Okay, I know I haven't been very consistent with the posts but this is another Literature one to keep things going before I finally attempt a daily post :P
* * *
Question:
The Diary of St John Rivers (covering chapters 31-34).
Answer:
Dear Diary,
There are very little things that can move me: the missionary that I have resolved to be and the angel I saw in Ms Oliver's person. I did not think that within the course of a few days, I would need to be justifying both to Jane Eyre and myself.
That my late father had, as I put forth to Jane Eyre, "opposed the determination" to be a missionary only made me work harder to prove I could succeed. I believed it was my calling; my destiny; my duty to fulfill, as God desired.
And then there was Ms Oliver. Oh dear, sweet, beautiful Rosamond Oliver. If only we could have been. If only I could bring myself to take her as my own and take her with me where I deemed fit. But it was not to be. As I had told Jane Eyre during the last visit I paid her: "It is strange that while I love Rosamond Oliver so wildly – with all the intensity, indeed, of a first passion, the object of which is exquisitely beautiful, graceful, and fascinating – I experience at the same time a calm, unwarped consciousness that she would not make me a good wife; that she is not the partner suited to me; that I should discover this within a year after marriage; and that to twelve months' rapture would succeed a lifetime of regret. This I know."
Indeed, it was almost impossible to envision Rosamond Oliver a missionary's wife. (Though I must admit, that Jane Eyre could even bear to suggest I "relinquish that scheme" to be a missionary was even more impossible to envision.)
They cannot judge me. Ms Oliver was born "surrounded by suitors and flatterers", as I told my dear cousin. It would not be long before my existence in her memory was permanently erased. My cousin may suggest that I suffer in actual fact – and maybe she spoke the truth – but I am confident that I will do just as well without her as she will without me.
Oh, but Diary, I did not expect my dear cousin to press on the subject. Can you imagine it? She said that I "tremble and become flushed whenever Ms Oliver enters a schoolroom"! Was she so observant of my actions towards Ms Oliver to this extent? I really could not have foreseen this. In fact, I told her that there was something brave in her spirit as well as penetrating in her eye. Although with that declaration, I assured her that she had misinterpreted my emotions, because even as I am writing this, I am convinced she will bring me limited benefits.
In fact, she was to be married to someone else! I will not pen his name: I shudder – just barely – to think what kind of person Rosamond Oliver will be attached to. Instead, within the next few days, I had asked my cousin for her hand in marriage; to be a missionary's wife; "for my Sovereign's service."
I can imagine what other people would think. They would think that my marrying Jane Eyre meant I was succumbing to jealousy; that I claimed her to get even with Ms Oliver for having moved on so soon. Well, they would be very, very wrong. I am but dust and ashes, but I do not suffer this sense of my personal vileness to daunt me. I told Jane Eyre the exact some thing when I implored her to come with me to India.
As I said, however, my cousin was as stubborn as she was an Eyre. She told me that she would not go as my wife, but as my sister. She did not understand, Diary. She did not understand that adopted fraternity was strongly scrutinized. I told her to consider; that her sense would guide her, but she was persistent. She would not have me as her husband. She did not believe in a loveless marriage. She "scorned" it, actually. She said so, to my face, with no hesitation, guard or remorse for having done so.
Dear Diary, I will say that I was stunned, though I forced myself to remain calm. No gentleman would expose himself to such vulnerability. Yes, I said to Jane Eyre: "I scarcely expected to hear that expression from you. I think I have done and uttered nothing to deserve scorn."
Maybe I did. Maybe I was at fault for speaking such, as my cousin put it, "counterfeit sentiments". I once again say, I must not be judged: I believed that my 'scheme' was a long-cherished one, which could secure my great end. I assure you, though, that I did not press her further. I told her to think about my offer once more before giving me her final answer.
I will say that I acted childishly, shaking hands loosely when beckoned. I was offended, to say the least. To think that she would reject me so strongly, when I had nothing to hurt her or even cause her any discomfort. I just told her that I was not in the habit of cherishing the remembrance of vexation – yes, for I was vexed – and that I had nothing to forgive, not having been offended – yes, I lied. And then I left.
After reading this, will there still be people who judge me? Will there still be people who disapprove of me? Will there still be people who think I thought of marriage as a dark, twisted scheme?
Dear Diary, I did not care.
Teacher's comment: You stayed true to the text. Excellent!
~#~
And so that was St John Rivers' Diary :D
CIAO!!
P/S: Please click on my Nuffnang ads :) Thanks!!
No comments:
Post a Comment