If the sheep-shearing scene and the sword-play scene have deeper meanings, does the scene with Bathsheba and Troy and the bees with their hive mean something that I totally missed. In other words, when is a bee not just a bee?
That’s interesting about the interpretation of Hardy’s use of sleep to indicate following one’s desires. He does this for Troy, too. In Chapter 45, “Troy’s Romanticism”, Troy purchases the tomb and plants the flowers at Fanny’s grave site. He, now “so unlike himself” pushes himself to the point of exhaustion to complete his tribute and being weary, enters the porch and falls asleep. When he awakens and discovers the destruction of the gargoyle flood, he seems to contemplate his life for a short while, even “wished himself another man”. But he’s so weak!
At this point he just gives up, withdraws, and skips town to continue his new life for a short while on the sea and then in the traveling show. I think he loved Fanny in his own selfish way, but was incapable of being a decent, caring human being. I can’t imagine that if he had found Fanny and the baby in time that this man would have been a good husband and father. He just wasn’t strong enough!
I believe suggested in this short biography of Hardy (http://spartacus-educational.com/Jhardy.htm) that Hardy modeled his character Fanny after his young cousin Tryphena Sparks with whom he had some sort of attachment.
I’m paraphrasing here, but one of the essays I read said that at the hive, Troy puts on his first performance for Bathsheba; the second is the swordplay demonstration in the chapter immediately following. In donning Bathsheba’s broad-brimmed hat and veil, Troy feminizes himself. By so doing, he puts Bathsheba at ease and removes the last vestige of fear that keeps her from succumbing to his “sword.”
^ Just after this, Troy, still dressed in Bathsheba’s gear, says, “Would you be good enough to untie me and let me out? I am nearly stifled inside this silk cage.” The text suggests that he speaks as Bathsheba, stifled in her “silk cage” – soon to be released (metaphorically speaking) by Troy.
I am about halfway through the book of Thomas Hardy short stories called Life’s LIttle Ironies, and I am liking these stories better than I liked Far From the Madding Crowd.
My favorite story so far is one in which, although a man impregnates a young woman and leaves her, she is able to overcome her adversity by building a respectable life as a “widowed” music teacher in a town where she wasn’t known.
Although the descriptive passages in Far From the Madding Crowd didn’t do a whole lot for me, there have been some descriptions in this book of stories that I’ve really liked. Here is one example, from the story “A Tragedy of Two Ambitions”:
I can agree with the first part of the above but not this so much:
I guess it hits on what bothers me about literary analysis: I honestly can’t picture Hardy thinking along those lines as he writes. I had no patience (or aptitude) for analysis whilst in a class here or there that demanded it. At least here, I can say I missed the the sensuality because I’m “pure of heart” rather than obtuse. (“One way of looking at it is that ewe represents Bathsheba and the nick that Gabriel gives the animal is his subconscious desire to curtail her sexual appeal to other men (in this scene, Boldwood specifically.” Really? 8-|)
And re the dog who helps Fanny along the road: I think the dog furthers drives home that life can be unforgiving for those without home or friends. Both Fanny and the dog need someone to shelter them and neither get lucky.
Gabriel himself loses everything and goes through the uncertainty of wondering if he’ll find work, shelter, etc. He manages to rebuild his life through skill and hard work, while gaining the respect of those around him. Fanny’s pregnancy means that she can’t count on either her skills or hard work, at the same time losing the respect of others.
I fee the same way as ignatius about that particular piece of literary analysis. Isn’t this enough? " It was the removal of yet another stake from the palisade of cold manners which had kept him off "
^^^ Exactly!!!
I agree with you too, ignatius!
I received Hardy’s Under the Greenwood Tree. The introduction to this Wordsworth Classics paperback says it’s “one of the most greatly loved and perhaps the gentlest of Hardy’s books”. It’s only 146 pages in length. I’m going to read this next 
In the chapter of Madding Crowd Bathsheba, after Fanny’s body has been moved, says “…and I won’t read dismal books. Why should I read dismal books, indeed?” Oh the irony, indeed. I am not ready to read dismal Hardy, thus it’s the gentle Under the Greenwood Tree for me.
I was curious about what Hardy viewed as dismal reading for Bathsheba. She requests four books: *Maid’s Tragedy, Mourning Bride, Night Thoughts, and Vanity of Human Wishes/i. In the Maid’s Tragedy, the plot involves a bride who reveals she’s actually another man’s (the king’s!) mistress. Having married only to provide a cover for her affair, she refuses to allow consummation of the marriage. Or, Vanity of Human Wishes is centered about the theme that reason rarely guides the stubborn choice *. Oh Bathsheba! Dr. Syntax, one of the less dismal books Bathsheba chooses is actually titled *Dr. Syntax’s Three Tours In Search of the Picturesque, of Consolation, and of a Wife *. I’m hoping Under the Greenwood Tree will be closer to Syntax than Madding!
Also in the mail was * Young Thomas Hardy and Thomas Hardy’s Later Years * by Robert Giddings. I opened the book to look at the photos and arrived at the Appendix titled “Hardy and Tryphena Sparks” in which the biography’s author summarizes his very reasonable argument that Hardy and Sparks did not, as has been suggested, have an illegitimate son together. I did find it interesting that what is accepted fact is Hardy broke off an engagement with his young cousin/niece Tryphena Sparks, a girl “of his own countryside” and then “bestowed upon Emma the ring intended for the discarded maiden.” (p. 224). I can see how Hardy, when writing Far From the Madding Crowd might have used Tryphena Sparks as inspiration for Fanny, left behind by Troy in his momentary obsession with the dynamic Bathsheba.
I agree that literary analysis can be over-the-top, and I think it’s worse—far worse, really—with classics. So many essays have been written about the works of famous authors that you could probably find an entire paper analyzing the color of a scarf worn by a peripheral character in a minor scene. There’s a fine line between trying to seriously understand the text and imagining something silly that isn’t there at all.
In Hardy’s case, I’m inclined to believe that much of the symbolism we’ve discussed is legitimate, i.e., there truly is a deeper meaning behind the swordplay, gargoyles, sheep-shearing, brush fires and rainstorms. The question is, do we (and the thousands who have gone before us) guess right when we are trying to figure out Hardy’s message? And how self-aware was Hardy when he was writing? Did he deliberately choose certain symbols or did they work themselves subconsciously into the text?
For example, is the fact that Gabriel and Bathsheba work together during a lightning storm significant? I think so. The essay on “The Dialectics of Love” suggests that Gabriel’s building of a lightning rod symbolizes his ability to safely manage his passions and channel that energy into productivity. I don’t know if that’s true, but I think something was on Hardy’s mind when he had Gabriel build that rod, and it’s fun to guess what that might have been. He might not have known himself.
Here are two quotes on the subject, posted on our A.J. Fikry thread last year. The first is by Richard Bausch, author of “What Feels Like the World” (about the girl who tries to vault in a gymnastics competition). The second is from Ernest Hemingway.
I do think the symbols and metaphors in literature often come from the author’s subconscious.
Be sure to let us know how you like it, PlantMom!
As for Gabriel:
Gabriel and Bathsheba have somewhat different tastes. 
Wouldn’t you like a peek at their marriage (and their bookshelves) ten years hence?
And sometimes even more than the symbolism. A few years ago, Minnesota Public Radio interviewed the poet Robert Bly and had him read a poem from his most recent collection:
I took a whole English class in high school called “Symbolic Communications.” The teacher spent a lot of time talking about phallic symbols (so I loved your story, ignatius!). In retrospect, I think he was in part trying to (inappropriately) shock us, but after a while I saw phallic symbols everywhere. I still have the paper I wrote about Van Gogh’s skyward-reaching, twisted trees.
I finished the book last night and am pleased with the ending.
^ buenavista, I love the Robert Bly quote!
My daughters tell me that the opposite gender symbol is yonic. Apparently, to use the old SAT method, Vincent Van Gogh : Trees :: Georgia O’Keeffe : Flowers.
Going back to Momofadult’s post #42 for a minute…In reading about Hardy, I learned that he made his imaginary setting so palpably real that it became real in the mapping of the region. The word “Wessex” (for the south-west region of England) first appeared in Far From the Madding Crowd. Hardy wrote later:
Per Wikipedia, “Hardy’s conception of Wessex as a separate, cohesive geographical and political identity has proved powerful, despite the fact it was originally created purely as an artistic conceit, and has spawned a lucrative tourist trade, and even a devolutionist Wessex Regionalist Party.” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Hardy’s_Wessex
As long as we’re talking about intentional use of symbolism, and lit classes, how about the symbolism in the characters’ names? My kids had a field day analyzing the characters’ names when they read Shirley Jackson’s short story “The Lottery” once upon a time. I couldn’t help doing a little of the same when I read some of the names in this book.
Bathsheba Everdene: In the biblical story, King David espied the beautiful, married Bathsheba bathing. Then, finding her desirable, seduced and impregnated her, after which he tried to hide the sin from Bathsheba’s husband who eventually was killed in battle for King David. Everdene: Old English meaning derived from “eofor” plus “tun” which meant “farmstead where the wild boars are seen” (https://www.houseofnames.com/everdeen-family-crest).
Gabriel Oak: Gabriel–one of the biblical archangels. Oak: A solid tree, common to the countryside of northern Europe. Meaning of its Latin binomial genus name of Quercus is possibly Celtic for “beautiful tree”.
Sergeant Francis (Frank) Troy: Troy, a soldier’s name, meaning “descendant of foot soldier”. And then there are the Trojans and the city of Troy which wasn’t breached until the Trojan Horse slipped through the defenses of the stronghold. Perhaps Fanny is the symbolic horse who makes it past Sergeant Troy’s hard shell. Francis is a “Frenchman”.
William Boldwood. I’m surprised Hardy used Boldwood, since he already had an oak! But the rather wooden William was emboldened by his love for Bathsheba.
I think the name that made me smile most in this book was “Laban Tall”, the poor man hen-pecked by his domineering wife 
I felt sorry for him, but the name was amusing.
I liked that half the time Laban didn’t even get a name:
I guess I’m not part of the “pure at heart” crowd, because “Bold wood” seemed pretty straightforwardly phallic to me!
^ I guess we can thank “Symbolic Communications” for that!
PlantMom, as soon as I read the name “Gabriel Oak” in the first chapter, I guessed he would be the hero. Could there be a name that says more clearly, “solid and reliable man of God”? I’m not surprised that Hardy listed The Pilgrim’s Progress as one of Gabriel’s few books, as Gabriel, like Christian of PP, undergoes a trying journey before emerging victorious in the end.
I’m down with finding all the symbolism you like in the names! Aside from the phallic interpretations of Boldwood, I also thought he was a quiet person who lived in a metaphorical dark wood who became bold after meeting Bathsheba. Gabriel is obviously as solid as an oak tree. And Bathsheba - well that name sure implies sexual shenanigans, doesn’t it? (Not to mention having men fall in love with her by observing her from afar first - both Oak and Boldwood. Troy, in contrast, gets entangled with her without seeing her, but never really loves her.)
I also looked to connect the symbolism of the Trojan horse with Troy’s name. Here is where I lose my “pure of heart” status. I see Sergeant Troy as the one breaching and slipping through the strongholds of Fanny and Bathsheba. Could you buy Trojans in 1874? 