Mary Cholmondeley (1859–1925)

Diálogos a lo Jane Austen; citas no tan encubiertas a Henry James, amigo de la autora; shakespearianos pasajes de enredo y falso desdén; y mucha ironía, hasta llegar a la sátira en lo referente al amor y la posición social. Todo ello contado con un interesante distanciamiento, que logra, aquí y allá, sutiles momentos de humor... Dos parejas de enamorados, un hermano vividor y caradura, un par de madres sin escrúpulos, y, por qué no, algo de bondad y sentido común. Éstos son algunos de los atractivos «ingredientes» de este libro.… (mehr)

I'm too sad right now, from my brother dying from covid-19, to write a review. You have my strong rating: 4/5. I liked it very much for the strong feminist themes in it, especially for the time when it was written, and for its showing of hypocrisy of the clergy and religion in general. Here's a synopsis from wikipedia:
Red Pottage follows a period in the lives of two friends, Rachel West and Hester Gresley. Rachel is a wealthy heiress who falls in love with the weak-willed Hugh Scarlett after he has broken off an affair with Lady Newhaven (which he does not originally realize has been discovered by her husband). Hester, a novelist, lives with her judgmental brother, the pompous vicar of the fictional village of Warpington. Hester's brother disapproves of her writing and eventually burns the manuscript of a novel she has been writing. This leads Hester into a prolonged nervous illness. Scarlett who has not been entirely frank with Rachel about his past commits suicide when his dishonourable behaviour is revealed to her and she breaks off their engagement.

Here's a couple of quotes that spoke especially to me.
Doughty Library Hardcover edition 1968
Rachel's ex-fiance:
P.135-6:
" 'we shall never meet again,' he said, holding her hand and looking very much the same without his illusions as he did when he had them on. he had read somewhere a little poem about 'a woman's no', which at the last moment meant 'yes.' and then there was another which chronicled how after several stanzas of upgrading 'we rushed into each other's arms.' Both recurred to him now. He had often thought how true they were.
'I do not think we shall meet again,' said Rachel who apparently had an un poetic nature; 'but I am glad for my own sake that we have met this once, and have had this conversation. I think we owed it to each other and to our - former attachment.'
'Well, goodbye,' he still held her hand. if she was not careful she would lose him.
'goodbye.'
'You understand it is for always?'
'I do.'
he became suddenly livid. He loved her more than ever. would she really let him go?
'I am not the kind of man to be whistled back,' he said fiercely. It was an appeal and a defiance for he was just the kind of man, and they both knew it.
'of course not.'
'that is your last word?'
'my last word.'
He dropped her hand, and half turned to go.
She made no sign.
then he strode violently out of the wood without looking behind him. at the little gate he stopped a moment listening intently. No recalling voice reached him. Poets did not know what they were talking about. What a trembling hand he slammed the gate and departed."

Weak little men who let faithful dogs drown, plague Rachel.
P.143:
"...Hugh put out his whole strength in the Endeavor to raise himself somewhat out of the ice-cold water. But the upturned boat sideled away from him like a skittish horse and after grappling with it he only slipped back again exhausted, and had to clutch it as best he could.
As he clung to the gunwaly he heard a faint coughing and gasping close to his ear. Someone was drowning. Hugh realized that it must be Crack, under the boat. He called to him, he chirruped as if all were well. He stretched one hand as far as he could under the boat feeling for him. But he could not reach him. Presently the faint difficult sound ceased, began again, stopped, and was heard no more."

P.156:
" 'if I were given another,' said Hugh. 'if I might only be given another now in this life, I should take it.'
he was thinking if only he might be let off this dreadful, self-inflicted death. She thought that he meant that he repented of his sin, and would Fain do better.
There was a sound of voices near at hand. Sybell and Mr gresley came down the grass walk towards them....
...that night as Rachel sat in her room she went over that half-made, ruthlessly interrupted confidence.
'he does repent,' she said to herself, recalling the Careworn face. 'if he does, can I overlook the past? Can I help him to make a fresh start? if he had not done this one dishonorable action, I could have cared for him. can I now?' "… (mehr)

I truly wish Mary Cholmondeley had given this book another name. It might have enticed more people to read it now, when the phrase “red pottage” has literally no meaning to our society, and it is a book that well-deserves to be read.

I became completely engrossed in these characters and the moral quagmire of their time. Talk about a cross-section of society, we have the very wealthy and shallow, the very wealthy and titled, the rather poor and ordinary, the rather poor but exceptional, the finest kind of moral beacon in the guise of a bishop, and the very worst of a sniveling, narrow-mindedness in a clergyman. In truth, Cholmondeley makes it clear that where you are born or what profession you choose is not what determines your value in the least.

I felt the punishment did not fit the crime in the case of Hugh Scarlet. He is guilty of cuckolding a gentleman and, in the days when a duel was a matter of honor, he is called to a duel of a kind, but in my view much worse. In a book that is replete with the need for redemption, he desperately tries to find his so that he can measure up to Rachel West, the woman he comes to love. What I found especially moving is that Rachel, while a very decent person, is not a paragon of virtue herself, as she judges men too harshly based on one past experience.

In a parallel story, we become acquainted with Hester Gresley, Rachel’s best friend, and a woman who has her own crosses to bear. She is a spinster living with her brother, a low-ranking clergyman. This pious pontificator made my blood boil. He is everything that causes people to question religion and its worth and the kind of man whose example might well push anyone farther from God if they considered for one instance that he might be God’s chosen representative. Hester, of course, is kinder in her thought of him than I am, but I am proved right.

In fact there are a few characters who cannot be loved, they are just too horrid, but the three main characters are unerringly human and I felt greatly for each of them. Cholmondeley addresses many important themes in this work, not the least of them being the position of unmarried women in society and the struggle for independence they are forced to constantly battle. I felt her writing was reminiscent of George Eliot...and I do not compare anyone to George Eliot lightly.

If you have not read this book, and you have any affinity for 19th Century classics, please do yourself the favor of putting it on your TBR toward the top.
… (mehr)