victorian literature review

ImoReads… ‘The Way We Live Now’ (1875) by Anthony Trollope

Blog Nº 26

“A newspaper that wishes to make its fortune should never waste its columns and weary its readers by praising anything.”

Though not appreciated upon publication, from the mid-twentieth century The Way We Live Now has been considered one of the greatest works of fiction to come out of the Victorian period. It is Trollope’s great work of satire and its multiple plotlines are built on the circulation of rumours which makes for a gloriously scandalous read.

In truth, it is hard to give a short overview of The Way We Live Now because Trollope has expertly interweaved so many interconnecting storylines and characters into his 700+ page novel but I will try my best. It’s 1870s London and ‘the great financier’ Augustus Melmotte has just arrived from France with his wife and daughter, causing quite a stir. Though many London gentlemen immediately jump at the chance to pour their money into his various ventures, it soon becomes suspected that Mr Melmotte is nothing but a fraud. This suspicion simmers away throughout the novel before reaching boiling point at the end. He is the link between all the characters – Melmotte’s daughter Marie is in love with the selfish, financially irresponsible cad Sir Felix Carbury who, egged on by his mother Lady Carbury (whose career as a writer is less than profitable and who cannot support her son’s reckless gambling much longer), is trying to marry Marie for her presumed wealth. Carbury and several of his set, Adolphus ‘Dolly’ Longstaffe and Lord Nidderdale to name a couple, all join the board of directors on Melmotte’s venture, the South Pacific Mexican Railway, and are eager to buy shares in this endeavour despite its nebulous nature. The honest and decent young man Paul Montague becomes an unwilling member of the board when his money is invested into it by his business partners in Fisker, Montague & Montague. He and Felix’s sister Hetta Carbury fall in love, much to the dismay of her older cousin and respectable Squire, Roger Carbury, who is also in love with Hetta and the good friend of Paul Montague. Unfortunately for Paul, his ex-lover Mrs Hurtle has followed him back from San Francisco determined to get him back. These are just a few of the plotlines that run throughout The Way We Live Now – there are many more characters who all have interesting stories of their own.

Something that I found really interesting about this novel is how Trollope links ‘the pen and the fraud’ repeatedly in numerous guises. For example, Melmotte several times notes down acknowledgement of railway shares that don’t really exist on scraps of paper in exchange for money from hopeful young gentlemen. He also has no scruples whatsoever about forging whoever’s signature is necessary on official documents, allowing him to buy one of the Longstaffe properties without actually handing any money over, something the Longstaffes only cotton onto after the fact. Another instance is Felix Carbury who continues to gamble despite being utterly broke. In fact, he and all his set write each other IOUs upon a loss at cards, which in themselves become totally meaningless as nobody really has the money to back them up. Furthermore, Lady Carbury is so desperate to make a living from her writing that most of her historical work of fact Criminal Queens is completely false and unresearched but makes for more interesting reading. You’ll notice that all instances of written deception are linked to money in some way, another of the novel’s key themes. I think that Trollope is trying to demonstrate the ugly impact that the pursuit of wealth can have on people as it lays bare their biggest selfish impulses. It is also important to mention the prevalence of letters in The Way We Live Now, perhaps influenced by Trollope’s career in the Post Office. Like the above instances of fraud, letters are intrinsic to several storylines in terms of fuelling and circulating rumours and causing misunderstanding and upset among characters.

I have to admit that truly good characters are few and far between in Trollope’s novel, though this doesn’t make it any less brilliant. Any reader will of course root for the pure and clean romance between Hetta Carbury and Paul Montague, two of only a handful of upstanding characters, even though their relationship spells bad news for poor old Roger Carbury, another kind and honest soul. At the other end of the scale we have the utterly detestable Sir Felix Carbury, who has to be one of – if not the most – vain, selfish and careless characters I have come across in a work of literature. His persona makes for an interesting journey of twists, turns and scandals, and without giving too much away karma definitely comes back to bite him which is deliciously satisfying for the reader. My favourite character has to be Dolly Longstaffe – he really is very funny both in his manner and habits. Not many others would consider themselves as selfless and worthy of praise for ‘the nuisance’ of leaving London for one day to attend their own sister’s wedding back at the family’s country home. Nor would they consider it a great inconvenience to rise before midday on one day out of all the days to attend a morning meeting. Dolly is so unashamedly confident in his likes and dislikes, and highly witty in his discourse that any chapters featuring him were always my favourites. In all, Trollope’s wide range of character types make for an interesting and amusing commentary on London’s elite society.

If you like getting stuck in to a long and involving read then The Way We Live Now is definitely for you. It is at once witty, gripping, emotional and observant. Immerse yourself in the scandalous and selfish nature of a society that is rocked by the discovery of a fraudster in its midst, which portends consequences from everybody…

Happy reading,

Imo x

ImoReads… ‘The American’ (1877) by Henry James

Blog Nº 21

“I want to bring them down,—down, down, down! I want to turn the tables upon them—I want to mortify them as they mortified me. They took me up into a high place and made me stand there for all the world to see me, and then they stole behind me and pushed me into this bottomless pit, where I lie howling and gnashing my teeth! I made a fool of myself before all their friends; but I shall make something worse of them.”

The American is my third foray into James’ literary repertoire (after The Bostonians & What Maisie Knew) and once again I was not disappointed. However, this novel is different from the previous two that I’ve read, given that as well as the tragicomedy typical of James, there are also overwhelming elements of a crime thriller. I found The American to be a gripping read that at once reveres and admonishes the unbreakable customs of European polite society, from the perspective of an American outsider.

James’ protagonist is wealthy American businessman Christopher Newman. Having made his millions, Newman descends on Europe seeking a beautiful wife to complete his fortune. While staying in Paris, he meets the arrestingly beautiful Claire de Cintré of the ancient House of Bellegarde. Newman is determined to make Claire his wife and while Claire likes him back, she is always cautious due to her family’s haughty expectations. The House of Bellegarde is a longstanding unbroken aristocratic French bloodline; as a result of the family’s pride in keeping their ancestry ‘pure’, they are running out of money. This is perhaps the only reason Claire’s mother, the intimidating Old Marquise, and Claire’s eldest brother, Urbain, even consider Newman’s courtship of Claire, given his immense riches. The only family member truly allied with Newman is Claire’s energetic younger brother Valentin, who becomes a firm friend of the American. James uses this dilemma to tell a tale of clashes between the old and new world, resulting in thwarted desire, comedy, tragedy, romance and crime.

The tensions that arise from the collision of the old and new world in the novel are worthy of further discussion. In the late 1800s, American society was less constrained by stiff social customs than its European counterparts. For example, it celebrated people from any background, such as Newman, going out and making their own fortune, both socially and financially, from commercial enterprise. In fact, many upper-class Americans at this time were self-made. Newman, and others like him, were ‘nouveau riche’. There was also such a thing as the ‘American Gentry’, quasi-aristocratic families whose wealth stretched back to the British colonial period, but I’m not sure that someone from this background would even be good enough for the Bellegardes.

Newman’s bid for Claire’s hand is met with an extremely icy reaction from her mother and eldest brother, though they let him visit Claire frequently for six months. Evidently, they are trying to see if they can swallow their pride and stomach Newman’s American manners, outlook and background for the sake of the boost of wealth that he would bring them. In his innocence to the deeply ingrained prejudices and traditions of the Bellegardes, Newman believes his visits and introductions to their friends are all working in his favour, meaning it is an even bigger blow when they simply say, after all that time, ‘no’. It is interesting to observe the struggle between Newman and the Old Marquise; their views of the world are completely incongruous and represent the wider tensions between old and new money in the West. It is at this point sadly that Claire rejects Newman’s proposal after being forced to do so by her mother, even though she loves him and would like to escape with him to America. This leads the devastated Newman to sniff around for the leverage the Bellegardes have over Claire, resulting in a shockingly criminal discovery.

As an American who lived much of his adult life in Europe, I wonder how many comparisons James drew between himself and Newman. In his early novels such as The American and The Portrait of a Lady (1881), his aim was to analyse the impact of older European civilisations on American life. James himself had a distinct affiliation with Great Britain rather than France, living in London for twenty years before moving to Rye, East Sussex. I have seen his house in De Vere Gardens many times while strolling through Kensington. Some people find James’ writing style unwieldy, but I rather like it; he has managed to use consistent, extremely long sentences to excellent narrative effect in each novel of his that I’ve read so far. While reading The American, I was nothing short of hooked, firstly by the colourful nature of the characters and secondly by the climactic finale, in which James uses the tensions built up throughout the novel to culminate in a melodramatic and unexpected end.

Generally, it is James’ later novels that are considered his greatest, but I think a case should be made for The American to join this roster. If you’re after an eye-opening insight into the social norms of late nineteenth-century Europe and America, with a good dose of drama thrown in, then please step this way.

Happy reading,

Imo x