Villette

Table of Contents

 

 

 

 

 

I, Lucy Snowe, plead guiltless of that curse, an overheated and discursive imagination. (page 15)

 

A strong, vague persuasion, that it was better to go forward than backward, and that I
could
go forward—that a way, however narrow and difficult, would in time open, predominated over other feelings. (page 52)

 

I felt I was getting on; not lying the stagnant prey of mould and rust, but polishing my faculties and whetting them to a keen edge with constant use. Experience of a certain kind lay before me, on no narrow scale. (page 91)

 

Madame knew something of the world; madame knew much of human nature. I don’t think that another directress in Villette would have dared to admit a ‘jeune homme’ within her walls; but madame knew that by granting such admission, on an occasion like the present, a bold stroke might be struck, and a great point gained. (page 162)

 

‘You have no relations; you can’t call yourself young at twenty-three; you have no attractive accomplishments—no beauty. As to admirers, you hardly know what they are; you can’t even talk on the subject: you sit dumb when the other teachers quote their conquests. I believe you never were in love, and never will be: you don’t know the feeling, and so much the better, for though you might have your own heart broken, no living heart will you ever break. Isn’t it all true?’ (pages 164—165)

 

There are human tempers, bland, glowing, and genial, within whose influence it is as good for the poor in spirit to live, as it is for the feeble in frame to bask in the glow of noon. (page 223)

I shut the garret-door; I placed my light on a doddered and mouldy chest of drawers; I put on a shawl, for the air was ice-cold; I took my letter, trembling with sweet impatience; I broke its seal. (page 276)

 

‘What am I to do with this daughter or daughterling of mine? She neither grows in wisdom nor in stature.’ (page 315)

 

I like to see flowers growing, but when they are gathered, they cease to please. I look on them as things rootless and perishable; their likeness to life makes me sad. I never offer flowers to those I love; I never wish to receive them from hands dear to me. (page 381)

 

‘My book is this garden; its contents are human nature—female human nature. I know you all by heart.’ (page 411)

 

‘Monsieur, I tell you every glance you cast from that lattice is a wrong done to the best part of your own nature. To study the human heart thus, is to banquet secretly and sacrilegiously on Eve’s apples. I wish you were a Protestant.’ (page 414)

 

‘Papa, they are not letters to send to the post in your letter-bag; they are only notes, which I give now and then into the person’s hand, just to satisfy.’ (page 486)

 

Villette is one blaze, one broad illumination; the whole world seems abroad; moonlight and heaven are banished: the town, by her own flambeaux, beholds her own splendour—gay dresses, grand equipages, fine horses and gallant riders throng the bright streets. (page 509)

 

Man cannot prophecy. Love is no oracle. Fear sometimes imagines a vain thing. (page 552)

Published by Barnes & Noble Books 122 Fifth Avenue

New York, NY 10011

 

 

Villette
was first published in three volumes in 1853.

 

Published in 2005 by Barnes & Noble Classics with new Introduction, Notes, Biography, Chronology, Inspired By,

Comments & Questions, and For Further Reading.

 

Introduction, Notes, and For Further Reading

Copyright © 2005 by Laura Engel.

 

Note on Charlotte Brontë, The World of Charlotte Brontë and
Villette,
Inspired by
Villette,
and Comments & Questions Copyright © 2005 by Barnes & Noble, Inc.

 

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

 

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ISBN 1-59308-316-5

eISBN : 978-1-411-43342-7

LC Control Number 2004111989

 

Produced and published in conjunction with: Fine Creative Media, Inc. 322 Eighth Avenue New York, NY 10001

 

Michael J. Fine, President and Publisher

Printed in the United States of America

 

QM

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

 

FIRST PRINTING

Charlotte Brontë was born on April 21, 1816, in Thornton, Yorkshire, in the north of England, the third child of the Reverend Patrick Brontë and Maria Branwell Brontë. In 1820 the family moved to neighboring Haworth, where Reverend Brontë was offered a lifetime curacy. The following year Mrs. Brontë died of cancer, and her sister, Elizabeth Branwell, moved in to help raise the six children. The four eldest sisters—Charlotte, Emily, Maria, and Elizabeth—attended Cowan Bridge School, until Maria and Elizabeth contracted what was probably tuberculosis and died within months of each other, at which point Charlotte and Emily returned home. The four remaining siblings—Charlotte, Branwell, Emily, and Anne—played on the Yorkshire moors and dreamed up fanciful, fabled worlds, creating a constant stream of tales, such as the “Young Men” plays (1826) and “Our Fellows” (1827).