My frustrations with Eliot’s characters, which I found overwhelming at the beginning of my readings, have begun to evolve into genuine interest in their livelihoods–at least for certain Middlemarch residents. During the early chapters of this novel, I found that I didn’t respond deeply to any of the introduced characters, despite the many pages which were devoted to their respective plights. Few characters drew my interest–the Garths, Fred, Ladislaw–but in reading Book Five, my interest and sympathies have extended to the widowed Dorothea.
When I first began Middlemarch (last summer, before promptly giving up in the middle of Book Two), I found Dorothea rather insufferable. Her naivete, her rushed marriage, her surface-level plans for Sir James’ cottage improvements: all elements combined to have me barely tolerate the chapters devoted to her experiences within the novel. On my second attempt, I find myself giving Dorthea a more fair chance, especially now that she has suffered the loss of her husband, the loss of the only person who pays her any attention in Will Ladislaw, and the unwarranted pity of her sister and brother-in-law.
A number of scenes in Book Five have softened my heart towards Dorothea and show the maturity that she has begun to develop during her tumultuous and unhappy marriage. She still struggles in communication with Mr. Casaubon, putting off his important request on the evening before his death because she does not know how to react to his newly passionate demeanor. She has slowly begun to consider her own needs before those of her husband and of their relationship when she hesitates to answer his request to follow his wishes, answering “in a clear voice, the need of freedom asserting itself within her” (B5, Ch. 48). She soon regrets her decision to blow off Casaubon, seeking him out the next morning only to find that he has died during his morning walk without ever having the chance to share with her his important request. The dichotomy of her concern for her husband and her attempts to protect herself from his cold demeanor shows that she no longer unquestioningly puts his happiness and importance above her own but understands that she must compromise sometimes to make their relationship work.
Her maturity is further contrasted with her sister’s silliness when Dorthea goes to live at Freshitt following Casaubon’s death. Celia unfeelingly tells Dorthea about the mystery codicil and rushes her mourning period “for not only was baby quite well, but really when a husband had been so dull and troublesome while he lived” there was no reason to be melancholy while staying with the Chettams (B5, Ch. 50). Dorothea is constantly seen as more rational and caring than Celia during her stay with the Chettams, a direct foil to the way their relationship was introduced in Book One when Celia better understands Sir James intentions and anticipates Mr. Casaubon’s dullness. The elder sister’s growth is also evident in her considerations and motivations to help the lowly residents of Middlemarch between Books One and Five. In Book One, she quickly forgets her plans to rebuild the cottages with Sir James when his romantic intentions are revealed and her budding relationship with Casaubon begins to take over. In contrast within Book Five, Dorothea deeply considers the long term effect which the new vicar at Lowick will have on its residents. She tells Lydgate that Tyke’s sermons are too righteous for the neighbors that she now knows well. Instead of the apocryphal preachings of Tyke, she wishes for a vicar who knows that “[i]t is surely better to pardon too much, than to condemn too much” (B5, Ch. 50). Her insight into the needs of the community to whom she now feels responsible and her research into Mr. Farebrother’s sermon abilities shows that she has a genuine interest in helping the residents of her and Casaubon’s parish and will do everything she can to continue to serve them.
Dorothea’s growth throughout this novel has softened my once harsh criticisms of her. Whereas she came off as being young and overly eager in the early books of this novel, her rather unhappy life following her marriage to Mr. Casaubon has resulted in an accelerated introduction to adulthood. Her once naive visions about helping all those around her, from the poor residents of her community to becoming the helpmate of her husband, have evolved into a stronger consideration for her own happiness and a more genuine interest in helping those she cares for. Her decision to vacate Freshitt and return to her duties at Lowick in the first chapter of Book Six shows me that her evolution will continue throughout the rest of the novel, and hopefully my esteem for her will continue to grow.
Elizabeth Hatcher