Phase the Fifth: The Woman Pays
Chapter 35
This entire chapter might well be summed up in just one exchange:
"I will obey you like your wretched slave,
even if it is to lie down and die.”
“You are very good. But it strikes me that there is a want of harmony between
your present mood of self-sacrifice and your past mood of self-preservation.”
The harsh disdain of Angel’s pronouncement denotes an implacability from which there can be no retreat. It also seems to me that his use of the term “self-preservation” could have two quite different meanings: It might be intended as an accusation of deception on Tess’s part in withholding her secret until after they were wed. Or it could mean that she was lacking in strength of character, a failure to preserve her maidenhood. Either way, the degree of antagonism suggests that the marriage is over before it has begun.
On a quite different note, bearing in mind Hardy’s fascination with fate, the resemblance of Tess to one of the grim portraits of D’Urberville women may suggest the existences of a family curse of sorts, a damnosa hereditas with which Tess is burdened.
Chapter 36
A dismal, depressing episode, two people entirely unable to connect either emotionally or intellectually, both of them devastated, unable to see any clear way forward.After all the discussion of divorce, it occurred to me to wonder about the possibility of an annulment, which would seem to have been in order, given that the marriage was never consummated and both parties realized the first day that it had all been a dreadful mistake.
After all the discussion of divorce, it occurred to me to wonder about the possibility of an annulment, which would seem to have been in order, given that the marriage was never consummated and both parties realized the first day that it had all been a dreadful mistake.
Chapter 37
The whole sleepwalking scene is spooky enough, a fine piece of Victorian
Gothic. It's only the deep sadness of the episode that prevents it from
coming across as comically far-fetched. Compelling atmosphere and
emotional punch, even though it doesn't do anything to move the story
along or open up new insights. It seems to me that Tess shows
extraordinary forbearance throughout, allowing herself to be carried
across a hazardous river crossing and finding ways to get Angel safely
home.
One must wonder what his reaction would have been if she had awakened him in the churchyard!
Chapter 38
There is no place for Tess back at her home and no work for her at the dairy. Angel has left; she is on her own, not wanted anywhere. When all of a person's bridges have been burned, the only choice
possible is to go forward, to seek a new future, almost certainly in a
new place, leaving the past behind. One possibility might be to
emigrate; that was a common solution in England at the time. Of course,
it would not be so easy for a young single woman (which Tess effectively
still is) as for a young man. But many a young woman (then and now) has
done so.
All that said, I doubt if that course would suit Hardy: he
never permits his characters to happily escape the fate that entangles
them. Tess must see this thing through to the end; further humiliation
awaits ...
Chapter 39
It's both awkward and yet somehow satisfying to observe Angel twisting
on a hook of his own making: finding it necessary to dissemble, to
pretend that all is well, and most tortuous for him, having to face the
very essence of his dilemma as it is spelled out for him in the biblical
passage. He realizes that in fact Tess does meet the high standards set forth in Proverbs 31, even though his conventional upbringing has him stymied.
Given
his contemplation of Marcus Aurelius, I suppose that Angel fancies
himself a stoic; but despite endeavoring to value his own beliefs above
those of others (including his parents) he lacks the courage of his
convictions. While this might be attributed to immaturity, I rather put
it down to a lack of character. A far cry from Aurelius!
It's
also ironic that his parents have now come around to an understanding
and acceptance of his initial argument, i.e. that a country girl would
make him a more suitable wife than would a fine lady. He has won the
argument but lost the campaign!
Chapter 40
It’s so rare that Hardy treats us to tongue-in-cheek drollery that I for one savor it when it appears. “ … he encountered Miss Mercy Chant by the church, from whose walls she seemed to be a sort of emanation.” How wonderful is that!
In truth, this chapter needed all the levity that could be made available; Angel has fallen into a sorry state of mind and it causes him to lash out in unpredictable ways, first toward Mercy Chant and later to poor Izzy, who remains so in love with him that she is prepared to run off to Brazil with him, married or not, if he will have her. Fortunately, Angel’s need for respectability prevails and he sets Izzy down, urging her to make better choices. Soon he will be on his way abroad, further reducing any chance of a reconciliation with Tess.
It strikes me that Angel is hampered by an inability to empathize with the women he encounters; he perceives them not as individuals having a meaningful existence on their own but as adjuncts of himself. Their chief purpose in life is to fulfill his needs for a life partner and as a living demonstration of his social standing — similar in function to that of a fine house, a successful business endeavor or a well-bred horse. Hence, although he still loves Tess, he cannot stay with her because she will become a social liability. He deliberately shocks Mercy in a petty manner as a means of relieving his frustration at the state of his marriage. He toys with Izzy, cruelly raising her hopes; it’s only when Izzy reminds him that Tess truly loves him, would lay down her life for him that he realizes the folly of carrying Izzy off to Brazil; only then does he begin to realize how his actions impact the lives of the women he encounters. He attempts to reassure himself of his honorable intentions by sending Izzy away with admonitions of good behavior, to be shared with her companions. He will never become a parson but he is instinctively preachy.
Chapter 41
As the story arc now moves into its lowest point, I’m finding it harder to cheer for Tess. At every turn, she has been made a victim, her welfare entirely dictated by others. And now, an abandoned wife on her own, with no prospects of a third match because of her ruined reputation, she has no immediate prospects of an income; and yet she first hands over half of her limited funds to her parents and follows up by giving them most of what she had left. This cannot extract her indigent parents out of their misfortune but it is sure to leave Tess herself destitute. It is high time that Tess did some serious growing up; no none is going to rescue her when she falls. Her youth and beauty are her only assets and a life of drudgery, wandering the farmland in search of work will soon do away with that last asset. There are no winners in this game, eventually everyone loses.
Hardy would have us accept all of this as fate, and in fairness, there has been misfortune. But most of what has transpired is simply the result of poor decisions:
It all
began with that parson frivolously addressing Durbeyfield as “Sir John”.
The Durbeyfields proceed to engineer what they imagine to be a rich future for
Tess (which they hope to profit from) without providing Tess with any sense of
self-preservation.
Tess allows herself to be seduced by a man she doesn’t much like.
Tess fails to reveal her past to Angel and then drops a bombshell on her
wedding night.
Rather than face up to his situation, Angel runs away to Brazil.
Rather than using what money she has to travel to a better place and seek a
fresh start, Tess gives most of her funds away. So she is left to slash turnips
in the rain and mud.
Fate? More like human frailty.
Chapter 42
First, Angel, being unable to face up to the state of his marriage and work out some kind of resolution, has left everything in limbo and run away, He is, in effect, hiding, to avoid loss of face should Tess’s history become known to those within his social circle. Now Tess too has gone into hiding, deliberately making herself as unattractive as possible and seeking hard labor at a “starve-acre” farm. She insists on being addressed as Tess, as if to deny her married state and she seeks to avoid any mention of her missing husband. While she tells herself that her actions are intended to avoid bringing disgrace on her husband, she is also hiding from her own past, trying to avoid facing her misfortune, attempting to live as if she were still a single, relatively carefree dairymaid. Is she just hiding her beauty or is she subconsciously seeking to obliterate it, perceiving it as a curse?
There’s a sense of finality about this chapter, evoked by her having signed a harsh work agreement; by her letter to her mother revealing where she is but nothing more; and by the bleak surroundings into which she has immersed herself. Her actions are disturbingly similar to those whereby a young woman would turn her back on the world and enter a convent as a means of escaping grave personal difficulties, especially a failed relationship. Anyone familiar with Giacomo Puccini’s one-act opera Suor Angelica will immediately see the parallels; an all-too-familiar scenario, especially in the 19th century.
Chapter 43
This entire chapter is so bleak and hopeless; it seems to me that Hardy may have felt a need to soften its impact on readers to some degree, hence his inclusion of such a lyrical and fanciful account of the arctic birds, speculating on the atmosphere of the Arctic lands from which they have come, seemingly as harbingers of the coming storm. As was the case with the pheasants a couple of chapters back, the migratory birds have endured extreme hardships — "colossal storms" and "curdling temperatures that no man could endure." Tess is not alone in her travail and the birds' presence suggests that the troubles Tess has to endure may, in comparison, be bearable.
It's the revelation of Angel's impulsive offer to Izzy that finally comes close to breaking Tess, nearly overcoming her last hopes of a reconciliation. But even here, she blames herself, her failure to write to him, rather than any fault on Angel's part. Tess's default attitude, her every instinct, is to see herself as the person at fault rather than those who have failed her. Until Tess learns how to begin placing more value on her own worth and refuse to be victimized, her fortunes will not change. Her manner of speaking firmly and sensibly back to her employer, suggesting that it's he who ought to apologize, is one of the most hopeful signs of progress we've yet seen, especially coming as it does at a time when Tess's fortunes are at their lowest ebb.
Chapter 44
Much of Tess's journey reads like a dirge, a march into
purgatory. A sort of climax is reached when she is faced with a locked door at
the vicarage. It then turns into a nightmare as she overhears the dismissive
and hypocritical conversation of Mercy Chant and Angel's dreadful brothers. The
manner in which Tess has her boots take from her is surely the 'unkindest cut',
in effect reducing her to the poorest and least deserving of beggars. Each time
we think that matters could not get worse for Tess, Hardy doubles down!
I think it's here, in this episode that Hardy finally wins his argument: only a
merciless fate could have prevented Tess from meeting the vicar and then
deposited her into the presence of Alec D'urberville, the author of her
downfall.
End of Phase the Fifth
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