ANZ LitLovers LitBlog

Cuffy Mahony is one of the great creations of Henry Handel Richardson.  While he is not the focus of The Fortunes of Richard Mahony, he is an unforgettable presence towards the end of the trilogy as he struggles with guilt and embarrassment when he walks with his demented father in the town.  The short story which gives this collection its title follows Cuffy’s ‘fortunes’ after the death of his father, and it’s an ironic title, hinting at the small adventures of a normal childhood but delivering a very different tale.

As readers of Ultima Thule (Vol III of the trilogy) will remember, Cuffy (Cuthbert) is the elder of the surviving Mahony children.  He is a quiet, sensitive boy, bookish and observant even when small, and taking after his father rather than his more robust, practical mother.  After Lallie’s death from eating green almonds, the racketing from place to place, the collapse of one home after another and then the collapse of her father who should have been her mainstay Lallie’s twin Lucie is clingy and Cuffy is protective of this.  Mother (Mary a.k.a. Polly) indulges her too, ignoring advice to toughen her up and keeping the child beside her while she works as postmistress in the remote town of Gymgurra the Western District of Victoria.

When the story begins Mary is weighing up a proposal from Mr Henry Ocock, and like single mothers the world over, while she considers the pros and cons for herself and her family, she puts her children first.  She does not love Henry, but she could learn to make such a marriage successful and she would be relieved of the burden of work while also ensuring Cuffy’s future education.  But as well Lucie’s nervous dependency, there are Cuffy’s emotional needs to consider:

Cuffy, always excitable, had shortly after his father’s death developed a convulsive twitching and blinking of face and eyes that was distressing to see.  The doctor said the habit was purely nervous, and would pass as he grew older.  Meanwhile, there was nothing to be done; except sometimes hold up a glass to show him how ugly or how silly he looked.  But did she think of him, or either of them, going among strangers thus handicapped, to be made fun of, or found fault with – perhaps even punished – for failings they had done nothing to deserve: at the mere thought of it, all her protective tenderness was up in arms.  No, Richard’s children they were, for good or for ill; and Richard’s children they should remain.  No one but the father they were so like would be capable of understanding them.

And here, as if to brace her in her decision, words she had once heard, and which her memory had as it were stored up for use in this crisis, came floating into her mind. ‘Henry Ocock is harsh with children… is harsh with children.’

That did it: now she knew where she stood. Well, he shouldn’t – she wouldn’t give him the chance to be – with hers.  On no one but herself should their lives and happiness depend.  (p. 8-9)

So things go on as before, Cuffy taking lessons with the kindly Reverend Burroughs, leaving off the lessons and going out in the yard to play tipcat when Cuffy’s facial tic indicated distress.  For most of the story HHR shows us Cuffy’s thoughts in a third person narrative that shows his eight-year-old point of view, revealing his intelligence and his sensitivity to those around him.  Even when he puzzles over the spelling of an author Mr Burroughs reveals as ‘Gertie’ (i.e. Goethe) – Cuffy knows that can’t be right because Gertie  is a girl’s name.  And he knows not to mention to his mother that the Reverend is a sluggard, often taking the lessons dressed in an overcoat over his pyjamas.

But the question of Cuffy’s education weighs heavy on Mary’s mind, and a trip to Melbourne to ask for financial help must be made.  And in preparing for the trip, Mary takes on yet another masculine role and begins to paint the ceiling and walls so that her temporary replacement in the post office won’t think badly of her.  An accident ensues, and the vulnerability of this little family is immediately apparent.  Mary’s determination that on no one but herself should their lives and happiness depend counts for nothing.

HHR’s brilliance in depicting the emotional states of her characters is at its best in showing Cuffy’s distress at how things turn out.  He was an unforgettable character in Ultima Thule but he will haunt the emotions of any reader who meets him in this short story.

And therein, for me, lies the limitation of the short story. I do so want to know what becomes of little Cuffy.  Instead the collection goes on with Sketches of Girlhood, Two Tales of Old Strasbourg and three others which strained my patience altogether.  These stories, do, as the blurb says, offer themes of separation, loss and acceptance through childhood, adolescence, marriage and ultimately death but I found most of them unsatisfying.  ‘The Life and Death of Peterle Luthy’ and ‘Mary Christina’ are maudlin,  while ‘The Coat’ tests credulity, and most of the girlhood stories are really rather mundane.   Only ‘Two Hanged Women’ with its veiled lesbian storyline, and ‘Sister Ann’ exploring the neglected emotional life of a sister raising a horde of younger siblings, held any interest for me.

The collection was first published in 1979, when HHR had been dead for over 30 years, and I can’t help feeling that this was a case of resurrecting some stories which were not really her best work.  Some of them are just sketches, as if preparatory for some other project and others read as if they are sorting out some long suppressed sexual feelings.

Bill from The Australian Legend reviewed this collection and had an entirely different perspective.  (He also very kindly lent this book, long out-of-print, to me).  Bill thinks Cuffy’s story is well-written but is out of place in a collection exploring aspects of womanhood.  How interesting it is that we respond to the same book so differently!  I think Cuffy’s story is brilliant and want it continued in a novel, and I will have forgotten most the rest of the stories by bedtime tomorrow.  Having said that, I’d be quick to acknowledge that feminist scholars would find much that is interesting about expectations placed on women in the era before WW1. ‘And Woman Must Weep’ covers familiar territory in depicting a ‘wallflower’ at a dance but is written with a perception that seems to derive from personal experience, which few authors of that era, I suspect, would have been willing to reveal. ‘Sister Ann’ develops a persistent thread in the trilogy and in Cuffy’s story, of women taking on men’s roles out of necessity, and despite being better at them than the useless men around them, getting no credit for it and still not achieving financial independence or security.

Still, I think HHR was best at long-form fiction, and I’d recommend The Fortunes of Richard Mahony as the triumph of her art.

Author: Henry Handel Richardson
Title: The Adventures of Cuffy Mahony and Other Stories
Publisher: Sirius, an imprint of Angus and Robertson, 1979
ISBN: 0207135118
Source: loan from Bill Holloway from The Australian Legend, thanks Bill!

Availability

Out-of-print, try second-hand bookshops and state libraries.