-
All this I did without you
(
摘自
Gerald Durrell: An Authorized Biography
by Douglas Botting
-1999)
：
My
darling
McGeorge,
You
said
that
things
seemed
clearer
when they were written down. Well,
herewith a very boring letter in
which
I will try and put everything down so that you may
read and
re-read it in horror at your
folly in getting involved with me.
Deep breath.
To
begin with I love you with a depth and passion
that I have
felt for no one else in
this life and if it astonishes you it astonishes
me as well. Not, I hasten to say,
because you are not worth loving.
Far
from it. It’s just that, first of all, I swore I
would not get involved
with
another
woman.
Secondly,
I
have
never
had
such
a
feeling
before
and
it
is
almost
frightening.
Thirdly,
I
would
never
have
thought
it
possible
that
another
human
being
could
occupy
my
waking
(and
sleeping)
thoughts
to
the
exclusion
of
almost
everything else.
Fourthly, I never thought that
–
even if one was in
love
–
one could
get so completely besotted with another person, so
that a minute away from them felt like
a thousand years. Fifthly, I
never
hoped,
aspired,
dreamed
that
one
could
find
everything
one
wanted in one person. I was not such an
idiot as to believe this was
possible.
Yet
in
you
I
have
found
everything
I
want:
you
are
beautiful,
gay,
giving,
gentle,
idiotically
and
deliciously
feminine,
sexy,
wonderfully
intelligent
and
wonderfully
silly
as
well.
I
want
nothing else in this
life than to be with you, to listen and watch you
(your beautiful voice, your beauty), to
argue with you, to laugh with
you, to
show you things and share things with you, to
explore your
magnificent
mind,
to
explore
your
wonderful
body,
to
help
you,
protect you, serve you,
and bash you on the head when I think you
are wrong … Not
to put too
fine a point on it I consider that I am the
only man outside mythology to have
found the crock of gold at the
rainbow’s end. But –
having
said all that
–
let us
consider things in
detail. Don’t let
this become public but … well, I have one or
tw
o
faults. Minor ones, I
hasten to say. For example, I am inclined to be
overbearing. I do it for the best
possible motives (all tyrants say that)
but I do tend (without thinking) to
tread people underfoot. You must
tell
me when I am doing it to you, my sweet, because it
can be a very
bad thing in a marriage.
Right. Second blemish. This, actually, is not
so
much
a
blemish
of
character
as
a
blemish
of
circumstance.
Darling
I
want
you
to
be
you
in
your
own
right
and
I
will
do
everything
I
can
to
help
you
in
this.
But
you
must
take
into
consideration
that I am also me in
my own
right and that I have a
headstart on
you … What I am trying to say is that you must not
feel
offended
if
you
are
sometimes
treated
simply
as
my
wife.
Always
remember
that
what
you
lose
on
the
swings
you
gain
on
the
roundabouts. But I am an
established ‘creature’ in the world, and so
–
on occasions
–
you will have to live in
my shadow. Nothing gives
me less
pleasure than this but it is a fact of life that
has to be faced.
Third (and very
im
portant and nasty) blemish: jealousy.
I don’t think
you know what jealousy is
(thank God) in the real sense of the word.
I know that you have felt jealousy over
Lincoln’s wife and child, but
this is
what I call normal jealousy, and this
–
to my regret
–
is not
what
I’ve got.
What
I
have
got is
a
black
monster
that
can
pervert
my
good
sense,
my
good
humour
and
any
goodness
that
I
have
in
my
make-
up.
It
is
really
a
Jekyll
and
Hyde
situation
…
my
Hyde
is
stronger
than my good sense and defeats me, hard though I
try. As I
told you, I have always known
that this lurks within me, but I could
control
it,
and
my
monster
slumbered
and
nothing
happened
to
awake it. Then I met you
and I felt my monster stir and become half
awake when you told me of Lincoln and
others you have known, and
with
your
letter
my
monster
came
out
of
its
lair,
black,
irrational,
bigoted, stupid, evil, malevolent. You
will never know how terribly
corrosive
jealousy
is;
it
is
a
physical
pain
as
though
you
had
swallowed
acid or
red hot coals. It
is
the
most terrible of
feelings.
But you can’t help
it –
at least I can’t, and
God knows I’ve tried. I