Far from the Madding Crowd

by Thomas Hardy

  CHAPTER X

  MISTRESS AND MEN

  Half-an-hour later Bathsheba, in finished dress, and followed byLiddy, entered the upper end of the old hall to find that her men hadall deposited themselves on a long form and a settle at the lowerextremity. She sat down at a table and opened the time-book, pen inher hand, with a canvas money-bag beside her. From this she poureda small heap of coin. Liddy chose a position at her elbow and beganto sew, sometimes pausing and looking round, or, with the air ofa privileged person, taking up one of the half-sovereigns lyingbefore her and surveying it merely as a work of art, while strictlypreventing her countenance from expressing any wish to possess it asmoney.

  "Now before I begin, men," said Bathsheba, "I have two matters tospeak of. The first is that the bailiff is dismissed for thieving,and that I have formed a resolution to have no bailiff at all, but tomanage everything with my own head and hands."

  The men breathed an audible breath of amazement.

  "The next matter is, have you heard anything of Fanny?"

  "Nothing, ma'am."

  "Have you done anything?"

  "I met Farmer Boldwood," said Jacob Smallbury, "and I went with himand two of his men, and dragged Newmill Pond, but we found nothing."

  "And the new shepherd have been to Buck's Head, by Yalbury, thinkingshe had gone there, but nobody had seed her," said Laban Tall.

  "Hasn't William Smallbury been to Casterbridge?"

  "Yes, ma'am, but he's not yet come home. He promised to be back bysix."

  "It wants a quarter to six at present," said Bathsheba, looking ather watch. "I daresay he'll be in directly. Well, now then"--shelooked into the book--"Joseph Poorgrass, are you there?"

  "Yes, sir--ma'am I mane," said the person addressed. "I be thepersonal name of Poorgrass."

  "And what are you?"

  "Nothing in my own eye. In the eye of other people--well, I don'tsay it; though public thought will out."

  "What do you do on the farm?"

  "I do do carting things all the year, and in seed time I shoots therooks and sparrows, and helps at pig-killing, sir."

  "How much to you?"

  "Please nine and ninepence and a good halfpenny where 'twas a badone, sir--ma'am I mane."

  "Quite correct. Now here are ten shillings in addition as a smallpresent, as I am a new comer."

  Bathsheba blushed slightly at the sense of being generous in public,and Henery Fray, who had drawn up towards her chair, lifted hiseyebrows and fingers to express amazement on a small scale.

  "How much do I owe you--that man in the corner--what's your name?"continued Bathsheba.

  "Matthew Moon, ma'am," said a singular framework of clothes withnothing of any consequence inside them, which advanced with the toesin no definite direction forwards, but turned in or out as theychanced to swing.

  "Matthew Mark, did you say?--speak out--I shall not hurt you,"inquired the young farmer, kindly.

  "Matthew Moon, mem," said Henery Fray, correctingly, from behind herchair, to which point he had edged himself.

  "Matthew Moon," murmured Bathsheba, turning her bright eyes to thebook. "Ten and twopence halfpenny is the sum put down to you, Isee?"

  "Yes, mis'ess," said Matthew, as the rustle of wind among deadleaves.

  "Here it is, and ten shillings. Now the next--Andrew Randle, you area new man, I hear. How come you to leave your last farm?"

  "P-p-p-p-p-pl-pl-pl-pl-l-l-l-l-ease, ma'am, p-p-p-p-pl-pl-pl-pl-please,ma'am-please'm-please'm--"

  "'A's a stammering man, mem," said Henery Fray in an undertone, "andthey turned him away because the only time he ever did speak plainhe said his soul was his own, and other iniquities, to the squire.'A can cuss, mem, as well as you or I, but 'a can't speak a commonspeech to save his life."

  "Andrew Randle, here's yours--finish thanking me in a day or two.Temperance Miller--oh, here's another, Soberness--both women Isuppose?"

  "Yes'm. Here we be, 'a b'lieve," was echoed in shrill unison.

  "What have you been doing?"

  "Tending thrashing-machine and wimbling haybonds, and saying 'Hoosh!'to the cocks and hens when they go upon your seeds, and plantingEarly Flourballs and Thompson's Wonderfuls with a dibble."

  "Yes--I see. Are they satisfactory women?" she inquired softly ofHenery Fray.

  "Oh mem--don't ask me! Yielding women--as scarlet a pair as everwas!" groaned Henery under his breath.

  "Sit down."

  "Who, mem?"

  "Sit down."

  Joseph Poorgrass, in the background twitched, and his lips becamedry with fear of some terrible consequences, as he saw Bathshebasummarily speaking, and Henery slinking off to a corner.

  "Now the next. Laban Tall, you'll stay on working for me?"

  "For you or anybody that pays me well, ma'am," replied the youngmarried man.

  "True--the man must live!" said a woman in the back quarter, who hadjust entered with clicking pattens.

  "What woman is that?" Bathsheba asked.

  "I be his lawful wife!" continued the voice with greater prominenceof manner and tone. This lady called herself five-and-twenty, lookedthirty, passed as thirty-five, and was forty. She was a woman whonever, like some newly married, showed conjugal tenderness in public,perhaps because she had none to show.

  "Oh, you are," said Bathsheba. "Well, Laban, will you stay on?"

  "Yes, he'll stay, ma'am!" said again the shrill tongue of Laban'slawful wife.

  "Well, he can speak for himself, I suppose."

  "Oh Lord, not he, ma'am! A simple tool. Well enough, but a poorgawkhammer mortal," the wife replied.

  "Heh-heh-heh!" laughed the married man with a hideous effort ofappreciation, for he was as irrepressibly good-humoured under ghastlysnubs as a parliamentary candidate on the hustings.

  The names remaining were called in the same manner.

  "Now I think I have done with you," said Bathsheba, closing the bookand shaking back a stray twine of hair. "Has William Smallburyreturned?"

  "No, ma'am."

  "The new shepherd will want a man under him," suggested Henery Fray,trying to make himself official again by a sideway approach towardsher chair.

  "Oh--he will. Who can he have?"

  "Young Cain Ball is a very good lad," Henery said, "and Shepherd Oakdon't mind his youth?" he added, turning with an apologetic smile tothe shepherd, who had just appeared on the scene, and was now leaningagainst the doorpost with his arms folded.

  "No, I don't mind that," said Gabriel.

  "How did Cain come by such a name?" asked Bathsheba.

  "Oh you see, mem, his pore mother, not being a Scripture-read woman,made a mistake at his christening, thinking 'twas Abel killed Cain,and called en Cain, meaning Abel all the time. The parson put itright, but 'twas too late, for the name could never be got rid of inthe parish. 'Tis very unfortunate for the boy."

  "It is rather unfortunate."

  "Yes. However, we soften it down as much as we can, and call himCainy. Ah, pore widow-woman! she cried her heart out about italmost. She was brought up by a very heathen father and mother, whonever sent her to church or school, and it shows how the sins of theparents are visited upon the children, mem."

  Mr. Fray here drew up his features to the mild degree of melancholyrequired when the persons involved in the given misfortune do notbelong to your own family.

  "Very well then, Cainey Ball to be under-shepherd. And you quiteunderstand your duties?--you I mean, Gabriel Oak?"

  "Quite well, I thank you, Miss Everdene," said Shepherd Oak from thedoorpost. "If I don't, I'll inquire." Gabriel was rather staggeredby the remarkable coolness of her manner. Certainly nobody withoutprevious information would have dreamt that Oak and the handsomewoman before whom he stood had ever been other than strangers. Butperhaps her air was the inevitable result of the social rise whichhad advanced her from a cottage to a large house and fields. Thecase is not unexampled in high places. When, in the writings of thelater poets, Jove
and his family are found to have moved from theircramped quarters on the peak of Olympus into the wide sky above it,their words show a proportionate increase of arrogance and reserve.

  Footsteps were heard in the passage, combining in their characterthe qualities both of weight and measure, rather at the expense ofvelocity.

  (All.) "Here's Billy Smallbury come from Casterbridge."

  "And what's the news?" said Bathsheba, as William, after marching tothe middle of the hall, took a handkerchief from his hat and wipedhis forehead from its centre to its remoter boundaries.

  "I should have been sooner, miss," he said, "if it hadn't been forthe weather." He then stamped with each foot severely, and onlooking down his boots were perceived to be clogged with snow.

  "Come at last, is it?" said Henery.

  "Well, what about Fanny?" said Bathsheba.

  "Well, ma'am, in round numbers, she's run away with the soldiers,"said William.

  "No; not a steady girl like Fanny!"

  "I'll tell ye all particulars. When I got to Casterbridge Barracks,they said, 'The Eleventh Dragoon-Guards be gone away, and new troopshave come.' The Eleventh left last week for Melchester and onwards.The Route came from Government like a thief in the night, as is hisnature to, and afore the Eleventh knew it almost, they were on themarch. They passed near here."

  Gabriel had listened with interest. "I saw them go," he said.

  "Yes," continued William, "they pranced down the street playing 'TheGirl I Left Behind Me,' so 'tis said, in glorious notes of triumph.Every looker-on's inside shook with the blows of the great drum tohis deepest vitals, and there was not a dry eye throughout the townamong the public-house people and the nameless women!"

  "But they're not gone to any war?"

  "No, ma'am; but they be gone to take the places of them who may,which is very close connected. And so I said to myself, Fanny'syoung man was one of the regiment, and she's gone after him. There,ma'am, that's it in black and white."

  "Did you find out his name?"

  "No; nobody knew it. I believe he was higher in rank than aprivate."

  Gabriel remained musing and said nothing, for he was in doubt.

  "Well, we are not likely to know more to-night, at any rate,"said Bathsheba. "But one of you had better run across to FarmerBoldwood's and tell him that much."

  She then rose; but before retiring, addressed a few words to themwith a pretty dignity, to which her mourning dress added a sobernessthat was hardly to be found in the words themselves.

  "Now mind, you have a mistress instead of a master. I don't yet knowmy powers or my talents in farming; but I shall do my best, and ifyou serve me well, so shall I serve you. Don't any unfair ones amongyou (if there are any such, but I hope not) suppose that because I'ma woman I don't understand the difference between bad goings-on andgood."

  (All.) "No'm!"

  (Liddy.) "Excellent well said."

  "I shall be up before you are awake; I shall be afield before you areup; and I shall have breakfasted before you are afield. In short, Ishall astonish you all."

  (All.) "Yes'm!"

  "And so good-night."

  (All.) "Good-night, ma'am."

  Then this small thesmothete stepped from the table, and surged out ofthe hall, her black silk dress licking up a few straws and draggingthem along with a scratching noise upon the floor. Liddy, elevatingher feelings to the occasion from a sense of grandeur, floatedoff behind Bathsheba with a milder dignity not entirely free fromtravesty, and the door was closed.