DR. WORTLE'S SCHOOL by Anthony Trollope
Sep. 23rd, 2013 09:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blueinkedfrostDoctor Wortle himself is an interesting character, often frustrating but no less interesting because of it. A mass of good qualities and a mass of bad; self-satisfied and egotistic; able to brook little argument; bellicose; mildly hypocritical; dictatorial to his wife; generous; affectionate; humanistic; very human. THS Escott, Trollope's first biographer, claimed that Wortle and Trollope were similar as "blustering amiability, an imperious manner, and a good heart"; if Wortle is an honestly portrayed autobiographical character, then I feel like this explains my interest and frustrations in him.
The Peacockes are a married couple who work in the eponymous school. He is an excellent scholar and teacher and she is a compassionate, gifted housemother. But they were married in Missouri at a time when they believed her abusive husband to be dead; he turned up alive; Mr Peacocke refused to desert her; and they end up in England trying to conceal their past. When it is discovered, both their position in the school and the school itself are gravely affected.
Besides the interest of the theme in itself, it's fascinating to note that Trollope subverted the conventions of the sensation novel by intentionally revealing the bigamy plot from the start and instead focusing on characters' reactions to it. He is muh more sensible than the typical sensation writer resorting to series of unlikely contingencies to preserve the plot, especially since such plots are often quite transparent to readers' guesses. It's very refreshing to meet with characters who are sensible enough to realise when honest confidances are necessary rather than melodramatic stand-offs.
Trollope does a really good line in compassion in this long paragraph:
Should they part? There is no one who reads this but will say that they should have parted. Every day passed together as man and wife must be a falsehood and a sin. There would be absolute misery for both in parting;—but there is no law from God or man entitling a man to escape from misery at the expense of falsehood and sin. Though their hearts might have burst in the doing of it, they should have parted. Though she would have been friendless, alone, and utterly despicable in the eyes of the world, abandoning the name which she cherished, as not her own, and going back to that which she utterly abhorred, still she should have done it. And he, resolving, as no doubt he would have done under any circumstances, that he must quit the city of his adoption,—he should have left her with such material sustenance as her spirit would have enabled her to accept, should have gone his widowed way, and endured as best he might the idea that he had left the woman whom he loved behind, in the desert, all alone! That he had not done so the reader is aware. That he had lived a life of sin,—that he and she had continued in one great falsehood,—is manifest enough. Mrs. Stantiloup, when she hears it all, will have her triumph. Lady De Lawle's soft heart will rejoice because that invitation was not accepted. The Bishop will be unutterably shocked; but, perhaps, to the good man there will be some solace in the feeling that he had been right in his surmises. How the Doctor bore it this story is intended to tell,—and how also Mr. and Mrs. Peacocke bore it, when the sin and the falsehood were made known to all the world around them.
Nowadays there are extremely *few* people who read this and say they should have parted. But that is something of the effect Anthony Trollope was going for: that the reader will understand and empathise with the situation and as a result times will change for the better. Double standards are appropriately noted:
...a woman with a misfortune is condemned by the general voice of the world, whereas for a man to have stumbled is considered hardly more than a matter of course.
This line is placed in the mouth of a character Trollope intends to seem lacking in compassion:
"I am afraid that I must say so. The knowledge that such a feeling exists no doubt deters others from guilt. The fact that wrong-doing in women is scorned helps to maintain the innocence of women. Is it not so?"
It appears that Trollope's thoughts changed since writing AN EYE FOR AN EYE (where he was sympathetic to the notion that some shunning of guilty women encourages the innocent to remain so). This was published in 1881; the latter written in 1870.
Speaking of comparisons to other Trollope novels, Mrs Peacocke's situation is also comparable to that of Winifred Hurtle in THE WAY WE LIVE NOW (published 1875). Both are represented with sympathy, but Mrs Peacocke is granted a larger measure of it. Perhaps in part because, despite her travails, Mrs Peacocke remains stereotypically feminine (by the standards of the era) whereas Winifred acts independently to defend herself and shoot rapists as necessary. But I'd like to believe that it is also because Trollope's thinking evolved in positive ways.
I find myself quoting some long passages from this novel, because it is well-done and because the quotes are self-evident without extensive theorising over ambiguities. In a digression, here is Trollope on the gradual development of celebrity gossip in his era, with sentiments that in every way I truly wish were well regarded today:
'Everybody's Business' was a paper which, in the natural course of things, did not find its way into the Bowick Rectory; and the Doctor, though he was no doubt acquainted with the title, had never even looked at its columns. It was the purpose of the periodical to amuse its readers, as its name declared, with the private affairs of their neighbours. It went boldly about its work, excusing itself by the assertion that Jones was just as well inclined to be talked about as Smith was to hear whatever could be said about Jones. As both parties were served, what could be the objection? It was in the main good-natured, and probably did most frequently gratify the Joneses, while it afforded considerable amusement to the listless and numerous Smiths of the world. If you can't read and understand Jones's speech in Parliament, you may at any rate have mind enough to interest yourself with the fact that he never composed a word of it in his own room without a ring on his finger and a flower in his button-hole. It may also be agreeable to know that Walker the poet always takes a mutton-chop and two glasses of sherry at half-past one. 'Everybody's Business' did this for everybody to whom such excitement was agreeable. But in managing everybody's business in that fashion, let a writer be as good-natured as he may and let the principle be ever so well-founded that nobody is to be hurt, still there are dangers. It is not always easy to know what will hurt and what will not. And then sometimes there will come a temptation to be, not spiteful, but specially amusing. There must be danger, and a writer will sometimes be indiscreet. Personalities will lead to libels even when the libeller has been most innocent. It may be that after all the poor poet never drank a glass of sherry before dinner in his life,—it may be that a little toast-and-water, even with his dinner, gives him all the refreshment that he wants, and that two glasses of alcoholic mixture in the middle of the day shall seem, when imputed to him, to convey a charge of downright inebriety. But the writer has perhaps learned to regard two glasses of meridian wine as but a moderate amount of sustentation. This man is much flattered if it be given to be understood of him that he falls in love with every pretty woman that he sees;—whereas another will think that he has been made subject to a foul calumny by such insinuation.
I'm one of those weirdos who thinks that personal lives ought to be considered personal property as much as possible. Some people choose to write about intimate details of their lives and sometimes the personal is even political, but we can live without frivolous collection of personal details frequently mixed with outright lies. So this passage had great appeal to me!
In terms of the main plot, Trollope resolves it in ways that are reasonably interesting to read about. Mr Peacocke travels to America and finds that his wife's former husband is truly dead; the Peacockes are remarried to each other and resume at the school; the school continues despite decreased enrolment and begins a recovery. Doctor Wortle himself undergoes character development, moderating some of his own personality issues and choosing against always following his impulses - though he was right in general, and chose to show love to others and support those who needed it. Wortle's main problem is that he's combative and proud and that is not always the most effective way of working with other people!
There is a subplot between Wortle's daughter Mary and the young heir to an earldom, Lord Carstairs; the two are too young and immature to be seriously engaged, though Carstairs' father is understanding and benevolent. This plot strand is briefly treated and not very convincing to the reader that the young people have enough strength of mind to be confident in a long engagement. The thread does parallel the main themes of the novel - a woman's choice to marry determines the course of her life, whereas a man may have other chances and is usually more powerful and wealthy. This subplot serves an optimistic purpose in the novel, but is not given enough development to be interesting.
A sting in the tail in the novel's final lines takes a sideswipe against religious hypocrisy: the Bishop who previously condemned Peacocke now offers him a curacy, but the narrator thinks it improbable he will accept.
The book was quite thin for a Trollope; it was apparently written in three weeks (which makes me utterly amazed at his talent and industry). But Wortle is a well written character and the issues covered in the novels through the Peacockes' story are socially relevant and justly presented. The scenes of Peacocke in America are also vivid and interesting. It's a book worth reading.
The Peacockes are a married couple who work in the eponymous school. He is an excellent scholar and teacher and she is a compassionate, gifted housemother. But they were married in Missouri at a time when they believed her abusive husband to be dead; he turned up alive; Mr Peacocke refused to desert her; and they end up in England trying to conceal their past. When it is discovered, both their position in the school and the school itself are gravely affected.
Besides the interest of the theme in itself, it's fascinating to note that Trollope subverted the conventions of the sensation novel by intentionally revealing the bigamy plot from the start and instead focusing on characters' reactions to it. He is muh more sensible than the typical sensation writer resorting to series of unlikely contingencies to preserve the plot, especially since such plots are often quite transparent to readers' guesses. It's very refreshing to meet with characters who are sensible enough to realise when honest confidances are necessary rather than melodramatic stand-offs.
Trollope does a really good line in compassion in this long paragraph:
Should they part? There is no one who reads this but will say that they should have parted. Every day passed together as man and wife must be a falsehood and a sin. There would be absolute misery for both in parting;—but there is no law from God or man entitling a man to escape from misery at the expense of falsehood and sin. Though their hearts might have burst in the doing of it, they should have parted. Though she would have been friendless, alone, and utterly despicable in the eyes of the world, abandoning the name which she cherished, as not her own, and going back to that which she utterly abhorred, still she should have done it. And he, resolving, as no doubt he would have done under any circumstances, that he must quit the city of his adoption,—he should have left her with such material sustenance as her spirit would have enabled her to accept, should have gone his widowed way, and endured as best he might the idea that he had left the woman whom he loved behind, in the desert, all alone! That he had not done so the reader is aware. That he had lived a life of sin,—that he and she had continued in one great falsehood,—is manifest enough. Mrs. Stantiloup, when she hears it all, will have her triumph. Lady De Lawle's soft heart will rejoice because that invitation was not accepted. The Bishop will be unutterably shocked; but, perhaps, to the good man there will be some solace in the feeling that he had been right in his surmises. How the Doctor bore it this story is intended to tell,—and how also Mr. and Mrs. Peacocke bore it, when the sin and the falsehood were made known to all the world around them.
Nowadays there are extremely *few* people who read this and say they should have parted. But that is something of the effect Anthony Trollope was going for: that the reader will understand and empathise with the situation and as a result times will change for the better. Double standards are appropriately noted:
...a woman with a misfortune is condemned by the general voice of the world, whereas for a man to have stumbled is considered hardly more than a matter of course.
This line is placed in the mouth of a character Trollope intends to seem lacking in compassion:
"I am afraid that I must say so. The knowledge that such a feeling exists no doubt deters others from guilt. The fact that wrong-doing in women is scorned helps to maintain the innocence of women. Is it not so?"
It appears that Trollope's thoughts changed since writing AN EYE FOR AN EYE (where he was sympathetic to the notion that some shunning of guilty women encourages the innocent to remain so). This was published in 1881; the latter written in 1870.
Speaking of comparisons to other Trollope novels, Mrs Peacocke's situation is also comparable to that of Winifred Hurtle in THE WAY WE LIVE NOW (published 1875). Both are represented with sympathy, but Mrs Peacocke is granted a larger measure of it. Perhaps in part because, despite her travails, Mrs Peacocke remains stereotypically feminine (by the standards of the era) whereas Winifred acts independently to defend herself and shoot rapists as necessary. But I'd like to believe that it is also because Trollope's thinking evolved in positive ways.
I find myself quoting some long passages from this novel, because it is well-done and because the quotes are self-evident without extensive theorising over ambiguities. In a digression, here is Trollope on the gradual development of celebrity gossip in his era, with sentiments that in every way I truly wish were well regarded today:
'Everybody's Business' was a paper which, in the natural course of things, did not find its way into the Bowick Rectory; and the Doctor, though he was no doubt acquainted with the title, had never even looked at its columns. It was the purpose of the periodical to amuse its readers, as its name declared, with the private affairs of their neighbours. It went boldly about its work, excusing itself by the assertion that Jones was just as well inclined to be talked about as Smith was to hear whatever could be said about Jones. As both parties were served, what could be the objection? It was in the main good-natured, and probably did most frequently gratify the Joneses, while it afforded considerable amusement to the listless and numerous Smiths of the world. If you can't read and understand Jones's speech in Parliament, you may at any rate have mind enough to interest yourself with the fact that he never composed a word of it in his own room without a ring on his finger and a flower in his button-hole. It may also be agreeable to know that Walker the poet always takes a mutton-chop and two glasses of sherry at half-past one. 'Everybody's Business' did this for everybody to whom such excitement was agreeable. But in managing everybody's business in that fashion, let a writer be as good-natured as he may and let the principle be ever so well-founded that nobody is to be hurt, still there are dangers. It is not always easy to know what will hurt and what will not. And then sometimes there will come a temptation to be, not spiteful, but specially amusing. There must be danger, and a writer will sometimes be indiscreet. Personalities will lead to libels even when the libeller has been most innocent. It may be that after all the poor poet never drank a glass of sherry before dinner in his life,—it may be that a little toast-and-water, even with his dinner, gives him all the refreshment that he wants, and that two glasses of alcoholic mixture in the middle of the day shall seem, when imputed to him, to convey a charge of downright inebriety. But the writer has perhaps learned to regard two glasses of meridian wine as but a moderate amount of sustentation. This man is much flattered if it be given to be understood of him that he falls in love with every pretty woman that he sees;—whereas another will think that he has been made subject to a foul calumny by such insinuation.
I'm one of those weirdos who thinks that personal lives ought to be considered personal property as much as possible. Some people choose to write about intimate details of their lives and sometimes the personal is even political, but we can live without frivolous collection of personal details frequently mixed with outright lies. So this passage had great appeal to me!
In terms of the main plot, Trollope resolves it in ways that are reasonably interesting to read about. Mr Peacocke travels to America and finds that his wife's former husband is truly dead; the Peacockes are remarried to each other and resume at the school; the school continues despite decreased enrolment and begins a recovery. Doctor Wortle himself undergoes character development, moderating some of his own personality issues and choosing against always following his impulses - though he was right in general, and chose to show love to others and support those who needed it. Wortle's main problem is that he's combative and proud and that is not always the most effective way of working with other people!
There is a subplot between Wortle's daughter Mary and the young heir to an earldom, Lord Carstairs; the two are too young and immature to be seriously engaged, though Carstairs' father is understanding and benevolent. This plot strand is briefly treated and not very convincing to the reader that the young people have enough strength of mind to be confident in a long engagement. The thread does parallel the main themes of the novel - a woman's choice to marry determines the course of her life, whereas a man may have other chances and is usually more powerful and wealthy. This subplot serves an optimistic purpose in the novel, but is not given enough development to be interesting.
A sting in the tail in the novel's final lines takes a sideswipe against religious hypocrisy: the Bishop who previously condemned Peacocke now offers him a curacy, but the narrator thinks it improbable he will accept.
The book was quite thin for a Trollope; it was apparently written in three weeks (which makes me utterly amazed at his talent and industry). But Wortle is a well written character and the issues covered in the novels through the Peacockes' story are socially relevant and justly presented. The scenes of Peacocke in America are also vivid and interesting. It's a book worth reading.
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no subject
Date: 2013-09-23 07:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-23 09:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-23 10:04 pm (UTC)If you do a fic, may I read it? (I'm not in Yuletide.) Are you going into the next generation, with Isabel's son the officially entailed heir? I'd fondly like to hope I mis-read that ending: in this canon, if there had been an entail, Henry would have got it without question, rather than the deserving and more capable Isabel. Is it possible Trollope was indulging some irony here and there? As, perhaps, in his repeated 'Wortle is an honorable man', er, that is, 'they should have parted'?
In many books of that era, there seems to be a coda opposed to the actual story.
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Date: 2013-09-24 06:27 am (UTC)On the other hand, I really think that you're right and entails are a bad idea, because even with the best intentions parents cannot guarantee firstborn male heirs who are skilled and interested in following in the parents' path. I see the ending as part irony, part Isabel trying to give absolute certainty rather than allow her family to go through the issues caused by the uncertainty that she and Henry went through - in other words, a character making an understandable decision to let the pendulum swing too far in the opposite direction. At least, I suppose, entails can be broken with consent of the parties.
MR SCARBOROUGH'S FAMILY has some rather interesting ideas about how to break an entail...which Isabel would be too scrupulous to engage in, however.
If I do a fic, I'll post it to my FF.Net account (http://www.fanfiction.net/u/674329) sometime in January. :) (Edit by-the-way: have you already heard the Word of Yuletide being preached by fandom missionaries, or are you up for some now? Sign ups are not started yet, just nominations.)
Wortle is an honourable man, just an infuriating one.
no subject
Date: 2013-09-24 09:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-24 09:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-24 09:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-25 06:22 am (UTC)The Word of Yuletide is this: the nominations process collects a list of rare fandoms that people are interested in writing or reading, and later comes the official participation signups. The signup means offering to write several fandoms and making several specific requests for fandoms. Then, offers and requests are matched - participants are given someone's set of requests and asked to write them 1 story, since at least one of the requests will be in a fandom they offered. The story must be complete, at least 1000 words, and include particular characters if they asked for particular characters. The stories are submitted in late December, revealed on the 25th, and everyone stays anonymous until January 1st.
In the Oz example, you might offer to write, "Oz - I'm willing to write General Jinjur, Ozma, and and Toto", and get matched with someone who asks, "Oz - please write about Ozma, I love friendship, genderbending, and adventure". Then you'd write a story based on that prompt but with plenty of latitude. Multiply that times four offers and requests, with a spin of a random wheel for which offer and request you end up writing/receiving. (For the record, Wizard of Oz *and* Ozma are available this year to offer and request, or at least ninety-nine percent likely to be! So is Lady Audley's Secret. And about two thousand more (https://docs.google.com/spreadsheet/ccc?key=0Ao3S2FvjegSNdDN5SklScTgzQ243WlVTZGpRRDhuTlE#gid=0).)
Because I'm a small fandom fan the rest of the year as well, I love Yuletide. :D The gift exchange part of it makes me happy; you write a story for someone else's dream rare fandom with not nearly enough fic in it, and receive a fic written in one of your own rare fandoms. Plus, there's no limit on extra stories you can write for other people. It's good if you want the challenge or fun of writing specifically for someone, and it's also got a large audience of readers.