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This is the thread that has been created for the discussion of Part 1 of Thomas Hardy's "Far From the Madding Crowd."

MadgeUK wrote: "I shall be savouring the poetry in the descriptive passages about the countryside as I travel by train from London through Somerset and Dorset folks! And I will be looking out for architectural r..."

Madge, thank you ever-so-much for including all of these wonderful links! You have contributed so much to our combined quest to get to know Thomas Hardy's world better. I am so glad that you will be part of the discussion and sharing your obvious love for this great author and his beautiful novels.

I am so envious of your holiday through this country too. Rest assured, but on my next trip to the UK I plan on spending a significant amount of time in 'Wessex.' In fact, I can hardly wait!

Have a lovely trip, and I hope you find some great fossils at Lyme-Regis (maybe you'll be able to find a trilobite and can look into his "eyes, dead and turned to stone..." Just try not to be hanging off the side of a cliff though!). Cheers! Chris

There were a couple of those illustrations in my edition (Wordsworth Classics). They're sweet, aren't they?

Have a great time on your holiday, Madge! :-)

Hardy grew up in the area in southwest England where he placed Wessex, in a rural area, and spent a lot of time outdoors. And it shows wonderfully in his writing about nature. When I first read FFTMC,when I was still a fairly young reader, I skimmed over these parts as of no particular importance to what mattered, which was the story and events. But one of the benefits of re-reading is that one can focus on other elements of a book, and in my later readings of FFTMC I appreciated much more these glorious passages.

The description of Norcombe Hill in chapter 2 is an excellent example of someone who has stood on such a hill at night and actually, which few people today do, listened to nature.

Between this half-wooded half-naked hill, and the vague still horizon that its summit indistinctly commanded, was a mysterious sheet of fathomless shade - the sounds from which suggested that what it concealed bore some reduced resemblance to features here. The thin grasses, more or less coating the hill, were touched by the wind in breezes of differing powers, and almost of differing natures - one rubbing the blades heavily, another raking them piercingly, another brushing them like a soft broom. The instinctive act of humankind was to stand and listen, and learn how the trees on the right and the trees on the left wailed or chaunted to each other in the regular antiphonies of a cathedral choir; how hedges and other shapes to leeward then caught the note, lowering it to the tenderest sob; and how the hurrying gust then plunged into the south, to be heard no more.

What a glorious description of the natural music of a hillside.

I hope people didn't rush past the following passage. Connecting scientific observation with human self-understanding is a feature of Victorian writing, reveling in an era of great scientific emphasis, which I greatly enjoy. (George Eliot also has this trait of the interactivity of science and human, as for example in her famous passage on the pier glass.) This from Hardy, Book 2:

To persons standing alone on a hill during a clear midnight such as this, the roll of the world eastward is almost a palpable movement. The sensation may be caused by the panoramic glide of the stars past earthly objects, which is perceptible in a few minutes of stillness, or by the better outlook upon space that a hill affords, or by the wind, or by the solitude; but whatever be its origin the impression of riding along is vivid and abiding. The poetry of motion is a phrase much in use, and to enjoy the epic form of that gratification it is necessary to stand on a hill at a small hour of the night, and, having first expanded with a sense of difference from the mass of civilized mankind, who are dreamwrapt and disregardful of all such proceedings at this time, long and quietly watch your stately progress through the stars. After such a nocturnal reconnoitre it is hard to get back to earth, and to believe that the consciousness of such majestic speeding is derived from a tiny human frame.

Hardy has been described as a fatalist -- one who believes that the fates have much more control over our lives than we do, that we are in the end the playthings of fate, and that all we can do is submit and "keep on goin' on" the best we can, as Oak does in the episode of the death of his flock; he doesn't curse God or despair, he grieves briefly, then just accepts what fate had done to him and moves on as best he can.

His first feeling now was one of pity for the untimely fate of these gentle ewes and their unborn lambs.

It was a second to remember another phase of the matter. The sheep were not insured. All the savings of a frugal life had been dispersed at a blow; his hopes of being an independent farmer were laid low - possibly for ever. Gabriel's energies, patience, and industry had been so severely taxed during the years of his life between eighteen and eight-and-twenty, to reach his present stage of progress, that no more seemed to be left in him. He leant down upon a rail, and covered his face with his hands.

Stupors, however, do not last for ever, and Farmer Oak recovered from his. It was as remarkable as it was characteristic that the one sentence he uttered was in thankfulness:--

`Thank God I am not married: what would she have done in the poverty now coming upon me!'

And when we next see Oak, at the start of the next chapter, we see the other side of Hardy's view of fatalism and human response:

Gabriel was paler now. His eyes were more meditative, and his expression was more sad. He had passed through an ordeal of wretchedness which had given him more than it had taken away. He had sunk from his modest elevation as pastoral king into the very slime-pits of Siddim; but there was left to him a dignified calm he had never before known, and that indifference to fate which, though it often makes a villain of a man, is the basis of his sublimity when it does not. And thus the abasement had been exaltation, and the loss gain.

Reminiscent of Kipling's poem If:
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
...
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;

I thought that scene with the ewes was exceptionally powerful, striking. It has stuck with me actually.

So, what do we all think of the novel so far? I see that Everyman has contributed some excellent observations too. Terrific!

Some of my thoughts--

First, I strongly recommend that you pay attention to the 'hints' provides at the top of each chapter. They are intriguing to consider as one reads the chapter.

One other thing, make sure to note and follow Hardy's use of the color 'red' and 'crimson' throughout the novel. I would like to talk about this with all of you when we reach the end. It is there, little hints and bits, throughout the novel.

Names in Hardy's novels are important too, and it is worth thinking the about the first name that we encounter:

'Gabriel Oak'
Gabriel=the divine angel; interpreter of divine visions
Oak=massive, stately, strong, long-lived

and then there's our author, Hardy=strong, steady.

What did you think of the young woman, as yet unidentified, sitting in the wagon looking at herself in the mirror and Gabriel's reaction?

Chapter II

Starts at midnight on the eve of St. Thomas (December 22nd), or Winter Solstice. In one sentence Hardy mixes the pagan and the sacred. Everyman has shared the beautiful passages about Norcombe Hill and the night sky. Hardy was profoundly interested in astronomy, and even wrote a novel, Two on a Tower, about an amateur astronomer and his love relationship.

Gabriel standing on the hill with the night sky above, watching over his flock, knows the time without a watch--a man in touch with Nature--he is the 'Good Shepherd.'

I loved the little scene of Gabriel 'spying' on the young woman and her older companion with the two cows in the shed. First, there's the Biblical and Miltonian reference to Genesis; and then there's the second allusion of David spying on Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah the Hittite, as she bathes.

Chapter III

"My name is Gabriel Oak."
"And mine isn't."

I just knew I'd love this novel from this point forward! ;-)

Chapter IV

Even though it is alluded to previously in Chapter II, the next formal name that we encounter is, Bathsheba Everdene.

Bathsheba='Daughter of the Oath' and was the wife of Uriah the Hittite, and ultimately seduced by David (a former shepherd).
Everdene=I see 'Eve' and 'Eden' in this name?

Chapter IV

What did you think of Gabriel's vow to Bathsheba upon the rejection of his marriage proposal--

"I shall do one thing in this life--one thing certain--that is, love you, and long for you, and keep wanting you till I die."

Chapter V

Yikes! Gabriel has lost everything...

"George's son had done his work so thoroughly that he was considered too good a workman to live, and was, in fact, taken and tragically shot at twelve o'clock that same day."

But as Everyman has pointed out, Gabriel just sucks it up, perseveres, and moves forward.

Chapter VI

The job-fair for poor unemployed Gabriel. In fact, he has to prepare a 'resume' by having a shepherd's crook and smock made for him.

Hardy designates Gabriel as the "pastoral King" who could pipe with "Arcadian sweetness." 'Arcadia' was the legendary realm of pastoral happiness in ancient Greece.

Gabriel's good work saving the hay-ricks from the fire earns him a job with his new mistress, Bathsheba Everdene.

Well, this is probably enough for now. I do hope that all of you are enjoying this wonderful novel.

I skimmed the comments, can't wait to read this ... waiting for my copy to arrive.

Chris, when you refer to the "hints", do you mean the chapter titles?

Laura wrote: "I skimmed the comments, can't wait to read this ... waiting for my copy to arrive.

Chris, when you refer to the "hints", do you mean the chapter titles?"

Laura, that is precisely what I am referring to.

For example--

Chapter I
"Description of Farmer Oak -- An Incident"

I am really like how Hardy lets the reader into the novel. I literally felt I was peering with Gabriel looking in on the women.

I think he there may be a judgement made that when she is looking in the mirror that she it is vain but I am guessing the opposite probably. Maybe she doesn't exactly see herself as a beauty but it is reflected in other's thoughts and viewing of her that the beauty is manifested?

Thanks for pointing out the headers. I was glancing at them thinking there had to be some importance.

The surname Oak I thought suited his character: sturdy, uncomplicated, constant.

Christopher wrote: "First, I strongly recommend that you pay attention to the 'hints' provides at the top of each chapter. They are intriguing to consider as one reads the chapter."

Must be special to your edition -- mine doesn't have any hints at the chapter heads. Unless you mean the chapter titles?

Christopher wrote: ""George's son had done his work so thoroughly that he was considered too good a workman to live, and was, in fact, taken and tragically shot at twelve o'clock that same day.""

Even more compelling to me than this comment was the rest of that sentence: "another instance of the untoward fate which so often attends dogs and other philosophers who follow out a train of reasoning to its logical conclusion, and attempt perfectly consistent conduct in a world made up so largely of compromise."

That's a comment that bears some thinking about. It's certainly true of many dogs; but isn't it also true of many people? Hardy's is a very Aristotelian remark.

I loved the character of Joseph Poorgrass so funny without meaning to be! In fact, I loved the entire chapter with its funny portrayals of both Joseph, (the owl incident and the prayers for the fence opening) "No, no: what's right is right, and I never said sir to the bird, knowing very well that no man of a gentlemen's rank would be hollering there at that time o'night." I makes me lol a even as I write it.

I also liked the computation of the maltster's age. As he was describing his years, I was counting up too! I agan lol'ed when the age was yelled out of one hundred seventeen. "Well, then, that's my age," said the maltster emphatically."

...a young married man who having no individuality ...was know as Susan's Tall's husband. Henery Fray with the extra e All of this, one could just picture going on in the tavern.

Too funny, so good, I am enjoying this!

Gabriel in love so quickly, not really knowing Bethsheba but seeming to love her. Imagine if someone today was spying through a hole in the roof. He would be arrested and hauled away to jail. They all seemed to take it very well especially Bethsheba.

Marialyce wrote: "I loved the character of Joseph Poorgrass so funny without meaning to be! In fact, I loved the entire chapter with its funny portrayals of both Joseph, (the owl incident and the prayers for the fe..."

I agree, the scene in the malthouse is wonderful. I know very few books where so many characters of such different characteristics are so vividly presented in such a short amount of text. "Susan Tall's husband" -- that tells volumes.

Jacob, on receiving the order to see if the liquor was warm enough, placidly dipped his forefinger into it by way of thermometer, and having pronounced it nearly of the proper degree, raised the cup and very civilly attempted to dust some of the ashes from the bottom with the skirt of his smock-frock, because Shepherd Oak was a stranger.

`A clane cup for the shepherd,' said the maltster commandingly.

`No - not at all,' said Gabriel, in a reproving tone of considerateness.

How perfect a way of showing how Oak managed to slide effortlessly into the group, not putting on any airs or acting the part of a stranger.

And that story of how Everdene found comfort with his wife! `Well, now, you'd hardly believe it, but that man - our Miss Everdene's father - was one of the ficklest husbands alive, after a while. Understand, 'a didn't want to be fickle, but he couldn't help it. The poor feller were faithful and true enough to her in his wish, but his heart would rove, do what he would. He spoke to me in real tribulation about it once. "Coggan," he said, "I could never wish for a handsomer woman than I've got, but feeling she's ticketed as my lawful wife, I can't help my wicked heart wandering, do what I will." But at last I believe he cured it by making her take off her wedding-ring and calling her by her maiden name as they sat together after the shop was shut, and so 'a would get to fancy she was only his sweetheart, and not married to him at all. And as soon as he could thoroughly fancy he was doing wrong and committing the seventh `a got to like her as well as ever, and they lived on a perfect picture of mutel love.

Perfect!

Marialyce wrote: "I loved the character of Joseph Poorgrass so funny without meaning to be! In fact, I loved the entire chapter with its funny portrayals of both Joseph, (the owl incident and the prayers for the fe..."

The malthouse scene is really Hardy's use of the 'chorus' of the Greek tragedies. Shakespeare used the same thing, and that is generally to provide you (the reader) with some background or even special information important to the plot.

You can see with the sections that Everyman has provided above, just how "effortlessly" Hardy has slid information in about Bathsheba's father and her parent's marital situation. Watch for this literary technique throughout the novel; and, in fact, it is used to some degree in all of Hardy's novels.

Mr. Hardy does seem to be a master at the art of story telling. Things do seem to flow seamlessly along, even to the death of the ewes. All is taken in stride and one moves on and makes the best of a situation. Unlike today, where everything seems overblown and the media feed upon tragedy like blood suckers. It was a simpler time but not without its tragedies. People took their pleasure in their difficult lives by camaraderie and the joining together in times of stress and times of joy. I loved the way all pitched in together to fight the fire as an example. The community was forced to be just that, a community. In today's life, many are lucky if they know their next door neighbor.

Thanks, for the insight into how Hardy has come up with this seemingly effortless way of writing.

Everyman wrote: "Hardy has been described as a fatalist -- one who believes that the fates have much more control over our lives than we do, that we are in the end the playthings of fate, and that all we can do is ..."

Everyman, I am glad you brought this up about fatalism. Is this one of the primary interpretations of Hardy's work? I have always thought when reading "about" Hardy's work, that there was a line of something that set him apart, but have never been enough of a scholar to read him and then figure it out.

I think this passage was good one that you included in your comment:
but there was left to him a dignified calm he had never before known, and that indifference to fate which, though it often makes a villain of a man, is the basis of his sublimity when it does not

Hardy talks of Gabriel's sublimity -- is fatalism one route to being able to rise to sublimity in spite of the dealings of life?

Because in many ways (and I haven't completed reading the book) Oak does not seem downtrodden or really in submission. There seems more strength and purpose -- he is living in a new state of some kind. It also seems a contrast that he is not now his own master, and works for Baths., but he does seem elevated in some way.

Christopher wrote: "Laura wrote: "I skimmed the comments, can't wait to read this ... waiting for my copy to arrive.

Chris, when you refer to the "hints", do you mean the chapter titles?"

Laura, that is precisely wh..."

I do like these very much.

Christopher wrote: "So, what do we all think of the novel so far? I see that Everyman has contributed some excellent observations too. Terrific!

Some of my thoughts--

First, I strongly recommend that you pay atten..."

Chris,

I will certainly come back to all your comments and read through them some more -- so helpful. Thoughts of Gabriel have struck me first. I just responded above about Gabriel to Everyman too. Gabriel has also proven himself indispensable to the whole community it seems early into his time there. Also remember the incident of his saving the sick sheep who have eaten the clover? All the hands told her, only he can save these sheep, you must bring him back (Baths. had fired him). Had he become the center of strength at that point - both strength and sort of divine healing?

I've just started the book and am only two chapters in, it's my first time of reading. I have skimmed alot of the comments above until I get to the end of this section but I'll come back to review in more detail once I have. I think I respond to books in quite an emotional way and hope reading the comments in this discussion will help me to think critically as well.

Amazingly, considering how much I read and where I live (in the South West of England) I only read my first Hardy novel this year - it was Jude the Obscure and it made me realise that I have been missing out in not coming to his work earlier.

In so far as I have read, I agree with those pointing out the beautiful, accurate description of the land, nature and night skies - it is detailed and evocative but I must admit that it is usually the characters that draw me into a novel, and so is the case here. Gabriel Oak - a perfect name for him, I can see that already. I was captivated by his first glipse of the unknown woman sat on the carriage - I felt like an unobserved bystander myself. The unconscious actions of someone not knowing themselves to be seen are revealing, it made me want to know what she was thinking. When he witnesses her riding in an unconscious, unladylike way - I thought this was telling about her character and already I'm as intrigued by Bathsheba as he is!

Em wrote: "I've just started the book and am only two chapters in, it's my first time of reading. I have skimmed alot of the comments above until I get to the end of this section but I'll come back to review..."

Em, I always liked that little scene too-- of Bathsheba leaning straight backwards onto the horse's back, her black hair almost like another tail. Also, it is clear that she is astride the horse, and not side-saddle. It is the picture of a human being who is perfectly relaxed and joyful at just being alive at that singular moment. Hardy is so darned good at writing these little vignettes that tell his readers so much about the characters.

I am so glad that you are enjoying the book, Em! Cheers! Chris

P.S. I am so envious of you living in 'Wessex', and I hope you get the opportunity to explore Hardy country with your family! By the bye, I just finished "Jude" a few days ago. Wow! Powerful stuff, that novel!

I'm a town-dweller myself, more Cotswolds than anything but have spent alot of time in Dorset and agreed, I'm lucky to be with easy reach.

Oh, "Jude" was devastating!

Sarah wrote: "Because in many ways (and I haven't completed reading the book) Oak does not seem downtrodden or really in submission. There seems more strength and purpose -- he is living in a new state of some kind. It also seems a contrast that he is not now his own master, and works for Baths., but he does seem elevated in some way. "

I'm not sure I get the point about "elevated," but I agree completely with the rest of your idea. He does seem to have derived strength from adversity -- the old "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." He has had a terrible personal tragedy, but he has overcome it and come out the other side resigned to his lot and somehow almost more content.

One thing I found interesting is that while he was the shepherd of his own flock, while we didn't see him for any real length of time, we didn't see him in any group of friends or acquaintances. He seemed very alone, very self-sufficient. But in the malthouse, he seems very much at home with this group of people, and almost seems to relish their company. Before, we saw him playing the flute only to himself. Now, we see him playing it for others.

While we can't really know what his previous life was like, because we see very little of it, there's a temptation to think that he has become a more social person as the result of turning from farmer back into shepherd.

Em wrote: "I was captivated by his first glipse of the unknown woman sat on the carriage - I felt like an unobserved bystander myself. The unconscious actions of someone not knowing themselves to be seen are revealing, it made me want to know what she was thinking."

I like that way of looking at it. And she was not only mysterious to us, but also to Oak, who at that time had no idea who she was, only that she certainly had a mind of her own, refusing to pay the extra penny she didn't think she owed. One does wonder what would have happened if Oak hadn't come along!

Everyman wrote: "Em wrote: "I was captivated by his first glipse of the unknown woman sat on the carriage - I felt like an unobserved bystander myself. The unconscious actions of someone not knowing themselves to b..."

She'd have paid the pence. What's she gonna do? Turn the wagon around with all of her belongings piled on it? Anyway, 'tis irrelevant, Gabriel paid (and now owes her).

Christopher wrote: "Anyway, 'tis irrelevant, Gabriel paid (and now owes her). "

Please explain how Gabriel owes her?

Everyman wrote: "Christopher wrote: "Anyway, 'tis irrelevant, Gabriel paid (and now owes her). "

Please explain how Gabriel owes her?"

Oh, for heaven's sakes, Everyman, it was a typo or transposition, 'she owes him.' Come on, cut me (and my tired fingers and brain) some slack. ;-)

I've just gotten started in the book, but I agree with Everyman about the effectiveness of the description. Away from artificial lighting the natural atmosphere takes on much more detail and one can actually see more. I've read two of Hardy's later books "Jude the Obscure" and "Mayor of Casterbridge" both of which were very depressing, but despite the tragedies, I'm enjoying the humor in this one. Imagine Gabriel peering in people's windows to see the time. Lots of peeking and spying and the importance of what one can see, so far.

Christopher wrote: "Everyman wrote: "Christopher wrote: "Anyway, 'tis irrelevant, Gabriel paid (and now owes her). "

Please explain how Gabriel owes her?"

Oh, for heaven's sakes, Everyman, it was a typo or transposi..."

I thought about that, but then I though maybe that was too obvious and you were saying something subtle and too brilliant for me to comprehend.

Everyman wrote: "Christopher wrote: "Everyman wrote: "Christopher wrote: "Anyway, 'tis irrelevant, Gabriel paid (and now owes her). "

Please explain how Gabriel owes her?"

Oh, for heaven's sakes, Everyman, it was..."

My dear friend, you give me entirely too much credit! ;-)

Christopher wrote: "Everyman wrote: "Em wrote: "I was captivated by his first glipse of the unknown woman sat on the carriage - I felt like an unobserved bystander myself. The unconscious actions of someone not knowin..."

I don't think she would have backed down!

Em wrote: "Christopher wrote: "Everyman wrote: "Em wrote: "I was captivated by his first glipse of the unknown woman sat on the carriage - I felt like an unobserved bystander myself. The unconscious actions o..."

You may well be correct, Em. ;-)

Another one of those little philosophical asides that Hardy (like Eliot and other Victorian writers) sprinkles through his work comes at the end of Chapter 7, after Gabriel's brief interaction with the unnamed young woman:

The young girl remained motionless by the tree, and Gabriel descended into the village of Weatherbury, or Lower Longpuddle as it was sometimes called. He fancied that he had felt himself in the penumbra of a very deep sadness when touching that slight and fragile creature. But wisdom lies in moderating mere impressions, and Gabriel endeavoured to think little of this.

(I also like the observation when he touches her wrist: "In feeling for each other's palm in the gloom before the money could be passed, a minute incident occurred which told much. Gabriel's fingers alighted on the young woman's wrist. It was beating with a throb of tragic intensity. He had frequently felt the same quick, hard beat in the femoral artery of his lambs when overdriven. It suggested a consumption too great of a vitality which, to judge from her figure and stature, was already too little." What great foreshadowing!

I love the way Hardy describes the agrarian culture. In his simplistic words, I felt the elegance of this occupation. Many of the novels I have read make farming sound like the bane of their existence. Fighting Mother nature and the winds of change seem to consume the characters so that we do not see them other than being farmers. Hardy, on the other hand, lets us see their inner workings. We know the struggles a farmer has, yet, he infuses them with such humanity that we are drawn to them and feel as if they are our friends or acquaintances.

I also learned that Hardy originally published this anonymously. I can't help but wonder why, he did such.

I have not read this book before. The only Hardy novel I've read is The Mayor of Casterbridge.

Just a few notes:

"dogs and other philosophers" Thanks, Everyman, I didn't catch that the first time.

Gotta love Henry/Henery who insists on the misspelling of his name to match its mispronunciation. Priceless.

I love the last bit at the end of Chapter 8. The list of his books and the statement that he'd gotten more out of those few books than better-off men had gained from whole libraries at their disposal. Makes me like and worry for our hero.

Kathy wrote: "I have not read this book before. The only Hardy novel I've read is The Mayor of Casterbridge.

Just a few notes:

"dogs and other philosophers" Thanks, Everyman, I didn't catch that the first time..."

Kathy, here you go! Here's the inspiration for Hardy's scene with "Henery." This is a pew in the St. Mary's church in Puddletown, Dorset. This was the town that Hardy re-named 'Weatherbury' in his fictional 'Wessex' in "Far From the Madding Crowd." Cool, huh?

Check this link out--

Actually, all of you might enjoy this little visual tour of Hardy Country, via this gentleman's wonderful photographs posted to his blog. Many of these locations are places described in FFTMC.

Enjoy!

Anna wrote: "I never feel that I wnat to sit down and chat with the people who populate Dickens "

I can generally agree with that. There a few I would have liked to have tea with (Aunt Betsy Trotwood for one), but in general, I agree that they are better observed than known personally.

Christopher: Cool!

Anna wrote: "I've just started, having not read Hardy since high school when I fell in love the assigned reading, Return of the Native, and plowed through Tess and Jude fairly quickly before being distracted by..."

Is Hardy representing how the different characters react when brought against fate? I guess if I had studied it as a particular subject I might be able tot recognize this better.

The poem was interesting -- it illustrates the idea well to me. Also, different though because the Titanic episode would have been one great act that few could challenge or move beyond -- at least those who were aboard. Hardy's story would be one where people could take different approaches. Or am I missing the whole point of fatalism?

Thanks for the poem, Anna. Definitely great food for thought for me.

Christopher wrote: "Kathy wrote: "I have not read this book before. The only Hardy novel I've read is The Mayor of Casterbridge.

Just a few notes:

"dogs and other philosophers" Thanks, Everyman, I didn't catch that ..."

I love this too. Immortalized more than just in the fiction, huh?

Sarah wrote: "Anna wrote: "I've just started, having not read Hardy since high school when I fell in love the assigned reading, Return of the Native, and plowed through Tess and Jude fairly quickly before being ..."

Sarah, you might be interested in my blog posting for today. I am actually blogging about Hardy's poetry.

Here

Thanks Chris!

Everyman wrote: "Another one of those little philosophical asides that Hardy (like Eliot and other Victorian writers) sprinkles through his work comes at the end of Chapter 7, after Gabriel's brief interaction with..."

It is an brief but very affecting exchange, quite fleeting but leaves you wondering how this fits in with the story - it seemed to me that it must.

I was just reflecting on how Hardy takes quite a bit of time, (practically puts the plot on hold in fact) to properly introduce all the different farm labourers. It seems he's taken alot of care to make sure we know them individually.

I'm trying not to read too much until I get caught up with this week's reading, so I don't believe anyone's brought this quote up yet. If so, please forgive.

From Chapter 4:

Love is a possible strength in an actual weakness.

What do you all think of that?

I think it is beautiful, Laura. Love can make us strong if it is given with all its heart. We, as humans, are considered weak when we are compared to what God's original plan was for us. It is through God's love, and human love that we soar as humans. All our weaknesses of spirit, mind, and body can be made so much the better if someone loves us. It allows us to be better than we were which I think is always a sign of strength

Consider the infant how weak he/she is. It is through the love of parents that the child grows strong not only physically but mentally.

I hope I have been able to make myself understood and not just ramble along. I think that is what it means (at least to me)

What an awesome interpretation, Marialyce!

I was thinking more about the vulnerabilities of love. You have to be vulnerable to someone else (weak) to really experience love.

But I think in context, Hardy may have intended a different meaning. Here's the next sentence:

Marriage transforms a distraction into a support the power of which should be, and happily often is, in direct proportion to the degree of imbecility it supplants.

Is he talking there about Gabriel's weakness for Bathsheba becoming a strength in marriage, because of the support they become to each other?

Thanks Laura...and I am sure Hardy did. Well an imbecile is an idiot so
marriage can take the place of an idiot's behavior by making them more steady and less able to do stupid things. Pretty funny when you think about it!