finished_summaries/shmoop/Far From the Madding Crowd/section_51_part_0.txt
Far From the Madding Crowd.chapter 52
chapter 52
{"name": "Chapter 52", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20201219162644/https://www.shmoop.com/study-guides/literature/far-from-the-madding-crowd/summary/chapter-52", "summary": "Soon enough, Christmas Eve is upon the people of Weatherbury. Everyone learns that Farmer Boldwood is going to give a huge party, which is strange because the guy has never been known to party hearty. Meanwhile, Bathsheba is getting ready to attend the party, full of dread. She knows that Boldwood is having the party so he can publicly announce their engagement, and she doesn't know if she has the power to refuse him. The narrator swoops us over the Boldwood's house. More than usual, he's been very particular about the suit his tailor is making for him. He wants everything to be perfect. When the tailor leaves Gabriel Oak walks into the room. Boldwood dances around the \"promise\" that he thinks a lady has made to him, and Oak knows exactly what he's talking about. Gabriel warns him about being deceived, though, which makes Boldwood a little annoyed with him. Next, we look in on Sergeant Troy, who is hanging out at a place called the White Hart tavern in the nearby town of Casterbridge. There's a knock at his door, and Pennyways struts in. Troy has sent Pennyways out to inquire about what legal repercussions Troy would face for returning to Weatherbury after pretending he was dead. It turns out that he'd have to receive some sort of punishment for what he's done. Next, Troy wants to know if Bathsheba really plans on marrying Boldwood, as many people have said. Pennyways suggests that all the affection seems to be coming from Boldwood. The two of them briefly discuss how Gabriel Oak has flourished in Pennyways' old role, but Troy says this is just because Pennyways is kind of an incompetence fool. Apparently, the Pennyways knows how to take an insult, because he doesn't punch Troy in the nose. Now we're back with Bathsheba and Liddy. Bathsheba wants to keep making herself plainer and plainer for Boldwood's party, but she can't really do it: she's just too pretty to uglify. Liddy makes a joke about Bathsheba marrying Boldwood, but Bathsheba scolds her. Cut back to Oak and Boldwood. Being in a very good mood, Boldwood tells Oak that he plans on giving Oak a very large stake in his farm. He also says that when he marries Bathsheba he'll be looking to retire, so Oak will take over for him. Finally, Boldwood admits that he knows about the affection Oak has always held for Bathsheba, and he wants to reward him for always behaving with so much dignity. He knows it can't be easy for Oak to stand around listening to someone else talk about marrying Bathsheba. After Oak has left, Boldwood goes to a cupboard and takes out a box with an engagement ring inside it. At this point, he hears his first guests arriving. Once more, we flash back to Sergeant Troy, who is getting himself into a disguise so he won't be recognized at Boldwood's party. Yup, the guy plans on going, even though Pennyways advises against it. Troy knows, though, that people around Casterbridge have already seen and recognized him, so it won't be long before word of his existence gets back to Weatherbury.", "analysis": ""}
CONVERGING COURSES


Christmas-eve came, and a party that Boldwood was to give in the
evening was the great subject of talk in Weatherbury.  It was not
that the rarity of Christmas parties in the parish made this one a
wonder, but that Boldwood should be the giver.  The announcement
had had an abnormal and incongruous sound, as if one should hear of
croquet-playing in a cathedral aisle, or that some much-respected
judge was going upon the stage.  That the party was intended to be
a truly jovial one there was no room for doubt.  A large bough of
mistletoe had been brought from the woods that day, and suspended
in the hall of the bachelor's home.  Holly and ivy had followed in
armfuls.  From six that morning till past noon the huge wood fire
in the kitchen roared and sparkled at its highest, the kettle, the
saucepan, and the three-legged pot appearing in the midst of the
flames like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego; moreover, roasting
and basting operations were continually carried on in front of the
genial blaze.

As it grew later the fire was made up in the large long hall into
which the staircase descended, and all encumbrances were cleared out
for dancing.  The log which was to form the back-brand of the evening
fire was the uncleft trunk of a tree, so unwieldy that it could be
neither brought nor rolled to its place; and accordingly two men were
to be observed dragging and heaving it in by chains and levers as the
hour of assembly drew near.

In spite of all this, the spirit of revelry was wanting in the
atmosphere of the house.  Such a thing had never been attempted
before by its owner, and it was now done as by a wrench.  Intended
gaieties would insist upon appearing like solemn grandeurs, the
organization of the whole effort was carried out coldly, by
hirelings, and a shadow seemed to move about the rooms, saying that
the proceedings were unnatural to the place and the lone man who
lived therein, and hence not good.


Bathsheba was at this time in her room, dressing for the event.  She
had called for candles, and Liddy entered and placed one on each side
of her mistress's glass.

"Don't go away, Liddy," said Bathsheba, almost timidly. "I am
foolishly agitated--I cannot tell why.  I wish I had not been obliged
to go to this dance; but there's no escaping now.  I have not spoken
to Mr. Boldwood since the autumn, when I promised to see him at
Christmas on business, but I had no idea there was to be anything of
this kind."

"But I would go now," said Liddy, who was going with her; for
Boldwood had been indiscriminate in his invitations.

"Yes, I shall make my appearance, of course," said Bathsheba.  "But I
am THE CAUSE of the party, and that upsets me!--Don't tell, Liddy."

"Oh no, ma'am.  You the cause of it, ma'am?"

"Yes.  I am the reason of the party--I.  If it had not been for me,
    there would never have been one.  I can't explain any more--there's
    no more to be explained.  I wish I had never seen Weatherbury."

    "That's wicked of you--to wish to be worse off than you are."

    "No, Liddy.  I have never been free from trouble since I have lived
    here, and this party is likely to bring me more.  Now, fetch my black
    silk dress, and see how it sits upon me."

    "But you will leave off that, surely, ma'am?  You have been a
    widow-lady fourteen months, and ought to brighten up a little on
    such a night as this."

    "Is it necessary?  No; I will appear as usual, for if I were to wear
    any light dress people would say things about me, and I should seem
    to be rejoicing when I am solemn all the time.  The party doesn't
    suit me a bit; but never mind, stay and help to finish me off."

    Boldwood was dressing also at this hour.  A tailor from Casterbridge
    was with him, assisting him in the operation of trying on a new coat
    that had just been brought home.

    Never had Boldwood been so fastidious, unreasonable about the fit,
    and generally difficult to please.  The tailor walked round and round
    him, tugged at the waist, pulled the sleeve, pressed out the collar,
    and for the first time in his experience Boldwood was not bored.
    Times had been when the farmer had exclaimed against all such
    niceties as childish, but now no philosophic or hasty rebuke whatever
    was provoked by this man for attaching as much importance to a crease
    in the coat as to an earthquake in South America.  Boldwood at last
    expressed himself nearly satisfied, and paid the bill, the tailor
    passing out of the door just as Oak came in to report progress for
    the day.

    "Oh, Oak," said Boldwood.  "I shall of course see you here to-night.
    Make yourself merry.  I am determined that neither expense nor
    trouble shall be spared."

    "I'll try to be here, sir, though perhaps it may not be very early,"
    said Gabriel, quietly.  "I am glad indeed to see such a change in
    'ee from what it used to be."

    "Yes--I must own it--I am bright to-night: cheerful and more than
    cheerful--so much so that I am almost sad again with the sense that
    all of it is passing away.  And sometimes, when I am excessively
    hopeful and blithe, a trouble is looming in the distance: so that I
    often get to look upon gloom in me with content, and to fear a happy
    mood.  Still this may be absurd--I feel that it is absurd.  Perhaps
    my day is dawning at last."

    "I hope it 'ill be a long and a fair one."

    "Thank you--thank you.  Yet perhaps my cheerfulness rests on a
    slender hope.  And yet I trust my hope.  It is faith, not hope.  I
    think this time I reckon with my host.--Oak, my hands are a little
    shaky, or something; I can't tie this neckerchief properly.  Perhaps
    you will tie it for me.  The fact is, I have not been well lately,
    you know."

    "I am sorry to hear that, sir."

    "Oh, it's nothing.  I want it done as well as you can, please.  Is
    there any late knot in fashion, Oak?"

    "I don't know, sir," said Oak.  His tone had sunk to sadness.

    Boldwood approached Gabriel, and as Oak tied the neckerchief the
    farmer went on feverishly--

    "Does a woman keep her promise, Gabriel?"

    "If it is not inconvenient to her she may."

    "--Or rather an implied promise."

    "I won't answer for her implying," said Oak, with faint bitterness.
    "That's a word as full o' holes as a sieve with them."

    "Oak, don't talk like that.  You have got quite cynical lately--how
    is it?  We seem to have shifted our positions: I have become the
    young and hopeful man, and you the old and unbelieving one.  However,
    does a woman keep a promise, not to marry, but to enter on an
    engagement to marry at some time?  Now you know women better than
    I--tell me."

    "I am afeard you honour my understanding too much.  However, she may
    keep such a promise, if it is made with an honest meaning to repair
    a wrong."

    "It has not gone far yet, but I think it will soon--yes, I know it
    will," he said, in an impulsive whisper.  "I have pressed her upon
    the subject, and she inclines to be kind to me, and to think of me
    as a husband at a long future time, and that's enough for me.  How
    can I expect more?  She has a notion that a woman should not marry
    within seven years of her husband's disappearance--that her own self
    shouldn't, I mean--because his body was not found.  It may be merely
    this legal reason which influences her, or it may be a religious
    one, but she is reluctant to talk on the point. Yet she has
    promised--implied--that she will ratify an engagement to-night."

    "Seven years," murmured Oak.

    "No, no--it's no such thing!" he said, with impatience.  "Five years,
    nine months, and a few days.  Fifteen months nearly have passed since
    he vanished, and is there anything so wonderful in an engagement of
    little more than five years?"

    "It seems long in a forward view.  Don't build too much upon such
    promises, sir.  Remember, you have once be'n deceived.  Her meaning
    may be good; but there--she's young yet."

    "Deceived?  Never!" said Boldwood, vehemently.  "She never promised
    me at that first time, and hence she did not break her promise!  If
    she promises me, she'll marry me.  Bathsheba is a woman to her word."

    Troy was sitting in a corner of The White Hart tavern at
    Casterbridge, smoking and drinking a steaming mixture from a glass.
    A knock was given at the door, and Pennyways entered.

    "Well, have you seen him?" Troy inquired, pointing to a chair.

    "Boldwood?"

    "No--Lawyer Long."

    "He wadn' at home.  I went there first, too."

    "That's a nuisance."

    "'Tis rather, I suppose."

    "Yet I don't see that, because a man appears to be drowned and was
    not, he should be liable for anything.  I shan't ask any lawyer--not
    I."

    "But that's not it, exactly.  If a man changes his name and so forth,
    and takes steps to deceive the world and his own wife, he's a cheat,
    and that in the eye of the law is ayless a rogue, and that is ayless
    a lammocken vagabond; and that's a punishable situation."

    "Ha-ha!  Well done, Pennyways," Troy had laughed, but it was with
    some anxiety that he said, "Now, what I want to know is this, do you
    think there's really anything going on between her and Boldwood?
    Upon my soul, I should never have believed it!  How she must detest
    me!  Have you found out whether she has encouraged him?"

    "I haen't been able to learn.  There's a deal of feeling on his side
    seemingly, but I don't answer for her.  I didn't know a word about
    any such thing till yesterday, and all I heard then was that she was
    gwine to the party at his house to-night.  This is the first time she
    has ever gone there, they say.  And they say that she've not so much
    as spoke to him since they were at Greenhill Fair: but what can folk
    believe o't?  However, she's not fond of him--quite offish and quite
    careless, I know."

    "I'm not so sure of that....  She's a handsome woman, Pennyways, is
    she not?  Own that you never saw a finer or more splendid creature
    in your life.  Upon my honour, when I set eyes upon her that day I
    wondered what I could have been made of to be able to leave her by
    herself so long.  And then I was hampered with that bothering show,
    which I'm free of at last, thank the stars."  He smoked on awhile,
    and then added, "How did she look when you passed by yesterday?"

    "Oh, she took no great heed of me, ye may well fancy; but she looked
    well enough, far's I know.  Just flashed her haughty eyes upon my
    poor scram body, and then let them go past me to what was yond, much
    as if I'd been no more than a leafless tree.  She had just got off
    her mare to look at the last wring-down of cider for the year; she
    had been riding, and so her colours were up and her breath rather
    quick, so that her bosom plimmed and fell--plimmed and fell--every
    time plain to my eye.  Ay, and there were the fellers round her
    wringing down the cheese and bustling about and saying, 'Ware o' the
    pommy, ma'am: 'twill spoil yer gown.'  'Never mind me,' says she.
    Then Gabe brought her some of the new cider, and she must needs go
    drinking it through a strawmote, and not in a nateral way at all.
    'Liddy,' says she, 'bring indoors a few gallons, and I'll make some
    cider-wine.'  Sergeant, I was no more to her than a morsel of scroff
    in the fuel-house!"

    "I must go and find her out at once--O yes, I see that--I must go.
    Oak is head man still, isn't he?"

    "Yes, 'a b'lieve.  And at Little Weatherbury Farm too.  He manages
    everything."

    "'Twill puzzle him to manage her, or any other man of his compass!"

    "I don't know about that.  She can't do without him, and knowing it
    well he's pretty independent.  And she've a few soft corners to her
    mind, though I've never been able to get into one, the devil's in't!"

    "Ah, baily, she's a notch above you, and you must own it: a higher
    class of animal--a finer tissue.  However, stick to me, and neither
    this haughty goddess, dashing piece of womanhood, Juno-wife of mine
    (Juno was a goddess, you know), nor anybody else shall hurt you.  But
    all this wants looking into, I perceive.  What with one thing and
    another, I see that my work is well cut out for me."

    "How do I look to-night, Liddy?" said Bathsheba, giving a final
    adjustment to her dress before leaving the glass.

    "I never saw you look so well before.  Yes--I'll tell you when you
    looked like it--that night, a year and a half ago, when you came in
    so wildlike, and scolded us for making remarks about you and Mr.
    Troy."

    "Everybody will think that I am setting myself to captivate Mr.
    Boldwood, I suppose," she murmured.  "At least they'll say so.  Can't
    my hair be brushed down a little flatter? I dread going--yet I dread
    the risk of wounding him by staying away."

    "Anyhow, ma'am, you can't well be dressed plainer than you are,
    unless you go in sackcloth at once.  'Tis your excitement is what
    makes you look so noticeable to-night."

    "I don't know what's the matter, I feel wretched at one time, and
    buoyant at another.  I wish I could have continued quite alone as I
    have been for the last year or so, with no hopes and no fears, and
    no pleasure and no grief."

    "Now just suppose Mr. Boldwood should ask you--only just suppose
    it--to run away with him, what would you do, ma'am?"

    "Liddy--none of that," said Bathsheba, gravely.  "Mind, I won't hear
    joking on any such matter.  Do you hear?"

    "I beg pardon, ma'am.  But knowing what rum things we women be, I
    just said--however, I won't speak of it again."

    "No marrying for me yet for many a year; if ever, 'twill be for
    reasons very, very different from those you think, or others will
    believe!  Now get my cloak, for it is time to go."


    "Oak," said Boldwood, "before you go I want to mention what has been
    passing in my mind lately--that little arrangement we made about
    your share in the farm I mean.  That share is small, too small,
    considering how little I attend to business now, and how much time
    and thought you give to it.  Well, since the world is brightening
    for me, I want to show my sense of it by increasing your proportion
    in the partnership.  I'll make a memorandum of the arrangement which
    struck me as likely to be convenient, for I haven't time to talk
    about it now; and then we'll discuss it at our leisure.  My intention
    is ultimately to retire from the management altogether, and until you
    can take all the expenditure upon your shoulders, I'll be a sleeping
    partner in the stock.  Then, if I marry her--and I hope--I feel I
    shall, why--"

    "Pray don't speak of it, sir," said Oak, hastily.  "We don't know
    what may happen.  So many upsets may befall 'ee.  There's many a
    slip, as they say--and I would advise you--I know you'll pardon me
    this once--not to be TOO SURE."

    "I know, I know.  But the feeling I have about increasing your share
    is on account of what I know of you.  Oak, I have learnt a little
    about your secret: your interest in her is more than that of bailiff
    for an employer.  But you have behaved like a man, and I, as a sort
    of successful rival--successful partly through your goodness of
    heart--should like definitely to show my sense of your friendship
    under what must have been a great pain to you."

    "O that's not necessary, thank 'ee," said Oak, hurriedly. "I must get
    used to such as that; other men have, and so shall I."

    Oak then left him.  He was uneasy on Boldwood's account, for he saw
    anew that this constant passion of the farmer made him not the man
    he once had been.

    As Boldwood continued awhile in his room alone--ready and dressed to
    receive his company--the mood of anxiety about his appearance seemed
    to pass away, and to be succeeded by a deep solemnity.  He looked out
    of the window, and regarded the dim outline of the trees upon the
    sky, and the twilight deepening to darkness.

    Then he went to a locked closet, and took from a locked drawer
    therein a small circular case the size of a pillbox, and was about to
    put it into his pocket.  But he lingered to open the cover and take
    a momentary glance inside.  It contained a woman's finger-ring, set
    all the way round with small diamonds, and from its appearance had
    evidently been recently purchased.  Boldwood's eyes dwelt upon its
    many sparkles a long time, though that its material aspect concerned
    him little was plain from his manner and mien, which were those of
    a mind following out the presumed thread of that jewel's future
    history.

    The noise of wheels at the front of the house became audible.
    Boldwood closed the box, stowed it away carefully in his pocket, and
    went out upon the landing.  The old man who was his indoor factotum
    came at the same moment to the foot of the stairs.

    "They be coming, sir--lots of 'em--a-foot and a-driving!"

    "I was coming down this moment.  Those wheels I heard--is it Mrs.
    Troy?"

    "No, sir--'tis not she yet."

    A reserved and sombre expression had returned to Boldwood's face
    again, but it poorly cloaked his feelings when he pronounced
    Bathsheba's name; and his feverish anxiety continued to show its
    existence by a galloping motion of his fingers upon the side of
    his thigh as he went down the stairs.


    "How does this cover me?" said Troy to Pennyways.  "Nobody would
    recognize me now, I'm sure."

    He was buttoning on a heavy grey overcoat of Noachian cut, with cape
    and high collar, the latter being erect and rigid, like a girdling
    wall, and nearly reaching to the verge of a travelling cap which was
    pulled down over his ears.

    Pennyways snuffed the candle, and then looked up and deliberately
    inspected Troy.

    "You've made up your mind to go then?" he said.

    "Made up my mind?  Yes; of course I have."

    "Why not write to her?  'Tis a very queer corner that you have got
    into, sergeant.  You see all these things will come to light if you
    go back, and they won't sound well at all.  Faith, if I was you I'd
    even bide as you be--a single man of the name of Francis.  A good
    wife is good, but the best wife is not so good as no wife at all.
    Now that's my outspoke mind, and I've been called a long-headed
    feller here and there."

    "All nonsense!" said Troy, angrily.  "There she is with plenty of
    money, and a house and farm, and horses, and comfort, and here am I
    living from hand to mouth--a needy adventurer.  Besides, it is no use
    talking now; it is too late, and I am glad of it; I've been seen and
    recognized here this very afternoon.  I should have gone back to her
    the day after the fair, if it hadn't been for you talking about the
    law, and rubbish about getting a separation; and I don't put it off
    any longer.  What the deuce put it into my head to run away at all, I
    can't think!  Humbugging sentiment--that's what it was.  But what man
    on earth was to know that his wife would be in such a hurry to get
    rid of his name!"

    "I should have known it.  She's bad enough for anything."

    "Pennyways, mind who you are talking to."

    "Well, sergeant, all I say is this, that if I were you I'd go abroad
    again where I came from--'tisn't too late to do it now.  I wouldn't
    stir up the business and get a bad name for the sake of living with
    her--for all that about your play-acting is sure to come out, you
    know, although you think otherwise.  My eyes and limbs, there'll
    be a racket if you go back just now--in the middle of Boldwood's
    Christmasing!"

    "H'm, yes.  I expect I shall not be a very welcome guest if he has
    her there," said the sergeant, with a slight laugh.  "A sort of
    Alonzo the Brave; and when I go in the guests will sit in silence and
    fear, and all laughter and pleasure will be hushed, and the lights in
    the chamber burn blue, and the worms--Ugh, horrible!--Ring for some
    more brandy, Pennyways, I felt an awful shudder just then!  Well,
    what is there besides?  A stick--I must have a walking-stick."

    Pennyways now felt himself to be in something of a difficulty, for
    should Bathsheba and Troy become reconciled it would be necessary
    to regain her good opinion if he would secure the patronage of her
    husband.  "I sometimes think she likes you yet, and is a good woman
    at bottom," he said, as a saving sentence.  "But there's no telling
    to a certainty from a body's outside.  Well, you'll do as you like
    about going, of course, sergeant, and as for me, I'll do as you tell
    me."

    "Now, let me see what the time is," said Troy, after emptying his
    glass in one draught as he stood.  "Half-past six o'clock.  I shall
    not hurry along the road, and shall be there then before nine."





Chapter 52
Soon enough, Christmas Eve is upon the people of Weatherbury. Everyone learns that Farmer Boldwood is going to give a huge party, which is strange because the guy has never been known to party hearty. Meanwhile, Bathsheba is getting ready to attend the party, full of dread. She knows that Boldwood is having the party so he can publicly announce their engagement, and she doesn't know if she has the power to refuse him. The narrator swoops us over the Boldwood's house. More than usual, he's been very particular about the suit his tailor is making for him. He wants everything to be perfect. When the tailor leaves Gabriel Oak walks into the room. Boldwood dances around the "promise" that he thinks a lady has made to him, and Oak knows exactly what he's talking about. Gabriel warns him about being deceived, though, which makes Boldwood a little annoyed with him. Next, we look in on Sergeant Troy, who is hanging out at a place called the White Hart tavern in the nearby town of Casterbridge. There's a knock at his door, and Pennyways struts in. Troy has sent Pennyways out to inquire about what legal repercussions Troy would face for returning to Weatherbury after pretending he was dead. It turns out that he'd have to receive some sort of punishment for what he's done. Next, Troy wants to know if Bathsheba really plans on marrying Boldwood, as many people have said. Pennyways suggests that all the affection seems to be coming from Boldwood. The two of them briefly discuss how Gabriel Oak has flourished in Pennyways' old role, but Troy says this is just because Pennyways is kind of an incompetence fool. Apparently, the Pennyways knows how to take an insult, because he doesn't punch Troy in the nose. Now we're back with Bathsheba and Liddy. Bathsheba wants to keep making herself plainer and plainer for Boldwood's party, but she can't really do it: she's just too pretty to uglify. Liddy makes a joke about Bathsheba marrying Boldwood, but Bathsheba scolds her. Cut back to Oak and Boldwood. Being in a very good mood, Boldwood tells Oak that he plans on giving Oak a very large stake in his farm. He also says that when he marries Bathsheba he'll be looking to retire, so Oak will take over for him. Finally, Boldwood admits that he knows about the affection Oak has always held for Bathsheba, and he wants to reward him for always behaving with so much dignity. He knows it can't be easy for Oak to stand around listening to someone else talk about marrying Bathsheba. After Oak has left, Boldwood goes to a cupboard and takes out a box with an engagement ring inside it. At this point, he hears his first guests arriving. Once more, we flash back to Sergeant Troy, who is getting himself into a disguise so he won't be recognized at Boldwood's party. Yup, the guy plans on going, even though Pennyways advises against it. Troy knows, though, that people around Casterbridge have already seen and recognized him, so it won't be long before word of his existence gets back to Weatherbury.