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BarchesterChroniclesParatexg
From the paratexts of Barchester Chronicles by Alan Pater (1982)

Dear friends and readers,

Despite some disillusion, I’ve sent in proposals to teach next spring (beginning sometime in February) and summer (6 weeks June-July) to the Oscher Lifelong Learning Institute at George Mason. What I’m enjoying most of all I’m doing is the return to Trollope: I had forgotten (it seems) how sustaining, intelligent, stimulating, ironic, moving, his texts are.

So when I’ve done Beyond Barsetshire (at the OLLI at American University), I shall reverse myself — or go backwards — and concentrate on the phase of his career in which he produced the famous six.

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Mr Harding (Donald Pleasence) plays his cello, 1982 BBC Barchester Chronicles

Course Proposal for Spring Term, 2015, OLLI at Mason

In and out of Barsetshire: In this 8 session course the class will read the first three of the six Barsetshire novels by Anthony Trollope: The Warden, Barchester Towers and Dr Thorne. Trollope created more than one continuously sustained world for his characters to exist in, worlds which seem co-terminus with larger real terrains we experience, but are filled in with imagined places. Trollope’s readers have assumed he worked out his maps carefully and he wrote twice of Framley Parsonage that since it was the fourth novel he had set in Barsetshire, he “found it necessary … to provide a map … for the due explanation of all these localities.” In fact in the case of this his first sustained cycle of books Trollope only gradually became aware that he had embarked on such a series and it was probably during the writing of Dr Thorne. It is proposed to read and study the first three books not backwards from the final two books [The Small House at Allington, The Last Chronicle of Barset], but in the politically and literary contexts they were each written in individually, how the books and recurring characters in them relate to his other non-Barsetshire books written at the same time, and Trollope’s life and typical thematic concerns. The course will include viewing excepts of the 1982 BBC mini-series The Barchester Chronicles scripted by Alan Plater.

BarsetshireReDrawnfromSketchMadebyNovelistSadleirCommentary162

Sadleir’s redrawn version of Barsetshire from Trollope’s map after Framley Parsonage

Course Proposal for Summer 2015, OLLI at Mason

Barsetshire Emerges. Famously, Elizabeth Gaskell wrote of Anthony Trollope’s fourth Barsetshire novel, Framley Parsonage, she wished Trollope would “go on writing it forever.” I propose to read for the 6 week summer course this famous novel by Trollope. Framley Parsonage has been looked at as the crucial novel which transformed Trollope’s career and gave the Cornhill just that level of popularity to make it become one of the central periodicals of the Victorian era for a long time afterward. We will look how Trollope mapped Framley Parsonage to pull all the elements of the previous three novels together, and anticipate later thematic concerns of his later Palliser cycle of novels whose characters as well as other partly imagined places emerged from or are attached to Barsetshire. We will also see Framley Parsonage belongs to the context of its immediate time and thus was able to galvanize the first readership of the Cornhill. We will see an excerpt from the first hour of the 1974 Pallisers to see how the underlying matter derives from the Barsetshire books.

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John Constable, Salisbury Cathedral (1831) — Trollope wrote tjat it was while walking in its grounds he conceived his idea for The Warden.

Ellen

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One of my favorite stills taken from a VHS Casette version of the 1974 Pallisers

Dear friends and readers,

Finally tomorrow I will (what’s called) teach the first of 10 sessions of a course wholly on Anthony Trollope’s life and writing. While I’ve taught individual works by Trollope, and over some 18 years now (!) have been leading groups of readers to read Trollope (among other Victorians & Edwardians) on a listserv dedicated to Trollope and his contemporaries (its original name as formulated by Mike Powe and me), I’ve never taught a single course on him. But by some perverse blind misunderstanding of my own (I have no memory of this whatsoever — a Freudian mistake?) I agreed to begin a week later than the official OLLI at AU term began this fall. Not too much harm done as I’m not so badly out of step with others; several people seem to have elected to start a week later, and as the staff decided to not offer any classes on Rosh Hashanah, the Thursday and whatever Friday people there are (not many) are starting this week too.

Worse for me: as in the spring term as bad luck would have it I’ve agreed to go to a conference that interferes with the second week, so we really won’t start in full force for 2 week after tomorrow. I regret this. Then, though, we will have 9 sessions (with time out for Thanksgiving), and I tell myself that I emailed the class last week (which I did) to suggest they read ahead with more an An Eye for An Eye, the passionate Anglo-Irish novella I asked them to read before the course started, and begin the short stories. I sent them the syllabus and told about the places on my website containing much on Trollope, the illustrations to his writing and some of his relatively unavailable essays too. I also remind myself salutarily no one cares about any of this as much me. A couple of students are away on vacation just now I was told …

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A favorite image: from the Samuel Laurence painting of him

Thus over the past couple of weeks I’ve been insofar as I can been immersing myself in Trollope once again. I reread (yet again) An Eye for an Eye, and several powerful short stories, and with the group, Nina Balatka;, and we are now about to embark on Phineas Finn, some 7 chapters (or more) per week (about 2 installments a week). I had recommended to the students for Trollope’s life story, his own Autobiography, but for myself I’m using the extra week to reread a book I’ve not read in quite a while: N. John Hall’s Trollope. I began with Glendinning’s biography, but after all I find her glib; there is something too promotional in her opening on “lips,” and however pleasant her fantasies about Ur-Texts underlying Trollope’s novels, telling us a hidden story about Trollope’s not altogether comfortable relationship with his wife, and (as it were) outside love life, there’s no proof at all; it’s non-serious. I’m about a third into Hall’s book; yes some of his discussions are slanted to the cheerful he’s determined to make prevail: he has a way of preferring the versions of Trollope’s brother, Tom’s about their child- and young man-hood to Trollope’s own; he will downplay Trollope’s present burning memories of earlier anguish, despair, hurt, mortification by substituting another contemporary’s far more cheerful assessment even if years later. Nonetheless, all that he writes of objective realities is rooted in verifiable documents. He quotes a lot of non-fiction for subjective ones, and his readings of Trollope’s life and opinions inside the fiction is persuasive. And he says what he sees, presents what does not fit into his own patterns. So he admits the tragic greatness of The Macdermots of Ballycloran even as he asserts it is atypical. (It’s not.)

(As to the other better known more recent biographies: Mullen’s book however wonderful on Trollope’s milieu and contexts shows him more Victorian than Trollope ever was, and Super’s book is, well, insufferably arrogant in his dismissal of Trollope’s version of his life and disdain for biographers like Helen Heinemann, the best and most candid on Frances, Trollope’s mother. To be more complete, quite a number of studies of his fiction also function as perceptive biographies, e.g., Skilton on the criticism of Trollope in periodicals, P. J. Edwards on his “art and scope.”)

Rereading Hall is not just a matter of renewing acquaintance with the ideas of the “old male school” on Trollope and seeing value in much of it, but I find I agree with some of what I rejected or didn’t notice before. Hall does far more justice to Anthony’s mother, Frances (Fanny anyone?) Trollope than Anthony could get himself to. Fanny was political, and despite the use of her texts by Tories, radical in her social fiction on slavery, factory workers, young women who had children outside a marriage.

We’ve been talking on Trollope19thCStudies on a disturbing pattern one finds across Trollope’s novels and is very strong in Nina: no other Victorian novelist, man or woman, shows the same continual obsessive dramatization of males demanding obedience from their wives. It bothered me when I read Nina and experienced how Anton Trendellsohn (see the AT, and double “l’s”) is ravaging this girl’s consciousness, tormenting her, making her kowtow to him — why take out his pressures on her. People prey on one another but it’s not pretty. And does not augur well. I note in the Pallisers film Raven tries to make Kennedy far more sympathetic than Trollope does, Raven’s man is really loving Laura and she won’t go to bed with him.

The normalizing reply, sweeping away, is to assert this is what all or most Victorian husbands expected from their wives, but I am not referring to what was said to be the norm, but what is written by Trollope’s peers: not one of them has this emphatic pattern, and reshaped to fit case after case, and while Trollope’s criticizes these characters he also empathizes. No other 19th century novelist makes this demand for obedience so central or presents in quite in the emphatic light of a man demanding obedience as a test of love, his manliness, her very gender as a woman, whatever the topic be. Now and again a conflict is seen in this light: as when in Eliot’s Middlemarch Lydgate tries to get Rosamund to agree to sell their house and allow him to carry on a course of life which is not shaped by the God material success and she thwarts him by going round him in secret. Then he fires up about his right of a husband to demand she obey because he gets to decide. But it’s only one part of a complex pattern, not put at the center.

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J. E. Millais, “Orley Farm”,” frontispiece, Orley Farm

One source we on Trollope19thCStudies all agreed on: the pattern is partly a response to his mother: Fanny took over the household when his father couldn’t and Anthony in particular suffered shame, loneliness, went into a depression, was ignored, neglected. She fled Harrow Wealde, the dump they had to leave Julian Hills (aka Orley Farm) for: isolated, to her shameful, a come-down, just awful to survive in, probably unhealthy. There was some kind of romance with Hervieu (it didn’t survive long in the US context, made fun of as she was as an old lady, and ostracized as a woman living with a younger man); her second son, Henry, was no scholar, and maybe she would find something somewhere for him in Frances Wright’s idealistic schemes of communitarian living. She did send him to a college briefly: Henry lasted one day. She had nothing to offer him; indeed she dressed him up in a ridiculous mountebank outfit in an absurd bazaar she set up, but she was desperate for money by then. Fanny had thought to make a new life in the new country. But as one sees from her book, when she first laid eyes on the Mississippi she was astonished; she had no idea what this new world was like. Eventually they were driven to ask Trollope’s father to send money from whatever was left of his estate. She wrote a book as “burning” as any of her sons, about her experiences, Domestic Manners of the Americans, and with her earnings from this and further novels, she eventually returned the family to Julians until debt had them on the run again.

But there’s more here than Trollope’s relationship to his mother: Trollope wrote his Autobiography to stop or control, forestall other biographies. He says so: he had read the biographies of Dickens and was horrified. What he did was tell as much of the truth as he dared and hoped to share what would be told hereafter in the way he wanted it to be seen.  That he told so much inclines us to think this a whole life, but even there he forestalls us by in the first pages calling his book a so-called autobiography and denying any can be written for real. A theme in A. S. Byatt’s work on biography is how much that is crucial in a life never gets written down, or if written is destroyed, or the person deliberately misleads. Trollope was a man who drove himself to success. Thomas his brother said he worked himself to death. That driving force is part of his intense compensation for deep burning shames. Years later he will remember a remark someone said and say see I won that election. This driving force is part of this obsessive pattern.

What does Hall’s book bring to this? Hall reminds us of how Trollope’s father as he sunk into total failure in his career, as a father, a husband, became more or more rigid and tyrannical. Gratingly he would insist on his way, and grow violent when he didn’t get it. Fanny wrote a book about this called One Fault. One reason Fanny left Trollope’s father was to escape that — he was an abusive husband. When he pulled his sons’ hair hard when they didn’t recite Latin verb patterns correctly while he shaved he required them to stand close to submit to him. He was cruel. Though Trollope excuses him and says while he, Trollope, knew his father his father’s life was one long tragedy, Trollope’s obsessive disturbing pattern of fierce demands and intense anxiety on the part of many males who cannot enforce this obedience (Anton Trendellsohn is an enforcer) is also a derivation from his experience of his father, memories of that. He is re-enacting this man — as he represents him over and over again from Larry MacDermot to the sexually anxious Louis Trevelyan. Hall also seems to feel that much of the strongest material in Trollope came to him like automatic writing he released — his dream life as controlled narratives over the years.

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Josiah Crawley listening to a home truth: ‘It’s Dogged as Does It, F. A. Fraser, The Last Chronicle of Barset

The second half of Trollope’s autobiography notoriously omits the private life which dominates the first. He and Rose had but two children, so how did they stop more from coming? We can’t know how he felt about this, what mortifications he was subject to. Nor about the many casual encounters he had as a young man in London, and then again while traveling nor the one beyond his love of Kate Field where he invested a good deal of himself: while in The West Indies and Spanish Main he went riding with her; he says of the book it’s favorite: he did write two great great short stories during that time). True we have strong women characters in Trollope who get round their husbands. You can prove anything if you get to make up the evidence — and Trollope tells stories which justify this demand for utter obedience or at least say leave it in place since it does no harm. It did and where it reigns does still. And Trollope dramatizes how when you give people power they use it and often meanly.

Other undercurrents: Trollope regards all human relationships is a jockeying for power, as a pull-and-tug of domination and submission. He loathes the way religion is used by people who hate life, resent the enjoyments of others, and this is most often presented as female harridan who drives a girl to a man distasteful to her (sadism) or forbids her any connection with a young man the girl does like.

I am now a long way from how the “old male school” of writers on Trollope (which included Ruth apRoberts) wrote about Trollope: but they do provide evidence for 21st century delving readings. Why do we find what we find in his characters? The Stebbins have been the most frank to bring out a strong thread of depression in the books giving them their darker depths; A. O. Cockshutt comes at this through thematic close reading. I’ve tried here to reach into one of the living permutations in Trollope’s consciousness that is part of the groundwork of his characters and stories, bringing in Hall’s reading too.

To conclude with two more perspectives briefly: I’m told that The Way We Live Now is replaced The Last Chronicle of Barset as Trollope’s signature book, Josiah Crawley an embarrassment instead of a noble failure. Yet who doubts the centrality of Phineas Finn? I watch people ask one another on-line which book do you recommend beginning with? which is your favorite? which the richest? surely Phineas deserves this kind of accolade. It used to be treated as a central book in the development of the political novel in English; now it’s seen as about building a career, and ethnicity. Here Hall’s treatment of Trollope’s first years in the post office, in London and then Ireland, (looking ahead) the failed attempt to get into Parliament matter. Another strength of Hall’s approach is it’s not a thesis book at all so he provides matter I haven’t touch on here to understand Finny Finn more deeply too. If you’ve not read or heard of it, a new book I much admire on Trollope’s politics as history: Christopher Harvie’s The Centre of Things: Political Fiction in Britain from Disraeli to the Present.

Hall uses the Trollope’s travel books centrally too: they are enormously important for anyone who wants to understand him and his fiction. I’ll end on how I’ve now promised to go to the Belgium conference in Sept 2015, and will at long last write that paper I’ve gathered 4 folders of stuff for: “On Living in a New Country: Trollope’s Australia” (it’s a play on Patrick White’s great book, On Living in an Old Country.) There is an enormous amount in Trollope’s writing coming out of colonialism: I’m astonished to think how little it has been treated thus far. (I’m not sure Hall does justice to this. Nicolas Birns’s work is important here.) So I’ll be immersing myself for quite a while to come.

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Niagara Falls, mid-19th century print

Ellen

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A Syllabus

For a Study Group at the Oscher LifeLong Learning Institute at American University
Day: Ten Wednesday afternoons over 11 weeks, 1 to 2:50 am, Temple Baptist Church
Dates: Classes start Oct 1st; last day Dec 16th.
Dr Ellen Moody

Description of Course

This study group will read will four of Trollope’s novels: An Eye for an Eye (written 1870), Nina Balatka (written 1865), Phineas Finn, (written 1866) and Lady Anna (written 1871), a group of short stories spanning Trollope’s career, one of which is the Barsetshire type. We will see that Barsetshire is but one phase of Trollope’s career: he began as an Anglo-Irish novelist, saw himself as exploring the political and social life of Great Britain as well as those countries across the globe connected to or affected by British customs and people. We will see him as a man making a career of writing among men and women making careers out of other professions and marriage. We’ll be reading passionate romances centered on ethnic and class conflict, colonialism, his foreign travel and ironic comedies about the way the world works, parliamentary life and interactions between law and reality. His characters encompass the fabulously rich and the abysmally impoverished. The class will also watch select excerpts from Simon Raven’s 1974 Pallisers, a mini-series which mirrors the ways Trollope is often read, and if possible Henry Herbert’s 1973 Malachi’s Cove, a cinematic adaptation of one of Trollope’s finest short stories, set in Cornwall.

Texts. Students are asked to bring a copy of the novel or stories we are discussing for the week to class.

Trollope, Anthony. The Complete Shorter Fiction, ed. Julian Thompson. NY: Carroll and Graf, 1992. ISBN: 0786700211. ———————–. An Eye for an Eye, ed. John Sutherland. NY: Oxford UP, 1992. ISBN 0192829106 It’s available in a Penguin and on-line http://www.gutenberg.org/files/16804/16804-h/16804-h.htm ———————. Nina Balatka, ed. Robert Tracy NY: Oxford UP, 1991. ISBN 0192827235. It is available as Classic Reprint, and Folio Society. Any of the 3. ———————-. Phineas Finn, ed. Jacques Berthoud. NY: Oxford, 1982. ISBN 0192815873 There are many editions and it’s on-line. http://web.archive.org/web/20080829221818/http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/toc/modeng/public/TroFinn.html .Any edition will do. ———————-. Lady Anna, ed. Stephen Orgel NY: Oxford, 1990. ISBN 0192821342. It is available in a Dover edition and on line: http://web.archive.org/web/20081201213913/http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/toc/modeng/public/TroAnna.html Any of the 3.

Format: Study group meetings will be a mix of informal lecture and group discussion.

October 1st: Introduction: Trollope, life, career, attitudes towards; An Eye for an Eye
October 8th: Class cancelled (for a conference I must go to)
October 15th. Nina Balatka and “La Mere Bauche,” “Ride Across Palestine.”
October 22nd. “Returning Home,” “Aaron Trowe,” “Parsons Daughter at Oxney Colne”
October 29th Phineas Finn
November 5th Phineas Finn
November 12th Phineas Finn
November 19th Excerpts from the Palliser films; “The Spotted Dog,” “Why Frau Frohman Raised her Prices”
November 26th: Day before Thanksgiving, no class held
December 3rd: Lady Anna
December 10th: Lady Anna
December 18th. Lady Anna; “Malachi’s Cove” and/or “Christmas at Thompson Hall.”

Further on-line materials: Ellen’s website Anthony Trollope: British Novelist: Essays on Trollope’s fiction and travel books; bibliographies; group readings Trollope in the Magazines: the original and recent illustrations to his novels; his non-fiction articles Commentaries and summaries on the Pallisers and other films adapted from Trollope: mostly blogs Ellen and Jim have a blog, two, under category Trollope, blogs on Trollope and his writing

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Anthony Trollope at age 40

Ellen

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NPG P214; Anthony Trollope by Julia Margaret Cameron
Anthony Trollope, traveler — photo by Julia Cameron

Dear friends and readers,

This blog contains some enjoyable ironies for the Trollopian who knows that three years ago Simon Heffer wrote a sweepingly dismissive assessment of Anthony Trollope’s novels for the Telegraph. I’m delighted to announce I’m going at long last to teach a course in Anthony Trollope’s writing; it’ll occur this coming fall at the OLLI (Oscher Lifelong Learning Institute) at American University; and at the same time chuffed to be able to see a review I wrote of Heffer’s doorstop of a book on the Victorian Age,

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appear on the Victorian Web, beautifully composited with effective appropriate illustrations. You see there are no novels Heffer better elucidates than Anthony Trollope’s Barsetshire and Palliser novels.

Not that the course I’m planning is going to contextualize Trollope as The Chronicler of Barsetshire (the title of a biography by R.H. Super), and, say, begin with The Warden or Dr Thorne (the first novel by Trollope I ever read, one assigned in an undergraduate course at Queens College, CUNY), with due transitions from The Small House at Allingham to the Pallisers who also dwell in Barset (the train station is there).

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One of John Everett Millais’s vignette for The Small House.

Nothing wrong in that except it’s a distortion. Trollope began as an Anglo-Irish novelist, and far from an aberation, his travel stories and novellas, e.g., Nina Balatka (the story of fierce conflicts between Jews and Christians in Prague)

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Modern photo of Charles River, Prague — plays an important role in Nina Balatka

were written before his seminal political novel, Phineas Finn. He was a contemporary political novelist, travel-writer and editor as much as a dreamer-escapist, romancer, brillant psychologist and careful artist. Anyway that’s how I’m going to present him.

Here’s the proposal I wrote:

Anthony Trollope is one of the greatest nineteenth-century novelists whom many readers still come into contact for the first time on their own — that is, without having been assigned to read first in school. His books have survived almost on their own, but their variety is not widely known and consequently the familiar ones “imperfectly understood” (one of his phrases). He is central in the history of the political novel; he wrote novellas in the Henry James mode, passionate romances, & medium-length radical realism set in many places outside as well as in England. He edited central Victorian journals. The goal of this course will be to enjoy and see Trollope from the lens of a more adequate perspective than the man from Barsetshire. This will be a two semester course.

As those who teach Victorian novels know, the great obstacle to success is the typical length of the powerful good books (we are talking 700-900 pages) so I did a sleight of hand. I did not begin with The Macdermots of Ballycloran because powerful political tragic romance that it is, it is also long: I chose for a starter instead Trollope’s startling landscape Irish novella, An Eye for an Eye. I allowed but one l-o-n-g book: Phineas Finn.

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From The Pallisers: 3:6 (Phineas [Donal McCann] as Madame Max [Barbara Murray] first sees him, and Madame Max as he first sees her)

All others are novellas and short stories (James Thompson’s Complete Trollope is available in many copies for $4) with one medium-length realistic radical book, Lady Anna.

The syllabus is not written in cement (I’ll eliminate texts if students feel we need to), but here’s the plan:

Week 1: An Eye for an Eye (201 pages)

Week 2: “La Mere Bauche” (21 pages), “A Ride Across Palestine” (26), Returning Home” (16), and “Aaron Trowe.” (20)

Week 3 : Nina Balatka (195)

Week 4: “Parsons Daughter at Oxney Colne” (22), discussion of Barsetshire mythic place, and begin Phineas Finn (altogether 714 pages over 4 weeks or 178 pages a week)

Week 5: Phineas Finn

Week 6: Phineas Finn

Week 7: Phineas Finn and excerpt from those parts of Pallisers films drawn from Phineas I

Week 6: “Spotted Dog” (34), “Why Frau Frohman Raised her Prices” (50)

Week 7: Lady Anna (513 pages over 4 weeks, so 128 a week)

Week 9: Lady Anna

Week 10: Lady Anna

Week 11: Lady Anna and “Malachi’s Cove,” (16 pages) (with 30 minutes of TV film).

For afficionados, I do have a VHS copy of the fine 75 minute film adaptation of Trollope’s “Malachi’s Cove” which we’ll also read (about people in Cornwall who make a precarious living gathering seaweed off of cliffs).

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Donald Pleasance as Malachi and Veronica Quilligan as his granddaughter

Some rationales: “La Mere Bauche” and “A Ride Across Palestine” puts paid to the idea Trollope is not openly erotic; “Returning Home” and “Aaron Trowe” are about colonialism from the point of view of desperate settlers; “Parsons Daughter” besides its poignant psychological ironies can stand in for Barsetshire impulses (its landscape in Devon). I have two editors’ tales which Trollope said were the best fictions he ever wrote (“Spotted Dog” and “Frau Frohman”). Trollope once said he meant Lady Anna to begin an Australian series (our hero and heroine set out for Australia since society they feel will be more open to their union than in England). I regret not having a Christmas story at the last (the course ends in December) but then Trollope disliked having to write them for the market even if he wrote a a genuinely traumatic comedy out of his reluctance (“Christmas at Thompson Hall”).

What will the second semester be like? one long book again, either a political Palliser or one of the novels which have become “signatures” for him (Last Chronicle of Barset, or He Knew He Was Right, or The Way We Live Now), with a different choice of novellas, short fiction and realism, to bring out other aspects of his career or themes, his artistry. I’d love a travel book but they are huge, and the one abridgement, of North America, is long out of print. Hardly any copies anywhere. If I should live so long.

The great fun of teaching at OLLI is not only are the students enthusiastic, intelligent older people, you don’t have to choose a traditional topic or author — Trollope is that. Someone suggested to me that a semester of Winston Graham’s Poldark novels, planned to coincide with the airing of the new coming mini-series would be very well received so Trollope II would have to wait. I’m not going anywhere.

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Aidan Turner to be the new Ross Poldark — do not hold The Hobbit against him (he also played Dante Gabriel Rossetti)

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Eleanor Tomlinson the new Demelza (she was Georgiana Darcy in Death Comes to Pemberley) — this photo as illustration recalls one of the frontispieces of the Poldark novels (1960s)

Ellen

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Dear friends and readers,

Some nine days ago I put Anthony Trollope’s satiric newspaper article, “The Uncontrolled Ruffianism of London” on my website and described its immediate context on my blog as preface to a review of Emelyne Godfrey’s Masculinity, Crime and Self-Defence … . It’s one of the many many intriguing documents Godfrey discusses in this, her companion volume to her earlier equally original Femininity, Crime and Self-Defence in Victorian Literature and Society (see Caroline Reitz’s review in Romanticism and Victorianism on the Net, 59-60 [2011]).

Both books, taken together, depict the era in which modern crime fiction (mysteries, police procedurals) developed as one of the responses to the growth of large cities where crowds of people unknown to one another live in close proximity; others are new permutations in norms for middle-class masculinity (as these are men who had to walk or today at least drive and take public transportation in said cities) and defensive tactics for women who feel themselves at risk or want to participate aggressively too. The root is the very paranoia that Trollope unerringly describes and partly mocks in his timely article.

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“I struck him again and again” (from Femininity, Crime & Self-Defence)

In a nugget, Godfrey is looking at crime from the point of view of the city-goer, using popular writing and images and activities (clubs, educational groups), works of popular playwrights and texts by two literary geniuss: Anthony Trollope and Arthur Conan Doyle. Richard Sennett is an important source for her fundamental bases: Sennett (whom she quotes at key points) says modern cities are structured so as to have public spaces where the threat of social contact between upper, middle and lower classes is minimalized — they are planned to keep middling citizens from the “underclass” (the under- and unemployed, the poverty-striken, those driven into criminal and violent activites), but these breaches are easy to cross (p. 3). There are just so many pedestrians, commuters all higgedly-piggedly hurrying along. A fear of exposure emerges, a horror of injury.

Godfrey studies a popular movement then (and there is an equivalent one now), partly paranoic, of self-defense seen in the way male violence is depicted in the era. There is the question of what is a socially acceptable masculine behavior: self control and self-restraint were and still are part of the upper class gentleman ethos; the problem arises that men therefore may see themselves as potential victims as well as perpetrators of crime. When she looks at the interiority of male heroes you find a restrained flamboyancy; sartorial restraint is a index of modesty, reserve, manliness, professionalism. Godfrey has studied a slew of books on the history of respectable fear and where this comes from, on media panic, on figures she calls “men of blood” (violent men who yet stay within legal bounds, e.g., Trollope’s Lord Chiltern in his Palliser books. She looks at male anxieties and some of the weirder deadly instruments that were developed — like the truncheon Phineas Finn ill-advisedly carries with him (“the life-preserver”) in Phineas Redux.

Middle class respectable men were also supposed to protect women from men imagined on the attack. Novels in the era dramatize the maltreatment of women, e.g., Anne Bronte’s Tenant of Wildfell Hall; Trollope repeatedly uses trope of animal cruelty to depict a ruthless male; the most typical opening of a Conan Doyle Holmes story is a gentlewoman comes to Holmes for protection.

jenny-seagrove-sign-of-four-1987blog
Everyone remembers John Thaw’s magnificent performance in the film adaptation of Sign of Four, but the story opens with the elegantly dressed Jenny Seagrove, all anxiety, come to Mr Holmes for help.

The later 19th century is a period of wide-spread investigations into methods of self-defense. She divides her book. Part 1 covers hitherto neglected plays popular among middle class audiences. Part 2 is a study of Trollope’s exploration of masculinity in the large political novels which take place in cities and show the importance of a measured response to aggression. Part 3 reveals the Sherlock Holmes narratives as a collection of lessons expressive of Doyle’s views on reasonable force in response to violent crime; they too promote the cause of measured self-defense for gentlemen. One new element emerged for me: I had not realized how frequently the Holmes stories focus on uses of weapons, many of them cruelly wounding.

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Henry Ball’s belt-buckle pistol of 1858, Royal Armories, Leeds

AntiGarrotterblog
Anti-garotte collar and advertisement

Part I (Chapters 1 & 2) tell of the xenophobia (“foreign crimes” hit British shores) and class fears that led to the build-up of myths around a phenomenon that did occur but not with the frequency claimed: the garrotting people. Godfrey begins her book with singularly cruel execution in Cuba in 1852: a man was strangled to death in a wooden chair while an iron collar passed around his neck screwed ever tighter; his windpipe is crushed (p 19). Garrotta was the name for this kind of capital punishment and in a twist became used by robbers; you threatened to strangle your victim to death. There were such incidents on London streets where people began increasingly relying on police protection: a 1st incident is recorded 12 Feb 1851.

Godfrey looks at the panic from a literary angle, and debates in texts about nature of middle class heroism. She discusses the 1857 play by C.J. Collins’s Anti-Garrotte, a farce which reveals how reports build an awareness of such crimes; in a later unlicensed play, The Garrotters by William Whiffles, a man feels dread reading about all these strangulation robberies (p 21). The 1853 Penal Servitude Act that allowed more convicts to be given tickets of leave helped justify paranoia; these were conditional pardons for good behavior, with the person released in the UK instead of Australia — such convicts became associated with garrotters. Descriptions appeared in magazines: a 3 people act; Henry Wilkinson Holland interviewed thieves; here were articles on house-breaking equipment which anticipate Holmes uses to break into residences (panel cutter, crobars, skeleton key, lanterns). Later American readers had Wm D Howells’ play The Garrotters (1890s). Anti-immigration and racial fears (terms like “thuggees”) feelings were stirred so for religiously-dressed motivated Indians who carried a scarf (a rumal) were called “noose-operators.” Mid-Victorian novel, Confessions of a Thug (189), our evil Arab, Ameer Ali robs and kills for gain, but he also takes life for sport and exploits and murders anyone showing him kindness. Murder by strangulation is part of the imagined point; in an interview a female thuggee takes pride in having killed 21 people. Fear that exhibit in British Museum teaches these criminal types how to perform such evil crimes

Misogyny plays into this too: a recent book by Neil Story concludes most garrotters were female (ex-prostitutes). A modern film, The world is Not Enough presents Pierre Brosnan as a James Bond tortured by a garrotting woman. (11 years earlier Nicholas Meye’s The Deceivers presented Brosnan as Wm Savage, a British thuggee hunter learning art of manipulating the rumal.) It should be said there were no statistics on female victims.

Tellingly Richard Sennett is quoted suggesting that the fear of exposure leads to a militarized conception of everyday experience as attack and defense. In Phineas Redux Trollope suggests there was a run on life-preservers The Times described a weapon called an anti-garrotte glove; this was a gauntlet fortified with claws, hooks, blades. Some of these show people felt immediate killing or maiming someone else in self-defense as personal protection just fine (p 46). Another recent book, by Rob Sindall (Street Violence in the 19th Century) argues the panic was self-induced and over-wrought. Tom Browns’ Schooldays presented the middle class male ideal and shows concerns over middle class young man’s ability to defend himself. Clerks felt in danger, and acted on norms of self help, independence, masculine self-control — victims becomes feminized (as in the rape in Kleist’s famous novel). Delirium tremens seen as shaming the victim. She notes that Emily Bronte’s novel has many weapons; Gaskell showed that the Rev Bronte kept arms.

[This is utterly germane to our world in the US today where it seems to be open season on young black men since Zimmerman got away with murder: or maybe it's that those of us who were unaware of how black men are regarded as dispensable, attacked with impunity on the grounds the person was made anxious (really) are no longer ignorant. Trollope's article remains sceptical, ironic: he does not say there are no ruffians in the streets, but the man who lives in terror of this as an epidemic, acquires a weapon, is perhaps more in danger from the weapon being taken from him (how modern this argument is, just substitute the word gun for truncheon).]

In Chapter 3 is ostensibly on the Ticket of Leave man, Godfrey studies Victorian
obsessions over middle-class (white) masculine fitness as an index to “the health of nation” and how such ideas stoked fascination with street violence. Images formed in melodrama were deployed to create a garrotter-villain on stage: he’d have a black face, wrinkles, would be degenerate. All in contrast to new middle class ideals of civilized behavior; the magazine All the Year Round insisted there was a link between crime and disease. In this context ticket-of-leave men are seen as belonging to an abject group, who also are involved in a “tide of sewage, disease, and cholera” outbreaks.

Trollope’s is not the only sane voice: Henry Mayhew interviews convicts to show their difficulties in finding work, how they suffer false re-arrests (Stop and frisk anyone?); and Mayhew gives an account of a garrotting supposedly from the point of view of the criminal; the problem here is his story implies garrotters and convicts are the same people (p 31.). Two 19th century plays, the well-known Tom Taylor’s Ticket of Leave Man reveals society’s prejudice to develop sympathy for the rehabilitation of Robert Brierly, duped into a forgery scheme; this play was broadcast in 1937, and revived in Victoria theater, 1966 — the archetypal heart of the story is a good character thrown into bad situation.

Another play, Ticket of Leave has good and bad ticket-of-leave men. One Bottles, disguised as butler plans to garrot and rob his master, Mr Aspen Quiver. A wrongly accused convict saves Mr Quiver; again the play does not address false misconceptions. One famous attack in 1862 on Hugh Pilkington (MP for Blackburn) helped lead to a call for the old system to be put back in place. A Director of Prisons, Joshua Jebb, tried to express his support for ticket-of-leaved men. but draconian security measures against violence were passed in an act of 1863 that stipulated flogging.

Part 1 ends with a chapter about the weapons people carried, how several publications, most notably Punch made fun of these and (like Trollope) suggested the person in more danger than the garrotter by carrying such a weapon. There are plays where farcically we see characters over-estimate the danger and react hysterically to information received in the papers. There really were spiked collars, with self-injury the most likely result. Godfrey suggests articles in magazines register a perceived reader’s reluctance to depend on a perceived incompetent police force. Urban heroes those who supported and aided the police; you were supposed to remain calm; you fight back with similar weapons. Gradually what emerged was a civilizing offensive, an adoption of violence adverse perspective; over-arming seen as form of hysteria, but onus on individual to protect himself.

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“Life-preservers” (so-called), like the one Phineas carries and imagines himself threatening Bonteen with at their club door (see Ruffianism)

Part II: Anthony Trollope : aggression rewarded and punished, 1867-87

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A dramatized scene from Phineas Finn

Chapter One is called threats from above and below, fighting for franchise and concentrates on Phineas Finn and Phineas Redux. Some notes: Phineas’s response to violence affects social standing and political career; the question of what is a gentleman important in the novels; Trollope puts forward Phineas as an ideal of gentlemanliness: social grace, innate goodness. Political action in Phineas Finn is complicated by the question of what is appropriate aggression and what shows one’s fitness to vote (Trollope not a democrat). While we see politically motivated violence, Trollpoe distrusts political violence because he suggests it uses political ideal as a cloak. This is placing the cart before the horse (p 65), but the Times agreed: the legitimate citizen was not a man of the crowd (p 66). While Trollope is looks at the problem of bellicosity in all its aspects (a duke can be as violent as a collier, e.g, Chiltern and Kennedy) and suggests women do not forgive blows (p. 67); it is the pedestrian’s encounter with crime that is the focus of the Palliser series as a whole.

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Chiltern heading for the duel

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Phineas waiting

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The duel

Trollope in his earlier phases seems pro-duel (p. 68): Godfrey goes over the history of attitudes towards duelling swiftly: it was always at odds with rule of law, but the first successful murder prosecution of a duellist was in 1838 (p 71): the voiced Victorian objection was a man left his family destitute. Trollope‘s depiction does, however, throughout betray a nostalgia for outmoded code of honor. His Chiltern resists the new cultural changes, and we are asked to see that when he can channel his violence into hunting, it is a splendid gift for providing healthy and even egalitarian (so Trollope argues though he knew how expensive it was) sports for men. Phineas reluctance is carefully not motivated by cowardice; Trollope means to show us that a man’s bravery need not depend on weapons; Phineas shows bravery and coolness in the face of death; he shoots up into the air, no murderer. The duel in Trollope is also a male secret, a male rite of passage (p 75); but we see how Phineas leaves himself open to Quintus Slide, to blackmail and finally an accusation of murder as a man of blood.

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Brooding Kennedy

Chapter 5: Lord Chiltern and Mr Kennedy are two violent poles. Chiltern is the unrestrained man of blood, he should exercise more self-control, there’s a lack of manliness in not being self-controlled; but violence in Chiltern stems from lack of purpose and frustration (p 78); fox hunting allows him to use and master his finer senses – there are fears here too of the over-sexed male; Anne Bronte’s Tenant of Wilfell Hall is anti-hunting. Godfrey points out that Children’s fiery temper does not harm him and men need physical confidence to survive.

Phineas too saves Kennedy, and the scene in Phineas Finn is based on a real life incident in 1862 sparking garrotting panic (pp.83-86). Trollope here seems for citizens arrest, and Phineas’s protection of Kennedy exemplary (by inference though Kennedy seen as impotent male who does not sexually satisfy his wife either). The norm here seems to be that the ideal (male) citizen does not actively seek confrontation, but exercises judgement (the right to bear arms is not the point). In Phineas Redux, he learns that you do not openly threaten, that weapons themselves are endanger people — he becomes too wrathful in his own disillusion and disappointment. His encounters with with Bonteen parallel encounters in earlier book; hunting scenes are parallel; this time Phineas hurts his horse, but this time frustration, his exclusion and feelings of inadequacy erupt. As ever Trollope is intrigued by what precipitates violent turn in human nature (p 108): what really unites all these stories is the male characters are driven into violence by a combination of what is expected of them as men (success) and what is thrown at them (scorn). Godfrey finds a parallel in the treatment of the cloak in Trollope’s Phineas Redux and one of Conan Doyle’s stories; more important is that Conan Doyle restricts his dramatization of males in psychological pain to the men Sherlock Holmes investigates and indites so that the latter series implicitly criminalizes what Trollope presents as part of his heroes’ behavior. (See my Heterosexual heroism in Trollope.)

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Stuart Wilson endows Ferdinand Lopez with a pained humiliated expression on his face before breaking out into threatened violence against his wife

There is in Phineas Redux and The Prime Minister a fascination with the murderous life–preserver (as we shall see fascination in Sherlock Holmes with exotic weapons) and other more usual weapons (whips). Interestingly, Godfrey likens Phineas wounded by lack of status, rank, respect with Dickens’s Bradley Headstone’s hatred of Eugene Wrayburn (in Our Mutual Friend) — but not Ferdinand Lopez’s; of course both books are virulent with antisemitism in the portraits of the whip-threatening Lopez and Emilius who does cravenly murder Bonteen from behind. So finally, as opposed to his newspaper article (“Ruffianism”), Trollope takes a stern, not comic approach, to the wielding of deadly weapons.

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The Adventure of Abbey Grange — beautifully brings all motifs together, woman needing protection, sadistic cruelty, flamboyant defenses

Part III: Physical Flamboyance in Holmes Canon (1887-1914): on Holmes and martial arts continued in comments section 3.

The conclusion and assessment of a change of norms in the era in comments section 4.

Ellen

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SolitaryCyclist
Original illustration for Conan Doyle’s “The Solitary Cyclist” by Sidney Paget

Dear friends and readers,

As reading and reviewing a book on the subject of violence, middle class masculinity and more specifically (among other things) garrotting and paranoia in the street life of London in the 19th century: Masculinity, Crime and Self-Defence in Victorian Literature, I read, was delighted by and so put onto my website another article by Anthony Trollope from the political magazine he was first editor for, St Paul’s – on my website:

“The Uncontrolled Ruffianism of London — as measured by the Rule of Thumb”

As you will see when you read it, it’s a tongue-in-cheek satire in response to one of the 19th century waves of paranoia where people and newspapers were over-reacting to instances of garrotting by arming themselves and Trollope’s point is partly that by carrying a dangerous weapon you may endanger far more than help yourself. The full context is xenophobia (fear of poor people emigrating into London, sometimes not white); unexamined prejudice against those who had committed crimes and become prisoners and been transported (recently there had been an enlightened compassionate movement to free them of their past with “ticket of leaves” for good behavior; and a general feeling of insecurity among middle class males who identified as gentlemen that they were losing their ability to defend themselves against physical violence.

What is relevant here is we can see Trollope would see the absurdity of the argument that carrying guns (the right to) protects people walking in the streets. I suspect he would not be surprised that nowadays we read regularly how the police murdered this and that suspect and claim the suspect frightened them with a weapon — because police come armed like military people in a war zone. He would see the “Stand your Ground” laws for what they are: an incitement to in effect lawless murder.

A secondary topic is violence in political gatherings and there Trollope assumes a conservative stance casually when he suggests that attributing political motivation to public assembly scenes which turn violent is a transparent mask for mob scenes stirred up (inexplicably it seems) by trouble-makers. As an upper class gentleman who has no problem voting and participating in political life, Trollope values order more than he does any reform.

The piece is funny. The rule of thumb is Trollope’s own long experience as a gentleman walker in London and that of all the similar people he’s known. He includes his wife who (it seems) has a penchant for losing handkerchiefs and blaming someone else.

Its fictional context includes Trollope’s own Palliser (or Parliamentary) novels at mid-century –the two Phineas ones and The Prime Minister where we have instances of attempted garrotting with our heroes (including Ferdinand Lopez) to the rescue and political gatherings which in the case of Phineas Finn turn somewhat violent and led to Phineas’s labor-voting landlord, Bunce (a minor character Trollope sympathizes with) being put in jail when he was out on a march for genuinely political reasons. So Trollope takes the opposite tactic of his non-fiction piece: he empathizes with a person who gets caught up in a demonstration to extend the suffrage (though Trollope is against the demonstration and blames the politicians who stir it up as irresponsible). Trollope also genuinely imagines assaults.

Nonetheless, if you think about the whole novels (and other of his later books where he reverses his early pro-duelling position), the thrust is for caution and self-control as part of those reactions which are most “manly” and effective. In Trollope’s Phineas Finn Phineas does not succeed in freeing Bunce easily (in Raven’s film he manages to bribe the jailer to let Bunce go the next morning). Phineas does duel with a “man of blood” (to be explained in my next blog), Lord Chiltern, and this does not hurt his career, but partly this is due to his having shot in the air and refused to wound Chiltern, in other words exercised high courage, patience in the face of possible death.

In Phineas Redux, on the other hand, Phineas loses control: he seethes at the way his attempt to renewing his career is being easily wrecked by Bonteen (a rival for advancement) and Quintus Slide’s slandering him for his continuing relationship with Lady Laura Kennedy. He does wear a life-preserver, one of the many death-wielding weapons beyond guns of the era, and it’s when he brandishes this at the door of his club and threatens Bonteen that he provides one of the pieces of circumstantial evidence against him as murderer of Bonteen that almost costs Phineas his life.

In The Prime Minister Everett Wharton, Ferdinand Lopez’s silly but privileged friend, shows himself a drunken ass when he perversely and proudly (to show himself more courageous and thus a better man than Lopez) by insisting on walking in a very dark spot of a park very late at night. He is inviting trouble, and garrotters oblige him.

Godfrey discusses Trollope and Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes where we see the same kind of resolutions. In earlier Sherlock Holmes’s stories there is a quicker resort to guns and violence than in the later; there is a fascination in all of them with over-wrought cruel weapons (using projectiles like soft bullets which do much inward damage to the human body); and finally in the later stories, “The Solitary Cyclist,” for example, a move to non-violent self-defense. In the story the good and bad guys resort to deadly guns, where Holmes prefers to use martial arts (e.g., boxing) which may wound but rarely kill.

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Declaring “everyone bear witness to my doing this in self-defense” Holmes prepares to box the violent cad Mr Woodley in “The Solitary Cyclist”

SolitaryCyclist2blog
Alan Plater, the script writer had the original illustrations in mind (in other of the 1980s series, the DVD includes sets of the illustrations, e.g. The Sign of Four)

Ellen

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PaulCriticalofRogerblog
TWWLN (Pt 2, Ep 12): fierce quarrel between Paul Montague (Cillian Murphy) and Roger Carbury (Douglas Hodge)

Dear friends and readers,

I am happy to be able to say the paper on “Masculinity and Epistolarity in Andrew Davies’s Trollope films” is finished, and accepted as excellent and fitting in very well with a projected volume on British costume and popular serial drama as a whole. (There are four essays on Downton Abbey, two on the Poldark series, one on The Forsyte Saga in it.) In order to keep the paper to 6700 words, I had to omit a bibliography and cut some parts of my argument; the parts chosen were about how Davies alludes to, critiques and even seeks to replace previous films adapted from the same book or another book by the same author. Davies extends his influence beyond how to read a particular book or author by alluding to and replacing earlier ones by a given author; he likes to comment on earlier films and mini-series too.

Davies has often described his approach to an author’s text he has adapted into a screenplay for a film or mini-series as “having a little quarrel” with “mine author.” He means playfully to refer to the way he will reverse, qualify and critique some of his author’s points of view and the characters’ acts and personalities. Most of the time Davies seeks to present a far more humane, and sometimes socialistic vision than his verbal sources.

His way of extending his readings’ influence in many of his films is to allude to and replace precursor films; for Trollope these include Alan Plater’s 1982 BBC six-hour Barchester Chronicles and Simon Raven’s 1974-75 BBC 26 hour Pallisers. In He Knew He Was Right Davies replaces Trollope’s Exeter and East End London with the décor, church ambiance and costume designs of Plater’s Barchester Chronicles to provide a note of needed cheer. The sets also bring home to us this idyllic matter of the 1980s was not shot through, as this film adaptation is, with gender and class betrayals, and exploitations of women. Something that never comes up in Trollope and Plater’s Barchester Chronicles and is made much of here is the need of a clergyman to be seen to be respectable, maintain a standard of life style and please his parishioners to survive.

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HKHWR (Pt 3, Ep 4); Dorothy Stanbury (Caroline Martin) reasoning with Brooke Burgess (Matthew Goode)

In Davies’s and Trollope’s HKHWR, the intelligent and candid Dorothy Stanbury (Caroline Walker dressed in a costume whose cut and design harks back to the previous film) tells her suitor who prefers to ignore this motive for her acceptance of him: “The world is filled with people whom nobody cares for, people that nobody thinks about, nobody talks about as if they’re not there … If a man is a nobody, he can make himself into somebody or at any rate, he can try, but a woman has no means of trying. She does not earn anything or do any good in the world.”

An analogous bleak awareness about why women marry, and the consequent “tyranny of husbands” is uttered by the Signori Neroni in Trollope’s Barchester Towers, although given a wistful turn by Plater and Susan Hampshire (the actress). Susan Hampshire playing the crippled Signora Neroni has been listening to her sister, Charlotte Stanhope, urge their penniless brother, Bertie, to court the widowed Eleanor Bold, to marry her for her money if he can. Obstacles include the heavy mourning Eleanor wears. Madeleine speaks a series of utterances which have undergone no change from Barsetshire Chronicles: “I hate such shallow pretenses. I’d let the world say what it pleased and show no grief [for a dead husband] if I felt none – perhaps not show it if I did,” and (when they in effect say nothing) “you both know in what way husbands and wive generally live together. You know what freedom a man claims for himself and what slavery he would exact from a wife and you know how wives generally obey. Marriage means tyranny on one side, and deceit on the other, and a man is a fool to sacrifice his interests to such a bargain. The tragedy is a woman generally has no other way of living” (Cf 1:4, Episode 5; BT 125-26).

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Barchester Chronicles (Pt 5, Ep 4): Signora Neroni (Susan Hampshire), disillusioned

This disillusioned awareness about marriage, as found in Trollope’s Barchester Towers and uttered by Susan Hampshire is central to Emily Trevelyan’s dilemma and the two other heroines who have no way of supporting themselves in the book, Nora Rowley and Dorothea Stanbury. Through these heroines Trollope utters and Davies repeats bleak versions of Madeleine’s comment. But Trollope shies away, offers no words which shed light on the novel’s sexual and emotional anxiety, distress, on jealousy, both the male and female’s desire to have unshared physical possession (the latter enshrined in marriage), their need for reassurance and respect, and urge to dominate. All that Trollope’s text contains (repeated many times) are Louis’s religious castigations (which Emily rejects as ugly name-calling) and demands for instant obedience. Davies makes us see that in fact Emily did flirt with Osborne, they talked disingenuously when they justified their implicitly erotic correspondence with one another, and Davies does what he can to reinforce and bring out versions of feminist self-assertion in his films.

One example: Lady Rowley (Geraldine James) trying to persuade Emily to own a fault and submit to her husband at least part way.

Emily: and offer him my humble penitence for sins I’d never committed
Lady R: but to have your home again dear and your little boy
Emily: by telling lies and living a lie
Lady R: you wouldn’t be the first women to do so

Emily stares, her father, Sir Marmaduke rustles his newspaper in discomfort resentful as if about to protest. Then Davies gives Emily a soliloquy by curtained window & flower arrangement to us:

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HKHWR (Pt 3, Ep 7): Emily (Laura Fraser) reasoning with us

if I simply said the words to him might they work like a spell would he change back to the Louie I first knew I could pretend pretend to be the humble penitent wife he wants (intense resentment understandable) and wait and take my chance and escape with little Louie … but where could we go that he couldn’t find us … then still looking at us

In The Way We Live Now Davies includes scenes which allude to the kind of behavior we find among males in both Barchester Chronicles and The Pallisers: Davies’s younger contemporary males attuned to the contemporary worlds of business and more liberated women expose the older men’s supposed sheerly chivalrous motives in wanting to marry a much younger woman as a mask for carnal appetites and control over everyone within the reach of their patronage; this achieved by treating women as children and presenting themselves as exemplary in all behaviors.

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TWWLN (Pt 2, Ep 7): again Paul Montague and Roger Carbury confront one another

Four scenes invented by Davies between Sir Roger Carbury (Douglas Hodge) and his cousin-nephew, Paul Montague (Cillian Murphy) are intended as commentary on the supposed chivalrous but actually possessive and repressive behavior of Plantagenet Palliser (Philip Latham) over Lady Glencora McClusky Palliser (Susan Hampshire). Davies’s TWWLN: Part 2, Episode 7: Paul: “For God’s sake, man, she’s not a piece of property for one man to take or another to keep. She has a will of her own and a heart of her own. In the end she will decide. She may not choose either of us”; Part 2, Episode 12: Paul: “You think and you speak of her as a child, Roger, all your intercourse with her has been as a grown man with a child and you offer yourself to her as a lover. How can you regard your advances to her with anything but embarrassment and disgust.”

Palliser’s father-like concern in participating in the forcing of a frustrated thwarted Lady Glencora to marry him forms another common typology in Trollope’s work, one shown to be justified by Trollope and Raven. In a striking scene which set alongside Trollope’s clearly is intended to critique this paradigm, Davies has his less than scrupulous young male hero, Paul Montague turn on Roger Carbury, Paul’s older guardian-uncle when (as in Trollope) Roger disdains Montague for spending a weekend with the married Winifred Hurtle, and accuse Roger of far worse behavior, of distasteful appetites and seeking exploitative control when Roger pursues the much younger and dowry-less Hetta. Roger’s response to this demonstrates how central Davies understands Paul’s direct thrust against Victorian male paternalism (and Trollope’s alter-egos) to be: “I don’t see how our relationship can survive this” (Cf. HKHWR (film), 2:2, Episodes 7, 12 and HKHWR 374-77)

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HKHWR (Pt 1, Ep 3): Emily with Osborne (Bill Nighy), a vision or daily happening?

In interviews Davies has said both The Way We Live Now and He Knew He Was Right are about “strong, confident ['modern'] women.” He sees Trollope’s He Knew He Was Right as “about a strong woman who is seeking to make her own decisions and lead her own life, and a rather fragile man who can’t stand up to her” (Walsh), an astonishing stance when placed in relationship to most essays about the book, which Davies clearly has read (e.g., Nardin 203-11).

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HKHWR (Pt 1,Ep 3): Emily overmastering Louis (Oliver Dimsdale)

Although Davies eliminates some of the worst explicit violence against women in Trollope’s novel, it’s Trollope’s dramatization of women’s subjection, caged delusions, sense of self, fierce materialism in conflict with their need for love, and tendency (as he sees it) to submit and sacrifice themselves to others that Davies turns to mildly subversive advantage in the stories of the partly re-characterized unchaste as well as chaste young heroines. The character Trollope meant to be one of the corrupt and deluded focuses of the book, Lady Carbury (in Trollope’s scathing view, a marketplace “female literary charlatan” if ever there was one, [Kincaid 173-74; McMaster 69, 76]), becomes an often sympathized-with vulnerable and sensual career woman.

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TWWLN (Pt 1, Ep 9), Lady Carbury (Cheryl Campbell) making up to Mr Broun (David Bradley) at her salon

Davies was attracted to The Way We Live Now by two male characters: “Sir Felix Carbury, so pathetic, yet very attractive to women. He’s utterly contemptible really, and is my favorite character”; “my character of Sir Roger [Carbury] is Trollope writing in a great fire of indignation about every aspect of English society” (PSB Website). Integrity as an element in male emotional weakness, and empathy with mean, vicious male characters have long been found in Davies’ filmic oeuvre (Cardwell, Davies 159-66, 84-94, 148-57), but the conventions and characterizations in Davies’s Trollope represents show Davies unsympathetic to Trollope’s moralisms, staid realism and specific characters in the 1974 Pallisers (which Davies sought to replace).

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TWWLN (Pt 1, Ep 6): Felix’s jaunty walk (Matthew Macfayden)

Felix Carbury is a type found throughout Trollope’s fiction: the ne’er-do-well drone attractive to women because he can be brutal to them, e.g., Burgo Fitzgerald whom Barry Justice plays (Pallisers 1:1–3:6) as a poignant tragic hero, a view consonant with Trollope’s text: Raven’s pathetic scene of Burgo as genuinely grief-stricken and abused, wounded in a justified pride (Pallisers 3:6, Episode 28) includes dramatic language taken directly from Can You Forgive Her? (690-700). Matthew MacFayden as Felix ends complacently playing cards, drinking whiskey, and is last seen chasing a flirtatious woman around a door, apparently content with life on a remittance in small European town (at least behaving no differently than he ever did). Neither Raven nor or Alan Plater (scriptwriter for the Barsetshire Chronicles) ever question the supposedly admirable motives of Trollope’s alter egos.

Davies’s particular brand of mild feminism within a masculinist perspective calls out for study since he has been so influential on how people respond to the books he’s adapted. He feels for weaker woman, e.g., in TWWLN Madame Melmotte’s nervousness is contrasted to Hetta (Paloma Baeza) and Mrs. Hurtle (Mirando Otto) as strong women: Madame Melmotte (Helen Schlesinger) clutches her hands in a characteristic gesture signaling a helpless woman listening to Melmotte’s last pragmatic advice: “You’d better pack up your jewels . . . pack ‘em up small, ready to hand . . . you might have to …”

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TWWLN (Pt 4, Ep 11): she wrings her hands

Not all is sombre; strength in woman can make gay scenes too. A mark of Davies’s real talent for play-writing (scripts for TV too) is the ability to convey a story through dialogue and make the dialogue itself of interest in different ways and at the same time create human sympathy for the characters. I was struck by this sparkling dialogue written by Davies for Caroline Spalding and Mr Glascock to speak to one another in their flirtatious phase at Florence; there is no such dialogue in Trollope, but it articulates the conflict of values between the two, and presents as sharp a critique of the US as the UK — which self-critique the American Senator Gotobed (American Senator) fudges:

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HKHWR (Pt 2 Ep 9): Miss Caroline Spalding (Anna Louise Plowman) holds her own; they begin their witty flirtatious debate with Caroline suggesting to Glascock (the name is deliberately parodically allegorical) he would not enjoy a visit or life in the US:

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Mr Glascock (Raymond Coulthard)

Caroline: You wouldn’t like it [the states]
Glascock: Why not?
Caroline: Because you’re an aristocrat
Glascock: And why should that prevent me from liking it
Caroline: One half of the people would run after you and the other half would run away from you on principle
Glascock: Revolutionary principle?
Caroline: Democratic principle
Glascock: And may I ask which half you’d be in [-- gets sly and sharp look now]
Caroline: The second half of course
Glascock: You’re not running away from me now
Caroline: No I’m not, am I? but I think I shall have to before too long
Glascock: Oh that would make me sad
Caroline: It would make me sad too but there we are I think it has to be done the old world and the new are like oil and vinegar you see we may be polite to each other in society but deep down you believe we’re an inferior race and
Glascock: mouths oh
Caroline: Deep down we’d like to smash your outdated snobbish institutions and make you like us free and equal
Glascock; Well, all Englishmen are free and we’re all equal in the eyes of god
Caroline: Oh and doesn’t that excuse a great deal of iniquity we freed our slaves Mr Glascock
Glascock: We never had slaves Miss Spalding
Caroline: No you just traded in them
Glascock: Well not me personally and my father was very active in the abolition movement (getting insulted now)
Caroline: None of this is personal, Mr Glascock
Glascock: I’m relieved to hear it.

The juxtapositon of this fresh love of Caroline and Glascock is cast odd light on by previous utterances about love and courtship by the 5 or 6 other couples of the novel (dependent on how you count them) and also Emily and Louis’s love: What will this couple be in a few years, we are led to ask. A deep scepticism about erotic love in this film is part of Davies’s presentation of male sexual anxiety too — she says this will end in tears. Then we get this witty half -challenging dialogue about old world and new aristocracy and democracy. Davies probably thinks of himself as outdoing his predecessor even in the area of naturalistic dialogue where Trollope is a past master too.

Ellen

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