14 Jane Eyre - Stephanie Poppins

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14 Jane Eyre - Stephanie Poppins

by Stephanie Poppins - The Female Stoic

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Jane Eyre is a first-person narrative from the perspective of the title character. Its setting is somewhere in the north of England, late in the reign of George III (1760–1820). Jane's childhood is at Gateshead Hall, where she is emotionally and physically abused by her aunt and cousins. Her education is at Lowood School, where she gains friends and role models but suffers privations and oppression. In this episode, she learns more about Mr Rochester as he learns more about her. Read by English author and vocal artist Stephanie Poppins.

Reading Literature Abuse Education Oppression Friendship Role Models Classic Literature Daily Routines Narratives

Meet your Teacher

Stephanie Poppins - The Female Stoic

Leeds, UK

Meet your Teacher

Stephanie Poppins - The Female Stoic

Leeds, UK

Transcript

This is SD Hudson Magic Jane Eyre Chapter 14 For several subsequent days I saw little of Mr. Rochester. In the mornings he seemed much engaged with business And in the afternoon he seemed to be in a good mood. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. He was a good man. Yes, There is your boîte at last. Take it into a corner, You genuine daughter of Paris, And amuse yourself With disemboweling it, Said the deep and rather sarcastic Voice of Mr. Rochester, Proceeding from the depths Of an immense easy chair At the fireside. And mind, He continued, Don't bother me with any details Of the anatomical process Or any notice of the condition Of the entrails. Let your operation be conducted In silence. Tiens-toi tranquille, Enfant. Comprends-tu? Adele seemed scarcely To need the warning. She had already retired to a sofa With her treasure and was busy Untying the cord which secured the lid. Having removed this impediment And lifted certain silvery envelopes Of tissue paper, She merely exclaimed, Oh ciel! Que c'est beau! And then remained absorbed In ecstatic contemplation. Is Miss Eyre there? Now demanded the master, Half rising from his seat to look round To the door, Near which I still stood. Well, Come forward. Be seated here. He drew a chair Near his own. I am not fond Of the prattle of children, He continued, For, Old batcher as I am, I have no pleasant associations Connected with a lisp. It would be intolerable to me To pass a whole evening Tête-à-tête with a brat. Don't draw that chair further off, Miss Eyre, Sit down exactly Where I placed it, If you please, That is. Confound these abilities, I continually forget them, Nor do I particularly affect Simple-minded old ladies. By the by, I must have in mind, It won't do to neglect her. She is a Fairfax, Or wed to one, And blood is said to be thicker than water. He rang And dispatched an invitation To Mrs Fairfax, Who soon arrived, Knitting basket in hand. Good evening, Madam. I send to you for a charitable purpose. I have forbidden Adèle To talk to me about her presence, And she is bursting with repletion. Have the goodness to serve her As an auditress and interlocutress. It will be one of the most benevolent Acts you have ever performed. Adèle, Indeed, No sooner saw Mrs Fairfax Than she summoned her to her sofa, And there quickly filled Her lap with the porcelain, The ivory, The wax And contents of her boite, Pouring out meantime Explanations and Raptures in such Broken English as she was mistress of. Now I have performed the part of a good host, Pursued Mr Rochester. Put my guests into the way Of amusing each other, I ought to be at liberty to attend my own pleasure. Miss Eyre, Draw your chair a little further forward. You are yet too far back. I cannot see you without disturbing My position in this comfortable chair, Which I have no mind to do. I did as I was bid, Though I would much rather Have remained somewhat in the shade. But Mr Rochester Had such a direct way of giving Orders, It seemed a matter Of course to obey him promptly. We were, As I have said, In the dining-room. The lustre, Which had been lit For dinner, Filled the room With a festal breath of light. The large fire was all red and Clear, The purple curtains Hung rich and ample before the lofty Window and loftier arch. Everything Was still, Save the subdued chat of Adele She dared not speak loud, And, Filling up Each pause, The beating of Winter rain against the panes. Mr Rochester, As he sat in his damask-covered Chair, Looked different to what I had seen him look before. Not quite so Stern, Much less gloomy. There was a smile on his lips And his eyes sparkled. Whether with wine or not, I am not Sure, But I think it very Probable. He was, In short, In his After-dinner mood, More expanded and genial And also more self-indulgent Than the frigid and rigid Temper of the morning. Still, He looked Preciously grim, Cushioning his Massive head against the swelling back of the Chair, And receiving the Light of the fire on his granite-hewn Features and in his great Dark eyes. For he had great dark eyes, And very fine eyes Too, Not without a Certain change in their depth sometimes, Which, If it was Not softness, Reminded You at least of that feeling. He had been looking two minutes At the fire, And I had been Looking the same length of time at him, When, Turning suddenly, He caught my gaze, Fastened on his physiognomy. "'You examine me, Miss Eyre, ' Said he. "'Do you think me handsome? ' I should, If I had deliberated, Have replied To this question by something Conventionally vague and polite, But the answer Somehow slipped from my tongue before I was aware. "'No, Sir. ' "'Oh, My word, There is something singular About you, ' said he. "'You have the air Of a little Nornet, Quaint, Quiet, Grave And simple as you sit with your hands Before you, And your eyes Generally bent on the carpet Except, By the way, When they are directed piercingly to my Face, As just now, For instance, And when one asks You a question or makes a remark To which you are obliged to reply, You wrap out a round rejoinder Which, If not blunt, Is at least brusque. "'What do you mean by it? ' "'Sir, I was too plain. I beg your pardon. I ought To have replied that it was not easy To give an impromptu answer to a question About appearances, That Tastes differ, That beauty is Of little consequence, Or something Of that sort. ' "'You ought to have replied no Such thing. Beauty of Little consequence, Indeed. And so, Under pretense Of softening the previous outrage, Of stroking and soothing Me into placidity, You Stick a sly penknife under My ear. Go on. What fault do you find With me, Pray? I suppose I have all my limbs and all my features Like any other man? ' "'Mr. Rochester, Allow me To disown my first answer. I intended no pointed Repartee. It was only a blunder. ' "'Just so. I think so. And you shall be answerable For it. Criticise me. Does my forehead not Please you? ' He lifted up the sable Waves of hair which lay Horizontally over his brow, And showed a solid Enough mass of intellectual organs, But an abrupt Deficiency where the suave Sign of benevolence should have risen. "'Now, Ma'am, Am I a fool? ' "'Far from It, Sir. You would Perhaps think me rude if I inquired in return Whether you are a philanthropist. ' "'There Again! Another stick of the penknife When she pretended to pat my head, And that is because I said I did not like the society of children And old women. No, Young lady, I am not a general philanthropist, But I do Bear a conscience. ' And he pointed to the prominences which Are said to indicate that faculty, And which, Fortunately For him, Were Sufficiently conspicuous, Giving indeed a marked Breadth to the upper part of his head. "'And besides, I once had a kind of rude tenderness Of heart. When I was old as you, I was feeling Fellow enough, Partial to the unfedged, Unfostered and unlucky. But fortune has knocked me about Since. She has even Kneaded me with her knuckles, And now I flatter myself. I am Hard and tough as an Indian rubber Ball. Pervious Though, Through a chink or two Still, And with one Sentient point in the middle Of the lump. Yes, Does that leave hope For me? ' "'Hope of what, Sir? ' "'Of my final Re-transformation from Indian Rubber back to flesh. ' Decidedly he has had too much Wine, I thought, And I did not know what answer to make To this queer question. How could I tell whether he was Capable of being re-transformed? "'You look very much puzzled, Miss Eyre. And though you are not pretty Any more than I am handsome, Yet a puzzled air becomes you. Besides, It is convenient, For it keeps Those searching eyes of yours Away from my physiognomy, And busies them with the worsted flowers Of the rug. Put the puzzle on. ' "'Young lady, I am disposed To be gregarious and communicative Tonight. ' With this announcement he Rose from his chair, And stood Leaning his arm on the marble Mantelpiece. In that attitude his shape was seen Plainly as well as his face. His unusual breadth of Chest, Disproportionate Almost to his length of limb. "'I am Sure most people would have thought him an Ugly man. Yet there was so much unconscious Pride in his port, So much ease in his demeanour, Such a look of Complete indifference to his own External appearance, So haughty A reliance on the power of other Qualities, Intrinsic Or adventitious to atone For the lack of mere personal Attractiveness, Than in Looking at him one Inevitably shared the indifference, And even in a blind Imperfect sense Put faith in the confidence. "'I am disposed to be gregarious And communicative tonight, ' He repeated, "'and that is why I sent for you. The fire and the chandelier were not sufficient Company for me, Nor would Pilate have been, For none of these Can talk. Adèle is a degree better, But still Far below the mark. '" Mrs. Fairfax Ditto. "'You, I am persuaded, Can suit Me if you will. You puzzled me the first evening I Invited you down here. I have almost forgotten you since. Other ideas have driven yours From my head, But tonight I am resolved to be at ease, To dismiss what Inopportunes, And To recall what pleases. It would please Me now to draw you out, To learn more of you. Therefore, Speak. '" Instead Of speaking, I smiled, And not a very complacent or Submissive smile either. "'Speak, ' he urged. "'What about, Sir? ' "'Whatever you like. I leave both the choice Of subject and the manner of treating it Entirely to yourself. '" Accordingly, I sat and said nothing. "'If he expects me to talk for the mere Sake of talking and showing off, He will find he has addressed himself to the wrong Person, ' I thought. "'You are Dumb, Miss Eyre. '" I was dumb Still. He bent His head a little towards me, And with a single Hasty glance, Seemed To dive into my eyes. "'Stubborn, ' He said. "'And annoyed. '" "'Ah, It is Consistent. I put my request In an absurd, Most insolent Form. Miss Eyre, I beg your pardon. The fact is, Once and for all, I don't wish to treat you like an Inferior. That is, I claim only such superiority As must result from Twenty years' difference in age And a century's advance in Experience. "'This is legitimate, Et je tiens, ' As Adèle would say. "'And it is by virtue of this superiority And this alone That I desire you to have the Goodness to talk to me a little now And divert my thoughts, Which are galled with dwelling on one Point, Cankering as A rusty nail. '" He had deigned an explanation, Almost an apology. I did not Feel insensitive to his condescension And would not seem so. "'I am willing to amuse you, If I can, Sir. Quite Willing, But I cannot introduce a Topic, Because how do I know What will interest you? Ask me questions, And I will do my Best to answer them. "'Then, In the first place, Do you agree with me that I have a right To be a little masterful, Abrupt, Perhaps exacting Sometimes on the grounds I stated, Lamely, That I am old Enough to be your father, And that I have battled through a varied experience With many men of many nations And roamed over half The globe, While you have Lived quietly with one set of people In one house? ' "'Do as you please, Sir. " "'There is no answer, Or rather It is a very irritating, Because a very evasive one. Reply clearly. "'I don't think, Sir, You have a right to command Me, Merely because you are older than I am, Or because you have seen more of The world than I have. Your claim to superiority depends on the use You have made of your time and experience. ' "'Hmph! Promptly spoken. But I won't allow that, Seeing that it would never suit my case, As I have made an indifferent, Not to say a bad, Use of both Advantages. Leaving superiority out of the question Then, You must still agree to receive My orders every now and then, Without being piqued or hurt by the tone Of command, Will you? ' I smiled. I thought to myself, Mr. Rochester is Peculiar. He seems to forget He pays me for receiving his orders. "'The smile Is very well, ' said he, Catching instantly the passing expression. "'But speak too. ' "'I was thinking, Sir, That Very few masters would trouble themselves To enquire whether or not their paid Subordinates were piqued and hurt by their Orders. ' "'Paid subordinates! What? You are my paid subordinate, Are you? Oh yes, I had forgotten the salary. Well, Then, On that Mercenary ground, Will you agree To let me heck to a little? ' "'No, Sir, Not on that ground. But on the Ground that you did forget it, And that you Care whether or not a dependent is Comfortable in his dependency, I agree heartily. ' "'And will You consent to dispense with the great Many conventional forms and phrases Without thinking the omission Arises from insolence? ' "'I Am sure, Sir, I should never mistake Informality for insolence. One I rather like. The other, Nothing freeborn Would submit to, Even for A salary. ' "'Humbug! Most things freeborn will submit To anything for a salary. Therefore keep to yourself And don't venture on generalities of which You are intensely ignorant. However, I mentally shake hands with you for your Answer, Despite its inaccuracy, And as much for the Manner in which it was said. As for the Substance of the speech, The manner was frank and sincere. One does not often see such a manner. No, On the contrary, Affectation or coldness Or stupid, Coarse-minded Misapprehension of one's meaning Are the usual rewards of candour. Not Three in three thousand raw Schoolgirl governesses would have answered Me as you have just done. But I don't mean to flatter you. If you were cast in a different Mould to the majority, It is no merit of Yours. Nature did it. And then, After all, I go too far In my conclusions. For what I yet know, You may be no better than the rest. You may have intolerable Defects to counterbalance your few Good points. And so may you, I thought. My eye met His as the idea crossed my Mind. He seemed to read the glance, Answering As if its import had been spoken As well as imagined. Yes, Yes, You are Right, Said he. I have plenty of thoughts of my own. I know it, And I don't wish to palliate them, I assure you. God, What I need not to be Too severe about others. I have a past existence, A series of deeds, A colour Of life to contemplate Within my own breast, Which might well call my sneers and censures From my neighbours to myself. I started, Or rather was thrust onto, A wrong tack, At the age of one and twenty. And I have never recovered the right Course since. But I might have been very different. I might have been as good as You, Wiser, Almost as stainless. I envy you your peace of mind, Your clean conscience, Your unpolluted memory. Little girl, A memory without blot or contamination Must be an exquisite Treasure, An inexhaustible Source of pure refreshment. Is it not? How was your memory when you were eighteen, Sir? All right then, Limpid, Salubrious. No gush of bilge water had turned it To fetid puddle. I was your equal at eighteen, Quite your equal. Nature meant me to be, On the whole, A good man, Miss Eyre. One of the better end. And you see I am not so. You would say you don't see it. At least I flatter myself I read as much in your eyes. Then take my word For it. I am not a villain. You are not to suppose that, Not to attribute to me any such Bad eminence. But owing, Verily believe, Rather to circumstances than to My natural bent, I am a trite, Commonplace sinner, Hackneyed in all the poor, Petty dissipations With which the rich and worthless Try to put on life. Do you wonder That I avow this to you? Know that in the course of Your future life you will often Find yourself elected the Involuntarily confident Of your acquaintance's secrets. People will instinctively Find out, As I have done, That it is not your fault To talk of yourself, But to listen while others talk of themselves. They will feel, Too, That you listen with no malevolent school Of their indiscretion, But with a kind of innate sympathy, Not the less comforting And encouraging, Because it is very unobtrusive In its manifestations. How do you know? How can you guess all this, Sir? I know it well. Therefore I proceed almost as freely As if I were writing my thoughts In a diary. You would say I should have been Superior to circumstances. So I should. But you see I was not. When fate wronged me, I had not the wisdom To remain cool. Then I degenerated. Now, When any vicious Simpleton excites my disgust By his paltry ribaldry, I cannot flatter myself I am better than he. I am forced to confess He and I are on a level. I wish I had stood firm. God knows I do. Dread remorse when you are tempted To err, Miss Eyre. Remorse Is the poison of life.