Sunday, September 21, 2014

Jessica Witte on Volume 2 of *Barchester Towers*

           As we have discussed in class, realistic works often “push into” other genres, leading us to question what, exactly, defines the genre of realism.  Volume 2 of Barchester Towers can be characterized as a realistic melodrama that functions as a satirical commentary on the social rules governing Victorian society in general and Barchester clerical society in particular.  The drama, originating from Mr. Slope’s letter to Eleanor Bold containing improper content, develops in Chapter 28.  The Grantlys, Mr. Harding, and Mr. Arabin (or the “Grantlyites”) falsely interpret this correspondence as a sign that Mrs. Bold will soon become Mrs. Slope.  Because none of the characters is able to straightforwardly confront Eleanor, the rumor--which “one word” could have “cleared up” immediately--spirals out of control, increasing both the characters’ concern for her future and the novel’s melodrama (Chp. 28).
  
           In his letter, Mr. Slope refers to Eleanor’s son as “my darling little friend Johnny” who pulls on his mother’s “beautiful long silken tresses” (Chp. 27).  While this intimate correspondence makes Eleanor “nauseous,” it merely confirms her family’s suspicion that the two are planning to be married (Chp. 28).  This creates a dramatic irony wherein readers know that Eleanor has not tried to “encourage” Mr. Slope’s behavior, while the characters at Plumstead believe the opposite (28).  Within the strict rules governing nineteenth-century decorum, it would indeed be suspect for a single clergyman to address a widow in such a manner.  However, the narrator acknowledges that Mr. Slope “could not be expected” to understand the impropriety of his letter, suggesting a disconnect between middle- and upper-middle-class social norms (Chp. 27).  While the Grantlys and Proudies earn upper-class salaries typical of the clerical elite, Mr. Slope is a parvenu whom the former do not consider a true gentleman.  

         At the same time, the narrator also presents a satirical commentary upon Mr. Slope’s inability to “practice what he preaches”; as a purported Christian, Slope pursues the married Madame Neroni and manipulates everyone around him using the cowardly method of writing letters.  Excluded from the clerical elite both socially and (as the narrator suggests) ethically, Mr. Slope would not understand why his correspondence with Mrs. Bold is both odious and inappropriate.  In the Grantly’s world—which rests on the moderation of change—the only acceptable relationship to the low-church zealotry represented by the Proudie/Slope faction is one of pure disgust and rejection. 

           Furthermore, the narrator notes that Eleanor “[fails] to see that much more had been intended than was expressed” in Mr. Slope’s letter (Chp. 28).  Here, the narrator references her angelic nature as the perfect Victorian woman, a complete foil to Madame Neroni, the female sexual predator of the novel.  While Madame Neroni, the “noxious siren,” can “in no way live without catching flies” (men), Eleanor appears, at least in Chapter 28, innocent of coquetry and ignorant about the ways of men (Chp. 27).  However, we know this is not true; as a widow, Eleanor has a greater knowledge of men than perhaps she lets on.  
         
           Nevertheless, she is in the middle chapters that comprised the novel’s original second volume , too pure and meek to fully understand Mr. Slope’s designs, yet none of the characters take it upon themselves to discuss the gravity of his letter with her.  Even Mr. Harding’s “authority” over Eleanor “ceased when she became the wife of John Bold,” and he wishes to leave his daughter to her own choices (Chp. 28).  While young women without husbands are generally subjected to their fathers’ will, Mrs. Bold possesses a certain kind of freedom to freely judge on her own.  However, Dr. and Mrs. Grantly and the rest of the Grantlyites attempt to dissuade her from her correspondence with Mr. Slope.  Although Eleanor “greatly dislike[s]” Mr. Slope, she also believes that the Grantlyits are “prejudiced and illiberal in their persecution of him,” and so refuses to participate in the “persecution” of him (28).  Eleanor’s independent morality, rather than her purported affection for Mr. Slope, fuels the rumors, allowing the melodrama to continue. 

           At the same time, Eleanor’s innocence prevents her from defending herself against the rumors.  At dinner at Plumstead, the narrator describes Eleanor’s response to the “elephant in the room”:
She felt that she had been tried and found guilty of something; though she knew not what.  She longed to say to them all, ‘Well, what is it that I have done?  out with it, and let me know m crime; for heaven’s sake let me hear the worst of it; but she could not.  She could say nothing, but sat there silent, half feeling that she was guilty...” (28).


If only Eleanor could have asked these questions she raises internally!  However, as the narrator later acknowledges, “but then where would have been my novel?” (28).  The melodrama surrounding the potential Mrs. Slope extends into the final volume, sustaining its satirical purpose.  Ironically, it is Eleanor’s adherence to Christian morality that perpetuates the drama.  At this point, she can only quell the rumors that she will be married to Mr. Slope by falling into what she sees as Proudie/Grantlyite hypocrisy and condemning the young clergyman, allowing the “war” to continue between the two factions.

4 comments:

  1. Hi Jessica, I love this post! This plot strikes me as so melodramatic and yet, as you note, believable given the decorum of the time. I was particularly interested by the fact that this entire plot arises from Eleanor being so virtuous that she can’t even compute that people would think she’d marry Mr. Slope. I absolutely agree that this sets her up as the Victorian ideal of femininity, the foil to Madame Neroni, though I would add that Trollope extends this satire past Mr. Slope. Eleanor is castigated by the very people who claim to uphold decorum and morality, and she’s condemned by them on the precise moral basis that we readers know she is upholding. What does it say that society can’t recognize its own ideal?

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  2. Very interest, Jessica. This post makes me think about identity in Barchester Towers. It seems that everyone is rather unsure of their identity or wishing to change it/portray themselves as something different. Slope is out of his league in terms of ambition and operation, Mrs. Proudie struggles with not being the Bishop, the Bishop himself has virtually no identity and is a sponge to the influences around him, and the entire Stanhope clan is either unsure of what they want to be or outright masquerading as something they are not. The Grantly's seem to both define themselves by their history, rather than their present, and Harding seems content to just not interfere. You might even say that Eleanor is the only one most clear about who she is, as she seems to define herself as a mother in moments of crisis, and returns to her son when she is angry with the characterization thrust upon her by the people around her.

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  3. Excellent and really interesting material Jessica. I agree that the mode of *Barchester Towers* is realism tinged with comic and satirical elements. And I do agree too that it waxes melodramatic though I think it's worth asking ourselves what melodrama is in this context. Brooks's idea of the melodramatic imagination and or melodrama in Balzac as a kind of "moral occult" is one version of melodrama (and a deliberately unusual one) that we've encountered thus far. What he's resisting there is the commonplace understanding of melodrama as an inferior narrative mode that appeals to popular sensibilities through exaggerated (and thus unrealistic) events that produce affect in characters and readers. Certainly Trollope's Barsetshire novels deliberate avoid sensation themes and settings. His stories are deliberately ordinary: a new bishop introduces a low-church position that his wife and chaplain want to enforce; the chaplain wants power and a rich wife; this results in a young widow's family misunderstanding her relationship with that chaplain; and so on... And yet I do think you're right that what ensues is melodramatic in a particular way. It will be interesting to discuss this!

    In answer to Sam's question: I'm not sure that Eleanor is precisely the social ideal though she is ideal in many ways for Trollope's narrator. Think, for example, of her resistance to Mr. Arabin's claim that the archdeacon should be her (figurative) bishop. As a prosperous widow with a lenient father Eleanor is not quite controllable--in many ways utterly uncontrollable. Madame Neroni also occupies an ambivalent zone. As a married woman estranged from her husband neither the husband (because she's separated from him) nor her father (because she is a married woman) controls her. And then of course there is Mrs. Proudie and Mrs. Quiverful: both of whom in very different ways take affairs into their own hands. Trollope loves to explore these unusual female subject positions through which ostensibly "feminine" women exert forms of influence that are the men in their lives find hard to contend with.

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  4. Your post, Jessica, raises a number of really perceptive points. Of great interest to me is the question of female identity and, by extension, agency. Eleanor occupies a unique social position in that she is a wealthy, relatively autonomous widow. Yet so much of what makes her unusual is, in many cases, her almost unbelievable incapacity to recognize the motivations and subtext of other characters' speech and actions. At times, Trollope appears to describe Eleanor's "agency" as something wholly outside her own perception. By contrast, many of other female characters - Madame Neroni, Mrs. Proudie, and even Charlotte Stanhope - are active agents in constructing and maintaining their powers and influence. It is interesting to note the ways in which each female character is strong, yet Eleanor appears to be so often in spite of herself.

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