Anthony TROLLOPE : Barchester towers - Barchester chronicles #2

‘I never saw anything like you clergymen… you are always thinking of fighting each other’
After the death of old Dr Grantly, a bitter struggle begins over who will succeed him as Bishop of Barchester. And when the decision is finally made to appoint the evangelical Dr Proudie, rather than the son of the old bishop, Archdeacon Grantly, resentment and suspicion threaten to cause deep divisions within the diocese. Trollope’s masterly depiction of the plotting and back-stabbing that ensues lies at the heart of one of the most vivid and comic of his Barsetshire novels, peopled by such very different figures as the saintly Warden of Hiram’s Hospital, Septimus Harding, the ineffectual but well-meaning new bishop and his terrifying wife, and the oily chaplain Mr Slope who has designs both on Mr Harding’s daughter and the fascinating would-be femme fatale Signora Vesey-Neroni.

I still don't know why I always thought that series of novels would be boring (maybe a certain Chesterton influence with a certain book), but those thoughts are long gone since I began reading The Warden.

People in there are fighting like cats ! It should have been called "A hornet's nest" ! Those (more or less, depending) respectable clergymen and their families insinuate, manipulate, intimidate with a righteous indignation (more or less, depending) that is downright hilarious. The balance of powers and ambition are important for most of the characters, bishops, would-be deans, archdeacons, prelates and even tenants ("The Lookalofts and the Greenacres", who have a chapter by their names). There are a few exceptions that allow us to take our breath, but they are trapped in the spider's web as well as the others.

I started reading this book at night. I usually have two books on at the same time : one in paperback during the day, one on Kindle during the night - when I can't sleep, I can read without waking my companion. However, I quickly had to give up reading in the middle of the night because I was dying to burst out laughing. For instance :

"It is not my intention to breathe a word against the caracter of Mrs. Proudie, but still I cannot think that, with all her virtues, she adds much to her husband's happiness. The truth is that in matters domestic, she rules supreme over her titular lord, and rules with a rod of iron. Nor is this all. Things domestic Dr. Proudie might have abandoned to her, if not voluntarily, yet willingly. But Mrs. Proudie is not satisfied with such home dominion and stretches her power over all his movements, and will not even abstain from things spiritual. In fact, the bishop is hen-pecked."

The various characters are described in a way that is a joy to read. I could imagine Trollope's delectation while he was writin them, the same way the Signora feels when she draws men to her. The women are no less important than the men ; in fact, in several couples, they're the bosses. The vocabulary is that of war, sprinkled with French words (the language of love, I heard) : "That which of all things he most dreaded was that he should be outgeneralled by Mr. Slope ; and just at present, it appeared probable that Mr. Slope would turn his flank, steal a march on him, cut off his provisions, carry his strong town by a coup de main, and at last beat him thoroughly in a regular pitched battle." 

I often laughed at the bishop but also felt sorry for him, even if his wife finally managed to make him happy while making herself happy. My heart went out to the Quiverfuls, especially to Mrs. Quiverful, a couple with 14 children on the edge of poverty. There is laughter, irony, wit and a wonderful story, even a love story : such a great book !