The Picture of Dorian Gray | Progressive Translation Books for Italian A1 Learners

The Picture of Dorian Gray | Progressive Translation Books for Italian A1 Learners

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THEPREFACE
Theartistis
il
the
creatorofbeautifulthings.
Torevealart
e
and
concealtheartistisart’saim.
Thecriticishe
che
who
cantranslateintoanothermanner
o
or
anewmaterialhisimpressionofbeautifulthings.
La
The
highestasthelowestformofcriticismis
un
a
modeofautobiography.
Those
che
who
finduglymeaningsinbeautifulthingsarecorrupt
senza
without
beingcharming.
Thisis
un
a
fault.
Thosewhofindbeautifulmeaningsinbeautifulthingsare
i
the
cultivated.
Forthesethereis
speranza
hope
.
Theyaretheelecttowhombeautifulthings
significano
mean
onlybeauty.
Thereis
non
no
suchthingasamoral
o
or
animmoralbook.
Booksarewellwritten,
o
or
badlywritten.
Thatis
tutto
all
.
ThenineteenthcenturydislikeofrealismistherageofCaliban
vede
seeing
hisownfaceinaglass.
ThenineteenthcenturydislikeofromanticismistherageofCalibannot
visto
seeing
hisownfaceinaglass.
La
The
morallifeofmanforms
parte
part
ofthesubject-matterof
la
the
artist,butthemoralityofartconsistsin
la
the
perfectuseofanimperfectmedium.
Nessun
No
artistdesirestoprove
qualcosa
anything
.
Eventhingsthataretruecanbeproved.
Nessun
No
artisthasethicalsympathies.
Anethicalsympathyinanartistisanunpardonablemannerismofstyle.
Nessun
No
artistisevermorbid.
Theartistcanexpress
tutto
everything
.
Thoughtandlanguageareto
il
the
artistinstrumentsofanart.
Vice
e
and
virtuearetotheartistmaterialsfor
un
an
art.
Fromthepointofviewofform,thetypeof
tutte
all
theartsistheartofthemusician.
From
il
the
pointofviewoffeeling,
il
the
actor’scraftisthetype.
Allartisatoncesurface
e
and
symbol.
Thosewhogobeneath
la
the
surfacedosoattheirperil.
Those
che
who
readthesymboldosoattheirperil.
Itisthespectator,
e
and
notlife,thatartreallymirrors.
Diversityofopinion
su
about
aworkofart
mostra
shows
thattheworkisnew,complex,
e
and
vital.
Whencriticsdisagree,
i
the
artistisinaccordwithhimself.
Wecanforgivea
uomo
man
formakingauseful
cosa
thing
aslongashe
fatto
does
notadmireit.
Theonly
scusa
excuse
formakingauseless
cosa
thing
isthatoneadmiresitintensely.
Tutto
All
artisquiteuseless.
CHAPTERI.
Il
The
studiowasfilledwith
il
the
richodourofroses,
e
and
whenthelightsummerwindstirredamidst
il
the
treesofthegarden,therecamethrough
il
the
opendoortheheavyscentof
il
the
lilac,orthemoredelicateperfumeof
il
the
pink-floweringthorn.
FromthecornerofthedivanofPersiansaddle-bagson
cui
which
hewaslying,smoking,aswashiscustom,innumerablecigarettes,LordHenryWottoncouldjustcatchthegleamofthehoney-sweet
e
and
honey-colouredblossomsofalaburnum,whosetremulousbranchesseemedhardlyabletobeartheburdenofabeautysoflamelikeastheirs;
e
and
nowandthenthefantasticshadowsofbirdsinflightflittedacrossthelongtussore-silkcurtainsthatwerestretchedin
davanti
front
ofthehugewindow,producingakindofmomentaryJapaneseeffect,
e
and
makinghimthinkofthosepallid,jade-facedpaintersofTokyowho,throughthemediumofanartthatisnecessarilyimmobile,seektoconveythesenseofswiftness
e
and
motion.
Thesullenmurmurofthebeesshoulderingtheir
strada
way
throughthelongunmowngrass,
o
or
circlingwithmonotonousinsistenceroundthedustygilthornsofthestragglingwoodbine,seemedto
rendere
make
thestillnessmoreoppressive.
ThedimroarofLondonwas
come
like
thebourdonnoteof
un
a
distantorgan.
Inthecentreoftheroom,clampedtoanuprighteasel,stoodthefull-lengthportraitofa
giovane
young
manofextraordinarypersonalbeauty,
e
and
infrontofit,
qualche
some
littledistanceaway,was
seduto
sitting
theartisthimself,BasilHallward,whosesuddendisappearance
qualche
some
yearsagocaused,atthetime,
tale
such
publicexcitementandgaverisetosomanystrangeconjectures.
Asthepainter
guardava
looked
atthegraciousandcomelyformhe
aveva
had
soskilfullymirroredinhisart,
un
a
smileofpleasurepassedacrosshis
viso
face
,andseemedabouttolingerthere.
Ma
But
hesuddenlystartedup,
e
and
closinghiseyes,placedhisfingersupon
le
the
lids,asthoughhesoughttoimprisonwithinhisbrainsomecurious
sogno
dream
fromwhichhefearedhemightawake.
“Itisyour
migliore
best
work,Basil,thebest
cosa
thing
youhaveeverdone,”
disse
said
LordHenrylanguidly.
“You
dovrai
must
certainlysenditnextyeartotheGrosvenor.
TheAcademyistoolarge
e
and
toovulgar.
WheneverIhave
andato
gone
there,therehavebeeneithersomany
persone
people
thatIhavenotbeenableto
vedere
see
thepictures,whichwasdreadful,orsomanypicturesthatIhavenotbeenableto
vedere
see
thepeople,whichwasworse.
Il
The
Grosvenorisreallytheonlyplace.”
“Idon’tthinkIshallsenditanywhere,”he
rispose
answered
,tossinghisheadbackin
che
that
oddwaythatusedto
faceva
make
hisfriendslaughathimatOxford.
“No,Iwon’tsenditanywhere.”
LordHenryelevatedhiseyebrows
e
and
lookedathiminamazement
attraverso
through
thethinbluewreathsofsmoke
che
that
curledupinsuchfancifulwhorlsfromhisheavy,opium-taintedcigarette.
“Notsenditanywhere?
My
caro
dear
fellow,why?
Haveyouany
motivo
reason
?
Whatoddchapsyoupainters
siete
are
!
Youdoanythinginthe
mondo
world
togainareputation.
As
appena
soon
asyouhaveone,youseemtowanttothrowitaway.
Itissillyofyou,forthereis
solo
only
onethinginthe
mondo
world
worsethanbeingtalkedabout,
e
and
thatisnotbeing
parlato
talked
about.
Aportraitlike
questo
this
wouldsetyoufarabove
tutti
all
theyoungmeninEngland,
e
and
maketheoldmenquitejealous,
se
if
oldmenareevercapableofanyemotion.”
“Iknowyouwilllaughatme,”hereplied,“butI
davvero
really
can’texhibitit.
I
ho
have
puttoomuchofmyselfintoit.”
LordHenrystretchedhimselfoutonthedivan
e
and
laughed.
“Yes,Iknewyouwould;
ma
but
itisquitetrue,
tutto
all
thesame.”
“Toomuchofyourselfin
esso
it
!
Uponmyword,Basil,Ididn’t
sapevo
know
youweresovain;
e
and
Ireallycan’tseeanyresemblance
tra
between
you,withyourruggedstrong
faccia
face
andyourcoal-blackhair,
e
and
thisyoungAdonis,wholooksasifhewasmadeoutofivory
e
and
rose-leaves.
Why,mydearBasil,heisaNarcissus,
e
and
you—well,ofcourseyou
hai
have
anintellectualexpressionand
tutto
all
that.
Butbeauty,realbeauty,ends
dove
where
anintellectualexpressionbegins.
Intellectisinitself
un
a
modeofexaggeration,anddestroystheharmonyof
qualsiasi
any
face.
Themomentone
siede
sits
downtothink,one
diventa
becomes
allnose,orallforehead,
o
or
somethinghorrid.
Lookatthesuccessfulmenin
qualsiasi
any
ofthelearnedprofessions.
Come
How
perfectlyhideoustheyare!
Except,ofcourse,intheChurch.
Ma
But
thenintheChurchtheydon’t
pensano
think
.
Abishopkeepsonsayingattheageofeightywhathewastoldtosay
quando
when
hewasaboyofeighteen,
e
and
asanaturalconsequencehe
sempre
always
looksabsolutelydelightful.
Yourmysterious
giovane
young
friend,whosenameyou
hai
have
nevertoldme,butwhosepicture
davvero
really
fascinatesme,neverthinks.
Ifeel
abbastanza
quite
sureofthat.
Heissomebrainlessbeautifulcreature
che
who
shouldbealwayshereinwinter
quando
when
wehavenoflowersto
guardare
look
at,andalwayshereinsummer
quando
when
wewantsomethingtochillourintelligence.
Don’tflatteryourself,Basil:
youarenotintheleast
come
like
him.”
“Youdon’tunderstand
mi
me
,Harry,”answeredtheartist.
“OfcourseIamnot
come
like
him.
Iknowthatperfectly
bene
well
.
Indeed,Ishouldbesorrytolooklike
lui
him
.
Youshrugyourshoulders?
Iam
dicendo
telling
youthetruth.
Thereis
una
a
fatalityaboutallphysical
e
and
intellectualdistinction,thesortoffatality
che
that
seemstodogthroughhistorythefalteringstepsofkings.
Itis
meglio
better
nottobedifferentfromone’sfellows.
Theugly
e
and
thestupidhavethe
meglio
best
ofitinthis
mondo
world
.
Theycansitattheirease
e
and
gapeattheplay.
Se
If
theyknownothingofvictory,theyareat
almeno
least
sparedtheknowledgeofdefeat.
They
vivere
live
asweallshouldlive—undisturbed,indifferent,
e
and
withoutdisquiet.
Theyneither
portano
bring
ruinuponothers,noreverreceiveitfromalienhands.
Yourrank
e
and
wealth,Harry;
mybrains,suchastheyare—myart,
qualunque
whatever
itmaybeworth;
DorianGray’sgoodlooks—weshall
tutti
all
sufferforwhatthegods
hanno
have
givenus,sufferterribly.”
“DorianGray?
Isthathisname?”
chiese
asked
LordHenry,walkingacrossthestudiotowardsBasilHallward.
“Yes,thatishis
nome
name
.
Ididn’tintendtotellittoyou.”
“But
perché
why
not?”
“Oh,Ican’texplain.
Quando
When
Ilikepeopleimmensely,Inever
dico
tell
theirnamestoanyone.
Itis
come
like
surrenderingapartof
loro
them
.
Ihavegrownto
amare
love
secrecy.
Itseemstobetheone
cosa
thing
thatcanmakemodern
vita
life
mysteriousormarvelloustous.
Thecommonest
cosa
thing
isdelightfulifone
solo
only
hidesit.
WhenI
lascio
leave
townnowInever
dico
tell
mypeoplewhereIam
vado
going
.
IfIdid,Iwould
perderei
lose
allmypleasure.
Itisasillyhabit,Idare
dire
say
,butsomehowitseemsto
portare
bring
agreatdealofromanceintoone’s
vita
life
.
Isupposeyouthinkmeawfullyfoolishaboutit?”
“Notatall,”
rispose
answered
LordHenry,“notatall,my
caro
dear
Basil.
Youseemto
dimentichi
forget
thatIammarried,
e
and
theonecharmofmarriageis
che
that
itmakesalifeofdeceptionabsolutelynecessaryfor
entrambe
both
parties.
Ineverknow
dove
where
mywifeis,andmy
moglie
wife
neverknowswhatIam
facendo
doing
.
Whenwemeet—wedo
incontriamo
meet
occasionally,whenwedineout
insieme
together
,orgodownto
le
the
Duke’s—wetelleachother
le
the
mostabsurdstorieswith
le
the
mostseriousfaces.
My
moglie
wife
isverygoodatit—much
meglio
better
,infact,thanIam.
Shenevergetsconfusedoverherdates,
e
and
Ialwaysdo.
But
quando
when
shedoesfindmeout,she
fa
makes
norowatall.
I
a volte
sometimes
wishshewould;
butshemerelylaughsatme.”
“Ihatethe
modo
way
youtalkaboutyourmarried
vita
life
,Harry,”saidBasilHallward,strollingtowardsthe
porta
door
thatledintothegarden.
“I
credo
believe
thatyouarereally
un
a
verygoodhusband,but
che
that
youarethoroughlyashamedofyourownvirtues.
Youare
un
an
extraordinaryfellow.
Younever
dici
say
amoralthing,andyounever
fai
do
awrongthing.
Yourcynicismissimply
una
a
pose.”
“Beingnaturalissimply
una
a
pose,andthemostirritatingposeIknow,”criedLordHenry,laughing;
e
and
thetwoyoungmenwent
uscirono
out
intothegardentogether
e
and
ensconcedthemselvesona
lungo
long
bambooseatthatstoodin
i
the
shadeofatalllaurelbush.
La
The
sunlightslippedoverthepolishedleaves.
In
le
the
grass,whitedaisiesweretremulous.
Dopo
After
apause,LordHenrypulled
fuori
out
hiswatch.
“IamafraidImustbe
andare
going
,Basil,”hemurmured,“andbeforeI
andare
go
,Iinsistonyour
risponda
answering
aquestionIputtoyou
qualche
some
timeago.”
“Whatisthat?”
disse
said
thepainter,keepinghiseyesfixedon
il
the
ground.
“Youknowquitewell.”
“Idonot,Harry.”
“Well,Iwill
dirò
tell
youwhatitis.
Iwantyoutoexplaintomewhyyouwon’texhibitDorianGray’spicture.
Iwant
la
the
realreason.”
“Itoldyou
il
the
realreason.”
“No,you
fatto
did
not.
Yousaiditwasbecausetherewastoomuchofyourselfin
esso
it
.
Now,thatischildish.”
“Harry,”
disse
said
BasilHallward,lookinghimstraightinthe
faccia
face
,“everyportraitthatispaintedwithfeelingis
un
a
portraitoftheartist,notofthesitter.
La
The
sitterismerelytheaccident,
la
the
occasion.
Itisnothe
che
who
isrevealedbythepainter;
itisrather
il
the
painterwho,onthecolouredcanvas,revealshimself.
The
ragione
reason
Iwillnotexhibit
questo
this
pictureisthatIamafraid
che
that
Ihaveshowninitthesecretofmyownsoul.”
LordHenrylaughed.
“Andwhatisthat?”
he
chiesto
asked
.
“Iwilltellyou,”
disse
said
Hallward;
butanexpressionofperplexitycameoverhis
faccia
face
.
“Iamallexpectation,Basil,”continuedhiscompanion,glancingathim.
“Oh,thereis
davvero
really
verylittletotell,Harry,”
rispose
answered
thepainter;
“andIamafraidyouwillhardlyunderstandit.
Forse
Perhaps
youwillhardlybelieveit.”
LordHenrysmiled,
e
and
leaningdown,pluckedapink-petalleddaisyfromthegrass
e
and
examinedit.
“Iam
abbastanza
quite
sureIshallunderstandit,”hereplied,gazingintentlyatthe
piccolo
little
golden,white-feathereddisk,“andasfor
credere
believing
things,Icanbelieve
qualsiasi cosa
anything
,providedthatitis
abbastanza
quite
incredible.”
Thewindshook
alcuni
some
blossomsfromthetrees,
e
and
theheavylilac-blooms,withtheirclusteringstars,movedto
e
and
frointhelanguidair.
Agrasshopperbegantochirrupbythewall,
e
and
likeabluethreadalongthindragon-flyfloatedpastonitsbrowngauzewings.
LordHenryfeltas
se
if
hecouldhearBasilHallward’s
cuore
heart
beating,andwonderedwhatwascoming.
“The
storia
story
issimplythis,”said
il
the
painteraftersometime.
“Twomonths
fa
ago
IwenttoacrushatLadyBrandon’s.
You
sai
know
wepoorartistshavetoshowourselvesinsocietyfromtimetotime,
solo
just
toremindthepublic
che
that
wearenotsavages.
Di
With
aneveningcoatandawhitetie,asyou
detto
told
meonce,anybody,evenastock-broker,cangainareputationforbeingcivilized.
Well,
dopo
after
Ihadbeenintheroom
circa
about
tenminutes,talkingtohugeoverdresseddowagers
e
and
tediousacademicians,Isuddenlybecameconscious
che
that
someonewaslookingatme.
I
girato
turned
half-wayroundandsawDorianGrayfor
la
the
firsttime.
Whenoureyes
incontrarono
met
,IfeltthatIwasgrowingpale.
Una
A
curioussensationofterrorcameover
mi
me
.
IknewthatI
avrebbe
had
comefacetofacewithsomeonewhosemerepersonalitywassofascinating
che
that
,ifIalloweditto
faccia
do
so,itwouldabsorbmywholenature,mywholesoul,myveryartitself.
Ididnotwantanyexternalinfluenceinmy
vita
life
.
Youknowyourself,Harry,
quanto
how
independentIambynature.
Ihave
sempre
always
beenmyownmaster;
ho
had
atleastalwaysbeenso,tillI
incontrato
met
DorianGray.
Then—butIdon’t
so
know
howtoexplainittoyou.
Qualcosa
Something
seemedtotellme
che
that
Iwasonthevergeof
una
a
terriblecrisisinmy
vita
life
.
Ihadastrangefeeling
che
that
fatehadinstoreformeexquisitejoys
e
and
exquisitesorrows.
Igrewafraid
e
and
turnedtoquittheroom.
Itwasnotconsciencethatmademedoso:
itwas
una
a
sortofcowardice.
I
prendo
take
nocredittomyselffortryingtoescape.”
“Conscience
e
and
cowardicearereallythesamethings,Basil.
Conscienceisthetrade-nameofthefirm.
Thatisall.”
“Idon’tbelieve
che
that
,Harry,andIdon’tbelieveyoudoeither.
However,
qualunque
whatever
wasmymotive—anditmay
ho
have
beenpride,forIusedtobeveryproud—Icertainlystruggledtothe
porta
door
.
There,ofcourse,IstumbledagainstLadyBrandon.
‘Youarenotgoingtorunawayso
presto
soon
,Mr.Hallward?’shescreamedout.
Youknowhercuriouslyshrillvoice?”
“Yes;
sheis
un
a
peacockineverythingbutbeauty,”
disse
said
LordHenry,pullingthedaisytobitswithhislongnervousfingers.
“Icouldnotgetridof
lei
her
.
Shebroughtmeuptoroyalties,
e
and
peoplewithstarsandgarters,
e
and
elderlyladieswithgigantictiaras
e
and
parrotnoses.
Shespokeofmeasherdearestfriend.
Ihad
solo
only
metheroncebefore,
ma
but
shetookitintoherheadtolionizeme.
I
credo
believe
somepictureofminehadmade
un
a
greatsuccessatthetime,at
almeno
least
hadbeenchatteredaboutinthepennynewspapers,
che
which
isthenineteenth-centurystandardofimmortality.
SuddenlyIfoundmyself
faccia
face
tofacewiththe
giovane
young
manwhosepersonalityhadsostrangelystirredme.