Fred is going to have to earn his keep and Caleb is going to be the techer. But at least he has something he knows he can work at to win Mary’s hand, unlike Dorothea who has no path available to her.
Fred’s father is a pain. Typical middle class loading over someone with their own success and making everyone else feel small. Caleb is compassionate as we should be and not “superior” to others.
Great insght: “Caleb was in a difficulty known to any person attempting in dark times and unassisted by miracle to reason with rustics who are in possession of an undeniable truth which they know through a hard process of feeling, and can let it fall like a giant’s club on your neatly carved argument for a social benefit which they do not feel.”
I doubt there has been a more insightful novel written about the middle class than this one. All the rules and norms and veiled, passive aggressive posturing hat makes up a society lacking great money but with a little education (and perhaps too much religion). I feel bad for Dorothea. She loves Will, and her feelings are not just as a woman’s but as a person’s. Who hasn’t longed deeply and been denied? Hurts
Up until now we could until guess what Dorothea really felt about Will. We knew how he feels about her, but her feelings were layered. We could since she felt for Will but she betrayed nothing, not even to herself. And now that she’s alone we finally get her admission and just when there should be every possibility of happiness, she (and Will) are furthest from it because of everyone around them: Middlemarch.
I really liked this chapter because not only is it very straight forward in its plot (no obscure political refreneces) but also straightforward in Fred’s and Mary’s feelings for each other, and especially here’s for what she wants to see him accomplish (or not, as in being clergy)
Mr Broke is not nearly the politician he thinks he is, and that’s juxtaposed with Will’s fantasy about Dorothea one day coming around to his side of love. Neither man is very realistic – no wonder they get on so well.
I have to admit to being asurprised by Dorothea’s sisiter. She seems almmost cold, or even cruel to suggest that Dorothea (basically) write off Mr. Casaubon. Yes, he had been mean, but Dorothea had loved him (in her way). To be so blunt to Dorothea, all the while with the image of the healthy baby juxtaposed with the recent death seems rather unfeeling towards Dorothea.
I had been willing to somewhat forgive Mr. Casaubon’s severe behavior, but his will (against Will) goes too far; what he did is cruel and vindictive. To think that could even be legal (forbid your widow from marrying a specfic person) is abhorant, but it’s worse morally because of how it could shame Dorothea, especially among such gossip-minded people as live in Middlemarch.
Oh, he died. And he did it in just such a way as to have her carry guilt on top of grief. It’s alost as if he knew this would happen as a means to keep Will away from her.
Will seems to be testing his “place” in Middlemarch but he’s having a tough go of it – he seems to only have attracted Mr Brooke, who nobody seems toi take very seriously, and a parade of 7 year-olds. His trip to church to nettle Mr. Casaubon only made him uncomfortable, not the other way around. He’s very young and very inexperienced, but through this we see how society works.
Honestly, I’m not too sure what this chapter was about, other than arguing about what motivates Lydgate or Will. I sometimes feel they are talking about things in a way that we, the reader, should know about, but that the author hasn’t yet told us about. it makes for dense reading at times.
We get a clearer picture of why Lydgate is having trouble fundng his fever hospital. Many oppose him, mainly because he does things different and in Middlemarch that’s not something they like, or they are for him but usually for more than the most noble of reasons (except for Dorothea; she’s honestly trying to help, if naively).
Dorothea isn’t considering her position to be giving money to Lydgate’s hospital. Yes, it is an honset and good deed she believes she is doing, but it does have a political message it sends to others in the town who oppose it. She’s taking a stance without realizing she’s doing so. People will talk.
I like how he points/out that people don’t want part of a good idea unless they’re involved with it. Eliot is a student of humanity.
Lydgate and Rosamond’s relationship seems built on the idea of ambition, but they do seem complicit in it, as if they’ve found a good team mate in the affair. Will being at Rosamond’s house is a tad suspicious, though I doubt she would ever go in for that sort of thing.
In many ways Mr. Casaubon is already dead, he’s just waiting around for his body to catch up with that knowledge.
Eliot is drawing comparisons between Mr. Casaubon who lives only for scholarly pursuits and has no life in him, to Fred who lives plenty yet has no sense. Both are being disappointed through disillusionment (Mr. Casaubon with marriage, Fred through not getting the money). Eliot begs for balance.
“Who shall tell what may be the effect of writing? If it happens to have been cut in stone, though it lie face down-most for ages on a forsaken beach, or “rest quietly under the drums and tramplings of many conquests,” it may end by letting us into the secret of usurpations and other scandals gossiped about long empires ago:—this world being apparently a huge whispering-gallery.”
And just like that fortune of the Garth’s is turned around. I like the idea that Caleb wants Fred to manage the land with him; put that layabout to work!
Looks like I misread Mr Brooke a bit. He’s not liberal with his tenants, he’s sort of a slum landlord. He thinks he’s a jolly chap but his tenants are drunk and have had it with him.
I like that Eliot is making Mr Brooke an all-around good guy. We see some of the dirty underbelly of this sort of life that everyone is guilty of to one degree or another. We’re all hypocrites about some things, I suppose.
“We must not have you getting too learned for a woman, you know.”
Oh, my, how times have changed. Imagine saying this to someone today.
This does bring up a related issue, however. Joseph Conrad is forever being labeled a racist for saying things like this about other races, yet is Eliot taken to task for having her characters speak as people did then? They are only products of their time, for good and bad.
I’m going to have to admit to some ignorance in this chapter. I feel as if I was plopped down in the middle of a conversation about things and (some) people I don’t know anything about. I get they’re talking local politics and that Mr Brooke is (perhaps?) being too liberal with his new newspaper and how lax he is collecting rents from his farms. Beyond that, I’m a little lost here.
Ironically, if Mr. Casaubon was not so smart, didn’t think things through so much, he might have at least been a position to do something rash that would have stirred the pot, let people know he was jealous of Will, show his weakness to others and, thus, possibly endeared himself a little. It’s his mind that is literally causing him grief. But he suffers quietly. In marriage he’s more alone than before.
The fist time they really have a talk like a married couple, it takes place in the dark – she’s literally in the dark about the whole matter of Ladislaw.
A lot of people go into a relationship with a baggage cart full of unrealistic expectations about the other person. They think they can change this and that, and that they too will be changed in some (better, of course) way. Poor Dorothea had such high hopes for her husband and is day by day being disillusioned in her “blue-green boudoir”. The novel does not think wisely of the decisions young people make.
We can compare Will’s building of a relation with Dorothea with Rosamond’s manuvering of Lydgate. Will is not particularly ambitious, but he does greatly desire Dorothea – yet what one says, the other takes a different meaning than the other intended. Rosamond is much more simple, really. She wants Lydgate (for good or bad to her) and is able to “catch him” with just a few tears.
“But it is very difficult to be learned; it seems as if people were worn out on the way to great thoughts, and can never enjoy them because they are too tired.” Thinking too much about what it means to enjoy life means you’re going to miss all the things that make life enjoyable.
You gotta hand it to Rosamond in how well she can handle everyone and get what she wants. Fred could take a lesson from his sister.
Men give women a hard time sometimes when they say they work “harder” than women do, but that’s only in lifting heavy things: a woman works just as hard in how she can navigate people, something us men typically drown at sea when asked to. The domestic vs the industrial.
What I enjoyed the most in this chapter was her observations of everyone as they waited and heard the will(s) to be read. Now the mystery is who is this Mr. Rigg (rigged!) , but also what will happen to Mary since she played a role in all this. And Fred, well, how often have we been close to a prize only to lose it because we were careless? Actions have consequences.
We have a funeral, but we we really get is a lot of gossip (and Dorothea rightly says it’s sad to die and leave no one behind who loved them).
There’s an odd juxtaposition at the end here between death and the painting of Casaubon as Aquinas and how old and stodgy all that is, or at least, how out of touch it that theology is with regular people. Brooke doesn’t like art that’s too straining to keep up with.
Mr. Featherstone meets his match at the end when Mary refuses (wisely) to not play into his game of the wills. I like the image of the fire as life and how it tricks her at first in the morning when she looks at Mr. Featherstone and isn’t sure if he’s alive or not.
We’re never more popular than when we’re dying and in possession of something someone hopes to get from us. Mr. Featherstone is very popular now and no wonder he’s such a crank with family resembling vultures.
Mr. Trumbull is a fun buffoon, a real “bookman” who can’t pronounce the book titles. Ha!
Unlike Dorthea, Rosamond knows what she’s doing. She may have some naive notions about what marrying Lydgate would entail, however, she plays the social game so well that any defect in Lydgate could be smoothed over by her ability. And I really did feel for her when after (only) 10 days went by with no Lydgate she was actually upset. And it was a tender moment between them.
“But the end of Mr. Brooke’s pen was a thinking organ”, I love Mr. Brooke. Even all his terrible advice that would probably kill Mr. Casaubon if acted upon is good-natured and well-meaning, if a little thin in its intellectual stimulation (which, ironically, is what Mr. Casaubon actually should take up – man can’t live on bread alone).
Lydgate, of course, sees more opportunities to be a brilliant doctor.
I liked that we finally got the point of view of Mr. Casaubon, however, he’s just as we’ve believed him to be: “to be present at this great spectacle of life and never to be liberated from a small hungry shivering self”.
His attack is interesting. Stress of the marriage? It comes after they disagree again.
Celia, as always, is observant, this time of Sir James who who is putting on some airs.
“Here was a woman who had known some difficulty about marriage.” Did she think the marriage a bad one or just other people.
“And I don’t want to be married so very soon, because I think it is nice to be engaged.” Celia is clever as always
The dimness of Lowick Manor, the ghost-like image of the stag, the dun sky – all represent her husband. She hadn’t noticed before but it was always like this.
Lydgate has no idea how many enemies he’s making. He wants to be a self-made man, well he’ll turn out to be unmade by everyone he’s turned against him. And just because he’s right in his opinions about how silly something like the “Keepsake” is, doesn’t mean he’s exempt from lording over everyone. Trivial fare is as much a social lubricant as alcohol, that’s why this sentimental nonsense if so loved by most.
Fred doesn’t have typhoid fever, he’s just feeling the effects of growing a conscience. And Lydgate is probably over exaggerating the diagnosis so as to appear brilliant in front of Rosamond (and therefor make his name in the town). Wrench’s reputation sure will suffer.
Or maybe I’m being cynical?
The reason why the Garth’s are so hard-up financially is because they’re such good people. The reason why people like Mr. Featherstone have money is because they don’t give a damn what other people think of them and probably don’t care for them either.
Eliot shows us the many facets of what blindly motivates people: Fred’s desire for idleness, Dorothea’s desire for the spiritual ideal, Naumann’s art.
You can really feel Fred’s shame as he confesses to not having the money to pay the Garth’s back. This is compounded on how you can tell how much this will hurt the Garth’s. Just like regular middle-class people today, a financial blow like this can be near fatal. His actions effect more than his honor, which he recognizes, but pretty much runs away from out the door.
I need to do a better job paying attention to the politics of the novel because I honestly have no idea what the difference between a Tory and a Liberal is – and as much as I hate politics it’s not making it easier.
I can’t imagine that Fred will turn out to be nearly the horse trader he thinks himself to be. He’s already bad enough with money he has (or owes) so you can only image how bad he’ll be with money he wants. Besides, making money by buying and selling only works if you already have money and if you’re clever enough to convince people what they want to sell isn’t actually worth as much as they think.
We begin with the characters – through art – seeing each other as they would like to be see, especially vain Mr. Casaubon. We end the chapter with talking about what we hope to be true, though with Will’s and Dorothea’s intentions not exactly lining up (he loves her; she’s naive). Casaubon must sense this since he’s not a total fool.
Casaubon is becoming a bit of an ogre; I hope he humanized more later.
This whole chapter Ladislaw is almost exclusively referred to as just Will. So there is a familiarity between her and him, but just subtle. And the difference with how he speaks to her as opposed to Mr. Casaubon (always Mr.) is striking – they speak more as two people close in age should speak (for the times). She’s also (through Will) seeing the world (and Casaubon) from a fresh point of view.
Not that it’ss any surprise to the reader that Dorothea is growing miserable, but what is remarkable is how beautifully written this chapter is. She describes Rome as being this beautiful wreck of a city, a city that has made the civilized world, but is also neglected and difficult to understand. These descriptions of Rome reflect how she feels and it feels so lonely. And we end where ch 19 begins.
Naumann and Ladislaw are fun.
We see Dorothea through two sets of eyes, one sees her as a beauty to be painted, the other as just Mrs. Casaubon. They even argue about interpretation, Naumann wishes to paint his Christian Antigone, Ladislaw doesn’t want much to do with her.
So even though we know Dorothea we see her, as everyone, as being very different people – we are seen this way: as multitudes.
I feel like I should read this novel twice so that on second reading I’d have a stronger grasp of all that is going on. There is so much interconnected here, so many long-standing relationships that to just jump in is daunting.
Still, the gist of this chapter is the pettiness of small town politics and the will of Lydgate to go against the grain by voting for Tyke and not Farebrother as intended.
“One must be poor to know the luxury of giving!” So true
“it was plain that a vicar might be adored by his womankind as the king of men and preachers, and yet be held by them to stand in much need of their direction.” and then Mr. Lydgate goes on about his insects because he likes them better perhaps than his flock.
“… you wear the harness and draw a good deal where your yoke-fellows pull you”
Rosamond, though I don’t like her, is a great character. She’s just as ambitious as Lydgate, and is just as clever as him. She might not be book smart, but she’s smart in people, and herself. So her cynicism about Middlemarch is somewhat founded since she is, in a way, a little better than the people around her. Yet we call her a snob and Lydgate is just ambitious. Why is she seen as less than him?
Middlemarch is not interested in anyone who is qualified, only in whom will fit in.
Lydgate believes what Rosamond says is all the more correct because of how she says something, not in what she says. It’s all image.
The story of Lydgate and the actress is fun and also telling. Just as Laure says “… I do not like husbands”, she could very well be talking about Middlemarch which “counted on swallowing Lydgate and assimilating him very comfortably”.
Lydgate stands out as being someone who wants to make something of himself – like Mr. Bulstrode – but does not want to be assimilated. He dreams of fame perhaps.