Music Welcome to Snuescast, the podcast designed to help you fall asleep. Find us at snoozecast.com and wherever you listen to podcasts. If you'd like to listen ad-free, or unlock our entire vast and snoozy catalog of sleep stories, go to snoozecasts.com slash plus. This episode is brought to you by fragments of heaven. Tonight, we'll read the opening to Middle March, a study of provincial life written by English author George Elliott and originally published in 1871. George Elliott is the pen name of Mary Anne Evans. The novel is set in a fictional English Midlands town in the early 1800s following many separate characters whose lives intersect at times. Issues include the status of women, the nature of marriage, idealism, self-interest, religion, hypocrisy, political reform, and education. Initial reviews were mixed, but it is now seen widely as her best work and one of the great English novels. Let's get cozy. Close your eyes. your body into the softness of your bed. Now take a few deep breaths. reload. Who the cares much to know the history of man and how the mysterious mixture behaves under the varying experiments of time has not dwelled at least, on the life of Saint Teresa.

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. they tautled, wide eyed and helpless looking as two fawns, but with human hearts, already beating to a national idea, until domestic reality met them in the shape of uncles, and turned them back from their great resolve. That child pilgrimage was a fit beginning. Teresa's passionate, ideal nature demanded an epic life. What were many volumned romances of chivalry and the social conquests of a brilliant girl to her. Her flame quickly burned up that light fuel

and fed from within,

soared after some illimitable satisfaction,

some object which would never justify wearingness,

which would reconcile self-despair

with the rapturous consciousness of life beyond self. She found her ephos in the reform of a religious order. That Spanish woman who lived 300 years ago was certainly not the last of her kind. Many Theresa's have been born who found for themselves no epic life wherein there was a constant unfolding of far resonant action. Perhaps only a life of mistakes. The offspring of a certain spiritual grandeur, they'll match with the meanness of opportunity. Perhaps a tragic failure which found no sacred poet and sank unwept into oblivion. With dim lights and tangled circumstance, they tried to shape their thought and deed in noble agreement. But after all, to common eyes their struggles seemed mere inconsistency and formlessness. For these later born Theresa's were helped by no coherent social faith and order, which could perform the function of knowledge for the ardently willing soul. Their order alternated between a vague ideal and the common yearning of womanhood, so that the one was disapproved as extravagance, and the other condemned as a lapse. Some have felt that these blundering lives are due to the inconvenient indefiniteness with which the supreme power has fashioned the natures of women. If there were one level of feminine incompetence as strict as the ability to count three and no more, the social lot of women might be treated with scientific certitude. Meanwhile the indefiniteness remains, and the limits of variation are really much wider than anyone would imagine from the sameness of women's hairstyles and the favorite love stories in prose and verse. Here and there reared uneasily among the ducklings in the brown pond, never finding the living stream in fellowship with its ory-footed kind. Here and there is born a Saint Teresa, foundress of nothing, whose loving heartbeats and sobs after an unattained goodness tremble off and are dispersed among hindrances, instead of centering in some long recognizable deed. 1. Miss Brock Miss Brock had that kind of beauty which seems to be thrown into relief by poor dress. Her hand and wrist were so finely formed that she could wear sleeves not less bare of style than those in which the blessed Virgin appeared to Italian painters. And her profile as well as her stature and bearing seemed to gain the

more dignity from her plain garments, which by the side of provincial fashion gave her the impressiveness of a fine quotation from the Bible or from one of our Elder Poets in a paragraph of today's newspaper.

She was usually spoken of as being remarkably clever, but with the addition that her sister Celia had more common sense. Nevertheless, Celia wore scarcely more trimmings, and it was only to close observers that her dress differed from her sisters, and had a shade of coquettishness in its arrangements. From his brooks plain dressing was due to mixed conditions, in most of which her sister shared. The pride of being ladies had something to do with it. The Brooke connections, though not exactly aristocratic, were unquestionably good. If you inquired backward for a generation or two, you would not find any yard measuring or parcel tying forefathers. Anything lower than an admiral or a clergyman, and there was even an ancestor discernible as a Puritan gentleman who served under Cromwell. But afterwards conformed, managed to come out of all political troubles as the proprietor

of a respectable family estate. Young women of such birth, living in a quiet country house, and attending a village church hardly larger than a parlor, naturally regarded fripper-y as the ambition of a Huckster's daughter. Then there was well-bred economy, which in those days made show and dress the first item to be deducted from, when any margin was required for expenses more distinctive of rank.

Such reasons would have been enough to account for plain dress, quite apart from religious feeling. But in Miss Brooks case, religion alone would have determined it. and Celia mildly acquiesced in all her sister sentiments, only infusing them with that common sense, which is able to accept momentous doctrines without any eccentric agitation. Dorothy knew many passages of Jeremy Taylor by heart, and to her the destinies of mankind seen by the light of Christianity made the solicitudes of feminine fashion appear and occupation for Bethlehem. She could not reconcile the anxieties of a spiritual life involving eternal consequences, with a keen interest in gimp and artificial protusions of draperry. Her mind was theoretic and yearned by its nature after some lofty conception of the world, which might frankly include the parish of Tipton and her own rule of conduct there. She was enamored of intensity and greatness, and rash in embracing whatever seemed to her to have those aspects, likely to seek martyrdom, to make retractions, and then to incur martyrdom after all in a quarter where she had not sought it. Certainly such elements in the character of a marriageable girl tended to interfere with her lot and hinder it from being decided according to custom by good looks vanity and merely canine affection. With all this she the elder of the sisters was not yet 20 and they had both been educated since they They were about 12 years old and had lost their parents on plans at once narrow and promiscuous, first in an English family and afterwards in a Swiss family. Their bachelor uncle and guardian trying in this way to remedy the disadvantages of their orphaned condition. He was hardly a year since they had come to live at Tipton Grange with their uncle, a man nearly 60, of acquiescent temper, miscellaneous opinions, and uncertain vote. He had traveled in his younger years and was held in this part of the country to have contracted a too rambling habit of mind. Mr. Brooks' conclusions were as difficult to predict as the weather. was only safe to say that he would act with benevolent intentions and that he would spend as little money as possible in carrying them out. For the most gluttonously indefinite minds enclosed some hard grains of habit, and a man has been seen lacks about all his own interests except the retention of his snuff box, concerning which he was watchful, suspicious, and greedy of clutch. In Mr. Brooke, the hereditary strain of Puritan energy was clearly in abhance. But in his niece, Dorothy, 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, she was regarded as an ares. For not only had the sisters 700 a year each from their parents, but if Dorothy married and had a son, that son would inherit Mr. Brooks's estate, presumably worth about 3,000 a year. A rental which seemed wealth to provincial families, still discussing Mr. Peale's late conduct on the Catholic question, innocence of future gold fields, and of that gorgeous plutocracy, which has so nobly exalted the necessities of gentile life. And how should Dorothy not marry? A girl so handsome and with such prospects. Nothing could hinder it but her love of extremes, and her insistence on regulating life according to notions which might cause a wary man to hesitate before he made her an offer, or even might lead her at 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 laborer and prayed furvitely as if she thought herself living in the time of the Apostles, who had strange whims of fasting like a papast, and of sitting up at night to read old theological books. Such a wife might awaken you some fine morning with a new scheme for the application of her income, which would interfere with political economy and the keeping of saddle horses. A man would naturally think twice before he risks himself in such fellowship. Women were expected to have weak opinions, but the great safeguard of society and of domestic life was that opinions were not acted on. Same people did what their neighbors 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 favor of Celia as being so amiable and innocent looking. While Miss Brooks' large eyes seemed, like her religion, too unusual and striking. Poor Dorothy, compared with her, the innocent-looking Celia was knowing and worldly-wise. So much subtler is a human mind than the outside tissues which make a sort of blazin'ry, or clockface for it. Yet those who approached Dorothy, though prejudiced against her by this alarming hearsay, found that she had a charm unaccountably reconcilable with it. Most men thought her bewitching when she was on horseback. She loved the fresh air and the various aspects of the country. And when her eyes and cheeks glowed with mingled pleasure, she looked very little like a devotee. was an indulgence, which she allowed herself in spite of conscientious qualms. She felt that she enjoyed it in a pagan, sensuous way, and always looked forward to renouncing it. She was open, ardent, and not in the least self-admiring. Indeed, it was pretty to see how her imagination adorned her sister Celia with attractions altogether superior to her own. And if any gentlemen appeared to come to the range from some other motive than that of seeking Mr. Brooke, she concluded that he must be in love with Celia. Sir James Chatham, for example, whom she constantly considered from Celia's point of view, inwardly debating whether it would be good for Celia to accept him, that he should be regarded as a suitor to herself would have seemed to her a ridiculous irrelevance. Dorothy, with all her eagerness to know the truths of life, retained very childlike ideas about marriage. She felt sure that she would have accepted the judicious hooker, if she had been born in time to save him from that wretched mistake he made in matrimony, or John Milton when his blindness had come on. Or any of the other great men whose odd habits it would have been glorious piety to endure, but an amiable handsome baronette who said exactly to her remarks even when she expressed uncertainty. How could he affect her as a lover? The really delightful marriage must be that where your husband was a sort of father and could teach you even Hebrew if you wished it. These peculiarities of Dorothy's character caused Mr. Brook to be all the more blamed in neighboring families for not securing some middle-aged lady as guide and companion to his nieces. But he himself dreaded so muchless sort of superior woman likely to be available for such a position, that he allowed himself to be dissuaded by Dorothy's objections, and was in this case brave enough to defy the world. That is to say, Mrs. Cadwell-Adder, the Rector's wife, and a small group of gentry with whom he visited in the northeast corner of Lomshar. So Miss Brooke presided in her uncle's household and did not at all dislike her new authority with the homage that belonged to him. Sir James Chatham was going to die at the Grange today with another gentleman whom the girls had never seen, and about whom Dorothy felt some venerating expectation. This was the Reverend Edward Kasabon, noted in the county as a man of profound learning, understood for many years to be engaged on a great work concerning religious history. Also, as a man of wealth enough to give lustre to his piety, and having views of his own which were to be clearly ascertained on the publication of his book. His very name carried an impressiveness, hardly to be measured without a precise chronology of scholarship. in the day Dorothy had returned from the infant school, which she had set going in the village, and was taking her usual place in the pretty sitting room, which divided the bedrooms of the sisters. Ben to on finishing a plan for some buildings, a kind of work which she delighted in. When Celia, who had been watching her with a hesitating desire to propose something, said, Dorothy, dear. If you don't mind. If you're not very busy.

Suppose we looked at Mama's jewels today and divided them. It is exactly six months today since Uncle gave them to you and you have not looked at them yet. Celia's face had the shadow of a pounding expression in it. The full presence of the pout being kept back by an habitual awe of Dorothy and Principal. Two associated facts which might show a mysterious electricity if you touch them unconsciously. her relief, Dorothy's eyes were full of laughter as she looked up. What a wonderful little almanac you are, Celia. Is it six calendar or six lunar months? It is the last day of September now, and it was the first of April when Uncle gave them to you. You know, he said that he had forgotten them till then. I believe you have never thought of them since you locked them up in the cabinet here. Well, dear, we should never wear them, you know. with the spoke in a full cordial tone, half caressing, half explanatory. She had her pencil in her hand and was making tiny side plans on a margin. Celia colored and looked very grave. I think my dear, we are wanting and respect to Mama's memory to put them by and take no notice of them. And she added after hesitating a little with a rising sob of mortification, neckllaces are quite usual now, and Madame Kuan Kong, who was stricter in some things even than you are, used to wear ornaments, and Christians generally. Surely there are women in heaven now who wore jewels. Celia was conscious of some mental strength when she really applied herself to argument. You would like to wear them, exclaimed Dorothy, in an air of astonished discovery animating her whole person with a dramatic action which she had caught from that very Madame Pancone who wore the ornaments. Of course, then let us have them out. Why did you not tell me before? But the keys. The keys. She pressed her hands against the sides of her head and seemed to despair of her memory. They are here," said Celia, with whom this explanation had been long meditated and pre-arranged. Pre-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 collection on the table. It was nothing great, but a few of the ornaments were really a remarkable beauty. The finest that was obvious at first, being a necklace of purple amethyst, set an exquisite gold work, and a pearl cross with five brilliance in it. Dorothy immediately took up the necklace and fastened it round her sister's neck where it fitted almost as closely as a bracelet. But the circle suited the Henrietta Maria style of Celia's head and neck And she could see that it did in the pier glass opposite They are Celia you can wear that with your Indian Muslim But this cross you must wear with your dark dresses Celia was trying not to smile with pleasure. Oh, Dodo, you must keep the cross yourself. No, no, dear, no. Said Dorothy, putting up her hand with careless deprecation. 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. Cross is the last thing I would wear as a trinket.

Dorothy shuddered slightly. "'Then you will think it wicked in me to wear it,' said Celia, uneasily. "'No, dear, no,' said Dorothy, stroking her sister's cheek. have complexions too. What will suit one? Will not suit another. But you might like to keep it from a mosaic? No. I have other things of mamas. Her sandalwood box, which I am so fond of, plenty of things. In fact, they are all yours, We need to discuss them no longer. There, take away your property. Celia felt a little hurt. There was a strong assumption of superiority in this puritanic toleration, hardly less trying to the blonde flesh of an unenthusiastic sister than a puritanic persecution. But how can I wear ornaments if you, who are the elder sister, will never wear them? Nay, Celia! That is too much to ask ask that I should wear trinkets to keep you

in countenance. If I were to put on such a necklace as that, I should feel as if I had been pirouetting. The world would go round with me, and I should not know how to walk.

Celia had unclasped the necklace and drawn it off.

They would be a little tight for your neck,

something to lie down and hang would suit you better.

She said, with some satisfaction,

the complete unfitness of the necklace from all points of view for Dorothy made Celia happier in taking it. She was opening some ring boxes which disclosed a fine emerald with diamonds. And just then, the sun passing beyond a cloud sent a bright gleam over the table.