October 21st.— I am safe for another six months if I am careful, for my last bout1 lasted longer than I expected. I suppose one of these days I shall have a paroxysm that will kill me. I shall not regret it.
I wonder if this familiar of mine — I begin to detest2 the expression — will accuse me of endeavouring to make a case for myself if I say that I believe my madness to be a disease? I do believe it. I honestly can no more help getting drunk than a lunatic can help screaming and gibbering. It would be different with me, perhaps, were I a contented3 man, happily married, with children about me, and family cares to distract me. But as I am — a lonely, gloomy being, debarred from love, devoured4 by spleen, and tortured with repressed desires — I become a living torment5 to myself. I think of happier men, with fair wives and clinging children, of men who are loved and who love, of Frere for instance — and a hideous6 wild beast seems to stir within me, a monster, whose cravings cannot be satisfied, can only be drowned in stupefying brandy.
Penitent7 and shattered, I vow8 to lead a new life; to forswear spirits, to drink nothing but water. Indeed, the sight and smell of brandy make me ill. All goes well for some weeks, when I grow nervous, discontented, moody9. I smoke, and am soothed10. But moderation is not to be thought of; little by little I increase the dose of tobacco. Five pipes a day become six or seven. Then I count up to ten and twelve, then drop to three or four, then mount to eleven at a leap; then lose count altogether. Much smoking excites the brain. I feel clear, bright, gay. My tongue is parched11 in the morning, however, and I use liquor to literally12 “moisten my clay”. I drink wine or beer in moderation, and all goes well. My limbs regain13 their suppleness14, my hands their coolness, my brain its placidity15. I begin to feel that I have a will. I am confident, calm, and hopeful. To this condition succeeds one of the most frightful16 melancholy17. I remain plunged18, for an hour together, in a stupor19 of despair. The earth, air, sea, all appear barren, colourless. Life is a burden. I long to sleep, and sleeping struggle to awake, because of the awful dreams which flap about me in the darkness. At night I cry, “Would to God it were morning!” In the morning, “Would to God it were evening!” I loathe20 myself, and all around me. I am nerveless, passionless, bowed down with a burden like the burden of Saul. I know well what will restore me to life and ease — restore me, but to cast me back again into a deeper fit of despair. I drink. One glass — my blood is warmed, my heart leaps, my hand no longer shakes. Three glasses — I rise with hope in my soul, the evil spirit flies from me. I continue — pleasing images flock to my brain, the fields break into flower, the birds into song, the sea gleams sapphire22, the warm heaven laughs. Great God! what man could withstand a temptation like this?
By an effort, I shake off the desire to drink deeper, and fix my thoughts on my duties, on my books, on the wretched prisoners. I succeed perhaps for a time; but my blood, heated by the wine which is at once my poison and my life, boils in my veins24. I drink again, and dream. I feel all the animal within me stirring. In the day my thoughts wander to all monstrous25 imaginings. The most familiar objects suggest to me loathsome26 thoughts. Obscene and filthy27 images surround me. My nature seems changed. By day I feel myself a wolf in sheep’s clothing; a man possessed28 by a devil, who is ready at any moment to break out and tear him to pieces. At night I become a satyr. While in this torment I at once hate and fear myself. One fair face is ever before me, gleaming through my hot dreams like a flying moon in the sultry midnight of a tropic storm. I dare not trust myself in the presence of those whom I love and respect, lest my wild thoughts should find vent29 in wilder words. I lose my humanity. I am a beast. Out of this depth there is but one way of escape. Downwards30. I must drench31 the monster I have awakened32 until he sleeps again. I drink and become oblivious33. In these last paroxysms there is nothing for me but brandy. I shut myself up alone and pour down my gullet huge draughts34 of spirit. It mounts to my brain. I am a man again! and as I regain my manhood, I topple over — dead drunk.
But the awakening35! Let me not paint it. The delirium36, the fever, the self-loathing, the prostration37, the despair. I view in the looking-glass a haggard face, with red eyes. I look down upon shaking hands, flaccid muscles, and shrunken limbs. I speculate if I shall ever be one of those grotesque38 and melancholy beings, with bleared eyes and running noses, swollen39 bellies40 and shrunken legs! Ugh!— it is too likely.
October 22nd.— Have spent the day with Mrs. Frere. She is evidently eager to leave the place — as eager as I am. Frere rejoices in his murderous power, and laughs at her expostulations. I suppose men get tired of their wives. In my present frame of mind I am at a loss to understand how a man could refuse a wife anything.
I do not think she can possibly care for him. I am not a selfish sentimentalist, as are the majority of seducers. I would take no woman away from a husband for mere42 liking43. Yet I think there are cases in which a man who loved would be justified44 in making a woman happy at the risk of his own — soul, I suppose.
Making her happy! Ay, that’s the point. Would she be happy? There are few men who can endure to be “cut”, slighted, pointed45 at, and women suffer more than men in these regards. I, a grizzled man of forty, am not such an arrant46 ass21 as to suppose that a year of guilty delirium can compensate47 to a gently-nurtured woman for the loss of that social dignity which constitutes her best happiness. I am not such an idiot as to forget that there may come a time when the woman I love may cease to love me, and having no tie of self-respect, social position, or family duty, to bind48 her, may inflict49 upon her seducer41 that agony which he has taught her to inflict upon her husband. Apart from the question of the sin of breaking the seventh commandment, I doubt if the worst husband and the most unhappy home are not better, in this social condition of ours, than the most devoted50 lover. A strange subject this for a clergyman to speculate upon! If this diary should ever fall into the hands of a real God-fearing, honest booby, who never was tempted51 to sin by finding that at middle-age he loved the wife of another, how he would condemn52 me! And rightly, of course.
November 4th.— In one of the turnkey’s rooms in the new gaol53 is to be seen an article of harness, which at first creates surprise to the mind of the beholder54, who considers what animal of the brute55 creation exists of so diminutive56 a size as to admit of its use. On inquiry57, it will be found to be a bridle58, perfect in head-band, throat-lash, etc., for a human being. There is attached to this bridle a round piece of cross wood, of almost four inches in length, and one and a half in diameter. This again, is secured to a broad strap59 of leather to cross the mouth. In the wood there is a small hole, and, when used, the wood is inserted in the mouth, the small hole being the only breathing space. This being secured with the various straps60 and buckles61, a more complete bridle could not be well imagined.
I was in the gaol last evening at eight o’clock. I had been to see Rufus Dawes, and returning, paused for a moment to speak to Hailey. Gimblett, who robbed Mr. Vane of two hundred pounds, was present, he was at that time a turnkey, holding a third-class pass, and in receipt of two shillings per diem. Everything was quite still. I could not help remarking how quiet the gaol was, when Gimblett said, “There’s someone speaking. I know who that is.” And forthwith took from its pegs62 one of the bridles63 just described, and a pair of handcuffs.
I followed him to one of the cells, which he opened, and therein was a man lying on his straw mat, undressed, and to all appearance fast asleep. Gimblett ordered him to get up and dress himself. He did so, and came into the yard, where Gimblett inserted the iron-wood gag in his mouth. The sound produced by his breathing through it (which appeared to be done with great difficulty) resembled a low, indistinct whistle. Gimblett led him to the lamp-post in the yard, and I saw that the victim of his wanton tyranny was the poor blind wretch23 Mooney. Gimblett placed him with his back against the lamp-post, and his arms being taken round, were secured by handcuffs round the post. I was told that the old man was to remain in this condition for three hours. I went at once to the Commandant. He invited me into his drawing-room — an invitation which I had the good sense to refuse — but refused to listen to any plea for mercy. “The old impostor is always making his blindness an excuse for disobedience,” said he.— And this is her husband.
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bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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detest
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| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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penitent
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| adj.后悔的；n.后悔者；忏悔者 | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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suppleness
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| 柔软； 灵活； 易弯曲； 顺从 | |
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placidity
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| n.平静，安静，温和 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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loathe
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| v.厌恶，嫌恶 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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sapphire
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| n.青玉，蓝宝石；adj.天蓝色的 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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loathsome
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| adj.讨厌的，令人厌恶的 | |
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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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drench
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| v.使淋透，使湿透 | |
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awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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prostration
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| n. 平伏, 跪倒, 疲劳 | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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bellies
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| n.肚子( belly的名词复数 )；腹部；（物体的）圆形或凸起部份；腹部…形的 | |
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seducer
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| n.诱惑者,骗子,玩弄女性的人 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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arrant
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| adj.极端的；最大的 | |
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compensate
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| vt.补偿，赔偿；酬报 vi.弥补；补偿；抵消 | |
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48
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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51
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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52
condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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53
gaol
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| n.(jail)监狱；(不加冠词)监禁；vt.使…坐牢 | |
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beholder
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| n.观看者，旁观者 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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58
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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straps
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| n.带子( strap的名词复数 )；挎带；肩带；背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 )；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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buckles
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| 搭扣，扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
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pegs
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| n.衣夹( peg的名词复数 )；挂钉；系帐篷的桩；弦钮v.用夹子或钉子固定( peg的第三人称单数 )；使固定在某水平 | |
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bridles
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| 约束( bridle的名词复数 )； 限动器； 马笼头； 系带 | |
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