Plot Similarities: Thomas Hardy and Henry James

 About half way though Thomas Hardy's "Far From the Madding Crowd," I had a sudden thought: that the basic plot was remarkably similar to that of "The Portrait of a Lady," by Henry James.  Both revolve around attractive, independent women who have come into an unexpected, significant inheritance at an early age and who are pursued by three different men.  Both women make the wrong choice when it comes to marriage, but in the end, Hardy goes in one direction and James in another.

The similarities were so striking I thought: "I can't be the only one who thinks so," and, indeed, not.

An Internet search soon turned up a thesis on this very topic, written by a woman named Susan Shepeard in 1976 in partial fulfillment of a Master of Arts degree at William & Mary College in Williamsburg, Virginia.

"The striking similarities in theme, characterization and imagery go so far as to suggest that Hardy's earlier work might have influenced that of James," Ms Shepeard said, and, indeed, there is evidence to suggested that such could have been the case.  When "Far From" first appeared in 1874, it got a distinctly mixed review from James. whose "Portrait" was published in 1881. In other words, he was very familiar with Hardy's story prior to writing his own rather similar story. In addition,  the two men knew each other.

Shepeard's thesis doesn't attempt to resolve that particular controversy, focusing instead on how the two authors progressed from similar starting points to differing views on love and marriage. As such, I highly recommend her thesis to those interested in such ideas and/or the two authors.

One notable difference between the two works is their settings: very rural England in the case of Hardy and rather glittering European society in the case of James, a difference that initially serves to obscure their similarities. A young woman owning and running a farm (albeit on leased land) and, in the process, engaging in a lot of work, is enough to put Bathsheba on a pedestal in "Far From."  In contrast, Isabel, an American, needs the vast wealth she inherits to set her apart in the rather jaded European social milieu in which she finds herself and she has neither need for nor thought of employment.

Each woman is initially pursed by a man attracted to her before she came into wealth and both reject the advances. Both are also pursued by wealthy neighbors whose motives seem not dishonorable if less than ideal for women determined to be more independent than such liaisons would likely permit. And both eventually marry flawed individuals they seem to think they can help, only to be taken advantage of. 

In Hardy's case, certain circumstances serve to give Bathsheba an "out" and she then marries the man she apparently should have in the first place, an outcome Hardy justifies by offering readers a definition of the nature of true love. I wrote about that here.

In the case of James, "Portrait" ends with Isabel in such dreadful, unresolved circumstances that Irish author John Banville not long ago decided a sequel was needed. Banville's effort, "Mrs. Osmond" (Isabel's married name) was published in 2017. It is an interesting if less than totally satisfactory read.

One Way In Which to Justify a Happy Ending in Fiction

 Thomas Hardy's "Far From the Madding Crowd" is a comedic novel, which means it has a happy ending.  That's as opposed to a tragic novel, which doesn't.

When it comes to Hollywood movies, just about any excuse will do, since the public by and large doesn't like films that end as "downers."  That was traditionally true of Broadway musicals as well, which is one reason "West Side Story" was a breakthrough: it doesn't end happily.

But back to Hardy (1840 -1928): his heroine, Bathsheba Everdene, by the time she was only about 24 years old, had already rejected one suitor, married the wrong man and then when he appeared to have died, promised to marry an older man she didn't love as a result of a thoughtless Valentine's Day gesture sometime earlier. Fortunately (for her), the former was shot and killed by the latter who then turned himself in to serve essentially a life term in prison.  That left her free to marry the right man, the man who had first proposed to her only to be rejected.

But why should readers believe this man, Garbriel Oak,  really is the right man and that their future together will be a happy one?  In Hardy's view it has to do with the nature of real, or true, love.

Briefly by way of background, Oak, an exceptionally competent and reliable fellow had, following a stroke of ill-fortune, come to work for Bathsheba when she inherited a prosperous farm and gained considerable social stature in the process. Whenever problems arose, Oak was there to take care of them, never again pressing his suit as he worked closely with Bathsheba and eventually became her second in command.

Then, just as Bathsheba is finally free of those other entanglements, Oak announces a plan to go to America (the novel being set in rural England), leaving Bathsheba unjustifiably distraught. "She was aggrieved and wounded that the possession of hopeless love from Gabriel, which she had come to regard as her inalienable right for life, should have been withdrawn just at his own pleasure in this way." She is, after all, far from a worldly woman in age and experience despite her pluck and independence. 

Thinking about it, Bathsheba comes to realize she is about to lose the only true friendship she had and, taking matters into her own hands, convinces Oak that if he will only propose again, she will marry him. Somewhat bemused, he does: he has always wanted her.

The reason, in Hardy's mind, that their love for each other will now last is because if "a substantial affection" survives an initial knowledge of  the rougher sides of each other's character, and only develops into romance "in the interstices of hard prosaic reality," it will make for a solid bond.

"This good fellowship -- comaraderie --  usually occurring through similarity of pursuits, is unfortunately seldom superadded to love between the two sexes, because men and women associate, not in their labours, but in their pleasures merely. Where, however, happy circumstance permits its development, the compounded feeling proves itself to be the only love which is as strong as death -- that love which many waters cannot quench, nor the floods drown, beside which the passion usually called by the name (love) is evanescent as steam."

And there the novel ends, on page 428 in the Penguin Random House 2015 Vintage Classics Edition.

A Charming Little Tale from Thomas Hardy

 In "Far From the Madding Crowd," Thomas Hardy's chief male protagonist, Gabriel Oak, at one points finds himself in a drinking establishment called Warren's Malthouse, getting to know the locals and in the process, trying to find out more about his former neighbor and now prospective employer, Bathsheba Everdene to whom he had once unsuccessfully proposed marriage.

The other men first claimed not to know much about Bathsheba, who only a few days earlier had taken over a nearby farm that had been owned by her recently deceased uncle, but after Oak persisted, asking if anyone knew her father and mother, one man, Jacob Smallbury, said he had known them a little before both had died some years earlier. Smallbury then pressed the maltster for details, a request that prompted various others to weigh in as well.

In a nutshell Bathsheba's father had married a very attractive woman whom he adored; he may or may not have been wealthy between bankruptcies, and, most interestingly, he apparently had a certain weakness: a rather strong desire to chase after pretty girls despite his good fortune in marriage.

"Well, now, you'd hardly believe it, but that man -- our Miss Everdene's father -- was one of the ficklest husbands alive, after a while," said a man named Mr. Coggan. "Understand, 'a didn't want to be fickle, but he couldn't help it.  The poor feller were faithful and true to her in his wish, but his heart would rove, do what he would."

Among other things, this brings to mind Dante's "Commedia" in which he postulates that man is endowed with love and intellect, or desire and reason, and that they need to be harmonized.

In this case, Levi Everdene's desire was pointed in one direction and his will in another.

It could have been a disaster in the making, but according to Mr. Coggan, Everdene came up with what might be thought of as a rather ingenious if somewhat problematic workaround.

After his shop closed for the day and they sat together, Everdene made Bathsheba's mother take off her wedding ring. He then called her by her maiden name and pursued her as if he were enjoying the transgressive delights of adultery.

"As soon as he could thoroughly fancy he was doing wrong and committing the seventh, 'a got to like her as well as ever and they lived on a perfect picture of mutel love," Coggan said. The reference, of course, is one of the 10 Commandments.

"Well, 'twas a most ungodly remedy," murmured Joseph Poorgrass (another one of the locals); "but we ought to feel deep cheerfulness that a happy Providence kept it from being any worse. You see, he might have gone the bad road and given his eyes to unlawfulness entirely -- yes, gross unlawfulness, so to say it."

"You see," said Billy Smallbury, "the man's will was to do right, sure enough, but his heart didn't chime in." 

And, as the years went by, Levi Everdene apparently became "quite godly," by among other things, copying verses from tombstones and serving as a godfather "to poor little come-by-chance children."

Well, that was a narrow escape, wasn't it? Good thing his wife was apparently a very fetching woman who evidently found pleasure in the game as well.

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