Trollope demonstrates his skill in presenting the female point of view in his variations on the Cophetua theme, in which the king marries a beggar maid whom he spies from the window of his castle. Lady Lufton, in Framley Parsonage, is not the proud and unbending opponent portrayed in Austen's Lady Catherine de Bourgh or in Lady Aylmer of The Belton Estate.
Lucy Robarts and Clara Amedroz prove themselves to be worthy heroines in the tradition of Elizabeth Bennett as they stand up for themselves. Clara Amedroz's second move in her match with Lady Aylmer is to parry a question with a question:
"I believe it to be an undoubted fact that Mrs. Askerton is—is—is— not at all what she ought to be."
"Which of us is what we ought to be?" said Clara.
Such scenes cry out for television portrayal. Pride and Prejudice is, of course, abundantly portrayed, with Lady Catherine de Bourgh sitting in splendor in her carriage. Wait till BBC asks me for a few suggestions for new shows. The screenwriter would have a bit of work to do with streamlining the plot, but the scenes between Clara and Lady Aylmer are there for the taking.
LOVE CONQUERS ALL, IN THE NINTH INNING
NINA BALATKA
The Story of a Maiden of Prague
How could this short novel fail to delight? A familiar author; his only book about Prague, a city of complexity and charm; and a short novel of only 186 pages, a fourth or a fifth of the usual Trollope novel. So why did I find myself having to force myself to pick it up? It is well written. The heroine is a well rounded Trollope girl, though she is given overmuch to proclaiming that she will stick to her lover no matter what, as many of Trollope's girls do. Perhaps therein lies the seed of dread with which the reader turns its pages. The situation is all foretold in the first sentence of the book: "Nina Balatka was a maiden of Prague, born of Christian parents, and herself a Christian—but she loved a Jew; and this is her story."
Here we go again: the Montagus and the Capulets; star-crossed lovers; nothing good can come of this. This sense of foreboding is built up progressively, with references to the statue of St. John Nepomucene, one of the thirty saints standing watch over the Charles Bridge. As early as the second chapter we are told that this martyr was thrown into the river because he would not betray the secrets of a queen's confession, and that he now keeps the faithful safe from drowning in the river. More and more insistent references to the fear and attraction of the black water appear. Nobody wants Nina to marry Anton; a devious plot is laid to trick Anton into thinking that she has deceived him about a deed that belongs to Anton but is in the possession of Nina's uncle. Even her faithful servant Souchey is part of the plot, bewitched by Lotta Luxa, the uncle's serving girl. Souchey thinks it's his Christian duty to prevent a marriage that would imperil the soul of his mistress.
Up to the last moment the reader is convinced that this is a tragedy working itself out, and that the dose will be short but bitter. In suspense, the reader reads quickly to the conclusion. Without spelling out the last pages, it can be said that reading the book is liking watching a ball game in which the home team is hopelessly behind for the whole game but mounts a last-gasp effort at the end.