Cousin Henry (1879),
Doctor Wortle's School (1881),
The Fixed Period (1882),
Kept in the Dark (1882),
An Old Man's Love (1884).
It so happened that An Eye for An Eye was written before the publication of The Way We Live Now, although not published until some while after. It is, however, clearly the product (if an unconscious one) of the same impulse as gave birth to the other books, and its theme—the struggle in the mind of a young Englishman between pride of family and desire to fulfil a marriage promise to a girl who has become his mistress—is a theme of the type peculiar to these six brief stories and distinctly foreign to Trollope's more bulky and eventful work.
A further group of five stories may roughly be termed Trollope's “oversea” novels. The first three—Nina Balatka (1867), Linda Tressel (1868), and The Golden Lion of Granpere (1872)—were written more or less intentionally to form a distinct trio. They are semi-romantic tales, staged respectively in old Prague, in old Nürnberg, and among the Vosges mountains; pleasant enough, but quite definitely of minor importance. The first two were published anonymously but achieved little success, and were later reissued over the author's name. Harry Heathcote of Gangoil (1874) and John Caldigate (1879) are novels of Australia, based on the knowledge of that continent which the author gained when visiting one of his sons who had established himself there. I understand that as pictures of Australian life they are vivid and reliable. Be that as it may, the untutored reader, seeking only for Trollope, will find him abundantly in Harry Heathcote, which is an eventful, almost an adventurous story, and to a very satisfying degree in the longer book that appeared five years later.
Of Trollope's various volumes of short stories nothing need here be said. Of Sir Harry Hotspur of Humblethwaite (1871) there is little that can be said. Of The Struggles of Brown, Jones, and Robinson (1870) there is much that had better be left unsaid. One important full-length novel remains, good in itself and at the same time remarkable as the only one of the author's tales in which he arms himself formally as a social crusader.
The Vicar of Bullhampton (1870) is a novel written in defence of the “fallen woman.” It is quaint to read Trollope's solemn and tactful preface, in which he almost apologizes to his public for venturing on such indelicate ground. Fortunately the book is so feeble as propaganda that, but for the preface, one would be unaware that it was written with any special purpose. It can be enjoyed as a good story of village life, with a delightful parson as central figure and the necessary complement of charming Trollope ladies, gruff farmers, lonely landowners, and aggressive Nonconformity.
This novel, like all Trollope's really good work, impresses the reader first and foremost with its Englishry. Perhaps it would not be too much to say that the very greatness of the author himself springs from this same quality. He is intensely English, with the quiet humour, the shy sympathy masquerading as indifference, the delicate sense of kindliness and toleration, the occasional heaviness, the occasional irritability, that mark a man or a book as English. But if to these qualities he owes his place in our proud heritage of literature, to them also he owes the tarrying of due recognition, for they and the natures that possess them are of all qualities and of all natures the most difficult to impress upon the sceptical outsider, seeing that their very beauty and preciousness and power lie in their elusiveness.