Book I, Chapters 6 - 12 (end of Book I)

Ch. 6 (less important)

This chapter marks the introduction of Mrs. Cadwallader, the plain-spoken, cheap, and gossiping wife of the local rector. She has some great lines, though the parts of this chapter that deal with politics are difficult to follow—and not particularly important to the development of the novel as a whole. The most interesting part of this chapter is where Mrs. C talks with Celia and Mr. Brooke about Dorothea's engagement to Casaubon, and her sharing of this news with Chettam shortly thereafter, along with her immediate efforts to point Chettam toward Celia as a romantic prospect. 

Ch. 7

This strikes me as a particularly important chapter. It explores how three different characters (Dorothea, Casaubon, and Mr. Brooke) are situated in relation to questions of how women ought to acquire or use various types of knowledge. Dorothea does not want knowledge (of Greek or Latin langauges) simply in order to serve Casaubon's scholarly needs: "she wished, poor child, to be wise herself" (59). How will this play out once they're married?

Mr. Brooke here represents a traditional view, that women should confine themselves to "music, the fine arts, that kind of thing," and that any intellectual endeavor beyond these would be "too taxing for a woman" (60). 

Casaubon does not contest Mr. Brooke's view, which suggests that he implicitly agrees with it; he remarks that she is learning the "characters only," meaning that she will be able to read the works but not be expected to understand them. Whatever facility with language she might acquire along the way is only useful insofar as it serves his needs. 

Mr. Brooke also voices a notion (regarding women and emotion) that I assume was common at the time—namely, that Dorothea should not allow herself to feel anything too strongly; addressing Casaubon rather than Dorothea, he says, "you must teach my niece to take things more quietly." [He does tack on an "eh, Dorothea?" to the end of that sentence, which strikes me as politeness more than anything else.]

The chapter ends with Eliot reflecting on the fact that even the wisest among us cannot forsee how our own minds might change over time, or how progress might lead to unimaginable developments. Personal note: I was curious about the reference to Alfred the Great (perhaps the greatest of the Anglo-Saxon kings), and it seems that he was trying (in the 9th century) to measure the hours of the day with candles: a kind of "candle clock." Crafty guy. 

Personal note: I admired the statue of Alfred in Winchester, where I started my long-distance walk over the South Downs Way (2019).

Ch. 8

Here Sir James Chettam meets with the easy-going rector, Humphrey Cadwallader (husband to Mrs. C.). He counters Chettam's ungenerous appraisal of Casaubon. Mr. Cadwallader can find no fault with Casaubon, though maybe this is due in part to the fact that Casaubon has a nice trout stream where Cadwallader can enjoy fishing.

 One of my favorite lines comes in this scene; Chettam opines that Casaubon "has got no good red blood in his body," implying that he is physically decrepit (in contrast to himself, of course), and Mrs. Cadwallader agrees in her pointed way:

No, somebody put a drop [of Casaubon's blood] under a magnifying glass, and it was all semi-colons and parentheses.

The chapter ends on an optimistic note, Eliot jumping slightly ahead to let us know that Dorothea and Chettam will enjoy something like a real friendship once there is "no passion to hide or confess."

Ch. 9 . . . very important

Dorothea tours Lowick (accompanied by her uncle and sister) with the purpose of determining what changes she might like to be made before they're married. The details here are revealing—the place has the potential to be pleasing in its way, but it seems to be imbued with sadness (or emptiness of life); Eliot refers to parts of the setting as "melancholy" (twice) and "sombre." 

What's most important here is the appearance of a new character, Will Ladislaw, who will play an important role for the remainder of the novel. I misunderstood Will's relation to Casaubon for quite some time, so it's worth clarifying. Casaubon's mother had a sister who "made an unfortunate marriage." There's more to it than that, but this is all we know (or need to know) at this stage. This aunt was more or less cast out of the family at some point, and Will is her grandson. So, the implication is that Will has defective blood running through him. Casaubon does feel a sense of duty toward his young second cousin, though, so he is paying for Will's schooling. 

It's worth paying close attention to every reference to Will here. 

Not surprising that Dorothea does attempt to defend Will, to some degree, while praising Casaubon for the "rectitude" of financing him.

Ch. 10 (Part I - mostly concerned with Casaubon)

The first few pages of this chapter are extremely difficult. 

[Side note: Eliot's authorial intrusion into the narrative feels almost post-modern (except she's barely a "modernist") to me. It takes some getting used to. Think of it this way: The book is "narrated" in a mostly straightforward omniscient way. But occasionally Eliot just steps in as the author and speaks to us directly, as here: "But at present this caution against a too hasty judgment interests me more . . . ." (77). As I said, it's unusual (as far as I know) for a Victorian novel to do this, but now that I'm accustomed to it, I really enjoy it. It's as if Eliot herself is commenting on the novel, and that extra layer of perspective is part of what makes the novel special.]

So why does Eliot intrude into the narrative? To provoke the reader to pause and think about Casaubon from a new perspective. She wants us to set aside whatever biases against him we might have developed. Who cares that every character other than Dorothea (and maybe Mr. Cadwallader) thinks he's a walking corpse—Eliot is asking us to take him seriously in all his (not always evident) humanity. She wants us to see ourselves in this physically unattractive and seemingly humorless scholar. 

Note: If you've seen a picture of Eliot herself, it's hard not to conclude that she was not particularly physically attractive herself. [I'm hardly the first person to discuss this.] My point is that she likely knew/felt intimately the truth of what she's writing here, particularly at the bottom of page 77, where she references the unkind perceptions of others as belonging to "various small mirrors." You can swap the word minds for mirrors and see what she's getting at. 

Beyond this, though, Eliot is interested in the sad psychology of Casaubon, specifically as he edges toward the awareness that this impending marriage is not going to be the source of pleasure he might have hoped for; he "did not find his spirits rising" (78). One more line is significant in this passage: "And his was that worst loneliness which would shrink from sympathy." It becomes clear that he's already worried about disappointing Dorothea. Still, he seems (in the remainder of that long, difficult paragraph) to take some pleasure in his role of wise teacher to Dorothea.

Ch. 10 Part II (the dinner party)

This scene is not all that important except in that introduces three important new characters (and plenty of not very important ones):

Vincy = new mayor, a manufacturer

Bulstrode = the banker, who is also the brother-in-law of Vincy; supremely moralistic / religious and judgmental

Tertius Lydgate = the new doctor, who is not overly taken with Dorothea on first meeting her

characters you don't need to concern yourself with: Standish (lawyer), Chichely, Mrs. Renfrew, Lady Chettam (mother to Sir James), 

This scene is most interesting for the brief discussions of medicine; here we get signs that Lydgate will not be a traditionalist when it comes to research or treatment. 

Ch. 11

Some of the information about Lydgate (the new doctor) is confusing, so let me clarify one thing: He doesn't have much money. It's more clear that he's not interested in Dorothea; he likes Rosamond Vincy, daughter of the mayor. She's very beautiful and has all the expected attributes a young woman is supposed to have (how to dress, how to behave) with none of the ones (intellect, a cause) that some seem to think of as an affliction to Dorothea.

Lots of relatively important (but confusing) information at the bottom of page 89. Vincy has been successful, but is not nearly as wealthy as others. Of note on this point: There is a connection between Vincy's family and the very wealthy (and elderly) Peter Featherstone, who lives at Stone Court. As we'll see, it seems likely that he'll die before long, so Vincy's two children (Fred and Rosamond) might expect to inherit some of Featherstone's money. 

The two local doctors (Peacock and Wrench) aren't important to the story; all you need to know is that they represent a more traditional approach to medicine, and that Lydgate will be signficantly more forward-thinking.

The remainder of the chapter shows a scene in the Vincy household; the main takeaways here are that Fred is both clever and somewhat aimless, and that his sister Rosamond is less easy-going—and doesn't do well when things don't go her way. 

Ch. 12

Don't get bogged down with the Wauls (or the other members of that side of Peter Featherstone's family); they're important only because they believe they have a claim on Featherstone's estate (Stone Court + cash) and because this sets them up in opposition to the Garths, who also believe they have a claim. Note that Mary Garth is a caretaker to Featherstone, but also a niece (by Featherstone's first wife, long dead).

In this scene, he's heard from Mrs. Waul that Fred has allegedly been saying publicly that he has money coming from Featherstone; Fred denies it, and it's not entirely clear where the truth lies. In any case, Featherstone insists that Fred go to Bulstrode (the moralistic banker, but also an uncle to Fred, though no longer close to the Vincy family) and get Bulstrode to sign a paper confirming that he knows nothing of any loan to Fred that is tied to a possible inheritance from Featherstone. This will put Fred in an uncomfortable spot. 

I find the scene where Rosamond and Mary are contrasted quite interesting; I'll tell you now that Mary will remain a minor character in the novel, but I'm intrigued by her, and I'll tell you why later. For now, do take in Eliot's description of her. One clarification: Mary is described twice as "brown." She's definitely not brown-skinned in the sense that we think of it now; it's more that she does not possess the porcelain skin prized by many in the Victorian era (and that Rosamond does have). To be "fair" (light skinned, blond haired) was widely considered prerequisite to beauty at the time.

Mary and Rosamond have a disagreement about Fred, and one thing should be clarified: When Rosamond says Fred will "not take orders," she means becoming a member of the clergy, which becomes more clear a few sentences later.

Last great line of Book 1:

The difficult task of knowing another soul is not for young gentlemen whose consciousness is chiefly made up of their own wishes.