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The Mayor of Casterbridge
The Mayor of Casterbridge
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The Mayor of Casterbridge: 3rd thread: Chapters 18 - 27
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Susan falls ill, but recovers after a few days. Henchard is surprised to receive a letter from the woman in Jersey, whom he had never expected to hear from again. This woman, Lucetta, apologises for her past behaviour of pestering him with letters of passion and frustration. She says she knows that he has not wronged her, and that the only course available to him is to re-marry his long-lost wife. She asks that he keep their past a secret, so that she may hope for a happier future. She also wishes that the letters she sent to him be returned to her, as she travels back through Casterbridge after visiting her remaining relative in Bristol.
Henchard is moved by Lucetta’s letter and vows that if he is ever in a position to carry out the proper marriage with her then he ought to do so. Such a situation would, of course, only occur if Susan died. Henchard arrives with the letters to meet Lucetta’s coach through Casterbridge, but she is not there. With relief, Henchard believes her plans must have changed and is glad that he did not have to see her in person.
Susan’s health worsens. One day, after much distressed thought, she wishes to write something down. She puts this writing in a sealed envelope addressed to Mr. Michael Henchard, and labelled, “not to be opened until Elizabeth-Jane’s wedding day.” She locks the envelope away in her desk.
Elizabeth-Jane sits up with her sick mother through the night. During the night, Susan confesses that she was the one who sent the matching notes to Elizabeth-Jane and Farfrae, with the hope that they would get to know each other, and one day marry. She regrets that this will not happen, given Henchard’s new hatred of Farfrae. Not long after, on a Sunday morning, Susan dies.
Mrs. Cuxsom recounts the events of Susan’s death to the other townsfolk. Susan had prepared her own funeral clothes and pennies to weigh down her eyes. The maid buried these pennies according to Susan’s wishes, but another villager, Christopher Coney, dug them up and spent them. Mother Cuxsom’s listeners agree that Coney’s deed went against the wishes of the dead, but Solomon Longways argues that death shouldn’t rob the living of money, which is so hard to come by.
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“To respect the dead is sound doxology; and I wouldn’t sell skellintons—leastwise respectable skellintons—to be varnished for ’natomies, except I were out o’ work.”
When Solomon mistakenly refers to “doxology” he means “theology” (Doxology means a formulaeic hymn of praise.) He then continues, referring to the then current practice of grave-robbing, to sell fresh bodies for anatomical research.
“four ounce pennies” - these coins were minted for private use and were heavier than standard pennies. According to popular belief, if the eyes were not held closed in this way, there would soon be another death in the family.
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Letters, letters, letters!
Letters - especially secret ones - are a favourite trope of Victorian literature. Here we have a triple whammy! In fact Thomas Hardy decided that he had provided too many secret letters and secret meetings in The Mayor of Casterbridge, in an effort to provide exciting cliffhangers for his serial audience, and so he cut some of them out for the published novel. These remain though, and I think it's a great chapter, packed with events and full of tension.
1. What on earth might Susan's letter say? Might it be a simple wish for happiness for her daughter, or motherly advice, should the worst befall her? Or is it yet another revelation? Can there be yet more mysteries? Her need to leave a secret letter seems to indicate that Susan is not as naively straightforward as she seems.
2. Also we now have her confession that it was Susan who wrote the notes sending Elizabeth-Jane and Farfrae to the granary together; yet another indication of her devious subtlety. We can see that Susan believes it would have been a good match between the two young people, despite Henchard’s wishes.
3. And what do we make of Lucetta, Henchard’s Jersey belle. She wishes to receive the love letters she once sent to Henchard in order to hide their past connection. The letters are incriminating evidence of what, in this time period, would have been considered a scandal. Lucetta is concerned enough about her reputation to want to hide any mark of what society considers misbehaviour.
Or is there more to this, I wonder? She seems almost contrite about pestering him for so long, but couldn’t she just have asked him to return them to her, trusting to Henchard’s honour as a gentleman and pillar of the town. Instead she “happens” to be visiting her only relative. Hmm. Dorchester isn’t really on the way to Bristol for her: it’s 61+ miles away, and even now takes over 2 hours to drive there. Might she have another motive, do we think?
In the event, there seems to have been a missed connection, and Henchard is relieved that he will not have to see Lucetta. But this does not seem to be the end of their story, as he vows to marry Lucetta, if he ever finds himself able to do so. Is this merely his strong sense of duty, or more?
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It also points up the different lifestyles of the rich and poor: that the rich can use money in non-monetary ways, but the poor simply cannot afford to behave that way.
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So here are our 4 interpolated poems on the trot, with links as the threads are posted:
Sunday 13th July - #5 - According to the Mighty Working
Monday 14th July - #6 - By Her Aunt’s Grave
Tuesday 15th July - #7 - The Lodging House Fuchsias
Wednesday 16th July - #8 - Farmer Dunman’s Funeral
We then have our free day, Thursday 17th July,which means we will read chapter 19 on Friday 18th July
Lots to comment on in today's whirlwind of a chapter! Over to you!
Thanks Jean for all these great comments including those on coin superstitions!This was a very short but very dense chapter framed by sad events: Susan's illness, Lucetta resurfacing but not showing up and therefore a free electron around, her letters still in Michael's possession, a mysterious letter written by Susan, skeletons in every cupboard, perhaps a couple of ticking bombs ready to explode, plot elements keeping us on edge, and poor Susan's death.
There came a shock which had been foreseen for some time by Elizabeth,...
Excellent opening lines. It corroborates all what we suspected, allusions to Susan's paleness and tiredness, her ghostlike appearance as the Mayor's wife.
“And all her shining keys will be took from her, and her cupboards opened; and little things a’ didn’t wish seen, anybody will see; and her wishes and ways will all be as nothing!”
Mrs Cuxsom seems to be a (Greek) choir leader, telling calendar truth and popular common sense but also passing an eternal judgement (reminds me of "for you are dust and to dust you shall return" Genesis 3:19).
Even if we may smile at all these details which are now public knowledge in Casterbridge, we may all relate to her sententious words, that sound even more tragic (with a hint of absurdity I also met in The Woodlanders) as we remember her physical appearance.
I love that Susan wrote the notes to throw her daughter together with Farfrae. I never guessed that, and it's so interesting that we get this bit of info now. Maybe it gives Elizabeth Jane renewed hope? What I like best is how all of these letters are in a way tied together. Thanks so much for sharing about the letters Hardy cut out of the story, Jean!
Yes indeed Jean. Letters are a key trope in Victorian literature. So far in this novel we have experienced all kinds. Some sent anonymously, some kept in secret, some locked in drawers, some requested back. I guess the modern equivalent is the text message.Susan’s death is regrettable, but it does open the door to new plot possibilities. Will Henchard renew his interest in the Jersey belle. I just love that description Jean.
And the coins placed on Susan’s eyes. A touch of tradition, an anticipation of Fate. Coins, money placed on one’s eyes in death to ward off evil and then dug up because of their value to the living. Henchard has been consistently linked to money. Do we have Hardy opening up yet another plot line or pathway here?
Coins, letters, and the death of our first major character. I am constantly amazed how much Hardy can pack into a chapter that is not long when compared to many other Victorian novelists. His writing is relentless. There are so many moving parts.
Bionic Jean wrote: “four ounce pennies” - these coins were minted for private use and were heavier than standard pennies. According to popular belief, if the eyes were not held closed in this way, there would soon be another death in the family. ..."
Thanks for this information, Jean.
Susan lost her pennies and, presumably, her eyes wouldn't be held closed. Could this be an ominous foreshadowing of things to come?
I was sorry to see that Susan dies. She wasn't a pivotal character in this story, but she was a loving pillar for Elizabeth-Jane. Of course, Susan will always be there in Elizabeth's thoughts and heart. Yes, so many letters. I was a bit surprised that Michael had received letters from Lucetta after breaking things off with her. Things are happening in the background of the story without us being told. I wonder what else is happening, if anything?
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I was sorry to see Susan die as well. I am a little surprised she made it this long in the story. Given how Hardy describes her health when she returns to Casterbridge, I expected her to die sooner. What will Elizabeth do now that her mother is gone?
I really enjoyed the writing in this chapter where Elizabeth is staying awake through the night nursing her mother. I thought Hardy portrayed perfectly the timeless feeling that can settle on a house in the wee hours of the morning, when everyone else in the house - and even in the town - is asleep. It can be a magical feeling.
He wrote about the "time-piece in the bedroom ticking frantically . . . ticking harder and harder till it seemed to clang like a gong". Poor Elizabeth is the only one to hear it. Then the "subtle-souled" girl begins to ruminate in an almost hallucinatory way. She feels the things surrounding her stare at her "waiting for the touch of some wand that should release them from terrestrial constraint". I just loved the images these words created in my mind. Isn't that exactly what it feels like to be sleep deprived, especially when worried about the health of your mother. Just brilliant writing IMHO
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The first poem connected to Chapter 18, "According to the Mighty Working," has been posted. Hardy's lush language in this poem is beautiful.https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
I too was much impressed by the writing and potency of the language in such a short chapter. So much does happen here.And one thing that hasn't been noted previously. Susan shares that she wrote the notes to Elizabeth-Jane (this throws me off a bit because my sister's name is Elizabeth Jean ...) and Mr. Farfrae, and then the shortly afterward, Hardy has Farfrae passing the Henchard house on a Sunday morning, "when he observed that the blinds were all down. He rang the bell so softly that it only sounded a single full note and a short one; and then he was informed that Mrs. Henchard was dead — just dead — that very hour."
To me, Susan's confession to her daughter and this timely appearance of Farfrae is framing for something further. Could it be that Henchard does indeed follow through with his vow to his former lover, and Elizabeth-Jane follows up on what she would see as one of her mother's last wishes and once again sees Farfrae?
I would assume it be awkward for her to continue to live with Henchard if he does remarry.
Pamela wrote: "I too was much impressed by the writing and potency of the language in such a short chapter. So much does happen here.And one thing that hasn't been noted previously. Susan shares that she wrote ..."
Good catch, Pamela!
This chapter is full of allusions to further possible developments. I almost forgot Farfrae who happened to notice the closed blinds and ring at the door. Oppositely, the Guernsey belle was to stop over in Casterbridge - not quite the most direct way to Bristol as Jean said - but we (and Henchard) did not see her.
I am caught up!!Jean wrote What on earth might Susan's letter say?
My take is that Elizabeth-Jane is not Henchard's daughter. At first, I had thought perhaps she was already pregnant when she married Michael; but then I started to put together her hesitation towards Henchard's desire to have her daughter take his last name, then a comment that Michael made about the color of Elizabeth-Jane's hair & what Susan had told him years ago that it would most likely turn black (but it hadn't). Of course, Susan's desire to connect back with Michael for the sake of their daughter still weighed heavy on my mind and I set aside the thought she might not be his until the secret letter!
It certainly did not occur to me that Susan was the one trying to get EJ and Farfrae together.
And hmmm, the incriminating letters from the woman in Jersey. I'm sure we are not finished with that plotline.
What a story Hardy is weaving!!
The next poem related to Chapter 18, "By Her Aunt's Grave," has been posted:https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
The third poem related to Chapter 18, "The Lodging-House Fuchsias," is at this link:https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
The fourth poem related to Chapter 18, "Farmer Dunman's Funeral," has been posted. (Our next poems will be read in mid-August.)Link to poem:
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...
Thursday, July 17, is a free day. Then, back to the novel on Friday, July 18 for the discussion of Chapter 19.
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Now for today's riveting chapter ...
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Three weeks after Susan’s funeral, Henchard and Elizabeth-Jane are sitting in front of the fire in the evening. Henchard asks about Richard Newson’s kindness as a father and whether or not Elizabeth-Jane could have cared as much for Henchard should he have been her real father. Elizabeth-Jane says she cannot imagine anyone else as her father, but her real father. Henchard decides to confess the truth, and tells Elizabeth-Jane that he is her biological father, and that shame alone has prevented him or Susan from confessing this. However he withholds the details of him selling Susan at the fair, saying only that the couple had believed each other to be dead.
Once the truth of this story has been impressed upon Elizabeth-Jane, she begins to cry.
“Don’t cry — don’t cry,” said Henchard, with vehement pathos, “I can’t bear it.”by Robert Barnes - 20th February 1886
“… I won’t bear it. I am your father; why should you cry? Am I so dreadful, so hateful to ’ee? Don’t take against me, Elizabeth-Jane!” he cried, grasping her wet hand. “Don’t take against me - though I was a drinking man once, and used your mother roughly - I’ll be kinder to you than he was! I’ll do anything, if you will only look upon me as your father!”
Henchard, in distress, vows to do anything to make Elizabeth-Jane happy, as long as she will look upon him as her true father. He says he will leave her alone, to give her time to trust him. He says that he was the one who named her Elizabeth-Jane, and that she should now take his surname, despite her mother having been against it whilst she lived.
Elizabeth-Jane remains alone that evening, weeping for her mother and for Richard Newson to whom she feels she is doing some wrong. Henchard, meanwhile, goes upstairs to find some papers to prove Elizabeth-Jane’s parentage to her. He uncovers the letter addressed to him by Susan before her death. Supposing the restriction “not to be opened til Elizabeth-Jane’s wedding day” to be a passing fancy of Susan’s, Henchard opens the letter.
“I can hardly write it, but here it is. Elizabeth-Jane is not your Elizabeth-Jane - the child who was in my arms when you sold me. No; she died three months after that, and this living one is my other husband’s. I christened her by the same name we had given to the first, and she filled up the ache I felt at the other’s loss. Michael, I am dying, and I might have held my tongue; but I could not.”
Susan’s final letter reveals that Elizabeth-Jane is not, in fact, the Elizabeth-Jane whom Henchard fathered. Her first daughter with Henchard had died three months after their sale to Richard Newson, and the living Elizabeth-Jane is Susan’s daughter with Newson, whom she named after the dead baby, and who helped her recover from the loss of her first child.
Henchard feels devastated, and sits aimlessly in the room for a couple of hours. He now sees the explanation for Susan’s stubbornness about changing Elizabeth-Jane’s last name. Eventually, he steals into Elizabeth-Jane’s room as she sleep and sees the resemblance to Richard Newson in her face, and her characteristically lighter colouring than Henchard’s own.
Henchard’s is furious at the irony of the situation. He would never have found Susan’s letter, had he not revealed what he thought to be the truth of Elizabeth-Jane’s parentage to her - and that in claiming her as his daughter, he had directly learned that she was not. Henchard goes out to walk through the gloomy evening, past the location of the gallows where public executions were held. He feels that the situation, the night and his surroundings all closely mirror his personal situation and his bitter disappointment.
As the next day dawns, Henchard decides that he will not tell Elizabeth-Jane about the letter. Elizabeth-Jane greets him lovingly that morning, telling him that she has thought over the matter, and has realised that despite Newson’s kindness to her, this is not the same as being one’s true father. She embraces Henchard and he feels that this moment, which he had waited for so long, is now miserable and pointless, as he had only remarried Susan to become closer to his daughter. The whole scheme has turned out to mean nothing to Henchard, as Elizabeth-Jane is not truly his daughter.
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Locations
Henchard’s gloomy walk seems laden with doom. He observes for himself the “harmony of the spot with his domestic situation” and asks himself “Why the deuce did I come here!”
It's interesting that we see Henchard aware of what we consider to be a literary device: the pathetic fallacy: the setting as a reflection of mood. The protagonist, as well as the reader, notices how the natural world mirrors human emotion.
Here are examples:
“The river—slow, noiseless, and dark—the Schwarzwasser of Casterbridge—ran beneath a low cliff, the two together forming a defence which had rendered walls and artificial earthworks on this side unnecessary.”
Schwarzwasser is German for black water. Thomas Hardy uses the name “Blackwater” for a pool or stream further upriver, perhaps recalling that the name Dorchester derived from “Dwyr”, meaning “dark”.
“He went on past the cottage in which the old local hangman had lived and died,”
Hangman’s Cottage. Colliton Park, The Walks, Dorchester - (Philip V. Allingham)
This cottage stands by the riverside, on the north side of the town. Thomas Hardy was fascinated as a boy by the role of the hangman, and remembered many years later peeping in at his window as he ate his dinner on the eve on an execution. There once was an external staircase, but in most respects the dwelling (now a private residence) is little changed since Thomas Hardy's boyhood.
The cottage is a little removed from the rest of the town. It also features in the short story The Withered Arm, which we read last year, published in Blackwoods Edinburgh Magazine in January 1888 and subsequently collected in Wessex Tales. In the story you may remember that (view spoiler)
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So we have yet another twist! I don’t think we could see this one coming. Henchard’s decision to confess the truth of her parentage to Elizabeth-Jane is not planned, but a spontaneous act of the moment. He witnesses her love and care for Newson, the man she believes to be her father, and he wants to inspire her to care for him in that way. But despite this confession, Henchard still withholds the secret of the true crime: his act of selling Susan.
Elizabeth-Jane’s reaction to this news is to cry. She is clearly distressed to learn the truth, which he does not seem to have expected. Again, we see that Michael Henchard’s self-involvement blinds him to any feelings of empathy for others. His desperation to earn her love as a daughter is revealed as he pleads with her, and uses this chance to also remind her about taking his name. This gesture reflects Henchard’s desire to fully claim Elizabeth-Jane as his, his daughter, his creation.
Elizabeth-Jane’s tears are not due to dislike of Henchard, but to her sense that she is doing Newson some wrong. He was the man who had raised her, and she still has a deep emotional connection to him.
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Henchard now understands the real reason Susan didn’t want Elizabeth-Jane’s name changed. Now that he knows the truth, it seems obvious. The lines of Newson’s features in Elizabeth-Jane’s face had been in front of his eyes the whole time.
I like that the irony of the situation becomes clear to Henchard and to us at the same time. The secret had been concealed from the reader too, but, in retrospect, both we and Henchard can see the many clues pointing to the truth.
Later, Elizabeth-Jane comes to terms with the information Henchard gave her, but poignantly exactly at the same time as Henchard has become aware that it is false. When Elizabeth-Jane embraces him as her father, Henchard can only focus on the ways the whole situation has been ruined. If Elizabeth-Jane is not his biological daughter, she means nothing to him, despite the care he has given her. She is not truly his.
This is a superbly imagined and written chapter. Where on earth can we go now, and whatever will Henchard do? No doubt we will find out tomorrow, with chapter 20. In the meantime my mind is reeling with possibilities, so over to you!
If we were watching figure skating, this here would be definitely a triple axel: Mr Newson is Elizabeth-Jane's father, no, Henchard is. The letter says, Elizabeth-Jane is Newson's daughter, Henchard's Elizabeth-Jane died in infancy. Let's this Elizabeth-Jane believe she is Henchard's daughter after all.
What a psychologically difficult situation for Elizabeth-Jane. She thought unmistakably that Mr Newson was her father, she bore his name, and now she must come to terms with Henchard's revelation that she is his daughter. She is definitely experiencing an identity issue. Good for her so far, that she does not know what her mother wrote before dying.
Moreover we learn, simultaneously with Henchard as you said, Jean, that she was called exactly like the baby daughter we met in the first chapter. This was quite usual in the old days, but nowadays psychologists interpret this as a burden thrown on the new baby, who is feeling as an Ersatz for the previously deceased child (I know about such a case). Provided, of course, his/her parents tell him or her.
The novel looks like a Scottish dance (reel) with all its twists and turns!
The climax of the chapter is that moment when Henchard is seeing that letter. There is a mixture of Fate, circumstances and coincidence and Henchard's character. The letter was there under his eyes when he happened to look for other documents. It was ill-sealed and easily opened without ruining anything. But Michael Henchard could have left it alone and not read it. His subsequent distress - great metaphorical environment! - was chiefly of his own making.
Did readers who are reading the book for the first time see this coming?
We remember Susan's hesitation about Elizabeth-Jane's possibility of becoming Miss Henchard instead of Miss Newson. We also remember Henchard's observation on Elizabeth-Jane's hair colour (chapter 14).
I checked chapter 3 and noted that Elizabeth-Jane was "about eighteen" when she arrived in Casterbridge with her mother. In chapter 5, a local tells them that Henchard's vow not to drink any alcohol is supposed to last two more years. In chapter 2, he took that oath for twenty-one years. Then, if I do not miss anything, I suppose that the real Elizabeth-Jane Henchard would have been nineteen when Susan arrived in Casterbridge. This is only a suggestion, but I believe Thomas Hardy was quite thorough in his writing.
One thing is certain: Elizabeth-Jane is not only an observer but an actor at the core of a page-turning plot.
Great comments on this pivotal chapter (triple axel), Jean!
First. I love the photos that were included. They bring much insight and interest to the chapter. Thanks Jean.On the topic of pictures, I’d like to comment on Robert Barnes’ illustration ‘Don’t cry — don’t cry.’ I find this illustration to be disturbing. When I look at the illustration I first see the position of the two characters. Henchard is definitely in a dominant position. He stands both over and behind Elizabeth-Jane. His posture is leaning forward and, to me, his face reflects not ‘vehement pathos’ but something much more sinister. His face reflects no emotion. His face is set.
The most disturbing image is that of Elizabeth-Jane. First, her posture is at a 90 degree angle. Such a position may be somewhat natural if she was sitting in a chair but I see no evidence of a chair. Thus, her body is in a very unnatural pose. A painful position.
Now, if we look at her right hand, it is resting on her forehead. This position of hand frequently signals distress in a character. Think Victorian melodrama. The fact is, however, the signal of distress in her posture is in addition to the unnatural position of her body.
But, I suggest there is more. If we look at her left arm it is extended straight out and behind her shoulder. That is a very painful position for anyone. If we look at Henchard’s left hand it is grasping Elizabeth-Jane’s hand. I see little tenderness in his left arm in comparison to Elizabeth-Jane’s painful pose.
Finally we have the play of light in the picture. Henchard’s face is in shadow but his ascot/tie/shirt is white. The white of Elizabeth-Jane’s face is stark. Her face centres the illustration. We, as viewers, first see her face, except we do not. Barnes has cleverly turned her face from the viewer, turned her face so we cannot see her face.
A brilliant illustration that, to my mind, both makes us pause at the illustration before us and wonder what may be signaled in the coming chapters.
Well Henchard is nothing if not impulsive! And it appears he is driven to this revelation by his selfish desires alone, so I have less and less sympathy for him.I was expecting this since the hair color comment. But what went right past me was the reason Susan wanted her letter opened after Elizabeth-Jane's marriage: so that she would be secure in a home, which of course makes sense.
Now I wonder two things. Will Henchard still produce documents as proof, and if so, will they lead to more questions? And, why did Elizabeth-Jane have such a quick and generous change of heart? Is she hoping to benefit from Henchard's offer to "do anything" for her? I find it so satisfying the way Hardy lets us into his plot just the right amount to keep us engaged.
I so appreciate the photos, Jean. That cottage looks pretty fancy--more than I would have expected for the local hangman, but maybe it was a lucrative profession!
Peter wrote: "First. I love the photos that were included. They bring much insight and interest to the chapter. Thanks Jean.On the topic of pictures, I’d like to comment on Robert Barnes’ illustration ‘Don’t c..."
Great analysis, Peter. I found the picture upsetting as well, but you did a great job with pertinents remarks.
Kathleen wrote:And, why did Elizabeth-Jane have such a quick and generous change of heart? This is indeed a good question, Kathleen! Why did she go to the length of accepting so quickly to change her name and write an advertisement at his dictation?
Did Henchard twist her arm, as Peter suggested, describing and commenting the illustration?
Kathleen wrote: "And, why did Elizabeth-Jane have such a quick and generous change of heart?..."I don't think Elizabeth-Jane has had a change of heart. She's a lonely, grieving girl who's lost everything.....the man she considers her father and her mother. Her support system is gone and she's left alone.
She hasn't the heart to take advantage of anyone. We've seen nothing but good from her so far.
Therefore, I believe that the girl is overwhelmed and trying to do what's right. In her eyes, if she's Henchard's daughter, then it's "right" to take his name.
She's confused, in shock and grieving for her mom. Taking dictation from Henchard seems like something a lost girl would do, thinking that she's doing the right thing in the end.
I feel badly for her. I hope things go well for her. Henchard's changes of heart & mind are disturbing and erratic. He's unpredictable.
Peter wrote: "First. I love the photos that were included. They bring much insight and interest to the chapter. Thanks Jean.On the topic of pictures, I’d like to comment on Robert Barnes’ illustration ‘Don’t c..."
Wonderful analysis of the illustration, Peter.
Claudia wrote: "Kathleen wrote:And, why did Elizabeth-Jane have such a quick and generous change of heart? This is indeed a good question, Kathleen! Why did she go to the length of accepting so quickly to change..."
Hi Claudia
I would not characterize Henchard as in the act of consciously twisting Elizabeth Jane’s arm to inflict pain. I do think, however, there is the suggestion in the illustration that Elizabeth Jane’s arm is being held at an angle that would be awkward, uncomfortable, and distressful. In martial arts terminology, if enough pressure is applied to an arm when it is fully extended, it is referred to as an ‘arm bar.’ I do not think/suggest that Henchard is consciously applying pain to Elizabeth Jane. I do think, however, his pose over her is clearly aggressive and domineering.
What I do not know, and perhaps someone can help me, is if Hardy and Barnes (as Dickens and Hablot Browne did) have detailed discussions regarding the illustrations.
Peter wrote: "Claudia wrote: "Kathleen wrote:And, why did Elizabeth-Jane have such a quick and generous change of heart? This is indeed a good question, Kathleen! Why did she go to the length of accepting so q..."
Hi Peter, I meant metaphorically twisting her arm, convincing her. Still the illustration is definitely awkward on close examination. Moreover, Henchard has shown how skilful he is in persuading people, e.g. Farfrae. He hits the emotional chord, which is understandable. He is a lonely man and perhaps some compassion from his listeners is involved - which would explain that Elizabeth-Jane came quickly to terms with that revelation.
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In this post about the illustrations LINK HERE I say "he did not seem to correspond with him, or to collaborate as he did with some other artists".
Robert Barnes was a member of a team employed by the Graphic, so not his own choice. Thomas Hardy's favourite artist was Helen Paterson Allingham, who illustrated Far From the Madding Crowd. During the original run in 1874, both Thomas Hardy and Helen Paterson got married - but not to each other. Helen Paterson married a poet and became Helen Paterson Allingham. (Much later, when Thomas Hardy was no longer happy with his wife Emma, he said to Edmund Gosse that perhaps it would have been better if they had married each other.)
So perhaps there was collaboration between Thomas Hardy and his illustrators sometimes, but not in this case.
As other have said Peter, marvellous analysis of this illustration!
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I had the same thoughts about the illustration. Thank you Peter for articulating it so well. At first glance I thought Henchard was literally twisting Elizabeth’s arm behind her back. It was only after looking at it closely that I realized he wasn’t intentionally inflicting pain.
But he certainly was bullying her into changing her name and I think the picture captures that moment really well.
Henchard is such a narcissist in this chapter. It’s all about his feelings, wants and desires.
Well, my inkling was correct about Elizabeth-Jane not being Henchard's child but I did not anticipate how the reveal would all unfold. A masterpiece of irony! Hardy certainly showed that Susan had not become a pallid and passive character that showed up in Casterbridge. Not only did she seek out Henchard to try to secure a future for her daughter but after she achieved that goal; as she was dying she did not want to reveal the truth until after EJ was under the protection of a husband! I think someone mentioned that Susan may have done so also as her own revenge against Michael. I'm not sure I'm all in on that thought.
Thank you Jean for pointing out that Hardy mirrors the descriptions of the natural world with the emotions of the characters. And thanks for the pictures as well.
What a great chapter!!
Bionic Jean wrote: "Peter wrote: "What I do not know, and perhaps someone can help me, is if Hardy and Barnes (as Dickens and Hablot Browne did) have detailed discussions regarding the illustrations ..."In this post..."
Thanks Jean.
Chris wrote: "Well, my inkling was correct about Elizabeth-Jane not being Henchard's child but I did not anticipate how the reveal would all unfold. A masterpiece of irony! Hardy certainly showed that Susan had..."
You had the right inkling, Chris!
The synchronicity of two opposite revelations is indeed a masterpiece.
Jean asked the question if Susan's letter to Michael Henchard was perhaps not something of a posthumous revenge for having been publicly mistreated nineteen years ago?
It may be Susan's revenge but it all depends on how things will develop further and on how Henchard will deal with this additional secret. He is keeping it for himself right now but how far will he be able to carry this burden? Thomas Hardy knew how to keep us on edge.
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Perhaps I need to clarify my thoughts on Susan though. I probably expressed it badly, as I certainly don't think her primary motive was revenge. That was not in her nature. And unless more secrets are to be revealed (and who knows?!) now that Susan has died, we won't get many more indications of her personality or background than we already have.
So what I have said is:
"Her need to leave a secret letter seems to indicate that Susan is not as naively straightforward as she seems"
and also elsewhere ...
"[in order to] provide security for her daughter. I wonder if there is also a little “just vengeance” in her mind, with this act."
I postulated this as something for us to think about, and pondered how to express it, (which was indicated by my inverted commas). I felt there might be a passing thought in her mind - almost an abstract thought not a personal one - as she wrote the letter, that after all there was nothing wrong in her deception, because Michael had committed a worse act originally. Thus she need not feel any guilt about it.
I can imagine her thinking a good friend/older relative might tell her this, and that it validated it for her, up to a point. So it's more of a rationalisation than a psychological motivation. I think Thomas Hardy might have had this inkling in mid for her, because right from the chapter where she is sold, we have quite a lot about her own thoughts and feelings. Susan is not a passive puppet; I actually wish we could read more about her!
Mod
Elizabeth-Jane now has to endure Henchard’s sudden change in behaviour towards her. He confessed the truth of her parentage with affection and emotion, but from the next day onwards he is cold to her. He often grows angry at her use of commonplace, or lower class words or phrases, such “bide as you be” rather than “stay where you are”. Elizabeth-Jane is already working to improve herself and her mind by reading, and Henchard, himself a man of low birth, often unfairly criticises her lack of breeding. Elizabeth-Jane tries hard to change her speech to reflect her position as the mayor’s daughter and her father’s wishes.
One evening when Henchard is meeting with a gentleman on business, he calls Elizabeth-Jane in to write down an agreement between the men. He is ashamed to see her bold, inelegant handwriting, when he had expected a stylish lady’s hand, and dismisses her, saying that he will finish the writing himself.
Elizabeth-Jane natural consideration for others also sparks Henchard’s anger, such as when she thanks the maid, or does something for herself instead of ringing for assistance. Such behaviour reveals her self-sufficient, lower class upbringing. Despite Henchard’s outbursts, Elizabeth-Jane prefers his passion to his neglect, which becomes more frequent as she schools herself into becoming a proper young lady.
Elizabeth-Jane often provides a small meal or drinks for one of Henchard’s workers, a woman named Nance Mockridge. Henchard sees this and exclaims that Elizabeth-Jane shames him for lowering herself to wait on such a woman. Nance, overhearing this, says that Elizabeth-Jane once waited on others of lower characters at The Three Mariners inn (The King of Prussia). Elizabeth-Jane admits that this is the plain truth:
“Did you do it, or didn’t you? Where was it?” by Robert Barnes - 27th February 1886
From that day onwards, Henchard showed an obvious distaste for the girl he now knows is not his own daughter. He often leaves her alone for meals and she fills her solitary hours by learning Latin and studying incessantly. Elizabeth-Jane continues her quiet and lonely existence, crushing, through force of will, her interest in Farfrae whom she has been forbidden to see.
Although winter is arriving, on the nicer days Elizabeth-Jane walks in the morning to visit her mother’s grave. One morning, Elizabeth-Jane sees another woman in the graveyard standing at her mother’s grave and reading the tombstone. This other woman is much more finely dressed than Elizabeth-Jane, though also in mourning. Elizabeth-Jane’s nature is not envious, so she wonders about the woman, supposing her to be a stranger in Casterbridge. Eventually the woman leaves and Elizabeth-Jane returns home without speaking to her.
At home, Henchard is particularly upset. His term as Mayor is ending and Farfrae is likely to be selected as a member of the town council, rather than himself. He also has learned that Farfrae was the one whom Elizabeth-Jane had waited on in The Three Mariners, which he considers another slight to his position and himself. He expostulates at Elizabeth-Jane, after she unthinkingly uses the slang term “leery” to refer to her exhaustion.
Henchard contemplates his earlier decision to warn Farfrae off Elizabeth-Jane, when he thought her his own daughter. Now though,he wishes his enemy would take the girl off his hands. He composes a note to Farfrae saying that he may court Elizabeth-Jane, as long as the business does not occur in his own home.
The next morning, Elizabeth-Jane returns to the graveyard. Depressed and feeling the weight of her father’s scorn, she exclaims aloud: “I wish I was dead with dear mother.” The woman from the previous day is also revealed to be in the graveyard and she overhears Elizabeth-Jane. The woman asks about her dead mother and then enquires after her father, whom she knows to be Mr. Henchard.
Elizabeth-Jane tells the woman her history and her quarrel with Henchard. The woman seems strangely unable to criticise Henchard, insisting that he cannot be a bad man, while at the same comforting Elizabeth-Jane, who is all too willing to admit her own fault in the situation. The woman is not shocked by Elizabeth-Jane’s tale, and invites the young woman to come and live in her own house as her companion. Elizabeth-Jane enthusiastically agrees, saying that she would love to be independent from her father, but quickly adds that she is not accomplished and lady-like, as a companion must be. The woman says she is moving to Casterbridge, and the two agree to meet again the following week, once Elizabeth-Jane has thought over her proposal.
Mod
“She seized on these days for her periodical visits to the spot where her mother lay buried—the still-used burial-ground of the old Roman-British city”
This refers to Durnovaria, as we know, built by the Romans around 70 C.E. The text continues to explain that it was formerly the Romans emperors’ burial ground, during the Roman occupation of Britain:
“Mrs. Henchard’s dust mingled with the dust of women who lay ornamented with glass hair-pins and amber necklaces, and men who held in their mouths coins of Hadrian, Posthumus, and the Constantines.”
The dead were buried with coins to pay the boatman Charon, whose task it was to ferry them over the river Styx into the underworld.
Mod
Henchard’s behaviour towards Elizabeth-Jane changes dramatically when he discovers that she is not his daughter. As others have said, how can she possibly make sense of this? He cannot see the situation from Elizabeth-Jane’s point of view and acts as if he blames her for hiding a secret which she did not actually know. Thus Henchard is projecting his emotions on to Elizabeth-Jane, criticising her unfairly.
(Well done to Chris and others for picking up the clues - especially Michael Henchard's Freudian slip about her hair - as to Elizabeth Jane's parentage! I can't remember if I ever did, the first time I read it (at 17 or 18.))
Mod
Henchard repeatedly projects his anger on to any small fault of hers. Elizabeth-Jane is puzzled, but focuses on these criticisms, not understanding what motivates them. One of Elizabeth-Jane’s “faults” as Henchard sees them, is her unawareness of her station as a relatively wealthy young woman. She is used to doing things for herself and so continues this behaviour. Henchard believes this is not seemly, and wants her to demonstrate her station—thereby also upholding his own reputation—by relying on the servants.
Elizabeth-Jane’s solitary evening of being employed to serve at The Three Mariners resurfaces to shame Henchard, as Susan had feared it would. This is the final straw for Henchard. He does not see Elizabeth-Jane’s resourcefulness in this, only that her actions went against his wishes. He seems blinded to the fact that this was in the past, before they had met.
Worse is to come, as Henchard stops complaining about Elizabeth-Jane and starts to ignore her. Poor Elizabeth-Jane is incredibly lonely and confused, and yet she remains obedient. She attempts to better herself and does not see Farfrae, because Henchard has forbidden her from doing so. It is easy to imagine how bewildered she must feel.
Elizabeth-Jane’s encounter with a finely dressed woman standing at her mother’s gravestone reveals Elizabeth-Jane’s modesty; she is not envious of the other woman, but curious about her. The new woman is looking at Susan’s tombstone, which implies that she has some knowledge of Susan and is curious about her death. Does it also hint at the identity of this new character?
Henchard is upset at Farfrae’s growing importance in the town, and perhaps predictably takes this anger out on Elizabeth-Jane. Having learned that she waited on Farfrae, he sees this as a victory for his enemy, because Elizabeth-Jane thus placed Farfrae above herself in importance, class and situation. Again, he seems oblivious to the fact that this was in the past, before he had met either of them.
Mod
Elizabeth-Jane’s quiet persistence however, hides the extent of her sadness. She is only able to reveal this when she thinks herself totally alone. Her wish to be dead shows her deep loneliness. The sophistically dressed woman appears at that moment, as if she is the answer to a prayer.
The woman’s offer of companionship appears at the ideal moment in Elizabeth-Jane’s life. Her loneliness and her poor treatment at Henchard’s hands could both be resolved by moving in with her new friend. How can Elizabeth-Jane resist? But why does the woman have a high opinion of Henchard, when his standing in the community is sinking fast? Does it hint at her having a past connection with him?
And even though Elizabeth-Jane seems to be glad of having someone to talk to openly, in fact this woman does not receive the full story of Henchard’s mistreatment. This is because Elizabeth-Jane always tends to blame herself, and so the woman continues to believe that Henchard is an entirely good man.
My personal estimation of him has taken a sharp downward dive in this chapter, though! How about you? As Claudia has said, Thomas Hardy certainly knows knows how to keep us on edge!
I found the apparition of the The Woman in Black particularly intriguing and interesting because it brings up the theme of the Doppelgänger and the duality of protagonists quite frequent in Victorian novels.The lady is as young as Elizabeth-Jane, eighteen or nineteen. She looks exactly like a mirror image of her but she is obviously a more affluent and accomplished version of Elizabeth-Jane. She is wrapped in weeds and wears a veil so that it is is difficult to identify her. This adds a touch of mystery. She is attracted to Susan's grave and once she has established eye-contact with Elizabeth-Jane, she gets easily in a conversation with her. She is (purposely or unconsciously?) taking advantage of Miss Henchard's obvious loneliness and despair and asking a lot of questions about her life. Yet she does not disclose anything about herself, not even her name.
Elizabeth-Jane is, at first sight, fascinated by the woman in black. When she is feeling miserable at home and suffering from Henchard's cold and overtly hostile behaviour, she finds comfort just in thinking of the unknown lady. She is a confident and somewhat naive person and obviously does not think that the woman in black might be manipulating her. She tells her everything about herself, just as Henchard told Farfrae all his secrets. She gladly accepted her offer for a position as a governess-companion without meeting the usual requirements and without even knowing the lady's name. Let's also note the lady's house "looking down the lane to the Market". Is the lady going to occupy a central position in the novel?
We have not seen much of Farfrae of late. In chapter 18, he noticed the closed blinds and rang discreetly at the Mayor's house to learn that Susan had passed away. In chapter 20 we read that Elizabeth-Jane has "shifted her quarters" to a room "overlooking the street". She has noticed that Farfrae "seldom or never" turns his head towards the Mayor's house whenever he passes by.
Yet, Elizabeth-Jane sees him again when she was in the churchyard looking for the lady. She "was startled by the apparition of Farfrae" who was apparently making figures in a pocket-book. "Whether or not he saw her he took no notice, and disappeared." This may perhaps hint at a certain opportunism of Farfrae who seems to be a sort private detective following closely the activities and ins and outs of the Henchard family, endeavouring to keep unnoticed but perhaps collecting as much information as possible.
Claudia wrote: "I found the apparition of the The Woman in Black particularly intriguing and interesting because it brings up the theme of the Doppelgänger and the duality of protagonists quite frequent in Victori..."Claudia. Yes indeed. I believe that the new mystery woman will take a centre place in our novel. As you note, her new home in town ‘looks down.’ So much of this novel deals with perspective, from Elizabeth looking out a window when she hears Farfrae singing to Farfrae seeing the closed off windows at Henchard’s house after his break up with Henchard. Observation, curiosity, judgement are all formed from windows.
Henchard’s treatment of Elizabeth goes from bad to worse. I find he is spiraling down quickly. I am also uneasy because of the letter he wrote to Farfrae. Is this letter anything more than yet another business transaction? Henchard is offering his daughter up to Farfrae not out of a softening of his heart but rather a hardening of his soul. Henchard wants Elizabeth out of his house, out of his life, out from under his financial obligations concerning her. How horrid!
The last sentence of this chapter is eerie and unsettling. When I read Hardy writes ‘The two parted at the gate of the churchyard’ we visualize Elizabeth and this veiled mystery woman, indeed a doppelgänger, walking into a new friendship, leaving the graveyard where Susan rests. That image sends shivers up my spine.
Mod
There is another path he could have taken. A path someone more giving and less self absorbed might have chosen. He could have ignored the information in Susan’s letter and continued to live and care for Elizabeth as a daughter. He’s such a lonely man, it seems like that choice would have brought him more happiness. And of course it would have e spared Elizabeth all the anguish she is currently feeling.
Jean, I loved all your questions about who the mysterious lady could be. I have an idea who she is. I wonder if anyone else has ideas about her identity???
What a nincompoop Henchard is turning out to be! I was not surprised to learn that he was not her father, nor because he was stupid enough to realize what a treasure she could be to him anyway. Instead he is going out of his way to mentally torture her instead of being a guiding influence to her. How many times have we had examples of "ladies" that have given of themselves in kindness to those less fortunate than they (at least it seemed to a tenet in many books that Victorian ladies provided charity regularly to those less fortunate)? I would think Henchard should be proud of that, instead of acting as he has.
And that letter to Farfrae sounds almost like he is selling her now.
I don't know what to think about the unknown women Susan meets. I first thought that it was Henchard's prior lover but if she is the same age as Susan, that can't be. So now I'm worried about just who she is and what it could mean for Susan. Is she perhaps a rival for Farfrae's attentions? After all, its been a while since Henchard banned Farfrae and Susan's friendship.
I totally agree that Henchard is showing his true colors, and that color is black! As Peter stated, he is just horrid to EJ & I do agree with Pamela that his letter to Farfrae is so similar in tone to his selling of Susan.The mysterious lady: my first thought leapt to Henchard's other lady. But I'm not totally committed to that.
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3rd Thread: Chapters 18 - 27
Ciarán Hinds as the Mayor in 2003
Here are LINKS TO EACH CHAPTER SUMMARY, and interpolated poem, for ease of location:
Chapter 18
POEM - According to the Mighty Working
POEM - By Her Aunt’s Grave
POEM - The Lodging House Fuchsias
POEM - Farmer Dunman’s Funeral
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27