English
Athalf-pasttwelvenextdayLordHenryWottonstrolledfromCurzonStreetovertotheAlbanytocallonhisuncle,LordFermor,agenialifsomewhatrough-manneredoldbachelor,whomtheoutsideworldcalledselfishbecauseitderivednoparticularbenefitfromhim,butwhowasconsideredgenerousbySocietyashefedthepeoplewhoamusedhim.
HisfatherhadbeenourambassadoratMadridwhenIsabellawasyoungandPrimunthoughtof,buthadretiredfromthediplomaticserviceinacapriciousmomentofannoyanceonnotbeingofferedtheEmbassyatParis,aposttowhichheconsideredthathewasfullyentitledbyreasonofhisbirth,hisindolence,thegoodEnglishofhisdispatches,andhisinordinatepassionforpleasure.
Theson,whohadbeenhisfather’ssecretary,hadresignedalongwithhischief,somewhatfoolishlyaswasthoughtatthetime,andonsucceedingsomemonthslatertothetitle,hadsethimselftotheseriousstudyofthegreataristocraticartofdoingabsolutelynothing.
Hehadtwolargetownhouses,butpreferredtoliveinchambersasitwaslesstrouble,andtookmostofhismealsathisclub.
HepaidsomeattentiontothemanagementofhiscollieriesintheMidlandcounties,excusinghimselfforthistaintofindustryonthegroundthattheoneadvantageofhavingcoalwasthatitenabledagentlemantoaffordthedecencyofburningwoodonhisownhearth.
InpoliticshewasaTory,exceptwhentheTorieswereinoffice,duringwhichperiodheroundlyabusedthemforbeingapackofRadicals.
Hewasaherotohisvalet,whobulliedhim,andaterrortomostofhisrelations,whomhebulliedinturn.
OnlyEnglandcouldhaveproducedhim,andhealwayssaidthatthecountrywasgoingtothedogs.
Hisprincipleswereoutofdate,buttherewasagooddealtobesaidforhisprejudices.
WhenLordHenryenteredtheroom,hefoundhisunclesittinginaroughshooting-coat,smokingacherootandgrumblingoverTheTimes.
“Well,Harry,”saidtheoldgentleman,“whatbringsyououtsoearly?
Ithoughtyoudandiesnevergotuptilltwo,andwerenotvisibletillfive.”
“Purefamilyaffection,Iassureyou,UncleGeorge.Iwanttogetsomethingoutofyou.”
“Money,Isuppose,”saidLordFermor,makingawryface.“Well,sitdownandtellmeallaboutit.Youngpeople,nowadays,imaginethatmoneyiseverything.”
“Yes,”murmuredLordHenry,settlinghisbutton-holeinhiscoat;“andwhentheygrowoldertheyknowit.ButIdon’twantmoney.
Itisonlypeoplewhopaytheirbillswhowantthat,UncleGeorge,andIneverpaymine.
Creditisthecapitalofayoungerson,andonelivescharminglyuponit.
Besides,IalwaysdealwithDartmoor’stradesmen,andconsequentlytheyneverbotherme.
WhatIwantisinformation:notusefulinformation,ofcourse;uselessinformation.”
“Well,IcantellyouanythingthatisinanEnglishBlueBook,Harry,althoughthosefellowsnowadayswritealotofnonsense.
WhenIwasintheDiplomatic,thingsweremuchbetter.
ButIheartheylettheminnowbyexamination.Whatcanyouexpect?
Examinations,sir,arepurehumbugfrombeginningtoend.
Ifamanisagentleman,heknowsquiteenough,andifheisnotagentleman,whateverheknowsisbadforhim.”
“Mr.DorianGraydoesnotbelongtoBlueBooks,UncleGeorge,”saidLordHenrylanguidly.
“Mr.DorianGray?Whoishe?”askedLordFermor,knittinghisbushywhiteeyebrows.
“ThatiswhatIhavecometolearn,UncleGeorge.Orrather,Iknowwhoheis.HeisthelastLordKelso’sgrandson.
HismotherwasaDevereux,LadyMargaretDevereaux.Iwantyoutotellmeabouthismother.Whatwasshelike?Whomdidshemarry?
Youhaveknownnearlyeverybodyinyourtime,soyoumighthaveknownher.
IamverymuchinterestedinMr.Grayatpresent.Ihaveonlyjustmethim.”
“Kelso’sgrandson!”echoedtheoldgentleman.“Kelso’sgrandson!
...Ofcourse....Iknewhismotherintimately.IbelieveIwasatherchristening.
Shewasanextraordinarilybeautifulgirl,MargaretDevereux,andmadeallthemenfranticbyrunningawaywithapennilessyoungfellow—amerenobody,sir,asubalterninafootregiment,orsomethingofthatkind.Certainly.
Irememberthewholethingasifithappenedyesterday.
ThepoorchapwaskilledinaduelatSpaafewmonthsafterthemarriage.Therewasanuglystoryaboutit.
TheysaidKelsogotsomerascallyadventurer,someBelgianbrute,toinsulthisson-in-lawinpublic—paidhim,sir,todoit,paidhim—andthatthefellowspittedhismanasifhehadbeenapigeon.
Thethingwashushedup,but,egad,Kelsoatehischopaloneattheclubforsometimeafterwards.
Hebroughthisdaughterbackwithhim,Iwastold,andsheneverspoketohimagain.Oh,yes;itwasabadbusiness.Thegirldied,too,diedwithinayear.Sosheleftason,didshe?Ihadforgottenthat.Whatsortofboyishe?
Ifheislikehismother,hemustbeagood-lookingchap.”
“Heisverygood-looking,”assentedLordHenry.
“Ihopehewillfallintoproperhands,”continuedtheoldman.
“HeshouldhaveapotofmoneywaitingforhimifKelsodidtherightthingbyhim.Hismotherhadmoney,too.
AlltheSelbypropertycametoher,throughhergrandfather.
HergrandfatherhatedKelso,thoughthimameandog.Hewas,too.CametoMadridoncewhenIwasthere.Egad,Iwasashamedofhim.
TheQueenusedtoaskmeabouttheEnglishnoblewhowasalwaysquarrellingwiththecabmenabouttheirfares.Theymadequiteastoryofit.
Ididn’tdareshowmyfaceatCourtforamonth.
Ihopehetreatedhisgrandsonbetterthanhedidthejarvies.”
“Idon’tknow,”answeredLordHenry.“Ifancythattheboywillbewelloff.Heisnotofageyet.HehasSelby,Iknow.Hetoldmeso.And...hismotherwasverybeautiful?”
“MargaretDevereuxwasoneoftheloveliestcreaturesIeversaw,Harry.
Whatonearthinducedhertobehaveasshedid,Inevercouldunderstand.
Shecouldhavemarriedanybodyshechose.Carlingtonwasmadafterher.Shewasromantic,though.Allthewomenofthatfamilywere.Themenwereapoorlot,but,egad!thewomenwerewonderful.Carlingtonwentonhiskneestoher.Toldmesohimself.
Shelaughedathim,andtherewasn’tagirlinLondonatthetimewhowasn’tafterhim.
Andbytheway,Harry,talkingaboutsillymarriages,whatisthishumbugyourfathertellsmeaboutDartmoorwantingtomarryanAmerican?
Ain’tEnglishgirlsgoodenoughforhim?”
“ItisratherfashionabletomarryAmericansjustnow,UncleGeorge.”
“I’llbackEnglishwomenagainsttheworld,Harry,”saidLordFermor,strikingthetablewithhisfist.
“ThebettingisontheAmericans.”
“Theydon’tlast,Iamtold,”mutteredhisuncle.
“Alongengagementexhauststhem,buttheyarecapitalatasteeplechase.Theytakethingsflying.Idon’tthinkDartmoorhasachance.”
“Whoareherpeople?”grumbledtheoldgentleman.“Hasshegotany?”
LordHenryshookhishead.“Americangirlsareascleveratconcealingtheirparents,asEnglishwomenareatconcealingtheirpast,”hesaid,risingtogo.
“Theyarepork-packers,Isuppose?”
“Ihopeso,UncleGeorge,forDartmoor’ssake.Iamtoldthatpork-packingisthemostlucrativeprofessioninAmerica,afterpolitics.”
“Isshepretty?”
“Shebehavesasifshewasbeautiful.MostAmericanwomendo.Itisthesecretoftheircharm.”
“Whycan’ttheseAmericanwomenstayintheirowncountry?Theyarealwaystellingusthatitistheparadiseforwomen.”
“Itis.Thatisthereasonwhy,likeEve,theyaresoexcessivelyanxioustogetoutofit,”saidLordHenry.“Good-bye,UncleGeorge.
Ishallbelateforlunch,ifIstopanylonger.
ThanksforgivingmetheinformationIwanted.
Ialwaysliketoknoweverythingaboutmynewfriends,andnothingaboutmyoldones.”
“Whereareyoulunching,Harry?”
“AtAuntAgatha’s.IhaveaskedmyselfandMr.Gray.Heisherlatestprotege.”
“Humph!tellyourAuntAgatha,Harry,nottobothermeanymorewithhercharityappeals.Iamsickofthem.
Why,thegoodwomanthinksthatIhavenothingtodobuttowritechequesforhersillyfads.”
“Allright,UncleGeorge,I’lltellher,butitwon’thaveanyeffect.Philanthropicpeopleloseallsenseofhumanity.Itistheirdistinguishingcharacteristic.”
Theoldgentlemangrowledapprovinglyandrangthebellforhisservant.LordHenrypassedupthelowarcadeintoBurlingtonStreetandturnedhisstepsinthedirectionofBerkeleySquare.
SothatwasthestoryofDorianGray’sparentage.
Crudelyasithadbeentoldtohim,ithadyetstirredhimbyitssuggestionofastrange,almostmodernromance.
Abeautifulwomanriskingeverythingforamadpassion.
Afewwildweeksofhappinesscutshortbyahideous,treacherouscrime.
Monthsofvoicelessagony,andthenachildborninpain.
Themothersnatchedawaybydeath,theboylefttosolitudeandthetyrannyofanoldandlovelessman.Yes;itwasaninterestingbackground.
Itposedthelad,madehimmoreperfect,asitwere.
Behindeveryexquisitethingthatexisted,therewassomethingtragic.
Worldshadtobeintravail,thatthemeanestflowermightblow....Andhowcharminghehadbeenatdinnerthenightbefore,aswithstartledeyesandlipspartedinfrightenedpleasurehehadsatoppositetohimattheclub,theredcandleshadesstainingtoaricherrosethewakeningwonderofhisface.
Talkingtohimwaslikeplayinguponanexquisiteviolin.
Heansweredtoeverytouchandthrillofthebow....Therewassomethingterriblyenthrallingintheexerciseofinfluence.Nootheractivitywaslikeit.
Toprojectone’ssoulintosomegraciousform,andletittarrythereforamoment;tohearone’sownintellectualviewsechoedbacktoonewithalltheaddedmusicofpassionandyouth;toconveyone’stemperamentintoanotherasthoughitwereasubtlefluidorastrangeperfume:therewasarealjoyinthat—perhapsthemostsatisfyingjoylefttousinanagesolimitedandvulgarasourown,anagegrosslycarnalinitspleasures,andgrosslycommoninitsaims....Hewasamarvelloustype,too,thislad,whombysocuriousachancehehadmetinBasil’sstudio,orcouldbefashionedintoamarvelloustype,atanyrate.
Gracewashis,andthewhitepurityofboyhood,andbeautysuchasoldGreekmarbleskeptforus.
Therewasnothingthatonecouldnotdowithhim.HecouldbemadeaTitanoratoy.
Whatapityitwasthatsuchbeautywasdestinedtofade!...AndBasil?
Fromapsychologicalpointofview,howinterestinghewas!
Thenewmannerinart,thefreshmodeoflookingatlife,suggestedsostrangelybythemerelyvisiblepresenceofonewhowasunconsciousofitall;thesilentspiritthatdweltindimwoodland,andwalkedunseeninopenfield,suddenlyshowingherself,Dryadlikeandnotafraid,becauseinhissoulwhosoughtforhertherehadbeenwakenedthatwonderfulvisiontowhichalonearewonderfulthingsrevealed;themereshapesandpatternsofthingsbecoming,asitwere,refined,andgainingakindofsymbolicalvalue,asthoughtheywerethemselvespatternsofsomeotherandmoreperfectformwhoseshadowtheymadereal:howstrangeitallwas!
Herememberedsomethinglikeitinhistory.
WasitnotPlato,thatartistinthought,whohadfirstanalyzedit?
WasitnotBuonarottiwhohadcarveditinthecolouredmarblesofasonnet-sequence?
Butinourowncenturyitwasstrange....Yes;hewouldtrytobetoDorianGraywhat,withoutknowingit,theladwastothepainterwhohadfashionedthewonderfulportrait.
Hewouldseektodominatehim—hadalready,indeed,halfdoneso.
Hewouldmakethatwonderfulspirithisown.
Therewassomethingfascinatinginthissonofloveanddeath.
Suddenlyhestoppedandglancedupatthehouses.
Hefoundthathehadpassedhisaunt’ssomedistance,and,smilingtohimself,turnedback.
Whenheenteredthesomewhatsombrehall,thebutlertoldhimthattheyhadgoneintolunch.
Hegaveoneofthefootmenhishatandstickandpassedintothedining-room.
“Lateasusual,Harry,”criedhisaunt,shakingherheadathim.
Heinventedafacileexcuse,andhavingtakenthevacantseatnexttoher,lookedroundtoseewhowasthere.
Dorianbowedtohimshylyfromtheendofthetable,aflushofpleasurestealingintohischeek.
OppositewastheDuchessofHarley,aladyofadmirablegood-natureandgoodtemper,muchlikedbyeveryonewhoknewher,andofthoseamplearchitecturalproportionsthatinwomenwhoarenotduchessesaredescribedbycontemporaryhistoriansasstoutness.
Nexttohersat,onherright,SirThomasBurdon,aRadicalmemberofParliament,whofollowedhisleaderinpubliclifeandinprivatelifefollowedthebestcooks,diningwiththeToriesandthinkingwiththeLiberals,inaccordancewithawiseandwell-knownrule.
ThepostonherleftwasoccupiedbyMr.ErskineofTreadley,anoldgentlemanofconsiderablecharmandculture,whohadfallen,however,intobadhabitsofsilence,having,asheexplainedoncetoLadyAgatha,saideverythingthathehadtosaybeforehewasthirty.
HisownneighbourwasMrs.Vandeleur,oneofhisaunt’soldestfriends,aperfectsaintamongstwomen,butsodreadfullydowdythatsheremindedoneofabadlyboundhymn-book.
FortunatelyforhimshehadontheothersideLordFaudel,amostintelligentmiddle-agedmediocrity,asbaldasaministerialstatementintheHouseofCommons,withwhomshewasconversinginthatintenselyearnestmannerwhichistheoneunpardonableerror,asheremarkedoncehimself,thatallreallygoodpeoplefallinto,andfromwhichnoneofthemeverquiteescape.
“WearetalkingaboutpoorDartmoor,LordHenry,”criedtheduchess,noddingpleasantlytohimacrossthetable.“Doyouthinkhewillreallymarrythisfascinatingyoungperson?”
“Ibelieveshehasmadeuphermindtoproposetohim,Duchess.”
“Howdreadful!”exclaimedLadyAgatha.“Really,someoneshouldinterfere.”
“Iamtold,onexcellentauthority,thatherfatherkeepsanAmericandry-goodsstore,”saidSirThomasBurdon,lookingsupercilious.
“Myunclehasalreadysuggestedpork-packingSirThomas.”
“Dry-goods!WhatareAmericandry-goods?”askedtheduchess,raisingherlargehandsinwonderandaccentuatingtheverb.
“Americannovels,”answeredLordHenry,helpinghimselftosomequail.
Theduchesslookedpuzzled.
“Don’tmindhim,mydear,”whisperedLadyAgatha.“Henevermeansanythingthathesays.”
“WhenAmericawasdiscovered,”saidtheRadicalmember—andhebegantogivesomewearisomefacts.
Likeallpeoplewhotrytoexhaustasubject,heexhaustedhislisteners.
Theduchesssighedandexercisedherprivilegeofinterruption.
“Iwishtogoodnessitneverhadbeendiscoveredatall!”sheexclaimed.
“Really,ourgirlshavenochancenowadays.Itismostunfair.”
“Perhaps,afterall,Americaneverhasbeendiscovered,”saidMr.Erskine;“Imyselfwouldsaythatithadmerelybeendetected.”
“Oh!butIhaveseenspecimensoftheinhabitants,”answeredtheduchessvaguely.
“Imustconfessthatmostofthemareextremelypretty.Andtheydresswell,too.TheygetalltheirdressesinParis.IwishIcouldaffordtodothesame.”
“TheysaythatwhengoodAmericansdietheygotoParis,”chuckledSirThomas,whohadalargewardrobeofHumour’scast-offclothes.
“Really!AndwheredobadAmericansgotowhentheydie?”inquiredtheduchess.
“TheygotoAmerica,”murmuredLordHenry.
SirThomasfrowned.“Iamafraidthatyournephewisprejudicedagainstthatgreatcountry,”hesaidtoLadyAgatha.
“Ihavetravelledalloveritincarsprovidedbythedirectors,who,insuchmatters,areextremelycivil.
Iassureyouthatitisaneducationtovisitit.”
“ButmustwereallyseeChicagoinordertobeeducated?”askedMr.Erskineplaintively.“Idon’tfeeluptothejourney.”
SirThomaswavedhishand.“Mr.ErskineofTreadleyhastheworldonhisshelves.
Wepracticalmenliketoseethings,nottoreadaboutthem.
TheAmericansareanextremelyinterestingpeople.Theyareabsolutelyreasonable.
Ithinkthatistheirdistinguishingcharacteristic.
Yes,Mr.Erskine,anabsolutelyreasonablepeople.
IassureyouthereisnononsenseabouttheAmericans.”
“Howdreadful!”criedLordHenry.“Icanstandbruteforce,butbrutereasonisquiteunbearable.Thereissomethingunfairaboutitsuse.Itishittingbelowtheintellect.”
“Idonotunderstandyou,”saidSirThomas,growingratherred.
“Ido,LordHenry,”murmuredMr.Erskine,withasmile.
“Paradoxesareallverywellintheirway....”rejoinedthebaronet.
“Wasthataparadox?”askedMr.Erskine.“Ididnotthinkso.Perhapsitwas.
Well,thewayofparadoxesisthewayoftruth.
Totestrealitywemustseeitonthetightrope.
Whentheveritiesbecomeacrobats,wecanjudgethem.”
“Dearme!”saidLadyAgatha,“howyoumenargue!
IamsureInevercanmakeoutwhatyouaretalkingabout.Oh!Harry,Iamquitevexedwithyou.
WhydoyoutrytopersuadeourniceMr.DorianGraytogiveuptheEastEnd?
Iassureyouhewouldbequiteinvaluable.Theywouldlovehisplaying.”
“Iwanthimtoplaytome,”criedLordHenry,smiling,andhelookeddownthetableandcaughtabrightansweringglance.
“ButtheyaresounhappyinWhitechapel,”continuedLadyAgatha.
“Icansympathizewitheverythingexceptsuffering,”saidLordHenry,shrugginghisshoulders.“Icannotsympathizewiththat.
Itistoougly,toohorrible,toodistressing.
Thereissomethingterriblymorbidinthemodernsympathywithpain.
Oneshouldsympathizewiththecolour,thebeauty,thejoyoflife.
Thelesssaidaboutlife’ssores,thebetter.”
“Still,theEastEndisaveryimportantproblem,”remarkedSirThomaswithagraveshakeofthehead.
“Quiteso,”answeredtheyounglord.“Itistheproblemofslavery,andwetrytosolveitbyamusingtheslaves.”
Thepoliticianlookedathimkeenly.“Whatchangedoyoupropose,then?”heasked.
LordHenrylaughed.“Idon’tdesiretochangeanythinginEnglandexcepttheweather,”heanswered.
“Iamquitecontentwithphilosophiccontemplation.
But,asthenineteenthcenturyhasgonebankruptthroughanover-expenditureofsympathy,Iwouldsuggestthatweshouldappealtosciencetoputusstraight.
Theadvantageoftheemotionsisthattheyleadusastray,andtheadvantageofscienceisthatitisnotemotional.”
“Butwehavesuchgraveresponsibilities,”venturedMrs.Vandeleurtimidly.
“Terriblygrave,”echoedLadyAgatha.
LordHenrylookedoveratMr.Erskine.“Humanitytakesitselftooseriously.Itistheworld’soriginalsin.Ifthecavemanhadknownhowtolaugh,historywouldhavebeendifferent.”
“Youarereallyverycomforting,”warbledtheduchess.
“IhavealwaysfeltratherguiltywhenIcametoseeyourdearaunt,forItakenointerestatallintheEastEnd.
ForthefutureIshallbeabletolookherinthefacewithoutablush.”
“Ablushisverybecoming,Duchess,”remarkedLordHenry.
“Onlywhenoneisyoung,”sheanswered.“Whenanoldwomanlikemyselfblushes,itisaverybadsign.Ah!LordHenry,Iwishyouwouldtellmehowtobecomeyoungagain.”
Hethoughtforamoment.“Canyourememberanygreaterrorthatyoucommittedinyourearlydays,Duchess?”heasked,lookingatheracrossthetable.
“Agreatmany,Ifear,”shecried.
“Thencommitthemoveragain,”hesaidgravely.“Togetbackone’syouth,onehasmerelytorepeatone’sfollies.”
“Adelightfultheory!”sheexclaimed.“Imustputitintopractice.”
“Adangeroustheory!”camefromSirThomas’stightlips.LadyAgathashookherhead,butcouldnothelpbeingamused.Mr.Erskinelistened.
“Yes,”hecontinued,“thatisoneofthegreatsecretsoflife.
Nowadaysmostpeopledieofasortofcreepingcommonsense,anddiscoverwhenitistoolatethattheonlythingsoneneverregretsareone’smistakes.”
Alaughranroundthetable.
Heplayedwiththeideaandgrewwilful;tosseditintotheairandtransformedit;letitescapeandrecapturedit;madeitiridescentwithfancyandwingeditwithparadox.
Thepraiseoffolly,ashewenton,soaredintoaphilosophy,andphilosophyherselfbecameyoung,andcatchingthemadmusicofpleasure,wearing,onemightfancy,herwine-stainedrobeandwreathofivy,dancedlikeaBacchanteoverthehillsoflife,andmockedtheslowSilenusforbeingsober.
Factsfledbeforeherlikefrightenedforestthings.
HerwhitefeettrodthehugepressatwhichwiseOmarsits,tilltheseethinggrape-juiceroseroundherbarelimbsinwavesofpurplebubbles,orcrawledinredfoamoverthevat’sblack,dripping,slopingsides.Itwasanextraordinaryimprovisation.
HefeltthattheeyesofDorianGraywerefixedonhim,andtheconsciousnessthatamongsthisaudiencetherewasonewhosetemperamenthewishedtofascinateseemedtogivehiswitkeennessandtolendcolourtohisimagination.
Hewasbrilliant,fantastic,irresponsible.
Hecharmedhislistenersoutofthemselves,andtheyfollowedhispipe,laughing.
DorianGraynevertookhisgazeoffhim,butsatlikeoneunderaspell,smileschasingeachotheroverhislipsandwondergrowinggraveinhisdarkeningeyes.
Atlast,liveriedinthecostumeoftheage,realityenteredtheroomintheshapeofaservanttotelltheduchessthathercarriagewaswaiting.Shewrungherhandsinmockdespair.“Howannoying!”shecried.“Imustgo.
Ihavetocallformyhusbandattheclub,totakehimtosomeabsurdmeetingatWillis’sRooms,whereheisgoingtobeinthechair.
IfIamlateheissuretobefurious,andIcouldn’thaveasceneinthisbonnet.Itisfartoofragile.Aharshwordwouldruinit.No,Imustgo,dearAgatha.
Good-bye,LordHenry,youarequitedelightfulanddreadfullydemoralizing.
IamsureIdon’tknowwhattosayaboutyourviews.
Youmustcomeanddinewithussomenight.Tuesday?AreyoudisengagedTuesday?”
“ForyouIwouldthrowoveranybody,Duchess,”saidLordHenrywithabow.
“Ah!thatisverynice,andverywrongofyou,”shecried;“somindyoucome”andshesweptoutoftheroom,followedbyLadyAgathaandtheotherladies.
WhenLordHenryhadsatdownagain,Mr.Erskinemovedround,andtakingachairclosetohim,placedhishanduponhisarm.
“Youtalkbooksaway,”hesaid;“whydon’tyouwriteone?”
“Iamtoofondofreadingbookstocaretowritethem,Mr.Erskine.
Ishouldliketowriteanovelcertainly,anovelthatwouldbeaslovelyasaPersiancarpetandasunreal.
ButthereisnoliterarypublicinEnglandforanythingexceptnewspapers,primers,andencyclopaedias.
OfallpeopleintheworldtheEnglishhavetheleastsenseofthebeautyofliterature.”
“Ifearyouareright,”answeredMr.Erskine.
“Imyselfusedtohaveliteraryambitions,butIgavethemuplongago.
Andnow,mydearyoungfriend,ifyouwillallowmetocallyouso,mayIaskifyoureallymeantallthatyousaidtousatlunch?”
“IquiteforgetwhatIsaid,”smiledLordHenry.“Wasitallverybad?”
“Verybadindeed.InfactIconsideryouextremelydangerous,andifanythinghappenstoourgoodduchess,weshallalllookonyouasbeingprimarilyresponsible.
ButIshouldliketotalktoyouaboutlife.
ThegenerationintowhichIwasbornwastedious.
Someday,whenyouaretiredofLondon,comedowntoTreadleyandexpoundtomeyourphilosophyofpleasureoversomeadmirableBurgundyIamfortunateenoughtopossess.”
“Ishallbecharmed.AvisittoTreadleywouldbeagreatprivilege.Ithasaperfecthost,andaperfectlibrary.”
“Youwillcompleteit,”answeredtheoldgentlemanwithacourteousbow.“AndnowImustbidgood-byetoyourexcellentaunt.IamdueattheAthenaeum.Itisthehourwhenwesleepthere.”
“Allofyou,Mr.Erskine?”
“Fortyofus,infortyarm-chairs.WearepractisingforanEnglishAcademyofLetters.”
LordHenrylaughedandrose.“Iamgoingtothepark,”hecried.
Ashewaspassingoutofthedoor,DorianGraytouchedhimonthearm.“Letmecomewithyou,”hemurmured.
“ButIthoughtyouhadpromisedBasilHallwardtogoandseehim,”answeredLordHenry.
“Iwouldsoonercomewithyou;yes,IfeelImustcomewithyou.Doletme.Andyouwillpromisetotalktomeallthetime?Noonetalkssowonderfullyasyoudo.”
“Ah!Ihavetalkedquiteenoughforto-day,”saidLordHenry,smiling.“AllIwantnowistolookatlife.Youmaycomeandlookatitwithme,ifyoucareto.”
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