英国维多利亚时期作品赏析

维多利亚时期作品分析
Dickens 狄更斯
Oliver Twist or the Parish Boy's Progress (Chapter3)
For a week after the commission of the impious and profane offence of asking for more，
Oliver remained a close prisoner in the dark and solitary room to which he had been consigned by
the wisdom and mercy of the board. It appears， at first sight not unreasonable to suppose， that，
if he had entertained a becoming feeling of respect for the prediction of the gentleman in the white
waistcoat， he would have established that sage individual's prophetic character， once and for
ever， by tying one end of his pocket-handkerchief to a hook in the wall， and attaching himself to
the other. To the performance of this feat， however， there was one obstacle： namely， that
pocket-handkerchiefs being decided articles of luxury， had been， for all future times and ages，
removed from the noses of paupers by the express order of the board， in council assembled：
solemnly given and pronounced under their hands and seals. There was a still greater obstacle in
Oliver's youth and childishness. He only cried bitterly all day； and， when the long， dismal
night came on， spread his little hands before his eyes to shut out the darkness， and crouching in
the corner， tried to sleep： ever and anon waking with a start and tremble， and drawing himself
closer and closer to the wall， as if to feel even its cold hard surface were a protection in the
gloom and loneliness which surrounded him.

Emily Bronte
Wuthering Heights
1
It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now; 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's is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or
frost from fire.'
2
I cannot express it; but surely you and everybody have a notion that there is or should be an
existence of yours beyond you. What was the use of my creation, if I were entirely contained here?
My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from
the beginning: my great thought in living is himself. If all else 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 well 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's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to
myself, but as my own being. So don't talk of our separation again.
3
In the first place, his startling likeness to Catherine connected him fearfully with her. That,
however, which you may suppose the most potent to arrest my imagination is actually the least:
for what is not connected with her to me? And what does not recall her? I cannot look down to this
floor, but her features are shaped in the flags! In every cloud, in every tree--filling the air at night,
and caught by glimpses in every object by day--I am surrounded with her image! The most
ordinary faces of men and women--my own features--mock me with a resemblance. The entire