THEPREFACE
Theartististhecreatorof
सुंदर
beautifulthings.Torevealart
और
andconcealtheartistisart’saim.को
Thecriticishewhoसकता
cantranslateintoanothermannerया
oranewmaterialhisimpressionofसुंदर
beautifulthings.Thehighestasthelowestformofcriticismis
एक
amodeofautobiography.Those
जो
whofinduglymeaningsinसुंदर
beautifulthingsarecorruptwithoutbeingcharming.यह
Thisisafault.Those
जो
whofindbeautifulmeaningsinसुंदर
beautifulthingsarethecultivated.Forthesethereis
आशा
hope.Theyaretheelecttowhom
सुंदर
beautifulthingsmeanonlybeauty.Thereisnosuch
चीज
thingasamoraloranimmoralपुस्तक
book.Booksarewellwritten,
या
orbadlywritten.Thatisall.
ThenineteenthcenturydislikeofrealismistherageofCalibanseeinghisownfaceinaglass.
ThenineteenthcenturydislikeofromanticismistherageofCalibannotseeinghisownfaceinaglass.
Themoral
जीवन
lifeofmanformspartofthesubject-matteroftheartist,लेकिन
butthemoralityofartconsistsintheperfectउपयोग
useofanimperfectmedium.Noartistdesirestoprove
कुछ
anything.Eventhingsthatare
सच
truecanbeproved.Noartisthasethicalsympathies.
एक
Anethicalsympathyinanartistisएक
anunpardonablemannerismofstyle.Noartistisevermorbid.
Theartist
सकता
canexpresseverything.Thoughtandlanguagearetotheartistinstrumentsof
एक
anart.Viceandvirtuearetotheartistmaterialsfor
एक
anart.Fromthepointofviewofform,thetypeof
सभी
alltheartsistheartofthemusician.Fromthepointofviewoffeeling,theactor’scraftisthetype.
सभी
Allartisatoncesurfaceऔर
andsymbol.Thosewhogobeneaththesurface
करते
dosoattheirperil.Those
जो
whoreadthesymboldosoattheirperil.Itisthespectator,andnot
जीवन
life,thatartreallymirrors.Diversityofopinion
बारे
aboutaworkofartshowsकि
thattheworkisnew,complex,और
andvital.Whencriticsdisagree,theartistisinaccordwithhimself.
Wecanforgive
एक
amanformakingausefulचीज
thingaslongasheकर
doesnotadmireit.Theonly
बहाना
excuseformakingauselessचीज
thingisthatoneadmiresitintensely.सभी
Allartisquiteuseless.CHAPTERI.
Thestudiowasfilledwiththerichodourofroses,and
जब
whenthelightsummerwindstirredamidstthetreesofthegarden,therecamethroughtheopendoortheheavyscentofthelilac,या
orthemoredelicateperfumeofthepink-floweringthorn.FromthecornerofthedivanofPersiansaddle-bagson
जिस
whichhewaslying,smoking,aswashiscustom,innumerablecigarettes,LordHenryWottoncouldसिर्फ
justcatchthegleamofthehoney-sweetऔर
andhoney-colouredblossomsofalaburnum,whosetremulousbranchesseemedhardlyabletobeartheburdenofएक
abeautysoflamelikeastheirs;और
andnowandthenthefantasticshadowsofbirdsinflightflittedacrossthelongtussore-silkcurtainsthatwerestretchedinसामने
frontofthehugewindow,producingaप्रकार
kindofmomentaryJapaneseeffect,और
andmakinghimthinkofउन
thosepallid,jade-facedpaintersofTokyowho,throughthemediumofanartthatisnecessarilyimmobile,seektoconveythesenseofswiftnessऔर
andmotion.Thesullenmurmurofthebeesshoulderingtheir
रास्ता
waythroughthelongunmowngrass,या
orcirclingwithmonotonousinsistenceroundthedustygilthornsofthestragglingwoodbine,seemedtoबना
makethestillnessmoreoppressive.ThedimroarofLondonwas
तरह
likethebourdonnoteofएक
adistantorgan.Inthecentreofthe
कमरे
room,clampedtoanuprighteasel,stoodthefull-lengthportraitofaयुवा
youngmanofextraordinarypersonalbeauty,और
andinfrontofit,कुछ
somelittledistanceaway,wassittingtheartisthimself,BasilHallward,whosesuddendisappearanceकुछ
someyearsagocaused,attheसमय
time,suchpublicexcitementandgaverisetosoसारे
manystrangeconjectures.Asthepainterlookedatthegracious
और
andcomelyformhehadsoskilfullymirroredinhisart,asmileofpleasurepassedacrosshisचेहरे
face,andseemedabouttolingerthere.लेकिन
Buthesuddenlystartedup,और
andclosinghiseyes,placedhisfingersuponthelids,asthoughhesoughttoimprisonwithinhisbrainकुछ
somecuriousdreamfromwhichhefearedhemightawake.“Itisyour
सबसे अच्छा
bestwork,Basil,thebestबात
thingyouhaveeverdone,”saidLordHenrylanguidly.“Youmustcertainlysendit
अगले
nextyeartotheGrosvenor.TheAcademyis
बहुत
toolargeandtoovulgar.WheneverIhave
गया
gonethere,therehavebeenभी
eithersomanypeoplethatIhavenotbeenसक्षम
abletoseethepictures,whichwasdreadful,या
orsomanypicturesthatIhavenotbeenसक्षम
abletoseethepeople,whichwasworse.TheGrosvenoris
वास्तव
reallytheonlyplace.”“Idon’t
लगता
thinkIshallsenditanywhere,”heanswered,tossinghisसिर
headbackinthatoddwaythatइस्तेमाल किया
usedtomakehisfriendslaughathimatOxford.“No,Iwon’tsenditanywhere.”
LordHenryelevatedhiseyebrows
और
andlookedathiminamazementthroughको
thethinbluewreathsofsmokeजो
thatcurledupinsuchfancifulwhorlsfromhisheavy,opium-taintedcigarette.“Notsenditanywhere?
My
प्यारे
dearfellow,why?Haveyou
कोई
anyreason?Whatoddchapsyoupainters
हैं
are!Youdoanythinginthe
दुनिया
worldtogainareputation.Assoonasyouhave
एक
one,youseemtowanttothrowitaway.Itissillyofyou,forthereisonly
एक
onethingintheworldworseसे
thanbeingtalkedabout,andthatisnotbeingtalkedबारे
about.Aportraitlikethiswouldsetyoufarabove
सभी
alltheyoungmeninEngland,और
andmaketheoldmenquitejealous,यदि
ifoldmenareevercapableofanyemotion.”“I
पता
knowyouwilllaughatme,”hereplied,“butIवास्तव
reallycan’texhibitit.Ihaveputtoomuchofmyselfintoit.”
LordHenrystretchedhimselfouton
को
thedivanandlaughed.“Yes,Iknewyouwould;
लेकिन
butitisquitetrue,सब
allthesame.”“Toomuchofyourselfinit!
Uponmy
शब्द
word,Basil,Ididn’tknowyouweresovain;और
andIreallycan’tseeकिसी
anyresemblancebetweenyou,withyourruggedstrongचेहरे
faceandyourcoal-blackhair,और
andthisyoungAdonis,wholooksasअगर
ifhewasmadeoutofivoryऔर
androse-leaves.Why,mydearBasil,heisaNarcissus,
और
andyou—well,ofcourseyouhaveanintellectualexpressionऔर
andallthat.Butbeauty,
वास्तविक
realbeauty,endswhereanintellectualexpressionbegins.Intellectisinitselfamodeofexaggeration,
और
anddestroystheharmonyofanyचेहरे
face.Themomentonesitsdowntothink,onebecomesallnose,
या
orallforehead,orsomethinghorrid.Lookat
को
thesuccessfulmeninanyofको
thelearnedprofessions.Howperfectlyhideousthey
हैं
are!Except,ofcourse,in
को
theChurch.ButthenintheChurchtheydon’t
सोचते
think.Abishopkeepson
कहा
sayingattheageofeightywhathewastoldtoकहा
saywhenhewasaboyofeighteen,और
andasanaturalconsequenceheहमेशा
alwayslooksabsolutelydelightful.Yourmysterious
युवा
youngfriend,whosenameyouहै
havenevertoldme,butwhosepictureवास्तव
reallyfascinatesme,neverthinks.Ifeelquite
यकीन
sureofthat.Heissomebrainless
सुंदर
beautifulcreaturewhoshouldbeहमेशा
alwayshereinwinterwhenwehavenoflowerstoदेखने
lookat,andalwayshereinsummerजब
whenwewantsomethingtochillourintelligence.Don’tflatteryourself,Basil:
youarenotintheleastlikehim.”
“Youdon’t
समझते
understandme,Harry,”answeredtheartist.“OfcourseIamnotlike
उसके
him.Iknowthatperfectly
तरह
well.Indeed,Ishouldbe
खेद
sorrytolooklikehim.Youshrugyourshoulders?
Iam
बता
tellingyouthetruth.Thereis
एक
afatalityaboutallphysicalऔर
andintellectualdistinction,thesortoffatalityजो
thatseemstodogthroughhistorythefalteringstepsofkings.Itis
बेहतर
betternottobedifferentfromone’sfellows.Theugly
और
andthestupidhavetheसबसे अच्छा
bestofitinthisदुनिया
world.Theycansitattheirease
और
andgapeattheplay.यदि
Iftheyknownothingofvictory,theyareatकम
leastsparedtheknowledgeofdefeat.Theyliveaswe
सभी
allshouldlive—undisturbed,indifferent,andबिना
withoutdisquiet.Theyneitherbringruinuponothers,noreverreceiveitfromalienhands.
Yourrank
और
andwealth,Harry;mybrains,suchastheyare—myart,whateveritmaybeworth;
DorianGray’sgoodlooks—weshall
सभी
allsufferforwhatthegodsहै
havegivenus,sufferterribly.”“DorianGray?
Isthathisname?”
पूछा
askedLordHenry,walkingacrossthestudiotowardsBasilHallward.“Yes,thatishis
नाम
name.Ididn’tintendtotellittoyou.”
“But
क्यों
whynot?”“Oh,Ican’texplain.
जब
WhenIlikepeopleimmensely,Inevertelltheirnamestoकिसी
anyone.Itislikesurrendering
एक
apartofthem.Ihavegrownto
प्यार
lovesecrecy.Itseemstobethe
एक
onethingthatcanmakemodernजीवन
lifemysteriousormarvelloustoहमारे
us.Thecommonestthingisdelightfulifone
ही
onlyhidesit.WhenIleave
शहर
townnowInevertellmyलोगों
peoplewhereIamgoing.अगर
IfIdid,Iwouldखो
loseallmypleasure.Itisasillyhabit,Idaresay,
लेकिन
butsomehowitseemstobringagreatdealofromanceintoone’sजीवन
life.Isupposeyouthinkmeawfullyfoolish
बारे
aboutit?”“Notatall,”answeredLordHenry,“notatall,my
प्रिय
dearBasil.Youseemto
भूल
forgetthatIammarried,और
andtheonecharmofmarriageisकि
thatitmakesalifeofdeceptionabsolutelynecessaryforदोनों
bothparties.Ineverknow
कहाँ
wheremywifeis,andmyपत्नी
wifeneverknowswhatIamकर
doing.Whenwemeet—wedo
मिलते
meetoccasionally,whenwedineouttogether,या
orgodowntotheDuke’s—weबताते
telleachotherthemostabsurdstorieswiththeसबसे
mostseriousfaces.Mywifeis
बहुत
verygoodatit—muchbetter,inवास्तव
fact,thanIam.Shenevergetsconfusedoverherdates,
और
andIalwaysdo.But
जब
whenshedoesfindmeout,shemakesकोई
norowatall.Isometimes
चाहता हूँ
wishshewould;butshemerelylaughsatme.”
“I
नफरत
hatethewayyoutalkबारे
aboutyourmarriedlife,Harry,”कहा
saidBasilHallward,strollingtowardsthedoorकि
thatledintothegarden.“I
मानना
believethatyouarereallyएक
averygoodhusband,butकि
thatyouarethoroughlyashamedofyourownvirtues.Youare
एक
anextraordinaryfellow.Younever
कहते
sayamoralthing,andyouneverकरते
doawrongthing.Yourcynicismissimply
एक
apose.”“Beingnaturalissimply
एक
apose,andthemostirritatingposeIknow,”criedLordHenry,laughing;और
andthetwoyoungmenगए
wentoutintothegardenसाथ
togetherandensconcedthemselvesonएक
alongbambooseatthatstoodintheshadeofएक
atalllaurelbush.Thesunlightslipped
पर
overthepolishedleaves.Inthegrass,
सफेद
whitedaisiesweretremulous.After
एक
apause,LordHenrypulledouthisघड़ी
watch.“IamafraidImustbegoing,Basil,”hemurmured,“andbeforeI
जाना
go,Iinsistonyouransweringएक
aquestionIputtoyouकुछ
sometimeago.”“Whatisthat?”
कहा
saidthepainter,keepinghiseyesfixedontheground.“You
जानते
knowquitewell.”“Idonot,Harry.”
“Well,Iwilltellyouwhatit
है
is.Iwantyoutoexplaintome
क्यों
whyyouwon’texhibitDorianGray’spicture.Iwantthe
असली
realreason.”“Itoldyouthe
असली
realreason.”“No,youdidnot.
You
कहा
saiditwasbecausetherewastoomuchofyourselfinयह
it.Now,thatischildish.”
“Harry,”
कहा
saidBasilHallward,lookinghimstraightintheचेहरे
face,“everyportraitthatispaintedसाथ
withfeelingisaportraitoftheartist,notofthesitter.Thesitterismerelytheaccident,theoccasion.
Itisnothe
जो
whoisrevealedbythepainter;itisrather
को
thepainterwho,onthecolouredcanvas,revealshimself.को
ThereasonIwillnotexhibitthispictureisकि
thatIamafraidthatIhaveshowninitको
thesecretofmyownsoul.”LordHenrylaughed.
“Andwhatisthat?”
heasked.
“Iwilltellyou,”
कहा
saidHallward;butanexpressionofperplexitycame
पर
overhisface.“Iamallexpectation,Basil,”continuedhiscompanion,glancingathim.
“Oh,thereisreallyvery
कम
littletotell,Harry,”answeredthepainter;“andIam
डर
afraidyouwillhardlyunderstandइसे
it.Perhapsyouwillhardly
विश्वास
believeit.”LordHenrysmiled,
और
andleaningdown,pluckedapink-petalleddaisyfromको
thegrassandexaminedit.“Iam
काफी
quitesureIshallunderstandit,”hereplied,gazingintentlyatको
thelittlegolden,white-feathereddisk,“andasforbelievingthings,Iसकता
canbelieveanything,providedthatitisकाफी
quiteincredible.”Thewindshook
कुछ
someblossomsfromthetrees,और
andtheheavylilac-blooms,withtheirclusteringstars,movedtoऔर
andfrointhelanguidair.एक
Agrasshopperbegantochirrupbythewall,और
andlikeabluethreadएक
alongthindragon-flyfloatedpastonitsbrowngauzewings.LordHenryfeltasifhecould
सुन
hearBasilHallward’sheartbeating,और
andwonderedwhatwascoming.“Thestoryissimplythis,”
कहा
saidthepainteraftersomeसमय
time.“TwomonthsagoIwentto
एक
acrushatLadyBrandon’s.You
जानते
knowwepoorartistshavetoshowourselvesinsocietyfromसमय
timetotime,justtoremindthepublicकि
thatwearenotsavages.साथ
Withaneveningcoatandaसफेद
whitetie,asyoutoldmeबार
once,anybody,evenastock-broker,सकता
cangainareputationforbeingcivilized.Well,
बाद
afterIhadbeenintheकमरे
roomabouttenminutes,talkingtohugeoverdresseddowagersऔर
andtediousacademicians,Isuddenlybecameconsciousकि
thatsomeonewaslookingatme.Iturnedhalf-wayround
और
andsawDorianGrayforको
thefirsttime.Whenoureyesmet,Ifelt
कि
thatIwasgrowingpale.एक
Acurioussensationofterrorcameoverमुझे
me.IknewthatIhad
आ
comefacetofacewithsomeonewhosemerepersonalitywassofascinatingकि
that,ifIallowedittoकर
doso,itwouldabsorbmywholenature,mywholesoul,myveryartitself.Ididnotwant
कोई
anyexternalinfluenceinmyजीवन
life.Youknowyourself,Harry,
कैसे
howindependentIambynature.Ihave
हमेशा
alwaysbeenmyownmaster;hadat
कम
leastalwaysbeenso,tillImetDorianGray.Then—butIdon’t
पता
knowhowtoexplainittoyou.कुछ
Somethingseemedtotellmeकि
thatIwasonthevergeofएक
aterriblecrisisinmyजीवन
life.Ihadastrangefeeling
कि
thatfatehadinstoreformeexquisitejoysऔर
andexquisitesorrows.Igrew
डर
afraidandturnedtoquittheकमरे
room.Itwasnotconsciencethatmademe
किया
doso:itwasa
तरह
sortofcowardice.Itakenocredittomyselffortryingtoescape.”
“Conscience
और
andcowardicearereallytheही
samethings,Basil.Conscienceisthetrade-nameofthefirm.
Thatisall.”
“Idon’t
विश्वास
believethat,Harry,andIdon’tविश्वास
believeyoudoeither.However,
जो
whateverwasmymotive—anditmayहै
havebeenpride,forIusedtobeबहुत
veryproud—Icertainlystruggledtothedoor.वहाँ
There,ofcourse,Istumbledagainstलेडी
LadyBrandon.‘Youarenotgoingtorunawayso
जल्दी
soon,Mr.Hallward?’shescreamedout.You
जानते
knowhercuriouslyshrillvoice?”“Yes;
sheis
एक
apeacockineverythingbutbeauty,”कहा
saidLordHenry,pullingthedaisytobitswithhislongnervousfingers.“Icouldnotgetridofher.
Shebroughtmeuptoroyalties,
और
andpeoplewithstarsandgarters,और
andelderlyladieswithgigantictiarasऔर
andparrotnoses.Shespokeofmeasherdearest
मित्र
friend.Ihadonlymether
बार
oncebefore,butshetookitintoherसिर
headtolionizeme.I
मानना
believesomepictureofminehadmadeकिसी
agreatsuccessattheसमय
time,atleasthadbeenchatteredबारे
aboutinthepennynewspapers,जो
whichisthenineteenth-centurystandardofimmortality.SuddenlyIfoundmyselffacetofacewiththeyoungmanwhosepersonalityhadsostrangelystirredme.