August 18, 2025 • 36 mins
In this captivating novella by the renowned Elizabeth Gaskell, we delve into the life and memories of the aristocratic Lady Ludlow, as narrated by her young charge, Margaret Dawson. Lady Ludlow embodies the resistance of the old English gentry to embrace social reform and technological advancements, including education for the less fortunate and a more lenient approach to religion. Through her reflections on friends from the tumultuous times of the French Revolution, she seeks to protect and mentor the many young ladies under her care. [Summary by Rosie]
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter six of My Lady Ludlow by Elizabeth Gaskell. This
is a liberovox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the
public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit
libervox dot org. Recording Thy Capricia Page, My Lady Ludlow
(00:24):
by Elizabeth Gaskell, Chapter six. All night, Madame de Craigy
raved in delirium. If I could, I would have sent
for Clement back again. I did send off one man,
but I suppose my directions were confused or they were wrong,
(00:46):
for he came back after my Lord's return on the
following afternoon. By this time, Madame de Craigy was quieter.
She was indeed a sleep from exhaustion. When Lord Ludlow
and Monkshaven came in, they were in high spirits, and
their hopefulness brought me round to a less dispirited state.
(01:07):
All had gone well. They had accompanied Clement on foot
along the shore until they met with a lugger, which
my Lord had hailed in good nautical language. The captain
had responded to these freemason terms by sending a boat
to pick up his passenger, and by an invitation to
breakfast sent through a speaking trumpet. Monkshaven did not approve
(01:33):
of either the meal or the company, and had returned
to the inn. But my Lord had gone with Clement
and breakfasted on board upon grog biscuit fresh caught fish.
The best breakfast he ever ate, he said, but that
was probably owing to the appetite his knight's ride had
given him. However, his good fellowship had evidently won the
(01:57):
captain's heart, and Clement had set a sail under the
best auspices. It was agreed that I should tell all
this to Madame de Craigy if she inquired. Otherwise, it
would be wiser not to renew her agitation by alluding
to her son's journey. I sat with her constantly for
many days, but she never spoke of Clement. She forced
(02:20):
herself to talk of little occurrences of Parisian society in
former days. She tried to be conversational and agreeable, and
to betray no anxiety or even interest in the subject
of Clement's journey, And as far as unremitting effort could go,
she succeeded. But the tones of her voice were sharp
(02:44):
and yet piteous, as if she were in constant pain,
and the glance of her eye, hurried and fearful, as
if she dared not let it rest on any object.
In a week we heard of Clement's safe arrival on
the French coast. He sent a letter to this effect
by the captain of the smuggler. When the latter returned,
(03:06):
we hoped to hear again. But week after week elapsed
and there was no news of Clement. I had told
Lord Ludlow in Madame de Crakie's presence, as he and
I had arranged, of the note I had received from
her son informing us of his landing in France. She heard,
but she took no notice, and evidently began to wonder
(03:29):
that we did not mention any further intelligence of him
in the same manner before her, and daily I began
to fear that her pride would give way, and that
she would supplicate for news before I had any to
give her. One morning, on my awakening, my maid told
me that Madame de Crakie had passed a wretched night
(03:52):
and had bidden Medlicott, whom as understanding French and speaking
it pretty well, though with that horrid German accent, I
had put about her request that I should go to
Madame's room. As soon as I was dressed. I knew
what was coming, and I trembled all the time they
were doing my hair and otherwise arranging me. I was
(04:15):
not encouraged by my lord's speech. He had heard the
message and kept declaring that he would rather be shot
than to have to tell her that there was no
news of her son. And yet he said, every now
and then, when I was at the lowest pitch of uneasiness,
that he never expected to hear again, that some day
(04:36):
soon we should see him walking in and introducing Mademoiselle
de Craiky to us. However, at last I was ready
and go I must. Her eyes were fixed on the
door by which I entered. I went up to the bedside.
She was not rouged. She had left it off. Now
for several days she no longer attempted to keep up
(04:59):
the vain show of feeling and loving and fearing. For
a moment or two she did not speak, and I
was glad of the respite Clement, she said at length,
covering her mouth with a handkerchief the minute she had
spoken it, that I might not see it quiver. There
(05:21):
has been no news since the first letter saying how
well the voyage was performed, and how safely he had
landed near de Pay. You know, I replied, as cheerfully
as possible. My Lord does not expect that we shall
have another letter. He thinks that we shall see him soon.
There was no answer. As I looked, uncertain whether to
(05:46):
do or say more, she slowly turned herself in bed
and lay with her face to the wall, and as
if that did not shut out the light of day
and the busy, happy world enough, she put out her
trembling hands and covered her face with her handkerchief. There
was no violence, hardly any sound. I told her what
(06:10):
my Lord had said about Clement's coming in someday and
taking us all by surprise. I did not believe it myself,
but it was just possible, and I had nothing else
to say. Pity to one who was striving so hard
to conceal her feelings would have been impertinent. She let
(06:33):
me talk, but she did not reply. She knew that
my words were vain and idle, and had no root
in my belief, as well as I did myself. I
was very thankful when Medlicott came in with Madame's breakfast
and gave me an excuse for leaving, But I think
(06:53):
that conversation made me feel more anxious and impatient than ever.
I felt almost pledged to Madame de Craikey for the
fulfillment of the vision I had held out. She had
taken entirely to her bed by this time, not from illness,
but because she had no hope within her to stir
her up to the effort of dressing. In the same way,
(07:15):
she hardly cared for food. She had no appetite why
eat to prolong a life of despair, But she let
Medlicott feed her sooner than take the trouble of resisting.
And so it went on for weeks months. I could
(07:36):
hardly count the time. It seemed so long. Medlicott told
me she noticed a pretty natural sensitiveness of ear in
Madame de Craigie, induced by the habit of listening silently
for the slightest unusual sound in the house. Medelicot was
always a minute watcher of anyone whom she cared about,
(07:57):
and one day she made me know I notice by
a sign of Madame's acuteness of hearing. Although the quick
expectation was but evinced for a moment in the turn
of the eye, the hushed breath, and then, when the
unusual footstep turned into my Lord's apartments, the soft quivering sigh,
and the closed eyelids. At length, the intendant of the
(08:22):
to Craigy's estates, the old man, you will remember, whose information,
respecting Virzini d. Craigy, first gave Clement the desire to
return to Paris, came to Saint James's square and begged
to speak to me. I made haste to go down
to him in the Housekeeper's room, sooner than he should
(08:42):
be ushered into mine, for fear of Madame hearing any sound.
The old man stood. I see him now, with his
hand held before him in both hands. He slowly bowed
till his face touched it when I came in, so
long excess of courtesy, augured ill. He waited for me
(09:05):
to speak. Have you any intelligence? I inquired. He had
been often in the house before to ask if we
had received any news, and once or twice I had
seen him, but this was the first time he had
begged to see me. Yes, Madame, he replied, still standing
(09:26):
with his head bent down like a child in disgrace,
and it is bad, I exclaimed, it is bad. For
a moment I was angry at the cold tone in
which my words were echoed. But directly afterwards I saw
the large, slow, heavy tears of age falling down the
(09:46):
old man's cheeks and on the upper sleeves of his poor,
threadbare coat. I asked him how he heard it. It
seemed as though I could not all at once bear
to hear what it was. He told me that the
night before, in crossing long Acre, he had stumbled upon
an old acquaintance of his, one who, like himself, had
(10:10):
been a dependent upon the du Craki family, but had
managed their Paris affairs while Flatier had taken charge of
their estates in the country. Both were now emigrants and
living on the proceeds of such small available talents as
they possessed. Flechier, as I knew, earned a very fair
(10:30):
livelihood by going about to dress salads for dinner parties.
His compatriot, the Fever, had begun to give a few
lessons as a dancing master. One of them took the
other home to his lodgings, and there, when their most
immediate personal adventures had been hastily talked over, came the
(10:52):
inquiry from Flecia as to Monsieur de Crequis, Clement was dead,
guillotined VIRUSITTI was dead guillotined. When Flecia had told me
thus much, he could not speak for sobbing, and I
myself could hardly tell how to restrain my tears sufficiently
(11:16):
until I could go to my own room and be
at liberty. To give way, he asked my leave to
bring in his friend Lefevret, who was walking in the
square awaiting a possible summons, to tell his story. I
heard afterwards a good many details which filled up the
account and made me feel, which brings me back to
(11:40):
the point I started from, how unfit the lower orders
are for being trusted indiscriminately with the dangerous powers of education.
I have made it a long preamble, but now I
am coming to the moral of my story. The lady
was trying to shake off the emotion which she evidently
(12:01):
felt in recurring to this sad history of Monsieur de
Craigie's death. She came behind me and arranged my pillows,
and then, seeing I had been crying for indeed, I
was weak spirited at the time and a little served
to unloose my tears. She stooped down and kissed my forehead,
(12:23):
and said, poor child, almost as if she thanked me
for feeling that old grief of hers being. Once in France,
it was no difficult thing for Clement to get into Paris.
The difficulty in those days was to leave, not to enter.
He came in dressed as a Norman peasant, in charge
(12:45):
of a load of fruit and vegetables, with which one
of the same barges was freighted. He worked hard with
his companions in landing and arranging their produce on the quays,
and then, when they dispersed to get their breakfasts at
some of the estimates, near the old marcheo Fleur, he
(13:07):
sauntered up a street which conducted him by many an
odd turn through the old Cartie a Latin, a horrid
back alley leading out of the rue Les con des Medsine,
some atrocious place, as I have heard, not far from
the shadow of that terrible abbe, where so many of
the best blood of France awaited their deaths. But here
(13:32):
some old man lived on whose fidelity Clement thought he
might rely. I am not sure if he had not
been gardener in those very gardens behind the Hotel Kraiqui,
where Clement and Urion used to play together years before.
But whatever the old man's dwelling might be, Clement was
(13:52):
only too glad to reach it. You may be sure
he had been kept in Normandy, in all sorts of
disguises for many day after landing into Pay through the
difficulty of entering Paris, unsuspected by the many Ruffians who
were always on the lookout for aristocrats. The old gardener was,
I believe, both faithful and tired, and sheltered Clement in
(14:15):
his garret as well as might be. Before he could
start out. It was necessary to procure a fresh disguise,
and one more in character with the inhabitants of Paris
than that of a Norman. Carter was procured, and after
waiting indoors for one or two days to see if
any suspicion was excited, Clement set off to discover Verzini.
(14:39):
He found her at the old concierge's dwelling. Madame Babette
was the name of this woman, who must have been
a less faithful or rather, perhaps I should say, more
interested friend to her guest than the old gardener Jacques
was to Clement. I have seen a miniature of Versini,
(15:00):
which a French lady of quality happened to have in
her possession at the time of her flight from Paris,
and which she brought with her to England unwittingly, for
it belonged to the Count de Craigie, with whom she
was slightly acquainted. I should fancy from it that Virzini
was taller and of a more powerful figure for a
woman than her cousin Clement was for a man. Her
(15:23):
dark brown hair was arranged in short curls. The way
of dressing the hair announced the politics of the individual
in those days, just as patches did in my grandmother's time,
and Virzini's hair was not to my taste, or according
to my principles. It was too classical. Her large black
(15:46):
eyes looked out at you steadily. One cannot judge the
slope of a nose from a full face miniature, but
the nostrils were clearly cut and largely open. I do
not fancy her nose could have been pretty, But her
mouth had a character all its own, and which would
I think have redeemed a plainer face. It was wide
(16:09):
and deep, set into the cheeks at the corners. The
upper lip was very much arched and hardly closed over
the teeth, so that the whole face looked from the
serious intent look in the eyes and the sweet intelligence
of the mouth, as if she were listening eagerly to
something to which her answer was quite ready and would
(16:31):
come out of those red opening lips as soon as
ever you had done speaking, and you longed to know
what she would say. Well, this Virzini de Craigy was
living with Madame Babette in the conciergerie of an old
French inn, somewhere in the north of Paris, so far
(16:53):
enough from Clement's refuge. The inn had been frequented by
farmers from Brittany and such kind of people in the
days when that sort of intercourse went on between Paris
and the provinces, which now had nearly stopped. Few Bretons
came near it now, and the inn had fallen into
(17:14):
the hands of Madame Babette's brother as payment for a
bad wine debt of the last proprietor. He put his
sister and her child in to keep it open, as
it were, and sent all the people he could to
occupy the half furnished rooms of the house. They paid
Babbet for their lodging every morning as they went out
(17:35):
to breakfast and returned, or not as they chose at night.
Every three days the wine merchant or his son came
to Madame Babette, and she accounted to them for the
money she had received. She and her child occupied the
porter's office in which the lad slept at nights, and
a little miserable bedroom which opened out of it and
(17:58):
received all the light and air that was admitted through
the door of communication, which was half glass. Madame Babette
must have had a kind of attachment for the d
crakeys heard de crakeys. You understand Virsini's father of the count,
for at some risk to herself, she had warned both
(18:18):
him and his daughter of the danger in pending over them.
But he infatuated, would not believe that his dear human
race could ever do him harm, And as long as
he did not fear, Virsini was not afraid. It was
by some ruse, the nature of which I never heard,
(18:41):
that Madame Babette induced Virzini to come to her abode
at the very hour in which the Count had been
recognized in the streets and hurried off to the lantern.
It was after Babbett had got her there, safe shut
up in the little back den, that she told her
what had befallen her father. From that day, Virzini never
(19:06):
stirred out of the gates or crossed the threshold of
the porter's lodge. I do not say that Madame Babette
was tired of her continual presence or regretted the impulse
which made her rush to the t Craki's well known
house after being compelled to form one of the mad
crowds that saw the Count de Crakiye seized and hung
(19:27):
and hurry his daughter out through the alleys and back ways,
until at length she had the orphans safe in her
own dark sleeping room and could tell her tale of horror.
But Madame Babette was poorly paid for her porter's work
by her avaricious brother, and it was hard enough to
find food for herself and her growing boy. And though
(19:50):
the poor girl ate little enough, I dare say, yet
there seemed no end to the burthen that Madame Babette
had imposed upon herself. The de Craye keys were plundered, ruined,
and had become an extinct race all but a lovely,
friendless girl in broken health and spirits. And though she
(20:13):
lent no positive encouragement to his suit, yet at the
time when Clement reappeared in Paris, Madame Babette was beginning
to think that Virzini might do worse than encourage the
attentions of Monsieur morn Feists, her nephew and the wine
merchant's son. Of course, he and his father had the
(20:35):
entree to the concierge of the hotel that belonged to
them in right of being both proprietors and relations. The
son Morn had seen Virzini in this manner. He was
fully aware that she was far above him in rank,
and guessed from her whole aspect that she had lost
her natural protectors by the terrible guillotine. But he did
(20:58):
not know her exact name or station, nor could he
persuade his aunt to tell him. However, he fell head
over ears in love with her, whether she were princess
or peasant, and though at first there was something about
her which made his passionate love conceal itself with shy,
(21:20):
awkward reserve and then made it only appear in the
guise of deep respectful devotion. Yet by and bye, by
the same process of reasoning, I suppose that his aunt
had gone through even before him, Jean Morn began to
let hope oust despair from his heart. Sometimes he thought,
(21:44):
perhaps years hence, that solitary, friendless lady pent up in
Squalor might turn to him as a friend and comforter.
And then, and then, meanwhile Jean Morn was most attentive
to his aunt, whom he had rather slighted before. He
(22:04):
would linger over the accounts, would bring her little presents,
and above all he made a pet and favorite of Pierre,
the little cousin, who could tell him all about the
ways and going on of Mademoiselle Cans, as Virzini was called.
Pierre was thoroughly aware of the drift and cause of
(22:25):
his cousin's inquiries, and was his ardent partisan. As I
have heard, even before Jean Moran had exactly acknowledged his
wishes to himself. It must have required some patience and
much diplomacy before Clement Craig he found out the exact
place where his cousin was hidden. The old gardener took
(22:48):
the cause very much to heart, as judging from my recollections,
I imagined he would have forwarded any fancy however, wild
of Monsieur c I will tell you afterwards how I
came to know all these particulars as well. After Clement's
(23:09):
return on two succeeding days from his dangerous search, without
meeting with any good result, Shaw entreated Monsieur de Crakiy
to let him take it in hand. He represented that he,
as a gardener for the space of twenty years and
more at the Hotel de Crequie, had a right to
(23:30):
be acquainted with all the successive concierges at the Count's house,
that he should not go among them as a stranger,
but as an old friend anxious to renew pleasant intercourse.
And that if the intendant story which he had told
Monsieur de Creky in England was true that Mademoiselle was
(23:53):
in hiding at the house of a former concierge, why
something relating to her would surely drop out in the conversation.
So he persuaded Clement to remain indoors while he set
off his round with no apparent object but to gossip.
At night. He came home having seen Mademoiselle. He told
(24:16):
Clement much of the story relating to Madame Babette that
I have told to you. Of course, he had heard
nothing of the ambitious hopes of Moron feasts, hardly of
his existence. I should think Madame Babette had received him kindly,
although for some time she had kept him standing in
the carriage gateway outside her door. But on his complaining
(24:38):
of a draft and his rheumatism, she had asked him
in first, looking round with some anxiety, to see who
was in the room behind her. No one was there
when he entered and sat down, But in a minute
or two a tall, thin, young lady with great sad
eyes and pale cheeks came from the inner room, and,
(25:00):
seeing him, retired. It is Mademoiselle, kens said Madame Babet,
rather unnecessarily, for if he had not been on the
watch for some sign of Mademoiselle de Crage, he would
hardly have noticed the entrance and withdrawal. Clement and the
good old gardener were always rather perplexed by Madame Babette's
(25:23):
evident avoidance of all mention of the Craky family. If
she were so much interested in one member as to
be willing to undergo the pains and penalties of a
domicillery visit. It was strange that she never inquired after
the existence of her charges, friends and relations from one
(25:44):
who might very probably have heard something of them. They
settled that Madame Babette must believe that the Marquise and
Clement were dead, and admired her and her reticence in
never speaking of Verzini. The truth was, I suspect that
(26:05):
she was so desirous of her nephew's success at the
time that she did not like letting anyone into the
secret of Verzini's whereabouts who might interfere with their plan. However,
it was arranged between Clayment and his humble friend that
the former dressed in the peasants clothed in which he
(26:27):
had entered Paris, but smartened up in one or two particulars,
as if although a countryman, he had Bundy to spare
could go and engage a sleeping room in the old
Breton Inn, where as I have told you, accommodation for
the night was to be had. This was accordingly done
(26:48):
without exciting Madame Babette's suspicion for she was unacquainted with
the Normandy accent, and consequently did not perceive the exaggeration
of it. When Monsieur de Craig he adopted it, ordered
to disguise his pure Parisian. But after he had for
two nights slept in a queer, dark closet at the
(27:11):
end of one of the numerous short galleries in the
Hotel de Geglen, and paid his money for such accommodation.
Each morning at the little bureau under the window of
the Conciergerie, he found himself no nearer to his object.
He stood outside in the gateway. Madame Babette opened a
pain in her window, counted out the change, gave polite thanks,
(27:36):
and shut to the pain with a claque. Before he
could ever find out what to say that might be
a means of opening a conversation. Once in the streets,
he was in danger from a bloodthirsty mob who were
ready in those days to hunt to death every one
who looked like a gentleman. As an aristocrat and Clement
(28:00):
depend upon it looked like a gentleman, whatever dress he wore.
Yet it was unwise to traverse Paris to his old friend,
the Gardener's Grenier, so he had to loider about where
I hardly know. Only he did leave the Hotel de Geklin,
and he did not go to Old Jacques, and there
(28:22):
was not another house in Paris open to him. At
the end of two days, he had made out Pierre's existence,
and he began to try to make friends with the
lad Pierre was too sharp and shrewd not to suspect
something from the confused attempts at friendliness. It was not
for nothing that the Norman lounged in the court and
(28:45):
doorway and brought home presence of gallet. Pierre accepted the gallet,
reciprocated the several speeches, but kept his eyes open. Once
returning home pretty late at night, he surprised the Norman
studying the shadows on the blind, which was drawn down
when Madame Babette's lamp was lighted. On going in, he
(29:09):
found Mademoiselle Cannes with his mother, sitting by the table
and helping in the family mending. Pierre was afraid that
the Norman had some view upon the money which his mother,
as concierge, collected for her brother, but the money was
all safe. Next evening, when his cousin, Monsieur moroun Feist,
(29:29):
came to collect it. Madame Babette asked her nephew to
sit down and skillfully barred the passage to the inner door,
so that Virzini, had she been ever so much disposed,
could not have retreated. She sat silently, sewing. All at
once the little party were startled by a very sweet
(29:51):
tenor voice, just close to the street window, singing one
of the airs out of beau Marche's opera, which a
few years before had been popular all over Paris. But
after a few moments of silence and one or two remarks,
the talking went on again. Pierre, however, noticed an increased
(30:11):
air of abstraction in Virzini, who, I suppose recurring to
the last time that she had heard the song, and
did not consider, as her cousin had hoped she would
have done. What were the words set to that air,
which he imagined she would do, and which would have
(30:31):
told her so much. For only a few years before
Adam's Opera of rieschar Lesroirre had made the story of
the minstrel Blondell and our English courde Leon familiar to
all the opera going part of the Parisian public, and
(30:53):
Clement had bethought him of establishing a communication with Virzini
by some such means. The next night, about the same hour,
the same voice was singing outside the window again. Pierre,
who had been irritated by the proceeding the evening before
as it had diverted Virzini's attention from his cousin, who
(31:15):
had been doing his utmost to make himself agreeable, rushed
out to the door just as the Norman was ringing
the bell to be admitted for the night. Pierre looked
up and down the street. No one else was to
be seen. The next day, the Norman mollified him somewhat
by knocking at the door of the Conciergerie and begging
Monsieur Pierre's acceptance of some knee buckles, which had taken
(31:39):
the country farmer's fancy the day before as he had
been gazing into the shops, but which being too small
for his purpose, he took the liberty of offering to
Monsieur Pierre. Pierre, a French boy inclined to foppery, was
charmed ravished by the beauty of the present and with
Monsieur's goodness, and he began to adjust them to his
(32:04):
bridges immediately, as well as he could, at least in
his mother's absence. The Norman, whom Pierre kept carefully on
the outside of the threshold, stood by as if amused
by the boy's eagerness. Take care, he said, clearly and distinctly,
take care, my little friend, lest you become a fop.
(32:24):
And in that case, some day your's hints, when your
heart is devoted to some young lady, she may be
inclined to say to you. Here he raised his voice, no,
thank you. When I marry, I marry a man, not
epitite matre. I marry a man who, whatever his position
(32:45):
may be, will add dignity to the human race by
his virtues. Farther than that in his quotation, Clement dared
not go his sentiments so much above the apparent occasion
met with a plan from Pierre, who liked to contemplate
himself the light of a lover, even though it should
(33:06):
be a rejected one, and who hailed the mention of
the words virtue and dignity of the human race as
belonging to the cant of a good citizen. But Clement
was more anxious to know how the invisible lady took
his speech. There was no sign at the time, but
(33:27):
when he returned at night, he heard a voice, low singing
behind Madame Babette as she handed him his candle. The
very air he had sung without effect for two nights past,
as if he had caught it up from her murmuring voice.
He sang it loudly and clearly as he crossed the court.
(33:47):
Here is our opera singer, exclaimed Madame Babette. By the
Norman Grasier sings like boupet naming a favorite singer at
the neighboring theater. Pierre was strung by the remark and
quietly resolved to look after the Norman. But again, I
believe it was more because of his mother's depositive money
(34:08):
than any thought of Versini. However, the next morning, to
the wonder of both mother and son, Mademoiselle Cannes proposed,
with much hesitation, to go out and make some little
purchase for herself. A month or two ago, this is
what Madame Babette had been, never weary of urging, but
(34:30):
now she was as much surprised as if she had
expected Forversini to remain a prisoner. In her rooms all
the rest of her life. I suppose she had hoped
that her first time of quitting it would be when
she left it for Monsieur Moron's house as his wife.
A quick look from Madame Babette toward Pierre was all
(34:52):
that was needed to encourage the boy to follow her.
He went out cautiously. She was at the end of
the story. She was looking up and down, as if
waiting for someone. No one was there. Back she came
so swiftly that she nearly caught Pierre before he could
retreat through the poor cochet. There he looked out again.
(35:15):
The neighborhood was low and wild and strange, and someone
spoke to Versini. Ney laid his hand upon her arm.
Whose dress and aspect he had emerged out of a
side street. Pierre did not know, but after a start
and Pierre could fancy a little scream, Versini recognized the stranger,
(35:36):
and the two turned up a side street. Whence the
man had come. Pierre stole swiftly to the corner of
the street. No one was there. They had disappeared up
some of the alleys. Pierre returned home to excite his
mother's infinite surprise. But they had hardly done talking when
Versini returned, with a color and radiance in her face
(35:59):
which they had had never seen there since her father's death.
End of Chapter six, recording by Capricia Page
Chapter six of My Lady Ludlow by Elizabeth Gaskell. This
is a liberovox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the
public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit
libervox dot org. Recording Thy Capricia Page, My Lady Ludlow
(00:24):
by Elizabeth Gaskell, Chapter six. All night, Madame de Craigy
raved in delirium. If I could, I would have sent
for Clement back again. I did send off one man,
but I suppose my directions were confused or they were wrong,
(00:46):
for he came back after my Lord's return on the
following afternoon. By this time, Madame de Craigy was quieter.
She was indeed a sleep from exhaustion. When Lord Ludlow
and Monkshaven came in, they were in high spirits, and
their hopefulness brought me round to a less dispirited state.
(01:07):
All had gone well. They had accompanied Clement on foot
along the shore until they met with a lugger, which
my Lord had hailed in good nautical language. The captain
had responded to these freemason terms by sending a boat
to pick up his passenger, and by an invitation to
breakfast sent through a speaking trumpet. Monkshaven did not approve
(01:33):
of either the meal or the company, and had returned
to the inn. But my Lord had gone with Clement
and breakfasted on board upon grog biscuit fresh caught fish.
The best breakfast he ever ate, he said, but that
was probably owing to the appetite his knight's ride had
given him. However, his good fellowship had evidently won the
(01:57):
captain's heart, and Clement had set a sail under the
best auspices. It was agreed that I should tell all
this to Madame de Craigy if she inquired. Otherwise, it
would be wiser not to renew her agitation by alluding
to her son's journey. I sat with her constantly for
many days, but she never spoke of Clement. She forced
(02:20):
herself to talk of little occurrences of Parisian society in
former days. She tried to be conversational and agreeable, and
to betray no anxiety or even interest in the subject
of Clement's journey, And as far as unremitting effort could go,
she succeeded. But the tones of her voice were sharp
(02:44):
and yet piteous, as if she were in constant pain,
and the glance of her eye, hurried and fearful, as
if she dared not let it rest on any object.
In a week we heard of Clement's safe arrival on
the French coast. He sent a letter to this effect
by the captain of the smuggler. When the latter returned,
(03:06):
we hoped to hear again. But week after week elapsed
and there was no news of Clement. I had told
Lord Ludlow in Madame de Crakie's presence, as he and
I had arranged, of the note I had received from
her son informing us of his landing in France. She heard,
but she took no notice, and evidently began to wonder
(03:29):
that we did not mention any further intelligence of him
in the same manner before her, and daily I began
to fear that her pride would give way, and that
she would supplicate for news before I had any to
give her. One morning, on my awakening, my maid told
me that Madame de Crakie had passed a wretched night
(03:52):
and had bidden Medlicott, whom as understanding French and speaking
it pretty well, though with that horrid German accent, I
had put about her request that I should go to
Madame's room. As soon as I was dressed. I knew
what was coming, and I trembled all the time they
were doing my hair and otherwise arranging me. I was
(04:15):
not encouraged by my lord's speech. He had heard the
message and kept declaring that he would rather be shot
than to have to tell her that there was no
news of her son. And yet he said, every now
and then, when I was at the lowest pitch of uneasiness,
that he never expected to hear again, that some day
(04:36):
soon we should see him walking in and introducing Mademoiselle
de Craiky to us. However, at last I was ready
and go I must. Her eyes were fixed on the
door by which I entered. I went up to the bedside.
She was not rouged. She had left it off. Now
for several days she no longer attempted to keep up
(04:59):
the vain show of feeling and loving and fearing. For
a moment or two she did not speak, and I
was glad of the respite Clement, she said at length,
covering her mouth with a handkerchief the minute she had
spoken it, that I might not see it quiver. There
(05:21):
has been no news since the first letter saying how
well the voyage was performed, and how safely he had
landed near de Pay. You know, I replied, as cheerfully
as possible. My Lord does not expect that we shall
have another letter. He thinks that we shall see him soon.
There was no answer. As I looked, uncertain whether to
(05:46):
do or say more, she slowly turned herself in bed
and lay with her face to the wall, and as
if that did not shut out the light of day
and the busy, happy world enough, she put out her
trembling hands and covered her face with her handkerchief. There
was no violence, hardly any sound. I told her what
(06:10):
my Lord had said about Clement's coming in someday and
taking us all by surprise. I did not believe it myself,
but it was just possible, and I had nothing else
to say. Pity to one who was striving so hard
to conceal her feelings would have been impertinent. She let
(06:33):
me talk, but she did not reply. She knew that
my words were vain and idle, and had no root
in my belief, as well as I did myself. I
was very thankful when Medlicott came in with Madame's breakfast
and gave me an excuse for leaving, But I think
(06:53):
that conversation made me feel more anxious and impatient than ever.
I felt almost pledged to Madame de Craikey for the
fulfillment of the vision I had held out. She had
taken entirely to her bed by this time, not from illness,
but because she had no hope within her to stir
her up to the effort of dressing. In the same way,
(07:15):
she hardly cared for food. She had no appetite why
eat to prolong a life of despair, But she let
Medlicott feed her sooner than take the trouble of resisting.
And so it went on for weeks months. I could
(07:36):
hardly count the time. It seemed so long. Medlicott told
me she noticed a pretty natural sensitiveness of ear in
Madame de Craigie, induced by the habit of listening silently
for the slightest unusual sound in the house. Medelicot was
always a minute watcher of anyone whom she cared about,
(07:57):
and one day she made me know I notice by
a sign of Madame's acuteness of hearing. Although the quick
expectation was but evinced for a moment in the turn
of the eye, the hushed breath, and then, when the
unusual footstep turned into my Lord's apartments, the soft quivering sigh,
and the closed eyelids. At length, the intendant of the
(08:22):
to Craigy's estates, the old man, you will remember, whose information,
respecting Virzini d. Craigy, first gave Clement the desire to
return to Paris, came to Saint James's square and begged
to speak to me. I made haste to go down
to him in the Housekeeper's room, sooner than he should
(08:42):
be ushered into mine, for fear of Madame hearing any sound.
The old man stood. I see him now, with his
hand held before him in both hands. He slowly bowed
till his face touched it when I came in, so
long excess of courtesy, augured ill. He waited for me
(09:05):
to speak. Have you any intelligence? I inquired. He had
been often in the house before to ask if we
had received any news, and once or twice I had
seen him, but this was the first time he had
begged to see me. Yes, Madame, he replied, still standing
(09:26):
with his head bent down like a child in disgrace,
and it is bad, I exclaimed, it is bad. For
a moment I was angry at the cold tone in
which my words were echoed. But directly afterwards I saw
the large, slow, heavy tears of age falling down the
(09:46):
old man's cheeks and on the upper sleeves of his poor,
threadbare coat. I asked him how he heard it. It
seemed as though I could not all at once bear
to hear what it was. He told me that the
night before, in crossing long Acre, he had stumbled upon
an old acquaintance of his, one who, like himself, had
(10:10):
been a dependent upon the du Craki family, but had
managed their Paris affairs while Flatier had taken charge of
their estates in the country. Both were now emigrants and
living on the proceeds of such small available talents as
they possessed. Flechier, as I knew, earned a very fair
(10:30):
livelihood by going about to dress salads for dinner parties.
His compatriot, the Fever, had begun to give a few
lessons as a dancing master. One of them took the
other home to his lodgings, and there, when their most
immediate personal adventures had been hastily talked over, came the
(10:52):
inquiry from Flecia as to Monsieur de Crequis, Clement was dead,
guillotined VIRUSITTI was dead guillotined. When Flecia had told me
thus much, he could not speak for sobbing, and I
myself could hardly tell how to restrain my tears sufficiently
(11:16):
until I could go to my own room and be
at liberty. To give way, he asked my leave to
bring in his friend Lefevret, who was walking in the
square awaiting a possible summons, to tell his story. I
heard afterwards a good many details which filled up the
account and made me feel, which brings me back to
(11:40):
the point I started from, how unfit the lower orders
are for being trusted indiscriminately with the dangerous powers of education.
I have made it a long preamble, but now I
am coming to the moral of my story. The lady
was trying to shake off the emotion which she evidently
(12:01):
felt in recurring to this sad history of Monsieur de
Craigie's death. She came behind me and arranged my pillows,
and then, seeing I had been crying for indeed, I
was weak spirited at the time and a little served
to unloose my tears. She stooped down and kissed my forehead,
(12:23):
and said, poor child, almost as if she thanked me
for feeling that old grief of hers being. Once in France,
it was no difficult thing for Clement to get into Paris.
The difficulty in those days was to leave, not to enter.
He came in dressed as a Norman peasant, in charge
(12:45):
of a load of fruit and vegetables, with which one
of the same barges was freighted. He worked hard with
his companions in landing and arranging their produce on the quays,
and then, when they dispersed to get their breakfasts at
some of the estimates, near the old marcheo Fleur, he
(13:07):
sauntered up a street which conducted him by many an
odd turn through the old Cartie a Latin, a horrid
back alley leading out of the rue Les con des Medsine,
some atrocious place, as I have heard, not far from
the shadow of that terrible abbe, where so many of
the best blood of France awaited their deaths. But here
(13:32):
some old man lived on whose fidelity Clement thought he
might rely. I am not sure if he had not
been gardener in those very gardens behind the Hotel Kraiqui,
where Clement and Urion used to play together years before.
But whatever the old man's dwelling might be, Clement was
(13:52):
only too glad to reach it. You may be sure
he had been kept in Normandy, in all sorts of
disguises for many day after landing into Pay through the
difficulty of entering Paris, unsuspected by the many Ruffians who
were always on the lookout for aristocrats. The old gardener was,
I believe, both faithful and tired, and sheltered Clement in
(14:15):
his garret as well as might be. Before he could
start out. It was necessary to procure a fresh disguise,
and one more in character with the inhabitants of Paris
than that of a Norman. Carter was procured, and after
waiting indoors for one or two days to see if
any suspicion was excited, Clement set off to discover Verzini.
(14:39):
He found her at the old concierge's dwelling. Madame Babette
was the name of this woman, who must have been
a less faithful or rather, perhaps I should say, more
interested friend to her guest than the old gardener Jacques
was to Clement. I have seen a miniature of Versini,
(15:00):
which a French lady of quality happened to have in
her possession at the time of her flight from Paris,
and which she brought with her to England unwittingly, for
it belonged to the Count de Craigie, with whom she
was slightly acquainted. I should fancy from it that Virzini
was taller and of a more powerful figure for a
woman than her cousin Clement was for a man. Her
(15:23):
dark brown hair was arranged in short curls. The way
of dressing the hair announced the politics of the individual
in those days, just as patches did in my grandmother's time,
and Virzini's hair was not to my taste, or according
to my principles. It was too classical. Her large black
(15:46):
eyes looked out at you steadily. One cannot judge the
slope of a nose from a full face miniature, but
the nostrils were clearly cut and largely open. I do
not fancy her nose could have been pretty, But her
mouth had a character all its own, and which would
I think have redeemed a plainer face. It was wide
(16:09):
and deep, set into the cheeks at the corners. The
upper lip was very much arched and hardly closed over
the teeth, so that the whole face looked from the
serious intent look in the eyes and the sweet intelligence
of the mouth, as if she were listening eagerly to
something to which her answer was quite ready and would
(16:31):
come out of those red opening lips as soon as
ever you had done speaking, and you longed to know
what she would say. Well, this Virzini de Craigy was
living with Madame Babette in the conciergerie of an old
French inn, somewhere in the north of Paris, so far
(16:53):
enough from Clement's refuge. The inn had been frequented by
farmers from Brittany and such kind of people in the
days when that sort of intercourse went on between Paris
and the provinces, which now had nearly stopped. Few Bretons
came near it now, and the inn had fallen into
(17:14):
the hands of Madame Babette's brother as payment for a
bad wine debt of the last proprietor. He put his
sister and her child in to keep it open, as
it were, and sent all the people he could to
occupy the half furnished rooms of the house. They paid
Babbet for their lodging every morning as they went out
(17:35):
to breakfast and returned, or not as they chose at night.
Every three days the wine merchant or his son came
to Madame Babette, and she accounted to them for the
money she had received. She and her child occupied the
porter's office in which the lad slept at nights, and
a little miserable bedroom which opened out of it and
(17:58):
received all the light and air that was admitted through
the door of communication, which was half glass. Madame Babette
must have had a kind of attachment for the d
crakeys heard de crakeys. You understand Virsini's father of the count,
for at some risk to herself, she had warned both
(18:18):
him and his daughter of the danger in pending over them.
But he infatuated, would not believe that his dear human
race could ever do him harm, And as long as
he did not fear, Virsini was not afraid. It was
by some ruse, the nature of which I never heard,
(18:41):
that Madame Babette induced Virzini to come to her abode
at the very hour in which the Count had been
recognized in the streets and hurried off to the lantern.
It was after Babbett had got her there, safe shut
up in the little back den, that she told her
what had befallen her father. From that day, Virzini never
(19:06):
stirred out of the gates or crossed the threshold of
the porter's lodge. I do not say that Madame Babette
was tired of her continual presence or regretted the impulse
which made her rush to the t Craki's well known
house after being compelled to form one of the mad
crowds that saw the Count de Crakiye seized and hung
(19:27):
and hurry his daughter out through the alleys and back ways,
until at length she had the orphans safe in her
own dark sleeping room and could tell her tale of horror.
But Madame Babette was poorly paid for her porter's work
by her avaricious brother, and it was hard enough to
find food for herself and her growing boy. And though
(19:50):
the poor girl ate little enough, I dare say, yet
there seemed no end to the burthen that Madame Babette
had imposed upon herself. The de Craye keys were plundered, ruined,
and had become an extinct race all but a lovely,
friendless girl in broken health and spirits. And though she
(20:13):
lent no positive encouragement to his suit, yet at the
time when Clement reappeared in Paris, Madame Babette was beginning
to think that Virzini might do worse than encourage the
attentions of Monsieur morn Feists, her nephew and the wine
merchant's son. Of course, he and his father had the
(20:35):
entree to the concierge of the hotel that belonged to
them in right of being both proprietors and relations. The
son Morn had seen Virzini in this manner. He was
fully aware that she was far above him in rank,
and guessed from her whole aspect that she had lost
her natural protectors by the terrible guillotine. But he did
(20:58):
not know her exact name or station, nor could he
persuade his aunt to tell him. However, he fell head
over ears in love with her, whether she were princess
or peasant, and though at first there was something about
her which made his passionate love conceal itself with shy,
(21:20):
awkward reserve and then made it only appear in the
guise of deep respectful devotion. Yet by and bye, by
the same process of reasoning, I suppose that his aunt
had gone through even before him, Jean Morn began to
let hope oust despair from his heart. Sometimes he thought,
(21:44):
perhaps years hence, that solitary, friendless lady pent up in
Squalor might turn to him as a friend and comforter.
And then, and then, meanwhile Jean Morn was most attentive
to his aunt, whom he had rather slighted before. He
(22:04):
would linger over the accounts, would bring her little presents,
and above all he made a pet and favorite of Pierre,
the little cousin, who could tell him all about the
ways and going on of Mademoiselle Cans, as Virzini was called.
Pierre was thoroughly aware of the drift and cause of
(22:25):
his cousin's inquiries, and was his ardent partisan. As I
have heard, even before Jean Moran had exactly acknowledged his
wishes to himself. It must have required some patience and
much diplomacy before Clement Craig he found out the exact
place where his cousin was hidden. The old gardener took
(22:48):
the cause very much to heart, as judging from my recollections,
I imagined he would have forwarded any fancy however, wild
of Monsieur c I will tell you afterwards how I
came to know all these particulars as well. After Clement's
(23:09):
return on two succeeding days from his dangerous search, without
meeting with any good result, Shaw entreated Monsieur de Crakiy
to let him take it in hand. He represented that he,
as a gardener for the space of twenty years and
more at the Hotel de Crequie, had a right to
(23:30):
be acquainted with all the successive concierges at the Count's house,
that he should not go among them as a stranger,
but as an old friend anxious to renew pleasant intercourse.
And that if the intendant story which he had told
Monsieur de Creky in England was true that Mademoiselle was
(23:53):
in hiding at the house of a former concierge, why
something relating to her would surely drop out in the conversation.
So he persuaded Clement to remain indoors while he set
off his round with no apparent object but to gossip.
At night. He came home having seen Mademoiselle. He told
(24:16):
Clement much of the story relating to Madame Babette that
I have told to you. Of course, he had heard
nothing of the ambitious hopes of Moron feasts, hardly of
his existence. I should think Madame Babette had received him kindly,
although for some time she had kept him standing in
the carriage gateway outside her door. But on his complaining
(24:38):
of a draft and his rheumatism, she had asked him
in first, looking round with some anxiety, to see who
was in the room behind her. No one was there
when he entered and sat down, But in a minute
or two a tall, thin, young lady with great sad
eyes and pale cheeks came from the inner room, and,
(25:00):
seeing him, retired. It is Mademoiselle, kens said Madame Babet,
rather unnecessarily, for if he had not been on the
watch for some sign of Mademoiselle de Crage, he would
hardly have noticed the entrance and withdrawal. Clement and the
good old gardener were always rather perplexed by Madame Babette's
(25:23):
evident avoidance of all mention of the Craky family. If
she were so much interested in one member as to
be willing to undergo the pains and penalties of a
domicillery visit. It was strange that she never inquired after
the existence of her charges, friends and relations from one
(25:44):
who might very probably have heard something of them. They
settled that Madame Babette must believe that the Marquise and
Clement were dead, and admired her and her reticence in
never speaking of Verzini. The truth was, I suspect that
(26:05):
she was so desirous of her nephew's success at the
time that she did not like letting anyone into the
secret of Verzini's whereabouts who might interfere with their plan. However,
it was arranged between Clayment and his humble friend that
the former dressed in the peasants clothed in which he
(26:27):
had entered Paris, but smartened up in one or two particulars,
as if although a countryman, he had Bundy to spare
could go and engage a sleeping room in the old
Breton Inn, where as I have told you, accommodation for
the night was to be had. This was accordingly done
(26:48):
without exciting Madame Babette's suspicion for she was unacquainted with
the Normandy accent, and consequently did not perceive the exaggeration
of it. When Monsieur de Craig he adopted it, ordered
to disguise his pure Parisian. But after he had for
two nights slept in a queer, dark closet at the
(27:11):
end of one of the numerous short galleries in the
Hotel de Geglen, and paid his money for such accommodation.
Each morning at the little bureau under the window of
the Conciergerie, he found himself no nearer to his object.
He stood outside in the gateway. Madame Babette opened a
pain in her window, counted out the change, gave polite thanks,
(27:36):
and shut to the pain with a claque. Before he
could ever find out what to say that might be
a means of opening a conversation. Once in the streets,
he was in danger from a bloodthirsty mob who were
ready in those days to hunt to death every one
who looked like a gentleman. As an aristocrat and Clement
(28:00):
depend upon it looked like a gentleman, whatever dress he wore.
Yet it was unwise to traverse Paris to his old friend,
the Gardener's Grenier, so he had to loider about where
I hardly know. Only he did leave the Hotel de Geklin,
and he did not go to Old Jacques, and there
(28:22):
was not another house in Paris open to him. At
the end of two days, he had made out Pierre's existence,
and he began to try to make friends with the
lad Pierre was too sharp and shrewd not to suspect
something from the confused attempts at friendliness. It was not
for nothing that the Norman lounged in the court and
(28:45):
doorway and brought home presence of gallet. Pierre accepted the gallet,
reciprocated the several speeches, but kept his eyes open. Once
returning home pretty late at night, he surprised the Norman
studying the shadows on the blind, which was drawn down
when Madame Babette's lamp was lighted. On going in, he
(29:09):
found Mademoiselle Cannes with his mother, sitting by the table
and helping in the family mending. Pierre was afraid that
the Norman had some view upon the money which his mother,
as concierge, collected for her brother, but the money was
all safe. Next evening, when his cousin, Monsieur moroun Feist,
(29:29):
came to collect it. Madame Babette asked her nephew to
sit down and skillfully barred the passage to the inner door,
so that Virzini, had she been ever so much disposed,
could not have retreated. She sat silently, sewing. All at
once the little party were startled by a very sweet
(29:51):
tenor voice, just close to the street window, singing one
of the airs out of beau Marche's opera, which a
few years before had been popular all over Paris. But
after a few moments of silence and one or two remarks,
the talking went on again. Pierre, however, noticed an increased
(30:11):
air of abstraction in Virzini, who, I suppose recurring to
the last time that she had heard the song, and
did not consider, as her cousin had hoped she would
have done. What were the words set to that air,
which he imagined she would do, and which would have
(30:31):
told her so much. For only a few years before
Adam's Opera of rieschar Lesroirre had made the story of
the minstrel Blondell and our English courde Leon familiar to
all the opera going part of the Parisian public, and
(30:53):
Clement had bethought him of establishing a communication with Virzini
by some such means. The next night, about the same hour,
the same voice was singing outside the window again. Pierre,
who had been irritated by the proceeding the evening before
as it had diverted Virzini's attention from his cousin, who
(31:15):
had been doing his utmost to make himself agreeable, rushed
out to the door just as the Norman was ringing
the bell to be admitted for the night. Pierre looked
up and down the street. No one else was to
be seen. The next day, the Norman mollified him somewhat
by knocking at the door of the Conciergerie and begging
Monsieur Pierre's acceptance of some knee buckles, which had taken
(31:39):
the country farmer's fancy the day before as he had
been gazing into the shops, but which being too small
for his purpose, he took the liberty of offering to
Monsieur Pierre. Pierre, a French boy inclined to foppery, was
charmed ravished by the beauty of the present and with
Monsieur's goodness, and he began to adjust them to his
(32:04):
bridges immediately, as well as he could, at least in
his mother's absence. The Norman, whom Pierre kept carefully on
the outside of the threshold, stood by as if amused
by the boy's eagerness. Take care, he said, clearly and distinctly,
take care, my little friend, lest you become a fop.
(32:24):
And in that case, some day your's hints, when your
heart is devoted to some young lady, she may be
inclined to say to you. Here he raised his voice, no,
thank you. When I marry, I marry a man, not
epitite matre. I marry a man who, whatever his position
(32:45):
may be, will add dignity to the human race by
his virtues. Farther than that in his quotation, Clement dared
not go his sentiments so much above the apparent occasion
met with a plan from Pierre, who liked to contemplate
himself the light of a lover, even though it should
(33:06):
be a rejected one, and who hailed the mention of
the words virtue and dignity of the human race as
belonging to the cant of a good citizen. But Clement
was more anxious to know how the invisible lady took
his speech. There was no sign at the time, but
(33:27):
when he returned at night, he heard a voice, low singing
behind Madame Babette as she handed him his candle. The
very air he had sung without effect for two nights past,
as if he had caught it up from her murmuring voice.
He sang it loudly and clearly as he crossed the court.
(33:47):
Here is our opera singer, exclaimed Madame Babette. By the
Norman Grasier sings like boupet naming a favorite singer at
the neighboring theater. Pierre was strung by the remark and
quietly resolved to look after the Norman. But again, I
believe it was more because of his mother's depositive money
(34:08):
than any thought of Versini. However, the next morning, to
the wonder of both mother and son, Mademoiselle Cannes proposed,
with much hesitation, to go out and make some little
purchase for herself. A month or two ago, this is
what Madame Babette had been, never weary of urging, but
(34:30):
now she was as much surprised as if she had
expected Forversini to remain a prisoner. In her rooms all
the rest of her life. I suppose she had hoped
that her first time of quitting it would be when
she left it for Monsieur Moron's house as his wife.
A quick look from Madame Babette toward Pierre was all
(34:52):
that was needed to encourage the boy to follow her.
He went out cautiously. She was at the end of
the story. She was looking up and down, as if
waiting for someone. No one was there. Back she came
so swiftly that she nearly caught Pierre before he could
retreat through the poor cochet. There he looked out again.
(35:15):
The neighborhood was low and wild and strange, and someone
spoke to Versini. Ney laid his hand upon her arm.
Whose dress and aspect he had emerged out of a
side street. Pierre did not know, but after a start
and Pierre could fancy a little scream, Versini recognized the stranger,
(35:36):
and the two turned up a side street. Whence the
man had come. Pierre stole swiftly to the corner of
the street. No one was there. They had disappeared up
some of the alleys. Pierre returned home to excite his
mother's infinite surprise. But they had hardly done talking when
Versini returned, with a color and radiance in her face
(35:59):
which they had had never seen there since her father's death.
End of Chapter six, recording by Capricia Page
Popular Podcasts
NFL Daily with Gregg Rosenthal
Gregg Rosenthal and a rotating crew of elite NFL Media co-hosts, including Patrick Claybon, Colleen Wolfe, Steve Wyche, Nick Shook and Jourdan Rodrigue of The Athletic get you caught up daily on all the NFL news and analysis you need to be smarter and funnier than your friends.
On Purpose with Jay Shetty
I’m Jay Shetty host of On Purpose the worlds #1 Mental Health podcast and I’m so grateful you found us. I started this podcast 5 years ago to invite you into conversations and workshops that are designed to help make you happier, healthier and more healed. I believe that when you (yes you) feel seen, heard and understood you’re able to deal with relationship struggles, work challenges and life’s ups and downs with more ease and grace. I interview experts, celebrities, thought leaders and athletes so that we can grow our mindset, build better habits and uncover a side of them we’ve never seen before. New episodes every Monday and Friday. Your support means the world to me and I don’t take it for granted — click the follow button and leave a review to help us spread the love with On Purpose. I can’t wait for you to listen to your first or 500th episode!
Dateline NBC
Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations. Follow now to get the latest episodes of Dateline NBC completely free, or subscribe to Dateline Premium for ad-free listening and exclusive bonus content: DatelinePremium.com