The Mayor of Casterbridge by Thomas Hardy - Chapter 16/45 (read by Bruce Pirie)

XVI. On this account Henchard's manner towards Farfray insensibly became more reserved. He was courteous, too courteous, and Farfray was quite surprised at the good breeding which now for the first time showed itself among the qualities of a man he had hitherto thought undisciplined, if warm and sincere. The corn-factor seldom or never again put his arm upon the young man's shoulder so as to nearly weigh him down with the pressure of mechanized friendship. He left off coming to Donald's lodgings and shouting into the passage, Hoy, Farfray, boy, come and have some dinner with us. Don't sit here in solitary confinement. But in the daily routine of their business there was little change. Thus their lives rolled on till a day of public rejoicing was suggested to the country at large in celebration of a national event that had recently taken place. For some time Casterbridge, by nature slow, made no response. Then one day Donald Farfray broached the subject to Henchard by asking if he would have any objection to lend some rickcloths to himself and a few others who contemplated getting up an entertainment of some sort on the day named, and required a shelter for the same, to which they might charge admission at the rate of so much ahead. Have as many cloths as you like, Henchard replied. When his manager had gone about the business, Henchard was fired with emulation. It certainly had been very remiss of him, as mayor, he thought, to call no meeting ere this to discuss what should be done on this holiday. But Farfray had been so cursed quick in his movements as to give old-fashioned people in authority no chance of the initiative. However it was not too late, and on second thoughts he determined to take upon his own shoulders the responsibility of organizing some amusements, if the other councilmen would leave the matter in his hands. To this they quite readily agreed, the majority being fine old crusted characters who had a decided taste for living without worry. So Henchard set about his preparations for a really brilliant thing, such as should be worthy of the venerable town. As for Farfray's little affair, Henchard nearly forgot it, except once now and then when, on it coming into his mind, he said to himself, Charge admission at so much ahead! Just like a Scotchman, who is going to pay anything ahead? The diversions which the mayor intended to provide were to be entirely free. He had grown so dependent upon Donald that he could scarcely resist calling him in to consult. But, by sheer self-coercion, he refrained. No, he thought, Farfray would be suggesting such improvements in his damned luminous way that in spite of himself he, Henchard, would sink to the position of second fiddle, and only scrape harmonies to his manager's talents. Everybody applauded the mayor's proposed entertainment, especially when it became known that he meant to pay for it all himself. Close to the town was an elevated green spot surrounded by an ancient square earthwork. Earthworks square and not square were as common as blackberries hereabout, a spot whereon the Casterbridge people usually held any kind of merry-making, meeting, or sheep-fair that required more space than the streets would afford. On one side it sloped to the river Frome, and from any point of view was obtained of the country round for many miles. This pleasant upland was to be the scene of Henchard's exploit. He advertised about the town, in long posters of a pink color, that games of all sorts would take place here, and set to work a little battalion of men under his own eye. They erected greasy poles for climbing, with smoked hams and local cheeses at the top. They placed hurdles in rows for jumping over. Across the river they laid a slippery pole, with a live pig of the neighborhood tied at the other end, to become the property of the men who could walk over and get it. There were also provided wheelbarrows for racing, donkeys for the same, a stage for boxing, wrestling, and drawing blood generally, sacks for jumping in. Moreover, not forgetting his principles, Henchard provided a mammoth tea, of which everybody who lived in the borough was invited to partake without payment. The tables were laid parallel with the inner slope of the rampart, and awnings were stretched overhead. Passing to and fro, the mayor beheld the unattractive exterior of Farfray's erection in the West Walk. It was like cloths of different sizes and colors being hung up to the arching trees without any regard to appearance. He was easy in his mind now, for his own preparations far transcended these. The morning came. The sky, which had been remarkably clear down to within a day or two, was overcast, and the weather threatening, the wind having an unmistakable hint of water in it. Henchard wished he had not been quite so sure about the continuance of a fair season. But it was too late to modify or postpone, and the proceedings went on. At twelve o'clock the rain began to fall, small and steady, commencing and increasing so insensibly that it was difficult to state exactly when dry weather ended or wet established itself. In the end the slight moisture resolved itself into a monotonous smiting of earth by heaven, in torrents to which no end could be prognosticated. A number of people had heroically gathered in the field, but by three o'clock Henchard discerned that his project was doomed to end in failure. The hams at the top of the poles dripped watered smoke in the form of a brown liquor, the pig shivered in the wind, the grain of the deal-tables showed through the sticking table-cloths, for the awning allowed the rain to drift under at its will, and to enclose the sides at this hour seemed a useless undertaking. The landscape over the river disappeared, the wind played on the tent-courts in Aeolian improvisations, and at length rose to such a pitch that the whole erection slanted to the ground, those who had taken shelter within it having to crawl out on their hands and knees. But towards six the storm abated, and a drier breeze shook the moisture from the grass-bents. It seemed possible to carry out the program after all. The awning was set up again, the band was called out from its shelter and ordered to begin, and where the tables had stood a place was cleared for dancing. But where are the folk? said Henshardt after the lapse of half an hour, during which time only two men and a woman had stood up to dance. The shops are all shut, why don't they come? They are at Farfray's affair in the west walk, answered a councilman who stood in the field with the mayor. A few, I suppose, but where are the body of them? All out-of-doors are there. Then the more fools they— Henshardt walked away moodily. Then our two young fellows gallantly came to climb the poles, to save the hams from being wasted. But as there were no spectators, and the whole scene presented the most melancholy appearance, Henshardt gave orders that the proceedings were to be suspended, and the entertainment closed, the food to be distributed among the poor people of the town. In a short time nothing was left in the field but a few hurdles, the tents, and the poles. Henshardt returned to his house, had tea with his wife and daughter, and then walked out. It was now dusk. He soon saw that the tendency of all promenaders was towards a particular spot in the walks, and eventually proceeded thither himself. The notes of a stringed band came from the enclosure that Farfray had erected, the pavilion, as he called it, and when the mayor reached it he perceived that a gigantic tent had been ingeniously constructed without poles or ropes. The densest point of the Avenue of Sycamores had been selected, where the boughs made a closely interlaced vault overhead. To these boughs the canvas had been hung, and a barrel-roof was the result. The end towards the wind was enclosed, the other end was open. Henshardt went round and saw the interior. In form it was like the nave of a cathedral with one gable removed, but the scene within was anything but devotional. A reel or fling of some sort was in progress, and the usually sedate Farfray was in the midst of the other dancers, in the costume of a wild highlander, flinging himself about and spinning to the tune. For a moment Henshardt could not help laughing. Then he perceived the immense admiration for the Scotchman that revealed itself in the women's faces, and when this exhibition was over and a new dance proposed, and Donald had disappeared for a time, to return in his natural garments, he had an unlimited choice of partners, every girl being in a coming-on disposition towards one who so thoroughly understood the poetry of motion as he. All the town crowded to the walk, such a delightful idea of a ballroom never having occurred to the inhabitants before. Among the rest of the onlookers were Elizabeth and her mother, the former thoughtful yet much interested, her eyes beaming with a longing, lingering light, as if nature had been advised by Correggio in their creation. The dancing progressed with unabated spirit, and Henshardt walked and waited till his wife should be disposed to go home. He did not care to keep in the light, and when he went into the dark, it was worse, for there he heard remarks of a kind which were becoming too frequent. "'Mr. Henshardt's rejoicings couldn't say good-morning to this,' said one. "'A man must be a headstrong stunpole to think folk would go up to that bleak place to-day.' The other answered that people said it was not only in such things as those that the mayor was wanting. "'Where would his business be if it were not for this young fellow? T'was verily fortune sent him to Henshardt. His accounts were like a bramble-wood when Mr. Farfray came. He used to reckon his sacks by chalk strokes all in a row, like garden palings, measure his ricks by stretching with his arms, weigh his trusses by a lift, judge his hay by a chaw, and settle the price with a curse. But now this accomplished young man does it all by ciphering and mensuration. Then the wheat, that sometimes used to taste so strong a mice when made into bread that people could fairly tell the breed, Farfray has a plan for purifying, so that nobody would dream the smallest four-legged beast had walked over it once. Oh, yes, everybody is full of him, and the care Mr. Henshardt has to keep him, to be sure,' concluded this gentleman. But he won't do it for long, good now,' said the other. No, said Henshardt to himself, behind the tree, or if he do he'll be honeycombed clean out of all the character and standing that he's built up in these eighteen years. He went back to the dancing-pavilion. Farfray was footing a quaint little dance with Elizabeth Jane, an old country thing, the only one she knew, and though he considerably toned down his movements to suit her demurer gait, the pattern of the shining little nails in the soles of his boots became familiar to the eyes of every bystander. The tune had enticed her into it, being a tune of a busy, vaulting, leaping sort, some low notes on the silver string of each fiddle, then a skipping on the small, like running up and down ladders. Miss MacLeod of Eyre was its name, so Mr. Farfray had said, and that it was very popular in his own country. It was soon over, and the girl looked at Henshardt for approval, but he did not give it. He seemed not to see her. Look here, Farfray, he said, like one whose mind was elsewhere, I'll go to Portbreedy Great Market to-morrow myself. You can stay and put things right in your clothes-box, and recover strength to your knees after your vagaries. He planted on Donald an antagonistic glare that had begun as a smile. Some other townsmen came up, and Donald drew aside. "'What's this, Henshardt?' said Alderman Tubber, applying his thumb to the corn-factor like a cheese-taster. "'An opposition, Randy, to yours, eh? Jack's as good as his master, eh? Cut ye out quite, hasn't he?' "'You see, Mr. Henshardt,' said the lawyer, another good-natured friend, "'where you made the mistake was in going so far afield. You should have taken a leaf out of his book, and have had your sports in a sheltered place like this. But you didn't think of it, you see, and he did, and that's where he's beat you.' "'He'll be top-sawyer soon of you two, and carry all afore him,' added jocular Mr. Tubber. "'No,' said Henshardt gloomily, "'he won't be that, because he's shortly going to leave me.' He looked towards Donald, who had come near. "'Mr. Farfray's time as my manager is drawing to a close, isn't it, Farfray?' The young man, who could now read the lines and folds of Henshardt's strongly traced face as if they were clear verbal inscriptions, quietly assented. And when people deplored the fact, and asked why it was, he simply replied that Mr. Henshardt no longer required his help. Henshardt went home apparently satisfied. But in the morning, when his jealous temper had passed away, his heart sank within him at what he had said and done. He was the more disturbed when he found that this time Farfray was determined to take him at his word.