Silas Marner (1861), George Eliot

Silas Marner: the Weaver of Raveloe.

For synopsis, click here

The title is a bit dramatic. After reading Felix Holt the Radical, this book seems a bit undernourished in its political/religious stand. Eliot spins this book around morality (and intrinsic goodness). But this seems a bit fatalistic. Agreed, the main character Silas Marner does go through religious crisis and becomes a social outcast; but even in his darkest times, the man is moral in his own way. His self-imposed seclusion is the safest course of action a man who has lost everything can take. Nevertheless, he still remains sensitive to the people around him. And that saves him, makes him dearer to fate, as she rewards him for his patience.

The novel is one that shows how things could have gone wrong, but didn't. Up until the last hour, the reader imagines Dunstan Cass to come along and ruin the happiness. And that Silas would be left by his daughter. When none of the horrible possibilities materialize, one wonders what the purpose of this novel was. Was it merely to show that being good has its rewards?

A large chunk of the narrative goes in description of the land (and society), description of conversations (primarily female conversations, something that I had not seen in Felix Holt), and a lot of background information. The plot unfolds in a rather matter-of-fact manner. It is as if Eliot is in a hurry to finish off with the plots to show the readers something far more important than technicalities of who did what to whom. 

A few things that struck me odd:

1. the ease with which Squire Cass says he could disinherit all his sons, get them thrown out of his estate and marry again. Children are dispensable. They do not necessarily mean progeny. They can be replaced
2. The happy ending. Everything about this novel hinted at a dystopia. Instead, it reassures us that sometimes, good deeds are rewarded. Yet, there is this nagging suspicion in my head that this best possible scenario means something else altogether.

And this nagging suspicion is relieved only when Silas Marner goes to his native village to find everything changed there. And the Godmother (of perhaps the novel itself) Dolly says something to the effect of - perhaps not everything needs to be known.

The bliss of ignorance is the larger virtue in this book. If Godfrey had been more honest, if the villagers knew Dunstan had died, if Silas knew who Eppie's father was, all a bit too earlier, the plot would have fallen apart. Through half-truths and ignorance, people remain happy. Perhaps this can be read as an attempt against the knowledge drive of the 19th century. Maybe to fall back to rustic life and just be.

I think this is what this book is clever at doing - setting things so perfect that you immediately wonder 'what if'. Had Silas not been deemed guilty, had he not come to Raveloe, had he not been a miser, had he not lost his gold, had he not been restless each night, had he not found the girl at his doorstep, had he not taken her in, had he not given her and received love, this would be a tale of Marner living happily with his wife, Dunstan and Godfrey being thrown out of the estate, Nancy becoming an old maid, and so on and so forth. You are free to choose your own what-ifs.