The Eustace Diamonds by Anthony Trollope

The Eustace Diamonds by Anthony Trollope

 

published as a serial 1871-72

 

 

the lady on the left might be wearing them...

 

I very much like a Becky Sharp character, a young woman who is definitely on the make without a care for morals and rules, and there has been much discussion on the blog.  The original Becky came to the world via William Thackeray’s Vanity Fair in 1847-48, though I’d love to hear claims for earlier versions. Daniel Defoe’s Moll Flanders perhaps? – though Moll seemed much more someone who was subject to outside forces: a really great Becky makes her own way in life.

Anthony Trollope’s Lizzie Eustace – 20+ years after Vanity Fair – is a wonderful character: completely out for herself, absolutely no qualms or shame or nonsense about truth or honour. There is something so very whole-hearted about her lack of principles.

In a small number of pages, Lizzie is married off to Lord Eustace, and widowed very soon after. She has a son – the heir to the title – and is comfortably off. But then there is the question of the Eustace diamonds – a very beautiful and valuable necklace. Her husband gave them to her – but did they remain part of the family property technically and legally, or are they her own to do as she wants with?

the circle of stones with a Maltese cross appended to it…

 

Out of this simple question Trollope creates a fascinating winding plot in The Eustace Diamonds, full of interest and jeopardy, more than 800 pages of it. The reader goes back and forth on the legal question, though is never in any doubt that Lizzie will hold onto them at all costs, telling any lie necessary, and embroiling her friends in all kinds of difficult situations. There is also a significant crime plot – I don’t want to say too much because I very much enjoyed not knowing where the story was going.

There are – of course – other characters. Lizzie is a very young and beautiful widow, so would like to re-marry. She wants to go to her Scottish castle, and ‘she was accompanied by her eldest cousin, Ellinor Greystock, a lady who was just ten years her senior. There could hardly be a better woman than Ellinor Greystock,—or a more good-humoured, kindly being… the two ladies went to Scotland together.’ This weirdly reminded me of Agatha Christie’s Peril at End House, where a cousin is living with the rich and beautiful Nick Buckley. In this case, I think we see the effects of the book’s being a serial: Ellinor is a very promising character, surely this Scottish trip is important – but Ellinor hardly ever appears again, and this stay in the castle (there will be others later) has no purpose except filling in time so Lizzie can come back on the marriage market, two years after being widowed. (Widows, black clothes and waiting were all much-discussed on the blog last year).

Lizzie is an attractive prospect for some, and her dead husband’s family would quite like her off their hands. She is very fond of her cousin Frank, a penniless lawyer, choosing to ignore the fact that he is the beloved of Lucy (a much better-behaved young lady). There is a dubious pastor/preacher, a bad-tempered aunt, some very rackety friends, a young woman who is being pushed into marriage with an awful man - she’s not much better herself, but it is clear they should not be together.

All in all a splendid plot, and you never know what is round the next corner: though the chapter titles are sometimes annoying: eg ‘Lizzie triumphs’ as the title of a chapter where she is about to have an important and worrying meeting (I am not spoilering the overall plot here).

I have mentioned before that the big problem with Becky Sharp characters is – how are they going to end up? Usually we have become very fond of them (as has the author), we have invested in them, so they can’t get their just deserts, but nor – on the whole – can they be allowed to win everything. Not in Victorian times, and not really now, surprisingly.

It's a fine line – and Trollope does well here, especially as I am guessing that we are going to hear more of Lizzie in the subsequent Palliser novels. (Don't tell me, please, I want to be surprised.)

And of course a question arises, as it has in other Trollope novels covered here, about the status of women, and the economics of their lives. Last year one of the best discussions in the comments (and there have been some bangers) came below a throwaway post on The Small House at Allington, about a woman knowing she looked good in a riding-habit. So I’m going to do another post on this book to pursue that, coming soon... The second post is here.

Lizzie Eustace is tremendous fun – never a dull moment. I always like a good medical diagnosis. Here she wants to avoid being a witness in court:

Pulmonary debilitation was the complaint from which she was suffering, which, with depressed vitality in all the organs, and undue languor in all the bodily functions, would be enough to bring her to a speedy end if she so much as thought of making a journey up to London.

And she makes sure she looks nice in bed:

A fresh nightcap, and a clean pocket-handkerchief with a bit of lace round it, and, perhaps, some pretty covering to her shoulders if she were to be required to sit up in bed.

We can only recommend a Clothes in Books bedjacket.

There is a maid with the excellent name of Patience Crabstick.

Unfortunately there are some very anti-Semitic stereotypes regarding jewellers, money-lenders and indeed  criminals - very much of their time, but reading nastily to modern eyes.

There is a lot about the finances of having people to stay in your Scottish castle, and the expenses and calculations of horses and carriages, which I found very interesting, as usually not considered in Victorian novels.

Lord Fawn – the dull dud featured in Phineas Finn on the blog recently – has this enjoyable sideswipe aimed at him: ‘Of course Lord Fawn, like a great child, would at once go and tell his mother what that wicked governess had said to him.’

The final tribute: there’s a point where Lizzie is very convincingly threatening to throw the diamonds into the sea to get rid of them, and I found myself shouting “NOOO!!!” out loud.

Truly, an excellent book.

Fashions of the era, NYPL.