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