‘Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard’
Far From the Madding Crowd marks the second Hardy novel of my challenge, following hard on the heels of Tess of the D’Urbervilles (Book 3), and it is another novel which is dominated by a strong female figure, although a markedly less tragic one than the unfortunate Tess.
Bathsheba Everdene is Hardy’s headstrong heroine in this earlier pastoral text that follows her trials and tribulations in love. Placed in a remarkably independent position by the inheritance of her uncle’s farm, spirited Bathsheba decides to go it alone and manage the farm herself, seeing no need for marriage. Yet the captivating protagonist’s beauty is out of her control and earns her a trio of admirers in the form of loyal Gabriel Oak, obsessive Farmer Boldwood and dashing but dangerous Sergeant Troy.
Bathsheba’s position is quite extraordinary for a nineteenth century literary heroine, being the mistress of her own property and having no form of parental restriction or guidance. It is no surprise, therefore, that she has been of particular interests to feminists over the years. Her pursuit of an independent destiny and her determination to succeed by herself certainly make her a strong female exemplum, but she is by no means a feminist ideal.
Much like Tess’s ‘goodness made interesting’, Bathsheba is a complex character of competing passions and is all the more fascinating for it. While possessing rational judgement, she is often swayed by the force of her whim and becomes the puppet of desire after encountering serial seducer Troy. Bathsheba is also a victim of vanity and in this fault and in the strength of her passions embodies many feminine stereotypes of her time, a criticism that seems to rule out Hardy’s novel as a feminist text.
Yet for all these stereotypical tendencies, Bathsheba never fails to be a multi-faceted and fully believable character. Hardy’s insights into her mental turmoil demonstrate how passion erodes at reason and uncover the essential goodness she has at heart. She also, despite her surrender to her desires, remains a remarkably feisty and modern heroine and admirably protests against the patriarchal framework of her world, complaining that ‘it is difficult for a woman to define her feelings in a language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs’.
The men are, however, frequently incapable of expressing such emotions. Farmer Boldwood in particular is repression personified, suffocating emotions that fill him with ‘a fearful sense of exposure’ and forming an increasingly unhealthy obsession for Bathsheba. Unchecked passion may be warned against through Bathsheba’s fate, but Hardy’s depiction of Boldwood demonstrates that unacknowledged or hidden passion is just as undesirable.
Equally unappealing is Troy, another of Bathsheba’s suitors and also the lover of unfortunate maid Fanny Robin. While the handsome Sergeant can string together a pretty speech or two in his wooing of Bathsheba, his fickle and boyish nature soon becomes repellent rather than attractive and he stands as little more than a rakish stereotype, much like Alec in Tess of the D’Urbervilles – perhaps, however, not quite so despicable.
To continue the Tess parallels, this is another novel in which the male characters cannot live up to the heroine. There is one hero, however, in the unwaveringly loyal and frankly adorable Gabriel Oak, Bathsheba’s first sweetheart and one staunch friend and supporter throughout. In his constant love, simple goodness and harmonious connection to nature, the only real objection that might be made to Gabriel’s character is that he is a little too perfect; the good shepherd in every respect.
This brings me to the wealth of Biblical references in the novel and its ambiguous attitude towards religion. Both Gabriel and Bathsheba have Biblical namesakes whose characteristics can be seen reflected to some extent in their natures, while Gabriel’s profession as a shepherd, united with his many virtues, has obvious Biblical resonances.
Yet Gabriel’s goodness seems more innate and tied to the natural world than connected to religion and despite the constant influence of Christianity, most of the inhabitants of Hardy’s rural world are casual churchgoers at best. Indeed, the most ardent follower of religion, Joseph Poorgrass, is little more than a rustic butt of jokes; a hypocritical and ridiculous would-be preacher. Where, then, can we locate Hardy’s standing on religion?
Ambiguous too is the novel’s viewpoint on the rural world that it depicts, a world that during Hardy’s time was under the threat of encroaching modernity. This text does not engage much with the wider world beyond the farms and villages of the central characters and has as a result been criticised for ignoring social issues, but there is subtle mention of the modernisation sweeping across Britain and an implicit warning against threatening outside influences in the form of the corrupting Troy.
Although Hardy’s text takes its title from the Thomas Gray poem quoted above, his rural community is one that is far less peaceful and manages to have its fair share of noise and drama despite being remote from the bustle of the city. At the same time as enshrining the myth of the pastoral ideal, Hardy in another sense smashes it apart through the tragic disruptions caused by death and sorrow.
With a richly textured setting and cast of characters, Far From the Madding Crowd is a deliciously English novel that celebrates the pastoral without shying away from life’s bleak realities. While often idyllic, Hardy’s ‘sequester’d vale of life’ is far from a rural idyll.