The Way We Live Now summary

I chose The Way We Live Now as part of the The Classics Circuit’s tour of Anthony Trollope. Rebecca Reid does a wonderful job coordinating the various tours and has provided a retrospective post that links to various posts by book bloggers on works by Trollope. I didn’t finish in time to be included but I am glad I decided to explore a novel by Trollope.

The Way We Live Now provides Trollope’s satiric look on the modernizing world of his day and the inability of many individuals to retain a moral compass amid the changes. Throughout the novel, Trollope provides criticism of and sympathy for his characters. Despite many dark portraits and sections, Trollope also provides a lot of humor.

One central theme looks at pervasive dishonesty, located in financial, political, and moral aspects of everyday life. Mr. Melmotte, an extraordinary swindler, was based on fact and anticipates many more financial schemes to come. Trollope makes it clear, though, that the swindler doesn’t act alone—he needs someone willing and able to be fleeced. What Trollope couldn’t anticipate was governments swindling money or perpetrating Ponzi schemes that would make a Melmotte or Bernie Madoff look like pikers.

Highly recommended—except for the first 75 pages, when Trollope sounded like a prudish scold, I thoroughly enjoyed this. There are a few resolutions that feel pat or formulaic, but they did not detract from the pleasure at all.

Posts on The Way We Live Now

Online resources for The Way We Live Now

But there was much it forbad him to do: thoughts on the first 100 pages

Plowing and sowing: through the first 24 chapters

Who does not know the smile?: a quote on engagement

A peculiar bitterness: an extgended quote on Mr. Melmotte

Such weapons as she possessed: topics from chapters 25 – 50

A swindler greater than other swindlers: topics from chapters 51 – 75

He does not wish to see: topics from chapters 76 – 100



Our Kinsman, Mr. Trollope: Cynthia Ozick’s essay on Trollope and The Way We Live Now

The Way We Live Now: 2001 TV series

The Way We Live Now: 2001 TV series

I just finished watching the TV series of Trollope’s novel adapted by Andrew Davies and David Yates. Despite some major changes in characterization and storyline, which I’ll detail later, I enjoyed the movie very much. A detailed discussion on the adaptation and the novel can be found at Ellen And Jim Have A Blog, Two (which I’ve avoided reading before I’ve written about it, but will read as soon as I post this). The screenplay proves to be more than just a streamlined version of the novel. It’s as if Davies and Yates tore the novel down to its core and reconstructed it, faithful for the most part but with substantial changes where it suited their purpose. I’ll limit myself on storyline changes except as they pertain to the variances in characterizations of three individuals that I want to highlight. These changes in character can appear minor but I think they deviate from Trollope’s book substantially and in one character the deviation contradicts the focus of the novel.

Felix Carbury: Matthew Macfadyen plays Felix in a wonderful portrayal that makes the cad likeable. There is nothing pleasant about Felix in the novel but Macfadyen plays on every sympathy possible, not just with the other characters but with the viewer, too. Felix’s lack of redemption, or if there is such a word his lack of redemptionability (spell-check tells me ‘no’), can be forgiven when you enjoy being around him. For the movie, Felix’s abduction to Europe leads to the same behavior on the continent (or maybe worse) than if he had stayed at home. The look on his face in the final scene, where he is practicing his card skills in a brothel, makes the perfect ending for someone that remains unperturbed by his changing circumstances or age.

Augustus Melmotte: David Suchet portrays a monster that is larger than life. Trollope makes clear that Melmotte’s humble origins continue to haunt him, his weak spots surfacing occasionally at inopportune moments. The screenplay suppresses any weak spot for Melmotte until his drunken stumble in the House of Commons. Part of the “problem” with Melmotte comes from Trollope’s resolution—the character clearly intended to face his problems “like a man” until the very last, then changes his mind when he takes his life. The movie has him recognizing suicide as an option much earlier, considering (and rejecting) the bottle of prussic acid as his problems surface.

The pivotal moment in the novel (to me) that indicates Melmotte has given up occurs when Marie tells her father that she will sign the papers to help save the family but he tells her it won’t be necessary. This adds another dimension to his subsequent behavior as well as relieves Marie of any guilt in his suicide. Yet that is not included in the movie. While the exclusion is consistent with Melmotte’s superhuman behavior of the movie, it undermines Trollope’s characterization. The screenplay turns Melmotte into a caricature, something that Trollope took care to avoid, showing his weaknesses and revealing some of his internal conflicts when it came to facing those shortcomings. The onscreen Melmotte (and many of the other characters) lack not just an inner life but development of it. Even so, Suchet plays what is handed him to perfection. While seeking to obtain status in England, the part Suchet highlights is his disdain for those around him. They aren’t worthy of him, yet he needs them for status, not to mention funds. A masterful performance, even if it doesn’t contain every dimension Trollope drew.

Paul Montague: Cillian Murphy (maybe best known to U.S. moviegoers for his roles in Batman Begins and Inception) plays the role given to him extremely well. Yet this is the change from the novel that I feel undermines much of what Trollope was trying to do with his novel. In the book, Trollope only intrudes a few times with direct observations but I believe they are a key to understanding his intent. Trollope makes it clear that people are frail, not always able to live up to society’s standards or their own beliefs because the necessary actions require a “hardness of heart”. That hardness requires an underlying concern for those you are dealing with.

In a novel where characters are making inner journeys, Paul has a long way to go. He is a moral weakling, knowing what he must do but remains unable to show that hardness of heart in order to do it. The Paul displayed in the movie proves to be a strong character, completely opposite from his written basis. The book Paul, while searching for the right thing to do regarding his directorship in the Mexican railroad, slowly distances himself from the Melmotte circle and seeks counsel from legitimate businessmen. The movie has Paul accepting the journey to Mexico where he works, hell-bent, on making the railroad legitimate (and the whole enterprise turns out to be legit?!?—where did that come from?). Upon returning to England, the movie Paul exposes Melmotte’s fraudulent plans. The book Paul did not have the strength to do this, probably even at the end.

All that being said, I highly recommend the movie as a good introduction to Trollope's wonderful novel.

The Way We Live Now: He does not wish to see

Lionel G. Fawkes, Detail from "Mr Mixet of course made a speech" [Ruby as the "happy" bride], The Way We Live Now
Picture source

While there are many possible topics to cover in the last twenty-five chapters of Trollope’s novel, especially with the avalanche of weddings, I’m going to limit myself to two areas I struggled with in my reading involving Trollope’s direction and intention.

Characterization of the book
Summaries about The Way We Live Now focus on Trollope’s satire about the greed and dishonesty rife in every aspect of society of his age. While this is true, these summaries sound like the author finds nothing redeeming about the current age. On the contrary, there are several instances where Trollope points to improvements in and hope for society. One area involves anti-Semitism, which I’ll save for the next section.

Through Mr. Fisker, an American businessman (and con man, to some extent). Trollope sums up some of his description of America: "After the sort of society you've been used to here, I don't know how you'll get on among us Americans. We're a pretty rough lot, I guess. Though, perhaps, what you lose in the look of the fruit, you'll make up in the flavour." Mr. Fisker points to many good things in America, especially stronger rights for women, to offset many of the rough edges in other descriptions. I found it interesting that the two American characters in the novel, Mr. Fisker and Mrs. Hurtle, redeem themselves in some fashion by helping others. Trollope seems to view some of the changes taking place in America as something to be emulated.

The biggest area for hope lies within the characters, and thus within the readers of Trollope’s time. I’ve repeated Trollope’s aside about what it takes to do the right thing several times and will do so again here: “In social life we hardly stop to consider how much of that daring spirit which gives mastery comes from hardness of heart rather than from high purpose, or true courage.” Characters such as Roger Carbury and Mr. Broune are described at various times as seeming hard of heart while at the same time providing the most help to others. The difficult part for many characters revolves around when to be “hard of heart”. Many times they steel themselves at the wrong time for the wrong thing, mastering themselves but driving headlong in the wrong direction.

Near the end of the novel, Roger Carbury makes a speech about the disposition of property, but Trollope seems to be speaking about additional social obligation:

The disposition of a family property, even though it be one so small as mine, is, to my thinking, a matter which a man should not make in accordance with his own caprices,—or even with his own affections. He owes a duty to those who live on his land, and he owes a duty to his country. And, though it may seem fantastic to say so, I think he owes a duty to those who have been before him, and who have manifestly wished that the property should be continued in the hands of their descendants. These things are to me very holy. In what I am doing I am in some respects departing from the theory of my life,—but I do so under a perfect conviction that by the course I am taking I shall best perform the duties to which I have alluded.

A duty to country, those that depend on you, and to those “who have been before him”…it’s easy to say “how quaint and antiquated” about such an outlook, but those are the very things missing in many of the individuals as they focus solely on themselves. This sense of being part of a continuum and of a community is lacking in their character, leading them to behave foolishly. Roger (and Trollope) makes it clear that choices don’t always have to follow tried and true ways while keeping various responsibilities in mind.

Anti-Semitism
I waited to comment on the anti-Semitism in the novel until I had finished it and I’m glad I did. The Jewish characters at first appear to be a stereotype, unclean beings focused on commerce, banking and money. Most individuals disparage Jewish characters and avoid mingling with them because of the risk to their reputation. While it may be all right to do business with Jews, making them social equals is not a consideration for most of the characters.

With the introduction of Mr. Brehgert and his marriage proposal to Georgiana Longestaff, the stakes increase as does the response from the family. All hell breaks loose as the Longestaffe’s block the marriage with every means at their disposal. The irony lies with their willing and desired association with a swindler like Melmotte while Breghert’s character and behavior is truthful and respectful. Trollope’s portrayal of Breghert highlights the prejudice and shortsighted nature within other characters—not only should someone like Brehgert be an equal but should be emulated. The letter from Mr. Brehgert to Georgiana stands as one of the most open, truthful statements by any character in the book. In addition to pointing out prejudice, the letter allows Trollope to hit on one of his themes in the book about the inability or unwillingness of people to see things as they are. I’ll end with an excerpt from Brehgert’s letter:

As to my religion, I acknowledge the force of what your father says,—though I think that a gentleman brought up with fewer prejudices would have expressed himself in language less likely to give offence. However I am a man not easily offended; and on this occasion I am ready to take what he has said in good part. I can easily conceive that there should be those who think that the husband and wife should agree in religion. I am indifferent to it myself. I shall not interfere with you if you make me happy by becoming my wife, nor, I suppose, will you with me. Should you have a daughter or daughters I am quite willing that they should be brought up subject to your influence. …

But no doubt your father objects to me specially because I am a Jew. If I were an atheist he might, perhaps, say nothing on the subject of religion. On this matter as well as on others it seems to me that your father has hardly kept pace with the movements of the age. Fifty years ago, whatever claim a Jew might have to be as well considered as a Christian, he certainly was not so considered. Society was closed against him, except under special circumstances, and so were all the privileges of high position. But that has been altered. Your father does not admit the change; but I think he is blind to it, because he does not wish to see.

The Way We Live Now: A swindler greater than other swindlers

Lionel G. Fawkes, "Mr Melmotte speculates", Chapter 62
Picture source

Having had a stomach virus work its way through the family this past week, I’m hoping things are returning to some sense of normalcy. While recuperating from my bout Tuesday, I watched about three-fourths of the BBC adaptation of The Way We Live Now. I hope to have a separate post about it once I finish watching but I will say that it is very well done and enjoyable. The differences from the book range from small to major, but my biggest complaint so far lies with the variances in the make-up of several characters—they may seem small but I think it undermines some of Trollope’s major messages. Well, maybe my bigger complaint is Mrs. Hurtle’s exaggerated accent. But more on that when I’ve finished watching it. What follows are some additional thoughts on Volume Two of the book through Chapter 75:

Melmotte
The reader sees more of Melmotte in this section than in Volume One and his downfall has already started. His arrogance and audacity know no bound even as the first rumors begin to circulate on the potential mortgage-title fraud. Roger Carbury proves to be the one character (in addition to Melmotte) that accurately perceives human nature:

”But we set no example to the nation at large. They who do set the example go to his feasts, and of course he is seen at theirs in return. And yet these leaders of the fashion know,—at any rate they believe,—that he is what he is because he has been a swindler greater than other swindlers. What follows as a natural consequence? Men reconcile themselves to swindling. Though they themselves mean to be honest, dishonesty of itself is no longer odious to them. Then there comes the jealousy that others should be growing rich with the approval of all the world,—and the natural aptitude to do what all the world approves. It seems to me that the existence of a Melmotte is not compatible with a wholesome state of things in general."

(emphasis mine)

Melmotte understands public opinion and human nature, benefiting from their weakness. One of the delicious ironies of the book occurs when those human weaknesses which built him up trigger his downfall. He preys on people’s cowardice to do the right thing as well as the tendency for others to follow the crowd. But it is those weaknesses that cause the first chinks in his armor as people believe the rumors of his fraud (on the mortgage title). He counted on the benefits in acquiring a higher station in life, even if the acquisition was fraudulent:

It was supposed that the working-classes were in favour of Melmotte, partly from their love of a man who spends a great deal of money, partly from the belief that he was being ill-used,—partly, no doubt, from that occult sympathy which is felt for crime, when the crime committed is injurious to the upper classes. Masses of men will almost feel that a certain amount of injustice ought to be inflicted on their betters, so as to make things even, and will persuade themselves that a criminal should be declared to be innocent, because the crime committed has had a tendency to oppress the rich and pull down the mighty from their seats.

I don’t think he considered that that “occult sympathy” would turn on him because he would be perceived as one of the upper class, or rather he seemed to think he would be exempt from such tendencies. The crowd may follow him but once a few head for the exits, more will follow.

More on human nature
Trollope displays a remarkable sense of sympathy for his characters even while showing their frailty. At some point it is difficult not to feel pity for every character…well, except for Felix Carbury, even when he is beaten to a bloody pulp. Paul Montague rivals Felix for the amount of emotional pain he causes, yet he is still a sympathetic character (or at least to me…I can see why he may not be to others). Why is that? It isn’t that he hits a moral snooze button—he does want to do the right thing but he also wants to avoid hurting others. As Trollope stated earlier, “In social life we hardly stop to consider how much of that daring spirit which gives mastery comes from hardness of heart rather than from high purpose, or true courage.” Good intentions are not enough.

Trollope also makes his characters human by introducing imperfections, even in Melmotte’s case. The man may be a monster, but he’s not larger-than-life. His environment is finance and graft, which for him are the same thing. He’s out of his element speaking to crowds (at least when not prepared), his one exception being his impromptu speech in Covent Garden, his dreams on the line by this point. He makes a complete ass of himself his first day in Parliament. It's as if he is an actor but can only handle certain roles.

Price
As you would suspect in a novel that draws parallels between an amoral financial world and untethered social standards, money dominates The Way We Live Now and almost everything has a price tag. Trollope makes the point a bit heavy-handed at times, particularly regarding marriage, but it dovetails perfectly with his overall point on parallels. Several women in the novel remark that they feel “as though my very soul were not my own” or haven’t “any self of my own at all” but are chattel to be disposed of as others please.

Other items with a “price” involve social standing and what it costs to acquire them, whether monetary or moral. Such is Lady Monogram’s dilemma when she has already compromised her standards in acquiring a ticket to the emperor’s dinner reception and debates whether to go: “She had paid her price, and with that economy which sticks to a woman always in the midst of her extravagances, she could not bear to lose the thing that she had bought.”

Trollope pulls no punches on what he shows can be bought and sold. The chapters involving Melmotte’s buying of religious votes provides a sad commentary on where he sees the current state of religion—while he seems particularly harsh on the Roman Catholics, he spares nothing against the Protestants. In a conversation between the Bishop of Elmham and Roger Carbury, Trollope points to the hollowness of Anglican official’s claims:

"We build churches much faster than we used to do."

"Do we say our prayers in them when we have built them?" asked the Squire.

---

There are so many other areas that could have their own post, but at least a comment on a few of them:

I’ll hold off commenting on the anti-Semitism prevalent in this section because I want to see where Trollope takes it.

While there are many conflicts in the book such as religious, class, or gender, the one that seems to be at once most obvious and most understated is the generational conflict.

There seems to be some inconsistency on the sale of the Longstaffe property and Dolly’s role in it. He initially opposes the sale, then seemingly accepts it (anxious to get his money). Finally we learn that Melmotte definitely forged his signature. While such a change of heart isn’t unreasonable, it seems more like Trollope changes his mind on the importance he wants to place on this episode. I love the fact that while the massive fraud of the Mexican railway gathers steam, a simple signature on a title document begins the unraveling of Melmotte’s schemes.

Maybe one way of describing what the characters have to achieve in The Way We Live Now is facing up to the truth. Not that they have to blindly accept their situation, but realizing what they can and can't change. Mrs. Hurtle gets to this point first, using "such weapons as she possessed" but finally releases Paul Montague from his obligation. I'm not sure this approach or viewpoint will hold with the remaining resolutions.

The Way We Live Now: Cynthia Ozick’s Our Kinsman, Mr. Trollope

Cynthia Ozick: “Though Trollope belongs with the permanent enchanting few (he educates domestically in the manner of Jane Austen, and in a worldly sense in the manner of Balzac), he has been a diminished figure ever since—except in the unbiased regions of literary truth.” Her essay “Our Kinsman, Mr. Trollope” looks to offset that diminishment while taking a brief look at The Way We Live Now.

Ozick addresses the question I asked earlier and is more exact in her conclusion than I was: Is The Way We Live Now the way we live now?

Suicide, malice, stupidity, greed, manipulativeness, fakery, cowardice, dissoluteness, deceit, prejudice without pride, pretension, ambitiousness, even pathological self-abnegation—excess of every kind—dominate Trollope’s scrutiny of his “now.” If our now departs a little from his, it is only because we have augmented our human matériel with heightened technological debris.

Ozick expands this view, suggesting that Trollope’s perceptiveness and ability to convey his findings may be responsible for his diminishment: “Writers who describe for us precisely the way we live now tend to be scorned.”

There’s more to Ozick’s essay, including a bizarre attack on “those preening bands of Trollope cultists” (although with all the talk of parsonages and tea-cozies the criticism may have been a little tongue-in-cheek). In addition, I didn’t follow her argument on Trollope’s cynicism…or rather, the attributes she mentions I agreed with but didn’t really see them as characteristic of a cynic (even with her qualifications). There is too much humanity in Trollope’s wryness, but then my Trollope exposure has a n of 1, or rather one-half, at this point. Even with these digressions and disagreements, I find her summary statements about The Way We Live Now match my experience to date: “Yet nothing can really exhaust any part of this narrative; it is alive and stringingly provocative at every turn.”

The Way We Live Now: such weapons as she possessed

"You, I think, are Miss Melmotte."
Picture source

A reminder for anyone interested in Trollope, The Classics Circuit is underway with a tour of the author. SFP at pages turned has posted a good review of The Way We Live Now. I just finished Volume One so here are a few quotes and comments on Chapters 25 – 50.

I don’t have much to add to my comments in the post on the first half of Volume One regarding themes or topics—much of the second half develops the same areas. I think I do need to clarify the comment I made on the women in the book. Most of them do have a harder life than their male siblings or other family members. The point I was trying to make centers on the strength the female characters exhibit. These aren’t passive, wilting creatures. Even Marie Melmotte strengthens and attempts to elope in this section, very much against her father’s wishes. Regarding marriage “up” or “down”, forging a union across class lines, I would characterize Trollope as agnostic. While the examples of such successful cross-classline unions are limited (Lady Monogram comes to mind), it is the other characters that pass judgment more than Trollope. Is it possible to make such a distinction? I’m going to hold off on that question until I see how the relationships develop. Or don't.

Trollope’s dig at other authors, given through Mrs. Hurtle:
“What I find fault with is that the writers and actors are so ignorant of men and women as we see them every day. It's all right that she should cry, but she wouldn't cry there."

Viewpoint on the changing times (just one of many):
(Lady Carbury thoughts on her cousin Roger): But then dear Roger was old-fashioned, and knew nothing of people as they are now. He lived in a world which, though slow, had been good in its way; but which, whether bad or good, had now passed away.

Marriage:
Nothing perhaps is so efficacious in preventing men from marrying as the tone in which married women speak of the struggles made in that direction by their unmarried friends.

Augustus Melmotte and his influence (explains how he is able to defer payments):
But money was the very breath of Melmotte's nostrils, and therefore his breath was taken for money.

Mrs. Hurtle (probably my favorite character in the book so far—this is just after Paul Montague makes it clear he will not marry her):
She knew it all and was hardly angry with him in that he had decided against her. But treated as she had been she must play her game with such weapons as she possessed.

Trollope on his character Paul Montague:
But they will be very hard on him on the score of his cowardice,—as, I think, unjustly. In social life we hardly stop to consider how much of that daring spirit which gives mastery comes from hardness of heart rather than from high purpose, or true courage.

I found this last quote extraordinary. Is Trollope equivocating on “doing the right thing”, something he has advocated very strongly to date? Paul’s character to date knows what he should do but often lacks the will to carry it through. Paul was seduced by the ready money of being on the board of the railroad, but he is taking measures to find out the legitimacy of the deal. Trollope, after this quote, goes into detail of why apparent weaknesses can occur—“continual aversion to the giving of pain”, “a softness which causes the fretfulness of others to be an agony to himself”. Such considerations do not describe Felix Carbury, who caves on every issue simply because he is weak. But this does describe Paul’s character very well, humanizing him by showing his compassion despite his weaknesses. It also humanizes Roger Carbury, initially portrayed as something of a scold who constantly admonishes and reprimandes other characters. Trollope takes pains to show that beneath Roger’s gruff and proper exterior he anguishes over the pain he recognizes his advice causes but sticks to the higher purpose anyway.

Coming across this quote immediately after positing the question “What kind of moralist is Trollope?” in the previous post was unexpected but perfectly timed. Trollope acknowledges the times are changing but that doesn’t mean ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ are redefined. At the same time, he also recognizes human frailty in dealing with ordinary times but extraordinary events, too. I found this slip of the mask on the author’s part extremely revealing.

The Way We Live Now: A peculiar bitterness

Forgive the extended quotation in this post, but the opening of Chapter 49 captured so much of what makes The Way We Live Now enjoyable. Trollope has created a wonderful villain in Mr. Melmotte yet that character is rarely on the stage (so far). Watching how others respond to him is the delicious part. “As he was a demi-god to some, so was he a fiend to others.” Often he proves to be both for quite a few characters.

The very greatness of Mr Melmotte's popularity, the extent of the admiration which was accorded by the public at large to his commercial enterprise and financial sagacity, created a peculiar bitterness in the opposition that was organized against him at Westminster. As the high mountains are intersected by deep valleys, as puritanism in one age begets infidelity in the next, as in many countries the thickness of the winter's ice will be in proportion to the number of the summer musquitoes, so was the keenness of the hostility displayed on this occasion in proportion to the warmth of the support which was manifested. As the great man was praised, so also was he abused. As he was a demi-god to some, so was he a fiend to others. And indeed there was hardly any other way in which it was possible to carry on the contest against him. From the moment in which Mr Melmotte had declared his purpose of standing for Westminster in the Conservative interest, an attempt was made to drive him down the throats of the electors by clamorous assertions of his unprecedented commercial greatness. It seemed that there was but one virtue in the world, commercial enterprise,—and that Melmotte was its prophet. It seemed, too, that the orators and writers of the day intended all Westminster to believe that Melmotte treated his great affairs in a spirit very different from that which animates the bosoms of merchants in general. He had risen above feeling of personal profit. His wealth was so immense that there was no longer place for anxiety on that score. He already possessed,—so it was said,—enough to found a dozen families, and he had but one daughter! But by carrying on the enormous affairs which he held in his hands, he would be able to open up new worlds, to afford relief to the oppressed nationalities of the over-populated old countries. He had seen how small was the good done by the Peabodys and the Bairds, and, resolving to lend no ear to charities and religions, was intent on projects for enabling young nations to earn plentiful bread by the moderate sweat of their brows. He was the head and front of the railway which was to regenerate Mexico. It was presumed that the contemplated line from ocean to ocean across British America would become a fact in his hands. It was he who was to enter into terms with the Emperor of China for farming the tea-fields of that vast country. He was already in treaty with Russia for a railway from Moscow to Khiva. He had a fleet,—or soon would have a fleet of emigrant ships,—ready to carry every discontented Irishman out of Ireland to whatever quarter of the globe the Milesian might choose for the exercise of his political principles. It was known that he had already floated a company for laying down a submarine wire from Penzance to Point de Galle, round the Cape of Good Hope,—so that, in the event of general wars, England need be dependent on no other country for its communications with India. And then there was the philanthropic scheme for buying the liberty of the Arabian fellahs from the Khedive of Egypt for thirty millions sterling,—the compensation to consist of the concession of a territory about four times as big as Great Britain in the lately annexed country on the great African lakes. It may have been the case that some of these things were as yet only matters of conversation,—speculations as to which Mr Melmotte's mind and imagination had been at work, rather than his pocket or even his credit; but they were all sufficiently matured to find their way into the public press, and to be used as strong arguments why Melmotte should become member of Parliament for Westminster.

All this praise was of course gall to those who found themselves called upon by the demands of their political position to oppose Mr Melmotte. You can run down a demi-god only by making him out to be a demi-devil. These very persons, the leading Liberals of the leading borough in England as they called themselves, would perhaps have cared little about Melmotte's antecedents had it not become their duty to fight him as a Conservative. Had the great man found at the last moment that his own British politics had been liberal in their nature, these very enemies would have been on his committee. It was their business to secure the seat. And as Melmotte's supporters began the battle with an attempt at what the Liberals called "bounce,"—to carry the borough with a rush by an overwhelming assertion of their candidate's virtues,—the other party was driven to make some enquiries as to that candidate's antecedents. They quickly warmed to the work, and were not less loud in exposing the Satan of speculation, than had been the Conservatives in declaring the commercial Jove. Emissaries were sent to Paris and Frankfort, and the wires were used to Vienna and New York. It was not difficult to collect stories,—true or false; and some quiet men, who merely looked on at the game, expressed an opinion that Melmotte might have wisely abstained from the glories of Parliament.

In a previous post I had questioned if The Way We Live Now is the way we live now. It seems human nature has not changed much in the past 135 years.

The question that intrigues me at this point revolves around Trollope’s moralism. He started the book as a scold, then lightening up and letting his humor shine through. In a similar vein, Trollope begins as a strict moralist but that severity seems to relax a little here at the end of the first volume. While only a small degree of loosening, it will be interesting to see if I’m imagining things as the second volume progresses.

The Way We Live Now: Who does not know the smile?

Paul Montague, a likeable enough fellow but a moral weakling, goes to visit the American widow Mrs. Hurtle with whom he has tried to break off their engagement. Mrs. Hurtle represents herself as the fiancée of Paul when taking a room in London. Here is Paul upon entering the house where Mrs. Hurtle is staying:

The woman of the house with a smile showed him into Mrs Hurtle's sitting-room, and he at once perceived that the smile was intended to welcome him as an accepted lover. It was a smile half of congratulation to the lover, half of congratulation to herself as a woman that another man had been caught by the leg and made fast. Who does not know the smile? What man, who has been caught and made sure, has not felt a certain dissatisfaction at being so treated, understanding that the smile is intended to convey to him a sense of his own captivity? It has, however, generally mattered but little to us. If we have felt that something of ridicule was intended, because we have been regarded as cocks with their spurs cut away, then we also have a pride when we have declared to ourselves that upon the whole we have gained more than we have lost.

On second thought, maybe I'll skip any comments on this passage.

The Way We Live Now: Plowing and sowing

What follows are a few thoughts on Trollope’s world in The Way We Live Now…or at least through Chapter 24.

Religion
Trollope clearly takes aim at religion, but it is more how he does it as well as his issue (or target) that interested me. We are introduced to two men of the church in the Suffolk area: the Anglican Bishop of Elmham and the Roman Catholic Father John Barham, the Beccles priest. Both are presented as “eminently good men”, doing good works and presenting a good example. The bishop’s sermons are always well done, but they have no passion. Whether or not he has any faith does not seem to be Trollope’s issue—it’s that the bishop inspires no faith in others. I thought Trollope’s use of a Catholic priest to say the following excerpts strengthened their impact:

- "The English people, or some of them,—that some being the richest, and, at present, the most powerful,—like to play at having a Church, though there is not sufficient faith in them to submit to the control of a Church."
- "It is what you were taught as a child before you had made profession of your faith to a bishop, in order that you might know your duty when you had ceased to be a child. I quite agree, however, that the matter, as viewed by your Church, is childish altogether, and intended only for children. As a rule, adults with you want no religion."
- "I don't know that it is worse than a belief which is no belief," said the priest with energy;—"than a creed which sits so easily on a man that he does not even know what it contains, and never asks himself as he repeats it, whether it be to him credible or incredible."

Trollope’s repeated trope of Father Barham’s work resonates in several ways: “It might be that he had sowed some seed. It might be that he had, at any rate, ploughed some ground. Even the attempt to plough the ground was a good work which would not be forgotten.” Does Trollope view himself as plowing and sowing with this book? I think to some extent yes, especially early on when his social and moral points were made with a heavy hand. These comments are not exactly lightly made, but the overall tone has generally lightened. It’s as if he realized the ground he aims at plowing would potentially yield more with humor and a deft touch.

Women
As I mentioned in an earlier post, marriage is viewed as a business transaction by many of the characters. Melmotte’s concern on how a potential son-in-law would behave with his money rather than how his daughter would be treated paints women as a lesser part of the chattel changing hands during marriage. Don’t shed any tears for the female characters in this book, though. Most of them prove to be strong, action-oriented characters (although within societal constraints) while most of the men are passive and immature. The female characters plot and scheme while the men idly go with the flow. Some of the women are simply building castles in the air with their schemes but many realize the areas of power they control and exert themselves where they can.

Lady Carbury’s industry and activity stands in the forefront, especially when compared to her son Felix. If it weren’t for the mother, Felix would have never proposed to Marie Melmotte. Lady Carbury’s drive to have her family succeed seems like a powerful force of nature. Even female characters constricted in their movements and place have plans on how to obtain their desires, such as Georgiana Longestaffe’s wish to live in London and her schemes to do so. I foresee even the women who appear passive to this point growing in their ability to fight against coercion—we’ll see if this prediction follows or not.

It takes two to tango
At its heart, The Way We Live Now points to the dishonesty that Trollope saw in many facets of life and society. While we haven’t seen much of the swindler Augustus Melmotte to this point, his reputation precedes him. All the characters “know” Melmotte to be a swindler, or at least that that is his reputation, yet they are willing to not only deal with him but fight for his notice and blessing. As Roger Carbury puts it, “He is one whom we would not admit into our kitchens, much less to our tables, on the score of his own merits. But because he has learned the art of making money, we not only put up with him, but settle upon his carcase as so many birds of prey." It is the second part of that equation that Trollope takes delicious aim at so far in this book. The misdeeds of those preying on others are allowed to speak for themselves, but those willing to compromise their morals (or what should have been their morals) in order to be preyed upon receive special disapprobation from Trollope.

Roger Carbury, the moral touchstone so far in the novel, accurately judges Lady Carbury’s character, which represents many characters as well: “[S]he was essentially worldly, believing that good could come out of evil, that falsehood might in certain conditions be better than truth, that shams and pretences might do the work of true service, that a strong house might be built upon the sand!”

Which leads to Trollope's point--a swindle isn’t successful unless there is someone willing to be swindled. Trollope targets those who are willing to take moral shortcuts in order to enrich themselves…they end up being cheapened in addition to cheated. The following excerpt highlights what people wish or prefer to see will guide their behavior instead of reality, a recurring theme:

Sir Felix, however, hardly spoke at all, played very little, and watched Miles Grendall without seeming to watch him. At last he felt certain that he saw a card go into the man's sleeve, and remembered at the moment that the winner had owed his success to a continued run of aces. He was tempted to rush at once upon the player, and catch the card on his person. But he feared. Grendall was a big man; and where would he be if there should be no card there? And then, in the scramble, there would certainly be at any rate a doubt. And he knew that the men around him would be most unwilling to believe such an accusation. Grasslough was Grendall's friend, and Nidderdale and Dolly Longestaffe would infinitely rather be cheated than suspect any one of their own set of cheating them. He feared both the violence of the man he should accuse, and also the unpassive good humour of the others. He let that opportunity pass by, again watched, and again saw the card abstracted. Thrice he saw it, till it was wonderful to him that others also should not see it. As often as the deal came round, the man did it. Felix watched more closely, and was certain that in each round the man had an ace at least once. It seemed to him that nothing could be easier. (emphasis mine)

So “be cheated” they shall. Additional scorn is heaped on Paul Montague, the character who suspects something is amiss but becomes easily bought and paid for. He has “a sorely burdened conscience” about the Great South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway Company, not understanding the arrangement but fearing dishonesty. Yet he does nothing, yeilding to temptation to enjoy the new-found money stream directed his way. For him and many others, that “the money was very pleasant to him” sweeps aside any compunction or concern.

Is The Way We Live Now the way we live now?
I’ll try and hold off on this question until the end, but something I want to keep in mind as I read.

The Way We Live Now: But there was much it forbad him to do

Mr Longestaffe was a tall, heavy man, about fifty, with hair and whiskers carefully dyed, whose clothes were made with great care, though they always seemed to fit him too tightly, and who thought very much of his personal appearance. It was not that he considered himself handsome, but that he was specially proud of his aristocratic bearing. He entertained an idea that all who understood the matter would perceive at a single glance that he was a gentleman of the first water, and a man of fashion. He was intensely proud of his position in life, thinking himself to be immensely superior to all those who earned their bread. There were no doubt gentlemen of different degrees, but the English gentleman of gentlemen was he who had land, and family title-deeds, and an old family place, and family portraits, and family embarrassments, and a family absence of any usual employment. He was beginning even to look down upon peers, since so many men of much less consequence than himself had been made lords; and, having stood and been beaten three or four times for his county, he was of opinion that a seat in the House was rather a mark of bad breeding. He was a silly man, who had no fixed idea that it behoved him to be of use to any one; but, yet, he had compassed a certain nobility of feeling. There was very little that his position called upon him to do, but there was much that it forbad him to do. It was not allowed to him to be close in money matters. He could leave his tradesmen's bills unpaid till the men were clamorous, but he could not question the items in their accounts. He could be tyrannical to his servants, but he could not make inquiry as to the consumption of his wines in the servants' hall. He had no pity for his tenants in regard to game, but he hesitated much as to raising their rent. He had his theory of life and endeavoured to live up to it; but the attempt had hardly brought satisfaction to himself or to his family.

At the present moment, it was the great desire of his heart to sell the smaller of his two properties and disembarrass the other. The debt had not been altogether of his own making, and the arrangement would, he believed, serve his whole family as well as himself. It would also serve his son, who was blessed with a third property of his own which he had already managed to burden with debt. The father could not bear to be refused; and he feared that his son would decline. "But Adolphus wants money as much as any one," Lady Pomona had said. He had shaken his head, and pished and pshawed. Women never could understand anything about money. Now he walked down sadly from Mr Melmotte's office and was taken in his brougham to his lawyer's chambers in Lincoln's Inn. Even for the accommodation of those few thousand pounds he was forced to condescend to tell his lawyers that the title-deeds of his house in town must be given up. Mr Longestaffe felt that the world in general was very hard on him.

I’m only a little over 100 pages into The Way We Live Now (just over one-tenth of the total) and Trollope seems to finally loosen up some in his writing. He has been quite the scold to this point, settling personal scores in addition to satirizing the England he sees around him. What keeps the book readable is his wonderful touch at times when not so heavy handed. Every character save one (Roger Carbury) seems completely daft when it comes to money.

The book (so far) focuses upon the sham worlds people have erected around themselves and the dishonesty flowing through every facet of life. So far, money and financial dealings have been one of the central targets. A few of the quotes involving the characters and their money:

Felix Carbury: “A baronet, holding a commission in the Guards, and known to have had a fortune left him by his father, may go very far in getting into debt; and Sir Felix had made full use of all his privileges.” “It was now his business to marry an heiress. He was well aware that it was so, and was quite prepared to face his destiny.”

Augustus Melmotte: “The young Lord Nidderdale, the eldest son of the Marquis of Auld Reekie, had offered to take the girl and make her Marchioness in the process of time for half a million down. Melmotte had not objected to the sum,—so it was said,—but had proposed to tie it up. Nidderdale had desired to have it free in his own grasp, and would not move on any other terms. Melmotte had been anxious to secure the Marquis,—very anxious to secure the Marchioness; for at that time terms had not been made with the Duchess; but at last he had lost his temper, and had asked his lordship's lawyer whether it was likely that he would entrust such a sum of money to such a man. "You are willing to trust your only child to him," said the lawyer. Melmotte scowled at the man for a few seconds from under his bushy eyebrows; then told him that his answer had nothing in it, and marched out of the room. So that affair was over.”

On the scheme several characters lend their name to: “The object of Fisker, Montague, and Montague was not to make a railway to Vera Cruz, but to float a company. Paul thought that Mr Fisker seemed to be indifferent whether the railway should ever be constructed or not.”

The general outlook: “Wonderful are the ways of trade! If one can only get the tip of one's little finger into the right pie, what noble morsels, what rich esculents, will stick to it as it is extracted!”

Two attributes run through many of Trollope’s characters. The first he calls silliness, not just with money matters but encompassing a frivolous approach to everything. The second quality, not mentioned as much but underlying many actions, is cowardice. What keeps the characters from slipping into stereotypes are varying combinations of the two attributes. Lady Carbury, for example, shows courage when it comes to her writing/publication and her son Felix’s marriage prospects but wilts when it comes to any monetary request he makes. Lady Carbury dwells on what Felix “might be with £20,000 a year” but the correct answer would probably be ‘an even bigger bum’.

I chose the opening quote because it incorporates many of the themes or targets Trollope has set his sights on (and it doesn’t hurt it was the most recent section I’ve read in the book—many other excerpts could serve just as well). What starts out sounding like a new vs. old order accumulates additional layering so that a caste system emerges. Everything hinges on money, yet there are silly rules about paying or questioning charges. The younger generation has learned their lesson well and gone into as much debt (or more) as their parents. Adolophus (the elder) may think that could never “understand anything about money” but it’s clear that he doesn’t either. Financial scams aren’t reserved just for phony stock schemes but are a routine part of everyday life. The one important area not mentioned in the opening quote, but I need to mention, involves the importance of marriage as a business transaction as portrayed everywhere else in the book so far.

The area where Trollope heaps the most scorn involves the publishing and review of literature, something that feels like he’s settling a personal grudge. It fits in with the overall theme of pervasive dishonesty but it hardly seems to merit the most derision. Trollope’s wit saves these sections from sinking into simple scorn, especially since it seems like a trite area in the grand scheme of omnipresent deceit. Regarding Lady Carbury’s attempts at writing: “The one most essential obstacle to the chance of success in all this was probably Lady Carbury's conviction that her end was to be obtained not by producing good books, but by inducing certain people to say that her books were good.” Her initial targets know the game well, as Mr. Booker’s talents indicate: “He was an adept at this sort of work, and knew well how to review such a book as Lady Carbury's "Criminal Queens," without bestowing much trouble on the reading.”

Ah, but I’m beginnning to warm to Trollope’s book and hope to bestow more trouble on the reading of it...

The Way We Live Now online resources

Lionel G. Fawkes, Chapter 37: 'The Board-Room", The Way We Live Now
"My Lords and Gentlemen," said Melmotte. "I hope that you trust me."
This is part of The Classics Circuit, which is currently reading and posting on Anthony Trollope’s novels. Never having read anything by Trollope, I thought I would take the plunge with The Way We Live Now. Maybe I should have checked to see how thick the book was before I made my choice. I won't meet the December 8th date I’m slated to review the book, but I’ll do my best to provide my usual posts on what I’m reading as soon as I can.

While this is an abbreviated resources post on Trollope, and in particular, The Way We Live Now, if you know of additional links that are helpful feel free to drop me a note or leave a comment.

The text can be found at Project Gutenberg or an audio version at LibrVox.com

A map of locations in the novel

Anthony Trollope on The Victorian Web, which includes the essay
Reimagining Heroism in The Way We Live Now by Rachel Hannah Beck

AnthonyTrollope.com from The Trollope Society

Harvard’s Trollope Prize has a few of its winning essays available online