Book 1

Let me begin by introducing myself as someone who is not only not an English major, but as someone who does not generally enjoy reading for fun (this book was more than a little daunting for me!).  I know this is something of a sin at Hollins with our noted English and Creative Writing programs, but I hope that I can use my own major – Gender and Women’s Studies – to bring something to the discussion. My hope is that I can use analysis of people and actions that I’ve learned from being a Gender and Women’s Studies major (similar to the skills learned by English majors, no?) to be able to make comparisons between events and characters in the story and modern people and present day happenings that I am learning about.

From the beginning of Chapter One, I am interested in the more minor character Mrs. Elinor Cadwallader.  She is a woman who was born into a good family, but married someone of a lower class than herself.  To me, this indicates that she is a woman who follows the beat of her own drum.  Mrs. Cadwallader married her husband even though it upset her family; she is clearly a tough woman.  It is her affinity for playing match maker that I find most entertaining about her.  I see her as somewhat of a dignified woman, yet she spends her time trying to set up young people – interesting since she didn’t marry who others believed to be good for her.  I suppose there is a parallel there to the main character, Dorothea Brooke, who also marries the less obvious man.  You could argue that Mrs. Cadwallader is kind of a busy body as she is so invested in the personal lives of the people around her and I find it funny.

I love the contrast of her character: a formerly high class girl who married down and now spends her time attempting to set people up.  I think this makes her very human and relatable.  The other noticeable contrast is between Mrs. Cadwallader and her husband, Mr. Humphrey Cadwallader, who is not interested in being in anybody else’s business.

There is also a sense of relentlessness I get from Elinor.  After Dorothea chooses not to marry Sir James, Mrs. Cadwallader’s choice, but instead accept the proposal of Mr. Brooke, Elinor decides that she will now try to get Sir James to marry Celia instead.  Though some might read this trait as stubborn or nosy, I find her headstrong-ness almost admirable.

Kailey Murphy, Hollins ‘16

Book 1 was somewhat of a struggle for me. In reading the description provided on many sites, I was immediately intrigued by the main character- Dorothea in the book. However in starting to read it was a struggle to want to continue reading and understanding the characters. Dorothea’s personality I believe is what kept me going. She was a fascinating character to learn more about, the way in which Eliot wrote this character you can tell she is sincere and believe what she is saying and doing is the best. Yet, as I continue it made me question where she got these ideas from, where did her extreme come from and did losing her parents push her to this extreme.

One of the first description provided by Eliot of Dorothea was the fact that she a beauty who did not wear expensive clothes to standout. I was taken, believing that she was going to be a modest even humble character in the book. But as I continued on reading, I learned that it was her religious devotion that lead to her choices in clothes. I was hoping more than anything it was the understanding of the world and how it worked that lead to her decision. Leaning that it religion was a large influence on her made me question if she was using religion as a defense for her extreme ideas, especially as a female.

Something I love about Dorothea is her want to help the poor and belief in her ideas that could help them. At the same time I wonder if she ever seen actual poor people in her community, have she ever asked these poor people what they want. You cannot be in your castle and expect to know what is best for a group of people. A lot of questions came to mind about her intention and what lead to this obsession to help these people.  

One scene that stood out for me was her reaction to her sister Celia when she asked about splitting their mothers’ jewelry. Dorothea was very passive aggressive in this scene when it came to her sister, instead of understanding where her sister was coming from she just critic her the whole entire time. I felt as if she was putting her sister down or even sitting on top of her high horse and looking down her nose on her sister. I found it funny that most of the scene she looking down on her sister for gushing over the jewelry but once she saw the emerald jewelry her tune change. It was shocking how fast her mood change but once she realized her love of the jewelry she turned the critic internal and try to justified it to herself.

Sir James Chettam vs. Mr. Casaubon- These two characters are polar opposites but when choosing who’s a good choice of husband for Dorothea, I would have to agree with Celia and go with Sir James Chettam. He seems to be the logical choice in the sense that he will indulge her with her extreme ideas. He will give her the time and attention that she needs and follow anything she says, lets not forget he’s head over heels.  

Keulesia Webley-Sewell

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

I am certain Mr. Casaubon’s character will occupy many of my thoughts, therefore I must bring attention to his incredibly dull letter asking Dorthea for marriage.  I understand Dorthea and her childlike naïveté will bring elements of both hilarity and horror in her choices, but this letter should make her run like her hair is on fire.  Cold and reserved does not describe this letter accurately, there is more emotion in a job offer for an undertaker.

The attempt of flattery is astounding as Mr. Casaubon attempts to relate his admiration to Dorthea with a long and complicated sentence.  She has allowed his “observation” and “impression” to “emphatically” convince him of her “fitness” where she can ease the “consciousness…need” (pg. 43).  His letter of declaration of admiration is bland and unemotional, similar to reading your car’s owner’s manual.  How this letter sends the poor child to the floor with so much unrestrained emotion where she cannot even pray still amazes me.  Dorthea read the letter greedily and quickly, she missed many of the warnings that Mr. Casaubon supplies her.

Devoid of any obvious emotion, Mr. Casaubon moves to remind Dorthea about what he expects in a companion.    Plainly stating to Dorthea that he is looking for a woman who must have the “capability of devotedness”, Mr. Casaubon is not seeking a mental equal, but a common housekeeper that talks to him when he is lonely (pg. 43).  In addition, Mr. Casaubon gives fair warning to Dorthea on these intentions referencing to their time spent together where he believes, and we are to assume as readers, that she understands their future life together.  Boldly stating that he has “made sufficiently clear to [her] the tenor of [his] life and purposes,” Mr. Casaubon continues to reinforce the fact that he is looking for a person who understands that he will live and study just as usual (pg. 43).

Granted, Casaubon does compliment her with “mental qualities”, but that is the only positive item that he has given her other than what she will do for him (pg. 43).  Dorthea is missing the point when he tells her that he is looking for her to “cast charms over vacant hours (pg. 44).  This is not a statement that says he will sweep her away on a cloud of love, it says that he will take on a bride but continue to work and study as he always have and devote attention to her only when he finds it convenient.   I cannot hold Mr. Casaubon in contempt for not being upfront and honest as his letter clearly indicates the reasons why he choose Dorthea and what her purpose would be.

Obviously Dorthea has interesting ideas regarding what her life will be like with Mr. Casaubon.  Her afternoon spent fantasizing about her future with Mr. Casaubon and presumes it would be equivalent to “marrying Pascal.” (pg. 19)  Plainly stated, Mr. Casaubon is approving her, and could very well live alone with no issue, but because he does not find her offensive and she appears to want to be devoted to him, he will provide her with financial security, faithfulness and some affection (pg. 44).  Dorthea is clearly looking to marry out of what she believes is love, but Casaubon is really looking for a caregiver, not a wife that he will companion.  Assuming Dorthea’s fantasies inhibit her from seeing the scope of her decision, Mr. Casaubon’s warnings and cautions from other people, the readers will wait with baited breath as this dramatic irony unfolds.

Vickie Culpepper

Mass market romance always follows the same pattern—two people meet, fall in love, overcome an obstacle, and eventually skip off into the sunset together, destined for a future of happiness or they die tragically and are forever more a testament to true love. This formula has been a massive success in all media because everyone loves the idea of being in love. It is because I am so used to this formula that I immediately hated Dorothea. She sacrifices the worldly things that make her happy and a relationship with a man who appreciates her personality in favor of cerebral pursuits and a marriage with a cracked foundation. Throughout Book 1, Dorothea sets herself up for unhappiness, but due to her youth, fails to see that her pride and ambition are blinding her to real happiness.

Dorothea follows her heart straight into a marriage with a man who does not love her, does not want her to be anything other than his stereotypical notion of a ‘good’ housewife.  In fact, Mr. Casaubon should be a warning to Dorothea; he is foremost a student, putting the academic life above everything. He ends up in a small town, and while well-off, his only family dislikes him. His nephew, an artist, ignores the academic life and is a disappointment to Mr. Casaubon. He is essentially alone until Dorothea falls in love with him. The “colors” of his house were “subdued by time”, indicating a stagnancy that is depressing. His life is lacking in color and vibrancy literally and figuratively.  Even the proposal letter Mr. Casaubon writes to Dorothea lacks all passion. He says that “a consciousness of need in my own life had arisen contemporaneously with the possibility of my becoming acquainted with you (20). In this, Mr. Casaubon shows a personal need that Dorothea can fulfill. She will be a means to an end, or a housekeeper with benefits. This self-serving nature for the good of scholarly work shows a vanity that is off-putting and should serve as a warning.

The problem is that Dorothea is so infatuated with what she could learn from Mr. Casaubon that she is blind to any of his faults. You have to admire Dorothea; she has the gumption and dedication to stick to her self-sacrificing quest for intellectual improvement. However, she does this at the expense of her future happiness. I believe that she truly loves the idea of marriage to Mr. Casaubon; she could not have survived her uncle’s warnings about the pitfalls of married life otherwise. But loving the idea of a marriage is not substantive. Dorothea wants to learn and be taught, seeing her relationship with Mr. Casaubon as a means to further her education. She does not notice Mr. Casaubon’s coolness of feeling because of her youthful zeal for knowledge. It is hard to notice that your lover has his feet firmly on the ground when you are being swept away.

I can forgive her overlooking Mr. Casaubon’s lack of romantic feeling because of her passion, though I feel the marriage will end unhappily. What I cannot forgive is her innate hypocrisy of morality. Dorothea uses her ascetic pursuits as a shield to protect against the world. She gives up horse riding because “she felt that she enjoyed it in a pagan sensuous way” (2). She is constantly governing and judging the actions of the people around her, from the puppy Sir James would give her to her sister admiring jewelry. She judges others on their wealth and pride, but never looks inward in inspect her own self-regard. I feel like throughout the remainder of Middlemarch, Dorothea’s life with spiral as she grows up and gets a realistic look at her husband and life.

-Valerie Harrison

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

Two Men One Woman

            Everyone knows the typical 1800’s British novel. Girl usually orphaned and sometimes poor meets rich, arrogant, rude, handsome man. Girl finds some sort of redeeming quality and falls in love with the rude man. Girl and rude man get married. Elliot has a bit of a different idea.

At the beginning of book one Sir James Chettam who is rich, handsome, and can provide for Dorothea Brooke. However Dorothea feels nothing for the man that most Victorian heroines would fall head over heels for. She fell in love with Causabon, because she feels she could have debates and talk with him about more intellectual things with him. Causabon is also equally wealthy however compared to Dorothea he could be her father.

Many people gossip about it and Chettam is hurt by Dorothea’s rejection, but decides to focus on her sister. The sister Celia is more of a stereotypical woman in the novel. She likes Chettam and Chettam is also closer to the girl’s age. Celia also has better taste than Dorothea. Celia wants to live a comfortable life, but she also wants to have a good looking relative and is scared of Causabon due to how old he is.

In most of the books the heroine always ends up with the right man. She always marries the good looking, rich, kind man who at one point that cares for her. Dorothea missed that boat and will probably end up paying for it later. She had to marry the old man that was not good looking. Chettman was a better choice he even gave Dorothea a puppy. The only thing Causabon is going to eventually give Dorothea is misery and boredom and no life. Causabon also seems like he just wants a wife to sit at home all day and take care of him due to his age. Dorothea and Chettam would probably live around the same time and die around the same time.

Dorothea should have also listened to Chettam’s offer. Yes he wasn’t as intelligent in Dorothea’s opinion; Chettam did not look like a cradle robbed with his age. Chettam also likes to listen to Dorothea and listens to her aspirations about improving the cottages, he even put money down to make it happen and Casaubon who is a clergyman and should care about that stuff thought that it was ridiculous and probably thinks Dorothea had no mind since she did not want to change a single thing in his dreary house.

Dorothea also reads too many studies on theology, which could have been the reason she was attracted to Causabon the guy, is a clergyman. She feels he would understand what she was say more than Chettman would understand if she were to have a discussion with Chettman. Chettman also might have been lost if Dorothea were to go off on a rant and she probably felt that Causabon could have followed her rant which no one is really able to follow a rant. I think Dorothea should have picked James Chettam

Fiction offers me diversion and insight into our human journeys. I was initially attracted to this blog by Virginia Woolf’s quote about Middlemarch, as one of the few English novels written for grown-up people. I am curious what she means, and Woolf is an author whom my older daughter chose for her masters thesis. I liked Martha’s link with Moby Dick, which I have not read since AP English class in high school (late 1960s). Both books appear overly long and potentially arduous, but I recall my surprise at being attracted to an intellectual challenge. I look forward to sharing with you all, thanks to George Eliot’s wit and talent, another stealthy convergence of human lots (p 95), as we ponder Miss Brooke and friends over the summer.

What first caught my attention in Book 1? Authentic characters, with whom I could immediately relate! I count myself, along with St Theresa and Miss Brooke, an ardently willing soul (p. 3). As a 20 year old, I was naïve, idealistic, and drawn to morality; so I understand Dorthea’s passion to improve herself through knowledge and charitable action. But she is not always consistent (p 14).

Why does Dorothea sacrifice human emotion for what she imagines to be of more value, like building cottages, or choosing to marry an oracle (p 90), Mrs Cadwallader’s candid assessment of Mr Causabon? Is her life so uneventful and unimportant that individual fulfillment can be attained only by assisting this older man to organize his copious notes? Exposed to a toy box history of the world (p86), Dorothea longs for a teacher to satisfy her yearning to be a scholar (p 87). Celia empathizes with her sister’s rationale, but counters such pious sense of duty with clear judgment.

Celia’s pet name for Dorothea, Dodo, reveals an undercurrent of jest and irony. Despite the elder Miss Brooke’s earnest mind-set, who can take her seriously when she admits that fondness… is not the right word for the feeling I must have towards the man I would accept as a husband (p. 36). Nor can I understand her plan to marry someone so undemonstrative and full of moles and sallowness. At this point I moved from character- identity to a fascination in the author’s ability to amuse and have fun with her characters!

Mr Causabon’s response to his engagement is also worrisome… a hindrance to his great work (p63); he lays blame on Dorothea for his own want of male ardor; and he is weary (p 85). No surprise at Eliot’s description of his house: melancholy, in autumnal decline, exuding formal tenderness (p73-5). Through a lover’s eyes, Dodo sees only her deficiencies (p 75), not the fading soul of her intended. Several days later, she notices a sense of aloofness (p 88) in Mr C that alarms, but, once more, shuns her instinct.

As Dorothea and Mr C abruptly exit the story, Eliot introduces a whiff of fresh air with the entrance of Lydgate, Rosamund, and Fred Vincy. Animated (p 91)candor replaces pitiable acquiescence, and my spirits lifted… except for the poignant detail that Dorothea and Lydgate might have shared a zeal for reform.

Tudy Hill

And so we embark on Middlemarch, a brick-sized book which has daunted me over the years and which is one of those books—like Moby Dick, if we’re being honest—which I’ve spoken of in a whisper, ashamed that I haven’t yet read them. Reading Book 1, I’ve been surprised and completely engrossed in a world of well-drawn, fully realized characters, immediately distinguishable from each other by their habits, perspectives, and reactions, as well as their physical and verbal tics. (Mr Brooke’s “you know” and Celia’s staccato observations are particularly distinctive and pleasing.)

From the first page, the Brooke family’s financial and social situation is described keenly: “…the Brooke connections, though not exactly aristocratic, were unquestionably ‘good’: if you inquired backward for a generation or two, you would not find any yard-measuring or parcel-tying forefathers…” (7) We learn that the older sister Dorothea is a “young lady of some birth and fortune, who knelt suddenly down on a brick floor by the side of a sick labourer and prayed fervidly as if she thought herself living in the time of the Apostles—who had strange whims of fasting like a Papist, and of sitting up at night to read old theological books!…a man would naturally think twice before he risked himself in such fellowship.” (9) Yet, we learn, “those who approached Dorothea, though prejudiced against her by this alarming hearsay, found that she had a charm unaccountably reconcilable with it.” (9)

One article I encountered quoted Harold Bloom’s declaration that George Eliot was the only “major novelist, before or since, whose overt ­moralizings constitute an aesthetic virtue rather than a disaster.” I do think there’s some way Eliot is using empathy and morality as a kind of pattern integral to the aesthetic value of the story, but this is one of those thoughts I’m going to hold onto as I read deeper into the book. Bloom’s observation initially resonated with me because I was so surprised at the way Eliot uses “overt-moralizings” not as a means to an end in a fundamentally moralizing story, but to create flawed, complicated characters. I’m invested in these characters’ worldviews, beliefs, and opinions, however short-sighted, wrong-headed, or naïve they may be.

Two of the great tools Eliot is using alongside this overt moralizing are humor and the occasionally intrusive narrator. There is a wry, quick-witted funniness here, not just in the characters and their observations, but in the way the narrator sees these characters and the situations they find themselves in. One-liners abound. (e.g., “Sane people did what their neighbours did, so that if any lunatics were at large, one might know and avoid them.” (9)) One of my favorite scenes came when James Chettem presents Dorothea with a maltese puppy : “’It is painful for me to see these creatures that are bred merely as pets,’ said Dorothea, whose opinion was forming itself that very moment (as opinions will) under the heat of irritation.” (30)

This is perhaps a good example of how Eliot’s use of “overt-moralizings” has so far subverted my expectations. I understand that I’m not expected to necessarily support Dorothea’s beliefs or agree with her. But I somehow end up loving her for her opinions, for the youthful passion of her beliefs, even when they’re made up on the spot, even when they center on an innocent puppy.

–Martha Park