Middlemarch

“Certainly these men who had so few spontaneous ideas might be very useful members of society under good feminine direction, if they were fortunate in choosing their sisters-in-law!”

Dorothea wants to be a positive influence on the world around her. However, she acknowledges the patriarchal nature of the society in which she lives, believing that her influence must be expressed vicariously through a man rather than directly through her own actions. At this stage of her life, Dorothea believes that a good man is one who will accept her ideas and allow her to guide him toward social improvement. Unfortunately for Dorothea, she chooses to marry Casaubon, who does no such thing. The contrast between Dorothea's stated ideas and the result of her actions demonstrates the gulf between her ambitions and her capabilities.

“Poor Mr. Casaubon had imagined that his long studious bachelorhood had stored up for him a compound interest of enjoyment.”

Casaubon is not a romantic man: He marries Dorothea out of a sense of social obligation rather than an all-consuming passion. His tedious interpretation of love is illustrated by the way his mind works. To Casaubon, love is a consequence of "a compound interest of enjoyment" (118), turning passion into an accounting device which can be measured and reported in numerical fashion. Love, to Casaubon, is something which is owed to him and collected passively rather than something that he labors to obtain or desires in any way.

“Old provincial society had its share of this subtle movement: had not only its striking downfalls, its brilliant young professional dandies who ended by living up an entry with a drab and six children for their establishment, but also those less marked vicissitudes which are constantly shifting the boundaries of social intercourse, and begetting new consciousness of interdependence.”

Middlemarch presents itself as a study in provincial life, including the rise and fall of the families in the town. The Vincys, the Bulstrodes, the Garths, and the Brookes are worth very different amounts in a financial sense but, in a social sense, they all measure themselves against some unknown, unseen standard. Social mobility is relatively fluid among the middle class in the town, as fortunes are made and lost. Outside of finances, however, the ebb and flow of "the boundaries of social intercourse" (134) functions as the true narrative of the novel.

“I have no ground for the nonsensical vanity of fancying everybody who comes near me is in love with me.”

Mary is a practical woman. More than most characters, she visibly works for a living. Her relentless practicality is foisted on her by her family's relative poverty, meaning that she cannot spend her time idling and gambling like her childhood friend, Fred Vincy. This practicality allows Mary to see the reality of the world and she, more than any other female character, recognizes the absurdity of young women's lives. To her, romance is a "nonsensical vanity" (192) when she has much more pressing matters to worry about.

“The Vicar himself seemed to wear rather a changed aspect, as most men do when acquaintances made elsewhere see them for the first time in their own homes; some indeed showing like an actor of genial parts disadvantageously cast for the curmudgeon in a new piece.”

Farebrother is like many characters in that he is keenly aware of his public reputation and he carefully performs this role when in public. When at home, a very different Farebrother emerges because he feels under no pressure to play the role of the humble parish priest. The social pressures of society portrayed in Middlemarch are so great as to create a clear divide between the public personas of characters and the real persona that they reveal behind closed doors.

“Lydgate was no Puritan, but he did not care for play, and winning money at it had always seemed a meanness to him.”

Lydgate's money problems are foreshadowed from the very beginning. As a man raised in a wealthy family, he has no conception of the pressures or fears which might drive a person to gambling. He does not care for gambling early in the novel because he is not desperate. Later, he will turn to the billiards table as a doomed way to gamble his way out of debt. The deeper he is driven into debt by Rosamond, the more desperate he becomes. The more desperate he becomes, the more he loses his original identity.

“It is too much to ask; but I so seldom see just what I want—the idealistic in the real.”

Naumann only makes a fleeting appearance in the novel but he stands apart with his bluntness and his honesty. Characters such as Dorothea, Will, and Lydgate shelter secret desires. They are afraid of saying exactly what they want because they fear being judged. When Naumann sees "just what [he wants]" (306), however, he says so immediately. Naumann's directness—particularly in his relationships with Dorothea, Will, and Casaubon—illustrates the problem of being unable to communicate and then resenting the consequences.

“Say one word, Mary, and I will do anything. Say you will not think the worst of me—will not give me up altogether.”

Due to his gambling debts and his idleness, Fred is regarded as a scoundrel. He sullies his reputation and endangers his relationship with Mary. When he goes to her, however, he reveals that he has not learned his lesson. Fred's primary concern is not to address his own character flaws. Instead, he only wants to make sure that Mary does not think of him as a bad person. His reputation is more important to Fred—particularly with regards to Mary—than his actual actions. He does not want to change; he only wants to change people's opinions of him.

“He had done nothing exceptional in marrying—nothing but what society sanctions, and considers an occasion for wreaths and bouquets.”

Casaubon does not marry Dorothea for love. He marries her because society expects a man in his position to have a wife and the opportunity presents itself. Dorothea is attracted to Casaubon due to her idealism, mistakenly believing that he is a towering intellectual. Casaubon is attracted to Dorothea out of social expectation, allowing him to play the role of a respected pillar of society. He marries Dorothea because this is what "society sanctions" (396), rather than because of any great love for her, and this is one of the main reasons why their marriage ends disastrously.

“The town’s talk is of very little consequence, I think.”

The gossip around Middlemarch becomes increasingly important as the narrative progresses. This importance is illustrated by the characters being forced to take a position on the nature of gossip. Though they may want to dismiss gossip and rumor as irrelevant, they cannot ignore the talk of the town for too long. Eventually, gossip becomes a totalizing force in Middlemarch which threatens to ruin a number of characters, whether they care for it or not.

“I dare say Dodo likes it: she is fond of melancholy things and ugly people.”

Celia's jokes about her sister are so cutting because they are so true. She is able to recognize that Dorothea is not attracted to the real Casaubon—she is attracted to an idealized version of the elderly priest that she has created in her mind. The melancholy, ugly Casaubon is unrecognizable to Dorothea because she has infused him with all her creative, intellectual ambitions. She is attracted to ugly things because they provide her with a blank canvas on which she can create something she truly believes to be beautiful, even if it is not real.

“But it had never occurred to him that he should live in any other than what he would have called an ordinary way.”

Lydgate blames his wife for his sudden indebtedness but he is equally responsible. His wealthy upbringing has imbued him with a set of expectations and entitlements regarding how a person should live. This privilege is entirely unrecognized by Lydgate, meaning that he spends without thinking. For the first time in his life, he must be financially conscious. His lack of financial literacy shows the different rules which govern the lives of the wealthy, who never need to think about money until it is suddenly unavailable.

“He suspected this, however, as he suspected other things, without confessing it.”

Casaubon suffers in silence. He keeps his many suspicions and fears hidden from Dorothea, allowing them to fester within him. These festering resentments remain private, meaning that Dorothea can never truly know what is wrong with her husband, so she has no opportunity to address his fears and help him in any way. Casaubon takes his anxieties to the grave, leaving Dorothea with a burden to carry for the rest of her life, all due to his inability to communicate.

“To Rosamond she was one of those county divinities not mixing with Middlemarch mortality, whose slightest marks of manner or appearance were worthy of her study.”

Dorothea is not a happy woman. She is locked in an unhappy marriage and subject to constant fears and anxieties. From Rosamond's perspective, however, she is "one of those county divinities" (613). The ethereal, almost divine impression that Dorothea casts over Rosamond in spite of her unhappiness reveals the private nature of the novel's tragedies. For all their suffering, the characters must struggle internally. Public displays of emotion and unhappiness are considered forbidden, creating a clear division between the public personas put forward in society and the genuine, private personas which are held secret.

“Middlemarch was becoming more and more conscious of the national struggle for another kind of Reform.”

Events in Middlemarch function as a microcosm of wider British society. Even in this largely irrelevant town located far from London, the debate surrounding political and electoral reform is fierce. The growing awareness of a national movement is empowering, so those progressives previously on the fringes of such a debate feel emboldened to canvas for real reform. As much as the middle class in Middlemarch would like to maintain the status quo, they cannot keep the outside world out forever.

“She was always trying to be what her husband wished, and never able to repose on his delight in what she was.”

The doomed nature of Dorothea’s marriage to Casaubon is evident in the time she spends trying to be someone she is not. Dorothea is "always trying to be" (677) the person she presumes Casaubon wishes her to be. Not only is she not acting like herself, but she rarely speaks to Casaubon about what he actually wants. The result is that she must approximate a false identity and then perform it for her unhappy husband, making them both miserable.

“It is as if Mr. Casaubon wanted to make people believe that you would wish to marry Mr. Ladislaw—which is ridiculous.”

After Casaubon dies, his legacy becomes one of spite. The clause in his will which prevents Dorothea from marrying Will is based entirely on his jealousy and bitterness, rather than any extant romance between the pair. Instead, the clause ignites a wave of gossip which spreads through the town and threatens to ruin the reputations of Dorothea and Will. Despite Casaubon's efforts to slander and spite his wife, people are able to see through his actions. The irony of his death is that the academic priest will be remembered for his meanness, rather than the great works he had once planned.

“Sorrow comes in so many ways.”

Dorothea has made a series of bad decisions in her life which have robbed her of the chance to be happy. In contrast, her sister Celia benefits from many of her decisions. Celia leads a simply, happy life married to James Chettam, who only proposed to her after Dorothea rejected him in favor of Casaubon. Celia leads the life Dorothea might have led if she was not ambitious. Dorothea's ambition and bad decisions bring the "sorrow" (776) into her life in many different ways and, as a consequence, fill her with regret for being herself.

“What she liked to do was to her the right thing, and all her cleverness was directed to getting the means of doing it.”

Rosamond defies her husband on several occasions. Her actions bring about terrible consequences but she learns no lessons. At each turn, she genuinely believes that she is doing "the right thing" (833). Unlike most characters, Rosamond never deals with the consequences of her terrible decisions. She continues to make bad decisions and continues to believe that she is correct in doing so. Her ironclad delusion protects her from serious introspection.

“The fact was broken into little sequences, each justified as it came by reasonings which seemed to prove it righteous.”

Bulstrode is the most devout character in the novel and yet he is also the one most embroiled in immoral acts. After the death of Raffles and the destruction of his reputation, Bulstrode is forced to reckon with how he reached this point. He recognizes that each of his immoral acts was justified with a vague explanation, allowing him to convince himself that he was acting in a righteous manner. These small excuses snowballed overtime, becoming bigger and bigger until Bulstrode could no longer reckon with reality. Only after he has lost everything can he confront how he reached such a point in his life.

“Forgive me for this misery, my poor Rosamond! Let us only love one another.”

Lydgate's frustration comes from his own willingness to be manipulated by Rosamond. While she may not be known for her intellect, Rosamond knows exactly how to exploit her husband's emotions to ameliorate herself of any guilt. Lydgate's inability to recognize her manipulative tactics speaks to his poor judgement of character. The same flaw which drew him to Rosamond in spite of her cynical view of marriage as a tool for social mobility is the same flaw which prevents him from escaping her manipulation.

“He had looked forward to her learning the truth from others, and had acquiesced in that probability, as something easier to him than any confession.”

Bulstrode may consider himself an upstanding, honest Christian man but he is too much of a coward to tell his wife the truth. Instead, he relies on her to hear the gossip from the neighbors. Bulstrode has reached this point because he has been unable to admit to himself that he was acting in an immoral manner. He deliberately deluded himself into believing that he was acting righteously. That same inability to reckon with his own morality means that he cannot confess his actions to his wife, as to do so would be to shatter the delusion once and for all.

“Marriage is so unlike everything else. There is something even awful in the nearness it brings.”

Dorothea and Rosamond are both affected by bad marriages. In their final meeting, Dorothea almost confronts their shared experience of marriage but turns it into a universal issue, rather than an individual one. All marriages, she suggests, can bring about something "awful" (1137). Her choice of words suggests that she is unable or unwilling to explicitly admit to her own failed marriage or to break social etiquette and criticize the marriage of another person.