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My-Life-in-Middlemarch

Two Writers

In her book, My Life at Middlemarch, author Rebecca Mead manages to capture the many unarticulated feelings impressed upon me when I read George Eliot’s Middlemarch. Mead’s book illuminates the life of George Eliot and how she came to write her epic piece of work, including personal insights from the Mead’s own life and impressions of the novel in a beautiful convergence of past and present.

Rebecca Mead focuses on the idea that while certain books have to power to change us as readers, these books also grow with us as we mature. Just like you can never step in the same river twice, Mead asserts that you can never read the same story twice; both the reader and the text are transformed by time and the events that have passed with it. While I felt like Mead spent a great deal of time discussing the details of Eliot’s life, it gave me a different perspective into the lives of the characters of Middlemarch. I could see a little bit of Eliot in all of the residents of that little imaginary town as well as those who were dear to her, after spending most of the novel seeking out incarnations of myself and those I know as the various townspeople.

One focus of the book that I found slightly disconcerting was the focus on Eliot’s physical appearance. I do not think that Mead was wrong for including this information, but this focus felt heavy-handed at times. In spite of my reservations, I admit that, especially for women, one’s physical appearance affects the outcome of one’s life in small or large ways. It is inescapable; you cannot run away from your own face. Perhaps my discomfort came from the fact that while I do not style myself as a “great beauty”, I do not feel burdened by a particularly homely appearance. I did wonder if Mary Garth was made to be exceptionally plain in tribute to her creator, and I felt gratified when Mead all but confirmed the connection between the two.

Perhaps my favorite discovery in reading My Life in Middlemarch was Eliot’s departure from organized religion. I was impressed with the presentation of morality in Middlemarch, and took pleasure in learning that such a tone and outlook was provided by someone who could be considered a secular humanist. As someone who has departed from her own branch of faith but not her morals, I felt at home with Eliot’s brand of ethics.

As a whole, Rebecca Mead’s companion book to Middlemarch felt like a perfect wrap-up to Eliot’s novel. While certain aspects felt repetitive or self-gratifying, the work expanded my understanding and my appreciation for Middlemarch. I cannot help but look forward to my second reading of the novel, wondering whether book will change me, and how it will change with me throughout the years.

Emily Fleischhauer

 

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

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-Two

Lydgate’s Choice

It is in Book II that Middlemarch seems to finally move beyond the lengthy introductions to and descriptions of the inhabitants of the town to present some of the kinds of conflict that this little town endures. Although the outsider Dr. Tertius Lydgate wishes to “[c]onfound their petty politics!” I for one deeply enjoyed the nuanced view that Eliot provides into the political underbelly of this small society (169). Quickly entrenched in the middle of the most current issue, Lydgate must reconcile his professional ambitions with his personal opinions in regards to the appointment of a clergyman to Middlemarch’s new hospital. Torn between the only two pastors in the area, Rev. Farebrother and Rev. Tyke, Lydgate’s inner turmoil culminates in a tie-breaking vote that puts him in line with the powerful banker, Mr. Bulstrode.

The presentation of the two reverends revolves mostly around others’ opinions of the men. While Bulstrode clearly favors Rev. Tyke as “a real Gospel preacher,” Mr. Lydgate appreciates Farebrother’s “ingenious and pithy” manner, quickly making friends with the Vicar (174, 168). From Eliot’s presentation of Farebrother, it appears that he should by all accounts win the chaplainship appointment with little resistance. According to the author, he was such a “likeable man” that “[p]eople outside his parish went to hear him” (168). In contrast, “[n]obody had anything to say against Mr. Tyke, except that they could not bear him” (170).

Unfortunately for Farebrother, his overall popularity with the parishioners could not overcome the withering opinions of Mr. Bulstrode, who bends his will to see Tyke appointed. Although Lydgate appears desirous to help out his friend, his own ambitions supersede his friendship and allow him to justify voting for Tyke, a man to whom we as readers have not even been properly introduced. It does seem interesting that Rev. Tyke is not given his own voice during the ordeal. Instead, his defense is left to members of the medical board of infirmary and Mr. Bulstrode, neither of which seem to provide a very strong case in favor of the man. Even his name, Tyke, seems lacking and immature in comparison to that of Farebrother, who lives up to his handle during his gracious loss of the coveted position.

In the end however, it does not matter whether or not the audience gets to judge Rev. Tyke from intimate knowledge or secondhand opinion because the major focus lies on Lydgate’s conundrum. Many people are faced with the juxtaposition of competing desires and must find a way to not only come to a decision but then justify their conclusion. Lydgate’s friendly feelings toward Farebrother may come from a genuine rapport between the two, but he appears to have already made up his mind to align himself with Bulstrode and his man, Tyke. As the newcomer to Middlemarch, Lydgate’s status is essentially at the mercy of those in power, leaving him little actual choice in his decision. If choice is essential to freewill, then at least in this issue, Lydgate was bound to his decision from the start.

 

Emily Fleishhauer

Book-One

The Divining Rod

Book One of George Eliot’s Middlemarch introduces us to the inhabitants of the town for which the novel is entitled, honing its focus on the young ingénue, Dorothea Brooke. Portrayed as an intellectually religious zealot who is “given to self-mortification,” Dorothea’s marriage prospects are less bleak than one would assume of such a character (14). Although many inhabitants of Middlemarch find Miss Brooke’s spiritual fervor disagreeable and at times off-putting, both Sir James Chettam and the Reverend Edward Casaubon develop romantic interest in the ascetic young maiden. Unfortunately for Miss Brooke, her “childlike ideals of marriage”, paired with her Uncle’s aversion to seek the advice of any “superior woman” eventually contribute to our heroine’s unlikely and ill-matched betrothal to Mr. Casaubon (6).

As a young woman with no mother or “middle-aged lady as guide and companion,” Dorothea’s sole female confidante appears to be her younger sister, Celia (6). This places her at somewhat of a disadvantage as she has no true mentor for whom to turn when faced with matters concerning love and matrimony. Her choice in seeking Mr. Casaubon’s affections seem to highlight Dorothea’s desire for direction and guidance in her growth as a woman. This need leads her to conflate the roles of partner and mentor in which she imagines that “[t]he really delightful marriage must be that where your husband was a sort of father” (6).

Edward Casaubon’s age and academic superiority seem to satisfy Dorothea’s criteria for a suitable husband and life-partner. As someone who desires to affect change in a meaningful way, her position as a woman constricts Miss Brooke’s choices and leaves her few avenues for personal growth. She “struggl[es] in the bands of narrow teaching,” leading her to view Mr. Casaubon as an intellectual savior and someone whose seemingly infinite wisdom will complement and complete her own (24). Dorothea’s compulsion to “learn everything” stems from her own insecurities and the feeling that without complete knowledge she would not “know what to do, when [she] got older” (24).

Sir James Chettam’s brash and sometimes shallow personality may appear to contrast strongly with that of our heroine, but this dissimilarity belies the complementary aspects of the two youths. As a man of action, Chettam’s financial position, along with his desire to please Dorothea, lead him to champion her crusade to renovate the town’s cottages and elevate the living status of the working poor in the community. This project acts as a divining rod for the reader, allowing us to see past Dorothea’s spiritual and intellectual musings straight to her heart’s passion. While Sir James recognizes how much the cottage project energizes Dorothea and adopts it as his own, Mr. Casaubon does “not care about building cottages”, diverting the topic almost as quickly she can introduce it (28).

Again, if Miss Brooke only had a motherly figure with whom she could share her experiences, desires, and misgivings, she might have directed our protagonist to follow her heart and turn a blind eye to Chettam’s superficial mind instead of Casaubon’s withering physique. As someone who clearly understands that “[m]arriage is a state of higher duties,” Dorothea’s ability to withstand some grievances would better serve her in an alliance that could actualize her ambitions rather than elevate her intellect. Her desire to a live a purposeful and spiritual life seems to revolve itself in the renovation of cottage dwellings rather than academic study, but her youthful naiveté prevents her from understanding this and leads her to accept the hand of an ill-suited suitor.

 

Emily Fleischhauer