Friday, February 1, 2013

Life, Death, and Lizzie Hexam

(Full novel spoilers again.)



pic from: http://hooks-and-needles.blogspot.com/2010/09/our-mutual-friend-1998-review.html

            Upon first meeting her, many of the characters in Our Mutual Friend have interesting reactions to Lizzie Hexam. She is of the lowest class, and uneducated at first, but she is also physically beautiful, wise, and kind. This kindness is almost angelic. The other curious thing about Lizzie is her frequent association with death. Throughout Our Mutual Friend, Lizzie functions as both an agent of death and a source of grace.
            Lizzie is strongly associated with death throughout the story. In her first scene, she drags a dead body with her father. She lives with her father till he dies, before moving to the peculiar company of Miss Jenny Wren. Ultimately she marries Eugene Wrayburn while he hovers on the verge of death. “She must be amazingly strong of heart, but it is much to be feared that she has set her heart upon the dead. Be gentle with her,” comments the doctor who sees Eugene after Lizzie has pulled him out of the river (685). This makes explicit the strange connection Lizzie has with death. Eugene lives, yet the language suggests that he is already dead. Thus in marrying him, Lizzie marries death. However, before Eugene encounters and is wounded by Bradley, he takes his leave of Lizzie with some curious lines. He regards her “almost as if she were sanctified to him by death, and kissed her, once, almost as he might have kissed the dead” (678). A rather strange way to describe a kiss. This places the aspect of death upon Lizzie, without any physical death or clear reason. This serves in some ways to foreshadow what will befall Eugene. Beyond that, this line points to the aspect of Lizzie which dwells within the lands of the dead. Those close to her often find themselves taking journeys in that abyss.
            Yet at the same time, Lizzie acts as a character of grace. She is always aiding other characters: Charley, her father, Jenny, Eugene. She does this heedless of the sacrifice required of her. This immense unselfishness stands out in stark contrast to the self-interest and greed of many other characters, such as Charley, Rogue Riderhood, and initially Bella all similar to her in terms of position or class. She is so willing to give of herself so that others may live better lives. This gives her almost a sort of sacredness, echoed in outer beauty. One particularly evocative scene of this grace Lizzie possesses comes in the chapter “Some Affairs of the Heart.” After discussing Eugene Wrayburn with Jenny, Lizzie envisions a fantasy lady in the fire, who says to her love, “Only put me in that empty place, only try how little I mind myself. Only prove what a world of things I will do and bear for you, and I hope that you might even come to be much better than you are, through me who am so much worse, and hardly worth the thinking of beside you” (344). This is fully representative of Lizzie’s immense, self-sacrificing capacity for love. Jenny Wren’s response to this is even more interesting: “she wants help more than I, my blessed children”, evoking the bright children who comforted her in her pain and are also associated with death (344). The fact that she asks them to help Lizzie speaks to the extent to which Lizzie’s sentiment touches Jenny. Jenny’s words also add a sense of otherworldliness to Lizzie’s comment—just as death injects unreality to otherwise mundane life.  The company Lizzie keeps with death removes her from the politics and pettiness of ordinary society, and from this position she acts out with unexpected compassion.
            As a symbol of both life and death, Lizzie functions very similar to the river she is so often associated with. As Gaffer comments in the very first chapter, the river is their “meat and drink”— a source of life (15). This forms a very lovely contradiction to the dead body Lizzie and her father drag behind them. The river seems to have no compunctions against drowning characters, yet at the same time is a provider of life. In this fashion, Lizzie has half her heart with death, while at the same time working to help the living. Both Lizzie and the river exist as the edge of death, the threshold slipping over into our world, gateway to another world and thus more than the mundane life. Brushes with this force of death bring perspective and grace to life.
 ~Savannah Worth

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