I’m Tess of D’Urbervilles; the tragic figure: the love wronged, estranged woman, abused by both the good and the wicked. Perhaps more by the good. Oh! What wrongs goodness can do in its innocence and unknowingness? I’m the tragic heroine if I can be called one. But I’m certainly a tragic figure. It must have been my destiny to stand alone and suffer, portray the poignancy of causeless, mindless fate. The President of the immortals finally ended his game with Tess! But no! So much belief, innocence and unquestioning faith are bad. Fate is inherently bad. To survive in this world people need to have a little cunning or at least craftiness. But no; Tess is endowed with so much natural goodness, so much purity of heart, a free flowing kindness which can redeem an agnostic’s disbelief towards humanity. I am an idea the great Thomas Hardy fought with: to malign me or to redeem me. Ultimately fate won the battle.
I’m Tess. I can argue for myself. I can present my case. In the great tradition of Victorian novels, I’m an aberration. You may call me a woman of loose morals; immoral or amoral. But all around me I see only amoral and immoral beings clad in the garb of hypocrisy. Is there no saintliness in this world? As it is true, Jesus was crucified in this very world. Oh Jesus! Is it wrong to love, wrong to shower kindness? Trust appears to be bad. Implicit trust more so. All these blows. I hope I don’t turn into a misanthrope and stop loving people.
Yet I have realized now. It is a weakness to be kind. The world worships strong, authoritarian voices. Love is an anathema. I Tess am an aberration in this world.