Have now come to the end of the second of Anthony Trollop’s Barchester books, Barchester Towers. Truly, if you love English at all, and are a good person, and intelligent, you will probably, for sure, love these books. But if you are also Anglican, well, then this is practically the only state of divine bliss you will find in this life. Indeed, Trollop will probably make you want to become Anglican, if you aren’t already, or at least laugh heartily at all your own sorrows.
In The Warden Mr. Harding finds his very job brought under scrutiny by the foul press, by the scruples of others, and by the weaknesses of his own person. Through the terrible ecclesiastical vagaries of bureaucratic minutia that is the Church of England, he wrestles with himself and finally stakes his all on a decision that appalls and amazes everyone. It’s completely funny and wonderful.
But it is in Barchester Towers that Trollop comes into his full voice. The Bishop, the Bishop’s Wife, the Archdeacon, and best of all, Mr. Slope entangle themselves in a brilliant and funny theologically fraught battle for power. All the right people win, in the end, but getting there is ridiculous.
I am about to start the third one, Doctor Thorn, and I expect it shall be wonderful.
I confess, though it is probably very evil to me to say, that I like Anthony Trollop lots more than Charles Dickens. If such a thing were possible, he is funnier and more cutting, and I like very much his critically affectionate descriptions of the church. His characters are really, may I say it…just as wonderful and funny as anything in Pickwick or any of them. Don’t hate me.
And now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go hear what happens next in Barchester.
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