Classic Novella.
Anthony Trollope is known for big Victorian novels, bulked up with fox-hunting
scenes and sub-plots of worthy girls staving off worthy guys for reasons the
worthy girls think are, well, worthy. His shorter novels offer tempting
attractions too. The gateway Trollope novel for many readers is The Warden.
Then unwary readers find themselves slamming with the light as air Rachel
Ray. Before they know it they are taking a cruise with The
Claverings. Saddest are readers that end up mainlining hardcore like The Belton
Estate and, stop me before I read more, The
Struggles of Brown, Jones, and Robinson.
Cousin Henry –
Anthony Trollope
Some Japanese like to think their puppet dramas and kabuki
plays deal with uniquely Japanese moral dilemmas. But in Cousin Henry, Trollope examines the conflict between ninjo (human feelings) and giri (social obligation). In the early
chapters, the more time an uncle spends with the title character, the more
bitter and confused the uncle feels that he must will the family lands and
chattels to his nephew, not to his niece upon whom he dotes. But he feels he
can’t subordinate duty to love:
It was a religion to him that a
landed estate in Britain should go from father to eldest son, and in default of
a son to the first male heir. Britain would not be ruined because Llanfeare
should be allowed to go out of the proper order. But Britain would be ruined if
Britons did not do their duty in that sphere of life to which it had pleased
God to call them; and in this case his duty was to maintain the old order of
things.
The uncle writes a pro-nephew last will and testament,
then one pro-niece, which he fears undermines the natural order of things. He
writes and re-writes, but never destroys superceded versions because he has a superstitious
dread against destroying a will, any will. A lawyer observes, "There are
men who think that a will once made should never be destroyed." Not merely
ink on papers held together by string like deeds and stocks, last wills exert an
uncanny fascination on beholders, like precious gems.
Later in the novel another character tortures himself
about whether to burn a will:
… He could not take the will
from its hiding-place and with his own hand thrust it into the flames. He had
never as yet even suggested to himself that he would do so. His hair stood on
end as he thought of the horrors attendant on such a deed as that. To be made
to stand in the dock and be gazed at by the angry eyes of all the court, to be
written of as the noted criminal of the day, to hear the verdict of guilty, and
then the sentence, and to be aware that he was to be shut up and secluded from
all comforts throughout his life! And then, and then, the dread hereafter! For
such a deed as that would there not be assured damnation? Although he told
himself that justice demanded the destruction of the will, justice could not be
achieved by his own hand after such fashion as that.
Trollope has no shortage of perverse characters who will
act against their own best interests. See The Small
House at Allington. In this novel, both the uncle and the nephew are
world-class procrastinators when it comes to destroying wills. Their vacillation
causes the nephew, among others, a world of trouble. The inevitable romance
features two stubborn lovers that drive the people around them crazy:
The father no doubt felt that
the two young people were self-willed, obstinate, and contradictory. His
daughter wouldn't marry the clergyman because she had been deprived of her
property. The clergyman now refused to marry his daughter because it was
presumed that her property might be restored to her.
It’s funny but the reader is grateful the lofty posturing
doesn’t go on for too many pages. Trollope’s nice characters – Isobel in this
one - have so much pride; and pride leads the parade of the seven deadly sins
in my book.
To recommend or not? I think this novella is worth
reading for the deep, probing character study of the title character. When he
arrives in the Welsh village of his uncle, prior to the uncle’s death, everyone
hates him despite the fact that Cousin Henry does nothing to deserve blatant disrespect.
He inspires contempt and suspicion from his uncle and his cousin because of his
manners and lack of poise, which he can’t help because he simply doesn’t know
any better. He’s just a London insurance clerk. Totally cowed by the cruel
treatment and lack of charity, Cousin Henry the city fish in country water acts
like cowardice personified, and what little confidence he has evaporates. His only wisdom consists of slogans like “Honesty
is the best policy,” hardly enough philosophy to support him in the situation he
finds himself in after his uncle’s death. Without self-control, he is caught
between anxiety and anger, whining bitterly at his fate, his own indecision.
I’ve kept the plot obscure (even confusing, I hope) for
fear of spoilers. Don’t let my obscurity put you off an opportunity to see Trollope
deploy his talent for psychological analysis. A sensible and sympathetic observer
of flawed human nature, he shows us the devastating effects of irrational dislike
and procrastination.
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