13 Middlemarch - Read By Stephanie Poppins

Middlemarch by George Eliot explores the lives of its inhabitants as they navigate societal expectations, personal aspirations, and the changing world around them. The story centres on Dorothea Brooke, a young, idealistic woman who marries an older scholar.

In this episode, Sir James Chettam is not happy.

Transcript

Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph, Your go-to podcast that offers you a calm and relaxing transition into a great night's sleep. It is time to relax and fully let go. There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go. Close your eyes and feel yourself sink into the support beneath you and let all the worries of the day drift away. This is your time and your space. Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh. There is nothing you need to be doing now and nowhere you need to go. Happy listening. Chapter 8 It was wonderful to Sir James Chetham how well he continued to like going to the Grange after he'd once encountered the difficulty of seeing Dorothea for the first time in the light of a woman who was engaged to another man. Of course, The forked lightning seemed to pass through him when he first approached her and he remained conscious through the interview of Hiding Uneasiness. But good as he was, It must be owned that his uneasiness was less than it would have been if he'd thought his rival a brilliant and desirable match. He had no sense of being eclipsed by Mr Casabon. He was only shocked that Dorothea was under a melancholy illusion and his mortification lost some of its bitterness by being mingled with compassion. Nevertheless, While Sir James said to himself he'd completely resigned her, Since with the perversity of a Desdemona she had not affected a proposed match that was clearly suitable and according to nature, He could not yet be quite passive under the idea of her engagement to Mr Casabon. On the day when he first saw them together in the light of his present knowledge, It seemed to him he had not taken the affair seriously enough. Brooke was really culpable. He ought to have hindered it. Who could speak to him? Something might be done, Perhaps even now, At least to defer the marriage. On his way home, He turned into the rector and asked for Mr Cadwalader. Happily the rector was at home and his visitor was shown into the study where all the fishing tackle hung. But he himself was in a little room adjoining at work with his turning apparatus and he called to the baronet to join him there. The two were better friends than any other landholder and clergyman in the county, A significant fact which was in agreement with the amiable expression of their faces. Mr Cadwalader was a large man with full lips and a sweet smile, Very plain and rough in his exterior, But with that solid, Imperturbable ease and good humour which is infectious, And like great grassy hills and the sunshine, Quiets even an irritated egoism and makes it rather ashamed of itself. Well, How are you? He said, Showing a hand not quite fit to be grasped. Sorry I missed you before, Is there anything particular? You look vexed. Sir James's brow had a little crease in it, A little depression of the eyebrow which he seemed purposely to exaggerate as he answered, It's only this conduct of Brookes, I really think someone should speak to him. What, Meaning to stand? Said Mr Cadwalader going on with the arrangement of the reels which he'd just been turning. I hardly think he means it, But where's the harm if he likes it? Anyone who objects to wiggery should be glad when the wigs don't put up the strongest fellow. They won't overturn the constitution with our friend Brookes' head for a battering ram. Oh, I don't mean that, Said Sir James, Who, After putting down his hat and throwing himself into a chair, Had begun to nurse his leg and examine the sole of his boot with much bitterness. I mean this marriage, I mean his letting that blooming young girl marry Casimone. What's the matter with Casimone? I see no harm in him if the girl likes him. She's too young to know what she likes, A guardian ought to interfere, He ought not to allow the thing to be done in this headlong manner. I wonder a man like you, Cadwalader, A man with daughters, Can look at the affair with indifference and with such a heart as yours. Do think seriously about it. I'm not joking, I'm as serious as possible, Said the Rector, With a provoking little inward laugh. You are as bad as Eleanor, She's been wanting to go and lecture Brooke, And I've reminded her her friends had a very poor opinion of the match he made when she married me. But look at Casimone, Said Sir James indignantly, He must be fifty, I don't believe he ever could have been much more than the shadow of a man. Look at his legs! Confound you handsome young fellows, You think of having it all your own way in the world. You don't understand women, They don't admire you half so much as you admire yourselves. Eleanor used to tell her sisters she married me for my ugliness, It was so various and amusing it had quite conquered her prudence. You, It was easy enough for a woman to love you, But this is no question of beauty, I don't like Casimone. This was Sir James' strongest way of implying he thought ill of a man's character. My, What do you know against him, Said the Rector, Laying down his reels and putting his thumbs into his armholes with an air of attention. Sir James paused, He did not usually find it easy to give his reasons. It seemed to him strange that people should not know them without being told, Since he only felt what was reasonable. At last he said, Now Cadwallader, Has he got any heart? Well, Yes, I don't mean if a melting salt, But a sound colonel, That you may be sure of. He's very good to his poor relations, Pensioned several of the women, And is educating a young fellow at a good deal of expense. Casimone acts up to his sense of justice. His mother's sister made a bad match, A Pole I think, Lost herself at any rate and was disowned by her family. If it had not been for that, Casimone would not have had so much money by half. I believe he went himself to find his cousins and see what he could do for them. Every man would not wing so well as that if he tried his mettle. You, Chetham, But not every man. I don't know, Said Sir James, Colouring, I'm not so sure of myself. He paused a moment, Then added, That was a right thing for Casimone to do. But a man may wish to do what is right and yet be a sort of parchment code. A woman may not be happy with him. I think when a girl's so young as Miss Brooke, Her friends ought to interfere a little, To hinder her from doing anything foolish. You laugh because you fancy I have some feeling on my own account, But upon my honour it is not that. I should feel just the same if I were Miss Brooke's brother or uncle. Well, What should you do? I should say the marriage must not be decided on till she was of age, And depend upon it in that case it would never come off. I wish you saw it as I do. I wish you would talk to Brooke. Sir James rose as he was finishing his sentence, For he saw Mrs Cadwallader entering from the study. She held by the hand her youngest girl, About five years old, Who immediately ran to papa and was made comfortable on his knee. I hear what you're talking about, Said the wife, But you will make no impression on Humphrey. As long as the fish rise to his bait, Everybody is what he ought to be. Bless you, Cassabon's got a trout stream and does not care about fishing in it himself. Could there be a better fellow? Well, There is something in that, Said the rector with his quiet inward laugh. It is a very good quality in a man to have a trout stream. But seriously, Said Sir James, Whose vexation had not yet spent itself, Don't you think the rector might do some good by speaking? Oh, I told you beforehand what he would say, Answered Mrs Cadwallader, Lifting up her eyebrows. I've done what I could. I wash my hands of the marriage. In the first place, Said the rector, Looking rather grave, It would be nonsensical to expect I could convince Brooke and make him act accordingly. Brooke is a very good fellow, But pulpy. He'll run into any mould. But he won't keep shape. He might keep shape long enough to defer the marriage, Said Sir James. But my dear Chettham, Why should I use my influence to Cassabon's disadvantage? Unless I were much surer than I am, I should be acting for the advantage of Miss Brooke. I know no harm of Cassabon. For anything I can tell, Miss Brooke may be happier with him than she would be with any other man. Humphrey, I have no patience with you. You know you'd rather dine under the hedge than with Cassabon alone. You have nothing to say to each other. What has that got to do with Miss Brooke's marrying him? She does not do it for my amusement. He's got no red blood in his body, Said Sir James. No, Somebody put a drop under a magnifying glass and it was all semicolons and parentheses, Said Mrs Cadwalader. Why does he not bring out his book instead of marrying, Said Sir James, With a disgust which he held warranted by the sound feeling of an English layman? Oh, He dreams footnotes and they run away with all his brains. They say when he was a little boy, He made an abstract of Hopper, My thumb. He's been making abstracts ever since. And that is the man Humphrey goes on saying a woman may be happy with. Well, He's what Miss Brooke likes, Said the rector. I don't propose to understand every young lady's taste. But if she were your own daughter, Said Sir James, That would be a different affair. She is not my daughter and I don't feel called upon to interfere. Cassabon is as good as most of us. He is a scholarly clergyman and creditable to the cloth. Clearly, There would be no interference with Miss Brooke's marriage through Mr Cadwalader. And Sir James felt with some sadness that she was to have perfect liberty of misjudgment. It was a sign of his good disposition. He did not slacken at all in his intention of carrying out Dorothy's design of the cottages. Doubtless, This persistence was the best course for his own dignity. But pride only helps us to be generous. It never makes us so. Any more than vanity makes us witty. She was now enough aware of Sir James's position with regard to her to appreciate the rectitude of his perseverance in a landlord's duty to which he had first been urged by a lover's complacence. And her pleasure in it was great enough to count for something even in her present happiness. Perhaps she gave to Sir James Chetham's cottages all the interest she could spare for Mr Cassabon. Or rather from the symphony of hopeful dreams, Admiring trust and passionate self-devotion which that learned gentleman had set playing in her soul. Hence it happened that in the good baronet's succeeding visits, While he was beginning to pay small attentions to Celia, He found himself talking with more and more pleasure to Dorothea. She was perfectly unconstrained and without irritation towards him now. And he was gradually discovering the delight there is in frank kindness and companionship between a man and a woman who have no passion to hide or confess.