中文只能找到下面一段了，没有全文：
《简·爱》与《呼啸山庄》
伍尔夫
艾米莉·勃朗特，夏洛蒂·勃朗特，乔治·爱略特-没有一位生育过子女，其中有两位没有结过婚，这一事实具有重大的意义。然而，虽然不准妇女写作的禁令已被取消，妇女要写小说似乎仍有相当巨大的压力。在天才和性格方面，再也没有比这四位妇女更加相异的了。简·**与乔治·爱略特毫无共同之处；乔治·爱略特又与艾米莉·勃朗特截然相反。然而，她们所受的生活训练却使她们从事相同的职业；当她们写作之时，她们都写了小说。小说过去是，现在仍然是，妇女最容易写作的东西。其原因并不难找。小说是最不集中的艺术形式。一部小说比一出戏或一首诗更容易时作时辍。乔治·爱略特丢下了她的工作，去护理她的父亲。夏洛蒂·勃朗特放下了她的笔，去削马铃薯。虽然她生活在普通的客厅里，被人们包围着，一位妇女所受到的训练，就是运用她的心灵去观察并且分析她的人物。她所受的训练，使她成为一位小说家，而不是一位诗人。甚至在19世纪，妇女也几乎仅仅在她的家庭和情感之中生活。而那些19世纪的小说，虽然它们是杰出的，却受到这个事实的深刻影响：写作它们的妇女，由于她们的性别，而被排除在某些种类的人生经历之外。而人生经历对于小说有重大的影响，这是无可争辩的事实。例如，康拉德如果不能当上一名水手，他最好的一部分小说就会毁灭。如果剥夺了托尔斯泰作为一名士兵所获得的关于战争的知识，剥夺了他作为一个富家公子所受的教育给予他的各种经历，以及由此所获得的关于人生和社会的知识，《战争与和平》就会变得令人难以置信的贫乏无味。然而，《傲慢与偏见》、《呼啸山庄》、《维列蒂》和《米德尔马奇》是妇女写作的。她们被强行剥夺了在中产阶级的客厅内所能遇到的事情之外的一切经历。对她们而言，关于战争、航海、**或商业的任何第一手经验，都无从获得。甚至她们的感情生活，亦受到法律与习惯的严格限制。乔治·爱略特没有结婚，就甘冒天下之大不韪与路易士先生同居，公众舆论为之哗然。在此压力之下，乔治·爱略特退避郊区，离群索居，这就不可避免地给她的创作带来了最不利的影响。她写道：除非人们自动要求来拜访她，她从不邀请他们。与此同时，在欧洲的另一边，托尔斯泰作为一名军人，过着自由自在的生活，与各阶层的男女交往，对此无人加以非议，而他的小说却从其中获得了惊人的广度和活力。但是，妇女所写的小说，不仅仅是受到女作家必然狭窄的生活经验的影响。至少在19世纪，它们显示出可能归因于作家性别的另一个特征。在《米德尔马奇》和《简·爱》中，我们不仅意识到作者的性格，正如我们在狄更斯的作品中意识到他的性格，我们还意识到有一位女性在场-有人在谴责她的性别所带来的不公正待遇，并且为她应有的权利而呼吁。这就在妇女的作品中注入了一种在男性的作品中完全没有的因素。除非他碰巧确实是一位工人、黑人或者由于某种其他原因意识到自己软弱无能的人。它引起了对现实的歪曲，并且往往导致某种缺陷。virginia woolf on charlotte brontë's jane eyre
(excerpted from the common reader,first series:"'jane eyre' and 'wuthering heights'")
of the hundred years that h**e passed since charlotte bronte was born,she,the centre now of so much legend,devotion,and literature,lived but thirty-nine.it ** strange to reflect how different those legends might h**e been had her life reached the ordinary human span.she might h**e become,like some of her famous contemporaries,a figure familiarly met with in london and elsewhere,the subject of pictures and anecdotes innumerable,the writer of many novels,of memoirs possibly,removed from us well within the memory of the middle-aged in all the splendour of establ**hed fame.she might h**e been wealthy,she might h**e been prosperous.but it ** not so.when we think of her we h**e to imagine some one who had no lot in our modern world;we h**e to cast our minds back to the 'fifties of the last century,to a remote parsonage upon the wild yorkshire moors.in that parsonage,and on those moors,unhappy and lonely,in her poverty and her exaltation,she remains for ever.
these circumstances,as they affected her character,may h**e left their traces on her work.a novel**t,we reflect,** bound to build up h** structure with much very per**hable material which begins by lending it reality and ends by cumbering it with rubb**h.as we open jane eyre once we cannot stifle the suspicion that we shall find her world of imagination as antiquated,mid-victorian,and out of date as the parsonage on the moor,a place only to be v**ited by the curious,only preserved by the pious.so we open jane eyre;and in two pages every doubt ** swept clean from our minds.
folds of scarlet drapery shut in my view to the right hand;to the left were the clear panes of glass,protecting,but not separating me from the drear november day.at intervals,while turning over the le**es of my book,i studied the aspect of that winter afternoon.afar,it offered a pale blank of m**t and cloud;near,a scene of wet lawn and storm-beat shrub,with ceaseless rain sweeping away wildly before a long and lamentable blast.
there ** nothing there per**hable than the moor itself,or subject to the sway of fashion than the"long and lamentable blast."nor ** th** exhilaration short-lived.it rushes us through the entire volume,without giving us time to think,without letting us lift our eyes from the page.so intense ** our absorption that if some one moves in the room the movement seems to take place not there but up in yorkshire.the writer has us by the hand,forces us along her road,makes us see what she sees,never le**es us for a moment or allows us to forget her.at the end we are steeped through and through with the genius,the vehemence,the indignation of charlotte bronte.remarkable faces,figures of strong outline and gnarled feature h**e flashed upon us in passing;but it ** through her eyes that we h**e seen them.once she ** gone,we seek for them in vain.think of rochester and we h**e to think of jane eyre.think of the moor,and again there ** jane eyre.think of the drawing-room,even,those"white carpets on which seemed laid brilliant garlands of flowers",that"pale parian mantelpiece"with its bohemia glass of"ruby red"and the"general blending of snow and fire"—what ** all that except jane eyre?the drawbacks of being jane eyre are not far to seek.always to be a governess and always to be in love ** a serious limitation in a world which ** full,after all,of people who are neither one nor the other.the characters of a jane austen or of a tolstoi h**e a million facets compared with these.they live and are complex by means of their effect upon many different people who serve to mirror them in the round.they move hither and thither whether their creators watch them or not,and the world in which they live seems to us an independent world which we can v**it,now that they h**e created it,by ourselves.thomas hardy ** akin to charlotte bronte in the power of h** personality and the narrowness of h** v**ion.but the differences are vast.as we read jude the obscure we are not rushed to a fin**h;we brood and ponder and drift away from the text in plethoric trains of thought which build up round the characters an atmosphere ofquestion and suggestion of which they are themselves,as often as not,unconscious.simple peasants as they are,we are forced to confront them with destinies and questionings of the hugest import,so that often it seems as if the most important characters in a hardy novel are those which h**e no names.of th** power,of th** speculative curiosity,charlotte brontë has no trace.she does not attempt to solve the problems of human life;she ** even unaware that such problems ex**t;all her force,and it ** the tremendous for being constricted,goes into the assertion,"i love,""i hate,""i suffer.
for the self-centred and self-limited writers h**e a power denied the catholic and broad-minded.their impressions are close packed and strongly stamped between their narrow walls.nothing **sues from their minds which has not been marked with their own impress.they learn little from other writers,and what they adopt they cannot assimilate.both hardy and charlotte brontë appear to h**e founded their styles upon a stiff and decorous journal**m.the staple of their prose ** awkward and unyielding.but both with labour and the most obstinate integrity,by thinking every thought until it has subdued words to itself,h**e forged for themselves a prose which takes the mould of their minds entire;which has,into the bargain,a beauty,a power,a swiftness of its own.charlotte brontë,at least,owed nothing to the reading of many books.she never learnt the smoothness of the professional writer,or acquired h** ability to stuff and sway h** language as he chooses."i could never rest in communication with strong,d**creet,and refined minds,whether male or female,"she writes,as any leader-writer in a provincial journal might h**e written;but gathering fire and speed goes on in her own authentic voice"till i had passed the outworks of conventional reserve and crossed the threshold of confidence,and won a place by their hearts' very hearthstone."it ** there that she takes her seat;it ** the red and fitful glow of the heart's fire which illumines her page.in other words,we read charlotte brontë not for exqu**ite observation of character—her characters are vigorous and elementary;not for comedy—hers ** grim and crude;not for a philosophic view of life—hers ** that of a country parson's daughter;but for her poetry.probably that ** so with all writers who h**e,as she has,an overpowering personality,so that,as we say in real life,they h**e only to open the door to make themselves felt.there ** in them some untamed ferocity perpetually at war with the accepted order of things which makes them desire to create instantly rather than to observe patiently.th** very ardour,rejecting half shades and other minor impediments,wings its way past the daily conduct of ordinary people and allies itself with their inarticulate passions.it makes them poets,or,if they choose to write in prose,intolerant of its restrictions.hence it ** that both emily and charlotte are always invoking the help of nature.they both feel the need of some powerful symbol of the vast and slumbering passions in human nature than words or actions can convey.it ** with a description of a storm that charlotte ends her finest novel villette."the skies hang full and dark—a wrack sails from the west;the clouds cast ...