My Cousin Rachel
Recently, Providence sends me books with a great mystery not quite resolved in the end, an unreliable narrator and an ambiguous ending, written by too clever authors. This time, I refer to My Cousin Rachel by Daphne du Maurier.
Mid-nineteenth-century Cornwall. Philip Ashley, orphaned at a very early age, was adopted and reared by his older cousin Ambrose in an entirely masculine household, with a view to become an ideal country squire. At the beginning of the story, Philip is 24 and Ambrose, 43, but the elder man's health deteriorates fast in the damp climate, so he has taken to travelling abroad every summer. During his visit to Italy, he meets and eventually marries Rachel, an attractive widow and a distant relative. Her beauty, wit and partly Cornish origins have conquered his mysoginist heart. Philip, left alone to manage the estate, is worried though: the letters of a happy husband change to mysterious, disturbing notes. At last, Philip decides to go to Italy and save his cousin whom he loves and respects beyond anything. Too late! And soon he is to face the enigmatic cousin Rachel...
Was Rachel innocent or guilty? The first chapter of the book (like in the famous Rebecca) tells the end of the story, and sets this question that is to haunt the whole of the text.
The novel is complex, but at its centre there are mainly just two characters.
Rachel, the complex one, the mysterious one. A beautiful, experienced, sophisticated lady; in happy possession of knowledge, wit, and sense of humour. Is she a victim, an unlucky woman who suffered greatly while nursing a sick husband with love and care? Or is she a skilled manipulator, a viper hiding her true nature behind an alluring façade - a cunning murderess?
Philip, the simple one. He tells the story, by the way. He seems such a good, right English boy, quite likeable at first. He is young and very inexperienced. Surely the reader could trust him? His readiness to sacrifice everything, literally everything, for the sake of the beloved one may appear endearing. He is like your ideal prince, just and generous. But wait - in his desire to lock the beloved object in his place and never ever let her go he behaves more like your classical villain!
More: his very simplicity, by the skill of the author, complicates the narrative. We see Rachel only through his eyes; it is not the real woman, but his mental image of her (My Cousin Rachel). Great emotions may cloud his judgement and cause wrong conclusions. That is, if you count him for a sane person at all...
Rachel is extremely foreign to Philip, as her dual ancestry predisposes: she is a daughter of a Cornish father and an Italian mother and combines, in the complexity of her character, the traits of two nations.
Two worlds, two outlooks clash in this novel: the traditionalist, sturdy Cornish village everyday life (Philip) and the sophisticated, fine, insecure and potentially dangerous world of Florence (Rachel). How different they are! And what is eventually preferable, with what to sympathise? Not to forget that Daphne du Maurier largely just plays with the common stereotypes, too...
Add to the dychotomies the opposition of 'male - female'; that is not to be forgotten, either.
Finally, (spoiler) at the end of the novel there are two equally important revelations and the reader does not know what to believe.
There is also that poignant matter of predestination, even of fatality. The vow of revenge that must be fulfilled despite all. And the lurking idea that one of the 'lovers' is bound to kill the other, that there is no other solution in the end... And Rachel, femme fatale, is she to blame?
'There are some women, good women very possible, who through no fault of their own impel disaster. Whatever they touch, somehow turns to tragedy', as Nick says to Philip at one moment.
There is, then, the frightening idea that people cannot really control their actions. And then somehow it can happen, so simply, that a loving man will put his hands around a woman's throat; that a woman will use poison as the only way to freedom. The responsibility for their actions? The criminal whose story frames the novel was hanged because he killed his wife. Whether the protagonists paid the price for their crimes, it is for the reader to decide.
My Cousin Rachel is as great an intellectual riddle as (the recently read) The Turn of the Screw, only I believe du Maurier's book has even more to it than elegant style, well-written ambiguity and an excellent mystery. It has emotion and heart. It is so multi-layered! Apart from what I already mentioned, there is even a bit of social satire and the inevitable thoughts about England, its ways, its mistrust of the foreign. The darker side of du Maurier's country, if you wish. And the darker side of love. Possessiveness. The idea that one of the 'lovers' must needs kill another. How can all of that leave one indifferent? It is a difficult book, in many ways bitter and poignant, but unforgettable.
The 1952 film, as it is often the case with screen adaptations, is simpler than the novel. But there are Richard Burton and Olivia de Havilland. ;))
It keeps pretty close to the book.
The grim beginning. Ambrose Ashley thinks that the view of a dead criminal would teach his young cousin Philip a valuable lesson: 'Death is the price for murder'.
'Goodbye, dear boy'.
Louise, a pretty neighbour with 'views' on Philip. She is also the only daughter of Nick Kendall, his godfather and guardian.
It is spring now, but there is no sign of Ambrose's returning. 'I came to be troubled by strange and formless fears, wholly without reason, but persistent and nagging. In some ways, ominous.'
Nick Kendall, Philip's godfather, wants to know about Ambrose. The news is that Mr Ashley is happily married to the Countess Sangaletti.
Another letter: 'All is not well with me. Better keep silent, though she watches me all the time', he says... 'There is no one here I can trust...'
'It's not the letter of a man in his right senses', says Nick, and tells Philip the following: 'Ambrose's father died of a tumour on the brain. It was never a matter much discussed in the family. I have no idea whether those things are hereditary or not...'
Philip is worried, but it is nothing compared to his feelings when he receives the last letter:
He hurries to Italy.
At the villa he learns that Ambrose is dead. 'Since three weeks now.' He also learns that Ambrose was very ill, and 'his mind wandered'.
Philip visits Rainaldi, who, according to the servant, was a true and loyal friend during Ambrose's long illness. Rainaldi reads the disturbing letters.
'Yes, she was afraid he might have written something like this. The doctors warned her he might.'
'The tumour, they said, was beginning to press on his brain.' Rainaldi shows Philip the death certificate to prove his words.
(I confess the film's Rainaldi produces a really good impression on me: he is not half as hostile, unpleasant or predatory as in the book!)
Ambrose willed everything to Philip - in trust, until his 25th birthday. The widow has nothing.
'There, beside his grave, I made a vow. I swore that whatever that it cost Ambrose in pain and suffering, I would return it in full measure. Because I did not believe Rainaldi's story, I believed in the truth of those two letters that I held in my right hand. Someday, somehow, I will repay my cousin Rachel.'
In the original text, Rachel takes a long time to appear in person. The film does as well as it can: at first, we see Rachel only from the back. Ah yes, she comes to bring all of her husband's things home.
When she sees Philip, she is shocked -
- because of his resemblance to Ambrose.
But she immediately regains control...
...and is charming to her unwelcoming host.
In the morning, they go to church, and there follows perhaps the only comical scene in the whole film, so it deserves to be 'quoted' with pics.
The parishioners are terribly curious about Rachel: Ambrose's widow, and a foreign contessa at that!
Even the priest is intrigued.
Nick asks under his breath: 'Well?'
'I can't tell, she's got a veil on!'
'Thunderation.'
Note the dog who is trying to eat his walking stick.
That very tree! (Those who read the book will understand.)
The film is beautiful in its own way, though for me its main attractiveness lies in the magnificent acting of the two leads. Richard Burton and Olivia de Havilland totally made me feel for their characters.
Sorry for the big post, there is an ocean of impressions! And I will not even keep silent about that tree...
I looked at its photos and was stunned by the tree's beauty. Such a pity it will not grow in our climate!!
See:
And yes, its seeds contain an alkaloid poison. Symptoms of poisoning by Laburnum root or seed are intense sleepiness, vomiting, convulsive movements and dilated pupils. (info from here)
I tried to look for its medicinal use, but alas, no chance. It is used very carefully in surgery, for istance, when the breathing stops, and in homeopathy. (My source of knowledge; with many pics!)
Oh, Rachel, were you innocent or still guilty? One never knows.