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I have spoken of your mother to you with some bitterness. And I strongly advise you to let her see this letter, for your own sake chiefly. If it is painful to her to read such an indictment against one of her sons, let her remember that my mother, who intellectually ranks with Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and historically with Madame Roland[146a],[146.1] died broken-hearted because the son of whose genius and art she had been so proud, and whom she had regarded always as a worthy continuer of a distinguished name[146b], had been condemned to the treadmill for two years. You will ask me in what way you mother contributed to my destruction. I will tell you. Just as you strove to shift onto me all your immoral responsibilities, so your mother strove to shift on to me all her moral responsibilities with regard to you. Instead of speaking directly to you about your life, as a mother should, she always wrote privately to me with earnest, frightened entreaties not to let you know that she was writing to me. You see the position in which I was placed between you and your mother. It was one as false, as absurd, and as tragic as the one in which I was placed between you and your father. In August 1892, and on the 8th of November in the same year, I had two long interviews with your mother about you. On both occasions I asked her why she did not speak directly to you herself. On both occasions she gave the same answer: “I am afraid to: he gets so angry when he is spoken to.” The first time, I knew you so slightly that I did not understand what she meant. The second time, I knew you so well that I understood perfectly. (During the interval you had had an attack of jaundice and been ordered by the doctor to go for a week to Bournmouth, and had induced me to accompany you as you hated being alone.) But the first duty of a mother is not to be afraid of speaking seriously to her son. Had your mother spoken seriously to you about the trouble she saw you were in July 1892 and made you confide in her it would have been much better, and much happier ultimately for both of you. All the underhand and secret communications with me were wrong. What was the use of your mother sending me endless little notes, marked “Private” on the envelope, begging me not to ask you so often to dinner, and not to give you any money, each note ending with an earnest postscript “On no account let Alfred know that I have written to you”? What good could come of such a correspondence[146c]? Did you ever wait to be asked to dinner? Never. You took all your meals as a matter of course with me. If I remonstrated, you always had one observation: “If I don’t dine with you, where am I to dine? You don’t suppose that I am going to dine at home?” It was unanswerable. And if I absolutely refused to let you dine with me, you always threatened that you would do something foolish, and always did it. What possible result could there be from letters such as your mother used to send me except that which did occur[146d], a foolish and fatal shifting of the moral responsibility on to my shoulders? Of the various details in which your mother’s weakness and lack of courage proved so ruinous to herself, to you, and to me, I don’t want to speak any more, but surely, when she heard of your father coming down to my house to make a loathsome scene and create a public scandal, she might then have seen that a serious crisis was impending, and taken some serious steps to try and avoid it? But all she could think of doing was to send down plausible George Wyndham[146.2] with his pliant tongue[146e] to propose to me—what? That I should “gradually drop you”!
我曾心中有气地同你说起过你母亲，我力劝你，这封信一定要让她看，主要是为了你的缘故。 假如读着这样一封控诉她一个儿子的信，令她痛苦的话，就让她想想我的母亲吧。我母亲，才气同伊丽莎白?巴雷特?布朗宁相匹，历史地位与罗兰夫人并重[146a]，然而却伤心而死，就因为她以儿子的才华和艺术为荣，一心认为家声门风能在他手里传扬光大[146b]，没想到儿子却被判了刑服两年苦役。你问我为什么你母亲是促成我毁灭的一分子，我这就告诉你。就像你力图把你所有不道德的责任全往我身上推那样，你母亲也力图把她对于你的所有道德责任全往我身上推。她非但不像一个当母亲的应该做的那样，直接同你谈你的生活问题，反而总是私下写信给我，一本正经、诚惶诚恐地央求我别让你知道她给我写信。你看夹在你母子之间，我陷进了怎样的境地。虚假、荒唐、悲惨，一如陷在你和你父亲之间。在1892年8月，以及同年11月8日，我跟你母亲就你的事有过两次长谈。 两次我都问她为什么不把事情直接同你说。两次她都这样回答：“我怕，一说他就大发脾气。” 第一次时我对你了解得很少，不明白她话里的意思。等到了第二次，我对你就很了解了，她的意思就全明白了。（在这期间，你曾有一次黄疸病发，医生要你去伯恩茅斯住一个星期，因为不喜欢一个人呆着，说动我陪你去了。）但是作为母亲，首要责任是不能害怕认真严肃地同儿子谈话。倘若在1 8 9 2年7月你母亲能认真严肃地跟你谈谈她所看到的关于你的问题，并使你对她吐露真情，那事情就好办得多了，最终你们双方也都会愉快得多。一切鬼鬼祟祟向我诉说的做法都是错的。你母亲这样做有什么用呢？不断地往我这边寄些短信，信封上注明“私信”，求我别这么经常请你吃饭，别给你钱，每次信都要一本正经地附上一句 “千万别让阿尔弗莱德知道我写信给你”。如此地写信递条子有什么好处呢[146c]？你有哪次是等人来请才去吃饭的？从来没有。你认为同我吃的餐餐饭食都是理所当然的。要是我规劝了你几句，你总有话说：“如果不同你吃，那我上哪儿吃去？你总不会要我在家里吃吧？” 这叫人无话可答。如果我决绝地不让你同我进餐，你总是威胁要干出什么蠢事来，而且总是真的干了。像你母亲屡屡写给我的这些信，会有什么结果呢？结果不外乎，而且果不其然[146d]，是愚蠢而又致命地把道德责任推到了我的肩膀上。你母亲的怯弱，事实证明对她本人、对你、对我，具有如此的毁灭性，其间种种细节我不想再多说了。但是，在她听到你父亲来我家大吵大闹﹐当众出我的丑时，谅必已经明白事情眼看要闹大了，难道就不能认真采取一些步骤来化解吗？可她想得出的，就是叫个巧舌如簧的乔治?怀恩德汉，凭他的不烂之舌[146e]来向我提出——什么呢？要我“渐渐地把你放掉”！
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