48 pages • 1 hour read
Thomas HardyA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
As her honeymoon draws to a close, Grace sees Giles and a group of men preparing apples for cider fermentation in the yard outside. Observing Giles “moiling and muddling” (148) like this, Grace reflects that she could never have married him. Likewise, Dr. Fitzpiers says that he feels as if he “belonged to a different species” (149) from those men. In both deed and dialogue, work and labor are seen by the characters in the novel as an inverse barometer of social status. The more removed from labor, especially physical labor, you are, the higher your class. Conversely, the more involved you are with labor, the lower your status. Mrs. Charmond, for this reason, sits at the top. She is a woman who does no work whatsoever, is taken everywhere by carriage, and is so elevated that she needs someone else to write down her thoughts for her. As she herself puts it, “I think sometimes I was born to live and do nothing, nothing, nothing but float about, as we fancy we do sometimes in dreams” (51).
Dr. Fitzpiers’s social status is more ambiguous than Mrs. Charmond’s, though both idleness and work affect how he views others and vice versa. As a doctor, he is obliged to sometimes work with his hands, and his vocation is partly practical. But in his interests and aspirations, he is aristocratic. As Hardy says, the doctor “much preferred the ideal world to the real” (95). His penchant for idealist metaphysics shows a desire to transcend the material world, and that of work, toward a purely intellectual one. This same aspiration, albeit in different form, is present in Mr. Melbury. Unable to escape the middling status of a timber merchant himself, he pins his hopes, and substantial money, on Grace marrying into a higher social caste. If Grace can climb the social ladder and become a “lady,” she will not have to work. Conversely, Mr. Melbury’s anxiety about Grace marrying Giles is rooted in the thought of “her white hands getting redder everyday” (68), due to physical labor.
Despite Mr. Melbury’s filial and societal concerns, Hardy suggests that his valuation is wrong. While the society of its day, and the likes of Mr. Melbury, regarded labor as a sign of low status, in the novel it is in fact what brings dignity and redemption. Dr. Fitzpiers’s desire to help a dying man, Giles, shows a reengagement with the true practical function of his profession. It is also part of the positive transformation of his character, denoted by his abandonment of his idealistic speculations when he asks Grace to destroy the very books he used as a barometer of his intellect. Similarly, Grace redeems herself from her earlier social snobbery through work. She physically picks up the sick Giles and carries him to the cottage, before bathing and caring for him. In using her body and hands like this, she reconnects with Giles and his values. The value of labor is something that Marty realizes on a deeper level. Having labored with, rather than just for, Giles, Marty understands that his distinction lies not in words or ideas but in his work. As she says, “whenever I plant the young larches I’ll think that none can plant as you planted […] and whenever I turn the cider wring, I’ll say none could do it like you” (305).
When Grace discovers that her husband is having an affair, she sees her old lover walking outside and, overcome with sentiment, exclaims how “nature was bountiful” (172). She idealizes the rustic Giles, thinking how “he looked and smelt like Autumn’s very brother, his face being sunburnt to wheat colour, his eyes blue as cornflowers […] nature unadorned” (172). Her mythologizing of Giles here is a reaction to her treatment by Dr. Fitzpiers. She wishes to valorize and affirm everything that the cultured, metropolitan Dr. Fitzpiers is not. Her actions seem to uphold the myth of the pastoral by attributing a judgement value upon it.
Grace’s mythologizing, however, is also a way in which Hardy satirizes the idea of the pastoral. The pastoral is an ideal setting, itself part of an artistic genre which aestheticizes and romanticizes a notion of the rural world in contrast to that of the urban. Specifically, the pastoral sets up rural humanity as a healthy and harmonious part of an essentially benign and fecund nature. Hardy criticizes the ideas of health and harmony throughout The Woodlanders, especially by the imagery used. As Dr. Fitzpiers daydreams about the simple “sylvan life” (113) while watching the “barking” process, for instance, a more brutal reality is playing out. Hardy describes how “each tree doomed to the flaying process” (113) first had a collar of twigs and moss removed in “an operation comparable to the ‘little toilette’ of the executioner’s victim” (113) before being attacked with hooks. Thus, the pastoral is subverted. An ostensibly idyllic rural scene of woodsmen taking bark from trees is likened to procedures of torture and execution. This suggests that, despite the pastoral ideal, rural humanity’s relationship to nature is a fundamentally violent one.
Similarly, non-human nature is not a harmonious or peaceable whole either. Grace, for example, observes the woods after a storm and sees “trees close together, wrestling for existence, their branches disfigured with wounds resulting from their mutual rubbings and blows […] the rotting stumps of those of the group that had been vanquished long ago, rising […] like black teeth from green gums” (258). This is a nature that is far from benign. Instead, it is one of violence, struggle, and suffering. It is one where death and decay, as much as life and growth, are dominant. Further, this strife is not restricted to human beings against nature or nature against itself. It is also seen in nature’s violence against humans. During the storm, as Giles lies dying, Grace notices how the branches of trees near the cottage “swayed so low as to smite the roof in the manner of a gigantic hand smiting the mouth of an adversary, to be followed by a trickle of rain, as blood from the wound” (255). Nature is not benign when it comes to humans either. Giles, the archetypal woodsman, is symbolically killed by the trees he has nurtured and grown. Far from offering shelter, the wood he has loved joins forces with the raging wind and the rain. And it assists the typhoid, itself another part of nature, to destroy him.
When speaking to Dr. Fitzpiers about the value of money, Grace says, “money is of little more use at Hintock than on Crusoe’s island: there’s hardly any way of spending it” (118). Grace highlights an important aspect of life in Little Hintock. Unlike the worlds portrayed by Charles Dickens, for example, money plays relatively little role in The Woodlanders and is not the main marker of status. Rather, this role is taken up by property. One’s place in the social hierarchy is determined not by how much money one possesses, still less by what one earns, but by where one lives. Mrs. Charmond is an aristocrat because she resides at Hintock House. Marty is at the bottom of the social order because she lives in a life-leased cottage. Mr. Melbury, despite his success at business and his money, is condemned by his merchant’s house to remain a merchant.
Consequently, the importance of property in Little Hintock guarantees that the social order is highly rigid. While it is possible to fall lower, as happens to Giles when he loses his home, and to Dr. Fitzpiers’s aristocratic ancestors, it is extremely difficult to move up. Further, these hierarchies of class and property are re-enforced by ideas of propriety. This is a set of unspoken rules about how one should and should not behave. Particularly, it involves knowing and respecting boundaries and divisions, especially of class, individuation, and sexual mores. The latter is important because it prevents romances between individuals of different classes disrupting the “normal” hierarchies.
However, despite the dominance of both property and propriety in Little Hintock, there are times when both are disrupted. Communal parties, most notably Giles’s, are places where disruptions to property and propriety occur.
In one of the novel’s defining scenes, a communal party becomes a transgressive space. Guests show up early, the educated Grace makes tarts in the kitchen, deserts are splashed onto dresses, and people accidentally eat slugs with their cabbage. The normal rules of decorum, individuation, and hierarchy face challenges, a challenge symbolized by the stained playing cards used by Giles. As Hardy says, “the kings and queens wore a decayed expression of feature, as if they were rather an impecunious dethroned dynasty hiding in obscure slums than real regal characters” (64). The arbitrariness of the social order and its potential alterability is, albeit temporarily, called into question. This alterability likewise happens with the festivities on Midsummer Eve and Grace’s post-honeymoon party. Artificial and oppressive differences between people are broken down and a deeper communal identity asserts itself. The old hierarchies, however, quickly re-emerge. Fitzpiers insists to Grace that “there must be no mixing in with your people below” (153). Mr. Melbury declares that Giles should have “known better.” Still, the party, as seen at the novel’s end when half of Hintock end up in The Three Tuns tavern, offers a brief reprieve from the stifling restrictions of class and status.
By Thomas Hardy