The Readers Review: Literature from 1714 to 1910 discussion

We have now reached the half-way point in our read.

This section opens with the scene of Mrs Glasher's home and family life, and the final rupture between her and Grandcourt, culminating in his request for the return of his family jewels, and her promise to deliver them to Gwendolen once she is married. The meeting does not go well, and ...
Amidst such caressing signs of mutual fear they parted. The effect that clung and gnawed within Grandcourt was a sense of imperfect mastery.

Gwendolen's marriage goes off smoothly, she arrives at what I assume is the marital home, to be met by a package of jewels containing a cruel letter, which bursts the bubble of her complacency, and leaves her screaming hysterically when Grandcourt arrives to take her to dinner. In some form or other the Furies had crossed his threshold. This is the last we see of the newlyweds in this section.

The scene then switches to Deronda, Mirah, and the Meyricks, who seem to be getting along very well. Daniel is spending time acquainting himself to some degree with Judaism, and searching somewhat haphazardly in the Jewish quarters for Mirah's family, and does appear to stumble upon a possible family for her, in a Pawnshop owner named Ezra Cohen who lives with his wife, children, and mother, who could in deed fit the description of Mirah's family. He goes so far as to pass a family meal with them, and if not the polished gentlefolk he is accustomed to meeting, they seem a decent and respectable family. Why does he then hesitate to make them known to Mirah?

Daniel has some concerns about the return of his friend, that he may fall in love with Mirah when he meets her. Is this possibly a projection of his own feelings?

Why do you think he hesitates to find out if the Cohen's are in fact Mirah's family?

What did you think of the final outcome of the Gwendolen-Grandcourt-Lydia Glasher triangle?

Please share your thoughts and impressions on this section.

I found it a bit hard to follow the multiple pages describing Daniel's feelings about Judaism, and about his role in the world. I would have preferred that his actions and conversations showed us that. It seems like he's trying hard to overcome the conventional views Victorians had of the Jews. We see some of that with the Meyricks, who can't quite understand why everyone doesn't just become Christian. I don't remember if it is one of them or Daniel who is somewhat surprised to find that Judaism is a living religion, not just a historical artifact.

I was surprised that Lydia had kept Grandcourt's attention so long and through all those children. I would have thought that when she was pregnant and recovering, he would have taken up with other women. Maybe he did, he just kept coming back to her. She was safe in that nobody in society knew about her and it was better than going to prostitutes or getting into a messy situation in his own milieu. But supposedly he really did love her for a while. Of course he couldn't marry her, she wasn't the right class.

After a kind of reading marathon I have caught up again, and just read your comments of the last section and this.

I was almost a little annoyed with Eliot that she turned from Gwendolyn to Daniel all of a sudden right after the scene before the dinner on the wedding day, as I was so curious about Gwendolyn’s reaction to the wedding night. She felt so terrified by the kiss on her neck in the previous section that I wondered whether she knew what is considered “matrimonial obligations”. It is one thing to sit beside a man at a table or live with him in a big house in which you can always find some space of your own, but sharing the bed with a rather dominant “beast” might be a traumatizing experience. How much does she know about these things?

I also had the feeling that Daniel tries to keep Mirah out of sight of his friend Hans because he has strong feelings for her himself. Maybe he is even hesitant to really discover her family because then she might get out of his reach / sight.
She is also he reason for his sudden interest in Judaism, which he already showed in Frankfurt, Germany, by visiting the Judengasse and the synagogue there.

I was astonished about the details Eliot gives about Judaism. I have not encountered that in a Victorian novel before (but of course there are many I have not read yet).
I think the book was written a few years before the large programs in the Russian Empire, which have been alluded to e.g. in Downton Abbey in form of a banker’s family who had their Jewish origins in the Russian Empire and fled to England in the 1880s or shortly thereafter.

Robin P wrote: "I was surprised that Lydia had kept Grandcourt's attention so long and through all those children. I would have thought that when she was pregnant and recovering, he would have taken up with other women. "


I also wondered how she had lived all this time-if she was established as a "widow" somewhere, how to explain the ongoing births? Grandcourt clearly isn't playing the role of "father" in the household and in fact seems to have minimal relations with the children, and yet they'd clearly continued their intimate relationship for a number of years to produce 4 children.

Hedi wrote: "After a kind of reading marathon I have caught up again, and just read your comments of the last section and this.

I was almost a little annoyed with Eliot that she turned from Gwendolyn to Daniel..."

Yes-surely we could at least have found out how the rest of the "wedding evening" went-Grandcourt finding his wife in hysterics with the jewels package must have informed him of what had happened, and surely that must have put a huge damper on not only the couple but the rest of the household as well. I do hope Eliot isn't going to gloss over how that was resolved.

It seems stupid of Grandcourt not to have intercepted the package, or have Lush or someone else do so, even if a messenger insisted it was to be delivered only to Gwendolen. Also stupid of him to assume Lydia wouldn't try to do anything to interfere. Gwendolen does have enough of a conscience that she is bothered by breaking her word. Not about sharing Grandcourt, she doesn't love him and would probably be happy if Grandcourt stayed away from her bedroom and went to Lydia regularly (except for the whole getting an heir requirement.) So jealousy isn't an issue. Still if the scandal ever got out, Gwendolen would hate that.

Victorian + Jewish always makes me think of Benjamin Disraeli. By the year this book was published, he had been in government several decades, including two terms as Prime Minister. He officially had converted to Church of England, but everyone knew his background. He was often called "that Jew" (with various epithets inserted between those two words) by his opponents. He himself said he was "the blank page between the Old and New Testaments.” I had forgotten that he wrote novels himself but a quick search shows that he sometimes gave his Jewish characters admirable qualities but sometimes used common stereotypes. I have never read one of his books, it might be an interesting choice someday.

I’d love to read one of Disraeli’s novels!

The scene where we leave Gwendolen screaming is quite a cliffhanger. I wonder how long she kept it up and what Grandcourt did. He doesn’t seem the type of man to tolerate such behavior. That letter of Lydia’s was certainly spiteful, though her spiteful feelings are understandable. I was much struck my Eliot’s comment on the double standard: “She [Lydia] was a lost vessel after whom nobody would send out an expedition of search; but Grandcourt was seen in harbour with his colors flying, registered as seaworthy as ever.”

Just as I was finding Deronda’s reluctance to locate Mirah’s mother annoyingly arrogant, I came upon this reflection: “How far was he justified in determining another life by his own notions?” I don’t believe he’s reluctant because he might be in love with Mirah; he’s quite clear that she wouldn’t want to marry outside her faith. He wants to avoid seeing much of her because of his susceptibility, and he doesn’t want her to feel obligated to marry him out of gratitude. But his reluctance nevertheless has a somewhat ugly cause: he sees her as a person of refinement, suitable for genteel company, and he fears that if her family are inferior, she will be “dragged down” to their level. The old British class snobbery rearing its head. Still, if Deronda has a pattern, it’s that he challenges his initial assumptions about others and tries to reach deeper. We see the beginnings of that effort when, after initially dismissing Ezra Cohen as a vulgar shopkeeper, he observes the family closely during the shabbat dinner and starts to revise his assessment.

I had the same reaction as Hedi to the detailed description of shabbat dinner—how would contemporary readers react to it? Had they ever learned what such a ritual was like? With so many invidious stereotypes about Jews running around in the popular culture, writing this scene may have been a deliberately revolutionary act. In particular, in a Victorian culture that was sentimentally obsessed with the charms of the family circle, choosing to focus in such detail on a family ritual (as opposed to a synagogue ritual, though we did get a less-detailed description of one) must have been strategically important to Eliot’s intent, which seems to be to combat prejudice.

I read this book many years ago. I was SO HAPPY to see Jewish protagonists. The problem I have is that we are given stereotypes one way or the other; either a "Shylock" or a "Mirah". Christian characters are allowed the whole range of human emotions and characteristics with no real judgment. But Jewish characters must be either wholly evil or wholly angelic. I'm thankful to Elliot, for her support of Zionism and for supporting her friends, even though she was being told to do otherwise.

I think Daniel was afraid to confirm that he found Mirah's family because #1 he wasn't yet prepared to give over his control of her #2 he wasn't yet prepared to acknowledge that this Jewish family was decent, loving, warm... #3 he wasn't yet prepared to acknowledge that he was inexplicably drawn to this poor, Jewish family.

Years ago, I came across an indie author whose passion is writing Jewish historical fiction. She wrote a piece about Daniel Deronda on her blog. I agree with Mirta's assessment. The three characters of Gwen, Daniel, and Mirah are all on a quest of personal discovery. They have to come to grips with some hard truths and to earn the title of hero or heroine, the have to ride that story arc all the way through. I don't want to spoil the rest of the book, but for those who've already read it, I encourage you to read the post here: https://mirtainestruppauthor.com/2020...

Robin P wrote: "It seems stupid of Grandcourt not to have intercepted the package, or have Lush or someone else do so, even if a messenger insisted it was to be delivered only to Gwendolen. Also stupid of him to a..."

I’ve been rapidly coming to the conclusion that both Lydia and Gwendolen have much greater intelligence than Grandcourt and that Grandcourt’s ‘mastery’ is fragile because it is based on his status rather than his abilities.

However, it was rather stupid/naïve of Gwendolen to think that Lydia would just turn the other cheek and accept defeat after her desperate plea and Gwendolen's promise. It could be argued that Gwendolen has reaped what she has sowed and should have expected some sort of retribution from Lydia.

Daniel seems smitten with Mirah, even though he is fighting against it. Eliot contrasts the transparency of Mirah with Gwendolen’s hidden depth’s by comparing her with the beauties of the sea.

’ Imagine her—it is always good to imagine a human creature in whom bodily loveliness seems as properly one with the entire being as the bodily loveliness of those wondrous transparent orbs of life that we find in the sea—….’






…..and then goes on to praise her singing, something which she seems eager to earn a living from,

’ She sang Beethoven's "Per pietà non dirmi addio" with a subdued but searching pathos which had that essential of perfect singing, the making one oblivious of art or manner, and only possessing one with the song. It was the sort of voice that gives the impression of being meant like a bird's wooing for an audience near and beloved.’

https://sonichits.com/video/Ludwig_va...

For poor Gwendolen, after abandoning the prospect of using her singing ability to retain her independence, she seems to have unwittingly sold her soul to the devil…

’ In some form or other the furies had crossed his threshold.’

Ooh, I like the "selling her soul to the devil" analogy. Gwendolen did basically sell herself for the rest of her life (rather than marrying an old rich guy who could conveniently die soon.)

That chapter was an excellent illustration of the gulf between the things we tell ourselves and reality.

Abigail wrote: "That chapter was an excellent illustration of the gulf between the things we tell ourselves and reality."

A succinct summing up Abigail.

Gwendolen seemed to think only about the consequences within her own small world, shutting out the bigger issues, particularly the ones which were likely to interfere with her plans.

Her focus on the jewels centred entirely on their luxury and the prestige of both owning and wearing them. She didn’t think at all about their legacy, and the idea that Grandcourt might have used them before to present them to a woman he was previously infatuated with. It was a stunning blow from Lydia, with Gwendolen completely off her guard.

’Truly here were poisoned gems, and the poison had entered into this poor young creature.’

I think what followed on her wedding night must have been a truly hideous experience for Gwendolen, both physically and mentally. Even if she retained the courage and desire to ward off Grandcourt’s by now pent up expectations, the humiliation and mental effort required to prevaricate would have almost destroyed her.

As for Deronda, there is no doubt that he has his faults, but his hesitancy and almost overthinking about what is right has so far kept him out of trouble.

‘…as soon as he took up any antagonism, though only in thought, he seemed to himself like the Sabine warriors in the memorable story—with nothing to meet his spear but flesh of his flesh, and objects that he loved.

Like Gwendolen, Daniel was journeying into unknown waters. Walking the streets of the Jewish quarter in his almost half hearted mission to find the relatives of Mirah, he was both physically and mentally lost.
His mixed views of what he encountered, when he finally came across Ezra Cohen’s pawn shop, contrast with the satisfaction of witnessing the happiness he saw in Mirah whilst living with the Meyricks. No wonder he hesitated to ask the Cohens more direct questions and receive those final incontrovertible answers.

No one talked of Mrs. Glasher now, any more than they talked of the victim in a trial for manslaughter ten years before: she was a lost vessel after whom nobody would send out an expedition of search; but Grandcourt was seen in harbor with his colours flying, registered as seaworthy as ever.

Yes, love this quote!

It's a good message, the positive portrayal of Judaism and tolerance...
it did get a bit preachy to read about Deronda's mindset after a while.
I love Trollope but he did throw in the occasional Jewish slur.

Can't wait to find out what happens with Gwendolyn & Grand court's marriage.

Your assessment of Gwendolen’s probable feelings on her wedding night is extraordinarily empathetic, Trev. I always appreciate your insights.

There's a kind of dark fairy tale quality to the scene with Gwendolen and the jewels. Lydia is the witch who has poisoned them and cursed the marriage. Not that Gwendolen is good and innocent while Lydia is bad, but Gwendolen looks the part of the princess and tries to play it. She knows that she has rotten element inside but tries to ignore it until she is forced to confront it.

’ as soon as he took up any antagonism, though only in thought, he seemed to himself like the Sabine warriors in the memorable story—with nothing to meet his spear but flesh of his flesh, and objects that he loved.’

Looking at some of the artists inspired by the story of the Sabines, I found this beautiful painting. I love the symbolic nature of the work and, digging deeper, the intriguing story of the painter and his wife.



https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Int...

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charlot...

Eliot's switch from Gwendolen to Daniel was a masterful bit of writing, It was a perfect way to keep the reader guessing, and I feel certain that Eliot will enlighten us as to the consequences. I feel great sympathy for Lydia; however, this section showed us that she also has a cruel and vengeful side. While her anger at Gwendolen's breaking of her promise is understandable, Grandcourt should be the object of her revenge. Also, although we don't know fully the circumstances of her first marriage, we should remember that in leaving her husband, she also abandoned her child - not an admirable thing to do. Daniel's search for Mirah's family presents some real contradictions (just like real life?). He is open to learning about the Jewish faith (good), but is disappointingly judgmental about the Jews he meets, not feeling that shopkeepers, book sellers, and pawn brokers are worthy of Mirah (bad). This could be class snobbery or his enthrallment with Mirah, but in no way is he justified in keeping the truth from her.

Gwendolen may feel guilt over breaking her word, but I have no faith that Grandcourt would ever have married Mrs Glasher, so it's kind of irrelevant morally. Of course Gwendolen will regret it bc Grandcourt is an abusive pos