Cindy Newton's Reviews > The Mill on the Floss

I can't imagine an Eliot book that I wouldn't like, and this one is no exception. I don't think I'm quite as enthusiastic about it as I am about Middlemarch, but it is still an absorbing read. It follows the fluctuating fortunes of a family who occupy a mill on the Floss River (I love alliteration!). The main character, Maggie, is a precocious, imaginative child at the beginning and grows into a lovely, fascinating young woman. There are Eliot's usual philosophical observations on human behavior, as insightful as always.

As usual, Eliot holds up for scrutiny various aspects of familial relationships and societal mores. The parent-child relationship is important, but the one really examined in this novel is the sibling relationship. The relationship between Maggie and her brother Tom is always at the forefront since Maggie adores her brother and strives for his approval for the length of the story. Offsetting this are the strong bonds between Maggie's mother Mrs. Tulliver and her sisters, and that of Mr. Tulliver and his sister. Both Mr. and Mrs. Tulliver's siblings play a big part in the story, especially Mrs. Tulliver's. She comes from the close-knit and very proper Dodson clan, and they are deeply involved in each others' lives. The question arises of how far loyalty should go for a sibling who has made choices of which one disapproves, how much personal sacrifice does one make to save that sibling from the consequences of his or her bad choices?

*** SPOILER ***
When Maggie's family is wiped out financially, she stumbles onto a book that introduces the concept of self-sacrifice to her, and she latches onto this philosophy with a fervor. This shift in focus away from personal joy to the joy of helping others helps sustain her, but, being Maggie, she carries it to extremity. She becomes willing to sacrifice her entire future and any personal happiness to avoid bringing pain to those she cares about. I loved Maggie, but her penchant for self-sacrifice became frustrating to me.

Maggie loves Philip, but not in a romantic way. He loves her and wants to marry her, though, so she regards herself as spiritually promised to him. At the same time, she refuses to actually marry him because doing so will make her brother unhappy. Then Maggie meets Stephen, the almost-fiance of her beloved cousin Lucy. Despite their struggles to avoid it, they fall desperately in love with each other. I found the knotty problem this presented very interesting. Maggie and Stephen impulsively elope, but Maggie has second thoughts and cannot live with the guilt of the pain her marriage will cause Lucy and Philip. The question then arises: what should Maggie and Stephen do once they have fallen in love with each other? Which is more morally reprehensible: to stay quiet and marry people they don't love out of obligation and pity, or admit their feelings, express remorse for the pain caused by this turn of fate, and free their partners to find true love, not just the appearance of it? I have to admit, I'm not sure I would have had the strength of will to deny my feelings, especially after the elopement had taken place and it would be clear to everyone what the true situation was. At that point, the pain had already been dealt. Both Lucy and Philip would know Maggie and Stephen's true feelings. Once they know that, I'm not sure the question of whether or not they had consummated their love, or even married, would matter as much. How could Lucy take Stephen back even if he asked, knowing that he actually loves Maggie? How can Philip still press Maggie into marriage, knowing that she loves Stephen? It's quite a touchy situation, with no easy solution.

I wasn't crazy about the ending. I knew that there would be no happy ending; Maggie's own nature, her propensity for metaphorical self-immolation, precluded that. I read a review that attributed Maggie's and Tom's fates to the timelessness of nature, and how the power of nature forms a proper context for the pettiness of human problems, and I can definitely see that. But there was also a gnawing sense of a cop-out. Maggie was on a precipice with nowhere to go. She still desperately loves Stephen, but cannot allow herself to be with him. Yet he has written her a pleading letter that draws her against her will. She is ruined in the town: she is not acknowledged by anyone of social consequence, her employer has been driven to fire her due to public opinion, and no one else will hire her. Despite all this, she wants to stay close to her family and home, which means either leaving or staying will mean misery for her. What to do with her? Have her die in a flood. However, I feel that I lack the literary talent to question the ending chosen by one of the best writers in the Western Canon, so I bow to Eliot's superior literary sense.

Despite my dissatisfaction with the ending, Eliot's writing is always a treasure trove of beautiful prose and astute observations on the human condition. Highly recommended!