Music Welcome to Snoozecast, the podcast designed to help you fall asleep. Find us at snoozecast.com and if you enjoy our show, please share us with a friend. This episode is brought to you by a new deck of playing cards. Tonight, we'll read the opening to Cranford, a novel by the English writer Elizabeth Gaskill, first published in 1853. The work slowly became popular, and from the start of the 20th century, it saw a number of dramatic treatments for the stage, radio, and TV. The fictional town of Cranford is based on the author's childhood hometown of Nutzford in England. The stories within portray the old-fashioned class-nobbery prevalent in country towns at the time. Charles Dickens encouraged Gaskill to turn her stories into the completed novel. If you enjoy this episode, be sure to listen to our August 2021 episode North and South from the same author.

Let's get cozy. Close your eyes.

Relax your body into the softness of your bed. Now, take a few deep breaths. Chapter 1 Our Society In the first place, Cranford is in possession of the Amazon's. All the holders of houses above a certain rent are women. If a married couple come to settle in the town, somehow the gentleman disappears. He is either fairly frightened to death by being the only man in the Kranford Evening parties, or he is accounted for by being with his regiment, his ship, or closely engaged in business all the week in the great neighboring commercial town of Drumble, distant only 20 miles on a railroad. In short, whatever does become of the gentleman, they are not at Cranford. What could they do if they were there? The surgeon has his round of 30 miles and sleeps at Cranford, but every man cannot be a surgeon. For keeping the trim gardens full of choice flowers without a weed to spec them, for Frightening away little boys who look wistfully at the said flowers through the railings, for rushing out at the geese that occasionally venture into the gardens if the gates are left open, for deciding all questions of literature and politics without troubling themselves with unnecessary reasons or arguments, for obtaining clear and correct knowledge of everybody's affairs in the parish, for keeping their neat made servants in admirable order, for kindness somewhat dictatorial to the poor, and real tender good offices to each other whenever they are in distress. The ladies of Cranford are quite sufficient. A man, as one of them observed to me once, is so in the way in the house. Although the ladies of Cranford know all each other's proceedings, they are exceedingly indifferent to each other's opinions. Indeed, as each has her own individuality, not to say eccentricity, pretty strongly developed, nothing is so easy as verbal retaliation, but somehow good will reigns among them to a considerable degree. The Cranford ladies have only an occasional little quarrel, spirited out in a few peppery words and angry jerks of the head, just enough to prevent the even tenor of their lives from becoming too flat. Their dress is very independent of fashion as they observe.

What does it signify how we dress here at Cranford where everybody knows us? And if they go from home, their reason is equally cogent. What does it signify how we dress here where nobody knows us? the materials of their clothes are in general good and plain.

And most... us here where nobody knows us. The materials of their clothes are, in general, good and plain, and most of them are nearly as scrupulous as Miss Tyler of cleanly memory, but I will answer for it. The last tight and scanty pedicote in where in England was seen in Cranford and seen without a smile. I can testify to a magnificent family red silk umbrella under which a gentle little spingester left alone of many brothers and sisters used used to pat her to church on rainy days. Have you any red silk umbrellas in London? We had a tradition of the first that had been ever seen in Cranford, and the little boys mobbed it and called it a stick in petty coats. It might have been the very red silk one I'd have described, held by a strong father over a troop of little ones. The poor little lady, the survivor of all, could scarcely carry it. Then there were rules and regulations for visiting and calls, and they were announced to any young people who might be staying in the town, with all the solemnity with which the old man's laws were read once a year on the tin-walled mount. Our friends have sent to inquire how you are after your journey tonight, my dear. Fifteen miles in a gentleman's carriage. They will give you some rest tomorrow, but the next day I have no doubt they will call, so be at liberty after twelve, from twelve to three are our calling hours. Then, after they had called, it is the third day. I dare say your mama has told you, my dear, never to let more than three days elapse between receiving a call and returning it. and also that you are never to stay longer than a quarter of an hour. But am I to look at my watch? How am I to find out when a quarter of an hour has passed? You must keep thinking about the time, my dear, and not allow yourself to forget it in conversation. As everybody had this rule in their minds, whether they received or paid a call, of course no absorbing subject was ever spoken about, we kept ourselves to short sentences of small talk and were punctual to our time. I imagine that a few of the gentle folks of Cranford were poor and had some difficulty in making both ends meet, but they were like the Spartans and concealed their smart under a smiling face. none of us of money, because that subject savored of commerce and trade, and those some might be poor, we were all aristocratic. The Grand Fortyons had that kindly Esprit décor which made them overlook all deficiencies in success when some among them tried to conceal their poverty. When Mrs. Forester, for instance, gave a party in her baby house of a dwelling, and the little maiden disturbed the ladies on the sofa by a request that she might get the tea tray out from underneath.

Everyone took this novel proceeding as the most natural thing in the world, and talked on about household forms and ceremonies as if we all believed that our hostess had a regular servants hall, second table with housekeeper and steward instead of the one little charity

school Hustis had a regular servants' hall, second table, with Housekeeper and Steward, instead of the one little charity schoolmaiden, whose short, ready arms could never have been strong enough to carry the tray upstairs, if she had not been assisted in private by her mistress, who now sat in state, pretending not to know what cakes were sent up, though she knew, and we knew, and she knew that we knew, and we knew that she knew that we knew, she had been busy all the morning making tea-bread and sponge cakes. were one or two consequences arising from this general but unechnolaged poverty and this very much acknowledged gentility, which were not a mess and which might be introduced into many circles of society to their great improvement. For instance, the inhabitants of Cranford kept early hours and cladded home in their patterns under the guidance of a lantern bearer about nine o'clock at night, and the whole town was a bed and a sleep by half past ten. Moreover, it was considered vulgar, a tremendous word and crantford, to give anything expensive in the way of eatable or drinkable at the evening entertainments. Wafer bread and butter and sponge biscuits were all that the honorable Mrs. Jameson gave, and she was sister-in-law to the late Earl of Glenmeyer, although she did practice such elegant economy. Elegant economy. How naturally one falls back into the phrasology of Cranford. There, economy was always elegant, and money-spending always vulgar and ostentatious. A sort of sour grape-ism, which made us very peaceful and satisfied. I never shall forget the dismay felt when a certain Captain Brown came to live at

Cranford, and openly spoke about his being poor, not in a whisper to an intimate friend, the doors and windows being previously closed, but in the public street, in a loud military voice, alleging his poverty as a reason for not taking a particular house. The ladies of Cranford were already rather moaning over the invasion of their territories by a man and a gentleman. He was a half-pay captain and had obtained some situation on a neighboring railroad, which had been vehemently petitioned against by the little town. And if, in addition to his masculine gender and his connection with a obnoxious railroad, he was so brazen as to talk of being poor, why then, indeed, he must be sent to Coventry. Death was as true and as common as poverty, yet people never spoke about that, loud out in the streets. It was a word not to be mentioned to Ears' polite. We had tacically agreed to ignore that any with whom we associated on terms of visiting equality could ever be prevented by poverty from doing anything that they wished. If we walked to or from a party, it was because the night was so fine, or the air so refreshing, not because sedan chairs were expensive. If we were prince instead of summer silks, it was because we preferred a washing material and so on till we blinded ourselves to the vulgar fact that we were all of us, people of very moderate means. Of course, then, we did not know what to make of a man who could speak of poverty as if it was not a disgrace. Yet, somehow, Captain Brown made himself respected in Cranford and was called upon, in spite of all resolutions to the contrary. I was surprised to hear his opinions quoted as authority at a visit which I paid to Cranford about a year after he had settled in the town. My own friends had been among the bitterest opponents of any proposal to visit the captain and his daughters, only twelve months before, and now he was even admitted in the tabooed hours before twelve. True, it was to discover the cause of a smoking chimney before the fire was lighted, but still Captain Brown walked upstairs, nothing dunted, spoke in a voice too large for the room, and joked quite in the way of a tame man about the house. He had been blind to all the small slights and emissions of trivial ceremonies with which he had been received. He had been friendly, though the Grandford ladies had been cool. He had answered small sarcastic compliments and good faith, and with his manly frankness had overpowered all the shrinking which met him as a man who was not ashamed to be poor. And at last, his excellent masculine common sense and his facility in devising expedience to overcome domestic dilemmas had gained him an extraordinary place as authority among the Cranford ladies. He himself went on in his course, as unaware of his popularity as he had been of the reverse. And I am sure he was startled one day when he found his advice so highly esteemed as to to make some counsel which had given in just to be taken in sober, serious, earnest. It was on this subject. An old lady had a cow which she looked upon as a daughter. You could not pay the short quarter of an hour call without being told of the wonderful milk or wonderful intelligence of this animal. The whole town knew and kindly regarded Miss Betsy Barker's cow. Therefore, great was the sympathy and regret when, in an unguarded moment, the poor cow tumbled into a lime pit. She moaned so loudly that she was soon heard and rescued, but meanwhile the poor beast had lost most of her hair and came out looking naked, cold and miserable in a bare skin. Everybody pitted the animal, though a few could not restrain their smiles at her droll appearance. Miss Betsy Barker absolutely cried with sorrow and dismay, and it was said she thought of

trying a bath of oil. This remedy, perhaps, was recommended by someone of the number whose advice she asked, but the proposal, if ever it was made, was knocked on the head by Captain Brown's decided, get her a flannel waistcoat and flannel drawers, ma'am, if you wish to keep her alive. But my advice is, do that make her comfortable. Miss Betsy Barker dried her eyes and thanked the captain heartily. She set to work and buy and buy all the town turned out to see the cow, meekly going to her pasture, clad in dark. I have watched her myself many a time. Do you ever see cows dressed in gray flannel in London? Captain Brown had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, where he lived with his two daughters. He must have been upwards of 60 at the time of the first visit I paid to Cranford after I had left it as a residence, but he had a wiry, well-trained elastic figure, a stiff military throw back of his head and a springing step, which made him appear much younger than he was. His eldest daughter looked almost as old as himself and betrayed the fact that his real was more than his apparent age. Miss Brown must have been 40. She had a sickly, care-worn expression on her face, and looked as if the gayity of youth had long faded out of sight. Even when young, she must have been plain and hard-featured. Miss Jessie Brown was 10 years younger than her sister, and twenty shades prettier. Her face was round and dimpled. Miss Jenkins once said, in a passion against Captain Brown, the cause of which I will tell you presently, that she thought it was time for Miss Jessie to leave off her dimples and not always to be trying to look like a child. It was true there was something childlike in her face, and there will be, I think, till she dies, though she shed live to a hundred. Her eyes were large blue-wondering eyes, looking straight at you. Her nose was unformed and snub. And her lips were red and dewy. She wore her hair, too, in little rows of curls, which heightened this appearance. I do not know whether she was pretty or not, but I liked her face, and so did everybody, and I do not think she could help her dimples. She had something of her father's jauntiness of gait and manner, and any female observer might detect a slight difference in the attire of the two sisters. That of Miss Jessie being about two pounds per annum more expensive than Miss Brown's. Two pounds was a large sum in Captain Brown's annual disbursements. Such was the impression made upon me by the Brown family when I first saw them all together in Cranford Church. The captain I had met before on the occasion of the Smoky chimney, which he had cured by some simple alteration in the flu. In church, he held his double eye glass to his eyes during the morning him, and then lifted up his head erect and sang out loud and joyfully. He made the responses louder than the clerk, an old man with a piping feeble voice who, I think, felt aggrieved at the captain's sonorous base and quivered higher and higher in consequence. On coming out of church, the brisk captain paid the most gallant attention to his two daughters. He nodded and smiled

to his acquaintances, but he shook hands with none until he had helped Miss Brown to unfurl her umbrella, had relieved her of her prayer book, and had waited patiently till she, with trembling nervous hands, had taken up her gown to walk through the wet roads.

I wonder what the Cranford ladies did with Captain Brown at their parties.

We had often rejoiced in former days that there was no gentleman to be attended to,

and to find conversation for at the card parties. We had congratulated ourselves upon the snuckness of the evenings, and in our love for gentility and distaste of mankind, we had almost persuaded ourselves that to be a man was to be vulgar, so that when I found my friend and hostess, Miss Jenkins, was going to have a party in my honor, and that Captain and the Miss Browns were invited, I wondered much what would be the course of the evening. Card tables with green tops were set out by daylight just as usual. It was the third week in November, so the evenings closed in about four. Candles and clean packs of cards were arranged on each table. The fire was made up. The neat, made servant had received her last directions. And there we stood, dressed in our best, each with a candle lighter in our hands, ready to dart at the candles as soon as the first knock came. and cramford were solemn festivities, making the ladies feel gravely elated as they sat together in their best dresses. As soon as three had arrived, we sat down to preference, I being the unlucky fourth.

The next four comers were put down immediately to another table,

and presently the tea trays,

which I had seen set out in the storeroom as I passed in the morning,

were placed each on the middle of a card table. The China was delicate eggshell. The old-fashioned silver glittered with polishing, but the eatables were of the slightest description. While the trays were yet on the tables, Captain and the Miss Browns came in, and I could see that somehow or other, the Captain was a favorite with all the ladies present. Ruffled browns were smoothed, sharp voices lowered at his approach. Miss Brown looked ill and depressed almost to gloom. Miss Jessie smiled as usual and seemed nearly as popular as her father. He immediately and quietly assumed the man's place in the room, attended to everyone's wants, lessons the pretty maid servants' labor by waiting on empty cups and bread and butterless ladies. And yet did it all in so easy and dignified a manner, and so much as if it were a matter of course for the strong to attend to the weak, that he was a true man throughout. He played for three penny points with as grave and interest as if they had been pounds. And yet, in all his attention to strangers, he had an eye on his suffering daughter. For suffering, I was sure she was. Though to many eyes, she might only appear to be irritable. Miss Jessie could not play cards, but she talked to the sitters out, who, before her coming, had been rather inclined to be cross. She sang too, to an old cracked piano, which I think had been a spin at in its youth. Miss Jessie sang, Jock of Hazel Dean, a little out of tune, but we were none of us musical, though Miss Jenkins beat time out of time by way of appearing to be so. It was very good of Miss Jenkins to do this. For I had seen that a little before. She had been a good deal annoyed by Miss Jessie Brown's unguarded admission, apropos of Shetland Wool, that she had an uncle, her mother's brother, who was a shopkeeper in Edinburgh. Miss Jenkins tried to drown this confession by a terrible call. For the honorable Mrs. Jamison was sitting at a

car table nearest Miss Jessie. And what would she say or think if she found out

she was in the same room with a shopkeeper's niece. you