Context sparksnotes

George Eliot was born on November 22, 1819. Baptized Mary Anne Evans, Eliot
chose to write her novels under a male pseudonym. She scorned the
stereotypical female novelist; rather than writing the silly, unrealistic romantic
tales expected of women writers, she wrote according to her own tastes.
Her first attempt to write Middlemarch—now her most famous novel—ended in failure
and despair. Shortly after this initial failure, she began a short novella entitled Miss
Brooke. The writing proceeded quickly, and she later integrated the novella
into Middlemarch. The novel was published serially in eight parts.
Middlemarch is a novel of epic proportions, but it transforms the notion of an epic.
Epics usually narrate the tale of one important hero who experiences grand adventure,
and they usually interpret events according to a grand design of fate. Every event has
immediate, grand consequences. Kings and dynasties are made and unmade in epic
tales.
Middlemarch's subtitle is "A Study of Provincial Life." This means
that Middlemarch represents the lives of ordinary people, not the grand adventures of
princes and kings. Middlemarch represents the spirit of nineteenth-century England
through the unknown, historically unremarkable common people. The small community
of Middlemarch is thrown into relief against the background of larger social
transformations, rather than the other way around.
England is the process of rapid industrialization. Social mobility is growing rapidly. With
the rise of the merchant middle class, one's birth no longer necessarily determines
one's social class for life. Chance occurrences can make or break a person's success.
Moreover, there is no single coherent religious order. Evangelical Protestants,
Catholics, and Anglicans live side by side. As a result, religious conflicts abound in the
novel, particularly those centering on the rise of Evangelical Protestantism, a primarily
middle-class religion that created heated doctrinal controversy.
Middlemarch readers will be astonished by the novel's amazingly complex social world.
Eliot continually uses the metaphor of a web to describe the town's social relations. She
intricately weaves together the disparate life experiences of a large cast of characters.
Many characters subscribe to a world-view; others want to find a world-view to organize
their lives. The absence of a single, triumphant world-view to organize all life is the
basic design of Middlemarch. No one occupies the center of the novel as the most
important or influential person. Middlemarch social relations are indeed like a web, but
the web has no center. Each individual occupies a point in the web, affecting and
affected by the other points. Eliot's admirable effort to represent this web in great detail
makes her novel epic in length and scope. Unlike in an epic, however, no single point in
the web and no single world-view reigns triumphant.

Prelude and Book I: Chapters 1-6

Summary
The first chapter introduces the character of Dorothea Brooke. She and her sister Celia
are orphans in the care of their uncle, Mr. Brooke. Although she is from a wealthy
family, Dorothea prefers to dress plainly. Still, she possesses "that kind of beauty that
seems to be thrown into relief by poor dress." Dorothea longs to live an ascetic life
devoted to some great project for improving the world. She is forever attempting to
persuade her uncle to spend money to improve the lot of the tenants on his estate.
Mr. Brooke fears that her Puritan energy will hinder her marriage prospects. However,
many men find her bewitching, especially on horseback. Dorothea does not realize this;
she assumes that Sir James Chettam's frequent visits to Tipton Grange, the Brooke
estate, have nothing to do with her. She believes he wishes to marry Celia.
Celia works up the courage to ask Dorothea to divide their late mother's jewelry. She
fears that Dorothea will think her request is vain and frivolous. Dorothea takes only an
emerald ring and a matching bracelet for herself and allows Celia to take the rest.
Innocently, Celia asks whether Dorothea will wear the ring and bracelet in company.
The question offends Dorothea.
During a small dinner party at Tipton Grange, Sir James informs Mr. Brooke and
Dorothea of his plans to improve conditions for the tenants on his estate., Mr. Brooke
declares that he spends far too much on such endeavors. Dorothea disagrees and
points out with sharp wit that Mr. Brooke spends large sums on entertainment and little
on socially responsible projects. Her well-spoken retort catches the attention of Mr.
Casaubon, a middle-aged scholar and clergyman. Dorothea admires Casaubon for his
dignified, intellectual conversation. Celia knows that Sir James wishes to marry
Dorothea and believes that Casaubon is old, boring, and ugly. For her part, Dorothea
thinks that Sir James is silly.
Casaubon and Dorothea begin to spend more time in conversation. He admires her
because she does not care for the frivolous and trivial things in life. She admires him for
his "great soul." She wants to become his wife. Sir James attempts to please Dorothea
by showing interest in her "plan for cottages." Dorothea devotes her spare time to
drawing plans for better housing for the tenants on Brooke's estate. Sir James admits
that Brooke is unlikely to spend the money for the project, but he states that he himself
would like to follow her plans at Freshitt, his own estate. Dorothea is delighted, and the
two of them set to work on putting the plan into action.
Celia informs Dorothea that Sir James wishes to marry her; Dorothea reacts with utter
disbelief and plans to discourage him. However, Mr. Brooke arrives to tell her that
Casaubon has asked him for her hand in marriage. Dorothea is overjoyed and accepts
the proposal right away. Brooke does not understand why she prefers Casaubon over
Sir James, but he wishes to allow her to make her own choice. Dorothea informs Celia
of her engagement to Casaubon. Celia reacts with anxiety and sadness at the news.

Prelude and Book I: Chapters 1-6

Mrs. Cadwallader, learning of Dorothea's engagement from Mr. Brooke, reports the
news to Sir James. Sir James reacts with disbelief. Mrs. Cadwallader states that
Dorothea is too high-flown and strictly religious for him anyway. However, she had
planned to play match-maker for Dorothea and Sir James since she had come to live
with Mr. Brooke. She resolves instead to get Sir James and Celia married. Sir James
decides to be a gentleman. He continues collaborating with Dorothea on the cottages
according to her plans.

Commentary
The Prelude alludes to the life and work of Saint Theresa, a sixteenth-century Spanish
mystic. She devoted her life to a combination of religious contemplation and practical
works. The narrator states that her "passionate, ideal nature demanded an epic life."
Yet, there are many "Theresas" who have been born since then without the opportunity
to have an epic life. The narrator attributes this to the absence of a "coherent social faith
 and order" through which they could enact great works. It is obvious that the Prelude
positions Dorothea as an unsung Theresa. When reading the novel as a whole, it is
important to keep this in mind. The real Theresa is a famous, well-known saint. All of
her good works are recorded in history. Dorothea, however, is an ordinary, unknown
woman in a small, provincial community.
The Prelude characterizes such an unsung Theresa as a cygnet among ducklings. Eliot
uses this metaphor to point out that even the most ordinary life can be extraordinary.
Dorothea stands out even in poor dress. She is not the general standard of feminine virtue
like her sister, Celia. Social convention requires women to avoid too much learning and to
dress with a touch of the coquette. Celia is forever chiding her sister for being much too
intellectual. Women are supposed "to have weak opinions." Moreover, social conventions
require that women never act on these opinions. However, Dorothea clearly does have
strong opinions; she criticizes Mr. Brooke for not spending his money on socially
responsible projects. Her interest in politics and social reform sets her apart from other
women.
Dorothea wants to live a grand life. She feels she has a calling to be an intellectual
philanthropist, but because she is a woman, social conventions deny her access to politics
and higher learning. She hopes to live out her dreams through Casaubon by marrying him.
She relates to Casaubon not as an individual, fallible human being, but rather as a "great
soul." To her, he is the abstraction of "The Scholar." As his wife, Dorothea hopes to aid
Casaubon in his scholarly pursuits like the poet John Milton's daughters aided their father.
Through this role, she can gain access to the education available to men only.
Casaubon and Milton are somewhat like doubles. Milton was blind, and Casaubon's
eyesight is failing. Milton's daughters worked as scribes for their father. Dorothea views
such unfailing devotion as the mark of happy companionship. However, Milton's daughters
regarded their father as a tyrant, and they never really enjoyed working under his direction.
The comparison between Casaubon and Milton foreshadows Dorothea's eventual
dissatisfaction as Casaubon's wife and helpmate. She makes Casaubon into her ideal
potential husband, and she will later suffer for her idealism.
Dorothea also has little self-knowledge. She dreams of submitting herself to an epic theory
of self-sacrifice and virtue. However, she has more pride than she knows. Celia's off-hand
suggestion that she wear the emerald ring and bracelet in company stings Dorothea's
pride. She responds haughtily to the suggestion she would give into ostentation even
though she admires the beauty of the jewelry. Her own personal desire for the jewelry
belies her outward presentation of herself as one who doesn't like ostentation.

Themes
The Imperfection of Marriage
Most characters in Middlemarch marry for love rather than obligation, yet marriage still
appears negative and unromantic. Marriage and the pursuit of it are central concerns
in Middlemarch, but unlike in many novels of the time, marriage is not considered the
ultimate source of happiness. Two examples are the failed marriages of Dorothea and
Lydgate. Dorothea’s marriage fails because of her youth and of her disillusions about
marrying a much older man, while Lydgate’s marriage fails because of irreconcilable
personalities. Mr. and Mrs. Bulstrode also face a marital crisis due to his inability to tell
her about the past, and Fred Vincy and Mary Garth also face a great deal of hardship in
making their union. As none of the marriages reach a perfect fairytale
ending, Middlemarch offers a clear critique of the usual portrayal of marriage as romantic
and unproblematic.
The Harshness of Social Expectations
The ways in which people conduct themselves and how the community judges them are
closely linked in Middlemarch. When the expectations of the social community are not
met, individuals often receive harsh public criticism. For example, the community judges
Ladislaw harshly because of his mixed pedigree. Fred Vincy is almost disowned
because he chooses to go against his family’s wishes and not join the clergy. It is only
when Vincy goes against the wishes of the community by foregoing his education that
he finds true love and happiness. Finally, Rosamond’s need for gentility and the desire
to live up to social standards becomes her downfall. In contrast, Dorothea’s decision to
act against the rules of society allows her to emerge as the most respectable character
in the end.
Self-Determination vs. Chance
In Middlemarch, self-determination and chance are not opposing forces but, rather, a
complicated balancing act. When characters strictly adhere to a belief in either chance
or self-determination, bad things happen. When Rosamond goes against the wishes of
her husband and writes a letter asking for money from his relative, her act of self-
determination puts Lydgate in an unsavory and tense situation coupled with a refusal to
help. On the flip side, when Fred Vincy gambles away his money, relying solely on
chance, he falls into debt and drags with him the people who trust him. Only when he
steps away from gambling and decides not to go into the clergy do good things begin to
happen for him. In particular, the character of Farebrother demonstrates the balance
between fate and self-determination. This balance is exemplified in his educated
gamble in the game of whist. Through a combination of skill and chance, he is able to
win more often than not. His character strikes a balance between chance and his role in
determining that fate. The complexity of the tension between self-determination and
chance is exemplary of the way in which the novel as a whole tends to look at events
from many vantage points with no clear right or wrong, no clear enemy or hero.

Symbols
The Portrait of Ladislaw’s Grandmother
A miniature portrait of Ladislaw’s grandmother appears several times in the text and is
symbolic of Dorothea’s future choice of giving up wealth for love. Ladislaw’s
grandmother also gave up wealth to be with the man she loved. The portrait hangs in
Dorothea’s bedroom at Casaubon’s house, and Dorothea often recalls the portrait when
she thinks of Ladislaw. When Ladislaw comes to say goodbye to Dorothea in a tense
conversation filled with romantic subtext, Dorothea offers him the portrait as a parting
gift. When Ladislaw refuses it saying he has no need for the past, he indicates that the
chance they will end up together remains.
Raffles
The character of Raffles symbolizes the ominous return of the past. Most often he
appears as a lone black figure walking down the country roads and is described as a
man of ill-repute and questionable background, associating the danger of the past with
the unsavory lower class. His repeated appearance disrupts the sanctity of
Middlemarch, for he ties together the dark pasts of Bulstrode and Ladislaw. His death
fuels neighborhood gossip that almost forces Ladislaw from town, causes Bulstrode’s
downfall, and brings about the climax of the novel.
Motifs
Epigraphs
Each chapter begins with a small quotation or a few lines of verse known as an
epigraph.
These epigraphs work as a way of summarizing the following chapter and moving the
plot forward. They also work to place Middlemarch into a larger canon of literary works,
as Eliot chooses quotes a variety of writers such as Shakespeare, Dante, Chaucer, and
William Blake. Eliot was charged with being too intellectual for a woman author in part
because of the learned nature of her chosen quotations.
Gossip and Speaking for Others
Often characters, especially characters of opposite genders, do not communicate to
each other directly, instead using other characters to speak on their behalf. Carrying
messages, sending “diplomats,” and not speaking for themselves draws attention to the
weblike community of Middlemarch. Part of this web functions to maintain an intricate
social web, but it also works to avoid direct communication. Gossip, another form of
speaking for another person, plays an important part in the novel as it is often how
information is conveyed. Characters frequently use the fact that the information will
eventually come around to avoid direct conversation.

Debt and Borrowing Money

Debt appears throughout Middlemarch, and money often indicates elements of a
character’s personality. The plot is driven by characters worrying about money or asking
others for money. Fred Vincy must ask several people for loans, Lydgate incurs serious
debt due to his failure to manage money and his wife Rosamond’s cultured tastes, and
Raffles’s constant begging and blackmailing for money indicates his threatening role.
On the other hand, Mary Garth’s refusal to take money from the dying Featherstone
proves her good, honest nature. The exchange of money and the passing of debts ties
the characters together in an economic subtext.
Character List
Mr. Bambridge - Bambridge is a Middlemarch horse dealer. Fred Vincy sinks into his
debt; Raffles meets him at a horse-fair and tells him everything about Bulstrode's past.
Dorothea Brooke - Dorothea is a kind-hearted and honest woman. She longs to find
some way to improve the world. She thinks Casaubon is a great intellectual, but after
she marries him, she quickly discovers that he is not passionate enough to make her
happy. She also learns that she is not as submissive and sacrificing as she had
previously thought. She draws plans for comfortable cottages to replace the ramshackle
buildings on large estates. She helps Lydgate when he suffers for his connections with
Bulstrode. She falls in love with Casaubon's young cousin, Will Ladislaw. She defies
Casaubon's machinations and marries Will even though it means losing her inheritance
as Casaubon's widow.
Read an IN-DEPTH ANALYSIS OF DOROTHEA BROOKE.
Arthur Brooke - Brooke is Dorothea and Celia's bachelor uncle. He is a bumbling man
who can never stick to an opinion, always wanting to please everyone. He hires Will
Ladislaw to write for his paper, the Pioneer. He runs for a seat in Parliament on the
Reform platform, but he lets his own tenants live in poverty and squalor. The scandal
resulting from his hypocrisy prompts him to improve conditions on his own estate,
Tipton Grange.
Celia Brooke - Celia is Dorothea's sister. She marries Sir James Chettam.
Nicholas Bulstrode - Nicholas Bulstrode is a wealthy Middlemarch banker. He is
married to Walter Vincy's sister. Bulstrode professes to be a deeply religious
Evangelical Protestant, but he has a dark past: he made his fortune as a pawnbroker
selling stolen goods. He married Will Ladislaw's grandmother after her first husband
died. Her daughter had run away years before, and she insisted that Bulstrode find her
daughter before she re-married, because she wanted to leave her wealth to her only
surviving child. Bulstrode located the daughter and her child, Will Ladislaw, but he kept
her existence a secret. He bribed the man he hired to find her, John Raffles, to keep
quiet. John Raffles blackmails him with this information. When Raffles becomes ill,
Bulstrode cares for him. However, he disobeys Lydgate's medical advice, and Raffles
dies as a result. When the scandal about his past and the circumstances of Raffles's
death become known, Bulstrode leaves Middlemarch in shame. He purchases Stone
Court from Joshua Rigg Featherstone.
Harriet Bulstrode - Harriet Bulstrode is Walter Vincy's sister. She is a kind, honest,
religious woman. No one in Middlemarch blames her for her husband's misdeeds. She
resolves to stay with her husband even after she learns of his wrongdoing.
Elinor Cadwallader - Elinor Cadwallader is the wife of the Rector at Tipton Grange,
Brooke's estate. She was born to a good family, but she married down and angered her
friends and families. She is a practical woman who is forever trying to play matchmaker
to unmarried young people, including Dorothea, Celia, and Sir James.
Humphrey Cadwallader - Humphrey Cadwallader is the Rector at Tipton Grange,
Brooke's estate. Unlike his wife, he doesn't believe in meddling in other people's affairs.
Edward Casaubon - Edward Casaubon owns a large estate called Lowick. He is a
scholarly clergyman. His lifelong ambition is to write the Key to all Mythologies, but he is
insecure and uncertain about his own abilities. He marries Dorothea because he thinks
she is completely submissive and worshipful. Her stubborn independence frustrates
him, and he mistakenly believes that she is constantly criticizing him. Casaubon is Will
Ladislaw's cousin. His mother's sister was disowned by her family for running away to
marry a man they didn't like. Her own daughter, Will's mother, also ran away to marry.
Casaubon offers financial support to Will because he feels obligated to make amends
for his aunt's disinheritance. He becomes jealous of Will's relationship with Dorothea.
He includes an addendum in his will stating that Dorothea will lose his wealth and
property if she ever marries Will Ladislaw. He dies before finishing his Key.
Sir James Chettam - Sir James Chettam is a baronet. He owns a large estate called
Freshitt. He courts Dorothea, but she chooses to marry Casaubon. He later marries her
sister. He enacts Dorothea's cottage plans on his own estate.
Mr. Dagley - Dagley is one of Brooke's impoverished tenants. His son is caught
poaching on Brooke's lands. He refuses Brooke's request that he chastise his son.
Camden Farebrother - Camden Farebrother is a Vicar, but he doesn't consider himself
to be a very good clergyman, though many people like his sensible sermons. He
becomes fast friends with Lydgate and supports his mother, sister, and aunt on his
small income. He must gamble to make ends meet and to pursue his scientific hobbies.
He loses in the election for the chaplaincy at the New Hospital. He receives the Lowick
parish after Casaubon's death. Fred Vincy enlists his help in courting Mary Garth. He
himself loves Mary, but he does his duty.
Mrs. Farebrother - Mrs. Farebrother is Camden Farebrother's widowed mother.
Winifred Farebrother - Winifred Farebrother is Camden Farebrother's unmarried sister.
Peter Featherstone - Peter Featherstone is a wealthy, manipulative old widower. He
owns Stone Court. He married twice, but had no legitimate children. His first wife was
Caleb Garth's sister. His second wife was Lucy Vincy's sister. He hints for years that he
plans to leave his entire estate to Fred Vincy, his nephew by marriage. He even writes
two separate wills. Mary Garth refuses to burn one of them. He leaves his property to
his illegitimate son, Joshua Rigg.
Caleb Garth - Caleb Garth is a poor businessman. He earns his living managing large
estates. He co-signs a debt for Fred Vincy. When Fred is unable to pay, Garth's family
suffers. He receives new business, overcomes the loss, and hires Fred Vincy to work
for him. He declines to manage Stone Court for Bulstrode after Raffles reveals
Bulstrode's dark past.
Susan Garth - Susan Garth is Caleb Garth's wife. She is a former schoolteacher.
Mary Garth - Mary Garth is the daughter of Caleb and Susan Garth. She loves Fred,
but she refuses to marry him if he becomes a clergyman and fails to find a steady
occupation.
Will Ladislaw - Will Ladislaw is the grandson of Casaubon's disinherited aunt.
Bulstrode tries to give him money to atone for hiding his existence from his
grandmother. He refuses the money because he knows it came through thievery. He
worships Dorothea. He doesn't care for money and loves everything that is beautiful.
Tertius Lydgate - Tertius Lydgate is the orphan son of a military man. He chose the
medical profession at a young age, much to the chagrin of his wealthy, titled relatives.
He comes to Middlemarch hoping to test new methods of treatment. He marries
Rosamond Vincy, whose expensive habits get him into debt. He takes a loan from
Bulstrode and becomes embroiled in Bulstrode's scandal. Dorothea aids him in his
darkest hour. He hopes to find the tissue that is the most basic building block of life.
Read an IN-DEPTH ANALYSIS OF TERTIUS LYDGATE.
Sir Godwin Lydgate - Sir Godwin Lydgate is Tertius Lydgate's uncle.
Captain Lydgate - Captain Lydgate is Tertius Lydgate's foppish cousin. He takes
Rosamond out riding. She suffers a miscarriage as a result of an accident on
horseback.
Naumann - Naumann is Ladislaw's painter friend in Rome. He uses Casaubon as a
model for Thomas Aquinas as a ruse to draw a sketch of Dorothea.
Miss Noble - Miss Noble is Mrs. Farebrother's sister. She steals small items of food to
give to the poor. She becomes fond of Will Ladislaw.
Selina Plymdale - Selina Plymdale is a good friend of Harriet Bulstrode. Her son courts
Rosamond Vincy, but he is rejected.
Ned Plymdale - Ned Plymdale courts Rosamond, but she refuses him.
John Raffles - John Raffles is an old business partner of Bulstrode. Bulstrode bribed
him to keep the existence of the daughter and grandchild of his first wife secret. He
comes back to blackmail Bulstrode. He is Joshua Rigg Featherstone's stepfather. He
dies at Stone Court because Bulstrode interferes with Lydgate's medical treatment.
Joshua Rigg Featherstone - Joshua Rigg Featherstone is Peter Featherstone's
illegitimate son. John Raffles is his stepfather. He inherits Stone Court. He sells it to
Bulstrode because he wants to become a moneychanger.
Borthrop Trumbell - Borthrop Trumbell is an auctioneer in Middlemarch.
Walter Tyke - Walter Tyke is an Evangelical Protestant minister. Bulstrode is a
supporter of his. He wins the election for the chaplaincy at the New Hospital, beating out
Farebrother.
Rosamond Vincy - Rosamond Vincy is the daughter of Walter and Lucy Vincy. She
grows up accustomed to an expensive lifestyle. She marries Lydgate because she
thinks he is rich and because he has titled relatives. She dreams of leaving
Middlemarch and living an exciting, aristocratic lifestyle, but her expensive tastes get
Lydgate deeply into debt.
Read an IN-DEPTH ANALYSIS OF ROSAMOND VINCY.
Fred Vincy - Fred Vincy is the oldest son of Walter and Lucy Vincy. His father sends
him to college because he wants Fred to become a clergyman, but Fred doesn't want to
work in the Church. He gets himself into debt by gambling. He is accustomed to a lavish
lifestyle. He causes financial difficulty for the Garths because he cannot pay the debt on
which Caleb Garth co-signed his name. He wants to marry Mary Garth, but she won't
have him unless he finds a steady occupation other than the Church. He hopes to
inherit Stone Court from his uncle, Peter Featherstone. These hopes are disappointed,
so he works for Caleb Garth.
Walter Vincy - Walter Vincy is a modestly well-off businessman in manufacturing. He
is also mayor of Middlemarch. Fred and Rosamond's expensive tastes infuriate him. He
refuses to lend Rosamond and Lydgate money to pay Lydgate's debt. He is Harriet
Bulstrode's brother.
 Lucy Vincy - Lucy Vincy is Walter Vincy's wife. She is the daughter of an innkeeper,
much to Rosamond's chagrin. She dotes on her son and doesn't want him to marry
Mary Garth. She is the sister of Featherstone's second wife.
Mr. Wrench - Mr. Wrench is a Middlemarch doctor. He misdiagnoses Fred when Fred
catches typhoid fever. Lydgate treats Fred's illness, and the Vincys fire Mr. Wrench. Mr.
Wrench becomes Lydgate's enemy as a result.

Prelude and Book 1: Chapters 1-6 Quick Quiz

When we first meet Dorothea, she is an  A diamond necklace
orphan who favors what type of  A turquoise pendant
clothing?
 A sapphire ring

 Avant-garde
Though Sir James wishes to marry
 Plain
Dorothea, she considers him ___.
 Expensive

 Parisian  Too old

 Too poor
As a young, unmarried woman, Dorothea  Vulgar
prefers to spend her spare time drawing
 Silly
___.

After receiving news of Dorothea’s

 Portraits
engagement, who does Mrs. Cadwallader
 Fantastical scenes
aim to match with Sir James instead?
 Wedding dresses

 Housing plans  Rosamond

 Celia
In dividing up her mother’s jewelry with  Mary
Celia, Dorothea takes only ___.
 Jane

 An emerald ring and bracelet

Themes, Motifs & Symbols Quick Quiz

Farebrother’s educated gamble in the

game of whist is an illustration of which  Man’s search for God
theme or motif?  Imperfection of marriage
 Harshness of social expectations hich character symbolizes the ominous
 Self-determination vs. chance return of the past across multiple
plotlines?
Dorothea’s arc, which sees her flouting
 Dorothea
society’s rules yet emerging as the
book’s most respectable character,  Lydgate

embodies which theme?  Bulstrode

 Raffles
 Man’s search for God

 Imperfection of marriage Dorothea's choice to give up wealth for

 Harshness of social expectations love is symbolized by miniature portrait
 Self-determination vs. chance of which person?

 Ladislaw’s grandmother
Which motif places Middlemarch into a
larger canon of literary works, in addition  Dorothea’s mother

to moving the plot forward?  The Virgin Mary

 Bulstrode’s cousin
 Gossip

 Epigraphs

 Debt

 Windows

Analysis of Major Characters Quick Quiz

The governing principle of Dorothea’s  The death of his father
character is her desire to ___.  Falling in love

 Having a child
 Marry rich

 Live a bohemian life

Of all the characters in Middlemarch,
 Help the needy Rosamond is the most ___.
 Raise accomplished children
 Ignorant

What ultimately comes between Lydgate  Misanthropic

and his passion for medical reform?  Genteel

 Wholesome
 His own ill health

 Financial obligations of his marriage

What is Rosamond’s primary motivation
 A religious awakening for marrying Lydgate?
 His parents’ wishes
 Social advancement

What event in Lydgate’s life marks the  To have children

moment when things begin to go wrong  Romantic love
for him?
 To escape her past

 Getting his medical degree

Saint Theresa as a Parallel
Posted on October 25, 2015 by Madeleine Blommer

In the prelude of Middlemarch, George Eliot makes reference to Saint Theresa, a

Spanish catholic nun from the 16th century. Eliot uses the character of the Saint to
express that “here and there is born a Saint Theresa […] whose loving heart-beats and
sobs after an unattained goodness tremble off and are dispersed among hindrances,
instead of centering in some long-recognizable deed,” thus illuminating that many are
encumbered from attaining their religiously driven goal (4).
This allusion to Saint Theresa and the others who have been hindered from their glory
deliberately parallels and perhaps foreshadows the fate of Dorothea Brooke, whose
religious piety is immediately highlighted at the onset of the novel. Dorothea is initially
portrayed as “a young lady of some birth and fortune, who [would kneel] suddenly down
on a brick floor by the side of a sick labourer and pray fervidly as if she thought herself
in the time of the apostles,” highlighting her devout and dutiful nature that matches that
of Saint Theresa’s kind (9). Eliot continues in the prelude to elucidate that some of Saint
Theresa’s religiously fervent kind have “found themselves no epic life […] perhaps only a
life of mistakes, the offspring of a certain spiritual grandeur ill-matched with the
meanness of opportunity” (3). The portrayal of Dorothea’s faithfulness, in concurrence
with the depressing reality of pious women expressed through the prelude, suggests that
Dorothea may face incredible hindrances that would impede her ability and goal to help
those in need. It seems as though Eliot may use Dorothea to comment on the iniquitous
and unwarranted barriers women faced during the Victorian era due to the societal
constraints of the domestic and whimsical stereotype.

Shoomp

There isn't an epigraph to Middlemarch, but there is a "Prelude" to the story, so we'll think about
that here. (You can read the Prelude here.) Eliot spends a couple of pages on Saint Theresa, a
Catholic saint who lived in the early 1500s in Avila, Spain. What's that about? Well, Theresa,
according to Eliot, was destined for great things because she had such a lofty, idealistic nature.
Even at age seven, Theresa was so gung-ho about Catholicism that she ran away from home
with her little brother to try and convert the Muslim Moors in Spain or die trying. But their uncle
caught them before they made it very far, so Theresa had to satisfy herself with reforming the
way Catholicism was practiced by nuns in Spain.

Eliot points out that there have been many, many Theresas born since then – women who, like
Saint Theresa, have lofty, idealistic natures, who want nothing more than to lead epic lives and
do great things, but who are thwarted by mundane, everyday concerns (like uncles who don't
think seven-year-olds should be missionaries). Women like this spend their lives yearning to
accomplish some epic, "long-remembered deed," but end up getting married and having babies
and being forced to content themselves with playing the conventional role of wife and mother.

This is an important lead-in to the rest of the novel, because Dorothea Brooke, we quickly learn,
is just such a woman. She's a "latter-day Saint Theresa" – someone who yearns to do
something amazing and make the world a better place, but who just can't get past the feeling
that she was born in the wrong moment for great deeds. From her perspective, no one gets
martyred anymore in the 19th century, and her more pragmatic friends and family laugh at her
deep and heartfelt desire to reform the world.

--------------------------

http://middlemarchexperiment.blogspot.com/2012/09/prelude.html

Prelude
"To my dear Husband, George Henry Lewes, in this nineteenth year of our blessed
union."
- Dedication, George Eliot
Synopsis

As a dedication to her husband, the Prelude offers gratitude to the man who
helped support her throughout her illustrious writing career, but it also sets a
certain tone for the entire novel. Although neither introducing a new character to
her novel nor defining a new set of circumstances, Eliot's Prelude appears to
inquire into the plight of women unable to distinguish themselves within society.

Points of interest

Saint Theresa of Avila (1515 - 1582) was a Spanish mystic and nun of the Roman
Catholic Church, who revived the Carmelite Convent and reformed her religious
order. Throughout her life, she suffered from ill health yet she managed to found
numerous missions and convents throughout Spain. She was also a religious
writer and poet, though she was never widely published.

"Here and there is born a Saint Theresa, foundress of nothing, whose loving heart
beats and sobs after an unattained goodness tremble off and are dispersed
among hindrances, instead of centering in some long recognizable deed," Eliot
writes. In this passage, she describes Saint Theresa - or those like her - as a
"foundress of nothing." This indicates that, despite Saint Theresa's
accomplishments, she may have been likewise trapped by the inclinations and
perceptions of society.

Additionally, Eliot writes, "Their ardor alternated between a vague ideal and the
common yearning of womanhood; so that the one was disapproved as
extravagance and the other condemned as a lapse." This passage describes that
women can find no happy medium. To chase some high, indefinable ideal is
considered ridiculous; to bow to human nature and the "common yearning" of a
life is considered immoral.
Terms of note

Romance

Although romance has become a modern word centering around the concept of
love, the term originally described a narrative following heroic exploits, chivalry,
adventure, and fantastic events. In this context, George Eliot uses it to make a
comparison to Saint Theresa - perhaps, Eliot uses the term "romance" to say Saint
Theresa lived such an amazing life that romances pale in comparison.

Epos

Epos is defined as an epic, or epic poetry. For Eliot to say, "She found her epos in
the reform of a religious order," she continues to expound upon the life of Saint
Theresa - that is, she claims Saint Theresa had found her calling, she had found
the epic life for which she sought.

Grandeur

Defined simply, grandeur serves as an indicator of what is amazing or grand.

Coiffure

A coiffure is essentially a hairstyle.

Cygnet

A cygnet is a young swan; however, Eliot appears to use the term metaphorically
to describe the plight of woman. "Here and there a cygnet is reared uneasily
among the ducklings in the brown pond, and never finds the living stream in
fellowship with its own oary-footed kind," she writes. For certain women, they
are defined as a swan - that is, exceptional and beautiful - but they are unable to
realize their full potential or uncover a friendly face.
MIDDLEMARCH

Prelude To MIDDLEMARCH (1874) By George Eliot

"Who that cares much to know the history of man, and how the mysterious
mixture behaves under the varying experiments of Time, has not dwelt, at least
briefly, on the life of Saint Theresa, has not smiled with some gentleness at the
thought of the little girl walking forth one morning hand-in-hand with her still
smaller brother, to go and seek martyrdom in the country of the Moors? Out
they toddled from rugged Avila, wide-eyed and helpless-looking as two fawns,
but with human hearts, already beating to a national idea; until domestic reality
met them in the shape of uncles, and turned them back from their great resolve.
That child-pilgrimage was a fit beginning. Theresa's passionate, ideal nature
demanded an epic life: what were many-volumed romances of chivalry and the
social conquests of a brilliant girl to her? Her flame quickly burned up that
light fuel; and, fed from within, soared after some illimitable satisfaction, some
object which would never justify weariness, which would reconcile self-despair
with the rapturous consciousness of life beyond self. She found her epos in the
reform of a religious order.

That Spanish woman who lived three hundred years ago, was certainly not the
last of her kind. Many Theresas have been born who found for themselves no
epic life wherein there was a constant unfolding of far-resonant action; perhaps
only a life of mistakes, the offspring of a certain spiritual grandeur ill-matched
with the meanness of opportunity; perhaps a tragic failure which found no
sacred poet and sank unwept into oblivion. With dim lights and tangled
circumstance they tried to shape their thought and deed in noble agreement; but
after all, to common eyes their struggles seemed mere inconsistency and
formlessness; for these later-born Theresas were helped by no coherent social
faith and order which could perform the function of knowledge for the ardently
willing soul. Their ardor alternated between a vague ideal and the common
yearning of womanhood; so that the one was disapproved as extravagance, and
the other condemned as a lapse.
Some have felt that these blundering lives are due to the inconvenient
indefiniteness with which the Supreme Power has fashioned the natures of
women: if there were one level of feminine incompetence as strict as the ability
to count three and no more, the social lot of women might be treated with
scientific certitude. Meanwhile the indefiniteness remains, and the limits of
variation are really much wider than any one would imagine from the sameness
of women's coiffure and the favorite love-stories in prose and verse. Here and
there a cygnet is reared uneasily among the ducklings in the brown pond, and
never finds the living stream in fellowship with its own oary-footed kind. Here
and there is born a Saint Theresa, foundress of nothing, whose loving heart -
beats and sobs after an unattained goodness tremble off and are dispersed
among hindrances, instead of centring in some long-recognizable deed."

[Victorian Web Home —> Visual Arts —> Authors —> George Eliot]

[Tameca Jones originally wrote a version of this essay for Dr. Jesse Airaudi's English 4368, Development of the English Novel in the Nineteenth
Century, at Baylor University.]

Dorothea and her sister Celia probably learned about the dodo bird, which became extinct in
the seventeenth century, in their early education. Celia probably thought her sister's name
had an amusing phonic resemblance to the extinct bird. "Dodo," she thought, "can be my
term of endearment for Dorothea." One can only speculate about the origin of Dorothea's
nickname in the novel Middlemarch because George Eliot does not provide its history.
Fortunately, the history of the dodo bird is well documented, as is Dorothea's fictional life,
and comparison of the two produces many intriguing parallels that provide insight into the
caged and flightless lives of Victorian women.

The dodo bird lived undisturbed on the island of Mauritius in the Indian Ocean for so
long that it lost its need and ability to fly. Most Victorians with money or "unquestionably
'good'" (5) connections are isolated from the limitations and social ills outside their little
microcosms, thus islands unto themselves metaphorically speaking. Islanded by her family's
respectability and wealth, Dorothea is "educated . . . on plans at once narrow and
promiscuous, first in an English family and afterwards in a Swiss family at Lausanne" (6).
After completing her education, she lives in "a quiet country-house, and attend[s] a village
church hardly larger than a parlour" (5) at Tipton Grange — Dorothea's physical
microcosmic island: "Her mind was theoretic, and yearned by its nature after some lofty
conception of the world which might frankly include the parish of Tipton and her own rule of
conduct there" (6). Since Dorothea's uncle, Mr. Brooke "dread[s] so much the sort of
superior woman likely to be available" (7) to be a "guide and companion to his nieces,"
Dorothea "preside[s] over . . . [his] household, and did not at all dislike her new authority,
with the homage that belonged to it."
 Like most middle-class Victorian women, Dorothea's "homage" was restricted to the
domestic sphere. She had no power to effect the changes on her uncle's property which she
saw fitting. One such change is the improvement of the "pig-sty cottages" (21) in which her
uncle's tenants reside: "'Worth doing! yes, indeed,' said Dorothea . . . 'I think we deserve to
be beaten out of our´Ñ beautiful houses with a scourge of small cords — all of us who let
tenants live in such sites as we see round us. Life in cottages might be happier than ours, if
they were real houses fit for human beings from whom we expect duties and affections.'" Mr.
Brooke apathetically files the poverty of his tenants under political economy while Dorothea
looks on helplessly, wishing to spread her unused wings and lift some of the tenants'
burdens: "In Mr. Brooke the hereditary strain of Puritan energy [i]s clearly in abeyance; but
in his niece Dorothea it glow[s] alike through faults and virtues, turning sometimes into
impatience of her uncle's talk or his way of 'letting things be' on his estate" (6). Imprisoned
by the cage of her youth, Dorothea settles for drawing architectural plans of new cottages in
preparation for the auspicious time "when she would be of age and have some command of
money for generous schemes."

Mr. Brooke's unconscious prejudice towards Dorothea's sex and age represents the
social limitations that keep most Victorian women forever "thinking of [their] wings and
never flying" (176). When she delivers a compassionate and humane response to Sir James
Chettam's entreaty, her uncle clips her lofty sentiments with a brusque chauvinistic bullet:
"'Young ladies don't understand political economy'" (11). The disjointed points he makes to
discredit his niece only prove to support her opinion: "'The fact is, human reason may carry
you a little too far — over the hedge, in fact. . . . I have always been in favour [sic] of a little
theory: we must have Thought; else we shall be landed back in the dark ages." Dorothea's
eloquent insightfulness did not originate from any "theory" or "reason" based on textbooks.
Her rectitude and social conscience produce the antithesis of political economy's core
principle: "'It is not a sin to make yourself poor in performing experiments for the good of
all.'" Mr. Brooke again slights Dorothea when he rejects her proposal to help sort his papers,
telling her "young ladies are too flighty" to "meddle with . . . documents" (13). The adjective
used to describe young women is pregnant with hypocrisy and irony. If anyone is given to
flightiness, it is Mr. Brooke, a man of "acquiescent temper, miscellaneous opinions, and
uncertain vote" (6). He "was held . . . to have contracted a too rambling habit of mind" with
"conclusions [that] were as difficult to predict as the weather." The flightiness he
hypocritically accuses his niece of possessing is ironic in respect to Dorothea's nickname
(Dodos were flightless birds). As the narrator's psychological analysis of Mr. Brooke's
motivation reveals, his remark was totally unconscious, even involuntary: "[T]he remark lay
in his mind as lightly as the broken wing of an insect among all the other fragments there,
and a chance current had sent it alighting to her" (13). His instinctive response represents that
though most women have wings to fly, Victorian society unconsciously places them in sexist
cages from the cradle to the grave.

When the Portuguese sailors first arrived on the island of Mauritius, the dodo birds,
having no natural predators, had no fear of them or their animals. The sailors hunted the
island's avian inhabitants for food and sport, while the dogs and pigs made short work of the
birds' eggs. Just as the dodo birds were oblivious to the predatory motives of the new visitors
on their island, Dorothea, in her tranquil microcosm without a middle-aged woman to guide
her, is oblivious to Sir James's intention to stuff and hang her on his mantelpiece as a trophy
wife:

She was open, ardent, and not in the least self-admiring; indeed, it was pretty to see how her
imagination adorned her sister Celia with attractions altogether superior to her own, and if any
 gentleman appeared to come to the Grange from some other motive than that of seeing Mr.
Brooke, she concluded he must be in love with Celia: Sir James Chettam for example, whom she
constantly considered from Celia's point of view, inwardly debating whether it would be good for
Celia to accept him. That he should be regarded as a suitor to herself would have seemed to her a
ridiculous irrelevance. [7]

In Sir James's hunt for a wife to "whom he could say 'What shall we do?' about this or
that, who could help her husband with reasons and would also have the property
qualifications for doing so" (14), Dorothea falls into his sights: "She was thoroughly
charming to him, but of course he theorised [sic] a little about his attachment." He picks
Dorothea as if she were live game or a "young woman . . . tied up to be chosen, like poultry
at market" (317) and proceeds to track and set traps for his prey — the Brooke sister he feels
is "in all respects superior" (15). One such trap Sir James uses is illusory predominance: "In
short, he felt himself to be in love in the right place, and was ready to endure a great deal of
predominance, which, after all, a man could put down when he liked. Sir James had no idea
that he should ever like to put down the predominance of this handsome girl, in whose
cleverness he delighted" (14). He coaxes Dorothea out of her nest, closer to the cage of
domesticity, by giving her the monetary means to effect "generous schemes" denied by her
youth and uncle:

"Do you know, Lovegood was telling me yesterday that you had the best notion in the world of a
plan for cottages — quite wonderful for a young lady, he thought. You had a real genus, to use his
expression. He said you wanted Mr. Brooke to build a new set of cottages, but he seemed to think
it hardly probable that your uncle would consent. Do you know, that is one of the things I wish to
do — I mean, on my own estate. I should be so glad to carry out that plan of yours, if you would
let me see it. . . . But after all, it is worth doing." [20-21]

Both the predator and the prey are unaware of the other's intentions. Only Dorothea's
sister Celia can see that both parties use "preconceptions either confident or distrustful" (14)
to misinterpret each other's actions and manners: "Celia was present while the plans were
being examined, and observed Sir James's illusion. He thinks that Dodo cares about him, and
she only cares about her plans. Yet I am not certain that she would refuse him if she thought
he would let her manage everything and carry out all her notions. And how very
uncomfortable Sir James would be! I cannot bear notions" (20). After his trophy eludes him,
Sir James proves himself better than most Victorian men: "Although Sir James was a
sportsman, he had some other feelings towards women than grouse and foxes, and did not
regard his future wife in the light of prey, valuable chiefly for the excitements of the chase"
(40).

Mistaking their lack of fear for a lack of intelligence, the Portuguese sailors called the
avian inhabitants on the newly discovered island of Mauritius "dodo," Portuguese for
"doudou," which means "simpleton." When Edward Casaubon first discovers Dorothea, he
mistakenly believes that her unworldliness and initial appreciation of a man who "take[s]
pains to talk to her, not with absurd compliments, but with an appeal to her understanding"
(22) will make her an excellent

helpmate . . . [and] enable him to dispense with a hired secretary, an aid Mr. Casaubon had never
yet employed and had a suspicious dread of. (Mr. Casaubon was nervously conscious that he was
expected to manifest a powerful mind.) Providence, in its kindness, had supplied him with . . . [a]
wife, a modest young lady, with the purely appreciative, unambitious abilities of her sex . . . sure to
think her husband's mind powerful. [176]
 More than a "helpmate," Casaubon wishes Dorothea to be a "housemaid" (167) to "rub"
his "pier-glass or extensive surface of polished steel . . . [that is] minutely and
multitudinously scratched in all directions." When directly applied to Edward's life and
works, the pier-glass parable illuminates the catacombs of his psychological makeup. His
"abundant pen-scratches" (128) are the "minutely and multitudinous" scratches on a pier-
glass — the many volumes of his notations that "g[o] everywhere impartially" — which he
initially believes Dorothea will "observ[e] . . . with the uncritical awe of an elegant-minded
canary bird." His notations are on "amplitude of paper[s]," which is the equivalent of an
actual pier-glass. The "egoism" of Casaubon "produces the flattering illusion of concentric
arrangement" of "all the mythical systems or erratic mythical fragments in the world" (16):

[H]e told her how he had undertaken to show (what indeed had been attempted before, but not with
that thoroughness, justice of comparison, and effectiveness of arrangement at which Mr. Casaubon
aimed) that all the mythical systems or erratic mythical fragments of the world were corruptions of
a tradition originally revealed. Having once mastered the true position and taken a firm footing
there, the vast field of mythical constructions became intelligible, nay, luminous with the reflected
light of speedy correspondences. But to gather in this great harvest of truth was no light or speedy
work. His notes already made a formidable range of volumes, but the crowning task would be to
condense these voluminous still-accumulating results and bring them . . . to a fit little shelf. [16]

The years of toil produce nothing but more pen-scratches and paper and wear his candle
to a mere stub. With the winds of death threatening to extinguish his low, flickering flame,
Edward needs Dorothea to carry his torch:

But it was clear enough to her that he would expect her to devote herself to sifting those mixed
heaps of material, which were to be doubtful illustration of principles still more doubtful. . . . And
now she pictured to herself the days, months, and years which she must spend in sorting what
might be called shattered mummies, and fragments of tradition which was itself a mosaic wrought
from crushed ruins — sorting them as food for a theory which was already withered in the birth
like an elfin child. . . . She could understand well enough now why her husband had come to cling
to her, as possible the only hope left that his labours would ever take a shape in which they could
be given to the world. [297]

Had her husband not betrayed her trust with the codicil of his will, Dorothea would
have remained a prisoner in her marital tomb: "[S]he simply felt that she was going to say
'Yes' to her own doom: she was too weak, too full of dread at the thought of inflicting a keen-
edged blow on her husband, to do anything but submit completely" (298). Already "paying
hidden visits" (265) to her "best soul in prison", Dorothea's altruistic passions would have
shared the same fate as the extinct dodo birds had her soul not been pardoned by her
husband's treachery.

The parallels between the lives of the dodo birds and Dorothea reveal how life for
Victorian women took place in a series of aviaries built by a male-chauvinistic society,
which keep them flightless and oppressed. George Eliot shows Dorothea's various cages,
which take the form of the frustratingly confining world of her girlhood and the suffocating
"virtual tomb" (295) of her marriage, as the movelist tries to save the souls, passions, and
talents of women from extinction.
Middlemarch Book I: What are siblings for?
POSTED BY ARTI IN BOOKS, ENTERTAINMENT, LIFE, LITERATURE, READING

Books, Classics, George Eliot, literature, Middlemarch, Middlemarch in May, read-along, reading

Dorothea and Celia Brooke remind me of the Dashwood sisters Elinor and MariAnne. Like
MaryAnne, Celia, being the younger, holds much respect and love for her older sister. Unlike
the sisters in Austen’s novel however, here in Middlemarch so far, I just wonder who is
Sense and who is Sensibility.
What are siblings for if not to act as a sounding board to test one’s opinion? This is a scene
fit for a prime time TV comedy. Celia, just learned that Mr. Casaubon is the only guest
coming to dinner––the setup to that special dinner she is totally oblivious––thus allowing
her to speak her mind freely to Dorothea:

_______

“I hope there is some one else. Then I shall not hear him eat his soup so.”
“What is there remarkable about his soup-eating?”
“Really, Dodo, can’t you hear how he scrapes his spoon? And he always blinks before he
speaks. I don’t know whether Locke blinked, but I’m sure I am sorry for those who sat
opposite to him if he did.”
“Celia,” said Dorothea, with emphatic gravity, “pray don’t make any more observations of
that kind.”
“Why not? They are quite true,” returned Celia, who had her reasons for persevering,
though she was beginning to be a little afraid.
“Many things are true which only the commonest minds observe.”
“Then I think the commonest minds must be rather useful. I think it is a pity Mr. Casaubon’s
mother had not a commoner mind: she might have taught him better.” Celia was inwardly
frightened, and ready to run away, now she had hurled this light javelin.

_______

What follows of course is the bombshell that shatters the sounding board for any sense or
sensibility.

I’ll just throw in this pair of Waxwings, they look like they’re siblings.

Another pair of siblings that makes a lively scene is Fred Vincy and his sister Rosamund.
Talking about using the word “superior” to denote certain young men, Fred says:
 _______

“Oh, there are so many superior teas and sugars now. Superior is getting to be
shopkeepers’ slang.”
“Are you beginning to dislike slang, then?” said Rosamond, with mild gravity.
“Only the wrong sort. All choice of words is slang. It marks a class.”
“There is correct English: that is not slang.”
“I beg your pardon: correct English is the slang of prigs who write history and essays. And
the strongest slang of all is the slang of poets.”
“You will say anything, Fred, to gain your point.”
“Well, tell me whether it is slang or poetry to call an ox a leg-plaiter.”
“Of course you can call it poetry if you like.”
“Aha, Miss Rosy, you don’t know Homer from slang. I shall invent a new game; I shall write
bits of slang and poetry on slips, and give them to you to separate.”
“Dear me, how amusing it is to hear young people talk!” said Mrs. Vincy, with cheerful
admiration.
_______

What are siblings for if not to act as target of javelin or indulgence for a doting mother.

The Must-Knows of Realism

(1) Detail
Why do you think Realist novels are so long? Because they're chock full of detail.
Realists love the little things; open up any Realist novel, and you'll probably find loads of
descriptions of food, dress, social habits, nature, and physical appearance. One reason
for this is that the more detail you have, the more realistic your writing seems.

(2) Omniscient Narrator

The omniscient narrator is the superhero of narrators. These narrators know everything
and can be everywhere at once. They can jump from one character's mind to another's;
they can move between one location and the next—they're like God, basically.

(3) Transparent language

The language of Realism tends to be fairly simple, even if the subject matter is complex.
Since Realist authors write about regular people, they tend to use regular, ordinary
language; Realist language echoes the language that we all use in our everyday
speech.

(4) Verisimilitude
Verisimilitude is the appearance of being true or real. You won't find any unicorns or
Martians in a Realist novel, because Realist authors want us to believe that what we're
reading is actually happening somewhere out there in the world. If the story they're
telling doesn't seem real, then none of their commentary on character or social issues
will have any impact.

(5) The Novel

A novel is a prose narrative that's book length and tends to focus on character and plot.
This is, hands down, the favorite genre of Realist authors, who like to stuff their novels
with loads of detail about real life.

(6) The Quotidian

Here's a fancy-pants term referring to the ordinary, common events of daily life. We're
talking about things like brushing your teeth, eating lunch, or taking out the trash.
Realist novels are full of this kind of detail.

(7) Character
Character refers to the emotional, psychological, and moral qualities that make each of
us who we are. You might be stubborn, or hotheaded, or really depressed. You might
be courageous, or cowardly, or stingy. Realist writers love to explore the qualities that
make up character, and they're especially interested in figuring out how these qualities
motivate people's actions.

(8) Social Critique

Why are some people so poor and others so rich? Why don't the same standards apply
to both men and women? What's up with the way we treat old people? Realist works
often raise these types of questions; they're totally into critiquing the social and political
structures that govern our lives.

(9) Class
Class refers to the way that social groups are divided up based on economic and social
status. If you own three Ferraris, you're probably a member of the upper class. If you're
a kindergarten teacher, you're probably a member of the middle class. Some Realist
writers are especially interested in depicting members of the middle class, but Realism
in general is totally into thinking about class issues like inequality and class mobility.

(10) Rising Literacy

Realism as a literary movement was directly influenced by the fact that by the mid-19th
century, more and more people were going to school and learning to read. Those
regular folks becoming literate loved Realist literature partly because it reflected their
own lives, so Realist writers found a much broader audience than writers of previous
time periods.