TESS OF THE D'URBERVILLES
by Thomas Hardy
PHASE THE FIRST: THE MAIDEN
CHAPTER 1
On an evening in the latter 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 rickety, 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 thinking of anything
in particular. An empty egg-basket was slung
upon his arm, the nap of his hat was ruffled, a
patch being quite worn away at its brim where
his thumb came in taking it off. Presently he was
met by an elderly parson astride on a gray
mare, who, as he rode, hummed a wandering
tune.
"Good night t'ee," said
the man with the basket.
"Good night, Sir John,"
said the parson.
The pedestrian, after another pace or two,
halted, and turned round.
"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."
"I did," said the parson.
"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?"
The parson rode a step or two nearer.
"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 lineal representative of the
ancient and knightly family of the
d'Urbervilles, who derive their descent
from Sir Pagan d'Urberville, that renowned
knight who came from Normandy with
William the Conqueror, as appears by
Battle Abbey Roll?"
"Never heard it before, 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 declined 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 knighted from
father to son, you would be Sir John now."
"Ye don't say so!"
"In short," concluded the parson, decisively
smacking his leg with his switch, "there's hardly
such another family in England."
"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 feller in the
parish.... And how long hev this news about me
been knowed, 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.
"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
judgement sometimes. I thought you might
perhaps know something of it all the while."
"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 wold silver spoon, and a wold 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-granfer 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?"
"You don't live anywhere. You are extinct—as a
county family."
"That's bad."
"Yes—what the mendacious family chronicles
call extinct in the male line—that is, gone
down—gone under."
"Then where do we lie?"
"At Kingsbere-sub-Greenhill: rows and rows of
you in your vaults, with your effigies under
Purbeck-marble canopies."
"And where be our family mansions and
estates?"