To Trollope-l

November 7, 2000

Re: Is He Popenjoy?, Chs 18-23: The Chilling Marquis & Raw Talk

Thus far those who have written about this week's chapters have concentrated on the Marquis and his awfulness. I used the word repellent; Teresa called him chilling; Judy said he is totally without redeeming attraction or virtue, but I don't know that he is 'a jerk', and I disagree with the inferences RJ has pulled out by concentrating on the character of Lord George. I'd reverse them, and say that through the Marquis Trollope is intent on showing us how far we deviate in our real emotions from what we profess, how much 'bad faith' seethes beneath our behavior which is continually materialistic and prestige-oriented in its motives.

What is it that makes the Marquis awful? This: the 'norms' or mores and morals the characters pretend to are dismissed by him; he sneers at anyone who professes interest in his concerns from an altruistic point of view. He openly will not countenance any hypocrisy, because, says he, I don't believe it for a moment. In other words, he won't let anyone get away with pretending to care about him. Take this typical scene. The Marquis has just told his sisters that his wife (for the moment we will use this label) speaks no English and his family had better not trouble themselves with seeing or conversing with her. Says our narrator:

'This was dreadful to them all. It was monstrous to them that there should be a Marchioness of Brotherton, a sister-in-law, living close to them, whom they were to acknowledge to be the reigning marchioness, and that they should not be allowed to see her?' (Folio Society IHP?, introd. DSkilton, Ch 21, p. 164).

Why? Why is it dreadful? Notice the narrator's language: austere. Not a hint of emotional connection; they want to see this woman because they are to have to treat her as above them, their Top Lady, and therefore demand that in return they must be allowed to see her. Do they put it this way? No. Instead we get the Marquis's mother sobbing because it hits her that she may perhaps not be allowed to see the woman's baby, to carry on in the language and perspective the narrator has provided for us, the entity who is to be treated as the Coming Top Man. So the Marquis says

'"I suppose he can be brought down, if you care about it'.

'Of course we care about it', said the Lady Amelia.

'They tell me he is not strong, and I don't suppose they'll let him come out in such weather. You'll have to wait. I don't think anybody ought to stir out in this weather. It doesn't suit me, I know. Such an abominable place as it is I never saw in my life. There is not a room in the house that is not enough to make a man blow his brains out'.

Lady Sarah could not stand this, or did she think it right to put up with the insolence of his manner generally. 'If so, she said, 'it is a pity that you came away from Italy'.

He turned sharply round and looked at her for an instant before he answered. And as he did so she remembered the peculiar tyranny of his eyes -- the tyranny to which, when a boy he had ever endeavoured to make her subject, and all others around him ... (Ch 21, p. 165)

What is it that Lady Sarah cannot stand? After all, if they care about the boy, why should they want him to come out in the cold and risk his health? You see the Marquis is mocking them -- _sotto voce_ of course. They couldn't give a goddamn about this particular baby or his mother. In fact, they are repelled by the idea he is Italian, dark, not 'one of them'. They are pretending to the opposite emotions of what they feel.

Throughout this week's chapters people come to visit the Marquis in the full expectation that he will countenance their pretense that they want to be his friend, want to know his wife, because they care about him and her and this baby. What they care about is their position _vis-a-vis_ the rest of the community: Dr Pounter, the Dean, his sisters and mother, Lord George. What after all does Lord George really think when he holds the precious (why precious?) baby:

there entered the room an Italian nurse with a little boy who seemed to Lord George to be nearly two years old. The child was carried in by the woman, but Lord George thought that he was big enough to have walked. He was dressed up with many ribbons, and was altogether as gay as apparel could make him. But he was an ugly, swarthy little boy, with great black eyes, small cheeks, and a high forehead -- very unlike such a Popenjoy as Lord George would have liked to have seen (Ch 23, p. 185).

The first thought that crosses his mind is how old is the child? The size of it suggest illegitimacy. The second is a thought that expresses his distaste. He is judging the child not humanly, but as a specimen which will be admired or liked or accepted according to tribal or, to use the modern word, racist criteria. It's not blonde, not blue-eyed; it's ugly -- according to these criteria.

This is not an argument on behalf of the Marquis's refusal to countenance the daily hypocrisies, and continual half and full-lies by which people manage to interact with one another and maintain relationships. It is a description of what Trollope is doing: he is presenting us with a figure who lays bare to us, as one reviewer of the period put it, 'how very slight are the barriers which part modern civilization from ancient savagery', to use RJ's apt term, our bad faith. Why bad? We are only faithful to our pretenses if the other side upholds the external ceremonies, chooses partners based on phenotype appearances.

Everytime the Marquis appears within a very few lines the characters fall into the rawest and ugliest kind of talk. What makes it raw and ugly? He evokes the truth; by refusing to play along, by refusing to pretend to care, he makes the other person fall back on what he or she is really there for: some acknowledgement of status, of obligation, of assumed promise that one side will uphold the other should it become necessary. Note, for example, that what the Marquis actually says is not unreasonable at first; it is only after the other person gets indignant that no pretenses are to be had and then demands either a pretense of affection or acknowledgement of prestige and obligation that the Marquis becomes irritated and then scornful:

'"Dr Pounter. Well; I do remember you, certainly. But we have all grown older, you know'.

'I came', said the doctor, with a face redder than ever, 'to pay my respects to your lordship, and to leave my card on your wife'.

'We are obliged to you -- very much obliged. Unfortunately we are both invalids'.

The doctors had been a great many years at Brotherton ,and had know the old marquis well. (Ch 22, p. 169).

Why does the doctor's face go red? Brotherton has merely said the truth. What does the doctor want from Brotherton? Respect based on rank -- and rank exists in a context where others don't have it. He wants to leave his card with the Marquis's wife. This is hilarious. Remember what Crawley thought about this interchange of cards. What the narrator in _The Last Chronicle_ thought that was all about.

I need not go over the scene with the Dean, just point out how much worse it is, how much longer it goes on, how more strident and explicit become the demands for acknowledgement of high status, obligation, and when these are not countenanced how the Dean begins to hint how he will bring the Marquis down. Why? The Marquis may not be married to this woman, or may not have married her before this child was born. Why should the Marquis pretend to care when it takes so little to bring this sort of blackmail to the surface?

The quarrels themselves are remarkable, not because what is said is so strange. If you look at the words, you find the kind of thing that goes on everyday in many families, the sort most of us are familiar with when the guests leave. What is remarkable is Trollope's courage to show us what real family life is. The place where people feel they have the right to tell each other truths about one another, the place where people intensely pressure one another to do things all of them find unpleasant but are driven to demand because, it's how you get respect, money, prestige, and therefore safety. Brotherton's sisters are only safe because a legal document gives them the right to the dower house. In another novel you might find these women driven out of their dower house just as inexorably, but the motives for this would be presented obliquely, the novelist would show us a character half-deluded by his own motives, partly loving, and we would forgive or understand -- or identify.

I say we are asking the wrong question about this character if we ask for an immediate motive for his behavior. He is not behaving this way because he has anything to hide. If he had something to hide for real, he might just self-interestedly placate. There is nothing immediate to come out that can explain such behavior. It is not psychologically consistent with a character who has something to hide. The behavior is Trollope's device, or excuse or rationale to present to us scenes in which the raw savage demands people make on one another before they even agree to pretend to care or really care for one another. Because the characters -- who stand in for people -- can and do care for one another. But only on terms. Not unqualifiedly as human beings, even inside families.

Cheers to all,
Ellen Moody

Date: Tue, 7 Nov 2000
Reply-trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Is He Popenjoy?, Chs 18-23: The Chilling Marquis & Raw Talk

Hello all

I really enjoyed Ellen's comments on the Marquis, which are really making me look at this whole theme of the novel with new eyes, and I am convinced by her suggestion that he says what the others think, but would never dare to say.

I like the idea of him stripping away the hypocrisies of the more sympathetic characters, and showing the ugliness of their secret thoughts - let's face it, their greedy hopes that his son may be illegitimate or likely to die, so that they can get the money.

Reading this section, it seems to me as if, through his satirical portrayal of the Marquis, Trollope is really showing up the iniquities of the whole system where the oldest son of an aristocratic family gets everything, while the younger sons and daughters may be left with next to nothing. Really, by taking this "eldest son" idea to extremes, he brings out what actually happens (or happened then, anyway) in this type of great family, if in a less dramatic way.

The Marquis turns his sisters and mother out of their home and brings his wife in to take over. This is just what aristocratic sons do all the time in the world of Trollope and other 19th-century novelists - but usually they do it stealthily, gradually, observing the social niceties. The outspoken Brotherton (how ironic that his name includes the word brother) can't be bothered with any of that. He banishes his family from the house and would banish them from the area if he could manage it.

Similarly, the ridiculous doting of the feeble mother brings out the folly of placing one child above the others, and assuming that everything that child does is right simply because he was born at the top of the pecking order. The other children, especially Lady Sarah, really care for their mother - but all she is bothered about is the son whose name is in the Peerage, so it seems!

Bye for now,
Judy Geater

From Ellen:

Re: Is He Popenjoy?, Chs 18-23: The Insufferable Mother

Judy Warner wrote that

'more shocking than [Brotherton's] arrogance is his mother's siding with him as he is discarding her -- my only way of understanding what he's about is that he doesn't want anyone who knows him to be where they can look closely at what's happening.'

How are we to understand the mother's craven clinging? In the face of her son's frank boredom with her company and distaste for his sisters' presence, his refusal to pretend they care about him, offers to be his spy. Is she stupid? It is she who lets him know for the first time that his relatives are going to disbelieve in his child's legitimacy:

'"If they don't see him, they may think he isn't Popenjoy at all.'

"Oh, they'll think that, will they? How will seeing him help?"

"It would be so nice to have him here, if it's only for a little", said the marchioness.

"So that's it", he said, after a long pause.

"That's George's game, and the dean's; I can understand."

She has "let the cat out of the bag" (Folio Society IHP?, introd. DSkilton, Ch 22, pp. 175-76).

That pause, that silence is important. (This is a novel where silences are important.) I will argue (later on when we get more evidence) that the Marquis is married to this Italian woman, and that there is not only not enough evidence to disprove the child's legitimacy, but the Marquis's behavior suggests the child is legitimate. Here at this moment is my first 'proof'. The Marquis is surprised because the child is not a bastard. And his rage increases as the book goes on because it is not. I am not giving anything away here; this is not a spoiler. What I am doing is pointing out to people that we have had our first piece of evidence that the child is Popenjoy.

Back to the mother? Is she stupid for giving this game away? No. She wants to help her son. Why? It's curious we should have to ask this question. Don't we believe in motherlove? Motherlove is inalienable we say -- or is it? Do we really believe that? Trollope is playing a mean game with the reader here. Don't we expect that mother love is on terms too? Has its limits? What kind of ass is this woman for enacting cant?

It is hard to believe she loves this man as she has hardly seen him. As lachymose as are her utterances about the baby, if we look carefully at the language she uses to Brotherton, what she values in him is his rank. She adores him because he's the Top Male, 'not like everyone else you know', 'the head of the family' If we quarrel with him, what will become of us'. She lives in fear of the loss of hierarchy; she is terrorized by a void beyond. They ought to move out of the dower house and go to whatever hovel he asks them to because not to do so is to undermine what this weak woman has clung to as her safety all her life. Lady Sarah understands this motive; she also perceives that her mother will act as his spy, a mole (Ch 23, p. 181).

There is also another angle for our distaste for her. I'm afraid I have to bring sex in again. The scenes are drenched in masochism. She seems to have emotions so strong they are analogous to orgasms when she tells him she will not rebel against him just after he has inflicted much emotional pain on her by his refusals to pretend, e.g.,

'"You will not rebel against me, I suppose?"

"Oh no; my son, my son!' Then she fell upon his neck, and he suffered it for a minute, thinking it wise to make sure of one ally in that house' (Ch 22, p. 177).

There is an analogous couple: Augusta Mildmay and Jack de Baron. Augusta wants to fall upon Jack's neck; her letter is a plea to permit this, but not having any advantage to gain from it, he tells her to 'drop it'.

There are contrasting couples. Interestingly their similar scenes also end chapters. Take Adelaide and Lord George. He is now visiting her regularly :). In a curious sudden turn at the close of one visit, she leaves off her role as dominatrix, and suddenly tells him she still loves him. The language suggests she lives in a wasteland. We have been shown enough to know that her husband is a waste of time in bed. There will be no children here. She is also suddenly attracted to him physically because the sex is forbidden. What has kept him off is the knowledge she is married to another man; his sense he is not supposed to betray another man is what comes to his mind repeatedly. But there is no such atavistic or primal motive for her, and we get after her confession of dryness (a neat metaphor: her plant is fading),

'"I did not mean to say all this," she exclaimed at last, sobbing.

"Adelaide! he said.

"Do you love me? You may love me without anything wrong".

"Indeed I do". Then there came the embrace ,and after that he hurried away, almost without another word' (Ch 18, p. 143).

This is matched by Mary's refusal to knuckle under to George's demand she stop meeting and flirting with Jack de Baron because Jack de Baron 'has done mischief in his time' (Ch 16, p. 125). To this understanding Mary replies:

'"If you are going to be jealous, I shall wish that I were dead".

Then she burst out crying; and he, though he would not quite own that he had been wrong, was forced to do so practically by little acts of immediate tenderness" (Ch 20, p. 159).

In both scenes it is Lord George who takes on the role of the weak person in the sexual interaction.

I'll conclude this posting by referring to another silence in the text: Lord George's relationship to his mother. There seems to be none. She doesn't obey him; she seems not to notice he's there. After all, she might say, he is the second son. Were this a modern novel, we would be justified in explaining the Marquis's conduct, Lord George's weakness, the repressive lives of the sisters by reference to their upbringing. We would analyze the mother to see where the interaction of the family romance had gone wrong. We might say her very permissiveness and open need of her older son, her worship of him has turned him into this super-proud person who needs no one, has made the second son this unsure, anxious unmasterful man, has made all her daughters but one retreat from sex and marriage. Who would be her? Who would obey such men as the Marquis and Lord George? Trollope is sufficiently astute to provide a text which will bear this kind of interpretation though it's not consciously intended. The characters simply appear full-blown, their personalities innate.

Still it's interesting to think this way partly because I'd like to end this posting with another poem by Philip Larkin, one I thought of last week when we shared the other two. It's a favorite of mine: I find it exhilarating because of its intense deflation and the rare truth it tells. I offer the idea that if the Marquis, Lord George, the sisters, Mrs Houghton, and the enigmatic Jack were modern characters they might write it as a poem had they the nerve. I admit only the Marquis and perhaps Mrs Houghton would:

This Be the Verse

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

Cheers to all,
Ellen Moody

Date: Tue, 7 Nov 2000
Reply-trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Is He Popenjoy, Chs 18-23: The Insufferable Mother

Ellen wrote:

Back to the mother? Is she stupid for giving this game away? No. She wants to help her son. Why? It's curious we should have to ask this question. Don't we believe in motherlove?

It is hard to believe she loves this man as she has hardly seen him. As lachymose as are her utterances about the baby, if we look carefully at the language she uses to Brotherton, what she values in him is his rank. She adores him because he's the Top Male, 'not like everyone else you know', 'the head of the family' If we quarrel with him, what will become of us'. She lives in fear of the loss of hierarchy; she is terrorized by a void beyond.

I can see all of this, and this was my interpretation as to why she's making such a valiant attempt to make peace within the family. How could a mother do otherwise, really? Could she love him less for treating her the way he did? I wonder if she doesn't have some sort of maternal guilt and turns things around to blame herself instead of Brotherton. I'm not saying she's done anything to feel guilty about, but it is the natural inclination of the mother to think she's gone wrong when a child disappoints.

I'll conclude this posting by referring to another silence in the text: Lord George's relationship to his mother. There seems to be none. She doesn't obey him; she seems not to notice he's there. After all, she might say, he is the second son.

We might say her very permissiveness and open need of her older son, her worship of him has turned him into this super-proud person who needs no one, has made the second son this unsure, anxious unmasterful man, has made all her daughters but one retreat from sex and marriage.

Very interesting, Ellen. It's fascinating to analyze the characters and try to figure out why they've turned out the way they have. Looking at it this way it makes Trollope seem all the better novelist, and all the better judge of human behaviour.

Trollope is sufficiently astute to provide a text which will bear this kind of interpretation though it's not consciously intended. The characters simply appear full-blown, their personalities innate.

That's it exactly, and I'm left with an even deeper respect for Trollope after reading your analysis of the matter. Trollope does seem so much more subtle, than, say Dickens, and my first reads of Trollope surprised me as I found him so much more sparing than Dickens and Thackeray.

At first I wasn't sure I was fond of Trollope's style, until I got used to having to listen a bit harder to catch the nuances. He doesn't seem to use the sort of exaggerated characters, or slapstick humour, of the other two writers, and requires a different approach to reading. However, I can't say he's any less a writer because of it. In fact, the deft way he handles things may actually make him the superior craftsman. I shall have to think a bit more about this, as it turns my former prejudices on their ear..

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

An impressive poem, Ellen. I thank you for posting it. I've been given much food for thought today!

Lisa Guidarini

From Ellen:

Re: Is He Popenjoy?: Chs 18-23: A Vein of Intense Mockery

I hope no one thinks I have not appreciated the humor of this book. It is funny. Miss Doctor Olivia Q. Fleabody's comment just at the exquisitely most absurd moment of Baronness Banmann's speech, 'She is very great tonight -- very great indeed' (Folio Society ISP, introd. DSkilton, Ch 17, p. 132), is high class wit.

There is a vein of intense mockery everywhere in this novel. In this week's instalment it came out in the story of Mary's increasing intimacy with Jack de Baron. How I wish we were given some of their amusing dialogues. I bet I would not find what he says nonsense -- even if Mary would label it so.

Among the characters who are most in control of this mockery, who use it for their own purposes is Adelaide Houghton. She and Lord George are talking, and he is nervous, gloomy about his wife's relationship with good 'ole Jack. He has just learnt that Mary has an appointment to meet Jack at Adelaide's house. He feels ill inside, and Adelaide answers what he does not say but merely looks:

"Of course, dear Mary has to amuse herself", said the lady, answering the man's look rather than his words. "And why should she not?"

"I don't know that bagatelle is a very improving occupation".

"Or Jack a very improving companion, perhaps. But I can tell you, George, that there are more dangerous companions than poor Jack. And then, Mary, who is the sweetest, dearest young woman I know, is not impulsive in that way. She is such a child. I don't suppose she understand what passion means. She has the gaiety of a lark, and the innocence. she is always soaring upwards, which is so beautiful" (Ch 20, p. 156).

Such a child, so sweet, so dear, so innocent, always soaring up, how beautiful it is.

The question the reviewers asked at the time, Is what mood of bitterness did Trollope write this book in, as if there is something unusual for Trollope here. It's true he doesn't often lay his cards on the table, reveal so very stingingly his real attitude towards these supposedly sweet chaste self-possessed heroines he has to put up for sale to make his books read by people with money to buy them.

We are then told in the next paragraph that Mary's not good in bed. Lord George has denied that there 'is much soaring upwards in bagatelle'. True enough, says Adelaide. Still Mary

'"... is not mischevious.

"I hope not."

"Nor is she -- passionate. You know what I mean". He did know what she meant ..." (Ch 22, p. 156)

What then bothers him is that "he is to regard himself as safe, not because his wife loved himself, but because it was not necessary to her nature to be in love with anyone!" (p. 156). In coded language, this means she is not a sexually arousable woman and so will not be unfaithful.

What interests me is how in novel after novel Trollope teaches women they should be chaste, presents us as admirable women who seem to have scarcely any intense passion anywhere. He loathes the Disabilities for their lack of sex, their aggression. In many novels he fears women's sexuality when it is clearly there and strong. Now he turns around and shows how he regards such women with mocking distaste too -- as, he might have said in his own language, prudes who don't pleasure a man. But then if you are to have women obey the patriarchy, to fit in and remain one man's property, you ought to be glad of this, Mr Trollope. You are writing your books to support it, aren't you? There are a number of excellent critical books which talk of Trollope's anti-puritanism, his robust hedonism and show how this works out into his hatred for fundamentalist religion and its sexual hypocrisies and repressions (as in _John Caldigate_ among many novels).

For once we come upon a passage where we begin to wonder exactly what was Trollope's attitude towards heroines like Mary Lovelace. Perhaps he hadn't worked it out himself. In this novel at any rate he is not going to idealise her, not going to keep her at a distance from us, but reveal to us some of her hypocrisies and some of the reasons she can keep up her chaste, upper-class above-it-all act, reasons which are neither particularly admirable or pleasant.

Ellen Moody

Date: Tue, 7 Nov 2000
Reply-trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Is He Popenjoy?

Ellen's posting on the Marquis's behaviour has really made me think. I wonder if Trollope is suggesting that it is the expectation that we will be courteous to each other which keeps society and our relationships workable. You are right of course, much of it is false and pays lip service to caring and sharing, but how would our lives be if we always told other people how we felt about them! Trollope explores this with great skill and also how the various callers react to the Marquis's honesty/rudeness. Their reactions reveal a great deal about their own personalities. I find the Marquis totally unsympathetic so far, as I am sure I am meant to do, but strangely fascinating.

George's feelings are becoming more confused as he tries to assert himself with Mary and becomes more deeply ensnared by Augusta. He really doesn't know whether he is coming or going! I am wrapt in the book. It has so many levels.

Gwyn, I loved your poem "The Ruined Maid." Wonderfully cynical. It made me laugh. Where can it be found?

Back to the Marquis and his mysterious wife.

Cheers. Teresa

From Pat:

Date: Tue, 07 Nov 2000
Reply-trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Is He Popenjoy?

I too have had trouble with the Marquis and even after finishing the book don't understand him (but did wonder at one point if maybe he had syphilis destroying his body, brain, and child, but I can't back that up at all). But perhaps we don't need to know just how he became so awful; the point is, he is, and perhaps has been since childhood,and perhaps as Ellen suggests, he serves to call attention to the ugly truths under the veneer of civilization. That brought to mind the American Senator, who served to point out so many problems with English society in his book.

He too was disagreeable but served a purpose. It is sad that people bow to this man and this system, the Dean in particular sacrificing his daughter so that his future grandson would be a marquis. Who would want to be a Marquis like this one? Another random observation is how the Marquis distances himself from the child. It is always "they tell me the child is not strong" or whatever.He doesn't seem to have a personal relationship with it either, or with his wife. Very odd and very sad.One last thought: although he sees no need to act like a gentleman and is contemptuous of those who go through the motions, he still expects them to do so and will be aghast when one of our main characters finally ceases to act like one. Stay tuned! Love this book. Pat

To Trollope-l

November 7, 2000

Re: Is He Popenjoy?: A Dark Mirror

This is to thank everyone for their kind appreciations of my postings this morning. This is a fascinating book, very rich in its saturnine way.

I thought I'd respond to Teresa's meditation:

'I wonder if Trollope is suggesting that it is the expectation that we will be courteous to each other which keeps society and our relationships workable. You are right of course, much of it is false and pays lip service to caring and sharing, but how would our lives be if we always told other people how we felt about them!'

This makes me think of several lines. One by Austen in the character of Mr Knightley. At Box Hill, one of the characters proposes a game whereby each is to tell the others what they are thinking. Mr Knightley demurs with a resonant statement about how that is the last thing people should ever do. Another is by Freud, perhaps in Civilisation and Its Discontents where he talks of how our institutions and manners are fragile barriers by which we contain our aggressions and sexual appetites. They are a form of slowly evolved pretenses everyone agrees upon. We need them. Yes Trollope is suggesting these are what keep our relationships 'workable'. A good flexible word.

Like Pat, I see this novel as I did The American Senator: it's a kind of mirror we gaze into. Trollope doesn't advise us to do this or act that way. He gives us an exaggerated depiction of aspects of human behavior which highlight truths about us against an austere or very high-minded standard of love, sincerity, humanity, loyalty. We are found wanting. It's not that Trollope thinks we are going to change, or that we should imitate the Marquis at all. Just that we should know ourselves. It reminds me of More's Utopia. More pictures a communist society, one where no one owns any property and the monetary and competitive basis of society is swept away. He doesn't do this because he wants us to imitate this. He does so to caricature our society so we can see that our way of measuring one another, our goals are through aggrandizement of property. He shows us how absurd our customs and habits are through reversals in this context. So did Butler in his Erewhon.

About two weeks ago I talked about how we tend too much to get bogged down in talking about characters psychologically or as if they are people. If we approach the Marquis sheerly that way, it's hard to make sense of him (unless we pretend the novel was written after Freud or apply Freudian concepts to it). But if we approach him emblematically or allegorically (given the allegory here is highly sophisticated), then the novel renders its significance to us beautifully. The Marquis, the Top Male of the book, becames the central figure in a carpet, an extreme version of everyone else who shows up everyone else. One might complain this novel is too narrow in its scope, hunting down too narrow a terrain of human nature, not very charitable. It is highly controlled satire driving to a few points.

It makes me wonder what exactly was the inner psychic life, the sensibility of the man called Trollope, what was his perception of the experience of life at this time. Also what was his attitude towards his readers after a lifetime of writing books and listening to and attempting to live upon their responses to these books.

I hope I am not too wordy. It is late and I am tired.

Cheers to all,
Ellen Moody

Date: Tue, 7 Nov 2000
Reply-trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] IHP?: Adelaide Houghton--did she set up Lord George?

When Lord George went to see Adelaide Houghton on what was going to be his postponed "breaking off" of every thing trip, she told him that Mary was expected as there was "sort of an engagement" for her to play bagetelle with Jack de Baron. This is on the same day that Adelaide sent the letter to Lord George's club, the letter that rather frightened him into going to see her before before she did anything further that might raise suspicions.

Adelaide conveniently says that Jack never comes if he says he will. I read this that Jack is not expected.

Mary, when she arrives, seems totally in a quandry about any card game and says that she merely told Adelaide that she should probably call and they were going to shop together. Maybe I will change my mind later in the book, but at this point I don't believe Mary is dissembling. I believe that she really came by expecting to go shopping with Adelaide.

I think Adelaide, expecting Mary for shopping, chose that day to write Lord George, hoping to get him over there and set up Mary. Too bad for Mary and George that it worked.

Dagny

Date: Wed, 8 Nov 2000
Re: [trollope-l] IHP?: Adelaide, Mary and George

I was interrupted while writing the post about Mary and George both being at Adelaide Houghton's on the same day and running into each other there. What I forgot to say is that Adelaide got a double whammy. Much was made of Lord George's suspicions of Mary having an appointment to play bagatelle with Jack but Mary was a bit surprised herself to find Lord George, her husband, there visiting Adelaide without her and without her knowledge.

And on the remark of Adelaide's to Lord George about Mary: "Nor is she passionate. You know what I mean." They had been talking about Mary's playing cards with Jack, and Adelaide had been saying that there were more dangerous companions than Jack. Having that in mind I took Adelaide's comment to mean that George had no worries about Mary's falling for another man--because she was not of a passionate nature. And letting George know that she, Adelaide, although married, could fall for another man, since she had a passionate nature.

All this chasing after George of hers reminds me of her comment a chapter or two earlier where she says that after all, he is rather dreary.

Dagny

To Trollope-l

Re: Is He Popenjoy?: Adelaide and George and Mary

November 8, 2000

Earlier today Dagny wrote:

'And on the remark of Adelaide's to Lord George about Mary: "Nor is she passionate. You know what I mean." They had been talking about Mary's playing cards with Jack, and Adelaide had been saying that there were more dangerous companions than Jack. Having that in mind I took Adelaide's comment to mean that George had no worries about Mary's falling for another man--because she was not of a passionate nature. And letting George know that she, Adelaide, although married, could fall for another man, since she had a passionate nature.'

If she just meant that, he wouldn't be shocked, or as the narrator put it 'amazed' and then silenced. It's a pointed dig meant to sneer at what George has given up in her. He thinks to himself she is telling him he needn't worry because 'it was not necessary to her nature to be in love with anyone!' That in love means have sexual passion. Then we are told he becomes 'sore at heart' and comes yet closer: ''You bade me come, and so I came" (Folio Society, IHP?, Ch 22, p. 156).

It is true that Adelaide has set Mary up, but then Mary says to George when he accuses her of coming to meet Jack: '

"I have played bagatelle with Captain de Baron, and I dare say I may again. Why shouldn't I?"

"And if so, would probably make an appointment to play with him".

"Why not?" (p. 158).

She falls into a trap, but she then begins to build it up herself. She enjoys Jack's company and she doesn't her husband's. The previous remark by Adelaide about Mary's lack of passionate responsiveness lingers over the scene which culminates in George's "forced" offer of "little acts of immediate tenderness" (p. 159). This is more coded language for sexual gestures. He's in the weak position here, because he is trying to get a rise out of her as a way of placating her, and as the emotion of the scene shows it's a form of supplication on his part.

Adelaide is quite a woman. As sharp as Choderlos de LaClos's Madame de Merteuil. It's interesting to me how much more believable is Trollope's portrait of such a woman. In comparison, LaClos is exaggerated. A similar much more adult perspective comes out when you compare LaClos's "innocent" Cecile (who is not innocent when it comes to feeling passion however) and our "innocent" Mary. Trollope has quietly offered us a biological reason for Mary's continued innocence.

Cheers to all,
Ellen Moody

Howard Merkin wrote a posting in which he seemed to think I admired the Marquis; at least he didn't have a sense that I had condemned him. To this I responded as follows:

Date: Thu, 09 Nov 2000
Reply-trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Is He Popenjoy?: The Marquis of Brotherton

All I can say is I don't know how Howard could have so misunderstood what I wrote. In each and every posting about the Marquis of Brotherton I have damned him in some way or other: My words for him have been: repellent, chilling, mean, ugly, nasty. I too used the word awful. I repeated it twice. I invite him to go onto the egroup website to reread.

Where we differ is that I say Trollope is using this figure to tell us truths about our relationships with one another -- and ourselves. Trollope is presenting an exaggerated mirror which lays bare to us the basis of our relationships with one another. The difference between Brotherton and the other characters in the novel is they are more hypocritical; they pretend to all sorts of emotions about him and his child which it is obvious in the scenes they do not have. His ugliness is to refuse to go along with the lies, and to refuse to give them the prestige and acknowledge the obligations they want him to give them.

I also wrote that Trollope doesn't mean us to imitate the man. Far from it. And I believe I once again argued that the way to understand this presentation is not psychologically or realistically but emblematically. He shows as, as the reviewers at the time said, the thin veneer of our institutions and manners which enable us to and control and to hide the hostilities, resentments and manipulations of our lives with one another. That too I have argued more than once and is in more than one posting.

I did write the mother's behavior is sickening and a product of her fears and blind attachment to the hierarchy of which her son is Top Male and will stick by it.

As to the poem, it exemplies precisely what Brotherton as an allegory explicates to us about the realities of family life. It's an appropriate poem for this book. It could be the epigraph.

The novel is not intended to make us feel good about ourselves. Trollope is dramatizing for us what is villainy, what sordid, what are the anxieties which make people hold fast to power relationships and submit to one another? And he is showing us how we are complicit. It's not there but for the grace of God go I. Brotherton is an aspect, very real, of Us, Writ Large. As is his mother, his weak brother, and the whole pack of them. It is a narrow terrain from which Trollope produces this book, but an important one, one which explains how we 'work' our relationships with one another when regarded from the austere point of view of Trollope in one of his most satiric of books.

Trollope never located the evils of our society in a single villain. He himself says this over and over again. What would be the point of such a book? To make us feel better about ourselves? But how can we when the vision here is overtly punitive. The book reminds me of what Irving Howe said about the best of critical novels: they are meant to be punitive for the reader. I also said in one of my postings that Trollope is playing some mean games with us in his veins of mockery. Not that I mind. I can well understand why Victoria Glendinning moved from writing a book on Trollope to writing one on Swift. In this -- and other novels too -- they are working in the same way.

Ellen Moody

Date: Tue, 7 Nov 2000
Reply-trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Is He Popenjoy?: Chs 18-23: A Vein of Intense Mockery

From: Ellen Moody

I hope no one thinks I have not appreciated the humor of this book. It is funny. Miss Doctor Olivia Q. Fleabody's comment just at the exquisitely most absurd moment of Baronness Banmann's speech, 'She is very great tonight -- very great indeed' (Folio Society ISP?, introd. DSkilton, Ch 17, p. 132), is high class wit.

I also loved the Baronness Banmann's speech! That was a brilliantly funny passage, I thought. It was also funny to see Mary's confusion as she's looking around at everyone else and thinking, "What am I missing?!"

Among the characters who are most in control of this mockery, who use it for their own purposes is Adelaide Houghton.

Yes, she is most spiteful in her use of mockery, while appearing to pay compliments. She's really quite skilled, that way. Of course, Lord George seems easy enough to lead around by the nose, but Adelaide does handle him exceedingly well.

We are then told in the next paragraph that Mary's not good in bed.

The passage you cited raised my eyebrows, as I was reading.. Such sexual language so thinly veiled! I think I'm still a bit naive in my reading of Victorian literature, or too conditioned by other writers that I don't expect such frank discussions. This is a stumbling block I really need to get myself beyond, and one big reason I appreciate these discussion lists so very much. I wasn't born yesterday, yet I still find myself thinking, while reading such double-entendres, that surely they don't mean THAT?! Well, apparently sometimes they do, indeed, though I do wonder how the Victorian audiences perceived such things.

Lisa Guidarini

Rory O'Farrell then wrote in two suggestions "to explain" the Marquis's behavior:

Ruth apRoberts has suggested (1971) that the Marquis has syphilis; we don't have enough evidence of symptoms to do an exact diagnosis, but I think we can be reasonably sure that he suffers from that or some other venereal disease. Such infection might also account for the "puniness" of the child, who could perhaps have been infected from birth.

Rory O'Farrell

Another possibility for the behaviour of the Marquis is that he is a bully; in his effort to bully the remainder of the family, he produces an (apparent) heir. How he does this we don't know. There is record of advertisements from titled gentlemen of the Victorian and earlier periods, advertising for women in an advanced state of pregnancy, with a view to matrimony, so that they could produce a "legitimate" heir and thereby secure the title to their side of the family.

Rory O'Farrell

Date: Thu, 09 Nov 2000
Reply-trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Is He Popenjoy?: The Marquis of Brotherton as a Bully

I agree with Rory that one way of seeing the Marquis's behavior is of that of a bully. But it's not a sufficient explanation for everything we see by any means. The reviewers at the time accused the Dean of being a bully, and we can see he is too, especially with Lord George: in fact, they used that as a stick with which to accuse the Dean of not being a gentleman. A number of characters in the novel have an impulse to domineer. That's common in Trollope. The Marquis is just more obvious, more openly explicit about it.

On the Marquis's possible syphilis, it would be symbolically fitting, and I'll try to read Ruth apRoberts's piece. In her essay on He Knew He Was Right she insists we are given sufficient hints and details to tell us just when Emily Trevelyan begins refusing Louis his sexual rights. She proves her case. However, the Marquis's comments that he is not well, an invalid are not born out by the narrator's description of him. If we are to take it that he has syphilis, then the lady who lives upstairs who he says is his wife is ill too. Does she have syphilis? In The Claverings where Lord Ongar can be more firmly said to have syphilis, the narrator describes him as decrepit, insists on his weakness. Ongar also dies miserably. And Lady Julia does not get pregnant. The young baby Popenjoy looks the way he does because he is not a fat English pink-and-white infant, but a small Italian one. Lord George's alienation is tribal or racist. This is not the kind of child that will do. Still syphilis fits. We shall have to see if the Marquis's health deteriorates; if it doesn't, then he is just irritable and cold.

Perhaps one reason I like this book and find its real unpleasantness amusing is I like satire. My original area of study was the 18th century. I find I agree with the reviewers that this is bitter satire and a expose of corrupt society. The difference is what they object to as destructive of the ongoing establishment -- as they clearly identify as gentleman -- I enjoy.

On a universal level, I wouldn't dismiss this book as reflective of another age -- and thereby console myself we are better than the kinds of people these characters stand for. The specific value judgements in this book are historically variable, but they also have a close relation to social ideologies which govern our behavior and attitudes today. That's why we can get excited when we read the book. Trollope's books in particular do not refer simply to his private taste or that of his particular characters, but to assumptions by which certain social groups exercise and maintain power over others. These assumptions are still with us; they are still used to gain and maintain power -- such as marriage for aggrandizement, for positioning, behaving in certain ways and expecting solid returns from one's children. Our response to seeing these assumptions presented plainly tells us a good deal about ourselves. It reminds me of the reviewers' response to Trollope's Lady Anna which they hated. They said he was betraying his class.

Cheers to all,
Ellen Moody

To Trollope-l

November 10, 2000

Re: Is He Popenjoy?: The Marquis of Brotherton

Thilde is perplexed by the Marquis, says she cannot understand why Trollope "did it" and suggests he is there for comic relief :). She writes:

I find the Marquis interesting because he is a real "baddie" for whom we are not made to feel pity, which is unusual with Trollope. Why did Trollope do it, I wonder? Even Melmotte from TWWLN is portrayed with some "human" emotions and we feel for him at the end. I think perhaps the Marquis is meant for comic relief. Thilde.

I do not think Trollope created contentless pointless characters. Humor usually has some meaning or other. So I wonder what meaning Thilde attaches to her laughter? A character there for comic relief and nothing else would signify something mindless or silly. I know there are people who think Trollope a second or third rate novelist who had no meaning when he wrote -- though even a second or third rate novelist has a meaning. It' s very hard to see how someone can write at all and have no meaning. Usually second and third rate novelists are just much more obvious. This is one of the reasons their novels are thin and grow stale over time and stop selling, fall out of print permanently.

I also what is kind of comedy or humor? I thought one of the scenes was bitterly hilarious, but no one else amongst us until Thilde has laughed at the Marquis. Could she expatiate or explain what is the nature of the scene she refers to and how she found relief in it?

However, I would argue -- as Howard did and I think RJ a while back -- that the Marquis is as human as Melmotte -- as, as Howard argued, recalls a number of male characters from other novels. We find this type as far back in the novels as The Kellys and O'Kellys: Lord Kilcullen, the debauched son, and his magnficent father, the Earl of Cashel. The difference is simply one of a curious lack of hypocrisy with subordinates and a way of talking which flaunts their hypocrisy to their faces.

One problem he does have is it's hard to break through statements when presented as having no subtext. We know that much that we say should not be taken at face value; it always has reference to our human relationships with one another. This is our problem too -- here on the Net even more poignantly or strongly because we can't see one another faces or have any outward behavior to judge from.

Then again he doesn't try, and he himself speaks very flatly and insists he means what he says and has no subtext. It's the others who are pretending manipulating. Their courtesy is a manipulation.

It is fascinating that he doesn't care about whether a statement is meant to say what it does on the surface or has a hidden motive. We are left to figure that out by seeing the difference between the behavior of the character and what the character is saying: such as whether George will go to law. Here is another thing that Trollope is pointing out to us about how hard human relationships really are.

Cheers to all,
Ellen Moody

Date: Fri, 10 Nov 2000
Reply-trollope-l@egroups.com Subject: [trollope-l] Is He Popenjoy?: The Marquis of Brotherton as a Bully

You know, Ellen, I like satire too. The war between the Big Enders and the Little Enders in Gulliver's Travels was a portrait of the then European kingdoms going to war over minor matters. What Swift or Trollope could have done to our present election contretemps! Good satire shows us ourselves but not exactly the way we like to see ourselves. Also, good satire can be and usually is funny. Pope's wonderful "Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot" is such a gem that we still use phrases from it such as "Damn with faint praise." But sadly people forget the rest of the portrait of Addison (whose silly Spectator Papers I once had to pour through): "Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, and without sneering teach the rest to sneer. Willing to wound and yet afraid to strike, just hint a fault and hesitate dislike." How many of us have come up against an Addison in our travels through the world? Also, how many of us have come up against a Lord Brotherton? He also is everywhere, and he could be any of us if we took our masks off. The beauty of Swift and Trollope is that they tear the conventional masks from our faces and show us exactly who and what we are. "The Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot" and Is He Popenjoy? were written to make us uncomfortable, and how well the latter succeeds is demonstrated in many of the postings which I have read lately. Good satire does that, and I am exuding delight with our latest Trollope assignment.

Sig

Re: The Marquis of Brotherton Again

I cannot understand the difficulty some list members have with the Marquis of Brotherton.. Surely he is a typical Trollope aristocratic elder son, after the model of Porlock, the heir to the Earl de Courcy, who never spoke to his father, and clearly had very little time for his mother, sisters or brothers. Brotherton, who presumably inherited the title at a fairly young age, is selfish and self-centred, and is not in the least concerned about the welfare of his mother or sisters. He was brought up to consider himself as the heir to the property and title, without any regard as to the duties which were thought to accompany them. Lady Sarah and his other sisters recognised what they considered to be their responsibilities towards the people on the estate, and visited them and made petticoats for them. Brotherton does not appear to have any concern for such obligations, or indeed for any social responsibilities at all.

When the doctor and the Dean call on him, his only reaction is to sneer, and make it clear that he is not concerned with their regard for his position. He probably is suffering from syphilis or some similar condition, but I am sure that Trollope dies not make any attempt to make us feel sorry for him, or suggest that we should try to consider his point of view, which he depicts as ill-mannered and without merit. To suggest, as Ellen does, that he is entitled to feel annoyed at the behaviour of his mother and sisters in remaining in the dower house against his expressed wishes, seems to put an extraordinary reflection on Trollope's attitude towards him. It seems clear to me that Trollope expects us to consider him to be contemptible.. His behaviour to his mother and sisters is awful, and frankly he is awful. Why should he not be expected to be kind and courteous to his mother and sisters? To call his mother's affection 'craven clinging', and to regard her desire to see her new daughter-in-law and grandson as in some way unnatural seems extraordinary. I cannot find Philip Larkin's poem either exhilarating or in any way admirable.

Regards, Howard

[trollope-l] Is He Popenjoy?: The Marquis of Brotherton

Perhaps this could be the 'business deal' I suspect - but I am reading as fast as I can to find out!

This suggestion is a red herring, as it certainly doesn't happen; we don't know if it did, but probably not. I mentioned it to show how determined some titled men of the period were to hold the title (and more importantly, the income that went with it) to themselves and their side of the family.

If a Marquis (say) could produce (however irregularly) an heir born after marriage (and we are definitely not counting months here - what is legitimate?) he could be assured of the income of the estate to himself for the rest of his life, and perhaps join with the "son" in cutting off the entail, so that the property would become unencumbered.

As I said, I think he is a bully, and his actions can be easily understood if seen as those of a bully - no doubt very polite, as he was brought up as a gentleman, but with no give and take of what we might call "common politeness". He begrudges his mother/sisters/brother their relatively small income, which is theirs on foot of family trusts of some kind, but which come out of the estate income, which he would regard as his - bullies are by nature selfish, are they not?

Rory O'Farrell

To Trollope-l

November 10, 2000

Re: Is He Popenjoy?: Hard Satire

In response to Sig, Rory, and Howard,

Probably part of the problem we sometimes have on lists when we read together comes from our different backgrounds: Sig and I are longtime academic readers, and, as a way of making a living, get up in front of classrooms and write essays in which we suggest ways in which books are meaningful to us today. There are other 'takes' on this book; Sig and mine move from the psychological. For me I can't see how the portrait of the Marquis quite makes sense until we are to Freudianize the text, and Trollope didn't know his Freud very well (joke alert -- Freud's first important books were printed in the late 1890s and in German). Having read other books by Trollope and taking some 'cue's from the introductions to the editions and Oxford Companion and the contemporary reviewers, I am seeing it as hard satire which means to make us look into ourselves and see the blood eventually on the wall (there is a violent scene later in the book), in our wounds which we lick quietly or unconsciously, and to acknowledge the ways in which take power over others.

It's also true that the origins of 'close reading' which is what reading carefully is all about lies in liberal thought as practised by people like F. R. Leavis, and that means social reform. Great literature teaches us to criticise our society, to take note of how bad we are and wherein we are bad. In the relatively optimistic 1940s people who wrote seriously about books seemed to think they had a transforming power. To read makes you a better person because you have mortified yourself or seen clearly how absurd, evil, awful, or simply inadequate is society founded on human nature. It make seem funny or poignant (depending on your temperament) to think that groups of people behaved in their reading habits and teaching as if they believed that the Decline of the West or such spectacles as we have seen in the recent US election (not over yet) might just be averted by close reading of hard unsentimental texts. However, many teachers and readers still do somewhere in the depths of their hearts hope that literature does improve us. Trollope did think this; he justified his novels as teaching moral lessons. In these later books the lessons are I think angry subversive ones.

I hadn't noticed the detail Rory points out: 'he goes out every night (driven by his courier - obviously a shady character) for unspecified purposes.' My goodness. No wonder the man may have syphilis; today he'd be courting AIDS. At the risk of offending our Dickensites on this list -- I think provocative talk not meant to hurt anyone personally makes for good conversation -- I'd say here we measure the distance between Dickens's Turveydrop and Brotherton. Turveydrop is a child's simple vision of a bad man; it's so exaggerated it's unreal. Actually my candidate for an parallel figure in _Bleak House_ for Brotherton is Tulkinghorn, t he vicious cold lawyer. Turveydrop is not US; he is presented as Other; he is also relatively harmless except to the silly sops who support him; they are not believable either. The Marchioness is believable. I have seen people like her, quavering in front of others, passive-aggressives is the unforgiving modern term. Tulkinghorn can and does do great harm. Brotherton can and would do great harm. The only one who has really opposed him thus far is Lady Sarah, helped on by Mr Price.

In debating, rhetoric often leads me to state strongly or use extreme instances to make my points. That gets my meaning across, so I too will back down on the Marchioness. She does give me the creeps as a type; I saw her wrapping her arms around her eldest son's neck and seeking to kiss him immediately upon his cracking the whip (in effect) and saying such ugly things to her as masochism, and Freudianized it as really Rory is doing when he analyses Brotherton as a product of early highly misguided miseducation. As I'm stubborn, I'll still say the text is not sympathetic to her, not at all. The man who wrote the scene of her and her son wants us to feel repulsion for both figures. Lady Sarah will be my guide: she sees her mother as capable of creeping away to her brother as a spy armed with information for him to hurt them -- and her. We have here the gifts of a great novelist. Dickens hasn't the insight into character to present this kind of thing; today psychology still can't tell us why people behave in these sick ways. They do.

It's a good thing we will have Ayala's Angel next. That's why I suggested the pairing. Ayala is so much gayer; our narrator has sympathy for a number of characters -- he seems to have no sympathy for anyone here. He enters into the consciousness of numbers of characters in Ayala. There is even a Henry Tilney kind of hero: Jonathan Stubbs. It's like Austen's Pride and Prejudice in that if you think about it, it presents a hard world and also criticises and exposes it through laughter and emotion, but the surface is much brighter, gay, even sparkling.

It's domestic hard satire. Sig talked about the present US election which I have now also referred to. Imagine if we had someone today writing a novel like Is He Popenjoy? but with political intent, satirising the public world. I know we've had a few novels in the past years (one published anonymously) which try to do this. But they always pull their punches. Plays in the US are often retreat into simplified symbols, often caricatures of rigid attitudes, and drenched in a psycho-romantic mood which is retreat. I don't know that Popenjoy? is my favorite Trollope novel -- far from it, but it is a very strong book. There are remarkably few lies in it even if it treads across its exposive material with tact and a kind of contained deadliness.

Cheers to all,
Ellen Moody

[trollope-l] IH?: Mary the Unpassionate, Brotherton the Impenetrable

From: Ellen Moody

We are then told in the next paragraph that Mary's not good in bed.

"Nor is she -- passionate. You know what I mean". He did know what she meant ..." (Ch 22, p. 156)

I managed to suss this one out, along with its unspoken addendum, which George couldn't have missed either, "...but *I* am." Lord George has developed a "passionate friendship" with Adelaide I think, visiting her often and having her as a confidante, confessing love (albeit half extracted by force from G) and engaging in embraces with her.

George admits to himself that he can't come down on Mary about Jack de Baron because she could very well bring his relationship with Adelaide in as counter-ammunition. The dominance jockeying in this marriage is strongly realistic. It'd be far more painful if the two actually loved each other, but perhaps also more simple, so I appreciate that Trollope hasn't taken the easy path in showing these two's relations.

I'm reserving judgment on our Marquis for the moment. There's more going on there than plain coldness or malice, I'm sure. As Ellen mentioned, if Popenjoy *weren't* Popenjoy, he'd cozy up to divert suspicion, and he's very much not doing so. :)

It's very different reading this book than the Barsetshire books (in my experience of the B books thus far). Of the limited number of his books I've read, I've liked his later ones better: Dr. Wortle's School and this one. But the Warden is a fav too.

Beth.

[trollope-l] IHP?: Adelaide Houghton--did she set up Lord George?

Dagny wrote:

I think Adelaide, expecting Mary for shopping, chose that day to write Lord George, hoping to get him over there and set up Mary. Too bad for Mary and George that it worked.

Dagny and all:

I suspected the same thing, actually. It just didn't quite add up, and as Adelaide is such a noted manipulator I don't have much doubt she did exactly as you suggested. We'll see how far that one seed of doubt progresses..

Lisa Guidarini

[trollope-l] Is He Popenjoy?: The Marquis of Brotherton

Dear Patricia and everyone

It is sad that people bow to this man and this system, the Dean in particular sacrificing his daughter so that his future grandson would be a marquis.

I think that rather than 'sacrificing his daughter', the Dean is being expedient in trying to get her as 'well married' as he possibly can. Whilst we know that Mary has a fortune coming to her, the lot of a women as we all know in 19th century Britain was uncertain to say the least. If the Dean allowed her to marry 'unwisely', her future husband would be in a position to squander her fortune away and possibly leave her desitute, with very little the Dean - if still a live - could do about it. But by allowing Mary to marry into such a 'good' family as George Brotherton's, the Dean (knowingly the family personally) would expect his daughter to be well 'looked after' even after his (the Dean's) own demise.

Marquis distances himself from the child. It is always "they tell me the child is not strong" or whatever. He doesn't seem to have a personal relationship with it either, or with his wife.

I don't think this was that unusual in those times and society circles. But what makes this interesting for me, on my first reading of the books is how that has occured in this particular liason. Because there are still doubts as to the actuality or legality of the Marquis' marriage, one would think that there must have been a 'love match' for the Marquis to be so blatantly acknowledging the 'connection'. This fact makes me wonder if there is some sort of 'business deal' waiting in the wings, so to speak! The only answer for me is to read on and see!

Love, Gwyn.

[trollope-l] IHP?: Adelaide Houghton--did she set up Lord George?

Dear Dagny

I think Adelaide, expecting Mary for shopping, chose that day to write Lord George, hoping to get him over there and set up Mary. Too bad for Mary and George that it worked.

My impression exactly! But I was surprised that Trollope dropped this 'seed' so lightly and didn't emphasise it in any way. It also shows the lack of real communication between George and Mary, and Trollope has 'pointed this up' when he has George saying (or thinking) that it is so nice to have a 'friend' in Adelaide that he can tell his troubles to.

Love, Gwyn.

From Rory O'Farrell

Ellen wrote:

I do not think Trollope created contentless pointless characters. Humor usually has some meaning or other. So I wonder what meaning Thilde attaches to her laughter? A character there for comic relief and nothing else would signify something mindless or silly.

I quite agree - there is nothing mindless or silly about the Marquis; he is a downright "bad" guy; were he in the plot for comic relief, one would normally expect to develop a sympathy, if not actual affection for him, and there are no signs of that happening. I suggested that he is a bully; Ellen rightly points out that other characters in _Is He Popenjoy_ could also be considered as bullies. Where they differ from the Marquis is that they accept the social give and take; I do not think that the Marquis at any stage softens his point to accommodate the feelings of others.

His mother is obviously in (or approaching) her dotage; she has undue regard for the "honour" of the family and its continuance, as embodied in its head (the Marquis) and his heir (Popenjoy). Perhaps her disproportionate affection and regard for the current head of the family, previously as heir before the death of her husband, led to him being utterly spoiled and self centered as a child and subsequently as an adult; as an adult, as we currently see him, his behaviour to others is in keeping with such a childhood - he was selfish, he is selfish, and short of a miracle, he will continue to be selfish. He does not seem to have any feelings of affection for anyone, no less his mother and siblings than his wife and child.

What Trollope may be attempting to show us is that in all societies manners are not everything. There must also be give and take. I might here instance as an example a character in "Bleak House", by Dickens: old Mr Turveydrop, who is all manners, but no consideration. The old maxim is "Noblesse oblige" - privilege entails responsibility. We see this in practise by the ladies Germain, in their "pastoral" visits to the poor, their petticoat and clothing circle, and later by Lord George in attendance at a committee for the distribution of coal and blankets. We do not see any acceptance by the Marquis that his position as head of an aristocratic family, in receipt of considerable income relative to that of a poor man, brings with it certain implied duties. How many times have we, as children, been told things by our parents like "I know they are your sweets, but it is manners to share"? We all had to learn the rules of society, of course, but we also had to learn that we could not apply such rules to the exclusion of the feelings of others; there is no actual return from sharing one's sweets with one's sister, but one learns to feel good after doing so!

I don't think we get much clue as to the precise nature of the Marquis's illness - there is objection to certain visitors to his rooms in the hotel, and he goes out every night (driven by his courier - obviously a shady character) for unspecified purposes. He feels the cold a lot (and in the weather we are having at the moment, who could blame him!). He grows increasingly valetudinarian, but this may be a pose. An illness such as Ruth apRoberts suggests (syphilis) would almost certainly have been communicated to his sexual partner (the Italian Marchioness) and possibly also at birth to the son Popenjoy.

Rory O'Farrell

Date: Fri, 10 Nov 2000
Reply-trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Is He Popenjoy?: The Marquis of Brotherton

I am sorry if I misunderstood Ellen's points in her postings on Wednesday. I find it difficult to put myself in the position of the Marquis, since I believe that his conduct towards his mother and her family is unforgivable. Many of us have relatives who we find it exceedingly difficult to tolerate, but I hope that our upbringing makes us reasonably polite and, where appropriate affectionate. The Marchioness may have been a stupid old woman, but people would normally expect that someone brought up with the background and privileges of the Marquis would treat his mother with respect and consideration. Reading Ellen's postings again, I can agree that she throws a lot of light on what Trollope is trying to make us understand about him, and also about the attitude of his relatives. Nevertheless, I do think that we must give credit to the affection which the Marchioness and her daughters wished to show to the Marquis's new wife and son. Surely this is the interpretation which we should place on Trollope's description, and not the 'craven clinging' which has been suggested.

I think that in my lifetime of reading Trollope, I have always tended to take the literal sense of what he writes. What I have found in reading all the contributions to the list is that there may be a great deal more which I have never seen before, and which I find fascinating.

Regards, from a somewhat contrite Howard

Date: Sat, 11 Nov 2000
Reply-trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Is He Popenjoy?: Hard Satire

At 14:15 00\11\11, Ellen Moody wrote:

I hadn't noticed the detail Rory points out: 'he goes out every night (driven by his courier - obviously a shady character) for unspecified purposes.' My goodness. No wonder the man may have syphilis; today he'd be courting AIDS.

I think I may be ahead of you in reading - it comes slightly later in the book, but as a minor detail I didn't count it as a spoiler.

At the risk of offending our Dickensites on this list -- I think provocative talk not meant to hurt anyone personally makes for good conversation -- I'd say here we measure the distance between Dickens's Turveydrop and Brotherton. Turveydrop is a child's simple vision of a bad man; it's so exaggerated it's unreal. Actually my candidate for an parallel figure in Bleak House for Brotherton is Tulkinghorn, the vicious cold lawyer. Turveydrop is not US; he is presented as Other; he is also relatively harmless except to the silly sops who support him; they are not believable either.

Thank you for reminding me of Tulkinghorn. Turveydrop was the name that sprang to mind as I wrote, but Tulkinghorn is a closer parallel to the Marquis. The difference between Tulkinghorn and Turveydrop is that Tulkinghorn has a subtext - he is all the time noting details and working towards his own ends, rather like the Marquis must be. One might suggest that Tulkinghorn's motive is professional - he is the family lawyer, whereas Turveydrop's motive is pure selfishness - perhaps not the self centered selfishness as shown by the Marquis but simply lack of thought for others.

The Marchioness is believable. I have seen people like her, quavering in front of others, passive-aggressives is the unforgiving modern term. Tulkinghorn can and does do great harm. Brotherton can and would do great harm. The only one who has really opposed him thus far is Lady Sarah, helped on by Mr Price.

The portrait of the dowager Marchioness - the mother - in her dotage is quite well drawn; note that she is carefully treated and sheltered from distress of whatever kind, to the best of their ability, by the remainder of her family; no matter how severe they may seem to be in their treatment of Mary their care for their mother must be a redeeming feature.

Rory O'Farrell Email: ofarrwrk@iol.ie

From Thilde Fox:

Date: Sat, 11 Nov 2000
Reply-trollope-l@egroups.com
 Subject: [trollope-l] The Marquis of Brotherton -is he comic relief?

Yes, I will try to explain myself.

Ellen wrote:

". . . I also what is kind of comedy or humor? I thought one of the scenes was bitterly hilarious, but no one else amongst us until Thilde has laughed at the Marquis. Could she expatiate or explain what is the nature of the scene she refers to and how she found relief in it? . . "

Because Trollope made the Marquis such a baddie I can not take him seriously, and so whenever he comes up I find myself asking, whatever will he think of next. He is not really credible because he is consistently bad without reason and doesn't get anything out of it, more money or power or position, as other Trollope characters do. And so I feel that his place in the book is like a catalyst, to show off how the surroundings will react to him, and those are the interesting and moving parts. Of course I didn't laugh like I do at Mr. Slope's adventures, but when I get to him I am momentarily relieved from the real tensions in the book.

Thilde.

Date: Sat, 11 Nov 2000
 Reply-trollope-l@egroups.com
Subject: [trollope-l] Is He Popenjoy?: Syphilis: the symptoms we might expect

Arising from Ruth apRobert's suggestion that the Marquis of Brotherton might have syphilis, I have looked up the symptoms, and I detail them below. The synopsis is that it is a sexually transmitted disease, resulting in severe debilitation and death. If you do not wish to know more than this, read no further!

I am not a doctor, so what follows is a layman's understanding of the short paper I read. You should not attempt any personal diagnosis from the following - if you are in doubt about your own health, please consult a doctor!

Four stages:
Primary stage, Secondary, Latent and Tertiary.

Infectious during Primary and Secondary stages, which last one to two years, typically. In the later stages it is not contagious, but can cause serious heart problems, mental disorders, blindness, other neurological problems, and death.

Primary stage: The infection is spread almost always by sexual contact, being first revealed by a sore or "chancre" in the genital areas (10 days to three months after exposure). This vanishes after a few weeks, whether treated or not.

Secondary stage: often a skin rash, with brown sores about the size of a small coin, almost always on the palms a soles of feet, but possibly elsewhere. Possibly also mild fever, headache, fatigue, swollen lymph glands and possible hair loss. This stage passes without treatment but may reoccur during a period of one to two years.

Latent stage: not now contagious, no symptoms. One third of sufferers at this stage then go on to the Tertiary stage.

Tertiary stage: damage to the heart, eyes, brain, nervous system, bones, joints and almost all of the body. This can last for years or decades.

Late syphilis can then result in mental illness, blindness, heart disease and death. It can also invade the nervous system during early stages, and 3 - 7% of untreated sufferers will develop neurosyphilis: symptoms are headache, stiff neck, and fever from inflammation of brain lining, sometimes seizures.

Infection almost always spread by sexual contact; a pregnant woman who is infected will almost certainly infect the unborn child. 25% will be stillborn, and 40-70% of pregnancies to infected women will result in infected child; the symptoms start to develop within three months after birth - skin sores, rashes, fever, weakened or hoarse crying, swollen liver and spleen, yellowish skin (jaundice) anemia and various deformities, leading later to damaged bones, teeth, eyes, ears and brain.

I have abstracted this information from a search on Ask Jeeves . Treatment is by the correct antibiotics and repeated re-screening to verify that the disease is cured.

Rory O'Farrell
Email: ofarrwrk@iol.ie