Bionic Jean’s Comments (group member since Jul 27, 2022)

Bionic Jean’s comments from the Works of Thomas Hardy group.

Locations:

The location of Henchard’s contemplated suicide is given as “Ten Man’s Hole”, further up from the two bridges we know about, and “Blackwater”. Here Hardy has given us the proper name. Ten Hatches Weir still survives, a little way upstream from Grey’s Bridge. Only 5 hatches remain complete, however.

Hills

Yes, Claudia, this part of Dorset is hilly. You can probably remember that from the start of Far From the Madding Crowd and what happens to Gabriel Oak. I’m looking at a gentle hill next to the panorama of sea right now as I type. (That’s why we cannot get a phone signal in the caravan!) But they are gentler slopes than in Cornwall; similar to Derbyshire’s gradients rather than Yorkshire or the Lake District.

Speaking technically. Dorset and Derbyshire have hills, Cornwall has tors, the Lake District has fells – and only the highest of these are classed as mountains. Most of Britain’s mountains are in Scotland, with a few in North Wales.

Richard Newson

Hardy knew exactly what he was doing here and had planned this bit all out! Did you notice when we first met the stranger, who offered to finance the skimmington ride that he had a “sealskin cap”? Nobody in England would have one of those, so he clearly was a seafaring man from Canada, or similar.

Then a few chapters later we could perhaps make the link when a stranger asked for Henchard – Kathleen (or Cindy?) suggested this might be a relative or friend of Newson, and I think Hardy’s keen-eyed original serial readers may have thought that when they read about the sealskin cap. But what a huge reveal today!

I’m not sure he would be so self-effacing as to have let Susan believe he was dead though. What about Elizabeth-Jane? We had been led to believe that the two – father and daughter - were very close. This seems a rocky plot-point to me; a bit of a quick fix. There is also a slip. Henchard said that Susan could barely write her name, but she wrote a letter to him explaining about Elizabeth Jane’s parentage, so he knew that was not the case. She would be unlikely to learn to write in later life as a sailor’s wife, though that’s the only remaining possibility.

I’ve written enough! But just a couple of points ...

Michael Henchard

I can totally understand your appalled reaction to this Bridget - the lie to Newson was such a shocking thing to do. It seems to destroy all the hope we have had for this man, whenever we have seen his moral nature coming through despite his wishes. I'm sure Thomas Hardy intended for us to have this violent attitude of disgust and antipathy towards Henchard. But ...

This time, because I knew it was coming and had always had this reaction before, I tried to look more at the psychology. As Claudia says, there are many Hardy scholars who analyse his poetic style and as we would expect, the complex character of Henchard is continually addressed. He is one of the great male protagonists of Victorian literature. So there's plenty to read, if you like, but I'll try to keep my thoughts here brief.

Psychologically then, we are told in this chapter that Henchard feels as if he has lost everything. Also, that both he and Elizabeth-Jane are lonely, and wish for a reconciliation.

(Elizabeth-Jane never wanted a separation of course, but was driven away by his coldness towards her. Now though, she has additionally lost Lucetta, the person she felt most close to and viewed as a friend, whilst grieving for her mother.)

Looking at the text we read that it was "the impulse of a moment." This is absolutely in keeping with his character! We have many examples. e.g. right from the start, he sold his wife. Then the tempestuous relationship with Farfrae, immediately making friends - then banishing him - twice - and hitting out at him (literally in the end! but not able to carry it through "no man ever loved another as I did thee at one time ... I cannot hurt thee ... I care nothing for what come of me"). Then after on the road, trying to warn him about Lucetta, he says " I am a wretched man but my heart is true to you still."

Henchard is like a child, driven by his impulses.

”the sudden prospect of her loss had caused him to speak mad lies like a child, in pure mockery of consequences”

So here we have the second part of his nature, superstition - bolstered by Thomas Hardy's idea of Fate. It is confirmed for Henchard by his later sight of the his effigy: himself floating in the water when he was considering suicide by drowning himself. We read “The sense of the supernatural was strong in this unhappy man”.

The third aspect is that he does not truly believe that his God will allow his lie to Newson to be believed. He constantly expects it to be revealed in the chapter. At the end he has a glimmer of hope that “such a reprobate as I … [is in] Somebody’s hand”.

We deplore what he did – but so does he. Henchard is a wretched man, and I feel he deserves our pity. We can only imagine what might be coming.

Locations

The point where Henchard tries to intercept Farfrae "where the Mellstock road branches off from the road from Weatherbury" is actually Cuckoo Corner. This is where Cuckoo Lane, leading to Bockhampton, branches off the A35 (the main road through Dorset. Dorset is the only county in England which has no motorways at all!)

"Weatherbury" you may remember is actually Puddletown, This is where the real-life shepherd lived whom Thomas Hardy based Gabriel Oak on. The farms of Bathsheba and Boldwood were set around Weatherbury, so most of Far From the Madding Crowd takes place in those few square miles.

In this ch 40, desperate to find Farfrae's gig to alert him to Lucetta's precarious health, Henchard:

"hastened down the town, ran along the eastern road over Durnover Moor, up the hill beyond, and thus onward in the moderate darkness of this spring night till he had reached a second and almost a third hill about three miles distant."

"Durnover" (as mentioned before) is Fordingon, to the north of Dorchester ("Casterbridge")'s town centre.

"In Yalbury Bottom, or Plain, at the foot of the hill, he listened. At first nothing, beyond his own heart-throbs, was to be heard but the slow wind making its moan among the masses of spruce and larch of Yalbury Wood which clothed the heights on either hand;"

This describes an area Thomas Hardy knew well. "Yalbury" is located within the hamlet of Lower Bockhampton, just 2 miles from Dorchester. It's near his birthplace and also features in Far From the Madding Crowd and some poems.

And another way in which the novel features (but does not mirror) the real Dorset is the railway. I intended to say that Thomas Hardy altered the date slightly when he described this a couple of chapters ago with the royal visit. The railway actually reached Dorchester in 1847, so Hardy backdated the visit to fit in with the time scheme.

What an intriguing idea, Bridget!

Bridget wrote: "Whatever the reason, I'm happy to have some explanations for Lucetta's fit that don't involve "female hysteria". I get so tired of that trope, I would like to think Hardy meant something else entirely."

Absolutely!

"I really liked the softness of the way Hardy tells us of Lucetta's passing - the servant removing the covering from the door knocker. Its a much more poetic way of expressing her passing."

This detail gave me a start when I read it in the text, as I hadn't noticed it when I read it before. But this time my mind was full of Charles Dickens. (When it is not, might be a fair question! But I do try not to compare unless it's directly relevant.)

Here I had been a little irritated at Thomas Hardy not being clear about the symptoms of Lucetta's epilepsy. Charles Dickens invariably was accurate and detailed when portraying newly diagnosed conditions - or even sometimes ones which did not yet have a name and were colloquially called after his character (e.g, "Pickwickian syndrome", also now known as Obesity Hypoventilation Syndrome (OHS)).

In Nicholas Nickleby, some may remember that when the "exceptionally common" but socially pretentious Mrs Kenwigs has yet another child, for the period of her final confinement her husband goes out to buy a fine white handkerchief to muffle the doorknocker, as was the custom in London townhouses.

Now here's the interesting bit. When she had given birth, Mr Kenwigs removed the muffler, as an established signal that the more genteel neighbouring ladies of the district (not the men) were welcome to visit the mother who was still in bed, and coo over her newly born child. There were set periods for all these stages.

But how ghastly if it could also be for another reason - the tragic circumstance of the mother and/or child's death! 🥹All I can think is that it was left to local gossip to reach everyone's ears first.

Bridget wrote: "It is absolutely code for Lucetta being pregnant. ..."

Yes indeed, but

"she isn't having fits because she's pregnant; but rather she's having fits because of her fear of losing Farfrae's love"

The quotation I included referred specifically to epilepsy, and this is actually what I was querying. Although I know there are several types of epilepsy, I didn't know of one with recurring fits just by thinking of something! 🤔

So I was asking anyone who might know more about it, whether this is authentic, or whether Thomas Hardy is indulging in a bit of dramatic license with the Victorian trope of "female hysteria".

Sorry if that wasn't clear.

The other thing that struck me about this chapter is the architecture of the houses, which I mentioned before. In Bridport ("Port-Bredy") they are far apart, because of the ropemaking business, but in Dorchester ("Casterbridge") there are plenty of narrow streets. So the two maids were able to have a conversation from the upper gable windows, which would sit very close even though they were on opposite sides of the street. Here's an example of one side of the street:



wikimedia - Richard Croft

We can just imagine the two maids on either side of the street, having a conversation! The lower rooms were further apart. These upper windows could be used for a quick escape where necessary, or passing goods across, or all sorts of nefarious purposes. Here though it is just used as a literary device for overheard conversation.

(I posted a photo of the mayor's house, (where Lucetta and Farfrae now live) before; it's now a branch of Barclay's bank, but you can't really see this architectural detail in that one.)

I agree Claudia - it's not often I laugh aloud when reading Thomas Hardy - but I did with the "cowardly constables"! And the quick-thinking landlady with her quip about why the tambourine was on the oven, was priceless! 😂

It's quite an achievement to have a chapter filled with tension, drama and passion as well as humour, but that's what we have here.

I enjoyed learning about the villagers, and that one or two "rustics" were more empathic and kindhearted (e.g. Solomon Longways, who sent the anonymous letter to Farfrae) rather than being out for a cruel laugh at someone else's expense (e.g. Nance Mockridge the leader of the skimmington plan and Mother Cuxsom).

However it's noticeable that they all thought Lucetta deserved what she got:

"For poor Lucetta they took no protective measure, believing with the majority there was some truth in the scandal, which she would have to bear as she best might."

It's a very different attitude for the woman involved than it would have been for a 19th century man "sowing his wild oats". I think there might have been envy here too, as she has no qualms about displaying her wealth.

Lucetta's behaviour seems to fit the description of 19th century "female hysteria", but we are told she:

"remained convulsed on the carpet in the paroxysms of an epileptic seizure."

The fact that "as soon as she remembered what had passed the fit returned" puzzled me. Can this happen with a type of epilepsy? Ah, but it rang a great bell when the doctor said:

"a fit in the present state of her health means mischief."

Could this be a coded message? 🤔

I think Henchard binding his arm behind his back so as to not have any advantage is so poignant. As Kathleen says, he just can't bring himself to be a thoroughly bad man. In fact in this chapter he seems profoundly moral to me. He can't bear Farfae peevishly accusing him of wanting to kill him often enough, and is so aghast at the idea, that it takes all the wind out of his sails. I'm not liking Farfrae much at the moment. He does not have much depth of feeling, and as we have said, seems oblivious to so much.

The chapter ends so ominously, with the apparent sounds of celebration. Henchard has no idea what it might be - but we do! And it was funded by a stranger who wanted to help with a quaint custom ... and then mysteriously disappeared. Was that just because (as we were told) he felt the company beneath him, or might we perhaps meet him again?

Bridget - the detailed post about the Corn Laws is LINK HERE.

There were quite a few reasons and factors involved in repealing them.

Yes, I'd never heard of Admiral Hardy before seeing it!

Erich C wrote: "I'd like to comment related to Jean's statement that Hardy sees women as calculating. Jean, is that a biographical detail, or are you basing that on the evidence from this or other texts?..."

Great question, and the answer is both!

Bridget gave a most comprehensive answer to this (thanks Bridget!) and I can't improve on it because she has read Claire Tomalin's bio of him much more recently than I have! (Do take a look at her thread on our group read, for more details chapter by chapter).

I would add though that for textual analysis, Far From the Madding Crowd has innumerable references to what Thomas Hardy himself terms "women's wiles". Here's a bit from my review:

"The frequent references to women as “weaker vessels”, being morally less developed than men are unremitting and obtrusive. If a female hesitates, or behaves capriciously the episode will be followed by a little homily on how this is part of all women’s essentially “infirm nature” or their “unalterable infirmity”.

Pretty much everyone participating in our group read became weary of this theme of women getting their own way despite their being “weaker vessels”. (I speculated that this might have been a core reason for finally removing Thomas Hardy from English school examinations about 3 years ago. The reason was never given, but it fitted with the general ethos of including more socially relevant modern authors).

Since Tom and Emma married during the publication of the original Far From the Madding Crowd serial, it seems an odd stance to take at that point! However, as Bridget says, the voice of his mother, Jemima comes through a lot in his writing from that period. She warned him about scheming women in general, and was very against his marriage to Emma.

But over the years his views changed. A mid-period novel such as The Mayor of Casterbridge still retains some of Jemima's influence I think, but by the time of Tess of the D’Urbervilles, his portrayal of women is far more sympathetic and nuanced.

"alleged ancestor" is right, Claudia!

I'm afraid the Victorian Web is being a little fanciful here - as was the ambitious Thomas Hardy himself.

They were not directly related, although they shared the same last name and both hailed from Dorset. Admiral Sir Thomas Masterman Hardy, who served with Nelson, and Thomas Hardy, were two distinct individuals. "Our Tom" used to boast a little about how he was was proud to acknowledge a distant family connection to the admiral, but they were not close relatives, according to Portesham Village Hall.

There is a monument to Admiral Hardy just up the coast road from here, and it is referred to as "Hardy's Monument".



It's amazing how many people assume it commemorates the novelist - but it is nothing to do with him! 😆.

And to add to the authenticity, the "royal personage" visiting Casterbridge is based on an actual event.

Although The Mayor of Casterbridge was written during1885-6, Prince Albert visited Dorchester in July 1849, shortly after the period during which this novel is set. That's the most likely reference, particularly since it refer to the route of the railway.

However Thomas Hardy may also have had in mind earlier royal visits too. George III often passed through Dorchester, as he passed his summer months in Weymouth "Budmouth" - which is a busy seaside town even now. George III reigned from 1760-1820, and he made it fashionable. When the bus passes our stop from that direction rather than Bridport (Port-Bredy)'s it is always packed!

Great info and comments Bridget, and everyone. 🙂

Oh good 🙂Thanks Peter. This area of Mixen Lane does look squalid, for sure.

I meant to add that in the original serial, ch 35 (the point at which Henchard promises to return Lucetta's letters to her) concluded with scene in which Farfrae met Henchard and Lucetta, but did not recognise her! That must have been a nail-biting conclusion.

It seems very careless of Henchard to let Jopp carry the letters in ch 36. Almost anyone else would be preferable and have been more trustworthy, but Henchard seems oblivious to the resentment this man has for him.

Claudia wrote: "I think that Jean who has a great field experience in locations will be in a position to enlighten us on that intriguing pub!..."

I haven't been to Lytchett Minster for a while, but yes, as you say the name "St Peter's Finger Inn" "the church of Mixen Lane" (great tongue-in-cheek humour there from Thomas Hardy) is a corruption of "St Peter ad Vincula". There are quite a lot of names like that in Dorset. Today I was at "Port Bredy"'s town square which is called "Bucky Doo" - a name I love and was once probably "buck and doe".

As for Mixen Lane itself in "Durnover", which was mentioned before too:

"Mixen Lane was the Adullam of all the surrounding villages. It was the hiding-place of those who were in distress, and in debt, and trouble of every kind."

Bridget has already given us the Biblical reference.

Mixen Lane was a squalid area of slum dwellings "where the only things that flourished were vice and crime". This is actually Mill Lane in Fordingham (Dorchester). Most of the old cottages had been pulled down by the time The Mayor of Casterbridge was written, in 1884-5. Then the entire area was torn down in the urban renewal of 1912. Here it is:



(This photograph was in the Anniversary Edition, 1920 and scanned by Philip V. Allingham, but I don't know when the original was taken.)

Bridget - you're doing a wonderful job here with your summaries and information. Thank you!

Like Peter, I see the cracks in Farfrae's character. His innocence, naivety and good humour in all situations seem almost unbelievable. He could be so easily blindsided, and in this chapter he is close to being duped.

But Henchard continually intrigues me, as he is so complex. I mentioned that he often plans to go against his moral code, but finds he cannot go through with it. We had another instance today (ch. 35), in the Ring. When we read:

"[Lucetta] was much perplexed as to Henchard's motives in opening the matter at all" (i.e. him showing her letters to Farfrae) I am struck by this observation:

"for in such cases we attribute to an enemy a power of consistent action which we never find in ourselves or in our friends; and forget that abortive efforts from want of heart are as possible to revenge as to generosity."

I thought this was nicely nuanced.

But coming back to the theme of deception, also noticeable in this chapter is Thomas Hardy's view of women as essentially calculating: "the only practical weapon left to her as a woman" (about Lucetta but in tune with Hardy's belief) and Henchard's "heart smote him for having attempted reprisals on one of a sex so weak" and "His old feeling of supercilious pity for womankind in general was intensified by this supplicant appearing here as the double of the first (i.e. Susan, who had deceived him as to her motive: securing a safe future for her daughter, who was not his.)

Again, is this consistent with the character's attitude, or is Thomas Hardy superimposing his own? Are we being told that women will get their way by using their wiles, and essentially, men are their dupes?

Gosh the tension is building, and like everyone I fear for Farfrae. Bridget - I love your observations - particularly noting that tiny "even". Why is Farfrae so naive, I wonder. He seems a true innocent, but a little blinkered too in assuming he could do his former friend a good deed so close to home.

Thomas Hardy is absolutely clear in ch. 33, when Farfrae enters the barn with Lucetta:

"it being obvious that he had no suspicion whatever in any antecedents in common between her and the now journeyman hay-trusser"

and I liked the succinct description of Lucetta in ch. 34 as "imprudence incarnate" when asking for her letters back. This seems uncharacteristically naive for her. But the way Henchard held back from his final planned cruelty I found exactly right. He always seems to be tempted to go against his moral code in various ways, but can't quite bring himself to do it in the end.

There are a lot of them, for sure! 😆