Classics and the Western Canon discussion

The novel opens with a description of Michael Henchard with his wife, Susan, and their infant girl, Elizabeth-Jane. From the description, we can tell their relationship is strained. At the village fair at Weydon Priors, they order furmity (a porridge). Henchard signals the vendor to add rum to his meal. He becomes increasingly drunk and ignores Susan’s pleas to find lodging. He complains loudly about marriage, lamenting his loss of freedom. He then offers his wife up for auction. A sailor purchases Susan and the baby for five guineas.

Michael wakes up from his drunken stupor the next day, regretting his actions. He enters a church and swears to abstain from alcohol for 21 years. He searches for his family and learns they have emigrated with the sailor.

Eighteen years later, Susan and Elizabeth-Jane return to Weydon Priors. Susan is a widow. She learns Henchard is now the mayor of Casterbridge. They seek him out in Casterbridge and find him hosting a fancy dinner. Susan tells Elizabeth-Jane that Henchard is related to them through marriage, but she is too intimidated by his appearance and authority to approach him. They find lodging in an inn where Elizabeth-Jane serves the customers in exchange for a discounted rate for the room. They later overhear a conversation between Michael and Donald Farfrae, a young man from Scotland. Michael expresses remorse for a past action and offers Farfrae a job to manage his corn business.
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Hardy refers to Michael Henchard as “a man of character.” Nowadays, when we say a person has character, we mean someone who behaves with strong moral and ethical principles. But I’m not sure the word carried the same connotation in Hardy’s time. Maybe it just meant the person had a strong personality—neither good nor bad, just strong. Or maybe Hardy plans to show Henchard developing into a man of character as we understand the word to mean today. It’s something to think about as we move forward with the discussion. But for now, Michael Henchard is not off to a good start.

I posted a wikipedia article on wife-selling in the Historical Context thread for those of you interested to learn more about it.

As shocking as it is to see a man putting his wife up for auction, its occurrence was not totally out of the ordinary. Michael Henchard references it when he says to Susan: I take the money; the sailor takes you. That’s plain enough. It has been done elsewhere—and why not here?

Henchard had tried to sell Susan in the past but had stopped short of doing so. Despite Susan’s pleas to stop his foolishness this time around, Henchard persists with the bidding. What does this say about Henchard’s views towards Susan and towards marriage, in general? And why does Susan agree to be auctioned off?

Hardy sets up a contrast between the male and female reactions to the auction:

A buxom stay-laced dealer in voluminous petticoats tries to reassure Susan that her husband doesn’t mean to auction her off. She chastises Henchard, urging him to behave with decency.

Meanwhile, a former groom or coachman sizes up Susan’s appearance as if he were sizing up an animal for breeding. He suggests she may need fattening up. Notice the use of “it” in that sentence, which reinforces his objectification of Susan:

I’ve had my breedings in as good circles, I may say, as any man,’ he added, ‘and I know true cultivation, or nobody do; and I can declare she’s got it—in the bone, mind ye, I say as much as any female in the fair—though it may want a little bringing out.’

It is noteworthy that none of men try to persuade Henchard from proceeding with the sale. Nor do they object to it on moral or legal grounds. Hardy tells us they initially treated the auction as a joke. But once it becomes obvious Henchard is serious, the mirth-wrinkles left the listeners’ faces, and they waited with parting lips.

If the men are upset by the proceedings, why don’t they intervene to stop it?

Tamara wrote: "Despite Susan’s pleas to stop his foolishness this time around, Henchard persists with the bidding. What does this say about Henchard’s views towards Susan and towards marriage, in general? And why does Susan agree to be auctioned off?.."

Henchard initially seems to be a man in a foul mood who has an alcohol problem. His shame and regret in the morning appear sincere, and the fact that he keeps his vow to not drink is evidence of some level of character. He seems to be a different person when Sara and Elizabeth-Jane return. He's done well in business and has the respect of the town. Hardy's description of his laugh in chapter V is wonderful, though rather ambiguous:

That laugh was not encouraging to strangers; and hence it may have been well that it was rarely heard. Many theories might have been built upon it. It fell in well with conjectures of a temperament which would have no pity for weakness, but would be ready to yield ungrudging admiration to greatness and strength. Its producer's personal goodness, if he had any, would be of a very fitful cast -- an occasional almost oppresive generosity rather than a mild and constant kindness.

Living with an alcoholic has never been easy, and I think Susan has just had enough of him. The fact that Henchard blames Susan's "simplicity" for leaving with the sailor is a good indication of what she's had to put up with. She has to be either brave or desperate to agree to this sailor deal. Probably both. Which makes me wonder why she decides to go back and look for Henchard. Is it only poverty? (Not that poverty is nothing, of course.)

It looks like Hardy was solidly behind the temperance movement.

Thomas wrote: "His shame and regret in the morning appear sincere, and the fact that he keeps his vow to not drink is evidence of some level of character. ."

He is sincere but up to a point. He is concerned with his reputation:

'Did I tell my name to anybody last night, or didn't I tell my name?' he said to himself; and at last concluded that he did not.

He blames Susan:

. . . why didn't she know better than bring me into this disgrace!' he roared out. 'She wasn't queer if I was. 'Tis like Susan to show such idiotic simplicity. Meek--that meekness has done me more harm than the bitterest temper!'

And although he looks for Susan, he never reveals how he lost her, which suggests he is unwilling to accept full responsibility:

The truth was, that a certain shyness of revealing his conduct prevented Michael Henchard from following up the investigation with the loud hue-and-cry such a pursuit demanded to render it effectual; and it was probably for this reason that he obtained no clue, though everything was done by him that did not involve an explanation of the circumstances under which he had lost her.

Thomas wrote: "Which makes me wonder why she decides to go back and look for Henchard. Is it only poverty?."

What option does she have? She is a widow with no income. She has to find a way of supporting her daughter. She learns she is still technically Henchard's wife, so he is legally responsible for her and her daughter.

Susan is probably not well educated, simple, and meek. She had believed the sale was binding and that she was now Newson's wife. She behaved accordingly until a friend pointed out that the sale was not legal and she was still Henchard's wife.

What gets me about this is the men know the sale is not binding. Henchard knows and blames her simple-mindedness for believing the sale is valid. And even Newson knows the sale is not binding and she isn't really his wife. Although he seems to be a good husband and a good provider, he never tells her the truth about their situation:

When Newson came home at the end of one winter he saw that the delusion he had so carefully sustained had vanished forever.

It's as if the men conspire to deceive this poor, simple-minded woman because it is in their interest to do so.

Henchard is certainly thoroughly ashamed of his behavior.

Thomas wrote: Which makes me wonder why she decides to go back and look for Henchard. Is it only poverty? (Not that poverty is nothing, of course.)

I don't think Susan would have gone back and looked for Henchard if not for her concern for her daughter. To quote when Susan as looking at Elizabeth-Jane, "...the casual disfigurements that resulted from the strained circumstances of their lives...She possibly might never be fully handsome, unless the carking accidents of her daily existence could be evaded before the mobile parts of her countenance had settled to their final mould." Susan recognized that Elizabeth-Jane wanted to learn and wanted more than just making nets.

Kay wrote: "I don't think Susan would have gone back and looked for Henchard if not for her concern for her daughter. "

I read it the same way, Kay. The details Hardy gives us make it very clear Susan is loving toward her daughter. And the fact the sailor made sure Susan is in agreement with the sale possibly suggests to her he is going to be a considerate husband and a good provider for her and Elizabeth-Jane. I think concern for her daughter is paramount in Susan's mind and the reason she went looking for Henchard.

Yes, she's motivated to help her daughter, but in the moment she sees the mayor she cowers

"I have seen him, and it is enough for me! Now I only want to go -- pass away -- die."

Is this regret from not acting sooner to find him, or, possibly going along with the auction? Guilt from maybe feeling that she really might have held him back?

I'm not certain what to make of it. Maybe there isn't supposed to be a single answer, only a jumble of mixed emotions.

Here are a few things I underlined just because I liked the poetry of them.

1. The mirth-wrinkles left the listeners' faces
2. ...his wife but too sadly perceived that in strenuously steering off the rocks of the licensed liquor-tent she had only got into Maelstrom depths here amongst the smugglers
3. ...the west heaven was hung with rosy cloud... there was a natural instinct to abjure man as the blot on an otherwise kindly universe...
4. The whole scene lay under the rays of a newly risen sun, which had not as yet dried a single blade of the heavily dewed grass, whereon the shadows of the yellow and red vans were projected far away, those thrown by the felloe of each wheel being elongated in shape to the orbit of a comet.
5. ...Mrs. Goodenough's firmity...
6. To the liege subjects of Labour, England is a continent, and a mile a geographic degree.
7. Her face, though somewhat wan and incomplete, possessed the raw materials of beauty in a promising degree. There was an underhandsomeness in it, struggling to reveal itself through the provisional curves of immaturity, and the casual disfigurements that resuted from the straighted circumstances of their lives. She was handsome in the bone, hardly as yet handsome in the flesh. She possibly might never be fully handsome, unless the carking accidents of her daily existence could be evaded before the mobile parts of her countenance had settled to their final mould.

There is an interesting teaser at the end of chapter V when Henchard refuses to take back the bad grain or make amends.

If anybody will tell me how to turn grown wheat into wholesome wheat, I'll take it back with pleasure. But it can't be done.

Is Susan bad wheat? Will he consider Elizabeth-Jane to be grown wheat spoiled by time?

Michael wrote: "Yes, she's motivated to help her daughter, but in the moment she sees the mayor she cowers

"I have seen him, and it is enough for me! Now I only want to go -- pass away -- die."

Is this regret..."

Susan is self-effacing and humble. She is intimidated by Henchard's appearance and doesn't feel worthy enough to associate with him. She is still his wife but she has spent nearly two decades living with another man. She was a peasant woman who had religiously adhered to her purchaser. This suggests she is religious. All was over with her peace of mind when she learns the truth about her situation.

There was then a time of sadness, in which she told him [Newson] her doubts if she could live with him longer.

She is plagued with guilt for living with a man who is not her legal spouse. That she wants to go away and die after seeing Henchard suggests she is too embarrassed to face her husband. His prominent position in the community probably makes her feel even less worthy.

Michael wrote: ".There is an interesting teaser at the end of chapter V when Henchard refuses to take back the bad grain or make amends.

If anybody will tell me how to turn grown wheat into wholesome wheat, I'll take it back with pleasure. But it can't be done."

I don't think he doesn't want to make amends. He just doesn't know how to turn bad wheat to good wheat. I see him as being very eager to make amends because he goes chasing after Farfrae when he reads his note about restoring the wheat.

In some ways, Henchard's desire to make amends parallels the situation with Susan. He auctions Susan, wakes up the next morning, realizes what he has done, and goes chasing all over the countryside looking for her. He strikes me as someone eager to make amends for past wrongs.

Tamara wrote: "I don't think he doesn't want to make amends. He just doesn't know how to turn bad wheat to good wheat."

With it being released in weekly installments, I suspect that maybe the ends of chapters, V in this case, might have hooks or cliffhangers to bring readers back to buy more issues of the serial.

The bit about it being impossible to turn grown wheat wholesome, and its parallel to the women, feels like a "tune in next week" moment.

Michael wrote: "The bit about it being impossible to turn grown wheat wholesome, and its parallel to the women, feels like a "tune in next week" moment.."

LOL! It probably was.

One thing that strikes me is the extreme poverty of the main characters. When we see Michael and Susan walking down the road, and later Susan and Elizabeth-Jane, it seems that they possess nothing except what they wear or carry. That's quite a difference from Jane Austen, for whom a woman was pitiably poor if she could afford to retain only one servant.

Roger wrote: "One thing that strikes me is the extreme poverty of the main characters. When we see Michael and Susan walking down the road, and later Susan and Elizabeth-Jane, it seems that they possess nothing ..."

That's a good point, Roger. Susan and Elizabeth-Jane are poor, and I think that is one reason Susan goes looking for Henchard. But when she discovers who he is, she hesitates to ask his help. She is concerned they don't have sufficient funds to stay at the inn. But she wants to be self-reliant and doesn't want to ask for charity:

'We must pay our way even before we must be respectable,' replied her mother. 'Mr. Henchard is too high for us to make ourselves known to him, I much fear, so we've only our own pockets to depend on.'

At this point, Elizabeth-Jane demonstrates her 'can-do' spirit. She shows she can be resourceful and offers to work at the inn as partial payment for room and board. Possibly because she is young, she doesn't seem to be as concerned about keeping up appearances as is her mother. Hardy says this about her:

If there was one good thing more than another which characterized this single-hearted girl, it is a willingness to sacrifice her personal comfort and dignity for the common weal.

There’s an interesting detail about horses. Before Henchard opens the bidding on his wife, we are told an auctioneer outside can be heard auctioning horses. It may be the sound of the auctioneer that triggers him to put his wife up for sale. After he “sells” Susan and she and the baby leave with the sailor, we are told:

In contrast with the harshness of the act just ended within the tent was the sight of several horses crossing their necks and rubbing each other lovingly as they waited in patience to be harnessed for the homeward journey.

Why include this detail about the horses? What is Hardy suggesting here?

It is interesting to learn that both Henchard and Susan are ashamed by the central deed of their lives, that one moment that altered their lives forever and the memory of which they have to live with every day with shame and regret. Will they do anything to remedy that act if they give each other an opportunity?

Tamara wrote: "She is plagued with guilt for living with a man who is not her legal spouse. That she wants to go away and die after seeing Henchard suggests she is too embarrassed to face her husband. His prominent position in the community probably makes her feel even less worthy."
..."

I agree--this encounter is already going to be awkward enough. She is confronting the husband she hasn't seen in eighteen years after spending that time living with another man (even though her husband is the one who arranged it!). On top of that, she finds that he has spent those years climbing the social ladder and occupies a prominent position that is far above her own social station. Speaking to Roger's point, these ladies were more likely to be the servants of an Austen character than main characters themselves. No doubt her intention is to obtain security for her daughter's future, but will the Mayor see the sudden appearance of this working-class daughter as something to be celebrated? Susan may have just seen her task become much more difficult, the achievement of her goal much less likely.

So far we have focused on the moral dimension of the wife-sale; the social symbolism that equates women with livestock and property. While that’s undeniably present, imaginative literature for me is about the experience and the emotion it provides. Therefore, what strikes me even more than the moral lesson is Hardy’s portrayal of emotional turmoil and causality.

From the first paragraph, the silence between Michael and Susan Henchard carries a powerful tension. The avoidance of speech, her steady endurance, the weariness in their mutual restraint solidly plant the seeds of catastrophe. When drink enters, Henchard’s pride and self-pity erupt into impulsive cruelty; when he boasts of selling his wife, it isn’t social theory but humiliated will lashing out.

Susan, for her part, isn’t simply a victim. Her quiet insistence on the furmity tent and later her calm, almost righteous defiance show moral strength answering pride with dignity.

“Will anybody buy her?” said the man. “I wish somebody would,” said she firmly. “Her present owner is not at all to her liking!”
Hardy, Thomas. The Mayor Of Casterbridge (p. 4).

The throwing of the wedding ring in Mike's face, is less an act of submission than it is a big "fuck you!" It easy to imagine a modern retelling of this scene using a lot more swear words.

What makes the scene unforgettable isn’t the moral and feminist outrage, which Hardy leaves understated, but the almost Greek fate-like inevitability with which the opposing temperaments dictate. Two contrasting natures; his impulsive will and her wounded integrity collide, and the destruction follows as surely as tragedy demands.

It’s also worth remembering how scandalous any form of marital rupture was in early-nineteenth-century England. Legal divorce required a private act of Parliament and cost more than most people earned in a lifetime. For the poor, separation or “wife-selling” at a fair became a desperate parody of legality that at least carried social recognition, however degrading. While we do rightfully rank them in order of social and moral infamy, the disgrace of either a legal divorce or wife selling was enough to ruin a person.

David wrote: "So far we have focused on the moral dimension of the wife-sale; the social symbolism that equates women with livestock and property. While that’s undeniably present, imaginative literature for me i..."

Henchard has power over Susan. Her options are extremely limited to retaliate and/or to teach him a lesson because of her subordinate status. As you point out, there is no love lost between them. But she can’t walk out on him unless she has an alternative to provide for herself and her daughter. She knows what he is like when he drinks, so she steers him away from the tent that serves alcohol. She does what she can to mitigate his impulsive behavior.

We know he has put her up for sale before, but we don’t know why the sale didn’t go through before. I see three options:

*We know she has to agree to the sale, so maybe in the past she refused to be sold.
*Maybe Henchard came to his senses and backed down at the last minute.
*Maybe no one offered to “buy” her.

What I'm suggesting is this: is it possible that this time around, she employs a strategy with the intention of teaching Henchard a lesson? In other words, is she calling his bluff expecting him to back down? She has warned him in the past she will go through with it:

On a previous occasion when he had declared, during a fuddle, that he would dispose of her as he had done, she had replied that she would not hear him say that many times before it happened, in the resigned tones of a fatalist.

Maybe she isn’t expecting anyone to “buy” her, but she wants to send Henchard a strong message. Maybe her intention is to warn him she is willing to go through with the sale, so he had better not go any further with his nonsense. When the sailor steps forward, she looks to Henchard, and seeing no repentance there, she has no option but to agree to the sale.

Her strategy backfires.

I am struck by the tone of melancholy and nostalgia even at this early stage in the novel. I think we get a glimpse of it when Susan returns to the fair ground at Weydon-Priors. The surroundings have changed. There are new machines for testing and weighing produce. And the fair that had once bustled with copious activity is now a shadow of its former self. It has been replaced by newer markets in neighboring towns:

The pens for sheep, the tie-ropes for horses, were about half as long as they had been. The stalls of tailors, hosiers, coopers, linen-drapers, and other such trades had almost disappeared, and the vehicles were far less numerous.

And later we are told that even the Three Mariners Inn is no longer standing:

This ancient house of accommodation for man and beast, now, unfortunately, pulled down. . .

One gets the sense it’s not just traditional businesses that are dying and/or being pushed out by the newer markets. It’s also a whole way of life that’s being eclipsed.

Tamara wrote: "David wrote: "So far we have focused on the moral dimension of the wife-sale; the social symbolism that equates women with livestock and property. While that’s undeniably present, imaginative liter..."

The way I read it, the previous offered sales had probably found no takers, or she refused to go along and it was treated as a joke. This time she's fed up and disgusted. Note that the bidding is going the wrong way--starting at 1 guinea, then 2, and so up to 5. It's plainly a joke, however bad the taste. Then the sailor walks in and startles everyone by taking the offer and laying down the cash. Michael doesn't back down, so Susan says to hell with him. She's had enough humiliation. And who can blame her?

Roger wrote: "Note that the bidding is going the wrong way--starting at 1 guinea, then 2, and so up to 5. ."

I'm not sure i understand what you mean by the bidding going the wrong way. Doesn't it usually start low and then go up?

Tamara wrote: "Roger wrote: "Note that the bidding is going the wrong way--starting at 1 guinea, then 2, and so up to 5. ."

I'm not sure i understand what you mean by the bidding going the wrong way. Doesn't it ..."

He's selling something. First he offers it for one guinea. No-one takes it. If no-one is willing to pay one guinea, they'll hardly be willing to pay two. He should offer to sell for a lower price.

A real auction will indeed start low and go up, but that's when the bidders are offering prices.

Got it. Thanks.

I have seen many auctions start with a low opening bid and no one wanting to reveal their interest. The auctioneer then lowers the price, sometimes several times, before someone finally breaks the silence and the bidding climbs again. If the price never rises back to or above the starting point, it’s clear that no one truly wanted the item. Once it does, and surpasses the original bid, you enter the ‘auction fever’ stage with a potential for a bidding war that drives the price to a premium.

Henchard’s decision to go backward by raising the price immediately feels like an inversion of that familiar process. It suggests both the backward social and moral degeneracy of selling a wife and the possibility that Henchard himself isn’t entirely serious by being unwilling to lower the price just to make someone start the bidding. Its more grain of truth angry performance art by both Mike and Susan than a serious sale, until the sailor forces Susan's pride and Mike's "character" to go through with it.

Tamara wrote: "There’s an interesting detail about horses. Before Henchard opens the bidding on his wife, we are told an auctioneer outside can be heard auctioning horses. It may be the sound of the auctioneer th..."

I, too, liked the part about the horses "crossing their necks" : horses are very social animals, and they form deep friendships. When you work horses side by side for a long time (like work horses you would find in the countryside), they become fast friends, and you often have problems separating them. As I understand the passage you quoted, those horses waiting to go home haven't been sold (?), or they've been sold together. What it means exactly for Susan, I don't know, but it's certainly a sharp contrast to her situation.

I've never read any book by Hardy before, and I like this one so far.

The character I have the most questions about so far is Farfrae : at the end of chapter 7, he gives (for free!) a revolutionnary technique to Henchard. But it truly seems too good to be true... Is he a crook? He insists he's leaving for the USA, but it all seems too fortuitous. I can't see Henchard having such good luck (and I feel he doesn't deserve it after selling his wife).

La_mariane wrote: "What it means exactly for Susan, I don't know, but it's certainly a sharp contrast to her situation."

The horses have been sold, but they've been sold together.
I think Hardy is emphasizing the point that human beings can be really ugly toward one another by setting up the contrast with horses who behave so tenderly and lovingly toward one another. Another way of putting it is that sometimes, human beings behave worse than animals.

La_mariane wrote: "I've never read any book by Hardy before, and I like this one so far.

The character I have the most questions about so far is Farfrae : at the end of chapter 7, he gives (for free!) a revolutionna..."

I'm glad you're enjoying Hardy.

Farfrae's personality will become clearer as we get further into the novel. But you've touched on something when you say it all seems too fortuitous. That Farfrae happens to show up in time to overhear the problem with ruined wheat and happens to know how to correct the problem does move the plot along but it maybe a bit of a stretch.

Another coincidence is Susan's return to Weydon-Priors after an 18 year absence. It just so happens the same lady who sold Henchard his furmity/rum concoction is still working at the fair when so many others have left. And as coincidence would have it, she remembers the auction and tells Susan the man who auctioned his wife is in Casterbridge.

I’m listening to the novel on audio and relishing Hardy’s descriptions and dialog like the woman talking about the bad bread “… they SAY, till the dough ran all over the ovens like quicksilver; so that the loaves be as flat as toads, and like suet pudden inside. I've been a wife, and I've been a mother, and I never see such unprincipled bread in Casterbridge as this before.—But you must be a real stranger here not to know what's made all the poor volks' insides plim like blowed bladders this week?"

Susan’s mixed feelings about meeting Henchard again make sense when one thinks of how they parted. He treated her with contempt in his remarks and actions, and his anger which was directed at her seemed due to his circumstances and difficulties and nothing she had done.

Another passage that resonated was "’But what are you going to do to repay us for the past?" inquired the man who had before spoken, and who seemed to be a baker or miller."Will you replace the grown flour we've still got by sound grain?"’ Because the question in this reader’s mind is “how can Henchard address his past actions toward his wife and daughter? Can he “repay” them for the past?”

Susan wrote: "Because the question in this reader’s mind is “how can Henchard address his past actions toward his wife and daughter? Can he “repay” them for the past?”

Henchard is haunted by his past mistakes and is anxious to correct them. Farfrae presents for him an opportunity to correct the mistake he made about the wheat, which is why he is so anxious to hire him. And when Susan overhears him express remorse to Fanfrae for his past action and his ensuing abstinence from alcohol, it suggests to her he may be willing to make amends for his treatment of her.