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Sylvia's Lovers by Elizabeth Gaskell 3: chapters 30 - 45 (end) (hosted by Claudia)
Chapter 30 – Happy daysThe chapter starts with Philip’s disappointment in the first months of his marriage.
Philip considers Sylvia as his idol and actively works to meet all her wishes, be it in terms of clothing or occupation.
Sylvia misses the farm, the open air, her past freedom, her country dresses. It seems to her that sitting in the “dark parlour” behind the shop is more exhausting than “running out into the fields” and bringing back her cows to be milked. Needlework seems more tiring than churning. She also misses the farm animals and their expressive eyes. Just to go out of her home, she needs to dress up and put on a hat.
Sylvia seems to be “indifferent to most things” as if she had “lost the power of either hoping and fearing much”. She is mostly passive, and Philip was once or twice “almost vexed by her docility”. Yet there is a passionate feeling, “concealed or latent”, in her.
Philip is also troubled by a recurring and never varying dream of Kinraid. Philip wakes up “with a conviction of Kinraid’s living presence somewhere near him in the darkness”. But he never reveals to Sylvia the reason of these agitated nights.
Sylvia notices with sadness that Kester has not visited her, and Philip goes to Haytersbank and invites him to visit. Haytersbank Farm is greatly altered, confirms Kester when he at last appears at Hepburns’. His visit is “a failure”. He feels embarrassed by Sylvia’s new position but relaxes a little when the young woman asks him about the farm. Kester is unnatural again when Bell joins them. Shortly before leaving, Sylvia presents him with cake and wine, and he toasts to the health and prosperity of the young couple. After he has left, Philip does not tell his wife that he was instrumental in bringing this visit to happen, nor does he say that he had seen Kester arriving and has refrained from being with them. Due to Philip’s silence, Sylvia “shut up the feelings that were just beginning to expand towards him”. She “sank again into the listless state of indifference from which nothing but some reference to former days, or present consideration for her mother, could rouse her”.
Hester is “almost surprised at Sylvia’s evident liking for her.” If she had not been “good and pious”, she could not have refrained her envy. Sylvia does not understand how Hester could forgive her “her harsh treatment” in the stormy night on which Hester had come to the farm to fetch her and her mother. Hester feared at first that Sylvia might be jealous of Bell’s affection for Hester, but Sylvia was “more than thankful (…) towards anyone who made her mother happy.”
John and Jeremiah Foster are soon captivated by Philip’s wife. They came and congratulated the bride and invited the newlyweds to a supper party at Jeremiah’s. “She conquered all prejudices at one blow”. Jeremiah declares his entire friendship to Sylvia and jokingly affirms that if Philip “ever neglects or ill-uses [her] (…), [he] will give him sound lecture on his conduct.” The brothers “chuckled over the joke; but the words came up again in after days, as words idly spoken sometimes do.”
Philip, seeing how much Sylvia is fond of Hester, fears that she might have spoken of Kinraid to her. But he was mistaken, as Sylvia “kept her deep sorrows to herself”, and did not mention her father nor Kinraid to “any living soul”. She nevertheless had a soft spot for sailors, as if she were “trying to discover in them something of” Kinraid.
Sylvia goes often alone walking on the cliffs and occasionally sat there, watching intensely “the mother-like sea”, “the wide still expanse of the open sea”, yearning for solitude and open air, as a “stolen pleasure”.
Sylvia gives birth to a baby girl, called Bella after Isabella, Sylvia’s mother. She refused to call her daughter Sylvia, “not a lucky name”. Philip looks at “the tiny creature with wondering idolatry” and “Perhaps on that day, [he] reached the zenith of his life’s happiness.”
Philip’s idolatry or idealism?As we saw before, Philip’s love for Sylvia has some idolatrous aspects. Otherwise he would have given up, and his endeavour "turned to some other object of attainment". Instead, he is working at her well-being and happiness with the utmost alacrity and a naive zeal to please her. Throughout the chapter, we see much textual evidence of this in Philip-related vocabulary: “placing his idol in a befitting shrine, sweetheart, darling, love, wondering idolatry”.
Yet, Sylvia is unapproachable to him, unreachable through his affection, apparently undecipherable, just like a goddess on a pedestal, a divinity locked in a glass case.
Sylvia takes off her mask of indifference and smiles again whenever she sees her mother well attended to, and relives when she is walking on the cliffs and scanning the horizon.
HighlightsMrs Gaskell knows how to keep our attention and our imagination alert through a few elements:
There is a strong passion hidden below Sylvia’s mind surface and her mask of indifference and duty. We and Philip guess that she is longing for Kinraid and are wondering if he is alive or dead. She secretly oscillates between powerful feelings and perhaps also the stirrings of her conscience. She is the hungry woman in her soul, the hambre de la alma described by Clarissa Pinkola-Estés in Women Who Run With the Wolves. In her new life as "Mrs Hepburn", she has tamed (or circumstances have) her wild and bubbling nature. When she escapes for a while from her dark parlour where she is pent up, feeling like a prisoner, to the shores of the unlimited wide ocean, the "mother-sea", she finds the "wild woman" in herself, the woman who was spiritually one with nature and the sea and the missing sailor. Sylvia unconsciously feeds on the dream of this lost handsome adventurer, to the point of ecstasy.
The narrative voice emphasises how "spoilt" Sylvia is, from a material point of view. She does not need to prepare meals and clean the house. Hester is taking care of Bell whenever needed. Sylvia is on friendly terms with her. Recurring details on Sylvia's new clothes abund, drawers full of dark clothes, the possibility for her to have any other clothes, grey or red - a touch of humour is instilled here - because Philip would lay at her feet all the most beautiful materials of the world to make her happy. The dove-like silk chosen by Philip appeared again, reluctantly chosen by Sylvia for a gown she would wear at the baby's christening. But Sylvia confesses that she will never feel at her ease in it, "for fear of spoiling it". Will she ever feel at ease in the life Philip has chosen for her?
Philip's recurring dream illustrates how Kinraid, though absent, is always present. Elizabeth Gaskell describes perfectly how Kinraid's presence is vividly and physically felt. Philip knows very well why he dreams that Kinraid is alive and well. He then spends his day reasoning, trying to convince himself that Kinraid is dead. Philip is constantly paying the heavy price for his domestic happiness built on his fateful silence and message not passed on.
Jeremiah Foster’s joke on his support for Sylvia in case of a conflict with her husband has a sense of foreboding, expressly stressed by the narrative voice. Mrs Gaskell knows how to sow some well-fitted cliffhangers into the text.
A tiny fleck of happiness?The closing line resonates with a small hint of doom: “Perhaps on that day Philip reached the zenith of his happiness”. The birth of their baby is a happy time indeed for both spouses.
This short sentence implies that Philip's happiness is now at its highest and is therefore fragile and likely to be short-lived. However it begins with "perhaps", which implies uncertainty.
Sylvia "[putting] up her lips to be kissed" for Philip's loving words before is a tiny fleck of happiness.
I had almost overlooked this because it is just a short passage engulfed in a chapter where frustration dominated on both sides: Sylvia is uprooted from her former life (nature, animals, daily work outside, carefree and spontaneous chatting with Kester), confined to the dark parlour and activities, clothing and habits not hers; Philip is trying by all possible means to make her happy but first and foremost to have her loving him, but he ends up frustrated.
The third volumeWe are now reading the third volume.
Elizabeth Gaskell began writing it in the winter of 1861-1862. The second volume had been completed by early December 1861 and the first two volumes were already at the publisher's.
In mid-March 1862, Elizabeth Gaskell was well into volume 3, but managed to draw the book to a close only during her stay at Eastbourne in September 1862. The novel was published in early February 1863.
During that year, Elizabeth spent much time on the Manchester front. The Cotton Famine, as a consequence of the American Civil War, kept the Gaskells involved in helping actions and being out of home from 9 am to 7 pm. Elizabeth was out and about with her daughters Meta and Marianne, helping in charities, attending to the needs of unemployed workers and families without income, helping set up sewing schools.
She had a correspondence with Florence Nightingale on medical care and nursing issues. She wrote to philanthropists, advising them to send funds to Rev. William Gaskell. William's Unitarian chapel was actively involved in social work. Mrs Gaskell was preoccupied with all what happened around her and particularly the necessity to provide material relief to needy families. All these the difficulties, and the Civil War itself, as it shows in her regular correspondance with her dear friend Charles Eliott Norton, may also have affected her spirits while writing.
All these interruptions show in some parts of her manuscripts, some words are crossed, some sentences re-written. Minor discrepancies and inconsistencies appeared in the text, without affecting its quality. Some flaws were edited while others were left in the subsequent editions but documented in the endnotes and appendixes.
The third volume opens with Kester's visit to Sylvia and Bell. I nearly missed this, as it goes almost unnoticed, or apparently of no consequence, amidst the flow of small things, thoughts and feelings expressed in this chapter.
Kester did not visit spontaneously. Philip had to persuade him to come over. He feels most probably out of place in this dark parlour, a closed world not his. There was something artificial about his attitude. His account of the changes to Haytersbank shows how much everything has altered: the geraniums have been removed and blinds have been installed, but the pastures have also been ploughed. Once again, we may reread Chapter 1, where the narrative voice explains how pastures and fields were organised, cattle settled where the grass is rich, sheep on poorer pastures. Sylvia's old world of the first and second volume is gone.
In contrast, Kester toasts to the new couple's happiness, health and prosperity with a traditional poem he learnt many years ago, which he has now enriched with his own additional wishes for their future. Still, his wishes, albeit sincere, ring a bit hollow because he does not seem quite convinced himself.
Thank you for your attention! I am looking forward to your comments, until we read Chapter 31 on Wednesday 21 May!
Claudia First, I enjoyed the picture at the beginning of this thread. A perfect use of a proleptic illustration for a Victorian novel.
As we enter into Book Three we know that the end will soon be in sight, and that Gaskell will draw the various threads of the novel together. I agree with you that Sylvia is a person who is connected to the outdoor world (you noted earlier the derivation of her name) whereas Philip is confined to dark areas and interiors. More and more we see these two different personalities rubbing uncomfortably together. The kiss she offers Philip is more a sacrifice then anything sensual. Her old world may be gone, but she has a child. How that child will be raised, how that child will be molded by her mother and father remains to be seen.
I can’t get the image of Sylvia looking out to sea out of my mind. It is so powerful, and speaks of where her heart, mind, and dreams truly reside.
Your mention of Gaskell’s dependence on how colours are used as symbolism to project is spot on. We need to track the colours closely as we move forward.
One has to feel for Sylvia as she sits gazing out to the ocean. What a sad life for her. She's so young to feel so cornered and trapped. Philip continues to make me angry. He took everything away from Sylvia, right down to relinquishing her home from under her. He put her in a spot where she had no choice but to give into his desires, although she does it reluctantly.
I wish she had taken Kester up on his offer to move her & her mom to his cousin's home (was it his cousin?).
Kester's visit was sad. They had such a good relationship but he's now on the outside. Another way that Philip has removed Sylvia from all she holds dear, except her mother.
The description of the farm shows that Life continues. Improvements have been made to the farm, it sounds brighter and cheerier than it was, making the place an ideal haven for anyone who rents it. Meaning that Sylvia and her mother had to leave a haven that could have brought them peace somehow.
I agree that Sylvia is a child of the outdoors and should not be confined to this dark house.
I hope the child brings her some happiness and a focus for some cheer in her life.
This chapter, for all it's foreboding, seems like the calm before the storm. Things aren't quite right but they are acceptable, at the moment.
I’m struck by Sylvia’s unconscious but strong resistance to every attempt Philip makes to change who she is, how she behaves, how she will live. And this is when she is seemingly at her weakest, emotionally. Philip will not have the imaginary Sylvia. And he isn’t honest enough with himself to realize that his dream woman never existed. Will he become bitter and angry with her or deranged by his dreams? Or will the physical Charley actually return and force him to face what he has done? We have begun to see those people who might align themselves with Sylvia if things turn bad.
Peter - "I can’t get the image of Sylvia looking out to sea out of my mind. It is so powerful, and speaks of where her heart, mind, and dreams truly reside."Yes, it has been a recurring vignette since the early chapters and it is often connected with the theme of return and its correlation, the theme of waiting - Sylvia has some Penelope-like features (The Odyssey by Homer), in her dignity and resilience.
Sue - Great observations! Yes, Sylvia has an inner strength after all.
Petra - "Calm before the tempest" : it feels like that!
The chapter looks as a transition, taking place shortly after the wedding, but stretching, roughly, over nine months and a few days.
We are, presumably, in early spring of 1798. Sylvia is probably 20 or 21.
Chapter 31 – Evil omensSylvia recovers slowly after childbirth. She is still weak and wakes up “startled and feverish” after her afternoon naps.
One afternoon, Philip goes upstairs to check on her and their baby. The nurse has taken the child away to allow Sylvia to sleep quietly. When the door hinge creaks, she wakes up and hallucinates and calls Charley, which irritates Philip even more, as “the sense of guilty concealment” aggravates the intensity of his feelings. Sylvia explains that she saw Charley Kinraid alive and told her husband about her distress. Philip answers more brutally than he intended to, while she “looked at him with such a solemn searching look, never saying a word of reply or defence.” Philip is instantaneously remorseful and implores her fervently to forgive him. The nurse is alerted by his “wild tones” and banns him from the bedroom, while a doctor is called. The latter advises Philip to avoid any further argument on the topic “which has been the final cause of “ her condition, described as near “a brain-fever” and convulsions. Philip must “go on unforgiven”, these are “heavy miserable times of endurance and waiting” as he is forbidden to see Sylvia.
At last, he is allowed to see her, but he is “half jealous of his child” she smiles at, while she has an indifferent expression to him. Sylvia’s words come relentlessly back to Philip’s mind: “It is not in me to forgive, I sometimes think it is not in me to forget.” (chapter 28)
Even if Philip is “tender to humility” to her, “nothing [stirs] her from her fortress of reserve. “Anger” seemed to “drive her love away still more”. “The love seems to have fled (…) and no reproaches or complaints can avail to bring it back”.
A great uncle of Philip’s dies and leaves him a substantial amount of money, which put Philip in a better position in his business. He developed the ambition of becoming a churchwarden. As a sideman, he attends Sunday services, accompanied by Sylvia who felt this was “a tie and a small hardship” in the context of her new life “of respectability and prosperity”.
A nursemaid takes care of her baby when Sylvia is convalescent. Bell takes “great delights in watching the baby”.
Yet Sylvia often takes her baby with her, warmly wrapped against her breast, to the eastside of the town, along the cliffs and shores, to the freedom and solitude of the seaside. There she enjoys having her baby all to herself and talking to her, and watching the sea, and thinking of Kinraid.
Philip fears that she stopped at the Haytersbank gully, at the very place he saw Kinraid waving goodbye to her with his hat.
Philip grows “jealous of her love for the inanimate ocean”.
Sylvia pays “for these happy rambles with her baby by the depression which awaited her on her re-entrance into the dark, confined house that was her home; its very fulness of comfort was an oppression.”
However, Philip never expresses any objection to her going to the sea. Sylvia “never knew that Philip had any painful association with the particular point on the seashore that she instinctively avoided, both from a consciousness of wifely duty, and also because of the sight of it brought up so much sharp pain.”
Philip wonders if the dream that preceded Sylvia’s illness was the triggering cause of her walks to the shore. For a while, he did not dream of Kinraid, but eventually the old dream returned “with fearful vividness”.
Philip prospers professionally. He has what it takes to be a great merchant: perseverance, brain work, calculation, steadiness and general forethought. He is now in a position of senior partner while Coulson is content to carry out plans designed by Hepburn.
The SeaIs very important and omnipresent.
As an element of a beautiful scenery and wonderful descriptions
As a source of prosperity for many through the whaling activity
As a way of communication (Philip took a smack to London)
As a natural threat: waves, storms, icebergs, whales. The sea was, for the ancient Hebrews, the realm of the dead (the “great deep” in Genesis and in the Book of Isaiah)
As a man-made threat: war with France, Navy frigates and tenders moored off Monkshaven, Shields, and Hartlepool.
As a dream, as an escape for Sylvia out of her secluded life and routine while still at the farm, out of her imprisonment in her dark parlour, “the delight of stolen pleasures”. There she is “as happy as she ever expected to be in this world” and feels restored (“the colours of former days to her cheeks, old buoyancy to her spirits”)
It is, in Sylvia’s mind, associated with Kinraid. The waves are advancing, receding, forever and forever, “as they did when she walked with them that once by the side of Kinraid".
The sea has also a sorrowful presence: “cruel waves that, forgetful of the happy lovers’ talk by the side of their waters, had carried one away and drowned him deep till he was dead.”
Sue wrote: "I’m struck by Sylvia’s unconscious but strong resistance to every attempt Philip makes to change who she is, how she behaves, how she will live......Or will the physical Charley actually return and force him to face what he has done?
..."
Sue, Sylvia is a strong woman. The resistance shows that she is an strong individual who won't be pushed around. It's sad that she's in such a grieving, vulnerable place that she can't fully stand up to her needs and wants yet.
I've been thinking about what would happen when Charley reappears (I believe he will; although I realize that he may not).
Is divorce a possibility? Would Charley accept Sylvia after her marriage, and with a child? Will he believe that she didn't know he'd been kidnapped? Did men start relationships with women who had been married before, or is this a deal breaker?
The situation is muddy and the ending very uncertain. It can go in many directions at this point. Ms. Gaskell really keeps us guessing and on our toes.
Kinraid(Additional comments on Chapter 31)
Interestingly, he is vividly present and alive in Sylvia’s and Philip’s minds, thoughts and dreams. Charley's presence is acutely felt, as if there were no limits between dream and reality. Was that a dream, or was Charley actually there?
Charley's name is mentioned in nearly every single chapter since he disappeared in chapter 18, and even since chapter 2 when Molly Corner said her cousin the specksioneer was about to return onboard The Good Fortune! (Not in chapter 26 however, if I don't mistake)
Kinraid is also invading Philip’s conscience with consequences for the latter's psychological balance, which translate into nightmarish recurring dreams and an irritable disposition of mind, as soon as Kinraid's name is mentioned.
Well... The title of chapter 31 sounds particularly portentous. We are kept waiting for something to happen!Sylvia has a fusional bond with her baby-daughter who brings her happiness on their long walks on the shore.
When at home - this awful dark parlour -, Sylvia feels as if everything, particularly the baby, where taken from her.
We will read Chapter 32 on Friday 23 May!
Petra wrote: "Sue wrote: "I’m struck by Sylvia’s unconscious but strong resistance to every attempt Philip makes to change who she is, how she behaves, how she will live......Or will the physical Charley actual..."
I think that Sylvia's choice was (legally but perhaps also morally) irrevocable. This makes, in my opinion, the whole issue even more difficult, perhaps nearly impossible to solve.
We are at the end of the 18th century, very long ago before societal changes and evolution, and in this context Sylvia has been trapped into this situation.
Thanks, Claudia. That's what I was contemplating: how trapped is Sylvia? My gut feeling is that she's trapped for good.
I keep engineering escapes for Sylvia in my head. I guess Kester is out now, but nobody has the internet or a tax ID number so why couldn't she take off with the baby and Charley if he comes back, and if they change their names and move a couple hundred miles away, how will anyone even know?She'd have to be sneaky about it, because Victorian fathers get child custody. But they can't claim custody if wife and child just up and disappear.
Nobody does this successfully in a Victorian novel that I know of (although there is an attempt in (view spoiler), but I bet people did this all the time in real life.
I don't think it's going to happen here, but I wish it would.
Julie - I don't think it's going to happen here, but I wish it would.I agree with you.
Thanks for reminding us of that novel!
Still, Sylvia does not seem to be considering escaping. In my opinion, in spite of her spirit of resistance, and unlike the character mentioned
under spoiler, she is not morally, nor intellectually nor ideologically in a position to envision a different outcome
Claudia wrote: "Julie - I don't think it's going to happen here, but I wish it would.I agree with you.
Thanks for reminding us of that novel!
Still, Sylvia does not seem to be considering escaping. In my opin..."
I agree--Sylvia is very different from that other character.
She's really such an odd combination of passivity and resistance, isn't she? On the one hand she seems to find it difficult to set any agenda not suggested to her by some other person--whether it's her parents or Charley or Philip or even Kester. She can react against them (pick the red cloak, refuse the reading lessons), but does she have any alternate ideas of her own? On the other hand, as Sue has pointed out, she's not very moldable. She remains herself.
Sadly, Sylvia would have no grounds to divorce Philip. Until 1857 the tables were totally tilted to favour the man in a divorce, but divorces rarely happened up to 1857. After the new legislation divorce was still a rare occurrence. Here is a wiki look at the act.https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matrimo...
History is interesting and I’ve been wondering about a couple of other major events in the Victorian era that may have impacted Gaskell’s thinking. Our novel came out in its full form in 1863. I wonder if Gaskell had the following texts in mind as she wrote ‘Sylvia’s Lovers.’ Coventry Patmore’s ‘Angel in the House’ was a guide of how to be the perfect Victorian wife. Sylvia certainly did not fit the requirements. Also, Isabella Beeton had published Mrs Beeton's Book of Household Managementa book that Philip may have known about but certainly one Isabella had not read (and would not if she were literate).
Mod
Indeed Peter! Valuable background additions concerning the laws, which came much later. And thanks Jean for the book links!When Elizabeth Gaskell wrote Sylvia's Lovers, the Matrimonial Causes Act had been passed for about 3 years, but mentalities needed more time to adapt, and social pressure was there until well into the 20th century.
This was also an issue at one point in The Woodlanders by Thomas Hardy, nevertheless published in 1887...
Engagement and exchange of a promise to marry were very important and sacred at this time. Charley would have a prior claim on Sylvia and in light of Phillip's having withheld the information, sentiment might even be on their side; but this would not cover the baby. Also, the only person who could attest to the engagement was Daniel, Belle has no knowledge of it. I wonder how differently Belle might feel if she knew the extent of Phillip's betrayal and the depths of Sylvia's heartache. Had she no child, she might get away with simply fleeing with Charley, but I do not see how that could be an option with the child. She is damned to living her life in the company of this man she does not love and thinking of the one she has lost. As for her spirit, it was lost along with Charley, but the child might well cause it to surface again. She has no care for herself any more and no battle to fight for Belle, since Phillip is very good to her, but she will find something to fight for in her baby and something to care about as well.
Evil Omens indeed. Philip has his store and now he receives a financial legacy to further improve his standing and the store. Philip now is the master owner of the premises. He is the grand merchant. Philip has a child and a wife but neither are of much benefit to his contentment or plans for the future. Sylvia is trapped in her marriage to him and he has a daughter Bella, who, being female, is not the best option to carry on the family tradition of being merchants. Philip cannot escape the haunting of his mind in regards to Charley’s possible state.As for Sylvia, well, she escapes to the natural rhythms of the ocean, but can such moments of stolen joy last forever? We read how her mind is haunted by Charley. Each partner in this marriage is drifting away from the other.
Sara wrote: "Engagement and exchange of a promise to marry were very important and sacred at this time. Charley would have a prior claim on Sylvia and in light of Phillip's having withheld the information, sent..."I think you have perfectly summed up the extent of Sylvia's situation, Sara. The elements you mentioned concur to make it nearly hopeless. Little Bella is the only one who can reconcile her with life.
In my dreams, Bella grows up to marry Charley’s son. A pipe dream but a romantic end to this sad story. Sylvia is still a young woman and I find it difficult to imagine living her life. Her parents obviously married for love in spite of their differences so this is not her experience of marriage.I also wonder about Coulson. I know he has always been a fairly passive character but he is now being overrun in every way by Philip who has become such a superior businessman. Might he reach a point where he’s had enough of working with Philip or will he just keep soldiering on? Life seems to be almost too good for Philip on the business front. I’m looking for some crack in the facade Philip presents to the people. After all, this is now what is so important to him.
I found this chapter title "Evil Omens" so prophetic to what I foresee coming. In the previous chapter "Happy Days," Jeremiah Foster jokingly tells Sylvia "if he [Philip] ever neglects or ill-uses thee, come to me, and I'll give him a sound lecture on his conduct. Mind, I'm thy friend from this day forrards, and ready to take thy part against him!"In this chapter, Philip has really bent over backwards giving Sylvia everything he thinks she wants or needs, but Sylvia has not responded to him in the way I'm sure he feels he deserves. I can't help but feel that the resentment and anger he feels but does not express is probably ready to explode. When Philip does finally explode, what will he do? Will he physically harm Sylvia? Will she call on Jeremiah Foster to protect her? If so, how will that change the relationship between Philip and the Foster brothers? I am really seeing dark days ahead.
Shirley, I wonder about that too, especially as he is now trying to present himself as such a near perfect example of businessman and family man to get ahead in the town.
This chapter also makes me tremble for what is ahead, because we know this cannot continue as it is and Phillip is hiding a secret that is literally a time bomb. Early on he might have explained himself out of delaying telling her, but now it is going to be seen by Sylvia as an abject betrayal, especially in light of the conversation she initiated before the marriage and his insistence that Kinraid is dead. What is sad is that he didn't get what he wanted either. He just created a situation in which no one can be happy, and I am including Hester in this.
Sara wrote: "What is sad is that he didn't get what he wanted either. He just created a situation in which no one can be happy, and I am including Hester in this."I'm glad you brought up Hester again, Sara. It reminded me that both Gaskell and Philip shove her to the back of the bus, as it were, and only bring her out when they need her: to show how self-serving and unaware of other people's feelings Philip is. I truly lament over Hester because of all of the characters in this story, she is truly the best. I hope and pray Gaskell gives her a happy ending!
Sara wrote: "This chapter also makes me tremble for what is ahead, because we know this cannot continue as it is and Phillip is hiding a secret that is literally a time bomb. Early on he might have explained hi..."Absolutely true, Sara!
I like your fitting phrase "shove her to the back of the bus", Shirley!
Sue wrote: "Shirley, I wonder about that too, especially as he is now trying to present himself as such a near perfect example of businessman and family man to get ahead in the town."Yes Sue, he has built a near perfect façade - even more so, since he has inherited a sum from a great-uncle, and is aspiring to become a churchwarden, and is now a sideman, actively attending services on Sundays, i.e. presenting the whole town a perfect face, whereas God and we the readers know that he is hiding a secret...
Chapter 32 – Rescued from the wavesWe read a description of Hester, “a star, the brightness of which was only recognized in times of darkness”, “almost forgotten when everything went well.”
One early stormy evening of April 1798 at teatime, a domestic incident stirs up the peace in the household. Hester is invited to have tea with the Hepburns so that she subsequently can help Philip and William pack away the winter clothes in the adjacent shop. She is on friendly terms with Sylvia, yet not intimate. She senses that something is not quite alright between Philip and Sylvia behind a seemingly smooth façade. This evening, Philip is tired and wonders why Sylvia is not yet at home for tea. He utters a sharp remark about his wife’s indifference of his well-being, which does not go unnoticed by Bell, who then scolds her daughter as soon as she reappears. Philip went to the shop without having had his tea, and Hester tried to smooth things over. She has seen that Sylvia is “grieved and angry” and has been crying. She has sheltered herself and her daughter from hail and rain, and now “It’s a weary coming home to this dark place; and to find [her] own mother set against [her]”.
Sylvia confides to Hester how hard it is to be a good wife to Philip and she wishes she had never been married. She takes a cup of tea and bread and butter to Philip, “a conciliatory act” but with a defiant spirit. She does not speak to her husband, who wonders what brings her always to the same place on the seashore. Sylvia prefers to keep silent, as her passion and her emotions could overwhelm her. She finally says: “Our being wed were a great mistake; but before the poor old widow woman let us make as if we were happy”. Philip seizes her by the arm in a rough way, “which she took for pure anger, while it was the outburst of agonized and unrequited love”.
Sylvia retreats in her mother’s room, empty right now, and bursts into a “sobbing, miserable crying”. She is fearing that Philip would look for her and want to reconcile. Instead, her mother comes to bed and Sylvia helps her.
After a look at her baby, Sylvia goes out, “wanting to cry [her] fill out under yon great quiet sky”.
She goes uphill towards the church where she met Kinraid for the first time, through the fields, at the summit of the cliffs. The sea is rough, and the wind blows in fierce gusts, the waves roar and furiously clash against the cliffs.
“She was more quieted by this tempest of the elements” than by the apparently serene nature seen from her home.
Arrived at a cove, she sees men “hauling at a rope”, a crowd of people gathered and staring at a “half dismantled” smack “with men onboard".
The onlookers, women, children, elderly villagers have rushed, women shouting “brave words of hope”, but it seemed that their encouragements went lost “in the tempestuous stun and tumult of wind and wave.” Sylvia participates in the rescue, helping to pull the rope until the passengers of the smack are safe on land. She heard someone saying that there was a King’s naval officer onboard. She then rushes home. On her way, she meets a fisherman who also participated in the rescue, who tells her of a Navy lieutenant among the passengers.
Sylvia reaches home almost unnoticed, as Philip is still working. She finds her mother in an agitated state, repeating incessantly Philip’s words on Sylvia’s carelessness. Sylvia tells her husband that she will sleep in her mother’s bedroom. Philip eats a solitary and frugal dinner, while the fire is dying in the fireplace.
A wrecked marriage and a shipwreckSylvia and Philip’s marriage is going from bad to worse. They live close together without really talking (sie reden aneinander vorbei). Both are equally frustrated and Kinraid hangs over them like a nagging shadow. The evil omens in the previous chapter foreshadowed the worst, which has now come in the form of open hostility. As you all asked, how will this all end?
Sylvia seeks salvation in flight, be it just for a short while. The image of the dying fire in the closing lines illustrates Sylvia’s extinguished love for Philip – or, more exactly, a love that never existed – and the unrequited love of the unhappy Philip for his idol. This part of the chapter, as was most of chapter 31, is sad.
There is a storm indoors, a domestic incident escalating, as a sincere and open communication between the spouses is impossible, while Bell keeps repeating her indignant words like a Leitmotiv.
There is a stormy weather outside. Sylvia escapes again after having attended to her mother's and her baby needs. The tempestuous wind raging outside corresponds to her present distress. While walking through "bleak fields" and on the cliffs, she can cry unobserved.
A smack from London to Newcastle is grounded in a perilous position in a cove near Monkshaven. It is almost dark – the night comes gradually, so that Sylvia cannot see who is on the smack. I was reminded of the painting by Hovhannes Aivazovsky, the Ninth Wave (cover-picture of this thread, one of Aivazovsky's most famous, in St. Petersburg). This painting seems to have been meant to be an illustration of the scene: "human beings, dark against the ruddy sunset sky", "a wreck, yet with her deck covered with living men".
There is a tumult of voices in the background of roaring waves clashing against the cliffs. Despite the thick crowd and the cacophony, the action is a success, thanks to all those who united their strengths in the rescuing. Everyone, including Sylvia, rejoices. The scene is both a parallel and the opposite of the domestic clash before. The voices of the rescuers and the cries of encouragement of the onlookers (a discordant Greek choir) fading in the tumult of the waves shows that, despite a hindered communication and in adversity,, they all succeed in saving the passengers' lives.
Has he come back ?
Charley Kinraid has officially disappeared in chapter 18 but there is virtually no chapter without a mention of his name, a memory, a dream, an obsession.
We cannot help wondering/guessing/identifying who the naval officer rescued from the wreck might be, “a Navy lieutenant as had come as a passenger”. There is an aura of mystery and fascination about him “I saw the gold about him” said a woman, while someone else speculates “He would maybe come from these homeward parts and be coming to see his own folks.”
In shortA domestic clash indoors:
The first part of this chapter seemed to be frozen, stuck in a fateful and useless conflict between Philip and Sylvia, involving everyone else, as if all the actors of Sylvia's new world were united either in fuelling the conflict or trying to calm it down (Hester as a peacemaker) but none of them, except Philip and the readers, knows the bottom of the story. All seem to be against Sylvia.
A fierce tempest raging outside:
The second part of the chapter is dynamic, full of movement. All villagers, onlookers and rescuers are united in a desperate but at last successful struggle for life against the unleashed waves in an unforgiving tempest to rescue a wrecked smack and her passengers. Sylvia's rapid walk uphill and through fields and on the cliffs, her participation in the rescuing and her speedy walk back home is also part of the intense dynamics.
A war still raging in the background:
There is no visible war action in this chapter, there are instead just two metaphorical allusions, which talk of war:
- "Sylvia heard the sound of the passionate rush and rebound of many waters, like the shock of mighty guns, whenever the other sound of the blustering gusty wind was lulled for an instant.
- The presence of a Navy officer, twice mentioned, probably on furlough and coming over to visit his relatives, observed by rescuers and onlookers, went barely noticed by Sylvia. Why should she care after all?
The metaphorical "shock of mighty guns" and the mention of a naval officer remind us that there is a war on a wider scale, still raging far away from Monkshaven but nevertheless impacting the lives of its population and, as we already saw, the main protagonists of this story.
We will read and comment chapter 33 on Saturday 24 May.
Yes, there are conflicts/wars everywhere in this chapter. Mother/daughter; wife/husband; Sylvia/stormy night; sailors;sea; townspeople/sea. Surely the combination of so many disturbances must be leading us to a climax of some sort. What the reader knows that Sylvia does not is the fact that Charley was not drowned. As Philip eats his solitary quiet supper Sylvia confronts the elements. The immobility of Philip’s job stands in stark contrast to the physical labour and defiance of the elements we see Sylvia engaged in. At the end of the villagers’ struggle to save the sailors Sylvia is complimented for her strength and action. Meanwhile, in the solitary quiet of his home, Philip sits and eats his meal. He is solitary whereas Sylvia actively participates with an entire village. The chasm between Philip and Sylvia is stark.
And yes, Claudia, a sailor of rank was mentioned twice in this chapter. We are told by Gaskell that perhaps he or another sailor was coming home to family in the area.
We recall the violence by which Charlie was snatched from the edge of the sea by the press gang and rowed out to a waiting ship. And now we have a ship returning from the sea encased within a violent storm. Such a grand use of pathetic fallacy. Philip witnessed but neither came to Charlie’s aid nor told Sylvia the truth of what happened. Will the price of his inaction and silence now come due?
It is hard to imagine that this will not be the explosion we have been expecting since Charley was snatched. He was an exceptional specktioneer, so why not be as good a King's Man once that became his profession. I can easily see him becoming an officer. If so, he has come at a time when the gulf between Sylvia and Phillip could not be wider. She has literally voiced that the marriage was a mistake, which for her it surely was. I wanted to jot a note here before I sit down to read the next chapter. It was hard to stop reading even to do this.
Peter wrote: "And yes, Claudia, a sailor of rank was mentioned twice in this chapter. We are told by Gaskell that perhaps he or another sailor was coming home to family in the area."I used to think I was smart for noticing something like this and thinking "but it must be Charley!"
Now I think of course Gaskell wants us to think it's Charley. As Peter points out, the reader knows he's out there. She's just cranking up the suspense on this. I agree with Sara--not a good moment to put the book down!
It may be too early to comment, but I am missing that undercutting voice of Gaskell in this third installment that made the world of this novel so much a mix of greys rather than blacks and whites. I think many of you preferred the latter and it did make it easier to call out villains and heroes, but I absolutely loved how Gaskell refused to let us comfortably take a side. I enjoyed how while we are grimacing at Philip's weakness in the face of the press gang, Gaskell has among Kinraid's last words his call for the gang to take Philip instead of himself, or how she depicts the the town's fighting back against impressment less as a heroic act and more as a riot gone out of control inspired by the incitation of a drunken Daniel Rabson which costs him his life. Gaskell's constant flipping on perspective greatly boosted the irony and realism in the novel and without it this will be a much different book for me. I will see what the author does.
Sam wrote: "It may be too early to comment, but I am missing that undercutting voice of Gaskell in this third installment that made the world of this novel so much a mix of greys rather than blacks and whites...."Indeed Sam! We are but three chapters into the third volume and inclined to see Sylvia being trapped by Philip and his dark parlour, all this in a bleak perspective. Just wait and see!
Chapter 33 – An apparitionMrs Robson has been unwell, haunted by “uneasy thoughts”. Sylvia stayed with her all night and barely slept. When she did, she repeatedly dreamed of the scene of the evening before on the shore: cries, roaring waves, and “something said to her through all the conflicting noises”, as if conveying “a meaning of the utmost importance to her”.
Sylvia goes to Haytersbank very early because her mother is agitated and there are no more leaves for her usual relaxing herbal tea. Sylvia knows where to find a bush that her father had planted for Bell. She also knows that the tenants have left, and the farm is now empty.
Sylvia discovers her old home, now deserted, and goes to her little garden, now wild and deserted too. A skinny cat hangs around, meowing, but refusing to be petted.
Sylvia picks her leaves and pauses “softly before the house door (…) and [kisses] the senseless wood”. She now hastens homewards, when she sees a naval officer standing. She is shocked when she recognizes him, “the same face she had last seen three long years ago, and had never thought to see in life again.” She “[goes] fluttering into [his] embrace, as if drawn by the old fascination”. Sylvia “startled away”, “a terrible story in her eyes”. She runs away, while Kinraid (still unnamed) is “stunned with surprise” and thinks he has frightened her. He follows her to town, along the quay-side. She is fully distressed and even considering jumping from the quay into the water, but changes her course. He follows her, “into a quiet dark parlour”.
Sylvia is extremely shocked and crouching into a corner, while Charley whispers words of love “in that voice she had yearned and hungered to hear in life, and had not heard for all her longing, save in her dreams.”
At last, Kinraid suspects that Hepburn did not tell her about his fate and did not convey his message to her. “I bade you keep true to me as I would be to you.”
Sylvia cries “shrill and fierce”, Philip comes in, sees “the officer” but “did not perceive for an instant that he saw the realization of his greatest dread”. Philip is ashamed and miserable. Charley wants to strike him but Sylvia stops him. “He is a damned scoundrel, but he is my husband”.
Kinraid is outraged. Sylvia tells him how she thought he was drowned, how her father was hanged, how her mother lost her mind.
Philip tries to pull Sylvia from Charley’s embrace and pleads to her: “He did not love you as I did. He had loved other women. I, you. You alone. (…) I might have given you his message but I heard them speaking of him as I knew him well; talking of his false fickle ways. How was I to know he would keep true to thee?”
Kinraid insists that Sylvia is his wife, not Philip’s. He pulls a coin tied by a black ribbon from under his clothes. It is the other half of the silver coin Philip saw in Sylvia’s wooden work-box, but associated no meaning to it. (chapter 17). “I can get your pretence of a marriage set aside, suggests Kinraid. I am in favour of my admiral, and he will do a great deal for me, and back me out.”
Suddenly the baby cries, interrupting Kinraid's attempt to take Sylvia away.
“I will never forgive yon man, nor live with him as his wife again (…) He has spoilt my life (…) but neither you nor him shall spoil my soul (…) I will never see you again on this side heaven, so help me God. I am bound and tied, but I have sworn my oath to him as well as you.”
When this terrible scene ends, Charley Kinraid is gone again.
A dramatic huis-closKinraid, Sylvia's hero, presumably drowned, returns against all odds. Dressed in a magnificent uniform with gold epaulettes and braids, he is bound to stand out and seduce. The main purpose of his visit to Monkshaven was to find Sylvia, but she, now married and a mother, is unable to follow him.
Kinraid's return had been skilfully orchestrated in terms of narrative, since he was kidnapped under Philip's eyes, through Philip's recurring dreams and dread, through Sylvia's walks on the shore, gazing at the horizon, and her feverish dream in Chapter 31. Kinraid was among those who returned to Newcastle from London on the shipwrecked smack and was rescued with them. For the second time in the novel, and most probably several times in-between in a war zone, Kinraid was saved from death.
Sylvia's early morning errand to Haytersbank was the coincidence that allowed her to meet the handsome officer on her own, unobserved, near her former farmhouse. Interestingly, she goes first to her little garden, now wild and dilapidated, like a Paradise lost. She feels a tinge of nostalgia for her former home, the place where she was happy with her parents and in love with Kinraid.
It is now a silent ghost-farm, without tenants farmers attending to their activities, no Kester working, no children playing, no animals bleating or mooing, no hens looking for some grains - the meowing cat is the only famished remnant of an undetermined past. She kisses the door as if the premises were sacred.
When she encounters Kinraid, she is deeply shocked by his appearance/apparition, for she believed him to be dead. She instinctively and irrationally believes that he has returned from the realm of the dead (Hades in the Odyssey). Symptomatically, Kinraid’s name is never mentioned in this open-air scene. The title of the chapter is An Apparition, which brings us back to a supernatural element. This scene seems nearly as surreal, as little realistic as Sylvia's or Philip's dreams before.
The second scene is very real instead. It reunites Kinraid, Sylvia and then Philip Hepburn in the "quiet dark parlour". The parlour is always described as dark, and it is the ideal place for a dramatic huis-clos, just Sylvia and her lovers, noone else is present. Now it is described as "quiet", not only because it is a quiet place in early morning, but, I think, also as an allusion to Philip's silence and hushing the truth which is now being loudly revealed. Only when Philip enters the parlour, the officer turns around and Kinraid's name is being mentioned for the first time.
When he sees the officer standing in the parlour, Philip is silent at first, shaken by his own shame. His silence is revealing. He does not know what to say because there is nothing to say. Words are useless, destroyed by the enormity of the lie in the face of the reality of Kinraid standing upright and proud, beautifully dressed in his Navy uniform, yet fierce and resolute, in the middle of the room. After the silence of the lie, a mortifying silence, comes the silence of shame, equally mortifying. This is the climax of an obsessive, nightmarish journey that has plagued Philip's daily life, even though it seemed to diminish with each passing day, but it kept stealthily coming back a hundredfold during the night. Philip is torn between his obsession with Sylvia, whom he worships like a deity on a pedestal, and the equally obsessive recurrence of Kinraid in his thoughts and night dreams. It is all now becoming raw reality.
Philip is deeply ashamed and wants to die. He declares his burning love to Sylvia in a poignant and passionate way, explaining (too late) why he did not pass on Kinraid's message to her. Was that a good reason, or just a selfish one? Sylvia is now extremely shaken.
Sylvia and Philip are stuck in an impossible situation. They have been both contemplating death at different moments in this chapter. Hearing her baby cry, Sylvia chooses life. However, she makes an instinctive, almost visceral and unshakable vow.
Meanwhile, Kinraid has taken French leave.
A timelineI saw some spoilers and an inaccuracy (we will see that in due time) in the Appendixes of the Oxford edition.
Here is a short update:
Sylvia and Philip marry in June 1797 (around Midsummer Day, when the farm is handed over to new tenants) while Bell is leaving Haytersbank Farm.
Sylvia’s and Philip’s daughter Bella is born, presumably, in March 1798 at the earliest.
Kinraid resurfaces in April 1798, which contradicts the mention of Sylvia not having seen him for three years. She had not seen him for two years instead.
Thank you for your comments before!Sylvia and her lovers are all equally shocked, so are we, the readers, although we spotted a Navy lieutenant rescued from the wrecked smack in chapter 32, and we expected Kinraid to appear in town.
We will have a day off and more time for commenting until Monday 26 May and Chapter 34
ClaudiaWhat a chapter! There is so much to unpack, from so many levels. I will only write a short commentary because I imagine so many others will want to weigh in.
I agree with you that the farm can be seen now, in a broadened manner, as connected to Milton’s ‘Paradise Lost.’ The movement and and rhythms of the earlier chapters have become clear now. The farm is neglected, abandoned, and forlorn. The stray cat the sole owner of a neglected place. I see the cat as symbolic of Sylvia. The cat is the master of a place that has been abandoned. Sylvia’s life and heart is now also completely abandoned. Her morals and her wedding vows will not allow her to leave her husband but she will never be a wife to him again; she must also refuse to be with Charley because she is married. Sylvia is the abandoned farm.
I have also enjoyed how you have linked this story, in part, to ‘Ulysses’. While subtle, Gaskell has woven into this novel the elements of classical literature. That gives ‘Sylvia’s Lovers’ much depth.
I agree....this chapter was astounding and contains so much between the pages. "I can get your pretence of a marriage set aside"
Was the oath with Sylvia so binding that it annuls the marriage of Philip and Sylvia? Was a betrothal oath so strong that it could break up a marriage vowed before the Church?
If so, this could eventually be Sylvia's salvation.
Sylvia is a true person. She makes her bed and sleeps in it, distasteful as it may be to her. She takes vows and oaths seriously. This betrayal by Philip will cause her pain in more ways than one.
"Was that a good reason, or just a selfish one?" (for Philip keeping his secret)
It was a very selfish reason. He could have told Sylvia what happened, told her about all he'd heard about Charley's fickleness and let her decide. That would have been honest.
But he decided for Sylvia. He decided what was right or wrong for her, based on his own wishes. That's as selfish as it gets.
I'm still pondering this chapter. It contains so much. I can't wait to keep reading.
A quick comment on the previous chapter as I haven’t read ch.33 yet. I was struck by the seeming irony of Sylvia’s behavior appearing appropriate to Hester when she is demur and quiet while Philip wants her to act as she used to, to argue and verbally spar with him. Sylvia won’t give him the satisfaction of doing that. Meanwhile Hester appears to think that Sylvia has learned more appropriate behavior for a wife, that is until the late outbursts of the chapter she may have heard. I can’t recall if she was present when Sylvia said she should not have married.
I had wondered how the exchange of a promise between Sylvia and Charley would stand in the face of her actual marriage, and Charley seems to think it has some weight. But, I would guess that becomes a moot point when a child becomes involved, simply because any child is the property of the father. I do not blame Sylvia for her oath to never be "a wife" to Phillip again. She has also now sworn never to see Charley again, so I wonder if this is our last encounter with him. He has mostly served as a foil for the relationship between Sylvia and Phillip thus far, with Phillip being the "lover" we are most focused on. Will Charley let this go so easily? How much does he really love Sylvia after all these years apart and such a brief time together? I am giving Gaskell kudos for still giving me more questions than answers and making me want to race ahead to the next chapter.
Peter--I love your observations on the abandoned farm, the cat, and the analogy to Sylvia herself.
Dickensians!
Books mentioned in this topic
Gli innamorati di Sylvia (other topics)Los amores de Sylvia (other topics)
Les Amoureux de Sylvia (other topics)
Waiting for Godot (other topics)
En attendant Godot (other topics)
More...
Authors mentioned in this topic
Samuel Beckett (other topics)Victor Hugo (other topics)
Charles Dickens (other topics)
Anthony Trollope (other topics)
Thomas Hardy (other topics)
More...
"The Ninth Wave" (1850) by Ivan Aivazovsky
(chosen by Claudia)
This is the final thread, for chapters 30 - 45 of Sylvia's Lovers by Elizabeth Gaskell.
Here are the ongoing LINKS TO EACH CHAPTER.
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
**PLEASE ALLOW CLAUDIA to comment first. Thanks!