feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/cliffnotes/Far from the Madding Crowd/section_12_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: Far from the Madding Crowd.chapter 13
feat_summary_id: chapter 13
feat_summary: {"name": "Chapter 13", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20201101052914/https://www.cliffsnotes.com/literature/f/far-from-the-madding-crowd/summary-and-analysis/chapter-13", "summary": "To while away Sunday afternoon, Bathsheba and the chatterbox Liddy, who, \"like a little brook, though shallow was always rippling,\" practice an old superstition: divining one's future husband by consulting the Bible with a key. Bathsheba turned to the Book of Ruth and, reading, she was a bit abashed. \"It was Wisdom in the abstract facing Folly in the concrete.\" After they went through the ritual with the key and Bible, Liddy asked of whom Bathsheba had been thinking, surmising that her mistress's mind might have been on Boldwood, as her own had been. She was sure that everyone in the church had focused attention on Bathsheba except Boldwood, who sat in the same line of pews. Bathsheba seemed unperturbed by this. As the girls chatted, she recalled having bought a valentine for little Teddy Coggan and proceeded to inscribe it with a verse. Liddy prodded her into sending it to Boldwood instead. Whatever her reason, Bathsheba did address it to the farmer, and from her supply of seals she selected one that said, \"Marry me.\" \"So very idly and unreflectingly was this deed done. Of love as a spectacle Bathsheba had a fair knowledge; but of love subjectively she knew nothing.\"", "analysis": "In four short pages, two giddy girls carry out a silly act that will avalanche into a tragedy. Liddy  misleads Bathsheba, while her mistress, \"bounding from her seat with that total disregard of consistency which can be indulged in towards a dependent,\" acted on her maid's idle suggestion. Hardy has, in addition, shown us old country customs and, not for the first time, has suggested that women can be guilty of somewhat unpredictable behavior."}
text: 
  
  SORTES SANCTORUM--THE VALENTINE
  
  
  It was Sunday afternoon in the farmhouse, on the thirteenth of
  February.  Dinner being over, Bathsheba, for want of a better
  companion, had asked Liddy to come and sit with her.  The mouldy pile
  was dreary in winter-time before the candles were lighted and the
  shutters closed; the atmosphere of the place seemed as old as the
  walls; every nook behind the furniture had a temperature of its own,
  for the fire was not kindled in this part of the house early in the
  day; and Bathsheba's new piano, which was an old one in other annals,
  looked particularly sloping and out of level on the warped floor
  before night threw a shade over its less prominent angles and hid
  the unpleasantness.  Liddy, like a little brook, though shallow, was
  always rippling; her presence had not so much weight as to task
  thought, and yet enough to exercise it.
  
  On the table lay an old quarto Bible, bound in leather.  Liddy
  looking at it said,--
  
  "Did you ever find out, miss, who you are going to marry by means of
  the Bible and key?"
  
  "Don't be so foolish, Liddy.  As if such things could be."
  
  "Well, there's a good deal in it, all the same."
  
  "Nonsense, child."
  
  "And it makes your heart beat fearful.  Some believe in it; some
  don't; I do."
  
  "Very well, let's try it," said Bathsheba, bounding from her seat
  with that total disregard of consistency which can be indulged in
  towards a dependent, and entering into the spirit of divination at
  once.  "Go and get the front door key."
  
  Liddy fetched it.  "I wish it wasn't Sunday," she said, on returning.
  "Perhaps 'tis wrong."
  
  "What's right week days is right Sundays," replied her mistress in a
  tone which was a proof in itself.
  
  The book was opened--the leaves, drab with age, being quite worn away
  at much-read verses by the forefingers of unpractised readers in
  former days, where they were moved along under the line as an aid to
  the vision.  The special verse in the Book of Ruth was sought out by
  Bathsheba, and the sublime words met her eye.  They slightly thrilled
  and abashed her.  It was Wisdom in the abstract facing Folly in the
  concrete.  Folly in the concrete blushed, persisted in her intention,
  and placed the key on the book.  A rusty patch immediately upon the
  verse, caused by previous pressure of an iron substance thereon, told
  that this was not the first time the old volume had been used for the
  purpose.
  
  "Now keep steady, and be silent," said Bathsheba.
  
  The verse was repeated; the book turned round; Bathsheba blushed
  guiltily.
  
  "Who did you try?" said Liddy curiously.
  
  "I shall not tell you."
  
  "Did you notice Mr. Boldwood's doings in church this morning, miss?"
  Liddy continued, adumbrating by the remark the track her thoughts had
  taken.
  
  "No, indeed," said Bathsheba, with serene indifference.
  
  "His pew is exactly opposite yours, miss."
  
  "I know it."
  
  "And you did not see his goings on!"
  
  "Certainly I did not, I tell you."
  
  Liddy assumed a smaller physiognomy, and shut her lips decisively.
  
  This move was unexpected, and proportionately disconcerting.  "What
  did he do?" Bathsheba said perforce.
  
  "Didn't turn his head to look at you once all the service."
  
  "Why should he?" again demanded her mistress, wearing a nettled look.
  "I didn't ask him to."
  
  "Oh no.  But everybody else was noticing you; and it was odd he
  didn't.  There, 'tis like him.  Rich and gentlemanly, what does he
  care?"
  
  Bathsheba dropped into a silence intended to express that she had
  opinions on the matter too abstruse for Liddy's comprehension, rather
  than that she had nothing to say.
  
  "Dear me--I had nearly forgotten the valentine I bought yesterday,"
  she exclaimed at length.
  
  "Valentine! who for, miss?" said Liddy.  "Farmer Boldwood?"
  
  It was the single name among all possible wrong ones that just at
  this moment seemed to Bathsheba more pertinent than the right.
  
  "Well, no.  It is only for little Teddy Coggan.  I have promised him
  something, and this will be a pretty surprise for him.  Liddy, you
  may as well bring me my desk and I'll direct it at once."
  
  Bathsheba took from her desk a gorgeously illuminated and embossed
  design in post-octavo, which had been bought on the previous
  market-day at the chief stationer's in Casterbridge.  In the centre
  was a small oval enclosure; this was left blank, that the sender
  might insert tender words more appropriate to the special occasion
  than any generalities by a printer could possibly be.
  
  "Here's a place for writing," said Bathsheba.  "What shall I put?"
  
  "Something of this sort, I should think," returned Liddy promptly:--
  
  
     "The rose is red,
     The violet blue,
     Carnation's sweet,
     And so are you."
  
  
  "Yes, that shall be it.  It just suits itself to a chubby-faced child
  like him," said Bathsheba.  She inserted the words in a small though
  legible handwriting; enclosed the sheet in an envelope, and dipped
  her pen for the direction.
  
  "What fun it would be to send it to the stupid old Boldwood, and how
  he would wonder!" said the irrepressible Liddy, lifting her eyebrows,
  and indulging in an awful mirth on the verge of fear as she thought
  of the moral and social magnitude of the man contemplated.
  
  Bathsheba paused to regard the idea at full length.  Boldwood's had
  begun to be a troublesome image--a species of Daniel in her kingdom
  who persisted in kneeling eastward when reason and common sense said
  that he might just as well follow suit with the rest, and afford her
  the official glance of admiration which cost nothing at all.  She was
  far from being seriously concerned about his nonconformity.  Still,
  it was faintly depressing that the most dignified and valuable man
  in the parish should withhold his eyes, and that a girl like Liddy
  should talk about it.  So Liddy's idea was at first rather harassing
  than piquant.
  
  "No, I won't do that.  He wouldn't see any humour in it."
  
  "He'd worry to death," said the persistent Liddy.
  
  "Really, I don't care particularly to send it to Teddy," remarked her
  mistress.  "He's rather a naughty child sometimes."
  
  "Yes--that he is."
  
  "Let's toss as men do," said Bathsheba, idly.  "Now then, head,
  Boldwood; tail, Teddy.  No, we won't toss money on a Sunday, that
  would be tempting the devil indeed."
  
  "Toss this hymn-book; there can't be no sinfulness in that, miss."
  
  "Very well.  Open, Boldwood--shut, Teddy.  No; it's more likely to
  fall open.  Open, Teddy--shut, Boldwood."
  
  The book went fluttering in the air and came down shut.
  
  Bathsheba, a small yawn upon her mouth, took the pen, and with
  off-hand serenity directed the missive to Boldwood.
  
  "Now light a candle, Liddy.  Which seal shall we use? Here's a
  unicorn's head--there's nothing in that.  What's this?--two
  doves--no.  It ought to be something extraordinary, ought it not,
  Liddy? Here's one with a motto--I remember it is some funny one, but
  I can't read it. We'll try this, and if it doesn't do we'll have
  another."
  
  A large red seal was duly affixed.  Bathsheba looked closely at the
  hot wax to discover the words.
  
  "Capital!" she exclaimed, throwing down the letter frolicsomely.
  "'Twould upset the solemnity of a parson and clerke too."
  
  Liddy looked at the words of the seal, and read--
  
  
     "MARRY ME."
  
  
  The same evening the letter was sent, and was duly sorted in
  Casterbridge post-office that night, to be returned to Weatherbury
  again in the morning.
  
  So very idly and unreflectingly was this deed done.  Of love as a
  spectacle Bathsheba had a fair knowledge; but of love subjectively
  she knew nothing.
  
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Chapter 13
target: To while away Sunday afternoon, Bathsheba and the chatterbox Liddy, who, "like a little brook, though shallow was always rippling," practice an old superstition: divining one's future husband by consulting the Bible with a key. Bathsheba turned to the Book of Ruth and, reading, she was a bit abashed. "It was Wisdom in the abstract facing Folly in the concrete." After they went through the ritual with the key and Bible, Liddy asked of whom Bathsheba had been thinking, surmising that her mistress's mind might have been on Boldwood, as her own had been. She was sure that everyone in the church had focused attention on Bathsheba except Boldwood, who sat in the same line of pews. Bathsheba seemed unperturbed by this. As the girls chatted, she recalled having bought a valentine for little Teddy Coggan and proceeded to inscribe it with a verse. Liddy prodded her into sending it to Boldwood instead. Whatever her reason, Bathsheba did address it to the farmer, and from her supply of seals she selected one that said, "Marry me." "So very idly and unreflectingly was this deed done. Of love as a spectacle Bathsheba had a fair knowledge; but of love subjectively she knew nothing."
feat_summary_analysis: In four short pages, two giddy girls carry out a silly act that will avalanche into a tragedy. Liddy  misleads Bathsheba, while her mistress, "bounding from her seat with that total disregard of consistency which can be indulged in towards a dependent," acted on her maid's idle suggestion. Hardy has, in addition, shown us old country customs and, not for the first time, has suggested that women can be guilty of somewhat unpredictable behavior.