According to the Oxford World's Classics edition, the Greek words mean "unloving love" (as Irwine translates them shortly after he quotes them). The quotation is from the Choephoroi ("Libation Bearers"), part of Aeschylus' Oresteia trilogy. In the play, Orestes and Electra have returned to their home, where their mother Clytemnestra and her lover Aegisthus have killed their father Agamemnon. The chorus of Clytemnestra's slaves sings a chorus, likening her action to other murders to which women have resorted because of "loveless love".

Back in Chapter 16, when Arthur breakfasted with Mr Irwine , he noticed on the Rector's table "the first volume of the Foulis Aeschylus, which he knew well by sight." Presumably Mr Irwine has tried to teach the classics to Arthur, but knows that he will have to translate his quotation, for Arthur knows the books by sight better than he remembers their contents.

2) My speculation is that even if he could get in serious trouble for the assault, there'd have to be a trial of some sort, where he'd have to offer his defense (reasons for attacking), and certainly Arthur (and also indeed Adam) wouldn't want the liason to come out in public, so I don't think there is any fear Arthur would seek any legal justice of Adam.

I have a third question to add to your list, but it might be a spoiler for people who haven't finished, so I'll wait a few more days to post it.

I recognized the Greek but I took Greek so long ago I couldn't make it out quite--so thanks for the detailed background. Greek is one of those langauges that is completely gone if you don't study it regularly.

I would agree with you regarding the assault in the book Skylarb. I'm not even sure whether this would have come to court in real life, for the reason you have given, as the squire could easily have been the local magistrate. If not, then he might well have been 'in the squire's pocket'.

Tom, thanks for your interesting explanation and interpretation.

I looked for the meaning of the phrase myself and, rather annoyingly, I stumbled across a paragraph which gave a brief synopsis of the book where the whole plot was laid out before me and exposed in a few words. It was then that I realised that I already knew the story, so I think that it must have been shown on the television as a screen adaptation at some point, I just hadn't remembered the title.

It was just too difficult to get very far into the book online, but I have to say that when I got into the reading, something felt familiar about it. Then again, how many novels must have been written over the years where one of the main characters is a first born son called Adam and somewhere along the rural romp one of the landed gentry has his wicked way with a pretty young maiden from the village? Hardly original material, but I certainly wouldn't put "Adam Bede", (the book, not the character), in the humdrum, 'also ran' department, as far as these types of novels go.

I was quite intrigued by the unusual first paragraph, the way that Eliot talks directly to her readers. As opening lines go, it certainly grabbed my attention:

>>> quote
With a single drop of ink for a mirror, the Egyptian sorcerer undertakes to reveal to any chance comer far-reaching visions of the past. This is what I undertake to do for you, reader. With this drop of ink at the end of my pen, I will show you the roomy workshop of Mr. Jonathan Burge, carpenter and builder, in the village of Hayslope, as it appeared on the eighteenth of June, in the year of our Lord 1799. <<<

The book seemed a bit slow going at first, with the first day sprawling lazily yet effortlessly over several chapters before the pace gradually begins to build up. As the plot unravels it seems that we are the strangers and that Eliot is inviting us to look down on the village as a whole. She leads us deftly around the village prying here and there, allowing us to gather the 'evidence' to make an informed judgement of each character in turn.

For example, when we visit Hall Farm in Chapter 6, the snooping starts before we even get across the boundary:

>>>Evidently that gate is never opened ... cut ... It would be easy enough, by the aid of the nicks in the stone pillars, to climb over the brick wall with its smooth stone coping; but by putting our eyes close to the rusty bars of the gate, we can see the house well enough, and all but the very corners of the grassy enclosure. ... cut ... Yes, the house must be inhabited, and we will see by whom; for imagination is a licensed trespasser; (what a brilliant phrase!) it may climb over the walls and peep in at the windows with impunity. Put your face to one of the glass panes in the right hand window; what do you see?<<<

She then goes on to give the complete contents of the farmhouse in minute detail and there are several similar episodes like this as we work our way through the book. Eliot appears to have taken great care to make sure that her setting and her characters were historically accurate for the period, and she manages to cram an awful lot of information into the book with seeming ease.

To be truthful, now that the outcome has been revealed, I'm not entirely sure that I'll ever get round to reading the complete novel, although I have dipped into several of the later chapters to confirm my thoughts and refresh my memory.

How's everyone else coming along?

Well, I had the good fortune of reading it with no knowledge whatsoever of the plot, which made it very interesting for me; though I suppose even if I had known how it would turn out, I might still have delighted in Eliot's wit and language. I read it in about two weeks as I happened to have a huge amount of downtime during that period. I don't think it slow in the sense of boring but is certainly heavy/thick reading. I found it quite engrossing, however, and it is one of the few books I've read from cover to cover in less than three months. (Usually I have to put boos down and pick up another and come back later...)

Since people have been spoiled or are not finishing (don't read on if you want no spoilers)--I have a question: I'm wondering why no one noticed the girl was pregnant? I means, she was apparently about to have this baby when she left, because it's not much longer until she has it. As a question for speculation--say she had written Arthur (he tells her to write him if "she's in toruble"), what do you think he would have done?

With the loose fitting garments of the period it would have been much easier to conceal a pregnancy almost to full term than it would nowadays. There are many other signs, of course, that members of the household should really have picked up on long before then.

I just finished the book today during my lunch break at work. Sky I wondered the same thing. I got the impression that the liason Hetty & Arthur conducted, either did not result in pregnancy or had not gone as far as one would assume. I would think a member of the family would notice any changes in eating habits, or frequent bouts of nausea that may have occured.

I found myself conflicted on a lot of the characters by the end. You can't help but admire Adam for the honesty and strenght of character that he possessed and yet he seemed woefully naive when it came to matters of the heart, especially where it concerns Hetty. It appeared that he had fixated her in his mind to the point where she is near perfection.

As mentioned previously, George Eliot fleshed out the characters to the point where I came to see them as real people too with both good and bad. Lisbeth Bede who was genuinely proud of her sons, but so afraid to be left alone that she would wail and moan . I pitied any woman who would have to take her for mother-in-law.
Bartle Massey made me think of a old bachelor sore on women. "I hate the sound of women's voices; the're always either a-buzz or a-squeak"..."It's the sillies lie a sensible man like you ever believed, to say a woman makes a house comfortable. It's a story got up, becaust the women are there, and something must be found for 'em to do". Its both humorous in concept, and slightly galling to my sensibilities. But as later in the book Bartle got into it with Mrs. Poyser, and nothing she could say could change his mind.

To speculate on your question sky " [say she had written Arthur (he tells her to write him if "she's in toruble"), what do you think he would have done? I am thinking he would have he would have been of two minds either to marry her to end her woes and make the best of a bad situation or set her up comfortably for the rest of her life.

I don't think he'd have married her, but who knows. I do think he would have taken care of her, however, but that wouldn't enable her to escape the shame.

Why do you suppose she hesitated to write him but tried to journey to him in person?

She did think of it and deceided against it, according to the text. And surely a letter would travel more quickly than she would. I think you've hit on it with the being there in person and forcing him to take immediate action. Also, it may simply be that she was a little crazed and not thinking rationally. I still find it a little odd that she is unwilling to write but willing to travel all that distance.

Sebastiancat, I wish you could see this wonderful edition of "Adam Bede", too. It has several illustrations by Curtiss Dahl, including one George Eliot herself. Dahl has also added captions under each illustrations. While they are delightful to look at, the caption under the illustartion called "Dinah Comforts Hetty, says:

"In the darkness of the prison cell, Dinah's calm peacefulness finally brings poor Hetty, convicted of the murder of her baby, the sweet comfort her obstinate soul needs. The whole of 'Adam Bede' was written to lead up to this scene. The incident is an actual experience of Mrs. Susan Evans, George's Eliot's Methodist aunt".

Well, as you can see, I really gave myself the "spoiler", but it also really peaked my interest, too. I really wanted to know what events had led Hetty to such an end.

Every Lit teacher I had in high school gave out a Suggested Reading List, and "Adam Bede" was on each list. After reading the book myself, I absolutely agree. George Eliot is just a master of description. Places, people, even settings--like the dairy, she really makes us see these things. Her people seem real because of she makes them live.

I am sure we have all finished the book, and we know what happened to Hetty. I can only assume that Hetty was just not thinking clearly when she went off in search of Arthur. Just imagine the stress she was under. She felt that if she could just get to Arthur, he would make everything alright. Would Arthur have married her? Probably not--their social status was just too far apart. He did certainly seem to care for her. He would certainly have provided for her.

Was Hetty guilty of murdering her baby? Now a days, I think the US criminal justice would call this involuntary manslaughter---but, if it could be proven that she not thinking clearly, and did not realize her actions would result in the baby's death-there is an excellent chance of being found innocent. Her state of mind was not in question, here. Hetty had done a shocking thing, an unheard of thing, society demanded punishement.

If this book was written to tell Hetty's plight, and it all led up to the moving prison scene between Hetty and Dinah, then Dinah's purpose seemed to be that of being there means whereby Hetty found redemption. Dinah was a healer of two broken people, actually--Hetty and Adam. After all, Adam was one of the three people most affected: Hetty, Arthur, then Adam.

I liked Dinah. She was a Christain in the finest sensee. She might abhor the sin, but she loved the sinner.

Adam Bede was a fine man, and he forgave Hetty at the end, and that helped both of them to find peace.

To Arthur's credit, he did everything he could to right the wrong he helped cause. He did save Hetty from the gallows, but for Hetty's "sin" she certainly paid a higher price than he did.

There is a comment, in my copy of the book, to the effect that the reader will be disappointed in the ending, referring to Adam, not Seth, marrying Dinah. But, I believe that Dinah never loved Seth as anything more than a friend. I am glad that Adam and Dinah found happiness together.

As we were discussing in the Book of the Month thread, I think all our discussion has come at the end of he month, but I really would enjoy reading any of your thought-comments.



My thanks to ren for the superlative choice.

I believe Hetty would be found guilty of murder by the U.S. justice system--burying your child alive in the forest, as far as I know, still qualifies as murder. Now, she may have been able to plead and get off on temporary instantly. And, as it so happens, she did escape death even in the book.

While it is true that Hetty pays more for her sin than Arthur, I think it is important to note that their sins are not the same. Arthur's sin is fornication and, I suppose one could argue, seduction, though even that is too strong a word. Hetty's sin is murder. So, the fact that Hetty pays more is not quite the double standard one might suggest. Nevertheless, there is certainly a double standard--the woman bares the greater share of shame for an unwed pregnancy, so great a share of shame, it seems, that fear of that shame, in part, drove her to her crime. Had Arthur known about the child, I think he would have supported it--not killed it. But nor would he be in the same societal position as Hetty, with as much to loose. And Hetty is portrayed as not being in command of her emotions or perhaps even her senses at this time.

I found Dinah to be a kind portrayal of the ideal Christian, but as such, I found her just that--ideal--that is, a little unrealistic. (But then, I have known such Christians, so perhaps I should not say she was unrealistic!) I have to say that out of all of the characters in this book, Dinah was the least real to me, the least believable.

I am glad that Adam ended up with her in the end, though sad for Seth. Adam is our main character, and so we want to see him happily settled, I think...I was not disappointed. And Dinah, being such a strong personality, needs a strong man. (Not that Seth is weak, but he does not have the strength of Adam.)

One thing I felt was kind of a downer in the end was the way Dinah just submitted to the prohibition against women preachers, after she had followed a calling in that field, and had affected many hearts. (Seth even suggested joining a splinter group.) On the one hand, this could be seen as a strong humility, on the other, it seemed to me almost a weakening of Dinah's character at the end.

The character I most enjoyed was Seth. Although he wasn't as nearly fleshed out as Adam Bede, he still had enough personality to shine through. Seth, like Adam, was a hardworker. He suffered his mother even more so than Adam did, as Seth is always trying to console his mother, make her tea or offer an encouraging word, while Lisbeth had only thoughts and concern for Adam.

Seth was truly interested in Dinah and offered her hand. Although rejected, he kept to his faith and even began a friendship with Dinah. Perhaps he might have thought this friendship would develop into something more, but he was content when she married Adam.

At the end of the book it is made mention that women preachers were banned, and this prevented Dinah from continue her preaching work. This appeared to have been a bone of contention with Seth & Adam. It appears that Seth would have encouraged and greatly supported Dinah had she gone to a splinter group or tried to continue in someway. Whereas Adam was happy to have her as the "little missus".

I can't help but wonder if in the future, Seth regrets that Dinah was not his wife. Would it have been an ever present ache to him, since he appears close to his family? Or is being a doting uncle and brother-in-law solace for him?

The book presents it as though Seth is pretty much content in his brother's happiness, but the possibility that there is no resentment, no regret, seems to be humanly impossible. Yet if there is, our narrator gives us no hint of it. The only contention seems to be, as you mentioned, over whether DInah should keep preaching or not. When it comes to this, then, it seems Seth would have been the better support for her calling. The irony is that she kept putting off marrying anyone at all because she did not want it to interefere with her calling--but when women preachers are banned, she submits humbly and without question, and is married to a man who approves of that decision; had she married Seth, she might have taken a different course and ocntinued preaching. The decision is presented, I think, as a strong and sound one, and yet I cannot help but ask--so what happened to her divine calling? Did it just go away when the Society decided it should?

Thoughtprovoking idea. Didn't Adam fall for the generous nature and forgiving spirit, that Dinah exemplified in her service? Or was that spirit one he would have rather contain in the confines of the marriage arrangement? What about Adam and their present situation compelled Dinah to feel that she would be better off glorifying God, in a family setting as opposed to the roving missionary life? One of my husband's good friends had actually planned on becoming a Catholic priest, and had entered the seminary. After a year he realized the course was not one for him. Was there a crisis of faith that I missed in the book, that coerced Dinah readily enter marriage and place her preaching on the back burner?