I am greedy to follow her story in the light of that fight between pagan pleasures and strict spiritual notions.
Two examples of this side of her character:
-She loved the fresh air and riding in the country. But she "felt that she enjoyed it on a pagan sensuous way, and always looked forward to renouncing it".
- "How beautiful these gems are". She agrees to keep the emerald ring and its accompanying bracelet.She feels a real delight looking at them. In fact "she thought of often having them by her, to feed her eyes at these little fountains of pure color".
But again she denies any pagan pleasure; in fact she will never wear any jewel in company.
"Her thought was trying to justify her delight on the colours by merging them in her mystic religious joy".
"I suppose that is the reason why gems are used as spiritual emblems in the Revelation of St. John".
I agree, I think her inconsistencies make her so much more authentic feeling to me, I think a lot about when I was newly 20 and in this space of "college" versus "the real world" and had all of these lofty ideals that didn't always match my behaviors or fit my desires. This clash between impulsive want and the idealized criteria she holds for being "Good" is so interesting, even more so because of Celia's clear-eyed understanding of the inner war that Dorothea is fighting. I think Celia sometimes sees Dorothea and understands her motivations more than Dorothea herself does. And we see this causes resentment because Celia is stuck in an inferior role to someone who doesn't have a fully developed sense of self-awareness and who also doesn't understand that she is rejecting things that Celia wants (the jewelry, Sir James, a conventional marriage etc.), leaving Celia in a position to either ignore her own desires so as not to cause disagreement or accept things that are now her sister's cast-offs. I think this push and pull between the sisters will continue to be a driving force of the story.
Yes! I love how this early theme of hard and fast binaries is coming out, and perhaps how we play different roles according to how we want to be seen versus how we really feel. Dorothea doesn't seem to consider that she can love the outdoors and riding, *and* still be pious, or enjoy beautiful material items. Paired with the tension in the prologue that sets us up to think about ambition versus ability (and perhaps, with allusions to Dorothea marrying, the ambitions of Victorian men and the ambitions of Victorian women, and how they are allowed to express themselves), we are set up for a really interesting read!
I have been SO EXCITED to get to this week when we’ll read more pages per day. It was a joy to get started and to feel my creaky brain adjusting to the prelude, only to calm down once it hit the first chapter. Phew!
I loved the line you shared, and here is my favorite from week one as well, especially the bit within asterisks.
“Poor Dorothea! compared with her, the innocent-looking Celia was knowing and worldly-wise; *so much subtler is a human mind than the outside tissues which make a sort of blazonry or clock-face for it.*”
What an image! I was seeing faces as clock faces all week. 🩷
The Prelude introduces the main theme of the novel which revolves around the conditions of women in the 19th c. society. In particular it focuses on the position of women with a passionate, ideal nature, strong opinions and on how they feel and how they are seen and considered in their society.
The narrator states that these types of women deserve and demand an epic life, but is that possible to achieve? ( This is the implied question).
The narrator uses a vivid and powerful image to make the reader understand and visualize the interior struggle these women have to endure. We are introduced to a “brown pond” with a “cygnet” swimming around the “ducklings” trying to find its “living stream”.
If I should translate this image into the theme of the novel, I think that the “brown pond” represents society. The cygnet is this special woman who stands out among the ducklings and the living stream is the epic life, the achievement she longs for and that she cannot find in a pond, which is stagnant water.
The ducklings are all the others who follow the rules of society and are perfectly at ease in a pond.
Women who try to shape their thoughts and needs in a “noble agreement”, are disapproved as someone extravagant or condemned as a lapse. They are seen as “blundering lives” and their behaviour is explained as the “indefiniteness with which the Supreme Power has fashioned the nature of women”.
The first chapter starts by introducing Miss. Brooke. There are two sisters, Dorothea and Celia, but only Dorothea is referred to as Miss. Brooke, so I presume she is going to be the protagonist of the story.
She is a woman with strong opinions, but also someone who regulates her life following the strict rules of her religion.
She is seen as an outsider in a society that expects women to have weak opinions, but also her puritan religion requires her to conform to certain models.
The dialogue between the two sisters about their mother’s jewels, makes us understand the difference between them.
Dorothea is not at ease talking about jewellery , something that she considers useless for the spirit, a show of vanity. On the contrary, Celia, who was also brought up with the same religious believes, appears having less constraints and is able to find compromises. She says: “ I’m sure that the wearing of a necklace will not interfere with my prayers”. She also doesn’t feel any obligation to comply with her older sister’s believes. She states” I do not see that I should be bound by Dorothea’s opinions”.
I would like to end my comment by saying that it is significant that the author, Mary Anne Evans, decided to choose a masculine pen name, George Eliot, in order to have a better chance to be published and to be taken seriously by her readers.
I, too, noticed Eliot's intentional choice not to mention Dorothea's first name and instead refer to her as Miss Brooke at the beginning of Chapter 1. We receive Celia's name, and then finally learn Dorothea's name.
That's also a reflection of social customs of the time. The eldest daughter in a family is Miss Family, and younger sisters are Miss Jane Family, Miss Anne Family, etc. So our narrator is demonstrating their command of etiquette and setting a level of formality -- interesting to see how that develops/changes over the novel.
The Prelude begins with the epic life of Saint Theresa.
The narrator then goes on to specify that "many Theresas have been born who found for themselves no epic life". "Perhaps only a life of mistakes ...perhaps a tragic failure..and sank unwept into oblivion" , "wherein there was a constant unfolding of far-resonant action".
The narrator want to show that the struggles of those "ardent willing souls" were considered "mere inconsistency and firmlessness" by the "common eyes" because of their nature of women".
With a metaphor a message is given to the readers: bring a look of sweetness and understanding so that "the cygnet ..among the ducklings in the brown pond" can find "the living stream in fellowship with its own oary-footed kind."
My favorite quote is "Sane people did what their neighbors did, so that if any lunatics were at large, one might know and avoid them." The villagers (and potential suitors) are wary of these newcomers, two sisters and their uncle. These sisters are close, but there is cloaked rivalry in their encounters. Celia is "innocent-looking", but the scene with their mother's gems paints her manipulative as well. Dorothea is described in contrasts. "If Miss Brooks ever attained perfect meekness, it would not be for lack of inward fire." She is overtly pious but also loves the sensuousness of horseback riding. On horseback she is described as "bewitching". Never good for a woman who appears to be different from her society to be described with any adjective with "witch" in it, is it? The prologue talks of the life of the saint and then "later-born Theresas" who find no "epic life", whose "ardor alternated between a vague ideal and the common yearning of womanhood", the one "disapproved as extravagance" the other "condemned as a lapse." This seems to hint at tragedy for at least Dorothea and maybe Celia as well. I have scrupulously avoided any spoilers and am approaching this story completely unaware of its trajectory. So far I love the detached and wry voice of the narrator. I had thought the writing would be more dense and less entertaining. The only thing dense is the heft of my paperback which puts my fingers to sleep holding it.
Oh, this is thought-provoking, Haley, and thanks for the attention paid to St. Teresa. In thinking this over (and having read the novel before), I think Eliot was quite intentionally subverting the marriage plot, especially by opening with a famous nun.
I’ve just spent several months reading about Italian history after a recent trip to Italy, and have been struck anew by how often nunneries were the only place for unmarried (or widowed) noblewomen to go. These societies of women (often cloistered) could be very conservative in the St. Teresa mold, but some were also quite progressive away from male eyes and the usual patriarchal constraints. For some, channeling their passion and energy into a spiritual life was the ultimate rebellion, even if they wouldn’t legitimize those rebellious feelings by describing it that way.
And so we come to Miss Brooke/Dorothea - a passionate, divided soul who yearns for something bigger than women of the time were allowed. This is also George Eliot.
Thanks for hosting this (just subscribed!). I’ve had Middlemarch looking at me from my shelf for years and this finally inspired me to go for it. Thanks!
Having just read War and Peace (with Simon!) last year, I couldn't help but think often of Marya in contrast to Dorothea (even St. Theresa, from the from the parallel laid out in the prelude). That deep fervor of faith which, for Marya, was paired with a naturally timid and subdued (even, oppressed?) nature -- while Dorothea, who seems to simmer in a way, is constrained more by the tenets of her belief than a natural proclivity to restraint.
I also loved the quote about the life she felt outside and how she "always looked forward to renouncing it."
The Prelude here gives the reader some of the cultural context (specifically about women's roles) that helps the reader understand Dorothea better. It also acts the way the Table of Contents in a nonfiction book does: It gives us a structure for how the story will go, a framework we can fill in as we read.
When I first read Middlemarch as a teen, I was looking for a romantic story along the lines of Hardy's Tess of the d'Urbervilles. In my 20s, I reread it with fury about the limitations put on women. On this reading of Chapter 1, what strikes me most is the author's humor. Aren't lines like these hilarious?
"If Miss Brooke ever attained perfect meekness, it would not be for lack of inward fire."
"There was a strong assumption of superiority in this puritanic toleration, hardly less trying to the blond flesh of an unenthusiastic sister than a puritanic persecution."
I LOVED these first two chapters of Middlemarch, and was surprised at how much information Eliot manages to pack into simple sentences. In the first ten pages, it feels like we get a crash course on the character of Dorothea. I've hardly spent any time with her, but I feel like I know her so well already!
Right from the start, we are introduced to Dorothea's dualism as a character. She seems to idealize a very conservative role as a woman because of her religious convictions, yet she thinks and acts in accordance with a more progressive stance. In chapter one, I highlighted the quote, "Women were expected to have weak opinions; but the great safeguard of society and of domestic life was, that opinions were not acted on." We see Dorothea wanting to inhabit this role of the submissive, domestic woman, but not only does she hold strong opinions, she acts on them constantly. From her criticism to Celia's desire for jewelry to her insistence on Casaubon as the more fitted suitor over Sir James, Dorothea's opinions are strong enough to be convictions, guiding her actions and thoughts in a manner that seems to give her more autonomy as she advocates for less of it.
Near the end of chapter one, our narrator says, "If Miss Brooke ever attained perfect meekness, it would not be for lack of inward fire." It seems what is inward does not match what is outward, and Dorothea is (at the moment) unaware of the contradiction at all.
Appreciate this point - the seeming "conservatism" combined with her progressive stance or attitude. In my post I wondered whether "spiritual piety" was also confounded with being learned and reading and study and having opinions (as the clergy were perceived in those days?). And that perhaps Dorothea was also aspiring to a life of the mind, not just spirit.
Loving reading the comments by others here. I’m realizing that I was not being very charitable toward Dorothea in my notes lol.
I see a lot of Emma Bovary in her at this point. I love the passage in chapter 1, page 10 in the Penguin edition (foreward by Mead). “She was open, ardent, and not in the least… could teach you even Hebrew if you wished.” It’s a wonderful character development in such a short space. We see how D.’s fanaticism (to religion in D.’s case; to romance in Emma’s case) blinds her to the fact that in front of her, potentially, is the answer to her prayers. Chettham seems like the kind of guy who would learn Hebrew just to teach it to her and allow her to be the kind of woman she longs to be. D cannot fathom that possibility, however. Who will she then be convinced to marry and how will that work out for her? This tension is what’s keeping me engaged.
Just a NB on the process of reading — I found myself feeling really frustrated and locked out of the novel. It was hard for me to understand what was happening at first and it took me many re-reads and reading closely to start to tease out the meaning. I understand that this process is simply reading, and I’ve read difficult books before, but I found myself getting really annoyed. I kept thinking, “This is what people talk about when they talk about the elitism of the canon.” Or, in a cruder sense, “white people’s literature.” That’s utterly silly, I know, but it was coming up for me. I think part of the annoyance is being made to feel like this is a classic and my education is incomplete without reading it, but then feeling like it’s a near impossibility to do so. (It’s not impossible, and I’m grateful for this opportunity).
I feel like this close reading exercise is a good way to understand how to tackle difficult books that might seem outside my wheelhouse and see what I can translate for people in my life who, though might be much more intelligent than myself, will not or cannot take the time to parse out the meaning of this novel. Because I have some more formal education and fewer life demands, I have the skills and practice and time to do this and can share what I learn with them.
You’re having a very similar reaction to my husband, who *adores* Dickens and loves Victorian lit but cannot read a sentence by Eliot without getting pissed off. He finds her overtly pretentious and purposefully difficult—even as he recognizes there must be some reason for all the fanfare. I am curious how you’ll experience the novel: will you end up loving Eliot, or will her particular style keep you at arm’s length throughout?? It’s an excellent tension to be aware of as you read on!
I sympathize both with Jonathan and your husband here, Haley. I was always a huge classics reader, adored Dickens and Austen and all those windbags (said lovingly, of course) but when I read Middlemarch in college I actually didn’t love it at the time! I felt like Eliot actually WAS a windbag, lol. I decided to try again several years later because Middlemarch seems to be one of those books that’s considered a pinnacle of Victorian literature by almost everyone. I felt left out!
I will say that so far, it’s going better than it was when I was a busy college student trying to read it on my phone between classes. Thanks for hosting this and posting such thoughtful study questions!
I also felt initially locked out of the novel - I read the prelude about 3 times and did a lot of googling to help understand it. I'm slowly finding my feet but there definitely seems to be a 'learning curve' as such. I wondered if it was because I only read 1-2 'classics' like this a year and the tone/voice is so different to what I'm used to.
Thanks for honestly addressing how offputting this novel is to read at first, now that we’re well into the digital age. The first time I read it, I recall my own impatience with its sprawl - I kept racing through, wanting to get back to Dorothea - impatient, as Celia calls her, for more certainty. Yet this time around, I’m loving the sprawl and finding so many things laugh-out-loud funny (Mrs. Cadwallader! So much more to say there.)
But I always loved George Eliot the narrator’s voice - and I love it even more now. Is she any more pretentious than Dickens or Trollope? That’s not a rhetorical question. I don’t think so, but Haley may have more to say there. In fact, for me, Eliot is a far sharper observer of female characters than Dickens - and her own perspective feels much more open to human foibles. So, I guess, my big question to other commenters: why does her authorial view seem pretentious beyond the style of her times? In fact, I’d say her narrative POV is meant to fly against the sexist constraints of her era, just as Dorothea does.
I think Celia is very underrated as a character. She has this very clear-eyed view of who Dorothea is, and you can sympathize with her teeth-grinding in having to accommodate her sister’s cluelessness and pieties. She is a little manipulative, but seems forced into that position due to Dorothea’s refusal to engage the world as it is.
She is the Amy March character, who I have also always kinda rooted for. I’m not sure why I am drawn to these parodies of conventionality. Maybe because in practice someone like Celia, who was actually in tune with other people and not so self-absorbed, would be much more helpful and a more effective philanthropist in real life, whereas the Dorothea’s are always too busy finding themselves.
That said, I love Dorothea too, and I think the opening line about severe dress creates such a great image of conflicted image
I'm caught by Eliot's description of the color of the jewels striking deep, like music. I think it's because they bypass the intellectual response (in Dorothea's case, the constant determination of what is best) and moves straight to an emotional response. She immediately intellectualizes it (they're like the streets of heaven) but Eliot gives us the space between the response and the reason to consider. I think this echoes her riding, when she's acting out of character (or against her character [as in moral fortitude]) -- it's something she enjoys without striving for the best.
Hi, there is so much to learn ! I just wanted to drop my favourite quote of chapter 1: “She could not reconcile the anxieties of a spiritual life involving eternal consequences, with a keen interest in guimp and artificial protrusions of drapery “. I can imagine, I can “see” Dorothea with this description.
I was thinking about nature vs nurture as I read the prelude and ch. 1. Especially with the sisters being orphans and raised by their strange uncle, which would have changed the course of their nurture.
yes I find this interesting as well! He himself seems to have bucked tradition by refusing to bring in a maid or governess to help care for the girls. I've read a little further on so I have mixed feelings for him as a character, but it seems he may have inadvertently modelled behaviours that shows you can bend social conventions during this time.
"But Dorothea is not always consistent".
I love the inconsistency of Dorothea.
I'm so glad that she is not " a perfect devotee".
This makes her character more interesting.
I am greedy to follow her story in the light of that fight between pagan pleasures and strict spiritual notions.
Two examples of this side of her character:
-She loved the fresh air and riding in the country. But she "felt that she enjoyed it on a pagan sensuous way, and always looked forward to renouncing it".
- "How beautiful these gems are". She agrees to keep the emerald ring and its accompanying bracelet.She feels a real delight looking at them. In fact "she thought of often having them by her, to feed her eyes at these little fountains of pure color".
But again she denies any pagan pleasure; in fact she will never wear any jewel in company.
"Her thought was trying to justify her delight on the colours by merging them in her mystic religious joy".
"I suppose that is the reason why gems are used as spiritual emblems in the Revelation of St. John".
The enjoying in a “pagan sensuous way” really struck me, too. 😍
I agree, I think her inconsistencies make her so much more authentic feeling to me, I think a lot about when I was newly 20 and in this space of "college" versus "the real world" and had all of these lofty ideals that didn't always match my behaviors or fit my desires. This clash between impulsive want and the idealized criteria she holds for being "Good" is so interesting, even more so because of Celia's clear-eyed understanding of the inner war that Dorothea is fighting. I think Celia sometimes sees Dorothea and understands her motivations more than Dorothea herself does. And we see this causes resentment because Celia is stuck in an inferior role to someone who doesn't have a fully developed sense of self-awareness and who also doesn't understand that she is rejecting things that Celia wants (the jewelry, Sir James, a conventional marriage etc.), leaving Celia in a position to either ignore her own desires so as not to cause disagreement or accept things that are now her sister's cast-offs. I think this push and pull between the sisters will continue to be a driving force of the story.
Yes! I love how this early theme of hard and fast binaries is coming out, and perhaps how we play different roles according to how we want to be seen versus how we really feel. Dorothea doesn't seem to consider that she can love the outdoors and riding, *and* still be pious, or enjoy beautiful material items. Paired with the tension in the prologue that sets us up to think about ambition versus ability (and perhaps, with allusions to Dorothea marrying, the ambitions of Victorian men and the ambitions of Victorian women, and how they are allowed to express themselves), we are set up for a really interesting read!
I have been SO EXCITED to get to this week when we’ll read more pages per day. It was a joy to get started and to feel my creaky brain adjusting to the prelude, only to calm down once it hit the first chapter. Phew!
I loved the line you shared, and here is my favorite from week one as well, especially the bit within asterisks.
“Poor Dorothea! compared with her, the innocent-looking Celia was knowing and worldly-wise; *so much subtler is a human mind than the outside tissues which make a sort of blazonry or clock-face for it.*”
What an image! I was seeing faces as clock faces all week. 🩷
same quote struck me - and the word "blazonry" ! like a blazing+masonry combo
Yes! It has such a proud connotation. ❤️🔥
The Prelude introduces the main theme of the novel which revolves around the conditions of women in the 19th c. society. In particular it focuses on the position of women with a passionate, ideal nature, strong opinions and on how they feel and how they are seen and considered in their society.
The narrator states that these types of women deserve and demand an epic life, but is that possible to achieve? ( This is the implied question).
The narrator uses a vivid and powerful image to make the reader understand and visualize the interior struggle these women have to endure. We are introduced to a “brown pond” with a “cygnet” swimming around the “ducklings” trying to find its “living stream”.
If I should translate this image into the theme of the novel, I think that the “brown pond” represents society. The cygnet is this special woman who stands out among the ducklings and the living stream is the epic life, the achievement she longs for and that she cannot find in a pond, which is stagnant water.
The ducklings are all the others who follow the rules of society and are perfectly at ease in a pond.
Women who try to shape their thoughts and needs in a “noble agreement”, are disapproved as someone extravagant or condemned as a lapse. They are seen as “blundering lives” and their behaviour is explained as the “indefiniteness with which the Supreme Power has fashioned the nature of women”.
The first chapter starts by introducing Miss. Brooke. There are two sisters, Dorothea and Celia, but only Dorothea is referred to as Miss. Brooke, so I presume she is going to be the protagonist of the story.
She is a woman with strong opinions, but also someone who regulates her life following the strict rules of her religion.
She is seen as an outsider in a society that expects women to have weak opinions, but also her puritan religion requires her to conform to certain models.
The dialogue between the two sisters about their mother’s jewels, makes us understand the difference between them.
Dorothea is not at ease talking about jewellery , something that she considers useless for the spirit, a show of vanity. On the contrary, Celia, who was also brought up with the same religious believes, appears having less constraints and is able to find compromises. She says: “ I’m sure that the wearing of a necklace will not interfere with my prayers”. She also doesn’t feel any obligation to comply with her older sister’s believes. She states” I do not see that I should be bound by Dorothea’s opinions”.
I would like to end my comment by saying that it is significant that the author, Mary Anne Evans, decided to choose a masculine pen name, George Eliot, in order to have a better chance to be published and to be taken seriously by her readers.
I, too, noticed Eliot's intentional choice not to mention Dorothea's first name and instead refer to her as Miss Brooke at the beginning of Chapter 1. We receive Celia's name, and then finally learn Dorothea's name.
That's also a reflection of social customs of the time. The eldest daughter in a family is Miss Family, and younger sisters are Miss Jane Family, Miss Anne Family, etc. So our narrator is demonstrating their command of etiquette and setting a level of formality -- interesting to see how that develops/changes over the novel.
PRELUDE
‐--------------
The Prelude begins with the epic life of Saint Theresa.
The narrator then goes on to specify that "many Theresas have been born who found for themselves no epic life". "Perhaps only a life of mistakes ...perhaps a tragic failure..and sank unwept into oblivion" , "wherein there was a constant unfolding of far-resonant action".
The narrator want to show that the struggles of those "ardent willing souls" were considered "mere inconsistency and firmlessness" by the "common eyes" because of their nature of women".
With a metaphor a message is given to the readers: bring a look of sweetness and understanding so that "the cygnet ..among the ducklings in the brown pond" can find "the living stream in fellowship with its own oary-footed kind."
My favorite quote is "Sane people did what their neighbors did, so that if any lunatics were at large, one might know and avoid them." The villagers (and potential suitors) are wary of these newcomers, two sisters and their uncle. These sisters are close, but there is cloaked rivalry in their encounters. Celia is "innocent-looking", but the scene with their mother's gems paints her manipulative as well. Dorothea is described in contrasts. "If Miss Brooks ever attained perfect meekness, it would not be for lack of inward fire." She is overtly pious but also loves the sensuousness of horseback riding. On horseback she is described as "bewitching". Never good for a woman who appears to be different from her society to be described with any adjective with "witch" in it, is it? The prologue talks of the life of the saint and then "later-born Theresas" who find no "epic life", whose "ardor alternated between a vague ideal and the common yearning of womanhood", the one "disapproved as extravagance" the other "condemned as a lapse." This seems to hint at tragedy for at least Dorothea and maybe Celia as well. I have scrupulously avoided any spoilers and am approaching this story completely unaware of its trajectory. So far I love the detached and wry voice of the narrator. I had thought the writing would be more dense and less entertaining. The only thing dense is the heft of my paperback which puts my fingers to sleep holding it.
Oh, this is thought-provoking, Haley, and thanks for the attention paid to St. Teresa. In thinking this over (and having read the novel before), I think Eliot was quite intentionally subverting the marriage plot, especially by opening with a famous nun.
I’ve just spent several months reading about Italian history after a recent trip to Italy, and have been struck anew by how often nunneries were the only place for unmarried (or widowed) noblewomen to go. These societies of women (often cloistered) could be very conservative in the St. Teresa mold, but some were also quite progressive away from male eyes and the usual patriarchal constraints. For some, channeling their passion and energy into a spiritual life was the ultimate rebellion, even if they wouldn’t legitimize those rebellious feelings by describing it that way.
And so we come to Miss Brooke/Dorothea - a passionate, divided soul who yearns for something bigger than women of the time were allowed. This is also George Eliot.
Thanks for hosting this (just subscribed!). I’ve had Middlemarch looking at me from my shelf for years and this finally inspired me to go for it. Thanks!
Having just read War and Peace (with Simon!) last year, I couldn't help but think often of Marya in contrast to Dorothea (even St. Theresa, from the from the parallel laid out in the prelude). That deep fervor of faith which, for Marya, was paired with a naturally timid and subdued (even, oppressed?) nature -- while Dorothea, who seems to simmer in a way, is constrained more by the tenets of her belief than a natural proclivity to restraint.
I also loved the quote about the life she felt outside and how she "always looked forward to renouncing it."
I'm fascinated to see how this story unfolds!
The Prelude here gives the reader some of the cultural context (specifically about women's roles) that helps the reader understand Dorothea better. It also acts the way the Table of Contents in a nonfiction book does: It gives us a structure for how the story will go, a framework we can fill in as we read.
When I first read Middlemarch as a teen, I was looking for a romantic story along the lines of Hardy's Tess of the d'Urbervilles. In my 20s, I reread it with fury about the limitations put on women. On this reading of Chapter 1, what strikes me most is the author's humor. Aren't lines like these hilarious?
"If Miss Brooke ever attained perfect meekness, it would not be for lack of inward fire."
"There was a strong assumption of superiority in this puritanic toleration, hardly less trying to the blond flesh of an unenthusiastic sister than a puritanic persecution."
I LOVED these first two chapters of Middlemarch, and was surprised at how much information Eliot manages to pack into simple sentences. In the first ten pages, it feels like we get a crash course on the character of Dorothea. I've hardly spent any time with her, but I feel like I know her so well already!
Right from the start, we are introduced to Dorothea's dualism as a character. She seems to idealize a very conservative role as a woman because of her religious convictions, yet she thinks and acts in accordance with a more progressive stance. In chapter one, I highlighted the quote, "Women were expected to have weak opinions; but the great safeguard of society and of domestic life was, that opinions were not acted on." We see Dorothea wanting to inhabit this role of the submissive, domestic woman, but not only does she hold strong opinions, she acts on them constantly. From her criticism to Celia's desire for jewelry to her insistence on Casaubon as the more fitted suitor over Sir James, Dorothea's opinions are strong enough to be convictions, guiding her actions and thoughts in a manner that seems to give her more autonomy as she advocates for less of it.
Near the end of chapter one, our narrator says, "If Miss Brooke ever attained perfect meekness, it would not be for lack of inward fire." It seems what is inward does not match what is outward, and Dorothea is (at the moment) unaware of the contradiction at all.
Appreciate this point - the seeming "conservatism" combined with her progressive stance or attitude. In my post I wondered whether "spiritual piety" was also confounded with being learned and reading and study and having opinions (as the clergy were perceived in those days?). And that perhaps Dorothea was also aspiring to a life of the mind, not just spirit.
Loving reading the comments by others here. I’m realizing that I was not being very charitable toward Dorothea in my notes lol.
I see a lot of Emma Bovary in her at this point. I love the passage in chapter 1, page 10 in the Penguin edition (foreward by Mead). “She was open, ardent, and not in the least… could teach you even Hebrew if you wished.” It’s a wonderful character development in such a short space. We see how D.’s fanaticism (to religion in D.’s case; to romance in Emma’s case) blinds her to the fact that in front of her, potentially, is the answer to her prayers. Chettham seems like the kind of guy who would learn Hebrew just to teach it to her and allow her to be the kind of woman she longs to be. D cannot fathom that possibility, however. Who will she then be convinced to marry and how will that work out for her? This tension is what’s keeping me engaged.
Just a NB on the process of reading — I found myself feeling really frustrated and locked out of the novel. It was hard for me to understand what was happening at first and it took me many re-reads and reading closely to start to tease out the meaning. I understand that this process is simply reading, and I’ve read difficult books before, but I found myself getting really annoyed. I kept thinking, “This is what people talk about when they talk about the elitism of the canon.” Or, in a cruder sense, “white people’s literature.” That’s utterly silly, I know, but it was coming up for me. I think part of the annoyance is being made to feel like this is a classic and my education is incomplete without reading it, but then feeling like it’s a near impossibility to do so. (It’s not impossible, and I’m grateful for this opportunity).
I feel like this close reading exercise is a good way to understand how to tackle difficult books that might seem outside my wheelhouse and see what I can translate for people in my life who, though might be much more intelligent than myself, will not or cannot take the time to parse out the meaning of this novel. Because I have some more formal education and fewer life demands, I have the skills and practice and time to do this and can share what I learn with them.
Looking forward to next week!
You’re having a very similar reaction to my husband, who *adores* Dickens and loves Victorian lit but cannot read a sentence by Eliot without getting pissed off. He finds her overtly pretentious and purposefully difficult—even as he recognizes there must be some reason for all the fanfare. I am curious how you’ll experience the novel: will you end up loving Eliot, or will her particular style keep you at arm’s length throughout?? It’s an excellent tension to be aware of as you read on!
the pretentiousness reminded me of donna tart’s the secret history, let’s just throw in some greek references here …. oh some latin there..
I sympathize both with Jonathan and your husband here, Haley. I was always a huge classics reader, adored Dickens and Austen and all those windbags (said lovingly, of course) but when I read Middlemarch in college I actually didn’t love it at the time! I felt like Eliot actually WAS a windbag, lol. I decided to try again several years later because Middlemarch seems to be one of those books that’s considered a pinnacle of Victorian literature by almost everyone. I felt left out!
I will say that so far, it’s going better than it was when I was a busy college student trying to read it on my phone between classes. Thanks for hosting this and posting such thoughtful study questions!
I also felt initially locked out of the novel - I read the prelude about 3 times and did a lot of googling to help understand it. I'm slowly finding my feet but there definitely seems to be a 'learning curve' as such. I wondered if it was because I only read 1-2 'classics' like this a year and the tone/voice is so different to what I'm used to.
Thanks for honestly addressing how offputting this novel is to read at first, now that we’re well into the digital age. The first time I read it, I recall my own impatience with its sprawl - I kept racing through, wanting to get back to Dorothea - impatient, as Celia calls her, for more certainty. Yet this time around, I’m loving the sprawl and finding so many things laugh-out-loud funny (Mrs. Cadwallader! So much more to say there.)
But I always loved George Eliot the narrator’s voice - and I love it even more now. Is she any more pretentious than Dickens or Trollope? That’s not a rhetorical question. I don’t think so, but Haley may have more to say there. In fact, for me, Eliot is a far sharper observer of female characters than Dickens - and her own perspective feels much more open to human foibles. So, I guess, my big question to other commenters: why does her authorial view seem pretentious beyond the style of her times? In fact, I’d say her narrative POV is meant to fly against the sexist constraints of her era, just as Dorothea does.
Right now Dorothea potentially is right up there with some of my favorite female characters — Leora Tozer, Jo March, Meg Murray …
Oooooh I love this! She’s already climbing the ranks for you!
I think Celia is very underrated as a character. She has this very clear-eyed view of who Dorothea is, and you can sympathize with her teeth-grinding in having to accommodate her sister’s cluelessness and pieties. She is a little manipulative, but seems forced into that position due to Dorothea’s refusal to engage the world as it is.
She is the Amy March character, who I have also always kinda rooted for. I’m not sure why I am drawn to these parodies of conventionality. Maybe because in practice someone like Celia, who was actually in tune with other people and not so self-absorbed, would be much more helpful and a more effective philanthropist in real life, whereas the Dorothea’s are always too busy finding themselves.
That said, I love Dorothea too, and I think the opening line about severe dress creates such a great image of conflicted image
Ah! I love this comparison to Amy March!! Celia seems *likable* to me in a way that Dorothea seems resistant. They make a very curious pair.
I'm caught by Eliot's description of the color of the jewels striking deep, like music. I think it's because they bypass the intellectual response (in Dorothea's case, the constant determination of what is best) and moves straight to an emotional response. She immediately intellectualizes it (they're like the streets of heaven) but Eliot gives us the space between the response and the reason to consider. I think this echoes her riding, when she's acting out of character (or against her character [as in moral fortitude]) -- it's something she enjoys without striving for the best.
Shoooooot this is a gorgeous reading! I love this insight!
Hi, there is so much to learn ! I just wanted to drop my favourite quote of chapter 1: “She could not reconcile the anxieties of a spiritual life involving eternal consequences, with a keen interest in guimp and artificial protrusions of drapery “. I can imagine, I can “see” Dorothea with this description.
I was thinking about nature vs nurture as I read the prelude and ch. 1. Especially with the sisters being orphans and raised by their strange uncle, which would have changed the course of their nurture.
yes I find this interesting as well! He himself seems to have bucked tradition by refusing to bring in a maid or governess to help care for the girls. I've read a little further on so I have mixed feelings for him as a character, but it seems he may have inadvertently modelled behaviours that shows you can bend social conventions during this time.
Oh that makes me excited to keep reading!