All indicators suggested that Fergus's tale was destined to darken before seeing the light, and though its progression wasn't unexpected, it didn't lessen its poignant impact. Oh, our poor Fergie Ferg, grappling with such depths of despair. His struggles as an alcoholic and his harsh treatment towards Marsali do not absolve him, yet his plight is undeniably dire. And as "Temperance" unfolds, his world descends further into chaos.
Indeed, this marks an excruciating commencement to a television episode.Fergus and Marsali's newborn, Henri-Christian, lies vulnerable in a basket, while a pack of malicious children have callously propelled him down a river—a river, mind you!—hurtling inexorably towards a dramatic waterfall. Granted, this grim sequence stems from the novel, but dear showrunners, not every literary moment needs cinematic recreation. That harrowing perspective shot from within the baby's basket, as Henri-Christian races unwittingly towards the abyss, is overwhelming to the extreme. I find myself weary, and we've scarcely scratched the surface of this narrative—just three minutes in!
Fear not, loyal reader, for Roger Mac intervenes heroically, plunging into the river and battling, presumably, treacherous rapids (as an indoor person, I can only guess) to rescue无辜的Henri-Christian from his perilous journey. I confess, my sentiments towards Roger have been lukewarm at best, but whatever transformation he's undergone this season resonates deeply with me. Initially, it was his grandeur beard that caught my attention, and now, here he is, diving into potentially icy waters to salvage an innocent baby from a watery grave, while confrontationally informing the culpable children, in his deepest timbre, that "Satan himself will drag [them] to hell." It's... stirring. Have I discovered a newfound admiration? That, I shall ponder in due course.
The children's heinous act against Henri-Christian stems from the erroneous beliefs of their ignorant parents, who consider a child with dwarfism "the devil's spawn," believing that contact would lead to burns, and that such children inexplicably float. It's sheer madness. Fortunately, Henri-Christian emerges unscathed. Jamie vows to address the issue with the kids, including Aidan, who has taken a shine to Roger, and Germain, Henri-Christian's own brother! Marsali, understandably, is traumatized. Yet, it is Fergus who bears the brunt of this ordeal, overwhelmed to the point of needing to escape the house.
It is Claire who trails behind him, her ears attuned to his every word as tears stream down his face. He unleashes a torrent of harrowing tales upon her—horrors he witnessed befalling individuals with dwarfism at the brothel where he resided, and his haunting conviction that Henri-Christian is doomed to a tragic fate. He blames himself, believing that had he been present to shield Marsali from Lionel Brown and his cronies' brutality, his son might not have been born with such afflictions. Claire endeavors to reassure him, her voice laced with empathy, that fate is not so simplistic and that Henri-Christian is fully capable of living a rich, fulfilling life. She vows, alongside Jamie, to ensure this, to stand as a bulwark for him. They all will. Yet, he remains impervious to her words, turning away abruptly.
My thoughts inevitably drift back to Fergus' childhood in Paris with Claire, during such poignant scenes. Her affection for him burns brightly—he is flesh of her flesh!—yet she stands helpless, unable to alleviate his suffering at this moment. Thus, the situation deteriorates further. Fergus succumbs to alcohol once more, sparking an explosive altercation with Marsali. Amidst his meltdown, he laments his inability to provide for or safeguard his family. He is utterly beside himself.
Desperate to drive home the point that the responsibility of nurturing and defending their family does not solely rest upon his shoulders, Marsali confesses, with a boldness that commands attention, that she slew Lionel to shield them. Her declaration, while empowering, only serves to deepen Fergus' distress, not only due to the gravity of murder but also because he, ensnared by patriarchal norms, views such duties as inherently masculine. Marsali, in a bid to snap him out of his fugue, douses him with water and commands him to leave, not to return until sobriety claims him. The situation seems irredeemably bleak.
The drama escalates. A hopelessly intoxicated Fergus stumbles into a gathering at the Big House, ultimately engaging in a fistfight with an elderly couple who utter cruel remarks about Henri-Christian. Even Tom Christie acknowledges the reprehensibility of their comments, suggesting they perhaps deserved their fate. Nevertheless, this incident underscores the tumultuous state of Fergus' mind. He is lost, adrift without a compass.
Jamie, noting Fergus' distressed demeanor and solitary retreat into the woods, decides to follow. He witnesses Fergus drawing a knife, preparing to slash his wrist. With urgent concern, Jamie dashes forward, halting the self-inflicted harm while concealing the wound. Fergus confesses his desire for death, believing it would allow Marsali to remarry someone capable of better providing for and protecting her and their children. Jamie, pleading with all his might, implores Fergus to reconsider, reminding him of the countless instances he has cared for them—during Jamie's exile in Ardsmuir and his grief-stricken period following Claire's absence. He strives to illuminate that they need Fergus himself, not merely what he provides. Jamie lifts him to his feet, holding him close as tears flow freely, reassuring him that they will navigate through this storm together.
The bond shared by Jamie, Claire, and Fergus has proven to be an unexpectedly cherished aspect of the narrative. While this storyline is heart-wrenching to observe, it serves as a poignant reminder of their indispensable connection. And as I reflect upon it, the tears still linger at the edges of my eyes, testament to the profound impact of their unwavering support for one another.
Claire and Jamie, having nursed Fergus back to composure and restored his dignity, set him safely on his way back to Marsali and his kin. Let us hope this marks a turning point for the better. In this episode, Claire's benevolent hands have also tended to another soul: Tom Christie, who has finally arrived, resolute for his impending hand surgery. The scene that unfolds is nothing short of remarkable—Tom, steadfast in his refusal of ether, demands to remain awake during the procedure, desiring to pray as Claire delves into his hand. Jamie, by his side, a peculiar blend of encouragement and assistance, offers Tom shots of whiskey and reads from the Bible, struggling to mask his amusement at Tom's agonized cries. Jamie, indeed, proves to be the finest assistant in any operating room within miles.
It appears Tom is slowly warming to Claire in his unique manner, or at least, his curiosity about her persists. On the night following his surgery—Claire still attending to Lionel Brown, while Tom rests near her ether supply—she checks on him, assisting him to stretch his hand and procuring sustenance. Their conversation wanders effortlessly between barbs and praises, back and forth. Tom remains puzzled by Jamie, revisiting the subject of his whipping scars and questioning why he'd endure such punishment for someone else's crime. Claire elucidates that Jamie would go to any lengths to safeguard those he cherishes, whom he deems family, be it the Ardsmuir prisoners or otherwise, adding that his kindness is a genuine trait. Tom, though not fully comprehending, clearly absorbs this revelation.
Later, nestled beside Jamie, Claire inquires about Tom's demeanor in prison. Jamie relates that amidst the collective yearning for respite from the cold harshness and pain, while some men sought solace in fellow inmates, Tom retreated further into himself.
One fateful day, as Tom visits Claire to have her examine his wound, he inquisitively delves into the novel she is engrossed in. Their conversation teeters precariously between adversarial sparks and nascent camaraderie. It's as though he yearns to foster a connection with her—perhaps drawn to the woman who mended him and steadfastly refuses to tolerate his patriarchal, religious dogma. Yet, his inherent brashness continually undermines his better instincts. Eventually, Claire coaxes Tom into embracing the novel, urging him to immerse himself in its pages. For a fleeting moment, he almost appears...genuinely elated at the prospect of sharing this experience with her.
Yet, upon diving into its depths, he finds the novel awash with smut far too risqué for his palate. When he returns it, he accompanies it with a note to Claire, expressing his disappointment that he had held her in higher esteem than to indulge in such "filth." With his hand healed, he resumes his accustomed routines, such as disciplining his daughter with his belt, raising questions about whether he seeks a scapegoat in Claire to vent his矛盾ing emotions towards her.
