Back to the Classics #12

Classic with a Name in the Title. Starting with The Tale of Genji, novel writers have dearly loved naming novels with the name of the hero of the novel. For Trollope, see also Rachel Ray, Miss Mackenzie, Doctor Thorne, and Cousin Henry.

Phineas Finn: The Irish Member – Anthony Trollope

This engaging novel from 1869 tells the story of a young Irishman, the only son of a successful doctor in County Clare, who begins his adult life in London studying law in the odd way they study law in that part of the world. Young Phineas is blessed with luck, being born handsome and pleasant by disposition. Charming as he is, however, he’s no scholar.

So he is lucky again when he builds a useful friendship with Whig politician Barrington Erle who recommends that he run for an Irish seat for parliament. A child of fortune again, he wins in “just one of those flukes that occur once in a dozen elections,” causing his law mentor Mr. Low to warn darkly:

… Even if you are successful, what are you to become? You will be the creature of some minister, not his colleague. You are to make your way up the ladder by pretending to agree whenever agreement is demanded from you, and by voting whether you agree or do not. And what is to be your reward? Some few precarious hundreds a year, lasting just so long as a party may remain in power and you can retain a seat in Parliament! It is at the best slavery and degradation,—even if you are lucky enough to achieve the slavery.

Finn’s first speech in that august body is a fiasco and any reader that has blown an interview or presentation sky-high will connect with his experience. Finn also feels what we now call imposter syndrome, Trollope showing that feeling an outsider and a fraud and full of self-doubt has been around for a long time though we post-moderns love to think our new names name new things.

Trollope presents so many examples of Finn’s luck that such good fortune borders on the improbable. As he attempts to woo young heiresses, another character tells him “Upon my word, Phineas, my boy, you're the luckiest fellow I know. This is your first year, and you're asked to the two most difficult houses in England.”

Finn is also lucky enough to find himself in a position to rescue not one but two men. In the obligatory sporting scene for readers that like fox hunting (a bigger demographic in the Victorian era than in our staying-at-home times), he provides aid and comfort to injured Lord Childtern, the brother of his most earnest supporter, Lady Laura. Later he saves Robert Kennedy, the husband of the same lady, from being garroted by beating off the muggers. Kennedy’s feeling of obligation to Finn works itself out in both fortunate and unfortunate ways.

The Palliser novels are often called the political novels. Lots of us idealistic readers see politics as a set of beliefs about how the wealth of nations ought to be divided up, but a character in this novel sums up an attitude still with us today:

"Convictions! There is nothing on earth that I'm so much afraid of in a young member of Parliament as convictions. There are ever so many rocks against which men get broken. One man can't keep his temper. Another can't hold his tongue. A third can't say a word unless he has been priming himself half a session. A fourth is always thinking of himself, and wanting more than he can get. A fifth is idle, and won't be there when he's wanted. A sixth is always in the way. A seventh lies so that you never can trust him. I've had to do with them all, but a fellow with convictions is the worst of all."

It appears I have written 500 words about this novel without telling anything about the plot. I don’t think that Trollope especially cared about the story. Instead, he puts his energy and creativity into memorable characters.

Two men and three women especially stand out. Lord Chiltern aka Oswald Standish brings to mind the tumult and selfishness of George Vavasor but without the ambition that drove the latter to use people as mere objects. Chiltern is out of the place in the modern world because he is wild, impetuous, surly, brawling in the violent 18^th century manner. Nobody better to share a foxhole with, nobody worse to work or travel with. No wonder heiress Violet Effingham, as fun as Lady Glencora Palliser, is rather afraid that Chiltern will be a drinking, gaming, out of control husband.

Robert Kennedy is a control freak because, like most control freaks, he is weak and fears uncertainty. He thinks that religious zeal, inflexible schedules and rigid adherence to social duty will stave off change that he dreads he won’t be able to handle. His controlling ways drive his wife Lady Laura to distraction, as if she does not feel guilty enough marrying him out of ambition to make a difference in the world (see Alice Vavasor) after throwing over our hero Finn.

Another vibrant character is the widow of a Viennese banker, Madame Max Goesler. She’s another outsider who works hard to find a place in London society, so beautiful and charming that she becomes sought-after by the Duke of Omnium. This, naturally enough, alarms Lady Glencora who fears for the future of her son, the future duke if all goes as it should.

Like the characters in the Barchester novels, the characters in this novel struggle to reconcile their own preferences with the expectations of the world. The world hectors Chiltern to settle down. It chides Finn that entering Parliament is a misstep. All the women are told love is most important and that they should live only for others. Reading Trollope reminds us that we readers still struggle to resolve our own heart’s desire for freedom with what a silly fickle world tells us to want - money, a soul mate, property, reputation, position, awards, making a difference, good health – all desires that enslave us because they are out of our control, not up to us.