I’ve gotten so into the reading that I actually read ahead yesterday (was on a train for several hours so had the time). Kinda unbelievable given my collegiate dislike for this novel!
Re: Dorothea, I grew to like her a lot more in this week’s reading, because there’s a lot more of her coming to terms with her mistakes and engaging with things she doesn’t understand rather than dismissing them. I am really enjoying her dynamic with Will! Even so, Mary Garth is still my fave. I cheer every time I see her. She deserves so much more than she’s got. She deserves a medal! She deserves a ticker tape parade!! I love her in a way that is borderline parasocial.
Also, I just read that Henry James quote about Eliot herself being plain to look at but bewitching as a human being and I think Mary being the character most like her totally tracks.
I am someone who likes to just forge ahead and trample through rather than taking time and I have been really careful to match the pacing suggested each week and honestly-- it makes me *miss* the characters and gives me time to marinate? A happy surprise as someone who does not have patience as one of my virtues.
The quote that I cannot get out of my head this week is: "What is that, my love?" said Mr. Casaubon (he always said "my love" when his manner was the coldest.) (pg 215). This hit me like a slap, it's such a throwaway moment to some degree because we just push forward but the mismatch between Casaubon saying the "right words" and acting in such a cold manner, the passive aggressiveness of that is so beyond. I am ready to throw Casaubon into the nearest dumpster. Re: Dorothea, I keep having the Taylor Swift lyric "how can a person know everything at 18, and nothing at 22?" rattling around. No one is ever quite as sure of themselves as you are at 18 and then you get absolutely knocked down when you try and launch into the world and it calls EVERYTHING into question. I feel terrible for her as she was sure she knew it all, but she is learning how little she actually understands. I work as a therapist in my day job and I primarily see adolescents and it is actually incredible how much this translates forever in how young people exist and experience the world. Eliot truly pulled a timeless theme, it's almost hard to watch.
I marked the quote in Chapter 20: ..."we begin by knowing little and believing much, and we sometimes end by inverting the quantities." I also worked with adolescents, and this passage struck such a chord with me about how our sense of certainty can change as we develop.
She seemed so much older in that opening scene where she was reviewing the jewels with Celia. Now she is so far away from her experience and expectations that she seems so young and lost.
I’m grossly behind but have been enjoying the comments/reflections every week, as well as reading Middlemarch “gothically” (my reading lens). The Chapter 19 passages Haley highlighted seem ripe with gothic goodies: isolation and entrapment; sublime setting; the split/contrast between “Quaker grey” and “the consciousness of Christian centuries in her bosom” to the sensual forms of the reclining Ariadne; preserved and entombed beauty, a frozen ideal. And, more! This week’s overview has me fired up to get back into it.
Okayyyy the gothic lens sounds sooooo perfect for this novel! The emphasis on the statue being strangely alive in its movement and form was so fascinating to me—and now you’re helping me realize it’s probably so evocative because it’s so gothic!!
Honestly, I'm finding the chapters where politics are discussed not very engaging. I'm sure that Eliot will tie all of these ends together (perhaps there is significance in Lydgate backing Tyke?), but they don't make for page-turning scenes.
I wish I could feel more sympathy for Dorothea, weeping in Rome. I think she knew her marriage to Casaubon would be a disappointment, even if she hoped otherwise. I found Eliot explaining that marriage is an "enclosed basin" hilarious. I guess it was common during this time to feel stuck with your spouse once married. Dorothea is obviously an intelligent woman; you'd think Dorothea would have spent more time thinking about her decision to marry Casaubon if there was a risk experiencing "fits of anger or repulsion." The title of Book 2: Old and Young, is aptly titled. Casaubon and Will Ladislaw are opposing forces in Dorothea's life. I can't wait to see how this turns out!
My favorite quote in this section:
"To those who have looked at Rome with the quickening power of a knowledge which breathes a growing soul into all historic shapes, and traces out the suppressed transitions which unite all contrasts, Rome may still be the spiritual centre and interpreter of the world."
Poor Dorothea! A permanent punishment for being very sheltered 19-year-old, who means so well, and whose ideals mislead her into choosing so badly. If she were more selfish, she would have made a better choice.
I also found myself going further than the reading this week! Really feel like Dorthea is blossoming into such an interesting character now that we've gotten to sit with her through some difficulties. She's the character I want to keep going back to when we move to someone else. Although the Garth family is also lovely and very interesting
Watching her natural sympathy expand into an understanding that Casaubon "had an equivalent center of self, whence the lights and shadows must always fall with a certain difference," is one of the most satisfying character arcs in literature, IMO.
In Chapter 22, Dorothea and Will are discussing beauty and Dorothea is struggling to find meaning in the art around her, so focused is she on doing things for others. Will speaks my favorite quote of this section: "The best piety is to enjoy - when you can. You are doing the most then to save the earth's character as an agreeable planet. And enjoyment radiates."
George Eliot pins our humanity to the page, and I am astonished every time I read something that strikes me as true for us now, as it was for her 150 years ago.
I agree with you, Haley; Chapter 19 is fantastic! Since the beginning of the chapter, Eliot is preparing us to enjoy: "Romanticism, which has helped to fill some dull blanks with love and knowledge, had not yet penetrated the times with its leaven and entered into everybody's food; it was fermenting still...". And when Eliot describes Dorothea's figure, before we knew it was her, it was so vivid. These lovely parts of the readings for this week contrast with the sadness of Dorothea. We knew the disappointment would happen, but I didn't expect it to be that radical and so soon! I was almost crying with this: "Having once embarked on your marital voyage, it is impossible not to be aware that you make no way and that the sea is not within sight - that, in fact, you are exploring an enclosed basin".
Regarding your questions, I like Ladislaw more now; he is deeply in love with Dorothea and defends her fiercely. It is comforting to know that Dorothea has him in a way to relieve her loneliness.
It is very good to know there are similarities with Henry James, as The Portrait of a Lady is in my TBR list :-)
And my favourite quote is this one: "To be a poet is to have a soul so quick to discern, that no shade of quality escapes it, and so quick to feel, that discernment is but a hand playing with finely ordered on the chords of emotion".
Those languid scenes in the museums of Rome where Dorothea is coming to terms with disillusionment and how she'll adjust her expectations seem from a different novel than those characterizing daily life in Middlemarch.
I love your comments Haley. Reading this week’s assignment I was struck by Dorothea’s absence since the end of Chapter 10 and her “reappearance “ in Chapter 19. That cliffhanger then focused on Lydgate and other characters. I was anxious to read about her again. I read that this novel was published in installments and it made me wonder if that omission of Dorothea was intentional to get people to buy further installments.
I don't know where to start. I'm glad Dorothea is back. If I weren't also invested in the close reading process, I'd be skipping through the book to follow the threads of her storyline.
Back in Middlemarch, Lydgate's desire for a hospital where he can pursue his medical goals draws him into a web of entangled loyalties that I'm not sure he'll be able to escape. "Confound their petty politics!" I'm sure I'm missing a lot of what Eliot means to convey as she lines up her characters with the two different clergymen. My historical knowledge of the religious and political issues isn't robust enough to tease out the underlying commentary. It is clear that those who don't conform to the norm, like Lydgate and Brooks, can only retain independence of thought if they also retain an independent means of livelihood.
I'm confused about the practice of medicine in this time period. The terms physician, general practitioner, doctor, and surgeon have all been used, but I'm not sure if they are synonyms or indicate different ranks and skills. Pasteur and germ theory come later and have yet to transform medical practice. It seems anatomy and physiology in relation to illness are actively being explored, as it was mentioned earlier that Lydgate was experimenting with frogs and rabbits. Other than provide elaborate prescriptions I'm not sure what services are provided by any of the several Middlemarch doctors that have been mentioned.
And then there is Fred Vincy still making irritatingly bad decisions and who still can't pay his debt. Mainly because of Mary Garth I want to see how he gets out of this, and I hope she doesn't get dragged into his mess.
I found this footnote in the broadview edition helpful for understanding the different medical practitioner terms used here:
“In ascending order of prestige, GE replicates the hierarchy of the English medical profession less than two decades after the passage of the Apothecaries Act of 1815: apothecaries, a notch above wizards and alchemists, were on the bottom of the totem pole; surgeons or general practitioners, who treated but did not diagnose diseases or prescribe their therapies, occupied the middle ground; and physicians, who recommended but did not actually provide treatment, enjoyed the most prestige and were almost social equals of their middle- and upper-class patients. Equipped with state-of-the-art training in anatomy and medicine, Lydgate violates tradition by seeking to blur these well-established guild-like distinctions.”
My favorite passage is when the narrator explains that people are unlikely to find it tragic that a young bride is crying on her honeymoon, because her sadness "is not unusual, and we do not expect people to be deeply moved by what is not unusual." And then the narrator (1) suggests that it is, in fact tragic precisely *because* it is so common, and then (2) speculates that maybe our insensitivity is protective, because we couldn't bear it if we were sensible of all the heartache and suffering and feelings around us:
"That element of tragedy which lies in the very fact of frequency, has not yet wrought itself into the coarse emotion of mankind; and perhaps our frames could hardly bear much of it. If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrels heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence. As it is, the quickest of us walk about well wadded with stupidity."
To add: I actually love the narrator, who is capable of dry humor, clear moral insight, and deep compassion for the struggles and limitations of human beings.
I've been thinking a lot about how Lydgate would respond to the moral dilemma obviously heading his way. I am not surprised he sided with his medical future rather than his friend, Mr. Farebrother, despite Tyke being someone "no one could bear" and "suspected of cant" (which I had to look up). Yet, I had so hoped Lydgate could somehow withstand the pressure.
I do not know that awarding the chaplain job will significantly affect the lives of Farebrother or Tyke, though the hospital patients have to suffer a chaplain who seems rather nauseating. But I fear what this will do to Lydgate over time. Will he pack up his ideals? Will he make excuses? Did the bad guys win?
Whoa! Has he started down the slippery slope? Or does he just not think it's that big a deal? I'd think the latter except for the fact that in the end he starts to make excuses for his decision. "Lydgate thought that there was a pitiable infirmity of will in Mr. Farebrother."
The post facto justifications are definitely a tell! And also very sad and so very human -- I think he knows what he's doing on some level and has to rationalize it to maintain his sense of himself as independent. You really see how even these little decisions can change a person's character and affect his integrity
I also think that it does affect Farebrother quite a lot. The income would have made a huge difference to him, what with all the people he has to support, and possibly even (as Lydgate recognized) allowed him to stop gambling. And yet Farebrother doesn't hold it against him (and Bulstrode probably would).
Even Farebrother, who seems too good to be real, has the gambling as a potential derailer to his integrity - another slippery slope following a utilitarian choice. I love how the characters are "so very human", as you put it.
1. Lydgate quoting this great Voltaire line - "incantations will destroy a flock of sheep if administered with a certain quantity of arsenic. I look for the man who will bring the arsenic, and don't mind about his incantations." (and then Farebrother, charmingly: "Very good. But then you must not offend your arsenic-man. You will not offend me, you know.")
2. I really empathize with Lydgate struggling with all the political optics and religious concerns when he just wants to think about how to optimize for how to provide good healthcare and medical research.
It's also an interesting conundrum, sort of virtue ethics vs utilitarianism. Voting for the religious guy who'll give you a good hospital is utilitarian, whereas virtue ethics would say to vote for the person who better embodies the correct virtues (and perhaps beliefs).
Personally, as someone who only argues for virtue ethics when I think doing so has utilitarian value, I can't fault Lydgate for his choice. Though it does feel quite risky.
I'm interested to see how Lydgate's philosophy reacts with Dorothea's religiosity over time.
3. It took me a few reads of the bit where Lydgate was intending to "obscure the limit between his own rank as a general practitioner and that of the physicians" to understand what was going on here. Lydgate is this over-educated young upstart who isn't really paying attention to the old social professional lines and in fact seems to want to break them down in the interest of pure goal-oriented rationality, and perhaps doesn't even think about what that may mean to other medical professionals around him. I think.
4. Fred! I've met so many of him, the people who trust in the universe to make everything okay for them, with the alternative unthinkable! (I'm in Tolstoy mode this year, so he really reminded me of Nikolai Rostov, too!)
With the return to Dorothea in Rome and her realization that her marriage is a disaster, this novel kicks into gear. When I read it the first time, I know I started romping through it by this point, regardless of Lydgate and the politics that he seems to gets dragged into without much thought beyond his own advancement.
Haley, you ask who I’m rooting for, and it’s definitely Dorothea. Other commenters have said really interesting things about her adolescent quality of certainty - yes! She seems very grown up until her beliefs are challenged, and when they are, she is overwhelmed with shame, pity, despair, and (I’m sure of it) much suppressed rage. Thanks to all for pointing out how young she is - and how much growing up she has yet to do.
With this second read, I continue to be impressed by how usual Dorothea’s storyline is - this is so far from the traditional marriage plot or a romance novel, even though romance is a factor (for good and ill). This time around I’ve also been struck by the discussions of art, life, and creativity - and I love them. I’m with Will when he says, “the best piety is to enjoy - when you can.”
I actually really learned to appreciate Dorothea in this week's reading. I found her sort of insufferable when we first met her, perhaps because she was so fanatical and those sorts annoy me. She becomes a real person here for me. She feels frustrated and sad and cries as a response to something that happens around her, and not just what's happening inside of her. I loved the messiness of the love triangle -- between (not-uncle) uncle, nephew, and uncle's young wife. It's interesting that we can actually get to know a bit more about D. via the observations of others. When she's in the studio, posing, and enjoying it, enjoying her husband's "veneration," we can see her naive pleasure, while we see the other characters' frustrations, hesitations, and machinations.
I was struck by how much D. in this section reminds me of Lila in Ferrante's quartet. An egghead once told me Ferrante is such a Victorian novelist, and I had no idea what he meant by that. But now I'm beginning to see that more and more. The entire village is important to the overall story, and the characters grow in years, yes, but mostly in the depths of emotions they're forced to feel. I totally adored Ferrante's quartet and I'm willing to bet the $40 bucks I just lost in Vegas this past weekend that she was insanely influenced by Eliot's novel.
Favorite quote is courtesy of Mrs. C, herself in chapter 21: "'It is painful to be told that anything is very fine and not be able to feel that it is fine -- something like being blind while people talk of the sky.'" D. is talking about art here and not being able to "get" it, and I was like, "big same, honey," wrt to this novel. It's such a strange experience for me! There are some sections (ch. 19, odd one out; all the Lydegate/election mess) that just bore me to tears. I actively dislike reading the novel at those points. But then there are some elements that I really do like a lot. I think the approach of just taking the whole impression of the novel, as opposed to trying to "examine the pictures one by one" might be the way for me to get the most out of the book. So, henceforth, I'm gonna try to relax a bit more while reading and reserve the right to gloss over sections that are just not doing it for me if I can't get them after a couple of tries.
I’ve gotten so into the reading that I actually read ahead yesterday (was on a train for several hours so had the time). Kinda unbelievable given my collegiate dislike for this novel!
Re: Dorothea, I grew to like her a lot more in this week’s reading, because there’s a lot more of her coming to terms with her mistakes and engaging with things she doesn’t understand rather than dismissing them. I am really enjoying her dynamic with Will! Even so, Mary Garth is still my fave. I cheer every time I see her. She deserves so much more than she’s got. She deserves a medal! She deserves a ticker tape parade!! I love her in a way that is borderline parasocial.
Also, I just read that Henry James quote about Eliot herself being plain to look at but bewitching as a human being and I think Mary being the character most like her totally tracks.
I am someone who likes to just forge ahead and trample through rather than taking time and I have been really careful to match the pacing suggested each week and honestly-- it makes me *miss* the characters and gives me time to marinate? A happy surprise as someone who does not have patience as one of my virtues.
The quote that I cannot get out of my head this week is: "What is that, my love?" said Mr. Casaubon (he always said "my love" when his manner was the coldest.) (pg 215). This hit me like a slap, it's such a throwaway moment to some degree because we just push forward but the mismatch between Casaubon saying the "right words" and acting in such a cold manner, the passive aggressiveness of that is so beyond. I am ready to throw Casaubon into the nearest dumpster. Re: Dorothea, I keep having the Taylor Swift lyric "how can a person know everything at 18, and nothing at 22?" rattling around. No one is ever quite as sure of themselves as you are at 18 and then you get absolutely knocked down when you try and launch into the world and it calls EVERYTHING into question. I feel terrible for her as she was sure she knew it all, but she is learning how little she actually understands. I work as a therapist in my day job and I primarily see adolescents and it is actually incredible how much this translates forever in how young people exist and experience the world. Eliot truly pulled a timeless theme, it's almost hard to watch.
I marked the quote in Chapter 20: ..."we begin by knowing little and believing much, and we sometimes end by inverting the quantities." I also worked with adolescents, and this passage struck such a chord with me about how our sense of certainty can change as we develop.
She seemed so much older in that opening scene where she was reviewing the jewels with Celia. Now she is so far away from her experience and expectations that she seems so young and lost.
Yes, it's so timeless, so modern
I’m grossly behind but have been enjoying the comments/reflections every week, as well as reading Middlemarch “gothically” (my reading lens). The Chapter 19 passages Haley highlighted seem ripe with gothic goodies: isolation and entrapment; sublime setting; the split/contrast between “Quaker grey” and “the consciousness of Christian centuries in her bosom” to the sensual forms of the reclining Ariadne; preserved and entombed beauty, a frozen ideal. And, more! This week’s overview has me fired up to get back into it.
Okayyyy the gothic lens sounds sooooo perfect for this novel! The emphasis on the statue being strangely alive in its movement and form was so fascinating to me—and now you’re helping me realize it’s probably so evocative because it’s so gothic!!
Honestly, I'm finding the chapters where politics are discussed not very engaging. I'm sure that Eliot will tie all of these ends together (perhaps there is significance in Lydgate backing Tyke?), but they don't make for page-turning scenes.
I wish I could feel more sympathy for Dorothea, weeping in Rome. I think she knew her marriage to Casaubon would be a disappointment, even if she hoped otherwise. I found Eliot explaining that marriage is an "enclosed basin" hilarious. I guess it was common during this time to feel stuck with your spouse once married. Dorothea is obviously an intelligent woman; you'd think Dorothea would have spent more time thinking about her decision to marry Casaubon if there was a risk experiencing "fits of anger or repulsion." The title of Book 2: Old and Young, is aptly titled. Casaubon and Will Ladislaw are opposing forces in Dorothea's life. I can't wait to see how this turns out!
My favorite quote in this section:
"To those who have looked at Rome with the quickening power of a knowledge which breathes a growing soul into all historic shapes, and traces out the suppressed transitions which unite all contrasts, Rome may still be the spiritual centre and interpreter of the world."
Poor Dorothea! A permanent punishment for being very sheltered 19-year-old, who means so well, and whose ideals mislead her into choosing so badly. If she were more selfish, she would have made a better choice.
She's taken the then-common teachings about womanhood to the extreme, and so blames herself whenever she has anger or doesn't accept something.
I also found myself going further than the reading this week! Really feel like Dorthea is blossoming into such an interesting character now that we've gotten to sit with her through some difficulties. She's the character I want to keep going back to when we move to someone else. Although the Garth family is also lovely and very interesting
Watching her natural sympathy expand into an understanding that Casaubon "had an equivalent center of self, whence the lights and shadows must always fall with a certain difference," is one of the most satisfying character arcs in literature, IMO.
In Chapter 22, Dorothea and Will are discussing beauty and Dorothea is struggling to find meaning in the art around her, so focused is she on doing things for others. Will speaks my favorite quote of this section: "The best piety is to enjoy - when you can. You are doing the most then to save the earth's character as an agreeable planet. And enjoyment radiates."
George Eliot pins our humanity to the page, and I am astonished every time I read something that strikes me as true for us now, as it was for her 150 years ago.
That's a really beautiful line. It reminds me of the evangelism of joy as a tool against violent forces.
I agree with you, Haley; Chapter 19 is fantastic! Since the beginning of the chapter, Eliot is preparing us to enjoy: "Romanticism, which has helped to fill some dull blanks with love and knowledge, had not yet penetrated the times with its leaven and entered into everybody's food; it was fermenting still...". And when Eliot describes Dorothea's figure, before we knew it was her, it was so vivid. These lovely parts of the readings for this week contrast with the sadness of Dorothea. We knew the disappointment would happen, but I didn't expect it to be that radical and so soon! I was almost crying with this: "Having once embarked on your marital voyage, it is impossible not to be aware that you make no way and that the sea is not within sight - that, in fact, you are exploring an enclosed basin".
Regarding your questions, I like Ladislaw more now; he is deeply in love with Dorothea and defends her fiercely. It is comforting to know that Dorothea has him in a way to relieve her loneliness.
It is very good to know there are similarities with Henry James, as The Portrait of a Lady is in my TBR list :-)
And my favourite quote is this one: "To be a poet is to have a soul so quick to discern, that no shade of quality escapes it, and so quick to feel, that discernment is but a hand playing with finely ordered on the chords of emotion".
Those languid scenes in the museums of Rome where Dorothea is coming to terms with disillusionment and how she'll adjust her expectations seem from a different novel than those characterizing daily life in Middlemarch.
I love your comments Haley. Reading this week’s assignment I was struck by Dorothea’s absence since the end of Chapter 10 and her “reappearance “ in Chapter 19. That cliffhanger then focused on Lydgate and other characters. I was anxious to read about her again. I read that this novel was published in installments and it made me wonder if that omission of Dorothea was intentional to get people to buy further installments.
I don't know where to start. I'm glad Dorothea is back. If I weren't also invested in the close reading process, I'd be skipping through the book to follow the threads of her storyline.
Back in Middlemarch, Lydgate's desire for a hospital where he can pursue his medical goals draws him into a web of entangled loyalties that I'm not sure he'll be able to escape. "Confound their petty politics!" I'm sure I'm missing a lot of what Eliot means to convey as she lines up her characters with the two different clergymen. My historical knowledge of the religious and political issues isn't robust enough to tease out the underlying commentary. It is clear that those who don't conform to the norm, like Lydgate and Brooks, can only retain independence of thought if they also retain an independent means of livelihood.
I'm confused about the practice of medicine in this time period. The terms physician, general practitioner, doctor, and surgeon have all been used, but I'm not sure if they are synonyms or indicate different ranks and skills. Pasteur and germ theory come later and have yet to transform medical practice. It seems anatomy and physiology in relation to illness are actively being explored, as it was mentioned earlier that Lydgate was experimenting with frogs and rabbits. Other than provide elaborate prescriptions I'm not sure what services are provided by any of the several Middlemarch doctors that have been mentioned.
And then there is Fred Vincy still making irritatingly bad decisions and who still can't pay his debt. Mainly because of Mary Garth I want to see how he gets out of this, and I hope she doesn't get dragged into his mess.
I found this footnote in the broadview edition helpful for understanding the different medical practitioner terms used here:
“In ascending order of prestige, GE replicates the hierarchy of the English medical profession less than two decades after the passage of the Apothecaries Act of 1815: apothecaries, a notch above wizards and alchemists, were on the bottom of the totem pole; surgeons or general practitioners, who treated but did not diagnose diseases or prescribe their therapies, occupied the middle ground; and physicians, who recommended but did not actually provide treatment, enjoyed the most prestige and were almost social equals of their middle- and upper-class patients. Equipped with state-of-the-art training in anatomy and medicine, Lydgate violates tradition by seeking to blur these well-established guild-like distinctions.”
Thank you. That helps so much.
My favorite passage is when the narrator explains that people are unlikely to find it tragic that a young bride is crying on her honeymoon, because her sadness "is not unusual, and we do not expect people to be deeply moved by what is not unusual." And then the narrator (1) suggests that it is, in fact tragic precisely *because* it is so common, and then (2) speculates that maybe our insensitivity is protective, because we couldn't bear it if we were sensible of all the heartache and suffering and feelings around us:
"That element of tragedy which lies in the very fact of frequency, has not yet wrought itself into the coarse emotion of mankind; and perhaps our frames could hardly bear much of it. If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrels heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence. As it is, the quickest of us walk about well wadded with stupidity."
To add: I actually love the narrator, who is capable of dry humor, clear moral insight, and deep compassion for the struggles and limitations of human beings.
Good questions, Haley.
I've been thinking a lot about how Lydgate would respond to the moral dilemma obviously heading his way. I am not surprised he sided with his medical future rather than his friend, Mr. Farebrother, despite Tyke being someone "no one could bear" and "suspected of cant" (which I had to look up). Yet, I had so hoped Lydgate could somehow withstand the pressure.
I do not know that awarding the chaplain job will significantly affect the lives of Farebrother or Tyke, though the hospital patients have to suffer a chaplain who seems rather nauseating. But I fear what this will do to Lydgate over time. Will he pack up his ideals? Will he make excuses? Did the bad guys win?
Whoa! Has he started down the slippery slope? Or does he just not think it's that big a deal? I'd think the latter except for the fact that in the end he starts to make excuses for his decision. "Lydgate thought that there was a pitiable infirmity of will in Mr. Farebrother."
The post facto justifications are definitely a tell! And also very sad and so very human -- I think he knows what he's doing on some level and has to rationalize it to maintain his sense of himself as independent. You really see how even these little decisions can change a person's character and affect his integrity
I also think that it does affect Farebrother quite a lot. The income would have made a huge difference to him, what with all the people he has to support, and possibly even (as Lydgate recognized) allowed him to stop gambling. And yet Farebrother doesn't hold it against him (and Bulstrode probably would).
Even Farebrother, who seems too good to be real, has the gambling as a potential derailer to his integrity - another slippery slope following a utilitarian choice. I love how the characters are "so very human", as you put it.
bits that jumped out at me:
1. Lydgate quoting this great Voltaire line - "incantations will destroy a flock of sheep if administered with a certain quantity of arsenic. I look for the man who will bring the arsenic, and don't mind about his incantations." (and then Farebrother, charmingly: "Very good. But then you must not offend your arsenic-man. You will not offend me, you know.")
2. I really empathize with Lydgate struggling with all the political optics and religious concerns when he just wants to think about how to optimize for how to provide good healthcare and medical research.
It's also an interesting conundrum, sort of virtue ethics vs utilitarianism. Voting for the religious guy who'll give you a good hospital is utilitarian, whereas virtue ethics would say to vote for the person who better embodies the correct virtues (and perhaps beliefs).
Personally, as someone who only argues for virtue ethics when I think doing so has utilitarian value, I can't fault Lydgate for his choice. Though it does feel quite risky.
I'm interested to see how Lydgate's philosophy reacts with Dorothea's religiosity over time.
3. It took me a few reads of the bit where Lydgate was intending to "obscure the limit between his own rank as a general practitioner and that of the physicians" to understand what was going on here. Lydgate is this over-educated young upstart who isn't really paying attention to the old social professional lines and in fact seems to want to break them down in the interest of pure goal-oriented rationality, and perhaps doesn't even think about what that may mean to other medical professionals around him. I think.
4. Fred! I've met so many of him, the people who trust in the universe to make everything okay for them, with the alternative unthinkable! (I'm in Tolstoy mode this year, so he really reminded me of Nikolai Rostov, too!)
Am I cheering for anyone? Ladislaw, who understands so broadly and speaks so plainly, so honestly. Now if he can only find his way to independence!
With the return to Dorothea in Rome and her realization that her marriage is a disaster, this novel kicks into gear. When I read it the first time, I know I started romping through it by this point, regardless of Lydgate and the politics that he seems to gets dragged into without much thought beyond his own advancement.
Haley, you ask who I’m rooting for, and it’s definitely Dorothea. Other commenters have said really interesting things about her adolescent quality of certainty - yes! She seems very grown up until her beliefs are challenged, and when they are, she is overwhelmed with shame, pity, despair, and (I’m sure of it) much suppressed rage. Thanks to all for pointing out how young she is - and how much growing up she has yet to do.
With this second read, I continue to be impressed by how usual Dorothea’s storyline is - this is so far from the traditional marriage plot or a romance novel, even though romance is a factor (for good and ill). This time around I’ve also been struck by the discussions of art, life, and creativity - and I love them. I’m with Will when he says, “the best piety is to enjoy - when you can.”
I actually really learned to appreciate Dorothea in this week's reading. I found her sort of insufferable when we first met her, perhaps because she was so fanatical and those sorts annoy me. She becomes a real person here for me. She feels frustrated and sad and cries as a response to something that happens around her, and not just what's happening inside of her. I loved the messiness of the love triangle -- between (not-uncle) uncle, nephew, and uncle's young wife. It's interesting that we can actually get to know a bit more about D. via the observations of others. When she's in the studio, posing, and enjoying it, enjoying her husband's "veneration," we can see her naive pleasure, while we see the other characters' frustrations, hesitations, and machinations.
I was struck by how much D. in this section reminds me of Lila in Ferrante's quartet. An egghead once told me Ferrante is such a Victorian novelist, and I had no idea what he meant by that. But now I'm beginning to see that more and more. The entire village is important to the overall story, and the characters grow in years, yes, but mostly in the depths of emotions they're forced to feel. I totally adored Ferrante's quartet and I'm willing to bet the $40 bucks I just lost in Vegas this past weekend that she was insanely influenced by Eliot's novel.
Favorite quote is courtesy of Mrs. C, herself in chapter 21: "'It is painful to be told that anything is very fine and not be able to feel that it is fine -- something like being blind while people talk of the sky.'" D. is talking about art here and not being able to "get" it, and I was like, "big same, honey," wrt to this novel. It's such a strange experience for me! There are some sections (ch. 19, odd one out; all the Lydegate/election mess) that just bore me to tears. I actively dislike reading the novel at those points. But then there are some elements that I really do like a lot. I think the approach of just taking the whole impression of the novel, as opposed to trying to "examine the pictures one by one" might be the way for me to get the most out of the book. So, henceforth, I'm gonna try to relax a bit more while reading and reserve the right to gloss over sections that are just not doing it for me if I can't get them after a couple of tries.