While it has been several weeks since I last posted about Middlemarch, I am finally returning to the topic of this fine novel. I wanted to continue discussing the education received by our protagonist Dorothea. In my Nov. 15, 2013 post, I maintained that she--and Victorian women, in general--were not privy to any substantial education. Nevertheless, Dorothea, due to her aptitude for learning, absorbs knowledge from those around her. Her cosmopolitan uncle, Mr. Brooke, is a likely agency for Dorothea's education, given that he is her guardian since she has been twelve years of age.
Although Dorothea is obliged to her uncle, she disapproves of his indifference to the less fortunate and to his miserliness:
“In Mr. Brooke the hereditary strain of Puritan energy was clearly in abeyance; but in his niece Dorothea it glowed alike through faults and virtues, turning sometimes into impatience of her uncle's talk or his way of ‘letting things be’ on his estate, and making her long all the more for the time when she would be of age and have some command of money for generous schemes” (5).Brooke is a cosmopolitan, who has had access to a liberal education at Cambridge, in addition to the knowledge he has gleaned on his travels throughout the continent and the British Isles. We discover that his education and philosophy are of an eclectic nature, chosen on the basis of their presumption of social responsibility. Consider his discussion over agricultural science: “I went into a great deal of science myself at one time; but I saw it would not do. It leads to everything; you can let nothing alone. . . . fancy farming will not do—the most expensive whistle you can buy” (12). He disregards the value of science because scientific research demands responsibility which is inconvenient for landowners, like Mr. Brooke, who watch idly as their properties deteriorate to the misfortune of their tenants. He boasts about his knowledge of economics, quoting from Adam Smith:
There is a book, now. I took in all the new ideas at one time—human perfectibility, now. But some say history moves in circles; and that may be very well argued. I have argued it myself. The fact is, human reason may carry you a little too far—over the hedge, in fact. It carried me a good way one time; but I saw it would not do. I pulled up; I pulled up in time. But not too hard. I have always been in favour of a little theory; we must have Thought (13).
Brooke welcomes new theory, but he is not eager for progression. Thought leads to progression which leads to change. Brooke belongs to that social class who is averse to scientific advancements, because they do not like the ethical responsibilities it places on them. He equivocates on almost every position, so that he stands for nothing. He runs for parliament as an independent on a platform of a reform, but he is loath to execute any reforms on his own land. While he has had a liberal education, in the sense that it is broad and varied, he has not developed from it those attributes described by Newman, i.e., freedom, equitableness, calmness, moderation, and wisdom. Dorothea rejects all that Brooke stands for, because it lacks social conscience. As a result, her own ascetic position is reinforced and her educational deficits are amplified.
Brooke professes knowledge on many subjects, but his knowledge is without conviction. Newman describes such men:
We sometimes fall in with persons who have seen much of the world, and of the men who, in their day, have played a conspicuous part in it, but who generalize nothing, and have no observation, in the true sense of the word. They abound in information in detail, curious and entertaining, about men and things; and, having lived under the influence of no very clear or settled principles, religious or political, they speak of everyone and everything, only as so many phenomena, which are complete in themselves, and lead to nothing, not discussing them, or teaching any truth, or instructing the hearer, but simply talking. No one would say that these persons, well informed as they are, had attained to any great culture of intellect or to philosophy (136).Brooke is one of those persons whom Newman explains is “simply talking.” At his dinner party, he dominates the conversation, demonstrating his mastery over many subjects, but not facilitating much of a dialogue. In spite of Brooke ‘s extensive education he lacks the cultivation of intellect and, subsequently, does not “discharge his duties to society” (Newman 178). Newman advocates for the “enlargement of mind which is the power of viewing many things at once as one whole, of referring them severally to their true place in the universal system, of understanding their respective values, and determining their mutual dependence” (137-8). Brooke’s conversation at his dinner party is disjointed. Moreover, Brooke does not fully realize the disparities in his philosophy and in his practice; for example, his political platform of reform is inconsistent with his non-progressive practices as a landlord.
A cottage in disrepair
As a result of Brooke’s hypocrisy, Dorothea is further induced to reject what she views as artifice, but which she comes to experience as art. She relates how she finds the art in Brooke’s home oppressive (65). She explains to Brooke:
That is one reason why I did not like the pictures here, dear uncle—which you think me stupid about. I used to come from the village with all that dirt and coarse ugliness like a pain within me, and the simpering pictures in the drawing-room seemed to me like a wicked attempt to find delight in what is false, while we don’t mind how hard the truth is for the neighbours outside the walls (354).Dorothea finds offense in her uncle’s easy way of finding delight in art while his tenants and neighbours can find no delight in their impoverished living conditions. Dorothea becomes more entrenched in her puritanical views in an effort to rebel against what she sees as Brooke’s extravagance and irresponsible use of knowledge. His lack of conviction leaves her without much guidance and she foolishly marries Casaubon.
One final note about Mr. Brooke: he is quite comical, always blundering and dithering and equivocating. He's a Newt Gingrich of the 19th century.
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