Works of Thomas Hardy discussion
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Tess of the D’Urbervilles
Tess of the d'Urbervilles
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Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Introduction and Phase the First: Chapters 1 - 11
Bionic Jean quoted: "Between the mother, with her fast-perishing lumber of superstitions, ... and the daughter, ... there was a gap of two hundred years as ordinarily understood. When they were together the Jacobean and the Victorian ages were juxtaposed."
I think the mother had a haphazard education via folk values and traditions; Tess was educated after compulsory education was a reality in the UK. Tess has been trained the "National teachings" and "Standard knowledge" etc. Jean thinks Hardy is being satiric and I do agree: Tess has an education about 200 years more modern than her mother's. Will this standard education help her?
Tess probably has the same kind of education as Hardy did (he went to a national standard school). But Hardy's mother arranged for additional schooling for him.
The topic of education in 19th century England must be fascinating; so many writers addressed the topic (Austen, Dickens, Eliot, etc.).
The contrast between the Durbeyfield home and the recent scene at the dance could hardly be more striking. Further, Mrs. Durbeyfield’s daily life of unrelenting work is entirely at odds with that of her husband, the “haggler” — who, despite needing to make a very early start on his next day’s journey, has decided to spend his evening at the local tavern. Hardy has chosen to present some very pointed social commentary here, while continuing to further define the character of each member of the household. Despite Jack’s readiness to hire a carriage to fetch him gaily back to the village, there are no spare shillings at hand in this family. Dazzled by past glory of his forbears, he scarcely considers the needs of today, never mind any thought for the future welfare of his family. There are troubled times ahead.
I agree Jim that there´s a big difference between the idyllic dance scene and the sad life of the Durbeyfield family. One child after the other, Jack being an alcoholic and not having much work to spend money on all the family and the children having to help out at home.There´s humour though in Mrs. Durbeyfield getting her husband and staying at the inn, Abraham getting both parents and also staying and lastly Tess having to go herself to fetch them all. Reminds me of some old rhymes.
Bionic Jean wrote: "But Tess is also an innocent. We see that again at the beginning of this chapter. She enjoys dancing “purely for its own sake”; not understanding the “torments, pleasures and pains” of courtship, o..."I like the way you point out the dig at Wordsworth. I think that while the romantics venerated nature and the works of nature, the Victorians often had a scornful fear of nature "red in tooth and claw" as Tennyson put it. The Victorians found a lot of fossils which called nature's way into question. Extinction was a justifiable fear and a puzzle. Darwin's theories were serious and people wondered about roads, trains, and the fact that humanity could change natural progress with new methods.
I am speaking very generally; a long time ago I read a Ruskin essay called "The Storm Cloud of the Nineteenth Century" published about a decade before Tess was. Ruskin was describing, measuring, and pondering on his findings about rain--what we called "acid rain" a few decades back.
So much of this novel strikes me as juggling both a nostalgia for the past and a judgment that people have pushed the past away for a dubious future. Nature is a very real character at work in Hardy's novels and poems, I think.
Not much to add to the summaries and comments already. The scene with Tess's mother did make me think about what a hard life the average woman had in those days. She tries to make light by singing. Who can blame her for wanting to go off and have some time away from her responsibilities at home for a few hours?I did love the imagery of Tess going out into the night walking towards the bar on a crooked road which could foreshadow her own potential life's journey.
I last read this book 4 years ago. I’ve started it again today & am looking forward to the discussions - though will probably read the book fairly quickly & wait for the relevant discussions to appear.
I've been keeping up, and while I do not have a lot to add to the discussion I do enjoy reading all of your comments. :-)
Is it me, or does Joan Durbeyfield come across to others too as someone who simply cannot comprehend being an adult? She apparently does some washing, and she has a lot of children, but she's there sitting, rocking the sleeping baby, expecting her child to pick up her slack. She believes everything her husband tells her too, perhaps because it is what she wants to hear, but regardless of the why she just believes it and goes with it. Tess' reproach was very justified, and only then Joan realised she might have kept him home - but no, she immediately shoves away the responsibility again.
It does have a bit of humor in it too indeed. On the other hand I have seen something like this playing out in real life, and there's nothing funny about it then.
Is it me, or does Joan Durbeyfield come across to others too as someone who simply cannot comprehend being an adult? She apparently does some washing, and she has a lot of children, but she's there sitting, rocking the sleeping baby, expecting her child to pick up her slack. She believes everything her husband tells her too, perhaps because it is what she wants to hear, but regardless of the why she just believes it and goes with it. Tess' reproach was very justified, and only then Joan realised she might have kept him home - but no, she immediately shoves away the responsibility again.
It does have a bit of humor in it too indeed. On the other hand I have seen something like this playing out in real life, and there's nothing funny about it then.
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Please do add information posts of your own if you like! If it's longer than just a few observations, then a separate post would be good (maybe with a title?) so that people can pick and choose the sort of thing they want to read. When we have a lot of daily discussions the comments can soon stack up!
The Industrial Revolution was well under way, and as Natalie and others have pointed out, this affected society in all sorts of ways. Jim and Chris have both raised the topic of the new roles people (especially women) may have in this "new" society. Michaela talks about the social problems, perhaps as a result or perhaps they they have always been there ...
We could discuss these at length, but perhaps for now we need to move on to today's chapter.
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Rolliver’s doesn’t have a licence to serve alcoholic drinks, so its patrons have to either drink outside or in a bedroom upstairs. Joan Durbeyfield finds her husband and tells him her plan to profit from their newfound ancestry. There is a family of wealthy d’Urbervilles nearby, and Joan wants to send Tess to “claim kin” and ask for work, but she also hopes that a wealthy gentleman will end up marrying Tess. She says that the Compleat Fortune-Teller confirmed it. John worries that “queer” Tess might not like the plan.
When Tess arrives, her parents get ready to leave. She and her mother walk John Durbeyfield home, all three weaving back and forth. He had not drunk very much but his bad health increases the alcohol’s effects. Tess worries that her father won’t be able to deliver the beehives to the Casterbridge market the next day, because they have to start at two in the morning and it’s already eleven o’clock. After two hours of sleep Joan Durbeyfield wakes Tess and admits that her father can’t make the trip. Tess is too ashamed to ask someone from town to go, because they saw her father riding back home the worse for drink, so she agrees to do it if Abraham accompanies her.
They hitch up Prince the horse, who is as old and rickety as their cart. Abraham is still half-asleep. Once he starts waking up he quickly reveals Joan’s plan to marry Tess off to a gentleman. Tess gets impatient with her family’s new preoccupation with the d’Urberville name. Abraham asks if the stars are all worlds just like theirs, and if some are “blighted” and some are “sound.” Tess says they live on a blighted star, and that is why their lives are so hard.
Tess is sleepy and starts to daydream about her father’s newfound vanity and hopes for social ascension, and she imagines an unpleasant gentleman suitor mocking her and her family. She falls asleep. She is then awakened suddenly to find that Prince has been gored to death by the shaft of the swift and silent morning mail-cart. Tess, despairing, puts her hand on his wound and the blood splashes her face and white dress.
The mail-cart man complains that Tess was on the wrong side of the path, and says that he has to go on and deliver the mail. Tess is left behind, and she watches Prince’s blood congeal and feels extremely guilty for his death. She is ashamed that the day before she had danced and been happy, when today she has committed such a blunder. She wakes up Abraham and he asks if this happened because they live on a blighted star.
“In stagnant blackness they waited through an interval which seemed endless.” - D. A. Wehrschmidt 18th July 1891.
Another farmer hitches up to their cart and delivers the beehives, and that evening a wagon comes bringing Prince’s body back to Marlott. Tess returns to find that her parents already know what happened. They aren’t angry, but seem subdued rather than kind. Tess blames herself. When no one will buy Prince’s body for more than a few shillings, John Durbeyfield proudly invokes his heritage and vows to keep Prince by his side. They bury him the next morning, Tess’s father works harder at this than he has for months, and the children weep. Prince was their “bread-winner”—crucial to the family’s means of income—so everyone is worried and Tess sees herself as a murderer.
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The humour of the beginning is so enjoyable, especially the publican’s wife who had the same stock phrase ready for anyone who came across their illicit drinking. And the way the Durbeyfields started up ready to go home when they saw Tess, and their weaving from one direction to another walking home is pure farce. This, plus the Durbeyfields’ constant financial concerns contrast starkly with their new delusions of grandeur.
This is the first mention of the wealthy d’Urberville branch, whom we suspect from the title may soon play a major role in the plot. The discovery of why Joan had been consulting her fortune-telling book, combined with her plan for Tess’s marriage, emphasises the theme of fate and predestination, making Tess’s future seem unavoidable.
We have another mention of John Durbeyfield’s bad health, and this also points to unhappy fate. Tess’s dream is vaguely prophetic about the tragedy, and the fact that she falls asleep before it happens show her as a passive victim. The death of Prince could be the start of a series of misfortunes. Tess had worried about the beehive delivery, because the family are so poor, and now with the horse’s death the family’s circumstances are desperate.
John Durbeyfield’s pride about not selling Prince’s carcase is pure defiance, against the harsh blow fate has dealt him. Tess has inherited this pride too, as we saw when she would not ask for help in delivering the beehives.
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“Did you say the stars were worlds, Tess?”
“Yes.”
“All like ours?”
“I don’t know; but I think so. They sometimes seem to be like the apples on our stubbard-tree. Most of them splendid and sound—a few blighted.”
“Which do we live on—a splendid one or a blighted one?”
“A blighted one.”
“’Tis very unlucky that we didn’t pitch on a sound one, when there were so many more of ’em!”
And then Abraham reminds Tess (and us) of this again after Prince’s death:
“’Tis because we be on a blighted star, and not a sound one, isn’t it, Tess?”
Abraham’s questions about the blighted stars reinforce the theme of fate bringing up the idea that one’s fate is preordained by circumstance or destiny, and cannot be escaped. It seems to affirm a predestined injustice, due to fate.
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“did not lessen the self-reproach which she continued to heap upon herself for her negligence …”
“Nobody blamed Tess as she blamed herself …”
“Her face was dry and pale, as though she regarded herself in the light of a murderess.”
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The sad burial of the nobly-named horse is symbolic of how far the once-great d’Urbervilles have fallen, and how an ancient name means nothing any more, in their modern world.
I was struck by the redness again—not as a symbol of lust or desire here—but as blood in death. The blood is literally on Tess’s hands. And again, we have a contrast between the traditional age and the new, as the farm horse is killed by the sleek modern mail-cart. The death of Prince symbolises a blow to the idea of Nature as central to life. The old ways are being slowly killed off.
What struck you most about this chapter?
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I'm so glad you can join in too :)
I like your observations about Mrs. Durbeyfield. The young Joan is still there inside her I think, but she has found a way of coping with this life of poverty with a feckless husband - largely by joining him in it!
I was wondering if anyone could help provide some insight into the line, "But Joan Derbeyfield must mind that she don't get green malt in floor." It was a local phrase that had a peculiar meaning, and there was no reply....perhaps a reference to bitterness (a warning about disturbing this other woman)? Or simply something unripe (as in a greenhorn?)? A reference to beer-making, or am I wrong?
Is it maybe akin to 'counting your eggs before they hatch'? Or is it meant to have no meaning to the reader at all? :S
Pardon my complete ignorance. I'm full of it. ;) (My edition definitely says "floor", not flour...)
I took it to mean that Tess better not get pregnant before she’s married. (I can’t explain it though!)
You have the right meaning, Janelle. The notes in back of the Penguin version of "Tess" are:To have "green malt in floor" means to have a daughter in childbed before she is married - green malt meaning immature malt, and a floor of malt meaning the outspread malt for steeping.
What stood out to me? Well, that in a novel in which we've already met drunkards, layabouts, mental deficients and a devious landlady, we finally get a do-the-right-thing guy: the mail-cart man. He tends to Prince, advises and reassures Tess, says he can't stay but will send help (the mail must go through, of course) and is "as good as his word." Raise a glass!
Bionic Jean wrote: "I'm enjoying all these comments very much :)Please do add information posts of your own if you like! If it's longer than just a few observations, then a separate post would be good (maybe with a ..."
Thank you, Jean.
It is rich and rewarding to re-read this. All of these comments are bringing layers I totally missed in my youth and "back in the Old Century" -- ja ja. I thought of this when I encountered "The Maiden" at the start of this.
Onward!
Jan
Connie wrote: "You have the right meaning, Janelle. The notes in back of the Penguin version of "Tess" are:To have "green malt in floor" means to have a daughter in childbed before she is married - green malt me..."
Thank you, Connie and Janelle. :)
Jim wrote: "The contrast between the Durbeyfield home and the recent scene at the dance could hardly be more striking. Further, Mrs. Durbeyfield’s daily life of unrelenting work is entirely at odds with that o..."Yes, there are many times in these first chapters when I now think, "Ah. . .they're putting their own troubles onto the path." Their yearning to escape economic struggle, their desires to be better in life, and the feelings they are suddenly elevated all seem tragic to me. These Durbeyfield members will create their own undoing.
Jantine wrote: "I've been keeping up, and while I do not have a lot to add to the discussion I do enjoy reading all of your comments. :-)Is it me, or does Joan Durbeyfield come across to others too as someone who..."
Hello,
I've thought about that various times. I'd love to read your insights more.
I think there is sad/comical potential there: a sense of "laugh at life" because it is already too painful so laughter becomes its own rebellion. Without being stuck in presentism (for me), I come back to what I now expect being perhaps what women could only wish for in this book.
The fact that Hardy is even addressing this shows that he may be aware of the inequities women faced, perhaps similar to the way I can recognize them. After all, he had certain privileges as a man like I have as a woman in the 21st Century. He seems to pay attention to the women's plights. I may be in a different chapter from you, but in III, I found,
The cradle-rockers had done hard duty for so many years,
under the weight of so many children, on that flagstone floor,
that they were worn nearly flat, in consequence of which a
huge jerk accompanied each swing of the cot, flinging the
baby from side to side like a weaver’s shuttle, as Mrs.
Durbeyfield, excited by her song, trod the rocker with all the
spring that was left in her after a long day’s seething in the
suds.
Later in III, I felt a wave of sadness when I read
(Mrs. Durbeyfield habitually spoke the dialect; her daughter,
who had passed the Sixth Standard in the National School
under a London-trained mistress, spoke two languages: the
dialect at home, more or less; ordinary English abroad and to
persons of quality.)
With Hardy aware of these class distinctions and even "in-group" biases and spites, he seems to give a nod to those who are the outsiders. He also creates characters who can recognize the situation but do not show any sympathy - or at least not yet.
Again, I'd love to learn more of your perspective.
Capn wrote: "I was wondering if anyone could help provide some insight into the line, "But Joan Derbeyfield must mind that she don't get green malt in floor." It was a local phrase that had a peculiar meaning, ..."What a fascinating phrase to address. I believe I saw other discussion about that, but I do not recall where it was here.
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There are so many euphemisms to describe the state of pregnancy outside marriage in Victorian times - and in the early 20th century too - that I was surprised not to have heard this one! Thomas Hardy said it was a very local saying, and I am local to Tess's county for half the year :)
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Absolutely! Yes as you say we do have a different perspective in the 21st century, but Thomas Hardy was very cognisant of and sensitive to the injustices of women's lot, and this is what got him in so much trouble with the status quo. Tess of the D'Urbervilles is the novel which brought it all to a head.
Even his subtitle for it "A Pure Woman" was perceived as a challenge to the patriarchy and the Church ... You probably know all the circumstances, Jan, but some may not, so I'll write a little more about it later, when we're a little further on and no risk of spoilers!
I loved your post :)
Bionic Jean wrote: "Several of Thomas Hardy’s novels seem to have a tragedy near the beginning, and this one always affects me enormously. That poor faithful horse! Yet it is not described at all dramatically; the aut..."Hello,
Yes, there is a great deal of potential tragedy here in Chapter IV, so maybe that's why there's the humor to serve as counter-point. I certainly laughed at the whispers, hushed songs (which I imagined coming from a tippled singer), and observations about the wealthy.
I outright laughed at this while both reading and following along with Audible.
“Hush—don’t be so silly, Jacky,” said his wife. “Yours is not the only family that was of ’count in wold days. Look at the Anktells, and Horseys, and the Tringhams themselves—gone to seed a’most as much as you—though you was bigger folks than they, that’s true. Thank God, I was never of no family, and have nothing to be ashamed of in that way!”
“Don’t you be so sure o’ that. From you nater ’tis my belief you’ve disgraced yourselves more than any o’ us, and and was kings and queens outright at one time.”
This little exchange and many others made me laugh because this started with appearances, a keen awareness of delineated spaces (themselves presented with a keen if not always funny wit), and comments that reflect people can change quickly -- just a new lineage or visit should do it. Well, that's what I perceived at the beginning of this chapter.
I'm now at the point with the horse. . . .
Bionic Jean wrote: "There is such a lot of foreshadowing in this chapter! Those who know the story can pick it up, and first time readers will find it slowly reveals itself, so we can identify it later :)The sad bur..."
Right now, I am sad about the little child Abraham. He is a sad little soul in many ways, even though there are moments of wanting something light and lively so much.
This little conversation between Abraham and Tess was poignant:
“Did you say the stars were worlds, Tess?”
“Yes.”
“All like ours?”
“I don’t know; but I think so. They sometimes seem to be like the apples on our stubborn-tree. Most of them splendid and sound—a few blighted.”
“Which do we live on—a splendid one or a blighted one?”
“A blighted one.”
Yes, the noble horse, Prince, died soon after. All the horrific bad luck is here. It's not just bad luck but physical depletion of their already bare lifestyle. Poor Tess takes on all the blame for this, but she was just trying her best.
Bionic Jean wrote: "Chapter 4: SummaryRolliver’s doesn’t have a licence to serve alcoholic drinks, so its patrons have to either drink outside or in a bedroom upstairs. Joan Durbeyfield finds her husband and tells h..."
This illustration drew me in over and over.
I find this taking me into a long-held form of storytelling.
Thank you, Jean!
I found the Red of the horse Prince flowing over Tess´ white gown very impressive too, and symbolic. It´s so typical for women suppressed through their male surroundings that Tess feels guilty for having slept during the drive her father should have made and couldn´t, because he was so drunk (or/and sick, but anyway, his duty).
And yes, the chapter is mostly tragic with much foreboding.
In Chapter 4, Hardy now reveals the scheme of his narrative: Jack Durbeyfield’s delusion of wealthy and exalted ancestral connections has infected the rest of his poor family; his wife seizes upon a ploy whereby Tess may be the solution to their economic woes! And even though Tess shows herself to have a great deal more common sense than her parents, it remains to be seen whether she can avoid falling victim to their foolish ideas.In fact, poor Tess has already inherited the fruits of Jack’s folly: too far gone in drink and unable to rise to the occasion, it falls upon Tess to take Jack’s rickety horse and wagon on a 30 mile journey, starting in the wee hours of darkness. Disaster befalls, for which Tess blames herself. Hardy is quickly constructing a trap for his heroine, built of her parents’ foolish dreams.
Glad to be joining you all for this!Tess is four years older than Liza Lu, so that makes her 16 years old. In some ways, she seems mature beyond her years as the oldest child, responsible for helping her mother and compensating for her nearly worthless father. At the same time, she is vulnerable and naive.
Everyone has made such excellent points. I am impressed. And isn't Mr Durbeyfield the precise kind of person who would name his horse "Prince". It reminds me a bit of Prince Turveyhouse, in Bleak House by Dickens. This prince is a person, named by a narcissist. There are so many examples of ways to mess up a child in Victorian literature.The end of the chapter is poignant:
He [Mr Durbeyfield] worked harder the next day in digging a grave for Prince in the garden than he had worked for months to grow a crop for his family.......and when Prince was tumbled in they gathered round the grave. The bread-winner had been taken away from them; what would they do?.......
Then Durbeyfield began to shovel in the earth, and the children cried anew. All except Tess. Her face was dry and pale, as though she regarded herself in the light of a murderess."
I think she is shocked into a silence which covers up deep thoughts of self-hate and guilt. She possibly does not have the emotional stamina to let her tears fall.
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However, I don't really think Prince was named in the same spirit as the narcissistic Mr. Turveydrop named his son in Bleak House. Pets and domestic animals were given regal names in ordinary English households in the 19th and early 20 centuries. "Princess", "Queenie" and "Duke" were other favourites. My cousin's dog was called "Prince" and my own childhood dog was called "Rex". It was all very aristocratic, oddly!
So I can see that the Durbeyfield family would love their horse, and name him fondly. Also, as far as we know it has only been since Parson Tringham revealed the d'Urberville connection that John Durbeyfield has developed delusions of grandeur.
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One line from the happier, beginning of the chapter has always stayed with me:
"their souls expanded beyond their skins, and spread their personalities through the room"
I just love that line, and how after that the essence of everyone mingling together turns the dingy upstairs bedroom into something "more dignified and luxurious", the shawl becomes a tapestry, the brass handles are gold knockers etc. They are poor people of meagre means, but together their souls shine and alter their surroundings. If the Durbyfields were still the D'Ubervilles, they would be missing out on those connections, because they do not exist in the upper classes. The upper classes have money, but the lower classes seem to have human warmth and connection.
Hardy points out this class distinction again when Tess comes home, and no one blames her for the death of the much-needed horse:
"In the Durbeyfield countenances there was nothing of the red wrath that would have burnt upon the girl from parents more ambitious for her welfare."
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I know exactly what you mean about feeling sad about poor Prince. Actually I was dreading it :( What I had forgotten about this novel was the humour! It is done with such charm. You feel that Thomas Hardy had great affection for the Durbeyfield family and the villagers, despite their inadequacies and foibles.
That is a lovely line about the inn's upper room. I had only thought that the drink cast a rosy glow over everything, but you're right, it is at least partly the convivial atmosphere too. Shabby surroundings don't matter a whit when there is friendship and good fellowship.
Great point about the class distinction! Thomas Hardy points out that wealthier parents who are more ambitious for their children would have had a different attitude, and castigated Tess for the loss of their horse. The fact that the Durbeyfields are the "take life as it comes" sort, can be regarded as being feckless and irresponsible when they have so many children.
But the other side of the coin is that they are kind and caring to them, and if something bad like this happens they accept it in a fatalistic way. We are told that Tess is punishing herself far more than any blame being attached.
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The family is now badly off financially, but John Durbeyfield is still too lazy to work much. His wife fatalistically downplays the disaster and proposes her plan to Tess. Tess protests at first, but feels so guilty about Prince’s death that she agrees to see Mrs. d’Urberville. She warns her mother to not think of marrying her off, though.
Tess sets out the next morning for the village of Trantridge. As she walks she turns back and looks at the Vale of Blakemore, and feels that she is leaving her childhood behind. She has always been the parental figure in the family, even to her mother, so she feels she is once again shouldering the burdens of the Durbeyfields and taking care of them.
The d’Urberville mansion of the Slopes lies on the edge of an ancient, primeval forest called The Chase, but the estate itself looks very modern and well-kept. The narrator reveals that these d’Urbervilles are not d’Urbervilles at all, but Stokes. The now-deceased Simon Stoke procured his wealth as a merchant, and when he settled in the area he somewhat randomly picked “d’Urberville” as an old and venerable name to make his family seem more respectable. The Durbeyfields sadly are unaware of this.
Tess is approached by the bold, handsome Alec d’Urberville. He tries to flirt with Tess but she rebuffs him shyly. She wants to meet Mrs. d’Urberville, but Alec says she is unwell and cannot see her. Eventually Tess explains her purpose to Alec, describing her family’s crest-inscribed seal and spoon as proofs that they are true d’Urbervilles. Alec lies and says that he has the same family crest.
“I would rather take it, sir, in my own hand” - E. Borough Johnson 25th July 1891
Alec convinces Tess to linger with him until her ride home returns. He shows her the grounds and tries to feed her a strawberry. She protests but relents. Alec keeps feeding Tess berries and adorning her with flowers as they walk, and she feels overwhelmed.
They sit to have lunch and Alec watches Tess. She looks more mature than she is, and her appearance fascinates Alec. It is hinted that he is to be the “tragic mischief” of her story. Tess blurts out her guilt over Prince’s death, and Alec promises to find a place for her on their estate. He says for Tess to not call herself d’Urberville in front of his mother.
Tess turns to go and Alec considers kissing her, but decides against it. The narrator laments the cruel chance of these two meeting at this precise time. Nature hardly ever offers happy coincidences, but instead prefers disasters and tragic destinies. Alec goes back to his tent and laughs, pleased with the situation.
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Tess catches the van at Shaston—the very steep “pretty as a calendar” town which I posted a picture of earlier just after chapter 1 (comment 25). It is called Shaftesbury in real life. She goes to the village of Trantridge, which in real life is the village of Pentridge.
Here is the wiki page for Pentridge, which includes a little map. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pentridge
Like many Dorset villages, Pentridge has strong links to Thomas Hardy. He was said to have stayed in Pentridge for some time. In fact there is a local argument as to whether the house in which he resided was Pentridge House or the farmhouse at Manor Farm.
Tess walks up to what she had been informed was Mrs. d’Urberville’s “seat”, The Slopes, although it is not an ancient family seat at all, but a newly built mansion:
“It was of recent erection—indeed almost new—and of the same rich red colour that formed such a contrast with the evergreens of the lodge.”
This is up a hill in the direction of the district known as “The Chase”. In real life this is Cranborne Chase, a chalk plateau in central southern England, straddling the counties of Dorset, Hampshire and Wiltshire.
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As Tess grew older, and began to see how matters stood, she felt quite a Malthusian towards her mother for thoughtlessly giving her so many little sisters and brothers, when it was such a trouble to nurse and provide for them.“
In case this is baffling, Thomas Hardy is referring here to Thomas Malthus, the English cleric, scholar and influential economist in the fields of political economy and demography.
The Malthusian Theory of Population is the theory of exponential population and arithmetic food supply growth. Thomas Malthus believed that a balance between population growth and food supply can be established through preventive and positive checks. He first proposed this in 1798, in his book “An Essay on the Principle of Population”.
Any economists here among us? I think Thomas Hardy was being a little tongue-in-cheek here. Tess may have been clever, but I'm not sure she would have been taught Malthusian economics!
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There is a huge contrast between the Durbeyfield’s simple home and the “D’Urberville” mansion:
“Everything on this snug property was bright, thriving, and well kept; acres of glass-houses stretched down the inclines to the copses at their feet. Everything looked like money—like the last coin issued from the Mint.”
A sardonic description indeed! But I loved the following passage, which shows how well Thomas Hardy knew this country area, and how deeply he felt about it:
“Far behind the corner of the house—which rose like a geranium bloom against the subdued colours around—stretched the soft azure landscape of The Chase—a truly venerable tract of forest land, one of the few remaining woodlands in England of undoubted primaeval date, wherein Druidical mistletoe was still found on aged oaks, and where enormous yew-trees, not planted by the hand of man grew as they had grown when they were pollarded for bows. All this sylvan antiquity, however, though visible from The Slopes, was outside the immediate boundaries of the estate.”
New versus old, then, and yet the irony is that this “d’Urberville” wealth is from trade, and not ancient lineage at all. They are pretenders. The Chase acts as a symbol of ancient Nature and pagan powers, while the history of the d’Urberville-Stokes offers a sharp critique on society’s emphasis on old, respectable names, and the inherent valuelessness of those names themselves. The unhappy coincidence of the Stokes choosing the d’Urberville name instead of another to burnish their reputation is also pointed out.
Tess’s rural homeland is a symbol of the old agricultural society, and her journey into the harsh world beyond represents the new woes of modernity. She is chosen to be the bearer of their burdens, as their best chance:
“it must be admitted that the Durbeyfields were putting their fairest side outward.
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“He had an almost swarthy complexion, with full lips, badly moulded, though red and smooth, above which was a well-groomed black moustache with curled points, though his age could not be more than three- or four-and-twenty. Despite the touches of barbarism in his contours, there was a singular force in the gentleman’s face, and in his bold rolling eye.”
And he has that eye on Tess! Tess is much younger and more unworldly than he is, but presented as an unintentionally seductive figure, looking more mature than she is. It was hinted at the start that Tess’s beauty makes her the innocent object of men’s lust, and it is confirmed now:
“She had an attribute which amounted to a disadvantage just now; and it was this that caused Alec d’Urberville’s eyes to rivet themselves upon her. It was a luxuriance of aspect, a fulness of growth, which made her appear more of a woman than she really was. She had inherited the feature from her mother without the quality it denoted.”
We've also had confirmation of the idea (I'm sorry, I can't remember who posted it!) that Mrs. Durbeyfield is effectively another child for Tess to look after:
"Her mother’s intelligence was that of a happy child: Joan Durbeyfield was simply an additional one".
so should we trust her guidance of Tess?
Alec’s feeding Tess (red!) strawberries into “her rosy lips” is intensely sensual, and Alec is presented as a figure of corruption, set against Tess’s female innocence and modesty. He clearly moves toward kissing her, before thinking better of it, and at the end laughs, as if he looks forward to manipulating her. Alec clearly has seduction in mind. And we have an image of Tess covered in flowers; as an innocent child of Nature, or a sort of pagan fertility goddess.
Alec’s appeal that Tess does not mention her name to his mother, highlights both their differences in social standing and the fact that he doesn’t want her to know for as long as possible that he isn’t actually a d’Urberville. He is duplicitous, and likes to be in control. Thomas Hardy presents this latter as a typically masculine way of being, whereas Tess is doubly trapped: by her gender, as Jan was saying, and by the circumstance of this meeting. She cannot escape her future.
Does anyone else get an image in their mind of a blackguard in silent films, twirling his moustache lasciviously? But perhaps Alec is not all bad. He did speak to Tess “kindly” after all.
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“in the present case, as in millions, it was not the two halves of a perfect whole that confronted each other at the perfect moment; a missing counterpart wandered independently about the earth waiting in crass obtuseness till the late time came. Out of which maladroit delay sprang anxieties, disappointments, shocks, catastrophes, and passing-strange destinies.”
What are your reactions to this chapter?
Bionic Jean wrote: "This is the first time we see Alexander (Alec) d’Urberville, who is presented as coarse-looking, but attractive:“He had an almost swarthy complexion, with full lips, badly moulded, though red and..."
Ah, yes. We do see Hardy slowly but surely nudging his readers forward. Tess is seen as a pagan fertility goddess. Tess herself states that she (and all humans) live on a blighted planet. As Jean points out the colour red makes another appearance, this time in a sensual manner, as Alec feeds a reluctant Tess red strawberries. Tess would not be at Alec d’Uberville’s home had Prince not died in her arms, spilling his red blood on her white dress.
The colour red has already become a repetitive plot element. The colour red may well continue to appear in different scenes as a similar element. If so, then Hardy is weaving a narrative with a colour. What great style.
As readers I think many will know what will happen to Tess and yet we remain fascinated, worried, expectant. Hardy has already made it
evident that we live on a blighted planet where Fate rules.
As for the reference to Malthus, I wonder if it is Hardy at his subtle and ironic best. The focus of Malthus is the effect of a population increase on a society.
Hardy has a definite affinity to describe settings of the natural world. He frequently places his characters in settings where nature speaks clearly about the characters who share the natural world. In this chapter Hardy mentions the geranium. A common colour of the geranium in the 19C was red. I’m always interested in the language of flowers and their meaning.Here is a painting done by the great 19C artist Millais which points out the language of flowers found within the canvas. I wonder if Hardy will frame any of this novel with the language of nature and flowers.
https://news.artnet.com/art-world/joh...
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Good pick! When I quoted that the new house "rose like a geranium bloom" it occurred to me too that this is a brash, glaring, cultivated flower, compared with the pastoral beauty Thomas Hardy has described of its setting. (That particular colour of red geranium was Charles Dickens's favourite! There are several of them in the garden of his house in Doughty Street, London, but then he always was a bit of a dandy, wasn't he :) )
Once again Thomas Hardy is making a point about the loss of traditional ways and how the gaudy and ostentatious new world is ousting the old.
I love that painting Peter! It's in London's Tate Gallery, so I've known it since I was a teenager - but not all the symbolism. Fascinating, thank you :)
(Just added today's summary link, so that the information posts for this chapter are easier to find.)
I haven't read all of Hardy's novels (off the top of my head, I'd guess I've read 10), so this is not just a rhetorical question: Is Alec D'Urberville the most despicable villain of the lot? I mean, who else is there? (Sgt. Troy doesn't come close.) Someone I'm not aware of?
Works of Thomas Hardy
Books mentioned in this topic
The Moonstone (other topics)The Web of Debt: The Shocking Truth About Our Money System And How We Can Break Free (other topics)
The Moonstone (other topics)
Tess of the D’Urbervilles (other topics)
Inglorious Empire: What the British Did to India (other topics)
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Authors mentioned in this topic
Thomas Hardy (other topics)Wilkie Collins (other topics)
Thomas Hardy (other topics)
Thomas Hardy (other topics)
Sandro Botticelli (other topics)
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Thank you, Peter, for this intriguing discovery, exploring the unspoken but (within context) understood significance of small objects, especially adornments of any kind, such as ribbons, hats, jewels, etc.
Nowadays, we are much less subtle, and tattoos often serve the same function.