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    Learn French! Apprends l'Anglais! THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY: In French and English
    Learn French! Apprends l'Anglais! THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY: In French and English
    Learn French! Apprends l'Anglais! THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY: In French and English
    Ebook623 pages10 hours

    Learn French! Apprends l'Anglais! THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY: In French and English

    By Oscar Wilde

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    About this ebook

    THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY/
    LE PORTRAIT DE DORIAN GRAY:

    This unique book features paragraph by paragraph translations from English to French, allowing the reader to learn French vocabulary and sentence structure while enjoying a famous novel.

    It is a fun and affordable way to learn a second language. Previous experience with French is recommended, but ambitious beginners are welcome to give it a try.

    QUICK SYNOPSIS: "The Picture of Dorian Gray" is a psychological drama, involving issues of beauty, and sensualism, as well as guilt and remorse.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherKryptic Books
    Release dateJun 2, 2012
    ISBN9781476424347
    Learn French! Apprends l'Anglais! THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY: In French and English
    Author

    Oscar Wilde

    Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde was born on the 16th October 1854 and died on the 30th November 1900. He was an Irish playwright, poet, and author of numerous short stories and one novel. Known for his biting wit, he became one of the most successful playwrights of the late Victorian era in London, and one of the greatest celebrities of his day. Several of his plays continue to be widely performed, especially The Importance of Being Earnest.

    Read more from Oscar Wilde

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    Reviews for Learn French! Apprends l'Anglais! THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY

    4/5

    8,943 ratings267 reviews

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    • 4/5
      People get older and lose their looks. Don't whine about it. Moral of the story.
    • 5/5
      Great story about some despicable and jaded people.
    • 5/5
      This is one of the most powerful books I have ever read. I wish I had read it long ago- I was really missing out. The writing is absolutely beautiful and drew me into the book right from the first page. The story is fascinating, the characters are complex and the plot unfolds perfectly. What I liked most was that I didn't find the book predictable. I really did not see the ending coming and was surprised at every change Dorian went through. I went from loving Dorian to hating him to not being sure how to feel about him. He was quite a nasty character at times but also fascinating. The book came together nicely in the end and overall it was just wonderful.

      For more of my reviews and recommendations, visit my blog: here
    • 4/5
      I knew I would love this book, and love it I did.

      You probably know the story, or you know bits of it. But actually reading it is a different experience. It's everything you expect of Wilde: witty. dry. philosophical. hilarious.

      The humour meets the dark undertones of sin well, and it makes the story feel full and complete. It's always interesting, although the pages when it goes on with philosophy can be tough to read at times (although usually ultimately humourous, as the characters are all idiots).

      All in all, it's a great read. I have nothing bad to say here.
    • 4/5
      I was really surprised by this book. It was better than I thought it would be I really enjoyed it.
    • 5/5
      Oscar Wilde turns his hand to the gothic horror tale and it's brilliant.
    • 3/5
      This is a great book. I did not find it tedious or boring at all. It's a great read!
    • 5/5
      I know this book was a little controversial but I still thought it was a great read. didnt get the whole controversy about it though.
    • 4/5
      A brilliantly written novel enclosing important life lessons. A bit dragged out towards the end though.
    • 4/5
      exellent timeless classic...!
    • 5/5
      A fascinating study of beauty gone evil.
    • 4/5
      I think Oscar Wilde was a genius, but some of his passages were too weighty for me.
    • 3/5
      It was based on an interesting premise: A man makes a wish that he will remain as young and beautiful as a painting of himself at age 20. The wish comes true and the painting ages and worse, shows the sins of the man over time. The story is about the effect on Dorian Gray and his soul.The writing was beautiful, poetic at times. I listened to it on CD, and I think the entire disk 4 (or maybe 3) was basically a poetic narrative of Dorian's life from age 20 to 38. I got lost and my mind drifted because there were no scenes. It was way too much summary in my opinion. Of course, the book was written in the late 1800s, so it was probably appropriate for the times. But my biggest issue was the characters. I have a difficult time loving books if I can't identify or at least root for a character. And there was nothing to like about Dorian. He was a rich, vain man who did nothing but take advantage of his looks. Getting into his deluded mind was very creepy, especially when he killed (won't say who) someone with no remorse. At the end, I thought he might redeem himself as his began to realize how terrible his sins were. But even then, he made excuses and continued to act selfishly. And I didn't like his friend, Sir Henry much better.
    • 3/5
      I liked this book a lot more than I thought I would. I liked the aging picture thing. Everyone always says that this book has a theme of homosexuality, but I just didn't see it. Perhaps I will re-read it. But ironically it does remind me of being gay, but because of personal things happening at the time with friends rather than what is actually in the book, so you'd think I would have seen it.
    • 3/5
      Not anywhere near as entrancing as the first time I read it - but that's likely due to me aging a decade. Initially, I found Wilde's witticisms (mainly via Lord Henry) thought-provoking and... sparkly:"The reason we all like to think so well of others is that we are all afraid for ourselves. The basis of optimism is sheer terror."This time 'round, they veered more toward shit-stirring, sound-bite nonsense (intentionally? Lord Henry exists to suggest corruption and watch the show). But so long as you don't view it through the lenses of a purely self-indulgent fuck, I agree AMEN:"To be good is to be in harmony with one's self. Discord is to be forced to be in harmony with others. One's own life - that is the important thing. As for the lives of one's neighbors, if one wished to be a prig or a Puritan, one can flaunt one's moral views about them, but they are not one's concern. Besides, Individualism has really the higher aim. Modern morality consists in accepting the standard of one's age. I consider that for any man of culture to accept the standard of his age is a form of the grossest immorality."And it still managed to resonate, albeit less so (which probably means I'm less of an asshole than I was, or just more aware of fellow life):"All ways end at the same point - disillusion."*reread*
    • 4/5
      A cigarette is the perfect type of a perfect pleasure. It is exquisite, and it leaves one unsatisfied. What more can one want?

      Most people assume we on Goodreads have read everything. It was a shock to many that I had never read Baudelaire until last week. It was a similar disclosure which saw me read this novel for the first time.

      This is a bitchy book. My brain afforded the late George Sanders the vocal delivery. Yes, I know he was in a film adaptation, but this sordid sophisticate morality tale demands such. His own end illuminates the pages.

      So why should we return to (or discover) this splendid tale, the twist of which has become a cultural landmark? We learn about beauty and privilege. We learn about the weight of ennui and other French decadence. There is sodomy, opium, and suicide. Perhaps I will open a beer and ponder how Youth bolted out the back door.
    • 3/5
      A fantastic plot buried under too many words (mostly coming from the mouth of Lord Henry). It would have made a gripping and terrifying novella or short story. To alter an accusation from Dorian and turn it back on Wilde, "You would sacrifice any reader, Oscar, for the sake of an epigram."
    • 3/5
      I have read this book 3 times. Every time I swear that I didn't read it - I just remember the synopsis - and then I get halfway through and realize I'm rereading it.
    • 5/5
      Waited a long time to read this book. Glad I did.
    • 4/5
      I was kind of underwhelmed by this one. Some interesting ideas were brought up, but the story itself wasn't as riveting as I thought it would be.
    • 4/5
      As the novel opens, artist Basil Hallward is painting a portrait of an extraordinarily handsome young man, Dorian Gray. In a conversation with his friend, Lord Henry Wotton, Hallward tells him that he believes the portrait is the best work he’s ever done. Lord Henry arranges to meet Dorian and he soon gains influence over the impressionable young man. The finished portrait is remarkable, and Dorian unthinkingly expresses a desire that the portrait would age while he maintained the beauty of youth. Lord Henry encourages Dorian to hedonistic excess. To Dorian’s horror, his portrait becomes uglier as Dorian’s character becomes more and more corrupt. It’s as if the portrait reveals the true state of Dorian’s soul. Although I haven’t seen the academy award-winning film version of this book, I have a feeling that I’d probably like it better than the book. Wilde doesn’t leave enough to the imagination, and much of the horror in the story is diluted by wordiness.
    • 5/5
      Another one I hadn't read since the '70s, and I wondered whether it might have aged badly, but no, like the picture itself, this is one book that has stayed as fresh and young as when it was created.

      Wilde's way with an aphorism is brilliant, and not just Dorian, but Sir Henry Wooton in particular are fully rounded characters, and perfect foils for Wilde's wit and almost casual brilliance.

      I wondered whether the movie representations would change the book for me, but all they have done is remind me how little of Wilde's inimitable style has ever transferred to the big screen.

      Beautifully written, sharp and incisive and strangely grotesque in places, I was immersed for the duration. A true classic.
    • 4/5
      There's something in nineteenth-century British literature that I am drawn to—there is a certain musicality or lyricism to it that I love, despite its inspirations often being delusional, fantastical and at times even fetishistic. So it is of little surprise that I found The Picture of Dorian Gray a sweeping read, and one that I had little dissatisfactions with, stylistically.When painter Basil Hallward first sets his eyes upon Dorian Gray, he is a young, captivating soul of speechless beauty. Combined with his social standing, his allure sets his name aflame across countless of social spheres within England. The story begins when Basil makes Dorian his muse, and asks him to sit for a portrait that, little do they both know, will become much more than the painter's magnum opus. Lord Henry, a wealthy friend of Basil, quickly enters the scene, instilling in the Adonis a roaring, dizzying passion for life: “the few words that Basil’s friend had said to him…had touched some secret chord that had never been touched before, but that he felt now was vibrating and throbbing to curious pulses” (21). It is the whimsical, at times paradoxical musings of Lord Henry that transform Dorian Gray, whose adoration for his own portrait become the root of the story’s unfoldment.This was my first proper exposure to Wilde’s work, and it surely was a pleasant experience. I do not know the reason as to why this was his only novel, but it certainly encapsulates his interest in the Aesthetic Movement (“Art for Art’s Sake”). Filled with a rather spiritualistic love for art, humor, and thrill it makes for a lovely (and easy) read, though it lacks the depth, the grittiness, that I was looking for. But this may very well be as a consequence of its loyalty to the values of Wilde’s movement, where art existed free of social, moral and even logical obligations. This novel lacks substance or a core, but ultimately our own conclusions, our own thoughts emerge out of it to appease our own sense of what good literature should be.
    • 5/5
      I never really wanted to read any Oscar Wilde books; they just didn't interest me. But while I was learning to use CeltX script software, "The Importance of Being Earnest" was included as a free example text. I was hooked immediately.Several plays later, I finally pick up "The Picture of Dorian Gray". It has fast become one of my favorite novels of all time.With each of the characters playing to an extreme of Wilde's personality, rather than getting a picture of Dorian Gray, you get a picture of Wilde's life. And what a rich life it was. Of course, I've been mildly infatuated with the Regency/Victorian since I read "Pride and Prejudice", but Dorian Gray succesfully turned that infatuation into what one might call an obsession.Between the vivid and beautiful prose, the witty dialogue and character relationships, and the compellingly simple story itself, I couldn't put this book down. It's a great read even if you don't like Victorian lit or history--a great read even if you're not a fan of Oscar Wilde--and a great read even if you don't like history. And, of course, if you like any or all of thsoe things, it's an *awesome* read.I recommend this book to anyone and everyone.
    • 4/5
      A young egotistic man whispers a prayer and gets exactly what he asked for.How does one even begin to review this book? I disagreed vehemently with just about everything it proposed, and yet because of the writing, I continued to listen. Lord Henry. What are we to do with him? I've heard it proposed that he is meant to be Satan tempting Dorian, and there is an element of that, but to me he seemed more of a man who likes to hear himself talk and shock others, but doesn't really believe what he is saying. Dorian is loathsome. Innocent my foot. He latches on to the things Lord Henry says because it is in his nature already. Best described as a sociopath in my opinion. A sociopath who develops into a psychopath as easily as he puts on his gloves, and he wears well fitting gloves.What I would really like to know, is how much of Oscar Wilde's beliefs are in this book. Or, did he write it to show the absurdity of the ideas propounded? The misogyny and cynicism within are breathtaking. Were they his? He had a difficult time of it being who he was in the time he lived; did he develop these views to survive? Now I think I must go read a biography of Oscar Wilde.
    • 5/5
      I was pleasantly surprised at how compelling I found this narrative, despite its age.
    • 4/5
      A parable denouncing hedonism, vanity, and youth worship. It's a thickly drawn portrait with a rather obvious device to present the perils of hedonistic flippancy. It's short and worth reading for its impact on literature, art and society.
    • 2/5
      So ... we've got a thin, blunt treatise on the perils of hedonism, vanity and retention of youth at any cost, featuring a foppish, mindless, incredibly shallow, turning-in-an-instant character meant to evoke empathic pity for a naive youth swayed to corruption by an older influence. But that fails, because Gray's youth can only be held up so long as a shield. Unless his mind and character remain as unchanged as his appearance, external influences are no excuse for lack of responsibility for one's actions.

      The characters are thickly drawn superficial caricatures - over the top cardboard cutouts. I don't know if that was the norm or if that was Wilde's method - I admit unfamiliarity with Wilde plays and themes and I also admit no desire to find out. Bad on me? No...too many other interests and not enough time for no value added.

      I understand that this book may be a commentary on the notions of Victorian culture with respect to art (that is, art has to have meaning, whereas Wilde implies beauty may have no underlying meaning). Okay. Most of the themes of this book are tired and dated, but I suppose the value of the read is the historical glimpse into how literature was required to be written at the time.

      At any rate, I now remember why I don't remember much about this story - there wasn't much to remember.

      Let the haters converge.
    • 3/5
      All very gothic.
    • 4/5
      I love Oscar Wilde!

    Book preview

    Learn French! Apprends l'Anglais! THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY - Oscar Wilde

    LEARN FRENCH! APPRENDS L’ANGLAIS!

    The Picture of Dorian Gray

    In French and English

    by

    Oscar Wilde

    Cover Art by Lui Trugo

    Published by Kryptic Books at Smashwords

    Copyright 2012 Rachel Island

    THE PREFACE

    (E) The artist is the creator of beautiful things. To reveal art and conceal the artist is art's aim. The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things.

    (F) Un artiste est un créateur de belles choses. Révéler l'Art en cachant l'artiste, tel est le but de l'Art. Le critique est celui qui peut traduire dans une autre manière ou avec de nouveaux procédés l'impression que lui laissèrent de belles choses.

    (E) The highest as the lowest form of criticism is a mode of autobiography. Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault.

    (F) L'autobiographie est à la fois la plus haute et la plus basse des formes de la critique. Ceux qui trouvent de laides intentions en de belles choses sont corrompus sans être séduisants. Et c'est une faute.

    (E) Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope. They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only beauty.

    (F) Ceux qui trouvent de belles intentions dans les belles choses sont les cultivés. Il reste à ceux-ci l'espérance. Ce sont les élus pour qui les belles choses signifient simplement la Beauté.

    (E) There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all.

    (F) Un livre n'est point moral ou immoral. Il est bien ou mal écrit. C'est tout.

    (E) The nineteenth century dislike of realism is the rage of Caliban seeing his own face in a glass.

    (F) Le dédain du XIXe siècle pour le réalisme est tout pareil à la rage de Caliban apercevant sa face dans un miroir.

    (E) The nineteenth century dislike of romanticism is the rage of Caliban not seeing his own face in a glass.

    (F) Le dédain du XIXe siècle pour le Romantisme est semblable à la rage de Caliban n'apercevant pas sa face dans un miroir.

    (E) The moral life of man forms part of the subject-matter of the artist, but the morality of art consists in the perfect use of an imperfect medium.

    (F) La vie morale de l'homme forme une part du sujet de l'artiste, mais la moralité de l'art consiste dans l'usage parfait d'un moyen imparfait.

    (E) No artist desires to prove anything. Even things that are true can be proved.

    (F) L'artiste ne désire prouver quoi que ce soit. Même les choses vraies peuvent être prouvées.

    (E) No artist has ethical sympathies. An ethical sympathy in an artist is an unpardonable mannerism of style.

    (F) L'artiste n'a point de sympathies éthiques. Une sympathie morale dans un artiste amène un maniérisme impardonnable du style.

    (E) No artist is ever morbid. The artist can express everything.

    (F) L'artiste n'est jamais pris au dépourvu. Il peut exprimer toute chose.

    (E) Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art.

    (F) Pour l'artiste, la pensée et le langage sont les instruments d'un art.

    (E) Vice and virtue are to the artist materials for an art. From the point of view of form, the type of all the arts is the art of the musician. From the point of view of feeling, the actor's craft is the type. All art is at once surface and symbol.

    (F) Le vice et la vertu en sont les matériaux. Au point de vue de la forme, le type de tous les arts est la musique. Au point de vue de la sensation, c'est le métier de comédien. Tout art est à la fois surface et symbole.

    (E) Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril.

    (F) Ceux qui cherchent sous la surface le font à leurs risques et périls.

    (E) Those who read the symbol do so at their peril.

    (F) Ceux-là aussi qui tentent de pénétrer le symbole.

    (E) It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors.

    (F) C'est le spectateur, et non la vie, que l'Art reflète réellement.

    (E) Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex, and vital.

    (F) Les diversités d'opinion sur une oeuvre d'art montrent que cette oeuvre est nouvelle, complexe et viable.

    (E) When critics disagree, the artist is in accord with himself.

    (F) Alors que les critiques diffèrent, l'artiste est en accord avec lui-même.

    (E) We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely.

    (F) Nous pouvons pardonner à un homme d'avoir fait une chose utile aussi longtemps qu'il ne l'admire pas. La seule excuse d'avoir fait une chose inutile est de l'admirer intensément.

    All art is quite useless.

    OSCAR WILDE

    L'Art est tout à fait inutile.

    OSCAR WILDE

    CHAPTER 1

    (E) The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.

    (F) L'atelier était plein de l'odeur puissante des roses, et quand une légère brise d'été souffla parmi les arbres du jardin, il vint par la porte ouverte, la senteur lourde des lilas et le parfum plus subtil des églantiers.

    (E) From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could just catch the gleam of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum, whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear the burden of a beauty so flamelike as theirs; and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains that were stretched in front of the huge window, producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect, and making him think of those pallid, jade-faced painters of Tokyo who, through the medium of an art that is necessarily immobile, seek to convey the sense of swiftness and motion. The sullen murmur of the bees shouldering their way through the long unmown grass, or circling with monotonous insistence round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine, seemed to make the stillness more oppressive. The dim roar of London was like the bourdon note of a distant organ.

    (F) D'un coin du divan fait de sacs persans sur lequel il était étendu, fumant, selon sa coutume, d'innombrables cigarettes, lord Henry Wotton pouvait tout juste apercevoir le rayonnement des douces fleurs couleur de miel d'un arbour, dont les tremblantes branches semblaient à peine pouvoir supporter le poids d'une aussi flamboyante splendeur; et de temps à autre, les ombres fantastiques des oiseaux fuyants passaient sur les longs rideaux de tussor tendus devant la large fenêtre, produisant une sorte d'effet japonais momentané, le faisant penser à ces peintres de Tokio à la figure de jade pallide, qui, par le moyen d'un art nécessairement immobile, tentent d'exprimer le sens de la vitesse et du mouvement. Le murmure monotone des abeilles cherchant leur chemin dans les longues herbes non fauchées ou voltigeant autour des poudreuses baies dorées d'un chèvrefeuille isolé, faisait plus oppressant encore ce grand calme. Le sourd grondement de Londres semblait comme la note bourdonnante d'un orgue éloigné.

    (E) In the centre of the room, clamped to an upright easel, stood the full-length portrait of a young man of extraordinary personal beauty, and in front of it, some little distance away, was sitting the artist himself, Basil Hallward, whose sudden disappearance some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement and gave rise to so many strange conjectures.

    (F) Au milieu de la chambre sur un chevalet droit, s'érigeait le portrait grandeur naturelle d'un jeune homme d'une extraordinaire beauté, et en face, était assis, un peu plus loin, le peintre lui-même, Basil Hallward, dont la disparition soudaine quelques années auparavant, avait causé un grand émoi public et donné naissance à tant de conjectures.

    (E) As the painter looked at the gracious and comely form he had so skilfully mirrored in his art, a smile of pleasure passed across his face, and seemed about to linger there. But he suddenly started up, and closing his eyes, placed his fingers upon the lids, as though he sought to imprison within his brain some curious dream from which he feared he might awake.

    (F) Comme le peintre regardait la gracieuse et charmante figure que son art avait si subtilement reproduite, un sourire de plaisir passa sur sa face et parut s'y attarder. Mais il tressaillit soudain, et fermant les yeux, mit les doigts sur ses paupières comme s'il eût voulu emprisonner dans son cerveau quelque étrange rêve dont il eût craint de se réveiller.

    (E) It is your best work, Basil, the best thing you have ever done, said Lord Henry languidly. You must certainly send it next year to the Grosvenor. The Academy is too large and too vulgar. Whenever I have gone there, there have been either so many people that I have not been able to see the pictures, which was dreadful, or so many pictures that I have not been able to see the people, which was worse. The Grosvenor is really the only place.

    (F) —Ceci est votre meilleure oeuvre, Basil, la meilleure chose que vous ayez jamais faite, dit lord Henry languissamment. Il faut l'envoyer l'année prochaine à l'exposition Grosvenor. L'Académie est trop grande et trop vulgaire. Chaque fois que j'y suis allé, il y avait la tant de monde qu'il m'a été impossible de voir les tableaux, ce qui était épouvantable, ou tant de tableaux que je n'ai pu y voir le monde, ce qui était encore plus horrible. Grosvenor est encore le seul endroit convenable....

    (E) I don't think I shall send it anywhere, he answered, tossing his head back in that odd way that used to make his friends laugh at him at Oxford. No, I won't send it anywhere.

    (F) —Je ne crois pas que j'enverrai ceci quelque part, répondit le peintre en rejetant la tête de cette singulière façon qui faisait se moquer de lui ses amis d'Oxford. Non, je n'enverrai ceci nulle part.

    (E) Lord Henry elevated his eyebrows and looked at him in amazement through the thin blue wreaths of smoke that curled up in such fanciful whorls from his heavy, opium-tainted cigarette.

    (F) Lord Henry leva les yeux, le regardant avec étonnement à travers les minces spirales de fumée bleue qui s'entrelaçaient fantaisistement au bout de sa cigarette opiacée.

    (E) Not send it anywhere? My dear fellow, why? Have you any reason? What odd chaps you painters are! You do anything in the world to gain a reputation. As soon as you have one, you seem to want to throw it away. It is silly of you, for there is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about. A portrait like this would set you far above all the young men in England, and make the old men quite jealous, if old men are ever capable of any emotion.

    (F) —Vous n'enverrez cela nulle part? Et pourquoi mon cher ami? Quelle raison donnez-vous? Quels singuliers bonshommes vous êtes, vous autres peintres? Vous remuez le monde pour acquérir de la réputation; aussitôt que vous l'avez, vous semblez vouloir vous en débarrasser. C'est ridicule de votre part, car s'il n'y a qu'une chose au monde pire que la renommée, c'est de n'en pas avoir. Un portrait comme celui-ci vous mettrait au-dessus de tous les jeunes gens de l'Angleterre, et rendrait les vieux jaloux, si les vieux pouvaient encore ressentir quelque émotion.

    (E) I know you will laugh at me, he replied, but I really can't exhibit it. I have put too much of myself into it.

    (F) —Je sais que vous rirez de moi, répliqua-t-il, mais je ne puis réellement l'exposer. J'ai mis trop de moi-même là-dedans.

    (E) Lord Henry stretched himself out on the divan and laughed.

    (F) Lord Henry s'étendit sur le divan en riant....

    (E) Yes, I knew you would; but it is quite true, all the same.

    (F) —Je savais que vous ririez, mais c'est tout à fait la même chose.

    (E) Too much of yourself in it! Upon my word, Basil, I didn't know you were so vain; and I really can't see any resemblance between you, with your rugged strong face and your coal-black hair, and this young Adonis, who looks as if he was made out of ivory and rose-leaves. Why, my dear Basil, he is a Narcissus, and you--well, of course you have an intellectual expression and all that. But beauty, real beauty, ends where an intellectual expression begins. Intellect is in itself a mode of exaggeration, and destroys the harmony of any face. The moment one sits down to think, one becomes all nose, or all forehead, or something horrid. Look at the successful men in any of the learned professions. How perfectly hideous they are! Except, of course, in the Church. But then in the Church they don't think. A bishop keeps on saying at the age of eighty what he was told to say when he was a boy of eighteen, and as a natural consequence he always looks absolutely delightful. Your mysterious young friend, whose name you have never told me, but whose picture really fascinates me, never thinks. I feel quite sure of that. He is some brainless beautiful creature who should be always here in winter when we have no flowers to look at, and always here in summer when we want something to chill our intelligence. Don't flatter yourself, Basil: you are not in the least like him.

    (F) —Trop de vous-même!... Sur ma parole, Basil, je ne vous savais pas si vain; je ne vois vraiment pas de ressemblance entre vous, avec votre rude et forte figure, votre chevelure noire comme du charbon et ce jeune Adonis qui a l'air fait d'ivoire et de feuilles de roses. Car, mon cher, c'est Narcisse lui-même, tandis que vous!... Il est évident que votre face respire l'intelligence et le reste.... Mais la beauté, la réelle beauté finit où commence l'expression intellectuelle. L'intellectualité est en elle-même un mode d'exagération, et détruit l'harmonie de n'importe quelle face. Au moment où l'on s'asseoit pour penser, on devient tout nez, ou tout front, ou quelque chose d'horrible. Voyez les hommes ayant réussi dans une profession savante, combien ils sont parfaitement hideux! Excepté, naturellement, dans l'Église. Mais dans l'Église, ils ne pensent point. Un évèque dit à l'âge de quatre-vingts ans ce qu'on lui apprit à dire à dix-huit et la conséquence naturelle en est qu'il a toujours l'air charmant. Votre mystérieux jeune ami dont vous ne m'avez jamais dit le nom, mais dont le portrait me fascine réellement, n'a jamais pensé. Je suis sûr de cela. C'est une admirable créature sans cervelle qui pourrait toujours ici nous remplacer en hiver les fleurs absentes, et nous rafraîchir l'intelligence en été. Ne vous flattez pas, Basil: vous ne lui ressemblez pas le moins du monde.

    (E) You don't understand me, Harry, answered the artist. Of course I am not like him. I know that perfectly well. Indeed, I should be sorry to look like him. You shrug your shoulders? I am telling you the truth. There is a fatality about all physical and intellectual distinction, the sort of fatality that seems to dog through history the faltering steps of kings. It is better not to be different from one's fellows. The ugly and the stupid have the best of it in this world. They can sit at their ease and gape at the play. If they know nothing of victory, they are at least spared the knowledge of defeat. They live as we all should live--undisturbed, indifferent, and without disquiet. They neither bring ruin upon others, nor ever receive it from alien hands. Your rank and wealth, Harry; my brains, such as they are--my art, whatever it may be worth; Dorian Gray's good looks--we shall all suffer for what the gods have given us, suffer terribly.

    (F) —Vous ne me comprenez point, Harry, répondit l'artiste. Je sais bien que je ne lui ressemble pas; je le sais parfaitement bien. Je serais même fâché de lui ressembler. Vous levez les épaules?... Je vous dis la vérité. Une fatalité pèse sur les distinctions physiques et intellectuelles, cette sorte de fatalité qui suit à la piste à travers l'histoire les faux pas des rois. Il vaut mieux ne pas être différent de ses contemporains. Les laids et les sots sont les mieux partagés sous ce rapport dans ce monde. Ils peuvent s'asseoir à leur aise et bâiller au spectacle. S'ils ne savent rien de la victoire, la connaissance de la défaite leur est épargnée. Ils vivent comme nous voudrions vivre, sans être troublés, indifférents et tranquilles. Il n'importunent personne, ni ne sont importunés. Mais vous, avec votre rang et votre fortune, Harry, moi, avec mon cerveau tel qu'il est, mon art aussi imparfait qu'il puisse être, Dorian Gray avec sa beauté, nous souffrirons tous pour ce que les dieux nous ont donné, nous souffrirons terriblement....

    (E) Dorian Gray? Is that his name? asked Lord Henry, walking across the studio towards Basil Hallward.

    (F) —Dorian Gray? Est-ce son nom, demanda lord Henry, en allant vers Basil Hallward.

    (E) Yes, that is his name. I didn't intend to tell it to you.

    (F) —Oui, c'est son nom. Je n'avais pas l'intention de vous le dire.

    (E) But why not?

    (F) —Et pourquoi?

    (E) Oh, I can't explain. When I like people immensely, I never tell their names to any one. It is like surrendering a part of them. I have grown to love secrecy. It seems to be the one thing that can make modern life mysterious or marvellous to us. The commonest thing is delightful if one only hides it. When I leave town now I never tell my people where I am going. If I did, I would lose all my pleasure. It is a silly habit, I dare say, but somehow it seems to bring a great deal of romance into one's life. I suppose you think me awfully foolish about it?

    (F) —Oh! je ne puis vous l'expliquer. Quand j'aime quelqu'un intensément, je ne dis son nom à personne. C'est presque une trahison. J'ai appris à aimer le secret. Il me semble que c'est la seule chose qui puisse nous faire la vie moderne mystérieuse ou merveilleuse. La plus commune des choses nous paraît exquise si quelqu'un nous la cache. Quand je quitte cette ville, je ne dis à personne où je vais: en le faisant, je perdrais tout mon plaisir. C'est une mauvaise habitude, je l'avoue, mais en quelque sorte, elle apporte dans la vie une part de romanesque.... Je suis sûr que vous devez me croire fou à m'entendre parler ainsi?...

    (E) Not at all, answered Lord Henry, not at all, my dear Basil. You seem to forget that I am married, and the one charm of marriage is that it makes a life of deception absolutely necessary for both parties. I never know where my wife is, and my wife never knows what I am doing. When we meet--we do meet occasionally, when we dine out together, or go down to the Duke's--we tell each other the most absurd stories with the most serious faces. My wife is very good at it--much better, in fact, than I am. She never gets confused over her dates, and I always do. But when she does find me out, she makes no row at all. I sometimes wish she would; but she merely laughs at me.

    (F) —Pas du tout, répondit lord Henry, pas du tout, mon cher Basil. Vous semblez oublier que je suis marié et que le seul charme du mariage est qu'il fait une vie de déception absolument nécessaire aux deux parties. Je ne sais jamais où est ma femme, et ma femme ne sait jamais ce que je fais. Quand nous nous rencontrons—et nous nous rencontrons de temps à autre, quand nous dinons ensemble dehors, ou que nous allons chez le due—nous nous contons les plus absurdes histoires de l'air le plus sérieux du monde. Dans cet ordre d'idées, ma femme m'est supérieure. Elle n'est jamais embarrassée pour les dates, et je le suis toujours; quand elle s'en rend compte, elle ne me fait point de scène; parfois je désirerais qu'elle m'en fît; mais elle se contente de me rire au nez.

    (E) I hate the way you talk about your married life, Harry, said Basil Hallward, strolling towards the door that led into the garden. I believe that you are really a very good husband, but that you are thoroughly ashamed of your own virtues. You are an extraordinary fellow. You never say a moral thing, and you never do a wrong thing. Your cynicism is simply a pose.

    (F) —Je n'aime pas cette façon de parler de votre vie conjugale, Harry, dit Basil Hallward en allant vers la porte conduisant au jardin. Je vous crois un très bon mari honteux de ses propres vertus. Vous êtes un être vraiment extraordinaire. Vous ne dites jamais une chose morale, et jamais vous ne faites une chose mauvaise. Votre cynisme est simplement une pose.

    (E) Being natural is simply a pose, and the most irritating pose I know, cried Lord Henry, laughing; and the two young men went out into the garden together and ensconced themselves on a long bamboo seat that stood in the shade of a tall laurel bush. The sunlight slipped over the polished leaves. In the grass, white daisies were tremulous.

    (F) —Etre naturel est aussi une pose, et la plus irritante que je connaisse, s'exclama en riant lord Henry. Les deux jeunes gens s'en allèrent ensemble dans le jardin et s'assirent sur un long siège de bambou posé à l'ombre d'un buisson de lauriers. Le soleil glissait sur les feuilles polies; de blanches marguerites tremblaient sur le gazon.

    (E) After a pause, Lord Henry pulled out his watch.

    (F) Après un silence, lord Henry tira sa montre.

    (E) I am afraid I must be going, Basil, he murmured, and before I go, I insist on your answering a question I put to you some time ago.

    (F) —Je dois m'en aller, Basil, murmura-t-il, mais avant de partir, j'aimerais avoir une réponse à la question que je vous ai posée tout à l'heure.

    (E) What is that? said the painter, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground.

    (F) —Quelle question, dit le peintre, restant les yeux fixés à terre?

    (E) You know quite well.

    (F) —Vous la savez....

    (E) I do not, Harry.

    (F) —Mais non, Harry.

    (E) Well, I will tell you what it is. I want you to explain to me why you won't exhibit Dorian Gray's picture. I want the real reason.

    (F) —Bien, je vais vous la redire. J'ai besoin que vous m'expliquiez pourquoi vous ne voulez pas exposer le portrait de Dorian Gray. Je désire en connaître la vraie raison.

    (E) I told you the real reason.

    (F) —Je vous l'ai dite.

    (E) No, you did not. You said it was because there was too much of yourself in it. Now, that is childish.

    (F) —Non pas. Vous m'avez dit que c'était parce qu'il y avait beaucoup trop de vous-même dans ce portrait. Cela est enfantin....

    (E) Harry, said Basil Hallward, looking him straight in the face, every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter. The sitter is merely the accident, the occasion. It is not he who is revealed by the painter; it is rather the painter who, on the coloured canvas, reveals himself. The reason I will not exhibit this picture is that I am afraid that I have shown in it the secret of my own soul.

    (F) —Harry, dit Basil Hallward, le regardant droit dans les yeux, tout portrait peint compréhensivement est un portrait de l'artiste, non du modèle. Le modèle est purement l'accident, l'occasion. Ce n'est pas lui qui est révélé par le peintre; c'est plutôt le peintre qui, sur la toile colorée, se révèle lui-même. La raison pour laquelle je n'exhiberai pas ce portrait consiste dans la terreur que j'ai de montrer par lui le secret de mon âme!

    (E) Lord Henry laughed.

    (F) Lord Henry se mit à rire....

    (E) And what is that? he asked.

    (F) —Et quel est-il?

    (E) I will tell you, said Hallward; but an expression of perplexity came over his face.

    (F) —Je vous le dirai, répondit Hallward, la figure assombrie.

    (E) I am all expectation, Basil, continued his companion, glancing at him.

    (F) —Je suis tout oreilles, Basil, continua son compagnon.

    (E) Oh, there is really very little to tell, Harry, answered the painter; and I am afraid you will hardly understand it. Perhaps you will hardly believe it.

    (F) —Oh! c'est vraiment peu de chose, Harry, repartit le peintre et je crois bien que vous ne le comprendrez point. Peut-être à peine le croirez-vous....

    (E) Lord Henry smiled, and leaning down, plucked a pink-petalled daisy from the grass and examined it.

    (F) Lord Henry sourit; se baissant, il cueillit dans le gazon une marguerite aux pétales roses et l'examinant:

    (E) I am quite sure I shall understand it, he replied, gazing intently at the little golden, white-feathered disk, and as for believing things, I can believe anything, provided that it is quite incredible.

    (F) —Je suis tout à fait sûr que je comprendrai cela, dit-il, en regardant attentivement le petit disque doré, aux pétales blancs, et quant à croire aux choses, je les crois toutes, pourvu qu'elles soient incroyables.

    (E) The wind shook some blossoms from the trees, and the heavy lilac-blooms, with their clustering stars, moved to and fro in the languid air. A grasshopper began to chirrup by the wall, and like a blue thread a long thin dragon-fly floated past on its brown gauze wings. Lord Henry felt as if he could hear Basil Hallward's heart beating, and wondered what was coming.

    (F) Le vent détacha quelques fleurs des arbustes et les lourdes grappes de lilas se balancèrent dans l'air languide. Une cigale stridula près du mur, et, comme un fil bleu, passa une longue et mince libellule dont on entendit frémir les brunes ailes de gaze. Lord Henry restait silencieux comme s'il avait voulu percevoir les battements du coeur de Basil Hallward, se demandant ce qui allait se passer.

    (E) The story is simply this, said the painter after some time. Two months ago I went to a crush at Lady Brandon's. You know we poor artists have to show ourselves in society from time to time, just to remind the public that we are not savages. With an evening coat and a white tie, as you told me once, anybody, even a stock-broker, can gain a reputation for being civilized. Well, after I had been in the room about ten minutes, talking to huge overdressed dowagers and tedious academicians, I suddenly became conscious that some one was looking at me. I turned half-way round and saw Dorian Gray for the first time. When our eyes met, I felt that I was growing pale. A curious sensation of terror came over me. I knew that I had come face to face with some one whose mere personality was so fascinating that, if I allowed it to do so, it would absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art itself. I did not want any external influence in my life. You know yourself, Harry, how independent I am by nature. I have always been my own master; had at least always been so, till I met Dorian Gray. Then--but I don't know how to explain it to you. Something seemed to tell me that I was on the verge of a terrible crisis in my life. I had a strange feeling that fate had in store for me exquisite joys and exquisite sorrows. I grew afraid and turned to quit the room. It was not conscience that made me do so: it was a sort of cowardice. I take no credit to myself for trying to escape.

    (F) —Voici l'histoire, dit le peintre après un temps. Il y a deux mois, j'allais en soirée chez Lady Brandon. Vous savez que nous autres, pauvres artistes, nous avons à nous montrer dans le monde de temps à autre, juste assez pour prouver que nous ne sommes pas des sauvages. Avec un habit et une cravate blanche, tout le monde, même un agent de change, peut en arriver à avoir la réputation d'un être civilisé. J'étais donc dans le salon depuis une dizaine de minutes, causant avec des douairières lourdement parées ou de fastidieux académiciens, quand soudain je perçus obscurément que quelqu'un m'observait. Je me tournai à demi et pour la première fois, je vis Dorian Gray. Nos yeux se rencontrèrent et je me sentis pâlir. Une singulière terreur me poignit.... Je compris que j'étais en face de quelqu'un dont la simple personnalité était si fascinante que, si je me laissais faire, elle m'absorberait en entier, moi, ma nature, mon âme et mon talent même. Je ne veux aucune ingérence extérieure dans mon existence. Vous savez, Harry, combien ma vie est indépendante. J'ai toujours été mon maître—je l'avais, tout au moins toujours été, jusqu'au jour de ma rencontre avec Dorian Gray. Alors...mais je ne sais comment vous expliquer ceci.... Quelque chose semblait me dire que ma vie allait traverser une crise terrible. J'eus l'étrange sensation que le destin me réservait d'exquises joies et des chagrins exquis. Je m'effrayai et me disposai à quitter le salon. Ce n'est pas ma conscience qui me faisait agir ainsi, il y avait une sorte de lâcheté dans mon action. Je ne vis point d'autre issue pour m'échapper.

    (E) Conscience and cowardice are really the same things, Basil. Conscience is the trade-name of the firm. That is all.

    (F) —La conscience et la lâcheté sont réellement les mêmes choses, Basil. La conscience est le surnom de la fermeté. C'est tout.

    (E) I don't believe that, Harry, and I don't believe you do either. However, whatever was my motive--and it may have been pride, for I used to be very proud--I certainly struggled to the door. There, of course, I stumbled against Lady Brandon. 'You are not going to run away so soon, Mr. Hallward?' she screamed out. You know her curiously shrill voice?

    (F) —Je ne crois pas cela, Harry, et je pense que vous ne le croyez pas non plus. Cependant, quel qu'en fut alors le motif—c'était peut-être l'orgueil, car je suis très orgueilleux—je me précipitai vers la porte. Là, naturellement, je me heurtai contre lady Brandon. «Vous n'avez pas l'intention de partir si vite, M. Hallward», s'écria-t-elle.... Vous connaissez le timbre aigu de sa voix?...

    (E) Yes; she is a peacock in everything but beauty, said Lord Henry, pulling the daisy to bits with his long nervous fingers.

    (F) —Oui, elle me fait l'effet d'être un paon en toutes choses, excepté en beauté, dit lord Henry, effeuillant la marguerite de ses longs doigts nerveux....

    (E) I could not get rid of her. She brought me up to royalties, and people with stars and garters, and elderly ladies with gigantic tiaras and parrot noses. She spoke of me as her dearest friend. I had only met her once before, but she took it into her head to lionize me. I believe some picture of mine had made a great success at the time, at least had been chattered about in the penny newspapers, which is the nineteenth-century standard of immortality. Suddenly I found myself face to face with the young man whose personality had so strangely stirred me. We were quite close, almost touching. Our eyes met again. It was reckless of me, but I asked Lady Brandon to introduce me to him. Perhaps it was not so reckless, after all. It was simply inevitable. We would have spoken to each other without any introduction. I am sure of that. Dorian told me so afterwards. He, too, felt that we were destined to know each other.

    (F) —Je ne pus me débarrasser d'elle. Elle me présenta à des Altesses, et à des personnes portant Etoiles et Jarretières, à des dames mûres, affublées de tiares gigantesques et de nez de perroquets.... Elle parla de moi comme de son meilleur ami. Je l'avais seulement rencontrée une fois auparavant, mais elle s'était mis en tête de me lancer. Je crois que l'un de mes tableaux avait alors un grand succès et qu'on en parlait dans les journaux de deux sous qui sont, comme vous le savez, les étendards d'immortalité du dix-neuvième siècle. Soudain, je me trouvai face à face avec le jeune homme dont la personnalité m'avait si singulièrement intrigué; nous nous touchions presque; de nouveau nos regards se rencontrèrent. Ce fut indépendant de ma volonté, mais je demandai à Lady Brandon de nous présenter l'un à l'autre. Peut-être après tout, n'était-ce pas si téméraire, mais simplement inévitable. Il est certain que nous nous serions parlé sans présentation préalable; j'en suis sûr pour ma part, et Dorian plus tard me dit la même chose; il avait senti, lui aussi, que nous étions destinés à nous connaître.

    (E) And how did Lady Brandon describe this wonderful young man? asked his companion. I know she goes in for giving a rapid precis of all her guests. I remember her bringing me up to a truculent and red-faced old gentleman covered all over with orders and ribbons, and hissing into my ear, in a tragic whisper which must have been perfectly audible to everybody in the room, the most astounding details. I simply fled. I like to find out people for myself. But Lady Brandon treats her guests exactly as an auctioneer treats his goods. She either explains them entirely away, or tells one everything about them except what one wants to know.

    (F) —Et comment lady Brandon vous parla-t-elle de ce merveilleux jeune homme, demanda l'ami. Je sais qu'elle a la marotte de donner un précis rapide de chacun de ses invités. Je me souviens qu'elle me présenta une fois à un apoplectique et triculent gentleman, couvert d'ordres et de rubans et sur lui, me souffla à l'oreille, sur un mode tragique, les plus abasourdissants détails, qui durent être perçus de chaque personne alors dans le salon. Cela me mit en fuite; j'aime connaître les gens par moi-même.... Lady Brandon traite exactement ses invités comme un commissaire-priseur ses marchandises. Elle explique les manies et coutumes de chacun, mais oublie naturellement tout ce qui pourrait vous intéresser au personnage.

    (E) Poor Lady Brandon! You are hard on her, Harry! said Hallward listlessly.

    (F) —Pauvre lady Brandon! Vous êtes dur pour elle, observa nonchalamment Hallward.

    (E) My dear fellow, she tried to found a salon, and only succeeded in opening a restaurant. How could I admire her? But tell me, what did she say about Mr. Dorian Gray?

    (F) —Mon cher ami, elle essaya de fonder un salon et elle ne réussit qu'à ouvrir un restaurant. Comment pourrais-je l'admirer?... Mais, dites-moi, que vous confia-t-elle sur M. Dorian Gray?

    (E) Oh, something like, 'Charming boy--poor dear mother and I absolutely inseparable. Quite forget what he does--afraid he--doesn't do anything--oh, yes, plays the piano--or is it the violin, dear Mr. Gray?' Neither of us could help laughing, and we became friends at once.

    (F) —Oh! quelque chose de très vague dans ce genre: «Charmant garçon! Sa pauvre chère mère et moi, étions inséparables. Tout à fait oublié ce qu'il fait, ou plutôt, je crains...qu'il ne fasse rien! Ah! si, il joue du piano.... Ne serait-ce pas plutôt du violon, mon cher M. Gray?» Nous ne pûmes tous deux nous empêcher de rire et du coup nous devînmes amis.

    (E) Laughter is not at all a bad beginning for a friendship, and it is far the best ending for one, said the young lord, plucking another daisy.

    (F) —L'hilarité n'est pas du tout un mauvais commencement d'amitié, et c'est loin d'en être une mauvaise fin, dit le jeune lord en cueillant une autre marguerite.

    (E) Hallward shook his head.

    (F) Hallward secoua la tête....

    (E) You don't understand what friendship is, Harry, he murmured--or what enmity is, for that matter. You like every one; that is to say, you are indifferent to every one.

    (F) —Vous ne pouvez comprendre, Harry, murmura-t-il, quelle sorte d'amitié ou quelle sorte de haine cela peut devenir, dans ce cas particulier. Vous n'aimez personne, ou, si vous le préférez, personne ne vous intéresse.

    (E) How horribly unjust of you! cried Lord Henry, tilting his hat back and looking up at the little clouds that, like ravelled skeins of glossy white silk, were drifting across the hollowed turquoise of the summer sky.

    (F) —Comme vous êtes injuste! s'écria lord Henry, mettant en arrière son chapeau et regardant au ciel les petits nuages, qui, comme les floches d'écheveau d'une blanche soie luisante, fuyaient dans le bleu profond de turquoise de ce ciel d'été.

    (E) Yes; horribly unjust of you. I make a great difference between people. I choose my friends for their good looks, my acquaintances for their good characters, and my enemies for their good intellects. A man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies. I have not got one who is a fool. They are all men of some intellectual power, and consequently they all appreciate me. Is that very vain of me? I think it is rather vain.

    (F) «Oui, horriblement injuste!.. J'établis une grande différence entre les gens. Je choisis mes amis pour leur bonne mine, mes simples camarades pour leur caractère, et mes ennemis pour leur intelligence; un homme ne saurait trop attacher d'importance au choix de ses ennemis; je n'en ai point un seul qui soit un sot; ce sont tous hommes d'une certaine puissance intellectuelle et, par conséquent, ils m'apprécient. Est-ce très vain de ma part d'agir ainsi! Je crois que c'est plutôt...vain.»

    (E) I should think it was, Harry. But according to your category I must be merely an acquaintance.

    (F) —Je pense que ça l'est aussi Harry. Mais m'en référant à votre manière de sélection, je dois être pour vous un simple camarade.

    (E) My dear old Basil, you are much more than an acquaintance.

    (F) —Mon bon et cher Basil, vous m'êtes mieux qu'un camarade....

    (E) And much less than a friend. A sort of brother, I suppose?

    (F) —Et moins qu'un ami: Une sorte de...frère, je suppose!

    (E) Oh, brothers! I don't care for brothers. My elder brother won't die, and my younger brothers seem never to do anything else.

    (F) —Un frère!.. Je me moque pas mal des frères!.. Mon frère aîné ne veut pas mourir, et mes plus jeunes semblent vouloir l'imiter.

    (E) Harry! exclaimed Hallward, frowning.

    (F) —Harry! protesta Hallward sur un ton chagrin.

    (E) My dear fellow, I am not quite serious. But I can't help detesting my relations. I suppose it comes from the fact that none of us can stand other people having the same faults as ourselves. I quite sympathize with the rage of the English democracy against what they call the vices of the upper orders. The masses feel that drunkenness, stupidity, and immorality should be their own special property, and that if any one of us makes an ass of himself, he is poaching on their preserves. When poor Southwark got into the divorce court, their indignation was quite magnificent. And yet I don't suppose that ten per cent of the proletariat live correctly.

    (F) —Mon bon, je ne suis pas tout à fait sérieux. Mais je ne puis m'empêcher de détester mes parents; je suppose que cela vient de ce que chacun de nous ne peut supporter de voir d'autres personnes ayant les mêmes défauts que soi-même. Je sympathise tout à fait avec la démocratie anglaise dans sa rage contre ce qu'elle appelle les vices du grand monde. La masse sent que l'ivrognerie, la stupidité et l'immoralité sont sa propriété, et si quelqu'un d'entre nous assume l'un de ces défauts, il paraît braconner sur ses chasses.... Quand ce pauvre Southwark vint devant la «Cour du Divorce» l'indignation de cette même masse fut absolument magnifique—et je suis parfaitement convaincu que le dixième du peuple ne vit pas comme il conviendrait.

    (E) I don't agree with a single word that you have said, and, what is more, Harry, I feel sure you don't either.

    (F) —Je n'approuve pas une seule des paroles que vous venez de prononcer, et, je sens, Harry, que vous ne les approuvez pas plus que moi.

    (E) Lord Henry stroked his pointed brown beard and tapped the toe of his patent-leather boot with a tasselled ebony cane.

    (F) Lord Henry caressa sa longue barbe brune taillée en pointe, et tapotant avec sa canne d'ébène orné de glands sa bottine de cuir fin:

    (E) How English you are Basil! That is the second time you have made that observation. If one puts forward an idea to a true Englishman--always a rash thing to do--he never dreams of considering whether the idea is right or wrong. The only thing he considers of any importance is whether one believes it oneself. Now, the value of an idea has nothing whatsoever to do with the sincerity of the man who expresses it. Indeed, the probabilities are that the more insincere the man is, the more purely intellectual will the idea be, as in that case it will not be coloured by either his wants, his desires, or his prejudices. However, I don't propose to discuss politics, sociology, or metaphysics with you. I like persons better than principles, and I like persons with no principles better than anything else in the world. Tell me more about Mr. Dorian Gray. How often do you see him?

    (F) —Comme vous êtes bien anglais Basil! Voici la seconde fois que vous me faites cette observation. Si l'on fait part d'une idée à un véritable Anglais—ce qui est toujours une chose téméraire—il ne cherche jamais à savoir si l'idée est bonne ou mauvaise; la seule chose à laquelle il attache quelque importance est de découvrir ce que l'on en pense soi-même. D'ailleurs la valeur d'une idée n'a rien à voir avec la sincérité de l'homme qui l'exprime. A la vérité, il y a de fortes chances pour que l'idée soit intéressante en proportion directe du caractère insincère du personnage, car, dans ce cas elle ne sera colorée par aucun des besoins, des désirs ou des préjugés de ce dernier. Cependant, je ne me propose pas d'aborder les questions politiques, sociologiques ou métaphysiques avec vous. J'aime mieux les personnes que leurs principes, et j'aime encore mieux les personnes sans principes que n'importe quoi au monde. Parlons encore de M. Dorian Gray. L'avez-vous vu souvent?

    (E) Every day. I couldn't be happy if I didn't see him every day. He is absolutely necessary to me.

    (F) —Tous les jours. Je ne saurais être heureux si je ne le voyais chaque jour. Il m'est absolument nécessaire.

    (E) How extraordinary! I thought you would never care for anything but your art.

    (F) —Vraiment curieux! Je pensais que vous ne vous souciez d'autre chose que de votre art....

    (E) He is all my art to me now, said the painter gravely. I sometimes think, Harry, that there are only two eras of any importance in the world's history. The first is the appearance of a new medium for art, and the second is the appearance of a new personality for art also. What the invention of oil-painting was to the Venetians, the face of Antinous was to late Greek sculpture, and the face of Dorian Gray will some day be to me. It is not merely that I paint from him, draw from him, sketch from him. Of course, I have done all that. But he is much more to me than a model or a sitter. I won't tell you that I am dissatisfied with what I have done of him, or that his beauty is such that art cannot express it. There is nothing that art cannot express, and I know that the work I have done, since I met Dorian Gray, is good work, is the best work of my life. But in some curious way--I wonder will you understand me?--his personality has suggested to me an entirely new manner in art, an entirely new mode of style. I see things differently, I think of them differently. I can now recreate life in a way that was hidden from me before. 'A dream of form in days of thought'--who is it who says that? I forget; but it 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--ah! I wonder can you realize all that that means? Unconsciously he defines for me the lines of a fresh school, a school that is to have in it all the passion of the romantic spirit, all the perfection of the spirit that is Greek. The harmony of soul and body--how much that is! We in our madness have separated the two, and have invented a realism that is vulgar, an ideality that is void. Harry! if you only knew what Dorian Gray is to me! You remember that landscape of mine, for which Agnew offered me such a huge price but which I would not part with? It is one of the best things I have ever done. And why is it so? Because, while I was painting it, Dorian Gray sat beside me. Some subtle influence passed from him to me, and for the first time in my life I saw in the plain woodland the wonder I had always looked for and always missed.

    (F) —Il est tout mon art, maintenant, répliqua le peintre, gravement; je pense quelquefois, Harry, qu'il n'y a que deux ères de quelque importance dans l'histoire du monde. La première est l'apparition d'un nouveau moyen d'art, et la seconde l'avènement d'une nouvelle personnalité artistique. Ce que la découverte de la peinture fut pour les Vénitiens, la face d'Antinoüs pour l'art grec antique, Dorian Gray me le sera quelque jour. Ce n'est pas simplement parce que je le peins, que je le dessine ou que j'en prends des esquisses; j'ai fait tout cela d'abord. Il m'est beaucoup plus qu'un modèle. Cela ne veut point dire que je sois peu satisfait de ce que j'ai fait d'après lui ou que sa beauté soit telle que l'Art ne la puisse rendre. Il n'est rien que l'Art ne puisse rendre, et je sais fort bien que l'oeuvre que j'ai faite depuis ma rencontre avec Dorian Gray est une belle oeuvre, la meilleure de ma vie. Mais, d'une manière indécise et curieuse—je m'étonnerais que vous puissiez me comprendre—sa personne m'a suggéré une manière d'art entièrement nouvelle, un mode d'expression entièrement nouveau. Je vois les choses différemment; je les pense

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