The doom of Lydgate and Rosamond marriage results in the lacking of understanding between the two. From the first moment they met there has been miscommunication between the two- eg. Lydgate did not want to get married right away, he wanted to wait until he was financial secure. Rosamond wanted to get married right away to a man that was not born and raised within the Middlemarch community, someone who would show her the world. Due to Rosamond’s insistence and plead Lydgate decided to get married right away. The major misunderstanding comes from both side, neither understands what the other wants.

Lydgate views on marriage life are highly wrong. He believes that there is some form of separation between his marriage and his career within the community. Usually, it is the wife who is the reflection of her husband, in this case however Lydgate’s interaction within the community affects Rosamond. Lydgate might believe that wives are supposed to be passive creatures within their husband’s life, but that is where he is wrong. If a husband is successful it results in a higher status for the wife in society, more money results in more luxury.     

Lydgate ignores the importance of interaction and network with his fellow doctors. In understanding is resistance when he comes to politics he does not realize that diplomacy is important in his field of work. There is no separation between social relations and colleagues especially when it comes to a community such as Middlemarch. Due to this there is a general mistrust between Lydgate and those in the community, although he has treated some difficult cases it does not clear the mistrust. He does not recognize that the community is an active body that cannot be treated as a passive body if he wants to succeed as a doctor.

Rosamond’s expectation and ambition contribute to the unhappiness in her marriage. Rosamond expected that due to Lydgate’s connection she would be able to finally leave Middlemarch, what she did not expect/understand was that Lydgate does not depend on his connections for help. Rosamond wants to live the lifestyle of those in London, going to parties, meet the duchess etc. This ambition for more in her life and the restriction placed on her because she is female that cannot have a proper education forces her to use her charms to get where she wants in life. In this, she uses marriage as a way for her to force her ambition, her goals and dreams on her husband. In general, I wonder if they really loved each other at one point. Did Rosamond just viewed Lydgate as a means to an end or was there more to it. her ambition and the fact that her husband does not compile to her wishes leaves Rosamond frustrated and miserable.The way in which they both treat each other does not show any affection between the two he treats her as a doormat and she views him as someone to be manipulated to get her further in life.  

Keulesia Webley-Sewell

Total control over your life is never going to happen. Try as we might, the guiding hand of fate will push us down stairs we are trying to climb up, will shove us off course, and generally mess up all of the best laid plans. Control is a central issue of Book 5. Characters fight for it, lose it, and die for it, and no one ever fully attains it.

The most blatant example of the need for control happens to Dorothea. Even before the death of Mr. Casaubon, Dorothea is unhappy with the idea of blindly agreeing to a promise to Mr. Casaubon because she felt “the need of freedom asserting itself within her”. Though Mr. Casaubon never receives that promise, he still is found to have added a codicil to his will stripping Dorothea of her inheritance should she marry Ladislaw. Mr. Casaubon seeks to control Dorothea from the grave. His jealousy and impending death, coupled with the prospect of leaving nothing worthwhile behind him, prompts him to grab at any avenue of control—and the only lane left is Dorothea. His desperation for control is evident and highlights the desperation jealously and impending death can instill.

Ladislaw fights for control as well. He is “a sort of gypsy, rather enjoying the sense of belonging to no class; he had a feeling of romance in his position” of transience. Ladislaw takes control of his life by being a nomad. He refuses to shackle himself to any place or person. He gives himself complete autonomy in order to feel in control as his own man. This changes as he decides that “no other woman could sit higher that [Dorothea’s] footstool”. It’s not that he loves her; rather, he wants to save her, “regardless of “whatever fire-breathing dragons might hiss around her”. Ladislaw wants to play the hero and wrest Dorothea from the grasp of Mr. Casaubon, the grasp of married and settled life. He wants to play the white knight, without having an escape plan. Ladislaw takes control through chaos.

Bulstrode begins to lose control with the appearance of Mr. Raffles. Bulstrode goes so far as to say that “independence… could be supplied to [Raffles], if [he] would engage to keep at a distance”. While nothing bad immediately happens, and Bulstrode successfully bribes Raffles to leave, the threat still lingers on the horizon. Bulstrode’s success is threatened, and his potential control over his life is weakened.  Simultaneously, Lydgate’s debts begin to come due. Lydgate has great potential—he has a new hospital, he has a large and growing client base, and is a better healer than the other doctors in Middlemarch. Lydgate receives a notice “insisting on the payment of a bill for furniture”, indicating that he hasn’t been paying back all his bills in a timely fashion or at all. He is at risk of losing respectability, as he bought most of his household goods on credit.

Mr. Brooks is up for election in his district. The only problem is that he is completely out of touch with his salt of the earth neighbors. He rambles about “Machinery, now, and machine-breaking…it won’t due, you know, breaking machines”. He fails to capture is audience because he doesn’t know them. Mr. Brooks becomes a fool during this speech—as much because of his own inability to make speeches as his inability to relate to his audience. The crowd, and by extension, his whole neighborhood is out of his control.

Book 5 sees all of these men begin to feel the pressures of outside elements. Whether it be debt, family, delusions of grandeur, generally being out of touch, or jealously, something inevitably pops up leaving the character in a tail spin, highlighting the cracks in every carefully cultivated persona.

– Valerie Harrison

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

Everything that is new is sometimes scary. People also fear what they do not know. Instead of trying to understand everything that a person may be doing we just fear it. People would also freak out and say it is the devil’s work or accuse a woman of being a witch and then she would usually end up drowning or being burned to the stake, even if her remedies worked better than any man’s. Other times we can treasure what is new, but it can also bring us sorrow or jealousy.

That is why everyone was criticizing Mr. Lydgate. They were scared that Lydgate was a better doctor than the other doctors before him. He was better at curing everyone than the current doctors that they had in Middlemarch and he didn’t use any medicine unless he absolutely had to administer some. He could tell the difference between a tumor and a cramp the others could not see the difference. Lydgate knew what he was doing and had become a doctor to help people instead of trying to make money off of the profession. Lydgate had become very famous and a well-loved doctor.

After Mr. Casaubon had died Dorothea had gone into a state of depression. She was a little bit sad, but she was also now all alone in a huge house without a husband. Celia was extremely happy, because she had a baby. Celia and her husband Sir Chettam thought Dorothea might have been happier with them and the baby and that she could find some companionship with her sister and new nephew. Casaubon had made sure that if there was ever anything more than friendship between Ladislaw and Dorothea it would not grow once he died. He had put in his will that if Dorothea ever married Ladislaw he would disinherit Dorothea and she would loose her entire inheritance.

Dorothea would then be left with nothing. Dorothea had never been pregnant. She had been left utterly alone, no husband, no baby, and no possibility of a new life with Ladislaw. She also had not been allowed to look at the will. Everyone had been telling her to relax and just to grieve and let her pain heal on it’s own time. I don’t think Dorothea was that upset over the death of her husband. When their marriage was near the end she seemed to be in a bad mood and was more of a nurse than a wife to Mr. Casaubon. She was not able to find the manuscripts for the book Mr. Casaubon had been writing she had promised him she would publish it for him if anything happened to him before he finished it.

Fred has lost all his money and to avoid telling his father what happens decides to join the church, but it still hesitant since Mary said she would never marry him if he did join the church. Fred asks Mr. Farebrother if he will ask Mary that even though he is joining the church if she will marry him. Mary is still adamant in not marrying Fred after joining the church. There is no other way for Fed to get back the money, but he can only see going into the church as his only option. He doesn’t do so right away since he still wants to marry Mary.

Julia Rogan

Admittedly, I adore the titles of each of the books and when “The Dead Hand” came up, I was secretly thrilled and terrified at what I would encounter.  This section did not disappoint me in thrills and terror.

For the thrills – I love that we are getting more information on Fred and Mary.  Fred is a train wreck I can’t help wanting to gawk to see what will happen next.  There is something about his character that I find endearing; maybe his foolishness or his general clueless boy attributes.  He is thoughtless in so many ways and while this section of Middlemarch is really about Dorthea and Edward, the unusual placement of Mary and Fred’s story brings me to anticipate what dead hand will embrace them in chapters to come.  He’s outed to the Vicar his love, who unfortunately also is infatuated with Mary, and places his trust in Farebrother without knowing the pain that he has caused Farebrother.  Fred is one of those that is impetuous with his decisions and does not look too far into the future to see the ramifications.  But creating the thrill of where their relationship may go, I am enjoying the fact that Fred is the perfect foil for Mary.  He is unthinking and rash and this gives him, in my opinion, to be a boy playing in the mud.  Where Mary is just too goody-goody and she needs him to bring levity to her character, I imagine her as a child being prissy but obedient.

The fleshing out of Mr. Bulstrode’s character is a refreshing change and a wonderful foreshadow for the remainder of the novel.  It was a bit of a shock to find Bulstrode’s past slowing being eked out in bits.  His character always carried an undercurrent of “smarmy” but nothing of the magnitude that is found out about his previous marriage or how he came to get his money.  With the tidbit of information from Mr. Raffles and Bulstrode’s desire to get him as far away from Middlemarch as possible only alludes to how bad a person Bulstrode actually is.  I also now want to find or make a Middlemarch family tree because the relationships are starting to get a little convoluted.

Now for the terror – not surprised about the clause in Mr. C’s will, his jealousy was so out of control that I would be more surprised if there wasn’t anything about Will mentioned.  It is not the bit of information about Dorthea’s remarriage that is terror, but what was terrifying is that everyone else knew about it but her.  Even Mrs. Cadwallader knows of the situation of Mr. C’s will and she is quite the busy-body so it would be in good faith to assume that she discussed it with others as well.

What is sad and terrifying is when Dorthea searches her husband’s desk she does not find anything that shows her that he loved her.  I think this is the true terror that happens Middlemarch – the lack of not finding the proof of love when one looks for it.  Dorthea married a man that she placed upon a pedestal, pinning ideas and unrealistic dreams of what her life would be like without even discussing any of it with him.  Because she did this, she missed so many cues about how he was cold and not a person to show a lot of affection.  In the same respect, she also expected to be shown love and adoration; he was just tired of being alone and she would be a great secretary and one of the few women that did not aggravate him. In his own way, I think Casaubon did love Dorthea in a way that he could not show her.  She is very much like his work – allusive, unavailable to the average man, and a mystery – maybe Dorthea was the key to Casuabon, and instead of looking for the mythologies that he studied about, she was the key to his mythology.  Dorthea was definitely his weakness, especially when we find out the lengths he goes to when spurred on by his jealousy.  The defeat she felt on page 494 when she searches his desk for proof that he loved her was heartbreaking.  Although, Dorthea may overlook Mr. C’s motivations behind his weird will.  She is looking for proof of his love and in a way, he leaves her with it written in his will about her remarriage.  So sad in general that these two actually really loved each other, but neither of them could talk to each other.  I wonder if he was too smart that it made his dumb and she blind.

On a lighter note of terror, the strange way Celia dotes on her child is rather creepy.  It’s not as though she is a mother looking at her child doing all the things that most parents do – believe that their child is the brightest and best just because he blinked – but almost that she regards him more like a doll or a puppy.

Vickie Culpepper

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

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