We have LOTS to talk about for this section of the book. Feel free to respond to any of the following:
1) Following up on our conversation about Gwendolen's relationship to desire, what do you make of a figure like Grandcourt? My title for this post is taken from a description of his look which was like "vision in the abstract." What do you make off his boredom, calm, and power?
2) Following up on our brief discussion of Eliot's invocation of the Civil War to contextualize domestic relations like marriage, what do you make of her statement at the end of Chapter 11: "What in ht emidst of that mighty drama are girls and their blind visions? They are the Yea or Nay of that good for which men are enduring and fighting. In these delicate vessels is borne onward through the ages the treasure of human affections" (124). What is the narrator's take on the relationship between the domestic and the geopolitical? How is it gendered?
3) What do you make of Eliot's description of Deronda---both in terms of his body and his character? You can comment on his sensitivity toward questions of his birth and how this is figured as a wound or deformity (170) and you can comment on his general sensitivity and sympathy (175, 176, 178).
3a) Related to this, think about the discussion of Deronda's relationship to space and identity ("shift his centre till his own personality would be no less outside him than the landscape" (189) in comparison to Gwendolen's 'terror' at open spaces and sense of powerlessness.
4) Or, comment on Deronda's rescue of Mirah. Note the immediate link to his (unknown) mother (191). Note also the blurring of "Jewess" and "Spanish" (193). Note also that he imagines the Meyrick girls will see her as Literary ("a lovely Jewess with Rebecca in 'Invanhoe'")--p.194. What also do you make of the phrase "she is a Jewess--but quite refined" (200)?
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In thinking about Deronda's description, I did see how his questions of birth can be seen as a deformity. It really reminded me of the gypsies and their 'no origin' problem. Some of the English people were afraid of them because they were the 'unknown'. Even if a person could 'pass', they will still be viewed negatively if they do not have a history. If a person does not know where he or she comes from, then who knows where he or she could be from. They could be from a long line of 'horrible' or scary people...People who do not fit into the common society--in an Englishness case. "That Sir Hugo should have thought of him in that position for a moment, seemed to Daniel an unmistakeable proof that there was something about his birth which threw him out from the class of gentlemen to which the baronet belonged" (170). Deronda knew he was different...and not just different...but that there was something wrong with him that did not allow him to fit in with a gentlemanly group. He wants to know his history, but then also, "He shrank from the prospect: in his imagination he preferred ignorance" (170). He fears that if he learns the truth, he will find out something very horrible or even wrong about himself. He fears himself just as others do---because they do not know his origin.
I find Grandcourt to be the foil of Gwendolen. He removes the masculine from her and strips her of most of the performances she puts on. He is sure of who he is and his position in life. Although, his demeanor is lacking human nature and the ability to express his emotions he seems like a very opposite character from Gwendolen. He balances her out and calms her personality. I believe he is bored because life lacks excitement and people to question him or pique his interest as Gwendolen does. He gets the opportunity to prove her wrong and everything that she thinks she knows about him. Everyone in the neighborhood expects or wants something from Grandcourt except Gwendolen initially.
Deronda suspects he is different from the Uncle who raised him and thus feels like an outsider. In his mind he is the other, but Eliot makes us understand that it is only within his mind that he is seen in this view. He is sensitive and carries sympathy from readers because he does not know who he is and thus tries to create an identity based on whom and what his Uncle is. He gets upset when his Uncle suggests he becomes a singer because he believes only foreigners are singers and toys to the English men. Deronda struggles to become a gentleman and even puts away his own ambitions for the ideal man he wants to be. However, Deronda feels that if he remains ignorant of his birth parents then he will remain within reach of a gentleman-ship. Out of sight out of mind.
I agree with Andrea when she said Grandcourt strips her of her masculinity. He seems like such the "manly man" and he is much more mature than Gwendolen. He doesn't play into her mind games because he is playing the game as well. She is used to dealing with young men and having the upper hand on them. She is so confused and frustrated it seems his complete numbness to life is the one thing which intrigues her. When she first saw him she was turned off but as soon as he didn't seem so impressed with her either she wanted his attention. She did later notice he was numb to most things in lfe but it was the cat and mouse game that got her mixed up with him.
4) Or, comment on Deronda's rescue of Mirah. Aside from the RANDOMNESS of this occurrence (did people just row by each other and place a lady in their boat?? "By this time Deronda felt sure that she meant to wrap the wet cloak round her as a drowning-shroud; there was no longer time to hesitate about frightening her. Her rose and seized his oar to ply across; happily her position law a little below him" (189.)), I found this a nice break from the uppity-ness of the English (archery competitions and talk of marriage) from Gwendolen and the earlier part of the book. Note the immediate link to his (unknown) mother (191). I think the connection to his mother results from his observation of Mirah. ("Her little woman's figure as she laid her delicate chilled hands together one over the other against her wrist, and went a step backward while she leaned her head forward as if not to lose her sight of his face, was unspeakingly touching" (190).) It seems this his noting her vulnerability, as a woman, leads him to think of his mother. Again this vulnerable aspect of women appears to not have occurred to Deronda while he was part of the Englishness of the former part of the novel. Note also the blurring of "Jewess" and "Spanish" (193). Deronda suggests that had she not told him she was a Jewess he would have thought her Spanish. It seems that Spanish is more socially acceptable than Jewish. Note also that he imagines the Meyrick girls will see her as Literary ("a lovely Jewess with Rebecca in 'Invanhoe'")--p.194. Before tackling the views of the Meyrick girls of Mirah, I'd like to ask: why did Deronda bring Mirah to Mrs. Meyrick rather than his own home? (Was not Lady Mallinger more kind and gentle? Why would considerations of "delicate, sorrowful images of womanhood" affect Deronda's view of his own home with its fine stairs and chilling manners of the house-staff? Does the "small home at Chelsea...[full of generous hearts] which had a romantic readiness to believe in innocent need and help it" show a distinction from the typical English home(194)? Also, what should we make of Deronda wanting to bring her to a place where a man is not present (unlike his own home)? Is this another society, unrelated to Jewishness, issue?) Relating to Rebecca, however, a healing figure from Sir Walter Scott’s novel who is accused of witchcraft but later found innocent, the girls would have a positive image of the two possible sides (witch v healer) of the Jewess. What also do you make of the phrase "she is a Jewess--but quite refined" (200)? It appears this is simply Mrs. Meyrick’s approval of this different figure in her house. She is telling her daughters about the new member of their household, and while stating the obvious (Jewess), she also points out the acceptableness of Mirah (quite refined).
When Daniel first notices Mirah it is because "she might have been an impersonation of the misery he was unconsciously giving voice to" (187). Immediately there is a common connection between the two because Mirah looks as sad as Daniel feels. And this connection continues after he rescues her. She too has lost her connection to the world, her parents and siblings. Daniel also feels like he has no connection to the world. He is somewhere in between because he doesn't know his origins.
Mirah has qualities of being in between also. While she is speaking her voice "suggested foreignness and yet was not foreign" (190). She embodies all the qualities that make her seem like a lady, she is literate and knows other languages. Her manners seem quite good. I think if she had been some course common girl, Deronda wouldn't have been nearly so impressed her. It's her uniqueness, at least in part, that makes Daniel want to help her.
I agree with my classmates in the assertion that Deronda’s lack of origin or identity causes internal frustration within his character. In accordance with Eliot’s language/terms, Deronda’s problem of identity seems to have been an internal festering wound throughout his life. This is evident when he remembers questioning his heritage as a little boy, but he gave it “no precise meaning. He knew more now and wished that he could examine” the family tree documents (171). When Sir Hugo suggests Deronda take up singing, Deronda recognizes some physical “unmistakable proof” that removes him from the “class of gentlemen to which the baronet belonged” (170). He takes offense and becomes bitter toward the idea of playing the role of a novelty figure or “wonderful toy” (170).
Deronda takes all of his resentment and frustrations about his identity and hides them away deep inside. He maintains a façade of contentment: “Certainly his face had a great deal to do with [his community’s] favorable interpretation [of him]; but in this instance the beauty of the closed lips told no falsehood” (174). This is significant because despite the magnitude this topic holds within him; he does not share it. “He would never near even a silent admission of the sore that had opened in him” (171). It is interesting that Eliot chooses to view Deronda’s identity problem as a sore—something physical, unhealthy, and infected—yet, it doesn’t seem to affect his gentle nature and sense of “inborn lovingness” (171). If anything it is his unyielding consideration that causes others to see him as a “stamp of rarity” or “moral eccentricity” (178). It is not his question of nobility or heritage that draws curiosity or attention to his person. It seems to be his own internal conflict that consumes him. This is clear in his possession of an “entailed disadvantage—the deformed foot doubtfully hidden by the shoe [that makes a restlessly active spiritual yeast” (175).
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