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Feb. 13: Fowles #3
See also the related "varieties of love" optional journal

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Not so much about love as inadvertent deceit… which in a way threatens all forms of love

 

Fowles surprised me with his equally realistic and histrionic portrayal of the Sarah and Charles saga.  His skilled and witty way with words continually delighted me, and Fowles seems to have a perception about the human heart and mind that thoughtfully animates his characters and seamlessly fuses them into a history based in reality.  Though there are many lines I have highlighted and noted as credit to Fowles's genius, they only go so far in aiding my full acceptance of his writing style.  Though I am tempted to write on several subjects, I will narrow it down to the Charles's humorous religious conflictions in the last 100 pages of this book.

It has been established in earlier chapters that Charles is an agnostic and finds his only solace in a sort of spirit in nature and the unknown.  He and Grogan's Darwinian status made Charles feel as if he "was one of exalted superiority" with "an intellectual distance above the rest" of his "fellow creatures. (Ch. 19. 132)" Charles's disdainful opinion of organized, hypocritical religion coupled with his status as a gentleman set him apart from the regular Victorian ruled by dogma, and it wasn't until he "needed faith" that he comically made attempts at resurrecting a personal belief in religion (Ch. 48, 282).

Charles obviously was very guilty about the whole Sarah ordeal, and I'm sure his inability to root his sins and guilt anywhere but himself was troublesome. Throughout his life, Charles "quite happily learned to do" without faith, so the moments after he stumbles out of Endicott's hotel are his last attempts to run from a truth that he believes in and that had dictated his actions up until this point.   He finds himself at a church, and the curate decides to let Charles in after an inspection that confirms him as "A gentleman. (Ch. 48, 281)"  Alone in the church, Charles mindlessly recites the Lord's prayer, and then composes "a special prayer for his circumstances. (281)"  His pleas for Christ's forgiveness were all spoken in vain, and seemed an attempt to clean away his own conscious rather than an appeal to be forgiven by anyone else.  "Forgive me my dissatisfaction with myself" seems to sum up the basis of his prayer, and as Sarah's image interrupted his thoughts and overcame the image of Christ, Charles makes the unhappy realization that his prayer "was not heard. (Ch. 48, 281)"   "His own inability to speak to God" has been "like coming to a bottomless brink," and so Charles tried desperately to rationalize a nearly hopeless philosophy by analogizing Jesus with "a victory brought about by, and in, living men and women. (Ch. 48, 282, 285)"

Even though Charles realized that there was no afterlife, he still was inclined to pray, though "very irrational," to those dead, nonexistent ancestors he so triumphantly threw off moments earlier. (Ch. 48, 287)  Later, he decides to pray at his bedside, but instead of words hoping to cajole his own personal tribulations, Charles prays the "he would find [Sarah]" again (Ch. 54, 314). 

Charles's actions were religiously sinful, and many would have founded their fault from religious texts and creeds.  His breaking his engagement with Ernestina was merely a societal taboo punishable by law, but the infidelity behind it was equally religiously and naturally condemnable.  He lied to, deceived, and emotionally devastated another human being.  Mr. Grogan, a man ruled by science and reasoning, viewed Charles's actions as unforgivable, and states his opinion not on the grounds of religion or law.  He wishes that any person of the rational and scientific elect must still be ruled by decency, and any members, past or present, "have introduced a finer and fairer morality into this dark world. (Ch. 53, 311)"  I think this is an admirable point.  Though religion may not be for you, the basis of most religions is to regulate a sort of morality that makes this world fair and tolerable.  Ernestina was not hurt because her religion and the law told her she should be—her reactions were natural and seated in the essence of human emotions.  The day that other's emotions are not taken into account with pangs from one's conscience is the day that we have lost human decency.  With the disappearance of God, it is harder to hold onto this necessary decency.

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