Monthly Archives: July 2015

Book-Four

Cha-Ching!

Pink Floyd said it best in his song “Money” – “I’m all right Jack keep your hands off of my stack.”  Money is such an important issue in this novel.  Lydgate is obsessed about it and shortly after his engagement is wondering about Rosemond’s dowry.   Mr. Balustrade seems to horde it and uses everyone to his advantage to get it.  Mr. Vincy never has it, struggles for it, and has taught his children nothing about money management.  Poor Fred, he and his gambling addiction will be the end of him I believe.

But what is surprising is how concerned Dorthea is about it.  In the beginning, she says that money does not mean much to her, but it becomes apparent later on that it does.  Her naiveté about finances is strange to me, because it is as though she does not realize that it costs money to travel and pay servants and etc.  She has grand ideas to revamp and upgrade the homes of the tenants but does not realize that the repairs and upgrades would cost money to do it.  She wants to do all this good, but does not understand that being a missionary takes funds to make those ideas come to fruition.  And she becomes overly concerned with the future financial status of Will.  It seems presumptuous to me that she would implore her husband to change his will to leave funds for Will even without knowing everything about the situation.  She is so gullible that I am really beginning to despise her character.

In contracts, Casaubon is securing his money’s future by saying to Will to “keep your hand off my stack” because of whatever the family reason was, but he did give generously to the young man to “find himself” some part of it by duty so we are told, but could it have been ordered to him in another will by a different family member?  Who knows, but it is a plausible case that Casaubon was bequeathed the money to provide for Will until a certain point and that could be the reason for his bitterness when Will rejects any more financial assistance.  I don’t blame Casaubon for his reaction at all, but I do hold him accountable for keeping Dorthea in the dark.  Mr. and Mrs. Casaubon are perfectly matched for each other.

In regards to Mr. Featherstone, he was also a stingy man but loved to flaunt his money in the end to the people around him.  I also was disgusted when the family would sit around and wait for him to die, it was really creepy. But even in death, Mr. Featherstone ensured that he reminded people of his wealth and ultimately keeps his family hands off his stack.  The amount of moping and outrage that occurs at his will reading is quite disgusting.  I don’t even know why Fred thought he would be entitled to something.  It reminds me of my uncle hunting down my brother during my grandmother’s funeral to discuss her will with him.  I suppose it is a good thing to know that people never change.

Money seems to be a huge driver in Middlemarch, while the overlaying story is about love and relationships and often reads as a tabloid, the undercurrent of politics and money propel the story forward.  I find myself very invested in the character’s lives, but I am constantly reminded of how money is a big driver of everything then and now.

Vickie Culpepper

Book-Eight

Pink Undertones

As I completed the final chapter of Middlemarch, I couldn’t help but feel as though Eliot had made an excellent case for, if not communism, at least socialism. Given the amount of attention that was provided to the Reform Act taking center stage in Middlemarch’s political realm, it doesn’t surprise me just how political the novel can get even when its focus lays upon the interpersonal issues of the characters.

For example, poor Dr. Lydgate’s misery is explained in part by his stressful marriage to Rosamond, but the bulk of his suffering is contributed to his financial plight. In Book VIII, Eliot states that “[o]nly those who know the supremacy of the intellectual life-the life which has a seed of ennobling thought and purpose within it-can understand the grief of one who falls from that serene activity into the absorbing soul-wasting struggle with worldly annoyances” (701). When I read this passage, all I can think of is Maslow’s hierarchy of needs and how Lydgate had reached the summit only to topple back down to the base. His need of money detracts from Lydgate’s studies and directly contributes to the source of conflict between him and his wife.

In contrast, Dorothea, who has never needed for anything, often serves as a mouthpiece for both Christian charity and housing reform. While her pious nature certainly explains the driving force behind her housing projects, the nature of her endeavors brings focus to the needs of the less fortunate. When speaking to Lydgate, Dorothea practically encourages wealth distribution when she says “Think how much money I have; it would be like taking a burden from me if you took some of it every year till you got free from this fettering want of income. Why should not people do these things? It is so difficult to make shares at all even” (730). Given how much people seem to revere Mrs. Casaubon, and the way that she is often compared to the Virgin Mary, it would follow then that her ideas should hold greater importance than some other characters.

Mr. Garth, the most venerable character of Middlemarch as well as my personal favorite, seems to embody the importance of hard work, charity, and a distaste for money. As someone who perhaps has cheated himself out of well-earned financial gain, Garth usually has enough business to keep his finances afloat and his family always manages to make due. Caleb’s desire to better the lives of others appears to be the masculine counterpart to Dorothea’s charitable ways. Although Garth’s character doesn’t truly support the ideas of communism or socialism like Dorothea’s does, he appears unlike any other resident of Middlemarch (than Dodo) with his total disinterest in profit.

As the most estimable characters in the novel, Dorothea and Mr. Garth share a love for their fellow man, a detachment from money, and a desire to work for the betterment of their society. Whether or not their actions support a political viewpoint or a religious one, their values are undeniably behind the happy resolution of the conflict in this novel.

 

Emily Fleischhauer

Book-Seven

The Brass Tacks of Love

“To think that the part one little woman can play in the life of a man, so that to renounce her may be a very good imitation of heroism, and to win her may be a discipline!” (644). This summary of thought provided by Mr. Farebrother perfectly encapsulates the nature of each romantic relationship within Middlemarch. Although this novel has presented more than just a detailed look at love and romance, it is impossible to deny the themes as anything other than major. As for the role women play in the lives of men, one only has to look at the late Mr. Casaubon or poor Dr. Lydgate to appreciate the sentiment behind Farebrother’s musings.

Since Casaubon easily won over Miss Dorothea Brooke at the onset of the story, it quickly became clear that married life was a kind of discipline that Edward was neither prepared nor inclined to take on. Expectations of what a wife would provide were so limited in his mind that when Dorothea exceeded his imaginings, Casaubon was quite unprepared in his reactions. Poor Mrs. Casaubon’s attempts to share her husband’s studies at least provided her with a greater understanding of who her husband truly was, but Mr. Casaubon could never claim to have made the same revelation about his betrothed.

Dr. Lydgate, whose past experiences with love left him chilled to the topic, finds himself blinded yet again by the beautiful Rosamond Vincy. Lydgate seems to suffer from a bad case of lust as well as a poor judgement of character in his hurried match with Rosy and he pays dearly for it. A woman who only sees her husband as a means to an end, Rosamond is not the partner that Tertius needs, choosing to undermine his wishes and act without any consideration his feelings. While Lydgate may have learned a harsh lesson with his first paramour, he must unfortunately revisit the agony of ill-matched love in his unhappy marriage.

Fred Vincy, tormented though he may be, might have the best and most extensive “study” of his beloved out of the beleaguered lovers of Middlemarch. As a former childhood companion, Fred has known Mary Garth so much longer than Lydgate and Casaubon knew their wives, and it is for this reason that I feel hopeful for their union. While Farebrother may lay a similar claim to his knowledge of Mary’s personality, Fred seems to know what lies in Mary’s heart and she in his. While their personalities may not seem compatible, their understanding of each other creates a better foundation for their hopeful marriage than those before them.

For all the rushed relationships in Eliot’s book, it seems that those who are reluctant to learn about and be examined by their partners are the one’s doomed to unhappiness. Love and partnership is a kind of discipline that those who partake must apply themselves ardently and willingly. While the lesson may be much too late for Mr. Casaubon and may be even Dr. Lydgate, one can only hope that Mary’s (possibly) intended has applied himself more to the study of her than to academic studies.

 

Emily Fleischhauer

Book-Five

Catch and Release

In the fifth book, “The Dead Hand”, Edward Casaubon’s death results in both binding and releasing our pious heroine from her husband’s grip. During the 18 months of their marriage, the relationship between Mr. and Mrs. Casaubon has gone from idyllic to dismal, starting with their dystopic honeymoon vacation and continuing from there. Edwards’s inability to communicate his fears and reservations with Dorothea, who is known for speaking clearly and intently, allows his imagination to run unchecked. As he lets small grievances and petty annoyances fester in his heart, his scruples with Dodo evolve into gross misunderstandings and irreconcilable differences that simmer beneath the surface of their interactions. The topic of Mr. Casaubon’s health plays heavily on the minds of both spouses, but again, Edward’s silence breeds such heavy suspicion in his mind that I don’t wonder if he brought about his own death in nurturing his ugly, small anxieties instead of airing them.

Upon discovering his wife’s foreknowledge of his delicate condition, Edward retreats into the darker recesses of his mind to entertain thoughts of her and Ladislaw colluding over his imminent death. His insecurity drives him to attempt to extract an open-ended promise from Dorothea to “carry out [his] wishes…avoid doing what [he] should deprecate, and apply [herself] to do what [he] should desire” (454). Although Dorothea desires to “help him in his life’s labor,” she rightly fears making such an “indefinite promise of devotion to the dead” (456). As she furiously deliberates whether to swear to uphold such a pact, her reticence buys her enough time to evade the issue altogether, thanks to Casaubon’s timely demise.

Upon her husband’s death, Dorothea’s family learns of the codicil he had drawn up within his will that sought to restrict her interactions with the rakish Will Ladislaw. Although both Sir James Chettam and Mr. Brooke seek to keep this information secret from Dorothea for as long as possible, Celia chooses to divulge the matter to her sister, suggesting that it was “as if Mr. Casaubon wanted to make people believe that [Dorothea] would wish to marry Mr. Ladislaw” (466). Disgusted by such an indelicate insinuation, Dorothea realizes how much the possibility of such an affair had “pervert[ed] everything she said and did” during their marriage (467). Devastated by both Edward’s last insult and the effect it has on her friendship, Dorothea at least feels somewhat reprieved of her duty to his unfinished studies.

Although burdened by her late husband’s requests and codicils, Dorothea is once again free to enjoy the “thing[s] that she liked, that she spontaneously cared to have” which, previously “if it was only granted and not shared by her husband…might as well have been denied” (452). As understandable as Mr. Casaubon’s insecurities over his marriage may have been, his unwillingness to divulge them to Dorothea seemed to contribute to a savage sort of emotional distancing between the two. While Edward was never outwardly abusive or even verbally malicious to his wife, his cold manner of conduct and his dismissiveness of her desires resulted in a certain kind of emotional abuse. I cannot help but feel such a sense of relief over Mr. Casaubon’s death, as well as hope that Dorothea may eventually find some way to create a happier union with Mr. Ladislaw or at least someone more deserving of her than Edward was.

 

Emily Fleishhauer

Book-Four

Harsh Realities

In the fourth book, Three Love Problems, we are shown the ways in which several characters are forced to face some unpleasant realities. These revelations come in many forms, delivered from the mouths of lawyers, doctors, and even lowly tenants. While Fred Vincy, Mr. Casaubon, and Mr. Brooke each suffer personal blows to their pride, their reactions vary considerably. In the face of adversity, Fred chooses to return to the path once set before him, Mr. Casaubon machinates a narrow path for his wife, and Mr. Brooke eventually acquiesces to address the needs and desires of those around him.

Upon Peter Featherstone’s death, Fred Vincy, along with many other relations, withstands the disappointment of being excluded from the will of the deceased. It is rather cruel irony that the woman he hopes to marry held the power of his future in her hands in a very literal way. Although Mary could have helped Fred to become a rich man through inheritance, perhaps Fred’s perceived loss will push him to become the sort of man Ms. Garth would be proud to marry. “[U]tterly depressed,” Fred returns to his studies like most who are without any other course of action available to them would do (324). For Fred, his first lesson in life is that it isn’t always fair!

Mr. Casaubon suffers an even greater disappointment when he learns the true nature of his fragile condition after interrogating Dr. Lydgate. Knowing the seriousness of his health issues and his wife’s understanding of them only feeds his suspicions of both Dorothea and Will Ladislaw and the nature of their relationship. Both Lydgate’s and subsequently Casaubon’s suppositions may not be founded in any undeniable fact, but they still have a tangible effect on Mr. and Mrs. Casaubon’s marriage. Dorothea clearly feels a guilty tenderness toward her husband because she blames herself for his illness. Sadly, Mr. Casaubon, while correct in his estimation of Will Ladislaw’s desire for Dorothea, cannot correctly interpret the agency behind Dorothea’s actions and generates the very discord that he imagines. Wrapped up in fear and jealousy, Casaubon chooses not to divulge his misgivings to his wife in life, deciding to memorialize his fears in his death with the freshly created “codicil” in his will. It seems ironic that this man, who cannot open up his heart to anyone including Dorothea, will soon be undone from a disease of the heart.

Finally, Mr. Brooke must come to terms with the fact that despite his illusions of being a fair proprietor, his reputation as a poor landlord is not completely unfounded. Throughout Middlemarch, we have been introduced to a myriad of characters, most of whom come from some sort of pedigree or honorable station in society. Much has been spoken about the need to help the less fortunate, especially from Dorothea, who has been calling for reform and renovations to the cottages since the beginning. Her drive has always been attributed to her religious fervor, but after being introduced to the Dagley’s cottage it is no wonder that Dorothea should feel so strongly. Mr. Dagley clearly feels similarly regarding the state of his domicile, calling Brooke to task for it in reply to Brooke’s concerns about poaching. While Mr. Brooke escapes quickly from the uncomfortable skirmish as quickly as possible, the confrontation seems to move him just as quickly to hire Caleb Garth to finally renovate the slummy cottages.

Emily Fleischhauer

 

Book-Three

Nothing Ever Goes Right

Everyone has those days where nothing goes right. For example you spill juice on your favorite outfit. You get tongue-tied and sound ridiculous while talking to the guy you like. Ever since Fred Vincy took out a loan nothing ever goes right for him. Fred asked for Caleb Garth’s help, to pay back the loan by putting his name on the bill. Fred had also planned to sell his horse, but through some freak accident the horse is lamed and he can’t sell it. Unfortunately, now he has to ask Mary and the other Garths for money, because he is too afraid to face his father.

Fred should just man up and tell his father what happened. It is not like his father will kill him for doing something so stupid without fearing he will be damned to hell himself. On top of everything Mary may not marry him and he is probably going to be hated by the rest of her family forever.

Dorothea also had everything go wrong for her after her wedding day. Now her younger sister Celia is marrying James Chettam whom Dorothea was supposed to marry before she decided to marry Casaubon. Even with that, Dorothea is still trying to make things work with Casaubon. In a heated argument with Dorothea, Casaubon suffers some sort of stroke or heart attack after a huge fight about Ladislaw. When he recovers he finally gives Dorothea something to do. He makes her review his notes and writes everything down exactly to his dictation. Dorothea still seems like she is going to go crazy, if she stays married to Casaubon. She now has second thoughts and seems to be thinking she should have married Chettam.

Dorothea is also getting letters from Ladislaw even when Casaubon would like for them to never have any contact at all.

Dorothea also is probably feeling hated as her husband still barely spends time with her and treats her like she is stupid and should live to serve only him. Even though the setting is the Victorian era Casaubon should have realized Dorothea does want to help him, and believed in him, until she realizes that he can’t read German to save his life and his research is for nothing. He doesn’t even try to learn German so he can be kept up to date on all the new discoveries made on religious matters. The reason being is most of the new papers on religious matters are in German

Lydgate is also called to Casaubon household to see if he can help Casaubon get well after his supposed stroke and was also recommended to them by Rosamond Vincy, Fred’s sister. Rosamond thinks Lydgate is rich and seems to be in love with him and think her future will be set in stone if she marries him. She doesn’t know Lydgate is poor. Even though Lydgate is poor he is a successful physician and seems to try and be a fair physician by not charging ridiculous rates for his assistance and giving actual good medical advice. He was also disinherited and seems to know how to live on his own without money. Rosamond’s family the Vincys, are not that well off either. Rosamond seems like she could be happy with Lydgate as well even though he might not help with her upward mobility in the social ladder. Lydgate is probably the only one who has things going his way so far in the book.

Book-Five

Remote Control?

 

Can a person have influence over another, even in death? Yes, in Mr. Casaubon’s case, who continued to wield unwelcome control over his young and innocent wife. Throughout their short time together, Dorothea was dutiful, in all circumstances, to an older, aloof and selfish husband. In fairness, I doubt Mr. C was aware of any other kind of behavior. As Eliot describes him often, Poor Mr. Casaubon…. seemed incapable of tenderness or romantic passion. I would be surprised if the marriage was ever consummated. How much did Dorothea contribute to this unfulfilled marriage? Her experience with emotion is uncertain. In Book 1, she admits to tears when hearing a particular organ play, yet this response is immediately downgraded by her uncle. I think this impressionable, intelligent woman takes very seriously her role as older sister, and views her life as worthy based only on her accomplishments and ability to help others. Perhaps she accepts the old man’s offer of marriage because she does not feel threatened by any expectation of intimacy, or even attention to her womanly nature. Mr. C perceives that his own life may be improved with the aid of someone to help him with work and household, and Dorothea mistakes this need for affection.

 

Her guileless conduct towards everyone, including impetuous Will Ladislaw, is puzzling. Hints of unhappiness spill out of her characteristically reserved manner, as Mr. C, overreacting to jealousy and mistrust, behaves in a callous manner. Any of Dorothea’s natural spontaneity and joy disappear, as she comprehends her situation of living in a virtual tomb (p 475). Even the desire she once felt to learn from her husband’s abundance of knowledge has succumbed to a dread of his company (p 481). All of this is in stark contrast to Will’s world of warm activity and fellowship (p 475). Dorothea’s disillusionment with her marriage, along with the realization that her husband’s work will not be recognized or appreciated by the public, make her wary of agreeing to commit her life to the completion of his notes. An innate devotion, however, leads to a massive guilty reaction in the wake of his unexpected death. The slight optimism (when they walked together) at the end of Book 4 is crushed.

 

Dorothea’s remorse is compounded when she learns of her husband’s malicious will constraints…ironically, she begins to consider a new warmth and desire for Will, along with a violent shock of repulsion from her departed husband (p 490). If Mr. C had bothered to talk with his wife and discover her sentiments, his own suspicion and fears could have been laid to rest. I don’t think he ever knew about her passion for reform, which, if allowed to develop, would have given her great pleasure.

 

Now, Dorothea’s future, based on her overwhelming duty to uphold morality over discovery of her own desires, may be manipulated by the cold grasp of her husband’s dead hand. (P 493)

 

Who else is affected by Mr. Casaubon’s legacy? Will longs to be in the presence of Dorothea, a perfect woman (p 435). He accomplishes this wish by living with her uncle and succeeding as editor of a local political newspaper; and he discovers that he is gratified and energized by the uneasy, but exciting life of political drama. As a result of Mr. C’s will, however, Ladislaw is no longer welcome in Middlemarch. I don’t think he is immediately aware of the scheming reference to him in the will, but he clearly senses a change of attitude. In his own mind, Will speculates if he prefers Dorothea as vision, more than an experience of possessing her? As a dream of his political future engages his mind, he struggles how to part from Dorothea, his muse.

Tudy Hill

 

Book-Three

Engagements in Eliot: Can We Trust Her?

As I read through Book Three this past week, I found myself struck by the marriage proposal scene between Mr. Lydgate and Rosamund Vincy. We have seen a number of potential matches come to fruition throughout the novel, regardless of whether they will end happily or not. The citizens of Middlemarch seem as uneasy about the matches as we as readers have been trained by Eliot to be. With the partnering of Lydgate and Rosamund, we are left wondering at the motives behind their hasty engagement. Eliot sets up the relationship between Lydgate and Rosamund almost as an opposite to that of Dorthea and Casaubon. Whereas the Casaubons appear to have little in common and a lack of affection between them, Lydgate and Rosamund are ill suited not because they lack affection for one another, but because they have not been realistic with how their comfortable lives will change in the face of their newly created relationship. Both of the couples are blind to the challenges which their marriage will face but continue with the partnership for different reasons.

As readers, we have learned of Lydgate’s failed attachment while living abroad in Paris and he has spoken animatedly about his desire to remain single for the time being. Two weeks prior to the engagement scene in Book Three, Mrs. Bulstrode warns Rosamund that by aligning herself with Lydgate, she will not be able to uphold her standard of living as she is “not fit to marry a poor man” (B3, Ch. 31). And yet here we are, observing the two lovers becoming engaged against their own better judgement and the warnings of everyone in town. Eliot creates an interesting conundrum here: instead of siding with the main characters of Lydgate and Rosamund, whose stories we have followed through the last two books, we are instead inclined to trust the wary opinions of the townspeople. Eliot has created an environment within Middlemarch where the reader does not root for love and views every coupling with reservations.

Eliot creates an interesting parallel between the two engagements we have witnessed so far. Mr. Casaubon proposed to Dorthea in a letter, a symbol of his lack of affection and the challenge he will face as a married man. He opens by making reference to their apparent attachment, saying “I am not, I trust, mistaken in the recognition of some deeper correspondence than that of date in the fact that a consciousness of need in my own life had arisen contemporaneously with the possibility of my becoming acquainted with you” (B1, Ch. 5). Even his prose is stiff and unnecessarily wody as he awkwardly tries to convince Dorthea and himself of his affections. Contrast this with the scene between Rosamund and Lydgate. When the latter sees Rosamund become emotional as a result of the distance he has created between them, he is enraptured by her vulnerability, recognizing “[t]hat moment of naturalness was the crystallizing feather-touch: it shook flirtation into love” (B3, Ch. 31). Lydgate and Rosamund are so affected by their emotions that they are driven towards love. They are able to see and physically touch one another during the scene of their engagement, playing off one another to fall deeper and deeper towards true affection whereas Casaubon and Dorthea cement their relationship through sterile letters.

However, Eliot does not simply create two relationships which serve as a foil for one another. The Casaubons and the future Lydgates come about their engagements very differently, and yet the author has left hints within the two scenes which link them and link the troubled futures which each couple will experience. Both men see their future brides as childlike and innocent, features which are attractive because the women are seen as easily pliable. After receiving her letter from Casaubon, Dorthea imagines herself in a “childlike sense of reclining” and Eliot describes her as a “neophyte” (B1, Ch. 5). Lydgate is most attracted by Rosamund’s naivete, describing the moment when he fell in love with her as the “moment she was as natural as she had ever been when she was five years old” (B3, Ch. 21). Eliot links the two scenes just as she does the two marriages: doomed for unhappiness.

As a reader, I find myself holding out hope for the third engagement in the novel so far. Eliot does not provide us with the scene in which Sir James Chettum and Celia Brooke become entangled. In fact, we see very little of their relationship first hand. Instead, we are given accounts of the townspeople’s approval of the match, an approval which is sorely lacking in the case of the other two relationships. We do not know much about the pair, but we do know that Celia is more realistic in her views of marriage as she states “I don’t want to be married so very soon, because I think it is nice to be engaged. And we shall be married all our lives after” (B3, Ch. 28). Celia’s level-headedness grounds her views about marriage and gives us as readers a sense to believe in her choice of husband. Though the relationship started inauspiciously, with Sir James jumping to the younger sister when the older proved disinterested, I am curious how Eliot will map their future. She has given us so many reasons to disapprove of the matches between Casaubon and Dorthea and Rosamund and Lydgate, but sets up Celia and Sir James as the practical pair. In a novel so critical of small town marriage and youthful affection, can the relationship between Sir James and Celia provide a model for the others? Or is Eliot simply luring us into a lull before she strikes down this couple as well?

Elizabeth Hatcher ’13

Book-Three

Love and Marriage

As the characters and crises of Middlemarch crystallize, so too does the issue of unfortunate matches. Initially assured in her choice of Mr. Casaubon, after her somber honeymoon Dorothea begins to think more critically of her speedy match. Pondering on the portrait of her husband’s late aunt Julia, Mrs. Casaubon feels “a new companionship” with the deceased as she considers just how much the two women may have had in common (261). The reality of her fate starts to become clear to Dorothea and rather than experiencing the intellectual liberation she had hoped for, she suffers the oppression of mismatched goals and personalities between two people who must forge a life together regardless. Poor Mr. Casaubon appears to suffer just as greatly as his emotional anguish threatens his physical wellbeing as well as his marriage.

While Dorothea hardly had a moment’s pause in her rushed match, Rosamond Vincy appears to have played the long con with Dr. Lydgate. Sadly for her, she has not truly considered whether or not her engagement is well-suited and appears unable to “distinguish flirtation from love, either in herself or in another” (254). Although her reasons for desiring to marry her intended vary greatly from those of Dorothea, both young women suffer from an immature understanding of the life of matrimony. It remains unimportant to Rosamond that Dr. Lydgate had previously expressed the desire to remain single for some time, and one wonders if her disregard for his feelings will continue to play out in their future relationship. Whether or not her folly will lead to misery remains to be unseen, as Chapter 3 leaves the matter at the couple’s engagement.

Mary Garth’s reservations over Fred Vincy may be the most tempered reaction to romance we’ve seen of the three eligible bachelorettes of the novel. As new relationships echo the faults of those past, Mary Garth attempts to avoid the mistakes of both generations as she denies her obvious feelings for her incorrigible suitor. Although Mary may have fooled herself and Fred as to her affections for him, her father remains unconvinced as he tries warn her by saying “[y]oung folks may get fond of each other before they know what life is, and they may think it all a holiday if they can only get together…but a father trembles for his daughter” (245). Mr. Garth’s display of concern also appears to be the most measured of the guardians, but whether or not his words will be heeded remains unseen.

As the three relationships unfold in their different ways, the reminder of “unfortunate matches” continues to echo in the mouths of older residents of Middlemarch. One has to wonder if the constant remonstrations have not persuaded these young suitors and eligible ladies to act in defiance of their elders. Perhaps Middlemarch’s Cupid truly is blind, or the town suffers from a sort of marital curse, or maybe this is just how love often plays out. The sum of these ill-fated matches has yet to be seen, and it is likely that an unfortunate match may be as much a creation of others as it is the participants. Without the guidance and approval of those closest to us, even the best suited couple can encounter difficulties, and it seems that the opinions of others can greatly influence the success that couples find together.

Emily Fleischhauer

Book-Three

Reflections on Family

Book three is very interesting to me.  I finished it quite quickly and have pondered over my post for the last two weeks trying to decide how to approach this section of Middlemarch.  Characteristics of Fred remind me greatly of some of my own family members who try to get themselves out of a predicament only to find themselves in deeper.  With the end result often being the same – why didn’t they just ask someone for some guidance?  Granted, pride and other notions of adulthood seem to supersede Fred’s reasoning but it strikes me how Fred is so juvenile at his age, where I would assume to find such actions more likely from a naïve teenager between the ages of 14-16.

Although, I should not be too surprised by the actions in this family.  Fred’s relationship with his mother is very similar to many other families – their relationship is not a Freudian Oedipus way but rather in how his mother does not see his glaring faults.  Many mothers have one child that they do favor, while they say that that they love each one the same amount I do not doubt, but often the baby or the eldest sometimes is doted on a bit more than the others which results in mothers being blind to the fact that their children can do nothing wrong.  In my own personal experience, I deal with this fairly often.  My mother in-law refuses to see that her baby (my brother in law) can do anything wrong, regardless of how bad it is and argues with anyone and all evidence to the contrary.  In addition, an acquaintance refuses to accept her son’s prison conviction and has sacrificed everything – her marriage, home, retirement and own wellbeing – to fight against the evidence, even when he admitted to his mother that it was true and he did it.

Familial love is such a complex and twisted relationship that it is a treacherous path.  Just as Fred’s mother dotes on him, Fred is aware of this and uses it to his advantage to manipulate his parents.  I do commend his actions regarding giving the money to his mother to hold onto, but not seeking the advice of his father regarding his gambling debts is a little ridiculous.  I, personally, would rather have the wrath of my father and request his assistance rather than depend upon strangers in which you lose much more than an hour of being yelled at.  And, in turn, he still had to go and come clean about everything and loose the opportunity with the girl he loves as well and looking more of a fool.  If he would have just been straightforward in the beginning, his mother would have certainly intervened between him and his father if there was any attempt to throw Fred out.  But in the end, the stupidity of this child, stuck in a man’s body, pouted, whined and caused so much unnecessary pain to others.  His actions caused pain to Mary, the entire Garth family, his father when he had to ask for the ridiculous letter (obviously Featherstone was fully aware of the gambling problem), disappointment to his family and the loss of his favorite horse.  I think there is more to see of Fred in the coming chapters, but his own foolishness created larger issues that he will need to contend with.  In the end, Fred is a very silly child.

 

Vickie Culpepper

Book-Two

Validation in All the Wrong Places

In Book Two of George Eliot’s “Middlemarch,” Dorothea is first relegated to her own private affairs but is then rescued from this private world while her scholarly husband, Causabon, occupies himself at the Vatican. Prior to the marriage unraveling in Rome, Dorothea is at a party where she is “naturally the subject of many observations” (88). This party scene, presenting Dorothea from the outsider’s perspective, displays that she is not merely an individual who lives in a vacuum, but shows, rather, that she is a social self who is subject to public surveillance. While the social discourse surrounding Dorothea could be dismissed as intrusive and unnecessary, this voyeuristic standpoint, though objectifying, contributes to a more thorough and complex picture of Dorothea as her internal world begins to collapse. The lens is taken out of Dorothea’s hand and is placed in the hand of her peers.

Dorothea’s lack of vision as a neglected wife in Rome is experienced as a diminishment in stature as she succumbs to depression and a “self-accusing cry” (192). While feeling confused and unhelpful, Dorothea suffers from ineffectiveness. Meanwhile, the attraction that Naumann and Ladislaw have for Dorothea recast her as, no longer a downtrodden wife, but as “the most perfect young Madonna.” Naumann has even invented an assignment for Dorothea to star in a portrait of his, although without her knowledge. Suddenly, where Dorothea is found unappreciated by her husband, she is praised and pursued by these young aspiring men; the demand for Dorothea has not completely sunk.

Moreover, where Dorothea is rejected and forlorn, Will ridicules Causaubon for his failure to appreciate Dorothea. As Will listens to Dorothy, he empathizes with her plight. Furthermore, in these exchanges with Will, Dorothea exercises her boldness and intellectual curiosity. As Dorothea’s friendship with Will develops, Dorothea shifts away from her internal strivings as she openly grows invested in Will’s opinion.

By shedding insight into Causabon’s lack of knowledge of German, Will inadvertently defends Dorothea by showing her that this guy is not as tough as you think he is. At the same time, this backfires as Dorothea’s sense of purpose as a wife is built on the impression that her husband is a big shot with the highest intellectual capacity. This mockery is met with horror and shock by Dorothea who, ineffectually, in her choice to marry Caussabon, purchased stock in his scholastic talents as she hoped to drink from his well of knowledge. Will’s statements, then, are profoundly debilitating for Dorothea as a brick is pulled out from the foundation that her marriage is built on. Who now, after Will has exposed Dorothea to an ugly truth only to reject her friendship, who will be her spokesperson?

 

Marci Batchelor

 

Book-Two

All Decisions Have Consequences

You know that no matter what you do, there is always a consequence. Some of them are good consequences others not so good. For example, you touch a hot stove you get burned. You speak before you think sometimes your filter won’t be turned on and you could say something completely ridiculous. If you help someone of your own free will your karma will come back and you could be rewarded. If you don’t manage your money well you could end up in debt like Freddy.
Freddy thought he would receive a large sum of money in an inheritance. Without hesitation he spent everything he had and also took out a large loan. Thinking that he would have the money through the inheritance, and with a poor back up plan, he found himself in deep debt because his inheritance was revoked. On top of everything he does not want to go into the church so he can marry his childhood sweetheart Mary. Mary does not seem to really love Freddy since if she did love Freddy she would not really mind if Freddy listened to his parents and went into the church. Freddy could also move up in society if he was in the church and they could gain respect from more people since the people of Middlemarch love the church. Since having upper social status is what Freddy’s parents want for all their children.
Dorothea also did not think everything through her marriage to Casaubon. For example, she was in the honeymoon phase throughout her entire courtship. She was blinded by her idea of love and devotion, having spirited debates with her husband. She also thought that she could be an equal to her husband, and be his devoted scholarly helper so he could write his book that was meant to help man kind. In her blind emotions, she did not see how cold her husband was and how miserable her life was going to be. She also skipped the actual honeymoon phase on her real honeymoon since Casaubon was always gone. Dorothea was left alone in their apartment all the time craving companionship and love, while he was off doing his own thing that was meant to help him with his book.
Dorothea had spent her entire life in Middlemarch. What the men in Middlemarch saw while looking at her was probably the little girl she had been her whole life and could not really see how she had grown up. Ladislaw can see that Dorothea is “a charming and adorable creature” to quote him and cannot help, but wonder why she married Casaubon who is old enough to be her father. For some reason Ladislaw keeps visiting Dorothea when Casaubon is not home. It also seems like Ladislaw has no set future in the book. Ladislaw seems to be living his life on Casaubon’s dime. Every time Ladislaw has a new idea or some new fetish Casaubon has to pay for it. Ladislaw and Casaubon seem to constantly be at odds with each other.
Casaubon wants Ladislaw as far away from his wife as physically possible. It does not help the fact that Dorothea likes Ladislaw as a friend. Casaubon also seems to think to highly of himself. For him everything Dorothea wants to do is silly and pointless, while everything he wants to do is for the good of mankind. He also insulted Dorothea’s portrait and thought he himself looked like a god when he saw his portrait. In reality he is just as immature as Ladislaw and will loose his wife if he does not come off of his high horse and try to connect with his wife.

 

Julia Rogan

Book-Four

Together

Together

 

A potentially poignant word, together, closes Book 4…and I did not expect it. Dorothea, who cannot bear to think that any one should die, and leave no love behind (p 328), is heartbroken over her husband’s morose behavior towards her, following a medical visit from Lydgate. Her altruistic attitude about marriage is floundering, as she experiences a rebellious anger…instead of tears there came words- What have I done? What am I- that he should treat me so? … He wishes he had never married me. (P 426) Her expectation as helpmate in academic pursuits has faded, as Mr C’s lack of confidence and Dorothea’s pity for him is uncovered. Neither spouse felt fulfillment in the marriage. Neither anticipated joy, but it was not part of their courtship, either.

She saw her own and her husband’s solitude- how they had walked apart so that she was obliged to survey him. If he had drawn her towards him, she would never have surveyed him- never have said, Is he worth living for?…now she said bitterly, It is his fault, not mine. In the jar of her whole being, Pity was overthrown. (p 426) Mr C’s routine and concentration is disturbed by a change in lifestyle; and Dorothea’s interpretation of her role has adapted to an awareness of her husband’s failure (p 365) as an eminent scholar. Acceptance of her dreary situation, despite Will Ladislaw’s attempts to create a shared delight, makes me wonder if Dorothea has ever imagined herself as a sexual being? Ardor drove Will’s judgment, and Dorothea, innocently, sought his presence as a glimpse of the sunny air (p 361); while Mr C sunk into jealous anxiety. Then, Dorothea’s loyalty turned to tenderness, when her husband became ill, not a surprising reaction, given her earnest disposition. Three times, the author chose the phrase, Poor Mr Casaubon…and I was tempted to share Dorothea’s pity. But she revealed her own vulnerability while questioning Will about a portrait of his aunt Julia…eager to know if this enigmatic family member was happy in her own marriage (p 365)? Up until now, Dorothea’s only delight has been to plan land management and reforms among the laborers for her uncle. As book 4 ends, her pent-up emotion overcomes her usual restraint, and she gives way to anger…at this point, I was sure she might give up the vigil for an old and jealous husband. Yet her patient and quiet disposition return as she waits for him to come to bed, and even Mr C is touched by his wife’s good heart, and they went along the broad corridor together (p 427).

One “love problem” is fixed, for the moment.

 

I predict a different scenario for Rosamund and Lydgate, as she uses her allure to manipulate a marriage proposal. Caught in a gossamer web of love-making (p 346), the ambitious doctor invites unhappiness into his new life in Middlemarch. The beautiful bride anticipates material gain, while the naïve groom stands to lose his principles.

 

Dorothea may be the centerpiece of this novel, but Mary’s subtle qualities prove a close match. Mary’s humor and humility are endearing, as Fred Vincy appreciates. An attraction of opposites: one takes responsibility for her future (I must teach… p 400), while the other chooses indolence over opportunity. A resolution emerges, however, when Fred will be offered a position working for Mary’s trustworthy and practical father.

 

Tudy Hill

 

 

Book-One

The Millennials of Middlemarch

How often have we seen this person: a 20-something in a thrifted button-front shirt sipping ethical coffee and chattering about finding their passion. I can so easily picture Miss Brooke in a rare and antique bookshop, perusing first edition classics over tortoise framed glasses. Perhaps she is enamored of her Greek literature professor at her liberal arts college – lusting after his sexy intellect and dusty tweed jackets, a likeness of Casaubon. She visits his office hours as often as she can and confesses that she’s not like other girls: that she’s seeking a life of knowledge and service aimed at alieving some of the world’s great misery. No beer pong, quad streaking, or undergraduate frivolity for her. She wonders how she could ever even look at fratty, vapid Sir James despite hopping on her service projects so willingly and being a nice guy.

Miss Brooke and other young characters in Middlemarch parallel today’s Millennial hipster in their countercultural morality, at once internalized and performative, as well as their naïve rejection of materialism, consumerism, and youth. People of my generation, myself included, love perceptions of thrift and romanticized, artistic starvation: secondhand clothing and anything upcycled, yet continue to enjoy prohibitively expensive luxuries such as secondary education (paid in full by mom and dad), unlimited smart phone data packages, and that five-dollar fair-trade iced dirty chai. Recall how immodest Miss Brooke feels at the idea of wearing necklaces, but continues to enjoy the lifestyle of a high society woman. She works philanthropically to build cottages on Sir James’ estate, but believes this will “make the life of poverty beautiful” (Eliot 27). She pronounces they should all be driven from their homes with whips and be made to live in those same cottages, that life would be better in them, but where is the action to follow the claim? How many times have I myself stated I should make like Thoreau, leave behind this life of objects and status and make for the woods? Live a life of simplicity in a one room cabin where I grow my own food and sit in silent gratitude of the natural world around me. I currently reside in my parents suburban Richmond home. I would leave, but I can’t sleep without air conditioning and they buy me really expensive organic yogurt.

Look also at young Ladislaw in his adversion to devoting himself to a profession, preferring instead to amble through Europe on Casaubon’s dime, waiting for purpose to stumble across him. His uncle’s accusations of self-indulgence echo older generations accusations of Millennial narcissism and laziness. He believes himself, as do many of my peers and my own self, touched by genius. Not by intellectual capacity, but by a specific, critical role in the universe unfulfillable by anyone but ourselves. I would call this suspicion a hunger for vocation. We could certainly be accused of having a distaste for work, but perhaps it is in actuality an unwillingness to settle for the mundane and unspectacular. We are all, each of us, a special snowflake. Our mommies told us so.

I find the sentiments expressed by these characters and my generational cohorts both irritating and endearing. I of course understand why Casaubon and Baby Boomer alike grow impatient at our perceived lack of focused application and realism, but I believe we have a genuine want of something more. We suffer a deep dissatisfaction with the insufficient life at hand. We don’t want careers or amiable husbands. We want poetry. We want ecstasy. We want God and change and purpose and to build something more beautiful than ourselves. We see great need and are well intentioned in our wanting to help, but in the youth and ignorance we have desperately been trying to shed, we fumble in execution in the eyes of our guardians. We will work still to reconcile our newfound awareness and adult agency with our childlike and unwanted focus on the self. As I see Miss Brooke and Ladislaw struggle to find what they are supposed to do with themselves, a reflection of my generation, and perhaps more accurately, myself, I would remind them that one does not have to be distinct to be important. There is beauty and importance in the fulfillment of humble roles though they will not feel extraordinary. We will not all be famous. The world and those who suffer in it can be touched by a strong wife, a kind lawyer, a compassionate community member. To the elders of Middlemarch and to older generations in their unique set of challenges and experiences I urge patience and to remember that young adults are still trying to grow up.

Emma Robbins

Book-Two

A Dose of Reality

Throughout all of Book II of Middlemarch, I kept remembering a quote from the movie Serenity—“what you plan and what takes place ain’t ever exactly been similar”. There is a natural discordance between plans and actual events, but Mr. Lydgate, Dorothea, and Mr. Casaubon, due to not realizing that they have less control over their future than they imagine, come through Book II bruised and battered.

Take Mr. Lydgate. He is by all appearances a master of his own destiny. He is a well-educated doctor, just setting out on his journey of professional life. He purposely chooses to move to Middlemarch instead of a metropolis because his “plan of the future” was “to do small good work for Middlemarch, and great work for the world”, necessitating he remove himself for the bustle and self-importance of the city and live in the country where he could practice in relative quite. He did not mean to immediately get caught up in small town politics, let alone being to develop friend and potential enemies from the outset. Lydgate sets himself up as one of the most important people in a small town—as a pillar of the ‘good’ set of society—and has no concept of the role society demands he fill. He looks forward to a future full of personal academic inquiry, but it seems that goal is going to be totally derailed.

Meanwhile in Rome, a city that is full of sensuous pleasure for all the senses, Dorothea and Mr. Casaubon are finally realizing that they may have entered into marriage without considering the motives of the other person. The Dorothea we meet in Book I is in love with learning. Though she bows to the ‘intellectual superiority’ of men, she fully believes herself to be intelligent and learned. This is seen most clearly in her quest to redesign and help the poor within her provincial location. She is feisty and dearly wants to fulfill her duty to help others. She sees her potential marriage to Mr. Casaubon as a potential avenue for greater learning, though “from the very first she had thought of Mr. Casaubon as having a mind so much above her own, that he must often be claimed by studies which she could not entirely share” (106). Dorothea wants to act as a secretary and pupil to Mr. Casaubon —not act as a demure wife and nurse. In Rome, she wants to learn about her surroundings and gain from Casaubon’s knowledge, but he is forever in the Vatican library. This location is interesting because he and Dorothea are now literally in a male dominated place, religiously and intellectually, and Dorothea is left out with statues and paintings of idealized women.

Mr. Casaubon would have been more comfortable if he had married a statue of a women then Dorothea. He really only wanted a nurse and wife, not an intellectual equal. His attitude in Rome is one that completely dismisses Dorothea’s insights. He talks down to her constantly, coddling her intellectually like a child. When asking her if she would like to see some frescos, he remarks that “the romantic inversion of a literary period, and cannot,… be reckoned as genuine”, but if she likes these “wall-paintings” they can go see them ( 109). He speaks of them in this manner to highlight his own intelligence while referring to them as ‘wall-paintings’ to make sure that Dorothea knows what he is deriding. He wants an idealized wife and nurse, not an intellectual sparring partner. Both are beginning to come around to the idea that their desires when they entered into marriage are not going to be met.

Book II is entitled Old and Young—a very apt name considering fate makes equal fools of Dorothea, Mr. Casaubon, and Mr. Lydgate. They all must struggle to leave behind their simplistic notions of how their future will turn out in favor of reality. Elliot masterfully allows us to watch as all three characters experience the growing pains of reality.

 

Valerie Harrison

Book-Three

Picturesque…English style!

George Eliot, in Book 3, deals with the mortality, predictably, of Mr Causabon and Mr Featherstone, but also, surprisingly to me, of Fred. More importantly, these events serve to further her entertaining romantic plots. But, I digress, to reflect on a different aspect of our tale, based on a personal experience of living in England.

 

My husband and I own a 400 square foot cottage (actually, a row house) in St Albans, famous for Romans ruins, a medieval cathedral, and a bustling market, about ½ hour from London. We lived there for 11 years while he worked at the Hospital for Tropical Diseases. I learned the area by walking, particularly to two destinations where I spent most of my time, the cathedral (as a tour guide) and a local goat farm. I took for granted my lush, green and colorful surroundings where hedgerows predominate and birds sing from dawn till sunset. Our long, narrow garden faced south, towards the Abbey (in medieval days, the cathedral was an abbey where Benedictine monks lived), and we heard daily resonant bell chimes for Morning Prayer, noon Eucharist, Evensong, etc. Our yellow rose bush, wafting sweet scent, bloomed almost year round; snowdrops, crocuses and daffodils heralded spring; the huge lilac bush sent out its unique fragrance by the kitchen door; and the dense, vigorous hedge required a day of trimming three times a year (still does!). At least once a week, I walked 3 miles to a goat farm, which abuts the property of the Stanley Kubrick estate (where his widow still lives). I met the goat farmer in the Saturday market, where he rented a stall, selling all kinds of mouth-watering European cheeses, including his wife’s goat cheese. He was surprised when I got up the nerve to ask if I could visit the farm, but even more so when I actually showed up! I love the outdoors but I was not ‘farming-literate’, only curious to learn. He told me later that only an American would be so bold as to offer help, especially after he made clear that he couldn’t pay me, but the relationship and experience grew to a warm friendship with his family today. The trek from home to farm passed through neighborhoods of small, timbered/plastered bungalows, each boasting their own selection of English flowers. I think the most popular are the brightly colored, low-growing primroses and multi-hued roses. I also passed farms of crops, sheep and dairy, winding through a trail cut by medieval carts; of course, imagining who travelled this way before me, occupied my mind for hours! I helped the famer weed his land, cover it with goat manure to encourage healthy growth for fall harvesting of hay, plant trees in large spaces, more rose bushes…all of this energetic work after we had caught, milked and fed about 30+ goats. Late morning was learning from his wife how to make three different goat cheeses. Lunch at 1pm was a feast for the senses! My final chore was to feed the goats at the end of the day, before hiking home, exhausted but happy (with a backpack of fresh veggies).

 

The Abbey was my other home, at least 5 times a week. My journey was only ½ mile, through fancier neighborhoods of brick homes, with lovely gardens. I am impressed by the English flair for design, which just seems to happen on its own…colors mingle in a natural order that attracts wildlife, as well as human passers-by!

 

Compare the homestead of Caleb Garth (Mary’s family), described as rambling, halftimbered and, of course, the ubiquitous orchard (p. 242). On Sunday afternoon, my husband and I would take several large plastic bags (to pick up rubbish, mostly discarded soda cans and plastic bottles) and go off in search of another route to discover; blackberry bushes grow wild, so I am sure that Middlemarchers ate their fill, as well! Lowick (home of Mr Causabon), was entered by a long avenue of limes (p 273); these also line the main street of St Albans. Their ornamental quality adds greenery and vigor to a town center.

The great oak shadowing a bare place in mid-pasture ( p. 104) offers a more sobering image for me of the goat farm. Tragically, the famer died very suddenly, and his widow planted a small oak tree on his grave (which is on the farm) a favorite symbol of his for quiet and beautiful strength.

 

Returning to the US (Hamden, Ct) was a ‘landscape jolt’ for me. The barren, concrete highways and shopping malls take up too much space (granted, they exist in England, too), so I have begun to plant an English type garden of soft hues and fragrant scents in our back yard. And when I walk the dog, I appreciate every small attempt to return our city to nature.

 

I will close with the author’s depiction of her beloved landscape, which, thankfully, is still, familiar…(p 104)

The ride to Stone Court…pretty bit of midland landscape, almost all meadows and pastures, with hedgerows still allowed to grow in busy beauty and to spread out     coral fruit for the birds…. the high bank where the ash trees grew; the gray gate and          fences against the depths of the bordering wood; and the stray hovel, its old, old    thatch full of mossy hills and valleys with wondrous modulations of light and shadow         such as we travel far to see in late life, and see larger, but not more beautiful. These          are the things that make the gamut of joy in landscape to midland-bred souls.

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Tudy Hill