"meditations on his own virtue"

In the previous post I described my initial impressions of Anthony Trollope's The Warden. I'm thoroughly enjoying the novel. Thanks to those who emailed or posted comments sharing your thoughts on "The Chronicles of Barsetshire."

I mentioned some unintended hilarity regarding Louis Auchincloss' introduction to the Modern Library edition of the novel. I don't mean to pick on Mr. Auchincloss, who has written over fifty novels and lives in New York City, where all the really smart people live. Nor do I wish to dilute the great debt we owe to Modern Library, publisher of great literature, reasonably priced (I'll add a link to ML to show my generosity). But Auchincloss seems very much ill-at-ease with one of the obvious themes of the novel: the extent to which the reformer or crusader-for-justice can lose sight of that cavernous gap between the possible and the perfect, often doing more harm than good in the process. Auchincloss writes,

"What it seems to come down to is that Trollope was inclined to believe that any drastic social change will land you in something worse than you have."

Auchincloss seems perplexed that such an astute and perspicacious writer as Trollope could believe such a thing. I had to chuckle, just short of a guffaw. That Trollope could live in the age of attempted reform and recognize the limits and dangers of reform, especially radical reform, makes him more the prophet than the eccentric reactionary. That Auchincloss could have lived through the social and political experiments of the 20th century and find Trollope's view odd is itself, well, odd.

Even leaving aside national socialism and Marxian socialism (a few unintended consequences there), one can range at will through the various and sundry changes imposed by both the right and left wing upon we humble peasants, and never lack for gobsmacking examples of short-sightedness and even criminal stupidity.

Not to sit upon my high perch and criticize those who try; I would not and Trollope did not (at least so far in my reading). But truly, Trollope's observations, made again and again in the novel, are but a restating of the human condition; the nature of the beast.

Not only does Trollope cast doubt upon the good that comes from a zealous crusading for justice at all costs, he also takes many a good-natured swiped at the motives of the reformer. In one of my favorite lines, the sister of reformer John Bold pleads with her brother to see the cliff that awaits his headlong plunge toward social justice. Bold will not hear a word against his mission, and so Trollope describes him thus:

"And the Barchester Brutus went out to fortify his own resolution by meditations on his own virtue."

Ouch.

Descriptions like the above, coupled with Trollope's swipe at Charles Dickens ("Mr. Popular Sentiment") make it clear that Trollope does not "seem" to "be inclined" to skepticism regarding reform, but rather, he screams his views on zealous, righteous interfering from every third page or so.

Were I a writer living in New York City this might rankle a bit, but there's nothing to be gained from downplaying Trollope's view or treating it as an eccentric accoutrement to the novel's theme.

In the end we're enriched by both Dickens' and Trollop's perspective on the plight of the less fortunate. Later we would add the ideas of G. K. Chesterton, John Steinbeck, and Ayn Rand to the mix. I'm sure you can probably think of other examples.

But for now I am guided by the biting wit of that most literate postman. Who he chooses to throw stones at is his business. I won't pretend the stones are confetti.