Works of Thomas Hardy discussion

A Sheep Fair

The day arrives of the autumn fair,
And torrents fall,
Though sheep in throngs are gathered there,
Ten thousand all,
Sodden, with hurdles round them reared:
And, lot by lot, the pens are cleared,
And the auctioneer wrings out his beard,
And wipes his book, bedrenched and smeared,
And rakes the rain from his face with the edge of his hand,
As torrents fall.

The wool of the ewes is like a sponge
With the daylong rain:
Jammed tight, to turn, or lie, or lunge,
They strive in vain.
Their horns are soft as finger-nails,
Their shepherds reek against the rails,
The tied dogs soak with tucked-in tails,
The buyers’ hat-brims fill like pails,
Which spill small cascades when they shift their stand
In the daylong rain.

POSTSCRIPT
Time has trailed lengthily since met
At Pummery Fair
Those panting thousands in their wet
And woolly wear:
And every flock long since has bled,
And all the dripping buyers have sped,
And the hoarse auctioneer is dead,
Who ‘Going – going I’ so often said,
As he consigned to doom each meek, mewed band
At Pummery Fair.

Published in 1925 in "Human Shows, Far Phantasies, Songs and Trifles"

Glossary:

hurdles - movable fences to separate the flocks
mewed - confined
Pummery - Poundbury, northwest of Dorchester

Related quote from Chapter 16 of "The Mayor of Casterbridge"

Hardy describes the Pummery location where Henchard is planning some entertainment, the Iron Age camp located 3/4 of a mile northwest of Dorchester near the river Froom:

"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 Froom, and from any point a view was obtained of the country round for many miles. This pleasant upland was to be the scene of Henchard’s exploit."

The poem "A Sheep Fair"

"A Sheep Fair" describes an autumn fair where the shepherds and traders are enduring the torrential rains because their livelihoods depend on it. In the novel, Henchard's entertainment is in the same location, but the rainy weather is keeping people from attending.

The postscript (third stanza) is set in the future, although it looks back in time and remembers death. Hardy left money in his will for the promotion of humane slaughtering techniques.

Over to you!

I was really enjoying this pastoral poem, describing a traditional sheep auction. The writing is so very evocative of the treacherous Dorset weather, (blue skies one moment and then down comes the rain) and the countrymen's stoic attitude to it:

"And the auctioneer wrings out his beard,
And wipes his book, bedrenched and smeared,
And rakes the rain from his face with the edge of his hand,"

Even those repeated "and"s reveal a long-suffering patience.

Then ... oh that cruel postscript! "consigned to doom" indeed. Thomas Hardy reminds us with vivid images of slaughter, exactly why the sheep were there. I didn't know of Hardy's legacy for humane slaughter - thanks Connie!

The "and"s now (to me anyway) emphasis the inevitability of it all. This couplet:

"And every flock long since has bled,
And all the dripping buyers have sped,"

is really clever I think, as the "dripping" indicates raindrops on clothing, but the previous line remains in our mind, and so at the same time we are aware of the disturbing image of dripping blood from the slaughtered sheep.

There are so many details. Every dog-owner will recognise that sodden dog protecting his rear end! And men's hat-brims used as repositories for any papers, tickets, letters, folding money etc. is very much a habit of working Victorians.

Modern times (so off-topic from the poem)

As Connie says, "Pummery" is based on Poundbury. Poundbury is a part of Dorchester (the traditional market town Thomas Hardy used as a model for "Casterbridge.")

In the The Mayor of Casterbridge ch. 16 thread I mentioned that the original iron age fort site has been developed into an urban area, so I thought you might like to know a little more.

In 1993 King Charles III (then Prince Charles of course) who is an environmentalist with strong ideas about traditional architecture and deplores some modern developments, designed (in principle) his ideal town. Now there are 400 acres developed in line with the King's vision. Poundbury has won many awards, and originally was intended to include plenty of social housing. But to live there is very expensive! The development project finishes this year.

This piece might reveal the mindset of residents. It's a newspaper report from November last year, about "the Poundbury controversy":

"Residents of a settlement inspired by King Charles' model of urban design have voiced fears over plans for a "wall of trees" outside their homes. The householders in Poundbury, Dorset, said they were previously promised "unobstructed countryside views".

Given that Thomas Hardy spends quite a bit of time in The Mayor of Casterbridge describing the traditional market town of "Casterbridge" (Dorchester) especially its Roman origins as a walled town, I find it oddly ironic that now the Poundbury extension might shortly be surrounded by its own wall of trees! And I wonder what he would think to the luxurious, rather privileged life of residents there now, compared with his dripping sheep-farmers.

Here's wiki on Poundbury, with some lovely photos at the bottom:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poundbury

I'll be driving through it to his "Abbotsea" (Abbotsbury) 8-9 miles away on Monday, but that's the closest I'll get to living there, and will have to remain in my caravan, I think. But being right on the coast we do have better views!

Jean and Connie

Well, first, what incredible information. I never knew anything about Poundbury. Fascinating. There is so much rich detail in this thread about the poem which I never knew existed and how it links to the novel. My mind reels. Thank you both.

The first thing I noted about ‘A Sheep Fair’ was the rhyme scheme. There is much that could be said about how it forms the poem but I’ll only comment on ‘A Sheep Fair’ as it connects to our earlier poem ‘The Selfsame Song’. That poem ends ‘No: perished to dust is he …/As also are those who heard/That song with me’. In the Postscript of ‘A Sheep Fair’ death is also the lurking reality of what went on before in the poem, and by connection, to those that lived and are represented in both poems I mentioned — The flocks that have bled and the buyers who have fled and the auctioneer who is dead. Linked to ‘The Selfsame Song’ all are now dust. How somber, how true. Fate links birds, and sheep, and men into one inevitable chain. Within nature we are spots of Time. The world continues and, as Shakespeare said, we all play a part, but our ends are the same. Again, from ‘King Lear’ “As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods; They kill us for their sport.”

Somber, indeed. I am becoming more convinced all the time that Hardy feels the true pulse of the Human condition as much as any writer in the English language.

A beautiful poem, all the more because of its connection to the chapter we are reading.

Thanks Connie, Jean and Peter for your respective background information and uplifting literary thoughts.

Peter wrote: Hardy feels the true pulse of the Human condition as much as any writer in the English language. and perhaps in other languages too! (I would name perhaps Thomas Mann and Victor Hugo as such authors)

I am more down to earth. I like poetry but am very bad at commenting it.

Having worked with sheep no matter the weather, I know how rain does not affect them at first, when the wool is thick, greasy and therefore waterproof. After a while the wool is washed and the poor sheep folk is as wet as humans are, just like in the poem and in the chapter we were reading.

There is a smell of wet wool in sheep pens when they are back for dinner. There is as much vapour in the air, just like in a laundry. When they are dry, the once yellowish wool is now snow white.

I do not know many sheep fairs nowadays like this one in the old days. There are some renowned cattle exhibitions in autumn in Brittany and Auvergne, and the International Agriculture Fair in early March in Paris, but it is meant to show farm animals, not to sell them. Now sheep breeders are members of local sheep cooperative groups and they just phone when they have a batch of lambs ready for sale. It is definitely not funny to watch them go.

What fascinating comments, everyone! I knew nothing of Poundury and love the idea though maybe not what it turned into. And really appreciate what Peter added about the rhyme and Claudia about the sheep.

I loved the sounds and images of these lines:
Their horns are soft as finger-nails,
Their shepherds reek against the rails,
The tied dogs soak with tucked-in tails,
The buyers’ hat-brims fill like pails,

And my mind went to a personal take on the postscript. Published in 1925, then Hardy was 85. As we get older, we look around and remember in detail how things used to be, and think of how much things have changed. The realization that the people we see so vividly in our minds are likely long gone comes as a bit of a shock, although this becomes a common occurrence the older we get!

I love the way Hardy can capture a kind of joyfulness in the ordinary (even the miserable weather conditions) and then remind us of the serious nature of the gathering and strip the joy to its bones. We are carried along to the end where we are no longer standing apart watching the fair, but deeply aware that the passing of time and life includes us.

Jean, thank you for the modern look at Poundbury. It looks like a great deal of thought was put into the architecture.

I love your thoughts on the poem, and am not surprised that you picked up the details about the dog!

Peter wrote: "Jean and Connie

Well, first, what incredible information. I never knew anything about Poundbury. Fascinating. There is so much rich detail in this thread about the poem which I never knew existed ..."

Peter, thank you for your interesting connections to "The Selfsame Song." Hardy seems to be thinking about the cycle of life and Time in both of those works.

Claudia wrote: "A beautiful poem, all the more because of its connection to the chapter we are reading.

Thanks Connie, Jean and Peter for your respective background information and uplifting literary thoughts.

P..."

Claudia, I appreciate you sharing your personal experiences with sheep, and your comparisons to the modern way of selling sheep.

Kathleen wrote: "What fascinating comments, everyone! I knew nothing of Poundury and love the idea though maybe not what it turned into. And really appreciate what Peter added about the rhyme and Claudia about the ..."

Kathleen, you've picked out some of my favorite lines! Hardy's descriptions are so sensual--the feel of the rain, the press of the crowded sheep, the wet sponge of the wool, the panting of the sheep.

I think we all reminisce as we get older, and I'm amazed at the changes in my lifetime. Hardy lived to an old age so most of his childhood friends and family died before him. He's a writer that seems comfortable writing about the past, and the folklore passed down by his mother. He must have been a very observant young man to remember so many vivid details to include in his work written as an old man. Hardy also kept a journal/diary where he jotted down little details that he used in his work years later.

Sara wrote: "I love the way Hardy can capture a kind of joyfulness in the ordinary (even the miserable weather conditions) and then remind us of the serious nature of the gathering and strip the joy to its bone..."

Sara, the postscript stanza certainly brings us to the reality that the sheep will die, and that we all eventually die in the cycle of life.

This poem reminded me so much of the Chapter it is connected to. The rain coming down in torrents, made me feel apprehensive for the animals and the people at the fair. And then the Post-script left me feeling so sad. Those are the exact emotions I felt reading the chapter.

I agree with what Peter said about Hardy deeply understanding the human condition. He's so good at wrapping the Past and Present into one seam. I am reminded of that almost daily in my life - especially as I grow older. That's why I love Hardy's writing.

My favorite lines in this poem were:

"And the auctioneer wrings out his beard," as well as "And rakes the rain from his face with the edge of his hand,"

"rakes the rain" is lovely in alliteration and imagery, I think.

Wonderful poems and loads of wonderful detail and information. Love the images of Poundbury. So charming!

Bridget wrote: "My favorite lines in this poem were:

"And the auctioneer wrings out his beard," as well as "And rakes the rain from his face with the edge of his hand,"..."

I love those lines too, Bridget! I probably noticed those lines partly because I'm married to a guy with a beard, but that wringing action is exactly how they dry off after swimming or walking in the rain or snow. Hardy always gets those little details right that someone else wouldn't even notice.

Pamela wrote: "Wonderful poems and loads of wonderful detail and information. Love the images of Poundbury. So charming!"

I'm glad you liked the poem, Pamela. I also enjoyed experiencing the old Poundbury in the poem and novel, and the new Poundbury in Jean's links.

Hardy's use of repetition seems to give us the feeling that a day in the rain at the sheep fair is an endurance event for everyone--the stoic shepherds, the buyers, the auctioneer, the dogs, and the sheep. The ten thousand sheep are so jammed together that they can't move or lie down, and everyone is drenched, but the day just goes on and on until every lot is sold.

The repetition of "and" (as Jean noticed) and other short words starting with "a", and short words starting with "t" to start most lines add to an endless feeling. It reminds me of the moving hands of a clock.

Peter noticed the interesting rhyme scheme. It follows ABABCCCCDB. To me, the repetition of the end rhyme (reared, cleared, beard, smeared), (nails, rails, tails, pails), (bled, sped, dead, said) also contribute to the idea of an endless day for those standing in the rain.