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《呼啸山庄》是英国女作家勃朗特姐妹之一艾米莉·勃朗特的作品。小说描写吉卜赛弃儿希斯克利夫被山庄老主人收养后，因受辱和恋爱不遂，外出致富，回来后对与其女友凯瑟琳结婚的地主林顿及其子女进行报复的故事。全篇充满强烈的反压迫、争幸福的斗争精神，又始终笼罩着离奇、紧张的浪漫气氛。它开始曾被人看做是年青女作家脱离现实的天真幻想，但结合其所描写地区激烈的阶级斗争和英国的社会现象，它不久便被评论界高度肯定，并受到读者的热烈欢迎。根据这部小说改编的影视作品至今久演不衰。 内容简介 这是一个爱情和复仇的故事。呼啸山庄的主人，乡绅欧肖先生带回来了一个身份不明的孩子，取名希斯克利夫，他夺取了主人对小主人亨德雷和他的妹妹凯瑟琳的宠爱。主人死后，亨德雷为报复把希斯克利夫贬为奴仆，并百般迫害，可是凯瑟琳跟他亲密无间，青梅竹马。后来，凯瑟琳受外界影响，改而爱上了画眉田庄的文静青年埃德加。希斯克利夫愤而出走，三年后致富回乡，凯瑟琳已嫁埃德加。希斯克利夫为此进行疯狂的报复，通过赌博夺走了亨德雷的家财。亨德雷本人酒醉而死，儿子哈里顿成了奴仆。他还故意娶了埃德加的妹妹伊莎贝拉，进行迫害。内心痛苦不堪的凯瑟琳在生产中死去。十年后，希斯克利夫又施计使埃德加的女儿小凯瑟琳，嫁给了自己即将死去的儿子小林顿。埃德加和小林顿都死了，希斯克利夫最终把埃德加家的财产也据为己有。复仇得逞了，但是他无法从对死去的凯瑟琳的恋情中解脱出来，最终不吃不喝苦恋而死。小凯瑟琳和哈里顿继承了山庄和田庄的产业，两人终于相爱，去画眉田庄安了家。小说在现实生活的真实反映中表现出了浓厚的浪漫主义色彩。 1801—I have just returned from a visit to my landlord—the solitary neighbour that I shall be troubled with. This is certainly a beautiful country! In all England, I do not believe that I could have fixed on a situation so completely removed from the stir of society. A perfect misanthropist’s heaven; and Mr. Heathcliff and I are such a suitable pair to divide the desolation between us. A capital fellow! He little imagined how my heart warmed towards him when I beheld his black eyes withdraw so suspiciously under their brows, as I rode up, and when his fingers sheltered themselves, with a jealous resolution, still further in his waistcoat, as I announced my name. “Mr. Heathcliff!” I said. A nod was the answer. “Mr. Lockwood, your new tenant, sir. I do myself the honour of calling as soon as possible after my arrival, to express the hope that I have not inconvenienced you by my perseverance in soliciting the occupation of Thrushcross Grange: I heard yesterday you had had some thoughts-” “Thrushcross Grange is my own, sir,” he interrupted wincing. “I should not allow any one to inconvenience me, if I could hinder it—walk in!” The “walk in” was uttered with closed teeth, and expressed the sentiment, “Go to the deuce”: even the gate over which he leant manifested no sympathising movement to the words; and I think that circumstance determined me to accept the invitation: I felt interested in a man who seemed more exaggeratedly reserved than myself. When he saw my horse’s breast fairly pushing the barrier, he did put out his hand to unchain it, and then suddenly preceded me up the causeway, calling, as we entered the court—“Joseph, take Mr. Lockwood’s horse; and bring up some wine.” “Here we have the whole establishment of domestics, I suppose,” was the reflection suggested by this compound order. “No wonder the grass grows up between the flags, and cattle are the only hedge-cutters.” Joseph was an elderly, nay, an old man: very old, perhaps, though hale and sinewy. “The Lord help us!” he soliloquised in an undertone of peevish displeasure, while relieving me of my horse: looking, meantime, in my face so sourly that I charitably conjectured he must have need of divine aid to digest his dinner, and his pious ejaculation had no reference to my unexpected advent. Wuthering Heights is the name of Mr. Heathcliff’s dwelling. “Wuthering” being a significant provincial adjective, descriptive of the atmospheric tumult to which its station is exposed in stormy weather. Pure, bracing ventilation they must have up there at all times, indeed; one may guess the power of the north wind blowing over the edge, by the excessive slant of a few-stunted firs at the end of the house; and by a range of gaunt thorns all stretching their limbs one way, as if craving alms of the sun. Happily, the architect had foresight to build it strong: the narrow windows are deeply set in the wall, and the corners defended with large jutting stones. Before passing the threshold, I paused to admire a quantity of grotesque carving lavished over the front, and especially about the principal door; above which, among a wilderness of crumbling griffins and shameless little boys, I detected the date “1500,” and the name “Hareton Earnshaw.” I would have made a few comments, and requested a short history of the place from the surly owner; but his attitude at the door appeared to demand my speedy entrance, or complete departure, and I had no desire to aggravate his impatience previous to inspecting the penetralium. One step brought us into the family sitting-room, without any introductory lobby or passage: they call it here “the house” preeminently. It includes kitchen and parlour, generally; but I believe at Wuthering Heights the kitchen is forced to retreat altogether into another quarter: at least I distinguished a chatter of tongues, and a clatter of culinary utensils, deep within; and I observed no signs of roasting, boiling, or baking, about the huge fire-place; nor any glitter of copper saucepans and tin cullenders on the walls. One end, indeed, reflected splendidly both light and heat from ranks of immense pewter dishes, interspersed with silver jugs and tankards, towering row after row, on a vast oak dresser, to the very roof. The latter had never been underdrawn: its entire anatomy lay bare to an enquiring eye, except where a frame of wood laden with oatcakes and clusters of legs of beef, mutton, and ham, concealed it. Above the chimney were sundry villainous old guns, and a couple of horse pistols: and, by way of ornament, three gaudily-painted canisters disposed along its ledge. The floor was of smooth white stone; the chairs, high-backed, primitive structures, painted green: one or two heavy black ones lurking in the shade. In an arch under the dresser, reposed a huge, liver-coloured bitch pointer, surrounded by a swarm of squealing puppies; and other dogs haunted other recesses.

一八○一年。我刚刚拜访过我的房东回来——就是那个将要给我惹麻烦的孤独的邻居。这儿可真是一个美丽的乡间！在整个英格兰境内，我不相信我竟能找到这样一个能与尘世的喧嚣完全隔绝的地方，一个厌世者的理想的天堂。而希刺克厉夫和我正是分享这儿荒凉景色的如此合适的一对。一个绝妙的人！在我骑着马走上前去时，看见他的黑眼睛缩在眉毛下猜忌地瞅着我。而在我通报自己姓名时．他把手指更深地藏到背心袋里，完全是一副不信任我的神气。刹那间，我对他产生了亲切之感，而他却根本未察觉到。 “希刺克厉夫先生吗？”我说。 回答是点一下头。 “先生，我是洛克乌德，您的新房客。我一到这儿就尽可能马上来向您表示敬意，希望我坚持要租画眉田庄没什么使您不方便。昨天我听说您想——”。 “画眉田庄是我自己的，先生。”他打断了我的话，闪避着。“只要是我能够阻止，我总是不允许任何人给我什么不方便的。进来吧！” 这一声“进来”是咬着牙说出来的，表示了这样一种情绪，“见鬼！”甚至他靠着的那扇大门也没有对这句许诺表现出同情而移动；我想情况决定我接受这样的邀请：我对一个仿佛比我还更怪僻的人颇感兴趣。 他看见我的马的胸部简直要碰上栅栏了，竟也伸手解开了门链，然后阴郁地领我走上石路，在我们到了院子里的时候，就叫着： “约瑟夫，把洛克乌德先生的马牵走。拿点酒来。” “我想他全家只有这一个人吧，”那句双重命令引起了这种想法。“怪不得石板缝间长满了草，而且只有牛替他们修剪篱笆哩。” 约瑟夫是个上年纪的人，不，简直是个老头——也许很老了，虽然还很健壮结实。“求主保佑我们！”他接过我的马时，别别扭扭地不高兴地低声自言自语着，同时又那么愤怒地盯着我的脸，使我善意地揣度他一定需要神来帮助才能消化他的饭食，而他那虔诚的突然喊叫跟我这突然来访是毫无关系的。 呼啸山庄是希刺克厉夫先生的住宅名称。“呼啸”是一个意味深长的内地形容词，形容这地方在风暴的天气里所受的气压骚动。的确，他们这儿一定是随时都流通着振奋精神的纯洁空气。从房屋那头有几棵矮小的枞树过度倾斜，还有那一排瘦削的荆棘都向着一个方向伸展枝条，仿佛在向太阳乞讨温暖，就可以猜想到北风吹过的威力了。幸亏建筑师有先见把房子盖得很结实：窄小的窗子深深地嵌在墙里，墙角有大块的凸出的石头防护着。 在跨进门槛之前，我停步观赏房屋前面大量的稀奇古怪的雕刻，特别是正门附近，那上面除了许多残破的怪兽和不知羞的小男孩外，我还发现“一五○○”年代和“哈里顿·恩萧”的名字。 我本想说一两句话，向这倨傲无礼的主人请教这地方的简短历史，但是从他站在门口的姿势看来，是要我赶快进去，要不就干脆离开，而我在参观内部之前也并不想增加他的不耐烦。 不用经过任何穿堂过道，我们径直进了这家的起坐间：他们颇有见地索性把这里叫作“屋子”。一般所谓屋子是把厨房和大厅都包括在内的；但是我认为在呼啸山庄里，厨房是被迫撤退到另一个角落里去了；至少我辨别出在顶里面有喋喋的说话声和厨房用具的磕碰声；而且在大壁炉里我并没看出烧煮或烘烤食物的痕迹，墙上也没有铜锅和锡滤锅之类在闪闪发光。倒是在屋子的一头，在一个大橡木橱柜上摆着一叠叠的白镴盘子；以及一些银壶和银杯散置着，一排排，垒得高高的直到屋顶，的确它们射出的光线和热气映照得灿烂夺目。橱柜从未上过漆；它的整个构造任凭人去研究。只是有一处，被摆满了麦饼、牛羊腿和火腿之类的木架遮盖住了。壁炉台上有杂七杂八的老式难看的枪，还有一对马枪；并且，为了装饰起见，还有三个画得俗气的茶叶罐靠边排列着。地是平滑的白石铺砌的；椅子是高背的，老式的结构，涂着绿色；一两把笨重的黑椅子藏在暗处。橱柜下面的圆拱里，躺着一条好大的、猪肝色的母猎狗，一窝唧唧叫着的小狗围着它，还有些狗在别的空地走动。