Forty Five: Far From The Madding Crowd: Troy's Romanticism

When Bathsheba had left the house at the previous night, Troy's first act was to cover the dead from the sight.

This done he ascended the stairs, and throwing himself down upon the bed, dressed as he was, waited for the morning.

Twenty pounds having been secured from Bathsheba, he had managed to add to the sum every farthing, he could muster on his account, which had been seven pounds ten.  With this money, twenty seven pounds ten in all, he had hastily driven from the gate that morning to keep his appointment with Fanny Robin.  On reaching Casterbridge, he left the horse and trap at an inn and went to the bridge at the other end of the town, and sat on the parapet.  The clocks struck the hour, and Fanny not appeared.  In fact, at that time she was being robed in her grave clothes by two attendants at the Union House.  They were the only women who honoured her.  Troy waited her for half an hour.  This was the second time she had broken a serious engagement with him.  In anger he vowed it should be her last. At eleven o'clock he returned to the inn for his trap, and in a bitter mood of indifference concerning the past, and recklessness about the future, drove on to Budmouth races.

He reached the racecourse and remained there, or in the town till nine.  Fanny's image returned to his mind, backed up by Bathsheba's reproaches, and he vowed he would not bet, and kept his vow, and on leaving the town his cash was with him except a few shillings.

He trotted slowly homeward.  He was struck for the first time with a thought that Fanny had been really prevented by illness from keeping her promise.  He regretted that he had not remained in Casterbridge and made inquiries.  Reaching home he quickly unharnessed the horse and came indoors.

As soon as it grew light enough to distinguish objects, Troy arose from the coverlet of the bed, and in a mood of absolute indifference to Bathsheba's whereabouts, he stalked downstairs, and left the house by the back door.  He walked towards the churchyard, entering which he searched around till he found a newly dug unoccupied grave.  The position of this having been marked he hastened to Casterbridge, only pausing and musing a while at the hill whereon he had last seen Fanny alive.

Reaching the town, Troy descended into a side street, and entered a gate on which was placed a board bearing the words, "Harrison, Stone and Marble Mason".  Stones of all sizes and designs, inscribed as being sacred to the memory of unnamed persons who had not yet died. 

Troy was coming to this place for the first time, and he never had the experience of buying a tombstone.

"I want a good tomb," he said to the man who stood in a little office within the yard.  "I want a best one for twenty seven pounds." 

"That sum included everything?" 

"Everything.  Cutting the name, Carriage to Weatherbury, and erection.  I want it now, at once." 

"We could not get anything special worked this week." 

"I must have it now." 

"If you would like one of these in stock it could be got ready immediately." 

"Very well," said Troy impatiently. Let me see what you have."

"The best I have in stock is this one," said the stone cutter, going into the shed.  "Here is a marble head stone beautifully crocketed with medallion beneath of typical subjects.  Here is the foot stone after the same pattern, and here's the coping to inclose the grave.  The polishing alone of the set cost me eleven pounds.  The slabs are the best of their kind, and I can warrant them from rain and frost for a hundred years." 

"How much?" 

"Well, I could add the name and put it at Weatherbury for the sum you mentioned." 

"Get it done today, and I'll pay the money now."

The man agreed, and wondered at such a mood in a visitor who wore not a shred of mourning. Troy then wrote the words which were to form the inscription, settled the account, and went away.  In the afternoon he came back, and found that the lettering was almost done.  He waited in the yard till the tomb was packed, saw it placed in the cart, and starting on its way to Weatherbury, giving directions to the two men who were to accompany it to inquire of the sexton for the grave of the person named in the inscription.

It was quite dark when Troy came out of Casterbridge.  He carried a heavy basket upon his arm with which he strode moodily along the road, resting occasionally at bridges and gates, whereon he deposited his burden for a time.  Midway on his journey he met in the darkness the men and the wagon which had conveyed the tomb.  He inquired if the work was done, and, on being assured that it was, he passed on again.

Troy entered Weatherbury churchyard about ten o'clock, and went immediately to the corner where he had marked the vacant grave early in the morning.  It was on the north side of the tower, screened to a great extent from the view of passers along the road -- a spot which, until lately, had been abandoned to heaps of stones and bushes of alder but it was now cleared and made orderly for interments by reason of the rapid filling of the ground elsewhere.

Here now stood a tomb, snow white and shapely in the gloom, with head and foot stone, and inclosing boarder of marbles work uniting them.  In the midst was mould suitable for plants.

Troy put his basket beside the tomb, and disappeared. When he returned he carried a spade and lantern, the light of which fell on the tomb.  He read the inscription.  Hung the lantern on the lowest bough of yew tree, and took from his basket flower- roots of several varieties.  There were bundles of snowdrops, hyacinths and crocus bulbs and so on.

Troy laid these out upon the grass and with an impassive face set to work to plant them.  Some of the summer flowers he placed over her head and feet, the lilies and forget-me-nots over her heart.

It was a cloudy, muggy, and very dark night, and the rays from the lantern spread into two old yews, with a strange illuminating power, flickering as it seemed to the black ceiling of cloud above.  A large drop of rain fell upon the back of his hand, and soon another dropped into the open side of lantern, whereupon the lantern went out.  Troy was weary, and midnight passed, and the rain threatening to increase, he resolved to leave the finishing touches until the day should break.  He groped along the wall and over the graves in the dark till he found himself round at the south side.

Here he entered the porch, and, reclining upon the bench within, fell asleep.

         END OF THE CHAPTER