道林.格雷的画像 英文版 The Picture of Dorian Gray
奥斯卡.王尔德 Oscar Wilde
CHAPTER II Page 1
As they entered they saw Dorian Gray. He was seated at thepiano, with his back to them, turning over the pages of a volume ofSchumann's "Forest Scenes. " "You must lend me these, Basil, " hecried. "I want to learn them. They are perfectly charming. "
"That entirely depends on how you sit to-day, Dorian. "
"This is Lord Henry Wotton, Dorian, an old Oxford friend of mine. Ihave just been telling him what a capital sitter you were, and nowyou have spoiled everything. "
"You have not spoiled my pleasure in meeting you, Mr. Gray, " saidLord Henry, stepping forward and shaking him by the hand. "My aunthas often spoken to me about you. You are one of her favorites, and,I am afraid, one of her victims also. "
"I am in Lady Agatha's black books at present, " answered Dorian, witha funny look of penitence. "I promised to go to her club inWhitechapel with her last Tuesday, and I really forgot all about it.We were to have played a duet together, --three duets, I believe. Idon't know what she will say to me. I am far too frightened tocall. "
"Oh, I will make your peace with my aunt. She is quite devoted toyou. And I don't think it really matters about your not being there.The audience probably thought it was a duet. When Aunt Agatha sitsdown to the piano she makes quite enough noise for two people. "
"That is very horrid to her, and not very nice to me, " answeredDorian, laughing.
Lord Henry looked at him. Yes, he was certainly wonderfullyhandsome, with his finely-curved scarlet lips, his frank blue eyes,his crisp gold hair. There was something in his face that made onetrust him at once. All the candor of youth was there, as well as allyouth's passionate purity. One felt that he had kept himselfunspotted from the world. No wonder Basil Hallward worshipped him.He was made to be worshipped.
"You are too charming to go in for philanthropy, Mr. Gray, --far toocharming. " And Lord Henry flung himself down on the divan, andopened his cigarette-case.
Hallward had been busy mixing his colors and getting his brushesready. He was looking worried, and when he heard Lord Henry's lastremark he glanced at him, hesitated for a moment, and then said,"Harry, I want to finish this picture to-day. Would you think itawfully rude of me if I asked you to go away?"
Lord Henry smiled, and looked at Dorian Gray. "Am I to go, Mr.Gray?" he asked.
"Oh, please don't, Lord Henry. I see that Basil is in one of hissulky moods; and I can't bear him when he sulks. Besides, I want youto tell me why I should not go in for philanthropy. "
"I don't know that I shall tell you that, Mr. Gray. But I certainlywill not run away, now that you have asked me to stop. You don'treally mind, Basil, do you? You have often told me that you likedyour sitters to have some one to chat to. "
Hallward bit his lip. "If Dorian wishes it, of course you must stay.Dorian's whims are laws to everybody, except himself. "
Lord Henry took up his hat and gloves. "You are very pressing,Basil, but I am afraid I must go. I have promised to meet a man atthe Orleans. --Good-by, Mr. Gray. Come and see me some afternoon inCurzon Street. I am nearly always at home at five o'clock. Write tome when you are coming. I should be sorry to miss you. "
"Basil, " cried Dorian Gray, "if Lord Henry goes I shall go too. Younever open your lips while you are painting, and it is horribly dullstanding on a platform and trying to look pleasant. Ask him to stay.I insist upon it. "
"Stay, Harry, to oblige Dorian, and to oblige me, " said Hallward,gazing intently at his picture. "It is quite true, I never talk whenI am working, and never listen either, and it must be dreadfullytedious for my unfortunate sitters. I beg you to stay. "
"But what about my man at the Orleans?"
Hallward laughed. "I don't think there will be any difficulty aboutthat. Sit down again, Harry. --And now, Dorian, get up on theplatform, and don't move about too much, or pay any attention to whatLord Henry says. He has a very bad influence over all his friends,with the exception of myself. "
Dorian stepped up on the dais, with the air of a young Greek martyr,and made a little moue of discontent to Lord Henry, to whom he hadrather taken a fancy. He was so unlike Hallward. They made adelightful contrast. And he had such a beautiful voice. After a fewmoments he said to him, "Have you really a very bad influence, LordHenry? As bad as Basil says?"
"There is no such thing as a good influence, Mr. Gray. All influenceis immoral, --immoral from the scientific point of view. "
"Why?"
"Because to influence a person is to give him one's own soul. Hedoes not think his natural thoughts, or burn with his naturalpassions. His virtues are not real to him. His sins, if there aresuch things as sins, are borrowed. He becomes an echo of some oneelse's music, an actor of a part that has not been written for him.The aim of life is self-development. To realize one's natureperfectly, --that is what each of us is here for. People are afraidof themselves, nowadays. They have forgotten the highest of allduties, the duty that one owes to one's self. Of course theyare charitable. They feed the hungry, and clothe the beggar. Buttheir own souls starve, and are naked. Courage has gone out of ourrace. Perhaps we never really had it. The terror of society, whichis the basis of morals, the terror of God, which is the secret ofreligion, --these are the two things that govern us. And yet--"
"Just turn your head a little more to the right, Dorian, like a goodboy, " said Hallward, deep in his work, and conscious only that a lookhad come into the lad's face that he had never seen there before.
"And yet, " continued Lord Henry, in his low, musical voice, and withthat graceful wave of the hand that was always so characteristic ofhim, and that he had even in his Eton days, "I believe that if oneman were to live his life out fully and completely, were to give formto every feeling, expression to every thought, reality to everydream, --I believe that the world would gain such a fresh impulse ofjoy that we would forget all the maladies of mediaevalism, and returnto the Hellenic ideal, -- to something finer, richer, than theHellenic ideal, it may be. But the bravest man among us is afraid ofhimself. The mutilation of the savage has its tragic survival in theself-denial that mars our lives. We are punished for our refusals.Every impulse that we strive to strangle broods in the mind, andpoisons us. The body sins once, and has done with its sin, foraction is a mode of purification. Nothing remains then but therecollection of a pleasure, or the luxury of a regret. The only wayto get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and yoursoul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden toitself, with desire for what its monstrous laws have made monstrousand unlawful. It has been said that the great events of the worldtake place in the brain. It is in the brain, and the brain only,that the great sins of the world take place also. You, Mr. Gray, youyourself, with your rose-red youth and your rose-white boyhood, youhave had passions that have made you afraid, thoughts that havefilled you with terror, day-dreams and sleeping dreams whose merememory might stain your cheek with shame--"
t, Lord Henry. I see that Basil is in one of hissulky !
"Stop!" murmured Dorian Gray, "stop! you bewilder me. I don't knowwhat to say. There is some answer to you, but I cannot find it.Don't speak. Let me think, or, rather, let me try not to think. "
For nearly ten minutes he stood there motionless, with parted lips,and eyes strangely bright. He was dimly conscious that entirelyfresh impulses were at work within him, and they seemed to him tohave come really from himself. The few words that Basil's friend hadsaid to him--words spoken by chance, no doubt, and with wilfulparadox in them--had yet touched some secret chord, that had neverbeen touched before, but that he felt was now vibrating and throbbingto curious pulses.
Music had stirred him like that. Music had troubled him many times.But music was not articulate. It was not a new world, but rather anew chaos, that it created in us. Words! Mere words! How terriblethey were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escapefrom them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them! Theyseemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and tohave a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lute. Merewords! Was there anything so real as words?
Yes; there had been things in his boyhood that he had not understood.He understood them now. Life suddenly became fiery-colored to him.It seemed to him that he had been walking in fire. Why had he notknown it?
Lord Henry watched him, with his sad smile. He knew the precisepsychological moment when to say nothing. He felt intenselyinterested. He was amazed at the sudden impression that his wordshad produced, and, remembering a book that he had read when he wassixteen, which had revealed to him much that he had not known before,he wondered whether Dorian Gray was passing through the sameexperience. He had merely shot an arrow into the air. Had it hitthe mark? How fascinating the lad was!
Hallward painted away with that marvellous bold touch of his, thathad the true refinement and perfect delicacy that come only fromstrength. He was unconscious of the silence.
"Basil, I am tired of standing, " cried Dorian Gray, suddenly. "Imust go out and sit in the garden. The air is stifling here. "
"My dear fellow, I am so sorry. When I am painting, I can't think ofanything else. But you never sat better. You were perfectly still.And I have caught the effect I wanted, --the half-parted lips, and thebright look in the eyes. I don't know what Harry has been saying toyou, but he has certainly made you have the most wonderfulexpression. I suppose he has been paying you compliments. Youmustn't believe a word that he says. "
"He has certainly not been paying me compliments. Perhaps that isthe reason I don't think I believe anything he has told me. "
"You know you believe it all, " said Lord Henry, looking at him withhis dreamy, heavy-lidded eyes. "I will go out to the garden withyou. It is horridly hot in the studio. --Basil, let us have somethingiced to drink, something with strawberries in it. "
"Certainly, Harry. Just touch the bell, and when Parker comes I willtell him what you want. I have got to work up this background, so Iwill join you later on. Don't keep Dorian too long. I have neverbeen in better form for painting than I am to-day. This is going tobe my masterpiece. It is my masterpiece as it stands. "
head a little more to the right, Dorian, like a goodboy, " said Hallward, deep .
Lord Henry went out to the garden, and found Dorian Gray burying hisface in the great cool lilac-blossoms, feverishly drinking in theirperfume as if it had been wine. He came close to him, and put hishand upon his shoulder. "You are quite right to do that, " hemurmured. "Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothingcan cure the senses but the soul. "
The lad started and drew back. He was bareheaded, and the leaves hadtossed his rebellious curls and tangled all their gilded threads.There was a look of fear in his eyes, such as people have when theyare suddenly awakened. His finely-chiselled nostrils quivered, andsome hidden nerve shook the scarlet of his lips and left themtrembling.
I to go, Mr.Gray?" he asked. Scenes.
"Yes, " continued Lord Henry, "that is one of the great secretsof life, -- to cure the soul by means of the senses, and the senses bymeans of the soul. You are a wonderful creature. You know more thanyou think you know, just as you know less than you want to know. "
Dorian Gray frowned and turned his head away. He could not helpliking the tall, graceful young man who was standing by him. Hisromantic olive-colored face and worn expression interested him.There was something in his low, languid voice that was absolutelyfascinating. His cool, white, flower-like hands, even, had a curiouscharm. They moved, as he spoke, like music, and seemed to have alanguage of their own. But he felt afraid of him, and ashamed ofbeing afraid. Why had it been left for a stranger to reveal him tohimself? He had known Basil Hallward for months, but the friendshipbetween then had never altered him. Suddenly there had come some oneacross his life who seemed to have disclosed to him life's mystery.And, yet, what was there to be afraid of? He was not a school-boy,or a girl. It was absurd to be frightened.
"Let us go and sit in the shade, " said Lord Henry. "Parker hasbrought out the drinks, and if you stay any longer in this glare youwill be quite spoiled, and Basil will never paint you again. Youreally must not let yourself become sunburnt. It would be veryunbecoming to you. "
"What does it matter?" cried Dorian, laughing, as he sat down on theseat at the end of the garden.
"It should matter everything to you, Mr. Gray. "
"Why?"
"Because you have now the most marvellous youth, and youth is the onething worth having. "
"I don't feel that, Lord Henry. "
"No, you don't feel it now. Some day, when you are old and wrinkledand ugly, when thought has seared your forehead with its lines, andpassion branded your lips with its hideous fires, you will feel it,you will feel it terribly. Now, wherever you go, you charm theworld. Will it always be so?
"You have a wonderfully beautiful face, Mr. Gray. Don't frown. Youhave. And Beauty is a form of Genius, --is higher, indeed, thanGenius, as it needs no explanation. It is one of the great facts ofthe world, like sunlight, or spring-time, or the reflection in darkwaters of that silver shell we call the moon. It cannot bequestioned. It has its divine right of sovereignty. It makesprinces of those who have it. You smile? Ah! when you have lost ityou won't smile.
"People say sometimes that Beauty is only superficial. That may beso. But at least it is not so superficial as Thought. To me, Beautyis the wonder of wonders. It is only shallow people who do not judgeby appearances. The true mystery of the world is the visible, notthe invisible.
"Yes, Mr. Gray, the gods have been good to you. But what the godsgive they quickly take away. You have only a few years in whichreally to live. When your youth goes, your beauty will go with it,and then you will suddenly discover that there are no triumphs leftfor you, or have to content yourself with those mean triumphsthat the memory of your past will make more bitter than defeats.Every month as it wanes brings you nearer to something dreadful.Time is jealous of you, and wars against your lilies and your roses.You will become sallow, and hollow-cheeked, and dull-eyed. You willsuffer horribly.
"Realize your youth while you have it. Don't squander the gold ofyour days, listening to the tedious, trying to improve the hopelessfailure, or giving away your life to the ignorant, the common, andthe vulgar, which are the aims, the false ideals, of our age. Live!Live the wonderful life that is in you! Let nothing be lost uponyou. Be always searching for new sensations. Be afraid of nothing.
"A new hedonism, --that is what our century wants. You might be itsvisible symbol. With your personality there is nothing you could notdo. The world belongs to you for a season.
"The moment I met you I saw that you were quite unconscious of whatyou really are, what you really might be. There was so much aboutyou that charmed me that I felt I must tell you something aboutyourself. I thought how tragic it would be if you were wasted. Forthere is such a little time that your youth will last, --such a littletime.
"The common hill-flowers wither, but they blossom again. Thelaburnum will be as golden next June as it is now. In a month therewill be purple stars on the clematis, and year after year the greennight of its leaves will have its purple stars. But we never getback our youth. The pulse of joy that beats in us at twenty, becomessluggish. Our limbs fail, our senses rot. We degenerate intohideous puppets, haunted by the memory of the passions of which wewere too much afraid, and the exquisite temptations that we did notdare to yield to. Youth! Youth! There is absolutely nothing in theworld but youth!"
Dorian Gray listened, open-eyed and wondering. The spray of lilacfell from his hand upon the gravel. A furry bee came and buzzedround it for a moment. Then it began to scramble all over thefretted purple of the tiny blossoms. He watched it with that strangeinterest in trivial things that we try to develop when things of highimport make us afraid, or when we are stirred by some new emotion,for which we cannot find expression, or when some thought thatterrifies us lays sudden siege to the brain and calls on us to yield.After a time it flew away. He saw it creeping into the stainedtrumpet of a Tyrian convolvulus. The flower seemed to quiver, andthen swayed gently to and fro.
Suddenly Hallward appeared at the door of the studio, and madefrantic signs for them to come in. They turned to each other, andsmiled.
"I am waiting, " cried Hallward. "Do come in. The light is quiteperfect, and you can bring your drinks. "
They rose up, and sauntered down the walk together. Two green-and-white butterflies fluttered past them, and in the pear-tree at theend of the garden a thrush began to sing.
"You are glad you have met me, Mr. Gray, " said Lord Henry, looking athim.
"Yes, I am glad now. I wonder shall I always be glad?"
"Always! That is a dreadful word. It makes me shudder when Ihear it. Women are so fond of using it. They spoil every romance bytrying to make it last forever. It is a meaningless word, too. Theonly difference between a caprice and a life-long passion is that thecaprice lasts a little longer. "
As they entered the studio, Dorian Gray put his hand upon LordHenry's arm. "In that case, let our friendship be a caprice, " hemurmured, flushing at his own boldness, then stepped upon theplatform and resumed his pose.
Lord Henry flung himself into a large wicker arm-chair, and watchedhim. The sweep and dash of the brush on the canvas made the onlysound that broke the stillness, except when Hallward stepped back nowand then to look at his work from a distance. In the slanting beamsthat streamed through the open door-way the dust danced and wasgolden. The heavy scent of the roses seemed to brood overeverything.
After about a quarter of an hour, Hallward stopped painting, lookedfor a long time at Dorian Gray, and then for a long time at thepicture, biting the end of one of his huge brushes, and smiling. "Itis quite finished, " he cried, at last, and stooping down he wrote hisname in thin vermilion letters on the left-hand corner of the canvas.
Lord Henry came over and examined the picture. It was certainly awonderful work of art, and a wonderful likeness as well.