feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/shmoop/Far From the Madding Crowd/section_56_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: Far From the Madding Crowd.chapter 57
feat_summary_id: chapter 57
feat_summary: {"name": "Chapter 57", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20201219162644/https://www.shmoop.com/study-guides/literature/far-from-the-madding-crowd/summary/chapter-57", "summary": "Gabriel and Bathsheba agree to have the plainest, most secretive wedding they can possibly have. They go through a huge hassle to keep the word from spreading all around Weatherbury. The only person Gabriel bothers telling is Jan Coggan, whom he feels he can trust. The next thing is to get a hold of the local parson, and to get hold of a marriage certificate. Bathsheba gets her servant Liddy to be a witness. Jan is Gabriel's man. And just like that, the two of them get married. It isn't long, though, before people come marching up to Bathsheba's house to congratulate them. There's only so long you can keep something like this secret in Weatherbury. The book ends with everyone being happy about the marriage, but not too happy. After all, a man is dead and another man is in jail for the rest of his life. Stuff is pretty bittersweet.", "analysis": ""}
text: A FOGGY NIGHT AND MORNING--CONCLUSION
  
  
  "The most private, secret, plainest wedding that it is possible to
  have."
  
  Those had been Bathsheba's words to Oak one evening, some time after
  the event of the preceding f, and he meditated a full hour by
  the clock upon how to carry out her wishes to the letter.
  
  "A license--O yes, it must be a license," he said to himself at last.
  "Very well, then; first, a license."
  
  On a dark night, a few days later, Oak came with mysterious steps
  from the surrogate's door, in Casterbridge.  On the way home he heard
  a heavy tread in front of him, and, overtaking the man, found him to
  be Coggan.  They walked together into the village until they came to
  a little lane behind the church, leading down to the cottage of Laban
  Tall, who had lately been installed as clerk of the parish, and was
  yet in mortal terror at church on Sundays when he heard his lone
  voice among certain hard words of the Psalms, whither no man ventured
  to follow him.
  
  "Well, good-night, Coggan," said Oak, "I'm going down this way."
  
  "Oh!" said Coggan, surprised; "what's going on to-night then, make so
  bold Mr. Oak?"
  
  It seemed rather ungenerous not to tell Coggan, under the
  circumstances, for Coggan had been true as steel all through the time
  of Gabriel's unhappiness about Bathsheba, and Gabriel said, "You can
  keep a secret, Coggan?"
  
  "You've proved me, and you know."
  
  "Yes, I have, and I do know.  Well, then, mistress and I mean to get
  married to-morrow morning."
  
  "Heaven's high tower!  And yet I've thought of such a thing from time
  to time; true, I have.  But keeping it so close!  Well, there, 'tis
  no consarn of of mine, and I wish 'ee joy o' her."
  
  "Thank you, Coggan.  But I assure 'ee that this great hush is not
  what I wished for at all, or what either of us would have wished if
  it hadn't been for certain things that would make a gay wedding seem
  hardly the thing.  Bathsheba has a great wish that all the parish
  shall not be in church, looking at her--she's shy-like and nervous
  about it, in fact--so I be doing this to humour her."
  
  "Ay, I see: quite right, too, I suppose I must say.  And you be now
  going down to the clerk."
  
  "Yes; you may as well come with me."
  
  "I am afeard your labour in keeping it close will be throwed away,"
  said Coggan, as they walked along.  "Labe Tall's old woman will horn
  it all over parish in half-an-hour."
  
  "So she will, upon my life; I never thought of that," said Oak,
  pausing.  "Yet I must tell him to-night, I suppose, for he's working
  so far off, and leaves early."
  
  "I'll tell 'ee how we could tackle her," said Coggan.  "I'll knock
  and ask to speak to Laban outside the door, you standing in the
  background.  Then he'll come out, and you can tell yer tale.  She'll
  never guess what I want en for; and I'll make up a few words about
  the farm-work, as a blind."
  
  This scheme was considered feasible; and Coggan advanced boldly, and
  rapped at Mrs. Tall's door.  Mrs. Tall herself opened it.
  
  "I wanted to have a word with Laban."
  
  "He's not at home, and won't be this side of eleven o'clock.  He've
  been forced to go over to Yalbury since shutting out work.  I shall
  do quite as well."
  
  "I hardly think you will.  Stop a moment;" and Coggan stepped round
  the corner of the porch to consult Oak.
  
  "Who's t'other man, then?" said Mrs. Tall.
  
  "Only a friend," said Coggan.
  
  "Say he's wanted to meet mistress near church-hatch to-morrow morning
  at ten," said Oak, in a whisper.  "That he must come without fail,
  and wear his best clothes."
  
  "The clothes will floor us as safe as houses!" said Coggan.
  
  "It can't be helped," said Oak.  "Tell her."
  
  So Coggan delivered the message.  "Mind, het or wet, blow or snow,
  he must come," added Jan.  "'Tis very particular, indeed.  The fact
  is, 'tis to witness her sign some law-work about taking shares wi'
  another farmer for a long span o' years.  There, that's what 'tis,
  and now I've told 'ee, Mother Tall, in a way I shouldn't ha' done
  if I hadn't loved 'ee so hopeless well."
  
  Coggan retired before she could ask any further; and next they called
  at the vicar's in a manner which excited no curiosity at all.  Then
  Gabriel went home, and prepared for the morrow.
  
  
  "Liddy," said Bathsheba, on going to bed that night, "I want you to
  call me at seven o'clock to-morrow, In case I shouldn't wake."
  
  "But you always do wake afore then, ma'am."
  
  "Yes, but I have something important to do, which I'll tell you of
  when the time comes, and it's best to make sure."
  
  Bathsheba, however, awoke voluntarily at four, nor could she by any
  contrivance get to sleep again.  About six, being quite positive that
  her watch had stopped during the night, she could wait no longer.
  She went and tapped at Liddy's door, and after some labour awoke her.
  
  "But I thought it was I who had to call you?" said the bewildered
  Liddy.  "And it isn't six yet."
  
  "Indeed it is; how can you tell such a story, Liddy?  I know it must
  be ever so much past seven.  Come to my room as soon as you can; I
  want you to give my hair a good brushing."
  
  When Liddy came to Bathsheba's room her mistress was already waiting.
  Liddy could not understand this extraordinary promptness.  "Whatever
  IS going on, ma'am?" she said.
  
  "Well, I'll tell you," said Bathsheba, with a mischievous smile in
  her bright eyes.  "Farmer Oak is coming here to dine with me to-day!"
  
  "Farmer Oak--and nobody else?--you two alone?"
  
  "Yes."
  
  "But is it safe, ma'am, after what's been said?" asked her companion,
  dubiously.  "A woman's good name is such a perishable article that--"
  
  Bathsheba laughed with a flushed cheek, and whispered in Liddy's ear,
  although there was nobody present.  Then Liddy stared and exclaimed,
  "Souls alive, what news!  It makes my heart go quite bumpity-bump!"
  
  "It makes mine rather furious, too," said Bathsheba.  "However,
  there's no getting out of it now!"
  
  It was a damp disagreeable morning.  Nevertheless, at twenty minutes
  to ten o'clock, Oak came out of his house, and
  
  
                Went up the hill side
                With that sort of stride
       A man puts out when walking in search of a bride,
  
  
  and knocked Bathsheba's door.  Ten minutes later a large and a
  smaller umbrella might have been seen moving from the same door, and
  through the mist along the road to the church.  The distance was not
  more than a quarter of a mile, and these two sensible persons deemed
  it unnecessary to drive.  An observer must have been very close
  indeed to discover that the forms under the umbrellas were those of
  Oak and Bathsheba, arm-in-arm for the first time in their lives, Oak
  in a greatcoat extending to his knees, and Bathsheba in a cloak that
  reached her clogs.  Yet, though so plainly dressed, there was a
  certain rejuvenated appearance about her:--
  
  
       As though a rose should shut and be a bud again.
  
  
  Repose had again incarnadined her cheeks; and having, at Gabriel's
  request, arranged her hair this morning as she had worn it years ago
  on Norcombe Hill, she seemed in his eyes remarkably like a girl of
  that fascinating dream, which, considering that she was now only
  three or four-and-twenty, was perhaps not very wonderful.  In the
  church were Tall, Liddy, and the parson, and in a remarkably short
  space of time the deed was done.
  
  The two sat down very quietly to tea in Bathsheba's parlour in the
  evening of the same day, for it had been arranged that Farmer Oak
  should go there to live, since he had as yet neither money, house,
  nor furniture worthy of the name, though he was on a sure way towards
  them, whilst Bathsheba was, comparatively, in a plethora of all
  three.
  
  Just as Bathsheba was pouring out a cup of tea, their ears were
  greeted by the firing of a cannon, followed by what seemed like a
  tremendous blowing of trumpets, in the front of the house.
  
  "There!" said Oak, laughing, "I knew those fellows were up to
  something, by the look on their faces"
  
  Oak took up the light and went into the porch, followed by Bathsheba
  with a shawl over her head.  The rays fell upon a group of male
  figures gathered upon the gravel in front, who, when they saw the
  newly-married couple in the porch, set up a loud "Hurrah!" and at the
  same moment bang again went the cannon in the background, followed by
  a hideous clang of music from a drum, tambourine, clarionet, serpent,
  hautboy, tenor-viol, and double-bass--the only remaining relics
  of the true and original Weatherbury band--venerable worm-eaten
  instruments, which had celebrated in their own persons the victories
  of Marlborough, under the fingers of the forefathers of those who
  played them now.  The performers came forward, and marched up to the
  front.
  
  "Those bright boys, Mark Clark and Jan, are at the bottom of all
  this," said Oak.  "Come in, souls, and have something to eat and
  drink wi' me and my wife."
  
  "Not to-night," said Mr. Clark, with evident self-denial.  "Thank
  ye all the same; but we'll call at a more seemly time.  However, we
  couldn't think of letting the day pass without a note of admiration
  of some sort.  If ye could send a drop of som'at down to Warren's,
  why so it is.  Here's long life and happiness to neighbour Oak and
  his comely bride!"
  
  "Thank ye; thank ye all," said Gabriel.  "A bit and a drop shall be
  sent to Warren's for ye at once.  I had a thought that we might very
  likely get a salute of some sort from our old friends, and I was
  saying so to my wife but now."
  
  "Faith," said Coggan, in a critical tone, turning to his companions,
  "the man hev learnt to say 'my wife' in a wonderful naterel way,
  considering how very youthful he is in wedlock as yet--hey,
  neighbours all?"
  
  "I never heerd a skilful old married feller of twenty years'
  standing pipe 'my wife' in a more used note than 'a did," said Jacob
  Smallbury.  "It might have been a little more true to nater if't had
  been spoke a little chillier, but that wasn't to be expected just
  now."
  
  "That improvement will come wi' time," said Jan, twirling his eye.
  
  Then Oak laughed, and Bathsheba smiled (for she never laughed readily
  now), and their friends turned to go.
  
  "Yes; I suppose that's the size o't," said Joseph Poorgrass with a
  cheerful sigh as they moved away; "and I wish him joy o' her; though
  I were once or twice upon saying to-day with holy Hosea, in my
  scripture manner, which is my second nature, 'Ephraim is joined to
  idols: let him alone.'  But since 'tis as 'tis, why, it might have
  been worse, and I feel my thanks accordingly."
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Chapter 57
target: Gabriel and Bathsheba agree to have the plainest, most secretive wedding they can possibly have. They go through a huge hassle to keep the word from spreading all around Weatherbury. The only person Gabriel bothers telling is Jan Coggan, whom he feels he can trust. The next thing is to get a hold of the local parson, and to get hold of a marriage certificate. Bathsheba gets her servant Liddy to be a witness. Jan is Gabriel's man. And just like that, the two of them get married. It isn't long, though, before people come marching up to Bathsheba's house to congratulate them. There's only so long you can keep something like this secret in Weatherbury. The book ends with everyone being happy about the marriage, but not too happy. After all, a man is dead and another man is in jail for the rest of his life. Stuff is pretty bittersweet.