Have you ever wanted to run away from your life? What would happen if you suddenly had the chance to; would you "grasp the nettle"? Or what if a new life was imposed on you, whether you liked it or not? Such is the premise of Daphne du Maurier's 1957 novel, The Scapegoat.The Scapegoat is reminiscent of novels such as, "The Prisoner of Zenda" and according to one of Daphne du Maurier's biographers, this rollicking adventure was a favourite story of Daphne's when she was a little girl. But it also owes a great deal to "Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde" as Daphne du Maurier also explores how two selves begin to feel as if they are part of the same person, the viewpoint character. In fact it is neither a straightforward adventure story as in Anthony Hope's tale, nor a dark study of two individuals; personalities within the same body, as in Robert Louis Stevenson's classic horror story. It lies somewhere between the two, yet is also an unsettling tale, full of suspense, sometimes even having a dream-like quality. Daphne du Maurier had the idea for The Scapegoat when she was in France in 1955, to research the lives of her ancestors, the Busson-Mathurins, who were glass-blowers. She did subsequently write the novel for which she intended this research, entitling it "The Glassblowers" (1963). But before writing it, she became distracted by a number of incidents that happened to her in France, which inspired the plot of The Scapegoat, published in 1957. She apparently wrote it at record speed, finishing within six months, and then collapsed with nervous exhaustion.One of the triggers was that while out for a walk in a square in a French town, Daphne du Maurier saw a man who looked identical to someone she happened to know. According to one of her biographers, Judith Cook, she then watched a family scene through a window, and began to put the two incidents together in her feverish imagination. Typically, she began to wonder about the people; who they were, and what their secrets might be, "She imagined herself suddenly transported into their midst, listening to their conversation, perhaps even becoming one of them,"and so the seeds of The Scapegoat were sown.Another instance provides part of the novel's setting. Houses often seem to take on a life of their own in Daphne du Maurier's novels. For example, "Manderley" in "Rebecca", seems to be imbued with as much of a presence - to be as much a character - as any of the actual people in the book. Indeed in her own life, she seems to have had an almost obsessive love for her "Menabilly" the house she rented for so many years. Here in France, as part of her research, Daphne du Maurier discovered a house that had belonged to one of her ancestors two hundred years earlier. Exploring the derelict buildings, she saw fragments of the glass they had made, still there, scattered by the wind. She used these impressions and experiences, drawing on them to create an atmospheric, dramatic suspense novel, set in France. In The Scapegoat, her ancestral glass-blowing foundry became the failing business of the de Gué family. They in turn were depicted as more grand, in fact minor aristocrats, the Comte and Comtesse. And instead of writing herself into the story, the author took on the guise of a male narrator, one of five occasions in major novels when she did this.The narrator, and viewpoint character, is an Englishman named John. At the start of the novel we learnt that John is dissatisfied with his life as a university lecturer, and tending to become depressed with what he sees as a futile life. It is evident that he is travelling through France, where he meets a man who eerily is his double in looks; a confident French count, Jean de Gué. Intrigued despite himself, John plays along with the Count's wishes, indulging in a night of drinking, and staying in an anonymous downbeat hotel overnight. On waking, he discovers that the man has disappeared, taking all John's own clothes and belongings, and leaving him to play the role of the "Comte Jean de Gué". Thus we have the novel's basic premise.At first confused, John then becomes angry,"filled with an intense desire to get away from that dingy, shabby hotel and never set eyes on it again, and as my anger rose and self-disgust took possession of me..."And a little later, he describes being,"possessed by a reckless feeling I had never known before, the sensation that I myself did not matter any more... no one could call me to account for any action. For the first time I was free."He thus become his double's scapegoat, and the events which follow enmesh him further in deceit and duplicity, which at first he considers to be in itself wrong, but quickly comes to regard as a means of basic survival, "My sense of power was unbounded... I felt my bluff to be superb, and it must have worked... My self-confidence mounting every moment... I recalled my success the night before... little scraps of family history fell on my ear... what I gleaned would have to be sorted and sifted at leisure."John learns about the idiosyncratic family he has been thrust amidst. He learns how his doppelgänger had influenced the destinies of these individuals, mercilessly twisting their lives to his own purpose. Gradually John begins to feel sympathy for the family who have accepted him, John, totally at face value. They have treated him variously with the emotions he has seemed to lack in his life so far; that is with love or hatred, but rarely with indifference. And as the novel proceeds we become aware that John has become emotionally committed to this family, within the space of seven days. He determines to use his family position as a tool, to influence both the workers in the factory, and "his" individual family member's lives for the better. Although a scapegoat, he is desperate to learn everything about the family intrigues, deceptions, jealousies and murders, both the events in the past and also those in the present.Indeed there are at least two other contenders for the description of "scapegoat". Either the daughter or the wife could be seen in these terms. Marie-Noel seems over-eager to sacrifice herself for her father, as does Françoise, the Count's wife. The intensity of the little girl Marie-Noel's relationship with her father is clearly a reflection of that between the author, Daphne du Maurier, and her own father, the charismatic actor-manager Gerald du Maurier. But Daphne du Maurier's descriptions of the little girl's religious fervour, as well as that of her aunt Blanche, serve well to heighten the tension at various points. It borders on the macabre, and makes the novel seem almost a gothic tale. All Daphne du Maurier's novels are tightly plotted, and this one, like "My Cousin Rachel" is full of suspense, coincidence, hints and dark secrets. The narrator continually suspects various members of his family - including his doppelgänger - of not only duplicity, but also of some evil deeds in the past. The whole novel is driven by the narrator's desperate desire for knowledge and understanding. He never reflects back on what has led him to this point, or what his life has been so far, but always concentrates on remaining undiscovered, and as the novel proceeds, on influencing the future of his "adopted family" for their good.As with many of Daphne du Maurier's novels, there are so many elements of mystery that it is sometimes rather like reading a detective story. She often drops hints to the reader; clues carefully planted so that the reader is able to puzzle out the various roles and relationships before the viewpoint character John does. We suspect Renée's behaviour, for example, before John seems to have an inkling of why she seems so overly flirtatious and petulant. And we know who the woman Béla in the neighbouring village of Villars must be.We see as the novel proceeds, a merging of the two John/Jeans,"The feeling of power, of triumph that I was outwitting this little group of unsuspecting people had turned again to shame. It seemed to me now that I wanted Jean de Gué to have been a different sort of man. I did not want to discover at each step that he was worthless... I had exchanged my own negligible self for a worthless personality. He had the supreme advantage over me in that he had not cared. Or had he, after all? Was this why he had disappeared?"And later,"I knew that everything I had said or done had implicated me further, driven me deeper, bound me more closely still to that man whose body was not my body, whose mind was not my mind, whose thoughts and actions were a world apart, and yet whose inner substance was part of my nature, part of my secret self."At this point just less than half-way through, the dream-like quality is notched up a step, and we realise that John is beginning to perceive another, darker, personality hidden within his own self, much as the character "Doctor Jekyll" did, but more subtly. Although Jekyll became subsumed and ultimately destroyed by the malignant influence of Hyde, John conversely seems to become more self-possessed and confident through his exploration of his darker self. He seems to become, in a sense, a more complete character, and his past a mere shadow.There are recurring themes in this novel. Take the motif of a broken ornament, for instance. In "Rebecca", the episode where the new wife accidentally destroys a valuable china ornament given to her predecessor (Rebecca) on her marriage, and becoming a particular favourite, is powerfully symbolic. Here there is a similar event involving Anne-Marie and her mother, and a porcelain cat and dog,"the only things I possess and value in this house."Real-life dogs are another device. There are heart-stopping moments where the readers wonder whether the dog will recognise the supplanted character of John, in the place of César's master, the Count. In "Rebecca", the dog is suspicious for a long time of the new wife. In both cases the apprehension devolves on the viewpoint character. When César, the dog, finally accepts John, the author says,"as he wagged his tail, I felt that I had scored a triumph."The writing style too, feels very like Daphne du Maurier's other novels. There is much description to add colour and mood. On quite a few occasions she will use personification, or even the pathetic fallacy, to influence and further heighten the atmosphere, such as when,"There was no break in the weeping sky to give direction."At one point halfway through the novel, John feels that he is trapped in a corner. He feels impotent, and that whatever he does will not work; he is sinking further and further into a morass of his own making. The author describes the scene outside the house, "Immediately beside me was a gargoyle's head, ears flattened, slits for eyes, the jutting lips forming a spout for rain. The leaded guttering was choked with leaves, and when rain came the whole would turn to mud and pour from the gargoyle's mouth in a turbid stream... seeping down the walls, swirling in the runways, choking and gurgling above the gargoyle head, driving sideways like arrows to the windows, stinging the panes... there would be no other sound for hour after hour... but the falling rain, and the flood of leaves and rubble through the gargoyle's mouth."On another occasion, when the reader is finally about to learn the truth about the mysterious Maurice Duval,"A fluttering sound by the window made me turn my head. It was a butterfly, the last of the long summer, woken by sunshine, seeking escape from the cobwebs that imprisoned it. I released the butterfly from its prison, and it hovered a moment on the sill, then settled once more amongst the cobwebs."The novel hurtles to its conclusion, within its short compressed time-frame, as John desperately tries to right the wrongs as he sees them. Increasingly he is more committed, yet contrarily also more unsure,"I wondered how much further I had to fall, and if the sense of shame that overwhelmed me was merely wallowing in darkness... I had played the coward long enough."When the dog, César, drags him at reckless speed through the woods, it is as if John's own darker side is "dogging" him,"I dragged myself to my feet, and with my hell-hound in tow started off once more through the vastness of the wood, feeling, as the poet did before me, that my companion would be with me through the nights and through the days, and down the arches of the years, and I should never be rid of him." Even the structure of this one sentence gives the impression of hurtling towards doom. It does not let up; there is no break.Towards the conclusion, the identification, or perhaps the confusion or melding of the two characters John/Jean, becomes ever more apparent. Here John refers to an event long past, but seems to also draws truths from it about his doppelgänger, "I knew that what had happened on a dark night nearly fifteen years ago had not come about by chance but was something planned and done deliberately by a man without heart or feeling, who saw perhaps, in the other someone finer than himself possessing... all the qualities he himself lacked."Yet he still fears discovery,"...she knows at last. I've given myself away... But I was wrong.""I could not ask forgiveness for something I had not done. As scapegoat I could only bear the fault."On the penultimate page, the transmogrification is complete,"I walked on through darkness, undergrowth and moss, and now I had no present and no past, the self who stumbled had no heart and mind...""wishing to condemn him, it was as if it was the shadow I condemned, the man who had moved and spoken and acted in his place, and not Jean de Gué at all. "It's no use... I'm not describing the man you know.""You are... but you're describing yourself as well."There was the fear. Which one of us was real?... It struck me suddenly that if I should now look at myself in a mirror I should see no reflection."This is a disturbing tale, and it comes as no surprise to learn how emotionally drained and disturbed the author was on its completion. Events in Daphne du Maurier's own life were mirrored within the novel, and the author became increasingly jittery and confused as to which had actually happened first. When she wrote about the character Françoise needing a blood transfusion, in real life shortly afterwards, her daughter Tessa gave birth to a son who needed two blood transfusions. Her biographer Judith Cook says, of the odd coincidences and connections,"Daphne began to find it all rather frightening." And another biographer, Margaret Forster, reprints a letter, which Daphne du Maurier wrote in the same year of The Scapegoat's publication, 1957, just after her (Daphne's) husband Tommy had had a nervous breakdown. She herself was also on the verge of nervous collapse. In it, she talks about her novel, "It is my story, and it is [his] also. We are both doubles. So it is with everyone. Every one of us has his, or her, dark side. Which is to overcome the other? This is the purpose of the book. And it ends, as you know, with the problem unsolved, except that the suggestion there, when I finished it, was that the two sides of that man's nature had to fuse together to give birth to a third, well balanced. Know Thyself. (view spoiler)[The one man went back home having been given a hint that his family, in future, would be different, would be adjusted; the other man went to the monastery, for a space of time, to learn "what to do with love". (hide spoiler)]
This is the story of what happens when two men who happen to look and sound alike trade places. One is unhappy with his life primarily due to loneliness and is seriously considering joining a monastery. The other is unhappy because he is smothered from caring for others. The situations of the men made the lonely one depressed while causing the other to be bitter and to strike back at those he loved.British writer Daphne du Maurier, who lived from 1907 to 1989, wrote novels, short stories, plays, biographies, as well as non-fiction books and articles. Scapegoat was published in 1957, and not one I would have read if it hadn't been a selection made by the book club I belong to. Not because it didn't sound interesting, but because there are many newer books I haven't read. However, I'm glad I read it. In fact, I think I'll read some of her other books. Rebecca or My Cousin Rachel, to name a couple.The premise seems improbable at first glance, but not so far out that it bothered me while reading the book. Many times I've spotted a face in the crowd, especially while traveling, of someone I recognize only to find it is a stranger. On at least two occasions the resemblance was so strong I considered asking the person to let me take a photo to show their so-called twin. I didn't, but only due to my shyness.Scapegoat is well crafted and I fear I can't tell you much about it without spoiling it for you. As I read, I thought of many enjoyable paths the story could take and I cheerfully waited to see which one the author decided on. John, a 38-year-old Englishman, is a historian who studies in France and teaches in England. He is fluent in the language and customs. His parents have died and he has no family. He is depressed and lonely, and so unhappy with his life in general, he is considering dropping out. The story begins in Le Mans, and John has his map marked to show how to get to a nearby monastery. While walking on the street, he is mistaken for someone else. Soon he runs into Jean de Gué and learns they look and sound alike. They drink and talk about their lives. Before the evening is up, they end up in an inn where Jean gets John drunk and takes off with his clothes, car and identity. John is awaken the next day by Jean's chauffer who is there to take him home.At first John thinks it is a joke. Then he gets mad. Finally, he decides Jean did it for him, John, so that he could experience a better life. John isn't sure what to do, but he goes with the chauffer to Jean's home where he learns Jean had lived with his wife, Françoise, his brother, Paul, Paul's wife, René, his sister, Blanche, his mother, and his daughter, Marie-Noel. No one notices John is not Jean. At one point John tells some of the family who he is, but they ignore him. Only the dogs know the truth. After dark, John decides to leave, but goes back to keep Jean's daughter from jumping out window. With time, John realizes Jean is more of a failure than he is. The next day he decides to stay because it is amusing. Later, he feels shame after getting to know the people in Jean's life. Although John knows nothing about the business Jean managed, and little about the family members John makes several changes that affect the lives of the family members in a positive way.There are more ups and downs in this fast-paced story, but that's all I want to say so that you'll enjoy this book as much as I did.
What do You think about The Scapegoat (2013)?
When a dissatisfied Englishman on holiday collides with someone in a railway station, he realizes he’s looking at his double — only his double is French. The next morning, the Englishman discovers his passport and papers have been replaced by the Frenchman’s, so he figures his best option is to assume the Frenchman’s identity. Navigating his new role as master of a chateau and head of a complicated family and family business is tricky enough for the Englishman, but adding to the suspense are his efforts to avoid discovery and unravel dark family secrets. Extremely enjoyable.
—Laura
What would you do if you came face to face with yourself? Two men, one a rather shabby French aristocrat called Jean, and the other a down-at-heel English teacher of French history called John, meet by chance in France. John longs for a life so different to his own; Jean has all the ties and responsibilities John has never known; a crumbling family business, a sick mother, a dependent wife and child, and a reputation. John and Jean also happen to be identical. Wishing to escape the tangled mess of his home life, Jean wines and dines his new found friend before leaving him drunk in a cheap hotel. The Englishman wakes up, wearing Jean’s clothes and with Jean’s papers. Understandably annoyed John finds himself almost against his will - and then with increasing relish and delight - playing the part of the French aristocrat: living in his house, being the head of the family, and running his double's business and entertaining his double's array of mistresses.Could two men really be so identical that even their mother, wife and daughter can't tell the difference? As a plot device it's fascinating and du Maurier makes full use of the possibilities the storyline gives her. The French household which formerly had a swaggering bully at its head now has a sensitive and uncertain imposter pulling the strings and attempting to work out the past of the man whose role he has taken. When you look at the premise for The Scapegoat it really shouldn't work, but such is du Maurier's skill as a writer, and such is her complete control of character and plot that the reader never once pauses to question the plausibility of what is going on. Every character is well-drawn and memorable. Jean's mother is doped-up to her eyeballs; his wife is sweet but easily manipulated; his sister, for reasons which only gradually emerge, refuses to talk to him while his brother understandably hates him because Jean appears to be having an affair with his wife. Finally, to cap it all, Jean's daughter suffers from religious visions and threatens to throw herself from one of the top floor windows every time she doesn't get her way.Brilliant though it is, Rebecca casts such a long shadow over the rest of Daphne du Maurier’s work. It's easy to think of her as just a writer of gothic romance but she isn't and this book proves that she has plenty to say about the human condition. Apart from being an atmospheric and well written thriller the book has a number of philosophical questions to ask about the nature of self and the different perspectives we all bring to the same situation. Above all it's about the choice we all have to do good or evil in our lives. It never at any point gets bogged down in what it is trying to say. A deftly written well told story that shows you don't have to sacrifice content, character and storytelling on the altar of style and structure to make a point.
—harryknuckles
This book starts off in a very interesting manner. John, who is a lecturer in England, feels himself as a failure and wants to join a monastery. At the same time, there is Jean, who is the Comte de Gué, is running away from his myriad responsibilities. When Jean meets John, he drugs him and takes away everything that John owns, leaving his own things to him. Effectively, Jean leaves John with his own life. This leads to an interesting story where John becomes Jean and gradually takes over his life and becomes the Comte de Gué.So far, so good. I went into the book assuming that there would be something more than just relationships. The plot starts off as interesting, and had me hooked in the beginning. But once John gets settled into the life of Jean, the story tapers off and simply drags on and on about religious stuff. The ending is mediocre. Nowhere is this book exciting in anyway after the beginning. Maybe this is simply not my kind of story, but I was simply bored most of the time.The main weakness of the book is that none of the characters are sympathetic, or even interesting beyond a superficial level. The protagonist is a whiner. He keeps musing on his own sentimentality and his failure as a person. The mother is a selfish and autocratic person, who does not seem to care for anyone beyond herself and her son. The sister-in-law is clingy and doesn't even have the benefit of a back-story. The brother is another failure who has never been 'allowed' to do anything but handle Jean's work at the verrerie. The sister is a religious fanatic, but at least her back-story was interesting. The worst character of all was the child Marie-Noel, who seemed to think she was an old woman or something. I disliked her intensely. Precocious, spoilt, and boring, she keeps droning on and on about the Saint Vierge and le bon dieu. She exhibits strong martyr-like tendencies but nobody in the screwed up family thinks they ought to pull her out of it. Most authors simply can't do children, and introducing this child-woman into the story was a huge mistake. I also disliked the mistress, Béla. She is the old trope of the understanding mistress who gives everything but demands nothing. She is the oasis of calmness in the self-induced chaos of the protagonist's life. Pftttt! *spits* The book wasn't terrible, though. The writing was excellent, with lengthy descriptions of the scenery and life. There were references to the French Resistance, and frankly the book would have been more interesting if the author had built on that. The verrerie and the business aspect of the plot was interesting, but that tapers off quickly as well. It would have been far more interesting if the fake Jean had found a way to make it all work. The sister's background story is fascinating, but again it was not used to further suspense. I am just disappointed that all the interesting things in the book were never developed to its full potential.
—Kavita
