feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/cliffnotes/Far from the Madding Crowd/section_11_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: Far from the Madding Crowd.chapter 12
feat_summary_id: chapter 12
feat_summary: {"name": "Chapter 12", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20201101052914/https://www.cliffsnotes.com/literature/f/far-from-the-madding-crowd/summary-and-analysis/chapter-12", "summary": "Bathsheba followed up her decision to be a good farmer by attending the corn market at Casterbridge the next day. She saw how the men bargained, using facial contortions and gesticulations, manipulating their sticks as props or as prods for livestock as if they were extensions of their hands. She stood out, completely feminine, moving between them \"as a chaise among carts.\" She first approached farmers whom she knew and, as her confidence grew, gathered courage to address others. She had brought her sample bags of corn and was soon pouring grains into her hand with professional skill. The impression was conveyed that she was learning her business rapidly, despite her femininity. \"Strange to say of a woman in full bloom and vigour, she always allowed her interlocutors to finish their statements before rejoining with hers.\" But she stood firm on her pricings. The men were interested because of her pluck and admired her as much for that as for her appearance. Only one man seemed aloof -- a dignified, striking man of about forty. Because he ignored her, Bathsheba was convinced that he was unmarried. She was intrigued, and on the way home with Liddy she commented on him. Liddy did not know whom she meant. Just then a low carriage passed by with the mystery man in it, and Liddy identified him as Farmer Boldwood, whom Bathsheba had earlier refused to see. He didn't turn in greeting but rode indifferently by. The rest of the girls' trip was spent in conjecture as to the reason for his standoffishness. Had he been jilted? Was it merely that his nature was reserved? For each possibility Bathsheba offered, Liddy parroted agreement.", "analysis": "Obviously Hardy attended many country markets, appreciatively noting the mannerisms of the participants. Here he has preserved a bit of Wessexiana just on the verge of change. Bathsheba's character is developing. Shy in her appearance among so many unknown men, she nonetheless stands her ground for the furtherance of her farm and makes progress in achieving the respect of her competitors. Though it has been suggested that Hardy is somewhat antifeminist, the paragraph he devotes to Bathsheba's managerial techniques does not seem grudging. She lets the men talk, but \"in arguing on prices she held to her own firmly, as was natural in a dealer, and reduced theirs persistently, as was inevitable in a woman. But there was an elasticity in her firmness which removed it from obstinacy, as there was a naivete in her cheapening which saved it from meanness.\""}
text: 
  
  FARMERS--A RULE--AN EXCEPTION
  
  
  The first public evidence of Bathsheba's decision to be a farmer in
  her own person and by proxy no more was her appearance the following
  market-day in the cornmarket at Casterbridge.
  
  The low though extensive hall, supported by beams and pillars,
  and latterly dignified by the name of Corn Exchange, was thronged
  with hot men who talked among each other in twos and threes, the
  speaker of the minute looking sideways into his auditor's face and
  concentrating his argument by a contraction of one eyelid during
  delivery.  The greater number carried in their hands ground-ash
  saplings, using them partly as walking-sticks and partly for poking
  up pigs, sheep, neighbours with their backs turned, and restful
  things in general, which seemed to require such treatment in the
  course of their peregrinations.  During conversations each subjected
  his sapling to great varieties of usage--bending it round his back,
  forming an arch of it between his two hands, overweighting it on the
  ground till it reached nearly a semicircle; or perhaps it was hastily
  tucked under the arm whilst the sample-bag was pulled forth and a
  handful of corn poured into the palm, which, after criticism, was
  flung upon the floor, an issue of events perfectly well known to
  half-a-dozen acute town-bred fowls which had as usual crept into the
  building unobserved, and waited the fulfilment of their anticipations
  with a high-stretched neck and oblique eye.
  
  Among these heavy yeomen a feminine figure glided, the single one of
  her sex that the room contained.  She was prettily and even daintily
  dressed.  She moved between them as a chaise between carts, was heard
  after them as a romance after sermons, was felt among them like a
  breeze among furnaces.  It had required a little determination--far
  more than she had at first imagined--to take up a position here, for
  at her first entry the lumbering dialogues had ceased, nearly every
  face had been turned towards her, and those that were already turned
  rigidly fixed there.
  
  Two or three only of the farmers were personally known to Bathsheba,
  and to these she had made her way.  But if she was to be the
  practical woman she had intended to show herself, business must
  be carried on, introductions or none, and she ultimately acquired
  confidence enough to speak and reply boldly to men merely known to
  her by hearsay.  Bathsheba too had her sample-bags, and by degrees
  adopted the professional pour into the hand--holding up the grains
  in her narrow palm for inspection, in perfect Casterbridge manner.
  
  Something in the exact arch of her upper unbroken row of teeth, and
  in the keenly pointed corners of her red mouth when, with parted
  lips, she somewhat defiantly turned up her face to argue a point with
  a tall man, suggested that there was potentiality enough in that
  lithe slip of humanity for alarming exploits of sex, and daring
  enough to carry them out.  But her eyes had a softness--invariably a
  softness--which, had they not been dark, would have seemed mistiness;
  as they were, it lowered an expression that might have been piercing
  to simple clearness.
  
  Strange to say of a woman in full bloom and vigor, she always allowed
  her interlocutors to finish their statements before rejoining with
  hers.  In arguing on prices, she held to her own firmly, as was
  natural in a dealer, and reduced theirs persistently, as was
  inevitable in a woman.  But there was an elasticity in her firmness
  which removed it from obstinacy, as there was a _naivete_ in her
  cheapening which saved it from meanness.
  
  Those of the farmers with whom she had no dealings (by far the
  greater part) were continually asking each other, "Who is she?"
  The reply would be--
  
  "Farmer Everdene's niece; took on Weatherbury Upper Farm; turned away
  the baily, and swears she'll do everything herself."
  
  The other man would then shake his head.
  
  "Yes, 'tis a pity she's so headstrong," the first would say.  "But we
  ought to be proud of her here--she lightens up the old place.  'Tis
  such a shapely maid, however, that she'll soon get picked up."
  
  It would be ungallant to suggest that the novelty of her engagement
  in such an occupation had almost as much to do with the magnetism
  as had the beauty of her face and movements.  However, the interest
  was general, and this Saturday's _debut_ in the forum, whatever it
  may have been to Bathsheba as the buying and selling farmer, was
  unquestionably a triumph to her as the maiden.  Indeed, the sensation
  was so pronounced that her instinct on two or three occasions was
  merely to walk as a queen among these gods of the fallow, like a
  little sister of a little Jove, and to neglect closing prices
  altogether.
  
  The numerous evidences of her power to attract were only thrown into
  greater relief by a marked exception.  Women seem to have eyes in
  their ribbons for such matters as these.  Bathsheba, without looking
  within a right angle of him, was conscious of a black sheep among the
  flock.
  
  It perplexed her first.  If there had been a respectable minority on
  either side, the case would have been most natural.  If nobody had
  regarded her, she would have taken the matter indifferently--such
  cases had occurred.  If everybody, this man included, she would have
  taken it as a matter of course--people had done so before.  But the
  smallness of the exception made the mystery.
  
  She soon knew thus much of the recusant's appearance.  He was a
  gentlemanly man, with full and distinctly outlined Roman features,
  the prominences of which glowed in the sun with a bronze-like
  richness of tone.  He was erect in attitude, and quiet in demeanour.
  One characteristic pre-eminently marked him--dignity.
  
  Apparently he had some time ago reached that entrance to middle age
  at which a man's aspect naturally ceases to alter for the term of
  a dozen years or so; and, artificially, a woman's does likewise.
  Thirty-five and fifty were his limits of variation--he might have
  been either, or anywhere between the two.
  
  It may be said that married men of forty are usually ready and
  generous enough to fling passing glances at any specimen of moderate
  beauty they may discern by the way.  Probably, as with persons
  playing whist for love, the consciousness of a certain immunity under
  any circumstances from that worst possible ultimate, the having to
  pay, makes them unduly speculative.  Bathsheba was convinced that
  this unmoved person was not a married man.
  
  When marketing was over, she rushed off to Liddy, who was waiting
  for her beside the yellow gig in which they had driven to town.
  The horse was put in, and on they trotted--Bathsheba's sugar, tea,
  and drapery parcels being packed behind, and expressing in some
  indescribable manner, by their colour, shape, and general lineaments,
  that they were that young lady-farmer's property, and the grocer's
  and draper's no more.
  
  "I've been through it, Liddy, and it is over.  I shan't mind it
  again, for they will all have grown accustomed to seeing me there;
  but this morning it was as bad as being married--eyes everywhere!"
  
  "I knowed it would be," Liddy said.  "Men be such a terrible class of
  society to look at a body."
  
  "But there was one man who had more sense than to waste his time upon
  me."  The information was put in this form that Liddy might not for a
  moment suppose her mistress was at all piqued.  "A very good-looking
  man," she continued, "upright; about forty, I should think.  Do you
  know at all who he could be?"
  
  Liddy couldn't think.
  
  "Can't you guess at all?" said Bathsheba with some disappointment.
  
  "I haven't a notion; besides, 'tis no difference, since he took less
  notice of you than any of the rest.  Now, if he'd taken more, it
  would have mattered a great deal."
  
  Bathsheba was suffering from the reverse feeling just then, and they
  bowled along in silence.  A low carriage, bowling along still more
  rapidly behind a horse of unimpeachable breed, overtook and passed
  them.
  
  "Why, there he is!" she said.
  
  Liddy looked.  "That!  That's Farmer Boldwood--of course 'tis--the
  man you couldn't see the other day when he called."
  
  "Oh, Farmer Boldwood," murmured Bathsheba, and looked at him as he
  outstripped them.  The farmer had never turned his head once, but
  with eyes fixed on the most advanced point along the road, passed as
  unconsciously and abstractedly as if Bathsheba and her charms were
  thin air.
  
  "He's an interesting man--don't you think so?" she remarked.
  
  "O yes, very.  Everybody owns it," replied Liddy.
  
  "I wonder why he is so wrapt up and indifferent, and seemingly so far
  away from all he sees around him."
  
  "It is said--but not known for certain--that he met with some bitter
  disappointment when he was a young man and merry.  A woman jilted
  him, they say."
  
  "People always say that--and we know very well women scarcely ever
  jilt men; 'tis the men who jilt us.  I expect it is simply his nature
  to be so reserved."
  
  "Simply his nature--I expect so, miss--nothing else in the world."
  
  "Still, 'tis more romantic to think he has been served cruelly, poor
  thing'!  Perhaps, after all, he has!"
  
  "Depend upon it he has.  Oh yes, miss, he has!  I feel he must have."
  
  "However, we are very apt to think extremes of people.  I shouldn't
  wonder after all if it wasn't a little of both--just between the
  two--rather cruelly used and rather reserved."
  
  "Oh dear no, miss--I can't think it between the two!"
  
  "That's most likely."
  
  "Well, yes, so it is.  I am convinced it is most likely. You may take
  my word, miss, that that's what's the matter with him."
  
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Chapter 12
target: Bathsheba followed up her decision to be a good farmer by attending the corn market at Casterbridge the next day. She saw how the men bargained, using facial contortions and gesticulations, manipulating their sticks as props or as prods for livestock as if they were extensions of their hands. She stood out, completely feminine, moving between them "as a chaise among carts." She first approached farmers whom she knew and, as her confidence grew, gathered courage to address others. She had brought her sample bags of corn and was soon pouring grains into her hand with professional skill. The impression was conveyed that she was learning her business rapidly, despite her femininity. "Strange to say of a woman in full bloom and vigour, she always allowed her interlocutors to finish their statements before rejoining with hers." But she stood firm on her pricings. The men were interested because of her pluck and admired her as much for that as for her appearance. Only one man seemed aloof -- a dignified, striking man of about forty. Because he ignored her, Bathsheba was convinced that he was unmarried. She was intrigued, and on the way home with Liddy she commented on him. Liddy did not know whom she meant. Just then a low carriage passed by with the mystery man in it, and Liddy identified him as Farmer Boldwood, whom Bathsheba had earlier refused to see. He didn't turn in greeting but rode indifferently by. The rest of the girls' trip was spent in conjecture as to the reason for his standoffishness. Had he been jilted? Was it merely that his nature was reserved? For each possibility Bathsheba offered, Liddy parroted agreement.
feat_summary_analysis: Obviously Hardy attended many country markets, appreciatively noting the mannerisms of the participants. Here he has preserved a bit of Wessexiana just on the verge of change. Bathsheba's character is developing. Shy in her appearance among so many unknown men, she nonetheless stands her ground for the furtherance of her farm and makes progress in achieving the respect of her competitors. Though it has been suggested that Hardy is somewhat antifeminist, the paragraph he devotes to Bathsheba's managerial techniques does not seem grudging. She lets the men talk, but "in arguing on prices she held to her own firmly, as was natural in a dealer, and reduced theirs persistently, as was inevitable in a woman. But there was an elasticity in her firmness which removed it from obstinacy, as there was a naivete in her cheapening which saved it from meanness."