简.爱 英文版 Jane Eyre
夏洛蒂.勃朗特 Charlotte Bronte
CHAPTER XXVII Page 2
"My bride's mother I had never seen: I understood she was dead.The honeymoon over, I learned my mistake; she was only mad, andshut up in a lunatic asylum. There was a younger brother, too --a complete dumb idiot. The elder one, whom you have seen (and whomI cannot hate, whilst I abhor all his kindred, because he has somegrains of affection in his feeble mind, shown in the continuedinterest he takes in his wretched sister, and also in a dog-likeattachment he once bore me), will probably be in the same stateone day. My father and my brother Rowland knew all this; but theythought only of the thirty thousand pounds, and joined in the plotagainst me. "
"These were vile discoveries; but except for the treacheryof concealment, I should have made them no subject of reproach tomy wife, even when I found her nature wholly alien to mine, hertastes obnoxious to me, her cast of mind common, low, narrow, andsingularly incapable of being led to anything higher, expandedto anything larger -- when I found that I could not pass a singleevening, nor even a single hour of the day with her in comfort;that kindly conversation could not be sustained between us, becausewhatever topic I started, immediately received from her a turn atonce coarse and trite, perverse and imbecile -- when I perceivedthat I should never have a quiet or settled household, becauseno servant would bear the continued outbreaks of her violent andunreasonable temper, or the vexations of her absurd, contradictory,exacting orders -- even then I restrained myself: I eschewedupbraiding, I curtailed remonstrance; I tried to devour my repentanceand disgust in secret; I repressed the deep antipathy I felt.
"Jane, I will not trouble you with abominable details: some strongwords shall express what I have to say. I lived with that womanupstairs four years, and before that time she had tried me indeed:her character ripened and developed with frightful rapidity; hervices sprang up fast and rank: they were so strong, only crueltycould check them, and I would not use cruelty. What a pigmyintellect she had, and what giant propensities! How fearful werethe curses those propensities entailed on me! Bertha Mason, thetrue daughter of an infamous mother, dragged me through all thehideous and degrading agonies which must attend a man bound to awife at once intemperate and unchaste.
"My brother in the interval was dead, and at the end of the fouryears my father died too. I was rich enough now -- yet poor tohideous indigence: a nature the most gross, impure, depraved I eversaw, was associated with mine, and called by the law and by societya part of me. And I could not rid myself of it by any legalproceedings: for the doctors now discovered that MY WIFE was mad-- her excesses had prematurely developed the germs of insanity.Jane, you don't like my narrative; you look almost sick -- shallI defer the rest to another day?"
"No, sir, finish it now; I pity you -- I do earnestly pity you. "
"Pity, Jane, from some people is a noxious and insulting sort oftribute, which one is justified in hurling back in the teeth ofthose who offer it; but that is the sort of pity native to callous,selfish hearts; it is a hybrid, egotistical pain at hearing ofwoes, crossed with ignorant contempt for those who have enduredthem. But that is not your pity, Jane; it is not the feeling ofwhich your whole face is full at this moment -- with which your eyesare now almost overflowing -- with which your heart is heaving --with which your hand is trembling in mine. Your pity, my darling,is the suffering mother of love: its anguish is the very natalpang of the divine passion. I accept it, Jane; let the daughterhave free advent -- my arms wait to receive her. "
"Now, sir, proceed; what did you do when you found she was mad?"
"Jane, I approached the verge of despair; a remnant of self-respectwas all that intervened between me and the gulf. In the eyesof the world, I was doubtless covered with grimy dishonour; but Iresolved to be clean in my own sight -- and to the last I repudiatedthe contamination of her crimes, and wrenched myself from connectionwith her mental defects. Still, society associated my name andperson with hers; I yet saw her and heard her daily: somethingof her breath (faugh!) mixed with the air I breathed; and besides,I remembered I had once been her husband -- that recollection wasthen, and is now, inexpressibly odious to me; moreover, I knew thatwhile she lived I could never be the husband of another and betterwife; and, though five years my senior (her family and her fatherhad lied to me even in the particular of her age), she was likelyto live as long as I, being as robust in frame as she was infirmin mind. Thus, at the age of twenty-six, I was hopeless.
"One night I had been awakened by her yells -- (since the medicalmen had pronounced her mad, she had, of course, been shut up)-- it was a fiery West Indian night; one of the description thatfrequently precede the hurricanes of those climates. Being unableto sleep in bed, I got up and opened the window. The air was likesulphur-steams -- I could find no refreshment anywhere. Mosquitoescame buzzing in and hummed sullenly round the room; the sea, whichI could hear from thence, rumbled dull like an earthquake -- blackclouds were casting up over it; the moon was setting in the waves,broad and red, like a hot cannon-ball -- she threw her last bloodyglance over a world quivering with the ferment of tempest. I wasphysically influenced by the atmosphere and scene, and my ears werefilled with the curses the maniac still shrieked out; wherein shemomentarily mingled my name with such a tone of demon-hate, withsuch language! -- no professed harlot ever had a fouler vocabularythan she: though two rooms off, I heard every word -- the thinpartitions of the West India house opposing but slight obstructionto her wolfish cries.
"'This life, ' said I at last, 'is hell: this is the air -- thoseare the sounds of the bottomless pit! I have a right to delivermyself from it if I can. The sufferings of this mortal state willleave me with the heavy flesh that now cumbers my soul. Of thefanatic's burning eternity I have no fear: there is not a futurestate worse than this present one -- let me break away, and go hometo God!'
"I said this whilst I knelt down at, and unlocked a trunk whichcontained a brace of loaded pistols: I mean to shoot myself. Ionly entertained the intention for a moment; for, not being insane,the crisis of exquisite and unalloyed despair, which had originatedthe wish and design of self-destruction, was past in a second.
"A wind fresh from Europe blew over the ocean and rushed throughthe open casement: the storm broke, streamed, thundered, blazed,and the air grew pure. I then framed and fixed a resolution.While I walked under the dripping orange-trees of my wet garden,and amongst its drenched pomegranates and pine-apples, and whilethe refulgent dawn of the tropics kindled round me -- I reasonedthus, Jane -- and now listen; for it was true Wisdom that consoledme in that hour, and showed me the right path to follow.
"The sweet wind from Europe was still whispering in the refreshedleaves, and the Atlantic was thundering in glorious liberty; myheart, dried up and scorched for a long time, swelled to the tone,and filled with living blood -- my being longed for renewal -- mysoul thirsted for a pure draught. I saw hope revive -- and feltregeneration possible. From a flowery arch at the bottom of mygarden I gazed over the sea -- bluer than the sky: the old worldwas beyond; clear prospects opened thus:-
"'Go, ' said Hope, 'and live again in Europe: there it is not knownwhat a sullied name you bear, nor what a filthy burden is boundto you. You may take the maniac with you to England; confine herwith due attendance and precautions at Thornfield: then travelyourself to what clime you will, and form what new tie you like.That woman, who has so abused your long-suffering, so sullied yourname, so outraged your honour, so blighted your youth, is not yourwife, nor are you her husband. See that she is cared for as hercondition demands, and you have done all that God and humanityrequire of you. Let her identity, her connection with yourself,be buried in oblivion: you are bound to impart them to no livingbeing. Place her in safety and comfort: shelter her degradationwith secrecy, and leave her. '
"I acted precisely on this suggestion. My father and brother hadnot made my marriage known to their acquaintance; because, in thevery first letter I wrote to apprise them of the union -- havingalready begun to experience extreme disgust of its consequences,and, from the family character and constitution, seeing a hideousfuture opening to me -- I added an urgent charge to keep itsecret: and very soon the infamous conduct of the wife my fatherhad selected for me was such as to make him blush to own her as hisdaughter-in-law. Far from desiring to publish the connection, hebecame as anxious to conceal it as myself.
"To England, then, I conveyed her; a fearful voyage I had withsuch a monster in the vessel. Glad was I when I at last got herto Thornfield, and saw her safely lodged in that third-storey room,of whose secret inner cabinet she has now for ten years made a wildbeast's den -- a goblin's cell. I had some trouble in finding anattendant for her, as it was necessary to select one on whose fidelitydependence could be placed; for her ravings would inevitably betraymy secret: besides, she had lucid intervals of days -- sometimesweeks -- which she filled up with abuse of me. At last I hiredGrace Poole from the Grimbsy Retreat. She and the surgeon, Carter(who dressed Mason's wounds that night he was stabbed and worried),are the only two I have ever admitted to my confidence. Mrs. Fairfaxmay indeed have suspected something, but she could have gained noprecise knowledge as to facts. Grace has, on the whole, proved agood keeper; though, owing partly to a fault of her own, of whichit appears nothing can cure her, and which is incident to herharassing profession, her vigilance has been more than once lulledand baffled. The lunatic is both cunning and malignant; she hasnever failed to take advantage of her guardian's temporary lapses;once to secrete the knife with which she stabbed her brother, andtwice to possess herself of the key of her cell, and issue therefromin the night-time. On the first of these occasions, she perpetratedthe attempt to burn me in my bed; on the second, she paid thatghastly visit to you. I thank Providence, who watched over you,that she then spent her fury on your wedding apparel, which perhapsbrought back vague reminiscences of her own bridal days: but on whatmight have happened, I cannot endure to reflect. When I think ofthe thing which flew at my throat this morning, hanging its blackand scarlet visage over the nest of my dove, my blood curdles. "
"And what, sir, " I asked, while he paused, "did you do when youhad settled her here? Where did you go?"
"What did I do, Jane? I transformed myself into a will-o'-the-wisp.Where did I go? I pursued wanderings as wild as those of theMarch-spirit. I sought the Continent, and went devious throughall its lands. My fixed desire was to seek and find a good andintelligent woman, whom I could love: a contrast to thefury I left at Thornfield -- "
her and heard her daily: somethingof her breath (faugh!) mixed with the.
"But you could not marry, sir. "
"I had determined and was convinced that I could and ought. Itwas not my original intention to deceive, as I have deceived you.I meant to tell my tale plainly, and make my proposals openly: andit appeared to me so absolutely rational that I should be consideredfree to love and be loved, I never doubted some woman might be foundwilling and able to understand my case and accept me, in spite ofthe curse with which I was burdened. "
"Well, sir?"
"When you are inquisitive, Jane, you always make me smile. Youopen your eyes like an eager bird, and make every now and then arestless movement, as if answers in speech did not flow fast enoughfor you, and you wanted to read the tablet of one's heart. Butbefore I go on, tell me what you mean by your 'Well, sir?' It isa small phrase very frequent with you; and which many a time hasdrawn me on and on through interminable talk: I don't very wellknow why. "
"I mean, -- What next? How did you proceed? What came of such anevent?"
"Precisely! and what do you wish to know now?"
"Whether you found any one you liked: whether you asked her tomarry you; and what she said. "
"I can tell you whether I found any one I liked, and whether Iasked her to marry me: but what she said is yet to be recorded inthe book of Fate. For ten long years I roved about, living firstin one capital, then another: sometimes in St. Petersburg; oftenerin Paris; occasionally in Rome, Naples, and Florence. Providedwith plenty of money and the passport of an old name, I could choosemy own society: no circles were closed against me. I sought myideal of a woman amongst English ladies, French countesses, Italiansignoras, and German grafinnen. I could not find her. Sometimes,for a fleeting moment, I thought I caught a glance, heard a tone,beheld a form, which announced the realisation of my dream: butI was presently undeserved. You are not to suppose that I desiredperfection, either of mind or person. I longed only for whatsuited me -- for the antipodes of the Creole: and I longed vainly.Amongst them all I found not one whom, had I been ever so free,I -- warned as I was of the risks, the horrors, the loathings ofincongruous unions -- would have asked to marry me. Disappointmentmade me reckless. I tried dissipation -- never debauchery: thatI hated, and hate. That was my Indian Messalina's attribute:rooted disgust at it and her restrained me much, even in pleasure.Any enjoyment that bordered on riot seemed to approach me to herand her vices, and I eschewed it.
"Yet I could not live alone; so I tried the companionshipof mistresses. The first I chose was Celine Varens -- another ofthose steps which make a man spurn himself when he recalls them. Youalready know what she was, and how my liaison with her terminated.She had two successors: an Italian, Giacinta, and a German, Clara;both considered singularly handsome. What was their beauty to mein a few weeks? Giacinta was unprincipled and violent: I tiredof her in three months. Clara was honest and quiet; but heavy,mindless, and unimpressible: not one whit to my taste. I wasglad to give her a sufficient sum to set her up in a good line ofbusiness, and so get decently rid of her. But, Jane, I see by yourface you are not forming a very favourable opinion of me just now.You think me an unfeeling, loose-principled rake: don't you?"
"I don't like you so well as I have done sometimes, indeed, sir.Did it not seem to you in the least wrong to live in that way,first with one mistress and then another? You talk of it as a merematter of course. "
"It was with me; and I did not like it. It was a grovellingfashion of existence: I should never like to return to it. Hiringa mistress is the next worse thing to buying a slave: both areoften by nature, and always by position, inferior: and to livefamiliarly with inferiors is degrading. I now hate the recollectionof the time I passed with Celine, Giacinta, and Clara. "
I felt the truth of these words; and I drew from them the certaininference, that if I were so far to forget myself and all the teachingthat had ever been instilled into me, as -- under any pretext --with any justification -- through any temptation -- to become thesuccessor of these poor girls, he would one day regard me with thesame feeling which now in his mind desecrated their memory. I didnot give utterance to this conviction: it was enough to feel it.I impressed it on my heart, that it might remain there to serve meas aid in the time of trial.
"Now, Jane, why don't you say 'Well, sir?' I have not done. Youare looking grave. You disapprove of me still, I see. But letme come to the point. Last January, rid of all mistresses -- in aharsh, bitter frame of mind, the result of a useless, roving, lonelylife -- corroded with disappointment, sourly disposed against allmen, and especially against all womankind (for I began to regardthe notion of an intellectual, faithful, loving woman as a meredream), recalled by business, I came back to England.
"On a frosty winter afternoon, I rode in sight of Thornfield Hall.Abhorred spot! I expected no peace -- no pleasure there. On astile in Hay Lane I saw a quiet little figure sitting by itself.I passed it as negligently as I did the pollard willow oppositeto it: I had no presentiment of what it would be to me; no inwardwarning that the arbitress of my life -- my genius for good or evil-- waited there in humble guise. I did not know it, even when, onthe occasion of Mesrour's accident, it came up and gravely offeredme help. Childish and slender creature! It seemed as if a linnethad hopped to my foot and proposed to bear me on its tiny wing. Iwas surly; but the thing would not go: it stood by me with strangeperseverance, and looked and spoke with a sort of authority. Imust be aided, and by that hand: and aided I was.
"When once I had pressed the frail shoulder, something new -- afresh sap and sense -- stole into my frame. It was well I had learntthat this elf must return to me -- that it belonged to my housedown below -- or I could not have felt it pass away from under myhand, and seen it vanish behind the dim hedge, without singularregret. I heard you come home that night, Jane, though probablyyou were not aware that I thought of you or watched for you. Thenext day I observed you -- myself unseen -- for half-an-hour,while you played with Adele in the gallery. It was a snowy day,I recollect, and you could not go out of doors. I was in my room;the door was ajar: I could both listen and watch. Adele claimedyour outward attention for a while; yet I fancied your thoughtswere elsewhere: but you were very patient with her, my littleJane; you talked to her and amused her a long time. When at lastshe left you, you lapsed at once into deep reverie: you betookyourself slowly to pace the gallery. Now and then, in passing acasement, you glanced out at the thick-falling snow; you listenedto the sobbing wind, and again you paced gently on and dreamed.I think those day visions were not dark: there was a pleasurableillumination in your eye occasionally, a soft excitement in youraspect, which told of no bitter, bilious, hypochondriac brooding:your look revealed rather the sweet musings of youth when its spiritfollows on willing wings the flight of Hope up and on to an idealheaven. The voice of Mrs. Fairfax, speaking to a servant in thehall, wakened you: and how curiously you smiled to and at yourself,Janet! There was much sense in your smile: it was very shrewd,and seemed to make light of your own abstraction. It seemed to say-- 'My fine visions are all very well, but I must not forget theyare absolutely unreal. I have a rosy sky and a green flowery Edenin my brain; but without, I am perfectly aware, lies at my feeta rough tract to travel, and around me gather black tempests toencounter. ' You ran downstairs and demanded of Mrs. Fairfax someoccupation: the weekly house accounts to make up, or something ofthat sort, I think it was. I was vexed with you for getting outof my sight.