Middlemarch: Book One Miss Brooke #EliotReadalong

Before getting too much further into Book Two of Middlemarch, ‘Old and Young’, I would like to attend to the first book, ‘Miss Brooke’.

Book One contains twelve chapters and the Prelude. What we now know as Middlemarch was published in serial form every two months by the Scottish publisher, John Blackwell, although the last three installments were published monthly. The chapters comprising ‘Miss Brooke’ were published in December 1871. The reading public had to wait until February 1872 to read ‘Old and Young’.

One of the tips presented by Benjamin McEvoy in his how to read Middlemarch video was to take your time with the Prelude. So this is me, taking my time with the Prelude!

The Prelude: (my underlining)

_{Who that cares much to know the history of man, and how the mysterious mixture behaves under the varying experiments of Time, has not dwelt, at least briefly, on the life of Saint Theresa, has not smiled with some gentleness at the thought of the little girl walking forth one morning hand-in-hand with her still smaller brother, to go and seek martyrdom in the country of the Moors?}

I care rather deeply about the history of mankind and the effect of Time, but I cannot say I have ever spared a thought for Saint Theresa or her brother. For me, this is an off-putting opening sequence. Throwing in a story about a saint right from the get-go promises too much religion for my liking with the danger of preaching on the horizon. But then I remembered Benjamin and his belief that the Prelude is the key to the whole book. I decided to give George Eliot the benefit of the doubt.

So I dug deep. Who exactly is Saint Theresa, or Teresa of Avila, as I quickly discovered she is more commonly known?

The note in my edition of the book told me her dates (1515-82) and that she was a Spanish mystic and founder of a religious order. But what does that have to do with the story about her brother? And what does it mean for Middlemarch as a whole?

Teresa’s wikipedia page gave me a whole lot more detail. For instance she was a Carmelite nun and religious reformer. She had ecstatic visions or raptures (that doctors now believe were signs of epileptic seizures) and inflicted mortifications of the flesh on her own body. Her adage was “Lord, either let me suffer or let me die“. Cheerful! Although sixteenth century Europe was not an easy time to be alive I guess.

Teresa also practised discalceation. If like me you have no idea what that means – it simply means she wore no shoes. Quiet, mental prayer, meditation, surrender to god and absorption-in-god were her main credos. She wrote several books detailing how to live a spiritual life and the journey of faith. She also wrote an autobiography and poetry. Simone de Beauvoir spoke about her in The Second Sex and Hardy is said to have used her as an inspiration for his character Tess. Still no brother. She sounds like someone who marched to the beat of her own drummer.

It was only on various Christian sites that I began to find versions of the story whict included her brother and their attempted ‘child-pilgrimage’ to beg the invading Moors to cut off their heads.

Eliot believed this was an example of her ‘passionate, ideal nature’ – a nature that could only be satisfied by eventually starting a new religious order from scratch. While others said that this was a sign of her ability to stir up trouble (written by a man) or a sign of sanctity. One site claimed she wanted to see god and the only way she could see god was to die. Some say she and her brother, Rodrigo were planning on going all the way to Africa for their martyrdom.

It would seem that Eliot wanted us to see a yearning, striving-for-a-higher-purpose, higher-good Theresa as a way to introduce her readers to Dorothea Brooke. Perhaps Eliot was reminding us that the lives of some women can be remembered down through time and history. That some, despite the ‘social lot of women‘ can live heroic, epic and memorable lives. Will Dorothea be one of these women?

But then Eliot concludes The Prelude with an ugly duckling analogy. Is Dorothea a cygnet doomed to ‘never find the living stream of fellowship‘ or will she be like Theresa and her ‘long-recognisable deed‘? Will Dorothea find kindred spirits along the way? Will she achieve fame and glory? Will her intellectual fervour and desire to do good be recognised and remembered? Will she actually do good deeds?

Now, do not fret! I will not be digging deep into every single chapter, even though McEvoy does tell us that the epigraph which opens each chapter is significant and worth keeping in mind as you read. So far this has only revealed that my strike rate for understanding poetry excerpts in particular is about 50/50! He also recommended reading ‘around’ Middlemarch by looking at some of the authors and stories that Eliot references. So far I’ve read a nice round zero!

I also stumbled across Steven J Venturino’s A Serial Reading of Middlemarch. I particularly liked the themes that he positied for each volume. Book one is ‘Eliot’s philosophy of the web’.

It is very easy to use phrases like ‘the fabric of life’, ‘threads that bind’ and ‘between the weft and woof’ to describe these chapters. Each character and each family group belong to their own web. Eliot then attempts to unravel or tease out each individual whilst showing the various kinship connections which tie them together as well as reaching out into the wider community of Middlemarch.

_{We belated historians must not linger after [Fielding’s] example: and if we did so, it is probable that our chat would be thin and eager, as if delivered from a camp-stool in a parrot-house. I at least have so much to do in unravelling certain human lots, and seeing how they were woven and interwoven, that all the light I can command must be concentrated on this particular web, and not dispersed over that tempting range of relevancies called the universe.}

The first nine chapters concern the circle of people around Mr Brooke and his two (orphaned) nieces, Dorothea and Celia and their neighbours Mr Causabon and Sir James Chettam, while chapters 10-12 introduce Dr Lydgate and the Vincy family.

The only epigraph I will point out from this section is the one from Chapter Two. It is a quote by Cervantes from Don Quixote. Some of you may remember my failed attempt to read Don Quixote a chapter-a-day in 2019 – a DQ epigraph so early in the piece made me groan out load (GOL – is that a thing?)

Eliot used the original text followed by a translation (see below) from chapter 21 of Don Quixote. She probably read the Jarvis translation revised by Tobias Smollett from 1755, although the only leads that come up when googling this epigraph are ones for Middlemarch – perhaps Eliot translated the quote herself?

_{“Seest thou not yon cavalier who cometh toward us on a dapple-gray steed, and weareth a golden helmet?” “What I see,’ answered Sancho, “is nothing but a man on a gray ass like my own, who carries something shiny on his head.” “Just so,” answered Don Quixote: “and that resplendent object is the helmet of Mambrino.”}

I digress. The main thing to know is that the wearer of the golden helmet of Mambrino becomes invulnerable, although this particular scene is all about perception. DQ believes he is wearing the helmet of Mambrino, and is therefore invulnerable while Sancho only sees an old pot. This chapter then is all about the different perceptions that Dorothea, Celia and Sir James have about who really likes who. I also like to think that Eliot could be suggesting that Casaubon is nothing but on old pot!

So far, Mr Casaubon reminds me of (a slightly more intellectual) Mr Collins from Pride & Prejudice. To finish up I will continue with the Jane Austen comparisons (it is #AusteninAugust month after all!):

• Celia has some delicious signs of Elizabeth Bennett about her.
• Dorothea displays some of Fanny Price’s earnestness and Jane Bennett’s desire to see the best in everyone.
• Sir James brings to mind Bingley with his desire to please.
• Elinor Cadwallader obviously has Emma’s matchmaking tendency, or perhaps Mrs Jennings.
• Will Ladislaw has the careless charm of Mr Willoughby but hopefully he turns out to be more like Henry Tilney.
• Dr Lydgate could be a Mr Palmer type (mainly because I remember enough of the story to know that he makes a poor marriage).
• Fred Vincy as Wickham or Henry Crawford, although he seems less conniving, so perhaps more of a Frank Churchill type.
• Rosemary Vincy is not so much a Lydia (I hope), more a Katherine Bennett type with the possibility of improvement given the right circumstances.
• Their mother, Mrs Vincy is another Mrs bennett.
• The gruff Peter Featherstone has some of the controlling behavious of General Tilney.
• Mary Garth is a lot like Fanny Price.

I wonder how these characters will develop as we move onto Book Two ‘Old and Young’?

Favourite Quote:

_{We mortals, men and women, devour many a disappointment between breakfast and dinner-time; keep back the tears and look a little pale about the lips, and in answer to inquiries say, “Oh, nothing!” Pride helps; and pride is not a bad thing when it only urges us to hide our hurts— not to hurt others.}

This post was written on the traditional land of the Wangal clan, one of the 29 clans of the Eora Nation within the Sydney basin. This Reading Life recognises the continuous connection to Country, community and culture of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. They are the traditional custodians of the lands, seas, and skies on which we live and they are this nations first storytellers.