On an evening in the latter part of May a middle-
aged man was walking homeward from Shaston

to the village of Marlott, in the adjoining Vale of
Blakemore, or Blackmoor. The pair of legs that
carried him were rickety, and there was a bias in
his gait which inclined him somewhat to the left
of a straight line. He occasionally gave a smart
nod, as if in confirmation of some opinion,
though he was not thinking of anything in
particular. An empty egg-basket was slung upon
his arm, the nap of his hat was ruffled, a patch
being quite worn away at its brim where his
thumb came in taking it off. Presently he was met
by an elderly parson

astride on a gray mare,
who, as he rode, hummed a wandering tune.
“Good night t’ee,” said the man with the basket.
“Good night, Sir John,” said the parson.
The pedestrian, after another pace or two, halted, and turned round.
“Now, sir, begging your pardon; we met last market-day on this road about this time, and I said ‘Good
night,’ and you made reply ‘Good night, Sir John,’ as now.”
“I did,” said the parson.
“And once before that — near a month ago.”
“I may have.”
“Then what might your meaning be in calling me ‘Sir John’ these different times, when I be plain Jack
Durbeyfield, the haggler?” The parson rode a step or two nearer.
“It was only my whim,” he said; and, after a moment’s hesitation: “It was on account of a discovery I
made some little time ago, whilst I was hunting up pedigrees3

for the new county history. I am Parson

Tringham, the antiquary,4

of Stagfoot Lane. Don’t you really know, Durbeyfield, that you are the lineal
representative of the ancient and knightly family of the d’Urbervilles, who derive their descent from Sir
Pagan d’Urberville, that renowned knight who came from Normandy with William the Conqueror,5
as

appears by Battle Abbey Roll?”
“Never heard it before, sir!”
“Well it’s true. Throw up your chin a moment, so that I may catch the profile of your face better. Yes,
that’s the d’Urberville nose and chin — a little debased.6

Your ancestor was one of the twelve knights
who assisted the Lord of Estremavilla in Normandy in his conquest of Glamorganshire. Branches of
your family held manors over all this part of England; their names appear in the Pipe Rolls7

in the time
of King Stephen. In the reign of King John one of them was rich enough to give a manor to the Knights
Hospitallers; and in Edward the Second’s time your forefather Brian was summoned to Westminster to
attend the great Council there. You declined a little in Oliver Cromwell’s time, but to no serious extent,
and in Charles the Second’s reign you were made Knights of the Royal Oak for your loyalty. Aye, there
have been generations of Sir Johns among you, and if knighthood were hereditary, like a baronetcy,8
as
it practically was in old times, when men were knighted from father to son, you would be Sir John now.”
“Ye don’t say so!”
“In short,” concluded the parson, decisively smacking his leg with his switch, “there’s hardly such
another family in England.”
“Daze my eyes, and isn’t there?” said Durbeyfield. “And here have I been knocking about, year after
year, from pillar to post, as if I was no more than the commonest feller in the parish9

... And how long

hev this news about me been knowed, Pa’son Tringham?”
The clergyman explained that, as far as he was aware, it had quite died out of knowledge, and could
hardly be said to be known at all. His own investigations had begun on a day in the preceding spring
when, having been engaged in tracing the vicissitudes of the d’Urberville family, he had observed
Durbeyfield’s name on his waggon, and had thereupon been led to make inquiries about his father and
grandfather till he had no doubt on the subject.
“At first I resolved not to disturb you with such a useless piece of information,” said he. “However, our
impulses are too strong for our judgement sometimes. I thought you might perhaps know something
of it all the while.” “Well, I have heard once or twice, ’tis true, that my family had seen better days afore they came to
Blackmoor. But I took no notice o’t, thinking it to mean that we had once kept two horses where we
now keep only one. I’ve got a wold silver spoon, and a wold graven seal at home, too; but, Lord, what’s
a spoon and seal?. . . And to think that I and these noble d’Urbervilles were one flesh all the time. ’Twas
said that my gr’tgranfer had secrets, and didn’t care to talk of where he came from. . . And where do we
raise our smoke, now, parson, if I may make so bold; I mean, where do we d’Urbervilles live?”
“You don’t live anywhere. You are extinct — as a county family.”

1) In the passage, Jack Durbeyfield learns new information about his family history. How does this new knowledge impact how Durbeyfield views himself? How important do you think this information is to Durbeyfield’s identity?

2) In the passage, the parson treats Durbeyfield differently when he discovers Durbeyfield's family history. Do you think a person’s ancestry is important to who they are in the present?