Life as a game, love as a distraction: Lives lived without achievement and the fear of growing old in F. Scott Fitzgerald's 'The Beautiful and Damned'

The edition of The Beautiful and Damned that I read was the Wordsworth Classics Edition, published in 2011. The book itself also contains Fitzgerald’s first novel, This Side of Paradise, so the page numbers I have included as reference may seem a little odd. I had never read Fitzgerald before, so I was unsure of what to expect. Many reviewers had stated that they found Gloria and Anthony, the novel’s protagonists, impossible to relate to. I did not find this to be the case at all. Fitzgerald’s writing is at times overwhelmingly beautiful and ultimately this is a very sad novel. I was almost reduced to tears by the end, something I had not at all expected. I recommend this novel and will certainly be reading Fitzgerald’s other works in the future.

‘It would not be easy to find a more thoroughly depressing book than this new novel by F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned.’¹ So writes Louise Maunsell Field in the New York Times on March 5^th, 1922, just after the publication of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s second novel. Two years before he had published This Side of Paradise, a work which quickly made him rich and famous. While The Beautiful and Damned is often considered to be ‘Fitzgerald’s least accomplished novel’² there is still a lot of material available for analysis. In some ways, it is a difficult novel to get along with – I believe most people struggle to some extent in reading a novel whose characters are so very difficult to identify or sympathise with. Of course, the directionless existence of Anthony Patch could be considered touching, but his arrogance and laziness make this quite difficult, especially because one tends to wince slightly at the complaining of those whose lives are actually relatively privileged. Nonetheless, the relationship of Anthony Patch and Gloria Gilbert is of interest, as is their miserable descent into alcohol fuelled ruin, made all the more sad for the fact that both feared ageing and all that goes with it. This fear of ageing and having nothing to show for it, as well as the terrible boredom and lack of direction experiences by those who lack any responsibility at all, is what I intend to look at in the following few paragraphs.

One of the most interesting elements of Anthony and Gloria’s relationship is the idea that they have about being soul mates that are very much alike, apparently in spite of the fact that in many ways they want different things. In addition, each faces their struggles differently; in the darkest hours Anthony becomes a tragic, rambling, angry drunk, while Gloria tries desperately to cling to her youth. In the early days of their love, Anthony declares “We are twins,” while Gloria tells him that “Mother says that two souls are sometimes created together and – and in love before they are born.”^-p.359 These sentimental youthful declarations precede a time when Anthony and Gloria are driven further and further apart by the disintegration of their lifestyles and indeed their very identities. Both require money to maintain the latter and in its absence Anthony loses his dignity and Gloria’s beauty begins to fade away.

The things that the couple want from life could be said to be entirely opposite. Throughout the novel, Gloria’s self-absorption is pointed out time and time again, for example when Anthony asks her “Aren’t you interested in anything except yourself?” – Gloria’s answer is simply “Not much.”^p.350 Later, as Gloria’s life falls apart around her, only one element of her fall seems to really cut her to the core – the loss of her youth and beauty. Gazing into the mirror she goes to pieces with the words “Oh my pretty face! Oh, I don’t want to live without my pretty face! Oh, what’s happened?”^p.552 Only then does her situation truly dawn on her. Gloria often asserts that her chief aim and purpose in life is to preserve her beauty; she has no desire to do anything else, especially if it will in any way hinder her aim. One thing which she feels would, is motherhood, so when she believes she may be pregnant she is beside herself. Her husband has little sympathy, failing to understand that Gloria is not like ‘other women’. He tells her “You’d think you’d been singled out of all the women in the world for this crowning indignity.” Gloria’s telling response is “What if I do![…] It isn’t an indignity for them. It’s their excuse for living. It’s the one thing they’re good for.”^p.411 Thus, while Anthony feels he ought to be treated as any other member of the aristocracy, Gloria feels she is entirely one of a kind. In life, Gloria has no desire to achieve anything at all, something which she makes clear several times. When asked if she wants to do anything she replies, “I want to sleep… I want to just be lazy and I want some of the people around me be doing things, because that makes me feel comfortable and safe – and I want some of them to be doing nothing at all, because they can be graceful and companionable for me.”^p.311-312 Anthony obviously expects his grandfather’s money. However he does desire ‘something else’ and it is the struggle to identify what this is, let alone find it, that leads to his ultimate downfall. Anthony lacks any motivation or discipline. He bemoans the ‘fact’ that “There used to be dignified occupations for a gentleman who had leisure, things a little more constructive that filling up the landscape with smoke or juggling someone else’s money.”^p.345 All the while, he uses this as an excuse. Anthony has many excuses for not working; he blames Gloria, he blames the world, he even blames not knowing when his grandfather will pass away, telling Gloria “It’s not that I have any moral compunction about work[…] but grampa may die tomorrow and he may live for ten years.”^p.415 Anthony worries that he is not as good as his peers, he lacks direction or purpose and ultimately needs a partner to keep him as grounded as possible, for as long as possible. This is in contrast with Gloria; she does not need to be kept from flying away, instead she needs comfort and safety while she floats above the rest of the world.

This leads nicely on to questions of the couple’s motivations for marriage. Both are searching for something and both believe they have found a kindred spirit of sorts. Anthony believes that ‘if he did not marry her his life would be a feeble parody of his own adolescence.’^p.350 He needs Gloria to love him and he seems to subconsciously believe that responsibility and commitment of a marriage will prevent his life from spiralling out of control, or worse, becoming boring. On the wedding day we are told that ‘The blood was moving in his veins now. A languorous and pleasant content settled like a weight upon him, bringing responsibility and possession. He was married.’^p.376 Poor Anthony, believing that marrying Gloria will bring him comfort! While Anthony is experiencing this joint happiness of responsibility and possession, Gloria is glad of the safety of this marriage. ‘She was beyond all conscious perceptions. Only a sense, coloured with delirious wild excitement, that the ultimately important was happening – and a trust, fierce and passionate, burning in her life  a prayer, that in a moment she would be for ever and securely safe.’^p.377 Unfortunately for both, their expectations of marriage are not met. 

Both Anthony and Gloria have deep-seated fears of growing old. Initially, Gloria’s fears centre on ideas of marriage and children - ultimately, of responsibility. However, after her marriage to Anthony, while still abhorring the idea of child-bearing, Gloria’s fears turn to her beauty and the effects of ageing. It really is the only thing, aside from money, that she values. She is disgusted at the idea of settling into a typical lifestyle, and hates the notion of being a typical wife, asking Anthony “Don’t say ‘wife’. I’m your mistress. Wife’s such an ugly word. Your ‘permanent mistress’ is so much more tangible and desirable.”^p.378 Gloria is horrified at the prospect of ever living in normal house in a normal town, saying “That’s just what I don’t want[…] a hot stuffy bungalow, with a lot of babies next door and their father cutting the grass in his shirt sleeves -”^p.388 For Gloria, growing old does not bring fear for the same reason as it does Anthony; her fears are entirely about her looks. She does not even want to live without her good looks, and at the prospect of eventually running entirely out of money, she suggests that they both go to Italy for three years to live and then just die. For Anthony, there is more to it. He needs to have something to show, to have made some mark, for ‘It worried him to think that he was, after all, a facile mediocrity, with neither the poise of Maury nor the enthusiasm of Dick. It seemed a tragedy to want nothing – and yet he something, something. He knew in flashes what it was – some path of hope to lead him towards what he thought was an imminent and ominous old age.’^p.303 He looks to Gloria to fill the void that his lack of purpose and direction creates. When he is about to meet her for the first time ‘His day, usually a jellylike creature, a shapeless, spineless thing, had attained Mesozoic structure[…] He dreaded the moment when the backbone of the day should be broken, when he should have met the girl at last, talked to her, and then bowed her laughter out the door, returning only to the melancholy dregs in the teacups and the gathering staleness of the uneaten sandwiches.’^p.302

 

In order to have the money which Gloria and Anthony believe will grant them everything they need to be happy, Adam Patch, Anthony’s grandfather, must die and leave them an inheritance. The narrative has this thread running all the way through it, this ‘waiting for grampa to die’. This is eventually replaced by another waiting game, as they await the outcome of contesting the will. All hopes and possibilities hang on attaining the money, but neither Gloria nor Anthony feels any affection for the old man. Gloria even complains “I wish he’d died last week […] inconsiderate old fool!”^p.464 In waiting for the death of Adam Patch, Anthony and Gloria are in essence awaiting their own deaths as well. They are unable to enjoy life, unable to achieve anything; both are entirely miserable. Boredom envelopes them both. While Anthony’s drinking has always been problematic (an early lover, Geraldine Burke, remarks “you have something to drink every day and you’re only twenty-five.”^p.327), his habit quickly causes havoc with his and his wife’s lives. Geraldine’s urge to “think what you’ll be at forty?”^p.327 proves inaccurate by a decade, for Anthony disintegrates long before then. His ability to perform a job sags under the weight of his addiction, as ‘His determination to stay in at night during the week did not survive, and a good half of the time he came to work with a splitting, sickish headache.”^p.430 While he is ‘overcome by one of those attacks of moody despair to which he periodically succumbed’^p.430 Anthony quits his job. In the end he becomes like any alcoholic – nasty, embarrassing and in denial. He is stripped of his class as Gloria is stripped of her youth. Money problems and alcohol are inextricably linked, evident in the fact that ‘Things had started to slide perceptibly. There was the money question, increasingly annoying, increasingly ominous; there was the realisation that liquor had become a practical necessity’^p.463. Gloria is not immune to problematic drinking; meals are paid for, leases signed while under the influence. Gloria’s attempt to defend herself by saying she won’t drink during the day is met with scorn by Anthony.

The further that Anthony and Gloria’s lives slip into chaos, the less their love for each other seems to matter. When Gloria falls ill with ‘flu, she is no longer under the illusion that Anthony can keep her safe. Instead, ‘All she wanted was to be a little girl, to be efficiently taken care of by some yielding but superior power, stupider and steadier than herself’. Trying to avoid an argument, Anthony reminds Gloria that “We’ve got nothing but each other, after all,” to which Gloria simply replies “We haven’t even that, most of the time.”^p.466 This contrasts with her treatment of him after he quits his job, when she ‘felt sorry for him, and kneeling down she stroked his head, saying how little it mattered, how little anything mattered so long as they loved each other.’^p.430 Gloria and Anthony’s lives are ultimately ruined by their inability to look after themselves, look after their money, or look after each other. As Gloria puts it “Gee whizz! Haven’t we got enough troubles taking care of ourselves?”^p.390

One final interesting point to note is the way in which images and notions of theatre litter the novel. This is something Fitzgerald clearly intended, as at times he uses the structure of a play when describing certain dialogue. In addition, the characters, Anthony in particular,  frequently make reference to life being as a play, or game. Anthony mentions that he likes New York, as “I always feel as though it’s a performance being staged for me.”^p.467 These images suggesting that the world revolves around him go some way to highlighting the worst elements of his personality, elements which eventually assist in bringing about his downfall. That Anthony’s day is ‘marching along surely, even jauntily, towards a climax, as a play should, as a day should,’ is another example of this life as a game, which ties in interestingly with the notion of love as a distraction for Anthony.

The Beautiful and Damned is another very depressing novel – reading it between The Return of the Native and The Old Curiosity Shop was perhaps not wise of me! This novel affected me far more than I had expected. In fact, I did not even expect to enjoy it particularly. Nonetheless, it’s an enjoyable book (if that’s the right word) and an interesting one too. My next blog post will be on the subject of The Old Curiosity Shop by Charles Dickens, focussing primarily on the death of little Nell and its cultural significance. As always, thank you for reading and feel free to contact me with any thoughts or suggestions of your own.

Thanks,

-       - K

Twitter: @00KVortex

E-mail: greeninliterature@gmail.com      

A Study of Eustacia Vye, the Doomed Heroine of Thomas Hardy's 'The Return of the Native'

I found this post particularly difficult. Reigning in my thoughts and presenting them in an almost-coherent way did not prove easy as there was just so much going on with the deeply flawed character of Eustacia Vye. The Return of the Native was published in instalments throughout the year 1878 and the edition I have read is the Wordsworth Classics edition, published in 2000, with an introduction and notes by Dr Claire Seymour. I sincerely hope that I have succeeded here in posting something that not only makes some sort of sense but is also of interest to you. You shall have to forgive me for the spoilers; it was truly impossible to study Eustacia Vye without giving a few details.

Eustacia Vye is perhaps one of Hardy’s most alluring, fascinating and, to some extent, real, female characters. She is not the naïve, innocent Tess, nor is she the troubled and intelligent but ultimately tragic Sue Brideshead. Eustacia Vye is extremely complex, at times shallow and dependent, at other times almost unworldly in her command of her surroundings and the way in which she in her own mistress. Thomas Hardy’s treatment of female characters and the situations they face has long been a source of fascination for me, ever since I first read Tess of the D’Urbervilles five or six years ago. At times, these characters are hopelessly virtuous and innocent, and any sexual freedom which they embrace or obtain does not end well for them. However, Hardy is unique in my (limited) experience of Victorian era literature; he concerns himself with the inner lives of women in a way which the likes of Charles Dickens simply did not. It is not within my scope here to attempt to find a definition of feminism or feminist thinking, but it is my belief that within the confines of the 19^th century, and in spite of any occurrences in his own personal life, Hardy was (and to some extent, remains) a champion of the female cause. In The Return of the Native, Hardy presents a complicated and enthralling character in Eustacia Vye – in other words, a genuine woman as opposed to an idealised one. It is because of this, I believe, that I often found myself rooting for Eustacia over Thomasin. The latter is an example of the generic woman in Victorian era literature and as such, is impossible to relate to. One could easily argue that at least Eustacia is real. She is not an easy character to sympathise with; in fact, she is often proud, egotistical and selfish. However, Hardy masterfully creates a scenario in which even she is to some extent tragic.

On the subject of the readers’ introduction to Eustacia Vye, there is plenty upon which to dwell. The first time her existence is mentioned, it is through the idle gossip of the locals. She is described as “very strange in her ways, living up there by herself, and such things please her,”^p.25 while a local man points out that “she’s a well-favoured maid enough… especially when she’s got one of her dandy gowns on.”^p.25 So, from the very beginning, the impression created of Eustacia is one of an attractive woman but one who is altogether strange. The first time Eustacia Vye features in the narrative ‘in person’, so much about her is a mystery – small details become apparent as she walks across the heath. The descriptions given by Hardy go on and on, making his admiration of his creation quite clear, as when he describes her ‘the raw material of a divinity’. The initial impression which Eustacia makes on the mind of the reader rapidly disintegrates throughout the progression of the novel. We see her as far less of an enigma and instead far more as a fickle, needy and selfish woman. This of course sounds like criticism of her character, and to some extent it is, but given the context of the Victorian era, and the fact that one can never quite be sure if she would be quite so terrible in other circumstances and, most importantly, other surroundings, it makes Eustacia quite fascinating. It should also be noted that Eustacia’s behaviour might be selfish but unlike Thomasin, who is protected by her aunt and cousin, Eustacia must socially fend for herself, as her Grandfather does not provide much moral guidance, something with even the narrator points out at one point.

Many of Hardy’s descriptions of Eustacia focus around suggestions of the supernatural, or Godly. He draws heavily of Classical mythology and attempts to show just how ‘unworldly’ Eustacia is. Indeed, this could be viewed as a very dramatic way of presenting the fact that she is an alien on Egdon Heath. Even the title reinforces this fact – Clym Yeobright is the returning native and, by contrast, Eustacia is from somewhere brighter and perhaps, in some small way, more exotic. As such, she has a different aura to the native inhabitants of Egdon. Hardy does not hesitate to describe Eustacia in supernatural terms, as when he describes her ‘the raw material of a divinity. On Olympus she would have done well with little preparation. She had the passions and instincts which make a model goddess[…]’^p.55  There are numerous other Classical Greek references relating to Eustacia Vye throughout the novel, for example ‘it was as though side shadows from the features of Sappho and Mrs Siddons had converged upwards from the tomb to form an image like neither but suggesting both.’^p.46. Hardy goes on to say that these passions are those that ‘make not quite a model woman’^p.55 and this observation helps to form quite an interesting interpretation of Eustacia as a ‘fish out of water’, so to speak. An alien in Egdon, always pining for bigger and brighter things, it would be easy to view Eustacia as some sort of trapped Goddess, doomed by her fate and surroundings to live amongst ‘mere mortals’. However, as the novel progresses, it becomes clear that Eustacia is in possession of a fair few characteristics and perhaps even flaws, which ultimately lead to her seeming less than perfect. In fact, if Eustacia is something of a Goddess by nature, then she is at the same time very human. This dual-existence, being both supernatural and also painfully mortal, is relevant in itself, as it is a good example of what being human really means – people are generally extremely complex and conflicted, shifting through countless emotions, thoughts and personality traits in very short spaces of time. Eustacia is idealistic (a dreamer, if you will, although hardly in the usual sense). She is also full of her own importance, but at the same time is desperately seeking reassurance and needing to be ‘loved to madness – such was her great desire.’^p.58 Eustacia is excessively jealous, mainly of Thomasin Yeobright. At first this centres on her relationship with Thomasin’s apparent fiancé, Damon Wildeve. In spite of the fears she has regarding the marriage of Wildeve and Thomasin, upon hearing that the latter has rejected a union between the two, Eustacia is troubled, thinking ‘-what was the man worth whom a woman inferior to herself did not value?^’p.83 However, in keeping with her proud nature ‘she could not admit at once that she might have over-estimated Wildeve, for to perceive his mediocrity now was to admit her own great folly heretofore’^p.84 This leads on to another interesting element of Eustacia’s personality; namely, that she is a woman very much in control. This contrasts very much with her eventual fate, as well as her symbolic entrapment on Egdon Heath, which I shall discuss later.  Later, Eustacia is driven to play the puppeteer with Thomasin’s fate, pushing forward her marriage to Wildeve, in order that Eustacia may be free to pursue Clym Yeobright (Thomasin’s cousin), whom she obsesses may eventually marry Thomasin.

The crippling boredom and feeling of being trapped (both physically by the landscape and also psychologically, by her position in the world) lead Eustacia to crave an unrealistic love, as ‘love was to her the one cordial which could drive away the eating loneliness of her days. And she seemed to long for the abstraction called passionate love more than for any particular lover’.^p.58 In this sense, love is nothing more than a distraction for Eustacia, a way of passing her time and reassuring herself that here is something more; something real and a place for her. Her view of love is idealistic and best and cynical at worst – any love she experiences centres entirely around herself; how the relationship makes her feel, what her role is and how is best to maintain the power she craves. This is especially apparent in her wonder at the love Diggory Venn has for Thomasin, ‘a strange sort of love, to be entirely free from that quality of selfishness which is frequently the chief constituent of the passion and, sometimes, its only one!’^p.126 With regards to her relationship with Damon Wildeve, there appears to be very little thought for who he actually is as an individual, which is possibly just as well, given that he himself is rather morally questionable. In fact, to some extent, Damon Wildeve is much like Eustacia herself; both are selfish, both are impulsive, and both make decisions without a good thought process. Eustacia’s ability to quickly forget her ‘love’ for Wildeve as soon as an apparently superior possible opportunity presents itself is very telling. Once she begins fixating on Clym Yeobright, Wildeve develops ‘the rayless outline of the sun through smoked glass.’^p.122 All Eustacia ever really craves is a chance to escape the Heath and lead the life she so arrogantly presumes to be her right. In matters of love, Eustacia shows her pride with even greater strength, chastising Damon Wildeve and saying “Now Damon, do you see why I lit my fire? You did not think I would have lit it if I imagined you to have become to husband of this woman. It is insulting my pride to suppose that!”^p.52  Her peculiar attitude to matters of love is again observed when she tells Wildeve “you have not valued my courtesy – the courtesy of a lady in loving you – who used to think of far more ambitious things”^p.69 In some ways, one could wonder if Eustacia rather ‘misses the point’ of love. Her infatuation with Clym Yeobright, which begins before she has actually met him, stems entirely from her belief that she can use him to escape her fate. In this sense, Eustacia seems almost incapable of love, at least as we know it.

Eustacia Vye’s relationship with Egdon Heath is crucial to a full understanding of both her as a character and her place within the novel. A large part of Eustacia’s downfall is her constant desire for bigger and better things. She is of the belief that finding a way out of the heath (without having to engage herself in any sort of work) will ensure her continued happiness and she is unfortunately wrong. Eustacia is ignorant to the fact that the problem which stands in the way of her happiness is her own self – she is trapped by her own sense of self-importance and by a nature which always believes the grass is greener elsewhere. Clym Yeobright is at one with the heath, he ‘had been so inwoven with the heath in his boyhood that hardly anybody could look upon it without thinking of him.’^p.142 Indeed, it should be noted that Clym is the returning native of the title, while Eustacia is a complete alien on the heath, making her entrapment upon it even more poignant. Her belief that she will be able to convince Clym to return to Paris after they are married is another part of her downfall; she has too much faith in her own power. To some extent, a reader may find themselves hoping against hope that this will come true; the symbolic way in which Clym tries to draw water for Eustacia, thus quenching a thirst she has held. Her hatred of the wilderness and longing for urban life at times makes Eustacia quite a sympathetic character, never less so than when she tells Clym “I am managing to exist in a wilderness but I cannot drink from a pond.”^p.155 Eustacia’s fiery nature stands in direct contrast with the bleakness of the heath (or at least, the bleakness which she herself perceives). It is an interesting idea, this notion that Eustacia is connected to fire and flames. Hardy even goes so far as to say that ‘assuming that the souls of men and women were visible essences, you could fancy the colour of Eustacia’s soul to be flame-like.’^p.56 Her personality is certainly what one would describe as fiery, and this connotation leads to an interesting comparison of Damon Wildeve and Clym Yeobright. Eustacia uses a camp-fire to bring the former to her, while she meets Clym under a lunar eclipse. Clym himself is far from reckless, far from over-passionate. Eustacia detests the heath, and her words later ring eerily true when she says of the heath that “’tis my cross, my shame, and will be my death!”^p.71

Eustacia occupies an interesting position within The Return of the Native – she is in many ways the driving force of the novel and most of the major situations involve her. She is, for example, involved in three love triangles of sorts; the first is between herself, Thomasin and Wildeve, the second between herself, Thomasin and Clym, and the third between herself, Clym and his mother, Mrs Yeobright, though the latter is obviously not concerning romantic love as such. The fact that Eustacia winds up racked by guilt really fascinated me – she showed a selflessness of which I hadn’t known her capable. Whether or not Eustacia would have been better off had she stayed with Wildeve is impossible to know. Somehow, it is impossible to shake off the feeling that Eustacia’s fate had been sealed always; she was doomed to exist and die on Egdon Heath, as she herself predicted. Right at the end of the novel, Domon tells Eustacia “I see more and more that I have been your ruin,”^p.282 to which Eustacia replies “Not you. This place I live in.”^p.283 Eustacia’s position on Egdon Heath, as an outsider, and an educated one at that, could have been made easier if not for her snobbery and reluctance to be on friendly terms with the other inhabitants of the heath. Her pride, her restlessness and her ego all conspire to keep her trapped on Egdon Heath, where she will ultimately forever remain. Eustacia Vye might not be the nicest or the sweetest character in the history of literature, but it’s Hardy, so this is not a surprise. Aside from this, Eustacia is real. Real, tragic and doomed.My next post will be on the subject of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Beautiful and Damned. I am still busily working on my major project ‘The Representation of Jews in English Literature, 1380-1880’ and would appreciate any advice or help anybody has to offer. As always, thanks for reading, and feel free to drop me a comment, an e-mail or even a tweet!

-       K