"Sir, I exist!"
"However," replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation."
- Stephen Crane
The ending of The Return of the Native sparked controversy not only in Hardy’s time but in our class on Thursday as well. I speak, of course, of the “true” ending to the novel; the one which Hardy had originally intended to be the ending of the novel. I think an important point in understanding and deciding what exactly happens to Eustacia and Wildeve at the end of Book Five is the distinction between what I will term Hardy’s Nature and Huxley’s Nature. I think if we were to read the end of the novel in terms of Huxley’s Nature, which is an agnostic view, then their deaths would be very upsetting because even though there is no belief in a specific creed, as Huxley says, there is still the sense that human life can have meaning (1436); however, read in terms of Hardy’s Nature, which I argue is nihilist, their deaths are perfectly understandable and should warrant no emotional response because ultimately their lives were meaningless—they simply succumb to the vast uncaring power of Nature.
Nihilism, defined as simply as possible, is a belief in the meaninglessness of everything; therefore, the nihilist, by definition, is an atheist because he believes that nothing has meaning and thus believes in nothing. Let me reiterate the distinction I made in class between nihilism and existentialism because it is a point of misunderstanding that I have discovered even in published critical essays in my research for my master’s project. First, there are really multiple forms of existentialism, but the two main distinctions are theistic and atheistic. First, it is important to note that the thinkers I will discuss here vehemently denied the label existentialist and such a term was not in existence during Kierkegaard’s time but was applied to his work later. Last week, I mentioned Kierkegaard (and Dr. Varner mentioned him in class) who would be considered a theistic or Christian existentialist. Both schools, theistic and atheistic, believe in the meaninglessness of the universe itself. Kierkegaard argues that this is where the “leap of faith” for the Christian comes in—there is no way to absolutely prove the existence of God given the universe we find ourselves in; we must take a leap of faith. Therefore, meaning is found within a meaningless universe through faith. Atheistic existentialists such as Jean-Paul Sartre and Albert Camus are concerned with discovering meaning without appeal. Sartre famously describes the term “being-in-itself” in Being and Nothingness meaning that existence precedes essence. In other words, human beings do not have a purpose or meaning before they actually come into existence—they create that meaning. The importance of this is to note that while existentialism does post the universe as meaningless, it denies the belief that everything is without meaning. Camus even writes in The Rebel that his entire life’s work is dedicated to the opposition of nihilism.
A comparison between Hardy and a couple American naturalist authors, Stephen Crane and Jack London will help to illuminate the nihilism found in The Return of the Native. In Crane’s “The Open Boat,” four survivors of a ship that has sunk find themselves at the mercy of the sea in a ten-foot dinghy that is slowly taking on water. A few days into their journey, they spot land, but they only have oars and cannot get to the shore quickly enough. The narrator, at this point writes that the men in the boat may said something to this effect: “ ‘If I am going to be drowned—if I am going to be drowned—if I am going to be drowned, why [. . .] was I allowed to come this far and contemplate sand and trees? Was I brought here merely to have my nose dragged away as I was about o nibble the sacred cheese of life? It is preposterous.’ [. . .] Afterward the man might have had an impulse to shake his fist at the clouds. ‘Just you drown me, now, and then hear what I call you!’” (Crane 909). At the end of the story, everyone makes it ashore but the one. The narrator writes, “The welcome of the land to the men from the sea was warm and generous, but a still and dripping shape was carried slowly up the beach, and the land’s welcome for it could only be the different and sinister hospitality of the grave” (919). In Crane’s story, the characters are completely at the mercy of Nature. Even when they arrive on shore, death beckons them. The fact that one dies and three survive is solely chance for the narrator and the characters—there is no inherent meaning.
Similarly, in Jack London’s “To Build a Fire” the nameless main character, a new-comer to the wild, attempts to challenge nature though he sees the possibility that he will lose before he sets out into the freezing expanse of the Yukon. On his trip he falls into a shallow creek and attempts to build a fire to keep himself from freezing to death. He, like Crane’s characters, is faced with nature which he knows he cannot control. The narrator writes: “When it is seventy-five below zero, a man must not fail in his first attempt to build a fire—that is, if his feet are wet. [. . .] [T]he circulation of wet and freezing feet cannot be restored by running when it is seventy-five below. No matter how fast he runs, the wet feet will freeze the harder. All this the man knew” (London 982). The main character is aware of Nature’s uncontrollability, but he still believes he can beat it as long as he knows how to beat it. But his hands are numb with frostbite. He struggles to start the fire, but as soon as he gets one going, snow from a tree falls on it and puts it out. The reader knows deep down that hope is lost, but still desires to see the man prevail. The man, too, convinces himself that by his sheer willpower alone, he can defeat Nature his way; if he can just keep a steady pace and continue to walk towards his destination, he will make it. The narrator writes “Without a doubt he would lose some fingers, and toes and some of his face; but the boys would take care of him, and save the rest of him when he got there” (986). The man is attempting to reconcile the situation in whatever way he can. Even when he is on the verge of death, the narrator tells us, “Well, he was bound to freeze anyway, and he might as well take it decently. With this new-found peace of mind came the first glimmerings of drowsiness. A good idea, he thought, to sleep off to death. It was like taking an anaesthetic. Freezing was not so bad as people thought. There were lots worse ways to die” (987). There is a profound irony in the way in which the man continually attempts to reconcile his situation in the face of hopelessness. Or, in other words, he attempts to create meaning in an utterly meaningless and hopeless situation, and the way in which the narrator presents this to the reader makes his struggle seem utterly futile.
A clear parallel can be drawn between these American short stories and The Return of the Native. What happens to Mrs. Yeobright can clearly fit into the indifferent attitude of Nature, but and interpretation of the end of Book Five is even better served when put into a nihilistic context. Eustacia’s death can be read not only as suicide but as a succumbing to the power of Nature. When Clym finds Wildeve looking for Eustacia, they standoff in silence, but the narrator tells us: “While they both hung thus in hesitation a dull sound became audible above the storm and wind. Its origin was unmistakable—it was the fall of a body into the stream in the adjoining mead, apparently at a point near the weir” (Hardy 365). The reader does not know exactly how Eustacia fell into the stream, but Clym’s remarks immediately following give some indication. He asks Wildeve if he thinks it could have been Eustacia who they heard. When Wildeve asks, “ ‘Why should it be she?’”, Clym responds, “Because last week she would have put an end to her life if she had been able. She ought to have been watched!’” (365). Because Clym had threatened Eustacia just a few days before because he blamed her for his mother’s death, he feels responsible. During their argument, she tells him, “ ‘I almost wish you would kill me,’ [. . .] ‘It is with no strong desire, I assure you, that I play the part I have lately played on earth. You are no blessing, my husband’” (323). Both Clym and Wildeve jump into the water to save Eustacia. Diggory Venn is able to pull them out, but both Wildeve and Eustacia are dead.
Nihilism comes into play in these events in two major ways. First, Eustacia and Wildeve, just as in the American tales, are defeated by nature. The narrator describes he lifeless body as “more than whiteness; it was almost light. The expression of her finely carved mouth was pleasant, as if a sense of dignity had just compelled her to leave off speaking” (371). The narrator then compares Wildeve to her: “Less repose was visible in his face than in Eustacia’s. [. . .] The only upon him of his recent struggle for life was in his finger-tips, which were worn and scarified in his dying endeavors to obtain a hold on the face of the weir-wall” (371). In this comparison, we see that Eustacia did not struggle at all—she succumbed to the power of Nature. And even though Wildeve struggled to survive, he could not defeat Nature. The nihilistic Nature, an indifferent, uncaring, meaningless universe destroyed them both. Second, Clym laments the losses to Venn, saying: “ ‘I am getting used to the horror of my existence. They say that a time comes when men laugh at misery through long acquaintance with it. Surely that time will soon come to me!’” (372). What Clym speaks of is flying in the face of the meaningless universe, which is what the survivors in Crane’s story and the man in London’s both do. They face it head on because in nihilism there is nothing else to do but laugh at it since the universe can crush them at any moment—and does. Venn asks him, “ ‘Why should you say such desperate things?’” and Clym responds, cementing his nihilism in the mind of the reader: “ ‘No, they are not desperate. They are only hopeless; and my great regret is that for what I have done no man or law can punish me!’” (372). This hopelessness is at the heart of nihilism. It seems fairly obvious that Hardy wanted to end the novel here, after those lines, to emphasize the meaninglessness of the universe and man’s inability to create anything meaningful within it. There is nothing but hopelessness.
What a bummer!
Works Cited
Camus, Albert. The Rebel. 1951. New York: Vintage International, 1991.
Crane, Stephen. “A man said to the universe:.” 1899. The Complete Poems of Stephen Crane. Ed. Joseph Katz. Ithica: Cornell UP, 1972. 102.
—. “The Open Boat.” 1897. The Norton Anthology of American Literature. 6th ed. Vol. C. Ed. Nina Baym. New York: Norton, 2003. 903-19.
Hardy, Thomas. The Return of the Native. 1878. New York: Barnes & Noble Classics, 2005.
Huxley, Thomas Henry. “From Agnosticism and Christianity.” The Norton Anthology of English Literature. 7th ed. Vol. 2. Ed. Stephen Greenblatt. New York: Norton, 2000. 1354-5.
London, Jack. “To Build a Fire.” 1902. The Norton Anthology of American Literature. 6th ed. Vol. C. Ed. Nina Baym. New York: Norton, 2003. 977-87.
Sartre, Jean-Paul. Being and Nothingness. 1943. New York: Routledge, 2003.
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