The Warden

I have just finished The Warden, Trollope's fourth novel and the next on my journey through all the works of Trollope in order.

This is my third or fourth reading of the novel, and I have also watched the excellent dramatization of the book in the BBC's 1982 series, The Barchester Chronicles.

This time I was struck by how unusual the plot is. The Warden is a novel in which almost nothing happens. In fact, a summary of the plot would probably make someone who had never read the book wonder why anyone would read it:

Rev. Septimus Harding lives at Hiram's Hospital, a charity home for twelve elderly men, with his daughter, Eleanor. His daughter's suitor, John Bold, becomes convinced that the charity is being mismanaged, and demands a public accounting.  Eleven of the twelve old pensioners are convinced that if they sue the hospital they will be awarded much more of the annual proceeds of the charity. A  public legal battle ensues.

Rev. Harding (the warden of the book's title) is distressed by the publicity and the imputation of wrongdoing. As he considers the matter, though, he becomes convinced that he is actually in the wrong to take such a large income from the charity. Even though Eleanor persuades John Bold to drop the lawsuit, Rev. Harding resigns as a matter of conscience, though this means that his income is greatly reduced. The upshot for the twelve old men is that their income is reduced also (Rev. Harding had subsidized it out of his own pocket), no new warden is appointed to take his place, and the charity falls into comparative ruin.

Imagine pitching this plot to an editor or producer: "Here's my idea - a lawsuit is threatened, and then dropped!"

And what a change from Trollope's first three novels, filled with swashbuckling action and melodrama.

Yet if he had written only the first three, we would not know his name. If he had written only The Warden he would probably be at least a footnote in Victorian studies. In this novel, the first in the great Barsetshire series, Trollope begins to be at home with his particular genius. 

I wondered what Trollope himself had said about the novel, whether he had realized at the time what a wonderful step forward this was in his writing. I had read The Warden on my Kindle, and I was able to order and download his Autobiography almost the second I had the thought, and for only 99 cents! (This technology still amazes me mightily, and I like to think that Trollope would be equally amazed and gratified if he could know of the ways in which his words are being delivered to new readers so long after their initial publication.)

In his autobiography, Trollope tells us that The Warden was the first of his novels to receive favorable critical attention, and the first one from which he made any kind of money (he is always very honest and unembarrassed about discussing the financial aspects of the production of novels). He says that the characters are good (an understatement), and that the plot is weak (not true, in my opinion).

He notes that the idea for the novel had originated in his being struck by "two opposite evils" - that charitable funds had become income for "idle Church dignitaries" rather than being used to assist the poor, and that the recipients of these incomes were subjected to "undeserved severity." As Trollope notes, "When a man is appointed to a place, it is natural that he should accept the income allotted to that place without much inquiry. It is seldom that he will be the first to find out that his services are overpaid."

Very astute observations. But Trollope goes on to say,  "But I was altogether wrong in supposing that the two things could be combined. Any writer in advocating a cause must do so after the fashion of an advocate . . . or his writing will be ineffective. He should take up one side and cling to that, and then he may be powerful."

On the contrary - the peculiar strength of The Warden comes from the matching up of these two opposing forces. Mr Harding's position is wrong - and at the same time, he is blameless and very lovable. It's a wonderful combination.

Finally, I found this observation about Trollope, which I just want to include here as it beautifully summarizes the heartbreaking story that was the man's childhood and youth, from PD James' tribute to Trollope, "The Finest Natural Psychologist":

"If it is true, as one psychiatrist has told us, that ideally a creative writer should have as much trauma in childhood that he can take without breaking, then Anthony Trollope's early life was an ideal preparation for the profession of letters. He was a child in desperate need of love and encouragement who received very little of either. His proud and sensitive spirit suffered the humiliations and agonies of genteel poverty. He was bullied, beaten and despised at school and undervalued by his family."

Well, I hope the psychiatrist was wrong. But his early life really was terrible - more so than Dickens', to my mind, although Dickens' early traumas are much more famous. Of course, there is not point in arguing that one child suffered more than another, when all suffering is bad.