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FFTMC - Week 3
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Hardy's use of names helps use place her various suitors into context. Gabriel is a man of Oak. Solid, stoic, dependable and connected to the earth and the environment, he offers Bathsheba a quiet, grounded world. It is a world of work, honesty and faithfulness.
Boldwood is a man of property and substance. While perhaps somewhat naive in the ways of the heart, he exhibits an innocent faith in his position, what it entails, and how it should be reflected upon by others. Bold in his historical position and yet somewhat wooden in his understanding and approach to women.
And then, in this section, we meet the scarlett-clothed swashbuckling Sergeant Troy. Troy. Could that name be linked with the rhyming word "coy?" He certainly knows the ways of women, unlike Oak and Boldwood, and is able to tease out any coyness in Bathsheba. Could the name Troy allude to mythology? Bathsheba's face may not have launched a thousand ships but her face certainly has put wind into the sails of three distinctly different suitors.
I think Hardy's comment about ordinary people and love in the 19C is accurate to society, but definitely not reflective of the major characters in this novel.

In an earlier chapter Bathsheba saves Gabriel Oak's life from dying from carbon monoxide poisoning. In this section we have Gabriel, after being fired by Bathsheba, being recalled to save her sheep from dying because they ate young clover which is poisoness to their systems. The method of saving the sheep is to pierce the sheep's side with a lance to relieve the gas. Later in this section, in the presence of Boldwood and Bathsheba, Gabriel "snipped [a] sheep in the groin" and Bathsheba sees the sheep's blood. Then, in chapter XXIII, Bathsheba meets Troy on a path, becomes "hooked" to him, and in order to be released Troy tells her that "I must cut your dress."
We have in these seemingly separate events a series of events such as the introduction of cutting, piercing and blood-letting. In chapter XXVII all of these seeming separate events are braided together. Troy convinces Bathsheba to meet him alone where he will display his proficiency with a sword. With his sword "hissing" Troy dazzles Bathsheba. He cuts a lock of her hair from her head with his sword and immediately after "spotted upon [his sword] point" a caterpillar that had "chosen the front of her bodice as his resting point."
Hardy was restricted by Victorian morality from venturing too far off the path of propriety, but there is much in these chapters to suggest and parallel physical contact between the characters. As it is, we have Troy in complete control of Bathsheba as his mouth dips downwards "upon her own. He had kissed her." This kiss, of course, in an isolated glade, alone.
I started fishing around for a meaning to the name Troy having some vague remembrance of it having to do with science in some way. Turns out "troy" is a measurement. One sixteenth of an ounce. Couldn't make much of that so I kept looking. Found baby names. The French "Troy" apparently means curly-haired. But the Irish "Troy" means soldier. (Relating no doubt to the ancient siege).
I also found this...
Troy
It is of Irish and Gaelic origin, and the meaning of Troy is "descendant of the footsoldier". Surname given to those who migrated to England from the French city of Troyes after the Norman conquest of 1066. As a given name, Troy may derive from the ancient Greek city where the Trojan wars were fought.
Troy
It is of Irish and Gaelic origin, and the meaning of Troy is "descendant of the footsoldier". Surname given to those who migrated to England from the French city of Troyes after the Norman conquest of 1066. As a given name, Troy may derive from the ancient Greek city where the Trojan wars were fought.


Suddenly Bathsheba and Troy happen to be in the same fir plantation, at night, with no one else around. What are the chances that would happen. The character Troy is thrusted at her, AND they get tangled together, so they can be physically close.
What do you think?
I was used to a more elegant plot-development in Gaskell's North and South. So now I am comparing everything to her. Or is it just because I read her first?
Was Troy perhaps planning all this and waiting in the dark for Bathsheba to turn up?

Like you, I am constantly cross-comparing novels and novelists. Hardy and Gaskell are very different in so many ways. I like your word "elegant" to describe Gaskell. I am constantly amazed how 19C writers were able to write under the pressure of time to meet the periodical demands of their publishers. We often read of authors of today who spend years, indeed decades crafting, revising, editing and then rewriting a novel. And then off that novel goes to a publisher where it is further vetted and proofread.
When I think of 19C novelists I imagine reams of paper and splashing ink and then the author dashing off to beat the clock of the weekly or monthly periodical. How Trollope or Braddon managed to write literally dozens of novels I have no idea. I guess some would say many of their books are not first-class, but I wonder why their hands did not fall off their arms at some time in their writing process.
Wow! There was a bit of a digression/rant!
I find Hardy in this novel often lurches between and among events without the grace and control that Gaskell exhibited in N&S. Too often he begins a situation or event, covers the chapter and then brings the individual chapter to a resounding conclusion rather than allowing the narrative to flow and evolve.

Hardy's style is certainly not Gaskell's or Austen's, but, perhaps because I read enough postmodern stuff which often has changes in narrator, place, or time, the difference has not been jarring for me the way it seems to have been for you, Charlotte. I appreciate your comments, though, Charlotte, partly because they are forcing me to think back to my favorite Hardy, Tess of d'Ubervilles and re-consider some of my reactions to the plot flow there. Hardy is certainly not adverse to abrupt changes in scene or story. Whether such strengthens or weakens the effect he seems to be trying to achieve, I'll have to ponder.
When I was doing my critical reading of Jude the Obscure, I do not recall the critics specifically calling out the plot flow aspect of his work. I am curious now as to what they do say. A project for another day, but one to watch for. Again, thanks.

Life, of course, does not proceed in a smooth, even flow, but jumps from event (plot line) to event (plot line) in a herky-jerky motion. People come and go out of our lives in irregular patterns.
Gaskell is in some ways a pleasanter writer because she smooths out the patterns of normal life and makes the flow almost seamless. But perhaps Hardy is truer to the nature of real life.

I wonder if we could see Hardy's narrative style in FFTMC as somewhat episodic.
Charlotte-
I'm with you in your suspicions of Troy. I remember thinking that it all seemed awfully convenient. I would not put it past him to have planned the whole encounter. At least in some part. In other ways he seems to play whatever advantage comes up. Sets up a situation, plays it to whatever he can make of it, when it no longer provides advantage or interest, moves on to the next situation. But I don't know how much he invests. Or if he convinced himself of investment until he tired of the game.
I'm with you in your suspicions of Troy. I remember thinking that it all seemed awfully convenient. I would not put it past him to have planned the whole encounter. At least in some part. In other ways he seems to play whatever advantage comes up. Sets up a situation, plays it to whatever he can make of it, when it no longer provides advantage or interest, moves on to the next situation. But I don't know how much he invests. Or if he convinced himself of investment until he tired of the game.
Peter-
I like "episodic." It makes Hardy's style more explicable. I certainly don't find the whiplash novel to this story. And I don't really buy that he's somehow truer to life because if it. Certainly, life has both smooths and roughs, but most days have the flow of pattern where even new people and situations wend their way in and sometimes wend their way out again. Occasional jolts. Occasional digressions of behavior. But not generally the rule from day to day.
I think it can be argued that because his novels are ultimately powerful and give the reader something to chew over later, we tend to gloss over the bumpy ride of actually reading him. Beautiful passages, certainly. Clever representations of the locals, absolutely. (And doesn't he seem to know it.) Interesting characters, check. But I always feel like I'm watching him show off his cleverness. Like Sir Lawrence Olivier. I can never lose myself in the story because I'm too busy watching him act.
I like "episodic." It makes Hardy's style more explicable. I certainly don't find the whiplash novel to this story. And I don't really buy that he's somehow truer to life because if it. Certainly, life has both smooths and roughs, but most days have the flow of pattern where even new people and situations wend their way in and sometimes wend their way out again. Occasional jolts. Occasional digressions of behavior. But not generally the rule from day to day.
I think it can be argued that because his novels are ultimately powerful and give the reader something to chew over later, we tend to gloss over the bumpy ride of actually reading him. Beautiful passages, certainly. Clever representations of the locals, absolutely. (And doesn't he seem to know it.) Interesting characters, check. But I always feel like I'm watching him show off his cleverness. Like Sir Lawrence Olivier. I can never lose myself in the story because I'm too busy watching him act.

I like "episodic." It makes Hardy's style more explicable. I certainly don't find the whiplash novel to this story. And I don't really buy that he's somehow truer to life because if it. Cer..."
That's an interesting observation concerning how you see him sometimes showing off his own cleverness. I have never thought about his style in those terms, but on reflection I think I can see what you suggest. I imagine most authors tend, in some way, to enjoy their own creations, just as an athlete would enjoy one of their own highlight reels.

I can definitely see that, Lily. He seems to enjoy, or get the most impact from, those charged situations. Certainly, how one behaves in adversity is very telling.
I really loved Middlesex, but hadn't thought to compare them as writers. Perhaps I gave the intensity a pass because so much of it was told in retrospect, where Eugenides narrator might only tell the pivotal bits. Whereas I think of Hardy's stories as being told in "realtime." I'm going to try looking at the rest of the novel as vignettes or episodes and see what impact it has.
I really loved Middlesex, but hadn't thought to compare them as writers. Perhaps I gave the intensity a pass because so much of it was told in retrospect, where Eugenides narrator might only tell the pivotal bits. Whereas I think of Hardy's stories as being told in "realtime." I'm going to try looking at the rest of the novel as vignettes or episodes and see what impact it has.

I think that's it, Lily--"with considerable rewriting that may have chopped up the original flow." His editor at Cornhill Magazine, which wanted him to write a serial, was Leslie Stephen (the future father of Virginia Woolf). Desirous of not offending the Cornhill audience, Stephen made changes and cuts to FFTMC; Hardy, excited to be published in such a prestigious periodical, agreed, although he put back stuff when the novel was subsequently published. Apparently, he was still revising it before he died.
Peter wrote: "Hardy was restricted by Victorian morality from venturing too far off the path of propriety, but there is much in these chapters to suggest and parallel physical contact between the characters. As it is, we have Troy in complete control of Bathsheba as his mouth dips downwards "upon her own. He had kissed her." This kiss, of course, in an isolated glade, alone. "
I was struck how earthy, deeply sensual, even erotic, the "swashbuckling" scene is. Troy dressed in his red uniform is in "full plume" wooing Bathsheba in a courtship dance amidst the ferns. And she, like a female bird, watches seemingly impassively.
This is a masterfully written scene.
I was struck how earthy, deeply sensual, even erotic, the "swashbuckling" scene is. Troy dressed in his red uniform is in "full plume" wooing Bathsheba in a courtship dance amidst the ferns. And she, like a female bird, watches seemingly impassively.
This is a masterfully written scene.


Do you too wanted to live at that time and be friends with all of them? Haha... I do!

Yes. I find this novel has much that is erotic. I believe Hardy in Tess and Jude also incorporates many scenes that are artfully sublime but, nevertheless, clearly erotic.

No way! I'll take the period in which I'm having the privilege of living -- running water, air conditioning, cars, ..., to name a few amenities I'm spoiled on.
Thank you, dear Lily, but I think Charlotte started us down this particular path. I'm just happily tripping along.
Now I'm ready to trip along behind you and Kerstin following the plumage to the turns of phrase which make Hardy so joyous.
Now I'm ready to trip along behind you and Kerstin following the plumage to the turns of phrase which make Hardy so joyous.

Okay! Didn't backtrack far enough today. ;-( Thx to you both.

Did anyone else notice during that shearing supper (ch 23) how Bathsheba got Gabriel to sit at the head of the table and then made him move when Boldwood came in? Since she was expecting Boldwood at this supper thing, I can only deduce that this was a deliberate slight against Gabriel... To make him move over and give up his seat to his "rival."
I'd thought previously that Bathsheba was a sort of careless flirt and naive and shallow when it came to love, but now we've got something else to consider - does she enjoy torturing Gabriel?

I reread the relevant text just now, and I see Bathsheba's motives as slightly more benign but thoughtless nevertheless. She asks the seat be left vacant. I think we are to wonder who she is saving it for. She asks Gabriel to take it just as the meal is to be served AND to assume "the duties" of that chair. When Boldwood arrives, it is suggested he is late and was expected. The fact that Bathsheba thinks she can get away with asking Oak to move speaks volumes about how he stands with her. But your question, does she enjoy torturing him...yes, I think you're right, Dee. Nice catch!

Up to now, Bathsheba has only dealt with men who are open, honest and straightforward in their dealings with her (and who appear somewhat cowed by her beauty). However, Troy is a very different sort of man:
He spoke fluently and unceasingly. He could in this way be one thing and seem another; for instance, he could speak of love and think of dinner; call on the husband to look at the wife; be eager to pay and intend to owe.
Troy is a deceiver, and Bathsheba does not appear to be aware of the danger of entering into a relationship with this man, who at present appears to be toying with her (could this be the origin of his name?)

I thought so too. I also thought it was like she was teasing and provoking him, wishing he was more tough. She once said he would not do, because she needed some one to tame her. He almost managed to get a hold of her when he critized her, left her and she had to beg for him to come back.

The quotation that Frances provides concerning Troy is very insightful. The fact that the word "dinner" is part of the quotation suggests that Hardy may want this idea to be implanted into our reading memory of the Oak-Boldwood dinner shuffle.
Lots more to come ...


Yes. I'm think you are right in your portrayal of Bathsheba and her motivations. The comment about her "core (honesty)" is spot on.
I enjoy finding parallels and echoes in novels and your observations about Bathsheba's meetings with both Troy and Gabriel by a hedge have sent me back into the book for a second look. Thanks.

I agree that Bathsheba seems to enjoy tormenting Gabriel. But I do think that this goes back to her refusal of him because he's not strong enough to tame her. She subconsciously wants him to stand up to her. Consciously she doesn't appear to know what she wants. She acts in the moment, much like Sergeant Troy.
Bathsheba puzzles me. I can't work out her motivation. I've realised that this is a point where Hardy differs from the other 19th century authors I have read. Normally we get to know the female protagonist. We know her family background, her personality traits, strengths and flaws, her hopes and dreams. They are not always spelled out, but they are easy enough to infer. With Bathsheba I have no idea. I mean, what do we know of her?
-She clearly had a childhood with a lot of freedom and she has never worried overly much about conventionality.
-She has the beginnings of a woman's education, but her father ran out of money.
-She is vain and emotionally immature.
-She is not used to being courted, so I'm guessing she was never formally introduced to "society".
-She is impulsive and honest, also in combination.
Bathsheba says she wants a man to tame her, but she clearly wants to do whatever she likes.
Bathsheba says she wants to manage her own affairs, but seems to like the thought of the future Boldwood paints for her. The one where she's being a decorative wife while he manages business. Is she a farmer just on a whim then? Fun for a while, might as well do something else? Fun to be unconventional and to be spoken of, might as well be adored and spoken of as a wealthy man's wife?
I wonder when her mother died. Has she had no female guidance at all?!? It's one thing to defy societal mores by riding like a man and managing your own land like a man. But Bathsheba... when a man, an armed man even, wants to meet you alone in a secluded spot and manipulates you into not bringing a friend, alarm bells should go off in your head and they should be spelling out "Beware! Predator."

Yes. We are left with many blanks concerning Bathsheba's life prior to the beginning of the novel. She is much different than Tess who we know so much about her early life and her family's history. Thank you for putting so many bits and pieces together with such logic.
In my opinion, Hardy was very sexually suggestive in this novel. He walked the Victorian morality line very closely at times. I think the number of cuttings, piercings, blood and references to the removal of clothing, both human and sheep's wool, are too numerous to be chance or inconsequential. On wonders how far Hardy would have pushed his narratives had he continued to write novels after Jude the Obscure. I also wonder how much of a push back there would have been from the Victorian social/sexual moralists as the 19C passed away into the 20C.
“The dusky, filmed, chestnut roof, braced and tied in by huge collars, curves, and diagonals, was far nobler in design, because more wealthy in material, than nine-tenths of those in our modern churches.”
Good thing Hardy didn’t see the monstrosities built in the 1960s and 70s!
“Unlike and superior to either of those two typical remnants of mediævalism, the old barn embodied practices which had suffered no mutilation at the hands of time. Here at least the spirit of the ancient builders was at one with the spirit of the modern beholder. Standing before this abraded pile, the eye regarded its present usage, the mind dwelt upon its past history, with a satisfied sense of functional continuity throughout— a feeling almost of gratitude, and quite of pride, at the permanence of the idea which had heaped it up. […] So the barn was natural to the shearers, and the shearers were in harmony with the barn.”
Hardy’s description of the barn invokes the timelessness of country life. Here men and women engage in an activity as old as animal husbandry. This is truly far from the madding crowd! The building itself is a remnant from a time long past and has a sacral architecture. There is no memory of how the barn was used before, but I wonder if perhaps it was part of a monastery or convent of some sort. It certainly would carry on the pastoral theme, albeit in a different form.
But Hardy puts an edge to it,
“The fact that four centuries had neither proved it to be founded on a mistake, inspired any hatred of its purpose, … The lanceolate windows, the time-eaten archstones and chamfers, the orientation of the axis, the misty chestnut work of the rafters, referred to no exploded fortifying art or worn-out religious creed.”
While he takes great pleasure in dipping into the timeless pastoral scene, he doesn’t mourn the religious expressions of the society that produced the building.
Good thing Hardy didn’t see the monstrosities built in the 1960s and 70s!
“Unlike and superior to either of those two typical remnants of mediævalism, the old barn embodied practices which had suffered no mutilation at the hands of time. Here at least the spirit of the ancient builders was at one with the spirit of the modern beholder. Standing before this abraded pile, the eye regarded its present usage, the mind dwelt upon its past history, with a satisfied sense of functional continuity throughout— a feeling almost of gratitude, and quite of pride, at the permanence of the idea which had heaped it up. […] So the barn was natural to the shearers, and the shearers were in harmony with the barn.”
Hardy’s description of the barn invokes the timelessness of country life. Here men and women engage in an activity as old as animal husbandry. This is truly far from the madding crowd! The building itself is a remnant from a time long past and has a sacral architecture. There is no memory of how the barn was used before, but I wonder if perhaps it was part of a monastery or convent of some sort. It certainly would carry on the pastoral theme, albeit in a different form.
But Hardy puts an edge to it,
“The fact that four centuries had neither proved it to be founded on a mistake, inspired any hatred of its purpose, … The lanceolate windows, the time-eaten archstones and chamfers, the orientation of the axis, the misty chestnut work of the rafters, referred to no exploded fortifying art or worn-out religious creed.”
While he takes great pleasure in dipping into the timeless pastoral scene, he doesn’t mourn the religious expressions of the society that produced the building.

Thank you for pointing out another great example of Hardy's writing style and power.
His architect's eyes certainly helped capture the feeling and beauty of the passage.
I particularly enjoyed your phrase "Hardy's description of the barn invokes the timelessness of country life." The ability to see a " timeless" object within a seemingly mundane surrounding is a gift of a great author to their readers.
This week's reading is about: Chapters 19-28
An interesting quote from the chapter 19 (or 20, depending on the version you're reading):
It appears that ordinary men take wives because possession is not possible without marriage, and that ordinary women accept husbands because marriage is not possible without possession.
What have you understood from this part and how do you think it applies to the story and to the characters we are discussing?