omas Hardy
Far from the Madding Crowd
FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD
First published in 1874, this novel was an immediate bestseller. The story takes place in the fields and farms of the quiet English countryside, when harvests were gathered by hand, when carts were pulled by horses, and when people’s lives followed the pattern of the changing seasons.
That quiet rural world has long since gone, of course, but the passions that rule people’s lives have not changed. Within the everlasting circle of springtime and harvest, love burns as fiercely, as uncontrollably, as ever.
The beautiful Bathsheba Everdene has her own farm and does not need to marry. But she cannot fight off love for ever. There is the shepherd, Gabriel Oak, whose love for Bathsheba is quiet and steady. There is Farmer Boldwood, a serious, middle-aged man, who has never been in love before. And there is Sergeant Troy, a handsome young soldier in his bright red coat … Bathsheba is self-confident and independent, but she has much to learn about the violent passions of love.
PEOPLE IN THIS STORY
Bathsheba Everdene
Mrs Hurst, her aunt
Liddy, Bathsheba’s maid
Maryann, the cleaning-woman in Bathsheba’s house
Benjy Pennyways, Bathsheba’s farm manager
Gabriel Oak, a shepherd
Farmer William Boldwood, the owner of a large farm in Weatherbury
Sergeant Frank Troy, a soldier
Fanny Robin, a maidservant
The maltster, in Weatherbury village
Jacob Smallbury, the maltster’s son
Billy Smallbury, Jacob’s son
Joseph Poorgrass, a villager in Weatherbury
Jan Coggan, a villager in Weatherbury
Laban Tall, a villager in Weatherbury
1
Gabriel Oak falls in love
Gabriel Oak was a sensible man of good character, who had been brought up by his father as a shepherd, and then managed to save enough money to rent his own farm on Norcombe Hill, in Dorset. He was twenty-eight, a tall, well-built man, who did not seem, however, to think his appearance was very important.
One winter morning he was in one of his fields on the side of Norcombe Hill. Looking over his gate, Gabriel could see a yellow cart, loaded with furniture and plants, coming up the road. Right on top of the pile sat a handsome young woman. As Gabriel was watching, the cart stopped at the top of the hill, and the driver climbed down to go back and fetch something that had fallen off.
The girl sat quietly in the sunshine for a few minutes. Then she picked up a parcel lying next to her, and looked round to see if the driver was coming back. There was no sign of him. She unwrapped the parcel, and took out the mirror it contained. The sun shone on her lovely face and hair. Although it was December, she looked almost summery, sitting there in her bright red jacket with the fresh green plants around her. She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled, thinking that only the birds could see her. But behind the gate Gabriel Oak was watching too.
‘She must be rather vain,’ he thought. ‘She doesn’t need to look in that mirror at all!’
As the girl smiled and blushed at herself, she seemed to be dreaming, dreaming perhaps of men’s hearts won and lost. When she heard the driver’s footsteps, she packed the mirror away. The cart moved on downhill to the toll-gate. Gabriel followed on foot. As he came closer he could hear the driver arguing with the gatekeeper.
‘My mistress’s niece, that’s her on top of the furniture, is not going to pay you the extra twopence,’ said the driver. ‘She says she’s offered you quite enough already.’
‘Well, if she doesn’t pay the toll, your mistress’s niece can’t pass through the gate,’ replied the gatekeeper.
Gabriel thought that twopence did not seem worth bothering about, so he stepped forward. ‘Here,’ he said, handing the coins to the gatekeeper, ‘let the young woman pass.’
The girl in the red jacket looked carelessly down at Gabriel, and told her man to drive on, without even thanking the farmer. Gabriel and the gatekeeper watched the cart move away. ‘That’s a lovely young woman,’ said the gatekeeper.
‘But she has her faults,’ answered Gabriel.
‘True, farmer.’
‘And the greatest of them is what it always is with women.’
‘Wanting to win the argument every time? Oh, you’re right.’
‘No, her great fault is that she’s vain.’
A few days later, at nearly midnight on the longest night of the year, Gabriel Oak could be heard playing his flute on Norcombe Hill. The sky was so clear and the
