Middlemarch: A Study of Provincial Life (Broadview Editions) - Softcover

Eliot, George

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1551112337 ISBN 13: 9781551112336

Verlag: Broadview Press Ltd, 2004

Inhaltsangabe

George Eliot's Middlemarch (1871-72) is one of the classic novels of English literature and was admired by Virginia Woolf as "one of the few English novels written for grown-up people." The complex main plot and many subplots revolve around Dorothea Brooke, an ardent young woman, and her relationship to three men: Casaubon, a clergyman and scholar twice her age; Lydgate, an ambitious young doctor who shares Dorothea's enthusiasm for reform but whose flaws compromise his ambitions; and Will Ladislaw, a young man of mysterious origins, romantic temperament, and artistic inclinations. A female Bildungsroman and a study of character and society in the realistic mode pioneered by Balzac, Middlemarch is also an historical novel that offers a panorama of English society in an era of social reform and political agitation.

This Broadview edition includes a critical introduction and a rich selection of contextual materials, including contemporary reviews of the novel, other writings by George Eliot (essays, reviews, and criticism), and historical documents pertaining to medical reform, religious freedom, and the advent of the railroads.

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Gregory Maertz is an Associate Professor of English at Saint John's University in New York City. He is the editor of Cultural Interactions in the Romantic Age (SUNY Press, 1998).

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George Eliot's Middlemarch (1871-72) is one of the classic novels of English literature and was admired by Virginia Woolf as "one of the few English novels written for grown-up people." The complex main plot and many subplots revolve around Dorothea Brooke, an ardent young woman, and her relationship to three men: Casaubon, a clergyman and scholar twice her age; Lydgate, an ambitious young doctor who shares Dorothea's enthusiasm for reform but whose flaws compromise his ambitions; and Will Ladislaw, a young man of mysterious origins, romantic temperament, and artistic inclinations. A female Bildungsroman and a study of character and society in the realistic mode pioneered by Balzac, Middlemarch is also an historical novel that offers a panorama of English society in an era of social reform and political agitation.

This Broadview edition includes a critical introduction and a rich selection of contextual materials, including contemporary reviews of the novel, other writings by George Eliot (essays, reviews, and criticism), and historical documents pertaining to medical reform, religious freedom, and the advent of the railroads.

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Middlemarch

A Study of Provincial LifeBy George Eliot

Broadview Press

Copyright © 2004 George Eliot
All right reserved.
ISBN: 9781551112336

Chapter One

Since I can do no good because a woman,
Reach constantly at something that is near it.
? Beaumont and Fletcher:
THE MAID'S TRAGEDY

MISS BROOKE had that kind of beauty which seems to bethrown into relief by poor dress. Her hand and wrist were so finelyformed that she could wear sleeves not less bare of style than those inwhich the Blessed Virgin appeared to Italian painters; and her profileas well as her stature and bearing seemed to gain the more dignity fromher plain garments, which by the side of provincial fashion gave her theimpressiveness of a fine quotation from the Bible, ? or from one of ourelder poets, ? in a paragraph of to-day's newspaper. She was usuallyspoken of as being remarkably clever, but with the addition that hersister Celia had more common-sense. Nevertheless, Celia wore scarcelymore trimmings; and it was only to close observers that her dressdiffered from her sister's, and had a shade of coquetry in itsarrangements; for Miss Brooke's plain dressing was due to mixedconditions, in most of which her sister shared. The pride of beingladies had something to do with it: the Brooke connections, though notexactly aristocratic, were unquestionably "good": if you inquiredbackward for a generation or two, you would not find any yard-measuringor parcel-tying forefathers ? anything lower than an admiral or aclergyman; and there was even an ancestor discernible as a Puritangentleman who served under Cromwell, but afterwards conformed, andmanaged to come out of all political troubles as the proprietor of arespectable family estate. Young women of such birth, living in a quietcountry-house, and attending a village church hardly larger than aparlour, naturally regarded frippery as the ambition of a huckster'sdaughter. Then there was well-bred economy, which in those days madeshow in dress the first item to be deducted from, when any margin wasrequired for expenses more distinctive of rank. Such reasons would havebeen enough to account for plain dress, quite apart from religiousfeeling; but in Miss Brooke's case, religion alone would have determinedit; and Celia mildly acquiesced in all her sister's sentiments, onlyinfusing them with that common-sense which is able to accept momentousdoctrines without any eccentric agitation. Dorothea knew many passagesof Pascal's Pensées and of Jeremy Taylor by heart; and toher the destinies of mankind, seen by the light of Christianity, madethe solicitudes of feminine fashion appear an occupation for Bedlam. Shecould not reconcile the anxieties of a spiritual life involving eternalconsequences, with a keen interest in guimp and artificial protrusionsof drapery. Her mind was theoretic, and yearned by its nature after somelofty conception of the world which might frankly include the parish ofTipton and her own rule of conduct there; she was enamoured of intensityand greatness, and rash in embracing whatever seemed to her to havethose aspects; likely to seek martyrdom, to make retractions, and thento incur martyrdom after all in a quarter where she had not sought it.Certainly such elements in the character of a marriageable girl tendedto interfere with her lot, and hinder it from being decided according tocustom, by good looks, vanity, and merely canine affection. With allthis, she, the elder of the sisters, was not yet twenty, and they hadboth been educated, since they were about twelve years old and had losttheir parents, on plans at once narrow and promiscuous, first in anEnglish family and afterwards in a Swiss family at Lausanne, theirbachelor uncle and guardian trying in this way to remedy thedisadvantages of their orphaned condition.

It was hardly a year since they had come to live at Tipton Grange withtheir uncle, a man nearly sixty, of acquiescent temper, miscellaneousopinions, and uncertain vote. He had travelled in his younger years, andwas held in this part of the country to have contracted a too ramblinghabit of mind. Mr. Brooke's conclusions were as difficult to predict asthe weather: it was only safe to say that he would act with benevolentintentions, and that he would spend as little money as possible incarrying them out. For the most glutinously indefinite minds enclosesome hard grains of habit; and a man has been seen lax about all his owninterests except the retention of his snuff-box, concerning which he waswatchful, suspicious, and greedy of clutch.

In Mr. Brooke the hereditary strain of Puritan energy was clearly inabeyance; but in his niece Dorothea it glowed alike through faults andvirtues, turning sometimes into impatience of her uncle's talk or hisway of "letting things be" on his estate, and making her long all themore for the time when she would be of age and have some command ofmoney for generous schemes. She was regarded as an heiress, for not onlyhad the sisters seven hundred a-year each from their parents, but ifDorothea married and had a son, that son would inherit Mr. Brooke'sestate, presumably worth about three thousand a-year ? a rental whichseemed wealth to provincial families, still discussing Mr. Peel's lateconduct on the Catholic Question, innocent of future gold-fields, and ofthat gorgeous plutocracy which has so nobly exalted the necessities ofgenteel life.

And how should Dorothea not marry? ? a girl so handsome and with suchprospects? Nothing could hinder it but her love of extremes, and herinsistence on regulating life according to notions which might cause awary man to hesitate before he made her an offer, or even might lead herat last to refuse all offers. A young lady of some birth and fortune,who knelt suddenly down on a brick floor by the side of a sick labourerand prayed fervidly as if she thought herself living in the time of theApostles ? who had strange whims of fasting like a Papist, and ofsitting up at night to read old theological books! Such a wife mightawaken you some fine morning with a new scheme for the application ofher income which would interfere with political economy and the keepingof saddle-horses: a man would naturally think twice before he riskedhimself in such fellowship. Women were expected to have weak opinions;but the great safeguard of society and of domestic life was, thatopinions were not acted on. Sane people did what their neighbours did,so that if any lunatics were at large, one might know and avoid them.

The rural opinion about the new young ladies, even among the cottagers,was generally in favour of Celia, as being so amiable andinnocent-looking, while Miss Brooke's large eyes seemed, like herreligion, too unusual and striking. Poor Dorothea! compared with her,the innocent-looking Celia was knowing and worldly-wise; so much subtleris a human mind than the outside tissues which make a sort of blazonryor clock-face for it.

Yet those who approached Dorothea, though prejudiced against her by thisalarming hearsay, found that she had a charm unaccountably reconcilablewith it. Most men thought her bewitching when she was on horseback. Sheloved the fresh air and the various aspects of the country, and when hereyes and cheeks glowed with mingled pleasure she looked very little likea devotee. Riding was an indulgence which she allowed herself in spiteof conscientious qualms; she felt that she enjoyed it in a pagansensuous way, and always looked forward to renouncing it.

She was open, ardent, and not in the least self-admiring; indeed, it waspretty to see how her imagination adorned her sister Celia withattractions altogether superior to her own, and if any gentlemanappeared to come to the Grange from some other motive than that ofseeing Mr. Brooke, she concluded that he must be in love with Celia: SirJames Chettam, for example, whom she constantly considered from Celia'spoint of view, inwardly debating whether it would be good for Celia toaccept him. That he should be regarded as a suitor to herself would haveseemed to her a ridiculous irrelevance. Dorothea, with all her eagernessto know the truths of life, retained very childlike ideas aboutmarriage. She felt sure that she would have accepted the judiciousHooker, if she had been born in time to save him from that wretchedmistake he made in matrimony; or John Milton when his blindness had comeon; or any of the other great men whose odd habits it would have beenglorious piety to endure; but an amiable handsome baronet, who said"Exactly" to her remarks even when she expressed uncertainty, ? how couldhe affect her as a lover? The really delightful marriage must be thatwhere your husband was a sort of father, and could teach you evenHebrew, if you wished it.

These peculiarities of Dorothea's character caused Mr. Brooke to be allthe more blamed in neighbouring families for not securing somemiddle-aged lady as guide and companion to his nieces. But he himselfdreaded so much the sort of superior woman likely to be available forsuch a position, that he allowed himself to be dissuaded by Dorothea'sobjections, and was in this case brave enough to defy the world? thatis to say, Mrs. Cadwallader the Rector's wife, and the small group ofgentry with whom he visited in the north-east corner of Loamshire. SoMiss Brooke presided in her uncle's household, and did not at alldislike her new authority, with the homage that belonged to it.

Sir James Chettam was going to dine at the Grange to-day with anothergentleman whom the girls had never seen, and about whom Dorothea feltsome venerating expectation. This was the Reverend Edward Casaubon,noted in the county as a man of profound learning, understood for manyyears to be engaged on a great work concerning religious history; alsoas a man of wealth enough to give lustre to his piety, and having viewsof his own which were to be more clearly ascertained on the publicationof his book. His very name carried an impressiveness hardly to bemeasured without a precise chronology of scholarship.

Early in the day Dorothea had returned from the infant school which shehad set going in the village, and was taking her usual place in thepretty sitting-room which divided the bedrooms of the sisters, bent onfinishing a plan for some buildings (a kind of work which she delightedin), when Celia, who had been watching her with a hesitating desire topropose something, said? "Dorothea dear, if you don't mind ? ifyou are not very busy ? suppose we looked at mamma's jewels to-day, anddivided them? It is exactly six months to-day since uncle gave them toyou, and you have not looked at them yet."

Celia's face had the shadow of a pouting expression in it, the fullpresence of the pout being kept back by an habitual awe of Dorothea andprinciple; two associated facts which might show a mysteriouselectricity if you touched them incautiously. To her relief, Dorothea'seyes were full of laughter as she looked up.

"What a wonderful little almanac you are, Celia! Is it six calendar orsix lunar months?"

"It is the last day of September now, and it was the first of April whenuncle gave them to you. You know, he said that he had forgotten themtill then. I believe you have never thought of them since you lockedthem up in the cabinet here."

"Well, dear, we should never wear them, you know." Dorothea spoke in afull cordial tone, half caressing, half explanatory. She had her pencilin her hand, and was making tiny side-plans on a margin.

Celia coloured, and looked very grave. "I think, dear, we are wanting inrespect to mamma's memory, to put them by and take no notice of them.And," she added, after hesitating a little, with a rising sob ofmortification, "necklaces are quite usual now; and Madame Poincon, whowas stricter in some things even than you are, used to wear ornaments.And Christians generally ? surely there are women in heaven now who worejewels." Celia was conscious of some mental strength when she reallyapplied herself to argument.

"You would like to wear them?" exclaimed Dorothea, an air of astonisheddiscovery animating her whole person with a dramatic action which shehad caught from that very Madame Poincon who wore the ornaments. "Ofcourse, then, let us have them out. Why did you not tell me before? Butthe keys, the keys!" She pressed her hands against the sides of her headand seemed to despair of her memory.

"They are here," said Celia, with whom this explanation had been longmeditated and prearranged.

"Pray open the large drawer of the cabinet and get out the jewel-box."

The casket was soon open before them, and the various jewels spread out,making a bright parterre on the table. It was no great collection, but afew of the ornaments were really of remarkable beauty, the finest thatwas obvious at first being a necklace of purple amethysts set inexquisite gold work, and a pearl cross with five brilliants in it.Dorothea immediately took up the necklace and fastened it round hersister's neck, where it fitted almost as closely as a bracelet; but thecircle suited the Henrietta-Maria style of Celia's head and neck, andshe could see that it did, in the pier-glass opposite.

"There, Celia! you can wear that with your Indian muslin. But this crossyou must wear with your dark dresses."

Celia was trying not to smile with pleasure. "O Dodo, you must keep thecross yourself."

"No, no, dear, no," said Dorothea, putting up her hand with carelessdeprecation.

"Yes, indeed you must; it would suit you ? in your black dress, now,"said Celia, insistingly. "You might wear that."

"Not for the world, not for the world. A cross is the last thing I wouldwear as a trinket." Dorothea shuddered slightly.

"Then you will think it wicked in me to wear it," said Celia, uneasily.

"No, dear, no," said Dorothea, stroking her sister's cheek. "Souls havecomplexions too: what will suit one will not suit another."

"But you might like to keep it for mamma's sake."

"No, I have other things of mamma's ? her sandal-wood box, which I am sofond of ? plenty of things. In fact, are all yours, dear. We needdiscuss them no longer. There ? take away your property."

Celia felt a little hurt. There was a strong assumption of superiorityin this Puritanic toleration, hardly less trying to the blond flesh ofan unenthusiastic sister than a Puritanic persecution.

"But how can I wear ornaments if you, who are the elder sister, willnever wear them?"

"Nay, Celia, that is too much to ask, that I should wear trinkets tokeep you in countenance. If I were to put on such a necklace as that, Ishould feel as if I had been pirouetting. The world would go round withme, and I should not know how to walk."

Celia had unclasped the necklace and drawn it off. "It would be a littletight for your neck; something to lie down and hang would suit youbetter," she said, with some satisfaction. The complete unfitness of thenecklace from all points of view for Dorothea, made Celia happier intaking it. She was opening some ring-boxes, which disclosed a fineemerald with diamonds, and just then the sun passing beyond a cloud senta bright gleam over the table.

"How very beautiful these gems are!" said Dorothea, under a new currentof feeling, as sudden as the gleam. "It is strange how deeply coloursseem to penetrate one, like scent. I suppose that is the reason why gemsare used as spiritual emblems in the Revelation of St. John. They looklike fragments of heaven. I think that emerald is more beautiful thanany of them."

"And there is a bracelet to match it," said Celia. "We did not noticethis at first."

"They are lovely," said Dorothea, slipping the ring and bracelet on herfinely-turned finger and wrist, and holding them towards the window on alevel with her eyes. All the while her thought was trying to justify herdelight in the colours by merging them in her mystic religious joy.

"You would like those, Dorothea," said Celia, rather falteringly,beginning to think with wonder that her sister showed some weakness, andalso that emeralds would suit her own complexion even better than purpleamethysts. "You must keep that ring and bracelet ? if nothing else. Butsee, these agates are very pretty ? and quiet."

"Yes! I will keep these ? this ring and bracelet," said Dorothea. Then,letting her hand fall on the table, she said in another tone? "Yetwhat miserable men find such things, and work at them, and sell them!"She paused again, and Celia thought that her sister was going torenounce the ornaments, as in consistency she ought to do.

"Yes, dear, I will keep these," said Dorothea, decidedly. "But take allthe rest away, and the casket."

She took up her pencil without removing the jewels, and still looking atthem. She thought of often having them by her, to feed her eye at theselittle fountains of pure colour.

"Shall you wear them in company?" said Celia, who was watching her withreal curiosity as to what she would do.

Dorothea glanced quickly at her sister. Across all her imaginativeadornment of those whom she loved, there darted now and then a keendiscernment, which was not without a scorching quality. If Miss Brookeever attained perfect meekness, it would not be for lack of inward fire.

"Perhaps," she said, rather haughtily. "I cannot tell to what level Imay sink."

Celia blushed, and was unhappy; she saw that she had offended hersister, and dared not say even anything pretty about the gift of theornaments which she put back into the box and carried away. Dorothea toowas unhappy, as she went on with her plan-drawing, questioning thepurity of her own feeling and speech in the scene which had ended withthat little explosion.

Celia's consciousness told her that she had not been at all in thewrong: it was quite natural and justifiable that she should have askedthat question, and she repeated to herself that Dorothea wasinconsistent: either she should have taken her full share of the jewels,or, after what she had said, she should have renounced them altogether.

"I am sure ? at least, I trust," thought Celia, "that the wearing of anecklace will not interfere with my prayers. And I do not see that Ishould be bound by Dorothea's opinions now we are going into society,though of course she herself ought to be bound by them. But Dorothea isnot always consistent."

Thus Celia, mutely bending over her tapestry, until she heard her sistercalling her.

"Here, Kitty, come and look at my plan; I shall think I am a greatarchitect, if I have not got incompatible stairs and fireplaces."

As Celia bent over the paper, Dorothea put her cheek against hersister's arm caressingly. Celia understood the action. Dorothea saw thatshe had been in the wrong, and Celia pardoned her. Since they couldremember, there had been a mixture of criticism and awe in the attitudeof Celia's mind towards her elder sister. The younger had always worn ayoke; but is there any yoked creature without its private opinions?

Continues...

Excerpted from Middlemarchby George Eliot Copyright © 2004 by George Eliot. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Broadview Press Ltd
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2004
• ISBN 10: 1551112337
• ISBN 13: 9781551112336
• Einband: Tapa blanda
• Sprache: Englisch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 744
• Herausgeber: Maertz Gregory
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar