A Negotiation in Middlemarch Open Access

This article examines a key negotiation from one of the greatest novels written in English and considers what it teaches us about how to negotiate and, perhaps more importantly, how not to negotiate. The novel is Middlemarch: A Study of Provincial Life by George Eliot, originally published in 1871.^1. The negotiation is between Bulstrode, a wealthy banker with a shady past whose self‐worth depends on maintaining his good reputation, and Raffles, a long‐forgotten ally of Bulstrode with information that could destroy that reputation. This is one of many important negotiations in Middlemarch and we have chosen it because, in a few pages, Eliot efficiently offers insights into key negotiation principles and tactics while letting us understand the inner lives of her two negotiators. Literature often provides a unique glimpse into the motivations of negotiators and consequently can be used as a tool to teach and understand negotiation (e.g., Hackley 2007; Sunstein 2007) and strategic thinking in general (Mar and Oatley 2008; Kidd and Castano 2013; Chwe 2014; Read 2020). In the case of Middlemarch, we see both Bulstrode and Raffles make mistakes, but these are mistakes commonly made by even seasoned negotiators when under pressure. Indeed, they are mistakes we have made ourselves, have seen others make, or have had described to us by our students and colleagues.

Middlemarch is a mid‐size industrial city in the English Midlands, a fictionalized version of the city of Coventry, where George Eliot grew up, which along with nearby Nuneaton—Eliot’s birthplace—is central to most of her great works (Mead 2014). Middlemarch is set during the run‐up to the reform act of 1832, one of the major steps in the modernization of the English political system. At the time, Coventry’s important textile industry—largely based around silk ribbon weaving—was threatened by local workers’ resistance to modernization, the lifting of tariffs designed to protect the ribbon trade, and changing tastes (Stephens 1969). George Eliot’s parents were among the rising middle class in the Midlands. Her mother was the daughter of a mill owner, and her father managed a local estate. She was, therefore, exposed to business and negotiation throughout her formative years. Moreover, her own career involved active involvement in many multi‐issue negotiations concerning royalties, book advances, how her work was published, and related issues (Coleman 2014).

Not surprisingly, given the nature of Middlemarch and Eliot’s background, much of the novel is devoted to the interconnected economic and ethical lives of the city’s denizens. Eliot’s thinking was strongly influenced by Adam Smith (Coovadia 2002), who is name‐checked in Middlemarch and famously emphasized the role of “truck, barter, and exchange” in economic life. Therefore, a key piece of the loom that weaves together Middlemarch life is negotiation. Eliot highlights several negotiations and describes them in detail. Indeed, the very first dialogue in the novel is an extended negotiation over the distribution of jewelry between two sisters. Given Eliot’s experience, it should not be surprising that she was able to combine a deep understanding of negotiation with her equally deep understanding of human nature.

Nicholas Bulstrode is a respected member of the Middlemarch community, one of its chief bankers and financiers, as well as a philanthropist who plays a key role in most major civic activities. While not a native of Middlemarch, he has married into the Vincies, a middle‐class family who owes its fortune to the ribbon weaving industry. Bulstrode is a devout member of a Calvinist dissenting branch of the Anglican Church and sees himself as chosen by God as a vehicle to do good works. He is severely critical of others’ shortcomings: “to point out other people’s errors was a duty that Mr. Bulstrode rarely shrank from” (p. 121).^2. Those who would benefit from his charity must first conform to his particularly strict religious practice.

Yet Bulstrode has a dark past that belies his public image. His wealth is the product of deceit, double‐dealing, and crime. While an ambitious young man advancing in the church and striving to do God’s work, he took a well‐paying position as the chief clerk of a pawnbroker. He quickly learned that this pawnbroker, who dealt in stolen goods, was no suitable employer for a righteous young man. But rather than resign, Bulstrode rationalized away all the contradictions by persuading himself that he could do the most good by “cleansing” the tainted money for use in the service of God. He even persuaded himself that divine providence must have put the money in his hands rather than in the hands of someone less worthy.

The pawnbroker died, survived by an elderly widow. True to form, Bulstrode aimed to marry the ailing widow and, given her age and infirmity, eventually inherit her wealth. But there was a hurdle. The widow had an estranged runaway daughter with whom she wanted to reconcile and Bulstrode offered to search for her. Although he found the daughter, he told the widow that his search had failed and took pains to ensure the truth was never discovered. He exploited the widow’s resulting grief to win her hand in marriage and soon received the inheritance that he sought. He gave nothing to the daughter, who died leaving a young son. Bulstrode used his powers of rationalization to tell himself that the daughter would have squandered the money while he would use it for good. For two decades following the widow’s death, Bulstrode ran the criminal business in parallel with his religious activities. With his accumulated wealth, he then moved to Middlemarch to start a legitimate business and begin a new life. Bulstrode had always viewed himself as a sinner whose worldly success showed he was approved by God as a “vessel to be consecrated by use.” He realized, however, that were others to learn of his past they would not be so forgiving.

John Raffles may be just as disreputable as Bulstrode but he has no good reputation to maintain. He conspired with Bulstrode to conceal the daughter’s existence, and Bulstrode subsequently bankrolled him when he emigrated to America. Raffles had worn out his welcome on English soil, and Bulstrode wanted all evidence of his crimes to vanish. But after the American adventure failed, Raffles returned to England and married, only to squander the wealth of his new family and alienate his stepson Joshua Rigg. Joshua subsequently inherited a Middlemarch property, which he promptly sold to Bulstrode (unaware of Bulstrode’s connection with his stepfather). Through this connection Raffles learns that Bulstrode lives in Middlemarch, and after the death of his wife he pays a return visit to his stepson with the goal of learning Bulstrode’s address, only to find that Joshua has moved and to stumble upon the new owner of the property, Bulstrode himself. This is when our negotiation begins.

Raffles has not yet made any definite plans about what he wants from Bulstrode. But upon Raffles’ arrival it is obvious—at least to Bulstrode—that he will want something, and so they have business to conduct.

Bulstrode has previously shown himself to be consistently transactional. Every negotiation is an exchange: I will give you this, if you will give me that; If you have nothing to give me, I have nothing to give you. He maintains this approach even at the cost of his counterpart’s self‐respect. Following the classic negotiation style framework of Lewicki and Hiam (2011), Bulstrode typically deploys a competitive style. This likely works well in his life as a banker who holds all the power, but it has left him short of strong personal bonds in the community.

Bulstrode’s transactional nature leads to a deficit in one key negotiation skill, the capacity for perspective taking (see Galinsky et al. 2008). He fails to consider how his counterparts’ nonmaterial interests may sometimes outweigh their material ones. In an earlier passage, his brother‐in‐law, Walter Vincy, petitions Bulstrode to write a letter rebutting an accusation made against his son Fred. Bulstrode balks, and reminds Walter that Bulstrode’s financial aid is keeping Walter’s business afloat and, moreover, asserts that Fred may not actually be innocent. Bulstrode thereby turns an opportunity to strengthen his family ties into a quarrel that ends with Walter threatening to bring his sister (Bulstrode’s wife) into the discussion and Bulstrode acceding to Walter’s request.

Bulstrode also appears incapable of collaboration. As we will see, when threatened he shifts to an accommodating style (“what can I do for you?”), which simply makes him vulnerable to further threats, even when a more collaborative approach (“how can we help each other?”) might be more effective. Thus, though Bulstrode would appear to be the stronger party in the transaction with Raffles, he lacks the finesse necessary to take advantage of this strength.

Raffles is in a weak financial position relative to Bulstrode, but makes up for it by being a fearless negotiator. He is willing to take even physical risks to get what he wants. Prior to his meeting with Bulstrode he negotiates with his stepson Joshua. Raffles had been cruel to Joshua when he was young and helpless, and Joshua despises him and threatens him with physical harm: “The next time you show yourself inside the gates here, you shall be driven off with the dogs and the waggoner’s whip” (p. 415). Yet Raffles stares down the danger and manages to extract £1 and a flask of whiskey from Joshua, before moving on.

Raffles is also a master at the tactics of negotiation, which Eliot likens to the moves of a chess player: “[T]here was an evident selection of statements, as if they had been so many moves at chess” (lines 191–192). Yet, Raffles underachieves because he neglects the role of the relationship in his dealings. This is evident not just in the negotiations Eliot describes, but in various hints we have about Raffles’ previous business dealings, which have always ended with acrimony and betrayal all around. While he is excellent at extracting value even from unpromising individual transactions, he never builds on such value, in part because he enjoys tormenting others and often indulges in doing so at the cost of creating lasting bonds. Thus, Raffles’ competitive style costs him the possibility of future collaborations.

The prenegotiation begins the moment they meet. Although the meeting is unplanned, its timing is ideal for Raffles. Bulstrode is in a grandiose mood, surveying his newly purchased property and reflecting on how God has rewarded him. But then Raffles appears and immediately Bulstrode feels his sins, long held to be a forgiven part of the divine plan, made manifest: “[T]his loud red figure [Raffles] had risen before him in unmanageable solidity—an incorporate past which had not entered into his imagination of chastisements” (lines 47–53). Unprepared and taken by surprise, Bulstrode would do best not to say anything substantive. He should simply be polite and temporize, and focus on developing a plan of action. But it is hard to think clearly when surprised, and Bulstrode instead launches into a series of irreversible errors.

Perhaps with ironic intent, Raffles adopts an amiable manner suitable for old friends long separated. Although Bulstrode could mirror this friendliness, at least outwardly, he instead starts by admonishing Raffles for being overly familiar in light of their past relationship:

This condescension might be bravado, but it is also an error. It does not build the rapport with Raffles that Bulstrode needs for this important negotiation. This is not Bulstrode’s only mistake—he presupposes that Raffles must be in Middlemarch to get something from him (“Any services you desire of me …”), and even hints that, whatever that something is, he is prepared to provide it (“will be more readily rendered”) if he is treated with due deference.

Perhaps Bulstrode’s greatest error is that he gives Raffles too much information. Raffles needs to learn Bulstrode’s circumstances to assess how valuable his “silence” is. It is only when Bulstrode tells Raffles he is willing to pay him off that Raffles learns with certainty of the power he holds. Raffles is a stranger to Middlemarch and could never have known this without Bulstrode “telling” him. Bulstrode has done Raffles’ prenegotiation for him and Raffles begins the negotiation in a much stronger position than before.

Bulstrode and Raffles agree to meet the next day. Bulstrode does not spend this preparation time wisely, but instead ruminates on what he will lose if the negotiation goes badly (lines 103–128). He is filled with the terror of exposure. What will his neighbors, family, business partners, and fellow church‐members think? He focuses obsessively on his worst‐case scenario—not what he will do or what will plausibly happen to him if no agreement is reached (his BATNA),^3. but on the consequences for him if the very worst were to happen.

Bulstrode’s catastrophizing means he gives no thought to Raffles’ very weak BATNA. Raffles has little to his name and few skills with which to maintain himself. Bulstrode is a possible lifeline, which will be lost if Raffles exposes him. Used properly, this alone gives Bulstrode a great deal of leverage, which he neither considers nor uses. Bulstrode does not yet know just how weak Raffles’ BATNA is, but if he has come all the way to Middlemarch to find Bulstrode he must be in a bad way, a fact that Bulstrode fails to contemplate.

Formal negotiations begin over breakfast. This is good timing, since negotiations are more productive, in terms of maximizing shared value, when conducted over food (e.g., Woolley and Fischbach 2017). But Bulstrode’s mood is carried over from his difficult night and is hardly propitious for a favorable outcome. He nonetheless begins valiantly. He feigns nonchalance, framing the negotiation as a routine transaction, and then attempts to learn Raffles’ values and positions:

Bulstrode’s tone is business‐like and he makes no concessions. He attempts to elicit information, to get a better sense of Raffles’ BATNA and the threat that Raffles poses. But he makes four crucial errors.

First, Bulstrode continues to display condescension, putting Raffles in his place and treating their meeting as just another low‐priority business transaction. Second, he betrays his emotional state by his inability to eat—his words say one thing, his behavior another. Third, his eagerness to reach a resolution betrays his impatience, contributing to Raffles’ empowerment.

Finally, although Bulstrode inquires about Raffles’ circumstances, he fails to do so in an empathetic manner. He does not even pretend to care, stating that he assumes Raffles will want to return to his home—even though Raffles is in mourning for his wife. Bulstrode’s assumption is transparent wishful thinking rather than a genuine request for information, and it gives Raffles an effective line of attack:

Having said nothing about the consequences of not reaching a satisfactory agreement, Raffles now makes a threat: perhaps he will move to Middlemarch. Raffles masterfully deploys the power of a weak BATNA. He has no steady income and nowhere to go, so he is free to go anywhere, including the one place where Bulstrode least wants him to go. Even during the previous night’s darkest moments, Bulstrode had not considered this possibility, and yet by starting the negotiation as he has, Bulstrode has increased the likelihood that this worst possible outcome will occur.

Bulstrode quickly tries to learn Raffles’ goals through asking questions. Well‐formulated questions can help others open up. Bulstrode, however, having acquired in his business dealings the habit of being an interrogator rather than an interlocutor, makes the same kinds of errors we have seen earlier. He starts with a friendly enough and open‐ended question:

This is a good question that could allow the loquacious Raffles to give a satirical account of his adventures and misadventures while Bulstrode sits back, gathers information, and formulates the best way to deal with this troubling man. In short, this is a good occasion for silence on Bulstrode’s part.

But there is no silence. Bulstrode squanders the opportunity by turning his question into an accusation:

An accusation is a “move” that must be countered, and Raffles does so:

So Bulstrode learns nothing about the trip to America, instead inducing Raffles to harden his position.

Bulstrode makes a further bumbling attempt to gather information, asking Raffles two questions:

The second question is innocuous, but the first is a virtual offer to put Raffles up in a new business. Providing a choice of questions allows a counterpart to answer the question they prefer, which Raffles does by putting forth the first offer. It is very ambitious, as a first offer should be, reflecting aspirations rather than expectations. He wants “an independence.” That is, he wants an income that will allow him to live without working—although he would work if something was agreeable (lines 157–161). Raffles knows how negotiations work and perhaps expects Bulstrode to bargain hard—in his earlier negotiation with Joshua he sought enough money to start a business, his hard bargaining gaining him only a flask of whisky and £1.

Yet, Bulstrode does not make a counteroffer. He simply agrees to Raffles’ huge demand but attempts to impose a condition:

Bulstrode’s negotiating style, usually competitive and inflexible, becomes almost entirely accommodating. Indeed, not only does he give in without significant bargaining, he aggravates matters. By adding the proviso that Raffles keep away from Middlemarch, Bulstrode gives Raffles a bargaining chip. Since Raffles has no real desire to spend time in Middlemarch, they have compatible preferences, but when one party reveals that he values something that his counterpart values as well, the counterpart may be empowered by such disclosure (e.g., Loschelder et al. 2014).

A powerful negotiation move is to focus your counterpart’s attention on his BATNA, especially when you believe it is weak, and even more so when you can weaken it further. Raffles does exactly that and takes a gamble. He is not yet sure whether Bulstrode has remained the devout Calvinist he had been in the early days, so he ventures a guess:

This turns the knife, undermining whatever equanimity Bulstrode had:

This exchange illustrates two critical aspects of negotiation, the first being the importance of nonfinancial interests. One such interest for Raffles is the enjoyment he obtains from tormenting his counterpart. We have seen how his replies to Bulstrode are always slightly acidic, and every reply contains a small dig. In fact, making his companions uncomfortable is one of Raffles’ hobbies. When traveling for business, one of his chief joys is mocking one traveling acquaintance as a way of amusing the rest. This desire for the short‐term gratification of a mildly sadistic impulse can take precedence over his desire for a more lasting outcome. “[E]ven the desire for cognac was not stronger in Raffles than the desire to torment, and […] a hint of annoyance always served him as a fresh cue” (lines 74–75).

The second critical aspect of negotiation illustrated here is the distinction between mutual knowledge and common knowledge. Knowledge is mutual when everyone has it, and common when not only does everyone have it but everyone knows that everyone has it.^5. The success of negotiations, and the outcome for each party, can depend on whether knowledge is common or merely mutual (Ayres and Nalebuff 1996). When Raffles suggests that Bulstrode is “still godly” he makes the importance of Bulstrode’s religion common knowledge, because now Bulstrode knows that Raffles knows this is his weak spot, and Raffles also knows that Bulstrode knows this (see Chwe 2013). Until then, Bulstrode had been aware that Raffles could damage his reputation, but he did not know that Raffles knew this too. But once Raffles mentions Bulstrode’s religiosity, this becomes common knowledge and Bulstrode knows Raffles understands the weakness of his position. This is reinforced when Bulstrode does not deny the assertion that he is “godly,” a nondenial practically equivalent to a confession (see Sah and Read 2019).

Bulstrode, forced into a corner, hardens his offer of a “living” for Raffles, presenting it as an ultimatum:

Bulstrode again reinforces the weakness of his position by beginning with a (noncredible) threat and adds two (noncredible) claims that he does not have to do what he is currently doing.

Raffles, remarkably, refuses the annuity: “Your quarterly payment won’t quite suit me. I like my freedom” (lines 221–222). Instead, he announces he will settle for £200, without any promise to stay away from Middlemarch. This is a substantial amount^6.—earlier, Raffles viewed a £1 payment from his stepson Joshua as a decent sum—yet it is surely much less than the annuity would have amounted to. Indeed, Bulstrode is carrying £100 in cash, suggesting £200 is little more than pocket change to him. Raffles could have asked for £1,000 and likely received it. Yet, Raffles is satisfied with the deal: “Raffles watched the banker riding away—virtually at his command. His lips first curled with a smile and then opened with a short triumphant laugh” (lines 248–249). He feels he has won.^7. Is this, therefore, a win/win outcome?

It is not. Both Bulstrode and Raffles have left value on the table. They have most certainly not found a point at the Pareto frontier. The financial blow suffered by Bulstrode is trivial but he knows the reprieve it has bought him is only temporary. Raffles may feel more satisfied than Bulstrode, but he has not achieved a lasting resolution. How might matters have been improved?

We have already pointed out several of Bulstrode’s negotiating errors and suggested ways he could have done better. Here, we summarize some general lessons: (1) focus on the relationship, (2) disclose as little as possible about a weak position, (3) assess the credibility of threats and manage them, (4) do not give away your willingness to concede, (5) help your counterpart(s) to envision a better outcome, and (6) consider nonmonetary or unconventional interests.

Bulstrode begins by putting Raffles in “his place” and then consistently keeps him at arm’s length while using condescending language. Raffles may be a difficult man but he is not without a sense of dignity and self‐respect. There are few negotiations (and this is not one of them) in which the relationship is irrelevant. Bulstrode should realize that the better the relationship is for Raffles, the greater is the possibility of building a kind of loyalty—not love or friendship, but a recognition that there is more to gain from sticking by Bulstrode than betraying him. Of course, it is hard to focus on a relationship with someone you dislike, and this is one of the greatest challenges of many negotiations.

Bulstrode is remarkably forthcoming about his (perceived) BATNA and his fears. He repeatedly reveals, implicitly and explicitly, that Raffles has the power to harm him. Once Raffles realizes that Bulstrode wants nothing more than to keep him away from Middlemarch, he has almost unlimited power. Nothing required Bulstrode to reveal so much but it is easy to understand why he did. It is difficult to say the right thing when under stress. Bulstrode might have better spent the prior evening preparing himself for the negotiation, planning what to say and reminding himself to say as little as possible.

With respect to both these points, imagine how things might have improved if instead of his aloof and condescending greeting (lines 73–77), Bulstrode had welcomed Raffles with open arms, offered him a good meal with plenty of fine wine, and showed him around his new estate. This would have put more on the table for Raffles to lose and might have improved the relationship. It would also demonstrate that Bulstrode did not feel threatened by Raffles. This lack of concern might be feigned, indeed, but Raffles would not know this.

Bulstrode is terrified by Raffles’ threat to move to Middlemarch. The threat increases his eagerness to pay Raffles off (line 149), which in turn makes Raffles aware of the effectiveness of the threat. Bulstrode never considers whether the threat is credible. Indeed, he takes it for granted that Raffles genuinely intends to move to Middlemarch or otherwise “turn him in” if they fail to agree. But would Raffles really want to do this?

Let us do Bulstrode’s thinking for him. If Raffles moves to Middlemarch it would be a very unwelcoming community. No doubt some inhabitants of the city would be interested in his story and he would harm Bulstrode’s reputation by telling it, but by doing so he would become a pariah. No community would take to their bosom a stranger who claims to have conspired to defraud a woman of her rightful inheritance. Perhaps even more importantly, if Raffles did spill the beans, Bulstrode would cease to have a reason to support him. This is the classic blackmailers’ trap—their power vanishes when they expose their victim. If the victim refuses to accede to the blackmailer’s demand, the blackmailer is no better off following through on his threat and his position quite possibly worsens (Posner 1993; Read 2020). It is hard to imagine circumstances under which Raffles would benefit from informing on Bulstrode.

Bulstrode could manage the threat by interrogating it. Why not ask Raffles where in Middlemarch he would like to live? Who in the city does he know? Indeed, perhaps he could offer to put Raffles up at a Middlemarch hotel so he could see what it is like to live there. As Thomas Schelling (1960) famously discussed, when threats involve vowing to do something that will harm the threatener as well as the threatened, they lack credibility. Raffles’ threat to move to Middlemarch is one such threat, and one way to counter such a threat is to make the consequences of following through on the threat more salient.

The first true offer comes from Raffles but before he makes this offer Bulstrode makes unreciprocated, and even unasked for, concessions. The very fact that he devotes so much time to Raffles when he is a “busy man” is a clear indication that he considers the business important. Moreover, as discussed earlier, Bulstrode immediately suggests that his services can be “readily rendered” to Raffles. Therefore, before Raffles makes his first offer he has learned a great deal from Bulstrode about his reservation point. This may be why Raffles initially suggests to Bulstrode that he wants to be provided with “a living”—Bulstrode has made it very clear he is willing to offer Raffles a great deal.

One should not rely on the other side to understand her or his best interests. Raffles is a great tactical negotiator but, as we have already discussed, lacks vision. Negotiators can often make irrational decisions simply because they fail to consider better alternatives. Good negotiators help their counterparts explore and understand their own interests and how to achieve them. Bulstrode has some understanding of this; he makes a half‐hearted attempt to learn Raffles’ interests. He also makes the offer of an annuity, which must seem to him a good way to satisfy Raffles’ long‐term concerns (as well as make Raffles less likely to return). But Raffles announces he is not interested. How much persuasion was needed to change Raffles’ mind? Or how much discussion was needed to find out what Raffles would value more than a relatively small gift and an uncertain future? Bulstrode should not have assumed Raffles knew what options were available or even what he wanted but should have worked harder to find Pareto‐efficient options that were better for them both.

To achieve better outcomes, you must understand your interests and those of the other party. Bulstrode, by focusing on the amount Raffles hopes to extract, commits what James Sebenius (2001) considers a standard negotiation error: letting the “price” obscure other issues. This removes value from the table and at the outset impairs the outcome of the negotiation. Appendix  1 analyzes some of Raffles’ other possible motives, and Bulstrode could have gained a lot by doing such an analysis himself. For instance, on two occasions Raffles hints that he feels guilty because he did not reunite the daughter with the elderly widow (lines 177–178; 238–239). How much has this act weighed on his conscience and influenced his life? Perhaps he is genuinely resentful toward Bulstrode for leading him astray. An apology from Bulstrode or some demonstration that he understands Raffles’ feelings might suffice to change the nature of the negotiation. Empathy and compassion are especially important when a relationship is difficult rather than good—both because they are harder to achieve and the payoff is potentially higher.

A final issue, which overlays everything, is the importance of maintaining ethical conduct, and the long shadow of unethicality. Bulstrode is in this dilemma because of his past behavior. It is not just that he is subject to blackmail because of what he has done, but he has worked hard to bring his unethical acts in alignment with his beliefs. Doing so has meant not looking too hard at his past behavior. Negotiating with Raffles, therefore, has consequences for him well beyond the cost of getting rid of him. The very act of negotiation, which involves an explicit interaction with the past, inevitably forces Bulstrode to confront past actions that he would like to forget. We have suggested ways that Bulstrode might have improved the outcome of the negotiation, and here we suggest one reason why he may have chosen not to try hard. It is well known that people strive to avoid learning or facing negative information about themselves (Golman, Hagmann, and Loewenstein 2017). Moreover, there is a difference between knowing something is true in the abstract, and facing the concrete reality of that truth (Frank 1988). We suggest that explicit discussion of the concrete reality of what occurred—actually talking about the daughter betrayed—might have challenged Bulstrode’s self‐image beyond its breaking point. Throughout the negotiation with Raffles, Bulstrode does not even reply to Raffles’ comments about the past (see lines 144–152; 193). It is plain he is striving to maintain his self‐image, as if the past can be altered or is simply less real if he does not acknowledge it. Thus, though Bulstrode could have taken different actions that would have improved the outcome, a more competitive approach may have been beyond his capability.

We have conducted a close investigation of a fictional negotiation. But does the fact that it is fictional make it irrelevant to our understanding of real negotiations? We hope the analysis we offered dispels that idea, but we conclude by offering a few lines in further support of our approach. First, it is worth considering that most negotiation “cases” used for teaching purposes are to a large degree fictional. They are like Hollywood movies based on a true story. They are anecdotes, sometimes unverified but even when verified cleaned up to make a pedagogical point, and in any case based on incomplete information. What makes the anecdote effective is not its “truth,” in the sense of conforming to what really happened, but a truth in the sense of engaging our intuitions with respect to how the world works. One of our favorite anecdotes is that of George Wallbridge Perkins and the Teddy Roosevelt photograph, first introduced to the negotiation literature by Sebenius (2001) and given a prominent place in Murnighan and Bazerman’s Negotiation Genius (2007). Is this a “true story?” It does originate from an early account by someone “who was there” (Davis 1925), but there is no documentary evidence other than the anecdote (Garritty 1960) and the story certainly appears embellished, coming as it does from a colorful memoir focusing on the racier side of political life. The story is, therefore, a form of negotiation fable. Does this matter? To us it does not. We have no problem believing that in the situation as described, Perkin’s clever move would have worked, and we believe that the tale offers a valuable negotiation lesson. We hold this belief because if we put ourselves in the shoes of each party (especially the photographer) we expect we would behave precisely as he behaved. In any negotiation in which we are engaged we immediately think “what is my counterpart’s BATNA?” and this question always brings to mind Teddy Roosevelt’s photo.

Similarly, the negotiation from Middlemarch does not derive its value from being a real negotiation carried out by real people. It is valuable as a reflection and synthesis of how real people are likely to think and behave if placed in a situation similar to many we encounter in our everyday life. We are unlikely to be blackmailed because of some bad actions from our past, but we are likely to be “ambushed” by demands affecting our reputation when (we feel) we have little time to respond. We are also likely to be forced to deal with people we dislike, and while it may be in our best interest to maintain reasonable relationships with them, we are strongly motivated to give them what they want and leave the room (or just leave the room). We are also likely, when under pressure, to concede more than we should (not even realizing that we are conceding) and to fail to take our counterpart’s perspective. How can we anticipate and prepare for these eventualities?

First, by experiencing the situation itself and knowing how it will feel. Eliot draws us into the mental life of these men (especially Bulstrode) and even if we do not like them, we can empathize while we watch (vicariously experience) them making blunder after blunder. Second, by working out better strategies for Bulstrode and Raffles, we are also working out how to create better strategies for ourselves. Finally, fictional negotiations, like real negotiations, do not come with pat solutions but with possibilities. Every negotiation—whether fictional or real—is an experiment in which there is a space of possible resolutions, and every negotiation can teach us how to become better negotiators through foresight, imagination, and effective execution.

[Article updated May 20, 2021 after first online publication: Appendix 2 was updated to include a working URL to the supporting information.]

In any interaction, whether we class it as a negotiation or not, our counterparts will have diverse motives that may not be discernible to us, and possibly not even discernible to them (Trivers 2011; Chater 2018). Effective negotiators will strive to understand all motives, hidden or otherwise, and use what they learn to create a more favorable and durable agreement. Here we consider what we might learn about Raffles’ motives. Why does he suddenly end negotiations and turn down the offer of an annuity? We suggest many plausible reasons, and if he was a “real” person we would want to investigate them all, and might expect all to be operating simultaneously.

The most obvious motive is that Raffles does not want to give up his power over Bulstrode. He resents Bulstrode and hints that it was his malign influence that led him to keep quiet about the daughter. In Raffles’ mind, he might have been a more honorable man were it not for Bulstrode. Raffles, therefore, feels there is no better punishment for Bulstrode than the constant threat of exposure that comes from a free‐floating Raffles. The negotiation is not about money at all, but about honor.

Indeed, while Raffles is clearly something of a scoundrel, he is not entirely without dignity or principle. He is proud of his appearance and believes (counterfactually) that he would fit well in polite society. Moreover, he likes his freedom. As he says, “I will not give up my liberty for a dirty annuity. I shall come and go where I like” (lines 204–205). There are several occasions where he alludes to his honesty (e.g., “It’s been all on the square with me; I’m as open as the day” (line 182)), and he may believe that taking a “dirty annuity” is a different degree of collusion than merely taking a one‐time bribe.

Considering these motives in the aggregate, Raffles may want to be able to return to Middlemarch and torment Bulstrode, but feel honor bound to stay away from Middlemarch if he agrees to Bulstrode’s offer. Raffles certainly has a peculiar sense of honor. When Bulstrode challenges him by suggesting that coming back from America violated their agreement, Raffles retorts that agreeing to go to America is not the same as agreeing not to return—he does not want to be seen as reneging on the deal. If Raffles were to agree to stay away from Middlemarch, he may feel obliged to do so, or at least believe that Bulstrode would have reason to complain if he returns.

It also cannot be overlooked that while Raffles is an effective negotiator in many ways, he is extremely focused on immediate gratification. He may have calculated that he could get a lump sum larger than the first payment on any annuity, and he could get it sooner, as well. Raffles’ life history, as much as we know of it, is characteristic of the modern stereotype of an adult who failed the marshmallow test as a child: unable to wait for larger returns—two marshmallows in fifteen minutes versus one now—they go on to an adult life of impulsivity and low achievement (Mischel 2014).

There may be a further reason for Raffles’ refusal to accept an annuity. While Raffles resents and perhaps even hates Bulstrode, he has no one else in his life. His wife has recently died, and Raffles has otherwise burned his bridges. He may be able to spend an evening amusing a group of strangers by making fun of one of them but he has no friends, and what is left of his family (his stepson) has made his hatred for Raffles very clear.

All these motives are hinted at by Eliot in the brief time we spend with Raffles. To a large extent, Bulstrode is unsuccessful in his negotiation because he fails to consider the rich motives even of someone he dislikes and fears, and he consequently assumes that his counterpart seeks nothing more than to extract money from him.

Line numbers cited in the article are from Chapter 50 of Middlemarch, an excerpt of which may be accessed at https://doi.org/10.1111/nejo.12355 and is from the public domain text of Middlemarch available from Gutenberg.org. This is the first negotiation between Bulstrode and Raffles. The excerpt begins when Bulstrode is surveying his newly purchased estate and feeling particularly happy.