Source of book: I own this
For some time, I have read an Anthony Trollope novel each year. This is my 11th book that I have blogged about, although I have read more than just those. A complete list of posts is at the bottom of this one, if you want to read my other reviews. Having finished the Barsetshire books, I am now two books into the Palliser novels. But, I only read from a series every other year. In between, I read other Trollope books, just to mix things up.
This year, I decided to go with The Golden Lion of Granpere, one of a handful of books that Trollope sets, not in England, but in continental Europe. Also unusual is that every character in the book is either working class, or bourgeois, with not a single landed gentry or titled character to be found. It is also a short novel, particularly by Trollope standards - under 200 pages, rather than 800+ like most of his books.
Because of its short length and specific subject, it is able to focus on a single incident, a single set of interconnected relationships. As with all of Trollope’s novels, the plot isn’t the main point. It is obvious from the start that there are really only two ways the book could end. Does the girl marry the guy she loves, or the guy her uncle wishes she would marry?
The main focus of the book, therefore, isn’t “what will happen next,” but rather, “how will the characters respond to circumstances,” and especially “how will they think and feel about things, and what will these thoughts and feelings cause them to do?” In other words, typical Trollope.
Michel Voss is the owner of the only hotel in the small town of Granpere, the Lion d’Or, hence the name of the book. This town is located in the Alsace/Lorraine region, which history buffs will recognize as an area that has been at various times part of France and Germany. (Also, part of the disputed territory in both world wars.) At the time of the publication of the story, it was part of Germany, having recently been ceded by France. Trollope literally had to go back and make changes to reflect the political readjustment.
In addition to being not of one nationality, the region also has a split of religion between Protestants and Catholics, a reality that is important to the plot of the book, because the Voss family is split between religions as well, although, like the town itself, they do not make that much of the differences. At least at the time of the story. (1860s) Trollope describes the region a century before as a different place.
The people were ignorant, poor, half-starved, almost savage, destitute of communication, and unable to produce from their own soil enough food for their own sustenance. Of manufacturing enterprise they understood nothing, and were only just far enough advanced in knowledge for the Protestants to hate the Catholics, and the Catholics to hate the Protestants.
The local priest contributes to the peaceful climate in a good example of how I think religious people in general ought to act.
He was respected by the Protestants because he never interfered with them, never told them either behind their backs or before their faces that they would be damned as heretics, and never tried the hopeless task of converting them. In his intercourse with them he dropped the subject of religion altogether - as a philologist or an entomologist will drop his grammar or his insects in his intercourse with those to whom grammar and insects are matters of indifference.
Michel has remarried after his first wife died. His son George is from the first marriage. Along with his second wife and the children of that marriage, there is another member of the household. Madame Voss’ niece, Marie, is the daughter of Madam Voss’ late sister, and she has become an integral part of both the family and the family business.
The problem is, George and Marie fall in love. Michel, for some reason or another, is dead set against this match, thinking that both of them could do better. It is also hinted that Michel has a hard time viewing his son as a grownup, and their relationship dynamics are a key part of this book.
Anyway, George and Marie’s engagement comes to light, and Michel refuses to consent, and instead asks George to leave, and not go a-courting until he is established in the world. George heads to a slightly larger town, gets a job managing another hotel, and soon becomes indispensable to the elderly woman who owns the place. Since she has no children, she decides to let George buy her out, and gradually transfer the duties to him.
Meanwhile, after George left in a justified pique, Marie is left wondering if George still loves her or not. When a year goes by without contact (and believe me, both Michel and George are too stubborn to make the first move), she assumes that he has forgotten her.
Enter Adrian Urmand, a wealthy Swiss fabric merchant, who becomes enamored of Marie when he stays at the hotel on his business trips. He proposes to her. She initially refuses, but, after George visits after hearing rumors of the engagement, his lack of warmth convinces her that he no longer has feelings for her. Under tremendous pressure from Michel, she finally consents to marry Adrian.
George, finally stirred to action, returns and accuses Marie of unfaithfulness. Marie is then in an impossible position, caught between her love and her family, who consider her promise to Adrian to be unbreakable.
How does this all get resolved? Well, that is the question that waits until the end. The three men involved are all proud and stubborn, and any resolution requires that each gets to save face in some way. Navigating that minefield is a challenge that it eventually falls to Michel to solve, as he has been the one most at fault in all of this.
As usual, there are a lot of great lines, observations, and ideas in this book. My copy is a lovely boxed hardback from the Folio Society, obtained at a used book store. It has an introduction by Anthony Juckes, which has some fun background information.
Trollope was famous (or infamous if you prefer) for treating writing like a profession. He would sit down and write a certain number of words each day - a fact that damaged his reputation. Which is, of course, silly. Most writers work at their craft; this idea of “inspiration” leading to art rather than skill and hard work is simply bullcrap. Writing is like any other skill - it takes practice and effort, not mere talent. Trollope took a vacation with his wife to the Lorraine region, and, when he returned, wrote The Golden Lion of Granpere in 27 days. Like a couple of previous “continental” novels, he intended to publish it under a pseudonym, but the publisher, citing poor sales, declined him. He eventually managed to get it published, and it is now considered to be one of his finest short works.
The introduction also mentions two short stories that had elements that made it into the novel. The central idea of the plot is there, but the details differ. One thing that remains is the proprietor (Michel in the book, but women in the stories) ends up causing heartache because (s)he is used to getting his/her own way. This is definitely one human trait that can be seen everywhere, and with plenty of parents. (Mine included.) The expectation of obedience by adult children in matters of great personal significance never ends well.
It is only because Michel Voss regards this love as an inconvenience (because he dislikes change and is used to having his own way), and even an impertinence, that he mildly quarrels with his son.
In the book itself, Trollope describes this issue in a way very familiar to me.
He was on the whole a man of good temper, just withal, and one who loved those who belonged to him; but he chose to be master in his own house, and was apt to think that his superior years enabled him to know what younger people wanted better than they would know themselves.
Later, Michel fails completely to recognize that Marie does not care for Adrian.
But he did not understand. He thought that he saw everything when he saw nothing.
When George finds his new employment, the situation is not exactly the best. Madame Faragon has let things decay a bit, and has no vision to bring the establishment into the 19th Century. The stables are mixed up with the kitchens, and the smell is such that “one would be inclined to say that the horses had the best of it.” George finds he has a knack for running the place, which is how within a year, he is suddenly looking at a bright future.
There is also an interesting observation about entropy and progress.
What is there that we do not find to be deteriorating around us when we consider the things in detail, though we are willing enough to admit a general improvement?
While George is a bit ham-fisted in his dealings with Marie, but he is spot-on when he lays out why he thinks she is doing wrong in marrying Adrian.
“But if you marry a man whom you do not love, you will sin against him, and against me, and against yourself, and against God!”
I believe this to be true, and I have enough professional experience to see that a loveless marriage is unlikely to improve. The examples usually held out as “I came to love him” are, if you look closely enough, “I got used to being in a loveless marriage.” And those marriages fail, one way or another. Usually by divorce, but, in cases where the spouses believe it is a sin to divorce, they fail by becoming at best a toleration, and more often a simmering hate.
There is a fascinating episode after Marie finally decides that she cannot in good conscience marry Adrian. The local priest, who was so good at not interfering in matters of religion, is unfortunately persuaded to interfere in matters of marriage, and tries to convince Marie that she is bound by her promise and will sin if she breaks it. Marie, however, is prepared, and mentions another local marriage that was called off after the dowry turned out to be less than advertised. Which puts the priest in a bind.
He wished now to teach Marie that if certain circumstances should occur after a betrothal which would make the marriage inexpedient in the eyes of the parents of the young people, then the authority of the Church would not exert itself to insist on the sacred nature of the pledge - but that if the pledge was to be called into question simply at the instances of a capricious young woman, then the Church would have full power.
In other words, the wishes of the parents are far more important than the wishes of a woman. Trollope wrote at a time when attitudes about marriage were shifting. Arranged marriages were on the way out, and matches based on love were becoming more common. Sure, money was - and still is - a consideration too. But the idea that a woman could be bought and sold was no longer the majority view. So, of course, Marie is having none of it.
“If Annette Lolme might change her mind because her lover had not got as much money as people wanted, I am sure I may change mine because I don’t love a man.”
Marie isn’t out of the woods yet, of course. She has to face down her uncle, and that is the hardest part for her.
She really loved her uncle, and almost feared him. She did fear him with that sort of fear which is produced by reverence and habits of obedience, but which, when softened by affection, hardly makes itself known as fear except on troublous occasions.
This is another line that I found insightful. I too had this kind of relationship with my parents. Of course I loved them, but there was fear too. For the most part, it didn’t feel like that, because it was softened by affection. But on those troublous occasions, I felt fear, and that fear meant I didn’t stand up to them when I should have. Hindsight has its issues, of course. I wish I had insisted on a regular college education, but knowing that I would have had to move out immediately and support myself if I wanted to do that was problematic. So I went with law school and made the best of it. Even as an adult, it has been hard to actually directly stand up to my dad. Fortunately for George and Marie, Michel is able to handle the discomfort and rebuild the relationship on a more equal footing.
I want to mention one final line. Trollope spends a good bit of time analyzing how Michel went from being a loving surrogate parent, to the brink of forcing his beloved niece into an unhappy marriage. It happened a bit at a time, but once on the road, he was unable for far too long to make a correction to his course.
The reader will understand how ideas of duty, not very clearly looked into or analyzed, acted upon his mind.
This is the rub of parenting, isn’t it? We have a very clear sense of duty to our kids: a duty to care for them of course, but also to teach them the right things, to give them a good start in life, skills for the future, and so on. But it is all too easy to not really look clearly into the “how” and “what” of that duty. It takes work to actually analyze it, and not get caught up in doing the same thing you tend to do even when it clearly isn’t working.
For Michel, he gets caught up in his “duty” to make an advantageous marriage for Marie, and fails to see either his own son’s merit, or Marie’s true wishes. I think it is easy for parents to confuse their own desires for the desires of their children, which is why I work to fight against that, to listen to what my kids tell me they want, and cheer them on as they pursue their own dreams, not mine.
The ending of the book is particularly delightful, I must say. Up until the last, you have all the major players all at the Lion d’Or, everyone thoroughly uncomfortable, and unable to figure out how to untangle things without someone having to be the fall guy in front of society. I won’t spoil it, but because Trollope’s characters in this book are all, at heart, decent people, they figure it out. And that is one reason I love Trollope so much. While he has his occasional delicious villain (particularly the Reverend Obadiah Slope), even his worst characters are complex humans, and most of the people who populate his stories are ordinary sorts, with good and bad, strong and weak, foibles and endearments. Furthermore, he does such a great job of creating sympathy for each point of view, and each character’s actions - even the foolish ones - are for recognizable reasons. This empathy is really only matched among Victorian authors by the incomparable George Eliot, in my opinion. The Golden Lion of Granpere is a good place to start with Trollope, although it is not his most typical kind of story.
***
Regular readers of my blog know that my favorite Victorian author is Anthony Trollope. I try to read one of his books every year. Past reads since I started writing about them are:
Barsetshire Chronicles:
The Barchester Chronicles (BBC miniseries based on the first two books, The Warden and Barchester Towers)
Palliser Novels:
Other books:
These are not, of course, the only Trollope novels I have read. These are the ones I have read since I started blogging in 2010. I should mention Castle Richmond and The Bertrams as particularly excellent books.
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