Group Read: The Last Chronicle Of Barset by Anthony Trollope

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Group Read: The Last Chronicle Of Barset by Anthony Trollope

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1lyzard
Edited: Mar 1, 2014, 6:08 pm



The Last Chronicle Of Barset by Anthony Trollope (1867)


Welcome, all, to the group read of The Last Chronicle Of Barset, the final volume of Anthony Trollope's Barchester series. The novel was originally serialised in experimental form, with thirty-two weekly (as opposed to monthly) parts appearing from December 1866 to July 1867, before being republished in volume form.

It is often said that The Last Chronicle Of Barset is longer than it needs to be, which is probably true. There is a sense that Trollope was having a hard time letting go of the fictional world of Barchester, which is hardly surprising. Over the course of this book, Trollope manages to bring back almost every character who had appeared in the previous five novels. Furthermore, the writing of this novel coincided with some significant changes in Trollope's personal life, including his resignation from the postal service, which had employed him for over thirty years. The Last Chronicle Of Barset was a watershed in his career in more ways than one.

The tone of The Last Chronicle Of Barset is much darker than that of the previous novels, and points forward to Trollope's two most famous standalone works, He Knew He Was Right and The Way We Live Now. The focus of the narrative is the Reverend Josiah Crawley, introduced in Framley Parsonage, where he brought Mark Robarts to a sharp sense of his own failings, and was the deeply reluctant recipient of assistance from Lucy Robarts when his wife fell seriously ill. In this novel, it is Reverend Crawley who is in trouble, accused of stealing a cheque for twenty pounds.

As a piece of characterisation, Trollope's delineation of Reverend Crawley is all the more remarkable because he lacked the vocabulary to articulate what seems evident to the modern reader, that Crawley is suffering from depression in addition to other manifestations of mental illness. Joltingly, the characters in the novel - including Crawley himself - tend to declare him bluntly "mad" or "insane". The circumstances in which he finds himself leave him the impossible choice of admitting to being either a thief or a madman.

However, Trollope's characterisation is far more complex than anyone than perhaps the long-suffering Mrs Crawley can grasp. There are infinite shades of grey in Josiah Crawley, whose bitter resentment of his circumstances, and the perverse pleasure he tends to find in the very difficulties of his life, express anything but Christian resignation. It is hard to dispute the assertion that he brings some of his trouble on himself - and that he enjoys doing so.

At the same time, the reader is allowed inside the tortuous workings of Crawley's mind and able to judge how much is not within his control. Most disturbingly, at one point we the thoughts of this sincere and passionate Christian sliding towards suicide.

It is generally considered that in The Last Chronicle Of Barset, Anthony Trollope was drawing upon his memories of his own unhappy and disrupted childhood, and that to an extent, Crawley is a portrait of his own father, who failed first as a barrister and then as a farmer, and likewise suffered from periods of mental disturbance.

Furthermore, Crawley is the face of the church abuses that have, for all Trollope's sympathies with the High Church party and the old ways of doing things, underlain all of the clerical subplots of the Barchester series. Crawley is the best educated and, arguably, the most devout of all the Barchester clergymen, yet his qualifications have won him nothing better than a perpetual curacy in Barset's poorest parish at 130 pounds a year, while less qualified but more politically astute and socially adept individuals live in comparative luxury.

It should be said that while it never plunges into church politics like The Warden and Barchester Towers, there are certain passages in The Last Chronicle Of Barset, particularly those addressing the limitations of the bishop's authority, that might require some explanation when we get to them.

Otherwise, I can only say what I always say: do not read the introduction or endnotes of your edition of The Last Chronicle Of Barset, but bring any questions, no matter how seemingly minor, to this thread. Please include chapter numbers in bold when posting, so as to avoid spoilers.

2lyzard
Feb 28, 2014, 5:03 pm

As always, let's start with a roll-call:

Who's in? Who's lurking?

3cbl_tn
Feb 28, 2014, 5:09 pm

I'm in! I've already read a little bit of the first chapter and will probably read more this evening.

4Donna828
Feb 28, 2014, 6:48 pm

I have both the e-book and audio version (narrated by Simon Vance) downloaded and ready to go. I hope to get started this week end.

5brenzi
Feb 28, 2014, 7:26 pm

I wouldn't miss it but don't know when I will be starting. I L-O-V-E the fact that Trollope brings back most of the characters but I really hope to see Signora Madeline Neroni. She was unforgettable for me:-)

6CDVicarage
Mar 1, 2014, 3:45 am

I have started my audio version, read by Timothy West, and have reached chapter 11. I have read this in print before - the first book I ever read on my kindle - but cannot very clearly recall the events.

This time I was struck by how we are plunged straight into the story with very little introduction to the characters and setting, perhaps because it should all be familiar to readers of the previous five novels. Trollope also hasn't told us yet how it will all end, which I'm sure he tended to do in his other books, so there is a certain amount of suspense.

7lauralkeet
Mar 1, 2014, 6:26 am

This book was calling my name a month ago, and I just couldn't wait, so I started it. And I finished it last night! I agree it was "longer than it needs to be," but I sooo enjoyed every page -- probably because, like the author, I really didn't want to leave Barchester behind. Why does it have to end??!!

I loved the way Trollope brought out so many characters from previous books. I don't know if he had planned it that way all along, but it gave some previously minor characters a greater purpose and provided continuity from Small House at Allington, which seemed to me like a non sequitur from previous books.

You're all in for a treat, and I will be following along with the discussion because, no, I still don't want to say good-bye to my friends in Barchester.

8souloftherose
Mar 1, 2014, 7:46 am

I'm in! Not started yet but the book is on my bedside table and I should start reading this weekend.

>5 brenzi: Another vote for Signora Neroni. I'd also love to see Miss Dunstable (as was).

9gennyt
Mar 1, 2014, 10:25 am

I'll be joining in too. Will need to download a free digital copy as my lovely Folio edition is in storage. This will be a re-read for me, but unlike most of the others I've only read this one once, so I've forgotten most of the details. I do remember it being darker...

10lyzard
Edited: Mar 1, 2014, 3:39 pm

Hello, Carrie, Donna, Bonnie, Kerry, Heather, Laura and Genny - welcome!!

Bonnie and Heather, alas no, the Signora is about the one person who does not show up: I say that now so you won't be disappointed going forward. This would be for reasons both artistic and narrative. You might remember that in Framley Parsonage we heard that Dr Stanhope had died in Italy, after leaving Barchester secretly because of his family's debts - they couldn't afford to come back! But truly, I think the real reason is that this is not the sort of novel which could comfortably contain the Signora.

Kerry, Trollope only tells us the endings of his comedies; this is a lot closer to tragedy. A lot closer, too, as I mentioned, to the increasingly dark books Trollope would write in the future.

I agree, Laura!

11lyzard
Edited: Mar 1, 2014, 3:44 pm

So let's get started!

Chapter 1

That he had become popular in his parish cannot be said of him. He was not a man to make himself popular in any position. I have said that he was moody and disappointed. He was even worse than this; he was morose, sometimes almost to insanity. There had been days in which even his wife had found it impossible to deal with him otherwise than as with an acknowledged lunatic. And this was known among the farmers, who talked about their clergyman among themselves as though he were a madman. But among the very poor, among the brickmakers of Hoggle End,—a lawless, drunken, terribly rough lot of humanity,—he was held in high respect; for they knew that he lived hardly, as they lived; that he worked hard, as they worked; and that the outside world was hard to him, as it was to them; and there had been an apparent sincerity of godliness about the man, and a manifest struggle to do his duty in spite of the world's ill-usage, which had won its way even with the rough; so that Mr. Crawley's name had stood high with many in his parish, in spite of the unfortunate peculiarity of his disposition.

Although we have heard throughout the Barchester novels of the "terrible" things done by the Ecclesiastical Commission, in respect of a more appropriate distribution of church revenue and salaries commensurate with the work done, their powers don't seem to have reached Hogglestock...

12cbl_tn
Mar 1, 2014, 5:33 pm

>11 lyzard: That's one of the passages I bookmarked in Chapter 1! In some religious circles today Crawley would be considered successful because of the respect that the very poor had for him.

13souloftherose
Mar 2, 2014, 12:23 pm

#11 I have a soft spot for Crawley based on that passage, despite what we read later about his resistance to being helped.

Chapter 1

I've found the story of the cheque quite difficult to follow. Can you shed some light on this for me?

1. The crime laid to his charge was the theft of a cheque for twenty pounds, which he was said to have stolen out of a pocket-book left or dropped in his house, and to have passed as money into the hands of one Fletcher, a butcher of Silverbridge, to whom he was indebted.

So is Mr Crawley accused of forging the cheque - faking the signature? Or was the cheque already filled in and signed with the name of the payee left blank?

2. Mr. Crawley was in those days the perpetual curate of Hogglestock

Can you remind me what a perpetual curate is?

3. In October, Mrs. Crawley paid the twenty pounds to Fletcher, the butcher, and in November Lord Lufton's cheque was traced back through the Barchester bank to Mr. Crawley's hands. A brickmaker of Hoggle End, much favoured by Mr. Crawley, had asked for change over the counter of this Barchester bank,—not, as will be understood, the bank on which the cheque was drawn—and had received it. The accommodation had been refused to the man at first, but when he presented the cheque the second day, bearing Mr. Crawley's name on the back of it, together with a note from Mr. Crawley himself, the money had been given for it; and the identical notes so paid had been given to Fletcher, the butcher, on the next day by Mrs. Crawley.

So, the brickmaker used the cheque to get the £20 and then (it is implied) passed it on to Mrs Crawley who paid it to the butcher?

14lyzard
Mar 2, 2014, 2:20 pm

Whoo, questions! :)

1. & 3. Arrangements for the authorisation of cheques were different then, but briefly this cheque would have been a case of "pay bearer". Mr Crawley asked Dan Miller, a brickmaker, to take it into Barchester and cash it for him when he didn't have time. The bank refused, because they found the brickmaker's story suspicious. Mr Crawley then wrote a letter of authorisation, which Miller took back to the bank. On that basis the bank handed over the £20 and the Crawleys then paid the butcher's bill.

2. All titles in the church reflect the way that an income is received. (Also the history of the position, but that's not important here.) While a curate was usually a "sub-minister" hired by an incumbent to help with his duties, a perpetual curate was a permanent assignment BUT an assignment that came without the receiving of tithes, which is briefly referred to: if Mr Crawley was paid via tithes, his income would be a lot bigger. As it is he is on a fixed payment of £130 a year.

On the other hand, the "perpetual" means that he cannot just be dismissed from his position, but can only be removed by the action of an ecclesiastical inquiry. This is important later when the bishop moves - or tries to move - against Mr Crawley.

15lyzard
Mar 2, 2014, 4:29 pm

This comes from MUCH later in the novel, but I'm putting it here because I love this description of Mr Crawley:

He pitied himself with a commiseration that was sickly in spite of its truth. It was the fault of the man that he was imbued too strongly with self-consciousness. He could do a great thing or two. He could keep up his courage in positions which would wash all courage out of most men. He could tell the truth though truth should ruin him. He could sacrifice all that he had to duty. He could do justice though the heaven should fall. But he could not forget to pay a tribute to himself for the greatness of his own actions; nor, when accepting with an effort of meekness the small payment made by the world to him, in return for his great works, could he forget the great payments made to others for small work. It was not sufficient for him to remember that he knew Hebrew, but he must remember also that the dean did not.

16lyzard
Edited: Mar 3, 2014, 5:11 pm

I have to say that one of the things I like best about The Last Chronicle Of Barset is the prominence of Susan Grantly.

Sugar and spice are all very well, but sometimes a dish needs some salt. :)

Chapter 2

    "I hope he won't marry the girl, with all my heart," said Mrs. Grantly.
    "He had better not. By heavens, he had better not!"
    "But if he does, you'll be the first to forgive him."
    On hearing this the archdeacon slammed the door, and retired to his washing apparatus. At the present moment he was very angry with his wife, but then he was so accustomed to such anger, and was so well aware that it in truth meant nothing, that it did not make him unhappy. The archdeacon and Mrs. Grantly had now been man and wife for more than a quarter of a century, and had never in truth quarrelled. He had the most profound respect for her judgment, and the most implicit reliance on her conduct. She had never yet offended him, or caused him to repent the hour in which he had made her Mrs. Grantly. But she had come to understand that she might use a woman's privilege with her tongue; and she used it,—not altogether to his comfort. On the present occasion he was the more annoyed because he felt that she might be right.

17cbl_tn
Mar 3, 2014, 5:22 pm

I have a question about Chapter 5.

Since Lord Lufton was the one who bore the loss of the 20 pounds and we know from his conversation with Mark Robarts that he wished that the legal matter against Rev. Crawley could be dropped, why was he powerless to have the charges dropped? Who was the victim of the alleged crime? Lord Lufton? Soames? The State/Crown?

18lyzard
Edited: Mar 3, 2014, 5:44 pm

Lord Lufton is the one who was robbed in the financial sense, since it was his cheque; but it was Mr Soames who was robbed in the practical sense, since he was the one who lost the cheque or had it stolen from him.

If it had only been Lord Lufton, we would never have heard another word about it, but because Soames was representing Lord Lufton and lost his employer's money, not his own, he spoke up very quickly and everything snowballed from there - being particularly quick to defend himself against Mr Crawley's initial contention that he (Mr Crawley) got the cheque from Soames.

Even this might have been let go as a mistake, but when Mr Crawley then says he got the cheque from Mr Arabin, and Mr Arabin denies it too, it seems evident that Mr Crawley cannot or will not say where he got the cheque from and the can of worms is fully open...

19souloftherose
Mar 4, 2014, 9:55 am

>14 lyzard: Thanks for explaining that Liz.

>16 lyzard: I also loved that passage describing the Grantly's marriage.

I'm struggling to concentrate on my reading at the moment so only managing to read this in small doses but I had a couple of comments on:

Chapter 6

"If he had only popped," Anne said to her sister, "it would have been all right. He would never have gone back from his word." "My dear," said Annabella, "I wish you would not talk about popping. It is a terrible word." "I shouldn't, to any one except you," said Anne.

This comment by one Miss Prettyman to the other (or by Miss Anne Prettyman to Miss Prettyman as I should say) really made me chuckle. :-)

From Grace's letter to Lily (is Lily really the best person to give Grace advice?):

"I am sure he would rather be starved himself, than even borrow a shilling which he could not pay."

This is probably true, but it struck me again that whilst borrowing money from a gentleman and not repaying it would be dishonourable, running up bills with tradesmen that you can't pay is perfectly acceptable and not at all dishonourable.

Even among the poor, who would willingly marry the child of a man who had been hanged?

I first read this as meaning he though Mr Crawley might face the death penalty for theft if found guilty but I think theft was no longer a capital crime at this time. Is Major Grantly just comparing his situation with those of a lower class who might find themselves in the position of marrying the child of a murderer?

20lyzard
Edited: Mar 4, 2014, 4:49 pm

No problem, Heather - take your time.

We dealt with some of this re: Pride And Prejudice - the difference between a "debt of honour" and ordinary debts, and the perverse system that made it acceptable to stiff your tradesmen as long as you didn't hold back a shilling owed to a gentleman.

However---the financial system at the time was very different from our own, and payments to tradespeople were not expected immediately; so you could owe a tradesman money and yet not be considered in debt to him. In the country, in particular, all financial transactions tended to be done on a quarterly basis: the old system of using the four annual church "feasts" as markers was preserved, that is, Lady Day, Midsummer Day, Michaelmas and Christmas, towards the end of March, June, September and December, respectively. On these days, rent was paid, bills settled, and servants hired. So a tradesman might supply a customer with goods in January, but not expect to be paid until the end of March.

Also, I think there are two more distinctions being made here, whatever we make of such hair-splitting: Mr Crawley is in debt, but he will not borrow from Person A to pay Person B; and he is not in debt to Mr Arabin because that money was a gift. Grace, trying to put the best face on things, sums all this up as "Papa would not borrow".

The Reform Bill of 1832 repealed many of the property-related capital offenses instituted by Robert Walpole's government early in the 18th century, and by 1861 the death penalty had been repealed for all crimes except murder, treason, espionage and some attacks on government and military offenses.

Yes, I think the implication there is that the lower classes do have some standards, though not quite the same ones: they might not object to marrying the daughter of a thief, but they'd still draw the line at marrying the daughter of a murderer.

21lyzard
Mar 4, 2014, 5:09 pm

Griselda, being Griselda. And Susan being Susan:

Chapter 3

    Lady Hartletop had preferred to see her dear father and mother in privacy. Her brother Henry she would be glad to meet, and hoped to make some arrangement with him for a short visit to Hartlebury, her husband's place in Shropshire,—as to which latter hint, it may, however, be at once said, that nothing further was spoken after the Crawley alliance had been suggested. And there had been a very sore point mooted by the daughter in a request made by her to her father that she might not be called upon to meet her grandfather, her mother's father, Mr. Harding, a clergyman of Barchester, who was now stricken in years.—"Papa would not have come," said Mrs. Grantly, "but I think,—I do think—" Then she stopped herself.
    "Your father has odd ways sometimes, my dear. You know how fond I am of having him here myself."
    "It does not signify," said Mrs. Grantly. "Do not let us say anything more about it. Of course we cannot have everything. I am told the child does her duty in her sphere of life, and I suppose we ought to be contented." Then Mrs. Grantly went up to her own room, and there she cried.

22lyzard
Edited: Mar 4, 2014, 7:37 pm

This passage also highlights one of the more unsettling aspects of this novel, indeed this series, which is the contemporary way of treating the death of a child as a fairly commonplace event.

The Grantlys, in spite of their comfort and prosperity, have lost two children. We do hear briefly about the death of their daughter in The Small House At Allington, when gossip would have Griselda an adulteress, and Susan is reflecting dismally that she may have "lost" both her daughters; but poor Soapy Sam is allowed to slip out of existence without even a nod.

Then we hear that among the Crawleys' many other woes, "They had had many children, and three were still alive." No more than that. No suggestion that anything out of the ordinary has occurred here.

In fact it's the reverse: it's the people whose children do not die, like the Quiverfuls and, later in this novel, the Toogoods, who are singled out for mention.

23brenzi
Mar 4, 2014, 7:29 pm

I just finished a book set in Richard II's time and was surprised how casually the deaths of children were taken. But I would have thought that by the 1860s it wouldn't be taken so much for granted.

I'm caught up to you now and am reveling in the return of so many characters. I didn't remember the Grantly's having a son at all. I just remembered two daughters, one of which had died.

Thanks Liz for clearing up the money transactions.

24lyzard
Mar 4, 2014, 7:32 pm

There's a satirical passage in Barchester Towers wherein the three Grantly boys are modelled upon three prominent bishops of the time. The really disconcerting thing is that, back then, Henry was clearly the worst of the three. :)

25lauralkeet
Mar 4, 2014, 8:30 pm

>24 lyzard: thanks for that Liz, I was curious about Henry's back story and figured he must have been a lad the last time we "saw" him. I vaguely remember that bishop bit now that you mention it.

26lyzard
Mar 4, 2014, 8:37 pm

We haven't seen the boys at all since that time, which was at least fifteen years ago by internal chronology.

27souloftherose
Mar 5, 2014, 4:52 pm

#20 Thanks for explaining that in more detail.

#24 I did recall that section from The Warden when we came across Major Grantly although I confess I coulnd't remember much about the three boys' characters back then. Presumably Trollope didn't think when writing The Warden that he might want to use these characters in a later novel!

Chapter 8

This chapter was heart-breaking.

"Mr. Crawley must understand that he was committed to take his trial at Barchester, at the next assizes, which would be held in April, but that bail would be taken;—his own bail in five hundred pounds, and that of two others in two hundred and fifty pounds each."

I don't really understand this - how much bail had to be raised? I read this as Mr Crawley having to raise £500 and two other people having to pledge £250 each (Mark Robarts and Major Grantly) making £1,000 in total. Where on earth did Mr Crawley get £500 from?

28lyzard
Mar 5, 2014, 5:28 pm

I think what that means is that £500 had to be paid over, and that there had to be a pledge of a further £500. The first £500 - "his own bail" - is of course actually paid by Mr Robarts and Major Grantly, not Mr Crawley, and then in addition the two men sign a bond pledging to a further £500. If Mr Crawley could afford it, he would pay the first £500 and then the others would only be required to promise the second £500. (Which presumably they would be required to pay if he didn't turn up for trial.)

It's important to realise that in the 19th century, bail was hardly ever given; in the vast majority of cases people committed for trial were held on remand, which meant sitting in jail until the next assizes. The fact that Mr Crawley has been bailed is again recognition that he is "a gentleman", and also that everyone is very uncomfortable about the whole situation.

29cbl_tn
Mar 6, 2014, 12:27 pm

Question about Chapter 16

What is the "coal club" and why would the vicar's daughters be a part of it?

And how outspoken Lily Dale has become!

30Matke
Mar 6, 2014, 1:17 pm

Just checking in, Liz. Having read some more strenuous works lately, I am considerably relieved to be back in Barchester with many old friends.

It's sad, so far, that Crawley's mental condition was recognized as being out of the norm but that nothing could be done for him to ease that burden. It's a pitiable situation for him and especially Mrs. Crawley.

I was amused to see the word "wiseacre" used. It was very common in Massachusetts while I was growing up.

Finished Chapter 10; eagerly looking forward to more of the book.

Oh, what sort of duties would be required of a Dean?

31lyzard
Mar 6, 2014, 3:54 pm

>29 cbl_tn: Hi, Carrie - thanks for joining in!

Chapter 16

In areas that were not themselves coal-producing, a "coal club" was a way of saving fuel costs: coal was imported in bulk and kept in a central store, and people who paid a regular subscription as part of the "club" then had a regular supply of coal at wholesale price, and without having to pay delivery etc. themselves. These sorts of schemes were often subsidised by the local squire and managed by the minister of the parish. Either the Boyce girls are overseeing the distribution of the coal itself - presumably checking that subscriptions had been paid, rather than shovelling coal themselves! - or (as was sometimes the case) there was a small general store operated on the same site on the same lines, and they were working there.

>30 Matke: Welcome, Gail!

Like being an archdeacon, a dean was an administrative position in a cathedral district, held in addition to a ministerial position. The dean is the most senior clergyman under the bishop, and is the actual administrator of the cathedral as a body, and so generally responsible for its day-to-day operation and its finances and other such secular realities. Though a bishop "has" a cathedral, he is not responsible for its operation, which is the duty of the dean and the chapter of clergymen attached to the cathedral.

Note that the position of dean is distinct from that of rural dean, who is the head of a group of parishes. This position in the district of Barchester is held by Dr Tempest.

32lyzard
Mar 6, 2014, 4:12 pm

On a lighter note:

Chapter 8

    The fifth was Dr Thorne, of Chaldicotes, a gentleman whose name has been already mentioned in these pages. He had been for many years a medical man practising in a little village in the further end of the county; but it had come to be his fate, late in life, to marry a great heiress, with whose money the ancient house and domain of Chaldicotes had been purchased from the Sowerbys. Since then Dr Thorne had done his duty well as a country gentleman,—not, however, without some little want of smoothness between him and the duke's people.
    Chaldicotes lay next to the duke's territory, and the duke had wished to buy Chaldicotes. When Chaldicotes slipped through the duke's fingers and went into the hands of Dr Thorne,—or of Dr Thorne's wife,—the duke had been very angry with Mr Fothergill. Hence it had come to pass that there had not always been smoothness between the duke's people and the Chaldicotes people. It was now rumoured that Dr Thorne intended to stand for the county on the next vacancy, and that did not tend to make things smoother.

33cbl_tn
Mar 6, 2014, 5:11 pm

>31 lyzard: Thanks Liz! That makes sense. I was picturing a meeting where folks sat around talking about coal, and it didn't sound very interesting...

34lyzard
Mar 6, 2014, 5:25 pm

Although it would explain why the Boyce girls always came home tired. :)

35AnneDC
Mar 6, 2014, 10:20 pm

I'm not as far along as this thread is moving, but I just found you, and am approximately on Chapter 3. I'm listening (Timothy West narration), and I expect it won't take me long to catch up.

36lyzard
Edited: Mar 6, 2014, 11:06 pm

Welcome, Anne - thank you for joining us! Take your time, and feel free to add questions or comments for the earlier chapters.

37brenzi
Mar 7, 2014, 9:25 am

Chapter 16

What an hysterical description of Mrs. Proudie!

“Well, Mr Thumble?" said Mrs Proudie, walking into the study, armed in her full Sunday-evening winter panoply, in which she had just descended from her carriage. The church which Mrs Proudie attended in the evening was nearly half a mile from the palace, and the coachman and groom never got a holiday on Sunday night. She was gorgeous in a dark brown silk dress of awful stiffness and terrible dimensions; and on her shoulders she wore a short cloak of velvet and fur, very handsome withal, but so swelling in its proportions on all sides as necessarily to create more of dismay than of admiration in the mind of any ordinary man. And her bonnet was a monstrous helmet with the beaver up, displaying the awful face of the warrior, always ready for combat, and careless to guard itself from attack. The large contorted bows which she bore were as a grisly crest upon her casque, beautiful, doubtless, but majestic and fear-compelling. In her hand she carried her armour all complete, a prayer-book, a Bible, and a book of hymns. These the footman had brought for her to the study door, but she had thought fit…”

I can see her clearly now lol.

38lauralkeet
Mar 7, 2014, 3:57 pm

She's a piece of work, that Mrs Proudie ...

39lyzard
Mar 7, 2014, 4:55 pm

...but so swelling in its proportions on all sides as necessarily to create more of dismay than of admiration in the mind of any ordinary man...

:D

40souloftherose
Mar 8, 2014, 11:27 am

>29 cbl_tn: Carrie, thank you for asking about the coal club and thank you Liz for answering - I wouldn't have known what that was either without your question.

>37 brenzi: :-)

Some very brief comments:

Chapter 18: The Bishop of Barchester is Crushed

This was very enjoyable! I didn't think I'd see anyone get the better of Mrs Proudie :-)

Chapter 23: Miss Lily Dale's Resolution

Nooooooo - to the letter Mrs Dale received...

41cbl_tn
Mar 8, 2014, 12:11 pm

I loved chapter 18! I've been waiting for that chapter ever since we met her!

42lauralkeet
Mar 8, 2014, 2:44 pm

>41 cbl_tn: oh yes most definitely!
I am lurking on this thread and immensely enjoying watching the novel unfold again.

43lyzard
Mar 8, 2014, 3:54 pm

Hi, all - thank you for chipping in here. Sorry, I've been a bit tied up, but here are a few quotes on the same subject to move us along. :)

Chapter 17

When the messenger was gone, Mr Crawley was all alert, looking forward with evident glee to his encounter with the bishop,—snorting like a racehorse at the expected triumph of the coming struggle. And he read much Greek with Jane on that afternoon, pouring into her young ears, almost with joyous rapture, his appreciation of the glory and the pathos and the humanity, as also of the awful tragedy, of the story of Oedipus. His very soul was on fire at the idea of clutching the weak bishop in his hand, and crushing him with his strong grasp...

But his trouble in this respect was soon dissipated by the pride of his anticipated triumph over the bishop. He took great glory from the thought that he would go before the bishop with dirty boots,—with boots necessarily dirty,—with rusty pantaloons, that he would be hot and mud-stained with his walk, hungry, and an object to be wondered at by all who should see him, because of the misfortunes which had been unworthily heaped upon his head; whereas the bishop would be sleek and clean and well-fed,—pretty with all the prettinesses that are becoming to a bishop's outward man. And he, Mr Crawley, would be humble, whereas the bishop would be very proud. And the bishop would be in his own arm-chair,—the cock in his own farmyard, while he, Mr Crawley, would be seated afar off, in the cold extremity of the room, with nothing of outward circumstances to assist him,—a man called thither to undergo censure. And yet he would take the bishop in his grasp and crush him,—crush him,—crush him! As he thought of this he walked quickly through the mud, and put out his long arm and his great hand, far before him out into the air, and, there and then, he crushed the bishop in his imagination. Yes, indeed! He thought it very doubtful whether the bishop would ever send for him a second time. As all this passed through his mind, he forgot his wife's cunning, and farmer Mangle's sin, and for the moment he was happy...

Chapter 18

The bishop again shook his head and looked so unutterably miserable that a smile came across Mr Crawley's face. After all, others besides himself had their troubles and trials. Mrs Proudie saw and understood the smile, and became more angry than ever. She drew her chair close to the table, and began to fidget with her fingers among the papers. She had never before encountered a clergyman so contumacious, so indecent, so unreverend,—so upsetting. She had had to do with men difficult to manage;—the archdeacon for instance; but the archdeacon had never been so impertinent to her as this man. She had quarrelled once openly with a chaplain of her husband's, a clergyman whom she herself had introduced to her husband, and who had treated her very badly;—but not so badly, not with such unscrupulous violence, as she was now encountering from this ill-clothed beggarly man, this perpetual curate, with his dirty broken boots, this already half-convicted thief! Such was her idea of Mr Crawley's conduct to her, while she was fingering the papers,—simply because Mr Crawley would not speak to her.

44cbl_tn
Mar 11, 2014, 2:52 pm

I'm growing more and more fond of Johnny Eames and the humor he adds to the story. He gave me a chuckle in this passage from Chapter 31:

Tidings had reached him that Grace was a great scholar, but he had never heard much of her beauty. It must probably be the case that Major Grantly was fond of Greek. There was, he reminded himself, no accounting for tastes.

And is anyone else besides me getting a little tired of Lily Dale advising Grace on how to manage her love life? She reminds me a bit of Emma Woodhouse without a Mr. Knightley to help her see the error of her ways.

45lyzard
Mar 11, 2014, 5:57 pm

John should try to remember more often that there's no accounting for taste. :)

I certainly think there's an irony implied in Lily giving anyone advice on their love-life, but on the other hand she's in the slightly easier position of mostly telling Grace what she wants to hear, or at least doesn't mind hearing.

Surely no-one has ever received more unwelcome advice than Lily herself, or from more different directions. Even Trollope admits that John should stop telling his troubles to everyone who crosses his path - particularly while at the same time insisting he doesn't talk about Lily. Really? Is there anyone who knows John who doesn't know all about Lily?

I actually find myself in growing sympathy with Lily - in particular her determination to stand her ground the more she's pushed.

At the same time, she's reminding me a bit of Alice Vavasor, who had to find exotic-sounding reasons for what she was doing, when it really boiled down to her demanding to be happy on her own terms and in her own way - which women weren't supposed to do.

Lily likewise seems to be avoiding a flat statement of "I DON'T WANT TO", because again that isn't a wholly acceptable reason for her behaviour. She's suppose to say yes to John to make him happy, quite as much (or more) as to make herself happy. Note how many times it's suggested that she is to be John's "reward".

46Donna828
Mar 11, 2014, 6:37 pm

I'll add my satisfaction with Chapter 18.

"Peace, Woman"
... I could almost see Mrs. Proudie deflate.

47lyzard
Mar 11, 2014, 7:18 pm

Briefly. :)

48lyzard
Mar 11, 2014, 7:23 pm

Sorry, people - the last week has been difficult and I haven't had as much time to devote to this as I anticipated.

Thanks to Carrie for raising the point up above. A couple more general things have occurred to me:

I'm having difficulty deciding how Trollope intends us to "take' the subplot dealing with Henry Grantly's financial situation. We've seen all through these novels an ongoing consideration of incomes and what was expected in exchange for payment and the frequent injustices of the time, not just including but particularly within the church. (As per Mr Crawley: Nor, when accepting with an effort of meekness the small payment made by the world to him, in return for his great works, could he forget the great payments made to others for small work...)

So it's hard not to take as sarcasm the sections dealing with Henry's prospect of living in "poverty" on 600 pounds a year, when it's set against the Crawleys' struggles on 130 pounds a year. Yet truly, I don't feel that's how it was intended.

49lyzard
Edited: Mar 12, 2014, 8:52 pm

The other thing I wanted to do was ask people how they're getting on (or not) with the London subplot?

There are often complaints about this section of the novel as unnecessary filler, but while I would agree that it echoes the boarding-house business of The Small House At Allington (albeit in a higher walk of life, reflecting John's improved circumstances), it seems to me that something else is going on here.

I think from this point onwards, along with the switch from a country focus to a more city focus between the Barchester and Palliser books, Trollope got increasingly interested in the seedy underbelly of London life - as we have already seen in the George Vabasor subplot of Can You Forgive Her?. He was worried and offended at what he saw as an increasingly dishonest, dog-eat-dog, anything-for-money way of life; his concerns in this area eventually led him to write The Way We Live Now - a novel which sadly is quite as relevant 150 years later as it was when it was published. The Dobbs Broughton subplot here strikes me as an early expression of his concerns.

50lauralkeet
Mar 12, 2014, 7:16 am

>49 lyzard: that's helpful, Liz. I was less interested in the Dobbs Broughton subplot, and the seemingly endless segments about the artist and his model ... until much later when it got more interesting (that's all I will say for now). But at least now I understand its role in the novel.

51brenzi
Mar 12, 2014, 12:02 pm

When I think back about all the books in this series, the importance of money plays a large part and represents a theme throughout. I can only assume it was an important part of everyday life in Great Britain at this time. Of course it's important today as well, but I don't think the idea of marrying well is thought of much at all, at least in this country. Just in this one book you have the Henry Grantly money worries, the Mr. Crowley state of destitution, the Crosbie money problems, even Bernard, already well- to-do, has managed to better his position. So did everyone think about marrying well at this time?

52lyzard
Edited: Mar 12, 2014, 8:54 pm

It's important to recognise that it was only a comparatively brief time since marriage was viewed *entirely* as a commercial transaction. I forget who said it, but at one point it was observed that "woman are merely a conduit for the transfer of property between men".

After centuries of that, slowly over the next one hundred years there was an increasing acceptance that marriage should be more than just commercial, and that women should have some say in their own lives. The idea of companionate marriage grew stronger and men as well as women started looking for "something more" when they chose a partner.

BUT---the social arrangements at the time, for people above working-class in position, meant that money and property could not wholly be disregarded when marrying. Marriage meant having to consider financial arrangements for life, at a time when women didn't work, there was no social security, welfare, pension or dole, and a lack of birth control meant you could end up with as many as a dozen children to be provided for, including dowries for daughters.

So "marrying well" was a survival technique as well as a way of positioning yourself socially and making connections.

Henry Grantly's choice of Grace Crawley needs to be viewed in this context - the fact that neither he nor his parents care that Grace has literally nothing is a credit to all of them, but also reflective of their own very financially secure position: they are amongst the few lucky souls who can afford to disregard a dowry. (The "stain" on Grace, courtesy of her father, is a separate issue.)

The Grantly family's arrangements are unusual because the position of the two sons is reversed - it is the elder who has chosen the church, and the younger who is able, thanks to his father's manoeuvring, to consider himself as "the squire". It seems peculiar and wrong that a man of Henry's age and position is battling his father over his "allowance", but this has come about through the Archdeacon's own actions, including persuading Henry to give up his career and hence his ability to support himself. We should note that if Henry *was* the elder son, his living at his father's expense and being the beneficiary of his arrangements with regard to money and property would have been the normal course of events and not at all unusual.

53lyzard
Edited: Mar 12, 2014, 5:46 pm

>50 lauralkeet: I think Mrs Broughton's empty life of self-dramatisation is supposed to be an echo of her husband's business life, which is equally false and survives mostly on bluff and deceit and posturing.

I also think that the portrait is an allegorical rendering of the eventual relationship betweem Mrs Van Siever and Broughton - she "nails" him very effectively!

54lyzard
Mar 12, 2014, 10:38 pm

Chapter 20

    As soon as the greetings between Mr Robarts and the ladies had been made, Miss Anne Prettyman broke out again, just where she had left off when Mr Robarts came in. "They say that Mrs Proudie declared that she will have him sent to Botany Bay!"
    "Luckily Mrs Proudie won't have much to do in the matter," said Miss Walker, who ranged herself, as to church matters, in ranks altogether opposed to those commanded by Mrs Proudie.
    "She will have nothing to do with it, my dear," said Mrs Walker; "and I daresay Mrs Proudie was not foolish enough to say anything of the kind."
    "Mamma, she would be fool enough to say anything. Would she not, Mr Robarts?"
    "You forget, Miss Walker, that Mrs Proudie is in authority over me."
    "So she is, for the matter of that," said the young lady; "but I know very well what you all think of her, and say of her too, at Framley. Your friend, Lady Lufton, loves her dearly. I wish I could have been hidden behind a curtain in the palace, to hear what Mr. Crawley said to her."


55lyzard
Mar 14, 2014, 6:09 pm

My goodness, it's quiet over here! :)

How is everyone? Swamped? Bored? I know we have at least one person in a book funk...

Anything I can do?

56cbl_tn
Mar 14, 2014, 6:20 pm

I'm almost halfway through and on track to finish at the end of the month. There was an interesting reference today (Ch. 40, I think) to dinner a la Russe. I just read The Short Life and Long Times of Mrs. Beeton and this type of dinner was described in that book!

57gennyt
Edited: Mar 15, 2014, 4:15 am

What is a dinner a la Russe then?

Ps I'm about 40% through my re-read and enjoying rediscovering the details of the plot. I had forgotten that the sub plot about the painting etc in London was in this book. If you'd asked me before this rre-read I'd have said it was in The Small House. ..

58CDVicarage
Mar 15, 2014, 4:14 am

I'm about half way through on my audioversion. There's rather a lot of the London story at the moment and I'd rather be hearing about Barsetshire so I'm not paying as much nit-picking attention as I might.

59lauralkeet
Mar 15, 2014, 6:44 am

>58 CDVicarage: My reading experience is similar; I tried to move swiftly whenever I got to the London story.

60cbl_tn
Mar 15, 2014, 6:51 am

>57 gennyt: Here's how Mrs. Beeton describes dinner a la Russe:

Dinners a la Russe differ from ordinary dinners in the mode of serving the various dishes. In a dinner a la Russe, the dishes are cut up on a sideboard, and handed round to the guests, and each dish may be considered a course. The table for a dinner a la Russe should be laid with flowers and plants in fancy flowerpots down the middle, together with some of the dessert dishes. A menu or bill of fare should be laid by the side of each guest.

She goes on to explain that this method of serving requires more servants, china, and cutlery than you'd find in a small household.

It's no wonder that Mr. Toogood, with twelve children to provide for, told the young men he invited for dinner not to expect this kind of service!

61souloftherose
Mar 15, 2014, 12:11 pm

>55 lyzard: I put the book aside for a few days but I'm back and about to start chapter 40.

>45 lyzard: Note how many times it's suggested that she is to be John's "reward". Yes, this was making me grit my teeth whilst reading.

>49 lyzard: "while I would agree that it echoes the boarding-house business of The Small House At Allington"

That was my first thought on reading the first sections of the London subplot but I'm reconsidering based on your points above. (Are we going to read The Way We Live Now at some point?)

At first I wasn't very fond of the London story either but it's growing on me. I am a bit annoyed with Johnny Eames for declaring undying love to Lily (again) and then flirting with Madeline in London as soon as he's left Lily (again).

62brenzi
Mar 15, 2014, 6:47 pm

I'm in the middle of chapter 61 and finding the London story much more engaging now. I love the book as much as any of the previous ones but am really taking my time with it for some unknown reason. My monthly number of books read my be my lowest total ever since joining the 75ers:(

63lyzard
Edited: Mar 16, 2014, 10:15 pm

Thank you all for chipping in! Of course, as soon as I commented on how quiet it was, *I* had to run away for a couple of days. :)

>60 cbl_tn: Thank you for that explanation of dinner a la Russe, Carrie.

>61 souloftherose: Oh, I think we may consider The Way We Live Now as part of our long, long, long, long, long-term plans. :)

The other thing that's driving me crazy about John is that he not only does it, he blames Lily for it: "If she'd agree to marry me I wouldn't be doing this!" Yeah, very mature.

>62 brenzi: I'm having a shockingly slow month, too, Bonnie - I I don't have to wrestle with a chunkster like TLCOB!

64lyzard
Mar 16, 2014, 10:31 pm

Chapter 32

Could we fairly say that Mr Toogood is the one person to get the better of Mr Crawley?

    "You have many mercies for which you should indeed be thankful," said Mr Crawley, gravely.
    "Yes, yes, yes; that's true. I think of that sometimes, though perhaps not so much as I ought to do. But the best way to be thankful is to use the goods the gods provide you. 'The lovely Thais sits beside you. Take the goods the gods provide you.' I often say that to my wife, till the children have got to calling her Thais. The children have it pretty much their own way with us, Mr Crawley."
    By this time Mr Crawley was almost beside himself, and was altogether at a loss how to bring in the matter on which he wished to speak. He had expected to find a man who in the hurry of London business might perhaps just manage to spare him five minutes,—who would grapple instantly with the subject that was to be discussed between them, would speak to him half-a-dozen hard words of wisdom, and would then dismiss him and turn on the instant to other matters of important business;—but here was an easy familiar fellow, who seemed to have nothing on earth to do, and who at this first meeting had taken advantage of a distant family connexion to tell him everything about the affairs of his own household. And then how peculiar were the domestic traits which he told! What was Mr Crawley to say to a man who had taught his own children to call their mother Thais? Of Thais Mr Crawley did know something, and he forgot to remember that perhaps Mr. Toogood knew less. He felt it, however, to be very difficult to submit the details of his case to a gentleman who talked in such a strain about his own wife and children.
    But something must be done. Mr Crawley, in his present frame of mind, could not sit and talk about Thais all day. "Sir," he said, "the picture of your home is very pleasant, and I presume that plenty abounds there."
    "Well, you know, pretty toll-loll for that. With twelve of 'em, Mr Crawley, I needn't tell you they are not all going to have castles and parks of their own, unless they can get 'em off their own bats. But I pay upwards of a hundred a year each for my eldest three boys' schooling, and I've been paying eighty for the girls. Put that and that together and see what it comes to. Educate, educate, educate; that's my word."
    "No better word can be spoken, sir."
    "I don't think there's a girl in Tavistock Square that can beat Polly,—she's the eldest, called after her mother, you know;—that can beat her at the piano. And Lucy has read Lord Byron and Tom Moore all through, every word of 'em. By Jove, I believe she knows most of Tom Moore by heart. And the young 'uns are coming on just as well."
    "Perhaps, sir, as your time is, no doubt, precious—"
    "Just at this time of the day we don't care so much about it, Mr. Crawley; and one doesn't catch a new cousin every day, you know."
    "However, if you will allow me,—"
    "We'll tackle to? Very well; so be it. Now, Mr Crawley, let me hear what it is that I can do for you." Of a sudden, as Mr Toogood spoke these last words, the whole tone of his voice seemed to change, and even the position of his body became so much altered as to indicate a different kind of man...

65Cobscook
Mar 17, 2014, 11:55 am

>64 lyzard: I loved the chapter with Mr. Toogood! What a great character.

I am up to the middle of chapter 34 and enjoying it very much.

>40 souloftherose: I had the same reaction to chapter 23 and I could not believe the unmitigated gall of that man!

66cbl_tn
Mar 17, 2014, 1:04 pm

It would be a good idea to have a box of tissues handy when you get to Chapter 49. Septimus Harding may be my favorite character in the Barsetshire novels. Trollope handles his frailty and anticipation of his death beautifully.

67lauralkeet
Mar 17, 2014, 2:18 pm

>66 cbl_tn:: since I've finished the book I read your spoiler and couldn't agree with you more.

68souloftherose
Mar 17, 2014, 3:08 pm

>66 cbl_tn: I just came to the thread to post about that chapter - so beautiful, so sad.....

69AnneDC
Mar 17, 2014, 4:53 pm

I am racing towards the end, and before I get there I thought I would pause and scribble down some thoughts. First of all, I am loving this book as much as or more than any of the others in the series. It is wonderful how characters from all the other books make their appearances in this one. As long as Trollope doesn't bungle the ending, which seems unlikely, this will be a five-star read for me.

Mrs. Proudie.

Like others, I cheered at Chapter 18, and I liked even better Dr. Tempest's attempted meeting with the Bishop. However, I've been resenting Mrs. Proudie's interference because she is an insufferable meddling busybody intent on having her own way (and she's always on the wrong side). I was taken aback a little when, in his letter to the Dean, the Reverend Crawley explains that his objection to discussing matters with Mrs. Proudie is because she is a woman.

"If there be aught clear to me in ecclesiastical matters, it is this,--that no authority can be delegated to a female....Thereupon, I left the palace in wrath, feeling myself aggrieved that a woman should have attempted to dictate to me, and finding it hopeless to get a clear instruction from his lordship,--the woman taking up the word whenever I put a question to my lord the bishop."

While I suppose that is at the heart of why her involvement is inappropriate, I had not looked at it that way myself. Now I'm wondering whether Mr. Crawley or Dr. Tempest would have had the same objections to speaking in the presence of an opinionated, meddlesome, non-clerical brother or son who refused to leave the room?

I have lots of thoughts about Lily Dale and John Eames, and also about Major Grantley (my thoughts are quite different from Trollope's!), but since I've already lost this post once before because of a break in internet connection, I will post now and maybe come back with more.

70lyzard
Edited: Mar 17, 2014, 6:54 pm

Please do post your thoughts, Anne - as many as you like! - but also please Bold your chapter references for people's guidance.

I was going to post this quote anyway, but I think it's even more relevant in respect of Anne's remarks regarding attitudes to Mrs Proudie:

Chapter 33

The archdeacon was by no means satisfied; but he knew his wife too well, and himself too well, and the world too well, to insist on the immediate gratification of his passion. Over his bosom's mistress he did exercise a certain marital control,—which was, for instance, quite sufficiently fixed to enable him to look down with thorough contempt on such a one as Bishop Proudie; but he was not a despot who could exact a passive obedience to every fantasy. His wife would not have written the letter for him on that day, and he knew very well that she would not do so. He knew also that she was right;—and yet he regretted his want of power. His anger at the present moment was very hot,—so hot that he wished to wreak it. He knew that it would cool before the morrow;—and, no doubt, knew also theoretically, that it would be most fitting that it should cool. But not the less was it a matter of regret to him that so much good hot anger should be wasted, and that he could not have his will of his disobedient son while it lasted. He might, no doubt, have written himself, but to have done so would not have suited him. Even in his anger he could not have written to his son without using the ordinary terms of affection, and in his anger he could not bring himself to use those terms. "You will find that I shall be of the same mind to-morrow,—exactly," he said to his wife. "I have resolved about it long since; and it is not likely that I shall change in a day." Then he went out, about his parish, intending to continue to think of his son's iniquity, so that he might keep his anger hot,—red hot. Then he remembered that the evening would come, and that he would say his prayers; and he shook his head in regret,—in a regret of which he was only half conscious, though it was very keen, and which he did not attempt to analyze,—as he reflected that his rage would hardly be able to survive that ordeal. How common with us it is to repine that the devil is not stronger over us than he is.

There are various things going on with respect to Mrs Proudie, and Anne is right to observe that part of it is simply because she is a woman. This is particularly so with Mr Crawley, who we are not surprised to find taking the hard-line stance that women should have nothing to say about religious matters. (Genny might have some comments to make on that point!)

Beyond that is the prevailing social view that men were supposed to have authority and control over their womenfolk, and that not to have it was undignified and rather shameful. But clearly, this was an area where there could be a significant gap between theory and practice. It is very obvious, for instance, not just in the quote above but all through the novels, that the Archdeacon "controls" Susan only as far as she chooses to let him---and she chooses to let him because she understands that it would harm him publicly if she were to do otherwise. Privately the power balance is rather different: we see again and again that Susan gets her own way and that the Archdeacon, albeit sometimes reluctantly, heeds her guidance.

Conversely, the bishop is supposed to possess both spiritual and secular authority, yet it is clear to everyone that he has no authority under his own roof.

However, the simplest reading of the Proudies is that we have a wife interfering in her husband's business to the point where she makes him look weak and ridiculous. Think how you'd feel at your own job if your boss's wife or husband started telling you what to do. The bishop is of course disadvantaged by the fact that he "works from home" and can't get away from Mrs Proudie!

71lyzard
Mar 17, 2014, 6:06 pm

>66 cbl_tn: & >67 lauralkeet: There are some absolutely devastating passages in this book, I think.

72lyzard
Edited: Mar 17, 2014, 6:24 pm

Apropos...

Chapter 34

    But, in the meantime, Mrs Proudie, who could not be silent on the subject for a moment, did learn something of the truth from her husband. The information did not come to her in the way of instruction, but was teased out of the unfortunate man. "I know that you can proceed against him in the Court of Arches, under the 'Church Discipline Act,'" she said.
    "No, my dear; no;" said the bishop, shaking his head in his misery.
    "Or in the Consistorial Court. It's all the same thing."
    "There must be an inquiry first,—by his brother clergy. There must indeed. It's the only way of proceeding."
    "But there has been an inquiry, and he has been committed."
    "That doesn't signify, my dear. That's the Civil Law."
    "And if the Civil Law condemns him, and locks him up in prison;—as it most certainly will do?"
    "But it hasn't done so yet, my dear. I really think that as it has gone so far, it will be best to leave it as it is till he has taken his trial."
    "What; leave him there after what occurred this morning in this palace?" The palace with Mrs Proudie was always a palace, and never a house. "No; no; ten thousand times, no. Are you not aware that he insulted you, and grossly, most grossly insulted me? I was never treated with such insolence by any clergyman before, since I first came to this palace;—never, never. And we know the man to be a thief;—we absolutely know it. Think, my lord, of the souls of his people!"
    "Oh, dear; oh, dear; oh, dear," said the bishop.
    "Why do you fret yourself in that way?"
    "Because you will get me into trouble."

73brenzi
Edited: Mar 17, 2014, 8:35 pm

I absolutely loved the way Trollope described the frail Septimus Harding. Easily the most poignant stuff I've read from Trollope yet.

As far as Mr. Crawley's thoughts on Mrs. Proudie and her incessant meddling where she had no authority, I chalked that up to accepted mores of the time. Women had no authority in the church or anywhere else really, not in business certainly. And also, as a life long Catholic, I know women still have no authority in that church and that's in 2014. Of course there are many areas where the Catholic church is still living in a long forgotten century but I won't get into that. And yes, Trollope is very adept at honing in on how women like Susan Grantly get their way while making the Archdeacon look rather like a buffoon. and yet he makes her smart enough to not ridicule her husband publicly. He was ahead of his time really and such a skillful writer.

74Cobscook
Mar 18, 2014, 12:42 pm

As it relates to Mr. Crawley and his opinions on women, I was taken aback at some of his ravings in Chapter 41. He is mentally out of it and talking to his daughter Grace and says:

Nothing at all. It is she who does it. He has given no opinion about it. Of course not. He has none to give. It is the woman. You go and tell her from me that in such a matter I will not obey the word of any woman living. Go at once, when I tell you.

Of course he is talking about Mrs. Proudie wanting him to give up his position because he has been accused of theft.

Later on he says, I will not allow any woman to tell me my duty. No; -by my Maker; not even your mother, who is the best of women.

This is kind of what bothered me. I can understand his feeling this way about Mrs. Proudie who is meddling in what is not her business. But it seems to me from the way Mr. Crawley is written, that he totally believes women do not have any right to direct men in any way. Of course this is typical for that time I suppose, but it made Mr. Crawley seem even more offensive! Trollope does a great job of playing on your sympathies for this man who is essentially non-sympathetic, so that I keep waffling back and forth on whether I want him to get off or go to jail for being a big old jerk!!

75lauralkeet
Mar 18, 2014, 1:21 pm

What helps me sympathize with Crawley is this bit in >1 lyzard: "Trollope's delineation of Reverend Crawley is all the more remarkable because he lacked the vocabulary to articulate what seems evident to the modern reader, that Crawley is suffering from depression in addition to other manifestations of mental illness."

76lyzard
Edited: Mar 18, 2014, 5:30 pm

>73 brenzi: & >74 Cobscook: & >75 lauralkeet:

We may not care for Mr Crawley's attitude towards women, but we need to understand that his views on authority and submission and the relative positions of man and woman, husband and wife, are drawn from biblical teachings and would not have been considered untoward.

Even so, we know that Mrs Crawley sometimes disobeys her husband, and that he knows she's doing it. So even here we find a gap between theory and practice, albeit not as wide as the one in the Grantly household - and certainly not like the one in the Proudie household!

Mr Crawley's objections to Mrs Proudie are twofold: her treatment of the bishop subverts "the natural order of things", and she meddles in religious matters, which is forbidden to her as a woman.

Trollope does a magnificent job making this thoroughly unsympathetic person sympathetic. (That said, I don't think we're supposed to take his views on women as one of the signs that he's mentally disturbed!)

77lyzard
Mar 18, 2014, 5:38 pm

Chapter 40

Dinner at the Toogoods:

A day or two after the interview which was described in the last chapter John Eames dined with his uncle Mr. Thomas Toogood, in Tavistock Square. He was in the habit of doing this about once a month, and was a great favourite both with his cousins and with their mother. Mr. Toogood did not give dinner-parties; always begging those whom he asked to enjoy his hospitality, to take pot luck, and telling young men whom he could treat with familiarity,—such as his nephew,—that if they wanted to be regaled à la Russe they must not come to number 75, Tavistock Square. "A leg of mutton and trimmings; that will be about the outside of it," he would say; but he would add in a whisper,—"and a glass of port such as you don't get every day of your life." Polly and Lucy Toogood were pretty girls, and merry withal, and certain young men were well contented to accept the attorney's invitations,—whether attracted by the promised leg of mutton, or the port wine, or the young ladies, I will not attempt to say.

78cbl_tn
Mar 18, 2014, 5:51 pm

Mrs. Proudie reminds me of Hyacinth Bucket of Keeping Up Appearances, although she's not quite as ridiculous as Hyacinth.

79brenzi
Mar 18, 2014, 6:56 pm

I just this minute finished the book and am now in as deep a depression as Mr. Crawley because it's all over. I know I will go on with the Palliser novels but I am going to sorely missing these folks in Barsetshire (or is it Barset or Barchester...I never can figure that out).

>78 cbl_tn: Mrs. Proudie and Hyacinth: interesting, but Hyacinth is just such a hoot while Mrs. Proudie is so mean spirited.

80lyzard
Edited: Mar 18, 2014, 7:12 pm

Barchester is the city; Barset is the county. :)

Trollope puts us through the wringer in this one, doesn't he? At least we have the consolation of knowing he was suffering right along with us.

81cbl_tn
Mar 18, 2014, 7:29 pm

>79 brenzi: Hyacinth is just such a hoot while Mrs. Proudie is so mean spirited.

I agree! There are similarities, but they're not parallel. Richard has a little more backbone than the bishop.

82brenzi
Mar 18, 2014, 7:42 pm

>80 lyzard:. He certainly was suffering Liz. I loved how he came full circle back to the beginning and Septimus Harding. Absolutely brilliant.

83lauralkeet
Mar 18, 2014, 8:03 pm

Oh I so agree, Bonnie. I'm still sighing with happiness a few weeks later. Such perfection.

84Cobscook
Mar 19, 2014, 10:06 am

Just finished reading Chapter 49 with Mr. Harding. OMG! I think this is the first time Trollope has made me cry. This was a beautifully written chapter.

85CDVicarage
Mar 19, 2014, 10:17 am

>79 brenzi: I think that the actor who played Richard Bucket also played Bishop Proudie in the BBC programmes.

86cbl_tn
Mar 19, 2014, 10:47 am

>85 CDVicarage: Yes, you're right! Clive Swift did play both Richard Bucket and Bishop Proudie! I just confirmed it at IMDB. Too funny!

87brenzi
Mar 19, 2014, 6:44 pm

>85 CDVicarage: >86 cbl_tn: That is hysterical. Unfortunately my library doesn't have that series so I can only imagine how good it is.

88lyzard
Mar 19, 2014, 7:02 pm

Clive Swift kept very busy in the 1980s - he was also in the BBC adaptation of The Pickwick Papers.

89lyzard
Mar 19, 2014, 9:51 pm

Chapter 41

I think that at this time nobody saw clearly the working of his mind,—not even his wife, who studied it very closely, who gave him credit for all his high qualities, and who had gradually learned to acknowledge to herself that she must distrust his judgment in many things. She knew that he was good and yet weak, that he was afflicted by false pride and supported by true pride, that his intellect was still very bright, yet so dismally obscured on many sides as almost to justify people in saying that he was mad. She knew that he was almost a saint, and yet almost a castaway through vanity and hatred of those above him. But she did not know that he knew all this of himself also. She did not comprehend that he should be hourly telling himself that people were calling him mad and were so calling him with truth. It did not occur to her that he could see her insight into him. She doubted as to the way in which he had got the cheque,—never imagining, however, that he had wilfully stolen it;—thinking that his mind had been so much astray as to admit of his finding it and using it without wilful guilt,—thinking also, alas, that a man who could so act was hardly fit for such duties as those which were entrusted to him. But she did not dream that this was precisely his own idea of his own state and of his own position;—that he was always inquiring of himself whether he was not mad; whether, if mad, he was not bound to lay down his office; that he was ever taxing himself with improper hostility to the bishop,—never forgetting for a moment his wrath against the bishop and the bishop's wife, still comforting himself with his triumph over the bishop and the bishop's wife,—but, for all that, accusing himself of a heavy sin and proposing to himself to go to the palace and there humbly to relinquish his clerical authority. Such a course of action he was proposing to himself, but not with any realized idea that he would so act....

90souloftherose
Mar 23, 2014, 9:58 am

>89 lyzard: I found that passage very poignant.

I'm skipping the spoilers for now as I still haven't finished but have just read chapter 66 and chapter 67: despite the chapter titles I did not see that coming.

91lauralkeet
Mar 23, 2014, 1:50 pm

>90 souloftherose:: no kidding Heather -- same for me!

92cbl_tn
Mar 23, 2014, 1:52 pm

And me! That was the point where I couldn't stop reading, and I just now finished the book. I'm very sad to say goodbye to such familiar friends.

93lyzard
Mar 23, 2014, 8:26 pm

Well done, Carrie!

But take your time, Heather. There's a particular quote I want to highlight from that section - but just for now, I will confine myself to this:

Chapter 48

It must be understood that by this time the opinion had become very general that Mr Crawley had been guilty,—that he had found the cheque in his house, and that he had, after holding it for many months, succumbed to temptation, and applied it to his own purposes. But various excuses were made for him by those who so believed. In the first place it was felt by all who really knew anything of the man's character, that the very fact of his committing such a crime proved him to be hardly responsible for his actions. He must have known, had not all judgment in such matters been taken from him, that the cheque would certainly be traced back to his hands. No attempt had been made in the disposing of it to dispose of it in such a way that the trace should be obliterated. He had simply given it to a neighbour with a direction to have it cashed, and had written his own name on the back of it. And therefore, though there could be no doubt as to the theft in the mind of those who supposed that he had found the cheque in his own house, yet the guilt of the theft seemed to be almost annihilated by the folly of the thief. And then his poverty, and his struggles, and the sufferings of his wife, were remembered; and stories were told from mouth to mouth of his industry in his profession, of his great zeal among those brickmakers of Hoggle End, of acts of charity done by him which startled the people of the district into admiration;—how he had worked with his own hands for the sick poor to whom he could not give relief in money, turning a woman's mangle for a couple of hours, and carrying a boy's load along the lanes. Dr Tempest and others declared that he had derogated from the dignity of his position as an English parish clergyman by such acts; but, nevertheless, the stories of these deeds acted strongly on the minds of both men and women, creating an admiration for Mr Crawley which was much stronger than the condemnation of his guilt.

94lyzard
Edited: Mar 23, 2014, 8:39 pm

And this:

Chapter 49

    ...he had a habit, when he was sure that he was not watched, of creeping up to a great black wooden case, which always stood in one corner of the sitting-room which he occupied in the deanery. Mr Harding, when he was younger, had been a performer on the violoncello, and in this case there was still the instrument from which he had been wont to extract the sounds which he had so dearly loved. Now in these latter days he never made any attempt to play. Soon after he had come to the deanery there had fallen upon him an illness, and after that he had never again asked for his bow. They who were around him,—his daughter chiefly and her husband,—had given the matter much thought, arguing with themselves whether or no it would be better to invite him to resume the task he had so loved; for of all the works of his life this playing on the violoncello had been the sweetest to him; but even before that illness his hand had greatly failed him, and the dean and Mrs Arabin had agreed that it would be better to let the matter pass without a word. He had never asked to be allowed to play. He had expressed no regrets. When he himself would propose that his daughter should "give them a little music,"—and he would make such a proposition on every evening that was suitable,—he would never say a word of those former performances at which he himself had taken a part. But it had become known to Mrs Arabin, through the servants, that he had once dragged the instrument forth from its case when he had thought the house to be nearly deserted; and a wail of sounds had been heard, very low, very short-lived, recurring now and again at fitful intervals. He had at those times attempted to play, as though with a muffled bow,—so that none should know of his vanity and folly. Then there had been further consultations at the deanery, and it had been again agreed that it would be best to say nothing to him of his music.
    In these latter days of which I am now speaking he would never draw the instrument out of its case. Indeed he was aware that it was too heavy for him to handle without assistance. But he would open the prison door, and gaze upon the thing that he loved, and he would pass his fingers among the broad strings, and ever and anon he would produce from one of them a low, melancholy, almost unearthly sound. And then he would pause, never daring to produce two such notes in succession,—one close upon the other. And these last sad moans of the old fiddle were now known through the household. They were the ghosts of the melody of days long past. He imagined that his visits to the box were unsuspected,—that none knew of the folly of his old fingers which could not keep themselves from touching the wires; but the voice of the violoncello had been recognized by the servants and by his daughter, and when that low wail was heard through the house,—like the last dying note of a dirge,—they would all know that Mr Harding was visiting his ancient friend...

95lauralkeet
Mar 24, 2014, 2:25 am

>94 lyzard:: that's making me teary all over again ...

96gennyt
Mar 24, 2014, 3:12 am

>94 lyzard:, >95 lauralkeet:, I was reading that chapter about Mr Harding as I arrived in London on the train on Saturday for the meet-up. I had to find a seat on the station platform so I could sit and finish the chapter before I went any further. Very moving (had forgotten all the details like this from last time I read this over 20 years ago).

97lyzard
Mar 24, 2014, 6:28 pm

Good for you, Bernard:

Chapter 53

    Crosbie was still looking at Lily. He could not help himself. He could not take his eyes from off her. He could see that she was as pretty as ever, that she was but very little altered. She was, in truth, somewhat stouter than in the old days, but of that he took no special notice. Should he speak to her? Should he try to catch her eye, and then raise his hat? Should he go up to her horse's head boldly, and ask her to let bygones be bygones? He had an idea that of all courses which he could pursue that was the one which she would approve the best,—which would be most efficacious for him, if with her anything from him might have any efficacy. But he could not do it. He did not know what words he might best use. Would it become him humbly to sue to her for pardon? Or should he strive to express his unaltered love by some tone of his voice? Or should he simply ask her after her health? He made one step towards her, and he saw that the face became more rigid and more fixed than before, and then he desisted. He told himself that he was simply hateful to her. He thought that he could perceive that there was no tenderness mixed with her unabated anger.
    At this moment Bernard Dale and Emily came close upon him, and Bernard saw him at once. It was through Bernard that Lily and Crosbie had come to know each other. He and Bernard Dale had been fast friends in old times, and had, of course, been bitter enemies since the day of Crosbie's treachery. They had never spoken since, though they had often seen each other, and Dale was not at all disposed to speak to him now. The moment that he recognised Crosbie he looked across to his cousin. For an instant, an idea had flashed across him that he was there by her permission,—with her assent; but it required no second glance to show him that this was not the case. "Dunn," he said, "I think we will ride on," and he put his horse into a trot. Siph, whose ear was very accurate, and who knew at once that something was wrong, trotted on with him, and Lily, of course, was not left behind. "Is there anything the matter?" said Emily to her lover.
    "Nothing specially the matter," he replied; "but you were standing in company with the greatest blackguard that ever lived, and I thought we had better change our ground."


98Donna828
Mar 24, 2014, 9:58 pm

I have fallen woefully behind here, but I still hope to finish the book this month. I've loved what I've read so far. I'm heading to Colorado to do some babysitting for my 4-month-old granddaughter. How much trouble can she be? I'm sure if I read some Trollope to her it will be very soothing. I'll catch up with the chat when I've finished reading the book. Carry on, good people!

99lyzard
Mar 24, 2014, 10:13 pm

I foresee two possible outcomes here, Donna: either your highly intelligent granddaughter will adore Trollope, or he'll put her to sleep. It's win-win!

100lauralkeet
Mar 25, 2014, 1:58 pm

>96 gennyt:: aww, I can just picture that, Genny. I would have done the same thing.

101souloftherose
Mar 25, 2014, 2:34 pm

>94 lyzard: & >95 lauralkeet: And me.

I've finished. Actually, I finished yesterday morning and was left feeling bereft unable to 'move on' to another book until this evening. I'll add a couple of quotations from the Conclusion:

For myself I can only say that I shall always be happy to sit, when allowed to do so, at the table of Archdeacon Grantly, to walk through the High Street of Barchester arm in arm with Mr. Robarts of Framley, and to stand alone and shed a tear beneath the modest black stone in the north transept of the cathedral on which is inscribed the name of Septimus Harding.

and

But to me Barset has been a real county, and its city a real city, and the spires and towers have been before my eyes, and the voices of the people are known to my ears, and the pavement of the city ways are familiar to my footsteps. To them all I now say farewell.

And add a 'hear, hear'.

102lauralkeet
Edited: Mar 25, 2014, 6:08 pm

Oh yes, that "bereft" feeling ... I can relate. What a terrific series this was.

103brenzi
Mar 25, 2014, 6:27 pm

Oh yes, bereft is just it. I still have not been able to put together a review. It's too painful to think of it being over. Two wonderful passages there Heather.

104Matke
Mar 26, 2014, 7:57 am

Liz, I don't want you to think I've abandoned A. T. A bit of a reading funk has slowed me down, but progress is being made. I'm about a quarter of the way through and reading it every day, even if only for a few minutes. Actually it's nice to be able to turn to TLCoB as a reliable friend.

One question came to me: when Bishop Proudie writes to Crawley trying to dismiss him, the Bishop signs the letter with a different name. (Could it have been Barnum?) Why was that?

Despite many points of amusement, this is a sad, sad book.

105CDVicarage
Mar 26, 2014, 8:28 am

In the Church of England bishops sign themselves with the name of the diocese and the older dioceses have latin names: the archbishops of Canterbury and York are Cantuar and Ebor, Durham is Dunelm and Salisbury is Sarum (those are the ones I know off the top of my head) and Barnum is Trollope's choice for Barchester.

106Matke
Mar 26, 2014, 8:44 am

Ah-hah! I had no knowledge of any of that except for Salisbury, and even that was simply casual. I love learning new things, the usefulness of which is not important. Thanks!

107Cobscook
Mar 26, 2014, 11:47 am

>104 Matke:, >105 CDVicarage:, >106 Matke: Thanks for that bit of information. I had wondered about it myself.

108lyzard
Edited: Mar 26, 2014, 6:04 pm

>104 Matke: Lovely to have you back, Gail! Take your time with it if that's what suits you best, there's no hurry.

I agree completely with your assessment.

>105 CDVicarage: Thanks for chipping in there, Kerry! And of course, the "T." before "Barnum" stands for Thomas, which we belatedly discover in this novel is the bishop's first name.

>107 Cobscook: Welcome, Heidi!

109lyzard
Mar 26, 2014, 6:15 pm

Speaking of "Tom"...

Chapter 54

    In the meantime, at the palace, Mrs Proudie had been reduced to learn what was going on from Mr Thumble. The bishop had never spoken a word to her respecting Mr Crawley since that terrible day on which Dr Tempest had witnessed his imbecility,—having absolutely declined to answer when his wife had mentioned the subject. "You won't speak to me about it, my dear?" she had said to him, when he had thus declined, remonstrating more in sorrow than in anger. "No; I won't," the bishop had replied; "there has been a great deal too much talking about it. It has broken my heart already, I know." These were very bad days in the palace. Mrs Proudie affected to be satisfied with what was being done. She talked to Mr Thumble about Mr Crawley and the cheque, as though everything were arranged quite to her satisfaction,—as though everything, indeed, had been arranged by herself. But everybody about the house could see that the manner of the woman was altogether altered. She was milder than usual with the servants and was almost too gentle in her usage of her husband. It seemed as though something had happened to frighten her and break her spirit, and it was whispered about through the palace that she was afraid that the bishop was dying. As for him, he hardly left his own sitting-room in these days, except when he joined the family at breakfast and at dinner. And in his study he did little or nothing. He would smile when his chaplain went to him, and give some trifling verbal directions; but for days he scarcely ever took a pen in his hands, and though he took up many books he read hardly a page. How often he told his wife in those days that he was broken-hearted, no one but his wife ever knew.
    "What has happened that you should speak like that?" she said to him once. "What has broken your heart?"
    "You," he replied. "You; you have done it."
    "Oh, Tom," she said, going back into the memory of very far distant days in her nomenclature, "how can you speak to me so cruelly as that! That it should come to that between you and me, after all!"


110CDVicarage
Mar 27, 2014, 1:57 pm

Although it's not something I usually do, I spent most of my day at work stuffing envelopes and then stamping them, and so I was able to listen to a book as I worked. I listened to the last ten chapters of Last Chronicle of Barset. Luckily I don't share my office so when it came to the bit where I had to get my hanky out I could enjoy it undisturbed.

I was happy with the outcomes for all the characters, but I won't comment individually now as it would all have to be covered with a Spoiler Mark. Perhaps I'll comment again when more people have finished.

111lyzard
Edited: Mar 27, 2014, 6:23 pm

I was reading at my desk at work, at lunchtime. It's an open-plan office.

We should have a contest at the end, and see who was in the most awkward situation. :)

112lyzard
Mar 27, 2014, 6:23 pm

Chapter 66

Mrs Proudie after this stood for a while thinking what she would say; but she left the room without uttering another word. As she looked at him a hundred different thoughts came into her mind. She had loved him dearly, and she loved him still; but she knew now,—at this moment felt absolutely sure,—that by him she was hated! In spite of all her roughness and temper, Mrs Proudie was in this like other women,—that she would fain have been loved had it been possible. She had always meant to serve him. She was conscious of that; conscious also in a way that, although she had been industrious, although she had been faithful, although she was clever, yet she had failed. At the bottom of her heart she knew that she had been a bad wife. And yet she had meant to be a pattern wife! She had meant to be a good Christian; but she had so exercised her Christianity that not a soul in the world loved her, or would endure her presence if it could be avoided! She had sufficient insight to the minds and feelings of those around her to be aware of this. And now her husband had told her that her tyranny to him was so overbearing that he must throw up his great position, and retire to an obscurity that would be exceptionally disgraceful to them both, because he could no longer endure the public disgrace which her conduct brought upon him in his high place before the world! Her heart was too full for speech; and she left him, very quietly closing the door behind her.

113gennyt
Mar 28, 2014, 2:56 pm

I'm sitting on a ferry crossing over to the Isle of Wight, to visit my mother for the weekend. Reading Chapter 73, which features Archdeacon Grantly. A man walked past and, spotting an acquaintance who was sitting opposite me, greeted him and joined him and they proceeded to talk in confident and cultured tones, and loud enough to intrude somewhat on my reading. An enquiry from one to the other about where he had been soon revealed that at least one of them was a clergyman, as he'd been up to London to attend the licensing of a new vicar in his old parish. That cleric then answered his phone and said to the person on the line 'I'm on the boat, talking to the Archdeacon'.

At which point I smiled, caught the eye of the Archdeacon, and told him I was just reading about his Barchester counterpart! He said he'd met the Bishop on the same ferry when he had travelled over earlier in the day, and that was a very rare occurence. Presumably the Bishop uses the faster, more expensive Hi-Speed service. So it's not horses or gigs these days, but clerical conveyance is still an issue.

The clerical colleagues are still talking - having a good airing of various topical issues by the sound of it - and the Archdeacon's wife has taken no part in their discussion but has been quietly reading throughout. I can't see what her book is, sadly.

114lauralkeet
Mar 28, 2014, 3:25 pm

>113 gennyt: oh that's brilliant. I wonder about the Bishop's wife ...

115cbl_tn
Mar 28, 2014, 4:47 pm

>113 gennyt:, 114 I love coincidences like that! And I wonder if the Bishop looks like Clive Swift? ;-)

116lyzard
Edited: Mar 28, 2014, 4:55 pm

I wonder if all clergymen (and archdeacons in particular) are required to read the Barchester novels as a sort of professional rite of passage?? :)

117lyzard
Edited: Mar 30, 2014, 5:39 pm

As we've all discovered, there are some devastating passages of writing in this novel, but I have to say that this is the paragraph that has always stayed with me since the first time I read it (to the point of a spoiler warning):

Chapter 67

She had in some ways, and at certain periods of his life, been very good to him. She had kept his money for him and made things go straight, when they had been poor. His interests had always been her interests. Without her he would never have been a bishop. So, at least, he told himself now, and so told himself probably with truth. She had been very careful of his children. She had never been idle. She had never been fond of pleasure. She had neglected no acknowledged duty. He did not doubt that she was now on her way to heaven. He took his hands down from his head, and clasping them together, said a little prayer. It may be doubted whether he quite knew for what he was praying. The idea of praying for her soul, now that she was dead, would have scandalised him. He certainly was not praying for his own soul. I think he was praying that God might save him from being glad that his wife was dead.

118lauralkeet
Mar 30, 2014, 6:09 pm

Oh yes, that passage packs a wallop. I always wondered how he truly felt about things, and I certainly wasn't surprised to learn his feelings. But I can imagine how difficult it must be to face that truth and wonder if you can still be all right with The Almighty.

119Donna828
Mar 31, 2014, 11:13 am

Here it is the last day of the month and I have approximately half of the book left to read. I want to take my time and enjoy the second half of the journey as much as the first. Anthony Trollope's birthday is April 24 so I can put it in TIOLI Challenge #20 for April. I will return here and keep following the comments as I plod along. Thank you again, Liz, for hosting a fun and informative group read.

120lyzard
Apr 1, 2014, 1:23 am

You're very welcome, Donna, and please do take your time. Nice manoeuvre on the TIOLI front! :)

121lyzard
Apr 1, 2014, 1:25 am

And after all that...

Chapter 70

    He was still fast asleep when a servant came to him from Mrs Arabin to say that she would see him at once. "Yes, yes; I'm quite ready to go on," said Johnny, jumping up, and thinking of the journey to Rome. But there was no journey to Rome before him. Mrs Arabin was almost in the next room, and there he found her.
    The reader will understand that they had never met before, and hitherto knew nothing of each other. Mrs Arabin had never heard the name of John Eames till John's card was put into her hands, and would not have known his business with her had he not written those few words upon it. "You have come about Mr Crawley?" she said to him eagerly. "I have heard from my father that somebody was coming."
    "Yes, Mrs Arabin; as hard as I could travel. I had expected to find you at Venice."
    "Have you been at Venice?"
    "I have just arrived from Venice. They told me at Paris I should find you there. However, that does not matter, as I have found you here. I wonder whether you can help us?"
    "Do you know Mr Crawley? Are you a friend of his?"
    "I never saw him in my life; but he married my cousin."
    "I gave him the cheque, you know," said Mrs Arabin.


122lauralkeet
Apr 1, 2014, 7:36 am

>70 lyzard: And after all that... No kidding! This was the point I found myself thinking, what would it have been like if they had text messaging or Facebook or email or even a TELEPHONE? Well it would have been a much shorter novel, that's for sure. :)

123cbl_tn
Apr 1, 2014, 8:01 am

>122 lauralkeet: They did have telegraph technology, but apparently it wasn't adequate to resolve the problem, or not easily accessible to the individuals involved.

124Cobscook
Apr 1, 2014, 9:26 pm

>122 lauralkeet: I need a *like* button for this! I wouldn't have guessed that's how he got the check in a thousand years.

125lyzard
Edited: Apr 1, 2014, 10:10 pm

It's easier for a person to chase around after someone on the move than a telegram. :)

But really, no-one was thinking that Eleanor herself was the culprit. And even Johnny and Mr Toogood thought going after her was a pretty forlorn hope. They certainly didn't anticipate anything more than that she might be able to throw some light on the transaction between Mr Crawley and Mr Arabin. Mostly bringing her back was about having a chance to prepare a proper defence for Mr Crawley - they didn't guess they wouldn't need one!

And to backtrack a little (bolding emphasis mine, of course!):

Chapter 42

Dearest Nelly,—

When I wrote on Tuesday I told you about poor Mr. Crawley, that he was the clergyman in Barsetshire of whose misfortune you read an account in Galignani's Messenger,—and I think Susan must have written about it also, because everybody here is talking of nothing else, and because, of course, we know how strong a regard the dean has for Mr. Crawley. But since that something has occurred which makes me write to you again,—at once. A gentleman has just been here, and has indeed only this moment left me, who tells me that he is an attorney in London, and that he is nearly related to Mrs. Crawley. He seems to be a very good-natured man, and I daresay he understands his business as a lawyer. His name is Toogood, and he has come down as he says to get evidence to help the poor gentleman on his trial. I cannot understand how this should be necessary, because it seems to me that the evidence should all be wanted on the other side. I cannot for a moment suppose that a clergyman and a gentleman such as Mr. Crawley should have stolen money, and if he is innocent I cannot understand why all this trouble should be necessary to prevent a jury finding him guilty.

Mr. Toogood came here because he wanted to see the dean,—and you also. He did not explain, as far as I can remember, why he wanted to see you; but he said it would be necessary, and that he was going to send off a messenger to find you first, and the dean afterwards. It has something to do with the money which was given to Mr. Crawley last year, and which, if I remember right, was your present. But of course Mr. Toogood could not have known anything about that. However, I gave him the address,—poste restante, Florence,—and I daresay that somebody will make you out before long, if you are still stopping at Florence. I did not like letting him go without telling you about it, as I thought that a lawyer's coming to you would startle you.

The bairns are quite well, as I told you in my other letter, and Miss Jones says that little Elly is as good as gold. They are with me every morning and evening, and behave like darling angels, as they are. Posy is my own little jewel always. You may be quite sure I do nothing to spoil them.

God bless you, dearest Nelly,
Your most affectionate father,

Septimus Harding.


126cbl_tn
Apr 1, 2014, 11:06 pm

>124 Cobscook:, >125 lyzard: After finally hearing Rev. Crawley's full explanation to Mr. Toogood in ch. 32, I expected the situation to resolve basically the way it did. I thought maybe Mr. Toogood had the same suspicion. Once Crawley put his mind to it, he knew the check came from the dean but he let himself be convinced otherwise because everyone else was so certain that it hadn't. It reminds me of one of those classic psychological experiments on conformity. Poor man.

127lyzard
Apr 3, 2014, 6:28 pm

Mr Toogood on the case...

Chapter 72

    Mr Toogood laughed too. He laughed loud and cheerily. And then he asked a sudden question, keeping his eye as he did so upon a little square open window, which communicated between the landlord's private room and the bar. Through this small aperture he could see as he stood a portion of the hat worn by the man with the red nose. Since he had been in the room with the landlord, the man with the red nose had moved his head twice, on each occasion drawing himself closer into his corner; but Mr Toogood, by moving also, had still contrived to keep a morsel of the hat in sight. He laughed cheerily at the landlord's joke, and then he asked a sudden question,—looking well at the morsel of the hat as he did so. "Mr Stringer," said he, "how do you pay your rent, and to whom do you pay it?" There was immediately a jerk in the hat, and then it disappeared. Toogood, stepping to the open door, saw that the red-nosed clerk had taken his hat off and was very busy at his accounts.
    "How do I pay my rent?" said Mr Stringer, the landlord. "Well, sir, since this cursed gout has been so bad, it's hard enough to pay it at all sometimes. You ain't sent here to look for it, sir, are you?"
    "Not I," said Toogood. "It was only a chance question." He felt that he had nothing more to do with Mr Stringer, the landlord. Mr Stringer, the landlord, knew nothing about Mr Soames's cheque. "What's the name of your clerk?" said he.
    "The name of my clerk?" said Mr Stringer. "Why do you want to know the name of my clerk?"
    "Does he ever pay your rent for you?"
    "Well, yes; he does, at times. He pays it into the bank for the lady as owns the house. Is there any reason for your asking these questions, sir? It isn't usual, you know, for a stranger, sir."
    Toogood during the whole of this time was standing with his eye upon the red-nosed man, and the red-nosed man could not move. The red-nosed man heard all the questions and the landlord's answers, and could not even pretend that he did not hear them.

128Cobscook
Apr 5, 2014, 8:35 am

I really enjoyed Mr. TooGood throughout the book. He is a different sort of character than we normally see from Trollope, down to earth and capable, and not hung up on the social niceties.

129souloftherose
Apr 5, 2014, 11:12 am

130lyzard
Apr 7, 2014, 7:11 pm

Chapter 74

    "Then, after all, it was given to me by the dean?" said Crawley, drawing himself up.
    "It was in the envelope, but the dean did not know it," said the major.
    "Gentlemen," said Mr Crawley, "I was sure of it. I knew it. Weak as my mind may be,—and at times it is very weak,—I was certain that I could not have erred in such a matter. The more I struggled with my memory, the more fixed with me became the fact,—which I had forgotten but for a moment,—that the document had formed a part of that small packet handed to me by the dean. But look you, sirs,—bear with me yet for a moment. I said that it was so, and the dean denied it."
    "The dean did not know it, man," said Toogood, almost in a passion.
    "Bear with me yet awhile. So far have I been from misdoubting the dean,—whom I have long known to be in all things a true and honest gentleman,—that I postponed the elaborated result of my own memory to his word. And I felt myself the more constrained to do this, because, in a moment of forgetfulness, in the wantonness of inconsiderate haste, with wicked thoughtlessness, I had allowed myself to make a false statement,—unwittingly false, indeed, nathless very false, unpardonably false. I had declared, without thinking, that the money had come to me from the hands of Mr Soames, thereby seeming to cast a reflection upon that gentleman. When I had been guilty of so great a blunder, of so gross a violation of that ordinary care which should govern all words between man and man, especially when any question of money may be in doubt,—how could I expect that any one should accept my statement when contravened by that made by the dean? How, in such an embarrassment, could I believe my own memory? Gentlemen, I did not believe my own memory. Though all the little circumstances of that envelope, with its rich but perilous freightage, came back upon me from time to time with an exactness that has appeared to me to be almost marvellous, yet I have told myself that it was not so! Gentlemen, if you please, we will go into the house; my wife is there, and should no longer be left in suspense." They passed on in silence for a few steps, till Crawley spoke again. "Perhaps you will allow me the privilege to be alone with her for one minute,—but for a minute. Her thanks shall not be delayed, where thanks are so richly due."
    "Of course," said Toogood, wiping his eyes with a large red bandana handkerchief. "By all means. We'll take a little walk. Come along, major." The major had turned his face away, and he also was weeping. "By George! I never heard such a thing in all my life," said Toogood. "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it. I wouldn't, indeed. If I were to tell that up in London, nobody would believe me."
    "I call that man a hero," said Grantly.
    "I don't know about being a hero. I never quite knew what makes a hero, if it isn't having three or four girls dying in love for you at once. But to find a man who was going to let everything in the world go against him, because he believed another fellow better than himself!"

131souloftherose
Apr 8, 2014, 8:38 am

>130 lyzard: "Gentlemen, I did not believe my own memory. Though all the little circumstances of that envelope, with its rich but perilous freightage, came back upon me from time to time with an exactness that has appeared to me to be almost marvellous, yet I have told myself that it was not so!"

I think Trollope captured here one of the hardest things to bear about depression (or other mental illnesses) - the way it makes you doubt your own mind.

132lyzard
Apr 10, 2014, 7:32 pm

More proof that "ruling" a wife is not as easy as it sounds...

Chapter 78

On the following morning the dean rode over to Hogglestock, and as he drew near to the house of his old friend, his spirits flagged,—for to tell the truth, he dreaded the meeting. Since the day on which he had brought Mr Crawley from a curacy in Cornwall into the diocese of Barchester, his friend had been a trouble to him rather than a joy. The trouble had been a trouble of spirit altogether,—not at all of pocket. He would willingly have picked the Crawleys out from the pecuniary mud into which they were ever falling, time after time, had it been possible. For, though the dean was hardly to be called a rich man, his lines had fallen to him not only in pleasant places, but in easy circumstances;—and Mr Crawley's embarrassments, though overwhelming to him, were not so great as to have been heavy to the dean. But in striving to do this he had always failed, had always suffered, and had generally been rebuked. Crawley would attempt to argue with him as to the improper allotment of Church endowments,—declaring that he did not do so with any reference to his own circumstances, but simply because the subject was one naturally interesting to clergymen. And this he would do, as he was waving off with his hand offers of immediate assistance which were indispensable. Then there had been scenes between the dean and Mrs Crawley,—terribly painful,—and which had taken place in direct disobedience to the husband's positive injunctions. "Sir," he had once said to the dean, "I request that nothing may pass from your hands to the hands of my wife." "Tush, tush," the dean had answered. "I will have no tushing or pshawing on such a matter. A man's wife is his very own, the breath of his nostril, the blood of his heart, the rib from his body. It is for me to rule my wife, and I tell you that I will not have it." After that the gifts had come from the hands of Mrs Arabin...

133lyzard
Apr 13, 2014, 9:29 pm

Chapter 81

    "Look at that man, now," said the archdeacon, when the doctor had gone, "who talks so glibly about nature going to rest. I've known him all my life. He's an older man by some months than our dear old friend upstairs. And he looks as if he were going to attend death-beds in Barchester for ever."
    "I suppose he is right in what he tells us now?" said the dean.
    "No doubt he is; but my belief doesn't come from his saying it." Then there was a pause as the two church dignitaries sat together, doing nothing, feeling that the solemnity of the moment was such that it would be hardly becoming that they should even attempt to read. "His going will make an old man of me," said the archdeacon. "It will be different with you."
    "It will make an old woman of Eleanor, I fear."
    "I seem to have known him all my life," said the archdeacon. "I have known him ever since I left college; and I have known him as one man seldom knows another. There is nothing that he has done,—as I believe, nothing that he has thought,—with which I have not been cognisant. I feel sure that he never had an impure fancy in his mind, or a faulty wish in his heart. His tenderness has surpassed the tenderness of woman; and yet, when an occasion came for showing it, he had all the spirit of a hero. I shall never forget his resignation of the hospital, and all that I did and said to make him keep it."
    "But he was right?"
    "As Septimus Harding he was, I think, right; but it would have been wrong in any other man. And he was right, too, about the deanery." For promotion had once come in Mr Harding's way, and he, too, might have been Dean of Barchester. "The fact is, he never was wrong. He couldn't go wrong. He lacked guile, and he feared God,—and a man who does both will never go far astray. I don't think he ever coveted aught in his life,—except a new case for his violoncello and somebody to listen to him when he played it." Then the archdeacon got up, and walked about the room in his enthusiasm; and, perhaps, as he walked some thoughts as to the sterner ambition of his own life passed through his mind. What things had he coveted? Had he lacked guile? He told himself that he had feared God,—but he was not sure that he was telling himself true even in that.


************************************

There was no violence of sorrow in the house that night; but there were aching hearts, and one heart so sore that it seemed that no cure for its anguish could ever reach it. "He has always been with me," Mrs Arabin said to her husband, as he strove to console her. "It was not that I loved him better than Susan, but I have felt so much more of his loving tenderness. The sweetness of his voice has been in my ears almost daily since I was born."

************************************

And in the transept they were joined by another clergyman whom no one had expected to see that day. The bishop was there, looking old and worn,—almost as though he were unconscious of what he was doing. Since his wife's death no one had seen him out of the palace or of the palace grounds till that day. But there he was,—and they made way for him into the procession behind the two ladies,—and the archdeacon, when he saw it, resolved that there should be peace in his heart, if peace might be possible.

134gennyt
Apr 14, 2014, 5:34 pm

Lovely passages!

135Donna828
Apr 14, 2014, 6:00 pm

>134 gennyt:: Agreed! I was sad because I finally finished the book over the weekend. I'm glad I can come here and relive some of my favorite scenes.

136lyzard
Apr 14, 2014, 7:58 pm

Chapter 84

There are those who have told me that I have made all my clergymen bad, and none good. I must venture to hint to such judges that they have taught their eyes to love a colouring higher than nature justifies. We are, most of us, apt to love Raphael's madonnas better than Rembrandt's matrons. But, though we do so, we know that Rembrandt's matrons existed; but we have a strong belief that no such woman as Raphael painted ever did exist. In that he painted, as he may be surmised to have done, for pious purposes,—at least for Church purposes,—Raphael was justified; but had he painted so for family portraiture he would have been false. Had I written an epic about clergymen, I would have taken St. Paul for my model; but describing, as I have endeavoured to do, such clergymen as I see around me, I could not venture to be transcendental. For myself I can only say that I shall always be happy to sit, when allowed to do so, at the table of Archdeacon Grantly, to walk through the High Street of Barchester arm in arm with Mr Robarts of Framley, and to stand alone and shed a tear beneath the modest black stone in the north transept of the cathedral on which is inscribed the name of Septimus Harding.

********************************************

But to me Barset has been a real county, and its city a real city, and the spires and towers have been before my eyes, and the voices of the people are known to my ears, and the pavement of the city ways are familiar to my footsteps. To them all I now say farewell. That I have been induced to wander among them too long by my love of old friendships, and by the sweetness of old faces, is a fault for which I may perhaps be more readily forgiven, when I repeat, with some solemnity of assurance, the promise made in my title, that this shall be the last chronicle of Barset.

137cbl_tn
Apr 14, 2014, 8:12 pm

>136 lyzard: I will miss our dear friends. *Reaches for tissue to wipe tears from eyes.*

138lyzard
Apr 14, 2014, 8:15 pm

Those last few chapters leave you all wrung out, don't they??

139lyzard
Apr 14, 2014, 8:17 pm

So! - finally - here we are.

Has everyone now finished or do we still have a few in progress?

I am looking forward to hearing everyone's final thoughts; I know we've already had some excellent reviews posted.

140Cobscook
Apr 15, 2014, 12:45 pm

Such beautifully moving passages there at the end. I will miss Barchester for sure!

Are we moving on to the Palliser novels in a few months? (Hint, hint) :)

141souloftherose
Apr 15, 2014, 12:56 pm

>133 lyzard: Liz, that had me tearing up all over again.

142souloftherose
Apr 15, 2014, 12:56 pm

>140 Cobscook: Are we moving on to the Palliser novels in a few months? (Hint, hint) :) :-D

143cbl_tn
Apr 15, 2014, 2:33 pm

I have Phineas Finn downloaded and waiting on my ereader...

144lyzard
Edited: Apr 15, 2014, 7:09 pm

>141 souloftherose: I did that during my lunchbreak at work - a mistake!

>140 Cobscook: & >142 souloftherose: & >143 cbl_tn: Oh, my goodness!! I think we should at least catch our breaths first! :D

145lyzard
Edited: Apr 15, 2014, 7:17 pm

I came across an interesting point when reading Richard D. Altick's Victorian People And Ideas - I had forgotten that the Second Reform Bill was passed in 1867, the same year Trollope published The Last Chronicle Of Barset. I wonder how much a sense of change, and particularly involvimg the electoral system, was instrumental in the elegaic feel of the novel, and the artistic switch from Barchester to the political Palliser series?

Altick also contends that "Victorianism", as we tend to think of it, really only existed during the 1850s and 1860s, and that the decades before and after were periods of upheaval and change.

146Donna828
Apr 16, 2014, 10:29 am

Still 'hot' from my thread:

Book No. 28: The Last Chronicle of Barset by Anthony Trollope. 4.7 stars.

"It is because I cannot tell you where it came from that I ought to be,--either in Bedlam, as a madman, or in the county gaol as a thief."

If you have ever been falsely accused of anything, then you will feel the pain and confusion of Josiah Crawley who is accused of stealing a check for twenty pounds. He is certain he is innocent but has no memory of how he obtained the check and refuses the aid of a lawyer. You see, he's poor but proud which is fine for him but it's frustrating to see his self-pity bring down his innocent family in disgrace.

It is difficult to imagine how Trollope draws out a misunderstanding to an epic conclusion to his Barsetshire creation. There are several subplots going on at the same time and there are visits from many of the characters from the other five books in the series. It is not so much the plot devices that kept me going despite my astonishing slow pace as it was the characters and their interactions with each other. Two of my least favorite characters, the falsely accused Reverend Crawley and the Bishop's wife, Mrs. Proudie, went head to head in one of my favorite scenes that ended with Rev. C's putdown of "Peace, Woman" as Mrs. P. was going on and on in her usual irritating manner. I have so much enjoyed my time in getting to know these people that I felt sad along with Trollope at the end as he bid adieu to the "sweetness of old faces" in his heartfelt ending to the books which I will definitely put on my reread list.

147Matke
Apr 26, 2014, 7:41 pm

Of these 6 books, The Last Chronicle is second only to Barchester Towers for me. It is much darker in tone, as Liz pointed out, but it's clear, I think, that Trollope worked hard to make this long book about an unappealing character worth reading.

The contrast between Mr Harding, who is the epitome of a cheerful, thoughtful, mild, and loving man, with Mr Crawley, who is difficult, prickly, depressed, and proud at the same time, is finely drawn.

And the contrast between the Grantly and Proudie marriages provides light relief; yet Trollope uses it to demonstrate how domestic relationships are vital to the character of a man.

I'm sorry to come to the end (for now) of my time in Barsetshire. The Pallisers will have to go a long way to make an equal place in my heart. Thank you for all your support and guidance, Liz. You help make a reading experience fuller and more rewarding.

148gennyt
Apr 27, 2014, 4:49 pm

I've been reflecting on how the Last Chronicle was even darker in my memory than it actually was on re-reading it. Hiding some of my thoughts as spoilers in case anyone is still reading. It was so long ago when I first read it (at least 20 years) that I had forgotten how the mystery of the cheque was resolved (though I did begin to remember that it had something to do with the Arabins as my re-read progressed. I had remembered that one or more characters died, and in some cases quite suddenly, but I'd actually forgotten Mrs Proudie was one of them, and instead had this sense of forboding about Mr Crawley - when he was on one of his stubborn, long walks in the rain because he was too poor to ride a horse and too proud to accept a lift, I kept expecting he would catch a chill and in his weakened, undernourished state end up dying before the end of the novel. So the fact that others died, but not Mr Crawley, who indeed far from dying, ends up with the kind of preferment he has long resented being given to others but not himself (I wonder if he becomes any happier in the long run?) meant that things ended more positively than I remembered. But I suppose that the poignancy of the deaths that do occur (unexpected poignancy in one case), and the gloom cast over the novel by poor Mr Crawley's depression, linger in the mind longer than the happy outcomes. Plus the sadness of knowing it is the last book in the series.

149CDVicarage
Apr 29, 2014, 2:33 pm

I thought this might be a good thread to post this news: on BBC2 next week 'The Pallisers' is starting. On Monday at midday there are two episodes in a row and then one each subsequent day in the early afternoon. There are 26 episodes altogether. My PVR is programmed already! It's not a new adaptation but the one originally broadcast in the 70s with Susan Hampshire as Lady Glencora. It will probably be available on iplayer as well if that is any help to non-British would-be viewers.

150gennyt
Apr 29, 2014, 3:59 pm

I remember watching that 1970s adaptation. I'm currently a few chapters into Phineas Finn already, so perhaps I should speed up on that before (re-)watching the TV series.

151lyzard
Jun 11, 2014, 8:53 pm

As a transition, let me bring to your attention this post from the blog, Better Living Through Beowulf: How Great Literature Can Change Your Life:

Unhinged Partisonship

But of course, what I really want to talk about is Phineas Finn. :)

After some discussion, it has been decided on the basis of the novel's heavy political content to do Phineas Finn as a tutored read - Heather has very bravely volunteered to be our tutee.

While I say that, please don't let the phrase "heavy political content" put anyone off! The novel is about being in politics, rather than politics itself, as well as the political life as one aspect of Victorian society.

It has been suggested that we begin Phineas Finn in July - is that convenient? Is this enough warning? If you have any strong feelings one way or the other about this, please speak up.

See you there! :)

152cbl_tn
Jun 11, 2014, 10:31 pm

I have group reads of Armadale and Mary Barton in July so I don't think I can squeeze in Phineas Finn too. Maybe I can catch up in time for The Eustace Diamonds whenever we're ready for that one.

153gennyt
Jun 12, 2014, 3:41 am

Thanks for the link about partisanship, Liz - a very gpod link.

To add reassurance about the political content of Phineas Finn, I would say that it is about people who are in politics in the way that Barchester is about people who are in religion. If you have enjoyed Barchester without previously knowing more about the 19th century church than you've learned from Liz's explanations, you should have great fun with the antics of Phineas, with Liz on hand to explain the political references.

154souloftherose
Jun 12, 2014, 2:53 pm

>151 lyzard: Interesting article Liz.

On scheduling Phineas Finn, I can do July but I can also not do July (if that makes sense) and push it back to August if that would fit in better with others.

155souloftherose
Apr 4, 2015, 5:05 am

An interesting article on The Last Chronicle of Barset: Anthony Trollope and ‘The Story of a Cheque for £20, and of the Mischief Which It Did’.

156luvamystery65
Oct 12, 2017, 7:16 pm

Starting this now!

157luvamystery65
Oct 21, 2017, 12:03 pm

I loved this quote from Chapter 11!

I know a man, - an excellent fellow, who being himself a strong politician, constantly expresses the belief that all politicians opposed to him are thieves, child-murderers, parricides, lovers of incest, demons upon earth. He is a strong partisan, but not, I think, so strong as Mrs. Proudie. He says that he believes all evil of his opponents; but she really believed the evil. The archdeacon had called Mrs. Proudie a she-Beelzebub; but that was a simple ebullition of mortal hatred. He believed her to be simply a vulgar, interfering, brazen-faced virago.

I am about to start Chapter 44. My thoughts so far are that I am liking Major Grantley and Grace Crawley. The two Prettyman sisters remind me a bit of the ladies of Cranford. I am now in awe of Lily Dale, I hope she doesn't disappoint me! Crosbie and Johnny Eames are both still in my bad graces. I don't hate them, but I'm glad Lily hasn't settled with either of them. As the old saying goes, "mejor sola que mal acompañada" better alone than badly matched.

All these loan sharks in Hooks Court. It's about to get very, very interesting I think.

158luvamystery65
Oct 22, 2017, 11:04 pm

Oh no! Chapter 52 Lily is vacillating!

159luvamystery65
Oct 28, 2017, 1:57 pm

I have finished and I'm so pleased. Lily did not let me down. I look forward to the Palliser novels.

160lyzard
Oct 28, 2017, 4:50 pm

Well done, Roberta! I didn't want to respond earlier when you were still finding out for yourself how things would unfold. :)