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The Picture of Dorian Gray | Progressive Translation Books for German A2 Students

The Picture of Dorian Gray | Progressive Translation Books for German A2 Students

This progressive translation technique brings multiple benefits to language learners. It lets you choose the difficulty level that matches your abilities, making sure the material is challenging but not too difficult. By focusing on understanding words in context, this method boosts your comprehension skills. While direct translations are slightly hidden to promote guessing from context, you can always check unfamiliar words. This approach makes learning a new language both engaging and accessible, offering the right mix of difficulty and encouragement. Embark on a journey through translated classics and enjoy the process of learning through reading.

THEPREFACE
Theartististhecreatorofbeautifulthings.
Toreveal
kunst
artandconcealtheartistisart’saim.
Thecriticishewhocantranslateintoanothermanneroranewmaterialhisimpressionofbeautifulthings.
Thehighestasthelowest
form
formofcriticismisamodeofautobiography.
Thosewhofinduglymeaningsinbeautifulthingsarecorruptwithoutbeingcharming.
Thisisa
fehler
fault.
Thosewhofindbeautifulmeaningsinbeautifulthingsarethecultivated.
Forthesethereishope.
Theyaretheelecttowhombeautifulthingsmeanonly
schönheit
beauty.
Thereisnosuchthingasamoraloranimmoralbook.
Booksarewellwritten,orbadlywritten.
Thatisall.
ThenineteenthcenturydislikeofrealismistherageofCalibanseeinghisownfaceina
glas
glass.
ThenineteenthcenturydislikeofromanticismistherageofCalibannotseeinghisownfaceina
glas
glass.
Themorallifeofmanformspartofthesubject-matteroftheartist,butthemoralityof
kunst
artconsistsintheperfectuseofanimperfectmedium.
Noartistdesiresto
beweisen
proveanything.
Eventhingsthataretruecanbeproved.
Noartisthasethicalsympathies.
Anethicalsympathyinanartistisanunpardonablemannerismofstyle.
Noartistisevermorbid.
Theartistcanexpresseverything.
Thoughtand
sprache
languagearetotheartistinstrumentsofan
kunst
art.
Viceandvirtuearetotheartistmaterialsforan
kunst
art.
Fromthepointofviewof
form
form,thetypeofalltheartsisthe
kunst
artofthemusician.
Fromthepointofviewoffeeling,theactor’scraftisthe
typ
type.
Allartisatoncesurfaceandsymbol.
Thosewhogobeneaththesurfacedosoattheirperil.
Thosewhoreadthesymboldosoattheirperil.
Itisthespectator,andnotlife,that
kunst
artreallymirrors.
Diversityofopinionaboutaworkofartshowsthattheworkisnew,complex,andvital.
Whencriticsdisagree,theartistisinaccordwithhimself.
Wecan
verzeihen
forgiveamanformakingausefulthingaslongashedoesnotadmireit.
Theonlyexcuseformakingauselessthingisthatoneadmiresitintensely.
All
kunst
artisquiteuseless.
CHAPTERI.
Thestudiowasfilledwiththerichodourofroses,andwhenthelightsummerwindstirredamidstthetreesofthegarden,therecamethroughtheopendoortheheavyscentofthelilac,orthemoredelicateperfumeofthepink-floweringthorn.
FromthecornerofthedivanofPersiansaddle-bagsonwhichhewas
lag
lying,smoking,aswashiscustom,innumerablecigarettes,LordHenryWottoncouldjustcatchthegleamofthehoney-sweetandhoney-colouredblossomsofalaburnum,
dessen
whosetremulousbranchesseemedhardlyableto
tragen
beartheburdenofa
schönheit
beautysoflamelikeastheirs;
andnowandthenthefantasticshadowsofbirdsinflightflitted
über
acrossthelongtussore-silkcurtainsthatwerestretchedinfrontofthehuge
fenster
window,producingakindofmomentaryJapaneseeffect,andmakinghimthinkofthosepallid,jade-facedpaintersofTokyowho,throughthemediumofan
kunst
artthatisnecessarilyimmobile,seektoconveythesenseofswiftnessandmotion.
Thesullenmurmurofthebeesshoulderingtheirwaythroughthelongunmowngrass,orcirclingwithmonotonousinsistenceroundthedustygilthornsofthestragglingwoodbine,
schien
seemedtomakethestillnessmoreoppressive.
ThedimroarofLondonwaslikethebourdonnoteofadistantorgan.
Inthecentreoftheroom,clampedtoanuprighteasel,stoodthefull-lengthportraitofayoungmanofextraordinarypersonal
schönheit
beauty,andinfrontofit,somelittledistanceaway,wassittingtheartisthimself,BasilHallward,
dessen
whosesuddendisappearancesomeyearsagocaused,atthetime,suchpublicexcitementandgaverisetosomanystrangeconjectures.
Asthepainterlookedatthegraciousandcomely
form
formhehadsoskilfullymirroredinhis
kunst
art,asmileofpleasurepassedacrosshisface,and
schien
seemedabouttolingerthere.
Buthe
plötzlich
suddenlystartedup,andclosinghiseyes,placedhisfingersuponthelids,asthoughhesoughttoimprisonwithinhis
gehirn
brainsomecuriousdreamfromwhichhefearedhemightawake.
“Itisyourbestwork,Basil,thebestthingyouhaveeverdone,”saidLordHenrylanguidly.
“Youmust
sicherlich
certainlysenditnextyeartotheGrosvenor.
TheAcademyistoo
groß
largeandtoovulgar.
WheneverIhavegonethere,therehavebeeneithersomanypeoplethatIhavenotbeenabletoseethepictures,whichwasdreadful,orsomanypicturesthatIhavenotbeenabletoseethepeople,whichwas
schlimmer
worse.
TheGrosvenorisreallytheonlyplace.”
“Idon’tthinkIshallsenditanywhere,”heanswered,tossinghisheadbackinthatoddwaythatusedtomakehisfriendslaughathimatOxford.
“No,Iwon’tsenditanywhere.”
LordHenryelevatedhiseyebrowsandlookedathiminamazementthroughthethinbluewreathsofsmokethatcurledupinsuchfancifulwhorlsfromhisheavy,opium-taintedcigarette.
“Notsenditanywhere?
Mydearfellow,why?
Haveyouanyreason?
Whatoddchapsyoupaintersare!
Youdoanythingintheworldtogainareputation.
Assoonasyouhaveone,you
scheint
seemtowanttothrowitaway.
Itissillyofyou,forthereisonlyonethingintheworld
schlimmer
worsethanbeingtalkedabout,andthatisnotbeingtalkedabout.
Aportraitlikethiswouldsetyoufar
über
abovealltheyoungmeninEngland,andmaketheoldmenquitejealous,ifoldmenareevercapableofanyemotion.”
“Iknowyouwilllaughatme,”hereplied,“butIreallycan’texhibitit.
Ihaveputtoomuchofmyselfintoit.”
LordHenrystretchedhimselfoutonthedivanand
lachte
laughed.
“Yes,Iknewyouwould;
butitisquitetrue,allthesame.”
“Toomuchofyourselfinit!
Uponmyword,Basil,Ididn’tknowyouweresovain;
andIreallycan’tseeanyresemblancebetweenyou,withyourruggedstrongfaceandyourcoal-blackhair,andthisyoungAdonis,wholooksasifhewasmadeoutofivoryandrose-leaves.
Why,mydearBasil,heisaNarcissus,andyou—well,ofcourseyouhaveanintellectualexpressionandallthat.
But
schönheit
beauty,realbeauty,endswhereanintellectualexpression
beginnt
begins.
Intellectisinitselfamodeofexaggeration,anddestroystheharmonyofanyface.
Themomentonesitsdowntothink,onebecomesall
nase
nose,orallforehead,orsomethinghorrid.
Lookatthesuccessfulmeninanyofthelearnedprofessions.
Howperfectlyhideoustheyare!
Außer
Except,ofcourse,inthe
Kirche
Church.
Buttheninthe
Kirche
Churchtheydon’tthink.
Abishopkeepsonsayingatthe
alter
ageofeightywhathewastoldtosaywhenhewasaboyofeighteen,andasanaturalconsequencehealwayslooks
absolut
absolutelydelightful.
Yourmysteriousyoungfriend,
dessen
whosenameyouhavenevertoldme,but
dessen
whosepicturereallyfascinatesme,neverthinks.
Ifeelquitesureofthat.
Heissomebrainlessbeautifulcreaturewhoshouldbealwayshereinwinterwhenwehavenoflowerstolookat,andalwaysherein
sommer
summerwhenwewantsomethingtochillourintelligence.
Don’tflatteryourself,Basil:
youarenotintheleastlikehim.”
“Youdon’tunderstandme,Harry,”answeredtheartist.
“OfcourseIamnotlikehim.
Iknowthatperfectlywell.
Indeed,Ishouldbesorrytolooklikehim.
Youshrugyourshoulders?
Iamtellingyouthetruth.
Thereisafatalityaboutallphysicalandintellectualdistinction,thesortoffatalitythat
scheint
seemstodogthroughhistorythefalteringstepsofkings.
Itisbetternottobedifferentfromone’sfellows.
Theuglyandthestupidhavethebestofitinthisworld.
Theycansitattheireaseandgapeattheplay.
Iftheyknownothingofvictory,theyareatleastsparedtheknowledgeofdefeat.
Theyliveasweallshouldlive—undisturbed,indifferent,andwithoutdisquiet.
They
weder
neitherbringruinuponothers,noreverreceiveitfromalienhands.
Yourrankandwealth,Harry;
mybrains,suchastheyare—my
kunst
art,whateveritmaybe
wert
worth;
DorianGray’sgoodlooks—weshallallsufferforwhatthegodshavegivenus,sufferterribly.”
“DorianGray?
Isthathisname?”
askedLordHenry,walkingacrossthestudiotowardsBasilHallward.
“Yes,thatishisname.
Ididn’tintendtotellittoyou.”
“Butwhynot?”
“Oh,Ican’t
erklären
explain.
WhenIlikepeopleimmensely,Inevertelltheirnamestoanyone.
Itislikesurrenderingapartofthem.
Ihavegrowntolovesecrecy.
It
scheint
seemstobetheonethingthatcanmakemodernlifemysteriousormarvelloustous.
Thecommonestthingisdelightfulifoneonlyhidesit.
WhenIleavetownnowInevertellmypeoplewhereIamgoing.
IfIdid,Iwouldloseallmy
vergnügen
pleasure.
Itisasillyhabit,Idaresay,butsomehowit
scheint
seemstobringagreatdealofromanceintoone’slife.
I
nehme an
supposeyouthinkmeawfullyfoolishaboutit?”
“Notatall,”answeredLordHenry,“notatall,mydearBasil.
You
scheinen
seemtoforgetthatIammarried,andtheonecharmof
ehe
marriageisthatitmakesalifeofdeception
absolut
absolutelynecessaryforbothparties.
Ineverknowwheremywifeis,andmywifeneverknowswhatIamdoing.
Whenwemeet—wedomeetoccasionally,whenwedineouttogether,orgodowntotheDuke’s—wetelleachotherthemostabsurdstorieswiththemostseriousfaces.
Mywifeisverygoodatit—muchbetter,infact,thanIam.
Shenevergetsconfusedoverherdates,andIalwaysdo.
Butwhenshedoesfindmeout,shemakesnorowatall.
Isometimeswishshewould;
butshemerely
lacht
laughsatme.”
“Ihatethewayyoutalkaboutyourmarriedlife,Harry,”saidBasilHallward,strollingtowardsthedoorthatledintothegarden.
“Ibelievethatyouarereallyaverygoodhusband,butthatyouarethoroughlyashamedofyourownvirtues.
Youareanextraordinaryfellow.
Youneversayamoralthing,andyouneverdoawrongthing.
Yourcynicismis
einfach
simplyapose.”
“Beingnaturalis
einfach
simplyapose,andthemostirritatingposeIknow,”criedLordHenry,
lachend
laughing;
andthetwoyoungmenwentoutintothegardentogetherandensconcedthemselvesonalongbambooseatthatstoodintheshadeofatalllaurelbush.
Thesunlightslippedoverthepolishedleaves.
Inthegrass,whitedaisiesweretremulous.
Afterapause,LordHenrypulledouthiswatch.
“IamafraidImustbegoing,Basil,”hemurmured,“andbeforeIgo,IinsistonyouransweringaquestionIputtoyousometimeago.”
“Whatisthat?”
saidthepainter,keepinghiseyesfixedonthe
boden
ground.
“Youknowquitewell.”
“Idonot,Harry.”
“Well,Iwilltellyouwhatitis.
Iwantyouto
erklären
explaintomewhyyouwon’texhibitDorianGray’s
bild
picture.
Iwanttherealreason.”
“Itoldyoutherealreason.”
“No,youdidnot.
Yousaiditwasbecausetherewastoomuchofyourselfinit.
Now,thatischildish.”
“Harry,”saidBasilHallward,lookinghim
direkt
straightintheface,“everyportraitthatispaintedwithfeelingisaportraitoftheartist,notofthesitter.
Thesitterismerelythe
unfall
accident,theoccasion.
Itisnothewhoisrevealedbythepainter;
itis
vielmehr
ratherthepainterwho,onthecolouredcanvas,revealshimself.
ThereasonIwillnotexhibitthis
bild
pictureisthatIamafraidthatIhaveshowninitthe
geheimnis
secretofmyownsoul.”
LordHenry
lachte
laughed.
“Andwhatisthat?”
heasked.
“Iwilltellyou,”saidHallward;
butanexpressionofperplexitycameoverhisface.
“Iamallexpectation,Basil,”continuedhiscompanion,glancingathim.
“Oh,thereisreallyverylittletotell,Harry,”answeredthepainter;
“andIamafraidyouwillhardlyunderstandit.
Perhapsyouwillhardlybelieveit.”
LordHenry
lächelte
smiled,andleaningdown,pluckedapink-petalleddaisyfromthegrassandexaminedit.
“IamquitesureIshallunderstandit,”hereplied,gazingintentlyatthelittlegolden,white-feathereddisk,“andasforbelievingthings,Icanbelieveanything,providedthatitisquiteincredible.”
The
wind
windshooksomeblossomsfromthetrees,andtheheavylilac-blooms,withtheirclusteringstars,movedtoandfrointhelanguidair.
Agrasshopper
begann
begantochirrupbythe
wand
wall,andlikeabluethreadalongthindragon-flyfloatedpastonitsbrowngauzewings.
LordHenryfeltasifhecouldhearBasilHallward’sheartbeating,andwonderedwhatwascoming.
“Thestoryis
einfach
simplythis,”saidthepainteraftersometime.
“TwomonthsagoIwenttoacrushatLadyBrandon’s.
Youknowwepoorartistshavetoshowourselvesinsocietyfromtimetotime,justtoremindthepublicthatwearenotsavages.
Withaneveningcoatandawhitetie,asyoutoldmeonce,anybody,evenastock-broker,cangainareputationforbeingcivilized.
Well,afterIhadbeenintheroomabouttenminutes,talkingtohugeoverdresseddowagersandtediousacademicians,I
plötzlich
suddenlybecameconsciousthatsomeonewaslookingatme.
Iturnedhalf-wayroundandsawDorianGrayforthefirsttime.
Whenoureyesmet,IfeltthatIwasgrowingpale.
Acurioussensationofterrorcameoverme.
IknewthatIhadcomefacetofacewithsomeone
dessen
whosemerepersonalitywassofascinatingthat,ifIallowedittodoso,itwouldabsorbmywhole
natur
nature,mywholesoul,myvery
kunst
artitself.
Ididnotwantanyexternalinfluenceinmylife.
Youknowyourself,Harry,howindependentIamby
natur
nature.
Ihavealwaysbeenmyownmaster;
hadatleastalwaysbeenso,tillImetDorianGray.
Then—butIdon’tknowhowto
erklären
explainittoyou.
Something
schien
seemedtotellmethatIwasonthevergeofaterriblecrisisinmylife.
Ihadastrangefeelingthatfatehadinstoreformeexquisitejoysandexquisitesorrows.
Igrewafraidandturnedto
verlassen
quittheroom.
Itwasnotconsciencethatmademedoso:
itwasasortofcowardice.
Itakenocredittomyselffortryingtoescape.”
“Conscienceandcowardicearereallythesamethings,Basil.
Conscienceisthetrade-nameofthefirm.
Thatisall.”
“Idon’tbelievethat,Harry,andIdon’tbelieveyoudoeither.
However,whateverwasmymotive—anditmayhavebeenpride,forIusedtobeveryproud—I
sicherlich
certainlystruggledtothedoor.
There,ofcourse,IstumbledagainstLadyBrandon.
‘Youarenotgoingtorunawaysosoon,Mr.Hallward?’shescreamedout.
Youknowhercuriouslyshrillvoice?”
“Yes;
sheisapeacockineverythingbutbeauty,”saidLordHenry,pullingthedaisytobitswithhislongnervousfingers.
“Icouldnotgetridofher.
Shebroughtmeuptoroyalties,andpeoplewithstarsandgarters,andelderlyladieswithgigantictiarasandparrotnoses.
Shespokeofmeasherdearestfriend.
Ihadonlymetheroncebefore,butshetookitintoherheadtolionizeme.
Ibelievesome
bild
pictureofminehadmadeagreatsuccessatthetime,atleasthadbeenchatteredaboutinthepennynewspapers,whichisthenineteenth-centurystandardofimmortality.
Plötzlich
SuddenlyIfoundmyselffacetofacewiththeyoungman
dessen
whosepersonalityhadsostrangelystirredme.