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 find the politics tough, too, and I keep thinking it's because I don't know enough about this time period to catch the nuances (and potential humor) Eliot is weaving into these discussions. It's a keen frustration, because I have this irking feeling that I'd really like the chapters if I knew the time period better. Sigh.
I had some satisfaction that Dorothea was maybe realizing her mistake. Her whole attitude and being in Book 1 was frustrating to me. She struck me as someone so self-impressed and self involved that she couldn't exist in reality. (I loved how terrible she was and kind of couldn't wait for the moment she would pay for it.)
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.
Oh, yes. This. I was so stunned by that. It'd be so easy for Dorothea or the novel itself to villainize Casaubon...and so far, the intense humanity and reality of him is keeping me so grounded. (Even though, at a few moments, I've felt like smacking him. His "center of self" is pretty front and center sometimes!)
THIS! Eliot is very carefully highlighting that both characters, Dodo and Casaubon, have internal struggles that might seem petty or childish on the outside but are very real to them, and that the problem here is the utter lack of communication. Neither of them is equipped to understand the other, although Dorothea is at least willing to try and try. Poor thing didn't deserve any of this. She deserved to be born in the 21st century so she could experiment dating an older boring man and dump him the moment she realized her mistake.
I love her, too! I will admit: during the long Lydgate chapter, I flipped ahead a few pages...saw Dorothea's name...and it gave me the strength to keep reading for the next hour! Ha.
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 feel like I maybe misread this piece of the exchange. It reminded me of a scene in White Lotus (no spoilers) when a privileged, entitled person tells their offspring that the best thing they can do for the world with their money is enjoy it.
I wouldn't consider that a misread - just a different interpretation. I felt like the comment encapsulated a personal struggle over the past five-ish years - where is the sweet spot between crushing despair and banal joy? My personal belief is that the place on that spectrum where I am most motivated to act and be in relationship with other humans is where I want to be. I felt like Dorothea needed a bit of a nudge towards joy.
This passage was so good and reminded me of an old podcast that has stuck with me “Brene Brown with Karen Walrond on the Lightmakers manifesto: How to Work for Change without losing your joy” It talks about how activists can often feel guilty feeling joy or like things in their normal life are frivolous or stupid when such tragedy is occurring. But what we want to result from our activism is for *everyone* to experience joy. For everyone be able to live life freely and to do “stupid” joyful things like make elaborate cupcakes for their child’s birthday party. Will observes to Dorothea in the same conversation “you have a false belief in the virtues of misery and want to make your life a martyrdom” and that she thinks “you ought to be miserable in your own goodness, and turn evil that you might have no advantage over others.” I think it’s easy for activist-minded people to feel like this— “how can we enjoy xyz when there are children starving in Gaza? Or any number of other injustices— “I should be miserable too in solidarity!” But allowing ourselves to experience joy doesn’t mean we don’t care about others or undermine our activism- it’s the whole point of it.
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.
It does, yes!! You're so right. I was wondering if these scenes existed in that "other" text Eliot had that she eventually wove together with Lydgate's story. Because it does feel like such a felt difference.
Ooooh I love the quote you picked. That's a beautiful one. I love the idea of discernment as a hand on chords. That is gorgeous imagery (especially amidst the novel's broader discussion of art, artists, and expertise — like Dorothea critiquing Ladislaw's drawings, and now being surrounded by Roman arts that overwhelm her).
I wonder, is Will Ladislaw really in love with her, or just stunned by her beauty, or maybe simply jealous of Dodo's husband, towards whom he behaves passive aggressively, because he's also beholden to him, the old, dried up Casaubon.
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 love the question about whether Dorothea is being intentionally deployed in certain chapters to drive reader engagement. I'm certainly looking most forward to moments with Dorothea—and I wonder if Eliot's contemporary readers felt the same!
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.”
Indeed, Eliot did a *tremendous* amount of background research into medical practices of the time. In chapter 15 she writes: “Also, the high standard held up to the public mind by the College of Physicians, which gave its peculiar sanction to the expensive and highly rarefied medical instruction obtained by graduates of Oxford and Cambridge, did not hinder quackery from having an excellent time of it” This is a snarky comment on the state of medical education in England. And in Chapter 16: “ I hope you are not one of the Lancet’s men, Mr. Lydgate—wanting to take the coronership out of the hands of the legal profession: your words appear to point that way.” ... “I disapprove of Wakley,” interposed Dr. Sprague, “no man more: he is an ill-intentioned fellow, who would sacrifice the respectability of the profession, which everybody knows depends on the London Colleges, for the sake of getting some notoriety for himself.”
It's available for free but you have to register for a free account with the journal. Here are some quotes:
"Lydgate is a believer in improved medical education, the proper registration of qualified doctors, and the removal of obstructions based on the age-old traditions of the Royal College of Surgeons and the Royal College of Physicians. Instead of studying at one of the two ancient English universities, Oxford and Cambridge ... Lydgate has studied at the universities of Edinburgh and Paris. Both were progressive, allowing the dissection of bodies for educational purposes..."
"In the notebook she used while writing Middlemarch, Eliot quoted or paraphrased
several articles in The Lancet from 1830 to 1831, many of them written by the journal’s reforming founding editor Thomas Wakley, who took on the restrictive practices of the royal colleges... A long, contentious, overly rhetorical article in The Lancet in October, 1831, carries on Wakley’s battle against the unreformed royal colleges. Its title ... runs thus: 'Preface, Advertisement, Address, and a Rare Whack at the Voracious Bats. Not Forgetting a Few Useful Hints to our Beloved but Cruelly-plundered Friends, the British Students in Medicine'....Wakley attacks the tribalism and secretiveness of the old guard— physicians, surgeons, and apothecaries in descending order of rank—reserving his fiercest criticism for physicians. "
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.
That was one of my favorite quotes too! And I'd like to add, the narrator is not only inviting us to feel compassion for Dorothea and women in her same position, but also arguing that their stories are worth talking about, both in literature and society.
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.
These are such good follow-up questions! "Will he pack up his ideals?" That is an amazing question. I hadn't considered this in light of the "ideals" conversation, but of course it's a critical part (even foil?) for what's happening with Dorothea's own altering ideals. Thank you for sparking this connection for me!
Charlene, I was focused on how Lydgate would make his choice when the time came, too. For me, his ambition won out. I’m curious how he’ll meet other choices as the story continues — will he mirror Casaubon? Or will he meet others where they are, such as Rosamond, rather than going along with gender and/or class dynamics?
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!)
I don’t know much about utilitarian vs. virtue ethics but I’m intrigued to learn more after reading this!
One of the things I’ve been tracking through the book is society - basically what the socially acceptable/baseline thing to do is, what society expects, what’s considered deviant. And it is EVERYWHERE. At least half the time I mark down another theme I’m tracking, I also mark the society theme. So in the Lydgate chapter I found a couple of things interesting.
(1) We’re seeing an argument about, in this society, what makes a man worthy to hold a post or who *should* a post rightly be granted to? Should it be granted to the person who’s (a) already doing the work for free, thus as a form of charity, (b) who needs the money to support his family, (c) doesn’t have as much time for it, (d) isn’t passionate about his vocation, though he performs it well enough (open question what it even means to perform these roles well, but Farebrother suits many people’s requirements), (e) is well liked, (f) has a known vice, and (g) is kind and generous to others? Or should it be granted to the person who (i) fits *some people’s* idea of espousing the right doctrine, (ii) is roundly disliked, (iii) is passionate about his vocation to the point of being generally considered excessively zealous, and (iv) has less personal need of the income? And there are countless interesting sub-questions here. (What is right behavior? Purity (no vices) or kindness?)
But of note is that this is also a time of great religious change and reform, and we’re seeing a proxy war over that change in this chapter. Historically clergy were gentlemen and Farebrother fit the bill. Now there’s a fractioning over religion, some people want it to stay a mostly light social endeavor, others want zealotry and evangelicalism. Tyke only represents one of several religious factions. Also, most of the characters in the book censure the zealots (Bulstrode is a vampire) and there’s a fair amount of hypocrisy or “inconsistency” associated with those characters (conveniently massaging their thinking so they get to do what they want and still feel themselves to be in the right). So I would challenge the conclusion that it’s currently known that choosing Tyke gets you the best chaplain/hospital (in the world of the book or otherwise).
(2) It’s revealing about Lydgate’s character. Motive matters to quality of character regardless of whether you reach the “right” outcome, and I do not think his motives for voting for Tyke were pure. As he’s contemplating his choice he focuses so heavily on Farebrother’s vices and even just need for money, which he finds disdainful. Most telling to me is that he doesn’t give any consideration at all to the fact that Farebrother is already doing the work! Choosing Farebrother just gets him paid for labor he’s already doing, affirms his existing condition. And we don’t find that out until the very end of the chapter because Lydgate did not consider it.
But also he’s so insistent on being “independent” and then he immediately throws over his independence to vote according to his benefactor’s desire. He spends all this time talking himself into Tyke but at the end acknowledges that he would’ve voted for Farebrother if Bulstrode hadn’t influenced him. So we see that he of single-minded purpose is, like our other (religious) zealots, a hypocrite.
This part of the book really hit me when I first read it, at the "idealistic" age of 25. It made me think about the compromises, large and small, that we make in our lives, and how we so often rationalize them after the fact. About compromises that *I* had made and rationalized, without acknowledging that that was what I was doing.
I love this. This book has me thinking so much about the "Dorothea-before-marriage" moments I had in my own life, especially in my early twenties. The justifications. The fears of my own vices (like her horseback riding). The anxieties about whether I'd ever get to reach my own potential, or reach for my ideals. This book is so deeply moving in the way it connects to real, felt experiences—I wonder if that is part of its beloved status and appeal to readers 150 years later.
100% agree! Someone referred to Dorothea as an A-level student, and I was an IB/AP nerd in the US but I totally see the comparison. I really saw so many of my own youthful foibles in her and Lydgate.
I also think it’s relevant that Eliot was ~50 when she published this. She accesses that youthful idealism/tension so effectively, but with experience of how it plays out. She talks about how the young people with grand expectations often turn out to be average middle aged adults (because they’re too inconsistent or distracted or compromised to achieve their dreams). She led an unconventional life, so I don’t necessarily think she’s talking about herself but she would’ve witnessed the pattern. I think the foreshadowing makes clear that neither Dorothea nor Lydgate will achieve their youthful aims. But I can’t tell yet if this failure to reach your ideals is supposed to be a tragedy (she certainly uses some tragic/critical language) or simply a natural human process. And I suppose it can always be both.
Oh: the question of DEVIANCY is a big one for me, too. We're seeing this idea of the "standard" or the "norm" as having a kind of chokehold on society...but then, as we meet each character and see them interact...we realize none of them are the "standard," and that, indeed, the "norm" has become a kind of ideal.
Yes! I also feel like it’s related to the sheer quantity of change, reform, and knowledge growth in England in this era in every milieu. It’s the Industrial Revolution; explorers are going to the poles, the Amazon; archaeologists are unearthing history in Italy, Egypt, Greece; religion is changing; politics is changing; science is booming; naturalists abound. So perhaps those old norms did once work for society (or maybe not) but now people are openly challenging those norms, while some want to cling to the old and some want to change to reflect new knowledge/theories.
Fred and Nikolai Rostov, yes! And his parents are rather like the Rostov parents - kind and generous, but overly indulgent to their children and careless about their expenditures. And Mary Garth is rather like Sonya. But Rosamond Vincy isn't anything like Natasha Rostov.
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 unusual 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 love this! I'm such a fan of Dorothea. I found her so funny and weird at the beginning, and now I'm terrified Casaubon is going to mute her, or numb her, with all this disappointment she's experiencing. (Would she have felt it with anyone? Is Casaubon really the disappointment, or is there something deeper?)
Like you, I love how unusual this plot feels! I'm excited by it—it makes it a lot trickier to anticipate what happens next. I keep finding myself surprised and I love it!
Thank you for pointing out Dorothea's very understandable, absolutely righteous rage! That she is not even aware of having, and would sure send her into a tailspin of self-blaming. Also agreed on her being a wholly original and interesting character, this is why I always look forward to read the very few 19th century women writers, they're almost universally the only ones willing to write women as people and not tropes, wonder why that is?
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 love where you landed here. One of the best pieces of reading advice I ever got from a professor was to sit back and enjoy it. It was while we were reading a wacky American 19th century novel by William Dean Howells (who can really mutter on about politics, like Eliot does) and I found myself happy to just put my pen down and let those sections be a lighter touch in my experience. There will still be those moments where you fly forward again, arrested by the language, and want to annotate. Doesn't have to be every page!
Some scattered thoughts because I didn't have much time to read or write down notes last week:
Haley, your commentary on chapter 19 and the mythical origins of Ariadne in the labyrinth made a lightbulb go off in my head - in chapter 3 the word labyrinth appears three times (or some variety of it), which I remember because it stood out to me when I read it for the first time. It’s the chapter where Dorothea really gets into her infatuation with Casaubon and his intellect. I’m not sure what this connection means precisely (if it means anything at all) but it felt noteworthy.
I was very happy to see Dorothea again! I was really feeling for her and it made me quite sad to see her so sad (and angry!) about Casaubon and the way their marriage is working out so far. What made it worse is how foreseeable it was based on what we learn about the two in earlier chapters… Poor Dorothea indeed!
I do kinda wonder how/if their sex life works (is that weird? Sorry 😭)
I haven’t made up my mind about Will - unfortunately I have a soft spot for hedonistic, opinionated, slightly artsy fuckboys so I’m biased but something about him makes me root for him. It was cute to read about how clearly jealous he was of anyone else getting Dorothea’s attention and I really enjoyed their conversation about art and poetry.
I actually enjoyed the Lydgate chapters, the small town politics were interesting and I’m curious about how these alliances play out in the future and if/how they’ll connect to the rest of the plot. Bulstrode seems insufferable.
Two quotes I enjoyed this week:
„Will Ladislaw’s smile was delightful, unless you were angry with him beforehand.“ (Ch. 21)
„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.“ (Ch. 20)
Ah ha! That labyrinthine connection feels VERY noteworthy! Perhaps it's worth continuing to watch for the word — and the associations (characters, moments, feelings) that tend to accompany it?
The "enclosed basin" quote felt deeply funny, but also devastating. It's one of those lines that perhaps feels funnier once you know that people are not vast seas of inspiration, but are just "real people," with flaws and warts and all, as this novel keeps reminding us. It's certainly not funny to Dorothea to feel her beautiful future dashed to bits; but as you said, it's also something we knew was coming as the readers. We saw this realization a mile away; now we see Dorothea reckoning with it in real time.
I don't think it's weird at all to wonder about Dorothea and Casaubon's relationship, including their sex life—it's not something we can expect to get much detail on in a Victorian novel (for many reasons, but not because they were any less sexual beings than we are today). But it's a curious "gap" in the relationship that I think points to the kind of experiential gulf between the two: Dorothea is young and passionate and fiery and idealistic and dreamy. Casaubon, as the novel states plainly, is dried up. He's not really that passionate about anything — and he also acknowledged to himself that he's not that excited by the prospect of Dorothea or being married to her. We also learnt in these chapters that Dorothea is spending most of her honeymoon *alone* while Cas spends time dawdling around in libraries (and not really furthering his great academic project). There's a lot of loneliness here—and a profound lack of sexual tension, interest, or intimacy. I think it's not weird at all to notice that and wonder about its deeper implications on how Dorothea is feeling.
Labyrinths and mirrors! Are we wandering deeper into wrong turns and misdirections? I hope there will be an escape into openness and light for at least some of the characters. I'll be sad if every one of them ends up lost or dead ended.
I love finding these references to labyrinths and I’m grateful to Pia and you for pointing them out! The novel has taken on greater depth with its range of recurring motifs and it’s rewarding to review them now that I’m a good distance through the narrative.
For me the Labyrinth connection pinged in the chapter following the ekphrasis of Ariadne alongside Dorothea, in the description of Mr.C’s mind: “how was is that…the large vistas and wide fresh air which she had dreamed of finding in her husband’s mind were replaced by ante-rooms and winding passages which seemed to lead nowhither?” I think it comes up a couple places after that that Dorothea finds Mr. C’s tedious and unimportant studies to be like dark hallways with no windows. More generally the labyrinth in middle march seems like people trapped in bad matches— maybe Lydegate with Bulstrode another example?
Ha, I was absolutely wondering about their sex life too, Eliot is never going to write anything specific but I'm here and ready to intercept any subtext she might possibly throw our way.
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 find the politics tough, too, and I keep thinking it's because I don't know enough about this time period to catch the nuances (and potential humor) Eliot is weaving into these discussions. It's a keen frustration, because I have this irking feeling that I'd really like the chapters if I knew the time period better. Sigh.
I had some satisfaction that Dorothea was maybe realizing her mistake. Her whole attitude and being in Book 1 was frustrating to me. She struck me as someone so self-impressed and self involved that she couldn't exist in reality. (I loved how terrible she was and kind of couldn't wait for the moment she would pay for it.)
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.
Oh, yes. This. I was so stunned by that. It'd be so easy for Dorothea or the novel itself to villainize Casaubon...and so far, the intense humanity and reality of him is keeping me so grounded. (Even though, at a few moments, I've felt like smacking him. His "center of self" is pretty front and center sometimes!)
THIS! Eliot is very carefully highlighting that both characters, Dodo and Casaubon, have internal struggles that might seem petty or childish on the outside but are very real to them, and that the problem here is the utter lack of communication. Neither of them is equipped to understand the other, although Dorothea is at least willing to try and try. Poor thing didn't deserve any of this. She deserved to be born in the 21st century so she could experiment dating an older boring man and dump him the moment she realized her mistake.
I love her, too! I will admit: during the long Lydgate chapter, I flipped ahead a few pages...saw Dorothea's name...and it gave me the strength to keep reading for the next hour! Ha.
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.
That's so beautiful! I love your reading of these lines.
I feel like I maybe misread this piece of the exchange. It reminded me of a scene in White Lotus (no spoilers) when a privileged, entitled person tells their offspring that the best thing they can do for the world with their money is enjoy it.
I wouldn't consider that a misread - just a different interpretation. I felt like the comment encapsulated a personal struggle over the past five-ish years - where is the sweet spot between crushing despair and banal joy? My personal belief is that the place on that spectrum where I am most motivated to act and be in relationship with other humans is where I want to be. I felt like Dorothea needed a bit of a nudge towards joy.
This passage was so good and reminded me of an old podcast that has stuck with me “Brene Brown with Karen Walrond on the Lightmakers manifesto: How to Work for Change without losing your joy” It talks about how activists can often feel guilty feeling joy or like things in their normal life are frivolous or stupid when such tragedy is occurring. But what we want to result from our activism is for *everyone* to experience joy. For everyone be able to live life freely and to do “stupid” joyful things like make elaborate cupcakes for their child’s birthday party. Will observes to Dorothea in the same conversation “you have a false belief in the virtues of misery and want to make your life a martyrdom” and that she thinks “you ought to be miserable in your own goodness, and turn evil that you might have no advantage over others.” I think it’s easy for activist-minded people to feel like this— “how can we enjoy xyz when there are children starving in Gaza? Or any number of other injustices— “I should be miserable too in solidarity!” But allowing ourselves to experience joy doesn’t mean we don’t care about others or undermine our activism- it’s the whole point of it.
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.
It does, yes!! You're so right. I was wondering if these scenes existed in that "other" text Eliot had that she eventually wove together with Lydgate's story. Because it does feel like such a felt difference.
Ooooh I love the quote you picked. That's a beautiful one. I love the idea of discernment as a hand on chords. That is gorgeous imagery (especially amidst the novel's broader discussion of art, artists, and expertise — like Dorothea critiquing Ladislaw's drawings, and now being surrounded by Roman arts that overwhelm her).
I wonder, is Will Ladislaw really in love with her, or just stunned by her beauty, or maybe simply jealous of Dodo's husband, towards whom he behaves passive aggressively, because he's also beholden to him, the old, dried up Casaubon.
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.
Thank you, Patty!!
I love the question about whether Dorothea is being intentionally deployed in certain chapters to drive reader engagement. I'm certainly looking most forward to moments with Dorothea—and I wonder if Eliot's contemporary readers felt the same!
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.
Indeed, Eliot did a *tremendous* amount of background research into medical practices of the time. In chapter 15 she writes: “Also, the high standard held up to the public mind by the College of Physicians, which gave its peculiar sanction to the expensive and highly rarefied medical instruction obtained by graduates of Oxford and Cambridge, did not hinder quackery from having an excellent time of it” This is a snarky comment on the state of medical education in England. And in Chapter 16: “ I hope you are not one of the Lancet’s men, Mr. Lydgate—wanting to take the coronership out of the hands of the legal profession: your words appear to point that way.” ... “I disapprove of Wakley,” interposed Dr. Sprague, “no man more: he is an ill-intentioned fellow, who would sacrifice the respectability of the profession, which everybody knows depends on the London Colleges, for the sake of getting some notoriety for himself.”
Today, the _Lancet_ is one of the world's most prestigious medical journals. And in 2019 this very journal published an article about our subject: George Eliot, Middlemarch, and The Lancet, https://www.thelancet.com/journals/lancet/article/PIIS0140-6736(19)32727-8/fulltext
It's available for free but you have to register for a free account with the journal. Here are some quotes:
"Lydgate is a believer in improved medical education, the proper registration of qualified doctors, and the removal of obstructions based on the age-old traditions of the Royal College of Surgeons and the Royal College of Physicians. Instead of studying at one of the two ancient English universities, Oxford and Cambridge ... Lydgate has studied at the universities of Edinburgh and Paris. Both were progressive, allowing the dissection of bodies for educational purposes..."
"In the notebook she used while writing Middlemarch, Eliot quoted or paraphrased
several articles in The Lancet from 1830 to 1831, many of them written by the journal’s reforming founding editor Thomas Wakley, who took on the restrictive practices of the royal colleges... A long, contentious, overly rhetorical article in The Lancet in October, 1831, carries on Wakley’s battle against the unreformed royal colleges. Its title ... runs thus: 'Preface, Advertisement, Address, and a Rare Whack at the Voracious Bats. Not Forgetting a Few Useful Hints to our Beloved but Cruelly-plundered Friends, the British Students in Medicine'....Wakley attacks the tribalism and secretiveness of the old guard— physicians, surgeons, and apothecaries in descending order of rank—reserving his fiercest criticism for physicians. "
This is so helpful, too! Thank you!!
Thanks for taking the time to share that detail.
This is SO helpful! Thank you Danielle!!!
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.
This is a gorgeous close reading of the tensions our narrator is trotting out in this explanation. Thanks for sharing it!
Very much my favorite line as well! And really helps bring in sympathy for Dorothea even if I could see this coming.
That was one of my favorite quotes too! And I'd like to add, the narrator is not only inviting us to feel compassion for Dorothea and women in her same position, but also arguing that their stories are worth talking about, both in literature and society.
I loved this passage so much!
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.
These are such good follow-up questions! "Will he pack up his ideals?" That is an amazing question. I hadn't considered this in light of the "ideals" conversation, but of course it's a critical part (even foil?) for what's happening with Dorothea's own altering ideals. Thank you for sparking this connection for me!
Charlene, I was focused on how Lydgate would make his choice when the time came, too. For me, his ambition won out. I’m curious how he’ll meet other choices as the story continues — will he mirror Casaubon? Or will he meet others where they are, such as Rosamond, rather than going along with gender and/or class dynamics?
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!)
I don’t know much about utilitarian vs. virtue ethics but I’m intrigued to learn more after reading this!
One of the things I’ve been tracking through the book is society - basically what the socially acceptable/baseline thing to do is, what society expects, what’s considered deviant. And it is EVERYWHERE. At least half the time I mark down another theme I’m tracking, I also mark the society theme. So in the Lydgate chapter I found a couple of things interesting.
(1) We’re seeing an argument about, in this society, what makes a man worthy to hold a post or who *should* a post rightly be granted to? Should it be granted to the person who’s (a) already doing the work for free, thus as a form of charity, (b) who needs the money to support his family, (c) doesn’t have as much time for it, (d) isn’t passionate about his vocation, though he performs it well enough (open question what it even means to perform these roles well, but Farebrother suits many people’s requirements), (e) is well liked, (f) has a known vice, and (g) is kind and generous to others? Or should it be granted to the person who (i) fits *some people’s* idea of espousing the right doctrine, (ii) is roundly disliked, (iii) is passionate about his vocation to the point of being generally considered excessively zealous, and (iv) has less personal need of the income? And there are countless interesting sub-questions here. (What is right behavior? Purity (no vices) or kindness?)
But of note is that this is also a time of great religious change and reform, and we’re seeing a proxy war over that change in this chapter. Historically clergy were gentlemen and Farebrother fit the bill. Now there’s a fractioning over religion, some people want it to stay a mostly light social endeavor, others want zealotry and evangelicalism. Tyke only represents one of several religious factions. Also, most of the characters in the book censure the zealots (Bulstrode is a vampire) and there’s a fair amount of hypocrisy or “inconsistency” associated with those characters (conveniently massaging their thinking so they get to do what they want and still feel themselves to be in the right). So I would challenge the conclusion that it’s currently known that choosing Tyke gets you the best chaplain/hospital (in the world of the book or otherwise).
(2) It’s revealing about Lydgate’s character. Motive matters to quality of character regardless of whether you reach the “right” outcome, and I do not think his motives for voting for Tyke were pure. As he’s contemplating his choice he focuses so heavily on Farebrother’s vices and even just need for money, which he finds disdainful. Most telling to me is that he doesn’t give any consideration at all to the fact that Farebrother is already doing the work! Choosing Farebrother just gets him paid for labor he’s already doing, affirms his existing condition. And we don’t find that out until the very end of the chapter because Lydgate did not consider it.
But also he’s so insistent on being “independent” and then he immediately throws over his independence to vote according to his benefactor’s desire. He spends all this time talking himself into Tyke but at the end acknowledges that he would’ve voted for Farebrother if Bulstrode hadn’t influenced him. So we see that he of single-minded purpose is, like our other (religious) zealots, a hypocrite.
This part of the book really hit me when I first read it, at the "idealistic" age of 25. It made me think about the compromises, large and small, that we make in our lives, and how we so often rationalize them after the fact. About compromises that *I* had made and rationalized, without acknowledging that that was what I was doing.
I love this. This book has me thinking so much about the "Dorothea-before-marriage" moments I had in my own life, especially in my early twenties. The justifications. The fears of my own vices (like her horseback riding). The anxieties about whether I'd ever get to reach my own potential, or reach for my ideals. This book is so deeply moving in the way it connects to real, felt experiences—I wonder if that is part of its beloved status and appeal to readers 150 years later.
100% agree! Someone referred to Dorothea as an A-level student, and I was an IB/AP nerd in the US but I totally see the comparison. I really saw so many of my own youthful foibles in her and Lydgate.
I also think it’s relevant that Eliot was ~50 when she published this. She accesses that youthful idealism/tension so effectively, but with experience of how it plays out. She talks about how the young people with grand expectations often turn out to be average middle aged adults (because they’re too inconsistent or distracted or compromised to achieve their dreams). She led an unconventional life, so I don’t necessarily think she’s talking about herself but she would’ve witnessed the pattern. I think the foreshadowing makes clear that neither Dorothea nor Lydgate will achieve their youthful aims. But I can’t tell yet if this failure to reach your ideals is supposed to be a tragedy (she certainly uses some tragic/critical language) or simply a natural human process. And I suppose it can always be both.
Oh: the question of DEVIANCY is a big one for me, too. We're seeing this idea of the "standard" or the "norm" as having a kind of chokehold on society...but then, as we meet each character and see them interact...we realize none of them are the "standard," and that, indeed, the "norm" has become a kind of ideal.
Yes! I also feel like it’s related to the sheer quantity of change, reform, and knowledge growth in England in this era in every milieu. It’s the Industrial Revolution; explorers are going to the poles, the Amazon; archaeologists are unearthing history in Italy, Egypt, Greece; religion is changing; politics is changing; science is booming; naturalists abound. So perhaps those old norms did once work for society (or maybe not) but now people are openly challenging those norms, while some want to cling to the old and some want to change to reflect new knowledge/theories.
Fred and Nikolai Rostov, yes! And his parents are rather like the Rostov parents - kind and generous, but overly indulgent to their children and careless about their expenditures. And Mary Garth is rather like Sonya. But Rosamond Vincy isn't anything like Natasha Rostov.
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!
Ladislaw is a trustfund baby - his guaranteed income is a burden, in some respects. It constrains him.
I love this. That's so succinct and spot on.
You're making me realize: he's a lot like Newland Archer in *The Age of Innocence* !!
I am cheering for him, too!! I just adore him.
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 unusual 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 love this! I'm such a fan of Dorothea. I found her so funny and weird at the beginning, and now I'm terrified Casaubon is going to mute her, or numb her, with all this disappointment she's experiencing. (Would she have felt it with anyone? Is Casaubon really the disappointment, or is there something deeper?)
Like you, I love how unusual this plot feels! I'm excited by it—it makes it a lot trickier to anticipate what happens next. I keep finding myself surprised and I love it!
Thank you for pointing out Dorothea's very understandable, absolutely righteous rage! That she is not even aware of having, and would sure send her into a tailspin of self-blaming. Also agreed on her being a wholly original and interesting character, this is why I always look forward to read the very few 19th century women writers, they're almost universally the only ones willing to write women as people and not tropes, wonder why that is?
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 love where you landed here. One of the best pieces of reading advice I ever got from a professor was to sit back and enjoy it. It was while we were reading a wacky American 19th century novel by William Dean Howells (who can really mutter on about politics, like Eliot does) and I found myself happy to just put my pen down and let those sections be a lighter touch in my experience. There will still be those moments where you fly forward again, arrested by the language, and want to annotate. Doesn't have to be every page!
Some scattered thoughts because I didn't have much time to read or write down notes last week:
Haley, your commentary on chapter 19 and the mythical origins of Ariadne in the labyrinth made a lightbulb go off in my head - in chapter 3 the word labyrinth appears three times (or some variety of it), which I remember because it stood out to me when I read it for the first time. It’s the chapter where Dorothea really gets into her infatuation with Casaubon and his intellect. I’m not sure what this connection means precisely (if it means anything at all) but it felt noteworthy.
I was very happy to see Dorothea again! I was really feeling for her and it made me quite sad to see her so sad (and angry!) about Casaubon and the way their marriage is working out so far. What made it worse is how foreseeable it was based on what we learn about the two in earlier chapters… Poor Dorothea indeed!
I do kinda wonder how/if their sex life works (is that weird? Sorry 😭)
I haven’t made up my mind about Will - unfortunately I have a soft spot for hedonistic, opinionated, slightly artsy fuckboys so I’m biased but something about him makes me root for him. It was cute to read about how clearly jealous he was of anyone else getting Dorothea’s attention and I really enjoyed their conversation about art and poetry.
I actually enjoyed the Lydgate chapters, the small town politics were interesting and I’m curious about how these alliances play out in the future and if/how they’ll connect to the rest of the plot. Bulstrode seems insufferable.
Two quotes I enjoyed this week:
„Will Ladislaw’s smile was delightful, unless you were angry with him beforehand.“ (Ch. 21)
„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.“ (Ch. 20)
Ah ha! That labyrinthine connection feels VERY noteworthy! Perhaps it's worth continuing to watch for the word — and the associations (characters, moments, feelings) that tend to accompany it?
The "enclosed basin" quote felt deeply funny, but also devastating. It's one of those lines that perhaps feels funnier once you know that people are not vast seas of inspiration, but are just "real people," with flaws and warts and all, as this novel keeps reminding us. It's certainly not funny to Dorothea to feel her beautiful future dashed to bits; but as you said, it's also something we knew was coming as the readers. We saw this realization a mile away; now we see Dorothea reckoning with it in real time.
I don't think it's weird at all to wonder about Dorothea and Casaubon's relationship, including their sex life—it's not something we can expect to get much detail on in a Victorian novel (for many reasons, but not because they were any less sexual beings than we are today). But it's a curious "gap" in the relationship that I think points to the kind of experiential gulf between the two: Dorothea is young and passionate and fiery and idealistic and dreamy. Casaubon, as the novel states plainly, is dried up. He's not really that passionate about anything — and he also acknowledged to himself that he's not that excited by the prospect of Dorothea or being married to her. We also learnt in these chapters that Dorothea is spending most of her honeymoon *alone* while Cas spends time dawdling around in libraries (and not really furthering his great academic project). There's a lot of loneliness here—and a profound lack of sexual tension, interest, or intimacy. I think it's not weird at all to notice that and wonder about its deeper implications on how Dorothea is feeling.
Labyrinths and mirrors! Are we wandering deeper into wrong turns and misdirections? I hope there will be an escape into openness and light for at least some of the characters. I'll be sad if every one of them ends up lost or dead ended.
I love finding these references to labyrinths and I’m grateful to Pia and you for pointing them out! The novel has taken on greater depth with its range of recurring motifs and it’s rewarding to review them now that I’m a good distance through the narrative.
For me the Labyrinth connection pinged in the chapter following the ekphrasis of Ariadne alongside Dorothea, in the description of Mr.C’s mind: “how was is that…the large vistas and wide fresh air which she had dreamed of finding in her husband’s mind were replaced by ante-rooms and winding passages which seemed to lead nowhither?” I think it comes up a couple places after that that Dorothea finds Mr. C’s tedious and unimportant studies to be like dark hallways with no windows. More generally the labyrinth in middle march seems like people trapped in bad matches— maybe Lydegate with Bulstrode another example?
I also noted the labyrinth connection, as well as mirrors. Both religious devices too.
Ha, I was absolutely wondering about their sex life too, Eliot is never going to write anything specific but I'm here and ready to intercept any subtext she might possibly throw our way.