the idealistic in the real

Week 5 | analyzing week four and getting into our next chapters

Welcome to the Closely Reading book club, where we closely read classic literature together and discuss assigned chapters each week. Right now, we’re reading George Eliot’s Middlemarch. You’re welcome to join us any time!

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let’s talk chapters 17-23

These chapters were so incredibly good!

Now that we’ve all been sharing themes and topics we’re tracking, I’ve really started to see little sparks flying in every chapter — from obsessions with the “ideal,” to political influences on religion (and vice versa) and through to the marital tensions we saw racing toward Dorothea…this was a satisfying week where many of our core plot lines soared forward.

• We saw Lydgate cast his vote for Tyke (and therefore align with Mr. Bulstrode)

• We saw Dorothea sobbing in Rome, dissatisfied with her current relationship with Casaubon and her inability to find ways to be “useful” to him

• We saw Dorothea through two different perspectives: the artist’s keen eye and appreciation for beauty; Ladislaw’s gentle eye that seems to be worried about how his second cousin is treating his “adorable creature” of a wife

• We saw Dorothea start to prefer spending time with Ladislaw to being alone

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a moment of ekphrasis

Personally, I knew I was in for a treat when we got a whole chapter about Dorothea being seen by an artist. Chapter 19 was absolutely fantastic—and reminded me of the pieces of writing that inspired me to pick my dissertation topic ten years ago! I’ve always been really drawn to scenes in nineteenth-century novels that deal with artistry, objectivity, and subjectivity — it’s a fascinating little triangulation that always sparks a lot of intellectual energy for me.

(Remember that tableaux vivants chapter in The House of Mirth?)

Eliot employs a literary technique called ekphrasis as she describes the art in the gallery. We can look closer at how she leverages this technique in chapter 19.

In chapter 19, Dorothea wanders through a Roman gallery and pauses, after a disagreement with Casaubon (as we learned in a later chapter) near the Sleeping Ariadne. As she stands, contemplative and disappointed, the German painter and Ladislaw see her:

“another figure, standing against a pedestal near the reclining marble: a breathing blooming girl, whose form, not shamed by the Ariadne, was clad in Quakerism grey drapery; her long cloak, fastened at the neck, was thrown backward from her arms, and one beautiful ungloved hand pillowed her cheek, pushing somewhat backward the white beaver bonnet which made a sort of halo to her face around the simply braided dark-brown hair.”

Notice how Eliot writes about Dorothea and the Sleeping Ariadne in such similar language: using the vocabulary of painting and fine arts. Like the arresting statue of marble draperies, Dorothea is likewise striking and artful. She is “not shamed” in comparison to a fine work of art. Instead, she beams as “a breathing blooming girl” next to the evocative, sensual sculpture.

I love the juxtaposition of Dorothea with the “reclining Ariadne then called the Cleopatra.”

I had to brush up on my mythology knowledge to unpack the dimensions Eliot brings with these references — and there are many versions and variations of Ariadne’s story. She’s most commonly tied to stories about mazes, Minotaurs, and labyrinths. She is best known for helping Theseus escape the Minotaur—and then being seen by Dionysus, who falls in love immediately and later marries her.

In chapter 19, Ladislaw and the painter gaze upon Dorothea near the Ariadne and both seem to fall in love with her instantly:

“There lies antique beauty,” says the painter of the statue, “not corpse-like even in death, but arrested in the complete contentment of its sensuous perfection: and here stands beauty in its breathing life, with the consciousness of Christian centuries in its bosom.” (Chapter 19)

The juxtaposition here — of the “dead” marble and the “breathing life” of Dorothea — is so striking. Even as the painter notes that life that seems to undulate in the marble, there is the undeniable beauty of the real. Such a comparison reminds me, so much, of conversations we’ve had in past weeks about “ideals" versus “reals.”

(Later, the painter will flatter Casaubon to sit for a portrait of Saint Aquinas, by telling Casaubon that his head is “the idealistic in the real,” or the perfect model for the painting he needs to complete.)

I can’t help but wonder if Casaubon will become, like Theseus, someone who depends on a young woman to save him from his own labyrinthine ambitions — only to leave her behind once he’s gotten what he needs. Is the German painter Dionysis, that lover of fine wines and pleasure, who falls in love with Dorothea (as a model) at a single glance?

What about Ladislaw? We know he’s seeking pleasure and freedom, especially in ways that divert from the traditional pathways expected of him. Is Ladislaw in love at first sight? Is he going to look after Dorothea, even as she remains stuck in an unsatisfying marriage with his second cousin?

Sleeping Ariadne

Sleeping Ariadne, another view

Above are two different views of the same Sleeping Ariadne. Below, a photo of the Medici Sleeping Ariadne, which was on display at Villa Medici in Rome until 1787, when it was moved to Florence. I read that it is now on display, today, at Uffizi Gallery.

The Medici Sleeping Ariadne

Eliot’s narration is magnificent as she brings the statue to life:

“where the reclining Ariadne then called Cleopatra, lies in the marble voluptuousness of her beauty, the drapery folding around her with a petal-like ease and tenderness.”

This whole chapter is full of “ekphrastic” moments, where Eliot’s narrator brings together descriptions of the artwork itself—that beautiful depiction of the statue—while also using ekphrastic language to describe and depict Dorothea.

I loved that, later, Dorothea and Ladislaw discuss their preferences for language and the written arts over painting and sculpture (the “plastik arts”). Eliot is weaving a wide and beautifully complex web of implications and cultural connections here. I want more!!!

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favorite quote

Each week, I share my favorite quote from our assigned pages. If you had one this week, please share it in the comments!

Here is my favorite from this week:

“I am seeing so much all at once, and not understanding half of it.”

Oh, was I feeling for Dorothea when she expressed this feeling to Ladislaw.

As she traverses her Roman honeymoon and realizes her ideas for a good marriage with Casaubon are decreasing with every dashed hope, I was so struck by the way she articulated this overwhelm at all the art in Rome.

As I read and re-read the scene, I was thinking about how Dorothea must be in constant overwhelm in Rome. Not just from the amount of culture and art she is experiencing, but also from the shock of Casaubon’s depth of disinterest in her as a partner.

“She had married the man of her choice,” yes, but that choice has reared unexpected and unhappy results. Dorothea must be overwhelmed at this realization; and it made me wonder if she’ll also start to lose some of her fiery personality and feel doubtful in her ability to make good choices in the future…?

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what we are reading this week (week 5)

Here we go into week 4! Here’s your assignment

Week 5: Monday, June 23
Read chapters 24-33 (to the end of Book 3) this week

You can view the full reading schedule here.

You can pose your questions here (or in the comments of today’s post!)

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let’s keep reading!

Head into the comments to share your thoughts on the reading.

And remember: be nice and do not spoil anything we haven’t read yet!

Some questions to guide you:

• What did you make of Lydgate’s decision to vote for Tyke? That was the toughest chapter for me; I had a hard time following his inner battle, because I was losing track of all the parties he was considering and all the names of people in the chapter!

• How did you react to learning about Dorothea’s sadness? I was heartbroken to read the chapter about Dorothea crying alone in her room. It was such a tragic “portrait of a lady,” and reminded me very much of Henry James’s Isabel Archer, who sits before a roaring fire and aches about her marriage…(I’ll be looking for more similarities as the novel unfolds, especially knowing that James had many thoughts about Eliot!)

• Are you cheering for anyone in the novel right now? Any favorite characters? Are any of your previous preferences starting to shift?

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