Date: Mon, 18 Aug 2003 08:51:35 -0400

Subject: Re: The Mayor of Casterbridge on A & E

From: Philip Allinghan <apalling@tbaytel.net>

 

Dear All:

 

Since nobody else has brought the subject up this morning, let me be the first to assess "a lack of something" in the tightly-paced two-and-a-half-hour production last night on A & E (I discount all those commercial messages, even though they render this a real television-movie rather than an effete cultural event of interest to a mere handful of literati on either side of the Atlantic). Of course, reducing a full-length novel to 150 minutes of screen time was bound to entail certain losses--no Farfrae seed-drill, no Henchard having his rival cursed by the choir to the tune of "Old Wiltshire," no Latin for Elizabeth-Jane (instead, caligraphy, water-colour painting, and double-entry book-keeping), and no race across the downs to have Henchard warn Farfrae of Lucetta's "illness." What disturbed me was a sizeable number of cuts in minor incidents that would clearly have established (and justified to the viewer) Henchard's motivation for telling Newson that Elizabeth-Jane was dead. I was also a little upset at the ineptitude of the "caged-finch" incident: if he puts the cage down before the maid has seen it, how does she later know that Henchard brought it as a gift for Elizabeth-Jane? If she knew about the bird, why didn't she rescue it? The Animal Rights people should have been all over that aspect of the script! Let me not disparage every aspect of the production: the acting and set were first-rate, and the faithfulness to Hardy's original text and intention praiseworthy. But blink and you just missed the ten-second shot that established Susan's tuberculosis!

 

Philip Allingham.

---

Date: Mon, 18 Aug 2003 06:53:33 -0700

From: Betty Cortus <hardycor@owl.csusm.edu>

Subject: Re: The Mayor of Casterbridge on A & E

 

Apart from Philip's gentle tolerance for the inordinate number of commercial messages I agree with much of his assessment. It is inevitable in a production of that length that some of the elements of the plot will be omitted. The incident with the bull was another. But over all I enjoyed A&E's Mayor very much--well cast, well-acted, and the spirit of Hardy's novel pretty much retained. Betty Cortus

---

From: "Richard Nemesvari" <rnemesva@stfx.ca>

Subject: Re: The Mayor of Casterbridge on A & E

Date: Mon, 18 Aug 2003 11:35:29 -0300

 

I agree with both Philip and Betty's assessment of the A&E *Mayor of Casterbridge.* I was more put off by the constant commercial breaks, however. Because of the production's extremely limited amount of screen-time, and the resulting compression of plot, the story often seemed fragmented, and this was not helped by the insertion of Orkin and Pepacid ads at the most inopportune moments. And I was especially incensed that the audience was given no chance to respond to the voiceover of Henchard's will, read beautifully by Ciaran Hinds, which concluded the piece. Instead we were rushed immediately into the ridiculous "hook" for the piece of TV cannon fodder, which followed, thus all but destroying what was turning out to be a well-realized tragic moment. The fact that this piece of ham-handedness *didn't* actually completely wreck the emotion of the conclusion suggests that something successful was going on. I will be purchasing the DVD, and thus avoiding such foolishness.

 

Date: Mon, 18 Aug 2003 11:30:17 -0400

From: Rosemarie Morgan <rosemarie.morgan@yale.edu>

Subject: Re: The Mayor of Casterbridge on A & E

 

I enjoyed every minute -- but it would certainly have done much better as a 3-part series. I liked the cinematography-- especially seeing events over people's shoulders (Hardy's favourite bystander-narrator effect). But I thought Henchard dire (Yes, Richard, Hen-chard). Why so grim and dour? Did he smile once? Hard to believe any woman would be attracted to him-- the gorgeous Lucetta especially. And poor Elizabeth-Jane -- so plain and such a simpleton: what a shame! Philip pointed out some minor clangers-- what, too, about the court scene? By omitting Hardy's satiric preamble, which aptly reveals the absurdity & ineptitude of officialdom, the furmity woman's testimony comes oddly and unconvincingly out of the blue. Equally unconvincing was Henchard's "rained-out" celebration -- maybe I missed something but did we see anything of it aside from one small camping tent? Although Henchard doesn't provide adequate awning-cover for his "fair" he does make lavish preparations.

 

These seem to be minor points but they are representative and they

accumulate: are they due to Whitehead's effort to polarise the two "mayors"? It would appear so (this polarisation was overdetermined throughout) -- the cost is implausibility.

 

Oh, but, Farfrae is dishy -- what a stunner! (though I'm not sure he'd have

been walking around all those sheds & barns in kilt and sporran!)

 

Rosemarie

---

From: Meg Cronin <MgCronin@anselm.edu>

To: "'Rosemarie Morgan '" <rosemarie.morgan@yale.edu>,

"'HARDY-L@csusm.edu '" <HARDY-L@csusm.edu>

Subject: RE: The Mayor of Casterbridge on A & E

 

A & E watchers,

 

I, too, thought the acting was fine, though I agree with Rosemarie's description of Eliz-Jane: "moony-faced" and slightly bathetic were the phrases that came to mind last night. She has a subtle strength in the novel, which increases of course, but I didn't see much of that last night (caveat: I watched 1.5 hours, because I'm writing on deadline and had to tear myself away to get to work. I am planning to watch the rest on Fri).

 

Enough is skimped on with Farfrae's character that he looks merely shallow, which isn't exactly right. Though, true, he's dishy, we certainly don't see what Henchard sees in him.

 

Like others, I missed the machinery episodes and the breadth of the "entertainments" competition. Although perhaps it's wrong to put it this extremely, I would hate to see the novel boiled down into a simply mano a mano series of contests between the younger and older man. I thought Ciaran was pretty good, though, yes, dour.

 

Cinematography was beautifully done, and the director retained the motifs of characters' looking through--out and in--windows.

 

I do look forward to the second half this weekend.

 

Date: Thu, 21 Aug 2003 08:49:07 -0400

Subject: Re: The End of Mayor of Casterbridge: Text and Hero

From: Philip Allinghan <apalling@tbaytel.net>

 

Michael Henchard's will, in which he liberally sprinkles ampersands throughout and spells "flowers" as a quasi-literate ex-corn-merchant naturally would--"flours," seems an act of self-flagellation to me. Clearly he can't forgive himself for his misdeeds, including most recently fobbing Newson off with Elizabeth-Jane's supposed death in order to avoid being supplanted in her affections. "That no man remember me" ironically refers to Elizabeth-Jane's memory of him, but is consistent with the parting utterances of the heroes of Greek tragedy, which is what Hardy seems to have intended we regard Henchard as an extension.

 

The recent film ends with the will, read voice-over evocatively by Ciaran Hinds, who has captured the self-pitying, morose quality in Hardy's character extremely well--"jolly" he's not, but then this is supposed to be the tragedy of "A Man of Character" (rather an unusual figure in Hardy's volume-length fiction). What the closing of the A & E film misses is a highly significant passage of narration about the effect that Henchard's example and in particular the words in his will have on Elizabeth-Jane, who in a sense is the second protagonist of the novel, eclipsing the dapper and debonair Farfrae (James Purefoy is the actor's name, I believe, for those who want to see him on a "Marry This Bachelor" reality-show). The screen-writer, feeling the line indecorous perhaps, does not have Farfrae say, as he and his wife consider scouring the countryside for Henchard, "that will make a hole in a sovereign"--such scandalous stereotyping of Scots by Thomas Hardy!

 

From: Thudecki@cs.com

Date: Thu, 21 Aug 2003 13:09:00 EDT

Subject: Re: The End of Mayor of Casterbridge: Text and Hero

 

Hi everyone,

I have read all comments so far on the ending of M of C and find them interesting and varied. Thank you for responding. I find, with my own assessment of the ending, I keep changing my impression as I further reflect. At first I viewed the people who were left living - Farfrae, Elizabeth-Jane, and even poor Abel and thought and so "what is left for them? The ending was so unsettling. " In Woodlander's the death of Giles W, though equally sad was somehow more acceptable, and the way in which Hardy staged the two women visiting his grave gave his death a feeling of closure. GW was put to rest, memories fondly cherished. The women's grieving ultimately brought his death to a peaceful place. Now in contrast, Michael Henchard, pretty much denies the living that peace of mind. In asking my initial question to the group, this contrast was in my thoughts. At the close of the production I sympathised with Henchard and the profoundly sad ending to his life. However, I thought further on it I thought as Rosemarie - that it was much like leaving a suicide note in which the living are meant to suffer, or whether or not that be the conscience intention of the dying, it ultimately is. My question now would be do you think that MC intended consciously for this to be the case? Did he intentionally leave a legacy of quilt and emotional suffering for Elizabeth-Jane and Farefrae? His impulsive character was perhaps consistent to the end. Was it revengeful? If this be the fact I found the end very unsettling and bitter perhaps as one person has suggested - much like Greek tragedies. I think that the living were the true victims of this tragedy, especially EJ.

Janine

---

From: "Richard Nemesvari" <rnemesva@stfx.ca>

Subject: Re: The End of Mayor of Casterbridge: Text and Hero

Date: Thu, 21 Aug 2003 11:18:43 -0300

 

One other thing about the ending of the A&E production which I found interesting was that both Elizabeth-Jane AND Farfrae are clearly in tears as they turn away from the hut in which Henchard's body lies. In the text Farfrae's comments are restricted to (on hearing that Henchard is dead) "'Dear me--is that so!'" and (upon reading the will) "'What are we to do?'", demonstrating the, shall we say, less than profound response he tends to have to the world around him. The TV-version Farfrae seems considerably more aware of the tragic effect of the events in which he has been entangled.

 

Also, as a number of critics have noted, Henchard's will, while an apparent effort to "erase" himself from life and memory, can in fact be read as a final assertion of selfhood, as the bold final declaration suggests: "To this I put my name. Michael Henchard." I thought Ciaran Hinds' voiceover rendition of the document caught the balance of this nicely, suggesting a kind of (oxymoronic) proud despair. And then of course we had to immediately have the whiz-bang, electro-pounding, frenetic-action montage of the ad for the following piece of TV drivel foisted upon us, but I've already complained about this.

 

Date: Thu, 21 Aug 2003 11:10:33 -0400

From: Rosemarie Morgan <rosemarie.morgan@yale.edu>

Subject: Re: The End of Mayor of Casterbridge: Text and Hero

 

A couple of nibbles at Philip's note:

______

 

PA: .." but then this is

>supposed to be the tragedy of "A Man of Character" (rather an unusual >figure in Hardy's volume-length fiction).

________

 

"Unusual" -- isn't Jude also tragic? and for those other men of character who "lose" (Knight, Smith, Boldwood, Clare, Yeobright et al) isn't there also an aspect of tragedy?

 

PA: "Henchard, as the novel's closing page makes clear, is simply much ">maligned and "misunderstood" rather than manipulative "

_______

 

To my mind Henchard's last testament is "manipulative." As with suicide notes he leaves the world placing a burden of guilt on his loved ones.

 

Rosemarie

---

Date: Thu, 21 Aug 2003 12:08:19 -0700

From: Betty and/or John Cortus <hardycor@owl.csusm.edu>

Subject: Henchard's Will

I don't see Henchard Will as vengeful or manipulative at all. His words, "& that no man remember me" reiterate Hardy's belief in the concept expressed in poems such as "His Immortality" and "Her Immortality" that you are not really dead as long as some living soul keeps you alive by remembering you. Those who have found life too painful to bear do not wish to be kept alive in this way, but rather to be allowed to slip into the state of total oblivion which constitutes the ultimate escape from pain. There are a number of times in Hardy's work where this kind of longing is expressed. The poem "Tess's Lament" is the perhaps the most telling of these. It begins "I would that folk forgot me quite," then, after reciting a list of the events that brought her to the point for wishing for the total annihilation of her memory, she says:

 

I cannot bear my fate as writ,

I'd have my life unbe;

Would turn my memory to a blot,

Make every relic of me rot,

And gone all trace of me.

 

To me this extreme death wish is tragedy writ large. And if shedding a tear at the end of a film is a form of catharsis, well, I experienced it on Sunday night.

Betty

---

Subject: Henchard's last words

Date: Thu, 21 Aug 2003 14:42:35 -0500

From: "Mink, Joanna" <joanna.mink@mnsu.edu>

 

As a little footnote to Betty's comments, this idea is also expressed by Keats, the epitaph on his grave reading "Here lies one whose name was writ in water." And we know that TH not only visited Keats' grave but also admired him as a poet.

 

JoAnna S. Mink

 

Professor of English

Minnesota State University, Mankato

Mankato, MN 56001

joanna.mink@mnsu.edu

---

From: Thudecki@cs.com

Date: Thu, 21 Aug 2003 15:51:06 EDT

Subject: Re: Henchard's Will

 

Yes, Betty I do agree with you, as well. I, too, shed a number of tears at the end of the film. Perhaps the hardest of both stories to accept for me personally is the utter "forgetting" wished by these two tragic figures (Tess and Henchard). I do not think Henchard intenting consciously to be vengeful or hateful at the end. However, much like suicide victims, not alone did he suffer for the those final words....truly a tragedy in all senses. In this sense and I stress again "unconsciously" he did manipulate the final outcome of this story. My tears fell for both he and EJ, knowing she would feel the greatest impact

of his final words. Had she forgiven him his lies he would have gone away and died peaceably, but lacking the profound impact that this ending imparted. I believe that Hardy knew this and intended that the end be debated in the reader's mind perhaps without a clearcut result, as real life and relationships often do not resolve themselves.

Janine

---

Date: Thu, 21 Aug 2003 19:55:52 -0400

From: Rosemarie Morgan <rosemarie.morgan@yale.edu>

Subject: Re: Henchard's Will

 

I don't often disagree with Betty but concatenating Hardy's unique texts & contexts in this way is to do a profound disservice to one who took great pains (over a lifetime of fiction and poetry) to differentiate the complexities & contradictions of the human condition. Hence a Tess is not a Henchard and the"Lament" is not "Immortality" -- to point to but a tiny proportion of the many, many related Hardyan modes of regard that never, ever allow us to step into the same river twice.

 

Best,

Rosemarie

 

 

The poem "Tess's Lament" is the perhaps the most telling of

>these.

>Betty

---

Date: Thu, 21 Aug 2003 17:29:42 -0700

From: Betty Cortus <hardycor@owl.csusm.edu>

Re: Henchards's Will

 

On the contrary Rosemarie, I think that linkages that can be made between certain themes that recur constantly can allow us to step into the same river many times. There is an insistence in much the poetry--and in the novels--take Jude's dying words-- that not to be born at all is best, and if you are unlucky enough to be born in the first place, the oblivion of death is by no means an undesirable thing. Of course this is only one of his many "modes of regard." At other times he can be positively life-affirming, or assume many degrees of gradation in between. One such mode might be to accept life, flawed as it is, as Elizabeth Jane does, coming to the conclusion that happiness is "but the occasional episode in the general drama of pain." But as universal as these modes are, I don't see how singling out a certain one that patently recurs, can constitute a profound disservice, even to an extemely complex writer.

Betty

---

Date: Thu, 21 Aug 2003 22:05:41 -0400

From: Rosemarie Morgan <rosemarie.morgan@yale.edu>

Subject: Re: Henchard's Will

 

Perhaps we are not so much in disagreement as crossing tracks: Jude's despair is not Henchard's & his decline (like Giles') is partly due to a long-term neglect of physical health. Nor would he have made a testamentary act of this kind -- hard to imagine Jude scourging Sue with such a note as Henchard leaves for EJ: his modest and unassuming sense of self couldn't have conceived of it.

 

Every human being envisages ways of dying and most of us have experienced the "death drive" (for want of a better word). Hardy's instincts are no different. But it is the ways and means that signify, not the instinct or drive. Henchard's death is bitterly sad and his last words move us deeply (as do Marty South's--although hers are not, of course, self-serving). Jude has no such words and perhaps we don't weep. This doesn't mean we don't experience his tragedy just as profoundly: tears are cathartic and may (therefore) also be self-serving.

 

Best,

Rosemarie

 

f8/21/03 -0700, you wrote:

>On the contrary Rosemarie, I think that linkages that can be made between >certain themes that recur constantly can allow us to step into the same >river many times.

---

 

Date: Thu, 21 Aug 2003 19:15:48 -0700

From : Betty Cortus <hardycor@owl.csusm.edu>

Subject: Re: Henchard's Will

 

>Perhaps we are not so much in disagreement as crossing tracks: Jude's >despair is not Henchard's & his decline (like Giles') is partly due to a >long-term neglect of physical health. Nor would he have made a testamentary >act of this kind -- hard to imagine Jude scourging Sue with such a note as >Henchard leaves for EJ: his modest and unassuming sense of self couldn't >have conceived of it.

________________

I couldn't agree more, Rosemarie. That these character are very different

in personality and temperament in very clearly defined ways is abundantly clear. Jude and Henchard, and Tess too, for that matter, approach death with very different reasons for wanting to "unbe." ________________

>Every human being envisages ways of dying and most of us have experienced

>the "death drive" (for want of a better word). Hardy's instincts are no

>different.

______________________

I would argue, though, that this pull toward death, this desire for oblivion--thanatos if you want to get Freudian--is something these three experience in common at the end of their lives, no matter how different the circumstances that bring them to this point, and in spite of the distinctiveness of their individual traits of character. In this, I feel, Hardy is describing a universal concept, part of the human condition, above and beyond the individual psyche. Perhaps he believes that the *potential* to experience this phenomenon is latent in all of us, even the most sanguine of individuals. Thoughfully,

Betty

---

Date: Thu, 21 Aug 2003 20:20:30 -0700

From: Betty Cortus <hardycor@owl.csusm.edu>

Subject: Mayor on A&E Redux

 

Dear All,

If you happened to miss last Sunday's airing of *The Mayor of Casterbridge* It seems that A&E is going to repeat it several times--tomorrow, Friday night, for starters. Best if you check your local TV Guide for exact programming. Incidentally, my son who taped it for me deleted 50 minutes of commercials over the three hour period it aired! Still very well worth viewing in spite of that.

Betty

---

From: Thudecki@cs.com

Date: Fri, 22 Aug 2003 00:17:47 EDT

Subject: Re: Mayor on A&E Redux

 

Thanks for the anouncement, Betty, I hope I can tape it, as well. Amazing - 50 mins of commercials!

I have been enjoying the debate between you and Rosemarie. Both of you bring up very good points.

Thanks, Janine

---

From: "patmann" <patmann@ouvip.com>

Subject: Re: Mayor on A&E Redux

Date: Fri, 22 Aug 2003 10:01:55 +0100

 

I would just like to echo Janine's thoughts about the debate. I too have enjoyed it immensely. Any chance of more like this please? Many thanks to Betty and Rosemarie.

Patricia Mann

---

Date: Fri, 22 Aug 2003 08:45:43 -0400

Subject: Re: Henchard "The Man of Character" as the Focus of the Narrative

From: Philip Allinghan <apalling@tbaytel.net>

 

A novelist, unlike a screenwriter, has the luxuries of accumulating meaning through external details and internal analyses. In many of his novels--let us take, for instance, *A Pair of Blue eyes*, which I have just finished re-reading--Hardy organizes the narrative around competing consciences, in this case Stephen Smith and Henry Knight and their relationships with Elfride Swancourt. Are either of these shallow though well-meaning protagonists a patch on Henchard for depth of feeling? Only, as Shakespeare's Enobarbus would say, as flies by an eagle. Henchard in his dark moods and self-pity takes us to the terrible borders of human experience; for instance, what does it feel like to see the lineaments of your wife's second husband in the face of the daughter you thought was yours? Michael Henchard knows, and Ciaran Hinds' recent performance puts us in touch with that suffering. The script captures well that sense of Henchard's emotional intensity when Farfrae admits that he cannot comprehend his former employer's emotional makeup and thinks him crazy. Farfrae is a man of sentiment, superficially pleasant but lacking the visceral intensity of Henchard, who is passionate about everything he does. Even in the sublime *Jude the Obscure* we have competing consciences filtering the experiences of the story; furthermore, Jude is more sinned against than sinning, consistently victim, especially of his own elemental feelings and exquisite yearnings. In contrast, Henchard is often in the wrong, but only at the beginning and end of his story do we gain the perspective of somebody else, of Susan at the return to Weydon Fair and the arrival at Casterbridge, of Elizabeth-Jane at the wedding and its aftermath. Although Henchard objectively is in the wrong as much as Harry Knight in PBE, he knows it and tries to make amends--Knight remains an icey puritanical prig who experiences little if any emotional growth. He is a creature of intellectual shreds and patches, a pasteboard rather than a man of blood and bone and passion. In the end, the only expiation left for Henchard is absenting himself from the last one on earth whom he loves but whose love he feels he has irrevocably shut himself out by virtue of his own deceit. He was able to recover from that initial catastrophe by blaming the drink, by rationalizing that he himself was not to blame for selling wife and child. Now he knows that he has caused his own tragedy and has no escape from his own conscience. He is indeed a person of character as much as Tess and Jude, but the narrative is organized around him alone, the tragic hero who takes upon himself the full weight of guilt that we should experience catharsis by close identification with him in his fall from greatness. Jude never enjoys such worldly greatness, but at least has known happiness with Sue, who betrays him and consigns him to a loveless state. In true tragic fashion, Henchard, in contrast is the agent of his own destruction and hence rises above most of Hardy's other tragic protagonists in my estimation.

---

Date: Thu, 21 Aug 2003 23:49:50 -0400

From: Rosemarie Morgan <rosemarie.morgan@yale.edu>

Subject: Re: Henchard's Will

 

Sure-- agreed!

 

I was more concerned with the subsuming of Henchard's words "that no man remember me" to "Hardy's belief in the concept expressed in poems such as "His Immortality" and "Her Immortality" that you are not really dead as long as some living soul keeps you alive by ...."

 

The Greek/Freudian (what you will) "death wish" idea we can take for granted. Be it Henchard or Jude or the Inuit walking away into the snow to die (long before Freud came along) or Juliet & the immuring of nuns, it seems to me to be critically important to look at the individual ways in which Hardy treats with the will to die. It's clear that he was sensitive to a carelessness for life (to wit, Giles), as to a spiritual readiness to die (Tess), as to suicidal depression (Eustacia), as to obsessive-compulsive self-kill (Boldwood), and so on -- Henchard, too, is a unique case.

 

This was the only point I wished to make.

 

Incidentally, I felt that the Henchard Hardy creates is intensely lovable and maddeningly frustrating and the MC production never really let us love him-- enough!

 

Cheers,

Rosemarie

 

. In this, I feel,

>Hardy is describing a universal concept, part of the human condition, above >and beyond the individual psyche. Perhaps he believes that the >*potential* to experience this phenomenon is latent in all of us, even the >most sanguine of individuals. >Thoughfully,

>Betty

---

From: "ann WHITLOCK" <ann@whitlock282.freeserve.co.uk>

Subject: Re: Henchard's Will

Date: Sat, 23 Aug 2003 08:36:17 +0100

 

The line in Henchard's will '& and that no man remember me,' is for me a chilling act of self annihilation, which denies any thought of loving kindness or compassion.

 

His lie to Newsome about the truth of Elizabeth's existence comes at a time when Henchard has begun to make amends for his earlier errors of judgment. It is easy to stand back and condemn him for this lie - and enormously difficult to say with great honesty that one would immediately lead Newsome straight to Elizabeth-Jane in the next room, if placed in the circumstances which occurred on the day before his appearance. During Henchard's period of self loathing after his attack upon Farfrae in the granary, and the failure, four hours later, of his desperate attempt to persuade him to return to Casterbridge to his dying wife, it is Elizabeth-Jane who is the pinpoint of light in his gloom. His dream of what might be, if Elizabeth-Jane's love should remain, enters his mind at the point when he hears that a stranger has called at his door.

 

Elizabeth-Jane's refusal to forgive him at the wedding for his lie is met with a promise never to trouble her again. Hardy's comment that 'he did not sufficiently value himself to lessen his sufferings by strenuous appeal or elaborate argument' echoes in my mind when reading this line in his will.

Ann Whitlock

 

 

----- Original Message -----

From: "Betty and/or John Cortus" <hardycor@owl.csusm.edu>

To: "HARDY-L" <HARDY-L@csusm.edu>

Sent: 21 August 2003 20:08

Subject: Henchard's Will

 

 

> I don't see Henchard Will as vengeful or manipulative at all. His words, > "& that no man remember me" reiterate Hardy's belief in the concept > expressed in poems such as "His Immortality" and "Her Immortality" that > you are not really dead as long as some living soul keeps you alive by > remembering you. >

---

Date: Sat, 23 Aug 2003 07:24:31 -0700

From: Betty and/or John Cortus <hardycor@owl.csusm.edu>

Subject: Re: Henchard's Will

Rosemarie Wrote:

>Sure-- agreed!

>

>I was more concerned with the subsuming of Henchard's words "that no man >remember me" to "Hardy's belief in the concept expressed in poems such as >"His Immortality" and "Her Immortality" that you are not really dead as >long as some living soul keeps you alive by ...."

 

I am still not onvinced that it is entirely inappropriate to juxtapose, or rather contrast, the ideas of desiring to be kept alive in the memories of the living, which one might imagine most individuals share, and the total rejection of this kind of immortalization by others.

 

In the "Immortality" poems Hardy implies that wanting to leave some mark on this world after passing on, even if only by being remembered by others, is the norm. Perhaps a better poem to illustrate this desire is "The To-Be-Forgotten" in which dead souls in a graveyard mourn, not because they are at rest, but because they are about to pass to the "blank oblivion" of a "deeper death" when they are no longer remembered. In the ironic "Ah, Are You Digging On My Grave," an even more fanciful treatment of the subject, a dead woman bewails the fact that everyone, even her once faithful dog, has forgotten her.

 

Henchard's will is a total repudiation of this kind of memorialization. Although he is by no means an evil man he has committed grievous mistakes in his life. He feels his life is an utter failure, and only by obliterating its memory will his guilt be expiated.

 

Date: Sat, 23 Aug 2003 11:49:59 -0400

From: Rosemarie Morgan <rosemarie.morgan@yale.edu>

Subject: Re: Henchard's Will

 

This is correct. The critical difference is that he didn't keep these feelings to himself. "Tess's Lament" (and others of the cited examples), is a soliloquy. A rather crude analogy (off the top of my head) is Hamlet's soliloquy on suicide. Supposing, instead, he had written a note to his mother, expressing the same thoughts?

 

There is no issue concerning the "unbe" motifs in Hardy. The issue is Henchard -- or rather, this particular aspect of his characterisation.

Cheers,

Rosemarie

 

PS I'm not sure the "will" was intended as an expiation of guilt, by the way. Rather the opposite -- that is, in its effect upon others.

 

 

 

>Henchard's will is a total repudiation of this kind of memorialization. >Although he is by no means an evil man he has committed grievous mistakes >in his life. He feels his life is an utter failure, and only by >obliterating its memory will his guilt be expiated.

 

>Betty

---

Date: Sat, 23 Aug 2003 08:47:28 -0700

From: Betty Cortus <hardycor@owl.csusm.edu>

Subject: Re: Henchard's Will

 

>

>PS I'm not sure the "will" was intended as an expiation of guilt, by the >way. Rather the opposite -- that is, in its effect upon others.

 

I guess then, that our major point of departure, Rosemarie, is that I see remorse, where you do not. Could these both be valid readings?

Betty

---

Date: Sat, 23 Aug 2003 13:01:49 -0400

From: Rosemarie Morgan <rosemarie.morgan@yale.edu>

Subject: Re: Henchard's Will

 

Perhaps they could be non-exclusive readings (if that fits the bill, Betty). There's an aspect of Henchard's characterisation which reveals how self-blinding egotism can be, how rage can distort perception, how intense emotional distress can slant judgment which at other, cooler moments, might turn upon what Ann this morning described as "loving kindness or compassion." This last isn't manifest in the "will" but emotional states are so complicated, fear and hope in the same breath, love and hate, desire and revulsion, and so on; possibly the anger that fuels acts of self-annihilation and the revenge that would engender guilt in others so deranges Henchard in his last moments that he regrets even as he injures. "Remorse" I feel, however, remains a compassionate reluctance to inflict pain -- so ..I'm uneasy about this one.

 

Cheers,

Rosemarie

 

>I guess then, that our major point of departure, Rosemarie, is that I see >remorse, where you do not. >Could these both be valid readings?

>Betty

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 Date: Sat, 23 Aug 2003 10:23:48 -0700

From: Betty Cortus <hardycor@owl.csusm.edu>

Subject: Re: Henchard's Will

 

My problem with the concept of the Will being vindictive--a deliberate attempt to tranfer guilt to Elizabeth Jane, less directly to Farfrae, and make them both feel terrible, is that all throughout the novel, in spite of all Henchard's all too visible shortcomings, there is always still a whiff of greatness about him. He has committed vengeful acts in life before, but eventually comes to rue them. To make his ultimate act a vengeful one, would strip away, in my estimation, the very tarnished greatness Hardy wants to embue him with. I see him coming to his death in a state abject submission to fate, rather than one of rage. Why wouldn't Elizabeth Jane's rejection of him strike him as justified after the lie he had told about her to her father? Her "sins" seem so slight compared to his, that surely he experiences more guilt than desire for vengeance. Could not the wish to vanish simply be an instinct to get out of her life before he harms her further, unaware that his words are in fact causing her pain? But as I said earlier, maybe there is leeway enough in the text for the both readings.

Betty

 

From: Thudecki@cs.com

Date: Sat, 23 Aug 2003 22:48:09 EDT

Subject: Re: The Mayor of Casterbridge

I too am enjoying the debate and discussion...abundant "food for thought".

I have been thinking of Betty's paragraph

- 'Why wouldn't Elizabeth Jane's rejection of him strike him as justified after the lie he had told about her to her father? Her "sins" seem so slight compared to his, that surely he experiences more guilt than desire for vengeance. Could not the wish to vanish simply be an instinct to get out of her life before he harms her further, unaware that his words are in fact causing her pain?'

In comment

Interesting to note how few sins poor Elizabeth Jane had during the book and as far as our knowledge of her is concerned. Perhaps her only sin could be that she could not forgive him - a broken man. In contrast I agree that Henchard must have had a terrible burden of quilt, along with a deep feeling of isolation and misunderstanding and regret. I think that throughout the production/book Henchard makes mistake after mistake in his life judgment and decisions. Ironic since he sat in as a judge in the courts and as such meet his biggest downfall. Is it not conceivable to think, then that this final judgment to have his last words or "will" written down for anyone to read is not in good judgment considering the effect the people reading it will have and the mark it will forever leave upon their lives. I do not think Henchard intentionally meant to hurt these people but he does. As with many of his actions throughout his life he hurt the ones he loved. Had he wanted to simply dissolve into nothingness, would the note be necessary? By writing down his final thoughts, he made himself more so remembered. How could one ever forget those last words?