Abraham Lincoln’s 1864 campaign slogan was "Don’t Change Horses in Midstream." We can all agree, I hope, that Lincoln was a wise man and that there is no shame therefore in following his advice. Coming into this week midway through reading Anthony Trollope’s Barchester Towers I was mindful that duty called me to abandon it and take up some prominent modern novel for review, such as The Corrections or Atonement, and yet at each attempt Lincoln’s credo, "Don’t Change Horses in Midstream," made itself plainly heard. And to its call I was obedience personified, leaping back into Trollope’s delightful world without a backward glance. It is a pleasant irony that Trollope, the gentlest and most understanding of character portraiturists, should have triumphed over his coarser modern rivals in this manner. Barchester Towers, after all, tells just such a story of the forces of tradition and humanity triumphing over those of progress and conceit. Clifton Fadiman once declared Trollope to be far and away the finest choice for bedside reading, noting Trollope’s engaging but not disturbing quality, interesting without being demanding, seamless stories which can be set down and picked up at any time or point. One can only agree, there is nothing so relaxing at the twilight of consciousness as Trollope. Indeed, there is something about Trollope, a delicacy, a sympathy, which provides a peaceful quality, a clarity as of the clarity of still water, a calmness beyond the reach of turbulent emotion, and yet not dispassionate nor lacking of judgement and discrimination, which is beyond the reach of other novelists. Only his contemporary, the great German novelist Theodore Fontane, shares this quality in full. Fontane worked his spell through dialogue, while Trollope animates his story with direct narration. What these writers share is a profound maturity, an amused discernment sensitive to the subtle differences between, foible, flaw and fault, of the various species of virtue. The underlying principle that orders the drama of Barchester Towers is that that which is most humane is best, for true understanding, like profound sleep, is "a present balm for all evils." Barchester Towers relates the drama surrounding the ascension of Bishop Proudie to the Bishopric of Barchester. The forward looking but somewhat irresolute Proudie, given this preferment over his rival, the Archdeacon Grantly, son of the late, and meek, Bisphop Grantly, only by a change of political administration, soon finds himself in the midst of a war for the soul of Barchester. And really, with so many vivid characters, and so much at stake, the reader may be forgiven for loitering in Barchester Towers long after duty has called itself hoarse in a futile summons to return from Trollope’s pages. It is a masterly touch indeed to so relieve the reader of any necessity but that of enjoyment. |
