society doctor renowned for his beauty preparations and Pain Cures) who much in demand by Mr Gray, it is believed, for his bedside manner.
