The novel details the lives of Tom and Maggie Tulliver, a brother and sister growing up at Dorlcote Mill on the River Floss at its junction with the more minor River Ripple near the village of St. Ogg's in England, probably in the 1820s after the Napoleonic Wars but before the Reform Act of 1832. Both the river and the village are fictional.

The novel spans a period of 10 to 15 years, from Tom’s and Maggie’s childhood up until their deaths in a flood on the Floss. The book is fictional autobiography in part, reflecting the disgrace that George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans) herself had while in a lengthy relationship with a married man, George Henry Lewes. (Wikipedia)

Классический "роман характеров" Джордж Элиот "Мельница на Флоссе" — один из лучших романов писательницы. Обаятельная Мэгги Талливер не вписывается в окружение, к которому принадлежит по рождению, не может быть понята даже самыми близкими людьми. Особую боль Мэгги причиняет её необыкновенно прочная привязанность к брату Тому, представляющему собой полную противоположность сестре… (И.И.Бурова в кн.: Сидорченко Л.В. и др. — История западноевропейской литературы. XIX век: Англия. СПб, 2004)

Book I. Boy and Girl

Chapter I. Outside Dorlcote Mill

Chapter II. Mr. Tulliver, of Dorlcote Mill, Declares His Resolution about Tom

Chapter III. Mr. Riley Gives His Advice Concerning a School for Tom

Chapter IV. Tom Is Expected

Chapter V. Tom Comes Home

Chapter VI. The Aunts and Uncles Are Coming

Chapter VII. Enter the Aunts and Uncles

Chapter VIII. Mr. Tulliver Shows His Weaker Side

Chapter IX. To Garum Firs

Chapter X. Maggie Behaves Worse Than She Expected

Chapter XI. Maggie Tries to Run away from Her Shadow

Chapter XII. Mr. and Mrs. Glegg at Home

Chapter XIII. Mr. Tulliver Further Entangles the Skein of Life

Book II. School-Time

Chapter I. Tom's "First Half"

Chapter II. The Christmas Holidays

Chapter III. The New Schoolfellow

Chapter IV. "The Young Idea"

Chapter V. Maggie's Second Visit

Chapter VI. A Love-Scene

Chapter VII. The Golden Gates Are Passed

Book III. The Downfall

Chapter I. What Had Happened at Home

Chapter II. Mrs. Tulliver's Teraphim, or Household Gods

Chapter III. The Family Council

Chapter IV. A Vanishing Gleam

Chapter V. Tom Applies His Knife to the Oyster

Chapter VI. Tending to Refute the Popular Prejudice against the Present of a Pocket-Knife

Chapter VII. How a Hen Takes to Stratagem

Chapter VIII. Daylight on the Wreck

Chapter IX. An Item Added to the Family Register

Book IV. The Valley of Humiliation

Chapter I. A Variation of Protestantism Unknown to Bossuet

Chapter II. The Torn Nest Is Pierced by the Thorns

Chapter III. A Voice from the Past

Book V. Wheat and Tares

Chapter I. In the Red Deeps

Chapter II. Aunt Glegg Learns the Breadth of Bob's Thumb

Chapter III. The Wavering Balance

Chapter IV. Another Love-Scene

Chapter V. The Cloven Tree

Chapter VI. The Hard-Won Triumph

Chapter VII. A Day of Reckoning

Book VI. The Great Temptation

Chapter I. A Duet in Paradise

Chapter II. First Impressions

Chapter III. Confidential Moments

Chapter IV. Brother and Sister

Chapter V. Showing That Tom Had Opened the Oyster

Chapter VI. Illustrating the Laws of Attraction

Chapter VII. Philip Re-enters

Chapter VIII. Wakem in a New Light

Chapter IX. Charity in Full-Dress

Chapter X. The Spell Seems Broken

Chapter XI. In the Lane

Chapter XII. A Family Party

Chapter XIII. Borne Along by the Tide

Chapter XIV. Waking

Book VII. The Final Rescue

Chapter I. The Return to the Mill

Chapter II. St. Ogg's Passes Judgment

Chapter III. Showing That Old Acquaintances Are Capable of Surprising Us

Chapter IV. Maggie and Lucy

Chapter V. The Last Conflict

Conclusion

Book I. Boy and Girl

Chapter I. Outside Dorlcote Mill

A wide plain, where the broadening Floss hurries on between its green banks to the sea, and the loving tide, rushing to meet it, checks its passage with an impetuous embrace. On this mighty tide the black ships — laden with the fresh-scented fir-planks, with rounded sacks of oil-bearing seed, or with the dark glitter of coal — are borne along to the town of St. Ogg's, which shows its aged, fluted red roofs and the broad gables of its wharves between the low wooded hill and the river-brink, tingeing the water with a soft purple hue under the transient glance of this February sun. Far away on each hand stretch the rich pastures, and the patches of dark earth made ready for the seed of broad-leaved green crops, or touched already with the tint of the tender-bladed autumn-sown corn. There is a remnant still of last year's golden clusters of beehive-ricks rising at intervals beyond the hedgerows; and everywhere the hedgerows are studded with trees; the distant ships seem to be lifting their masts and stretching their red-brown sails close among the branches of the spreading ash. Just by the red-roofed town the tributary Ripple flows with a lively current into the Floss. How lovely the little river is, with its dark changing wavelets! It seems to me like a living companion while I wander along the bank, and listen to its low, placid voice, as to the voice of one who is deaf and loving. I remember those large dipping willows. I remember the stone bridge.

And this is Dorlcote Mill. I must stand a minute or two here on the bridge and look at it, though the clouds are threatening, and it is far on in the afternoon. Even in this leafless time of departing February it is pleasant to look at, — perhaps the chill, damp season adds a charm to the trimly kept, comfortable dwelling-house, as old as the elms and chestnuts that shelter it from the northern blast. The stream is brimful now, and lies high in this little withy plantation, and half drowns the grassy fringe of the croft in front of the house. As I look at the full stream, the vivid grass, the delicate bright-green powder softening the outline of the great trunks and branches that gleam from under the bare purple boughs, I am in love with moistness, and envy the white ducks that are dipping their heads far into the water here among the withes, unmindful of the awkward appearance they make in the drier world above.

The rush of the water and the booming of the mill bring a dreamy deafness, which seems to heighten the peacefulness of the scene. They are like a great curtain of sound, shutting one out from the world beyond. And now there is the thunder of the huge covered wagon coming home with sacks of grain. That honest wagoner is thinking of his dinner, getting sadly dry in the oven at this late hour; but he will not touch it till he has fed his horses, — the strong, submissive, meek-eyed beasts, who, I fancy, are looking mild reproach at him from between their blinkers, that he should crack his whip at them in that awful manner as if they needed that hint! See how they stretch their shoulders up the slope toward the bridge, with all the more energy because they are so near home. Look at their grand shaggy feet that seem to grasp the firm earth, at the patient strength of their necks, bowed under the heavy collar, at the mighty muscles of their struggling haunches! I should like well to hear them neigh over their hardly earned feed of corn, and see them, with their moist necks freed from the harness, dipping their eager nostrils into the muddy pond. Now they are on the bridge, and down they go again at a swifter pace, and the arch of the covered wagon disappears at the turning behind the trees.

Страница 1 из 166

Назад1 2…166 Далее