I guess in Featherstone’s case, death is not the great equalizer, because he throws quite a bash. Mrs. Cadwaller is in her element with her running commentary on all the attendees. But of course, no one mourns him and only Dorothea seems attuned to that: “This funeral seems to me the most dismal thing I ever saw. It is a blot on the morning. I cannot bear to think that any one should die and leave no love behind.”
As I think on it, this is a parting gift that Dorothea gives Casaubon. If not for her, wouldn’t he have died and left no love behind? But she did love him in her way, and grieved when he died.
The epigraph to ch. 35 (Featherstone’s funeral)
Le Légataire Universel: comedy by Regnard (1708), I, iv, 46-52
No, I can’t imagine a more delightful pleasure
Than seeing a grieving crowd of heirs,
Looking dumbfounded, with long faces,
Listening to a lengthy will which turns them pale with shock,
As, cocking a snook at them, it leaves them empty-handed.
To see their deep sorrow so clearly,
I would return on purpose, I think, from the next world.
I thoroughly enjoyed the epigraphs. This one sounds as though Featherstone could have written it himself. I read the epigraphs before starting each chapter, of course, and tried to remember to reread them when I finished the chapter. Another book in which they played an important role was The Luminaries. In that book, you missed some important clues if you skipped them. In Middlemarch, I think Eliot uses them to underscore the point of the chapter.
I have watched 4.5 episodes of the 7 episode Middlemarch series. They are very good and sticking close to the book so far. The episode with the death and funeral of Featherstone was great. A bit of comedy and good performance by the actor who played Featherstone.
@ignatius, great job pointing out the importance of the epigraphs. The one you shared of Featherstone is perfect.
From the New Yorker article, "a distinguished professor who studied the classics and once told me that one of his greatest fears was to discover that he was Casaubon. " That made me laugh.
I like this summing up she gives: “Middlemarch” suggests that it is always too late to be what you might have been—but it also shows that, virtually without exception, the unrealized life is worth living.
When Featherstone asked Mary to burn one of the wills, did she know which one benefited Fred? Was she aware of the contents of those wills ?
The BBC depicted the deathbed scene, when Featherstone offered Mary such a fortune of money to burn a will, and she did the right thing.
clarification- Featherstone wanted to leave his estate to Fred ?
Also, thanks @Mary13 for the Guardian link, by Bryant. I need or reread that again, but it addressed many questions I had about the novel.
The BBC show depicted the scenes with Featherstone the same way the book did. Mary did not know the contents of the will. Fred got 10,000 pounds in the first will and nothing in the second will.
Can somebody who was paying more attention tell me exactly who the guy was that got Featherstone’s estate. I must have missed something. How did he know Featherstone?
^^^ Illegitimate son
One of the discussion questions from Lit Lover is: “What about Mary Garth’s refusal to burn the second will after Featherstone’s death. What would you have done?”
I think Mary did exactly the right thing. It was wrong for Featherstone to lay that on her and there is no way she should have to be a partner in his nonsense. She says later that leaving Fred without a penny might turn out to be a good thing for him in the long run, and she was right about that.
On the question of wills…Did anybody catch where Casaubon’s assets went after Dorothea broke the terms of the codicil? I was wondering about that, but this is a hard book to skim through for quick answers (especially on a kindle).
I don’t think the book says where the estate went if Dorothy married Will, but presumably to some closer relation than Will.
When I read the book I thought it was really unfair that Mary got nothing, but I agree in the long run it was much better for Fred not to have that money.
Thank you @ignatius. I must have dozed off more than I thought. ?
There is a school of thought that Rosamond comes into her feminist own after marriage because she takes action rather than being the submissive wife – gives orders to the real estate agent Trumbull, writes a letter to Godwin Lydgate, rides her horse bcause she d*mn well wants to ride her horse, etc. Of course, her actions drive her husband nuts. The two just don’t communicate well.
At one point, Lydgate muses to Mr. Farebrother that he’ll take an apprentice “if Rosamond will not mind.” It’s not unreasonable to consult your wife, right? So is the narrator’s comment that followed meant to be tongue-in-cheek?
Going back to @mathmom’s post #138, where she quotes George Eliot’s very tolerant view of Rosamond, I read an academic paper that makes a related observation:
I am re-thinking the idea that the Tertius-Rosamond marriage was a disaster. Lydgate had questionable judgment where women were concerned (e.g. Laure). He did not look before he leaped (or maybe I should say, “he looked, and that made him leap”). At least with Rosamond, even if he didn’t achieve his medical dreams, he ultimately led a fairly comfortable life, with four daughters who, one would hope, brought him some joy.
“Rosamond never committed a second compromising indiscretion. She simply continued to be mild in her temper, inflexible in her judgement, disposed to admonish her husband, and able to frustrate him by stratagem.” Could be worse. Also:
It wasn’t lost on me that Eliot is noting that it’s still a cage. For all her “wins” over her husband, life for Rosamond, as for many Victorian woman, is severely restricted, even if disguised with “flowers and gilding.”
A truly disastrous marriage for Lydgate would have been if the actress (murderess?) Laure had accepted his proposal! By the way book club regulars, if you didn’t read that section closely the first time (it’s at the end of Chapter XV), go back to it and imagine Laure as Jean Muir from Louisa May Alcott’s Behind a Mask, or A Woman’s Power. It’s a nearly perfect fit.
LOL Good observation @Mary13 ! Of course we love to hate Rosamond, but I think for her time, her wishes were not so unreasonable. (And by today’s medicine she probably did not cause the miscarriage either.)
Featherstone’s will - Casaubon’s will. Until now I never thought about the fact of two men with two “shocking” wills - both controlling other lives after their own deaths. I’m going to ponder on this one for a while - mainly on how it slipped my attention. I knew about both wills and how they upended lives but somehow didn’t look at it (two wills - the narrative repeating) as such. Neither man acted out of kindness.
And now I worry if Farebrother and Garth got to keep their Lowick positions once Dorothea marries Will.
Don’t worry: Since Fred and Mary live a long and happy life at Stone Court, I suspect Farebrother and Caleb Garth are fine – because the couple couldn’t be truly contented if the two men responsible for their happiness met unfortunate ends.
Yeah but Farebrother and Garth have Lowick positions, not Stone Court. Garth, of course, will be okay but Farebrother … what if the new owner of Lowick wants someone else?
Farebrother truly sacrificed his happiness, when asked by Fred to speak to Mary on his behalf, he repressed his feelings.
Two wills-
Casaubon / Featherstone
Two very moral characters, truly good
Mary / Farebrother
Two characters who longed to help mankind(could have been lovers, but better apart )
Dorothea / Lyndgate
Free spirits who grew the most
Fred/ Will
Evil characters
Bulstrode / Raffles ( I have some questions about that)
Lived happily ever after
Mary/Fred… Dorothea / Will
Two characters who faced ruined reputations - disgrace in the provincial village
Dorothea / Lyndgate
Regarding #3 question. Referenced the most famous paragraph of the novel ? Chapter 27,
-
- The opening paragraph of Chapter 27 is probably the most famous single passage in Middlemarch. What do you think the parable of the pier glass helps us understand about the novel’s structure? In what other ways does it illuminate the novel’s ideas?*
I guess this is it?
Let the high Muse chant loves Olympian:
We are but mortals, and must sing of man.
An eminent philosopher among my friends, who can dignify even your ugly furniture by lifting it into the serene light of science, has shown me this pregnant little fact. Your pier-glass or extensive surface of polished steel made to be rubbed by a housemaid, will be minutely and multitudinously scratched in all directions; but place now against it a lighted candle as a centre of illumination, and lo! the scratches will seem to arrange themselves in a fine series of concentric circles round that little sun. It is demonstrable that the scratches are going everywhere impartially and it is only your candle which produces the flattering illusion of a concentric arrangement, its light falling with an exclusive optical selection. These things are a parable. The scratches are events, and the candle is the egoism of any person now absent—of Miss Vincy, for example. Rosamond had a Providence of her own who had kindly made her more charming than other girls, and who seemed to have arranged Fred’s illness and Mr. Wrench’s mistake in order to bring her and Lydgate within effective proximity. It would have been to contravene these arrangements if Rosamond had consented to go away to Stone Court or elsewhere, as her parents wished her to do, especially since Mr. Lydgate thought the precaution needless. Therefore, while Miss Morgan and the children were sent away to a farmhouse the morning after Fred’s illness had declared itself, Rosamond refused to leave papa and mamma.