Six: Far From The Madding Crowd: Thomas Hardy

Two months passed away.

February. The month of Hiring Fair in the county town of Casterbridge. At one end of the street stood a crowd of carefree and hearty labourers seeking chance. Among these, carters and waggoners were distinguished by their hats having a piece of whip-cord twisted round it; thatchers wore a fragment of woven straw; shepherds held their sheep-crooks in their hands; and thus the situation required was known to the hirers at a glance. Among this crowd stood Gabriel Oak. 

"I am looking for a place myself - a bailiff's. Do you know anybody who wants one?" was his answer to any peasants who choose to make an inquiry.

Gabriel was pale 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 of pastoral king into very slime pits of Siddim; but there was left to him a dignified calm he had never before known. 

In the morning a regiment of cavalry had left the town, and a sergeant and his party had been beating up for recruits through the four streets. The day drew on. Gabriel found that the bailiff had no takers. He wished that he had joined the Sergeant and his party, to serve the country. He decided to offer himself in some other capacity.

All the farmers seemed to be wanting shepherds. Sheep-tending was Gabriel's speciality. Turning down an obscure street and entering an obscure lane, he went up to a Smith's shop.

"How long would it take you to make a shepherd's crook?"

"Twenty minutes."

"How much?"

"Two shillings."

He sat on a bench and the crook was made, a stem being given to him in the bargain.

He then went to a readymade clothes' shop which had large rural collection. He exchanged his overcoat for a shepherd's smock-frock. He hurried off to four streets and stood on the kerb of the pavement, as a shepherd, crook in hand.

When Oak had turned himself into a shepherd, it seemed that bailiff were in demand. Three farmers noticed him and drew near.

Dialogues followed:

"Where do you come from?"

"Norcombe."

"That's a long way."

"Fifteen miles."

"Whose farm were you upon last?"

"My own."

The inquiring farmer would edge away and shake his head dubiously. Gabriel, like his young dog was too good to be trustworthy: a novice. 

It is better to accept any chance that offers itself. It was the beginning of nightfall. Some merry men were whistling and singing by the corn-exchange. Gabriel's hand, touched his flute in his smoke-frock pocket. Here was an opportunity.

He drew out his flute and began to play "Jokey to the Fair" in the style of a man who had never known a moment's sorrow. Oak could pipe with Arcadian sweetness, and the sound of well-known notes cheered him. He played on with spirits, and in half an hour earned a pence.

By making inquiries, he found that there was another fair at Shottsford the next day.

"How far is Shottsford?"

"Ten miles the other side of Weatherbury."

"Weatherbury!" It was where Bathsheba had gone two months before. This information was like coming from night into noon.

"How far is it to Weatherbury?"

"Five or six miles."

Oak resolved to sleep at Weatherbury that night on his way to Shottsford. The road to Shottsford stretched through water-meadows traversed by brooks. On the higher level the dead leaves tapped the ground as they fell along here and there in the wind. Little birds in the hedges were rustling their feathers and tucking themselves comfortably for the night. He passed by Yalbury Wood where the game birds were rising to their roosts, and heard crack-voiced cock-pheasants "cu-uck, cuck" and the wheezy whistle of hens.

By the time he had walked three or four miles every shape in the landscape assumed a uniform blackness. He descended Yalbury Hill, and could just recognise ahead of him a waggon, drawn up under a great over-hanging tree by the roadside.

On coming closer, he found that no horses attached to it, the spot being quite deserted. The waggon seemed to have been left there for night. Beyond half a truss of hay heaped in the bottom, it was quite empty. Gabriel sat down on the shaft of the vehicle and considered his position. He walked the entire day, and wanted to lie down.

Eating his last slices of bread and ham, and drinking from the bottle of cider, he got into the waggon. He spread half the hay as a bed, and pulled the other half over him by way of bed-clothes, covering himself entirely, and feeling comfortable as ever he had been in life. Thinking of his misfortunes, amorous and pastoral he fell sleep.

In his sleep Oak felt that his waggon was in motion. Being a vehicle without spring, his head dandled up and down on the bay of the waggon like a kettledrum-stick. Then he distinguished voices in conversation, coming from the forepart of the waggon. Gabriel was very cautious, and his first sight as he lay in the hay was the sky: Charles's wain was getting towards the right angle with the Polestar. It must be about nine o'clock, Gabriel calculated. He stealthily turned to find out in whose hands he had fallen.

Two figures were dimly visible in front, sitting with their legs outside the waggon, one of whom was driving. It was the waggoner and they come from Casterbridge fair. A conversation was in progress, which continued thus:-

"Be as 'twill, she's a fine handsome body as far as looks be concerned. But that's only the skin of the woman, but this dandy cattle be as proud as a lucifer in their insides."

"Ay -- so 'a do seem, Billy Smallbury -- so 'a do seem." This utterance was very shaky by nature, and more so by circumstance, the jolting of the waggon had its affect upon the larynx of the speaker.

"She is a very vain female -- so it is said here and there."

"Ah, now. If so be 'tis like that, I can't look her in the face. Lord, no. Not I-- heh-heh-heh! Such a shy man as I be."

"Yes, she is very vain. 'Tis said that every night at going to bed she looks in the glass to put on her night cap properly."

"And not a married woman. Oh, the world."

"And she can play a piano, so it's said. Can play so clever, that she can make a psalm tune as well as the merriest loose song a man can wish for."

"Did you tell of it? A happy time for us, and I feel quite a new man. And how do she play?

"That I don't know, Master Poorgrass."

On hearing these conversations, Gabriel fancied that they might be talking about Bathsheba, but on further thinking he concluded that she might be another mistress of another farm. Not to alarm the speakers, Gabriel slipped out of the waggon unseen. 

He turned on an opening in the hedge, which turned out to be a stile and mounting thereon, he sat meditating whether to seek a cheap lodging or seek shelter under some  hay or corn-stack. The crunching jangle of wagon died upon his ear. He was about to walk on when he saw an unusual light on his left hand - appearing about half a mile distant. Oak watched it and the glow increased. Something was on fire.

Gabriel mounted the stile, and leaping down on the other side, upon what he found to be a ploughed soil, walked across the field in exact direction of the fire. The blaze, enlarged, as he approached nearer  by his neatness and its own increase.

The fire lighted up the outlines of ricks beside it. A rick-yard was the source of the fire. The rich orange glow of the fire reflected on his weary face. The whole front of his smock-frock and gaiters were covered with a dancing shadow pattern of thorn twigs, the light reaching him through a leafless intervening hedge. The metallic curve of his sheep-crook shone silver-bright in the abounding rays. He came up to the boundary fence, and stood to regain breath. It seemed the spot was unoccupied.

A long straw-stack was caught in fire, and almost turned to ashes. As wind blows the fire spreads inward and the flames swallow the straw-stack in full. 

Before Gabriel's eyes was a rick of straw, loosely put together, and the flames darted into it with lightning speed. It glowed on the windward side, rising and falling in intensity, like the coal of a cigar. A super bundle because of its own size rolled down with a whisking noise. Long flames bent themselves with a quiet roar. Dense smoke went off horizontally like passing clouds. Fire spread to the adjacent bundles of straw, illuminating the sheet of smoke. In the foreground, individual straws were consumed in red heat, sometimes appearing like knots of worms.

Oak found that the fire was spreading. A scroll of smoke blew aside and revealed to him a wheat-rick in juxtaposition with a decaying one, and behind this a series of others, composing the main corn produce of the farm; there was a regular connection with the remaining stacks.

Gabriel leaped over the hedge and saw that he was not alone. The first man he came to was running about in a great hurry, uttering, "Oh, man -- fire, fire! A good master and a bad servant is fire, fire! Oh, Mark Clark -- come! And you, Billy Smallbury -- And you Maryann Money -- And you Joseph Poorgrass and Mathew there, for his mercy endures forever!" Others gathered behind the first man and the smoke. Their shadows danced up and down timed by the jiggling of flames. They were ready to conform to the call, though in confusion.

"Stop the draught under the wheat-rick!" cried Gabriel to those nearest him. The corn stacks stood on stone staddles, and between these, yellow tongues of burning straw licked and darted playfully. Once the fire got under this all would be lost.

"Get a tarpaulin -- quick," said Gabriel.

A rick-cloth was brought and they hung it like a curtain across the channel. The flames immediately ceased to go under the bottom of the corn stacks, and stood up vertically.

"Stay here with a bucket of water and keep the cloth wet," said Gabriel.

The flames, now driven upwards, began to attack the angles of the huge roof covering the wheat-stacks.

"A ladder," cried Gabriel.

"The ladder was against the straw-rick and burnt to a cinder," cried a spectre-like form in the smoke.

Oak seized the cut ends of the sheaves, as if he were going to engage in the operation of reed-drawing and digging in his feet, and occasionally sticking in the hem of his sheep-crook, he clambered up the beetling face.

To be continued after Notes.

Notes:-

1. Hiring fare in the county town of Casterbridge. These were held in markets and streets. It facilitated the hiring of farm servants for a fixed period, often six months or a year. They were also called statute fairs or mop fairs.

Now let us examine the history of farm workers in Malabar during the same period. Hiring fairs were not prominent in Malabar. Labour was often secured through Oozhiyam a form of forced labour.

Oozhiyam involved low caste individuals performing unpaid labour for temples, higher castes, and the government. The British abolished slavery in 1843, with some former slaves finding works in plantations, tiles and weaving factories.

2. Casterbridge: It is the fictional name for the town of Dorchester. 

You may find it interesting that there is a Casterbridge School in Ballia District of U.P. India 

3. Corn Exchanges: In 19th century Britain, corn exchanges were buildings specifically designed for the trade of grains, primarily wheat, barley and other cerals, which were collectively referred to as corn in Britain. Here farmers could meet merchants to sell their products.

In modern times the need for corn exchange diminished because of imports of cheaper grains. Many of the buildings were repurposed for other uses like concert halls, meeting spaces, and even theatres.

4. Siddim: The valley of Siddim mentioned in the Bible (Genesis:14) is described as a valley containing several slime pits.

5. Jokey to the Fair originated in mid 18th century. A traditional English dance tune had gained popularity in England, Ireland, and America.

6. Arcadian sweetness: Likely refers to a description of a fragrant, flavourable, and potentially idyllic quality associated with the term Arabian, a word derived from the Greek region of Arcadia.

7. Charles's wain: a bright circumpolar asterism on the northern sky, said to resemble a waggon or cart.

8. Pole star refers to Polaris also known as Northern Star, located in the constellation of Ursa Major 

9. Ay --so 'a do seem: Ay is an old fashioned affirmation similar to yes.

"So 'a do seem" is a colloquial expression meaning "so it seems"

10. Stile ഒതുക്ക് : An arrangement of steps that help people to climb over a fence.

11. Beetling: (Of a rock or a person's eye-brows) prominent or over hanging.

12. Reed-drawing is a process in the harvesting of corn. It refers to the process of drawing out reed or straw from sheaves. These reeds were used for thatching roof. The novel was first published in 1874. This action highlights Oak's farming knowledge. The early chapters describe him as a shepherd. 

Chapter Six to Continue 

Gabriel sat at once on the apex, his legs on each side of it. He began to beat off the fiery fragments lodged thereon. "Get me a bough and a ladder, and some water," he shouted down.

Billy Smallbury--who had been on the wagon -- had by this time found a ladder, which Mark Clark ascended beside Oak. The smoke at this corner was stifling, and Clark, to whom a bucket of water was handed bathed Oak's face, and sprinkled him generally. A long beech-bow reached Oaks hand, in addition to his crook in the other hand. He began sweeping the stack and disloging all cinders and embers. On the ground, the men were hurrying to keep down the conflagration, which was not much. They were tinted orange, and backed up by tall shadows as tall as fir trees. Round the corner of the largest stack, out of the direct rays of the fire, stood a pony, bearing a young woman on its back. By her side was another female on foot. These two seemed to keep a distance from the fire, that the horse might not become restive. 

"He is a shepherd," said the woman on foot.  "Yes -- he is. See how his crook shines as he beat the rick with it. And his smock-frock is burnt in two holes, I declare! A fine shepherd he is too, ma'am." 

"Whose shepherd is he?" said the woman on pony in a clear voice.

"Don't know ma'am." 

"Don't any of others know?" 

"Nobody at all -- I have asked them. Quite a stranger." 

The young woman on the pony rode out from the shade and looked anxiously around.

"Do you think the barn is safe?" she said.

"Do you think the barn is safe, Jan Coggan?" said the second woman, passing on the question to the nearest man.

"Safe now. Atleast I think so. If this rick had gone the barn would have followed. The bold shepherd had saved it."

"He does work hard," said the young woman on horseback, looking up at Gabriel through her thick woollen veil. "I wish he was a shepherd here. "Don't any of you know his name?"

"Never heard his name in my life, or saw him before." 

Gabriel began to descend from his elevated position.

"Maryann," said the girl on the horseback, "go to him as he comes down, and say that the farmer wishes to thank him for his great service."

Maryann stalked off towards the rick and met Oak at the foot of the ladder.

She delivered her message.

"Where is your master?" asked Gabriel, the idea of getting an employment kindling within him.

'Tisn't master; 'tis a mistress." 

"A woman farmer?" 

"Aye, and a rich one too!" said a bystander. "Have come from a distance. Took on her uncle's farm, who died suddenly. Used to measure his money in half-pint cups. They say now that she has business in every bank in Casterbridge, and thinks no more of playing pitch-and-toss-sovereign than you and I do pitch half a penny - not a bit in the world, shepherd." 

"That's she, back here upon the pony," said Maryann, "her face covered up in a cloth with holes in it."

Oak, his features black, grim and undiscoverable from the smoke and heat, his smock-frock burnt into holes, dripping with water, the ash stem of his sheep-crook charred, advanced with the humility and adversity thrust upon him to the slight female from in the saddle. He lifted his hat with respect, and not without gallantry: stepping close to her hanging feet, he said in a hesitating voice:--

"Do you happen to want a shepherd, ma'am?"

She lifted the Shetland veil tied round her face and looked all astonishment. Gabriel and his cold-hearted darling, Bathsheba Everdene 

were face to face.

Bathsheba did not speak, and he mechanically repeated in an abashed and sad voice, "Do you want a shepherd, ma'am?" 

The End of Chapter Six

Notes:-

Shetland veil is a kind of fine hand-knitted lace veil made from delicate wool of native Shetland sheep.