Free The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

tells one everything about them except what one wants to know.’
    â€˜Poor Lady Brandon! You are hard on her, Harry!’ said Hallward, listlessly.
    â€˜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?’
    â€˜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.’
    â€˜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.
    Hallward shook his head. 7 ‘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.’
    â€˜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. ‘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.’
    â€˜I should think it was, Harry. But according to your category I must be merely an acquaintance.’
    â€˜My dear old Basil, you are much more than an acquaintance.’
    â€˜And much less than a friend. A sort of brother, I suppose?’
    â€˜Oh, brothers! I don’t care for brothers. My elder brother won’t die, and my younger brothers seem never to do anything else.’
    â€˜Harry!’ exclaimed Hallward, frowning.
    â€˜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.’ 8
    â€˜I don’t agree with a single word that you have said, and, what is more, Harry, I feel sure you don’t either.’
    Lord Henry stroked his pointed brown beard, and tapped the toe of his patent-leather boot with a tasselled ebony cane. ‘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