Feminism, fiction and contract theory: Trollope's 'He Knew He Was Right.'

Criticism, Summer, 1994 by Wendy Jones

Gentle patriarchy thus demonstrates the progressive implications of contract theory for gender, opening a space for the redefinition of gender roles in ways that potentially challenge patriarchy, even as it simultaneously undermines its own subversive implications. By showing that gender roles can change, and by evoking a less forceful mode of male authority, gentle patriarchy raises the possibility--albeit only the possibility--of an equal division of power between men and women. Furthermore, the self-discipline it exacts from women grants the principle of a separate female subjectivity. Indeed, it is the possibility of Emily's autonomy that threatens Trevelyan more than his fear or her adultery, which he never believes wholeheartedly. For him, the quarrel is above all about obtaining Emily's capitulation and being able to control her. Thus, like the ultra-conservative Lord Penzance, who worried that a married woman with property would go into business with a lover-partner (192), Trevelyan imagines a causal relationship between female autonomy and wifely infidelity. And because he is unable to put his faith in the moral law of self-discipline where Emily is concerned, he resorts to the "rigours of surveillance" (254): unable to trust his wife to police her own behavior, he hires an ex-policeman to do it for her, even though this is degrading to himself and insulting to her. He is altogether unable to allow his love for his wife to temper his need for mastery, although he knows he ought to do so in order to resolve the quarrel.

At some level of awareness, Trollope is as threatened by the contractual ideals he endorses as is his character, Trevelyan. He attempts to resolve this dilemma by equating true masculinity with persuasion rather than power. Since he rejects authoritarianism, a conventional sign of manliness, he aligns masculine strength itself with gentle patriarchy, with the ability to rule without bluntly displaying force, but with a settled confidence in male authority. In this way, what might seem to be a ceding of power on the part of patriarchy is reinscribed as a more potent form of control. And Trevelyan, who exemplifies an older model of male power, is shown to be less than manly. Trevelyan has problems with "mastery" because he is not "man enough" to admit his fault, as Hugh makes clear when he reproaches him for his inept handling of the quarrel. You have only to bid her come back to you, and let bygones be bygones, and all would be right. Can't you be man enough to remember that you are a man?" (310). Emily also equates his petulant behavior with a lack of "manliness" (81).

To underscore the manliness of gentle patriarchy, the slur of effeminacy haunts the "masterful" Trevelyan throughout the novel. From the start, he possesses distinctly feminine characteristics. Inhabiting the domestic rather than the public sphere, he leads a life much like that of an intelligent Victorian lady. Rather than work at a profession, he chooses to lead a life of leisure, dilettantishly pursuing intellectual interests. He is unusually domestic. Unlike other men, he takes no joy in being able to dine at his club or in any similar "release from the constraint imposed by family ties"; on the contrary, he is one "to whom the ordinary comforts of domestic life were attractive and necessary" (174). Even Trevelyan's madness is the sign of an inherent effeminacy; women were supposedly more susceptible to insanity than men because "the instability of their reproductive systems interfered with their sexual, emotional, and rational control."(24) Trevelyan's behavior throughout the novel thus supports Hugh's charge that Trevelyan's autocratic character is evidence of a failure to be "man enough." Yet the novel's very need for this defensive strategy is an index of the potential threat posed by the concept of contract.