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Tess of the d’urbervilles
Author: Thomas Hardy [UK]
Tess was born in a family of poor hawkers. His father, John Derby, was told one day that he was a descendant of the ancient noble Deber, and he became proud. John and his wife decided to let their daughter go to a wealthy old woman's house to catch up with relatives in order to get financial help. After Tess went, she was seduced by the old woman's son Yare. She became pregnant and returned home, and the child died in his lifetime. After a few years, Tess left home to go to the Taubsai dairy farm for milking work, where he fell in love with Angel Clay, the son of the pastor. Tess admired and loved Clay, who was gentle and knowledgeable, and wanted to tell him several times that he had been raped by Alay, but he did not do it for various reasons. A few days before the marriage, she wrote a long letter to tell Clay about the past. She stuffed the letter from under the door into Clay's house but stuffed it under the carpet. On her wedding night, she confessed to her husband about this misfortune of her past, but Clay failed to forgive her. After that, they separated, Clay went to Brazil to develop his career, and Tess still worked in some farms to make a living. But fate made her meet Yare Debbe, who was already in the black robe of the priest again. Yare's lust for Tess immediately defeated his unfounded religious belief. He entangled Tess and would never give up until she got it. At this time, Tess's father died of illness. For the sake of her mother and younger brothers and sisters' lives, she was forced to live with Yare. Soon, Angel Claire returned from Brazil to find his wife and expressed regret for his past ruthlessness. Tess believes in this case that it was Yare Debour who made her lose Clay for the second time and ruined her happiness again. She was extremely upset and angry, and with a sense of responsibility, she killed Yare. After spending the last five days of happiness and satisfaction with Clay, Tess was arrested and hanged.
Chapter 1
On an evening part of May a middle-aged man was walking homeward from Shaston to the village of Marlott, in the adjoining Vale of Blakemore or Blackmoor. The pair of legs that carried him were risks, and there was a bias in his gait which inclined him somewhat to the left of a straight line. He occasionally gave a smart nod, as if in confirmation of some opinion, though he was not One evening in late May, a middle-aged man was walking from Shaston to his home in Marlotte village near Blackmore Valley (also known as Black Wasteland Valley). His legs were shaking, and his walking posture could not keep a straight line, and he always tilted to the left. He occasionally nodded his head lightly, as if he agreed to an opinion, but in fact he didn't think of anything special in his heart. He had an empty basket of eggs on his arm, the suede on his head was wrinkled, and the place where his thumb touched the brim when he took off the hat was worn out. After a while, an old pastor riding a gray mare while humming a little tune came towards him—
'Good night,' said the man with the basket.
"Hello." said the man carrying the basket.
'Good night, Sir John,' said the parson.
"Hello, Sir John." said the pastor.
The pedestrian, after another pace or two, halted, and turned round.
The man walking took another step or two, stopped and turned around.
'Now, sir, begging your pardon; we met last market-day on this road about this time, and I said "Good-night", and you made reply "Good night, Sir John", as now.'
"Hey, I'm sorry, sir; about this time last market-day, we met on this road, and I said "Good night, Sir John", as now.'
"Hey, sir; about this time last market-day on this road, we met on this road, and I said "Good night, Sir John", as now.'
"Hey, sir;
'And once before that -- near a month ago.'
"I may have.'
"Then what might your meaning be in calling me "Sir John" these different times, when I be plain Jack Durbeyfield, the haggler?'
"I'm just a normal mobile hawker named Jack Durbeyfield, the haggler?'
"I'm just a regular mobile hawker named Jack Durbeyfield, the haggler?'
"I'm just a regular mobile hawker named Jack Durbeyfield, what does it mean?"
The parson rode a step or two nearer.
The priest rode his horse and walked towards him one or two steps.
'It was only my whim,' he said; and, after a moment's hesitation: 'It was on account of a discovery I made some little time ago, whilst I was hunting up pedigrees for the new county history. I am Parson Tringham, the antiquary, of Stagfoot Lane. Don't you really know, Durbeyfield, that you are the linear representative of the ancient and hately family of the d'Urbervilles, who derived their descent from Sir Pagan d'Urberville, that renowed knight who came from Normandy with William the Conqueror, as appears by Battle Abbey Roll?'
"That was just my whim," he said; and hesitated for a moment: "That was because of a discovery I had recently looked up the genealogy for the purpose of writing a new county history. I am the archaeologist Trillham of Deerfoot Road. De Northfield, do you really not know that you are the descendant of the ancient knight family of Deerbeville? The Deerbeville family was passed down from the famous knight Sir Pagan Deerbeville. According to the document ① of Jigong Temple, he came from Normandy with King William the conqueror."
'Never heard it before, sir!'
"I have never heard of it in the past, sir!"
'Well it's true. Throw up your chin a moment, so that I may catch the profile of your face better. Yes, that's the d'Urberville nose and chin -- a little debased. Your ancestor was one of the twelve knights who assisted the Lord of Estremavilla in Normandy in his conquest of Glamorganshire. Branches of your family held manors over all this part of England; their names appear in the Pipe Rolls in the time of King Stephen. In the reign of King John one of them was rich enough to give a manor to the Knights Hospitallers; and in Edward the Second's time your forefather Brian was summoned to Westminster to attend the great Council there. You decided a little in Oliver Cromwell's time, but to no serious extent, and in Charles the Second's reign you were made Knights of the Royal Oak for your loyalty. Aye, there have been generations of Sir Johns among you, and if knighthood were hereditary, like a baronetcy, as it practically was in old times, when men were laughed from father to son, you would be Sir, John Now.'
"Ah, not bad. You lift your chin a little, and let me take a good look at the side of your face. Yes, this is the nose and chin of the Debeville family—but a little declining. There were twelve knights who assisted Lord Eschermavella of Normandy to conquer Glamorgan, and your ancestor was one of them. In England, there were cereals of your family branches everywhere; in the days of Stephen, the roster of Pippe recorded their names. In the days of King John, one of their branches was rich, and gave the Order acereal to the Order of the Rescue; in the days of Edward II, your ancestor Brian was called to Westminster to attend the Great Parliament.Your family began to decline a little in the Oliver Cromwell era, but not to the extent of seriousness. During the dynasty of Charles II, your family was named Sir Royal Oak because of their loyalty to the royal family. Alas, Sir John in your family has been for several generations. If the title of knight can be hereditary like a baron, you should be Sir John now. In fact, it was hereditary in the past era, and the title of knight was passed down from the father to the son. "
'Ye don't say so!'
" But you have never said that! '
'In short,' concluded the parson, decisively smacking his leg with his switch, 'there's hardly such another family in England.'
'"In short," the priest slapped his leg with his switch, 'there's hardly such another family in England.'
" In short," the priest slapped his leg with his whip and concluded, "In England, there is no second family like you." ”
'Daze my eyes, and isn't there?' said Durbeyfield. 'And here have I been knocking about, year after year, from pillar to post, as if I was no more than the commonest bearer in the parish… And how long hev this news about me been known, Pa'son Tringham?'The clergyman explained that, as far as he was aware, it had quite died out of knowledge, and could hardly be said to be known at all. His own investigations had begun on a day in the preceding spring when, having been engaged in tracing the vicissitudes of the d'Urberville family, he had observed Durbeyfield's name on his waggon, and had thereupon been led to make inquiries about his father and grandfather till he had no doubt on the subject.
"I'm really surprised me, can't find a second in England? "Dr Northfield said, "But I have been wandering around in this area, year after year, and it's so bad, as if I am no different from the most ordinary people in this parish... Pastor Trillham, how long have you known about our family? "The pastor explained that as far as he knows, it was long forgotten, and it was hard to say anyone knew. His investigation of the family line began last spring. He had been studying the history of the rise and fall of the Debeville family, and saw the name of Debeville in the carriage, which led to his investigation of Debeville's father and grandfather, and finally confirmed the matter.
'At first I resolved not to disturb you with such a useless piece of information,' said he. 'However, our impulses are too strong for our judgment sometimes. I thought you might perhaps know something of it all the while.'
"At first I decided not to bother you with such useless news," he said, "but our impulses are sometimes too strong to control our sanity. I always thought you might already know something about this. ”
'Well, I have heard once or twice, 'tis true, that my family had seen better days afore they came to Blackmoor. But I took no notice o't, thinking it to mean that we had once kept two horses where we now keep only one. I've got a wolf silver spoon, and a wolf graven seal at home, too; but, Lord, what's a spoon and seal?… And to think that I and these noble d'Urbervilles were one flesh all the time. 'Twas said that my gr't-grandfer had secrets, and didn't care to talk of where he came from… And where do we raise our smoke, now, parson, if I may make so bold; I mean, where do we d'Urbervilles live?'
"Ah, yes, I also heard about it once or twice, saying that my family had experienced wealthy days before moving to Black Wasteland Valley. But I didn't care, thinking that we just said that we only have one horse now, and we had two horses in the past. I also keep an ancient silver spoon and an ancient seal with heralds inscribed; but, my goodness, what is a silver spoon and an ancient seal? ...Think about it, I have always been connected with these noble De Bellville.I heard from others that my great-grandfather had some secrets that he refused to tell others and refused to talk about his origin... Oh, pastor, I want to take the liberty to ask, where is the smoke from our family rising again? I mean, where do we Debeville family live? '
'You don't live anywhere. You are extinct -- as a county family.'
" There is no more family anywhere. As a family in a county, your family is already extinct. "
'That's bad.'
" is a pity. '
'Yes -- what the mendacious family chronicles call extinct in the male line -- that is, gone down -- gone under.'
" Yes -- those false genealogies say that male system has become extinct, that is, decay, decline. "
'Then where do we lie?'
" So, where were our ancestors buried? '
'At Kingsbere-sub-Greenhill: rows and rows of you in your vaults, with your effigies under Purbeck-marble canopies.'
"Burned under the green hills, the statues of your ancestors are also engraved under the canopy made of Purbeck-marble. "
'And where be our family mansions and industries?'
" Also, where are the homes and real estates of our family? ”
'You haven't any.'
"You have no homeland and real estate anymore. "
'Oh? No lands neither?'
" Ah? Is there no land? '
'None; though you once had 'em in abundance, as I said, for your family consisted of numerous branches. In this county there was a seat of yours at Kingsbere, and another at Sherton, and another at Milipond, and another at Lullstead, and another at Wellbridge.'
' In this county, there used to be one of your properties in Kingsbill, another in Hillton, one in Mill Pool, one in Larsder, and one in Wellbridge. '
'And shall we ever come into our own again?'
' Will we restore our own family? '
'Oh -- nothing, nothing; except chasten yourself with the thought of "how are the mighty fallen". It is a fact of some interest to the local historian and generator, nothing more. There are several families among the cottagers of this county of almost equal lustre. Good night.'
"Oh—No, no, no; 'How can the great hero die', you have no other way except to punish yourself with this sentence. This incident is still of interest to local historians and genealogists, but nothing else. Among the farmers living in this county, there are several other families with almost the same glorious history. goodbye. "
'But you'll turn back and have a quart of beer wi' me on the strength o't, Pa'son Tringham? There's a very pretty brew in tap at The Pure Drop -- though, to be sure, not so good as at Rolliver's.'
" But, Rev. Trillham, would you turn back and have a quart of beer wi' me on the strength o't, Pa'son Tringham? At the pure wine hotel, I happened to open a bucket of good wines - although I dare say it is still not as good as the wines at the Rolliffer Hotel. ”
'No, thank you -- not this evening, Durbeyfield. You've had enough already.' Conclude thus the parson rode on his way, with doubts as to his discretion in retailing this curious bit of lore.
"No more drinks, thank you-Debeifield, I won't drinks tonight. You've drunk enough. "After the priest finished speaking, he rode away on his horse, and he was a little doubtful in his heart whether he should tell him this somewhat strange legend.
When he was gone Durbeyfield walked a few steps in a profound reverie, and then sat down upon the grassy bank by the roadside, depositing his basket before him. In a few minutes a youth appeared in the distance, walking in the same direction as that which had been pursued by Durbeyfield. The latter, on seeing him, held up his hand, and the lad quickened his pace and came near.
The pastor left, De Northfield fell into deep thought, walked a few steps, then placed the basket in front of him, and sat down on the grass slope on the side of the road. After a while, a young man appeared in the distance, walking in the direction where De Northfield had been walking. As soon as Denfield saw him, he raised his hand, and the young man walked a few steps and came to him.
'Boy, take up that basket! I want'ee to go on an errand for me.'
"You know my name as well as I know yours!'
The young man who was as thin as a slat was a little unhappy: "Who are you, John Debeifield, you actually want to call me 'lady'? Who of us doesn't know each other!"
'Do you, do you? That's the secret -- that's the secret! Now obey my orders, and take the message I'm going to charge 'ee wi'… Well, Fred, I don't mind telling you that the secret is that I'm one of a noble race -- it has been just found out by me this present afternoon P. M.' And as he made the announcement, Durbeyfield, declining from his sitting position, luxuriously stretched himself out upon the bank among the daisies.
"You know me, know me? This is a secret-this is a secret! Now listen to my instructions and send the letter I asked you to send away... Well, Fried, I don't care to tell you this secret. I am a descendant of a noble family, and I only knew this afternoon." Debeifield announced the news, while falling backwards from his sitting position, lying comfortably on the daisies on the grass slope.
The lad stood before Durbeyfield, and contemplated his length from crown to toe.
The young man stood in front of Debeifield and looked him carefully from head to toe.
'Sir John d'Urberville -- that's who I am,' continued the prostrate man. 'That is if knights were baronets -- which they be. 'Tis recorded in history all about me. Dost know of such a place, lad, as Kingsbere-sub-Greenhill?'
"Sir John d'Urberville -- that's who I am,' continued the prostrate man. 'That is if knights were baronets -- which they be. 'Tis recorded in history all about me. Dost know of such a place, lad, as Kingsbere-sub-Greenhill?'
"Sir John d'Urberville -- that's who I am,' continued the prostrate man. 'That is if knights were baronets -- which they be. 'Tis recorded in history all about me. Dost know of such a place, lad, as Kingsbere-sub-Greenhill?'
"Sir John d'Urberville -- that's who I am,' continued the prostrate man. 'That is if knights were baronets -- which they be. 'Tis recorded in history all about me. Dost know of such a place, lad, as Kingsbere-sub-Greenhill?'
"Sir John d'Urberville -- that's who I am,' continued the prostrate man. 'That is if knights were baronets -- which they be. 'Tis recorded in history all about me. Dost know of such a place, lad, as Kingsbere-sub-Greenhill?'
"Sir John d'Urberville -- that's who I am,' continued the prostrate man. 'That is if knights were baronets -- which they be. 'Tis recorded in history all about me. Dost know of such a place, la "I mean, if the Knights were from the Barons - they were the same. Everything about me is recorded in history. Young man, do you know this place Kingsburn at the foot of the green hill?"
'Yes. I've been there to Greenhill Fair.'
"I know. I've been there to Greenhill Fair.'
" I've been to Greenhill Market there."
'Well, under the church of that city there lie --'
" Okay, right under the church of that city there lie --'
"
'Tisn't a city, the place I mean; leastwise 'twaddn' when I was there --'twas a little one-eyed, blinking sort of place.'
"It's not a city there, I mean there's just a place; at least I'm not a city when I went there - it's just an annoying place as big as an eye."
'Never you mind the place, boy, that's not the question before us. Under the church of that there parish lie my ancestors -- hundreds of 'em -- in coats of mail and Jewels, in gr't lead coffins weighing tons and tons. There's not a man in the county of South-Wessex that's got grander and nobler skillstons in his family than I.'
"You don't have to worry about that place, boy, that's not what we're going to say. Below that parish, my ancestors were buried--there were hundreds--worn armor, covered in jewels, and sleeping with a large coffin made of lead weighs several tons.In the county of South Wessex, no one has a more prominent and noble ancestor than me. "
'Oh?'
" is it? ”
'Now take up that basket, and goo on to Marlott, and when you've come to The Pure Drop Inn, tell 'em to send a horse and carriage to me immediately, to carry me hwome. And in the bottom of the carriage they be to put a noggin of rum in a small bottle, and chalk it up to my account. And when you've done that goo on to my house with the basket, and tell my wife to put away that washing, because she needn't finish it, and wait till I come hwome, as I've news to tell her.'
"Okay, take the basket and go to Marlotte Village. When you walk to the pure wine hotel, tell them to call me a carriage and take me home. In the carriage, they asked them to put a small bottle of sweet wine and write it on my account. After you finish this matter, you will send the basket to my house and tell my wife to put down the clothes she is washing, so there is no need to wash them, and wait for me to go home because I have something to tell her. ”
As the lad stood in a dubious attitude, Durbeyfield put his hand in his pocket, and produced a shilling, one of the chronically few that he possessed.
“Thank you, boy, this is for you.” ”
This made a difference in the young man's estimate of the position.
With this shilling, the young man's estimate of the situation is different.
'Yes, Sir John. Thank 'ee. Anything else I can do for 'ee, Sir John?'
"Well, Sir John. Thank you. Is there anything else I want me to serve you, Sir John? ”
'Tell 'em at hwome that I should like for supplier, -- well, lamb's fry if they can get it; and if they can't, black-pot; and if they can't get that, well, chitterlings will do.'
"Tell me my family that I want to eat supper--well, if there are lamb crumbs, I will eat fried lamb crumbs; if there are no lamb crumbs, I will eat blood sausage ; if there are no blood sausage, okay, I will eat small intestine just by sausage. "
'Yes, Sir John.'
" Yes, Sir John. ”
The boy took up the basket, and as he set out the notes of a brass band were heard from the direction of the village.
"What's that?' said Durbeyfield. 'Not on account of I?'
"What's the sound? "Dr Northfield said. "It's not to welcome me, right?" '
''Tis the women's club-walking, Sir John. Why, your dater is one of the members.'
''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' Well, your daughter is a member of the club. '
'To be sure -- I'd quite forget it in my thoughts of greater things! Well, vamp on to Marlott, will ye, and order that carriage, and maybe I'll drive round and inspect the club.'
" Really -- I'll think of big things, I forgot it in my thoughts of greater things! Well, vamp on to Marlott, will ye, and order that carriage, and maybe I'll drive round and inspect the club.'
" Really -- I'll think of big things, I forgot it all in my thoughts of greater things! Well, vamp on to Marlott, will ye, and order that carriage, and maybe I'll drive round and inspect the club.'
" Really -- I'll think of big things, I forgot it all in my thoughts of greater things! Well, vamp on to Marlott, will ye, and order that carriage, and maybe I'll drive round and inspect the club.'
" Really -- I'll think of big things, I forgot it all in my thoughts of greater things! Well, vamp on to Marlott, will ye, and order that carriage, and maybe I'll drive round and inspect the club.'
" Really -- I'll think of big things, I forgot it all in my thoughts of greater things! Well, vamp on to Marlott, will ye, and order that carriage, and maybe I'll drive round and inspect the club.'
" Really -- I'll think of big things, I forgot it all in my thoughts of greater things! OK, go to Marlotte Village and call me the carriage. Maybe I will take the carriage around to see the club parade. ”
The lad departed, and Durbeyfield lay waiting on the grass and daisies in the evening sun. Not a soul passed that way for a long while, and the faith notes of the band were the only human sounds audible within the rim of blue hills.
The young man left, Debeifield lay waiting in the grass daisies, bathing in the afternoon sun.
