Muse

Before we get started tonight, I wanted to let you in on a little secret. For the best sleep, there's nothing better than the Sleepy Bookshelf's premium feed. You'll have ad-free access to the entire catalogue, so you don't have to listen to things like this, plus exclusive bonus stories in between our longer books. Follow the link in the show notes to learn more and start your 7-day free trial tonight. Hello, it's Elizabeth, and I'm excited to share with you the newest show from Slumber Studios. It's called Sleepy History, and it's exactly what it sounds like. Intriguing stories, people, mysteries and events from history, delivered in a supremely calming atmosphere. Explore the legend of El Dorado See what life was like for the Roman gladiators Uncover the myths and mysteries of Stonehenge You'll find interesting but relaxing episodes like these on Sleepy History and the same great production quality you've come to know and love from The Sleepy Bookshelf So check it out, and perhaps you'll have another way to get a good night's rest. Just search Sleepy History in your preferred podcast player. Good evening, and welcome to the Sleepy Bookshop, where we put down our worries from the day and pick up a good book. I'm Elizabeth, your host and it's wonderful to have you here This evening will be continuing with Far From The Madding Crowd As you settle into stillness tonight imagine a gentle evening breeze carrying away every lingering thought from the day feel your breathing becoming slow and steady each exhale softening your body a little more and now picture yourself wrapped in warm comforting darkness peaceful and safe allow your mind to drift like a feather light and effortless with know where it needs to be

as I recap our last episode let calmness spread from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, leaving only quiet ease behind. A young Sergeant Troy arrived at All Saints Church for his wedding, only for the ceremony to unravel when his bride, Fanny, mistakenly waited at nearby All Souls Church instead. He had stood alone through the passing hour, as the congregation watched in growing curiosity, before he left in humiliation. Outside, Fanny tearfully explained her mistake, but Troy, deeply embarrassed by the ordeal, walked away, refusing to set another wedding date, despite her pleading. Meanwhile, Boldwood found himself increasingly captivated by Bathsheba. Seeing her at the market, he looked at her with new admiration, and became convinced of her beauty, and of the significance of the valentine she had sent him. Bathsheba, however, regretted having played such a thoughtless trick, and wished she could apologise without making matters worse. Alone at his farm, Baldwood spotted Bathsheba and finally decided to approach her, but then noticed she was with Gabriel Oak and his confidence failed. He passed by without a word. But tonight, we pick up with Baldwood wanting to make the next move. move. So just lie back and relax, as I turn to the next pages of Far From the Madding Crowd. Chapter 19 The Sheep Washing The Offer Old Wood did eventually call upon her. She was not at home. Of course not, he murmured. In contemplating Bathsheba as a woman, he had forgotten the accidents of her position as an agriculturalist, that being as much of a farmer, and as extensive

a farmer as himself, her probable whereabouts was out of doors at this time of the year. This and the other oversights Baldwood was guilty of were natural to the mood and still more natural to the circumstances. The great aids to idealization in love were present here. occasional observation of her from a distance, and the absence of social intercourse with her, visual familiarity, oral strangeness. The smaller human elements were kept out of sight, the pettinesses that enter so largely into all earthly living and doing, were disguised by the accident of lover and loved one, not being on visiting terms. And there was hardly awakened a thought in Baldwood that sorry household realities appertained to her, or that she, like all others, had moments of commonplace, when to be at least plainly seen was to be most prettily remembered. Thus a mild sort of apotheosis took place in his fancy, whilst she still lived and breathed within his own horizon, a troubled creature like himself. It was the end of May when the farmer determined to be no longer repulsed by trivialities or distracted by suspense. He had by this time grown used to being in love. The passion now startled him less, even when it tortured him more, and he felt himself adequate to the situation. On inquiring for her at her house, they had told him she was at the sheep washing, and he went off to seek her there. The sheep-washing pool was a perfectly circular basin of brickwork in the meadows, full of the clearest water. To birds on the wing, its glassy surface, reflecting the light sky, must have been visible for miles around as a glistening cyclops' eye in a green face.

The grass about the margin at this season was a sight to remember long in a minor sort of way. Its activity in sucking the moisture from the rich, damp sod was almost a process observable by the eye. The outskirts of this level water meadow were diversified by rounded and hollow pastures, where just now, every flower that was not a buttercup was a daisy. The river slid along, noiselessly as a shade, the swelling reeds and sedge forming a flexible palisade upon its moist brink to the north of the mead were trees the leaves of which were new soft and moist not yet having stiffened and darkened under summer sun and drought their color being yellow beside a green. Green. beside a yellow. From the recesses of this knot of foliage, the loud notes of three cuckoos were resounding through the still air. Boldwood went, meditating down the slopes, with his eyes on his boots, which the yellow pollen from the buttercups had bronzed in artistic gradations. A tributary of the main stream flowed through the basin of the pool by an inlet and outlet at opposite points of its diameter. Shepherd Oak, Jan Kogan, Moon, Poregrass, Cain Ball, and several others were assembled here, all dripping wet to the very roots of their hair. And Bathsheba was standing by in a new riding habit, the most elegant she had ever worn. the reins of her horse being looped over her arm. Flagons of cider were rolling about upon the green. The meek sheep were pushed into the pool by Cogan and Matthew Moon who stood by the lower hatch, immersed to their waists. Then Gabriel, who stood on the brink, thrust them under as they swam along with an instrument like a crutch formed for the purpose

and also for assisting the exhausted animals when the wool became saturated and they began to sink. They were let out against the stream and through the upper opening, all impurities flowing away below. Caney, Ball and Joseph, who performed this latter operation, were, if possible, wetter than the rest. They resembled dolphins under a fountain, every protuberance and angle of their clothes, dripping forth a small rill. Baldwood came close and bade her good morning, with such constraint that she could not but think he had stepped across to the washing for its own sake, hoping not to find her there. More, she fancied, his brow severe and his eye slighting. Bathsheba immediately contrived to withdraw and glided along by the river till she was a stone's throw-off. She had footsteps brushing the grass and had a consciousness that love was encircling her like a perfume. Instead of turning or waiting, Bathsheba went further among the high sedges, But Baldwood seemed determined, and pressed on till they were completely past the bend of the river. Here, without being seen, they could hear the splashing and shouts of the washers above. Miss Everdeen, said the farmer. She trembled, turned and said, Good morning. His tone was so utterly removed from all that she had expected as a beginning. It was lowness and quiet accentuated, an emphasis of deep meanings, their form at the same time being scarcely expressed. Silence has sometimes a remarkable power of showing itself as the disembodied soul of feeling, wandering about without its carcass. And it is then more impressive than speech. In the same way, to say a little is often to tell more than to say a great deal. Baldwin told everything in that word. As the consciousness expands on learning that what was fancied to be the rumble of wheels

is the reverberation of thunder, so did Bathsheba's at her intuitive conviction. I feel almost too much. to think, he said with solemn simplicity. I have come to speak to you without preface. My life is not my own since I have beheld you clearly, Miss Everdeen. I come to make you an offer of marriage. Bathsheba tried to preserve an absolutely neutral countenance, and all the motion she made was that of closing lips, which had previously been a little parted. I am now 41 years old, he went on. I may have been called a confirmed bachelor, and I was a confirmed bachelor. I had never any views of myself as a husband in my earlier days, nor have I made any calculation on the subject since I have been older. but we all change and my change in this matter came with seeing you I have felt lately more and more that my present way of living is bad in every respect beyond all things I want you as my wife

I feel Mr. Boldwood that though I respect you much I do not feel what would justify me to in accepting your offer, she stammered.

This giving back of dignity for dignity seemed to open the sluices of feeling that Baldwood had as yet kept closed. my life is a burden without you he exclaimed in a low voice i want you i want you to let me say i love you again and again bathsheba answered nothing and the horse upon her arm seemed so impressed that instead of cropping the herbage, she looked up. I think and hope you care enough for me to listen to what I have to tell. Bathsheba's momentary impulse at hearing this was to ask why he thought that, till she remembered that, far from being a conceited assumption on Baldwood's part, It was but the natural conclusion of serious reflection based on deceptive premises of her own offering. I wish I could say courteous flatteries to you. The farmer continued in an easier tone and put my rugged feeling into a graceful shape. But I have neither power nor patience to learn such things. I want you for my wife, so wildly that no other feeling can abide in me. But I should not have spoken out had I not been led to hope.

Oh, the valentine again. Oh, that valentine.

She said to herself, but not a word to him. If you can love me, say so, Miss Everdeen. If not, don't say no.

Mr. Baldwood It is painful to have to say I am surprised so that I don't know how to answer you with propriety and respect but I'm only just able to speak out my feeling I mean my meaning that I am afraid I can't marry you much as I respect you you are too dignified for me to suit you sir but Miss Everdeen. I didn't. I know. I ought never to have dreamt of sending that valentine. Forgive me, sir. It was a wanton thing which no woman with any self-respect should have done. If you will only pardon my thoughtlessness, I promise never to. No, no, no. Don't say

thoughtlessness. Make me think it was something more. That it was a sort of prophetic instinct, The beginning of a feeling that you would like me. You torture me to say it was done in thoughtlessness. I never thought of it in that light and I can't endure it. I wish I knew how to win you. That I can't do. I can only ask if I have already got you. If I have not and it is not true that you have come unwittingly to me as I have to you, I can say no more.

I have not fallen in love with you, Mr.

Baldwood, certainly I must say that. She allowed a very small smile to creep for the first time over her serious face in saying this, and the white row of upper teeth and keenly cut lips, already noticed, suggested an idea of heartlessness which was immediately contradicted by the pleasant eyes. But you will just think, in kindness and condescension think, if you cannot bear with me as a husband. I fear I am too old for you, but believe me, I will take more care of you than would many a man of your own age. I will protect and cherish you with all my strength. I will indeed. You shall have no cares. Be worried by no household affairs. I live quite at ease, Miss Everdeen. The dairy superintendents shall be done by a man. I can afford it well. You shall never have so much as to look out of doors at haymaking time, or to think of weather in the harvest. I rather cling to the chaise because it is the same my poor father and mother drove. But if you don't like it, I will sell it, and you shall have a pony carriage of your own. I cannot say how far above every other idea and object on earth you seem to me. Nobody knows. God only knows how much you are to me. Bathsheba's heart was young, and it swelled with sympathy for the deep-natured man who spoke so simply. Don't say it. Don't. I cannot bear you to feel so much, and me to feel nothing. And I am afraid they will notice us, Mr. Baldwood. Will you let the matter rest now? I cannot think collectively. I did not know you were going to say this to me. I am wicked to have made you suffer so. She was frightened, as well as agitated at this vehement. Say, then, that you don't absolutely refuse. Do not quite refuse. I can do nothing. I cannot answer. I may speak to you again on the subject? Yes. I may think of you? Yes. I suppose you may think of me. And hope to obtain you? No. Do not hope. let us go on i will call upon you again tomorrow no please not give me time yes i will give you

any time he said earnestly and gratefully i'm happier now no i beg you do not be happier if happiness only comes from my agreeing. Be neutral, Mr. Baldwood. I must think. I will wait, he said. And then she turned away. Baldwood dropped his gaze to the ground and stood long like a man who did not know where he was. Realities then returned upon him, like the pain of a wound received in an excitement which eclipses it. And he, too, then went on. Chapter 20 Perplexity Grinding the Shears A Quarrel Oh, he is so disinterested and kind to offer me all that I can desire, Bathsheba mused. Yet Farmer Baldwood, whether by nature kind or the reverse to kind, did not exercise kindness here. The rarest offerings of the purest loves, a better self-indulgence, and no generosity at all. Bathsheba, not being the least in love with him, was eventually able to look calmly at his offer. It was one which many women of her own station in the neighbourhood, and not a few of higher rank, would have been wild to accept, and proud to publish. In every point of view, ranging from politic to passionate, it was desirable that she would have been a part of the book. she, a lonely girl, should marry, and marry this earnest, well-to-do and respected man. He was close to her doors, his standing was sufficient, his qualities were even superogratory. Had she felt, which she did not, any wish whatever for the married state in the abstract, she could not reasonably have rejected him, being a woman who frequently appeals her understanding for deliverance from her whims. Boldwood as a means to marriage was unexceptionable. She esteemed and liked him, yet she did not want him.

It appears that ordinary men take wives because possession is not possible without marriage, and that ordinary women accept husbands because marriage is not possible without possession. with totally differing aims the method is the same on both sides but the understood incentive on the woman's part was wanting here besides Bathsheba's position as absolute mistress of a farm and house was a novel one and the novelty had not yet begun to wear off But a disquiet filled her which was somewhat to her credit, for it would have affected few. Beyond the mentioned reasons with which she combatted her objections, she had a strong feeling that, having been the one who began the game, she ought in honesty to accept the consequences. Still the reluctance remained. She said in the same breath that it would be ungenerous not to marry Baldwood, and that she couldn't do it to save her life. Bathsheba's was an impulsive nature, under a deliberative aspect. An Elizabeth in brain, and a Mary Stewart in spirit. She often performed actions of the greatest temerity, with a manner of extreme discretion. Many of her thoughts were perfect syllogisms. Unluckily, they always remained thoughts. Only a few were irrational assumptions, but unfortunately, they were the ones which most frequently grew into deeds. The next day, to that of the declaration, she found Gabriel Oak at the bottom of her garden, grinding his shears for the sheep shearing. All the surrounding cottages were more or less scenes of the same operation. The scurr of wetting spread into the sky from all parts of the village, as from an armory previous to a campaign. Peace and war kiss each other at their hours of preparation. Sickles, scythes, shears and pruning hooks, ranking with swords, bayonets and lances in their common necessity for point and edge.

caney ball turned the handle of gabriel's grindstone his head performing a melancholy seesaw up and down with each turn of the wheel oak stood somewhat as eros is represented when in the act of sharpening his arrows his figure slightly bent the weight of his body thrown over on the shears, and his head balanced sideways, with a critical compression of the lips and contraction of the eyelids to crown the attitude. His mistress came up and looked upon them in silence for a minute or two. Then she said, Cain, go to the lower mead and catch the bay mare. I'll turn the winch of the grindstone. I want to speak to you, Gabriel. Cain departed and Bathsheba took the handle. Gabriel had glanced up in intense surprise, quelled its expression and looked down again.

Bathsheba turned the winch, and Gabriel applied the shears. The peculiar motion involved in turning a wheel has a wonderful tendency to benumb the mind. It is a sort of attenuated variety of Ixion's punishment, and contributes a dismal chapter to the history of jails. The brain gets muddled, the head grows heavy, and the body's centre of gravity seems to settle by degrees in a leaden lump somewhere between the eyebrows and the crown. Bathsheba felt the unpleasant symptoms after two or three dozen turns. Will you turn, Gabriel, and let me hold the shears? she said. My head is in a well and I can't talk. Gabriel turned. Bathsheba then began with some awkwardness, allowing her thoughts to stray occasionally from her story to attend to the shears, which required a little nicety in sharpening. I wanted to ask you if the men made any observations on my going behind the sedge with Mr. Baldwood yesterday. Yes, I did. said Gabriel. You don't hold the shears, right, miss? I knew you wouldn't know the way. Hold like this. He relinquished the whinge, and enclosing her two hands completely in his own, taking each as we sometimes slap a child's hand and teaching him to write, grasped the shears with her. and climb the edge, so, he said. Hands and shears were inclined to suit the words and held thus for a peculiarly long time by the instructor as he spoke. That will do, exclaimed Bathsheba. Loose my hands. I won't have them held. Turn the winch. Gabriel freed her hands quietly, retired to his handle, and the grinding went on. Did the men think it odd? She said again. Odd was not the idea, miss. Well, what did they say? That Farmer Baldwood's name and your own were likely to be flung over pulpit together before the year was out? I thought so by the look of them. Why, there's nothing in it. A more foolish remark was never made, and I want you to contradict it. That's what I came for.

Gabriel looked incredulous and sad, but between his moments of incredulity relieved. They must have heard our conversation, she continued. "'Well then, Bathsheba,' said O, stopping the handle and gazing into her face with astonishment. "'Miss Everdeen, you mean?' she said with dignity. "'I mean this. As if Mr. Baldwood really spoke of marriage, about going to tell a story and say he didn't to please you. I've already tried to please you too much for my own good.' Bathsheba regarded him with round-eyed perplexity. She did not know whether to pity him for disappointed love of her, or to be angry with him for having got over it, his tone being ambiguous. I said I wanted you just to mention that it was not true that I was going to be married to him, she murmured, with a slight decline in her assurance. I can say that to them if you wish, Miss Everdeen, and I could likewise give an opinion to you on what you have done.

I dare say, but I don't want your opinion.

I suppose not, said Gabriel bitterly, and going on with his turning, his words rising and falling in a regular swirl and cadence as he stooped or rose with the winch, which directed them, according to his position, perpendicularly to the earth, or horizontally along the garden, his eyes being fixed on a leaf upon the ground. With Bathsheba, a hastened act was a rash act, but as does not always happen,

happen, time gained was prudence ensured. It must be added, however, that the time was very seldom gained. At this period, the single opinion in the parish on herself and her doings that she valued as sounder than her own was Gabriel Oakes, and the outspoken honesty of his character was such that on any subject, even that of her love for or marriage with another man, the same disinterestedness of opinion might be calculated on, and be had for the asking. Thoroughly convinced of the impossibility of his own suit, a high resolve constrained him not to injure that of another. This is a lover's most stoical virtue. as the lack of it is a lover's most venial sin. Knowing he would reply truly, she asked the question, painful as she must have known the subject would be. Such is the selfishness of some charming woman. Perhaps it was some excuse for her thus torturing honesty to her own advantage, but she had absolutely no other sound judgment within easy reach. Well, what is your opinion of my conduct? She said quietly. That it is unworthy of any thoughtful and meek and comely woman. In an instant Bathsheba's face coloured with the angry crimson of a danby sunset But she forbore to utter this feeling And the reticence of her tongue only made the loquacity of her face the more noticeable The next thing Gabriel did was to make a mistake Perhaps you don't like the rudeness of my reprimanding you, for I know it is rudeness I thought it would do good. She instantly replied sarcastically. On the contrary, my opinion of you is so low that I see your abuse, the praise of discerning people. I'm glad you don't mind it, for I said it honestly, and with every serious meaning. I see. But unfortunately, when you try not to speak in jest, you are amusing. Just as when you wish to avoid seriousness, you sometimes say a sensible word. It was hard hit, but Bathsheba had unmistakably lost her temper, and on that account Gabriel had never in his life kept his own better. He said nothing. She then broke out.

I may ask, I suppose, where in particular my unworthiness lies? In my not marrying you, perhaps. Not by any means, said Gabriel quietly. I've long given up thinking of that matter, or wishing it, I suppose, she said, and it was apparent that she had expected unhesitating denial of this supposition. Whatever Gabriel felt, he coolly echoed her words, or wishing it either. A woman may be treated with a bitterness which is sweet to her, and with a rudeness which is not offensive. Bathsheba would have submitted to an indignant chastisement for her levity, had Gabriel protested that he was loving her at the same time. The impetuosity of passion unrequited is bearable, even if it stings and anathematizes. There is a triumph in the humiliation, and a tenderness in the strife. This was what she had been expecting, and what she had not got. To be lectured because the lecturer saw her in the cold morning light of open-shuttered disillusion was exasperating. He had not finished either. He continued, in a more agitated voice. My opinion is, since you ask it, that you are greatly to blame for playing pranks upon a man like Mr. Boldwood merely as a pastime. Leading on a man you don't care for is not a praiseworthy action. And even, Miss Everdeen, if you seriously inclined towards him, you might have let him find it out in some way of true loving kindness, and not by sending him a Valentine's letter. Bathsheba laid down.

the shears. I cannot allow any man to criticise my private conduct, she exclaimed. Nor will I for a minute. So you'll please leave the farm at the end of the week.

It may have been a peculiarity. At any rate, it was a fact that when Bathsheba was swayed by an motion of an earthly sort, her lower lip trembled, when by a refined emotion, her upper or heavenward one, her nether lip quivered now. Very well, so I will, said Gabriel calmly. He had been held to her by a beautiful thread, which it pained him to spoil by breaking, rather than by a chain he could not break. I should be even better pleased to go at once, he added. Go at once then, in heaven's name, said she, her eyes flashing at his, though never meeting them. Don't let me see your face anymore. Very well, Miss Everdeen, so it shall be. And he took his shears and went away from her in placid dignity, as Moses left the presence of the Pharaoh.

Thank you. Thank you.

Amen. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.