Like many societies, current and archaic, Victorian England stigmatized both the women that perpetuated illegitimacy and the children that arose as its products. Many considered illegitimacy to be the result of a lack of ethics, a plague to an otherwise nearly ideal culture. In an attempt to force unwed mothers to recognize the moral fallacy that they had propagated, lawmakers and common citizens alike humiliated and alienated them mercilessly (Haller par. 6). Paternal blame was virtually nonexistent.
Such attitudes manifested themselves in several contexts, though none so glaringly explicit as their influence on the laws that governed the country throughout the mid- to late 19th century. In 1833, the Commission Reporting on Bastardy condemned the existing illegitimacy law, which mandated that the putative father of the child take responsibility for its well-being and provided financial support for mothers in the father's absence (Haller par. 2). The commission's report, which, in part, sought to identify a means of "alleviating and removing the pressures of [illegitimacy's] evils" found that, as the current laws were sympathetic to the mother, they both "increased expense for which they were supposed to compensate" and "offered temptations to the crime that they were intended to punish." The report recommended that "every illegitimate child ... shall, until it attains the age of 16, follow its mother's settlement'" and continued, in justification of its proposal, "the immediate effect of this recommendation will prevent a great amount of waste, suffering, and demoralization"(London Times 24 Feb 1834). The suggestions submitted by the commission formed the basis of 1834's reforms on the bastardy clause of the so-called "Poor Laws", in which the alleged father was absolved of both social and economic responsibility for his child: he was no longer required to marry its mother, nor was he required to provide any financial support. The reformed laws also placed unwed mothers in the same category as widows for poor relief, thus exempting them from all church aid. (Haller par. 4) Although many lawmakers admitted that many the consequences effected by the law were cruel and somewhat ruthless, the majority firmly believed that such action was necessary to restore a greater female morality and "further insure the chastity of the female race"(London Times, 23 June 1834).
The attitudes embodied by the new laws were similarly reflected in the manner in which unwed mothers were treated by those around them. Ostracized by virtually all members of society, including family members and close friends, such women were debased routinely (Haller par. 6). Should a woman become pregnant while living with her family, she would immediately be forced to leave and reestablish herself in an area where she was not known (Haller par. 11), so that her family would not have to bear the shame inherent in her "burdensome and disgraceful" behavior (Pinchbeck 594). Again, no responsibility was designated to the bastard's father.
Abandoned by those closest to them, pregnant women were forced to seek employment to in order to support themselves, a task that was difficult, if not impossible. A woman's opportunities were already extremely limited before her she gave birth. Untrained and unskilled, most sought jobs in factories or took up so-called "fancy" work: domestic tasks, embroidery, lace-making or trim work on clothes. As her pregnancy progressed, a woman would ultimately become unable to hide her condition from her employer, who would fire her immediately (Haller par. 12).
Finally completely alienated from all sources of support, a woman was forced to endure childbirth alone. Many such women and their babies starved to death shortly after the child was born (Haller par. 12). Despite such dangers, alternatives were scarce and often impractical. Abortions, though available, were illegal and extremely dangerous (Hellerstein 238). Even after having survived birth, mothers were left with few options. Based on the belief that children "begotten in sin" would inherit their parents' weakness and influence other children, a large number of orphanages refused to accept bastards, regardless of the fact that they constituted the single largest class of destitute children (Pinchbeck 583-4). Some women attempted to return to the work force, laboring in factories while their babies slept, placated by a tonic of Godfrey's cordial and laudanum (Hellerstein 23). Other women took more drastic measures, killing their children in order to rid themselves of the financial and emotional burden that single motherhood entailed. By the mid-1860's, this practice, known as infanticide, was recognized as a national problem (Hellerstein 238), clearly a result of society's impositions on the lives of unwed mothers.
Although baby farming, the practice of paying a permanent caretaker to tend a child, seemed to be a humane alternative to infanticide, it too involved murder. Though baby-farmers often promised to care for their charges, in actuality they would slowly starve them or administer to them an overdose of drugs, all the while charging their young mothers an upkeep fee. Mothers too understood the unspoken intentions of such caretakers; opting to farm one's baby was simply an indirect method of infanticide (Haller par. 17).
In total, illegitimate pregnancies devastated the lives of the women that they befell, disgracing them to those they loved and forcing them to resort to commit acts of true desperation in order to survive. At the same time, the men involved were able to continue their lives, neither affected by nor punished for their actions. This disparity was condoned and accepted by societal attitudes that were so widespread as to destroy nearly all of an unwed mother's relationships. To blatantly challenge such firmly established beliefs would mean facing considerable anger and opposition.
Although Hardy never explicitly discusses the treatment of mothers of illegitimate children in Far From the Madding Crowd, he nonetheless clearly portrays and demonstrates his disapproval of the situation in which society places them. Such subtlety is achieved using symbolism: Fanny's situation, it seems, is representative of the plight of unwed mothers, while Troy's treatment of her can be viewed as the embodiment of prevalent societal opinions. Using Fanny and Troy as his vehicles, Hardy expresses sympathy for destitute mothers, indicts society for its cruelty, and suggests reforms.
Hardy begins his defense of unwed mothers early in the novel, during the reader's first meeting with Fanny. Here, she is described as being "timid,"(54) "fragile," "slight," and surrounded by a "penumbra of very deep sadness" (57). These are hardly the qualities associated with members of the "lazy, worthless, ignomious, class who pursue their self-gratification at the expense of the earnings of the industrious part of the community," the classification given in 1834 to unwed mothers by the Lord Chancellor of the House of Lords, England's parliament (Haller par. 5). Such words, in fact, serve to engender compassion in the reader's mind by illustrating a frailty and defenselessness that is almost fundamental to Fanny.
The idea that the mothers of illegitimate children were not, contrary to popular belief, "vicious" (London Times 19 April 1834) is reinforced as the reader observes Fanny as she interacts with Troy, the man with whom she is in love. As she begs him to marry her, she is clearly at his mercy: "O Frank - you think me forward, I am afraid! …Don't, dear Frank, will you, for I love you so? And you said lots of times that you would marry me, and I-I-I ..."(89). Though the reader does not know yet know of her pregnancy, it seems, in hindsight, that her allusion to fear may be in reference to it. If this is the case, Troy, too, must know, though he nonetheless makes feeble excuses in his first of many attempts to evade his obligation to her. Here, Troy's representative value is particularly clear: just as society denied assistance to unwed mothers, he denies Fanny the help that she so obviously needs.
Troy appears to be increasingly manipulative and pitiless in the eyes of the reader as the novel progresses. After reluctantly consenting to marry Fanny, he preys on her weakness, immediately rejecting her and rescinding his offer of marriage when she makes the simple mistake of arriving late to their wedding. Fanny's fear of Troy, demonstrated when she finds him and "the expression on her face, which had been one of intense anxiety, sank at the sight of his nearly to terror," (114) makes obvious once again his frequently abused power to exploit her. She cannot defend herself to him, and thus is abandoned.
Upon Fanny's return to Weatherbury some nine months later, the behavior that she and Troy exhibit parallels even more closely that of the groups that they represent, as Hardy concludes the first half of his argument against society. Extremely weak and decrepit, Fanny approaches Troy as he travels with Bathsheba and pleads with him for help in a final attempt to save herself. Though he consents, he turns her away in an immediate sense, offering to meet her later. Typical of mothers of illegitimate children, Fanny is, in effect, shunned again, and must travel to find shelter alone. She is weak to the point that she can no longer walk, and still is denied assistance, until "she became conscious of something touching her hand. It was softness and it was warmth"(251). Contrary to the reader's initial assumption, Fanny is not attended to by Troy or any other concerned human, but rather a pathetic stray dog, in whom "night...solemn [and] sad" is embodied (251). Her only support comes from an animal, who, despite its own lowliness, is still more compassionate than the man who impregnated her. With this incident, Hardy has, in essence, deemed the human race inferior to that of a dog.
Too embarrassed to return to her home, Fanny is then forced to give birth and live out her final hours in a union house, a type of shelter for the poor and destitute. Bathsheba has, earlier in the novel, denounced such a fate as horrendous, saying, "What shall I come to! I suppose I shall get further and further into troubles. I sometimes wonder if I am doomed to die in the Union. I am friendless enough, God knows!" (189) The foreshadowing inherent in Bathsheba's comment allows the reader to be conscious of the severity of the abasement that Fanny has undergone simply because Troy, and thus the rest of the members of society, have persecuted and shamed her.
Using such examples, Hardy has succeeded in vilifying Troy and portraying Fanny as a nothing more than his innocent victim. Her solitary death, the epitome of despair and loneliness, serves as final, tangible reminder of the effects of society's cruelty. It is this concrete example of mercilessness upon which Hardy bases the final half of his argument, in which he suggests a more appropriate set of values to govern behavior with regard to illegitimacy.
Via Troy's actions and emotions, Hardy reveals two of his own desires and beliefs. The first, expressed in the chapter aptly titled "Fanny's Revenge," is perhaps the most fundamental. Upon learning of Fanny's death, Troy is shocked: "The lines of his features softened, and the dismay softened to illimitable sadness ... What Troy did [then] was to sink upon his knees with an indefinable union of remorse and reverence on his face and bending over Fanny Robin, gently kissed her, as one would kiss an infant asleep to avoid waking it". (280) His final recognition of Fanny's importance can be projected on a larger scale: society's own realization the importance and value of the lives of the illegitimate mothers. As Hardy insinuates, perhaps it is more important to value and care for them as human beings than it is to exact a moral punishment.
Troy's transformation becomes even more apparent as he proceeds to assure that Fanny is given a proper burial. "Troy was so unlike himself now in look, word and deed, that the want of likeliness was perceptible even to his own consciousness… He waywardly wished for something, and he sat about obtaining it like a child in a nursery. `I want a good tomb,' he told the man."(287) With this feeble request, so different from his usual calculating manner, Troy has, in essence, taken responsibility for that which he has done and given Fanny the care that she deserves. Although such actions should have been taken when she was still alive, the fact that Troy has changed his behavior shows that, in some way, he has acknowledged his mistake and changed his perspective accordingly.
Because of the controversy potentially caused by the overt criticism of popular attitudes, the use of symbolism was the only manner in which Hardy could convey his revolutionary ideas without deviating from what was acceptable at the time and offending his audience. Rather than approaching the subject of illegitimacy in a blunt and abrasive manner, Hardy chose to establish an emotional connection between his readers and his characters. Thus, when it becomes apparent that the character is representative of a larger body, the reader's feelings towards the character extend to this body, transcending his or her prejudices. Hardy's clever use of this technique allows him to incorporate his somewhat subversive thoughts into his novel without sacrificing its popular reception and thus its effectiveness as a social critique. Fanny and Troy serve to bridge the gap between what Hardy wishes to say and what his editors would permit him to.
Works Cited:
(When she emailed her paper for this project, Kate's bibliography page did not arrive with it.)