THEPREFACE
Theartististhecreatorof
güzel
beautifulthings.Torevealart
ve
andconcealtheartistisart’saim.Thecriticishewhocantranslateinto
başka
anothermanneroranewmaterialhisimpressionofgüzel
beautifulthings.Thehighestasthelowestformofcriticismis
bir
amodeofautobiography.Thosewhofind
çirkin
uglymeaningsinbeautifulthingsarecorruptwithoutbeingçekici
charming.Thisisafault.
Thosewhofind
güzel
beautifulmeaningsinbeautifulthingsarethecultivated.Forthese
var
thereishope.Theyaretheelecttowhom
güzel
beautifulthingsmeanonlybeauty.Thereisnosuch
şey
thingasamoraloranahlaksız
immoralbook.Booksarewellwritten,
ya da
orbadlywritten.Thatisall.
ThenineteenthcenturydislikeofrealismistherageofCalibanseeinghis
kendi
ownfaceinaglass.ThenineteenthcenturydislikeofromanticismistherageofCalibannotseeinghis
kendi
ownfaceinaglass.The
ahlaki
morallifeofmanformspartofthesubject-matteroftheartist,ancak
butthemoralityofartconsistsinthemükemmel
perfectuseofanimperfectmedium.Hiçbir
Noartistdesirestoproveşey
anything.Eventhingsthatare
doğru
truecanbeproved.Noartisthas
etik
ethicalsympathies.Anethicalsympathyin
bir
anartistisanunpardonablemannerismofstil
style.Noartistisever
hastalıklı
morbid.Theartistcanexpress
her şeyi
everything.Thoughtandlanguagearetotheartistinstrumentsofan
sanat
art.Viceandvirtuearetothe
sanatçı
artistmaterialsforanart.Fromthepointofviewofform,the
türü
typeofalltheartsistheartofthemusician.Fromthepointofviewoffeeling,theactor’scraftisthetype.
Tüm
Allartisatonceyüzey
surfaceandsymbol.Thosewhogobeneaththesurface
yaparlar
dosoattheirperil.Thosewhoreadthe
sembolü
symboldosoattheirperil.Itisthe
seyirci
spectator,andnotlife,thatartgerçekten
reallymirrors.Diversityofopinion
hakkında
aboutaworkofartgösterir
showsthattheworkisyeni
new,complex,andvital.Whencritics
aynı fikirde
disagree,theartistisinaccordwithhimself.Wecanforgive
bir
amanformakingayararlı
usefulthingaslongashedoesnothayran
admireit.Theonlyexcuseformakingauseless
şey
thingisthatoneadmiresityoğun
intensely.Allartisquite
işe yaramaz
useless.CHAPTERI.
Thestudiowasfilledwiththe
zengin
richodourofroses,andwhenthehafif
lightsummerwindstirredamidstthetreesofthegarden,theregeliyordu
camethroughtheopendoortheağır
heavyscentofthelilac,ya da
orthemoredelicateperfumeofthepink-floweringthorn.FromthecornerofthedivanofPersiansaddle-bagsonwhichhewaslying,smoking,aswashiscustom,innumerablecigarettes,
Lord
LordHenryWottoncouldjustcatchthegleamofthehoney-sweetve
andhoney-colouredblossomsofalaburnum,whosetremulousbranchesseemedzor
hardlyabletobeartheburdenofbir
abeautysoflamelikeastheirs;ve
andnowandthenthemuhteşem
fantasticshadowsofbirdsinflightflittedacrosstheuzun
longtussore-silkcurtainsthatwerestretchedinfrontofthedevasa
hugewindow,producingakindofmomentaryJapaneseetkisi
effect,andmakinghimthinkofthosepallid,jade-facedpaintersofTokyowho,aracılığıyla
throughthemediumofansanat
artthatisnecessarilyimmobile,seektoiletmeye
conveythesenseofswiftnessve
andmotion.Thesullenmurmurofthebeesshoulderingtheirwaythroughthe
uzun
longunmowngrass,orcirclingwithmonotonousinsistenceroundthetozlu
dustygilthornsofthestragglingwoodbine,seemedtomakethestillnessdaha
moreoppressive.ThedimroarofLondonwaslikethebourdonnoteof
bir
adistantorgan.Inthecentreoftheroom,clampedtoan
dik
uprighteasel,stoodthefull-lengthportraitofagenç
youngmanofextraordinarypersonalbeauty,ve
andinfrontofit,biraz
somelittledistanceaway,wasoturuyordu
sittingtheartisthimself,BasilHallward,whoseaniden
suddendisappearancesomeyearsagocaused,atthetime,böyle
suchpublicexcitementandgaverisetosomanygarip
strangeconjectures.Asthepainterlookedatthegracious
ve
andcomelyformhehadsoskilfullymirroredinhisart,bir
asmileofpleasurepassedacrosshisface,ve
andseemedabouttolingerorada
there.Buthesuddenlystartedup,
ve
andclosinghiseyes,placedhisfingersuponthelids,asthoughhesoughttoimprisonwithinhisbrainsometuhaf
curiousdreamfromwhichhefearedhemightawake.“Itisyourbestwork,Basil,thebestthingyouhaveeverdone,”
dedi
saidLordHenrylanguidly.“Youmust
kesinlikle
certainlysenditnextyeartotheGrosvenor.The
Akademi
Academyistoolargeandçok
toovulgar.WheneverIhavegone
oraya
there,therehavebeeneithersoçok
manypeoplethatIhavenotbeenabletoseethepictures,ki
whichwasdreadful,orsoçok
manypicturesthatIhavenotbeenabletoseethepeople,ki
whichwasworse.TheGrosvenoris
gerçekten
reallytheonlyplace.”“Idon’tthinkIshallsenditanywhere,”he
yanıtladı
answered,tossinghisheadbackinthattuhaf
oddwaythatusedtomakehisfriendslaughathimatOxford.“No,Iwon’t
göndermeyeceğim
senditanywhere.”LordHenry
yükseltti
elevatedhiseyebrowsandlookedathiminamazementthroughtheince
thinbluewreathsofsmokethatcurledupinböyle
suchfancifulwhorlsfromhisağır
heavy,opium-taintedcigarette.“Notsenditanywhere?
My
sevgili
dearfellow,why?Haveyouanyreason?
What
tuhaf
oddchapsyoupaintersare!You
yaparsın
doanythingintheworldtokazanmak
gainareputation.Assoonasyouhaveone,youseemtowantto
atmak
throwitaway.Itissillyofyou,for
var
thereisonlyonethingintheworldkötü
worsethanbeingtalkedabout,ve
andthatisnotbeingtalkedabout.Bir
Aportraitlikethiswouldsetyouçok
farabovealltheyoungmeninEngland,ve
andmaketheoldmenquitekıskanç
jealous,ifoldmenareevercapableofherhangi
anyemotion.”“Iknowyouwilllaughatme,”he
yanıtladı
replied,“butIreallycan’texhibitit.Ihave
koydum
puttoomuchofmyselfintoit.”Lord
LordHenrystretchedhimselfoutonthedivanve
andlaughed.“Yes,Iknewyouwould;
ama
butitisquitetrue,allthesame.”“Toomuchofyourselfinit!
Uponmyword,Basil,Ididn’t
bilmiyordum
knowyouweresovain;ve
andIreallycan’tseeherhangi
anyresemblancebetweenyou,withyourruggedgüçlü
strongfaceandyourcoal-blackhair,ve
andthisyoungAdonis,wholooksasifhewasmadeoutoffildişi
ivoryandrose-leaves.Why,my
sevgili
dearBasil,heisaNarcissus,ve
andyou—well,ofcourseyouhaveanentelektüel
intellectualexpressionandallthat.Ama
Butbeauty,realbeauty,endswherebir
anintellectualexpressionbegins.Intellectisinitself
bir
amodeofexaggeration,anddestroystheharmonyofherhangi
anyface.Themomentonesitsdowntothink,
bir
onebecomesallnose,ortüm
allforehead,orsomethinghorrid.Bakın
Lookatthesuccessfulmeninherhangi
anyofthelearnedprofessions.Ne kadar
Howperfectlyhideoustheyare!Hariç
Except,ofcourse,intheKilise
Church.ButthenintheChurchtheydon’tthink.
Bir
Abishopkeepsonsayingattheageofeightywhathewassöylemeye
toldtosaywhenhewasbir
aboyofeighteen,andasbir
anaturalconsequencehealwayslooksabsolutelyhoş
delightful.Yourmysteriousyoungfriend,whose
adını
nameyouhavenevertoldbana
me,butwhosepicturereallyfascinatesbana
me,neverthinks.Ifeel
oldukça
quitesureofthat.Heissomebrainless
güzel
beautifulcreaturewhoshouldbeher zaman
alwayshereinwinterwhenwehavenoflowerstolookat,ve
andalwayshereinsummerzaman
whenwewantsomethingtochillourintelligence.Don’tflatteryourself,Basil:
youarenotintheleastlikehim.”
“Youdon’t
anlamıyorsun
understandme,Harry,”answeredthesanatçı
artist.“OfcourseIamnot
gibi
likehim.Iknowthatperfectly
iyi
well.Indeed,Ishouldbesorrytolooklike
ona
him.Youshrugyourshoulders?
Iam
söylüyorum
tellingyouthetruth.Thereis
bir
afatalityaboutallphysicalve
andintellectualdistinction,thesortoffatalitythatseemstodogthroughtarih
historythefalteringstepsofkings.Itis
daha
betternottobedifferentfromone’sfellows.Theugly
ve
andthestupidhavethebestofitinthisworld.Theycansitattheir
rahat
easeandgapeattheplay.Eğer
Iftheyknownothingofvictory,theyareatleastsparedtheknowledgeofdefeat.They
yaşıyorlar
liveasweallshouldlive—undisturbed,indifferent,ve
andwithoutdisquiet.Theyneither
getirirler
bringruinuponothers,noreveralırlar
receiveitfromalienhands.Yourrank
ve
andwealth,Harry;mybrains,suchastheyare—myart,whateveritmaybeworth;
DorianGray’s
güzel
goodlooks—weshallallsufferforwhatthegodshavegivenbize
us,sufferterribly.”“DorianGray?
Is
bu
thathisname?”askedLordHenry,walkingacrossthestudio
doğru
towardsBasilHallward.“Yes,thatishis
adı
name.Ididn’tintendto
söylemeye
tellittoyou.”“But
neden
whynot?”“Oh,Ican’texplain.
WhenIlikepeopleimmensely,I
asla
nevertelltheirnamestoanyone.Itislikesurrendering
bir
apartofthem.Ihavegrownto
sevmeye
lovesecrecy.Itseemstobethe
tek
onethingthatcanmakemodern
modernlifemysteriousormarvelloustous.Thecommonest
şey
thingisdelightfulifonesadece
onlyhidesit.WhenIleavetownnowI
asla
nevertellmypeoplewhereIamgoing.Eğer
IfIdid,Iwouldlosetüm
allmypleasure.Itis
bir
asillyhabit,Idaresay,ama
butsomehowitseemstobringbir
agreatdealofromanceintoone’slife.Isupposeyouthinkme
çok
awfullyfoolishaboutit?”“Notatall,”
yanıtladı
answeredLordHenry,“notatall,mysevgili
dearBasil.YouseemtoforgetthatIam
evli
married,andtheonecharmofmarriageisthatitmakesahayat
lifeofdeceptionabsolutelynecessaryforiki
bothparties.Ineverknow
nerede
wheremywifeis,andmykarım
wifeneverknowswhatIamdoing.Whenwemeet—wedo
buluşuruz
meetoccasionally,whenwedineoutbirlikte
together,orgodowntotheDuke’s—weanlatırız
telleachotherthemostsaçma
absurdstorieswiththemostciddi
seriousfaces.Mywifeis
çok
verygoodatit—muchbetter,inaslında
fact,thanIam.Shenevergetsconfusedoverherdates,andI
her zaman
alwaysdo.Butwhenshe
yapmıyor
doesfindmeout,sheyapmıyor
makesnorowatall.I
bazen
sometimeswishshewould;butshe
sadece
merelylaughsatme.”“I
nefret
hatethewayyoutalkhakkında
aboutyourmarriedlife,Harry,”dedi
saidBasilHallward,strollingtowardsthedoorthatledintothegarden.“I
inanıyorum
believethatyouarereallybir
averygoodhusband,butthatyouarethoroughlyashamedofyourkendi
ownvirtues.Youarean
olağanüstü
extraordinaryfellow.Youneversay
bir
amoralthing,andyouasla
neverdoawrongthing.Yourcynicismis
sadece
simplyapose.”“Beingnaturalis
sadece
simplyapose,andtheen
mostirritatingposeIknow,”criedLord
LordHenry,laughing;andthetwo
genç
youngmenwentoutintothegardenbirlikte
togetherandensconcedthemselvesonbir
alongbambooseatthatstoodintheshadeofbir
atalllaurelbush.The
güneş ışığı
sunlightslippedoverthepolishedleaves.Inthegrass,
beyaz
whitedaisiesweretremulous.After
bir
apause,LordHenrypulledouthiswatch.“IamafraidImustbe
gitmeliyim
going,Basil,”hemurmured,“andbeforeIgitmeliyim
go,Iinsistonyouransweringbir
aquestionIputtoyousometimeago.”“Whatisthat?”
dedi
saidthepainter,keepinghiseyesfixedontheyere
ground.“Youknowquitewell.”
“Idonot,Harry.”
“Well,Iwilltellyouwhatit
olduğunu
is.Iwantyoutoexplaintome
neden
whyyouwon’texhibitDorianGray’spicture.I
istiyorum
wanttherealreason.”“Itoldyouthe
gerçek
realreason.”“No,youdidnot.
Yousaiditwasbecausetherewastoomuchofyourselfinit.
Now,
bu
thatischildish.”“Harry,”saidBasilHallward,lookinghimstraightintheface,“every
portre
portraitthatispaintedwithfeelingisaportre
portraitoftheartist,notofthesitter.Thesitteris
sadece
merelytheaccident,theoccasion.Itisnothewhoisrevealedbythe
ressam
painter;itisratherthepainterwho,onthecolouredcanvas,revealshimself.
ThereasonIwillnotexhibitthis
resmi
pictureisthatIamafraidthatIhaveshowninitthesecretofmykendi
ownsoul.”LordHenrylaughed.
“Andwhatisthat?”
he
sordu
asked.“Iwilltellyou,”
dedi
saidHallward;butanexpressionofperplexitycameoverhisface.
“Iamallexpectation,Basil,”continuedhis
arkadaşı
companion,glancingathim.“Oh,
var
thereisreallyverylittletotell,Harry,”yanıtladı
answeredthepainter;“andIamafraidyouwillhardly
anlamayacaksın
understandit.Perhapsyouwillhardly
inanmayacaksın
believeit.”LordHenrysmiled,
ve
andleaningdown,pluckedapink-petalledpapatya
daisyfromthegrassandinceledi
examinedit.“IamquitesureIshallunderstandit,”he
yanıtladı
replied,gazingintentlyattheküçük
littlegolden,white-feathereddisk,“andasforinanmaya
believingthings,Icanbelieveanything,providedthatitisoldukça
quiteincredible.”Thewindshook
bazı
someblossomsfromthetrees,ve
andtheheavylilac-blooms,withtheirclusteringstars,movedtove
andfrointhelanguidhavada
air.Agrasshopperbegantochirrupbythewall,
ve
andlikeabluethreadbir
alongthindragon-flyfloatedpastonitskahverengi
browngauzewings.LordHenryfeltasifhecouldhearBasilHallward’s
kalp
heartbeating,andwonderedwhatwascoming.“Thestoryis
basitçe
simplythis,”saidthepaintersonra
aftersometime.“Twomonths
önce
agoIwenttoacrushatLeydi
LadyBrandon’s.Youknowwe
zavallı
poorartistshavetoshowourselvesinsocietyfromzaman
timetotime,justtoremindthepublicthatwearenotsavages.Withan
akşam
eveningcoatandawhitetie,asyoutoldmebir keresinde
once,anybody,evenastock-broker,cangainaüne
reputationforbeingcivilized.Well,
sonra
afterIhadbeenintheodada
roomabouttenminutes,talkingtobüyük
hugeoverdresseddowagersandtediousacademicians,Isuddenlybecameconsciousthatsomeonewaslookingatbana
me.Iturnedhalf-wayround
ve
andsawDorianGrayfortheilk
firsttime.Whenoureyesmet,IfeltthatIwasgrowingpale.
Bir
Acurioussensationofterrorgeldi
cameoverme.Iknew
o
thatIhadcomefacetoyüz
facewithsomeonewhosesadece
merepersonalitywassofascinatingo
that,ifIallowedittodoso,itwouldemecekti
absorbmywholenature,mytüm
wholesoul,myveryartitself.Ididnot
istemedim
wantanyexternalinfluenceinmylife.You
biliyorsun
knowyourself,Harry,howindependentIambynature.Ihave
her zaman
alwaysbeenmyownmaster;hadatleast
her zaman
alwaysbeenso,tillImetDorianGray.Then—butIdon’t
bilmiyorum
knowhowtoexplainittoyou.Şey
SomethingseemedtotellmethatIwasontheeşiğinde
vergeofaterriblecrisisinmylife.I
vardı
hadastrangefeelingthatfatevardı
hadinstoreformeexquisitejoysve
andexquisitesorrows.Igrewafraid
ve
andturnedtoquittheroom.Itwasnot
vicdan
consciencethatmademedoso:itwas
bir
asortofcowardice.Itakenocredittomyselffortryingtoescape.”
“Conscience
ve
andcowardicearereallytheaynı
samethings,Basil.Conscienceisthetrade-nameofthefirm.
Bu
Thatisall.”“Idon’tbelievethat,Harry,andIdon’tbelieveyoudoeither.
Bununla birlikte
However,whateverwasmymotive—anditmayhavebeengurur
pride,forIusedtobeçok
veryproud—Icertainlystruggledtothedoor.Orada
There,ofcourse,IstumbledagainstLeydi
LadyBrandon.‘Youarenotgoingtorunawaysosoon,Mr.Hallward?’she
bağırdı
screamedout.Youknowhercuriouslyshrillvoice?”
“Yes;
sheis
bir
apeacockineverythingbutbeauty,”dedi
saidLordHenry,pullingthedaisytobitswithhisuzun
longnervousfingers.“Icouldnotgetridofher.
Shebroughtmeuptoroyalties,
ve
andpeoplewithstarsandgarters,ve
andelderlyladieswithgigantictiarasve
andparrotnoses.Shespokeofmeasherdearest
arkadaşı
friend.Ihadonlymether
kez
oncebefore,butshetookitintoherheadtolionizebeni
me.Ibelievesomepictureofminehadmade
bir
agreatsuccessatthetime,atleasthadbeenchatteredaboutinthepennynewspapers,olan
whichisthenineteenth-centurystandardofölümsüzlük
immortality.SuddenlyIfoundmyself
yüz
facetofacewiththegenç
youngmanwhosepersonalityhadsogarip
strangelystirredme.