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The Picture of Dorian Gray | Gradually Hardening German B2

The Picture of Dorian Gray | Gradually Hardening German B2

Experience the benefits of this forward-thinking translation strategy that tailors language learning to your specific needs. You have control over the difficulty, which ensures that the content is neither too easy nor overly challenging. This method enhances your ability to understand new words through context, reducing reliance on direct translations. While the translations are subtly obscured to foster learning, you can still look up unclear terms. This balanced approach makes language acquisition smoother and more enjoyable. Delve into these translated literary works and discover the satisfaction of mastering a language through reading.

THEPREFACE
Theartististhe
schöpfer
creatorofbeautifulthings.
To
enthüllen
revealartandconcealtheartistisart’saim.
The
kritiker
criticishewhocan
übersetzen
translateintoanothermanneroranewmaterialhis
eindruck
impressionofbeautifulthings.
Thehighestasthelowestformof
kritik
criticismisamodeofautobiography.
Thosewhofinduglymeaningsinbeautifulthingsare
korrupt
corruptwithoutbeingcharming.
Thisisafault.
Thosewhofindbeautifulmeaningsinbeautifulthingsarethe
kultivierte
cultivated.
Forthesethereishope.
Theyaretheelecttowhombeautifulthingsmeanonlybeauty.
Thereisnosuchthingasamoraloranimmoralbook.
Booksarewellwritten,orbadlywritten.
Thatisall.
Thenineteenthcentury
abneigung
dislikeofrealismisthe
wut
rageofCalibanseeinghisownfaceinaglass.
Thenineteenthcentury
abneigung
dislikeofromanticismisthe
wut
rageofCalibannotseeinghisownfaceinaglass.
Themorallifeofmanformspartofthesubject-matteroftheartist,butthemoralityofartconsistsintheperfectuseofanimperfectmedium.
Noartistdesirestoproveanything.
Eventhingsthataretruecanbeproved.
Noartisthas
ethische
ethicalsympathies.
Anethicalsympathyinanartistisanunpardonablemannerismofstyle.
Noartistisevermorbid.
Theartistcanexpresseverything.
Thoughtandlanguagearetotheartistinstrumentsofanart.
Viceand
tugend
virtuearetotheartistmaterialsforanart.
Fromthepointofviewofform,thetypeofalltheartsistheartofthemusician.
Fromthepointofviewoffeeling,theactor’s
handwerk
craftisthetype.
Allartisatoncesurfaceand
symbol
symbol.
Thosewhogobeneaththesurfacedosoattheirperil.
Thosewhoreadthe
symbol
symboldosoattheirperil.
Itisthespectator,andnotlife,thatartreallymirrors.
Vielfalt
Diversityofopinionaboutaworkofartshowsthattheworkisnew,complex,andvital.
Whencriticsdisagree,theartistisinaccordwithhimself.
Wecanforgiveamanformakingausefulthingaslongashedoesnot
bewundert
admireit.
Theonlyexcuseformakingauselessthingisthatone
bewundert
admiresitintensely.
Allartisquiteuseless.
Kapitel
CHAPTERI.
Thestudiowasfilledwiththerichodourofroses,andwhenthelightsummerwindstirredamidstthetreesofthegarden,therecamethroughtheopendoortheheavyscentofthelilac,orthemoredelicateperfumeofthepink-floweringthorn.
FromthecornerofthedivanofPersiansaddle-bagsonwhichhewaslying,smoking,aswashis
brauch
custom,innumerablecigarettes,LordHenryWottoncouldjustcatchthegleamofthehoney-sweetandhoney-colouredblossomsofalaburnum,whosetremulousbranchesseemedhardlyabletobearthe
last
burdenofabeautysoflamelikeastheirs;
andnowandthenthefantasticshadowsofbirdsinflightflittedacrossthelongtussore-silkcurtainsthatwerestretchedinfrontofthehugewindow,
erzeugten
producingakindofmomentaryJapaneseeffect,andmakinghimthinkofthosepallid,jade-facedpaintersofTokyowho,throughthe
medium
mediumofanartthatis
notwendigerweise
necessarilyimmobile,seektoconveythesenseofswiftnessand
bewegung
motion.
Thesullenmurmurofthebeesshoulderingtheirwaythroughthelongunmowngrass,orcirclingwithmonotonousinsistenceroundthedustygilthornsofthestragglingwoodbine,seemedtomakethestillnessmoreoppressive.
ThedimroarofLondonwaslikethebourdonnoteofadistant
orgel
organ.
Inthecentreoftheroom,clampedtoanuprighteasel,stoodthefull-length
porträt
portraitofayoungmanofextraordinarypersonalbeauty,andinfrontofit,somelittledistanceaway,wassittingtheartisthimself,BasilHallward,whosesudden
verschwinden
disappearancesomeyearsagocaused,atthetime,suchpublic
aufregung
excitementandgaverisetosomanystrangeconjectures.
Asthe
maler
painterlookedatthegraciousandcomelyformhehadsoskilfullymirroredinhisart,asmileofpleasurepassedacrosshisface,andseemedaboutto
verweilen
lingerthere.
Buthesuddenlystartedup,andclosinghiseyes,placedhisfingersuponthelids,asthoughhesoughttoimprisonwithinhisbrainsomecuriousdreamfromwhichhefearedhemightawake.
“Itisyourbestwork,Basil,thebestthingyouhaveeverdone,”saidLordHenrylanguidly.
“YoumustcertainlysenditnextyeartotheGrosvenor.
The
Akademie
Academyistoolargeandtoo
vulgär
vulgar.
WheneverIhavegonethere,therehavebeeneithersomanypeoplethatIhavenotbeenabletoseethepictures,whichwas
schrecklich
dreadful,orsomanypicturesthatIhavenotbeenabletoseethepeople,whichwasworse.
TheGrosvenorisreallytheonlyplace.”
“Idon’tthinkIshallsenditanywhere,”heanswered,
warf
tossinghisheadbackinthatoddwaythatusedtomakehisfriendslaughathimatOxford.
“No,Iwon’tsenditanywhere.”
LordHenryelevatedhiseyebrowsandlookedathiminamazementthroughthethinbluewreathsofsmokethatcurledupinsuchfancifulwhorlsfromhisheavy,opium-taintedcigarette.
“Notsenditanywhere?
Mydearfellow,why?
Haveyouanyreason?
Whatoddchapsyoupaintersare!
Youdoanythingintheworldto
erlangen
gainareputation.
Assoonasyouhaveone,youseemtowanttothrowitaway.
Itissillyofyou,forthereisonlyonethingintheworldworsethanbeingtalkedabout,andthatisnotbeingtalkedabout.
A
porträt
portraitlikethiswouldsetyoufarabovealltheyoungmeninEngland,andmaketheoldmenquitejealous,ifoldmenareevercapableofanyemotion.”
“Iknowyouwilllaughatme,”hereplied,“butIreallycan’texhibitit.
Ihaveputtoomuchofmyselfintoit.”
LordHenrystretchedhimselfoutonthedivanandlaughed.
“Yes,Iknewyouwould;
butitisquitetrue,allthesame.”
“Toomuchofyourselfinit!
Uponmyword,Basil,Ididn’tknowyouweresovain;
andIreallycan’tseeany
ähnlichkeit
resemblancebetweenyou,withyourruggedstrongfaceandyourcoal-blackhair,andthisyoungAdonis,wholooksasifhewasmadeoutof
elfenbein
ivoryandrose-leaves.
Why,mydearBasil,heisaNarcissus,andyou—well,ofcourseyouhaveanintellectual
ausdruck
expressionandallthat.
Butbeauty,realbeauty,endswhereanintellectual
ausdruck
expressionbegins.
Intellectisinitselfamodeofexaggeration,anddestroysthe
harmonie
harmonyofanyface.
Themomentonesitsdowntothink,onebecomesallnose,orall
stirn
forehead,orsomethinghorrid.
Lookatthesuccessfulmeninanyofthelearnedprofessions.
Howperfectlyhideoustheyare!
Except,ofcourse,intheChurch.
ButthenintheChurchtheydon’tthink.
A
bischof
bishopkeepsonsayingattheageofeightywhathewastoldtosaywhenhewasaboyofeighteen,andasanatural
konsequenz
consequencehealwayslooksabsolutely
entzückend
delightful.
Yourmysteriousyoungfriend,whosenameyouhavenevertoldme,butwhosepicturereallyfascinatesme,neverthinks.
Ifeelquitesureofthat.
Heissomebrainlessbeautifulcreaturewhoshouldbealwayshereinwinterwhenwehavenoflowerstolookat,andalwayshereinsummerwhenwewantsomethingtochillourintelligence.
Don’t
schmeicheln
flatteryourself,Basil:
youarenotintheleastlikehim.”
“Youdon’tunderstandme,Harry,”answeredtheartist.
“OfcourseIamnotlikehim.
Iknowthatperfectlywell.
Indeed,Ishouldbesorrytolooklikehim.
Youshrugyourshoulders?
Iamtellingyouthetruth.
Thereisafatalityaboutallphysicalandintellectualdistinction,thesortoffatalitythatseemstodogthroughhistorythefalteringstepsofkings.
Itisbetternottobedifferentfromone’sfellows.
Theuglyandthestupidhavethebestofitinthisworld.
Theycansitattheireaseandgapeattheplay.
Iftheyknownothingofvictory,theyareatleastsparedtheknowledgeofdefeat.
Theyliveasweallshouldlive—undisturbed,
gleichgültig
indifferent,andwithoutdisquiet.
Theyneitherbringruinuponothers,noreverreceiveitfromalienhands.
Your
rang
rankandwealth,Harry;
mybrains,suchastheyare—myart,whateveritmaybeworth;
DorianGray’sgoodlooks—weshallallsufferforwhatthegodshavegivenus,sufferterribly.”
“DorianGray?
Isthathisname?”
askedLordHenry,walkingacrossthestudiotowardsBasilHallward.
“Yes,thatishisname.
Ididn’tintendtotellittoyou.”
“Butwhynot?”
“Oh,Ican’texplain.
WhenIlikepeopleimmensely,Inevertelltheirnamestoanyone.
Itislikesurrenderingapartofthem.
Ihavegrowntolove
geheimhaltung
secrecy.
Itseemstobetheonethingthatcanmakemodernlifemysteriousor
wunderbar
marvelloustous.
Thecommonestthingis
entzückend
delightfulifoneonlyhidesit.
WhenIleavetownnowInevertellmypeoplewhereIamgoing.
IfIdid,Iwouldloseallmypleasure.
Itisasilly
gewohnheit
habit,Idaresay,butsomehowitseemstobringagreatdealof
romantik
romanceintoone’slife.
Isupposeyouthinkme
schrecklich
awfullyfoolishaboutit?”
“Notatall,”answeredLordHenry,“notatall,mydearBasil.
YouseemtoforgetthatIammarried,andtheone
charme
charmofmarriageisthatitmakesalifeof
täuschung
deceptionabsolutelynecessaryforbothparties.
Ineverknowwheremywifeis,andmywifeneverknowswhatIamdoing.
Whenwemeet—wedomeet
gelegentlich
occasionally,whenwedineouttogether,orgodowntotheDuke’s—wetelleachotherthemostabsurdstorieswiththemostseriousfaces.
Mywifeisverygoodatit—muchbetter,infact,thanIam.
Shenevergetsconfusedoverherdates,andIalwaysdo.
Butwhenshedoesfindmeout,shemakesnorowatall.
Isometimeswishshewould;
butshe
nur
merelylaughsatme.”
“Ihatethewayyoutalkaboutyourmarriedlife,Harry,”saidBasilHallward,
schlenderte
strollingtowardsthedoorthatledintothegarden.
“Ibelievethatyouarereallyaverygoodhusband,butthatyouare
gründlich
thoroughlyashamedofyourownvirtues.
Youareanextraordinaryfellow.
Youneversayamoralthing,andyouneverdoawrongthing.
Yourcynicismissimplyapose.”
“Beingnaturalissimplya
pose
pose,andthemostirritating
pose
poseIknow,”criedLordHenry,laughing;
andthetwoyoungmenwentoutintothegardentogetherandensconcedthemselvesonalongbambooseatthatstoodinthe
schatten
shadeofatalllaurelbush.
The
sonnenlicht
sunlightslippedoverthepolishedleaves.
Inthegrass,whitedaisiesweretremulous.
Afterapause,LordHenrypulledouthiswatch.
“IamafraidImustbegoing,Basil,”hemurmured,“andbeforeIgo,IinsistonyouransweringaquestionIputtoyousometimeago.”
“Whatisthat?”
saidthe
maler
painter,keepinghiseyesfixedontheground.
“Youknowquitewell.”
“Idonot,Harry.”
“Well,Iwilltellyouwhatitis.
Iwantyoutoexplaintomewhyyouwon’t
ausstellen
exhibitDorianGray’spicture.
Iwanttherealreason.”
“Itoldyoutherealreason.”
“No,youdidnot.
Yousaiditwasbecausetherewastoomuchofyourselfinit.
Now,thatischildish.”
“Harry,”saidBasilHallward,lookinghimstraightintheface,“every
porträt
portraitthatispaintedwithfeelingisa
porträt
portraitoftheartist,notofthesitter.
Thesitteris
nur
merelytheaccident,theoccasion.
Itisnothewhois
enthüllt
revealedbythepainter;
itisratherthe
maler
painterwho,onthecoloured
leinwand
canvas,revealshimself.
ThereasonIwillnot
ausstellen
exhibitthispictureisthatIamafraidthatIhaveshowninitthesecretofmyownsoul.”
LordHenrylaughed.
“Andwhatisthat?”
heasked.
“Iwilltellyou,”saidHallward;
butan
ausdruck
expressionofperplexitycameoverhisface.
“Iamall
erwartung
expectation,Basil,”continuedhiscompanion,glancingathim.
“Oh,thereisreallyverylittletotell,Harry,”answeredthe
maler
painter;
“andIamafraidyouwillhardlyunderstandit.
Perhapsyouwillhardlybelieveit.”
LordHenrysmiled,andleaningdown,pluckedapink-petalled
gänseblümchen
daisyfromthegrassand
untersuchte
examinedit.
“IamquitesureIshallunderstandit,”hereplied,
starrte
gazingintentlyatthelittlegolden,white-feathered
scheibe
disk,“andasforbelievingthings,Icanbelieveanything,providedthatitisquiteincredible.”
Thewindshooksomeblossomsfromthetrees,andtheheavylilac-blooms,withtheirclusteringstars,movedtoandfrointhelanguidair.
Agrasshopperbegantochirrupbythewall,andlikeablue
faden
threadalongthindragon-fly
schwebte
floatedpastonitsbrowngauzewings.
LordHenryfeltasifhecouldhearBasilHallward’sheartbeating,andwonderedwhatwascoming.
“Thestoryissimplythis,”saidthe
maler
painteraftersometime.
“TwomonthsagoIwenttoacrushatLadyBrandon’s.
Youknowwepoorartistshavetoshowourselvesinsocietyfromtimetotime,justtoremindthepublicthatwearenotsavages.
Withaneveningcoatandawhitetie,asyoutoldmeonce,anybody,evenastock-broker,can
erlangen
gainareputationforbeing
zivilisiert
civilized.
Well,afterIhadbeenintheroomabouttenminutes,talkingtohugeoverdresseddowagersandtediousacademicians,Isuddenlybecame
bewusst
consciousthatsomeonewaslookingatme.
Iturnedhalf-wayroundandsawDorianGrayforthefirsttime.
Whenoureyesmet,IfeltthatIwasgrowing
blass
pale.
Acurioussensationofterrorcameoverme.
IknewthatIhadcomefacetofacewithsomeonewhosemere
persönlichkeit
personalitywassofascinatingthat,ifIallowedittodoso,itwouldabsorbmywholenature,mywholesoul,myveryartitself.
Ididnotwantanyexternal
einfluss
influenceinmylife.
Youknowyourself,Harry,howindependentIambynature.
Ihavealwaysbeenmyownmaster;
hadatleastalwaysbeenso,tillImetDorianGray.
Then—butIdon’tknowhowtoexplainittoyou.
SomethingseemedtotellmethatIwasonthe
rande
vergeofaterriblecrisisinmylife.
Ihadastrangefeelingthatfatehadinstoreformeexquisitejoysandexquisitesorrows.
Igrewafraidandturnedtoquittheroom.
Itwasnot
gewissen
consciencethatmademedoso:
itwasasortof
feigheit
cowardice.
Itakenocredittomyselffortryingtoescape.”
“Conscienceand
feigheit
cowardicearereallythesamethings,Basil.
Gewissen
Conscienceisthetrade-nameofthefirm.
Thatisall.”
“Idon’tbelievethat,Harry,andIdon’tbelieveyoudoeither.
However,whateverwasmymotive—anditmayhavebeenpride,forIusedtobeveryproud—Icertainlystruggledtothedoor.
There,ofcourse,I
stolperte
stumbledagainstLadyBrandon.
‘Youarenotgoingtorunawaysosoon,Mr.Hallward?’shescreamedout.
Youknowhercuriouslyshrillvoice?”
“Yes;
sheisapeacockineverythingbutbeauty,”saidLordHenry,pullingthe
gänseblümchen
daisytobitswithhislongnervousfingers.
“Icouldnotgetridofher.
Shebroughtmeuptoroyalties,andpeoplewithstarsandgarters,andelderlyladieswithgigantictiarasandparrotnoses.
Shespokeofmeasherdearestfriend.
Ihadonlymetheroncebefore,butshetookitintoherheadtolionizeme.
Ibelievesomepictureofminehadmadeagreatsuccessatthetime,atleasthadbeenchatteredaboutinthepennynewspapers,whichisthenineteenth-century
standard
standardofimmortality.
SuddenlyIfoundmyselffacetofacewiththeyoungmanwhose
persönlichkeit
personalityhadsostrangelystirredme.