in 1851, Dr Brabant ‘acted ungenerously and worse, towards Miss E. for though he was the chief cause of all that passed, he acted towards her as though … the fault lay with her alone’.25
The roots of the Devizes crisis went deeper than the emotional topsoil turned over by the wedding. Mary Ann was probably not the first, and certainly would not be the last, young woman towards whom Brabant was over-familiar. In 1885 her cattiest literary rival, Eliza Lynn, told Herbert Spencer that she too had received advances from Dr Brabant during a visit to Devizes in 1847. Never missing an opportunity to snipe, Lynn expressed amazement that Miss Evans could bear to encourage Dr Brabant, who she declared was ‘more antipathetic than any man I have ever known … his love-making purely disgusting’.26
Nor was this the first time that Mary Ann had let an intellectual rapport with an older man overstep the mark. The Revd Francis Watts, a friend of the Sibrees, had been one of the subtle thinkers enlisted to persuade Mary Ann back into the fold during the holy war. Although unsuccessful, he admitted to Mrs Sibree that Miss Evans had ‘awakened deep interest in his own mind, as much by the earnestness which characterised her inquiries as by her exceptional attainments’.27 Mary Ann was equally taken with the Revd Watts. In a pattern which was to be repeated several times over the next decade, she used her intellect to keep a clever, unavailable man interested in her. While still in exile at Griff she had written to Watts suggesting that he oversee her translation of Vinet’s Mémoire en faveur de la Liberté des Cultes. With its proposition that man’s capacity for goodness is not dependent on his belief in an afterlife, Vinet’s book lay at the heart of her new beliefs. Enclosing a sample of her translation, she courted Watts in language which set abject humility alongside flirtatious presumption: ‘I venture to send you an échantillon that you may judge whether I should be in danger of wofully travestying Vinet’s style, and if you approve of my project I shall be delighted if you will become foster-father to the work, and arrange for its publication.’28
A second letter, nearly three months later, makes it clear that it is Watts’s interest in her, rather than hers in Vinet, which makes the project meaningful to her. ‘I shall proceed con amore now that you encourage me to hope for the publication of the memoir. I confess my spirits were flagging at the idea of translating four hundred pages to no purpose.’ And then in a curiously oblique manner she continues: ‘A friend has given some admonitions that led me to fear I have misrepresented myself by my manner … It gives me much pain to think that you should have received such an impression, and I entreat you to believe that the remembrance of you, your words and looks calls up, I will not say humble, but self-depreciating reflections and lively gratitude.’29
Watts must have been sufficiently reassured by Mary Ann’s acknowledgement of her over-familiarity to continue his involvement in the project throughout the autumn of 1842. However, a letter received in December sounded warning bells again. Writing to acknowledge the receipt of some books he had lent her, Mary Ann gushed, ‘I beg you to understand that I consider myself your translator and the publication as yours, and that my compensation will be any good that may be effected by the work, and the pleasure of being linked to your remembrance.’30
Now Watts had no choice but to acknowledge that Mary Ann’s interest in Vinet arose out of her deep feelings for him. Panicked by the implications, he withdrew from the project and the correspondence, claiming busyness and possibly family illness as an excuse. The next thing we hear is that Mary Ann is returning his books and has given up on Vinet with the strange explanation that she has started translating ‘a part of Spinoza’s works for a friend’.31 In fact, the friend was Cara and, far from begging Mary Ann to start work on it, Cara had wanted to do it herself, telling her sister Sara: ‘I grieved to let Mary Ann carry it off, for I am sure I could understand his [Spinoza’s] Latin better than her English; but it would disappoint her.’32
In truth, Mary Ann had embarked on Spinoza as a face-saving device, a way of rejecting Watts as surely as he had rejected her. It was a tactic she was to use in the even more embarrassing case of Dr Brabant, at whose suggestion the Spinoza translation was being done. Her last letter written from Devizes on 30 November 1843, a couple of days before her departure, gives the impression to Cara, who knew otherwise, that she is leaving on her own terms. She talks of her ‘grief at parting with my precious friends’, but makes no specific reference to the man who had previously been the epicentre of her correspondence.33
From the moment she returned to Coventry Mary Ann adopted an attitude of studied condescension about Dr Brabant, referring to him in public as if he were a ridiculous pest. Yet she could never quite bear to bring the relationship to a decisive close. Following the Devizes débâcle the archangel and his Deutera did not communicate for three years. However, when in 1846 Mary Ann finished the translation of Strauss, which she had taken over from Rufa, she could not resist sending Brabant a bound copy. Perhaps she wanted to show him that his second daughter could manage a piece of work which exceeded anything his first might have managed. The appearance of Miss Evans’s parcel ruffled a few feathers in Devizes, and Sara Hennell was immediately asked to find out exactly what was going on. Mary Ann responded to her enquiry with defensive loftiness: ‘Pray convince her [Rufa] and every one concerned … that I am too inflatedly conceited to think it worth my while to run after Dr. Brabant or his correspondence.’ It is true, she admits, that she has initiated contact with him, but ‘as a favour conferred by me rather than received’. And in case this should seem too obviously at odds with known history, she qualifies this with, ‘If I ever offered incense to him it was because there was no other deity at hand and because I wanted some kind of worship pour passer le temps.’34
Over the next few years Mary Ann kept up this slighting tone towards the doctor. In February 1847 when she wanted to return his copy of Spinoza to him – the one she had started translating instead of Vinet – she imagined hurling it towards Devizes so that it would leave ‘its mark somewhere above Dr. B’s ear’.35
Brabant, by contrast, was unencumbered by embarrassed feelings and continued to display jaunty self-possession in his dealings with Mary Ann. In August of that year Sara reported that Mary Ann had received ‘a most affectionate invitation from Dr. B. a few days ago to go to Germany with him!’36 Although there would have been others in the party, Mary Ann refused. Starting up a correspondence with the archangel was one thing, reliving the embarrassment of the Devizes episode quite another.
Still, the good doctor refused to disappear completely. Whenever he was in town he stayed at 142 The Strand, the Chapmans’ boarding-house where Mary Ann lodged during the early 1850s. On one such occasion when their paths crossed Mary Ann informed Cara that the ‘house is only just exorcised of Dr. Brabant’, as if he were a nasty smell.37 Yet the very next day she wrote appreciatively of the doctor’s visit to Charles Bray, mentioning that he had taken her ‘very politely’ on an excursion to Crystal Palace, as well as the theatre.38
Brabant’s most celebrated reappearance in Mary Ann’s life was in the shape of Edward Casaubon, the pedantic, ineffectual scholar of Middlemarch. For all Brabant’s bustling endeavour, he never actually managed to sustain any piece of intellectual work. According to Eliza Lynn, Brabant ‘used up his literary energies in thought and desire to do rather than in actual doing, and [his] fastidiousness made his work something like Penelope’s web. Ever writing and rewriting, correcting and destroying, he never got farther than the introductory chapter of