THE QUINTESSENTIAL NARRATOR
From the very beginning it is clear that to label the narrator of Middlemarch Victorian merely because the novel is considered to be a typically Victorian work of fiction, or feminine because its author George Eliot was a woman, is missing the point entirely. The task of this third person intrusive omniscient narrator is to serve as a guide through this morally serious novel; a momentous task which should not be underestimated, considering the scope of this often difficult but intricately woven plot and its many animated characters. To give this guidance in the best way possible, the narration should be harmonious and not allow anything to stand in the way of taking a discerning look at all occurring within its span.
One of the narrator’s most noteworthy qualities is the sense of irony that is employed throughout the novel. It is used to soften the often almost didactic tone the narrator assumes where it concerns mores and values, and successfully so; at many places it makes the point more effectively than it would have been otherwise. None of the characters are ever entirely safe from this insightful irony, as shown in this instance, in a comment following Mr Casaubon’s proposal of marriage to Dorothea:
No speech could have been more thoroughly honest in its intention: the frigid rhetoric at the end was as sincere as the bark of a dog, or the cawing of an amorous rook. Would it not be rash to conclude that there was no passion behind those sonnets to Delia which strike us as the thin music of a mandolin?¹
However wittily the narrator brings it, clearly this string of the narrative is not to be considered a compliment, even if it never quite becomes a direct insult either. By means of this play of words, the narrator cautions the reader to not take the words of Mr Casaubon at face value; already a clear foreboding of what is to come.
Still, the narrator is not present to chastise or ridicule the Middlemarch inhabitants; characters are not randomly placed into camps of good or bad; even Casaubon, as one of the more ambiguous characters in the novel, receives several expressions of “Poor Mr Casaubon” (85), clearly illustrating that although he is not innocent of making the mistake of engaging Dorothea in marriage, he is to be pitied rather for his bad judgement than considered being intentionally evil. Though there are allusions to the hypocrisy of a male society and the restraints which it places on women, something which generally affects Dorothea less because she is of a higher social class than many of the other women who play a prominent role in the novel, the maturity and perceptiveness of the narrator causes the commentary to sound convincing instead of either masculine or feminine. By appealing to the readers in such a manner, demanding them to apply a sense of reality and fairness considering the course of events, the narrator becomes trustworthy, and at the same time challenges readers to respond to the events, as human beings rather than as men or women.
This great sense of awareness which is exhibited on the narrator’s part enables it to take its distinctive irony a step further still; even to give the readers of the novel some idea of how easy it is to ignore the truth if it is less painful, and cautioning them against such a thing between the lines:
It seems an easier and shorter way to dignity, to observe that - since there never was a true story which could not be told in parables, where you might put a monkey for a margrave, and vice versa - whatever has been or is to be narrated by me about low people, may be ennobled by being considered a parable; so that if any bad habits and ugly consequences are brought into view, the reader may have the relief of regarding them as not more than figuratively ungenteel, and may feel himself virtually in company with persons of some style. (359)
The narrator adds a perceptive voice to the story, full of humour at one moment, assessing the situation with a few succinct words the next, even expressing its pity for the characters from time to time, with all the while that quiet superior awareness of all that goes on and will happen staunchly supporting the narrative structure. The narrative is long, but never too long, because each and every instant of it works towards the same goal; keeping an even pace while travelling through a complicated plot, the narrator ultimately aims for realism, and accomplishes that.
By setting the novel in a specific time and place, and referring to the exact timeframe and the progress being made in such fields as technology (the advancing railway), medicine (emphasized by Lydgate’s research), and the social areas (considering the changing ideas on gender), the narrator places the novel into a realistic and detailed background. A way to apply realism is “to designate a recurrent mode [...] of representing human life and experience in literature” and this is particularly appropriate when considering Middlemarch. The main characters are observed closely, and their reasonings and ultimate decisions are explained and accounted for meticulously, which once more strengthens the sense of the narrator’s awareness and understanding of human beings. Recognisable characters are intentionally placed in a historically accurate setting, narrated by a well-intentional and intelligent voice.
This is also the case when considering the impractical expectations several of the characters have about marriage. Again, the reality of the narrative is emphasized, and a theme is brought forward which must have been relevant at the time when the novel was set, as well as when it was written, and remains so in recent times: unhappiness in marriage. Neither Casaubon nor Dorothea enter into their marriage with realistic expectations, and similarly Lydgate and Rosamond base their feelings and expectations on weak foundations. All their prospects are founded on misguided and unreal views, leaving all of them disappointed in the run of their married state. By exploring the theme of marriage, and showing what consequences idealistic or overly romantic ideas can have as the basis of a marriage, the reader is encouraged to consider his or her own situation and the notion of marriage itself.
Middlemarch has been called the quintessential Victorian novel. Whether or not it is the quintessential Victorian novel, there is no denying it holds a prominent position in Victorian literature, sketching a rural life typical of the Victorian period, complete with typical morals and values of the time. But it is most of all a tour de force on the narrator’s part of the perception of human nature, and it is exactly this characteristic of the novel that makes it ageless, its characters recognisable to readers of all times. Even if the way of life described in it no longer exists as such, the issues and themes discussed in the narrative have lost nothing of their power. As the town of Middlemarch lies ‘in the middle’ geographically and socially, the position of the narrator is situated in the centre as well; not quite masculine, but not feminine either, a guidebook on the Age of Reform and somehow not; timeless in a novel which is very much of the Victorian Age. It breaks free of the restraint placed upon it by convention by speaking truthfully and straightforwardly, and ultimately pronounces and illustrates values that are not just typical of the era in which it takes place, but of all time.
Bibliography:
Abrams, M.H., A Glossary of Literary Terms, Fort
Worth: Harcourt Brace, 7th edn, 1999.
Eliot, George, Middlemarch, London: Everyman’s Library, 1991
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