Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1896-08-08
THE
PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY,
The
pY OSCAR WILDE

"He Is all my art to mo now. I some
times think, Harry, that there are only two
eras Of any Importance in the history of the
world. The first is the appearance of q
new medium for art, N the second is the
appearance Of q new personality Of art also.
What the invention Of oil painting was TO the
Venetians, and the face of Antinous was TO
late Greek sculpture, the face Of Dorian Gray
will some day be 10 me. 1t is not merely that
| paint from him, draw from him, model from
him. OF course l have done all that. He
has stood as Paris in dainty armor, and as
Adonis with huntsman's cloak and polished
boar-spear. Crowned with heavy lotus
blossoms, he has sat on the prov Of Adrian's
barge, looking into the green. turbid Nile.
He has leaned over the still pool Of some
Greek woodland, and seen in the waters
silent silver the wonder Of his W beauty.
But he is much more TO me than that l
won't tell you that I am dissatisfied with
what l have done of him, or that his beauty
Is such that art cannot express II. There is
nothing that art can not express, and l know
that the work | have lone since l met Dorian
Gray is good work, is the best work OF my
life. But In some curious way-I wonder
Will YOU ullutISltlu mtt-nlS DtTStuhlitN
has suggested to me an entirely new man
ner la art, an entirely new mode of style. l
see things differently. / think of them differ
emily. i can now r~ecreate life In a way
that was hidden from me before. "A dream
Of former in days of thou~ght'-whois IL who
says that | forgetj but IL is what Dorian
Gray has been TO me. The merely visible
presence Of this lad-for he seems to me
little more than a lad, though he Is really
over twenty-his merely visible presence
all l wonder can you realize all that that
meansl Unconsci"cSiy he defines for me
the lines of a fresh school,, q school that Is
to have in itself all the passion of the ro-
mantle spirit, all the perfection Of the spirit
that is Greek. The harmony of soul and
body-how much that isl We in our mad
ness have separated the two, and have in
vented a realism that is bestial, an ideality
that is void. Harry Harry! If you only
knew what Dorian Gray is TO mel You re-
member that landscape of mine for which
Agnew offered me such n huge price, but
which | would not part withi II Is one Of
the best things / have ever done. And why
is IL sol Because while l was painting it,
Dorian Gray sat beside me-"
"Basil, this is quite wonderful I must
see Dorian Gray"
Hallward got up from the seat and walked
up and down the garden. After some time
he came back. "You don't understand,
Harry he said. "Dorian Gray is merely to
me a motive in art. He is never more
present in my work than when no image OF
him is there. He is simply a suggestion, as
] nave said, Of n new manner ] see him in
he curves of certain lines, in tho loneliness
and the subtlcties Of certain colors. That is
all."
"Then why won't you exhibit his portraitl,
"Becauce | have put into it all the extra
ordinary romance of which, Of course,
have never dared TO speak to him. He
knows nothing about il. But the world
might guess it; and l will not bare my soul
to their shallow, prying eyes. My heart
shall never be put under their microscope.
There is too much Of myself in the thing,
H~arry-too much Of myself"
"Poets are not 80 s%crupulous as you are.
They know how useful passion is for publica-
ton. Nowadays a broken heart will run to
many editions"
81 hate them for IL. An artist should
create beautiful things, but should put
lothing of his own life into them. We live
in an age when men treat art as il il were
meant to be n form of autobiography. We
have lost the abstract sense of beauty. II
live, l will show the world what it is; and
for that reason the world shall never sec my
portrait of Dorian Gray"
81 think you age wrong Basil, but / won't
argue with you. II is only the intellectually
lost who ever argue. Tell me, Is Dorian
Gray very fond of you"
Hallward considered for a few moments.
II likes me" he answered, after a pause;
Il know he likes me. or course / fiatter
him dreadfully. j find n strange pleasure in
saying things to him that know ] shall be
sorry for having said. / give myself away.
AS a rule, he is charming to me, and we
walk home together from the club arm in
arm, or sit in the studio and talk Of o
thousand things. Now and then, he il
horribly thoughtless, and seems TO take =
real delight in giving me pain, Then | feel,
Harry, that have given away my whole
soul to some one who treats it as If IL were a
flower to put in his coat, a bit Of decoration
to charm his vanity, an ornament for a sum
mer's day.
Days in summer, Basil, are apt to linRer,
Perhaps you will tire sooner than he will.
1t is a sad thing TO think of, but there is no
doubt that Genius lasts longer than Beauty.
That accounts for the fact that we all take
such pains to overeducate ourselves. In
the wild struggle for existence, we want TO
have something that endures, and so we fill
our minds with rubbish and facts, in the
silly hope Of keeping our place. The
thoroughly well-informed man-that is the
modern ideal. And the mind of the
thoroughly well-informed man Is a dread
full thing. 1t is like a bric-a-brac shop, all
monsters and dust, ard everything priced
above its proper value. I think you will
tire first, all the same. Some day you will
look at Gray, and he will seem TO you to be o
little out of drawing, or you won't like his
tone OF color, or something. You will bitter.
~ reproach him in your heart, and seriously
think that he has behaved very badly to
you. Tn next time he calls, you will be
perfectly cold and Indifferent. 1t will be a
great pity, for it will alter you. The worst
of having a romance is that it leaves one SO
unromantic."
Harry, don't talk like that, AS long as ]
live, the personality of Dorian Gray will
dominate me. You cant feel what / feel.
You change too often"
al my ucdT bdSn, Jnat Is eNdCtly why i
can feel 1t. Those who are faithful know
only the pleasures of love; it is the faith.
less who know loves tragedies" And Lord
Henry struck a light on a dainty silver case,
and began to smoke a cigarette with a self.
satisfied air, as IL he had summed up life In
q phrase. There was a rustic of chirrupinp
sparrows in the ivy, and tho blue cloud.
shadows chased themselves across the grass
like swallows. How pleasant in the gar
denl And how delightful other peoples
emotions were!-much more delightful thar
their ideas, IL seemed TO him. Ones owl
soul, and the passions of ones friends
those were the fascinating things in life
He thought with pleasure Of the tedious
luncheon that he had missed by staying Sc
long with Basil Hallward. Had he gone Il
his aunt's, he would have been sure to meeI
Lord Goodbody there, and the whole con
versation would nave been about tn,
housing of the poor, and the necessity 70,
model lodging-houses. II was charming I,
have escaped all that AS he thought o.
his aunt, an idea seemed 30 strike him. II,
turned to Hallward, and said. my dear
fellow, / have just remembered"
Remembered what, Harryin
"Wbere ! heard the name of Dorian Gray
"Where was it," asked Hallward, with {
slight TOWN.
Don't look so angry, Basil. It was a