Prelude and Book 1

[Everyman]

MadgeUK wrote: "Reading Middlemarch alongside Tess of the D'Urbevilles I am struck by Eliot's optimism as compared with Hardy's pessimism. George Eliot described herself as neither an optimist or a pessimist but as a 'meliorist'. "

I hadn't heard that before, but think it really is a good description of her approach to life. We will see this, I think, more and more as the novel develops. For starters, we have the great dinner table exchange between Brooke and Chettam about Davy's Agricultural Chemistry. Brooke wants nothing to do with these newfangled ideas; Chettam, whether on his own initiative or to impress Dorothea (or both) is "going to take one of the farms into my own hands, and see if something cannot be done in setting a good pattern of farming among my tenants." This is very much in support of the concept of meliorism. I note that in this same sentence Eliot calls Chettam " this excellent
baronet." Isn't this a comment approving what he is about to do?

[Everyman]

Laurele wrote: "Zeke wrote: I agree with all of the above. However, Dorothea has another quality that hasn't been mentioned here. Eliot allows us to see Dorothea's tinge of disappointment at discovering that the villagers in Casaubon's parish are not as impoverished and miserable as she had hoped; they don't need her help. I think this humanized her.

Exactly. I think Dorothea does not know herself very well.
"

Perhaps not as well as Celia does.

[Silver]

Everyman wrote: "Laurele wrote: "Zeke wrote: I agree with all of the above. However, Dorothea has another quality that hasn't been mentioned here. Eliot allows us to see Dorothea's tinge of disappointment at discov..."

I find Celia to be an interesting character. I have always liked her, in spite of the fact that she does represent more of the conviviality of the Victorian woman. It is interesting to see her own insights upon Dorothea and I always enjoyed their interactions together. They do have an intriguing relationship with each other because they are so vastly different from each other.

But it is interesting the insights that Celia is able to have in relation to her sister, particularly considering that Celia does not come across as being as deep as Dorothea and Celia does tend to be more drawn towards shallower and materialistic pleasure.

Perhaps it is just the advantage of getting to see Dorothea from the outside which enables her to at times seem to have a better understanding of her sister than she is able to have of herself.

Maybe it is on account of Dorothea's intellectual pursuits as well ass her in depth religion that prevent Dorothea from grasping a full understanding of herself because she doesn't have a clear view of what she wants for herself, beyond the insatiable quench to further her knowledge

[Cynthia]

"Steven wrote: On the question of titles, I've been trying to think of other books from the period named for a town and all I could come up with is "Cranford" by Elizabeth Gaskell.

Laurele wrote: "Villette by Cha..."

And Laurel how can you forget Chronicles of Barsetshire, The Last Chronicles of Barsetshire, Little House at Allingham all by Trollope.

[Laurel]

Cynthia wrote: And Laurel how can you forget Chronicles of Barsetshire, The Last Chronicles of Barsetshire, Little House at Allingham all by Trollope.

Ah so!

[Everyman]

Although Eliot doesn't make much out of it, it's interesting that Dorothea (and Celia) are orphans. Orphan (or apparent orphan) heroes and heroines are a staple in Victorian literature (Jane Eyre, David Copperfield, Becky Sharp, Tom Jones, the wards in Jarndyce, Pip, and on and on.

But one has to wonder, would a father with a father's concern for Dorothea have consented to her marriage with Casaubon? Mr. Brooke of course doesn't have the energy or gumption to stand up to Dorothea. But a father might well.

[Silver]

Everyman wrote: "Although Eliot doesn't make much out of it, it's interesting that Dorothea (and Celia) are orphans. Orphan (or apparent orphan) heroes and heroines are a staple in Victorian literature (Jane Eyre,..."


That is an interesting question, though I also wonder, while Dorothea is certainly very headstrong and willful and seems persistent in having her own way about things, would her intellectual pursuits be more suppressed if she had a father?

Though Mr. Brooke makes jests about women's learning and education, as you have suggested, he doesn't have it in him to actively stand up to her and try to prevent her. He is more laid back in letting her do as he pleased.

But in the Victorian setting, would a father, be more resistant against Dorothea's unconventional ideas and ambitions and been more forthright in suppressing her intellectual leanings and tried to force more into a Celia role?

[[deleted user]]

Re-56: As someone else has pointed out, in some ways, Celia is the most acute at understanding Dorothea. I love the way she notes Casaubon's table manners and wonders if, some day, the scraping of his spoon while eating soup may not irritate Dorothea. (Shades of Anna K. and Karenin's ears!)

I'm not quite sure how your characterization of a "father's concern" differs from what Eliot describes as, "it was only safe to say that he would act with benevolent intentions, and that he would spend as little money as possible in carrying them out."

Did I miss it? Or is it left ambiguous why the girls have come to live with their uncle?

[Everyman]

Zeke mentioned how delightful he found the writing in the Prelude. I agree, and can't help from time to time bringing up a few passages that really make me chuckle, or pause -- there's so much richness in this book that it's easy to overlook some of the gems.

Such as this one, from early in Chapter 7: Mr. Casaubon, once engaged, finds going to the Grange to spend time with his betrothed a hindrance to his work on the Key. But he accepts this,

"having made up his mind that it was now time for him to adorn his life with the graces of female companionship, to irradiate the gloom which fatigue was apt to hang over the intervals of studious labour with the play of female fancy, and to secure in this, his culminating age, the solace of female tendance for his declining years."

It's a delightful passage in its own right. But doesn't it also say much about the perceived role of women in 1830's England, and about Casaubon himself?

First of all, Dorothea is a female, not a woman. Female is used three times, woman none. Second, the entire focus is on what she will do for him, not what he can do for her. She is to become a sort of living set of comfortable slippers and robe to ease into for comfort at the end of a long day or a long life. She is an adornment to his life, like a vase of roses in the drawing room. And what a contrast between his "studious labour" and her "female fancy."

I slip back and forth between thinking that this is intended to be a straightforward description of his expectations, and thinking of it as an ironical, almost satirical, feminist comment on women very much in line with Mr. Brooke's earlier comment on the weakness of female opinions.

[[deleted user]]

@Everyman above. Great post. But, at the same time, I don't think we should let our 20th/21st century attitudes overly influence our reading. Just imagine yourself as Casaubon; you have spent your life in study of these remote texts. Suddenly, an attractive, young woman presents herself in total devotion to you. I do agree that the contrast between "studious labor" and "female fancy" is significant. But I don't think he would see her as just a "set of comfortable slippers." I think it must be deeper than that.

[Everyman]

Zeke wrote: "I don't think he would see her as just a "set of comfortable slippers." I think it must be deeper than that. "

Let's see what you think about that when we're further into the book.

[Grace Tjan]

Everyman wrote: "Silver wrote: "Dorothea I do find to be one of the most complex characters within the book. As many of the other characters do tend..."

I think partly because she is still forming her character. ..."

I find it ironic, and eventually tragic, that the "narrow and promiscuous" education makes her intellectually ambitious, but is eventually too spotty to do her any good.

[Grace Tjan]

Everyman wrote: "Frances wrote: "On a totally different note, I know narration was used often in this period, but does anyone else find this device intrusive/distracting (for ex., "I am sorry to say that...")? What..."

Ditto. Her insightful commentaries remind me of Tolstoy's writing in War and Peace. I'm reading Daniel Deronda now, and so far (I'm still on page 100), I don't find that much insightful asides as in Middlemarch.

[Grace Tjan]

Zeke wrote: "Frances wrote: Actually, I think Dorothea's character shifts several times (first she's religious, then she's intellectual, then she's just sweet/pure as a lamb), as though the author changed her m..."

I do think that she has a kind of a 'martyr's complex' in her religiosity, especially at the beginning. I didn't like Dorothea when I first encountered her at the beginning of the book. She seems to be so uptight and moralistic, as well as somewhat cold. But I emphatized with her intellectual ambitions, even if her way to achieve them is questionable. This was the 1830's, and at that time women did not have any access to higher education or the professions. Women were allowed to learn a bit about music and painting at an amateur level (which Dorothea derides as 'small tinkling and smearing'), but the 'masculine' knowledge, such as Latin, science, theological studies etc. were only open to men. Therefore, her intellectual aspirations are actually quite subversive.

I wondered why Dorothea did not simply join a religious order, as she is religious, but apparently that option was also not open to her (in the Anglican church there was no religious order comparable to the one that St. Theresa belonged to).

[Grace Tjan]

Everyman wrote: "Zeke mentioned how delightful he found the writing in the Prelude. I agree, and can't help from time to time bringing up a few passages that really make me chuckle, or pause -- there's so much ric..."

I think Eliot repeatedly makes the point that a woman's ideal role according to that society was to be 'ornamental' --- later we will meet another female character that society considers to be the epitome of womanhood. She provides a stark contrast to Dorothea.

[MadgeUK]

...it seems that she just couldn't leave that role totally behind her...

Or perhaps she deliberately decided not to leave it behind her? I think the novel needs this highly intelligent narrative voice because without it Dorothea's actions alone, for instance, which are those of a Victorian woman, would not be enough to provide the level of depth that the narrative voice gives us. We need to delve into her being to know what drives her, and this same delving gives us insight into what drives the other characters. In this sense the novel is very pre-Freudian. Eliot's narration is omniscient in every sense of the word.

There are some interesting comments on her narrative style here:-

http://books.google.co.uk/books?id=nB...

[Sasha]

rachel wrote: "Adelle wrote: "Regarding Celia, Am I misjudging her? It strikes me that Celia wants the emeralds, thinks she herself should have them, and although she has all the rest of the jewels---"generou..."
I agree with Rachel. I interpreted the jewel incident with the jewels as a clever introduction to each character. Celia appeared to have more insight into herself and concerning Dorothea that Dorothea did. I saw it as a metaphor for Dorothea's confused perceptions. She is a complicated personality and that makes her realistic and interesting.

[Sasha]

Everyman wrote: "Zeke mentioned how delightful he found the writing in the Prelude. I agree, and can't help from time to time bringing up a few passages that really make me chuckle, or pause -- there's so much ric..."

Everyman wrote: "Zeke mentioned how delightful he found the writing in the Prelude. I agree, and can't help from time to time bringing up a few passages that really make me chuckle, or pause -- there's so much ric..."
"I slip back and forth between thinking that this is intended to be a straightforward description of his expectations, and thinking of it as an ironical, almost satirical, feminist comment on women very much in line with Mr. Brooke's earlier comment on the weakness of female opinions."

Perhaps both? Casaubon appears to be very self-centered so far. His ideas about 'females' are amazingly stereotypical, even for Victorian times. I think this shows a self-centredness in Casaubon, that he has not thought terribly deeply about 'females' and what marriage will involve beyond his own comfort. Dorothea is the 19th C version of a trophy wife.

[Betty]

After the opening Prelude about St Theresa transitioned into Book 1 Chapter 1, the home life of the Brooke family and their guests, Sir James Chettam and Mr. Casaubon, Chapter VI spreads the story outwards into the community, so the broader story begins to resemble a comedy of manners, the way of life of a community and its inhabitants. The Rector's wife Mrs Cadwallader is the link from the Brookes' home to the rest of the community. After snagging an unequal bargain with Mrs Fitchett, she chides the bachelor Mr Brooke for his political independence, revealing the tenor of the community's anti-Peel politics. She is the first outsider to know that Dorothea's preference for Casaubon controverts the town's expectations. She adds to Dorothea's frustrations on the town's claustrophobic sameness, but unlike Dorothea's quest for knowledge, Mrs Cadwallader is working towards conformity of thought. Beside the apparent community spokesperson in Mrs Cadwallader, there was some unusual contemporary vocabulary: "tumbler pigeon", "uncommuted tithe", "Thirty-nine articles", "Lowick Cicero", and "three cuttle-fish sable". These phrases added to the story's realism but this novel might still exemplify a comedy of manners.

[Everyman]

Sandybanks wrote: "I do think that she [Dorothea:] has a kind of a 'martyr's complex' in her religiosity, especially at the beginning.."

In Chapter 1, Eliot refers to Dorothea's Puritan background several times.

As to her ancestry, "there was even an ancestor discernible as a Puritan gentleman who served under Cromwell,..."

Introducing us to Mr. Brooke: "In Mr Brooke the hereditary strain of Puritan energy was clearly in abeyance; but in his niece Dorothea it glowed alike through faults and virtues,.."

Concerning the wearing of jewels: "Celia felt a little hurt. There was a strong assumption of superiority in this Puritanic toleration, hardly less trying to the blond flesh of an unenthusiastic sister than a Puritanic persecution."

This emphasis on the Puritan background and Dorothea's clear inheritance of it can hardly be accidental. Perhaps Madge can give us more insight into what this emphasis would have meant to Eliot's original audience, since the Puritan Revolution was an important part of their historical heritage (and I think the only time in centuries that a King or Queen had not sat on the throne of England).

[Frances]

Laurele wrote: "The three characteristics often inhabit the same character, Frances--I've known many pure and intelligent religious people in my lifetime."
In no way did I mean to imply that you can't be pure and intelligent and religious at the same time; rather, it seemed to me that religious people in 19th cent novels are usually focused on being as spiritual/good as they can be (like not riding, not taking jewels, etc.) rather than on such practical matters as improving housing.

[Everyman]

Asmah wrote: "After the opening Prelude about St Theresa transitioned into Book 1 Chapter 1, the home life of the Brooke family and their guests, Sir James Chettam and Mr. Casaubon, Chapter VI spreads the story ..."

Nice. Mrs. Cadwallader is one of those characters most people either like a lot or dislike a lot -- it's hard to be neutral about her!

[Grace Tjan]

Everyman wrote: "Asmah wrote: "After the opening Prelude about St Theresa transitioned into Book 1 Chapter 1, the home life of the Brooke family and their guests, Sir James Chettam and Mr. Casaubon, Chapter VI spre..."

I like her --- she's a hoot! She surely gave Casaubon his just dessert with her disparaging statements about him. She's someone who has earned the privilege of speaking her true (uncensored) mind by the virtue of being an older woman.

[Grace Tjan]

Eliot is a funny gal with a caustic sense of humor. These are some of the humorous passages that I found in Book I :

Plain women he regarded as he did the other severe facts of life, to be faced with philosophy and investigated by science. (Chap. 11) What Dr. Lydgate thinks of 'plain' women.

Mrs. Cadwallader insults Casaubon :

"He has got no good red blood in his body," said Sir James.

"No. Somebody put a drop under a magnifying-glass and it was all semicolons and parentheses," said Mrs. Cadwallader.(Chap. 8)

Mrs. Cadwallader makes fun of Casaubon's useless learning :

" ... As to his blood, I suppose the family quarterings are three cuttle-fish sable, and a comentator rampant..."(Chap. 6)

Mrs. Cadwallader is imagining Casaubon’s family crest to be one with three (ink spitting) cuttlefish and an expert who (uncontrollably) spews his knowledge. lol

Mr. Brooke comments on the condition of the tenants in Lowick :

The speckled fowls were so numerous that Mr. Brooke observed, "Your farmers leave some barley for the women to glean, I see. The poor folks here might have a fowl in their pot, as the good French king used to wish for all his people. The French eat a good many fowls - skinny fowls, you know."

"I think it was a very cheap wish of his," said Dorothea, indignantly. "Are kings such monsters that a wish like that must be reckoned a royal virtue?"

"And if he wished them a skinny fowl," said Celia, "that would not be nice. But perhaps he wished them to have fat fowls." (Chap. 9)

"Sane people did what their neighbours did, so that if any lunatics were at large, one might know and avoid them."

Someone had actually written a Ph.d thesis on the use of humor in Middlemarch, if anyone is interested. Link :

http://tutkielmat.uta.fi/pdf/gradu03592....

[Grace Tjan]

Everyman wrote: "Sandybanks wrote: "I do think that she [Dorothea:] has a kind of a 'martyr's complex' in her religiosity, especially at the beginning.."

In Chapter 1, Eliot refers to Dorothea's Puritan background..."

Thanks for reminding me of those passages, Everyman.

I don't know much about English religious history, but my impression was that Puritanism basically died out in the 18th century among the majority of people in England. It's interesting that Eliot attributes Dorothea's martyr complex to her Puritanical ancestry. But it's also quite similar to a certain kind of Catholic spirituality as exemplified by St. Theresa, with its pious asceticism and even self-mortification. I suppose that it's Eliot's way of drawing more paralells between Dorothea and St. Theresa --- perhaps in a somewhat ironic way.

I also sense the same martyr complex in Maggie Tulliver in The Mill on the Floss, although she is less religious than Dorothea.

[MadgeUK]

When we refer to someone being 'Puritan' we are not nowadays referring to the 17C religion of the Puritan Fathers but to their general conservatism about religious matters. 'Puritan culture emphasised the need for self-examination and the strict accounting for one's feelings as well as one's deeds.' (Wikipedia) This is perhaps why Eliot described Dorothea as a Puritan.

The other form of asceticism practised by those with 'puritanical' beliefs was simplicity of dress and in the first chapter we see Dorothea simply dressed and not being fussed about wearing her mother's jewels.

We also refer to the 'Puritan Work Ethic', which is based upon the Calvinist notion that hard work and the worldly success it brings is a sign of personal salvation. Dorothea seems to subscribe to the notion of hard work being beneficial to the soul.

Many of the dissenting Protestant churches and chapels - Methodist, Baptist - which broke away from the Church of England and the Catholic church in Victorian times were also very simple in both their building (non-gothic) and interior decoration. No statues of the bleeding Christ or Madonna, no golden chalices or incense, no sumptuous vestments on their priests. This could also be described as being 'puritan'.

[Everyman]

Sandybanks wrote: "Eliot is a funny gal with a caustic sense of humor. These are some of the humorous passages that I found in Book I :
."

Nice list. Note that almost all of this humor is directed at readers of intelligence and information. Much of it would pass over the heads of less literate readers. For instance, one has to know, as you point out, that cuttlefish spit out ink when disturbed, in order to get the best of that joke.

[Everyman]

MadgeUK wrote: "When we refer to someone being 'Puritan' we are not nowadays referring to the 17C religion of the Puritan Fathers but to their general conservatism about religious matters. 'Puritan culture emphas..."

Thanks, Madge. I knew you would know. Over on this side of the pond we usually think of the Puritans in terms of the first settlers in the Boston region, who are (or at least in my day used to be) usually portrayed in elementary school pageants with tall black hats and buckles on their shoes -- that's how you knew they were Puritans when they came on stage.

[Everyman]

There are two -- not quite sure what to call them, not really themes, or ways of thinking, but two aspects -- that Eliot uses in her writing.

One of them I didn't identify until I took a senior class in Middlemarch at our local library. The leader, a retired professor of English, pointed out that Eliot often used images of painting in her writing. This starts in the beginning of Chapter 1 where in describing Dorothea she writes "Her hand and wrist were so finely formed that she could wear sleeves not less bare of style than those in which the Blessed Virgin appeared to Italian painters." Then near the end of Book 1, in Chapter 12, describing Mary Garth, she writes "Rembrandt would have painted her with pleasure, and would have made her broad features look out of the canvas with intelligent honesty."

Keep an eye out for these references -- they will increase as the reading progresses.

[Everyman]

I mentioned that there were two aspects of description which Eliot employed. One is painting. The other is science. She loves to offer images, metaphors, similes through scientific references.

The quotations which Sandybanks offered above include several examples. In addition to the details of cuttlefish defense, the reference to Casaubon's red blood cells -- while red blood cells were first identified by Anton van Leeuwenhoek in 1695, but it wasn't until William Hewson in the late 18th century that their importance was recognized, and it was 1879 when Paul Ehrlich published a quick and easy technique for studying blood. This was during the time that Eliot was studying the field of medicine closely in working on Middlemarch (for reasons we'll see later in the book), and she may well have come across his work. (I'm sure some expert knows for sure, but I don't.)

The references to science start early, with Mr. Brooke saying (chap. 2) "I went into science a great deal myself at one time; but I saw it would not do. It leads to everything; you can let nothing alone." And later in that chapter, reflecting on Casaubon's elevated thoughts vs. Mr. Brooke's recent criticism of her, Dorothea thinks that "this elevating thought lifted her above her annoyance at being twitted with her ignorance of political economy, that never-explained science which was thrust as an extinguisher over all her lights."

We can keep and eye out for all the places she uses scientific and artistic references to enrich the tapestry of her writing.

[Everyman]

Talk about a "parade of horribles"; what about the epigram to Chapter 5?

"Hard students are commonly troubled with gowts,
catarrhs, rheums, cachexia, bradypepsia, bad eyes,
stone, and collick, crudities, oppilations, vertigo, winds,
consumptions, and all such diseases as come by over-much
sitting: they are most part lean, dry, ill-coloured
... and all through immoderate pains and extraordinary
studies."

This presumably is intended to refer to Casaubon. But could it also be a bit of a self-reference to George Eliot herself?

And what ARE some of these conditions, anyhow? Cachexia?? Bradypepsia?? I'm sure I have them all!!

Does this remind anybody of the passage early in Three Men in a Boat (not to mention the dog)? You can check it out here: pages 7, 8,and 9:
http://tinyurl.com/y8n82r6

[Everyman]

I wrote a few posts back about Eliot and painting images.

Here's a nice chapter on Eliot's strong interest in the visual arts.
http://www.victorianweb.org/authors/e...

I hadn't realized quite how strong her interest was. She was apparently an inveterate museum goer; as the author says, "a devoted student of pictures." She reviewed two volumes of Ruskin's Modern Painters.

This interest is echoed in her commitment in her novels to "word painting," necessary in a novel because novels do not have the visual dimension of a drama, so the reader is totally dependent on the author's skill and his or her own imagination to create the background, situations, and characters of the novel.

[Everyman]

Any thoughts on Casaubon's tender letter proposing marriage? Where on earth does Dorothea get the basis for thinking she should be grateful to him for "loving me"? The most he mentions is affection; one can have affection for a cat.

[Laurel]

Everyman wrote: "Talk about a "parade of horribles"; what about the epigram to Chapter 5?

"Hard students are commonly troubled with gowts,
catarrhs, rheums, cachexia, bradypepsia, bad eyes,
stone, and collick, cru..."

I especially like "winds."

[Laurel]

Everyman wrote: "Any thoughts on Casaubon's tender letter proposing marriage? Where on earth does Dorothea get the basis for thinking she should be grateful to him for "loving me"? The most he mentions is affecti..."

Dear Dorothea lives in a dream world.

[Dianna]

I am still trying to figure out if I like this book or not. There are some funny parts that are very subtle and almost obscure. But then I can't help comparing it to Jane Austen's book Pride and Prejudice for some reason--one of my least favorite books. I keep saying to myself, "Virginia Woolf gave this book high recommendations so I am going to try to stick it out."

[Grace Tjan]

Sandybanks wrote: "Everyman wrote: "Sandybanks wrote: "I do think that she [Dorothea:] has a kind of a 'martyr's complex' in her religiosity, especially at the beginning.."

In Chapter 1, Eliot refers to Dorothea's P..."

Thanks for clearing that up, Madge. I always associated Puritans in English history with Cromwell and the 17th century. So after the political movement died out, the ethics lived on --- well into Eliot's 1830's.

[Grace Tjan]

Everyman wrote: "There are two -- not quite sure what to call them, not really themes, or ways of thinking, but two aspects -- that Eliot uses in her writing.

One of them I didn't identify until I took a senior cl..."

I have recently finished Tess of the d'Urbervilles and I notice that Hardy also refers to paintings, mostly Renaissance and Flemish works, in his writing. I suppose that they act as visual shorthands.

[Grace Tjan]

Everyman wrote: "Talk about a "parade of horribles"; what about the epigram to Chapter 5?

"Hard students are commonly troubled with gowts,
catarrhs, rheums, cachexia, bradypepsia, bad eyes,
stone, and collick, cru..."

I also took this passage as a catalogue of bad diagnosis that medical men routinely handed out until the 19th century revolution in medical sciences rendered them obsolete.

[[deleted user]]

Laurele wrote: "Dear Dorothea lives in a dream world.

While agreeing that Dorothea wasn't seeing actuality, I would phrase it a little differently. I would word it that Dorothea --- and a good many --- dare I say "most" of the other characters, as well --- had strong pre-conceptions that over-rode their ability to see reality. And then, clinging to their pre-conceptions, they tended to interpret whatever transpired to fit with what they ALREADY thought.

Dorothea's feelings towards Casaubon--before she met him the first time---but knowing a very little about him: "venerating expectation" (7).

{The Cervantes quote at the beginning of Chapter 2: "Seest thou not yon cavalier"

My sense is that one of the themes Eliot has written into Middlemarch is "How truthfully do any of us see?"}

Sir James ..."not having felt her mode of answering him at all offensive. Why should he? He thought it probably that Miss Brooke liked him, and manners must be very marked indeed before they cease to be interpreted by preconceptions either confidient or distrustful" (17).

"Miss Brooke argued from words and dispositions not less unhesitatingly than other young ladies of her age. Signs are small things, but interpretations are illimitable... (21).

"The thought that he had made the mistake of paying his address to herself could not take shape; all her mental activity was used up in persuasions of another kind" (26).

"Sir James interpreted the heightened colour in the way most gratifying to himself" (26).

Casaubon in his "love" note to Dorothea "that fitness which I had preconceived" (38).

Mrs. Cadwallader (WHAT A CHARACTER)on learning that Dorothea would not be marrying Sir James: "that it should not take place after she had preconceived it, caused her an irritation which every thinker will sympathise with" (55). [Will this alter her feelings/opinions on Dorothea? And since she's the village gossip, will this alter the people's feelings/opinions towards Dorothea? I can't remember, so it's a legitimate, non-spoiler type of question, I think.:]

"Ladislaw had made up his mind that she must be an unpleasant girl" (75).

Other characters, too.

[Thomas]

Dianna wrote: "I am still trying to figure out if I like this book or not. There are some funny parts that are very subtle and almost obscure. But then I can't help comparing it to Jane Austen's book Pride and ..."

I am of a similar opinion, but the comments here are helping me to appreciate the book a little more. Getting used to reading six or seven dependent clauses connected by a semicolon to another long chain (offset by the occasional parenthetical statement) seems to be half the battle. So far I have to say I like it better than Pride and Prejudice though.

[MadgeUK]

Everyman wrote: "I wrote a few posts back about Eliot and painting images.

Here's a nice chapter on Eliot's strong interest in the visual arts.
http://www.victorianweb.org/authors/e...

I hadn't re..."

Public parks, Public Museums and Art Galleries were great philanthropic endeavours of the Victorians and where many of them went on a Sunday afternoon after church:):) The National Gallery, in Trafalgar Square, was opened in 1838. Eliot's strong interest in Renaissance painting was perhaps because of her visit to Italy in the 1860s where she did research for her novel Romola.

http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/pai...

[MadgeUK]

Everyman wrote: 'She is to become a sort of living set of comfortable slippers and robe to ease into for comfort...'

Great analogy Everyman! And I like your observation about the use of 'female' and 'woman'.

[Betty]

Chapter VIII's conversation between Chettam and Dorothea and among Chettam and Elinor and Humphrey Cadwallader illustrate how well Chettam is handling the unexpected crisis in his romantic expectations. The answer is pretty responsibly. He continues to carry out Dorothea's designs for the cottages and begins to enjoy unencumbered conversations with her. At the Cadwalladers is where he discusses what is going on with her and Casaubon and why Brooke hasn't guided the underage girl. However much he listens openly to Rector Cadwallader's views opposing his own, Casaubon's goodhearted assistance to female family members does not make the forty-five-year-old scholar a suitable partner for Dorothea. Though Casaubon surprised the Rector with his stand on the Catholic Question, Dorothea is neither his own daughter nor is there much apparently wrong with Casaubon. So, Chettam is not encouraged to pursue an alteration of events.

In Chapter IX Dorothea's betrothal continues amiably and displays her faith in the future. Her favorable impression of Lowick's interior differs from Celia's preference for Chettam's decor. However, Casaubon's summary response to the Brookes' inquiry into the photos of his mother and aunt leaves answered questions. And, Dorothea adopts a submissive demeanor when she refuses to opine about personal alterations to Casaubon's manor-house and her boudoir, leaving the initiative to Celia--quite unlike her active input in the design and implementation of the cottage plans.

Eliot develops characters by setting their ideas apart from other character's opposing ideas on the same topic.

[[deleted user]]

Adelle's post (number 90) was great. I will definitely look for future examples of this. It also made me think of how sometimes authors expect us to figure things out for ourselves instead of telling us. As others have noted, Eliot seems to be an author who tells us everything she wants us to know, but I am still not convinced that her truth is always going to be my opinion.

Dorothea provides one example. More than others I have a measure of tolerance for her foolish misperceptions. She is, after all, an intelligent, young girl, living in a small town that, as far as I can tell, has not offered much in the way of role models or appropriate male company.

[Everyman]

Adelle wrote: "{The Cervantes quote at the beginning of Chapter 2: "Seest thou not yon cavalier"

My sense is that one of the themes Eliot has written into Middlemarch is "How truthfully do any of us see?"} "

Yes, isn't that a wonderful quotation to open the chapter which introduces Casaubon? It's one (of many) cases where we need to go back to the epigram after we read the chapter to be able to say, "oh, THAT'S why she included that epigram!"

And you are certainly right, and I think will be proved right again and again as the book proceeds, about the question of how accurately any of us understand either ourselves or other people. Dorothea certainly sees Casaubon through a lens that, as we look at the case, badly distorts her vision of him. But we will see this coming up again -- let's keep an eye out for this theme!

[Everyman]

Asmah wrote: "Chapter VIII's conversation between Chettam and Dorothea and among Chettam and Elinor and Humphrey Cadwallader illustrate how well Chettam is handling the unexpected crisis in his romantic expectat..."

It suggests to me that he wasn't really in love with Dorothea, but just wanted to be married to any acceptable candidate, and was happy to fall in with Mr. Brooke's plan to merge their estates by marriage. In fact, so far I haven't seen anybody in what I would call love of another person for that person's sake. Which may reflect that in the 1830s England was still in the mode of marriage as contract more than romance; that it was more a matter of a man's obligation to provide for a woman and a woman's obligation to care for a man and his household, and for both together to provide children for the future, but not a heck of a lot more than that.

[[deleted user]]

Regarding #94, Asmah's observation on Dorothea's decision not to ask for any alterations in the house---quite unlike her active input in the design and implementation of the cottage plans.

I hadn't spotted that condradiction, but "Exactly." Here's she been SO involved in domicle plans for some weeks or months...and she has not one suggestion to make. I had to go back and reread the scene and to wonder why didn't she put forward suggestions?

Dorothea, on the tour, "with delightful emotion," is thinking that everything is "all she could wish."

I don't know. I wish we had a little insight into what the past 10 years of Dorothea's life were like. She was a little older than Celia. Was she so much more aware, growing up, that she and Celia were beholden to others to take care of them? (I won't ask for anything. I'll help all I can. I don't need anything for myself.) I don't know; but I wonder.

It's almost as though it never occurs to her that she deserves any pleasures or any life of her own. {And mind, like Zeke, I a measure of tolerance towards her. Maybe more than a measure. I'm routing for her.}

She seemingly, easily, acquiesces to the plain clothes.

She doesn't push for her mother's jewelry. (It's all yours Celia. But then a flash of light through the emeralds calls to her and she lets herself keep a couple of pieces. And really, as the eldest daughter, she SHOULD have some of her mother's jewelry.)(I'm hoping that a flash of light will penetrate Dorothea's life and let her access a little of what Dorothea herself might want.)



I wonder how she could NOT see that Sir James was there to court her. And misattributes his attentions as directed towards Celia.

Perhaps she was engaged with the cottage project because she felt the cottagers needed her help.

Sir James didn't need her help; Casaubon did. (And he was learned---and could help her grow---and therefore validate her life. "I have known so few ways of making my life good for anything" [73:].)

Maybe that's part of the St. Teresa allusion. A life directed towards others.

Even the one thing she really enjoys, riding horses, she feels she has to deny herself.

To me, it's almost as though she doesn't feel she as a right to exist just as herself, but must earn it.

I don't know.

But that point about her having no suggestions in the very field in which she seemed to have an interest struck me as intriguing.

[[deleted user]]

Everyman wrote: "Asmah wrote: "Chapter VIII's conversation between Chettam and Dorothea and among Chettam and Elinor and Humphrey Cadwallader illustrate how well Chettam is handling the unexpected crisis in his rom..."

That was my impression, too: that he wasn't in love with Dorothea. I gave him some points for speaking up to Cadwallader regarding the appropriateness of Dorothea marrying someone so much older. And then I had to take some of those points back, because had he really wanted to try to stop or postpone the marriage, the uncle would have been the man for him to speak to.

I give him mixed motives: he really doesn't want Dorothea to marry an old man; he clears his conscience by "doing what he can" (my words, not his); and in going to the Caldwalladers and speaking coolly, calmly, reasonably, word will get out that Sir James isn't pine-ing away, isn't feeling himself dumped.

Like your point about what marriages were mostly based on in the 1830s.

[MadgeUK]

The Middlemarch neighbours comment somewhere on the fact that Dorothea and Celia needed a mother to advise them about marriage and at a time when young women had almost no opportunity to get to know men, advice must have been sorely needed. I think Dorothea confuses love with duty. When Casaubon writes what we can see is a cold letter of proposal she 'could not look at it critically as a profession of love...Her whole soul was possessed by the fact that a fuller life was opening up before her....All [her:] passion was transfused through a mind struggling towards an ideal life; the radiance of her transfigured girlhood fell on the first object that became within its level and she replies that she is 'very grateful' that he thinks her worthy to be his wife. I think this is a very touching paragraph illustrating her thoughts after her acceptance, which illustrates both her naivety and need of advice:

'Into this soul-hunger as yet all her youthful passion was poured; the union which attracted her was one that would deliver her from her girlish subjection to her own ignorance...."I should learn everything then...It would be my duty to study that I might help him the better in his great works. There would be nothing trivial about our lives. Every-day things with us would mean the greatest things. It would be like marrying Pascal. I should learn to see the truth by the same light as great men have seen it by. And then I should know what to do, when I got older: I should see how it was possible to lead a grand life here - now - in England. I don't feel sure about doing good in any way now: everything seems like going on a mission to a people whose language I don't know; - unless it were building good cottages - there can be no doubt about that. Oh, I hope I should be able to get the people well housed in Lowick! I will draw plenty of plans while I have time.'

Of the characters so far, Susan and Caleb Garth seem to have the most loving relationship and communicate a lot with each other. Caleb would take 'no important step without Susan and '...if Susan had said that they ought to live in a four roomed cottage, in order to save, he would have said "let's go".' When Caleb says he will do his best for Fred Vincy Mrs Garth 'had one large tear rolling down her face before her husband had finished. It came from the pressure of various feelings, in which there was much affection and some vexation....She rose and kissed him, saying "God Bless you Caleb! Our children have a good father.'