In a moment of dramatic irony, the reader observes Bathsheba riding as if no one is watching her:
The girl, who wore no riding-habit, looked around for a moment as if to ensure herself that all humanity was out of view, then dexterously dropped backwards flat upon the pony’s back, her head over its tail, her feet against its shoulder and her eyes to the sky. The rapidity of her glide in this position was that of a kingfisher—its noiselessness that of a hawk [...]. Thus she passed under the level boughs.
From where she sits, Bathsheba believes “all humanity is out of view.” However, Gabriel Oak is watching her intently from the hedge as she lies flat across the body of her horse to pass beneath low swinging boughs. Her horse has no reaction to this behavior, suggesting that she often rides like this instead of dismounting to walk under the low-hanging trees.
In this (seemingly) private moment, Bathsheba does something notably unladylike, unconventional, and habitual. Something intimate about her is revealed in her riding style, which is a personal quirk that is performed for no one but herself. In addition to the private nature of this moment, the sexual undertones of the scene cannot be ignored. Both her positioning (in lying flat and riding astride the horse afterward) and her later embarrassment at having been seen (being caught offending ideals of “modesty”) add another subtext to this moment.
It is worth noting that Gabriel becomes interested in Bathsheba in earnest after this moment, after having witnessed a glimpse of her idiosyncrasies, interiority, and sexuality. In a stroke of situational irony, it is Bathsheba’s unladylike behavior—her disregard for the conventions of female behavior—that wins her Gabriel’s sincere romantic interest.
In this scene, one of many occasions on which Oak watches Bathsheba without her knowledge, Hardy’s use of situational irony tells the reader something about Bathsheba’s relationship to her own beauty:
She came, the pail in one hand, hanging against her knee. The left arm was extended as a balance [...] There was a bright air and manner about her now, by which she seemed to imply that the desirability of her existence could not be questioned; and this rather saucy assumption failed in being offensive because a beholder felt it to be, upon the whole, true. [...] It was with some surprise that she saw Gabriel’s face rising like the moon, behind the hedge.
Unaware that Gabriel is watching her, Bathsheba moves gracefully and without inhibition. However, as soon as she notices Gabriel’s face behind the hedge, she becomes suddenly ashamed. This conflict—between Bathsheba’s desire to be admired and her fear of being immodest—points to Bathsheba’s self-consciousness and immaturity at the beginning of the novel.
Bathsheba’s attitude in private (“air and manner”) suggests she is aware of and confident in her own beauty and its potential value to others (“the desirability of her existence”). The narration affirms her view, suggesting that any vanity in her attitude is inoffensive because it is justified; in other words, Bathsheba really is that beautiful.
Gabriel accidentally peeks too far from behind the hedge, and Bathsheba spots him. Now aware of his gaze, she becomes self-conscious and embarrassed, and affects a more modest manner (“the free air of her previous movements was reduced to a constrained version of itself [...]”). Bathsheba is proud of how she looks, but she's still young enough to be affected by Gabriel’s gaze and to allow it to change her behavior. The irony here is that she is genuinely self-assured in some ways, but as soon as she actually has to call upon this sense of self-assurance, it effectively vanishes. As the novel progresses, Bathsheba will become less self-conscious and more assertive in front of men (especially as she becomes the head of her uncle’s farm, amid great opposition). Bethsheba’s ironic self-consciousness will serve as a benchmark, looking back, of her growth.
After Gabriel Oak leaves Bathsheba's aunt’s farm, Bathsheba chases him down to let him know that she has no other suitors. He proposes, and she rejects him immediately. In a moment of situational irony, she admits that if she truly wanted to marry him, she would never pursue him outright:
“ [...] Why, if I’d wanted you I shouldn’t have run after you like this; t’would have the forwardest thing! But there was no harm in hurrying to correct a piece of false news that had been told you.”
Bathsheba says that if she truly wanted to marry Oak, she would not follow him out of fear of appearing too eager (“the forwardest thing”). However, considering that he has been misinformed, there is no shame in her hurrying to correct him and let him know that she is single. She also wants Gabriel to know that she values her independence and doesn’t want to be owned by any man (equating, as she does, marriage with ownership).
This interaction reveals Bathsheba’s recklessness at the beginning of the novel. In what will become a pattern throughout the novel, Bathsheba acts without considering another person’s emotions. She doesn’t care if her dismissive attitude hurts Gabriel’s feelings, and she doesn’t worry about getting his hopes up by running after him.
Why Bathsheba runs after him merely to tell him that she is single is difficult to understand. It is possible that Bathsheba doesn’t want other men in the community thinking she is already taken, but this is contradicted by her admission that she doesn’t wish to be owned. Perhaps some of her eventual interest in Gabriel is present already and drives her to clarify her position in terms of marriage; she hints that she “may be won” one day. Whatever her motivations, Bathsheba’s ironic pursuit of Oak reveals a youthful, brash disregard for consequences.
After Boldwood has become the target of Bathsheba’s joke valentine, the narrator reveals that, beneath his veneer of apparent calm, Boldwood is a deeply emotional person. This description is actually an instance of situational irony, as the unassuming Boldwood is revealed to be full of passion:
That stillness, which struck casual observers more than anything else in his character and habit [...] may have been the perfect balance of enormous antagonistic forces—positives and negatives in fine adjustment. His equilibrium disturbed, he was in extremity at once. [...]Bathsheba was far from dreaming that the dark and silent shape upon which she had so carelessly thrown a seed was a hotbed of tropic intensity. Had she known Boldwood’s moods, her blame would have been fearful, and the stain upon her heart ineradicable [...] she would have trembled at her responsibility.
The apparent “stillness” in Boldwood’s manner is actually the perfect, delicate balance of the extreme emotions within him. Boldwood has been, up until this point, reasonably unengaged with women or the town at large; but the incident with Bathsheba has stirred something in him. Boldwood’s capacity for deep emotion is activated by Bathsheba's simple valentine, the only moment of intrigue he has had for quite some time.
This insight into Boldwood’s character is also a moment of dramatic irony, as the audience is made privy to something that Bathsheba does not know. If she had any idea of his true personality, the narrator says, she would have been unimaginably ashamed at her own decision-making.
This instance of irony is important because the narrator reveals something that would be impossible for the audience to see in Boldwood’s behavior alone. The reader, like the townspeople, would not be able to square Boldwood’s sudden obsession with Bathsheba with the quiet, seemingly well-adjusted person he has been for most of the book.
