Small thought. Is it a little fault of Caleb Garth that it does not occur to him to make Mary, who is obviously capable and "like[s] the outside world better," his assistant instead of sending her to teach in York and offering the position to Fred?
Perhaps. But I suspect he’s trying to help them develop a sustainable relationship, as he knows how fond Mary is of Fred and he wants them to be happy long-term. If he made Mary his assistant, and she was good at it, as she inevitably would be, and then Fred floundered and could not find himself, then that would not be a happy ending for Caleb the loving father.
It was an ingenious solution. Caleb with his kindness and attention to how things work created a way forward where there was no other solution (for Fred).
Fantastic post, thank you Mona. A pleasure to read after getting through Book 6 with some degree of conscious perseverance! All amply rewarded!
Re liking the Vincys, I like the way Rosamond sticks up for herself against Lydgate, who can be a bully (with a disturbing hint of physical violence). However the way in which she risked (not once but twice) and then lost her pregnancy and seems completely unaffected by it seems to put her resistance in a different light. Her parents are well-meaning, the father probably too busy working and enjoying the fruits of his labor and the mother with little more than goose feathers in her head and free rein but in Rosamond it seems they have created the too-perfect mirror of their upwardly mobile dreams, one that does not reflect light so much as suck it in to itself. They - the Vincys and Lydgate - have put too much emphasis on appearances and appearances are beginning to appear deceiving.
I guess this is where gossip comes in, the truth-telling kind as well as other kinds.
It seems that Lydgate however foolishly did believe that hardship would bring he and Rosamond closer together and is surprised and hurt to find it pushing them apart instead.
There is so much going on in Book 6, about appearances and what we say and think about them like the auctioneer trying to sell things by saying they are what they aren't. And it works, he always gets a buyer! I thought the parts about the railway and how lies about it were spread was an exact explanation of what still happens today, only Eliot can be forgiven for not knowing the internet would be the engine used to spread lies faster and to more people than ever before.
There's all kinds of contrivances, deceits and hidden secrets coming to light, whether used with good intentions or not. Arguably the biggest sin (and therefore most forgivable?) seems to be that of self-deceit, such as in Mr. Bulstrode.
I agree I feel the implausibility of a second parting btw Will and Dorothea too and even a second meeting to say goodbye, again! It's explained by Eliot and it does seem like something that would happen but why he stuck around so long is hard to completely understand.
I like Mr. Farebrother a lot better than Fred, I have to say. But I think Mary has always loved Fred, she just has had reasons for not admitting it. It's funny how some of the characters in this book, Fred being one, do seem to be created in a dependent way on the story turning out a certain way. Not totally imbued with free will, but acting under the large sky of Eliot's creation. Which is fine by me!
I was a bit startled at how lightly the loss of the baby was described. I thought it was meant to reflect Rosalind’s narcissism and lack of commitment to familial love, but I wondered if it reflected the fact that GE herself did not bear children & perhaps had some ambivalence there. Then Mona had this interesting idea that Eliot was channeling Lydgate’s “astonished pain.”
It’s definitely just me, but I’ve always felt a lot of sympathy for Lydgate. When we see him dealing with patients, such as Dorothea, he always seems both knowledgeable as a physician and quite empathetic. Of the physicians in Middlemarch, he is presented as the best-trained and the most “modern.” He has always been disciplined and conscientious, so when he finds himself in the throes of marital difficulties, he doesn’t know how to proceed: trying harder doesn’t seem to produce positive results, i.e. understanding on the part of Rosamond and reconciliation. In terms of strength of will, it turns out Rosamond is stronger than he is. She knows what she wants, attractive things around her (she being at the center of the attractive things) and an improving status in the community, and she won’t give in. Lydgate is no match for that steely resolve. Then add in the flirtation with Ladislaw, the horse-riding leading to miscarriage incident, and her attempts behind her husband‘s back to curry the favor of his aristocratic relatives, and she emerges as one of the least sympathetic characters in the novel. Rosie is shallow (that’s the least pejorative thing you can say about her), while Lydgate is too compartmentalized and ill-prepared for how the different spheres in one’s life can leak into each other.
Lydgate's primal error was confusing Rosamond for someone who was on board with his program. He mistook her beauty for sympathy. I think Eliot is playing out the consequences of that. The message is, You men—and she creates an otherwise sympathetic man in Lydgate—expect us to play according to your rules, but the same rules do not apply to us. We are not rewarded for our merits and ambitions but for qualities over which we have no control, qualities that serve only your interests.
True enough, and Lydgate is royally punished for his infatuation with appearances and his “male” arrogance that he can straightforwardly control the situation. But I think the parallel romantic relationship to Lydgate-Rosamond is not Dorothea-Will, but Fred-Mary. Mary is the opposite of Rosamond in every way: grounded, not pretty, not full of herself, very industrious and practical. I suspect there’s a lot of GE in Mary. Fred is feckless, but Mary, with the help of her wonderful father Caleb, is making him into something better. People can change, given the desire and the right sort of encouragement. Fred becomes more admirable in the latter part of the novel. What trends toward the “tragic” in the Lydgate-Rosamond relationship is the sense of inevitability about it once it has started on its course. It seems that Lydgate has more possibility to change, but his stubbornness and pride constantly get in the way. He doesn’t know how to ask for help. Rosamond, in my opinion, has no ability to change. She is raised in the Vincy milieu and her finishing school ways to be just who she is. It’s easy for us to say that Lydgate should not have been so taken in by her physical charm. But I also think GE’s message, delivered through the prism of the plain Mary looking at the come-hither attraction of the beautiful Rosamond (who sees Mary’s value in how well she stitches!), is that these two ways of looking at the world, Mary’s and Rosamond’s, are totally incompatible.
I do find it interesting though that Eliot does not seem interested in giving Rosamond the same moral dimensionality that the other characters get. Or do I just not see it? I feel like Amanda G (on August 27) made a stronger case for Rosamond's side than Eliot does!
Of course, if this were a 20th century novel, we would have had it spelt out to us that the Lydgate/Rosamund romance was all about sexual attraction, and they had had no time, reason or opportunity to explore their real characters or intellects, and what they wanted out of life, before they got married. When engagements and weddings were the only answer to strong and risky sexual attraction, when there was no chance to satisfy physical curiosity and then perhaps move on to a more suitable relationship, it is not surprising that marriages could prove so difficult and unsatisfying. We know from Eliot's personal life that she probably had far more awareness of this common problem than many other female writers of the day. But I think she hints at the issue - as so often the couple's arguments are suspended (not resolved) by physical contact...'Dear Rosy, lay down your work and come and sit by me'...Rosamund too was still under the power of that same past...She put his hair lightly away from his forehead...' Of course, in time, even this will fail to solve the unhappiness.
I too am so struck by how subtly Eliot underlines the physicality of their relationship, esp on Lydgate’s side, in contrast to the other couples in the story. It’s such a telling detail that Lydgate assumes that Dorothea and Will had a “passionate attachment.” Doctor - man of the body. Amanda G above observed that there was something threatening or overbearing in Lydgate’s touchiness. I hadn’t thought of that.
And yet . . I wonder if there wasn't more going on "behind the scenes" of "polite society" than we know or think about now. With Lydgate and Rosamond the sexual attraction is mutual but Rosamond's seems dependent on her ability or willingness to see Lydgate in a certain light, while he seems quite helpless in his attraction to her, which it seems the accounting of his first doomed love affair when he behaved much the same way was to prepare us for. No matter how mad he gets at Rosamond there seems no chance he will find her unattractive. I for one would find it satisfying if once he looked at her and found her less than the image of perfect feminine beauty.
Remembering how delighted Rosamond was by the realization she could sexually manipulate people even though she was married! She gets a thrill out of the chase, probably even within her marriage.
I am really enjoying this slow meander through one of my favourite novels of all time. And it reminded me of something that had bothered me for many years - why do so many great Victorian novels have such wonderful villainous bankers! (having been a banker myself...) . Were there so many scandals at the time? You might enjoy this post?
Thank you! Great post! Left this comment: How interesting! To look at these figures from the experience of actual banking. I believe banking was associated with Jews in pre-modern Europe because medieval Catholicism forbade loaning with interest (“usury”), though everyone wants to borrow! So the greedy Jewish banker is an old antisemitic trope that hovers over these figures; the sense of the banker as an outsider, with different values, not to be trusted, yet fulfilling a need. Bulstrode’s ostentatious Christianity battles against this shadow...
Great point, Ann. If you look at Dostoevsky ‘s works from the 1860s to 1880 those with lots of money are automatically associated with the Rothschilds. In The Idiot it’s Rogozhin, an Old Believer (a kind of primitive Christian) risen up through the merchant class, who controls vasts amounts of wealth and wants to “buy” the heroine Nastasya Filippovna with it, which leads to tragedy.
One thing I always ask my students: when Lydgate tells Rosamond that she shouldn't go riding, and presents it as an order, is that the doctor speaking or the husband? A bit of a trick question because of course it's both, and then Eliot plots things so that the doctor's order is born out by what then happens. But it's one of those points where his imperiousness brings him close to the kinds of marital orders that Casaubon issues, even as his professional knowledge also serves to distinguish between the two men. A bit.
There's so much bogus medicine in the 19th C novel (Jane Bennett getting sick for days from riding in the rain), but this one is for real. I had a delicate pregnancy and it makes me shudder to think of it. Plus there's the association of riding with sensuality—implicit, but also invoked with Dorothea's riding early in the book; and Rosamond wants to ride in order to flirt with Lydgate's relative. Lydgate senses betrayal and quasi-sexual recklessness, that she is being tugged away from fidelity to the family by more hedonistic impulses, which is also her larger story. I think Eliot works in shadings: at what point do the bonds of love and loyalty shade into the authoritarian? Lydgate tries to enlist Rosamond in responsibility for the family and she resists; Casaubon demands loyalty without agency and Dorothea resists; living well resides in some careful balance in the midst.
I feel the most 'on Lydgate's side' when he tells Rosamond that as they love one another so much the tough times won't matter as long as they go through them together, united in their surely mutual love .. though that love seems more and more a fiction in his head. Meanwhile Rosamond turns her head or sits and cries. And then does exactly as she likes - a response that makes total sense -- to her.
It is good how Eliot is at pains to show us how much Rosamond believes she is in the right. You can scarcely call her underhanded in a way, since she really believes she cannot be wrong.
I agree that it was so interesting that Eliot continually gave us how Rosamond interpreted Lydgate’s actions and efforts to explain things/beseech her working with him. Was really fascinating. Not sure I’ve seen that in a novel of this time.
That's a great insight. I found myself alarmed -- this time around -- by the parallels between the two marriages. I love the way Eliot develops Lydgate's view of Dorothea. The first time he sees her he finds her beautiful but feels no attraction -- she's too passionate, not submissive, inadequately "feminine". Later, he witnesses her real attachment to her husband, her authentic pain, her capacity for empathy and admires her enormously. Their friendship is one of the redemptions the book offers. But though he estimates their marriage clearly, he doesn't ever see himself in Casaubon. H
I loved how you said it was a bold and original move for Eliot to create these two characters and not involve them sexually with each other. It announces a different basis for stories. It feels to me like a horses-in-the-night thing that Dorothea would have given Lydgate a salary for his work in the hospital but it does not occur to him to ask her for help. He thinks he is so vital, manly--it doesn't occur to him that his "studies" might also estrange him from lived experience.
Interesting, Ann: as opposed to Casaubon, whose studies draw him away into abstract aridity, I always assumed Lydgate’s studies were aimed at making him a better clinician. Maybe I missed something.
I guess I'm thinking that he's so wrapped up in his work and convinced of its obvious value (and we kind of are too!) that he doesn't bother really to try to explain to Rosamond what it is or consider how, for instance, his absence from the household or his inability to make a a proper living might affect the life she expects to have. His view of the world is more appealing to us, so we don't immediately see the narcissism, we're on board with his project (we're intellectuals who read long novels, after all) so it's hard for us to sympathize with someone who cares more about having the right people to tea than changing the world.
Thank you for teasing that out! Reading Eliot for as long as the book is I feel you start receiving multiple signals and meanings at once and I did register that about Lydgate but not in so many words. I think I wondered something like, which one is Rosamond going to listen to, the dr or the husband? And of course she ignores both.
I just don't love Lydgate as much as Eliot seems to. And I think I like Rosamond more than I'm supposed to! (I don't really get it myself)
Here’s where I need to politely disagree a bit. His “imperiousness”? Not saying losing it is the answer, but what answer is there to Rosamond? His practice is going down the tubes, their situation continues to worsen, he cares that his attempts to economize are hurting her, and for her it’s always and only about her. I don’t think in this dynamic GE has a lot of sympathy for Rosamond.
Have a look at Amanda G's case for Rosamond below! Pretty convincing, though it doesn't quite get her off the hook for sneaking around behind Lydgate's back with his own connections.
I was reviewing the chapter where Raffles approached Will, letting him know of his possible relationship to Bulstrode. Can anyone comment of how often in British literature people turn out to be related? It seems to be a literary device to move the plot along. Oliver Twist is the best example, but it happens in 20th and 21st century British lit, too. If ET were to read British lit from another planet, he would think Great Britain was a small town and everyone was related in one way or another. I can’t think of examples in American lit, certainly not as often!
It's interesting that in the cases of Fred and Rosamond and Mary Garth, we see the influence of parents on their children, and these characters' characters seem determined in a way that Dorothy's and Celia's don't.
Tangential to your wondering about how often people in British lit are related! It seems what you say about a device to move the plot along is very true. British society was/is also obsessed with class and the weird possibilities that class/lack of produced.
We get no sense of Dorothea's parents; nor for that matter of Lydgate's. Really a marked contrast to Mary, Fred and Rosamond, even to Farebrother.
Some of the criticism on Middlemarch is skeptical of the Bulstrode/Ladislaw connection, of the way Eliot uses all those coincidences of relation to bring about the novel's final resolution, almost as though the novel had been invaded by Dickens. She writes early on about what she calls "the stealthy convergence of human lots" but this one is very stealthy indeed. Still, it works for me--what it points to is a world in which people can indeed lose their earlier selves, reinvent themselves, become someone new. Or at least believe that they can, given the difficulties of communication and travel. That's what Bulstrode hopes to do, but in Eliot nobody ever really gets away with anything.
Is it meaningful that Bulstrode is returning, as it were, to the scene of the crime, the home of his late wife's estranged family? Why does he do that?
Lydgate's estrangement from his relatives is always referred to in the second degree, like something we are assumed to know about him--of course setting out to become a doctor he disavowed his old family's patrilineal values. But we get no sense of them in particular. His parents must have died. When? It's like he's self-creating. Maybe that's what the "man of science" has to be.
Yes, there is something about “scientific knowledge” that causes one to divorce oneself from older traditions based on class and wealth. That seems the implication in Lydgate’s case at least.
I think you nailed it, Amanda! Everyone writes about orphans and the uncared for. But the British use long-lost relatives to explore people jumping classes, which is nearly impossible otherwise. I loved the article on orphans. Thanks! Indeed, some of our best lit is based on their adventurous lives. Of course, I had good parents and it didn’t stop me from going down some pretty strange roads 🤢!
I remember when my child was small I wondered why so many children's stories, especially Disney, begin with the deaths of parents. A psychiatrist i knew said it was needed to give the fictional children an agency that the audience-children lack living in a family.
Shallow, conceited, spoiled, self-absorbed - the list could go on! Is she full of pride, too? As much as Lydgate is?
Is she really the least sympathetic? Do you actually feel sorry for Bulstrode?
I do have sympathy for Rosie. She married a man who in many ways is as blind as Dorothea is to his own needs and wants and now she has to find a way to her happiness (however we may judge the quality of it) on her own. Lydgate is so rarely at home, busy trying to improve the state of the world and make a name for himself, she's making do with Will, who doesn't even like her, because he doesn't like anyone except Dorothea.
I don't think she is pretending when she cries. And frankly I would cry too if I were married to Lydgate.
But it's fine for him to come home and say, by the way, we are broke and people are coming to take most of our things tomorrow but I know I'm so great and you love me so much you won't mind a bit.
He tried to take her jewelry!
Yes he gave it back. I know. He's amazing.
Do we really believe Rosamond should be made to bear the brunt of her husband's mistakes?
A very strong case for Rosamond! I was beginning to think that Eliot had turned toward painting her entirely without sympathy but you make a lot of sense. It does seem like Eliot is trying to make a larger case for people to listen to each other more fully and not operate out of assumptions and social constructs... I feel like Eliot (plain intellectual lady) is giving Lydgate his comeupance for being such a sop for female beauty. He claims to want to treat Rosamond like a partner, but he didn't chose her for her partner-like qualities.
Lygdate has been reckless and insensitive to the ways of the community, storming in with criticisms, setting himself up as the only one who knows anything but he had no business sense at all. He is proud and arrogant. And then his star doesn’t rise because of his failure to figure out how a medical practice would work and his failure to work with people in the community. So then he goes home and commands Rosy that they must cut costs etc, and when she questions his role in bringing on this debt, his rankling of people, etc. he does not allow her any day at all. This is what I felt was imperious. It is later that he becomes more broken and asks her for her to work with him. He started out w a sense of entitlement to his word being automatically adhered to.
I think you are right about Lydgate being insensitive to the community. As the newcomer and outsider he is a source of resentment to his medical peers. His imperiousness as you say does him no favors. Perhaps another person would have spent more time trying to win people over but that does not seem to be his strong point!
I would add brash to how he dealt w the medical community. They were using old ways that he didn’t believe in but he went in there and showed no thoughtfulness to them as human beings/fellow colleagues. He probably viewed them as crackpots but neglected to see how he needed the community to do well.
It does seem to me a bit a failing of youth. I remember how I, and people I knew, thought we knew how to make everything better and of course it was so obvious that we were right and the old timers would see that and get out of our way. It would take quite a bit of maturity for Lydgate to go into Middlemarch and work with all those folks and their expectations and refrain from challenging them. You see this now in the way tech people try to run in and solve everyone's problems for instance, with so little attention to the worlds they want to revolutionize in a week.
Chapter 59 (only three pages) is about the 'aerial whispering' joy of gossip. The epigraph is about the nectar-like sweetness of gossip whispering in the ear of the soul, and it is here that Will learns from Rosamond who has learned from Fred who learned at Lowick parsonage about the codicil. Casaubon's malice has been sweetened in the medium of the gossiping Rosamond. "A confidential little bird...a magnet in the neighborhood."
That’s so funny I read the “pale-lipped form” as something a bit more ominous, Boschean maybe! Gossip is summoning up unexpected realities in this world where people have so much trouble talking to/seeing each other; it creates a kind of social nudity. Lydgate’s and Casaubon’s imputation of a physical relationship sexualizes in everyone’s mind a relationship that had been decorous.
It, gossip as you describe it, may be Eliot’s version of a Fall, as in the Biblical Fall, I mean, something carnal their love needs to pass through “to pastures new.”
Well, we’re probably not going to agree with each other, which is perfectly OK. 😊 Statements like “Lydgate is so rarely at home” sound to me like arguing from our present-day context; was it common or expected for the person in business those days (say, a Caleb Garth) to be spending a lot of time at home? Is “making do” with Will a good thing for the health of her relationship with Lydgate? Isn’t that problematic? The jewelry: if the choice is between bankruptcy and pawning the jewelry, what should it be, for the survival of the family? The fact that the jewelry is important to Rosamond and that to give it up is hurtful to her does not elicit pity in this reader. Yes, this is what Rosamond cares about, but is that a worthy vessel for one’s cares, especially when the family is falling apart otherwise? Mary Garth and Dorothea Brooke: these are two women with precise moral compasses -- Mary on the practical side, Dorothea on the idealistic side. Compared to these two, Rosamond’s moral compass points in one direction only: “propriety” and appearances. Maybe we shouldn’t blame her because she is nothing more or less than a product of her environment. And maybe we should blame Lydgate equally for not providing her what she needs, the implication being that if he did all would be well. But, again, speaking just for myself, I don’t believe that. GE is warning perpetually stupid men about the dangers of fatal physical attraction, which women, when chastising men for their mistakes (does this sound like he protesteth too much?), don’t get it because they’re not men. For me, when sizing up a fatal beauty that is also mistress of manipulation (which Rosie is), I would whisper in Lydgate’s ear, as he moves faster and faster toward his goal, the word’s Dante reads over the gate of hell in the Inferno: “Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here.” 😎
I think Eliot was creating a portrait of a certain sort of contemporary, who was modern in many ways but unaware of where he was not. Lydgate was unready to appreciate intellectual merit or agency in women; he also carried along a lot of class-based assumptions about what his life would be like, how he would cared for domestically. These blinders, or residues inhibited his ability really to be the modern person he thought he was. Will and Fred similarly struggle to reconcile their impatience with old roles and their expectations of life.
Again, totally agree. I think you analyze Lydgate’s failings accurately. His dreams of domestic bliss, with himself in the role of respected breadwinner and Rosamond in the role of charming hostess and helpmeet, were naive and purblind from the beginning. He should have known better, and you’re also right that he entered on this path hampered by his own prejudices. What is ironic, however, is that if his practice had been successful and remunerative (so that he could provide Rosamond whatever she needed in terms of status and wealth), there is every reason to believe that their marriage could have been successful.
Yes, there is the sense of something 'catching up' to Bulstrode! Himself?
It works for me, too. That is, I don't mind at all a bit of Dickens in anything and it is fun to see Eliot using the same kind of plotting in her own way and for her own ends.
One does feel a kind of shift, though, right? Things speed up and there's a sense of gears clicking into place. I noticed how she syncopates the realizations: we hear in one chapter a hint of something that has happened to another character, and then in the next chapter we see it happening, the chapters are woven so tightly together and there's a sense of acceleration, even predeterminedness.
Wow! This treatise on Eliot’s use of gossip as a device to propel the plot forward, one of the most important topics addressed this week, is marvelous. It gives us insight into a dimension of the plot and characters that is subtle but powerful. In a first read of the book, it could be entirely missed. I am elated to have it exposed before I move on to the next chapter, as this knowledge adds mightily to my appreciation of the tale, and calling it to our attention now is akin to learning how a master magician performs their tricks so we are better able to appreciate the next act before the show ends.
I’ve now read Mona’s latest contribution three times over. It again proves beyond any doubt (or gossip) that she is a champion athlete of fine literature, rocketing us towards the finish line with her brain on fire, the keyboard smoking, and only two books and a finale to go. It is an admirable feat stepping up with such an insightful commentary, after yet another week, without any visible sign of fatigue. In fact, she is giving us even more this time — again. What can be added to all of our previous words of appreciation and praise but yet another heartfelt, “thank-you!”
Book Six is entitled, “The Widow and the Wife.” It makes me wonder about the novel’s apparent theme: “hard work serving others with your ego held in check is the secret to a good life.” Is the kernel of this theme ultimately meant to be expressed through the opposing yin/yang of Dorothea and Rosamond? In so many respects, the entire orbit of plot and characters seems to trace its core back to these two women. Almost every character and scene ultimately affects them directly or indirectly in some manner. Is understanding these two women meant to be a key to the “big picture” of it all?
While they were both spoiled growing up, Rosamond (the wife) is totally self absorbed to the point of making us scream. Dorothea (the widow) is so self absorbed helping others we want to paint a halo over her head and cry. These two women are on the mind of Lyndgate himself as he learns of and foresees what may become his own ruin thanks to his devotion to his wife, a function of his own ego and Rosamond’s insane quest for social standing.
All of these feelings are brought to a boil within our own hearts through the ether of gossip, which perhaps is moral number two in the novel. The electric current that animates our thoughts, the very means for us to judge others, is all based on shared perceptions. History itself is nothing but the opinion of others if we let Mr. Wilde boil it down for us. And history and dare say “god” shimself will judge us all on how well we hold our ego in check and do well unto others as reflected by a Jungian sort of group think. That is what this chapter seems to say through two diametrically different women who are blind to their own ego-driven motivations.
It’s not enough just to be good and hold our ego in check, however. We also have to manage our reputations by obtaining untainted opinions of others (a 360 degree review in academic and corporate realms), too, because we are blind to our own faults and not always in a position to objectively judge ourselves. (Think Brooke’s desire to improve his tenant farms as a result of his worrying about voter perceptions while he is running for office, etc.)
Yet we all try to stand above the fray and not worry about what other people think, or so we are taught to believe. Eliot reveals this as a multi dimensional contradiction, that is, how we judge ourselves and how we ourselves are judged are two distinct things and what other people think DOES matter because how we judge ourselves is a corrupt mechanism. Like Bullstrode, like Rosamond, we can justify anything we want and it is only group opinion that is the ultimate authority. We can not even be a martyr if no one thinks of us as such (cue Dorothea). How might Lyndgate’s lot have been improved if he was more sensitive to the feelings of others? In an artificial sense, how might Rosamond be perceived if she was not so “polished” hiding her feelings and motivations?
I could go on I am so pumped up by this thread and everyone’s insights, but I must confess this thread is like a Tootsie Pop in its sweetness and I must succumb to the temptation of biting the delicious chocolate center instead of finishing it slowly as I started. So I am now sprinting on to the finish without waiting to read Mona’s comments a week from now. I no longer have the strength to endure six more days of waiting. I don’t want to share another insight gleaned. I must know how it all ends today. The sooner the better.
Please keep going faster than the speed of sound Mona! I dare say my mind would never have been stretched so far and so pleasurably without you out in front leading the charge, preparing to take another gold medal for fine literature home again.
I too am amazed by Mona’s stamina and I loved the theme of gossip here and how Mona show Eliot using it to knit together the different groups and personalities
As I fly only 30 pages from the finish line now, with the device of gossip moved from the background of my perceptions into the foreground thanks to Mona, the words on the page have been fanned from glowing embers into flames. I am grateful.
The gossip mechanism is an ingenious way to propel the story.
~You just knew there’d be a mysterious legacy as Will learns from Bulstrode.
~BTW what a prideful idiot is Will. Why not tell Bulstrode to double his offer and offer some capital up front? (Unless something happens later to justify the stick he’s shoved up his own…)
I thought part of what was up here is that Will, who has been severed from his aristocratic legacy, is the one holding onto “gentlemanly” values, sense of honor, etc. The scene of the auction is an interesting set piece: anyone in town can buy these trappings of status, which themselves were bought by someone who made his own money. Will is standing by as a kind of observer and measure of “value.”
Janice, below, thinks that Will is hewing to the path of “honor” to impress Dorothea, which seems possible. I feel like it’s a comment on the crosscurrents of old and new (aristocratic and mercantile) values in the novel. Will may have been disowned by his family but he has not yet let go of their codes.
I was reviewing the part when Raffles approached Will about his unsavory lineage and noticed that Will’s only thought is about Dorothea: “But if Dorothea’s friends had known this story. . .” Yes, Will really is honorable. But he is also obsessed with D.
Will is all about honor and integrity (he’s 24!). He senses that it he wouldn’t have a chance with Dorothea if he compromises himself. Funny though, I find myself strategizing how Dorothea can keep some of the money from her estate if she marries Will. I’m sure I didn’t do that 50 years ago when I first read this.
I mentioned in the a comment above how it’s interesting that Will is hanging onto these gentlemanly values while Casaubon e.g., for all his purer lineage, is happy to chuck them. I had read it as more instinctual and unconscious but maybe you are right & he is being strategic!
A really interesting comment. This is one of those situations where for me it’s difficult to parse. On the one hand Will is “all about” honor; on the other he sticks to his guns because he wants to win Dorothea. Don’t think the text gives us any evidence to disentangle these motives. There of a piece.
One more observation. I’ve found that getting into the rhythm of this book is a much overlooked and underrated pleasure. It really repays you for reading closely.
I tend to listen to an audiobook about 75% of the time, usually while driving or walking in a nearby park. How are others reading this tome?
I listen to novels a lot and find that the big 19th C ones fare particularly well. Reading this one on the page though and enjoying being able to make notes. I do get frustrated listening at how much slips away. My brother a few years ago came to me sad because he had finished listening to all of Dickens on the rowing machine & couldn’t find anything else as satisfying. He just wrote to me that he is loving Middlemarch (👋 P, if you are visiting the comments!)
Hmmm. Love Mr. Harding and Eleanor! Enjoy listening to the story of Mr. Slope and Mrs. Proust! Mr. Sleaze and Mrs. Bossy. (Do we ever call men bossy?) Only 4 1/2 chronicles to go! ❤️❤️
Keep going! Dr Thorne is a lovely story (with shades of a Middlemarch plot( and there was a nice TV version recently. Framley parsonage is missable, a bit 'samey'. But then the last two, Small House and Last Chronicle lead to a crescendo! The Last Chronicle in particular is fab!
Late to this because I had a poorly timed vacation, but I just have to share some of my thoughts on Book Six.
I actually think that Eliot portrays Rosamond in a fairly balanced way, even though she is a character who is difficult to understand sometimes. Book Six feels like a bit of a bait-and-switch for our expectations: the implication until now was that Rosamond was responsible for the sad financial state of her household due to her excessive spending, but Eliot makes it clear that Lydgate is just as responsible. He's also responsible for spending above his means, as the sole breadwinner he didn't prioritize his family life before his own arrogance and drove his practice into the ground, and he didn't share the information with his wife in time. He is more like Rosamond than he may want to admit, for months, he thought that thinking about money was beneath him as he ordered furniture and clothing and alienated half the town.
It's clear that Lydgate had no idea who Rosamond was as a person (in his fantasy of her as a wife he says "who would reverence her husband's mind after the fashion of an accomplished mermaid," talk about arrogance) before he married her. Even during their courtship, Lydgate didn't really think about Rosamond's feelings, only about the idea of Rosamond. I think it was in Book Three that he was causing gossip by hanging around Rosamond and chasing off all her other suitors, with no intention to propose until her aunt Bulstrode gently calls him out for his behavior. While Rosamond is also lost in the clouds, as an extremely sheltered young woman, she didn't have much of an opportunity to develop a more realist analysis of courtship. The responsibility does rest more on Lydgate, who theoretically should have more experience with both finances and romance.
Mona says that she has a liking for the Vincy parents, but I actually dislike them strongly. They seem like some of the worst parents/guardians in the book because by spoiling their children, they are setting them up for failure. Fred claws his way out of the hole somehow due to the moderating influences of the Garths who teach him better ways, but Rosamond's only influence is, well, Lydgate. The Vincys educated their children for the class they want to be, not the class they are. It's all well and good for a woman of Celia or Dorothea's station not to think about money, because she doesn't have to, but for a woman like Rosamond, the gentlewomanly idea of money being too coarse for a lady really isn't going to cut it. The Vincys didn't prepare her or educate her for the world she would realistically be in, and then don't do much to help her (Mr Vincy from the beginning is adamant about not helping them financially, partially due to his own money troubles but also because he doesn't like Lydgate). Rosamond is a tough character to read because her actions really make you shout at the page sometimes, but did she have any choice to turn out differently?
Side note, I liked the parallel between Will turning down Bulstrode's money, saying, "My unblemished honour is important to me," and Mary Garth refusing to burn Featherstone's will because it would stain the beginning of her life. I saw the debate down below about whether or not Will's sense of honor is due to his inherent values or because he wants to be worthy of Dorothea, and it's probably a little of column A, a lot of Column B, but is that necessarily a bad thing? It is a noble goal to want to be worthy of the one that you love (although the circumstances of your birth shouldn't be the things holding you back).
Small thought. Is it a little fault of Caleb Garth that it does not occur to him to make Mary, who is obviously capable and "like[s] the outside world better," his assistant instead of sending her to teach in York and offering the position to Fred?
THAT would have been a brilliant idea.
Perhaps. But I suspect he’s trying to help them develop a sustainable relationship, as he knows how fond Mary is of Fred and he wants them to be happy long-term. If he made Mary his assistant, and she was good at it, as she inevitably would be, and then Fred floundered and could not find himself, then that would not be a happy ending for Caleb the loving father.
It was an ingenious solution. Caleb with his kindness and attention to how things work created a way forward where there was no other solution (for Fred).
Fantastic post, thank you Mona. A pleasure to read after getting through Book 6 with some degree of conscious perseverance! All amply rewarded!
Re liking the Vincys, I like the way Rosamond sticks up for herself against Lydgate, who can be a bully (with a disturbing hint of physical violence). However the way in which she risked (not once but twice) and then lost her pregnancy and seems completely unaffected by it seems to put her resistance in a different light. Her parents are well-meaning, the father probably too busy working and enjoying the fruits of his labor and the mother with little more than goose feathers in her head and free rein but in Rosamond it seems they have created the too-perfect mirror of their upwardly mobile dreams, one that does not reflect light so much as suck it in to itself. They - the Vincys and Lydgate - have put too much emphasis on appearances and appearances are beginning to appear deceiving.
I guess this is where gossip comes in, the truth-telling kind as well as other kinds.
It seems that Lydgate however foolishly did believe that hardship would bring he and Rosamond closer together and is surprised and hurt to find it pushing them apart instead.
There is so much going on in Book 6, about appearances and what we say and think about them like the auctioneer trying to sell things by saying they are what they aren't. And it works, he always gets a buyer! I thought the parts about the railway and how lies about it were spread was an exact explanation of what still happens today, only Eliot can be forgiven for not knowing the internet would be the engine used to spread lies faster and to more people than ever before.
There's all kinds of contrivances, deceits and hidden secrets coming to light, whether used with good intentions or not. Arguably the biggest sin (and therefore most forgivable?) seems to be that of self-deceit, such as in Mr. Bulstrode.
I agree I feel the implausibility of a second parting btw Will and Dorothea too and even a second meeting to say goodbye, again! It's explained by Eliot and it does seem like something that would happen but why he stuck around so long is hard to completely understand.
I like Mr. Farebrother a lot better than Fred, I have to say. But I think Mary has always loved Fred, she just has had reasons for not admitting it. It's funny how some of the characters in this book, Fred being one, do seem to be created in a dependent way on the story turning out a certain way. Not totally imbued with free will, but acting under the large sky of Eliot's creation. Which is fine by me!
I was a bit startled at how lightly the loss of the baby was described. I thought it was meant to reflect Rosalind’s narcissism and lack of commitment to familial love, but I wondered if it reflected the fact that GE herself did not bear children & perhaps had some ambivalence there. Then Mona had this interesting idea that Eliot was channeling Lydgate’s “astonished pain.”
It’s definitely just me, but I’ve always felt a lot of sympathy for Lydgate. When we see him dealing with patients, such as Dorothea, he always seems both knowledgeable as a physician and quite empathetic. Of the physicians in Middlemarch, he is presented as the best-trained and the most “modern.” He has always been disciplined and conscientious, so when he finds himself in the throes of marital difficulties, he doesn’t know how to proceed: trying harder doesn’t seem to produce positive results, i.e. understanding on the part of Rosamond and reconciliation. In terms of strength of will, it turns out Rosamond is stronger than he is. She knows what she wants, attractive things around her (she being at the center of the attractive things) and an improving status in the community, and she won’t give in. Lydgate is no match for that steely resolve. Then add in the flirtation with Ladislaw, the horse-riding leading to miscarriage incident, and her attempts behind her husband‘s back to curry the favor of his aristocratic relatives, and she emerges as one of the least sympathetic characters in the novel. Rosie is shallow (that’s the least pejorative thing you can say about her), while Lydgate is too compartmentalized and ill-prepared for how the different spheres in one’s life can leak into each other.
Lydgate's primal error was confusing Rosamond for someone who was on board with his program. He mistook her beauty for sympathy. I think Eliot is playing out the consequences of that. The message is, You men—and she creates an otherwise sympathetic man in Lydgate—expect us to play according to your rules, but the same rules do not apply to us. We are not rewarded for our merits and ambitions but for qualities over which we have no control, qualities that serve only your interests.
True enough, and Lydgate is royally punished for his infatuation with appearances and his “male” arrogance that he can straightforwardly control the situation. But I think the parallel romantic relationship to Lydgate-Rosamond is not Dorothea-Will, but Fred-Mary. Mary is the opposite of Rosamond in every way: grounded, not pretty, not full of herself, very industrious and practical. I suspect there’s a lot of GE in Mary. Fred is feckless, but Mary, with the help of her wonderful father Caleb, is making him into something better. People can change, given the desire and the right sort of encouragement. Fred becomes more admirable in the latter part of the novel. What trends toward the “tragic” in the Lydgate-Rosamond relationship is the sense of inevitability about it once it has started on its course. It seems that Lydgate has more possibility to change, but his stubbornness and pride constantly get in the way. He doesn’t know how to ask for help. Rosamond, in my opinion, has no ability to change. She is raised in the Vincy milieu and her finishing school ways to be just who she is. It’s easy for us to say that Lydgate should not have been so taken in by her physical charm. But I also think GE’s message, delivered through the prism of the plain Mary looking at the come-hither attraction of the beautiful Rosamond (who sees Mary’s value in how well she stitches!), is that these two ways of looking at the world, Mary’s and Rosamond’s, are totally incompatible.
Absolutely correct. Better, more balanced way of framing the issue than simply attacking Rosamond.
I do find it interesting though that Eliot does not seem interested in giving Rosamond the same moral dimensionality that the other characters get. Or do I just not see it? I feel like Amanda G (on August 27) made a stronger case for Rosamond's side than Eliot does!
True. I think that lack of dimensionality was what made it hard for me.
Of course, if this were a 20th century novel, we would have had it spelt out to us that the Lydgate/Rosamund romance was all about sexual attraction, and they had had no time, reason or opportunity to explore their real characters or intellects, and what they wanted out of life, before they got married. When engagements and weddings were the only answer to strong and risky sexual attraction, when there was no chance to satisfy physical curiosity and then perhaps move on to a more suitable relationship, it is not surprising that marriages could prove so difficult and unsatisfying. We know from Eliot's personal life that she probably had far more awareness of this common problem than many other female writers of the day. But I think she hints at the issue - as so often the couple's arguments are suspended (not resolved) by physical contact...'Dear Rosy, lay down your work and come and sit by me'...Rosamund too was still under the power of that same past...She put his hair lightly away from his forehead...' Of course, in time, even this will fail to solve the unhappiness.
I too am so struck by how subtly Eliot underlines the physicality of their relationship, esp on Lydgate’s side, in contrast to the other couples in the story. It’s such a telling detail that Lydgate assumes that Dorothea and Will had a “passionate attachment.” Doctor - man of the body. Amanda G above observed that there was something threatening or overbearing in Lydgate’s touchiness. I hadn’t thought of that.
Yes, I noticed that too. It seemed very adultly knowing of him to assume that.
And yet . . I wonder if there wasn't more going on "behind the scenes" of "polite society" than we know or think about now. With Lydgate and Rosamond the sexual attraction is mutual but Rosamond's seems dependent on her ability or willingness to see Lydgate in a certain light, while he seems quite helpless in his attraction to her, which it seems the accounting of his first doomed love affair when he behaved much the same way was to prepare us for. No matter how mad he gets at Rosamond there seems no chance he will find her unattractive. I for one would find it satisfying if once he looked at her and found her less than the image of perfect feminine beauty.
Remembering how delighted Rosamond was by the realization she could sexually manipulate people even though she was married! She gets a thrill out of the chase, probably even within her marriage.
Again, bingo!
Great comment!
I am really enjoying this slow meander through one of my favourite novels of all time. And it reminded me of something that had bothered me for many years - why do so many great Victorian novels have such wonderful villainous bankers! (having been a banker myself...) . Were there so many scandals at the time? You might enjoy this post?
https://open.substack.com/pub/harkness/p/melmotte-merdle-and-bulstrode-victorian?r=gqpmg&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web
Thank you! Great post! Left this comment: How interesting! To look at these figures from the experience of actual banking. I believe banking was associated with Jews in pre-modern Europe because medieval Catholicism forbade loaning with interest (“usury”), though everyone wants to borrow! So the greedy Jewish banker is an old antisemitic trope that hovers over these figures; the sense of the banker as an outsider, with different values, not to be trusted, yet fulfilling a need. Bulstrode’s ostentatious Christianity battles against this shadow...
Great point, Ann. If you look at Dostoevsky ‘s works from the 1860s to 1880 those with lots of money are automatically associated with the Rothschilds. In The Idiot it’s Rogozhin, an Old Believer (a kind of primitive Christian) risen up through the merchant class, who controls vasts amounts of wealth and wants to “buy” the heroine Nastasya Filippovna with it, which leads to tragedy.
So fascinating to think of Eliot and Dostoevsky side by side. So much in common and yet such an extreme divergence of temperament and setting …
One thing I always ask my students: when Lydgate tells Rosamond that she shouldn't go riding, and presents it as an order, is that the doctor speaking or the husband? A bit of a trick question because of course it's both, and then Eliot plots things so that the doctor's order is born out by what then happens. But it's one of those points where his imperiousness brings him close to the kinds of marital orders that Casaubon issues, even as his professional knowledge also serves to distinguish between the two men. A bit.
There's so much bogus medicine in the 19th C novel (Jane Bennett getting sick for days from riding in the rain), but this one is for real. I had a delicate pregnancy and it makes me shudder to think of it. Plus there's the association of riding with sensuality—implicit, but also invoked with Dorothea's riding early in the book; and Rosamond wants to ride in order to flirt with Lydgate's relative. Lydgate senses betrayal and quasi-sexual recklessness, that she is being tugged away from fidelity to the family by more hedonistic impulses, which is also her larger story. I think Eliot works in shadings: at what point do the bonds of love and loyalty shade into the authoritarian? Lydgate tries to enlist Rosamond in responsibility for the family and she resists; Casaubon demands loyalty without agency and Dorothea resists; living well resides in some careful balance in the midst.
I feel the most 'on Lydgate's side' when he tells Rosamond that as they love one another so much the tough times won't matter as long as they go through them together, united in their surely mutual love .. though that love seems more and more a fiction in his head. Meanwhile Rosamond turns her head or sits and cries. And then does exactly as she likes - a response that makes total sense -- to her.
It is good how Eliot is at pains to show us how much Rosamond believes she is in the right. You can scarcely call her underhanded in a way, since she really believes she cannot be wrong.
I agree that it was so interesting that Eliot continually gave us how Rosamond interpreted Lydgate’s actions and efforts to explain things/beseech her working with him. Was really fascinating. Not sure I’ve seen that in a novel of this time.
That's a great insight. I found myself alarmed -- this time around -- by the parallels between the two marriages. I love the way Eliot develops Lydgate's view of Dorothea. The first time he sees her he finds her beautiful but feels no attraction -- she's too passionate, not submissive, inadequately "feminine". Later, he witnesses her real attachment to her husband, her authentic pain, her capacity for empathy and admires her enormously. Their friendship is one of the redemptions the book offers. But though he estimates their marriage clearly, he doesn't ever see himself in Casaubon. H
I loved how you said it was a bold and original move for Eliot to create these two characters and not involve them sexually with each other. It announces a different basis for stories. It feels to me like a horses-in-the-night thing that Dorothea would have given Lydgate a salary for his work in the hospital but it does not occur to him to ask her for help. He thinks he is so vital, manly--it doesn't occur to him that his "studies" might also estrange him from lived experience.
Interesting, Ann: as opposed to Casaubon, whose studies draw him away into abstract aridity, I always assumed Lydgate’s studies were aimed at making him a better clinician. Maybe I missed something.
I guess I'm thinking that he's so wrapped up in his work and convinced of its obvious value (and we kind of are too!) that he doesn't bother really to try to explain to Rosamond what it is or consider how, for instance, his absence from the household or his inability to make a a proper living might affect the life she expects to have. His view of the world is more appealing to us, so we don't immediately see the narcissism, we're on board with his project (we're intellectuals who read long novels, after all) so it's hard for us to sympathize with someone who cares more about having the right people to tea than changing the world.
Totally agree. Having the right people to tea is not, well, my cup of tea, so I grade her down for it. I’m not naturally sympathetic.
Thank you for teasing that out! Reading Eliot for as long as the book is I feel you start receiving multiple signals and meanings at once and I did register that about Lydgate but not in so many words. I think I wondered something like, which one is Rosamond going to listen to, the dr or the husband? And of course she ignores both.
I just don't love Lydgate as much as Eliot seems to. And I think I like Rosamond more than I'm supposed to! (I don't really get it myself)
Here’s where I need to politely disagree a bit. His “imperiousness”? Not saying losing it is the answer, but what answer is there to Rosamond? His practice is going down the tubes, their situation continues to worsen, he cares that his attempts to economize are hurting her, and for her it’s always and only about her. I don’t think in this dynamic GE has a lot of sympathy for Rosamond.
Have a look at Amanda G's case for Rosamond below! Pretty convincing, though it doesn't quite get her off the hook for sneaking around behind Lydgate's back with his own connections.
I was reviewing the chapter where Raffles approached Will, letting him know of his possible relationship to Bulstrode. Can anyone comment of how often in British literature people turn out to be related? It seems to be a literary device to move the plot along. Oliver Twist is the best example, but it happens in 20th and 21st century British lit, too. If ET were to read British lit from another planet, he would think Great Britain was a small town and everyone was related in one way or another. I can’t think of examples in American lit, certainly not as often!
this is so true. Hilarious.
Your comment got me thinking Janice, and I came across this article on orphans in literature.
Of course Dorothea and Celia are orphans.
https://www.bl.uk/romantics-and-victorians/articles/orphans-in-fiction
It's interesting that in the cases of Fred and Rosamond and Mary Garth, we see the influence of parents on their children, and these characters' characters seem determined in a way that Dorothy's and Celia's don't.
Tangential to your wondering about how often people in British lit are related! It seems what you say about a device to move the plot along is very true. British society was/is also obsessed with class and the weird possibilities that class/lack of produced.
We get no sense of Dorothea's parents; nor for that matter of Lydgate's. Really a marked contrast to Mary, Fred and Rosamond, even to Farebrother.
Some of the criticism on Middlemarch is skeptical of the Bulstrode/Ladislaw connection, of the way Eliot uses all those coincidences of relation to bring about the novel's final resolution, almost as though the novel had been invaded by Dickens. She writes early on about what she calls "the stealthy convergence of human lots" but this one is very stealthy indeed. Still, it works for me--what it points to is a world in which people can indeed lose their earlier selves, reinvent themselves, become someone new. Or at least believe that they can, given the difficulties of communication and travel. That's what Bulstrode hopes to do, but in Eliot nobody ever really gets away with anything.
Is it meaningful that Bulstrode is returning, as it were, to the scene of the crime, the home of his late wife's estranged family? Why does he do that?
Lydgate's estrangement from his relatives is always referred to in the second degree, like something we are assumed to know about him--of course setting out to become a doctor he disavowed his old family's patrilineal values. But we get no sense of them in particular. His parents must have died. When? It's like he's self-creating. Maybe that's what the "man of science" has to be.
Yes, there is something about “scientific knowledge” that causes one to divorce oneself from older traditions based on class and wealth. That seems the implication in Lydgate’s case at least.
I think this is especially true of how Daniel Deronda gradually morphs into a Jewish identity that was part of a past he had been unaware of.
I think you nailed it, Amanda! Everyone writes about orphans and the uncared for. But the British use long-lost relatives to explore people jumping classes, which is nearly impossible otherwise. I loved the article on orphans. Thanks! Indeed, some of our best lit is based on their adventurous lives. Of course, I had good parents and it didn’t stop me from going down some pretty strange roads 🤢!
I remember when my child was small I wondered why so many children's stories, especially Disney, begin with the deaths of parents. A psychiatrist i knew said it was needed to give the fictional children an agency that the audience-children lack living in a family.
There are always imaginary orphans .. I was one of those! Ha ha.
Right!
Shallow, conceited, spoiled, self-absorbed - the list could go on! Is she full of pride, too? As much as Lydgate is?
Is she really the least sympathetic? Do you actually feel sorry for Bulstrode?
I do have sympathy for Rosie. She married a man who in many ways is as blind as Dorothea is to his own needs and wants and now she has to find a way to her happiness (however we may judge the quality of it) on her own. Lydgate is so rarely at home, busy trying to improve the state of the world and make a name for himself, she's making do with Will, who doesn't even like her, because he doesn't like anyone except Dorothea.
I don't think she is pretending when she cries. And frankly I would cry too if I were married to Lydgate.
But it's fine for him to come home and say, by the way, we are broke and people are coming to take most of our things tomorrow but I know I'm so great and you love me so much you won't mind a bit.
He tried to take her jewelry!
Yes he gave it back. I know. He's amazing.
Do we really believe Rosamond should be made to bear the brunt of her husband's mistakes?
A very strong case for Rosamond! I was beginning to think that Eliot had turned toward painting her entirely without sympathy but you make a lot of sense. It does seem like Eliot is trying to make a larger case for people to listen to each other more fully and not operate out of assumptions and social constructs... I feel like Eliot (plain intellectual lady) is giving Lydgate his comeupance for being such a sop for female beauty. He claims to want to treat Rosamond like a partner, but he didn't chose her for her partner-like qualities.
Lygdate has been reckless and insensitive to the ways of the community, storming in with criticisms, setting himself up as the only one who knows anything but he had no business sense at all. He is proud and arrogant. And then his star doesn’t rise because of his failure to figure out how a medical practice would work and his failure to work with people in the community. So then he goes home and commands Rosy that they must cut costs etc, and when she questions his role in bringing on this debt, his rankling of people, etc. he does not allow her any day at all. This is what I felt was imperious. It is later that he becomes more broken and asks her for her to work with him. He started out w a sense of entitlement to his word being automatically adhered to.
I think you are right about Lydgate being insensitive to the community. As the newcomer and outsider he is a source of resentment to his medical peers. His imperiousness as you say does him no favors. Perhaps another person would have spent more time trying to win people over but that does not seem to be his strong point!
I would add brash to how he dealt w the medical community. They were using old ways that he didn’t believe in but he went in there and showed no thoughtfulness to them as human beings/fellow colleagues. He probably viewed them as crackpots but neglected to see how he needed the community to do well.
It does seem to me a bit a failing of youth. I remember how I, and people I knew, thought we knew how to make everything better and of course it was so obvious that we were right and the old timers would see that and get out of our way. It would take quite a bit of maturity for Lydgate to go into Middlemarch and work with all those folks and their expectations and refrain from challenging them. You see this now in the way tech people try to run in and solve everyone's problems for instance, with so little attention to the worlds they want to revolutionize in a week.
Chapter 59 (only three pages) is about the 'aerial whispering' joy of gossip. The epigraph is about the nectar-like sweetness of gossip whispering in the ear of the soul, and it is here that Will learns from Rosamond who has learned from Fred who learned at Lowick parsonage about the codicil. Casaubon's malice has been sweetened in the medium of the gossiping Rosamond. "A confidential little bird...a magnet in the neighborhood."
That’s so funny I read the “pale-lipped form” as something a bit more ominous, Boschean maybe! Gossip is summoning up unexpected realities in this world where people have so much trouble talking to/seeing each other; it creates a kind of social nudity. Lydgate’s and Casaubon’s imputation of a physical relationship sexualizes in everyone’s mind a relationship that had been decorous.
It, gossip as you describe it, may be Eliot’s version of a Fall, as in the Biblical Fall, I mean, something carnal their love needs to pass through “to pastures new.”
Fallen language...
Well, we’re probably not going to agree with each other, which is perfectly OK. 😊 Statements like “Lydgate is so rarely at home” sound to me like arguing from our present-day context; was it common or expected for the person in business those days (say, a Caleb Garth) to be spending a lot of time at home? Is “making do” with Will a good thing for the health of her relationship with Lydgate? Isn’t that problematic? The jewelry: if the choice is between bankruptcy and pawning the jewelry, what should it be, for the survival of the family? The fact that the jewelry is important to Rosamond and that to give it up is hurtful to her does not elicit pity in this reader. Yes, this is what Rosamond cares about, but is that a worthy vessel for one’s cares, especially when the family is falling apart otherwise? Mary Garth and Dorothea Brooke: these are two women with precise moral compasses -- Mary on the practical side, Dorothea on the idealistic side. Compared to these two, Rosamond’s moral compass points in one direction only: “propriety” and appearances. Maybe we shouldn’t blame her because she is nothing more or less than a product of her environment. And maybe we should blame Lydgate equally for not providing her what she needs, the implication being that if he did all would be well. But, again, speaking just for myself, I don’t believe that. GE is warning perpetually stupid men about the dangers of fatal physical attraction, which women, when chastising men for their mistakes (does this sound like he protesteth too much?), don’t get it because they’re not men. For me, when sizing up a fatal beauty that is also mistress of manipulation (which Rosie is), I would whisper in Lydgate’s ear, as he moves faster and faster toward his goal, the word’s Dante reads over the gate of hell in the Inferno: “Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here.” 😎
I think Eliot was creating a portrait of a certain sort of contemporary, who was modern in many ways but unaware of where he was not. Lydgate was unready to appreciate intellectual merit or agency in women; he also carried along a lot of class-based assumptions about what his life would be like, how he would cared for domestically. These blinders, or residues inhibited his ability really to be the modern person he thought he was. Will and Fred similarly struggle to reconcile their impatience with old roles and their expectations of life.
Again, totally agree. I think you analyze Lydgate’s failings accurately. His dreams of domestic bliss, with himself in the role of respected breadwinner and Rosamond in the role of charming hostess and helpmeet, were naive and purblind from the beginning. He should have known better, and you’re also right that he entered on this path hampered by his own prejudices. What is ironic, however, is that if his practice had been successful and remunerative (so that he could provide Rosamond whatever she needed in terms of status and wealth), there is every reason to believe that their marriage could have been successful.
That's a thought!
Yes, there is the sense of something 'catching up' to Bulstrode! Himself?
It works for me, too. That is, I don't mind at all a bit of Dickens in anything and it is fun to see Eliot using the same kind of plotting in her own way and for her own ends.
One does feel a kind of shift, though, right? Things speed up and there's a sense of gears clicking into place. I noticed how she syncopates the realizations: we hear in one chapter a hint of something that has happened to another character, and then in the next chapter we see it happening, the chapters are woven so tightly together and there's a sense of acceleration, even predeterminedness.
Wow! This treatise on Eliot’s use of gossip as a device to propel the plot forward, one of the most important topics addressed this week, is marvelous. It gives us insight into a dimension of the plot and characters that is subtle but powerful. In a first read of the book, it could be entirely missed. I am elated to have it exposed before I move on to the next chapter, as this knowledge adds mightily to my appreciation of the tale, and calling it to our attention now is akin to learning how a master magician performs their tricks so we are better able to appreciate the next act before the show ends.
I’ve now read Mona’s latest contribution three times over. It again proves beyond any doubt (or gossip) that she is a champion athlete of fine literature, rocketing us towards the finish line with her brain on fire, the keyboard smoking, and only two books and a finale to go. It is an admirable feat stepping up with such an insightful commentary, after yet another week, without any visible sign of fatigue. In fact, she is giving us even more this time — again. What can be added to all of our previous words of appreciation and praise but yet another heartfelt, “thank-you!”
Book Six is entitled, “The Widow and the Wife.” It makes me wonder about the novel’s apparent theme: “hard work serving others with your ego held in check is the secret to a good life.” Is the kernel of this theme ultimately meant to be expressed through the opposing yin/yang of Dorothea and Rosamond? In so many respects, the entire orbit of plot and characters seems to trace its core back to these two women. Almost every character and scene ultimately affects them directly or indirectly in some manner. Is understanding these two women meant to be a key to the “big picture” of it all?
While they were both spoiled growing up, Rosamond (the wife) is totally self absorbed to the point of making us scream. Dorothea (the widow) is so self absorbed helping others we want to paint a halo over her head and cry. These two women are on the mind of Lyndgate himself as he learns of and foresees what may become his own ruin thanks to his devotion to his wife, a function of his own ego and Rosamond’s insane quest for social standing.
All of these feelings are brought to a boil within our own hearts through the ether of gossip, which perhaps is moral number two in the novel. The electric current that animates our thoughts, the very means for us to judge others, is all based on shared perceptions. History itself is nothing but the opinion of others if we let Mr. Wilde boil it down for us. And history and dare say “god” shimself will judge us all on how well we hold our ego in check and do well unto others as reflected by a Jungian sort of group think. That is what this chapter seems to say through two diametrically different women who are blind to their own ego-driven motivations.
It’s not enough just to be good and hold our ego in check, however. We also have to manage our reputations by obtaining untainted opinions of others (a 360 degree review in academic and corporate realms), too, because we are blind to our own faults and not always in a position to objectively judge ourselves. (Think Brooke’s desire to improve his tenant farms as a result of his worrying about voter perceptions while he is running for office, etc.)
Yet we all try to stand above the fray and not worry about what other people think, or so we are taught to believe. Eliot reveals this as a multi dimensional contradiction, that is, how we judge ourselves and how we ourselves are judged are two distinct things and what other people think DOES matter because how we judge ourselves is a corrupt mechanism. Like Bullstrode, like Rosamond, we can justify anything we want and it is only group opinion that is the ultimate authority. We can not even be a martyr if no one thinks of us as such (cue Dorothea). How might Lyndgate’s lot have been improved if he was more sensitive to the feelings of others? In an artificial sense, how might Rosamond be perceived if she was not so “polished” hiding her feelings and motivations?
I could go on I am so pumped up by this thread and everyone’s insights, but I must confess this thread is like a Tootsie Pop in its sweetness and I must succumb to the temptation of biting the delicious chocolate center instead of finishing it slowly as I started. So I am now sprinting on to the finish without waiting to read Mona’s comments a week from now. I no longer have the strength to endure six more days of waiting. I don’t want to share another insight gleaned. I must know how it all ends today. The sooner the better.
Please keep going faster than the speed of sound Mona! I dare say my mind would never have been stretched so far and so pleasurably without you out in front leading the charge, preparing to take another gold medal for fine literature home again.
I too am amazed by Mona’s stamina and I loved the theme of gossip here and how Mona show Eliot using it to knit together the different groups and personalities
As I fly only 30 pages from the finish line now, with the device of gossip moved from the background of my perceptions into the foreground thanks to Mona, the words on the page have been fanned from glowing embers into flames. I am grateful.
The gossip mechanism is an ingenious way to propel the story.
~You just knew there’d be a mysterious legacy as Will learns from Bulstrode.
~BTW what a prideful idiot is Will. Why not tell Bulstrode to double his offer and offer some capital up front? (Unless something happens later to justify the stick he’s shoved up his own…)
I thought part of what was up here is that Will, who has been severed from his aristocratic legacy, is the one holding onto “gentlemanly” values, sense of honor, etc. The scene of the auction is an interesting set piece: anyone in town can buy these trappings of status, which themselves were bought by someone who made his own money. Will is standing by as a kind of observer and measure of “value.”
Great point!
Janice, below, thinks that Will is hewing to the path of “honor” to impress Dorothea, which seems possible. I feel like it’s a comment on the crosscurrents of old and new (aristocratic and mercantile) values in the novel. Will may have been disowned by his family but he has not yet let go of their codes.
I was reviewing the part when Raffles approached Will about his unsavory lineage and noticed that Will’s only thought is about Dorothea: “But if Dorothea’s friends had known this story. . .” Yes, Will really is honorable. But he is also obsessed with D.
What a good observation!
Will is all about honor and integrity (he’s 24!). He senses that it he wouldn’t have a chance with Dorothea if he compromises himself. Funny though, I find myself strategizing how Dorothea can keep some of the money from her estate if she marries Will. I’m sure I didn’t do that 50 years ago when I first read this.
I mentioned in the a comment above how it’s interesting that Will is hanging onto these gentlemanly values while Casaubon e.g., for all his purer lineage, is happy to chuck them. I had read it as more instinctual and unconscious but maybe you are right & he is being strategic!
A really interesting comment. This is one of those situations where for me it’s difficult to parse. On the one hand Will is “all about” honor; on the other he sticks to his guns because he wants to win Dorothea. Don’t think the text gives us any evidence to disentangle these motives. There of a piece.
One more observation. I’ve found that getting into the rhythm of this book is a much overlooked and underrated pleasure. It really repays you for reading closely.
I tend to listen to an audiobook about 75% of the time, usually while driving or walking in a nearby park. How are others reading this tome?
I’m reading Middlemarch, but listening audio of Trollope’s Chronicles of Barsetshire when I drive or walk. I feel like I’m living in 1820s England!
I listen to novels a lot and find that the big 19th C ones fare particularly well. Reading this one on the page though and enjoying being able to make notes. I do get frustrated listening at how much slips away. My brother a few years ago came to me sad because he had finished listening to all of Dickens on the rowing machine & couldn’t find anything else as satisfying. He just wrote to me that he is loving Middlemarch (👋 P, if you are visiting the comments!)
Do you love Mrs Proudie and Mr Slope???
Hmmm. Love Mr. Harding and Eleanor! Enjoy listening to the story of Mr. Slope and Mrs. Proust! Mr. Sleaze and Mrs. Bossy. (Do we ever call men bossy?) Only 4 1/2 chronicles to go! ❤️❤️
Sarah,
I just finished book II- Barchester Towers. Fabulous. So do you recommend I continue to book III about Mr. Thorne? Or something different? Thanks!!
Keep going! Dr Thorne is a lovely story (with shades of a Middlemarch plot( and there was a nice TV version recently. Framley parsonage is missable, a bit 'samey'. But then the last two, Small House and Last Chronicle lead to a crescendo! The Last Chronicle in particular is fab!
Reading my paperback. At 800ish pages, it is difficult to prop it open while eating lunch.
I know and now there's just this floppy little flap at the end.
Yes, both thought of themselves as “realists” (though I’m not sure this ever fit Dostoevsky), but from completely different universes.
Thanks! Can’t wait. So shall I skip Framley parsonage, or just glide though?
I wondered that about Eliot, too. Is it a small blind spot in her vision? Is that even possible??
Bulstrode went to the town of the rich, estranged family of his late wife. Is it possible he saw an advantage for himself there?
Late to this because I had a poorly timed vacation, but I just have to share some of my thoughts on Book Six.
I actually think that Eliot portrays Rosamond in a fairly balanced way, even though she is a character who is difficult to understand sometimes. Book Six feels like a bit of a bait-and-switch for our expectations: the implication until now was that Rosamond was responsible for the sad financial state of her household due to her excessive spending, but Eliot makes it clear that Lydgate is just as responsible. He's also responsible for spending above his means, as the sole breadwinner he didn't prioritize his family life before his own arrogance and drove his practice into the ground, and he didn't share the information with his wife in time. He is more like Rosamond than he may want to admit, for months, he thought that thinking about money was beneath him as he ordered furniture and clothing and alienated half the town.
It's clear that Lydgate had no idea who Rosamond was as a person (in his fantasy of her as a wife he says "who would reverence her husband's mind after the fashion of an accomplished mermaid," talk about arrogance) before he married her. Even during their courtship, Lydgate didn't really think about Rosamond's feelings, only about the idea of Rosamond. I think it was in Book Three that he was causing gossip by hanging around Rosamond and chasing off all her other suitors, with no intention to propose until her aunt Bulstrode gently calls him out for his behavior. While Rosamond is also lost in the clouds, as an extremely sheltered young woman, she didn't have much of an opportunity to develop a more realist analysis of courtship. The responsibility does rest more on Lydgate, who theoretically should have more experience with both finances and romance.
Mona says that she has a liking for the Vincy parents, but I actually dislike them strongly. They seem like some of the worst parents/guardians in the book because by spoiling their children, they are setting them up for failure. Fred claws his way out of the hole somehow due to the moderating influences of the Garths who teach him better ways, but Rosamond's only influence is, well, Lydgate. The Vincys educated their children for the class they want to be, not the class they are. It's all well and good for a woman of Celia or Dorothea's station not to think about money, because she doesn't have to, but for a woman like Rosamond, the gentlewomanly idea of money being too coarse for a lady really isn't going to cut it. The Vincys didn't prepare her or educate her for the world she would realistically be in, and then don't do much to help her (Mr Vincy from the beginning is adamant about not helping them financially, partially due to his own money troubles but also because he doesn't like Lydgate). Rosamond is a tough character to read because her actions really make you shout at the page sometimes, but did she have any choice to turn out differently?
Side note, I liked the parallel between Will turning down Bulstrode's money, saying, "My unblemished honour is important to me," and Mary Garth refusing to burn Featherstone's will because it would stain the beginning of her life. I saw the debate down below about whether or not Will's sense of honor is due to his inherent values or because he wants to be worthy of Dorothea, and it's probably a little of column A, a lot of Column B, but is that necessarily a bad thing? It is a noble goal to want to be worthy of the one that you love (although the circumstances of your birth shouldn't be the things holding you back).