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Whore!!

The pulsing question of the first 14 chapters can be summed up by the conclusion of chapter 12: "Who is Sarah? Out of what shadows does she come? (80)" It seems her fellow townspeople, whether it be the Methodist dairymen or the upper-class family of Ernestina, have already made their conclusions. "She be the French Loot'n'nt's Hoer," it is so casually remarked, as if the story is known well and true by all (73). The true story behind Sarah's mysterious woes is actually hardly known. What is propagated is simply town gossip, generalized and blasphemous stones cast in her direction in a silent and stealthy attempt to detract attention from a person's own personal transgressions. What is established is the era's heartless disposition to those fowl and sinful-- a complete lack of sympathy and forgiveness.

The Victorian age, as it seems to be illustrated by Fowles, was one of almost fashionable virtue. Mrs. Poulteney epitomizes the insufferable habits of these aristocratic religious hypocrites. She lives a wealthy, privileged life that bares the outward appearance of piety and holiness. As a woman that lacks a natural charity and goodness to her heart, Mrs. Poulteney must go about buying her way into God's heart through the eyes of her peers. She gives a large yet disproportional tithe to the vicar who listened quietly to her theories of heaven and hell, "for incumbents of not notably fat livings do not argue with rich parishioners. (23)" She likewise liked the vicar because of his character, which was like "a shrewd lawyer. (24)" To further describe her ruthless character, which reflects on her handling her household as well as the treatment to those employed under her roof, she is said that "Her only notion of justice was that she must be right. (23)" So it is of little surprise that her efforts to get into heaven were calculating and disimpassioned. Mrs. Poulteney was aware that she was "behind in that particular race for piety" and in order to rectify the discrepancies between the charitable acts of Lady Cotton and herself, she decides to take a wretched woman under her wing. This, she was sure, would redeem her in the eyes of the townspeople and of course, God.

Sarah was hired, and was directed to abandon hope for the likes of her roguish, FRENCH, man. The author makes note of her intuitive intelligence, and raves about her powers to see a person for who they are. It seems in this sense, Sarah has a power not unlike God's. While people, in Victorian age and now, as well as at all moments in time, put on airs in the hopes of buying their souls a place in heaven, God is "all-seeing and all-wise. (24)" For Mrs. Poultney, I'm sure this is a point of subtle unrest—though she is probably more under the impression that she can affect the looks of piety and that would suffice. The ultimate truth of God's omniscient power is what relieves my sensibilities in the end—if there is a God, Sarah's sordid past would seem to be forgiven in light of her true character, while Mrs. Poultney has reason to worry. While Mrs. Poultney "believed in a God that had never existed; Sarah knew a God that did. (51)" And it is this inherent difference that works in favor of our fallen, mysterious heroine.