Group read: The Prime Minister by Anthony Trollope

The Prime Minister by Anthony Trollope (1876)

Throughout the autumn the Duke had been an unhappy man. While the absolute work of the Session had lasted he had found something to console him; but now, though he was surrounded by private secretaries, and though dispatch-boxes went and came twice a day, though there were dozens of letters as to which he had to give some instruction,---yet, there was in truth nothing for him to do. It seemed to him that all the real work of the Government had been filched from him by his colleagues, and that he was stuck up in pretended authority,---a kind of wooden Prime Minister, from whom no real ministration was demanded. His first fear had been that he was himself unfit;---but now he was uneasy, fearing that others thought him to be unfit.

Hello, all! Welcome to the group read of Anthony Trollope's The Prime Minister, the fifth of his "Palliser" novels, in which we find things taking an unexpected turn for our old friend Plantagenet Palliser.

This novel was originally serialised between November 1875 and June 1876, appearing in book form shortly afterwards. It is perhaps the most contentious of the "Palliser" series, for a variety of reasons; critical opinion was sharply divided at the time of its first release and has remained so since; although there has likewise been disagreement over which are the contentious parts of the narrative! - so hopefully we shall have some good discussions.

This is of course one of Trollope's political novels, and far more so than the two previous books in the series, The Eustace Diamonds and Phineas Redux, deals with the workings of the English political system. This may cause difficulties for some readers---if so, please do ask questions!

The other frequent difficulty with this novel for modern readers is the narrative's attitude towards the character of Ferdinand Lopez, and the language in which that attitude is expressed. This can come as a shock on a first reading of the novel and, since it begins with the very first chapter, can put people off at the outset; so I thought it was best to take the bull by the horns and mention it here in the introduction.

Although it is not uncommon to find derogatory terms in the literature of this time (and for decades afterwards), the very prominence of the Lopez plot makes it impossible to pass this over with a wince. The problem here is not merely the attitudes expressed, which certainly reflect those of the society of the time, but the extent to which those attitudes are vindicated by the action of the novel---which is something I would be very interested in hearing opinions on: how does Trollope intend us to take this, and how *do* we in fact take this?

Overall, as always, the more comments and questions as we go along, the better! When you post, please indicate the chapter we are talking about in bold. (I am working out of the 1994 Penguin Classics edition, in which the chapters are numbered consecutively; if anyone has a different presentation and needs the chapters to be indicated differently, please let me know.)

So who will be joining us?

Question: Can someone who hasn't read the others enjoy reading this?

Ooh, tough question.

I think it would be difficult, because it does deal with very established series characters and there are many references to past events. However, if you wanted to try, I'm sure all the "old stagers" here would be happy to help you through anything that was obscure or puzzling.

I'm in! Thanks for the heads-up!

I'm listening to Timothy West's reading and I'm up to chapter VIII.

I'm in! Thanks for leaving a link to this on my thread. I just pulled the book off my shelves today and scanned the table of contents. I'm in the middle of the new Tana French but I will still start reading this one soon.

Welcome, Carrie, Kerry and Laura!

No hurry about starting, Laura; glad to have you whenever you can. :)

I read this earlier in the year and just started The Duke's Children, but I will definitely follow along and ask a question or two along the way. I did find some of the politics rather confusing.

Please do, Jennifer!

I'm in--I read it earlier this year, and have just listened to the first two chapters read by Timothy West. I'm having some difficulty when he reads dialogue, as he doesn't make each character's voice distinctly different from each other. I'll probably have to refer to the text often.

I read the first four chapters last night. No questions so far, but we're not heavy into the politics yet.

At one point early in The Prime Minister, there is a passing reference to two people who are characters in Trollope's The Way We Live Now, which had been published in book form the year before.

This detail crystalised a thought for me. I feel that these two books are closely related thematically, both predominantly negative in tone, and reflecting Trollope's sense that England's standards and morals were on the slide, and that this degeneration was showing itself not only in the emergence of "the city" as a dominant force, but in a general acceptance of manoeuvring and manipulation, which in his opinion amounted to dishonesty, as a way of life.

As far as that goes, it's fine; and in fact much of what Trollope has to say, particularly in The Way We Live Now, is a valid criticism of practices that are still being deplored today.

The real problem, to my mind, is Trollope's tendency to put the blame for this shift onto "foreigners". Perhaps it hurt him to think that Englishmen, even English gentlemen, could behave in such a way. But the fact is, they did. Yet in these two novels, Trollope explicitly equates being foreign with being dishonest.

In The Way We Live Now, even though there is a focus upon the mysterious Augustus Melmotte, there is also a sense of balance, with plenty of Englishmen shown to be on the scramble and living by speculation and deal-making; but in The Prime Minister, it all narrows down upon Ferdinand Lopez, who is a walking compendium of everything Trollope hated about modern life---with all of his personal sins and shortcomings essentially chalked up to the fact that his father wasn't English.

One of Trollope's main strengths as a novelist was his ability to put himself in the mindset of someone he disagreed with, and his novels are studded with acute and sympathetic portraits of flawed, and even "bad", characters. But this sort of fairness is entirely missing from the characterisation of Lopez, which to me is this novel's main weakness.

As I haven't read The Way We Live Now yet, who are the characters from that book that are mentioned here?

Although Lopez is pretty bad, to me he's not 100% rotten, but I'll hold off on that discussion so as not to spoil the story for anyone this early. What I think is tricky, is that the narrator rarely comes right out and attributes Lopez's negative characteristics to being a foreigner/Jew--it almost always comes out of the mouth or point of view of another character. The narrator usually talks in generalities about foreigners and the character/background of a gentleman.

In Chapter XI, there is a mention of Mr Bourne and Lady Carbury; it's only a mention, so don't worry about it! It just served to remind me of the other book.

For me, what comes out of the other characters' mouths with respect to Lopez is rank bigotry---but that's not the problem. My problem is the way that the narrative is constructed to justify that bigotry---while at the same time, as you point out, not itself saying the same things, but rather (so to speak) illustrating what the other characters say.

On board. Can't tell you how surprised I was when I started reading this. I'm concurrently reading a nonfiction book about WWI. It's not difficult, really. But reading Trollope is like sitting down with a friend over a cup of coffee for a nice long gossip.

Great to have you here, Gail!

>17 Matke: But reading Trollope is like sitting down with a friend over a cup of coffee for a nice long gossip.

So true!

I'm here and enjoying reading Trollope again!

>2 lyzard:, >14 lyzard: From the first few chapters I'm not sure what I think about Lopez or Trollope's portrayal of him yet but will bear your comments in mind.

I did have some questions on Chapter 6: An Old Friend Goes to Windsor (although I feel like I should know the answer to these from the previous books in the series):

1) Are Mr Gresham and Mr Daubeny meant to be Gladstone and Disraeli? Did the problem with trying to find a government with a majority relate to anything particular in real life?

2) 'But after that, with the simple and single object of doing some special piece of work for the nation,—something which he fancied that nobody else would do if he didn't do it,—his Grace, of his own motion, at his own solicitation, had encountered further official degradation, very much to the disgust of the Duchess. '

I'm sure I should remember this but I don't - what happened?

>20 souloftherose: I don't remember the first answer to the first part, but for #2, our friend Plantagenet made it his life work to convert Britain to a decimal-based coinage. Trollope made it pretty clear, I think, that this was a hopeless cause. Considering how recently this happened in Britain, I'd say Planty was way ahead of his time. ;)

>20 souloftherose:

Hi, Heather!

I don't have a problem with Lopez as a character; I do have a problem with the way that he is presented within the narrative.

(Actually...I do have a problem with Lopez as a character, but that's a discussion for a much later time!)

1. Only very broadly. Trollope deals more an allusions than portraits. He certainly had Gladstone and Disraeli in mind when he created Mr Gresham and Mr Daubeny, but because of the direction taken by his novels, they soon take on lives of their own. We shouldn't read too much into them beyond their general political principles (or lack thereof).

This is also true of the novel's use of a coalition, which alludes to previous events without reproducing them. Though Trollope refers throughout the narrative to "coalition governments", at the time of his writing there had only been one, which was formed in the 1850s after the collapse of a minority government under Lord Derby, and was headed by the Earl of Aberdeen, a Conservative (or more correctly, a Peelite, which was a breakaway faction which ultimately sided with the Liberals and Radicals on economic matters). As is the case here, the government was headed by a man who could not sit in the House of Commons and had to leave leadership in the House to someone else, in that case Lord John Russell.

Since this was the government that oversaw Britain's entry into the Crimean War, and resigned in the face of accusations of incompetence, the term "coalition" wasn't a positive one when Trollope was writing. However, it is a good idea to keep how very badly the previous coalition did when judging how the coalition under Plantagenet Palliser performs as a government.

2. Plantagenet had to give up being Chancellor of the Exchequer when he became Duke of Omnium, since there was a long tradition that the post had to be held by someone in the House of Commons. In Phineas Redux, in order to stay in the Cabinet, he first accepts the post of Lord Privy Seal, and later that of President of the Board of Trade after Mr Bonteen is murdered. Both of these posts were considered "inferior", the former not having any particular job associated with it, but used to keep a peer in the Cabinet. So to Glencora, Plantagenet had "degraded" himself by accepting them. He, on the other hand, wanted a post where he could do some real work, and actually requested the vacant Presidency.

The thing that strikes me about Emily Wharton is how isolated she is.

At home she sees her father, sometimes, and her brother, sometimes; they visit the other Whartons and the Fletchers once a year; and then there's the dreadful aunt. She doesn't seem to have any social life, or any friends of her own. (I guess they may be "out there", but we certainly don't hear of them.)

And the upshot is she knows precisely two marriageable men...

I'm off and running -- read the first 4 chapters last night.

Chapter I

Given the history in Trollope's novels of bill-discounting and men being forced / manoeuvred into signing bills for their "friends", the fact that Lopez is introduced compelling Sexty Parker to sign a bill for him is an extremely early warning sign... :)

The name "Sexty" makes me snicker and I can't get Justin Timberlake's "SexyBack" out of my head.

Chapter III

There is an inference in the background given for Lopez that people need to understand.

Under various persecutions, it became a not-uncommon practice for Jewish people to survive via crypto-Judaism, that is, pretending to convert to Christianity but continuing to practise their own faith in secret.

Portugal had a long history of people surviving that way even before the 15th century, when the Inquisition ramped up its attack on Judaism. Many Jewish people were expelled from Spain and resettled in Portugal, only to have it happen all over again. Some people fled the country, others were forcibly converted to Catholicism, but some took up crypto-Judaism in spite of the danger.

So although it happened all over Europe as necessary, Portugal was particularly associated with the idea crypto-Judaism.

And this is the point of Ferdinand Lopez's father being Portuguese, and of Mr Wharton immediately concluding that Lopez is Jewish in spite of his insistence that he was raised within the Church of England: it was a stereotype at the time that Portuguese people could not be trusted to tell the truth about themselves, particular in matters of religion.

>26 lauralkeet:

It was probably chosen to give you not much of an opinion of him, though Trollope could hardly have anticipated Justin! :D

Chapter 6: An Old Friend Goes to Windsor
...it must be stated that just at this time the political affairs of the nation had got themselves tied up into one of those truly desperate knots from which even the wisdom and experience of septuagenarian statesmen can see no unravelment.

I read this the day after the US Presidential election. Sigh.

Yes, we may not have picked the best time for reading a political novel. :(

Just checking in to say I just started Volume II (chapter 21).

>23 lyzard: Yes, that's true. I really feel for the elder Mr Wharton (her father) - he wants to do what's best for her and is convinced that isn't Lopez but he doesn't know what to do and is just making himself terribly unhappy.

I feel like Lopez is still a bit of an enigma - we don't see much of him in Vol I and seemingly nothing to indicate why Emily has fallen for him or why Lady Glen decides to take him under her wing. Maybe this was deliberate on Trollope's part to leave his readers unclear whether Emily or her father would prove to be right? Or would they have taken her father's view that suspected Jewishness was enough to decide he was a bad sort?

>27 lyzard: Ah, thanks for explaining that - I wouldn't have picked up on any connection with Portugal and Judaism.

I'm nipping at Heather's heels, about to start Chapter 20. I, too, appreciated the context in >27 lyzard:.

Chapter 24: The Marriage

It doesn't seem very sensible for Mr Wharton to make no enquiries about Lopez' financial situation. In fact it almost seems negligent.

Chapter 25: The Beginning of the Honeymoon

'And then his third resolution had reference to his wife. She must be instructed in his ways. She must learn to look at the world with his eyes. She must be taught the great importance of money,—not in a griping, hard-fisted, prosaic spirit; but that she might participate in that feeling of his own which had in it so much that was grand, so much that was delightful, so much that was picturesque. He would never ask her to be parsimonious,—never even to be economical. He would take a glory in seeing her well dressed and well attended, with her own carriage and her own jewels. But she must learn that the enjoyment of these things must be built upon a conviction that the most important pursuit in the world was the acquiring of money. And she must be made to understand, first of all, that she had a right to at any rate a half of her father's fortune. He had perceived that she had much influence with her father, and she must be taught to use this influence unscrupulously on her husband's behalf.'

Poor Emily.

>33 souloftherose: having just finished those two chapters, I couldn't agree with you more!

I've just finished chapter XXIII. The only big question I have so far is about the archery code in Ch. XIX-XXI. It seems like it may have some symbolic significance. Can you shed any light on this?

>33 souloftherose:

It doesn't seem very sensible for Mr Wharton to make no enquiries about Lopez' financial situation. In fact it almost seems negligent.

It is EXTREMELY negligent.

In fact it's worse than negligent; it's deliberate. It was an imperative duty for a father to be sure of the financial situation of the man he was allowing his daughter to marry, and not all of Mr Wharton's emotional coming-and-going on the subject excuses his failure to make the proper inquiries.

Infuriatingly enough, much later in the novel Mr Wharton and Lopez will have exactly the conversation (or at least, an exchange of letters) that should have occurred before the marriage was allowed to go ahead.

To me, this omission is Mr Wharton's passive-aggressive way of punishing Emily for her stubbornness (and, possibly, for her lack of "delicacy" in choosing a non-Englishman). He spends a lot of time gloomily reflecting that "she made her own bed, etc." but in reality a lot of this is on him.

What's interesting is that Emily is guilty of exactly the same sort of passive-aggressive behaviour, with her "I'll obey you but I'll be miserable forever" routine. She can only have learned that from her father.

>35 cbl_tn:

I don't think the code itself is symbolic---except as a symbol of the extent to which Glencora is overdoing everything.

But notice who is the first person who refuses to play by the rules?? There's your symbolism! :)

With respect to:

>31 souloftherose:

I find this book tricky to talk about in parts; everything I want to say refers to things that happen later, so I might hold comments.

But the more I think about things, I more I keep circling back to the word "dishonest". I think Trollope was guilty in this book of not providing adequate motivations and explanations for the characters in the Lopez-Wharton plot. As you say he gives no reason why Emily should have fallen in love with Lopez, when it should have been quite easy to sketch her as, on one hand, dazzled by this handsome stranger, so different from the (few?) other men she knows; and perhaps too as unconsciously rebelling against being told of the perfections of Arthur Fletcher. (We see some of that, but it's not handled with any subtlety.)

To me it seems as if Trollope is so in agreement with the Whartons' views that he doesn't bother fleshing out the other side of the argument. That's a failure for him as a novelist and one he's rarely guilty of; showing "the other side" even or particularly when he disagrees with it, is usually one of his strengths. Here he just stacks the deck too much.

>37 lyzard: I noticed that! I guess what I'm also wondering is whether there were standard rules for archery, or if it was normal to have different codes at different locations.

At this time different countries would have had different codes; these things usually only get standardised when international competition commences, or a sport gets introduced at the Olympics. With archery this didn't happen until the 1930s, in fact after it became an Olympic sport.

There are certainly rules about the design and composition of the equipment, distances and scoring, the signals used to control individual shots, and behavioural etiquette on the archery field. Dress codes are sometimes enforced.

It isn't clear what (if anything) is particularly complicated about the Gatherum Code; probably the writing out, printing and distributing of the Code was the complicated part, given the guests' disinterest. As I suggested, it's more an illustration of Glencora overdoing things.

So anyway---

How is everyone going? Where are you all up to?

Is everyone okay with the political content of the novel, and the workings of a Coalition government?

I'm up to Chapter 35. I think I'm doing OK with the politics.

In Chapter 33 there is a mention of the Three per Cents, and I did wonder what/who these are.

That was basically government bonds---a safe form of investment with low interest (3%) but no risk; as opposed to playing the stock market and buying shares.

I've read through Chapter 33. I think I'm OK with the politics as well.

>27 lyzard: Thanks for explaining the business about Portugal and the Jews. Although I knew about the history in general, I never would have picked up on it in this context.

I don't think this will be my favorite Trollope (the whole Barsetshire series will always have pride of place), but I am enjoying it.

Am I the only one who gets impatient with Lady Glen?

>45 Matke:

You and her husband. :D

Again, there's things I'd like to discuss in that regard but I think they're best kept until the end.

Is Frank Gresham the same Frank that we met in Barsetshire?

Yes---so we gather that his father has died, and Frank is now "the Squire".

>48 lyzard: right. Thank you!

If we can remember back to Doctor Thorne, we're told that Greshamsbury (the village near Frank's property) is eight miles from Silverbridge, and therefore in West Barset too. Frank as Squire seems to be dabbling in local politics (just as Plantagenet makes his feelings about that sort of thing clear, in line with recent altered electoral law), and that he is on the Conservative side.

(Of course the fact that he is a Conservative makes it less surprising that's he is electioneering, because it was the Liberals who pushed for electoral reform.)

I keep getting a chuckle whenever Lopez worries about the guano market. It seems like such a good fit for his character.

Yes, I'm sure that was intentional! :D

>36 lyzard: 'To me, this omission is Mr Wharton's passive-aggressive way of punishing Emily for her stubbornness'

Yes, that was how I read it too.

>38 lyzard: Well, having read up to the end of Chapter 40 now I no longer think Lopez comes across as an enigma, he's now coming across as pretty repulsive based on his behaviour in the last few chapters. But it does seem unusual for Trollope to have a character that so many characters think little of but for whom we're never shown any redeeming features by the author.

>45 Matke: 'Am I the only one who gets impatient with Lady Glen?'

No! I find her seeming unwillingness to try to understand Plantagenet's point of view quite frustrating.

Also, I really feel for Plantagenet as Prime Minister.

>51 cbl_tn: On the subject of making money from guano, on holiday recently we went to Tyntesfield House near Bristol which is a Victorian Gothic revival house redeveloped by the Gibbs family in the 1840s. The Gibbs family had a monopoly in the Peruvian guano market from the 1840s and became the richest non-noble family in the UK. So you can see why Lopez might think guano would be a good investment!

Picture of Tyntesfield below - it's worth a visit if you're in the area (and obsessed with poking around old country houses like me).

A quote from Chapter 40: "Come and Try It" that made me tear up a bit:

Mr. Wharton himself sat late into the night, all alone, thinking about it. What he had done, he had done in a morose way, and he was aware that it was so. He had not beamed with smiles, and opened his arms lovingly, and, bidding God bless his dearest children, told them that if they would only come and sit round his hearth he should be the happiest old man in London. He had said little or nothing of his own affection even for his daughter, but had spoken of the matter as one of which the pecuniary aspect alone was important. He had found out that the saving so effected would be material to Lopez, and had resolved that there should be no shirking of the truth in what he was prepared to do. He had been almost asked to take the young married couple in, and feed them,—so that they might live free of expense. He was willing to do it,—but was not willing that there should be any soft-worded, high-toned false pretension. He almost read Lopez to the bottom,—not, however, giving the man credit for dishonesty so deep or cleverness so great as he possessed. But as regarded Emily, he was also actuated by a personal desire to have her back again as an element of happiness to himself. He had pined for her since he had been left alone, hardly knowing what it was that he had wanted. And now as he thought of it all, he was angry with himself that he had not been more loving and softer in his manner to her. She at any rate was honest. No doubt of that crossed his mind. And now he had been bitter to her,—bitter in his manner,—simply because he had not wished to appear to have been taken in by her husband. Thinking of all this, he got up, and went to his desk, and wrote her a note, which she would receive on the following morning after her husband had left her. It was very short.


Dearest E.

I am so overjoyed that you are coming back to me.

A. W.


He had judged her quite rightly. The manner in which the thing had been arranged had made her very wretched. There had been no love in it;—nothing apparently but assertions on one side that much was being given, and on the other acknowledgments that much was to be received. She was aware that in this her father had condemned her husband. She also had condemned him;—and felt, alas, that she also had been condemned. But this little letter took away that sting. She could read in her father's note all the action of his mind. He had known that he was bound to acquit her, and he had done so with one of the old long-valued expressions of his love.

I agree with all of that as far as it goes, but there's still the fact that all this could and should have been averted.

The exchange of letters that takes place between Lopez and Mr Wharton in Chapter 46 and Chapter 47 should have taken place before consent was given for Emily's marriage. Mr Wharton could then rightly have objected on the grounds that he did not believe Lopez capable of supporting a wife: an entirely different proposition to objecting because "he isn't our sort", and an argument that wouldn't have made Mr Wharton the bad guy. He would simply have been a father doing his duty to his daughter.

If Mr Wharton has ended up punishing himself quite as thoroughly as Emily in all this, well, he deserves it.

>55 lyzard: Fair point.

I've just finished Chapter 53: Mr Hartlepod. Am I right in thinking that legally speaking if Lopez insists on taking Emily to Guatemala then there's nothing she or Mr Wharton could do?. (Spoiler tag just because I think I may have got a bit ahead of everyone).

Emily's desire for self-punishment is annoying me a bit although given the recent loss of her baby she's probably grieving too much to be able to think or act sensibly. Although that's another reason why Mr Wharton ought to put his foot down.

>54 souloftherose: I just read that bit this morning, and teared up as well. Poor Emily.

I'm holding off on reading any further than >54 souloftherose: until I catch up.

>56 souloftherose:

Nothing whatsoever, legally.

>57 lauralkeet:

This is a very hard book to discuss piecemeal---hopefully we can have some good conversation when more people have wrapped up their reading.

I'm now up to Chapter 61 and the start of Volume IV (in my edition). I think any comments I have would have too many spoilers so I will wait for others to catch up.

I've finished through chapter 50. I've taken a break from Trollope this weekend to focus on an Overdrive ebook that will expire in another week and disappear. I've waited my turn for this book for several months, so I'd better read it while I can!

Just making a note of my thoughts for discussion at the end of the book:

Chapter 74:

"There is no room left," said Mr. Wharton angrily, "for soft sentimentality. Well;—she must take her bed as she makes it. It is very hard on me, I know."

Because that worked out so well last time?

And more generally, throughout this book Trollope doesn't seem to be following the convention that women should not develop (or express) feelings for a man until he has proposed. I'm not sure if I've got confused and this is a convention from a different period or if Trollope is doing something unusual in this book?

That was the general convention, but Trollope has always tended more towards a woman not showing anything until a man says something, which is a more realistic expectation.

The idea that a woman doesn't "know" she loves a man until he tells her he loves her is a twisted expression of the desire for female innocence / ignorance, where she is not even supposed to understand her own romantic (i.e. sexual) feelings.

(Random thought--- Interesting to compare with Charlotte Lucas's practical / cynical assertion that a young woman should show more than she feels. Female / male difference, Regency / Victorian difference, or both??)

Just checking in. I'm up to Chapter 62. Things certainly took a dramatic turn a couple chapters ago! Avoiding spoilers, I'd say I was not surprised by the outcome in a general sense but the specifics were considerably more graphic than I expected. Wow.

>63 lauralkeet: I just finished Chapter 60, and I agree!

There are a couple of important points that need to be made about those passages---remind me when people have finished! :)

I just finished! I really enjoyed this book. The dual storylines of Plantagenet/Lady Glen and Emily's situation really worked for me.

Finished.

I have 10 chapters left and will probably finish tomorrow.

Great work!

I've also finished.

I haven't finished yet but I know what happens so don't delay the dicussions on my account.

My apologies for my silence, but the truth is---

--I'm working on a sweep!---

---and will be back here as soon as I puff and pant my way across the finish line. In the meantime, please carry on!

Sorry, everyone! Very selfish of me, but I got completely distracted by TIOLI! (Not to mention almost suffocating under the weight of the chunkster I had to finish for it!)

Good work to those of you who have finished; do we have anyone still reading?

I'd like to hear from those of you who hadn't read this before---Laura, I know you've commented that it "flew by" for you: would you like to share your thoughts?

>73 lyzard: sure ... !

I like the way Trollope wove together two storylines, one political and one romantic/social. Liz's context about Lopez was very helpful in understanding why he was considered unsuitable (of course he turned out to be unsuitable on so many levels, but at the beginning we didn't know that). The anti-semitic tone was disturbing, but that seemed to fade into the background as Lopez's ... erm ... other qualities emerged.

Plantagenet stood out from others in the political arena for being ethical and trustworthy. It was interesting how much he was criticized for being ineffective, although if modern-day politics is any indication, there's always a faction throwing mud at the other side. And I can't decide whether he really was effective, or if he just kept the hand on the tiller for three years. I didn't quite understand his friendship with Rosina deCourcy. She sort of appeared out of nowhere as a crossover from the Barchester novels, but I didn't understand why she was his confidante, or how Plantagenet managed to have a platonic friendship with her when society generally attributed romantic intentions to any interaction between the sexes and worked to prevent one-on-one interaction.

Glencora's character was much more developed in this novel than the previous ones. I just love her! She's ambitious in her own way, and flawed, but is also generally well-intentioned so I always wanted her meddling and orchestrating to be successful. It was nice to see Mrs Finn (Marie) again, this time in a more supporting role.

I was sympathetic to Emily, caught in the conventions of the time and woefully naive. I only got annoyed with her when she was wallowing in her own mourning way beyond societal conventions. Maybe Trollope just needed a few more chapters to satisfy his contractual commitment? Like most Trollope novels it was easy to predict how her storyline would resolve but it took a long time to get there after the "Tenway Junction" scene.

Hope this helps get things started!!

You need to remember that it is more than fifteen years since we first met Lady Rosina---she is older than Plantagenet and, in the terms of her society, very much an old maid. Not much room there for scandal! Her attraction for Plantagenet is simply that she is the one person he knows who doesn't want to talk politics to him. She becomes an avenue of escape, even if her conversation runs to cork soles. :)

"Hand on the tiller" is a good description: there is the suggestion that the main job of prime ministers was not to make policy, but to sell policy, to be a figurehead and spokesman rather than a working politician; and that's just what Plantagenet is no good at. He wants to be doing something concrete, not winning verbal battles and scoring points.

His appointment in the first place is a huge compliment---he's the one person in the whole political scrimmage that everyone trusts---but of course that's all over as soon as he actually holds office---as prime minister, he is automatically distrusted!

What was striking to me on this read of The Prime Minister was its negativity---both plots are quite gruelling, and there's very little relief in terms of either their resolutions or characters in a happier position.

I think Trollope was mentally in quite a dark place at this time. I referenced The Way We Live Now at the outset (for those who haven't read it, it's his great "we're going to hell in a handbasket" novel) and that too has some very negative things to say about the direction that Society was travelling in, but it also gives us some characters fighting through to happiness, rather than just release from their problems, as in The Prime Minister.

Just a few thoughts:

I was actually relieved to learn that our current events are in fact nothing new. The grifter nature of the odious Mr. Slide shows that "news" has long been manipulated, and that, while good people are hounded almost beyond endurance, blunders and cads are lauded as blameless victims.

I agree with Liz that this a dark and quite cheerless book. There are very few of Trollope's flashes of humor, whether gentle or stinging. On the other hand, I loved the exploration of Glencora's character. She can be extremely exasperating, and as a judge of men she lacks discernment. But her keen sense of her own faults and mistakes is brightly refreshing. The Duke's honesty with himself is also delightful.

I was unhappy with the anti-semitism, but was somewhat cheered when I remembered other disgusting villains in Trollope's novels. I noted that Lopez's unawareness of wrongdoing was emphasized. Does that make him a sociopath?

I loved the Finns. Two people in a very good marriage with few illusions about themselves or the world, they provide most of the sun in this otherwise gray world.

Clearly this a good book, and with the exception of the last few chapters involving Emily, is an easy read. But the darkness will keep it from being my favorite Trollope. It might be my favorite Palliser novel, though, for the depth of the characters.

ETA: This is my 100th book of 2016! Great luck.

Congratulations, Gail!

It is Lopez's unawareness that I really have an issue with, because it is unaccounted for and makes no sense in context:

To give him his due, he did not know that he was a villain. When he was exhorting her to "get round her father" he was not aware that he was giving her lessons which must shock a well-conditioned girl. He did not understand that everything that she had discovered of his moral disposition since her marriage was of a nature to disgust her. And, not understanding all this, he conceived that he was grievously wronged by her in that she adhered to her father rather than to him.

We're told (by the narrator, not by Lopez) that Lopez grew up in England, that he went to English schools; he spends his time with gentlemen, albeit not of the very first order. There is no reason he shouldn't understand these things, even if he chooses to operate outside their bounds---or rather, if there is a reason, we're not told it. He may well be a scoundrel with no morals, but how did he get that way? Trollope presents it as a sort of genetic incapability on his part: all we're given is that Lopez's father wasn't English, and that's absurd.

Usually Trollope is very good at dissecting out people's motives, but here he doesn't bother. Contrast this with how he handles Plantagenet. Obviously all his sympathies are with his beleaguered politician, yet he's perfectly capable of telling us what he's doing wrong and why he's doing it.

I've been slowly working my way through Middlemarch since Spring, and it's just occurred to me that Emily Lopez and Dorothea Casaubon have a lot in common.

Interesting! Yes, certainly in the sense that the people who should have been looking out for them failed in their duty---and with both of them having to deal with the consequences of their own mistaken choice.

It still burns me that we finally do get that exchange of letters wherein Mr Wharton finally pins Lopez down about his finances. That is exactly what he needed to do in the first place---the fundamental duty of a father (not to mention a lawyer!)---and I still think there's an aspect of punishing Emily in his refusal to do it.

If he had done it at the outset, he could have refused his consent on the grounds that he didn't believe Lopez could support Emily properly, and that would have been the end of the argument. But because he leaves his refusal in terms of his own bigotry, Emily naturally persists---and, I would argue, is right to do so.

I think this is one of Trollope's books that I both enjoyed and found frustrating - I don't think my feeling of frustration means that it was a bad book but perhaps more that several of the characters experienced quite frustrating things (I don't feel like I'm explaining this very well). Perhaps what I'm saying is I found the book quite negative as Liz says in >76 lyzard:.

It was frustrating to read about the ethical and trustworthy (as Laura puts it so well) Plantagenet Palliser struggling with criticism and with not having any work to engross himself with. It was frustrating to read about Lady Glencora desperate to be involved in her husband's world somehow but being restricted to the roles she should play. And then the frustrations and miscommunications between the Pallisers as a couple.

It was frustrating to read about Lopez who I never felt acquired any depth as a character and I think this is the main thing I can identify as a flaw in the novel - I felt he went from being an enigma to a full-blown cartoon villain. I guess I'm kind of echoing what Liz said about genetic incapability in >78 lyzard:

I particularly found the last section of Emily's story frustrating - whilst I could sympathise with her grief and self-condemnation I could also see that punishing herself for this mistake was unhelpful. And I was really frustrated by the way I felt she was emotionally blackmailed by her family and friends into accepting Arthur Fletcher. Even though I could see that deep down this was what she wanted. And I was really struck with the contrast between the way Plantagenet's friends accepted his stand on not accepting office even though they disagreed with it and the way Emily's friends wouldn't accept her stand.

I was also struck by the conversations between Emily and Arthur Fletcher ("I am disgraced and shamed") - I might be reading too much into this but is Emily just referring to her disgrace as coming from her husband's actions (he was a scoundrel so she is disgraced and shamed) or is there something to do with sex here?

>80 lyzard: Yes, that aspect of Mr Wharton was also something I found frustrating. Especially that he never seemed to acknowledge his own role in what happened to Emily.

>81 souloftherose:

Yes, absolutely.

The handling of the marriage and Emily's self-torment is full of disturbing implications. Part of it certainly is how mistaken her judgement was, that as the wife of a scoundrel she is culpable in his actions; but much more so, I think, there is the suggestion that she has been personally "stained" by the marriage.

To me, this is perhaps the most disturbing passage in the novel:

But, perhaps, John's power was most felt in the way in which he repressed the expressions of his mother's high indignation. "Mean slut!" she once said, speaking of Emily in her eldest son's hearing. For the girl, to her thinking, had been mean and had been a slut. She had not known,---so Mrs Fletcher thought,---what birth and blood required of her.

This follows on from Mr Wharton's own initial bigoted reaction to Lopez, and despite the slight disclaimer ("so Mrs Fletcher thought), the novel itself does nothing to invalidate the stance.

Sadly this is something that has a long history, and still has its occurrences today---the idea that a white woman is "degraded" if she marries (or has sex with) a non-white man.

And the worst of it is that Emily herself comes around to this view: this is the basis of her wallowing at the end of the novel. On the surface it is about Lopez's dishonest behaviour, but on a deeper level it is about the fact that she was his wife, that she had sex with him, that she bore his child. She comes to believe what her family believed from that start, that her choice of Lopez in the first place means that there is something wrong with her---that she has been lacking as an English lady---and that her marriage has tainted her.

(Plot-wise, this is why the baby has to die: if there was a little Lopez running around, living evidence of Emily's physical relationship with Lopez, it would be a permanent reminder and a barrier. As it is, everyone can pretend that never happened.)

One of the - many! - frustrating things about this novel is that the inference of both the A Plot and the B plot is that women shouldn't be left to their own judgement: that they should just do what their menfolk want, otherwise there will be trouble. Glencora gets away with it up to a point because of who and what she is, but her interference in the election is the pivotal point in Plantagenet's ultimate failure, in spite of all his own shortcomings.

As for Emily, she holds to her own judgement, and disaster results.

You've put your finger on another piece of gender-bias in your summation of the Plantagenet-Glencora situation, another social aspect that hasn't gone away: men can do what they want, but women should do what other people want. I think there is still a prevailing belief that women are supposed to be facilitators of other people's choices, that they are not supposed to insist upon their own wants.

This is Emily's great sin: she puts her own wants ahead of what her family wants of her, and therefore she must be punished.

Excellent analysis and commentary, Liz. I enjoyed the book on more of a surface level but you are absolutely right about the issues it raises.

Thanks, Laura!

It occurs to me that this novel might be expressing a kind of conservative push-back: it was published midway between the passage of the two Married Women's Property Acts (in 1870 and 1882), and at a time of increased public discourse about women's education and employment. The negativity expressed here might in fact reflect disapproval of the changes that were beginning to happen in society at large.

But we can't let this discussion wrap up without some consideration of what was tactfully described up-thread as "the events of Chapter 60"! :D

The coming of the railroads was *the* defining event of 19th century England, and the before and after could hardly have been more dramatic, in terms of the changes wrought countrywide.

But it was an ambivalent relationship. On one hand the railways were a symbol of the progress that the Victorians loved so much, on the other (even leaving out the changes to the face of the landscape and many people's way of life), there were many horrendous accidents and crashes that led to significant loss of life and permanent injuries.

And the other thing that happened is that railway lines swiftly became a favourite suicide spot.

I'm fascinated here by the behaviour of the railway official who immediately spots the danger signs when Lopez starts wandering up and down the platform: the implication is that he's seen it before. He does his best to ward off disaster but he's got his job to do, and his efforts are evaded.

I think it is an extraordinary passage of writing by Trollope, amazingly powerful in its very abruptness, which captures the suddenness and the totality of the moment.

But Trollope wasn't the only Victorian writer to tackle this sort of event: Dickens gave us a similar passage---

in Dombey And Son, with the dreadful Carker meeting an appropriately dreadful fate.

Of course the irony there was that Dickens himself was involved in a terrible train accident, seventeen years later, awkwardly enough when he was travelling home from France with Ellen Ternan and her mother. He was certainly badly affected by the accident, but that probably wasn't the main reason he went out of his way to avoid giving testimony at the inquest... :)

...and the other thing about Chapter 60 that we really have to take a second look at is this:

But he went round by Trafalgar Square, and along the Strand, and up some dirty streets by the small theatres, and so on to Holborn and by Bloomsbury Square up to Tottenham Court Road, then through some unused street into Portland Place, along the Marylebone Road, and back to Manchester Square by Baker Street. He had more than doubled the distance,---apparently without any object. He had been spoken to frequently by unfortunates of both sexes, but had answered a word to no one...

As far as I'm aware, that's the only reference in all of "respectable" 19th century literature to male prostitution.

This passage bears some similarity to one in Can You Forgive Her?, where Burgo Fitzgerald is likewise wandering aimlessly at a moment of despair, and is accosted by a prostitute:

There he stood till he was cold, and then, as the plum did not drop into his mouth, he moved on. He went up into Oxford Street, and walked along it the whole distance to the corner of Bond Street, passing by Grosvenor Square, to which he intended to return. At the corner of Bond Street, a girl took hold of him, and looked up into his face. "Ah!" she said, "I saw you once before."---"Then you saw the most miserable devil alive," said Burgo. "You can't be miserable," said the girl. "What makes you miserable? You've plenty of money."---"I wish I had," said Burgo. "And plenty to eat and drink," exclaimed the girl; "and you are so handsome! I remember you. You gave me supper one night when I was starving. I ain't hungry now. Will you give me a kiss?"---"I'll give you a shilling, and that's better," said Burgo. "But give me a kiss too," said the girl. He gave her first the kiss, and then the shilling, and after that he left her and passed on...

It has been pointed out by some critics that Ferdinand Lopez, described as "tall, dark and handsome", but in a way that is found attractive by women but not by not men, bears some resemblance to Burgo, and that this might account for Glencora's impulsive "adoption" of Lopez.

>86 lyzard: Yes, the train scene is very powerful. Who came first, Trollope or Tolstoy?

>87 lyzard: I think I passed this one over, although I probably interpreted "unfortunates" as beggars, rather than prostitutes. I do remember old Burgo, though. And George Vavasor, too--right?--didn't he have a prostitute/mistress who he treated brutally?

Funny you should mention Tolstoy: in one of John Sutherland's essays, he points out that in Anna Karenina, Anna is clearly reading a novel by Trollope---except it's not any of his actual novels but a pastiche.

As for their train scenes, Trollope got there first by a year---though Tolstoy's scheme makes it clear he had such a scene in mind from the outset, so it's just a coincidence.

"Unfortunates" was a polite euphemism for prostitutes, rather than for the poor or homeless. We can only speculate why Trollope added the rider "of both sexes": was he implying something else about Lopez, one last shot is parting, as it were?

Yes, George Vavasor has a mistress who he simply abandons to poverty and, likely, starvation when he decides to flee the country.

I didn't know the true meaning of "unfortunates," either. Interesting. The abruptness of the scene on the railway lines really struck me, too (oof, no pun intended!) While a modern writer would have given us a lot more blood and gore, this seemed pretty gory by the standards of the time.

I saw that "unfortunates" reference and was fairly surprised by it. It seemed odd to see Trollope mention both genders in that context.

Anyway, I was unhappy with the anti-Semitic tone of parts of the novel, but somewhat relieved to remember other cads (Vavasor immediately came to mind) who were most definitely not Jewish.

Glencora disappointed me in that her judgement of male character was again sadly mistaken. On the other hand, it becomes quite clear that she loves Plantagenet, although perhaps not as much as he loves her, and truly wants the best for him. The best as she sees it, that is.

I read somewhere that Tolstoy really admired Trollope, but I know Anna's demise was based on a true-life incident. That, by the way, is another favorite novel.

I'm enjoyed the book and am enjoying the discussion as well. Thanks, Liz!

>90 lauralkeet:

It is, but I think he was mostly trying to convey a sense of complete obliteration.

>91 Matke:

The group judgement thing drives me crazy! - so-and-so does something *because* she is a woman, or because he is Jewish, or whatever, which means that *all* women or *all* Jewish people are untrustworthy; it's never an individual thing unless you're talking about a white heterosexual male, who is allowed to transgress without taking the whole collective down with him.

We see this between this novel and The Way We Live Now, which is full of "English gentlemen" behaving in morally indefensible ways, without any suggestion they are doing so because they are English gentlemen.

As Gail says, George Vavasor is a total cad, but where is the suggestion it's because of his English breeding? He's just a cad because he's a cad.

And it's particularly stupid here because we don't even know Lopez is Jewish! It's a good illustration of how bigotry works (though I doubt it was intended as such), with Mr Wharton imposing his own prejudices onto Lopez and then using that as an excuse to condemn him.

Again, the Glencora business fits the novel's overall pattern of women's poor judgement: women can't really "know" men and therefore should allow other men to judge for them.

Gee, I really wanted to give Trollope the benefit of the doubt, hoping he was saying, "Look at this judgement based on something that isn't even verified!"

But I'm pretty sure that's not true. Does he have an "outsider" who is a "gentleman?" Look at the odious Slope, for example. He's an outsider precisely because he's not a "gentleman."

But wait a second. What about Madame Max? Isn't there some question as to whether she's Jewish somewhere along the line? And she's certainly an outsider. Yet she turns out to be a completely admirable, wise woman, and Vora's best friend to boot. Hmm...

Again, Burgo Fitzgerald is the short answer: he is a thorough outsider in spite being indisputably a gentleman by birth:

...a young man born in the purple of the English aristocracy. He was related to half the dukes in the kingdom, and had three countesses for his aunts...
---Can You Forgive Her?

There are others, plenty once you go looking. None of whom is accused of being an outsider because he is an English gentleman but are insread treated as exceptions to the rule, despite there being so man of them.

It was implied (as it is implied about Lopez, i.e. on prejudice not evidence) that her late husband was Jewish. But yes, as an outsider and a foreigner Madame Max is viewed with the same sort of suspicion.

But we have to be careful with respect to Madame Max, because if you read the novels closely it is obvious that Trollope changed his mind about what he intended to do with the character. His tone when speaking of her changes almost completely from her introduction to his handling of her rejection of the Duke of Omnium and onwards.

(Note also that the age difference between herself and Phineas suddenly shrinks, though she is still older. Trollope certainly wasn't thinking about that at the outset.)

No, I'm afraid we're stuck with this and can only take it as an accurate reflection of Victorian attitudes of the 1870s.

>83 lyzard: & >85 lyzard: Sorry for the delay in replying and thanks for the detailed response. And an interesting point about the plot-required death of the baby (poor baby) which hadn't occurred to me before. And good comments on the similarities between Glencora and Emily in the sense of where their own judgement is shown to lead them.

In response to >85 lyzard: in Is He Popenjoy? (1877 - 1878), another Trollope novel for which the serial publication started the year after The Prime Minister, there's a subplot involving women's rights where I got the impression Trollope disapproved of women campaigning for women's rights. So, as you say, it may have been the conservative bit of Trollope responding to those changes.

>87 lyzard:, >88 kac522: Oh, I misread 'unfortunates' too!

Speaking of which:

    "I have met Lords of the Treasury out at dinner on Mondays and Thursdays, but we all regard them as boys who have shirked out of school. I think upon the whole, Mr Erle, we women have the best of it."
    "I don't suppose you will go in for your 'rights'."
    "Not by Act of Parliament, or by platform meeting. I have a great idea of a woman's rights; but that is the way, I think, to throw them away."

That doesn't sound like Madame Max Goesler, businesswoman, to me; it sounds like fusty old Anthony Trollope. (And note the use of inverted commas around "rights".)

Sad but accurate. Madame Max remains a favorite with me.

>96 lyzard: Oh yes, I'd forgotten that bit.

Although Trollope is always Trollope and therefore eminently readable, I get the impression that the mid-1870s represented a fairly dark point in his life; a pessimistic point. He certainly had some not unjustified concerns about the direction that his society was taking (along with what we might consider some completely unjustified concerns!), and this is reflected not just in the difficulties presented in both main plots of The Prime Minister but the lack of relief from them, even the usual sop of a happy romantic relationship amongst the supporting characters. The closest we get is a glimpse of the Finn marriage, but not so as to see how it really works.

Instead what lingers is the fallout from the main plots: Plantagenet forced out of office and struggling to find his place in the political world again; the shadow of Ferdinand Lopez hanging over Emily and Arthur; even poor Mrs Parker and her children, more collateral damage.

All of these people might be happy in the long run but the narrative stops fairly close to the bottom of a down-swing; much more so than is usual with Trollope (even more so than in the bleak The Way We Live Now), where there is usually some restoration of equilibrium.

So .... before the year ends and we all scurry off to the 2017 group, I wanted to see what others are thinking about reading the final Palliser novel, The Duke's Children.

I am completely flexible on timing but wondered if we could set a tentative month that fits with our expert guide Liz's schedule? It's also totally okay Liz if you can't make any plans right now. Just thought I'd ask.

Thank you for bringing it up! I'm flexible too, Laura, but didn't want to impose on anyone else. January is booked with Deerbrook, but beyond that I am more than happy to fit in with others' convenience.

I'm up for the last book and can work it into my schedule any time.

I'm ready when you (all) are.

Anytime after January would be fine with me but....

Everyman are publishing the new restored edition of The Duke's Children in April next year - this was previously only available as a limited Folio Society edition. Would people want to get hold of this edition and if so, should we schedule the read for after April? Or do you think it would be easier if we all read from the originally published edition? I appreciate not everyone may want to/be able to purchase the Everyman edition.

Liz, as you have the FS edition do you have any thoughts?

http://www.randomhouse.com/knopf/classics/catalog/display.pperl?isbn=97811019078...

My plan was to stick with the standard edition since that is the one that has historically been "the" edition, and that everyone can get access to; I was intending to then give it a break before reading the Folio edition and commenting upon the differences.

I think in terms of what we're doing here that might still be the best plan, but perhaps with an option for anyone who wants to to join me for a second group read at a later date.

>105 lyzard: That makes sense (and gives me the perfect excuse to buy both editons!) I would definitely be interested in a second group read of the restored edition at some point.

>105 lyzard: I've already read the standard edition (but would follow along the group read). I would probably buy the restored edition for a later group read if that ends up happening.

In that case:

(i) I think we'll stick with the plan of doing an initial group read with the standard edition, and come back to the restored edition at a later time.

(ii) We'll schedule the standard-edition read for early in the year---February or March. Does anyone have a preference?

I'm in and open to any month.

I have a slight preference for March but will go with the majority. Thanks Liz!

Noted, Laura!

Either month would work for me.

So---just to confirm (obviously!) that we are aiming for March with this group read.

Excellent! Thank you Liz.

Bump

This is the 2016 group's thread. I think it would be better to create a new thread to be placed in the 2019 group.

>116 thornton37814: I'm not sure what you are talking about. I always follow Liz's threads when I read Trollope. Always bump them too.

>117 luvamystery65: I thought you were trying to organize a Trollope read for this year and trying to use a 2016 thread instead of a new one.