In the stately London home of his aunt, Lady Brandon, the well-known artist Basil Hallward meets Dorian Gray. Dorian is a cultured, wealthy, and impossibly beautiful young man who immediately captures Basil's artistic imagination. Dorian sits for several portraits, and Basil often depicts him as an ancient Greek hero or a mythological figure. When the novel opens, the artist is completing his first portrait of Dorian as he truly is, but, as he admits to his friend Lord Henry Wotton, the painting disappoints him because it reveals too much of his feeling for his subject. Lord Henry, a famous wit who enjoys scandalizing his friends by celebrating youth, beauty, and the selfish pursuit of pleasure, disagrees, claiming that the portrait is Basil's masterpiece. Dorian arrives at the studio, and Basil reluctantly introduces him to Lord Henry, who he fears will have a damaging influence on the impressionable, young Dorian.
Basil's fears are well founded; before the end of their first conversation, Lord Henry upsets Dorian with a speech about the transient nature of beauty and youth. Worried that these, his most impressive characteristics, are fading day by day, Dorian curses his portrait, which he believes will one day remind him of the beauty he will have lost. In a fit of distress, he pledges his soul if only the painting could bear the burden of age and infamy, allowing him to stay forever young. In an attempt to appease Dorian, Basil gives him the portrait.
Over the next few weeks, Lord Henry's influence over Dorian grows stronger. The youth becomes a disciple of the “new Hedonism” and proposes to live a life dedicated to the pursuit of pleasure. He falls in love with Sibyl Vane, a young actress who performs in a theater in London's slums. He adores her acting; she, in turn, refers to him as “Prince Charming” and refuses to heed the warnings of her brother, James Vane, that Dorian is no good for her. Overcome by her emotions for Dorian, Sibyl decides that she can no longer act, wondering how she can pretend to love on the stage now that she has experienced the real thing. Dorian, who loves Sibyl because of her ability to act, cruelly breaks his engagement with her. After doing so, he returns home to notice that his face in Basil's portrait of him has changed: it now sneers. Frightened that his wish for his likeness in the painting to bear the ill effects of his behavior has come true and that his sins will be recorded on the canvas, he resolves to make amends with Sibyl the next day. The following afternoon, however, Lord Henry brings news that Sibyl has killed herself. At Lord Henry's urging, Dorian decides to consider her death a sort of artistic triumph—she personified tragedy—and to put the matter behind him. Meanwhile, Dorian hides his portrait in a remote upper room of his house, where no one other than he can watch its transformation.
Lord Henry gives Dorian a book that describes the wicked exploits of a nineteenth-century Frenchman; it becomes Dorian's bible as he sinks ever deeper into a life of sin and corruption. He lives a life devoted to garnering new experiences and sensations with no regard for conventional standards of morality or the consequences of his actions. Eighteen years pass. Dorian's reputation suffers in circles of polite London society, where rumors spread regarding his scandalous exploits. His peers nevertheless continue to accept him because he remains young and beautiful. The figure in the painting, however, grows increasingly wizened and hideous. On a dark, foggy night, Basil Hallward arrives at Dorian's home to confront him about the rumors that plague his reputation. The two argue, and Dorian eventually offers Basil a look at his (Dorian's) soul. He shows Basil the now-hideous portrait, and Hallward, horrified, begs him to repent. Dorian claims it is too late for penance and kills Basil in a fit of rage.
In order to dispose of the body, Dorian employs the help of an estranged friend, a doctor, whom he blackmails. The night after the murder, Dorian makes his way to an opium den, where he encounters James Vane, who attempts to avenge Sibyl's death. Dorian escapes to his country estate. While entertaining guests, he notices James Vane peering in through a window, and he becomes wracked by fear and guilt. When a hunting party accidentally shoots and kills Vane, Dorian feels safe again. He resolves to amend his life but cannot muster the courage to confess his crimes, and the painting now reveals his supposed desire to repent for what it is—hypocrisy. In a fury, Dorian picks up the knife he used to stab Basil Hallward and attempts to destroy the painting. There is a crash, and his servants enter to find the portrait, unharmed, showing Dorian Gray as a beautiful young man. On the floor lies the body of their master—an old man, horribly wrinkled and disfigured, with a knife plunged into his heart.
http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/doriangray/summary.html
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Saturday, March 7, 2009
WUTHERING HEIGHTS QUOTES
WUTHERING HEIGHTS - quotes
Heathcliff: “He seemed a sullen, patient child; hardened perhaps to ill-treatment: he would stand Hindley's blows without winking or shedding a tear”
Hindley: “His treatment of the latter (Heathcliff) was enough to make a fiend of a saint.”
“Hindley became tyrannical.He drove him(Heathcliff) from their company to the servants, insisted that he should labour out of doors. Heathcliff bore his deprivation pretty well at first.”
" Heathcliff and I are going to rebel - we took our initiatory step this evening"
When Catherine comes back from the Lintons: “I shall not stand to be laughed at. I shall not bear it.”
“The notion of envying Catherine was incomprehensible to him, but the notion of grieving her he understood clearly enough”.
Catherine to Linton: /when Heathcliff throws a dish of sauce when she comes back from the Lintons): “He was in bad temper, and now you've spoilt your visit; and he will be flogged: I hate him to be flogged.”
After Heathcliff was punished: “I'm trying to settle how I shall pay Hindley back. I don't care how long I'll wait, if I can only do it at last. I hope he will not die before I do.”
Hindley, drunk, throws down the stairs his child, Hareton, and Heathcliff saves the child.
"I will be rich and I shall like to be the greatest woman of the neighbourhood,and I shall
be proud of having such a husband"
Catherine: “Here, and here! In whichever place the soul lives. In my soul and in my heart, I'm convinced I am wrong!”
“I've no business to marry Edgar Linton than I have to be in heaven. And if that wicked man in there had not brought Heathcliff so low, I shouldn't have thought of it; It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff; so he shall never know how I love him; and that , not because he's handsome, Nelly, but because he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same; and Linton is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire.”
“He quite deserted! We separated! - she exclaimed with an accent of indignation - “Who is to separate us, pray! Every Linton on the face of the earth might melt into nothing, before I could consent to forsake Heathcliff......Nelly, you think me a selfish wretch, but did it never strike you that if Heathcliff and I married, we should be beggars? Whereas, if I marry Linton, , I can aid Heathcliff to rise, and place him out of my brother's power”.
"My great miseries in the world have been Heathcliff's miseries...my great thought in living is himself!If all perished and he remained, I should still continue to be;and if all else remained ,and he were annihilated the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.I should not seem a part of it.My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods :time will change it,I'm aware,as winter changes the trees.My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight,but necessary.Nelly,I am Heathcliff!He is always ,always in my mind not as a pleasure,any more than I am always a pleasure to myself,but as my own being."
Nelly: “One day, I had the misfortune, when she had provoked me exceedingly, to lay the blame of his disappearance on her: where indeed it belonged, as she well knew. From that period, for several months, she ceased to hold any communication with me.”
When Heathcliff returns: “Catherine flew upstairs, breathless and wild, too excited to show gladness: indeed, by her face, you would rather have surmised an awful calamity. “Oh, Edgar, Heathcliff's come back – he is!”
When Catherine tells Edgar to invite Heathcliff into the parlour: “ He looked vexed, and suggested the kitchen as a more suitable place for him. Mrs. Linton eyed him half angry, half laughing at his fastidiousness: No, I cannot sit in the kitchen. Set two tables here, Ellen, one for your master and Miss Isabella, being gentry; the other for Heathcliff and myself, being of the lower orders”.
“He took a seat opposite Catherine, who kept her gaze fixed on him as if she feared he would vanish were she to remove it. He did not raise his to her often: a quick glance now and then sufficed; but I flashed back, each time more confidently, the undisguised delight he drank from hers. They were too much absorbed in their mutual joy to suffer embarassement. Not so Mr. Edgar: he grew pale with pure annoyance”
Catherine: “The event of this evening has reconciled me to God and humanity! I had risen in angry rebellion against Providence. Oh, I have endured very, very bitter misery, Nelly.”
Catherine to Isabella about Heathcliff: “He's not a rough diamond; he's a fierce, pitiless, wolfish man. I never say to him “let this or that enemy alone, because it would be ungenerous or cruel to harm them; I say, “let them alone, because I should hate them to be wronged” and he'd crush you like a sparrow's egg.' he'd be quite capable of marrying your fortune, avarice is growing with him a besetting sin. That's my picture: and I'm his friend.”
“What is it to you?” he growled, “I am not your husband: you needn't be jealous of me!”
“I am not jealous of you: “ replied the mistress, “ I'm jealous for you. But do you like her? Tell the truth, Heathcliff! There , you won't answer. I 'm certain you don't”
Heathcliff: “I seek no revenge on you. The tyrant grinds down his slaves and they don't turn against him; they crush those beneath them. You are welcome to torture me to death to your amusement, only allow me to amuse myself a little in the same style. If I imagined you really wished me to marry Isabel, I'd cut my throat!”
Heathcliff for Edgar: “ But do you imagine that I shall leave Catherine to his duty and humanity and can you compare my feelings respecting Cathering to his? ... I never would have banished him from her society as long as she desired his. The moment her regard ceased, I would have torn his heart out and drank his blood.”
"And that insipid paltry creature attending her from duty and humanity!From pity and charity!He might as well plant an oak in a flower pot ,and expect it to thrive,as imagine he can restore her to vigour in the soil of his shallow cares."
Heathcliff cries when C.is dying:"I cannot live without my life,I cannot live without my soul."
"You teach me now how cruel you've been - cruel and false.Why did you betray your own heart ,Cathy?You deserve this ,you have killed yourself....You loved me - then ,what right had you to leave
me?...What right, answer me, for the poor fancy you felt for Linton? .... I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer – but yours? How can I!
.I have not broken your heart - you have broken it,and in breaking it you have broken mine.So much the worse that I am strong....What kind of living will it be when you...Oh,God!Would you like to live with your
soul in the grave?'
“ May she wake in torment! , he cried, with frightful vehemence, stamping his foot and growning in a sudden paroxism of ungovernable passion: “ Why, she's a liar to the end! Where is she? Not there – not in heaven – not perished – where? And I pray one prayer – I repeat it till my tongue stiffens – Catherine Earnshaw, my you not rest as long as I am living! You said I killed you – haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always – take any form – drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God, it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!”
“He dashed his head against the knotted trunk; and, lifting up his eyes, howled, not like a man, but like a savage beast being goaded to death with knives and spears.”
Heathcliff's revenge - "It is a moral teething,and I grind with greater energy ,in proportion to the increase of pain."
"I want the triumph of seeing my descendant fairly lord of their estates!My child hiring their children to till their father's lands for wages"
Heathcliff: “Do you know that, twenty times a day, I covet Hareton, with all his degradation! I would have loved the lad had he been someone else.” “I know what he suffers now, and he'll never be able to emerge from his coarsness and ignorance. And the best of it is, Hareton is damnabley fond of me”
Young Cathy: “Mr. Heathcliff, you have nobody to love you; and however miserable you make us, we shall still have the revenge of thinking that your cruelty arises from your greater misery. Your are miserable, are you not! Lonely, like the devil, and envious like him! Nobody loves you – nobody will cry for you when you die! I wouldn't be your!”
Heathcliff about Hareton: “But when I look for his father in his face, I find Her every day more! How the devil is he so like? I can hardly bear to see him. “
Cathy: “If you strike me, Hareton will strike you”
Hareton: “He said he wouldn't suffer a word to be uttered in his disparagement: if he were the devil, it didn't signify; he would stand by him;”
Heathcliff when watching Cathy and Hareton: “ It is a poor conclusion, is it not? An absurd termination to my violent exertions.
A change in him "I have lost the faculty of enjoying their destruction and I am too idle to destroy for nothing" And he speaks of Hareton
who "seemed a personification of my youth,not a human being, his startling likeness to Catherine connected him fearfully with her. I am surrounded with her image. The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her! Well, Hareton's aspect was the ghost of my immortal love;of my wild endeavour to hold my right - my degradation,my pride,my happiness and my anguish."
“ I have to remind myself to breathe, almost to remind my heart to beat. I have a single wish, and my whole being and facilities are yearning to attain it. Oh, God, It is a long fight, I wish it were over! “
“ I have not written my will yet; and how to leave my property I cannot determine. I wish I could annihilate it from the face of the earth.”
He speaks of the manner in which he wishes to be buried "It is to be carried to the churchyard in the evening." “ I tell you I have nearly attained my heaven”.
'But poor Hareton, the most wronged, was the only one who really suffered much. He sat by the corpse all night, weeping in bitter earnest. He pressed his hand, and kissed his sarcastic, savage face that every one else shrank from contemplating; and bemoaned him with that strong grief which springs naturally form a generous heart, though it be tough as tempered steel.”
“ We buried him, to the scandal of the whole neighbourhood, as he wished”.
Of Cathy and Hareton: “They are afraid of nothing. Together they would brave Satan and all his legions.”
Virginia Woolf: "That gigantic ambition to say something through the mouths of character which is not merely "I love" ,or "I hate" but "we ,the whole human race" and 'you, the eternal powers".
Heathcliff: “He seemed a sullen, patient child; hardened perhaps to ill-treatment: he would stand Hindley's blows without winking or shedding a tear”
Hindley: “His treatment of the latter (Heathcliff) was enough to make a fiend of a saint.”
“Hindley became tyrannical.He drove him(Heathcliff) from their company to the servants, insisted that he should labour out of doors. Heathcliff bore his deprivation pretty well at first.”
" Heathcliff and I are going to rebel - we took our initiatory step this evening"
When Catherine comes back from the Lintons: “I shall not stand to be laughed at. I shall not bear it.”
“The notion of envying Catherine was incomprehensible to him, but the notion of grieving her he understood clearly enough”.
Catherine to Linton: /when Heathcliff throws a dish of sauce when she comes back from the Lintons): “He was in bad temper, and now you've spoilt your visit; and he will be flogged: I hate him to be flogged.”
After Heathcliff was punished: “I'm trying to settle how I shall pay Hindley back. I don't care how long I'll wait, if I can only do it at last. I hope he will not die before I do.”
Hindley, drunk, throws down the stairs his child, Hareton, and Heathcliff saves the child.
"I will be rich and I shall like to be the greatest woman of the neighbourhood,and I shall
be proud of having such a husband"
Catherine: “Here, and here! In whichever place the soul lives. In my soul and in my heart, I'm convinced I am wrong!”
“I've no business to marry Edgar Linton than I have to be in heaven. And if that wicked man in there had not brought Heathcliff so low, I shouldn't have thought of it; It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff; so he shall never know how I love him; and that , not because he's handsome, Nelly, but because he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same; and Linton is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire.”
“He quite deserted! We separated! - she exclaimed with an accent of indignation - “Who is to separate us, pray! Every Linton on the face of the earth might melt into nothing, before I could consent to forsake Heathcliff......Nelly, you think me a selfish wretch, but did it never strike you that if Heathcliff and I married, we should be beggars? Whereas, if I marry Linton, , I can aid Heathcliff to rise, and place him out of my brother's power”.
"My great miseries in the world have been Heathcliff's miseries...my great thought in living is himself!If all perished and he remained, I should still continue to be;and if all else remained ,and he were annihilated the universe would turn to a mighty stranger.I should not seem a part of it.My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods :time will change it,I'm aware,as winter changes the trees.My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight,but necessary.Nelly,I am Heathcliff!He is always ,always in my mind not as a pleasure,any more than I am always a pleasure to myself,but as my own being."
Nelly: “One day, I had the misfortune, when she had provoked me exceedingly, to lay the blame of his disappearance on her: where indeed it belonged, as she well knew. From that period, for several months, she ceased to hold any communication with me.”
When Heathcliff returns: “Catherine flew upstairs, breathless and wild, too excited to show gladness: indeed, by her face, you would rather have surmised an awful calamity. “Oh, Edgar, Heathcliff's come back – he is!”
When Catherine tells Edgar to invite Heathcliff into the parlour: “ He looked vexed, and suggested the kitchen as a more suitable place for him. Mrs. Linton eyed him half angry, half laughing at his fastidiousness: No, I cannot sit in the kitchen. Set two tables here, Ellen, one for your master and Miss Isabella, being gentry; the other for Heathcliff and myself, being of the lower orders”.
“He took a seat opposite Catherine, who kept her gaze fixed on him as if she feared he would vanish were she to remove it. He did not raise his to her often: a quick glance now and then sufficed; but I flashed back, each time more confidently, the undisguised delight he drank from hers. They were too much absorbed in their mutual joy to suffer embarassement. Not so Mr. Edgar: he grew pale with pure annoyance”
Catherine: “The event of this evening has reconciled me to God and humanity! I had risen in angry rebellion against Providence. Oh, I have endured very, very bitter misery, Nelly.”
Catherine to Isabella about Heathcliff: “He's not a rough diamond; he's a fierce, pitiless, wolfish man. I never say to him “let this or that enemy alone, because it would be ungenerous or cruel to harm them; I say, “let them alone, because I should hate them to be wronged” and he'd crush you like a sparrow's egg.' he'd be quite capable of marrying your fortune, avarice is growing with him a besetting sin. That's my picture: and I'm his friend.”
“What is it to you?” he growled, “I am not your husband: you needn't be jealous of me!”
“I am not jealous of you: “ replied the mistress, “ I'm jealous for you. But do you like her? Tell the truth, Heathcliff! There , you won't answer. I 'm certain you don't”
Heathcliff: “I seek no revenge on you. The tyrant grinds down his slaves and they don't turn against him; they crush those beneath them. You are welcome to torture me to death to your amusement, only allow me to amuse myself a little in the same style. If I imagined you really wished me to marry Isabel, I'd cut my throat!”
Heathcliff for Edgar: “ But do you imagine that I shall leave Catherine to his duty and humanity and can you compare my feelings respecting Cathering to his? ... I never would have banished him from her society as long as she desired his. The moment her regard ceased, I would have torn his heart out and drank his blood.”
"And that insipid paltry creature attending her from duty and humanity!From pity and charity!He might as well plant an oak in a flower pot ,and expect it to thrive,as imagine he can restore her to vigour in the soil of his shallow cares."
Heathcliff cries when C.is dying:"I cannot live without my life,I cannot live without my soul."
"You teach me now how cruel you've been - cruel and false.Why did you betray your own heart ,Cathy?You deserve this ,you have killed yourself....You loved me - then ,what right had you to leave
me?...What right, answer me, for the poor fancy you felt for Linton? .... I forgive what you have done to me. I love my murderer – but yours? How can I!
.I have not broken your heart - you have broken it,and in breaking it you have broken mine.So much the worse that I am strong....What kind of living will it be when you...Oh,God!Would you like to live with your
soul in the grave?'
“ May she wake in torment! , he cried, with frightful vehemence, stamping his foot and growning in a sudden paroxism of ungovernable passion: “ Why, she's a liar to the end! Where is she? Not there – not in heaven – not perished – where? And I pray one prayer – I repeat it till my tongue stiffens – Catherine Earnshaw, my you not rest as long as I am living! You said I killed you – haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always – take any form – drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God, it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!”
“He dashed his head against the knotted trunk; and, lifting up his eyes, howled, not like a man, but like a savage beast being goaded to death with knives and spears.”
Heathcliff's revenge - "It is a moral teething,and I grind with greater energy ,in proportion to the increase of pain."
"I want the triumph of seeing my descendant fairly lord of their estates!My child hiring their children to till their father's lands for wages"
Heathcliff: “Do you know that, twenty times a day, I covet Hareton, with all his degradation! I would have loved the lad had he been someone else.” “I know what he suffers now, and he'll never be able to emerge from his coarsness and ignorance. And the best of it is, Hareton is damnabley fond of me”
Young Cathy: “Mr. Heathcliff, you have nobody to love you; and however miserable you make us, we shall still have the revenge of thinking that your cruelty arises from your greater misery. Your are miserable, are you not! Lonely, like the devil, and envious like him! Nobody loves you – nobody will cry for you when you die! I wouldn't be your!”
Heathcliff about Hareton: “But when I look for his father in his face, I find Her every day more! How the devil is he so like? I can hardly bear to see him. “
Cathy: “If you strike me, Hareton will strike you”
Hareton: “He said he wouldn't suffer a word to be uttered in his disparagement: if he were the devil, it didn't signify; he would stand by him;”
Heathcliff when watching Cathy and Hareton: “ It is a poor conclusion, is it not? An absurd termination to my violent exertions.
A change in him "I have lost the faculty of enjoying their destruction and I am too idle to destroy for nothing" And he speaks of Hareton
who "seemed a personification of my youth,not a human being, his startling likeness to Catherine connected him fearfully with her. I am surrounded with her image. The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her! Well, Hareton's aspect was the ghost of my immortal love;of my wild endeavour to hold my right - my degradation,my pride,my happiness and my anguish."
“ I have to remind myself to breathe, almost to remind my heart to beat. I have a single wish, and my whole being and facilities are yearning to attain it. Oh, God, It is a long fight, I wish it were over! “
“ I have not written my will yet; and how to leave my property I cannot determine. I wish I could annihilate it from the face of the earth.”
He speaks of the manner in which he wishes to be buried "It is to be carried to the churchyard in the evening." “ I tell you I have nearly attained my heaven”.
'But poor Hareton, the most wronged, was the only one who really suffered much. He sat by the corpse all night, weeping in bitter earnest. He pressed his hand, and kissed his sarcastic, savage face that every one else shrank from contemplating; and bemoaned him with that strong grief which springs naturally form a generous heart, though it be tough as tempered steel.”
“ We buried him, to the scandal of the whole neighbourhood, as he wished”.
Of Cathy and Hareton: “They are afraid of nothing. Together they would brave Satan and all his legions.”
Virginia Woolf: "That gigantic ambition to say something through the mouths of character which is not merely "I love" ,or "I hate" but "we ,the whole human race" and 'you, the eternal powers".
Monday, February 2, 2009
Jane Eyrе quotes
"Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs."
1. I am glad you are no relation of mine. I will never call you aunt again as long as I live. I will never come to visit you when I am grown up; and if any one asks me how I liked you, and how you treated me, I will say the very thought of you makes me sick, and that you treated me with miserable cruelty . . . You think I have no feelings, and that I can do without one bit of love or kindness; but I cannot live so: and you have no pity. I shall remember how you thrust me back . . . into the red-room . . . And that punishment you made me suffer because your wicked boy struck me—knocked me down for nothing. I will tell anybody who asks me questions this exact tale. 'Ere I had finished this reply, my soul began to expand, to exult, with the strangest sense of freedom, of triumph, I ever felt. It seemed as if an invisible bond had burst, and that I had struggled out into unhoped-for liberty. . . .
2. Feeling . . . clamoured wildly. “Oh, comply!” it said. “. . . soothe him; save him; love him; tell him you love him and will be his. Who in the world cares for you? or who will be injured by what you do?” Still indomitable was the reply: “I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself. I will keep the law given by God; sanctioned by man. I will hold to the principles received by me when I was sane, and not mad—as I am now.
It is in vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquility: they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it. Millions are condemned to a stiller doom than mine, and millions are in silent revolt against their lot. Nobody knows how many rebellions besides political rebellions ferment in the masses of life which people earth. Women are supposed to be very calm generally: but women feel just as men feel; they need exercise for their faculties, and a field for their efforts as much as their brothers do; they suffer from too rigid a restraint, too absolute a stagnation, precisely as men would suffer; and it is narrow-minded in their more privileged fellow-creatures to say that they ought to confine themselves to making puddings and knitting stockings, to playing on the piano and embroidering bags. It is thoughtless to condemn them, or laugh at them, if they seek to do more or learn more than custom has pronounced necessary for their sex.
They are not fit to associate with me. (after her being punished by her aunt)
I must resist those who punish me unjustly. (talking to Helen Burns)
I desired liberty; for liberty I gasped; for liberty I uttered a prayer (before leaving Lowood to go to Thornfield)
I don't think, sir, you have a right to command me, merely because you are older than I, or because you have seen more of the world than I have. (Jane to Rochester)
I grieve to leave Thornfield; I love Thornfield – I love it because I have lived in it a full and delightful life – momentarily at least. I have not been trampled on. I have not been petrified. ...... Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? Do you think I am an automation – a machine without feelings? ....Do you think because I am poor, obscure, plain and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! I have as much soul as you – and full as much heart!
I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, or even of mortal flesh – it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal – as we are!
"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will, which now exerts to leave you” (when Rochester proposes her)
I am not an angel, and I will not be one till I die; I will be myself, Mr. Rochester
You shall give me nothing but your regard.
Reader! I forgave him at the moment and on the spot., I forgave him all ; yet not in words, not outwardly; only at my heart's core. (after the wedding)
Rochester: 'Oh, Jane, this is bitter! This – this is wicked. It would not be wicked to love me.” -
Jane: 'It would to obey you” (on parting)
St.John: “Know me to be what I am – a cold, hard man.” “My ambition is unlimited; my desire to rise higher, to do more than others, insatiable. I watch your career with interest because I consider you a specimen of a diligent, orderly, energetic woman: not because I deeply compassionate what you have gone through or what you still suffer”
St.John: “you are formed for labour, not for love.A missionary's wife you must – shall be. You shall be mine; I claim you – not for my pleasure, but for my Sovereign's service”
I sat at the feet of a man erring as I. The veil fell from his hardness and despotism. Having felt in him the presence of these qualities, I felt his imperfection and took courage. I was with an equal – one with whom I might argue – one whom, If I saw good, I might resist.” (of St.John)
“..but as his wife – at his side always, and always restrained, and always checked – forced to keep the fire of my nature continually low, to compel it to burn inwardly and never utter a cry, though the imprisoned flame consumed vital after vital – this would be unendurable” (of St.John)
“I scorn your idea of love, I scorn the counterfeit sentiment you offer; yes, St.John, and I scorn you when you offer it. “
“If I were to marry you, you would kill me. You are killing me now.”
“to be chained for life to a man who regarded one but as a useful tool”
1. I am glad you are no relation of mine. I will never call you aunt again as long as I live. I will never come to visit you when I am grown up; and if any one asks me how I liked you, and how you treated me, I will say the very thought of you makes me sick, and that you treated me with miserable cruelty . . . You think I have no feelings, and that I can do without one bit of love or kindness; but I cannot live so: and you have no pity. I shall remember how you thrust me back . . . into the red-room . . . And that punishment you made me suffer because your wicked boy struck me—knocked me down for nothing. I will tell anybody who asks me questions this exact tale. 'Ere I had finished this reply, my soul began to expand, to exult, with the strangest sense of freedom, of triumph, I ever felt. It seemed as if an invisible bond had burst, and that I had struggled out into unhoped-for liberty. . . .
2. Feeling . . . clamoured wildly. “Oh, comply!” it said. “. . . soothe him; save him; love him; tell him you love him and will be his. Who in the world cares for you? or who will be injured by what you do?” Still indomitable was the reply: “I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself. I will keep the law given by God; sanctioned by man. I will hold to the principles received by me when I was sane, and not mad—as I am now.
It is in vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquility: they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it. Millions are condemned to a stiller doom than mine, and millions are in silent revolt against their lot. Nobody knows how many rebellions besides political rebellions ferment in the masses of life which people earth. Women are supposed to be very calm generally: but women feel just as men feel; they need exercise for their faculties, and a field for their efforts as much as their brothers do; they suffer from too rigid a restraint, too absolute a stagnation, precisely as men would suffer; and it is narrow-minded in their more privileged fellow-creatures to say that they ought to confine themselves to making puddings and knitting stockings, to playing on the piano and embroidering bags. It is thoughtless to condemn them, or laugh at them, if they seek to do more or learn more than custom has pronounced necessary for their sex.
They are not fit to associate with me. (after her being punished by her aunt)
I must resist those who punish me unjustly. (talking to Helen Burns)
I desired liberty; for liberty I gasped; for liberty I uttered a prayer (before leaving Lowood to go to Thornfield)
I don't think, sir, you have a right to command me, merely because you are older than I, or because you have seen more of the world than I have. (Jane to Rochester)
I grieve to leave Thornfield; I love Thornfield – I love it because I have lived in it a full and delightful life – momentarily at least. I have not been trampled on. I have not been petrified. ...... Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? Do you think I am an automation – a machine without feelings? ....Do you think because I am poor, obscure, plain and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! I have as much soul as you – and full as much heart!
I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, or even of mortal flesh – it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal – as we are!
"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will, which now exerts to leave you” (when Rochester proposes her)
I am not an angel, and I will not be one till I die; I will be myself, Mr. Rochester
You shall give me nothing but your regard.
Reader! I forgave him at the moment and on the spot., I forgave him all ; yet not in words, not outwardly; only at my heart's core. (after the wedding)
Rochester: 'Oh, Jane, this is bitter! This – this is wicked. It would not be wicked to love me.” -
Jane: 'It would to obey you” (on parting)
St.John: “Know me to be what I am – a cold, hard man.” “My ambition is unlimited; my desire to rise higher, to do more than others, insatiable. I watch your career with interest because I consider you a specimen of a diligent, orderly, energetic woman: not because I deeply compassionate what you have gone through or what you still suffer”
St.John: “you are formed for labour, not for love.A missionary's wife you must – shall be. You shall be mine; I claim you – not for my pleasure, but for my Sovereign's service”
I sat at the feet of a man erring as I. The veil fell from his hardness and despotism. Having felt in him the presence of these qualities, I felt his imperfection and took courage. I was with an equal – one with whom I might argue – one whom, If I saw good, I might resist.” (of St.John)
“..but as his wife – at his side always, and always restrained, and always checked – forced to keep the fire of my nature continually low, to compel it to burn inwardly and never utter a cry, though the imprisoned flame consumed vital after vital – this would be unendurable” (of St.John)
“I scorn your idea of love, I scorn the counterfeit sentiment you offer; yes, St.John, and I scorn you when you offer it. “
“If I were to marry you, you would kill me. You are killing me now.”
“to be chained for life to a man who regarded one but as a useful tool”
Monday, December 15, 2008
Elizabeth refuses Mr.Collins
I do assure you that I am not one of those young ladies (if such young ladies there are) who are so daring as to risk their happiness on the chance of being asked a second time. I am perfectly serious in my refusal. -- You could not make me happy, and I am convinced that I am the last woman in the world who would make you so,
I thank you again and again for the honour you have done me in your proposals, but to accept them is absolutely impossible. My feelings in every respect forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not consider me now as an elegant female intending to plague you, but as a rational creature speaking the truth from her heart.''
I thank you again and again for the honour you have done me in your proposals, but to accept them is absolutely impossible. My feelings in every respect forbid it. Can I speak plainer? Do not consider me now as an elegant female intending to plague you, but as a rational creature speaking the truth from her heart.''
CHAPTER 34 - DARCY'S PROPOSAL
Chapter 34
WHEN they were gone, Elizabeth, as if intending to exasperate herself as much as possible against Mr. Darcy, chose for her employment the examination of all the letters which Jane had written to her since her being in Kent. They contained no actual complaint, nor was there any revival of past occurrences, or any communication of present suffering. But in all, and in almost every line of each, there was a want of that cheerfulness which had been used to characterize her style, and which, proceeding from the serenity of a mind at ease with itself, and kindly disposed towards every one, had been scarcely ever clouded. Elizabeth noticed every sentence conveying the idea of uneasiness with an attention which it had hardly received on the first perusal. Mr. Darcy's shameful boast of what misery he had been able to inflict gave her a keener sense of her sister's sufferings. It was some consolation to think that his visit to Rosings was to end on the day after the next, and a still greater that in less than a fortnight she should herself be with Jane again, and enabled to contribute to the recovery of her spirits by all that affection could do.
She could not think of Darcy's leaving Kent without remembering that his cousin was to go with him; but Colonel Fitzwilliam had made it clear that he had no intentions at all, and agreeable as he was, she did not mean to be unhappy about him.
While settling this point, she was suddenly roused by the sound of the door bell, and her spirits were a little fluttered by the idea of its being Colonel Fitzwilliam himself, who had once before called late in the evening, and might now come to enquire particularly after her. But this idea was soon banished, and her spirits were very differently affected, when, to her utter amazement, she saw Mr. Darcy walk into the room. In an hurried manner he immediately began an enquiry after her health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she were better. She answered him with cold civility. He sat down for a few moments, and then getting up, walked about the room. Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began,
``In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.''
Elizabeth's astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement, and the avowal of all that he felt and had long felt for her immediately followed. He spoke well, but there were feelings besides those of the heart to be detailed, and he was not more eloquent on the subject of tenderness than of pride. His sense of her inferiority -- of its being a degradation -- of the family obstacles which judgment had always opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend his suit.
In spite of her deeply-rooted dislike, she could not be insensible to the compliment of such a man's affection, and though her intentions did not vary for an instant, she was at first sorry for the pain he was to receive; till, roused to resentment by his subsequent language, she lost all compassion in anger. She tried, however, to compose herself to answer him with patience, when he should have done. He concluded with representing to her the strength of that attachment which, in spite of all his endeavours, he had found impossible to conquer; and with expressing his hope that it would now be rewarded by her acceptance of his hand. As he said this, she could easily see that he had no doubt of a favourable answer. He spoke of apprehension and anxiety, but his countenance expressed real security. Such a circumstance could only exasperate farther, and when he ceased, the colour rose into her cheeks, and she said,
``In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should be felt, and if I could feel gratitude, I would now thank you. But I cannot -- I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to any one. It has been most unconsciously done, however, and I hope will be of short duration. The feelings which, you tell me, have long prevented the acknowledgment of your regard, can have little difficulty in overcoming it after this explanation.''
Mr. Darcy, who was leaning against the mantle-piece with his eyes fixed on her face, seemed to catch her words with no less resentment than surprise. His complexion became pale with anger, and the disturbance of his mind was visible in every feature. He was struggling for the appearance of composure, and would not open his lips, till he believed himself to have attained it. The pause was to Elizabeth's feelings dreadful. At length, in a voice of forced calmness, he said,
``And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance.''
``I might as well enquire,'' replied she, ``why, with so evident a design of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character? Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I was uncivil? But I have other provocations. You know I have. Had not my own feelings decided against you, had they been indifferent, or had they even been favourable, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man, who has been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?''
As she pronounced these words, Mr. Darcy changed colour; but the emotion was short, and he listened without attempting to interrupt her while she continued.
``I have every reason in the world to think ill of you. No motive can excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted there. You dare not, you cannot deny that you have been the principal, if not the only means of dividing them from each other, of exposing one to the censure of the world for caprice and instability, the other to its derision for disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest kind.''
She paused, and saw with no slight indignation that he was listening with an air which proved him wholly unmoved by any feeling of remorse. He even looked at her with a smile of affected incredulity.
``Can you deny that you have done it?'' she repeated.
With assumed tranquillity he then replied, ``I have no wish of denying that I did every thing in my power to separate my friend from your sister, or that I rejoice in my success. Towards him I have been kinder than towards myself.''
Elizabeth disdained the appearance of noticing this civil reflection, but its meaning did not escape, nor was it likely to conciliate, her.
``But it is not merely this affair,'' she continued, ``on which my dislike is founded. Long before it had taken place, my opinion of you was decided. Your character was unfolded in the recital which I received many months ago from Mr. Wickham. On this subject, what can you have to say? In what imaginary act of friendship can you here defend yourself? or under what misrepresentation, can you here impose upon others?''
``You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns,'' said Darcy in a less tranquil tone, and with a heightened colour.
``Who that knows what his misfortunes have been, can help feeling an interest in him?''
``His misfortunes!'' repeated Darcy contemptuously; ``yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed.''
``And of your infliction,'' cried Elizabeth with energy. ``You have reduced him to his present state of poverty, comparative poverty. You have withheld the advantages, which you must know to have been designed for him. You have deprived the best years of his life, of that independence which was no less his due than his desert. You have done all this! and yet you can treat the mention of his misfortunes with contempt and ridicule.''
``And this,'' cried Darcy, as he walked with quick steps across the room, ``is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this calculation, are heavy indeed! But perhaps,'' added he, stopping in his walk, and turning towards her, ``these offences might have been overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. These bitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I with greater policy concealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of my being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination -- by reason, by reflection, by every thing. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and just. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? To congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?''
Elizabeth felt herself growing more angry every moment; yet she tried to the utmost to speak with composure when she said,
``You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner.''
She saw him start at this, but he said nothing, and she continued,
``You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.''
Again his astonishment was obvious; and he looked at her with an expression of mingled incredulity and mortification. She went on.
``From the very beginning, from the first moment I may almost say, of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form that ground-work of disapprobation, on which succeeding events have built so immoveable a dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.''
``You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.''
And with these words he hastily left the room, and Elizabeth heard him the next moment open the front door and quit the house.
The tumult of her mind was now painfully great. She knew not how to support herself, and from actual weakness sat down and cried for half an hour. Her astonishment, as she reflected on what had passed, was increased by every review of it. That she should receive an offer of marriage from Mr. Darcy! that he should have been in love with her for so many months! so much in love as to wish to marry her in spite of all the objections which had made him prevent his friend's marrying her sister, and which must appear at least with equal force in his own case, was almost incredible! It was gratifying to have inspired unconsciously so strong an affection. But his pride, his abominable pride, his shameless avowal of what he had done with respect to Jane, his unpardonable assurance in acknowledging, though he could not justify it, and the unfeeling manner in which he had mentioned Mr. Wickham, his cruelty towards whom he had not attempted to deny, soon overcame the pity which the consideration of his attachment had for a moment excited.
She continued in very agitating reflections till the sound of Lady Catherine's carriage made her feel how unequal she was to encounter Charlotte's observation, and hurried her away to her room.
http://www.online-literature.com/austen/prideprejudice/34/
WHEN they were gone, Elizabeth, as if intending to exasperate herself as much as possible against Mr. Darcy, chose for her employment the examination of all the letters which Jane had written to her since her being in Kent. They contained no actual complaint, nor was there any revival of past occurrences, or any communication of present suffering. But in all, and in almost every line of each, there was a want of that cheerfulness which had been used to characterize her style, and which, proceeding from the serenity of a mind at ease with itself, and kindly disposed towards every one, had been scarcely ever clouded. Elizabeth noticed every sentence conveying the idea of uneasiness with an attention which it had hardly received on the first perusal. Mr. Darcy's shameful boast of what misery he had been able to inflict gave her a keener sense of her sister's sufferings. It was some consolation to think that his visit to Rosings was to end on the day after the next, and a still greater that in less than a fortnight she should herself be with Jane again, and enabled to contribute to the recovery of her spirits by all that affection could do.
She could not think of Darcy's leaving Kent without remembering that his cousin was to go with him; but Colonel Fitzwilliam had made it clear that he had no intentions at all, and agreeable as he was, she did not mean to be unhappy about him.
While settling this point, she was suddenly roused by the sound of the door bell, and her spirits were a little fluttered by the idea of its being Colonel Fitzwilliam himself, who had once before called late in the evening, and might now come to enquire particularly after her. But this idea was soon banished, and her spirits were very differently affected, when, to her utter amazement, she saw Mr. Darcy walk into the room. In an hurried manner he immediately began an enquiry after her health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she were better. She answered him with cold civility. He sat down for a few moments, and then getting up, walked about the room. Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began,
``In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.''
Elizabeth's astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement, and the avowal of all that he felt and had long felt for her immediately followed. He spoke well, but there were feelings besides those of the heart to be detailed, and he was not more eloquent on the subject of tenderness than of pride. His sense of her inferiority -- of its being a degradation -- of the family obstacles which judgment had always opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend his suit.
In spite of her deeply-rooted dislike, she could not be insensible to the compliment of such a man's affection, and though her intentions did not vary for an instant, she was at first sorry for the pain he was to receive; till, roused to resentment by his subsequent language, she lost all compassion in anger. She tried, however, to compose herself to answer him with patience, when he should have done. He concluded with representing to her the strength of that attachment which, in spite of all his endeavours, he had found impossible to conquer; and with expressing his hope that it would now be rewarded by her acceptance of his hand. As he said this, she could easily see that he had no doubt of a favourable answer. He spoke of apprehension and anxiety, but his countenance expressed real security. Such a circumstance could only exasperate farther, and when he ceased, the colour rose into her cheeks, and she said,
``In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should be felt, and if I could feel gratitude, I would now thank you. But I cannot -- I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to have occasioned pain to any one. It has been most unconsciously done, however, and I hope will be of short duration. The feelings which, you tell me, have long prevented the acknowledgment of your regard, can have little difficulty in overcoming it after this explanation.''
Mr. Darcy, who was leaning against the mantle-piece with his eyes fixed on her face, seemed to catch her words with no less resentment than surprise. His complexion became pale with anger, and the disturbance of his mind was visible in every feature. He was struggling for the appearance of composure, and would not open his lips, till he believed himself to have attained it. The pause was to Elizabeth's feelings dreadful. At length, in a voice of forced calmness, he said,
``And this is all the reply which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance.''
``I might as well enquire,'' replied she, ``why, with so evident a design of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character? Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I was uncivil? But I have other provocations. You know I have. Had not my own feelings decided against you, had they been indifferent, or had they even been favourable, do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man, who has been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?''
As she pronounced these words, Mr. Darcy changed colour; but the emotion was short, and he listened without attempting to interrupt her while she continued.
``I have every reason in the world to think ill of you. No motive can excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted there. You dare not, you cannot deny that you have been the principal, if not the only means of dividing them from each other, of exposing one to the censure of the world for caprice and instability, the other to its derision for disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest kind.''
She paused, and saw with no slight indignation that he was listening with an air which proved him wholly unmoved by any feeling of remorse. He even looked at her with a smile of affected incredulity.
``Can you deny that you have done it?'' she repeated.
With assumed tranquillity he then replied, ``I have no wish of denying that I did every thing in my power to separate my friend from your sister, or that I rejoice in my success. Towards him I have been kinder than towards myself.''
Elizabeth disdained the appearance of noticing this civil reflection, but its meaning did not escape, nor was it likely to conciliate, her.
``But it is not merely this affair,'' she continued, ``on which my dislike is founded. Long before it had taken place, my opinion of you was decided. Your character was unfolded in the recital which I received many months ago from Mr. Wickham. On this subject, what can you have to say? In what imaginary act of friendship can you here defend yourself? or under what misrepresentation, can you here impose upon others?''
``You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns,'' said Darcy in a less tranquil tone, and with a heightened colour.
``Who that knows what his misfortunes have been, can help feeling an interest in him?''
``His misfortunes!'' repeated Darcy contemptuously; ``yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed.''
``And of your infliction,'' cried Elizabeth with energy. ``You have reduced him to his present state of poverty, comparative poverty. You have withheld the advantages, which you must know to have been designed for him. You have deprived the best years of his life, of that independence which was no less his due than his desert. You have done all this! and yet you can treat the mention of his misfortunes with contempt and ridicule.''
``And this,'' cried Darcy, as he walked with quick steps across the room, ``is your opinion of me! This is the estimation in which you hold me! I thank you for explaining it so fully. My faults, according to this calculation, are heavy indeed! But perhaps,'' added he, stopping in his walk, and turning towards her, ``these offences might have been overlooked, had not your pride been hurt by my honest confession of the scruples that had long prevented my forming any serious design. These bitter accusations might have been suppressed, had I with greater policy concealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of my being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination -- by reason, by reflection, by every thing. But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. They were natural and just. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? To congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?''
Elizabeth felt herself growing more angry every moment; yet she tried to the utmost to speak with composure when she said,
``You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner.''
She saw him start at this, but he said nothing, and she continued,
``You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.''
Again his astonishment was obvious; and he looked at her with an expression of mingled incredulity and mortification. She went on.
``From the very beginning, from the first moment I may almost say, of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form that ground-work of disapprobation, on which succeeding events have built so immoveable a dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.''
``You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.''
And with these words he hastily left the room, and Elizabeth heard him the next moment open the front door and quit the house.
The tumult of her mind was now painfully great. She knew not how to support herself, and from actual weakness sat down and cried for half an hour. Her astonishment, as she reflected on what had passed, was increased by every review of it. That she should receive an offer of marriage from Mr. Darcy! that he should have been in love with her for so many months! so much in love as to wish to marry her in spite of all the objections which had made him prevent his friend's marrying her sister, and which must appear at least with equal force in his own case, was almost incredible! It was gratifying to have inspired unconsciously so strong an affection. But his pride, his abominable pride, his shameless avowal of what he had done with respect to Jane, his unpardonable assurance in acknowledging, though he could not justify it, and the unfeeling manner in which he had mentioned Mr. Wickham, his cruelty towards whom he had not attempted to deny, soon overcame the pity which the consideration of his attachment had for a moment excited.
She continued in very agitating reflections till the sound of Lady Catherine's carriage made her feel how unequal she was to encounter Charlotte's observation, and hurried her away to her room.
http://www.online-literature.com/austen/prideprejudice/34/
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE - PLOT OVERVIEW
Pride and Prejudice
Jane Austen
Plot Overview
The news that a wealthy young gentleman named Charles Bingley has rented the manor of Netherfield Park causes a great stir in the nearby village of Longbourn, especially in the Bennet household. The Bennets have five unmarried daughters—from oldest to youngest, Jane, Elizabeth, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia—and Mrs. Bennet is desperate to see them all married. After Mr. Bennet pays a social visit to Mr. Bingley, the Bennets attend a ball at which Mr. Bingley is present. He is taken with Jane and spends much of the evening dancing with her. His close friend, Mr. Darcy, is less pleased with the evening and haughtily refuses to dance with Elizabeth, which makes everyone view him as arrogant and obnoxious.
At social functions over subsequent weeks, however, Mr. Darcy finds himself increasingly attracted to Elizabeth's charm and intelligence. Jane's friendship with Mr. Bingley also continues to burgeon, and Jane pays a visit to the Bingley mansion. On her journey to the house she is caught in a downpour and catches ill, forcing her to stay at Netherfield for several days. In order to tend to Jane, Elizabeth hikes through muddy fields and arrives with a spattered dress, much to the disdain of the snobbish Miss Bingley, Charles Bingley's sister. Miss Bingley's spite only increases when she notices that Darcy, whom she is pursuing, pays quite a bit of attention to Elizabeth.
When Elizabeth and Jane return home, they find Mr. Collins visiting their household. Mr. Collins is a young clergyman who stands to inherit Mr. Bennet's property, which has been “entailed,” meaning that it can only be passed down to male heirs. Mr. Collins is a pompous fool, though he is quite enthralled by the Bennet girls. Shortly after his arrival, he makes a proposal of marriage to Elizabeth. She turns him down, wounding his pride. Meanwhile, the Bennet girls have become friendly with militia officers stationed in a nearby town. Among them is Wickham, a handsome young soldier who is friendly toward Elizabeth and tells her how Darcy cruelly cheated him out of an inheritance.
At the beginning of winter, the Bingleys and Darcy leave Netherfield and return to London, much to Jane's dismay. A further shock arrives with the news that Mr. Collins has become engaged to Charlotte Lucas, Elizabeth's best friend and the poor daughter of a local knight. Charlotte explains to Elizabeth that she is getting older and needs the match for financial reasons. Charlotte and Mr. Collins get married and Elizabeth promises to visit them at their new home. As winter progresses, Jane visits the city to see friends (hoping also that she might see Mr. Bingley). However, Miss Bingley visits her and behaves rudely, while Mr. Bingley fails to visit her at all. The marriage prospects for the Bennet girls appear bleak.
That spring, Elizabeth visits Charlotte, who now lives near the home of Mr. Collins's patron, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who is also Darcy's aunt. Darcy calls on Lady Catherine and encounters Elizabeth, whose presence leads him to make a number of visits to the Collins's home, where she is staying. One day, he makes a shocking proposal of marriage, which Elizabeth quickly refuses. She tells Darcy that she considers him arrogant and unpleasant, then scolds him for steering Bingley away from Jane and disinheriting Wickham. Darcy leaves her but shortly thereafter delivers a letter to her. In this letter, he admits that he urged Bingley to distance himself from Jane, but claims he did so only because he thought their romance was not serious. As for Wickham, he informs Elizabeth that the young officer is a liar and that the real cause of their disagreement was Wickham's attempt to elope with his young sister, Georgiana Darcy.
This letter causes Elizabeth to reevaluate her feelings about Darcy. She returns home and acts coldly toward Wickham. The militia is leaving town, which makes the younger, rather man-crazy Bennet girls distraught. Lydia manages to obtain permission from her father to spend the summer with an old colonel in Brighton, where Wickham's regiment will be stationed. With the arrival of June, Elizabeth goes on another journey, this time with the Gardiners, who are relatives of the Bennets. The trip takes her to the North and eventually to the neighborhood of Pemberley, Darcy's estate. She visits Pemberley, after making sure that Darcy is away, and delights in the building and grounds, while hearing from Darcy's servants that he is a wonderful, generous master. Suddenly, Darcy arrives and behaves cordially toward her. Making no mention of his proposal, he entertains the Gardiners and invites Elizabeth to meet his sister.
Shortly thereafter, however, a letter arrives from home, telling Elizabeth that Lydia has eloped with Wickham and that the couple is nowhere to be found, which suggests that they may be living together out of wedlock. Fearful of the disgrace such a situation would bring on her entire family, Elizabeth hastens home. Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Bennet go off to search for Lydia, but Mr. Bennet eventually returns home empty-handed. Just when all hope seems lost, a letter comes from Mr. Gardiner saying that the couple has been found and that Wickham has agreed to marry Lydia in exchange for an annual income. The Bennets are convinced that Mr. Gardiner has paid off Wickham, but Elizabeth learns that the source of the money, and of her family's salvation, was none other than Darcy.
Now married, Wickham and Lydia return to Longbourn briefly, where Mr. Bennet treats them coldly. They then depart for Wickham's new assignment in the North of England. Shortly thereafter, Bingley returns to Netherfield and resumes his courtship of Jane. Darcy goes to stay with him and pays visits to the Bennets but makes no mention of his desire to marry Elizabeth. Bingley, on the other hand, presses his suit and proposes to Jane, to the delight of everyone but Bingley's haughty sister. While the family celebrates, Lady Catherine de Bourgh pays a visit to Longbourn. She corners Elizabeth and says that she has heard that Darcy, her nephew, is planning to marry her. Since she considers a Bennet an unsuitable match for a Darcy, Lady Catherine demands that Elizabeth promise to refuse him. Elizabeth spiritedly refuses, saying she is not engaged to Darcy, but she will not promise anything against her own happiness. A little later, Elizabeth and Darcy go out walking together and he tells her that his feelings have not altered since the spring. She tenderly accepts his proposal, and both Jane and Elizabeth are married.
http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/pride/summary.html
Jane Austen
Plot Overview
The news that a wealthy young gentleman named Charles Bingley has rented the manor of Netherfield Park causes a great stir in the nearby village of Longbourn, especially in the Bennet household. The Bennets have five unmarried daughters—from oldest to youngest, Jane, Elizabeth, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia—and Mrs. Bennet is desperate to see them all married. After Mr. Bennet pays a social visit to Mr. Bingley, the Bennets attend a ball at which Mr. Bingley is present. He is taken with Jane and spends much of the evening dancing with her. His close friend, Mr. Darcy, is less pleased with the evening and haughtily refuses to dance with Elizabeth, which makes everyone view him as arrogant and obnoxious.
At social functions over subsequent weeks, however, Mr. Darcy finds himself increasingly attracted to Elizabeth's charm and intelligence. Jane's friendship with Mr. Bingley also continues to burgeon, and Jane pays a visit to the Bingley mansion. On her journey to the house she is caught in a downpour and catches ill, forcing her to stay at Netherfield for several days. In order to tend to Jane, Elizabeth hikes through muddy fields and arrives with a spattered dress, much to the disdain of the snobbish Miss Bingley, Charles Bingley's sister. Miss Bingley's spite only increases when she notices that Darcy, whom she is pursuing, pays quite a bit of attention to Elizabeth.
When Elizabeth and Jane return home, they find Mr. Collins visiting their household. Mr. Collins is a young clergyman who stands to inherit Mr. Bennet's property, which has been “entailed,” meaning that it can only be passed down to male heirs. Mr. Collins is a pompous fool, though he is quite enthralled by the Bennet girls. Shortly after his arrival, he makes a proposal of marriage to Elizabeth. She turns him down, wounding his pride. Meanwhile, the Bennet girls have become friendly with militia officers stationed in a nearby town. Among them is Wickham, a handsome young soldier who is friendly toward Elizabeth and tells her how Darcy cruelly cheated him out of an inheritance.
At the beginning of winter, the Bingleys and Darcy leave Netherfield and return to London, much to Jane's dismay. A further shock arrives with the news that Mr. Collins has become engaged to Charlotte Lucas, Elizabeth's best friend and the poor daughter of a local knight. Charlotte explains to Elizabeth that she is getting older and needs the match for financial reasons. Charlotte and Mr. Collins get married and Elizabeth promises to visit them at their new home. As winter progresses, Jane visits the city to see friends (hoping also that she might see Mr. Bingley). However, Miss Bingley visits her and behaves rudely, while Mr. Bingley fails to visit her at all. The marriage prospects for the Bennet girls appear bleak.
That spring, Elizabeth visits Charlotte, who now lives near the home of Mr. Collins's patron, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who is also Darcy's aunt. Darcy calls on Lady Catherine and encounters Elizabeth, whose presence leads him to make a number of visits to the Collins's home, where she is staying. One day, he makes a shocking proposal of marriage, which Elizabeth quickly refuses. She tells Darcy that she considers him arrogant and unpleasant, then scolds him for steering Bingley away from Jane and disinheriting Wickham. Darcy leaves her but shortly thereafter delivers a letter to her. In this letter, he admits that he urged Bingley to distance himself from Jane, but claims he did so only because he thought their romance was not serious. As for Wickham, he informs Elizabeth that the young officer is a liar and that the real cause of their disagreement was Wickham's attempt to elope with his young sister, Georgiana Darcy.
This letter causes Elizabeth to reevaluate her feelings about Darcy. She returns home and acts coldly toward Wickham. The militia is leaving town, which makes the younger, rather man-crazy Bennet girls distraught. Lydia manages to obtain permission from her father to spend the summer with an old colonel in Brighton, where Wickham's regiment will be stationed. With the arrival of June, Elizabeth goes on another journey, this time with the Gardiners, who are relatives of the Bennets. The trip takes her to the North and eventually to the neighborhood of Pemberley, Darcy's estate. She visits Pemberley, after making sure that Darcy is away, and delights in the building and grounds, while hearing from Darcy's servants that he is a wonderful, generous master. Suddenly, Darcy arrives and behaves cordially toward her. Making no mention of his proposal, he entertains the Gardiners and invites Elizabeth to meet his sister.
Shortly thereafter, however, a letter arrives from home, telling Elizabeth that Lydia has eloped with Wickham and that the couple is nowhere to be found, which suggests that they may be living together out of wedlock. Fearful of the disgrace such a situation would bring on her entire family, Elizabeth hastens home. Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Bennet go off to search for Lydia, but Mr. Bennet eventually returns home empty-handed. Just when all hope seems lost, a letter comes from Mr. Gardiner saying that the couple has been found and that Wickham has agreed to marry Lydia in exchange for an annual income. The Bennets are convinced that Mr. Gardiner has paid off Wickham, but Elizabeth learns that the source of the money, and of her family's salvation, was none other than Darcy.
Now married, Wickham and Lydia return to Longbourn briefly, where Mr. Bennet treats them coldly. They then depart for Wickham's new assignment in the North of England. Shortly thereafter, Bingley returns to Netherfield and resumes his courtship of Jane. Darcy goes to stay with him and pays visits to the Bennets but makes no mention of his desire to marry Elizabeth. Bingley, on the other hand, presses his suit and proposes to Jane, to the delight of everyone but Bingley's haughty sister. While the family celebrates, Lady Catherine de Bourgh pays a visit to Longbourn. She corners Elizabeth and says that she has heard that Darcy, her nephew, is planning to marry her. Since she considers a Bennet an unsuitable match for a Darcy, Lady Catherine demands that Elizabeth promise to refuse him. Elizabeth spiritedly refuses, saying she is not engaged to Darcy, but she will not promise anything against her own happiness. A little later, Elizabeth and Darcy go out walking together and he tells her that his feelings have not altered since the spring. She tenderly accepts his proposal, and both Jane and Elizabeth are married.
http://www.sparknotes.com/lit/pride/summary.html
Monday, December 1, 2008
THE RISE OF THE NOVEL
The novel owes its prestige to several factors. Through its variety of themes and characters it appeals to wide interests. Its extended narrative of human life helps the reader to identify himself closely with the characters. Its length, compared with that of the short story or play, is an asset to thorough character portrayal. The novel is easier to read than is the drama, for the novelist assists the reader, with his word pictures of the setting and his acute analyses of the actions and thoughts of his characters. It seldom presents the difficulties of condensation and imagery found in poetry. Through translations it has become a notable link in binding together nations that speak diverse languages. The reader feels that he has actually lived in this unfamiliar land.
The ancestry of the novel: the novel originated in the love of a good story inherent in all peoples.
13th century – the germ of the English novel can be found in the romances of adventure written mainly in verse: Sir Gawain and the Green Night,
14th century – Chaucers’s Canterbury tales bore some resemblance to a novel
15th c. – Malory’s long prose story : Le Morte de Arthur
16th c. – Sir Philip Sidney’s pastoral romances,
17th c.- John Bunyan’s allegory The Pilgrim’s Progress
18th c. – early in the century Addison and Steele in The Spectator gave a fully rounded picture of a fictitious character somewhat as a novel does.
Soon afterwards Defoe, using the autobiographical narrative form in his Robinson Crusoe, created the first great adventure story in English.
Gulliver’s Travels of Swift gave the direct simple narrative of a single voyager, but its fantastic incidents showed no character development, and the purpose was to satirise the weaknesses of his homeland and of mankind.
What is a novel:
We usually think of a novel as a long fictitious prose narrative. According to that definition, several of the books named here would qualify; yet none of them, strictly speaking, is a novel. In addition to its narrative, a novel should picture live men and women in their natural environment. It should emphasise character and the relations of one to another in the story, rather than mere incident. But incidents of some sort there must be. Otherwise the piece of writing would be an essay or a character sketch. The characters must be seen moving about, doing things, talking to one another, living their lives. This series of incidents forms the plot of the novel, which must have some unity of idea and lead to a plausible outcome. The plot may be carefully and closely constructed , so that each episode fits into a pattern; or it may be loosely constructed from occurrences following one another without seeming design, as they do in our lives.
In summary, a novel is the extended group of individualized characters, who are made to come alive in a normal background and whose personalities interact with one another toward a specific outcome. The ultimate test of a true novel is in its character drawing. A great novelist needs a rare and mature understanding of human character and motive
THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY CONDITIONS FAVOURABLE TO THE NOVEL
It is interesting to consider why the novel as a type sprang into prominence in the middle of the 18th century rather than earlier. It could not have become a popular form until:
the ability to read and write had become fairly common;
the printing of long books had become comparatively inexpensive
the middle classes had acquired a certain amount of leisure
people had become interested in ordinary domestic affairs
growing ideas of “equality” had focused the attention on the value of a human being, independent of his class or occupation.
All these conditions were present in the 18th century.
HISTORICAL BACKGROUND:
Wars with France: - from 1689 to 1815, Louis the 14th and William 3rd
Trade was one cause of the wars; another – the competition between England and France concerning their colonies in North America. France – in Canada and Louisiana
The rise of the political parties: the Tories and the Whigs. The Tories stood for personal loyalty to the royal family and the conservative ideas of the country nobility. The Whigs were the aristocratic and merchant classes of the city, eager to extend the powers of the Parliament and to advance commerce, education and liberal ideas
England expands under George 3rd’s reign. - it was the age of many wars, the American and French Revolution. The Rise and fall of Napoleon. For England it was a period of remarkable expansion: she gained Canada from the French, the colonies along the Atlantic coast, several West Indian islands, trading posts on the West African coast, Florida from the Spanish, the British rule in India , Captain Cook reached New Zealand and Australia.
A century of progress and invention:
- great development of trade;
better roads, canal helped the exchange of goods;
‘The age of Inventions’ – many advances in farming and industrial methods.
The drill of Jethro Tull improved the method of sowing seeds.
The threshing machine was invented in 1732(вършачка);
A pumping machine for the mines;
The spinning jenny(предачна машина) and the frame(усъвършенствувана предачна машина)
James Watt’s steam engine
The ancestry of the novel: the novel originated in the love of a good story inherent in all peoples.
13th century – the germ of the English novel can be found in the romances of adventure written mainly in verse: Sir Gawain and the Green Night,
14th century – Chaucers’s Canterbury tales bore some resemblance to a novel
15th c. – Malory’s long prose story : Le Morte de Arthur
16th c. – Sir Philip Sidney’s pastoral romances,
17th c.- John Bunyan’s allegory The Pilgrim’s Progress
18th c. – early in the century Addison and Steele in The Spectator gave a fully rounded picture of a fictitious character somewhat as a novel does.
Soon afterwards Defoe, using the autobiographical narrative form in his Robinson Crusoe, created the first great adventure story in English.
Gulliver’s Travels of Swift gave the direct simple narrative of a single voyager, but its fantastic incidents showed no character development, and the purpose was to satirise the weaknesses of his homeland and of mankind.
What is a novel:
We usually think of a novel as a long fictitious prose narrative. According to that definition, several of the books named here would qualify; yet none of them, strictly speaking, is a novel. In addition to its narrative, a novel should picture live men and women in their natural environment. It should emphasise character and the relations of one to another in the story, rather than mere incident. But incidents of some sort there must be. Otherwise the piece of writing would be an essay or a character sketch. The characters must be seen moving about, doing things, talking to one another, living their lives. This series of incidents forms the plot of the novel, which must have some unity of idea and lead to a plausible outcome. The plot may be carefully and closely constructed , so that each episode fits into a pattern; or it may be loosely constructed from occurrences following one another without seeming design, as they do in our lives.
In summary, a novel is the extended group of individualized characters, who are made to come alive in a normal background and whose personalities interact with one another toward a specific outcome. The ultimate test of a true novel is in its character drawing. A great novelist needs a rare and mature understanding of human character and motive
THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY CONDITIONS FAVOURABLE TO THE NOVEL
It is interesting to consider why the novel as a type sprang into prominence in the middle of the 18th century rather than earlier. It could not have become a popular form until:
the ability to read and write had become fairly common;
the printing of long books had become comparatively inexpensive
the middle classes had acquired a certain amount of leisure
people had become interested in ordinary domestic affairs
growing ideas of “equality” had focused the attention on the value of a human being, independent of his class or occupation.
All these conditions were present in the 18th century.
HISTORICAL BACKGROUND:
Wars with France: - from 1689 to 1815, Louis the 14th and William 3rd
Trade was one cause of the wars; another – the competition between England and France concerning their colonies in North America. France – in Canada and Louisiana
The rise of the political parties: the Tories and the Whigs. The Tories stood for personal loyalty to the royal family and the conservative ideas of the country nobility. The Whigs were the aristocratic and merchant classes of the city, eager to extend the powers of the Parliament and to advance commerce, education and liberal ideas
England expands under George 3rd’s reign. - it was the age of many wars, the American and French Revolution. The Rise and fall of Napoleon. For England it was a period of remarkable expansion: she gained Canada from the French, the colonies along the Atlantic coast, several West Indian islands, trading posts on the West African coast, Florida from the Spanish, the British rule in India , Captain Cook reached New Zealand and Australia.
A century of progress and invention:
- great development of trade;
better roads, canal helped the exchange of goods;
‘The age of Inventions’ – many advances in farming and industrial methods.
The drill of Jethro Tull improved the method of sowing seeds.
The threshing machine was invented in 1732(вършачка);
A pumping machine for the mines;
The spinning jenny(предачна машина) and the frame(усъвършенствувана предачна машина)
James Watt’s steam engine
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