5/30/11

Paganism as an Alternative to Victorian-ism in Tess of the D'Urbervilles

The Victorian period is generally invoked as an era of strict morals, exaggerated class distinctions, and sexual repression - overall, an epoch of artificiality and appearances. Thomas Hardy, among other authors and artists of the time, objected to the censorship that these strict sensibilities imposed. In his Tess of the D'Urbervilles, Hardy uses elements of paganism as a direct contrast to the unnaturalness of the Victorian rules, values, and morals that are featured in the novel. Throughout the course of the narration, this is obvious in Tess's sexuality and spirituality and in how others perceive her.

Hardy opens the novel by showing the village "club walking," a sort of Christianized version of the pagan holiday Beltane, traditionally a celebration of fertility: "In addition to the distinction of a white frock, every woman and girl carried in her right hand a peeled willow wand and in her left a bunch of white flowers" (8). The white dress symbolizes Tess's innocence, while the flowers and the wand respectively represent the pagan Goddess and God. The ceremony indicates the persistence of the older, more natural religion, and thus sexuality, within and despite the staid confines of Victorian Christianity. However, Tess is unaware of the origins of the festival, much as she is unaware of her own sensuality. When Alec bedecks her with strawberries and flowers (much like a High Priestess would be dressed in elaborate nature costumes for a ceremony), she becomes "aware of the spectacle she presented to their surprised vision" upon returning to the public eye (39). Pamela Jekel writes that Tess's acceptance of Alec's costuming is "the clearest note of Tess's [sexual] ambiguity... obviously a symbol of nature forced before its natural ripening..." (169). The implication is that Tess is not just pagan, but symbolic of nature in and of itself. And what, in an age that valued industrialization and urbanization, was more outside conventions than nature? Even her later rape-seduction at Alec's hands seems to imply the same sort of relationship between she and Alec as the earth and industrialized society- as much as Tess and the earth give, Alec and mankind persist in taking. However, one cannot say that Alec's attraction to Tess is unrequited; Hardy makes numerous references to how flattered Tess is by his attentions and to how captivated she is by his looks. He seems to imply "that the physical attraction that Tess feels toward Alec is natural," urging "exclusion from the sphere of moral judgement. In a less artificial world Tess might have regarded her relationship with Alec as a freely available option" (Ingham 146). This "less artifical world" could be something like the earlier world, when paganism was predominant, or our modern world, where paganism and the sensuality traditionally associated with it are re-emerging.

When Tess returns to Marlott, Hardy emphasizes that she is the one who has been wronged rather than the one in the wrong by exploring her spiritual life. To escape the condemnation of her mother and other neighbors, Tess begins to spend time outside, communing with nature much as a practicing pagan would, where
                   she looked upon herself as a figure of Guilt intruding 
                   into the haunts of Innocence. But all the while, she was 
                   making a distinction where there was no difference. 
                   Feeling herself in antagonism, she was quite in accord. 
                   She had been made to break an accepted social law, 
                   but no law known to the environment in which she 
                   fancied herself such an anomaly. (85)
This clearly expresses that in natural, or pagan, circumstances Tess has committed no crime. Hardy is saying that it is only society, specifically Victorian society, that thinks of sex as wrong or immoral. When her un-baptized son, the aptly named Sorrow, falls ill slightly later in the narrative, Hardy has Tess baptize him herself, a scene which in its spontaneity bears remarkable similarity to a spell a modern-day pagan might perform. "Tess stood erect with the infant on her arm beside the basin... and thus the girl set about baptizing her child... The children gazed up at her with... reverence... She did not look like Sissy to them now, but as a being large, towering and awful - a divine personage..." (94-95). In bypassing the structure of the Church, Tess employs the pagan principle of communing directly with the divine and, in doing so, becomes divine herself. Patricia Ingham makes the additional note that the midnight baptism is not only a reflection on the over-involvement of the clergy of the Anglican Church in personal spiritual matters, but an indictment of the stigma that Victorian morality insisted on attaching to children born out of wedlock. "Hardy is moving towards beliefs subversive of the whole of established society as constructed by the State, the Church, and other institutions" (Ingham 146-147). Before moving on to the next phase of Tess's life, Hardy makes the final commentary, "She became... a woman whom the turbulent experiences of the last year... had quite failed to demoralize. But for the world's opinion those experiences would have been simply a liberal education" (99). In other words, what Tess has done and been through should be viewed far from being as scandalous as Victorian sensibilities would have us consider them; they should be regarded as necessary and beneficial to her development as a human being.

It is important to note how Tess's unflagging positive attitude, especially where Victorian society would have her downtrodden or ashamed, affects the way she is perceived. It is this attitude, this fortitude and persistence of character, which allows the reader to sympathize with Tess rather than detest her. It is not long after her infant's death that Tess, in response to her family's financial needs, departs Marlott to go work at Talbothay's dairy. it is at Talbothay's that Tess meets Angel Clare, a parson's son, who, though a well-read and philosophical man, has chosen to go into agriculture rather than religion. He notes "what a fresh and virginal daughter of nature [Tess] is" (121). In Victorian terms, this is merely ironic, but when regarded through the perspective of paganism, it is one of the most apt statements made about Tess in the course of the novel. She is a virgin in the same way Nature is virginal - her virginity is self-renewing. Although she has been seduced, she is still an innocent, mostly thanks to her positive attitude. Later, when exploring their mutual attraction, Angel perceives her in an even more pagan sense - as a goddess. "She was... a whole sex condensed into one typical form. He called her Artemis, Demeter, and other fanciful names..." (131). The two marry before Tess divulges her previous involvement with Alec. When she comes out with it, Angel, despite his attempts at freethinking and an affair of his own, is disgusted with her. Hardy reveals here one of the double-standards of Victorian society, typified by a divorce law which allowed a man to "divorce his wife for even a single act of adultery; [whereas] a wife needed to prove not only adultery by her husband but also some aggravating factor such as incest, bigamy, sodomy, bestiality, or extreme cruelty" (Ingham 57). He abandons Tess, becoming "the slave to custom and conventionality..." (267). But this only reveals yet another of Tess's pagan qualities: despite Angel's abandonment, her family's financial straits, and her own needs and hardships, she remains loyal to him and continues to work for his betterment, just as nature remains faithful to and continues to work for man. "The essence of goodness that such a devotion implies" serves to reprimand both Angel and the society that approves his actions (Jekel 160). However, Tess is human; faced with her family's homelessness and finally despairing of Angel's return, she allows the still persistent Alec to support her and whisk her off to the city.

Angel eventually rethinks and casts off the fetters of Victorian-ism in favor of more natural pagan standards, much as Hardy would have his readers do. "The old appraisements of morality... wanted readjusting... The beauty or ugliness of a character lay... not among things done, but among things willed" (348). Making Tess, a woman who never set out to offend anyone, above reproach: it is only the unnatural societal standards she is held to that paint her as a villain. Angel returns for her, and the two proceed to spend several days on the run, until Tess is arrested at Stonehenge for Alec's murder, and is summarily hanged. This can be interpreted as poetic justice since she gets what Victorian sensibilities would see as her just desserts - she, a pagan, is 'sacrificed' on a pagan altar - but it also serves as an indictment of a society that, with its unnatural expectations, drives an innocent woman to her death. Yes, Tess is a sacrifice - but it is Victorian sensibilities doing the sacrificing.




Works Cited

  • Casey, Ellen Miller. "'Other People's Prudery': Mary Elizabeth Braddon." Literature Resource Center. Vol. 111. Detroit: Gale Group, 2001. web. 7 April 2010.
  • Cohen, William A. "Sex, Scandal, and the Novel." The Victorian Web. Duke University, 1996. Web. 7 April 2010.
  • Hardy, Thomas. Tess of the D'Urbervilles. New York City, New York: Signet Classic, 1999. Print.
  • Ingham, Patricia. Thomas Hardy. New York: Oxford University Press, 2003. Print.
  • Jekel, Pamela L. "Tess Durbeyfield." Thomas Hardy's Heroines: A Chorus of Priorities. United States: Pamela Jekel, 1986. 156-177. Print.

Personblem

It's just past two am, and you've been gone for an hour.

All I want is to curl up next to you and forget about the rest of the world, because I know you and I actually could.

I'd say it's indescribably scary, but I suspect you know exactly the feeling I refer to. (More sensation than words, tears cascading down a smile.)

I can't quite sleep for thinking of you. I imagine talking with you as much as being held by you, which is a totally new experience for me. Your mind (located in your skull) is a total turn-on. (Though perhaps turn-on is not quite the word, as it goes far deeper than the merely sexual.)

There's a point to this little ramble, I'm (almost) certain.

Love?

Oh, dear Goddess, I typed the word. There's no taking it back now, so I'm going to proceed to qualify the ever-loving (damnit!) stuffing out of it.

I don't believe in love at first sight. I don't even believe in love at first fuck. Love is a process, not a step: one does not fall in love; one flies into it. It has taken no effort, therefore it cannot be love.

Oh, by all the mistakes I've ever made, I have a problem.

Holy Spirit, do I have a problem.

Heroism in Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog

Despite only totaling 45 minutes in length, Joss Whedon's Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog is an exceedingly rich film. One of the many themes explored in the musical is the question of what makes a hero. Three paradigms of heroism are presented in the persons of the "worst villain ever," Dr. Horrible, "Justice's other name," Captain Hammer, and their mutual love interest, Penny.

Although the titular character, Dr. Horrible, is consistently referred to as a villain, his motivations and methods make him less a model of an evil genius than of a revolutionary. The mad scientist figure only wants to "change the world" - and get the cute girl from the laundromat (Penny) to notice him. Unable to overcome his awkwardness to either work within the political system to improve the world he despairs of ("Any dolt with half a brain can see that human kind has gone insane") or to speak to the girl he desperately longs to have a "real, audible connection" with, he turns instead to the building of a trans-matter ray to steal gold bars out of a bank vault and a freeze ray to stop time so he can "find the time to find the words" to talk to Penny. Dr. Horrible represents the extreme but good-intentioned hero, overlooked but powerful in his own right.

In contrast, his nemesis, "Captain Hammer - Captain Hammer, corporate tool," represents the celebrity hero, lauded by the system and motivated less by the opportunity to improve the world than by the fame and women that come attached. In his memorable introductory scene, Captain Hammer foils Dr. Horrible's van heist, announcing "Captain Hammer's here, hair blowing in the breeze - the day needs my saving expertise." This expertise calls for the hero to punch and destroy the device Dr. Horrible is using to control the van, before abandoning the careening vehicle in order to flirt with a cute female bystander, proudly informing her that, "the only doom that's looming is you loving me to death." The viewer's opinion of Captain Hammer and what the city perceives as his heroics only diminishes as he is shown wiping off his hand after being greeted by a homeless man, cruelly mocking Dr. Horrible with his relationship with Penny, and beating up an unarmed Dr. Horrible (pausing so a tourist can get a picture), culminating in his horrifyingly satirical number, "Everyone's a Hero." Set at the dedication of a homeless shelter, the song, sung in lieu of a speech, informs enraptured citizens in the audience that they're all heroes in their own ways as they've "all got villains they must face," and if those villains are not as cool as his then "it's fine to know your place" before assuring them that if they're "not a frigging 'tard" they "will prevail."

The third paradigm of heroism is shown in the the "quiet, nerdy" Penny. Called neither a hero nor a villain, Penny is the Every Man character, dressed in colorful clothes where Dr. Horrible and Captain Hammer wear either black or white. But while the two men spend the duration of the musical squabbling over her, Penny is dedicatedly working with the homeless, making a small but tangible difference in the world when she successfully campaigns to get the city to donate a condemned building as a new homeless shelter. However, Dr. Horrible dismisses her efforts as "treating a symptom while the disease rages on" and Captain Hammer engages in her cause only because he "might just sleep with the same girl twice." Penny represents the sincere, everyday hero, unacknowledged as she works within the political system to improve society, aspiring not to rule the world ala Dr. Horrible or garner fame ala Captain Hammer, but to be "hope." Indeed, the crowning tragedy of the film is that Penny is killed in the midst of Captain Hammer and Dr. Horrible's power struggle, and is summarily ignored by the press as "Whats-Her-Name" and "Heroes Girlfriend, (sic)" representing the ways in which our society overlooks similar heroic figures.

Whereas Dr. Horrible embodies an extreme hero working outside the system and Captain Hammer personifies a hero so integrated into the system he has ceased to be effective, only Penny's brand of heroism, using the system to further her ends, seems to get results, thus answering the question of what makes a hero.

5/27/11

Gifts

You burn into me and you change me, leave me wanting and desperate, yet all the more complete for my lack. You push me and you pull me into being better, terrifying me that I'll backslide and become worse. I smile and cry simultaneously, shocked by the beauty of the precipice. (Danger has its own appeal.)

I'm not sure if silence is the eye of the storm or an indication that there is no storm at all. I fill the emptiness with the sounds of forever, only to discover that there's a fair bit of the minor keys in them. Flight is often mistaken for falling and falling identified as taking flight, to the point that I'm not sure anyone knows which is which, or even if there's any difference.

I used to make a point of distinguishing possibilities from promises, of saying that a kiss was just a kiss. I'm no longer sure such distinctions are fair. We have to have indications of where we stand, and words have proven more subject to change than sand. So possibilities are not promises, but they could be. (That's why we call them "possible.")

If you're always leaning back and never leaning forward, eventually the other person will fall out of their seat. From there, they usually walk away. It's all very well to see what you're getting before you give any back, but people stop giving if they're getting nothing for their pains. Make it a process, not a step. (It's rather mercenary, but there you go.)

I'm standing at the edge of the precipice with you burned into me, leaning forward as you lean back. It's a possibility that I might promise you flight, even as silence heralds a storm. I'm wanting something I may never receive, and half of me is okay with that. You've already given me something, already changed me - a kiss has never meant so much.

5/26/11

What Forever Could Mean

Time seemed not to pass, caught up in sunshine and nature sounds. Silence was only time to think, and conversation fuel for the fire.

When the clock reminded us that we had places to be, we sighed, and shifted reluctantly. At that moment, forever seemed like it would be easy to achieve.

But we yielded to the clock, as we knew we must, swimming ashore into time's grip, passing indoors to society. The lights became fluorescent, and the fire guttered out, the silence as oppressive as a shroud.

Should we glance out the window, however, we would see the edge of what forever could mean.

Non-Negotiables

  • Honest/Hard-working
  • Open-minded/Adventurous
  • Sociable
  • Artistic/Passionate
  • Witty
  • Confident
  • Articulate
  • Curious/Scholarly

Love is just a word until someone gives it meaning, and this is just a checklist that may never mean anything.

5/24/11

Pheonix

It's not always easy to recognize that you are wrong, especially when you've been deceiving yourself all along.

("You confuse the crap out of yourself," he observed.)

But I was wrong, and the realization (late though it is) is a relief. Everything is simplified when one knows what one believes.

("What was I thinking?" I demanded.

"I don't know!" he replied. "You tell me.")

Skip three months ahead, as my best friend laughs. Everything's falling into place. It's simple and scary and it keeps me up at night, smiling into my pillow. (Possibilities are almost as enchanting as promises.)

("You do?!" he exclaimed when I confessed it all. "YES! Gigantic red stamp of approval.")

I've been broken; I've been repaired. I've been angry; I've been hurt. I've been stupid; I've been naive. I've been cynical; I've been charmed. And yes: I've been wrong.

Things end, but I won't regret them: every mistake is merely a lesson.

I Do Love to Win Things....

On May 6, 2011, "Loves Her...," the opening excerpt from Pluck the Petals from a Daisy won second place in Steward House's weekly contest. However, once more, I feel as though the review completely misses my point. The piece is not about "relentless pursuit," but about desire and inaction. Of course, if you read my recent post about the novel the piece is excerpted from, then you have a fair bit more insight into it than did the editors at Steward House. Nevertheless, a placement is a placement.

By the by, while you're there, you should definitely read Keayva Mitchell's "The Remedy," the first place that week. The poem is absolutely amazing.

5/23/11

Chances & Odds

Can I take a chance on you?

I'm slow to decide, but I won't stop once I've made up my mind.

I think you're probably worth the time, and even mistakes will be a worthy investment.

So, before I gamble, will you tell me the odds?

What are the chances that "happily-some-time-after" is in the cards?

5/22/11

Phase Two

I would rather regret the things I have done than the things I haven't. ("What if"s have proven far too pesky for my palate.)

And thus shall I proceed.

Phase Two:

Implement.