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Far from the Madding Crowd
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Far From the Madding Crowd 5th Thread Chapter 39 - 47
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I’m beginning to think there is a moral to the story here. Being governed by your emotions and desires - bad.
Being in control of your emotions and desires - good.
Thus far, this could be applied to most of the cast.
Given the meanings that Victorians placed on flowers it was interesting to read that Troy planted forget-me-nots over Fanny’s heart. The flower that was given for remembrance but was Troy trying to ensure that he wouldn’t forget Fanny? What was his thinking here? Or did this act reinforce his childish behavior?
Hardy wasn’t specific about which lily Troy selected. But I did catch Troy’s selection of the lily of the valley which were most often present at christenings and namings in Victorian times. I just find that food for thought.



In the simplest of comments, I'll just say that I have been disappointed in Bathsheba, Troy is a rogue, but I did feel sorry for him when he demonstrates real feelings for Fanny, and oh, poor Fanny. And boy, I love Hardy's writing!

Hardy wants us to believe that his characters are but toys in the hands of "fate". Fate...fate...fate...In chapter 45 "Troy's Romanticism", he throws the lid back on the coffin of Fanny and his child, and flings himself dressed on his bed.
Hardy excuses Troy from acknowledgement of personal responsibility for three things which Troy is completely at fault: his abandonment of Fanny after she goes to the wrong church; her pregnancy; leaving her to her death hours after she inadvertently meets him on the road.
He had told Bathsheba that "If Satan had not tempted me with that face of yours . . . I should have married her." So there he blames Satan, not himself. Then in Chapter 45, Thomas Hardy gives Troy yet another excuse for what has happened. "Fate had dealt grimly with him through the last four-and-twenty hours."
I have a strong philosophical objection to Hardy's tendency to remove personal agency from his characters. They are puppets controlled by "fate". I'm not a Hardy scholar, but I suspect this has been dealt with by scores of literary critics. Another example at the end of the chapter:
"Troy, in his prostration at this time, had no perception that in the futility of these romantic doings, [planting flowers on Fanny's grave] dictated by a remorseful reaction from previous indifference, there was any element of absurdity."
Key words in the paragraph above are: "no perception"; "futility"'; "reaction" predicated upon by "indifference" and "absurdity".
In a criminal trial today, you would hear the guilty party exclaim:"
"I didn't mean to do it. I couldn't help it. "X" made me do it. This crime was "not my fault". I counter that Hardy, in his own belief system, gives humanity carte blanche for its evil doings. The last words of this chapter are that Troy - once again - lays down and falls asleep!

One thing I liked about my first Hardy, Jude the Obscure, was that things went wrong even for those who tried so hard. But it wasn't blind fate, it was usually a mistake the character made that was clear, even if only in retrospect. That aspect needs to be there for it to be a tragedy we can learn from, it seems to me.
But we shall see what happens!
Indeed, we will see what happens very soon :-)
But first, thank you to Jean for including all the information on the cuts made surrounding Fanny and her Child. I would love to read the page and a half description of them!
And thank you to everyone for the wonderful comments today. I think we are in agreement about Troy. Someone (sorry I can't remember who said that) awhile back used the word "narcissist", which feels right to me. He is childlike too, but he's an adult and should be accountable for his actions.
When he says "If Satan had not tempted me with that face of yours . . . I should have married her.", I couldn't help thinking the same is true for Bathsheba and Boldwood. She would be married to him if Troy hadn't temped her. We know how things have turned out for Fanny, but I wonder what will happen to Boldwood. We haven't heard from him in a couple chapters, and last we saw him, he wasn't doing well.
Anyway, on to the next chapter.......
But first, thank you to Jean for including all the information on the cuts made surrounding Fanny and her Child. I would love to read the page and a half description of them!
And thank you to everyone for the wonderful comments today. I think we are in agreement about Troy. Someone (sorry I can't remember who said that) awhile back used the word "narcissist", which feels right to me. He is childlike too, but he's an adult and should be accountable for his actions.
When he says "If Satan had not tempted me with that face of yours . . . I should have married her.", I couldn't help thinking the same is true for Bathsheba and Boldwood. She would be married to him if Troy hadn't temped her. We know how things have turned out for Fanny, but I wonder what will happen to Boldwood. We haven't heard from him in a couple chapters, and last we saw him, he wasn't doing well.
Anyway, on to the next chapter.......
Chapter 46 - The Gurgoyle: its doings
The tower of Weatherbury Church is from the 14th century and has two Gothic gargoyles on each of its faces. Though most of the mouths no longer spout water, they are all equally hideous. The horrible one on the north-eastern side does still have a passage for water, and as Troy sleeps on the church porch, the rain continues and pours out the gurgoyle causing a stream that thickens and pours right over Fanny’s grave, drowning the carefully planted flowers and washing them away. Troy only awakens in broad daylight, when the sun is shining again. He reaches the grave and sees only a hollow around the tombstone.
Troy usually can elude grief simply by pushing off troublesome thoughts. For almost the first time in his life, now, he cannot, and he wishes he were another man: he hates himself. Miserable, he stands and wonders where he should go. He’s only been thoughtful for one full day—the source of wanting to care for Fanny’s grave—and now he feels fate is jeering at him. He withdraws without doing anything to fix the grave, and leaves the village at once.
Meanwhile Bathsheba remains in the attic with Liddy, and sleeps restlessly. At eight a.m. Liddy knocks and says she heard one strange noise in the night, apart from the heavy rain, like the boiling of a pot. Bathsheba asks if Troy has been in; she says she thinks he’s gone to Budmouth, the horse-race site: Laban Tall saw him on that road before breakfast.
After breakfast Bathsheba leaves to walk towards church. Across the churchyard she sees Gabriel, who is looking at the tomb and disturbed grave. She follows his eyes and reads, “Erected by Francis Troy in memory of Fanny Robbin.” Gabriel sees her, and Bathsheba’s earlier emotion cedes to calm. She asks him simply to fill the hole, as she begins planting the flowers scattered around. She asks Gabriel to get the church wardens to turn the gargoyle’s mouth, and finally wipes the mud from the tomb, then goes home.
The tower of Weatherbury Church is from the 14th century and has two Gothic gargoyles on each of its faces. Though most of the mouths no longer spout water, they are all equally hideous. The horrible one on the north-eastern side does still have a passage for water, and as Troy sleeps on the church porch, the rain continues and pours out the gurgoyle causing a stream that thickens and pours right over Fanny’s grave, drowning the carefully planted flowers and washing them away. Troy only awakens in broad daylight, when the sun is shining again. He reaches the grave and sees only a hollow around the tombstone.
Troy usually can elude grief simply by pushing off troublesome thoughts. For almost the first time in his life, now, he cannot, and he wishes he were another man: he hates himself. Miserable, he stands and wonders where he should go. He’s only been thoughtful for one full day—the source of wanting to care for Fanny’s grave—and now he feels fate is jeering at him. He withdraws without doing anything to fix the grave, and leaves the village at once.
Meanwhile Bathsheba remains in the attic with Liddy, and sleeps restlessly. At eight a.m. Liddy knocks and says she heard one strange noise in the night, apart from the heavy rain, like the boiling of a pot. Bathsheba asks if Troy has been in; she says she thinks he’s gone to Budmouth, the horse-race site: Laban Tall saw him on that road before breakfast.
After breakfast Bathsheba leaves to walk towards church. Across the churchyard she sees Gabriel, who is looking at the tomb and disturbed grave. She follows his eyes and reads, “Erected by Francis Troy in memory of Fanny Robbin.” Gabriel sees her, and Bathsheba’s earlier emotion cedes to calm. She asks him simply to fill the hole, as she begins planting the flowers scattered around. She asks Gabriel to get the church wardens to turn the gargoyle’s mouth, and finally wipes the mud from the tomb, then goes home.
The narration moves from Troy’s perspective specifically to a general account, in what first seems like a digression on the history of Weatherbury Church. Nevertheless, this context ends up lending itself to another example of nature’s unconcern regarding human affairs and desires; washing all the flowers away, regardless of Troy's grief.
Again, like a child, Troy hasn’t spent much time learning to develop a mature sense of the relationship between his actions and consequences, or of how to react when things don’t go his way. He’s unable to accept the cold indifference of the natural world, instead taking it as a personal insult. He can't follow through on his intention to mark Fanny's grave with beautiful flowers. He just leaves the mess and walks away, similar to how he treated her in life.
Moving back to Bathsheba’s perspective, the book describes the affairs at the farm, where the same heavy rain is falling but where the tragedy of Fanny’s death, and Bathsheba’s recognition of her own plight, is being dealt with in its own way.
Fanny was one of the first people that Gabriel met before starting his new life in Weatherbury, and he has his own reasons for paying respect to her. Bathsheba recognizes what Troy must have done, but rather than raging at cold nature like he did, she takes it upon herself to mitigate the ruined grave, enacting a kind of penance.
Again, like a child, Troy hasn’t spent much time learning to develop a mature sense of the relationship between his actions and consequences, or of how to react when things don’t go his way. He’s unable to accept the cold indifference of the natural world, instead taking it as a personal insult. He can't follow through on his intention to mark Fanny's grave with beautiful flowers. He just leaves the mess and walks away, similar to how he treated her in life.
Moving back to Bathsheba’s perspective, the book describes the affairs at the farm, where the same heavy rain is falling but where the tragedy of Fanny’s death, and Bathsheba’s recognition of her own plight, is being dealt with in its own way.
Fanny was one of the first people that Gabriel met before starting his new life in Weatherbury, and he has his own reasons for paying respect to her. Bathsheba recognizes what Troy must have done, but rather than raging at cold nature like he did, she takes it upon herself to mitigate the ruined grave, enacting a kind of penance.
A little more . . .
similar effects in the landscapes of Ruysdael and Hobbema - Jacob van Ruysdael (1628-82) and his pupil Meindert Hobbema (1638-1709) were Dutch Baroque landscape painters. "The method" wrote Hardy, "of Hobbema, in his view of a road with formal lopped trees and flat tame scenery, is that of infusing emotion into the baldest external objects either by the presence of a human figure among them, or be a mark of some human connection with them"

Landscape painting by Meindert Hobbema
the text of the sermon - seems to be St.Paul's, who claims the only true teaching is his own: "if any man preach any other gospel unto you . . . let him be accursed" (Galatians 1:8-9)
similar effects in the landscapes of Ruysdael and Hobbema - Jacob van Ruysdael (1628-82) and his pupil Meindert Hobbema (1638-1709) were Dutch Baroque landscape painters. "The method" wrote Hardy, "of Hobbema, in his view of a road with formal lopped trees and flat tame scenery, is that of infusing emotion into the baldest external objects either by the presence of a human figure among them, or be a mark of some human connection with them"

Landscape painting by Meindert Hobbema
the text of the sermon - seems to be St.Paul's, who claims the only true teaching is his own: "if any man preach any other gospel unto you . . . let him be accursed" (Galatians 1:8-9)
Lovely posts today, thanks Bridget!
Like Kathleen I do think Thomas Hardy was describing Troy's perception of things in ch 45, and ( as I think I said) it was almost the first time we have seen things from his point of view.
But it's almost as if that chapter was preparing us for today's, as certainly the main thing that hit me about today's chapter 46, was the unlucky chance element of the gargoyle spouting water and hitting that exact spot. And fate chose to make it rain particularly heavily that night! Sometimes it is fate, and sometimes Thomas Hardy uses the word "Providence".
There are some great pictures of gargoyles here:
https://www.google.co.uk/search?q=arc...
Thomas Hardy calls them "gurgoyles", which is particularly apt today. I imagine the one he describes as a bit like this, as it has teeth and a lead spout:

from Odyssey Traveller https://www.odysseytraveller.com/arti...
Like Kathleen I do think Thomas Hardy was describing Troy's perception of things in ch 45, and ( as I think I said) it was almost the first time we have seen things from his point of view.
But it's almost as if that chapter was preparing us for today's, as certainly the main thing that hit me about today's chapter 46, was the unlucky chance element of the gargoyle spouting water and hitting that exact spot. And fate chose to make it rain particularly heavily that night! Sometimes it is fate, and sometimes Thomas Hardy uses the word "Providence".
There are some great pictures of gargoyles here:
https://www.google.co.uk/search?q=arc...
Thomas Hardy calls them "gurgoyles", which is particularly apt today. I imagine the one he describes as a bit like this, as it has teeth and a lead spout:

from Odyssey Traveller https://www.odysseytraveller.com/arti...
You will have noted Thomas Hardy's own footnote. Although the church was based on St. Mary's Church in Puddletown ("Weatherbury"), it is not exactly the same 
Puddletown, parish church of St. Mary

Puddletown, parish church of St. Mary
Although we learn more about Troy from this chapter, we also see that the episode has been instrumental in Bathsheba's healing. Instead of hiding away from everyone in the attic, she now shows a surprisingly practical side. Troy gave up, and left. Bathsheba organised Gabriel to do the digging, while she carefully replanted the bulbs, cleaned the tombstone and most impressively, organised things so that the spout would point in a different direction. This all seems to have been beyond Troy. His happy-go-lucky self-focused world view has been turned on its head.
I find the contrast between these two reactions very interesting. Bathsheba has been galvanised into action, and Troy has had the whole way he approaches life dashed to pieces. Gabriel, of course, remains his pragmatic self.
But as Bridget says, what of Boldwood? The last we knew he had lost all the income from his harvest, and did not even seem to care. He was a broken man.
I find the contrast between these two reactions very interesting. Bathsheba has been galvanised into action, and Troy has had the whole way he approaches life dashed to pieces. Gabriel, of course, remains his pragmatic self.
But as Bridget says, what of Boldwood? The last we knew he had lost all the income from his harvest, and did not even seem to care. He was a broken man.
Night too seems to be a time when major things happen, and Thomas Hardy illuminates them so atmospherically, often with lamplight. We had near daybreak, when the sheep went over the cliff, Bathsheba's first meeting with Troy (the lamp featured there), night when Boldwood sees Troy alight from the van (illuminated by the lamp) on his way to Bathsheba after their secret marriage, Bathsheba watched Gabriel at night, and spent all that night communing with nature. Now she is aware that something is happening in the churchyard after dark, as she sees a lamp flickering in the dark (though she does not know it is Troy planting bulbs).
I'm sure there are many more examples - in Fanny's story for example, but these are just off the top of my head.
Country people, particularly at this time, were governed both by the seasons and by the times it was daylight. They would get up at sunrise and go to bed early. By making these key moments happen at night, Thomas Hardy seems to be adding a strong atmospheric and emotional dimension.
I'm sure there are many more examples - in Fanny's story for example, but these are just off the top of my head.
Country people, particularly at this time, were governed both by the seasons and by the times it was daylight. They would get up at sunrise and go to bed early. By making these key moments happen at night, Thomas Hardy seems to be adding a strong atmospheric and emotional dimension.

I don't think Troy will — his answer ultimately looks like avoidance. And it isn't the first time that he did that. He dumped Fanny when she was alive as an inconvenience; when he first goes to meet her and she's not there, he is again mad at her and runs away, only to consider that perhaps she was ill; then he finds that she has died and to assuage his own guilt, he puts on a huge display — and publically adds his name to it —thinking that it will alleviate his guilt, only to walk away when nature turned it upside down.
But it looks like Bathsheba has matured a bit. She knows she can't run away from her marriage, but she can manage it. And she knows her duties as a land holder, thereby taking charge of burying Fanny. And then when she discovers what nature has wrought on the display Troy made of Fanny's grave, it is Bathsheba who puts things right and makes sure that water from the downspout doesn't destroy it again.

Yes, I agree with you and Pamela, Jean. this seems like a pivotal moment for Bathsheba. She is accepting, and getting to the work at hand. I like the way you put it, Pamela: "she can manage it." I'm beginning to think she can.

"The suddenness was probably more apparent than real. A coral reef which just comes short of the ocean surface is no more to the horizon than if it had never been begun, and the mere finishing stroke is what often appears to create an event . . . ."
Seeing Troy from the outside, we could not see what was internal; so this mimics our experience of him as readers, looking at him from above the water in earlier chapters. In the last chapter, we could see the substructure and understand a bit better. Now, some points might be surfacing above water so the other characters can see as well.
And I think what Hardy is describing can be true in real life as well, where people behave in despicable ways, but there is a damage or fragility below the surface that isn't visible. When those problems can be seen, it doesn't make the behavior acceptable of course, but it does make it more comprehensible.
It seems the "peculiarities of his birth" and other things have affected Troy much more than it seemed, and I am finding find him more pathetic now than anything else. To discover that he hates himself is a terrible thing, and it seems unlikely at this point that Troy will ever have the strength of character to overcome his lazy inclinations or to change those things he rightfully despises in himself.

Compare Bathsheba's lament over Troy's love for Fanny: "... when I married you your life was dearer to me than my own. I would have died for you ..."
with Troy's lament to Bathsheba at Fanny's death: "This woman is more to me, dead as she is, than you ever were, or are, or can be."
Considering that Oak detests Troy and everything he represents of a dissolute life, yet his first and last care is always to keep Bathsheba from pain and harm, so we find him wiping away the chalk on Fanny's coffin that says, "and child".
How Fanny's grand tombstone contrasts with that of another tragic Hardy character in Tess of the Durbervilles. We might consider the rain washing away man's efforts to beautify death as symbolic of Hardy's own loss of faith.

Bionic Jean wrote: "Night too seems to be a time when major things happen, and Thomas Hardy illuminates them so atmospherically, often with lamplight. We had near daybreak, when the sheep went over the ..."
I really liked this thought, Jean. So many important things happen at night in this novel - or, with just a little bit of lamplight. Or in the case of the storm, with flashes of lightning. As you said it's atmospheric. Thank you also for the picture of St. Mary's in Puddletown. I had read that footnote in my book, and it's lovely to see the real church. I also loved the close up of the gargoyle!!
I agree with everyone who commented on Bathsheba being more mature in this chapter. Makes me curious to see what's in store for her. And like Greg, I too find Troy pathetic more than anything else now. I also like the idea of Troy's actions being "comprehensible", but not excused.
I really liked this thought, Jean. So many important things happen at night in this novel - or, with just a little bit of lamplight. Or in the case of the storm, with flashes of lightning. As you said it's atmospheric. Thank you also for the picture of St. Mary's in Puddletown. I had read that footnote in my book, and it's lovely to see the real church. I also loved the close up of the gargoyle!!
I agree with everyone who commented on Bathsheba being more mature in this chapter. Makes me curious to see what's in store for her. And like Greg, I too find Troy pathetic more than anything else now. I also like the idea of Troy's actions being "comprehensible", but not excused.
Brian wrote: "What a scene Hardy has led us to, when the married Bathsheba and Troy meet the sick woman on the road ! Reading the lengthy passage of her desperate trek in a terribly weakened state made me realiz..."
Brian, excellent examples in your post. I very much agree with this sentiment "he always looks on his forlorn and beaten characters with great tenderness and compassion". I remember feeling that way about all three main characters in Tess of the D’Urbervilles. I'm starting to feel that same sentiment in FFMC too.
Your comment about the graveyard symbolism and "Hardy's loss of faith" along with Lee's comment "I did read this as his banishing and utterly disregarding the Christian sense of the new grave of a departed soul as symbolic of his loss of faith and an angry atheism."; were both excellent. I thought it was just Troy's loss of faith, but I think you are right, it has to do with Hardy's own struggles with faith as well.
Brian, excellent examples in your post. I very much agree with this sentiment "he always looks on his forlorn and beaten characters with great tenderness and compassion". I remember feeling that way about all three main characters in Tess of the D’Urbervilles. I'm starting to feel that same sentiment in FFMC too.
Your comment about the graveyard symbolism and "Hardy's loss of faith" along with Lee's comment "I did read this as his banishing and utterly disregarding the Christian sense of the new grave of a departed soul as symbolic of his loss of faith and an angry atheism."; were both excellent. I thought it was just Troy's loss of faith, but I think you are right, it has to do with Hardy's own struggles with faith as well.
Chapter 47: Adventures by the Shore
Troy wanders towards the coast, desiring to find a home anywhere other than Weatherbury and the farm. He follows a perfectly straight, white road up a hill, and he treads up the path through the muggy air. At the top he sees the broad, still sea and is amazed at the sight of the Pacific. He descends to a bay enclosed by cliffs and decides to bathe there.
Troy jumps in and swims between two projecting rocks. But he’s caught by a current and is carried out to sea. He exhausts himself trying to swim back, and finally decides to tread water. He fixes his eyes at a far distant point where he might land and suddenly sees a boat in the distance. His energy returns and he swims vigorously toward it, trying to hail the sailors by splashing and shouting. In a few minutes they reach him and haul him in.
After resting, Troy tells his tale and asks to be put ashore at his bathing place. It’s evening by the time they reach the shore, and Troy realizes that there’s no sign of the clothes he left, and he has nothing left to his name. One of the sailors says they’re in need of another hand for the six-month voyage. Troy decides to accept, thinking grimly that he’s doing Bathsheba a favor by disappearing.
**There was extensive revision to the end of this chapter. It’s possible some of you read a version where the invitation to join the crew or six months is omitted and replaced with this:
”Lending him what little clothing they could spare among them as a slight protection against the rapidly cooling air, they agreed to land him in the morning; and without further delay, for it was growing late, they made again towards the roadstead where their vessel lay.”
The final paragraph, describing the night, the lights of the city and sound of the oars should be the same in all versions.
Troy wanders towards the coast, desiring to find a home anywhere other than Weatherbury and the farm. He follows a perfectly straight, white road up a hill, and he treads up the path through the muggy air. At the top he sees the broad, still sea and is amazed at the sight of the Pacific. He descends to a bay enclosed by cliffs and decides to bathe there.
Troy jumps in and swims between two projecting rocks. But he’s caught by a current and is carried out to sea. He exhausts himself trying to swim back, and finally decides to tread water. He fixes his eyes at a far distant point where he might land and suddenly sees a boat in the distance. His energy returns and he swims vigorously toward it, trying to hail the sailors by splashing and shouting. In a few minutes they reach him and haul him in.
After resting, Troy tells his tale and asks to be put ashore at his bathing place. It’s evening by the time they reach the shore, and Troy realizes that there’s no sign of the clothes he left, and he has nothing left to his name. One of the sailors says they’re in need of another hand for the six-month voyage. Troy decides to accept, thinking grimly that he’s doing Bathsheba a favor by disappearing.
**There was extensive revision to the end of this chapter. It’s possible some of you read a version where the invitation to join the crew or six months is omitted and replaced with this:
”Lending him what little clothing they could spare among them as a slight protection against the rapidly cooling air, they agreed to land him in the morning; and without further delay, for it was growing late, they made again towards the roadstead where their vessel lay.”
The final paragraph, describing the night, the lights of the city and sound of the oars should be the same in all versions.
At the beginning of this chapter, Troy is compared to Balboa, the first European to set eyes on the Pacific. This supports a noble, tragic view of Troy. But, this view is undercut with the many depictions of Troy as a childish, selfish man unable to deal with reality.
As we’ve been discussing, there are many similarities between Troy and Bathsheba, impulsiveness and thoughtlessness being at the top of the list. Yesterday, we noted there are some differences arising now. Bathsheba seems to be changing. Troy clearly hasn’t—only when it’s too late does he remember about the danger of the place. Still, circumstances (or fate/Providence) rather than any intentional act favor Troy, and he’s saved from drowning.
Troy’s impulsiveness ends up making the decision for him yet again. This time, though, his choice to leave Weatherbury and his wife is, while still selfish, more intentional than thoughtless. He recognizes how much Bathsheba must loathe him and convinces himself that his abandonment is better for her.
As we’ve been discussing, there are many similarities between Troy and Bathsheba, impulsiveness and thoughtlessness being at the top of the list. Yesterday, we noted there are some differences arising now. Bathsheba seems to be changing. Troy clearly hasn’t—only when it’s too late does he remember about the danger of the place. Still, circumstances (or fate/Providence) rather than any intentional act favor Troy, and he’s saved from drowning.
Troy’s impulsiveness ends up making the decision for him yet again. This time, though, his choice to leave Weatherbury and his wife is, while still selfish, more intentional than thoughtless. He recognizes how much Bathsheba must loathe him and convinces himself that his abandonment is better for her.
A little more . . .
Balboa - Vasco Nunez de Balboa (1475-1519), Spanish conquistador. Fleeing Hispaniola in 1510, he stowed away in explorer Enciso’s ship, bound for Panama, which he then seized; crossing the isthmus with the help of native Americans, he sighted the Pacific in 1513 – the first European to set eyes upon it – which he claimed for Spain.
pillars of Hercules . . . Mediterranean - the gigantic rocks, Caple at the southernmost tip of Spain, and Abyla at Ceuta on the African side of the Straits of Gibraltar, were reputedly torn asunder by the fabled Greek hero, Hercules, so that the waters of the Atlantic and Mediterranean could connect. It was held that they marked the outermost limits of the habitable world. Hardy’s Pillars of Hercules mark the outermost limits of his fictional South Wessex.
like Gonzalo had been unanswered - in Shakespreare’s The Tempest, Gonzalo, fearing shipwreck, cries: “Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground . . . I would fain die a dry death” (Act One, Scene One 65-8)
Balboa - Vasco Nunez de Balboa (1475-1519), Spanish conquistador. Fleeing Hispaniola in 1510, he stowed away in explorer Enciso’s ship, bound for Panama, which he then seized; crossing the isthmus with the help of native Americans, he sighted the Pacific in 1513 – the first European to set eyes upon it – which he claimed for Spain.
pillars of Hercules . . . Mediterranean - the gigantic rocks, Caple at the southernmost tip of Spain, and Abyla at Ceuta on the African side of the Straits of Gibraltar, were reputedly torn asunder by the fabled Greek hero, Hercules, so that the waters of the Atlantic and Mediterranean could connect. It was held that they marked the outermost limits of the habitable world. Hardy’s Pillars of Hercules mark the outermost limits of his fictional South Wessex.
like Gonzalo had been unanswered - in Shakespreare’s The Tempest, Gonzalo, fearing shipwreck, cries: “Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground . . . I would fain die a dry death” (Act One, Scene One 65-8)
This brings us to the end of Installment 10. Monday is a day off, and we will pick up with Chapter 48, on Tuesday. We will be starting our sixth, and final thread. Only ten more chapters to go.
Lee - Just to add, I don't think Thomas Hardy himself could ever be described as an "angry atheist" (though I like your basic point about the gargoyle!) Throughout his life he had a difficult and complex relationship with religion and the church. Earlier than Far From the Madding Crowd he went through an evangelical phase and hoped to become a priest! From his 20s onwards though, which includes this book, he was more of a despairing agnostic. He remained uncertain, but pessimistic.
I know it bothers you that his views are not conventionally Christian, Lee, so perhaps this article by an Anglican priest, writer, and theologian might help. https://www.churchtimes.co.uk/article...
Different characters in Thomas Hardy's novels represent his views at different times. The most similar one is perhaps Angel Clare in Tess of the D’Urbervilles. However his authorial voice is variously spiritually ambivalent, bitter, or despairing. So odd passages (as you are finding) may seem to be him railing at Providence, and angry.
Looking forward to a day catching up with other reading, thanks Bridget!
I know it bothers you that his views are not conventionally Christian, Lee, so perhaps this article by an Anglican priest, writer, and theologian might help. https://www.churchtimes.co.uk/article...
Different characters in Thomas Hardy's novels represent his views at different times. The most similar one is perhaps Angel Clare in Tess of the D’Urbervilles. However his authorial voice is variously spiritually ambivalent, bitter, or despairing. So odd passages (as you are finding) may seem to be him railing at Providence, and angry.
Looking forward to a day catching up with other reading, thanks Bridget!

Bionic Jean wrote: "Lee - Just to add, I don't think Thomas Hardy himself could ever be described as an "angry atheist" (though I like your basic point about the gargoyle!) ."
I stand corrected, Jean, and I was too hasty to judge Hardy's religious beliefs. The article you found, "Thomas Hardy: the ambivalent unbeliever", was very persuasive and very touching. That he actually asked for a portion of the Bible to be read to him on his death bed is very intimate and telling.
https://www.churchtimes.co.uk/article...
I retract my statement that he was an "angry atheist". Thomas Hardy's struggle between faith and skepticism does appear to be too deep for any superficial conclusions by this reader. And in his article, Father Rod Garner tells us that the author, upon hearing the song of the thrush, spoke of "some blessed hope, whereof he knew, and I was unaware". That statement breaks my heart!

I appreciated all the remarks about the contrasts between Bathsheba's & Troy's attitudes and actions.
Thanks Jean for the pictures they are always great visual aids to enhance the story. I especially liked the gargoyle and started thinking that perhaps Hardy called them gurgoyles because with a lighter rain the water may have made gurgling sounds with the pipe.
Lee - as always you are very gracious. He was a troubled man for sure.
Chris - apparently they are sometimes called "gurgoyles" (as a variant) although I'd never come across that word for them - and yes, that seems likely doesn't it? 😄
What surprised me most about today's chapter 46 was the point at which he left it. I think I'd have been tempted to use neither of the alternative endings Bridget told us he wrote, but to leave readers with a whopping cliff-hanger, with the pile of clothes on the beach. We do know what everyone in Weatherbury will assume!
Chris - apparently they are sometimes called "gurgoyles" (as a variant) although I'd never come across that word for them - and yes, that seems likely doesn't it? 😄
What surprised me most about today's chapter 46 was the point at which he left it. I think I'd have been tempted to use neither of the alternative endings Bridget told us he wrote, but to leave readers with a whopping cliff-hanger, with the pile of clothes on the beach. We do know what everyone in Weatherbury will assume!

Forgive me for the side question, but I'm wondering what the brig's crew were doing in practical terms. Why would they come ashore for sand? Do ships need sand for some reason, for ballast or something?

I wondered about that too, Greg, as well as assuming that those in Weatherbury will read what looks rather obvious by the abandoned clothes. What a pickle that is likely to create for Bathsheba.
That's what makes the revisions to the text Bridget mentioned so interesting. It is indeed a cliff-hanger with either version. If Troy doesn't sail away with the Brig, will he return right away to where he left his clothes or stay true to his plan to leave Weatherbury perhaps forever?
Greg, I wondered too about why the sailors needed “sand”. I decided it must be figurative instead of literal. So maybe “needing sand” is a poetic way of saying the sailors need some time on land, or just off the ship.

Ah, thanks Bridget, that makes sense!
I don't know but assumed they would be making sandbags ... googling shows you're on to something Greg with ballast:
"Ships that were running empty or had only very light cargo – such as tea, for example – did need additional ballasting. Rocks, stones, gravel, wet sand or other heavy materials were then loaded into the bottom of the hold to guarantee stability."
There's a whole paper on it! https://www.ghi-dc.org/fileadmin/publ...
and sandbags are used for various sort of defence in the military and for flood walls. A "brig" is a tall shop with 2 masts but it would help if we knew what sort of sailors these were. Trade rather than military I should think. But I quite like your idea too Bridget.
"Ships that were running empty or had only very light cargo – such as tea, for example – did need additional ballasting. Rocks, stones, gravel, wet sand or other heavy materials were then loaded into the bottom of the hold to guarantee stability."
There's a whole paper on it! https://www.ghi-dc.org/fileadmin/publ...
and sandbags are used for various sort of defence in the military and for flood walls. A "brig" is a tall shop with 2 masts but it would help if we knew what sort of sailors these were. Trade rather than military I should think. But I quite like your idea too Bridget.
Lee wrote: "Shall we be looking for our new thread tomorrow? The pace of the story is moving faster and faster!"
That's right, Lee. Tomorrow starts a new thread. The pace is definitely fast now, I agree!!
That's right, Lee. Tomorrow starts a new thread. The pace is definitely fast now, I agree!!
Bionic Jean wrote: "I don't know but assumed they would be making sandbags ... googling shows you're on to something Greg with ballast:
"Ships that were running empty or had only very light cargo – such as tea, for e..."
What an interesting article, Jean! I had no idea soil from Bristol was shipped back to NYC in empty boats during WWII, and that it helped build the FDR Drive. Now that I've read this, it totally makes sense. It's probably what Hardy was referring to in this chapter.
I love how much forgotten history I learn when reading Victorian literature!
"Ships that were running empty or had only very light cargo – such as tea, for e..."
What an interesting article, Jean! I had no idea soil from Bristol was shipped back to NYC in empty boats during WWII, and that it helped build the FDR Drive. Now that I've read this, it totally makes sense. It's probably what Hardy was referring to in this chapter.
I love how much forgotten history I learn when reading Victorian literature!

Indeed!
(My other) Life got in the way and I had to drop out for a while. It has been great to read all of your comments as I catch up.
Regarding the ruin of Fanny's grave, I don't think anyone mentioned another layer of causality/fate: it is because of Troy that Fanny's grave was situated where it was, in the reprobates' corner of the churchyard. If she hadn't been carrying an illegitimate child, she would have been buried in a more respectable area.
I found it interesting that Bathsheba could see the spot from her window!
Hardy's spiritual views were quite complex. It seems to have really troubled him that bad things happen to good people. He often refers to gods in ancient Greek mythology, and I think in many ways he aligned himself with Greek attitudes.
The gods influence human affairs both for the good and for the bad, and not honoring them brings about their wrath. Sacrifices are often a bargain (if you bring me victory, I'll burn the fattiest parts of the animal) rather than an act of devotion. The gods are not entirely reliable and do not exist to serve humans.
To me this is in many ways similar to Hardy's orientation to Nature. It is nourishing, protective, and beautiful as well as dangerous and ugly. Although the natural world in the novel often symbolizes or foreshadows human struggles and joys, it is essentially indifferent to human affairs.
Regardless of Hardy's struggles with spirituality, he sees the deity in the good, kindhearted country people. We can sense the warmth and love with which he draws them. It reminds me of Martin Buber's concept of "I and Thou," in which the other is inseparable from the self and is not objectified.
Erich! It is so good to see you back, and l like all these ideas very much. This parallel was particularly thought-provoking: The [Greek] gods are not entirely reliable and do not exist to serve humans and "Nature ... is essentially indifferent to human affairs."
I look forward to seeing your thoughts on the final thread too 😊
I look forward to seeing your thoughts on the final thread too 😊
Books mentioned in this topic
Tess of the D’Urbervilles (other topics)Far From the Madding Crowd (other topics)
Tess of the D’Urbervilles (other topics)
Jude the Obscure (other topics)
Far From the Madding Crowd (other topics)
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Authors mentioned in this topic
Thomas Hardy (other topics)Thomas Hardy (other topics)
Thomas Hardy (other topics)
Thomas Hardy (other topics)
Thomas Hardy (other topics)
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Hearing about those cuts has made me kinda sad, Jean! How interesting that we can learn about it in this case, when normally we never see what has been lost. I'll have to find your book at some point--would love to read Hardy's ideas about "being and becoming."