Middlemarch

The Scholar’s Motives for Marriage

Mr. Casaubon concluded he could no longer defer matrimony, reflecting that a man of good position should seek a blooming young lady—younger being preferable for educability and submissiveness—of equal rank with religious principles, virtuous disposition, and good understanding. He intended to make handsome settlements and arrange for her happiness, expecting in return family pleasures and what sixteenth-century sonneteers considered essential: a copy of himself. Casaubon believed he had found more than he demanded when he saw Dorothea.

A Wife as Secretary

Casaubon hoped Dorothea would enable him to dispense with a hired secretary, an aid he had never employed but felt suspicious of, being nervously conscious that he was expected to manifest a powerful mind. Providence, he believed, had supplied the wife he needed—one whose purely appreciative, unambitious abilities would surely recognize his mind as powerful.

An Uninspired Mind

Mr. Casaubon had never enjoyed intense joy, lacking both a strong bodily frame and an enthusiastic soul. His sensitive soul was too languid to transform into passionate delight, remaining trapped in self-consciousness. His experience shrank from pity and feared being known—a proud narrow sensitiveness without mass enough for sympathy. Despite severe self-restraint and resolution to be unimpeachable, he was tormented by doubts about his mythological Key and how leading minds at Brasenose perceived his pamphlets.

The Burden of the Key to All Mythologies

The difficulty of making his Key to All Mythologies unimpeachable weighed heavily upon his mind. He suspected the Archdeacon had not read his work, doubted what Brasenose truly thought, and was bitterly convinced that his old acquaintance Carp had written a depreciatory review. His religious faith wavered with his wavering trust in his own authorship, and the consolations of Christian hope in immortality seemed to lean upon the immortality of his still-unwritten Key.

Domestic Obligation

Marriage, like religion and erudition, had become an outward requirement to Casaubon, bent on fulfilling unimpeachably all requirements. Before marriage, he found the new bliss unblissful, and the deeper he entered domesticity, the more did propriety predominate over satisfaction. Even drawing Dorothea into use in his study, though intended before marriage, required her pleading insistence to begin.

Work in the Library

Dorothea had succeeded in making it a matter of course that she should work in the library—reading aloud or copying for her husband. Mr. Casaubon had adopted an intention: a new Parergon, a monograph correcting Warburton’s assertions about Egyptian mysteries. He was also troubled by a Latin dedication, remembering with regret his past dedication to Carp among the “viri nullo ævo perituros,” which he feared would bring ridicule.

Will Ladislaw’s Letters

One morning, Casaubon told Dorothea he had received a letter for her enclosed in one addressed to him. She exclaimed with pleased surprise at seeing Ladislaw’s name and said she could imagine what he had written to Casaubon about—likely requesting to visit Lowick.

An Unjust Accusation

Casaubon severely told Dorothea to read the letter if she pleased, but beforehand stated he must decline Ladislaw’s proposal to visit. He desired an interval of freedom from distractions and especially from guests whose “desultory vivacity” made their presence a fatigue. Dorothea was stung by his assumption that she desired visits disagreeable to her husband, feeling he spoke to her as if she were something to contend against.

A Clash of Tempers

Dorothea responded sharply that he spoke as if she wished to annoy him and that she should at least be heard before appearing to consult her own pleasure. When Casaubon called her hasty, she countered that he had been first hasty with his false suppositions. Casaubon said they would discuss it no further, lacking leisure or energy for such debate. The fire of anger was not yet dissipated in Dorothea.

Dorothea’s Indignation

Dorothea left Ladislaw’s letters unread on her husband’s writing-table, scorn and indignation preventing her from reading them. She began working at her own desk, finding her handwriting beautiful and understanding the Latin she copied more clearly than usual. In her indignation, she felt a sense of superiority that expressed itself in firm strokes rather than inward condemnation of her husband.