The Widow Barnaby. Vol. 3 (of 3) — Context and Discussion

A Swoon and a Scheme

The opening chapter finds Mrs. Barnaby recovering from a faint, her despair rooted in the financial outlay of her 'noble vision.' She confides in Miss Morrison, who listens to her hopes but misunderstands the nature of her agony, assuming it is disappointed love rather than monetary loss. The widow quickly pivots to talk of pursuing the man lawfully for breach of promise, revealing a pragmatic streak beneath her theatrical grief. Miss Morrison's brother, an attorney, is introduced as a potential ally, and the two women discuss the need for proof—letters—to support a case. This early scene establishes a pattern: Mrs. Barnaby's emotions are always entangled with her purse, and her schemes are hatched in conversation with a confidant who offers both sympathy and practical advice.

The Prisoner's Art

In a later excerpt, Mrs. Barnaby visits a prisoner, Mr. O'Donagough, who employs a highly theatrical rhetoric of spiritual sympathy. He speaks of 'spiritual sympathies' and asks her to lay her hand on his heart, claiming her prayers would 'fall upon him like the soft fanning of a seraph's wing.' The scene is a masterclass in manipulation: O'Donagough uses his handsome countenance and fervent declarations to flatter and entangle the widow. He rises, clasps his hands, and fixes his eyes on the ceiling before drawing his chair close to her. Mrs. Barnaby is 'fluttered, agitated,' and though she turns her face away, he follows, kneeling and taking both her hands. The narrator notes that his handsome face had 'often found… great service to him,' underlining the calculated nature of his performance. This encounter blends seduction with a parody of religious devotion, leaving the widow both moved and vulnerable.

The Widow's Voice and the Narrator's Irony

Trollope's narrator maintains a consistent ironic distance from Mrs. Barnaby, exposing her self-deceptions without overt condemnation. When the widow declares she would 'glory in getting damages' from her faithless lord, the reader is invited to see both her wounded pride and her mercenary instincts. The narrator's commentary—such as noting that Mrs. Barnaby 'really did fall into a swoon'—undercuts the melodrama with a dry factual tone. The use of French phrases by Miss Morrison and the widow's own exclamations ('Gracious Heaven!') mark a social world where affectation is a currency. The prisoner O'Donagough's elaborate speeches, with their references to Plutus and seraph's wings, are rendered in a style that is both florid and hollow, allowing the reader to perceive the gap between his words and his intentions. This narrative voice is the book's sharpest tool, guiding the reader to see the comedy in the widow's predicaments.

Reading the Volume's Structure

As the third volume of a three-part novel, this installment assumes familiarity with earlier events, but the excerpts suggest a self-contained arc: Mrs. Barnaby's financial ruin, her legal threats, and a new romantic entanglement with a prisoner. The catalog subjects—widows, social classes, English customs—are all present, but the focus is on the widow's agency within constraints. The prison scene introduces a setting that contrasts with the drawing rooms of earlier volumes, and the legal subplot (breach of promise) adds a dimension of social comedy. Readers should attend to how Trollope uses dialogue to reveal character: Mrs. Barnaby's speeches are often self-serving, while Miss Morrison's interjections provide a chorus of worldly advice. The volume's pacing alternates between scenes of heightened emotion and moments of practical calculation, a rhythm that rewards attention to the shifts in tone.

First-time readers of this volume will find that Trollope's irony is the surest guide. The widow's grand gestures—swoons, threats of lawsuits, tearful prayers—are consistently undercut by the narrator's dry observations and by the characters' own self-interest. Pay particular attention to the scenes of dialogue, where the comedy lies in what is said and what is left unsaid. The prison seduction, in particular, rewards a close reading of O'Donagough's rhetoric and Mrs. Barnaby's responses. This is a novel that invites the reader to see through its characters' performances while still enjoying the show.

I keep thinking about how the widow’s schemes unravel with such quiet irony, and how that sharpness lingers. It reminded me of another story where longing gets tangled in pride, the ache of it felt in pauses rather than grand gestures. The Courtship of Morrice Buckler: A Romance — A Closer Reading carries that same tender weight, lingering long after the page turns.