A review by flyingfox02
The Warden by Anthony Trollope

funny

4.0

What the Czar is in Russia, or the mob in America, that the Jupiter is in England.

 

Mr. Harding, our warden, has been accused of misappropriating funds from the church where he is employed. John Bold alleges that the warden’s salary of £800/year is excessive and most of the money should in fact be given to the 12 bedesmen under the warden’s care, in accordance to the will of the church’s long-dead landowner. The newspaper Jupiter becomes aware of the situation and launches an attack against the warden. The bedesmen (except one) sign a petition to be granted the money they’re entitled to. The archdeacon Dr. Grantly — who is also the warden’s son-in-law — urges him to stand his ground and fight back. He has done nothing wrong. The warden isn’t so sure, though. What if they’re right? 

 

This is a story about money, morals, and cancel culture. If it sounds a bit boring, and well.. institutional, I don’t disagree. It’s set at a slow pace and clearly Trollope wasn’t in a hurry to get to the end of the story, or the sentence for that matter. However, the strengths of this book lie in its character exploration. 

 

No one is truly a villain in this novel. John Bold, new to town, is trying to do right by the old bedesmen. But, he is in love with the warden’s daughter, Eleanor. This creates an interesting conflict between them, which culminates in a cracking exchange that’s worthy of any soap-drama. 

 

The indomitable Dr. Grantly is furious at the accusations thrown at his church. He employs the nation’s best lawyers to prove that the warden’s salary is legitimate. However, he is fighting on two fronts: one for the public image of the church, another for the warden whose resolve seems to be crumbling. 

 

Mr. Harding never used to worry about where his money came from. He looks after his men well and gives them allowance out of his own pocket. But his conscience is pricked when John Bold raises the issue. He couldn’t bear that he “should be accused by others, and not acquitted by himself.” 

 

He grapples with this dilemma throughout the novel, which frustrates Dr. Grantly who feels that the warden “is convinced of his own honesty, and yet would yield to them (the accusers) through cowardice.” Dr. Grantly promptly rebukes the warden in a speech that “silenced him, stupefied him, annihilated him” …and me, gentle reader. 

 

That’s not how the story ends, but I can’t say more than that, it’s better to read it yourself and see the warden’s inner turmoil. 

 

I had this preconception that Victorian authors are rigid and vapid, and they write as an excuse to grumble about their dull, drab, and dreary Victorian lives. Charles Dickens has proved to be the opposite; his novels take his characters, and you, on a ride through the peaks and troughs of human emotions. Is he an exception though? I wasn’t sure, until Anthony Trollope came in and dashed those faulty assumptions away. 

 

I didn’t see Trollope’s apparently well-known humour come through until a few chapters in. It’s different to Dickens’ humour, which will induce you to hearty giggles at a caricature description or silly dramatic speeches. In contrast, Trollope’s comedy comes across in a sardonic way. He makes allusions to prominent figures at the time, as well as historical ones, and characters from Greek mythology. (Dickens himself is depicted as Mr. Popular Sentiment.) I had the footnotes to thank because I wouldn’t have understood half those references otherwise. 

 

There are many scenes in the book that tickled me, including one towards the end involving Mr. Harding and his tiny violin. That bit ran like a movie in my head, it was so funny and modern. 

It took me 3 weeks to read the entire thing (plus 2 more to write a proper review), which is longer than I like to spend on a 300-page novel. But I shall look back on my reading experience with fondness and amusement! 

 

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P.S. I picked up The Warden because I want to go through the Barsetshire Chronicles before starting Framley Parsonage, which I own a copy of. I think I’ll read one from the series every year, which means there’s a Dickens and Trollope to read for at least the next 3 years. Fingers crossed I make it through. 

 

P.P.S. Actually, should I keep assuming the worst of Victorian authors? That way I can be impressed every time I read a new one. (Collins, Eliot, Gaskell be ready.) 

 

P.P.P.S. I realise I never mentioned the Bröntes who are, shockingly, also Victorian but Jane Eyre was an absolute banger.