Works of Thomas Hardy discussion
Far from the Madding Crowd
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Far From the Madding Crowd 6th Thread Chapter 48 - 57
I hope everyone enjoyed today's chapter. It's funny how two days ago we were trying to figure out how old Boldwood and Oak were, and then in this chapter we get this conversation between Bathsheba and Oak:
"You know—you are older than I.”
“Eight years older, ma’am.”
“Yes, eight years"
It doesn't pin down their ages, but at least we know the age difference :-)
I also found it interesting that none of the characters in today's chapter knows Troy is alive . . . but we - the readers - know. It's creating lots of suspense for how this story will wrap up.
And speaking of that, this brings us to the end of Installment 11. According to tradition, we will have one day off (Saturday, May 18). We will resume with the final Installment 12 on Sunday, May 19th. Happy reading everyone!
"You know—you are older than I.”
“Eight years older, ma’am.”
“Yes, eight years"
It doesn't pin down their ages, but at least we know the age difference :-)
I also found it interesting that none of the characters in today's chapter knows Troy is alive . . . but we - the readers - know. It's creating lots of suspense for how this story will wrap up.
And speaking of that, this brings us to the end of Installment 11. According to tradition, we will have one day off (Saturday, May 18). We will resume with the final Installment 12 on Sunday, May 19th. Happy reading everyone!


I felt Gabriel was advising her to accept Boldwood's proposal, but did I misunderstand? This seems contradictory to me:
"If wild heat had to do wi'it ... it might be wrong; but a cold-hearted agreement to oblige a man seems different, somehow. The real sin, ma'm in my mind, lies in thinking of ever wedding wi' a man you don't love honest and true."

What struck me was that I do think Bathsheba has matured a little and is putting more thought into her actions, she has at least learned to use a little more caution in making decisions.
Boldwood presents to me as a man completely obsessed with Bathsheba at this point. Trying to force the issue of an engagement he seems desperate.
Did anyone notice the exchange at end of the chapter? Bathsheba is listing her choices on whose opinions she values and Gabriel asks her:
“And on love—“
“My own”.
“I’m afraid there’s a hitch in that argument.”
“She did not reply at once, and then saying, ‘Good evening, Mr Oak, went away.”
There was a day when she would have most likely sacked him for that.
Thanks Lori, Pamela, Connie, Bridget and Werner! It's difficult to express what makes Thomas Hardy unique in a post or two here; it needs a whole book! But you are right that when we read him, we need to look at him a new way - to follow his lead - and often forget our preconceptions about Victorian fiction.
I saw that very strongly in today's chapter, where Fate seemed to be all-pervasive. I need to back up a little though as this strong sense began in ch 50.
We saw Troy's feelings throughout, and Thomas Hardy said he had a sense of shame. The only other time I can remember that is after Fanny died, but Troy lives in the moment, and easily forgets. Pennyways is the opposite; they are both self-serving but Troy's is thoughtlessness, and Pennyways is all deviousness and crafty plotting. He's a slimeball 😡
Have you noticed how often Troy runs away - quite literally too - to make a new start?
I saw that very strongly in today's chapter, where Fate seemed to be all-pervasive. I need to back up a little though as this strong sense began in ch 50.
We saw Troy's feelings throughout, and Thomas Hardy said he had a sense of shame. The only other time I can remember that is after Fanny died, but Troy lives in the moment, and easily forgets. Pennyways is the opposite; they are both self-serving but Troy's is thoughtlessness, and Pennyways is all deviousness and crafty plotting. He's a slimeball 😡
Have you noticed how often Troy runs away - quite literally too - to make a new start?
But thinking just of Fate ...
I can accept that Troy would find himself in Weatherbury, as Bridget told us that Greenhill Fair was a regular occurrence. I'm not suite sure Bathsheba would have felt it appropriate to want to see the show, as clearly she was the only farmer; the others were farm workers. But OK, she is young and anticipating an exciting show.
Then she happened not to be picked up at the right time. Troy just happened to cut the tent in exactly the right place, inches away from her head, and Boldwood happened to offer the plate so that she transferred the note to the other hand, which just happened to be right next to the edge of the tent. (You're right Connie, that would make a great comic moment on film, although unless I'm misremembering, I don't think it is ever included!)
How much of this is fated? For me the part which is hardest to suspend disbelief is with farmer Boldwood:
1. We know that Boldwood is besotted with Bathsheba. Would he, then, be so courteous as to leave her to enjoy the show on her own? We are given to understand that he believes she would be more likely to accept his offer, if he were not there. This may well be true, but how does it square with his later behaviour?
In ch 51, as others have commented Boldwood is incredibly pushy about setting a time when Bathsheba might agree to marry him. It is like a rerun of his earlier attempt but this time he works on the guilt factor - that Bathsheba can make up for her first mistake by promising to marry nobody but him. (Boldwood is rapidly losing my sympathy!) Does this seem commensurate? A thoughtless valentine, which turned out to be a cruel act, although not deliberately meant as such, for which the just penance is a loveless marriage (Bathsheba told him she did not love him) for the rest of her life?
2. Bathsheba too seems to be manipulated by Fate. The only explanation we are given for her being overly kind to Boldwood all leads from the guilt she feels at her very first action. But she has a strong sense that Troy is alive, is no longer closeted up with grief, but enjoys things such as the show, and moreover she is still young.
She is not stupid, and knows she will not be happy with him. Would she really then agree to this? Her immaturity also show in feeling piqued that Gabriel does not in any way show that he would like to marry her.
3. Gabriel. He is perhaps behaving the most as a puppet. All through he has done everything for Bathsheba's safety and happiness. Now apparently, he thinks she should "oblige" Boldwood, even though he established that she does not love him - just in case she is right in thinking that Boldwood would lose his mind if she did not? Kathleen and Lori have both highlighted the areas where this did not seem in character.
I can see the author pulling strings here. For me this is all to do with Thomas Hardy manipulating events to the greatest dramatic effect, and putting it down to fate, rather than any agency or deliberate choice on the part of his characters. And what seems to clinch it is the title of the next chapter.
I can accept that Troy would find himself in Weatherbury, as Bridget told us that Greenhill Fair was a regular occurrence. I'm not suite sure Bathsheba would have felt it appropriate to want to see the show, as clearly she was the only farmer; the others were farm workers. But OK, she is young and anticipating an exciting show.
Then she happened not to be picked up at the right time. Troy just happened to cut the tent in exactly the right place, inches away from her head, and Boldwood happened to offer the plate so that she transferred the note to the other hand, which just happened to be right next to the edge of the tent. (You're right Connie, that would make a great comic moment on film, although unless I'm misremembering, I don't think it is ever included!)
How much of this is fated? For me the part which is hardest to suspend disbelief is with farmer Boldwood:
1. We know that Boldwood is besotted with Bathsheba. Would he, then, be so courteous as to leave her to enjoy the show on her own? We are given to understand that he believes she would be more likely to accept his offer, if he were not there. This may well be true, but how does it square with his later behaviour?
In ch 51, as others have commented Boldwood is incredibly pushy about setting a time when Bathsheba might agree to marry him. It is like a rerun of his earlier attempt but this time he works on the guilt factor - that Bathsheba can make up for her first mistake by promising to marry nobody but him. (Boldwood is rapidly losing my sympathy!) Does this seem commensurate? A thoughtless valentine, which turned out to be a cruel act, although not deliberately meant as such, for which the just penance is a loveless marriage (Bathsheba told him she did not love him) for the rest of her life?
2. Bathsheba too seems to be manipulated by Fate. The only explanation we are given for her being overly kind to Boldwood all leads from the guilt she feels at her very first action. But she has a strong sense that Troy is alive, is no longer closeted up with grief, but enjoys things such as the show, and moreover she is still young.
She is not stupid, and knows she will not be happy with him. Would she really then agree to this? Her immaturity also show in feeling piqued that Gabriel does not in any way show that he would like to marry her.
3. Gabriel. He is perhaps behaving the most as a puppet. All through he has done everything for Bathsheba's safety and happiness. Now apparently, he thinks she should "oblige" Boldwood, even though he established that she does not love him - just in case she is right in thinking that Boldwood would lose his mind if she did not? Kathleen and Lori have both highlighted the areas where this did not seem in character.
I can see the author pulling strings here. For me this is all to do with Thomas Hardy manipulating events to the greatest dramatic effect, and putting it down to fate, rather than any agency or deliberate choice on the part of his characters. And what seems to clinch it is the title of the next chapter.

Yet, how does Gabriel feel about the situation? I'm assuming — because we don't have a feeling from this chapter — that he believes that Boldwood still would make a better match himself. And in those days, I do think that that was an important consideration.
We, however, from our modern perspective know that through all her actions, Bathsheba would be a thousand times happier with Gabriel. While she holds property and he does not, he would be a better match.

I so appreciate your thoughts on Hardy and Fate, Jean. And I think I can say Boldwood has completely lost my sympathy. I agree that as childish as the Valentine was, it wasn't meant to harm. It's Boldwood's responsibility to come to terms with facts, like everyone must.
I like what Pamela said about Gabriel still thinking Boldwood would be a better match for Bathsheba. Perhaps he was still thinking of her with his suggestion.
But like you say, Jean, with the title of the next chapter, it does seem Hardy is pushing things to fall a certain way. Of course that's what writer's do, but it's the fate versus agency, as you say Jean, that makes this feel manipulative. I get the feeling maybe he is going for a certain reaction in his audience, and not wanting readers to think badly of his characters in any way, rather than letting them make their choices and be who they are.
So how much is Hardy's use of fate coming from his own beliefs, and how much a writing technique? I'll have to go back and revisit the previous discussions of Hardy and fate. :-)
Kathleen wrote: "I get the feeling maybe he is going for a certain reaction in his audience, and not wanting readers to think badly of his characters in any way, rather than letting them make their choices and be who they are ..."
Oh I do Iike this way of expressing it, Kathleen!
Oh I do Iike this way of expressing it, Kathleen!
Realism or Romance?
I've just been thinking about the poetry of Thomas Hardy's writing, and found 2 passages in ch 50 alone which I loved for their visual imagery. One is of the area around Greenhill:
"When the autumn sun slanted over Greenhill this morning and lighted the dewy flat upon its crest, (view spoiler)
We love his poet's eye here, and may even recognise his experience of the panorama. Oddly though, he continues this romantic view to the interior of the tent:
"The interior was shadowy with a peculiar shade. The strange luminous semi-opacities of fine autumn afternoons and eves intensified (view spoiler)
(Spoiler tags in each case are just to save space.)
Both are stunning pictures, and demonstrate perfectly how Thomas Hardy is creating his dream world of Wessex. It is part of the same construct.
However, if you have ever been inside a circus tent, or something similar, I don't think this is what you are aware of! What first hits us might be the noise, or the smell (sawdust, animals, sweaty people, cleaning fluid, (probably a musty grimy smell then!) canvas, and so on); the brightness, or spotlight, or glitz (or heightened colour at that time, such as the "red" background to Bathsheba) ... but our impression would probably not be this sensitive, painterly description.
This paragraph is not realistic, but high art, and very much Thomas Hardy's selective view; very beautiful and romantic.
I've just been thinking about the poetry of Thomas Hardy's writing, and found 2 passages in ch 50 alone which I loved for their visual imagery. One is of the area around Greenhill:
"When the autumn sun slanted over Greenhill this morning and lighted the dewy flat upon its crest, (view spoiler)
We love his poet's eye here, and may even recognise his experience of the panorama. Oddly though, he continues this romantic view to the interior of the tent:
"The interior was shadowy with a peculiar shade. The strange luminous semi-opacities of fine autumn afternoons and eves intensified (view spoiler)
(Spoiler tags in each case are just to save space.)
Both are stunning pictures, and demonstrate perfectly how Thomas Hardy is creating his dream world of Wessex. It is part of the same construct.
However, if you have ever been inside a circus tent, or something similar, I don't think this is what you are aware of! What first hits us might be the noise, or the smell (sawdust, animals, sweaty people, cleaning fluid, (probably a musty grimy smell then!) canvas, and so on); the brightness, or spotlight, or glitz (or heightened colour at that time, such as the "red" background to Bathsheba) ... but our impression would probably not be this sensitive, painterly description.
This paragraph is not realistic, but high art, and very much Thomas Hardy's selective view; very beautiful and romantic.
I'm so glad you are all having a hard time reconciling Gabriel's actions in yesterday's chapter, because I did too! It was really hard for me to summarize, because I felt like Gabriel was saying two contradictory things. First he says Bathsheba is obligated to Boldwood, and then he says it's a sin to marry someone you don't love.
In a way that response totally fits with Gabriel's personality. He follows through on the things he promises (that's the Bathsheba owing Boldwood something part). And his loyalty matches the feelings in his heart (that's the don't marry someone you don't love part).
Gabriel doesn't speak flowingly in this section so I'm totally reading between the lines here, but when he advises Bathsheba to ask someone else about this, I think it's because he knows he's too invested in Bathsheba himself to really be objective in the advice he gives her. Which, IMO should be forget these other crazy men and marry me LOL!
I'm grateful Jean brought in the idea of fate playing a hand here. I think that's right, though it wasn't apparent to me at first read. When we read "Tess" the hand of fate was more ominously present. In fact, it was so sharply obvious, it used to frustrate me. In "Tess" I remember asking myself, what else could possibly happen to this poor woman! In FFMC it feels like Hardy is just warming up to his philosophies of fate.
In a way that response totally fits with Gabriel's personality. He follows through on the things he promises (that's the Bathsheba owing Boldwood something part). And his loyalty matches the feelings in his heart (that's the don't marry someone you don't love part).
Gabriel doesn't speak flowingly in this section so I'm totally reading between the lines here, but when he advises Bathsheba to ask someone else about this, I think it's because he knows he's too invested in Bathsheba himself to really be objective in the advice he gives her. Which, IMO should be forget these other crazy men and marry me LOL!
I'm grateful Jean brought in the idea of fate playing a hand here. I think that's right, though it wasn't apparent to me at first read. When we read "Tess" the hand of fate was more ominously present. In fact, it was so sharply obvious, it used to frustrate me. In "Tess" I remember asking myself, what else could possibly happen to this poor woman! In FFMC it feels like Hardy is just warming up to his philosophies of fate.
Bridget wrote: "In FFMC it feels like Hardy is just warming up to his philosophies of fate ..."
Oh yes, that seems quite likely doesn't it?
When Gabriel said to Bathsheba that it's a sin to marry someone you don't love, I had several thoughts we haven't said. One is that it is Gabriel "excusing" Bathsheba to her face for not marrying him! He's not devious, but it could be an internal thought that he found himself expressing. Another could be subtext. Thomas Hardy must realise now that he has created a saint in Gabriel Oak. Yes, true love means that he wants Bathsheba to be happy even at the cost to himself. But could any human bear what he has, day after day, and always close by her side?
So perhaps it is Thomas Hardy expressing the thought that it is a sin to marry someone you don't love, as something Gabriel Oak truly believes, regardless of what Bathsheba believes, to consolidate the character's authenticity?
Of course it could be neither of these ...
Oh yes, that seems quite likely doesn't it?
When Gabriel said to Bathsheba that it's a sin to marry someone you don't love, I had several thoughts we haven't said. One is that it is Gabriel "excusing" Bathsheba to her face for not marrying him! He's not devious, but it could be an internal thought that he found himself expressing. Another could be subtext. Thomas Hardy must realise now that he has created a saint in Gabriel Oak. Yes, true love means that he wants Bathsheba to be happy even at the cost to himself. But could any human bear what he has, day after day, and always close by her side?
So perhaps it is Thomas Hardy expressing the thought that it is a sin to marry someone you don't love, as something Gabriel Oak truly believes, regardless of what Bathsheba believes, to consolidate the character's authenticity?
Of course it could be neither of these ...
I agree with all these thoughts, Jean! I especially like this one:
"One is that it is Gabriel "excusing" Bathsheba to her face for not marrying him!"
I hadn't thought of that, but you are right. It's so subtle, but it's right there.
"One is that it is Gabriel "excusing" Bathsheba to her face for not marrying him!"
I hadn't thought of that, but you are right. It's so subtle, but it's right there.
Installment 12

Chapter 52: Converging Courses
On Christmas eve, Boldwood is to give a great party. This is quite unusual for him, and the village is buzzing with talk.
Bathsheba is dressing and asks Liddy to stay with her. She hasn’t spoken to Boldwood since the fall and didn’t know there would be such a party. She’s the cause of it, she says. She wishes she’d never seen Weatherbury.
Boldwood is dressing with his tailor, more fastidiously than ever. Gabriel comes to report on the day’s farming progress. Boldwood hopes he’ll see Gabriel that night. Gabriel quietly says perhaps later. Boldwood asks feverishly if a woman keeps her implied promise. Gabriel answers with bitterness, and Boldwood says he’s gotten overly cynical recently. Boldwood hopes that he might be able to expect a positive answer from Bathsheba. Gabriel reminds him that he was once deceived, and not to build too much on promises, but Boldwood says she keeps her word.
Troy is sitting in a Casterbridge tavern when Pennyways enters. Troy asks if he’s seen Lawyer Long: he wasn’t at home, the bailiff says. Troy can’t imagine he should be held liable for anything if he seemed to be drowned and then wasn’t. Pennyways says that changing his name and so forth makes him a cheat, possibly punishable by law. Pennyways also hasn’t been able to learn whether there’s anything really between Bathsheba and Boldwood. She’s not fond of him, though, he thinks.
Bathsheba asks Liddy how she looks, and Liddy flatters her: Bathsheba worries that people will think she’s trying to snare Boldwood. Her feelings swing from wretched to buoyant, and she wishes she could regain her apathy from the past year.
Boldwood tells Gabriel that his share in the farm is too small. He wants to increase the proportion. If he marries Bathsheba, he wants to retire. Boldwood says he’s come to understand that Gabriel has feelings for her too and he admires Gabriel’s restraint.
He wants to show his gratefulness and friendship. Gabriel leaves him uneasily, realizing that this passion has affected his reason. Boldwood goes into his closet and opens a small circular case inside, gazing at the diamond ring within it.
Troy buttons up his overcoat: he’s made up his mind to go to the party. Pennyways asks why he doesn’t bide his time and write to Bathsheba, but Troy says he shouldn’t have to wait to reclaim what’s his. The bailiff thinks he should go abroad again rather than stir up such trouble, but Troy laughs off any danger.

Chapter 52: Converging Courses
On Christmas eve, Boldwood is to give a great party. This is quite unusual for him, and the village is buzzing with talk.
Bathsheba is dressing and asks Liddy to stay with her. She hasn’t spoken to Boldwood since the fall and didn’t know there would be such a party. She’s the cause of it, she says. She wishes she’d never seen Weatherbury.
Boldwood is dressing with his tailor, more fastidiously than ever. Gabriel comes to report on the day’s farming progress. Boldwood hopes he’ll see Gabriel that night. Gabriel quietly says perhaps later. Boldwood asks feverishly if a woman keeps her implied promise. Gabriel answers with bitterness, and Boldwood says he’s gotten overly cynical recently. Boldwood hopes that he might be able to expect a positive answer from Bathsheba. Gabriel reminds him that he was once deceived, and not to build too much on promises, but Boldwood says she keeps her word.
Troy is sitting in a Casterbridge tavern when Pennyways enters. Troy asks if he’s seen Lawyer Long: he wasn’t at home, the bailiff says. Troy can’t imagine he should be held liable for anything if he seemed to be drowned and then wasn’t. Pennyways says that changing his name and so forth makes him a cheat, possibly punishable by law. Pennyways also hasn’t been able to learn whether there’s anything really between Bathsheba and Boldwood. She’s not fond of him, though, he thinks.
Bathsheba asks Liddy how she looks, and Liddy flatters her: Bathsheba worries that people will think she’s trying to snare Boldwood. Her feelings swing from wretched to buoyant, and she wishes she could regain her apathy from the past year.
Boldwood tells Gabriel that his share in the farm is too small. He wants to increase the proportion. If he marries Bathsheba, he wants to retire. Boldwood says he’s come to understand that Gabriel has feelings for her too and he admires Gabriel’s restraint.
He wants to show his gratefulness and friendship. Gabriel leaves him uneasily, realizing that this passion has affected his reason. Boldwood goes into his closet and opens a small circular case inside, gazing at the diamond ring within it.
Troy buttons up his overcoat: he’s made up his mind to go to the party. Pennyways asks why he doesn’t bide his time and write to Bathsheba, but Troy says he shouldn’t have to wait to reclaim what’s his. The bailiff thinks he should go abroad again rather than stir up such trouble, but Troy laughs off any danger.
Throughout this chapter, the point of view switches rapidly back and forth between the different characters, all preparing for the climactic scene at Boldwood’s party. The reason for Boldwood’s party is evident to the villagers, who know him well and recognize such joviality as an aberration for him. Boldwood is beside himself with excitement. He’s confident in the extreme with what he anticipates will be Bathsheba’s answer. He’s even procured a ring for her.
Bathsheba now fully realizes that she can no longer put off deciding between competing understandings of morality. She’s also still acutely aware that many eyes in the village are on her. Bathsheba had thought she’d moved from emotion to indifference, but now knows she’s not yet exempt from these swings.
Gabriel has found himself tied to Boldwood in more ways than one, both in terms of economic affairs and regarding their feelings for Bathsheba. While they’ve shared grief for her before, now their attitudes couldn’t be more opposed.
Boldwood may understand that part of Gabriel’s unease comes from his feelings for Bathsheba, but not that he’s also uneasy about Boldwood’s own confidence.
As Troy plots his next move, he’s eager to ensure that his return to Weatherbury won’t jeopardize his own safety—he isn’t quite sure if his deception was legally wrong rather than merely emotionally devastating for his wife.
Troy has also been using Pennyways as a source of local knowledge and gossip. While Troy never hesitated to wound Bathsheba by telling her how much he preferred Fanny, he can’t stand the idea of his “property” being stolen by another.
Troy’s impulsive decision to attend Boldwood’s party clashes to a certain extent with his conniving ways. Indeed, Pennyways isn’t sure this is a good idea, probably in part given his own history, but Troy’s insistence on claiming his “property” overrides any other objections. And fits with Troy’s personality of acting first without thinking.
Bathsheba now fully realizes that she can no longer put off deciding between competing understandings of morality. She’s also still acutely aware that many eyes in the village are on her. Bathsheba had thought she’d moved from emotion to indifference, but now knows she’s not yet exempt from these swings.
Gabriel has found himself tied to Boldwood in more ways than one, both in terms of economic affairs and regarding their feelings for Bathsheba. While they’ve shared grief for her before, now their attitudes couldn’t be more opposed.
Boldwood may understand that part of Gabriel’s unease comes from his feelings for Bathsheba, but not that he’s also uneasy about Boldwood’s own confidence.
As Troy plots his next move, he’s eager to ensure that his return to Weatherbury won’t jeopardize his own safety—he isn’t quite sure if his deception was legally wrong rather than merely emotionally devastating for his wife.
Troy has also been using Pennyways as a source of local knowledge and gossip. While Troy never hesitated to wound Bathsheba by telling her how much he preferred Fanny, he can’t stand the idea of his “property” being stolen by another.
Troy’s impulsive decision to attend Boldwood’s party clashes to a certain extent with his conniving ways. Indeed, Pennyways isn’t sure this is a good idea, probably in part given his own history, but Troy’s insistence on claiming his “property” overrides any other objections. And fits with Troy’s personality of acting first without thinking.

My initial thoughts are that Hardy has divided this chapter into these seven sections in order to slow his readers progress. Almost like Hardy is saying pay attention here, I’m preparing you for what comes next. I think it’s really a brilliant devise and I can’t recall any other chapters being divided like this. If I missed one, please correct me.
Yes, thanks Bridget! I thought my goodness how is she going to summarise this?
Like you Lori, I was struck by the unusual structure of this chapter. I've mentioned before that in this novel Thomas Hardy only describes one scene per chapter (I think he has used two locations/characters just twice within a chapter) and sometimes has even returned to the same moment to continue with the next chapter.
Here though, we have an abundance of situations, with all the people we care about most, in seven short cameos. They are even numbered too, like scenes in a play and feel very theatrical. Several of these seven scenes centre round one character, who is variously described as thinking or behaving differently from usual. Their emotions are raw and heightened, and there are a few sentences (others will have noticed too) that seem full of foreboding.
For me, these short scenes increase the tension so much that I almost feel a sense of panic! Something has to break, surely, but at this point we cannot imagine what it could possibly be! 😮
Like you Lori, I was struck by the unusual structure of this chapter. I've mentioned before that in this novel Thomas Hardy only describes one scene per chapter (I think he has used two locations/characters just twice within a chapter) and sometimes has even returned to the same moment to continue with the next chapter.
Here though, we have an abundance of situations, with all the people we care about most, in seven short cameos. They are even numbered too, like scenes in a play and feel very theatrical. Several of these seven scenes centre round one character, who is variously described as thinking or behaving differently from usual. Their emotions are raw and heightened, and there are a few sentences (others will have noticed too) that seem full of foreboding.
For me, these short scenes increase the tension so much that I almost feel a sense of panic! Something has to break, surely, but at this point we cannot imagine what it could possibly be! 😮
And a little more ...
The White Hart Hotel stands at the bottom of High St. East in Dorchester, but it has been almost totally rebuilt since the 19th century.
As Bridget has said, we never know quite how much extra to include, and now particularly the action seems paramount! But do ask if you are keen to know any of the references which we each might well have in our (different) annotated editions. Also any mystifying dialect which I may just know. Pennyways comes out with some unusual variations ...
When he was describing Bathsheba overseeing the cider-making, the "wringing down" is squeezing the "pommy" (pomace - ground apples) in a cider press to squeeze out the juice. What's left is a solid cake of "cheese" made of apple remnants - and nothing whatsoever to do with cows! 😆
Pennyways' "scram" body means withered.
a "lammocken vagabond" means one who is slouching.
Anything else of this type exercising your imagination, please just say 😊
The White Hart Hotel stands at the bottom of High St. East in Dorchester, but it has been almost totally rebuilt since the 19th century.
As Bridget has said, we never know quite how much extra to include, and now particularly the action seems paramount! But do ask if you are keen to know any of the references which we each might well have in our (different) annotated editions. Also any mystifying dialect which I may just know. Pennyways comes out with some unusual variations ...
When he was describing Bathsheba overseeing the cider-making, the "wringing down" is squeezing the "pommy" (pomace - ground apples) in a cider press to squeeze out the juice. What's left is a solid cake of "cheese" made of apple remnants - and nothing whatsoever to do with cows! 😆
Pennyways' "scram" body means withered.
a "lammocken vagabond" means one who is slouching.
Anything else of this type exercising your imagination, please just say 😊

I agree with all your comments Lori, Jean and Kathleen about how breaking up the chapter heightens the suspense, and it would work so well on film too. It really is quite brilliant. It was a little challenging to summarize. I toyed with the idea of including Hardy's numbering system with my paragraphs, but it got too long, and I knew you all would follow along without the numbers anyway :-)
Almost works the way music in a horror film heightens the atmosphere!
Kathleen, I really like this thought. Especially because there were so many references to darkness and shadows in each of these little sections. I can easily imagine dark foreboding music playing alongside all the action.
Almost works the way music in a horror film heightens the atmosphere!
Kathleen, I really like this thought. Especially because there were so many references to darkness and shadows in each of these little sections. I can easily imagine dark foreboding music playing alongside all the action.
A little more . . .
I totally forgot to post this for today. Jean’s comments about the hotel and Pennyways’ dialect reminded me. (thank you for that Jean!!)
Jean is right to point out the “The White Hart” tavern. My edition simply says ”Troy was sitting in a small apartment in a small tavern in Casterbridge”. I think Hardy’s changes to “The White Hart Hotel” later on were part of his revising to make the Wessex novels more consistent with the pseudo imaginary place he created.
Lawyer Long - this character also appears in The Mayor of Casterbridge at a Council meeting (Chapter 37)
Alonzo the Brave - alludes to Matthew Gregory (Monk) Lewis’s ballad, “Alonzo the Brave and Fair Imogine” (1795), in which a ghost of the dead knight, Alonzo, appears at the wedding feast of his beloved, Imogine, who had vowed not to remarry. Troy’s somewhat prophetic words parallel the lines:
”The guests sat in silence and fear . . . All pleasure and laughter were hush’d at his sight; The dogs, as they eyes him drew back in affright; The lights in the chamber burnt blue!”
Anyway, sorry these are late, but I thought you might find them interesting :-)
I totally forgot to post this for today. Jean’s comments about the hotel and Pennyways’ dialect reminded me. (thank you for that Jean!!)
Jean is right to point out the “The White Hart” tavern. My edition simply says ”Troy was sitting in a small apartment in a small tavern in Casterbridge”. I think Hardy’s changes to “The White Hart Hotel” later on were part of his revising to make the Wessex novels more consistent with the pseudo imaginary place he created.
Lawyer Long - this character also appears in The Mayor of Casterbridge at a Council meeting (Chapter 37)
Alonzo the Brave - alludes to Matthew Gregory (Monk) Lewis’s ballad, “Alonzo the Brave and Fair Imogine” (1795), in which a ghost of the dead knight, Alonzo, appears at the wedding feast of his beloved, Imogine, who had vowed not to remarry. Troy’s somewhat prophetic words parallel the lines:
”The guests sat in silence and fear . . . All pleasure and laughter were hush’d at his sight; The dogs, as they eyes him drew back in affright; The lights in the chamber burnt blue!”
Anyway, sorry these are late, but I thought you might find them interesting :-)

Jean: I know exactly what you mean about almost feeling a sense of panic after reading this chapter. I found myself holding my breath and feeling rather tense. I do hope the Victorians enjoyed sitting on the edge of their seats as they read this installment.
By the way, clearly the word “humbug” was not exclusively used by Dickens.
Lori, I noticed that "humbug" too and had the same thought :-).
Hold onto your hats everyone, this next chapter is a big one!
Hold onto your hats everyone, this next chapter is a big one!
Chapter 53 - CONCURRITUR—HORÆ MOMENTO (The Battle Commences)
Outside Boldwood’s house, a few men are whispering about Troy being in Casterbridge. They discuss Troy’s motives and disagree about whether Bathsheba deserves their sympathy, or if she deserves what she gets. They also debate whether or not they should tell Bathsheba that Troy is alive and in town.
Boldwood appears, agitated with waiting for Bathsheba. They can hear him speaking softly to himself, hoping to God that she’ll come. Suddenly Bathsheba arrives. As they go inside, one of the men remarks that he didn’t know it was still like “that” for him [Boldwood]. Another says uneasily that they should have made the report, but it’s no use now.
A few men decide to go to Warren’s instead of inside. As they approach the tavern, they see Troy outside, looking into the malt-house. He’s listening to Gabriel and the maltster talking about Boldwood’s party and his love of Bathsheba. The men go back to the house and decide someone should alert Bathsheba. Tall goes in, but soon comes back out. The mood inside was depressing and he couldn’t bring himself to cast a further pall over it. Samway suggests they all go in together.
Inside, Bathsheba has resolved not to dance or sing. After an hour, she decides she can leave. But Boldwood approaches her. He asks for her promise. Unhappily, she feels she owes the promise, and will give it as the rendering of a debt. He wants a date set. She lashes out, saying she wants to be just without wronging herself, and that there’s still a shadow of doubt as to Troy’s death. Let her ask a solicitor, she begs him.
Boldwood, continues to pressure her. He begs her to promise marriage after six years. Sobbing, Bathsheba asks if he will stop pressing if she agrees. He says yes, he’ll leave it to time. Solemnly, she says she’ll marry him in six years. But he wants more, he asks her to wear the ring he draws out. She is shocked and wants no one to know they are engaged. Quietly, now, he says it’s simply a pledge. She says she can’t wear it! Finally, his harassing wears her down, she agrees to wear it only for that night.
Boldwood notices a few concerned whispers from the working men. He asks what’s wrong. Then, a man at the door says a stranger is wanted for Mrs. Troy. He opens the door, and Troy stands in the doorway.

Troy next advanced into the middle of the room, Helen Paterson Allingham, Victorian Web
Bathsheba grows pale and clutches the railing. Boldwood doesn’t recognize Troy and invites him in cheerily. Troy takes off his cap and looks Boldwood in the face. Troy laughs mechanically, and Boldwood finally recognizes him. Troy turns to Bathsheba, who has sunk to the lowest stair and says he’s come for her, she must come home with him.
At first Bathsheba doesn’t move. Troy repeats his order and, Boldwood tells her to go with her husband. Still, she doesn’t move. She shrinks back when Troy stretches out his hand. Irritated, he seizes her arm, and she screams. Suddenly there is a loud sound, and the room fills with smoke. Everyone turns to Boldwood, who was standing in front of a gun rack. When Bathsheba had cried out Boldwood seized one of the guns, cocked it, and shot at Troy, who fell and lies still.
Boldwood, meanwhile, is trying to turn the gun on himself. Samway sees this, darts up to him, and manages to turn the gun so that it discharges into the ceiling. Boldwood gasps that there’s another way for him to die. He kisses Bathsheba’s hand, then opens the door and leaves.
Outside Boldwood’s house, a few men are whispering about Troy being in Casterbridge. They discuss Troy’s motives and disagree about whether Bathsheba deserves their sympathy, or if she deserves what she gets. They also debate whether or not they should tell Bathsheba that Troy is alive and in town.
Boldwood appears, agitated with waiting for Bathsheba. They can hear him speaking softly to himself, hoping to God that she’ll come. Suddenly Bathsheba arrives. As they go inside, one of the men remarks that he didn’t know it was still like “that” for him [Boldwood]. Another says uneasily that they should have made the report, but it’s no use now.
A few men decide to go to Warren’s instead of inside. As they approach the tavern, they see Troy outside, looking into the malt-house. He’s listening to Gabriel and the maltster talking about Boldwood’s party and his love of Bathsheba. The men go back to the house and decide someone should alert Bathsheba. Tall goes in, but soon comes back out. The mood inside was depressing and he couldn’t bring himself to cast a further pall over it. Samway suggests they all go in together.
Inside, Bathsheba has resolved not to dance or sing. After an hour, she decides she can leave. But Boldwood approaches her. He asks for her promise. Unhappily, she feels she owes the promise, and will give it as the rendering of a debt. He wants a date set. She lashes out, saying she wants to be just without wronging herself, and that there’s still a shadow of doubt as to Troy’s death. Let her ask a solicitor, she begs him.
Boldwood, continues to pressure her. He begs her to promise marriage after six years. Sobbing, Bathsheba asks if he will stop pressing if she agrees. He says yes, he’ll leave it to time. Solemnly, she says she’ll marry him in six years. But he wants more, he asks her to wear the ring he draws out. She is shocked and wants no one to know they are engaged. Quietly, now, he says it’s simply a pledge. She says she can’t wear it! Finally, his harassing wears her down, she agrees to wear it only for that night.
Boldwood notices a few concerned whispers from the working men. He asks what’s wrong. Then, a man at the door says a stranger is wanted for Mrs. Troy. He opens the door, and Troy stands in the doorway.

Troy next advanced into the middle of the room, Helen Paterson Allingham, Victorian Web
Bathsheba grows pale and clutches the railing. Boldwood doesn’t recognize Troy and invites him in cheerily. Troy takes off his cap and looks Boldwood in the face. Troy laughs mechanically, and Boldwood finally recognizes him. Troy turns to Bathsheba, who has sunk to the lowest stair and says he’s come for her, she must come home with him.
At first Bathsheba doesn’t move. Troy repeats his order and, Boldwood tells her to go with her husband. Still, she doesn’t move. She shrinks back when Troy stretches out his hand. Irritated, he seizes her arm, and she screams. Suddenly there is a loud sound, and the room fills with smoke. Everyone turns to Boldwood, who was standing in front of a gun rack. When Bathsheba had cried out Boldwood seized one of the guns, cocked it, and shot at Troy, who fell and lies still.
Boldwood, meanwhile, is trying to turn the gun on himself. Samway sees this, darts up to him, and manages to turn the gun so that it discharges into the ceiling. Boldwood gasps that there’s another way for him to die. He kisses Bathsheba’s hand, then opens the door and leaves.
Wow! What a chapter! It opens not with the main characters, but with the men of the village gossiping about Troy and Bathsheba, acting once again like a Greek Chorus, laying out the situation from all sides, but especially Bathsheba’s character and responsibility.
This chorus of men is witness to Boldwood’s private drama and desires. This group can already foretell the danger that threatens to interrupt the evening, especially if Bathsheba agrees to marry Boldwood, now that her husband is known to be alive. At the malthouse they are privy to the fact that Troy is aware of Boldwood’s feelings for Bathsheba. Still, while the men are skilled at discussing all the gossip around town, they’re evidently not quite adept at turning such knowledge into action that will help someone.
Bathsheba is caught in a difficult situation. She doesn’t want to hurt Boldwood again; she’s worried about his mental state; she feels responsible for it and wants to make amends; but she also wants to be true to herself. Earlier in the novel, Bathsheba’s vanity desired flattery, but now Boldwood telling her she’s beautiful has little effect as she has changed.
Boldwood’s behavior becomes increasingly disturbing—Bathsheba’s feelings don’t seem to matter to him, as long as he can get what he wants. Bathsheba, in turn, is devastated by the dramatic climax of what began as a silly, thoughtless affair. She’s tried to atone for it, and yet her penance continues to be drawn out.
On the heels of this scary and unsettling encounter with Boldwood, Bathsheba is placed into an even more dramatic moment as Troy steps into the room. She’s gone from fear of Boldwood, to what must have felt like seeing a ghost.
Boldwood feels light and jovial after his “talk” with Bathsheba. He doesn’t immediately recognize Troy, which heightens the drama. Troy seems amused by all the drama he’s caused as he utters a gloating, triumphant laugh.
Understandably Bathsheba finds herself unable to react. It’s the touch of her husband that rouses her, and it’s her scream that triggers the moment of climax in the book. Boldwood makes one final defense of Bathsheba with an all-too-violent declaration of his love for her. Boldwood doesn’t manage to kill himself in turn, but he does on some level recognize that this was his final sacrifice, and that he can’t expect a future with Bathsheba now.
This chorus of men is witness to Boldwood’s private drama and desires. This group can already foretell the danger that threatens to interrupt the evening, especially if Bathsheba agrees to marry Boldwood, now that her husband is known to be alive. At the malthouse they are privy to the fact that Troy is aware of Boldwood’s feelings for Bathsheba. Still, while the men are skilled at discussing all the gossip around town, they’re evidently not quite adept at turning such knowledge into action that will help someone.
Bathsheba is caught in a difficult situation. She doesn’t want to hurt Boldwood again; she’s worried about his mental state; she feels responsible for it and wants to make amends; but she also wants to be true to herself. Earlier in the novel, Bathsheba’s vanity desired flattery, but now Boldwood telling her she’s beautiful has little effect as she has changed.
Boldwood’s behavior becomes increasingly disturbing—Bathsheba’s feelings don’t seem to matter to him, as long as he can get what he wants. Bathsheba, in turn, is devastated by the dramatic climax of what began as a silly, thoughtless affair. She’s tried to atone for it, and yet her penance continues to be drawn out.
On the heels of this scary and unsettling encounter with Boldwood, Bathsheba is placed into an even more dramatic moment as Troy steps into the room. She’s gone from fear of Boldwood, to what must have felt like seeing a ghost.
Boldwood feels light and jovial after his “talk” with Bathsheba. He doesn’t immediately recognize Troy, which heightens the drama. Troy seems amused by all the drama he’s caused as he utters a gloating, triumphant laugh.
Understandably Bathsheba finds herself unable to react. It’s the touch of her husband that rouses her, and it’s her scream that triggers the moment of climax in the book. Boldwood makes one final defense of Bathsheba with an all-too-violent declaration of his love for her. Boldwood doesn’t manage to kill himself in turn, but he does on some level recognize that this was his final sacrifice, and that he can’t expect a future with Bathsheba now.
A One More Thing . . .
The chapter title: Concurritur: Horae Momento – comes from Horace’s Satires (I.i, lines 7-8): “Concurritur: horae momento cita mors venit aut Victoria laeta” (The battle commences: in an instant comes swift death or joyful victory).
Okay, over to you now. I can't wait to hear everyone's thoughts on this turn of events!
The chapter title: Concurritur: Horae Momento – comes from Horace’s Satires (I.i, lines 7-8): “Concurritur: horae momento cita mors venit aut Victoria laeta” (The battle commences: in an instant comes swift death or joyful victory).
Okay, over to you now. I can't wait to hear everyone's thoughts on this turn of events!
😮😨Wow as you say Bridget! Such an exciting chapter, which you have summarised amazingly well, thanks! I am grateful too for Helen Paterson Allingham's illustration, as I was finding this scene hard to square with the various dramatisations which stick in my mind.
They never convey the claustrophobic and oppressive feeling of this party, where people are trying to have a good time, but it is forced. We had the build-up yesterday, and now that pressure continues. Also the "staging" of it makes more sense now. Instead of a lavishly decorated open expanse of "ballroom", we can see the protagonists much closer together - as Thomas Hardy described. He also told us Bathsheba was dressed in black, (cloak and hat) i.e. still in mourning as here, and not a party gown! Laban Tall had said she had "come downstairs", and we correctly see her right at the foot of the stairs, not half way up and looking down on the proceedings. We also see Troy close enough to Boldwood to receive the entire gunshot spray.
Two more things stay with me ...
1. The overpowering force of Boldwood's strength of will, as he bullies Bathsheba and wears her down until she agrees to marry him. We focus on his obsessive behaviour: he is heartlessly single-minded, and will accept nothing less, just inching towards it by degrees.
It seemed interminable, so I was surprised when I looked back, to see that the chapter was in three parts, of roughly equal lengths. First we have the "Greek chorus" of rustics - carefully chosen to be anonymous this time; Boldwood's own workers and not those whom we know, except for Laban Tall, so as not to distract us from the main event. Then the middle section is the slow grinding down of Bathsheba, and the final third is Troy. He also seems overbearing; a commanding enough presence to frighten Bathsheba.
2. This too stays with me. What has happened to our bold, determined, independent protagonist? Here we are back to a shrinking violet, and Thomas Hardy's idea of women as weaker vessels. Laban Tall had already put in our minds that she was "little more than a child" when she arrived, and now Bathsheba herself once again pleads that she "has nobody to advise her" - as she has done several times through the novel.
Enough ... others may have read this differently. Certainly Thomas Hardy's powers of description mean that we feel for each and every person here. And he once again he has prefigured it for us, by the unusual lamplight at the start of the scene.
They never convey the claustrophobic and oppressive feeling of this party, where people are trying to have a good time, but it is forced. We had the build-up yesterday, and now that pressure continues. Also the "staging" of it makes more sense now. Instead of a lavishly decorated open expanse of "ballroom", we can see the protagonists much closer together - as Thomas Hardy described. He also told us Bathsheba was dressed in black, (cloak and hat) i.e. still in mourning as here, and not a party gown! Laban Tall had said she had "come downstairs", and we correctly see her right at the foot of the stairs, not half way up and looking down on the proceedings. We also see Troy close enough to Boldwood to receive the entire gunshot spray.
Two more things stay with me ...
1. The overpowering force of Boldwood's strength of will, as he bullies Bathsheba and wears her down until she agrees to marry him. We focus on his obsessive behaviour: he is heartlessly single-minded, and will accept nothing less, just inching towards it by degrees.
It seemed interminable, so I was surprised when I looked back, to see that the chapter was in three parts, of roughly equal lengths. First we have the "Greek chorus" of rustics - carefully chosen to be anonymous this time; Boldwood's own workers and not those whom we know, except for Laban Tall, so as not to distract us from the main event. Then the middle section is the slow grinding down of Bathsheba, and the final third is Troy. He also seems overbearing; a commanding enough presence to frighten Bathsheba.
2. This too stays with me. What has happened to our bold, determined, independent protagonist? Here we are back to a shrinking violet, and Thomas Hardy's idea of women as weaker vessels. Laban Tall had already put in our minds that she was "little more than a child" when she arrived, and now Bathsheba herself once again pleads that she "has nobody to advise her" - as she has done several times through the novel.
Enough ... others may have read this differently. Certainly Thomas Hardy's powers of description mean that we feel for each and every person here. And he once again he has prefigured it for us, by the unusual lamplight at the start of the scene.
Just A point about English Law ...
Boldwood knew it would make no difference whether he pulled the trigger on himself, or awaited judgement in a court of Law. It may seem odd that anyone tried to prevent a Victorian suicide, when there would be no future for a murderer, but then attempting suicide itself was against the Law at this time. Until 1882 suicides would be denied a Christian burial and buried at crossroads, at the outskirts of the city. Also of course, the sentence for murder was capital punishment.
So Boldwood is doubly condemned, unless he can be proved insane. But it has to be seen as due process of the Law, and not the murderer's choice of action. And I'm sure we would naturally try to prevent the action from our instinctive human compassion.
I'm interested to see everyone's reactions too!
Boldwood knew it would make no difference whether he pulled the trigger on himself, or awaited judgement in a court of Law. It may seem odd that anyone tried to prevent a Victorian suicide, when there would be no future for a murderer, but then attempting suicide itself was against the Law at this time. Until 1882 suicides would be denied a Christian burial and buried at crossroads, at the outskirts of the city. Also of course, the sentence for murder was capital punishment.
So Boldwood is doubly condemned, unless he can be proved insane. But it has to be seen as due process of the Law, and not the murderer's choice of action. And I'm sure we would naturally try to prevent the action from our instinctive human compassion.
I'm interested to see everyone's reactions too!

Boldwood goes from despair to anger when Troy grasps Bathsheda's hand and she cries out. He really does not have time to think before shooting Troy; he's just acting on pure emotion. At this point, Boldwood has no reason to live so he does not care if he dies by suicide or hanging. Without Bathsheda, his life is over anyway.

Troy would be the thoughtless one to attempt this, and clearly that is not the shock for me. Boldwood's actions, forcing Bathsheba to commit to a relationship she clearly didn't want, was the shocker, and while the resulting action is to be almost expected, it also was quite a surprise.
Great comments Jean, Connie and Pamela! Jean, I appreciate knowing about the English law and capital punishment. I wondered what Boldwood meant by "another way". I thought "claustrophobic and oppressive" were perfect words to describe the "party".
Connie, I love the compassion you have for Boldwood in your post. I was unhappy with how he treated Bathsheba, and I forgot to have compassion for him as well. I've been thinking about him today and wondering if shooting Troy can be seen as a heroic act by Boldwood, or if it's really the culmination of his mental decline.
Which leads me to my favorite of Pamela's comments "while the resulting action is to be almost expected, it also was quite a surprise". Like you, I figured Troy would be the one to attempt murder. Maybe because he's good with a sword, and he's unpredictable. But really, by this time in the novel, Boldwood is too.
Connie, I love the compassion you have for Boldwood in your post. I was unhappy with how he treated Bathsheba, and I forgot to have compassion for him as well. I've been thinking about him today and wondering if shooting Troy can be seen as a heroic act by Boldwood, or if it's really the culmination of his mental decline.
Which leads me to my favorite of Pamela's comments "while the resulting action is to be almost expected, it also was quite a surprise". Like you, I figured Troy would be the one to attempt murder. Maybe because he's good with a sword, and he's unpredictable. But really, by this time in the novel, Boldwood is too.
Bionic Jean wrote: "This too stays with me. What has happened to our bold, determined, independent protagonist? Here we are back to a shrinking violet, and Thomas Hardy's idea of women as weaker vessels
This is an excellent question Jean. Not sure I have an answer, but it's interesting to ponder. Bathsheba seems to crumble under the pressure Boldwood inflicts on her. I think his power over her comes from her own guilty conscience. BUT< does she need to feel this guilty about sending that valentine? I'm not certain she does. I have other thoughts about Bathsheba and Boldwood, but I'm wondering what others might think as well.
This is an excellent question Jean. Not sure I have an answer, but it's interesting to ponder. Bathsheba seems to crumble under the pressure Boldwood inflicts on her. I think his power over her comes from her own guilty conscience. BUT< does she need to feel this guilty about sending that valentine? I'm not certain she does. I have other thoughts about Bathsheba and Boldwood, but I'm wondering what others might think as well.

I agree, at this point, she shouldn’t feel guilty about the Valentine and Boldwoood. I’ve forgotten how many times Bathsheba has already apologized for sending it and acknowledging it was a mistake. Troy hit the nail on the head when he asked Gabriel and Coggan if there was any mental illness in Boldwood’s family. Yes, Boldwood is acting obsessed and deranged.

And guess who else stood firmly with Boldwood, offering him loyalty and compassion throughout? Gabriel. Our sturdy and honest hero Gabriel liked Boldwood, even though he also felt pity for him.
So if we are to believe anything Hardy was trying to say of his characters, I choose to believe Gabriel, the beacon who never faltered. The confusion we feel toward the other major characters I believe is the confusion Hardy himself created from lack of a decisive appreciation of the agency good people have and the mistaken reliance upon “fate” as the main drive behind people’s lives.

Another point that's occurred to me in the course of this read and discussion, and which I think is worth making, is that Hardy seems to use the terms "fate" and "chance" as if they're synonyms. But they aren't genuinely synonymous. "Chance" is totally blind, purposeless coincidence. It tends in no direction, and has no reason behind it. "Fate" implies a foreordained destiny, a predetermined result towards which events are inevitably tending, and which will not be thwarted. (It's essentially the same concept as Wyrd, in which my Viking ancestors believed, and which they thought it futile for people to struggle against.) The latter is really quite the opposite of indeterminate chance.
Personally, I'm inclined to think that the ambiguity of Hardy's language on this point reflects an inner uncertainty in his own mind, as a faith-haunted agnostic, about which alternative he most deeply believed in. Part of him is the Darwinist who's (sort of, kind of) convinced that blind chance rules the Universe --but then all of his novels that I've read, including this one, shepherd events along a path that, in hindsight, appears to be directed in a fairly purposive way.

I can feel for both Bathsheba and Boldwood — they are victims of their own actions. But it is Boldwood who crosses a line when he pretty much forces Bathsheba to commit to him — even thought she feels she must wait to see if Troy is still alive.
And I feel truly for Bathsheba, she is feeling worn down from the disappearance of her husband, the realization of Fanny's death and Troy's declaration of his love for Fanny, and now she's further reminded once again of her social blunder in sending that valentine to Boldwood.
Frankly — after a few hours of thinking over this chapter — I am not surprised of the actions in this chapter. Boldwood reacted to his dreaded enemy, the man who is ruining his chance (in his mind) of happiness. Bathsheba is ready to curl up and die, and Troy thought no one would not accept his taking charge of his marriage, his wife and her fortune. It was preordained in Hardy's writing.
Thanks, Werner, for brining up the differences between fate and chance. You describe it so well. I would never have considered that the ambiguity of Hardy's language could be related to things happening to him, his feelings at the time.
"And guess who else stood firmly with Boldwood, offering him loyalty and compassion throughout? Gabriel. Our sturdy and honest hero"
This is a great point, Lee, about Gabriel being the rock, or the stable person in the novel. And he in conspicuously missing from Boldwood's party. Not that I blame him given his feelings for Bathsheba. I wonder if Hardy left Gabriel at the malthouse on purpose, so that all the chaos could ensue. If Gabriel had been there, none of that would have happened because he would have stopped it.
"Chance" is totally blind, purposeless coincidence. It tends in no direction, and has no reason behind it. "Fate" implies a foreordained destiny, a predetermined result towards which events are inevitably tending, and which will not be thwarted."
This is an excellent point, Werner and it reminds me so much of the ending of Tess of the D’Urbervilles. I don't want to spoil the ending, so here is the line I'm thinking of (view spoiler) I think it highlights your definition of fate, and I think it's what Hardy had in mind as well.
And Pamela you've really done a wonderful job of summing up the feelings and emotions of the main characters, thank you for that.
It's wonderful to keep this discussion going, but a lot is going to happen in the next couple chapters, so we have to move on. I'm sure we will be coming back to these thoughts though as the novel wraps up!
This is a great point, Lee, about Gabriel being the rock, or the stable person in the novel. And he in conspicuously missing from Boldwood's party. Not that I blame him given his feelings for Bathsheba. I wonder if Hardy left Gabriel at the malthouse on purpose, so that all the chaos could ensue. If Gabriel had been there, none of that would have happened because he would have stopped it.
"Chance" is totally blind, purposeless coincidence. It tends in no direction, and has no reason behind it. "Fate" implies a foreordained destiny, a predetermined result towards which events are inevitably tending, and which will not be thwarted."
This is an excellent point, Werner and it reminds me so much of the ending of Tess of the D’Urbervilles. I don't want to spoil the ending, so here is the line I'm thinking of (view spoiler) I think it highlights your definition of fate, and I think it's what Hardy had in mind as well.
And Pamela you've really done a wonderful job of summing up the feelings and emotions of the main characters, thank you for that.
It's wonderful to keep this discussion going, but a lot is going to happen in the next couple chapters, so we have to move on. I'm sure we will be coming back to these thoughts though as the novel wraps up!
Chapter 54: After the Shock
Boldwood walks towards Casterbridge and descends into the town. He stops in front of the entrance to the jail, pulls the bell, and speaks in a low voice to the porter and then-
”Boldwood entered, and the door was closed behind him, and he walked the world no more.”
Back in Weatherbury, Gabriel is one of the first to hear about the gunshot, and rushes to Boldwood’s house, where the men are stunned and the women "were huddled aghast against the walls like sheep in a storm". Bathsheba is sitting beside Troy’s body, his head in her lap, clasping one of his hands. She has become herself again - calm and cool. She says automatically to Gabriel that he must ride to Casterbridge for a surgeon, though it’s probably useless. Barely understanding, Gabriel leaves and is half a mile away before realizing he should have stayed and sent another man. What had become of Boldwood? he wonders, and how had Troy reappeared? He passes a pedestrian about three miles from Casterbridge going in the same direction but pays little heed.
The surgeon, Mr. Granthead, meets Liddy as he reaches the house. She tells him that Bathsheba locked herself in the room with Troy, wanting to know only when Gabriel or Mr. Thirdly arrived. These two enter at the same moment, and they all go upstairs. Bathsheba looks calm and rigid but is grateful that they have come. She lit candles around the corpse. The doctor enters and then returns to the hall, where he says that the body has been properly undressed and put in grave clothes. He notes the woman must have a stoic’s nerve. She says it’s simply a wife’s solicitude, and then, suddenly exhausted, sinks to the floor. That night Liddy keeps watch as Bathsheba moans that it’s all her fault.
Boldwood walks towards Casterbridge and descends into the town. He stops in front of the entrance to the jail, pulls the bell, and speaks in a low voice to the porter and then-
”Boldwood entered, and the door was closed behind him, and he walked the world no more.”
Back in Weatherbury, Gabriel is one of the first to hear about the gunshot, and rushes to Boldwood’s house, where the men are stunned and the women "were huddled aghast against the walls like sheep in a storm". Bathsheba is sitting beside Troy’s body, his head in her lap, clasping one of his hands. She has become herself again - calm and cool. She says automatically to Gabriel that he must ride to Casterbridge for a surgeon, though it’s probably useless. Barely understanding, Gabriel leaves and is half a mile away before realizing he should have stayed and sent another man. What had become of Boldwood? he wonders, and how had Troy reappeared? He passes a pedestrian about three miles from Casterbridge going in the same direction but pays little heed.
The surgeon, Mr. Granthead, meets Liddy as he reaches the house. She tells him that Bathsheba locked herself in the room with Troy, wanting to know only when Gabriel or Mr. Thirdly arrived. These two enter at the same moment, and they all go upstairs. Bathsheba looks calm and rigid but is grateful that they have come. She lit candles around the corpse. The doctor enters and then returns to the hall, where he says that the body has been properly undressed and put in grave clothes. He notes the woman must have a stoic’s nerve. She says it’s simply a wife’s solicitude, and then, suddenly exhausted, sinks to the floor. That night Liddy keeps watch as Bathsheba moans that it’s all her fault.
Judging from the first paragraph we may not see Boldwood again. It’s implied that the figure Gabriel passes on the road to Casterbridge may be Boldwood himself. Which made me wonder if Boldwood’s walk to Casterbridge is the same walk Fanny took in Chapter 37.
Gabriel has been at Warren’s Malt-house all this time, having refused to attend Boldwood’s party, and is in shock when he arrives. Bathsheba seems to have regained her prior coolness and authority—even if the narrator describes this authority not by characterizing Bathsheba as a great woman herself, but as the kind of woman who would be the mother of a great man.
Bathsheba feels that she alone must bear responsibility for what has happened. She enacts some of the same mourning rituals that she did at Fanny’s death; indeed, part of what the doctor calls her stoicism may stem from the fact that she has in some ways lived out this grieving process before, as well as the sense of guilt.
Gabriel has been at Warren’s Malt-house all this time, having refused to attend Boldwood’s party, and is in shock when he arrives. Bathsheba seems to have regained her prior coolness and authority—even if the narrator describes this authority not by characterizing Bathsheba as a great woman herself, but as the kind of woman who would be the mother of a great man.
Bathsheba feels that she alone must bear responsibility for what has happened. She enacts some of the same mourning rituals that she did at Fanny’s death; indeed, part of what the doctor calls her stoicism may stem from the fact that she has in some ways lived out this grieving process before, as well as the sense of guilt.
A tiny bit more . . .
Melpomene - in Greek mythology, she is the daughter of Zeus, one of the nine Muses, patron of tragedy and lyre playing.
She is represented in the arts with the tragic mask and club of Heracles. Like the well-known statue of Melpomene in the Louvre in Paris, Bathsheba appears rigidly calm (see below). You can see she is holding the tragic mask in her hand. She does look rather stoic.
Melpomene - in Greek mythology, she is the daughter of Zeus, one of the nine Muses, patron of tragedy and lyre playing.
She is represented in the arts with the tragic mask and club of Heracles. Like the well-known statue of Melpomene in the Louvre in Paris, Bathsheba appears rigidly calm (see below). You can see she is holding the tragic mask in her hand. She does look rather stoic.

ch 54 is such a brief dream-like chapter, where things do move on, but everyone behaves like automatons. I wonder if others thought that too?
The characters seem to have gone back to their natural state. Boldwood does what has to be done, as he always has, just as he planned the party. Actions such as telling Bathsheba to go with her husband, and walking to gaol to give himself up to the authorities are not the actions of an unhinged mind, but completely rational and in character. We could even see the shooting of Troy as something he believed necessary, although Thomas Hardy's description makes it seem like a momentary aberration.
Bathsheba too has gone back to her capable self, dealing with everything as she thinks appropriate. Interestingly, yet again someone (the doctor) commented that she was "a mere girl".
But in each case their behaviour is automatic. The only one who realised he was just responding automatically and without thought was Gabriel Oak, who half-way through his ride to the doctor realised he should have sent someone else.
Odd thoughts:
Why did it take 3 hours to fetch a doctor?
Thomas Hardy wrote a paragraph to explain Bathsheba's miraculously changed demeanour. I'm afraid it made me laugh at one point, when he said that she was "the stuff of which great men's mothers are made". We suspect we know who he was thinking of there ... Thomas Hardy himself must be the "great man", with a strong-minded mother, Jemima, whom he much admired (and interestingly ,who had warned him about marrying Emma a few months earlier).
It is so revealing too, that yet again, even at her most noble, Bathsheba is only seen through this masculine lens.
The characters seem to have gone back to their natural state. Boldwood does what has to be done, as he always has, just as he planned the party. Actions such as telling Bathsheba to go with her husband, and walking to gaol to give himself up to the authorities are not the actions of an unhinged mind, but completely rational and in character. We could even see the shooting of Troy as something he believed necessary, although Thomas Hardy's description makes it seem like a momentary aberration.
Bathsheba too has gone back to her capable self, dealing with everything as she thinks appropriate. Interestingly, yet again someone (the doctor) commented that she was "a mere girl".
But in each case their behaviour is automatic. The only one who realised he was just responding automatically and without thought was Gabriel Oak, who half-way through his ride to the doctor realised he should have sent someone else.
Odd thoughts:
Why did it take 3 hours to fetch a doctor?
Thomas Hardy wrote a paragraph to explain Bathsheba's miraculously changed demeanour. I'm afraid it made me laugh at one point, when he said that she was "the stuff of which great men's mothers are made". We suspect we know who he was thinking of there ... Thomas Hardy himself must be the "great man", with a strong-minded mother, Jemima, whom he much admired (and interestingly ,who had warned him about marrying Emma a few months earlier).
It is so revealing too, that yet again, even at her most noble, Bathsheba is only seen through this masculine lens.
"I'm sure we will be coming back to these thoughts ..." yes, I agree Bridget, so for now will put this under a spoiler, merely so as not to distract from today's chapter. (There are no plot spoilers):
Providence.
(view spoiler)
Providence.
(view spoiler)

I too also wondered about why it took so long for Gabriel to reach the town. It would make no sense to send for a doctor three hours away, when the man is suffering a serious wound. There are cases in which those suffering gunshot wounds do last hours (I immediately thought of Abraham Lincoln, who lasted 8 hours with a wound to the back of the head) but it sounds like Troy was very close to Boldwood when he was shot, and I'm assuming it was in the heart or the chest.

Yes, Troy was killed instantly:
"Troy fell. The distance apart of the two men was so small that the charge of shot did not spread in the least, but passed like a bullet into his body. He uttered a long guttural sigh—there was a contraction—an extension—then his muscles relaxed, and he lay still."
In the next chapter Bathsheba sent for a "surgeon" saying "It is, I believe, useless".
I don't think there's any question there. When he arrived of course, he was cross that she had moved the body, especially as it was a murder as you said Connie.
But the timing does not make sense.
The distance between Puddletown ("Weatherbury") and Dorchester ("Casterbridge") is 4 miles. The road distance is 5 miles.
As I posted in the first thread, Boldwood's farm is Druce Farm ("Little Weatherbury Farm") in the Piddle Valley, about a mile NW upstream of Puddletown centre. Bathsheba's farm which adjoins it is Waterston House ("Weatherbury Upper Farm"). These are therefore very small distances.
Even walking, a person's average speed is 3 mph. So I am still baffled as to why it took 3 hours!
I wonder if something was edited out here.
"Troy fell. The distance apart of the two men was so small that the charge of shot did not spread in the least, but passed like a bullet into his body. He uttered a long guttural sigh—there was a contraction—an extension—then his muscles relaxed, and he lay still."
In the next chapter Bathsheba sent for a "surgeon" saying "It is, I believe, useless".
I don't think there's any question there. When he arrived of course, he was cross that she had moved the body, especially as it was a murder as you said Connie.
But the timing does not make sense.
The distance between Puddletown ("Weatherbury") and Dorchester ("Casterbridge") is 4 miles. The road distance is 5 miles.
As I posted in the first thread, Boldwood's farm is Druce Farm ("Little Weatherbury Farm") in the Piddle Valley, about a mile NW upstream of Puddletown centre. Bathsheba's farm which adjoins it is Waterston House ("Weatherbury Upper Farm"). These are therefore very small distances.
Even walking, a person's average speed is 3 mph. So I am still baffled as to why it took 3 hours!
I wonder if something was edited out here.
Bionic Jean wrote: "But the timing does not make sense.
The distance between Puddletown ("Weatherbury") and Dorchester ("Casterbridge") is 4 miles. The road distance is 5 miles.
..."
That's true, Jean. I've looked and couldn't find record of anything being edited out. The only explanation in the text for the timing is this:
"The miles necessary to be traversed, and other hindrances incidental to the lateness of the hour and the darkness of the night, delayed the arrival of Mr. Aldritch, the surgeon; and more than three hours passed between the time at which the shot was fired and that of his entering the house."
Moving at 3mph a distance of 5miles (there and back) would be about 3hrs (90minutes each way). But I'm sure Gabriel and the Surgeon were each on horseback so, again it doesn't make sense. Well, at least Hardy tried to give us a reason with "hindrances" and "darkness". Also, it is Christmas Eve, I wonder if that would slow things down.
As another small aside, the surgeon in my edition is named "Granthead", but the surgeon is named Aldritch in Project Gutenburg (which I cut and pasted above).
Any idea why Hardy would re-name the surgeon? Was Aldritch someone special in his life??
Well, for now onto the next chapterv :-)
The distance between Puddletown ("Weatherbury") and Dorchester ("Casterbridge") is 4 miles. The road distance is 5 miles.
..."
That's true, Jean. I've looked and couldn't find record of anything being edited out. The only explanation in the text for the timing is this:
"The miles necessary to be traversed, and other hindrances incidental to the lateness of the hour and the darkness of the night, delayed the arrival of Mr. Aldritch, the surgeon; and more than three hours passed between the time at which the shot was fired and that of his entering the house."
Moving at 3mph a distance of 5miles (there and back) would be about 3hrs (90minutes each way). But I'm sure Gabriel and the Surgeon were each on horseback so, again it doesn't make sense. Well, at least Hardy tried to give us a reason with "hindrances" and "darkness". Also, it is Christmas Eve, I wonder if that would slow things down.
As another small aside, the surgeon in my edition is named "Granthead", but the surgeon is named Aldritch in Project Gutenburg (which I cut and pasted above).
Any idea why Hardy would re-name the surgeon? Was Aldritch someone special in his life??
Well, for now onto the next chapterv :-)
Chapter 55 – The March following: “Bathsheba Boldwood”
It’s now March, a number of men are gathered on Yalbury Hill (between Weatherbury and Casterbridge. A judge arrives in a travelling carriage with an entourage. Coggan and Poorgrass discuss the judge’s face, and say they hope for the best. They all await the news anxiously.
Everyone knew that Boldwood was in strange moods that fall, but few other than Bathsheba and Troy suspected his full mental state. In his closet was discovered several expensive lady’s dresses, muffs, and jewelry cases, each labeled with “Bathsheba Boldwood” and a date six years in a future. The farmhands are discussing this at Warren’s Malt-house when Gabriel returns, saying that Boldwood pled guilty, and had been sentenced to death.
Everyone agrees that Boldwood isn’t morally responsible for his acts and his life should be spared due insanity. They cite his neglect of the cornstacks the summer before as futher evidence. They address a petition to the Home Secretary asking for reconsideration. The execution had been fixed for Saturday morning two weeks after the sentence. On Friday afternoon, Gabriel returns from the jail, where he’d been to wish Boldwood goodbye. Looking back, he sees carpenters lifting a post. When he returns, half the village meets him, but he says there’s no tidings, and no hope.
Bathsheba is at home, and keeps asking for news, but Gabriel decides not to tell her until he knows for sure. He asks Tall to ride to town late that night and wait, just in case. Liddy says the mistress will go out of her mind if Boldwood isn’t saved. Tall leaves, and many wait for him on the Casterbridge road. Finally he returns, and announces Boldwood is not to die: confinement will be his punishment.
It’s now March, a number of men are gathered on Yalbury Hill (between Weatherbury and Casterbridge. A judge arrives in a travelling carriage with an entourage. Coggan and Poorgrass discuss the judge’s face, and say they hope for the best. They all await the news anxiously.
Everyone knew that Boldwood was in strange moods that fall, but few other than Bathsheba and Troy suspected his full mental state. In his closet was discovered several expensive lady’s dresses, muffs, and jewelry cases, each labeled with “Bathsheba Boldwood” and a date six years in a future. The farmhands are discussing this at Warren’s Malt-house when Gabriel returns, saying that Boldwood pled guilty, and had been sentenced to death.
Everyone agrees that Boldwood isn’t morally responsible for his acts and his life should be spared due insanity. They cite his neglect of the cornstacks the summer before as futher evidence. They address a petition to the Home Secretary asking for reconsideration. The execution had been fixed for Saturday morning two weeks after the sentence. On Friday afternoon, Gabriel returns from the jail, where he’d been to wish Boldwood goodbye. Looking back, he sees carpenters lifting a post. When he returns, half the village meets him, but he says there’s no tidings, and no hope.
Bathsheba is at home, and keeps asking for news, but Gabriel decides not to tell her until he knows for sure. He asks Tall to ride to town late that night and wait, just in case. Liddy says the mistress will go out of her mind if Boldwood isn’t saved. Tall leaves, and many wait for him on the Casterbridge road. Finally he returns, and announces Boldwood is not to die: confinement will be his punishment.
The chapter opens with the men who witness so much that happens in Weatherbury awaiting the news Boldwood’s fate. The circuit judges are coming (see note below) and Thomas Hardy makes their arrival look like a circus.
In this chapter we are given further proof of Boldwood’s derangement and obsession. All the villagers now agree that Boldwood should not be held responsible for killing Troy. The narrator makes a point of telling us that Bathsheba and Troy were the only ones who knew of Boldwood’s unstable mental state. At least that’s how my edition reads. In the 1912 edition (which some of you may have read) Troy is replaced with Oak.
It’s a curious change, in my opinion. If Oak thought Boldwood mentally unstable, how could he advise Bathsheba to marry a deranged man? And if Troy knew Boldwood was mentally unstable, then how cruel of him to toy with and manipulate Boldwood. Troy may have even caused Boldwood's condition to worsen, by the tricks he played just after his marriage—tricks that, one might say, ultimately caused his own downfall.
Gabriel, in turn, had known something was awry in Boldwood as a result of his neglect of farming: unlike the other characters, he could not separate his personal conflicts and dramas from the necessities of daily life in the country. Gabriel finds himself still bound to Boldwood, not only because he is his master but also because of the history they share.
There is so much tension in this chapter as we are anxious to find out Boldwood’s fate. I felt relieved when I learned Boldwood’s life would be spared. But it’s not really that simple. Boldwood believed that he would find another way to die if he didn’t manage to kill himself. While the lessening of his sentence is, according to Liddy, enough to keep Bathsheba sane, it is not exactly a diminution of the tragedy.
In this chapter we are given further proof of Boldwood’s derangement and obsession. All the villagers now agree that Boldwood should not be held responsible for killing Troy. The narrator makes a point of telling us that Bathsheba and Troy were the only ones who knew of Boldwood’s unstable mental state. At least that’s how my edition reads. In the 1912 edition (which some of you may have read) Troy is replaced with Oak.
It’s a curious change, in my opinion. If Oak thought Boldwood mentally unstable, how could he advise Bathsheba to marry a deranged man? And if Troy knew Boldwood was mentally unstable, then how cruel of him to toy with and manipulate Boldwood. Troy may have even caused Boldwood's condition to worsen, by the tricks he played just after his marriage—tricks that, one might say, ultimately caused his own downfall.
Gabriel, in turn, had known something was awry in Boldwood as a result of his neglect of farming: unlike the other characters, he could not separate his personal conflicts and dramas from the necessities of daily life in the country. Gabriel finds himself still bound to Boldwood, not only because he is his master but also because of the history they share.
There is so much tension in this chapter as we are anxious to find out Boldwood’s fate. I felt relieved when I learned Boldwood’s life would be spared. But it’s not really that simple. Boldwood believed that he would find another way to die if he didn’t manage to kill himself. While the lessening of his sentence is, according to Liddy, enough to keep Bathsheba sane, it is not exactly a diminution of the tragedy.
A Little More . . .
javelin men . . .trumpeters . . . sheriff - as part of the paraphernalia of high office in the Justice department, a group of men carrying light spears (javelin-men) formed the official escort of judges and sheriffs to the regional assizes (trials in session); the full retinue included trumpeters for the heralding of arrivals and departures. Hardy evokes the atmosphere of a traveling circus.
circuit judges - were assigned to trials periodically held at major towns on specific circuits. The 1912 edition uses the description “Western Circuit”, thus creating a link with Hardy’s short story, “On the Western Circuit” Life's Little Ironies (which we will be reading as a group at the end of June)
Justice is come to weigh him in the balance - alludes to Daniel 5:27, in which Daniel is summoned by Chaldean King Belshazzar to interpret mysterious writings made by a ghostly hand upon the wall of his palace. Hainvg deciphered the message as a castigation by God of Belshazzar’s immoral conduct and abuse of kingship, Daniel is then proclaimed third ruler of the Chaldean kingdom and Belshazzar is slain. Poorgrass’s pretentiousness partially mitigates Hardy’s satirical juxtaposition of the two systems of justice, one of which come (to Belshazzar) by occult means. (notes from Penguin edition)
First Dead . . .yode - poem near end of chapter. It is from Sir Walter Scott’s “Marmion” (1808) canto 3, stanza 31, which describes the “foot-tramp of a flying steed”. “Yode” means “went”.
javelin men . . .trumpeters . . . sheriff - as part of the paraphernalia of high office in the Justice department, a group of men carrying light spears (javelin-men) formed the official escort of judges and sheriffs to the regional assizes (trials in session); the full retinue included trumpeters for the heralding of arrivals and departures. Hardy evokes the atmosphere of a traveling circus.
circuit judges - were assigned to trials periodically held at major towns on specific circuits. The 1912 edition uses the description “Western Circuit”, thus creating a link with Hardy’s short story, “On the Western Circuit” Life's Little Ironies (which we will be reading as a group at the end of June)
Justice is come to weigh him in the balance - alludes to Daniel 5:27, in which Daniel is summoned by Chaldean King Belshazzar to interpret mysterious writings made by a ghostly hand upon the wall of his palace. Hainvg deciphered the message as a castigation by God of Belshazzar’s immoral conduct and abuse of kingship, Daniel is then proclaimed third ruler of the Chaldean kingdom and Belshazzar is slain. Poorgrass’s pretentiousness partially mitigates Hardy’s satirical juxtaposition of the two systems of justice, one of which come (to Belshazzar) by occult means. (notes from Penguin edition)
First Dead . . .yode - poem near end of chapter. It is from Sir Walter Scott’s “Marmion” (1808) canto 3, stanza 31, which describes the “foot-tramp of a flying steed”. “Yode” means “went”.
Books mentioned in this topic
Far From the Madding Crowd (other topics)Tess of the D’Urbervilles (other topics)
The Pilgrim's Progress (other topics)
The new and complete dictionary of the English language : To which is prefixed, a comprehensive grammar / By John Ash. Volume v.2 1775 [Leather Bound] (other topics)
The Young Man's Best Companion (other topics)
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Authors mentioned in this topic
Thomas Hardy (other topics)Thomas Hardy (other topics)
William Shakespeare (other topics)
Thomas Hardy (other topics)
Peter J. Casagrande (other topics)
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Boldwood’s second proposal of marriage takes shape differently now that Bathsheba is in mourning and yet not a legal widow. Bathsheba tries to use her ethical requirements as a widow to keep from hurting Boldwood, who she pities.
But Boldwood will not be deterred. When he says: "O Bathsheba, promise—it is only a little promise—that if you marry again, you will marry me!", it feels like Bathsheba is being trapped. I do feel sorry for Boldwood, but I also don't want to see Bathsheba attached to a mentally unbalanced man. Then again, if Bathsheba can’t imagine ever marrying someone else, this first promise seems more possible for her to make.
Bathsheba also feels that she’s not only caused Boldwood pain as a result of her one careless action—he’s actually, as a result of his love for her, going mad. Gabriel tries to convince Bathsheba that she doesn’t need to take on this as well as her own responsibility, even if he recognizes that she may be right.
Gabriel is, as always, her helpful confidant and advisor. Interestingly, Bathsheba is upset that Gabriel doesn’t try to proclaim his own love for her. Once again, even while Bathsheba doesn’t love (or doesn’t believe she loves) Gabriel, she’s hurt by the way he seems to have lost all his feelings for her.