feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/gradesaver/Tess of the D'Urbervilles/section_0_part_8.txt
feat_book_id: Tess of the D'Urbervilles.chapter 8
feat_summary_id: chapter 8
feat_summary: {"name": "Chapter 8", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20210410060617/https://www.gradesaver.com/tess-of-the-durbervilles/study-guide/summary-phase-1-chapters-1-11", "summary": "As Alec and Tess drive the carriage toward Trantridge, Tess becomes frightened by the quick movement of the horse as they go down the hill. She grasps Alec's arm, but he tells her to grasp his waist so that he can still control the horse. When the horse becomes calm, she reprimands him for driving so recklessly, but he tells her to put her arms around his waist again. She says never, but he persists. She says that she thought that he would be kind to her as her kinsman. He calls her rather sensitive for a cottage girl, and calls her an artful hussy.", "analysis": "The problems that Alec and Tess have on the carriage traveling toward Trantridge serve as a bridge between two of the most important events in the novel, simultaneously building on Tess's guilt concerning the death of the family horse and foreshadowing later events in which Tess finds herself in danger with Alec d'Urberville. In this chapter, Hardy intertwines the danger of their travel along with sexuality, as Alec demands that Tess grasp his waist as the carriage tumbles down the hill. Alec exploits moments of danger for his own sexual gain, presenting Tess with danger in order to use her as a sexual conquest. Alec himself symbolizes the confluence of these two qualities, a character who presents his sexuality along with a great capacity for violence. Alec's reprimand of Tess as \"rather sensitive for a cottage girl\" serves to shatter the idea that Tess may marry a gentleman. As Alec notes, no matter her distant family connections, Tess is of such lowly birth that she may consent to be the mistress of a gentleman but not his wife"}
text: 
  
  Having mounted beside her, Alec d'Urberville drove rapidly along
  the crest of the first hill, chatting compliments to Tess as they
  went, the cart with her box being left far behind.  Rising still, an
  immense landscape stretched around them on every side; behind, the
  green valley of her birth, before, a gray country of which she knew
  nothing except from her first brief visit to Trantridge.  Thus they
  reached the verge of an incline down which the road stretched in a
  long straight descent of nearly a mile.
  
  Ever since the accident with her father's horse Tess Durbeyfield,
  courageous as she naturally was, had been exceedingly timid on
  wheels; the least irregularity of motion startled her.  She began to
  get uneasy at a certain recklessness in her conductor's driving.
  
  "You will go down slow, sir, I suppose?" she said with attempted
  unconcern.
  
  D'Urberville looked round upon her, nipped his cigar with the tips of
  his large white centre-teeth, and allowed his lips to smile slowly of
  themselves.
  
  "Why, Tess," he answered, after another whiff or two, "it isn't a
  brave bouncing girl like you who asks that?  Why, I always go down at
  full gallop.  There's nothing like it for raising your spirits."
  
  "But perhaps you need not now?"
  
  "Ah," he said, shaking his head, "there are two to be reckoned with.
  It is not me alone.  Tib has to be considered, and she has a very
  queer temper."
  
  "Who?"
  
  "Why, this mare.  I fancy she looked round at me in a very grim way
  just then.  Didn't you notice it?"
  
  "Don't try to frighten me, sir," said Tess stiffly.
  
  "Well, I don't.  If any living man can manage this horse I can: I
  won't say any living man can do it--but if such has the power, I am
  he."
  
  "Why do you have such a horse?"
  
  "Ah, well may you ask it!  It was my fate, I suppose. Tib has killed
  one chap; and just after I bought her she nearly killed me.  And
  then, take my word for it, I nearly killed her.  But she's touchy
  still, very touchy; and one's life is hardly safe behind her
  sometimes."
  
  They were just beginning to descend; and it was evident that the
  horse, whether of her own will or of his (the latter being the more
  likely), knew so well the reckless performance expected of her that
  she hardly required a hint from behind.
  
  Down, down, they sped, the wheels humming like a top, the dog-cart
  rocking right and left, its axis acquiring a slightly oblique set
  in relation to the line of progress; the figure of the horse rising
  and falling in undulations before them.  Sometimes a wheel was off
  the ground, it seemed, for many yards; sometimes a stone was sent
  spinning over the hedge, and flinty sparks from the horse's hoofs
  outshone the daylight.  The aspect of the straight road enlarged with
  their advance, the two banks dividing like a splitting stick; one
  rushing past at each shoulder.
  
  The wind blew through Tess's white muslin to her very skin, and her
  washed hair flew out behind.  She was determined to show no open
  fear, but she clutched d'Urberville's rein-arm.
  
  "Don't touch my arm!  We shall be thrown out if you do!  Hold on
  round my waist!"
  
  She grasped his waist, and so they reached the bottom.
  
  "Safe, thank God, in spite of your fooling!" said she, her face on
  fire.
  
  "Tess--fie! that's temper!" said d'Urberville.
  
  "'Tis truth."
  
  "Well, you need not let go your hold of me so thanklessly the moment
  you feel yourself our of danger."
  
  She had not considered what she had been doing; whether he were man
  or woman, stick or stone, in her involuntary hold on him.  Recovering
  her reserve, she sat without replying, and thus they reached the
  summit of another declivity.
  
  "Now then, again!" said d'Urberville.
  
  "No, no!" said Tess.  "Show more sense, do, please."
  
  "But when people find themselves on one of the highest points in the
  county, they must get down again," he retorted.
  
  He loosened rein, and away they went a second time.  D'Urberville
  turned his face to her as they rocked, and said, in playful raillery:
  "Now then, put your arms round my waist again, as you did before, my
  Beauty."
  
  "Never!" said Tess independently, holding on as well as she could
  without touching him.
  
  "Let me put one little kiss on those holmberry lips, Tess, or even on
  that warmed cheek, and I'll stop--on my honour, I will!"
  
  Tess, surprised beyond measure, slid farther back still on her seat,
  at which he urged the horse anew, and rocked her the more.
  
  "Will nothing else do?" she cried at length, in desperation, her
  large eyes staring at him like those of a wild animal.  This dressing
  her up so prettily by her mother had apparently been to lamentable
  purpose.
  
  "Nothing, dear Tess," he replied.
  
  "Oh, I don't know--very well; I don't mind!" she panted miserably.
  
  He drew rein, and as they slowed he was on the point of imprinting
  the desired salute, when, as if hardly yet aware of her own modesty,
  she dodged aside.  His arms being occupied with the reins there was
  left him no power to prevent her manoeuvre.
  
  "Now, damn it--I'll break both our necks!" swore her capriciously
  passionate companion.  "So you can go from your word like that, you
  young witch, can you?"
  
  "Very well," said Tess, "I'll not move since you be so determined!
  But I--thought you would be kind to me, and protect me, as my
  kinsman!"
  
  "Kinsman be hanged!  Now!"
  
  "But I don't want anybody to kiss me, sir!" she implored, a big
  tear beginning to roll down her face, and the corners of her mouth
  trembling in her attempts not to cry.  "And I wouldn't ha' come if
  I had known!"
  
  He was inexorable, and she sat still, and d'Urberville gave her the
  kiss of mastery.  No sooner had he done so than she flushed with
  shame, took out her handkerchief, and wiped the spot on her cheek
  that had been touched by his lips.  His ardour was nettled at the
  sight, for the act on her part had been unconsciously done.
  
  "You are mighty sensitive for a cottage girl!" said the young man.
  
  Tess made no reply to this remark, of which, indeed, she did not
  quite comprehend the drift, unheeding the snub she had administered
  by her instinctive rub upon her cheek.  She had, in fact, undone the
  kiss, as far as such a thing was physically possible.  With a dim
  sense that he was vexed she looked steadily ahead as they trotted on
  near Melbury Down and Wingreen, till she saw, to her consternation,
  that there was yet another descent to be undergone.
  
  "You shall be made sorry for that!" he resumed, his injured tone
  still remaining, as he flourished the whip anew.  "Unless, that is,
  you agree willingly to let me do it again, and no handkerchief."
  
  She sighed. "Very well, sir!" she said.  "Oh--let me get my hat!"
  
  At the moment of speaking her hat had blown off into the road, their
  present speed on the upland being by no means slow.  D'Urberville
  pulled up, and said he would get it for her, but Tess was down on the
  other side.
  
  She turned back and picked up the article.
  
  "You look prettier with it off, upon my soul, if that's possible," he
  said, contemplating her over the back of the vehicle.  "Now then, up
  again!  What's the matter?"
  
  The hat was in place and tied, but Tess had not stepped forward.
  
  "No, sir," she said, revealing the red and ivory of her mouth as her
  eye lit in defiant triumph; "not again, if I know it!"
  
  "What--you won't get up beside me?"
  
  "No; I shall walk."
  
  "'Tis five or six miles yet to Trantridge."
  
  "I don't care if 'tis dozens.  Besides, the cart is behind."
  
  "You artful hussy!  Now, tell me--didn't you make that hat blow off
  on purpose?  I'll swear you did!"
  
  Her strategic silence confirmed his suspicion.
  
  Then d'Urberville cursed and swore at her, and called her everything
  he could think of for the trick.  Turning the horse suddenly he tried
  to drive back upon her, and so hem her in between the gig and the
  hedge.  But he could not do this short of injuring her.
  
  "You ought to be ashamed of yourself for using such wicked words!"
  cried Tess with spirit, from the top of the hedge into which she had
  scrambled.  "I don't like 'ee at all!  I hate and detest you!  I'll
  go back to mother, I will!"
  
  D'Urberville's bad temper cleared up at sight of hers; and he laughed
  heartily.
  
  "Well, I like you all the better," he said.  "Come, let there be
  peace.  I'll never do it any more against your will.  My life upon
  it now!"
  
  Still Tess could not be induced to remount.  She did not, however,
  object to his keeping his gig alongside her; and in this manner, at
  a slow pace, they advanced towards the village of Trantridge.  From
  time to time d'Urberville exhibited a sort of fierce distress at
  the sight of the tramping he had driven her to undertake by his
  misdemeanour.  She might in truth have safely trusted him now; but he
  had forfeited her confidence for the time, and she kept on the ground
  progressing thoughtfully, as if wondering whether it would be wiser
  to return home.  Her resolve, however, had been taken, and it seemed
  vacillating even to childishness to abandon it now, unless for graver
  reasons.  How could she face her parents, get back her box, and
  disconcert the whole scheme for the rehabilitation of her family on
  such sentimental grounds?
  
  A few minutes later the chimneys of The Slopes appeared in view, and
  in a snug nook to the right the poultry-farm and cottage of Tess'
  destination.
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Chapter 8
target: As Alec and Tess drive the carriage toward Trantridge, Tess becomes frightened by the quick movement of the horse as they go down the hill. She grasps Alec's arm, but he tells her to grasp his waist so that he can still control the horse. When the horse becomes calm, she reprimands him for driving so recklessly, but he tells her to put her arms around his waist again. She says never, but he persists. She says that she thought that he would be kind to her as her kinsman. He calls her rather sensitive for a cottage girl, and calls her an artful hussy.
feat_summary_analysis: The problems that Alec and Tess have on the carriage traveling toward Trantridge serve as a bridge between two of the most important events in the novel, simultaneously building on Tess's guilt concerning the death of the family horse and foreshadowing later events in which Tess finds herself in danger with Alec d'Urberville. In this chapter, Hardy intertwines the danger of their travel along with sexuality, as Alec demands that Tess grasp his waist as the carriage tumbles down the hill. Alec exploits moments of danger for his own sexual gain, presenting Tess with danger in order to use her as a sexual conquest. Alec himself symbolizes the confluence of these two qualities, a character who presents his sexuality along with a great capacity for violence. Alec's reprimand of Tess as "rather sensitive for a cottage girl" serves to shatter the idea that Tess may marry a gentleman. As Alec notes, no matter her distant family connections, Tess is of such lowly birth that she may consent to be the mistress of a gentleman but not his wife