Grand tours: Anthony Trollope in the cathedral close

The extract below is taken from 'Barchester Towers' (1857), one of a series of novels based on clerical life in a cathedral city. Here, Dr Grantly and Mr Harding, the archdeacon and precentor, give their first impressions of the bishop's wife, Mrs Proudie, and the oleaginous Obadiah Slope.

"Good heavens!" exclaimed the archdeacon, as he placed his foot on the gravel walk of the close, and raising his hat with one hand, passed the other somewhat violently over his now grizzled locks; smoke issued from the uplifted beaver as if it were a cloud of wrath, and the safety-valve of his anger opened, and emitted a visible steam, preventing positive explosion and probably apoplexy. "Good heavens!" and the archdeacon looked up to the grey pinnacles of the cathedral tower, making a mute appeal to that still living witness which had looked down on the doings of so many bishops of Barchester.

"I don't think I shall ever like that Mr Slope," said Mr Harding.

"Like him!" roared the archdeacon, standing still for a moment to give more force to his voice. "Like him!" All the ravens of the close cawed their assent. The old bells of the tower, in chiming the hour, echoed the words; and the swallows flying out from their nests mutely expressed a similar opinion. Like Mr Slope! Why no, it was not very probable that any Barchester-bred living thing should like Mr Slope!

"Nor Mrs Proudie either," said Mr Harding.

The archdeacon thereupon forgot himself. I will not follow his example, nor shock my readers by transcribing the term in which he expressed his feelings as to the lady who had been named. The ravens and the last lingering notes of the clock bells were less scrupulous, and repeated in corresponding echoes the very improper exclamation. The archdeacon again raised his hat; and another salutary escape of steam was effected.

There was a pause, during which the precentor tried to realise the fact that the wife of the bishop of Barchester had been thus designated, in the close of the cathedral, by the lips of its own archdeacon: but he could not do it. "The bishop seems a quiet man enough," suggested Mr Harding, having acknowledged to himself his own failure.

"Idiot!" exclaimed the doctor, who for the nonce was not capable of more than spasmodic attempts at utterance.

"Well, he did not seem very bright," said Mr Harding, "and yet he has always had the reputation of a clever man. I suppose he's cautious and not inclined to express himself very freely."

The new bishop of Barchester was already so contemptible a creature in Dr Grantly's eyes, that he could not condescend to discuss his character. He was a puppet to be played by others; a mere wax doll, done up in an apron and a shovel hat, to be stuck on a throne or elsewhere and pulled about by wires as others chose. Dr Grantly did not choose to let himself down low enough to talk about Dr Proudie; but he saw that he would have to talk about the other members of his household, the coadjutor bishops, who had brought his lordship down, as it were, in a box, and were about to handle the wires as they willed. This in itself was a terrible vexation to the archdeacon.

Could he have ignored the chaplain, and have fought the bishop, there would have been, at any rate, nothing degrading in such a contest. Let the Queen make whom she would bishop of Barchester; a man, or even an ape, when once a bishop, would be a respectable adversary, if he would but fight, himself. But what was such a person as Dr Grantly to do, when such another person as Mr Slope was put forward as his antagonist?

If he, our archdeacon, refused to combat, Mr Slope would walk triumphant over the field, and have the diocese of Barchester under his heel. If, on the other hand, the archdeacon accepted as his enemy the man whom the new puppet bishop put before him as such, he would have to talk about Mr Slope, and write about Mr Slope, and in all matters treat with Mr Slope, as a being standing, in some degree, on ground similar to his own. He would have to meet Mr Slope; to ... Bah! The idea was sickening. He could not bring himself to have to do with Mr Slope.

"He is the most thoroughly bestial creature that ever I set my eyes upon," said the archdeacon.

"Who? The bishop?"

"Bishop! No, I'm not talking about the bishop. How on earth such a creature got ordained! – they'll ordain anybody now, I know; but he's been in the church these 10 years; and they used to be a little careful 10 years ago."

"Oh! You mean Mr Slope."

"Did you ever see any animal less like a gentleman?"

"I can't say I felt myself much disposed to like him."

"Like him!" again shouted the doctor, and the assenting ravens again cawed an echo; "of course you don't like him; it's not a question of liking. But what are we to do with him?"

"Do with him?" asked Mr Harding.

"Yes – what are we to do with him? How are we to treat him? There he is, and there he'll stay. He has put his foot in that palace, and he will never take it out again till he's driven. How are we to get rid of him?"

"I don't suppose he can do us much harm."

"Not do harm! Well, I think you'll find yourself of a different opinion before a month is gone. I tell you that that man, to all intents and purposes, will be Bishop of Barchester," and again, Dr Grantly raised his hat, and rubbed his hand thoughtfully and sadly over his head. "Impudent scoundrel!" he exclaimed after a while. "To dare to cross-examine me about Sunday schools in the diocese, and Sunday travelling too: I never in my life met his equal for sheer impudence. Why, he must have thought we were two candidates for ordination."

"I declare I thought Mrs Proudie the worst of the two," said Mr Harding.

A literary education

When Anthony Trollope was sent to Winchester College in 1827, at the age of 12, the city was emerging from a long period of decline, reinventing itself as a centre of trade and tourism. When Trollope came to write the six books that make up the Barchester Chronicles, more than 25 years later, his knowledge of Winchester influenced many features of his fictional city.

Winchester Cathedral (01962 857200, www.winchester-cathedral.org.uk) is the city's most impressive monument, and at 556ft the longest cathedral in Europe. King Cenwealth ordered the construction of the first cathedral on this site in 648, and Winchester's most famous bishop and patron saint, St Swithun, was resident for a decade in the ninth century. Work on the current building began in 1079, although most of its spires and buttresses date from the 14th century. The cathedral was saved from collapsing early in the 20th century by William Walker, immortalised as "Diver Bill", who spent seven hazardous years working in the marsh water under its foundations to replace the peat with concrete.

As well as its connection with the works of Trollope, the cathedral has other literary associations. Jane Austen, who died in Winchester, is buried in the north aisle, and there is a stained-glass memorial to Izaak Walton, author of The Compleat Angler, in the south transept. A visitors' centre, with a shop and restaurants, tells the story of the cathedral and has listings of current events. The choir sings every day, except Wednesday and Sunday, at 5.30pm evensong. For full details of services and music for Christmas, see the cathedral's website. The cathedral is open from 8am to 5pm and visitors are welcome to attend services.

Winchester College (01962 621227, www.wincoll.ac.uk/toc.asp), founded by William of Wykeham, Bishop of Winchester, is more than 600 years old. You can visit the cloisters Trollope knew as a boy and hear about the school ghosts on one of the guided tours, which take place every day of the week during term (call for times). Tickets are £2.50 for adults, £2 for children and concessions.

Alms and the men

Trollope's first story about Barchester, The Warden, is believed to be set around St Cross Hospital (01962 878218, www.stcrosshospital.co.uk). The hospital is actually England's oldest almshouse, founded in 1132 by William the Conqueror's grandson. It was a regular stop-over for Canterbury pilgrims, and often housed crusaders heading to the port of Southampton.

Today it is still home to 25 "brothers", who contribute their skills to the hospital in return for board and lodging. Visitors are welcome between 10.30am and 3.30pm during the winter, except on Sundays when services are held. Although refreshments are available in the restored Hundred Men's Hall, you can still ask for Wayfarer's Dole – a mug of ale and piece of bread traditionally given to travellers.

The mill on the Itchen

Located in Bridge Street, the recently restored Winchester City Mill (01962 870057, www.winchestercitymill.co.uk) was built over the River Itchen in 1744. Now a National Trust property, it is currently closed for the winter, reopening in March. The mill's multimedia exhibits are complemented by occasional milling demonstrations. The shop, which stays open during the winter months, offers a range of local produce.

For those planning more than a short visit to the city, the Sir Harold Hillier Gardens and Arboretum (01794 368787, www.hillier.hants.gov.uk) can be found outside Winchester, three miles north-east of Romsey. The site covers 180 acres and contains around 12,000 types of plants. It is open all year round except Christmas Day and Boxing Day, from 10.30am to dusk. The recently completed, 2.5-acre winter garden is the largest of its kind in Europe and contains 650 plant varieties. Entry is £4.25; under-16s get in free.

Where to eat/where to stay

If the bread on offer at St Cross Hospital is insufficient, Winchester's tea shops are concentrated on the High Street. For something more substantial, try the numerous restaurants around Jewry Street. The city's main shopping area is in The Square, where most of the crafts and gift shops are situated, while a market is held from Wednesday to Saturday each week.

The Wessex Hotel (0870 400 8126) is right next to the cathedral; en-suite rooms cost from £90 per person per night. Winchester also has lots of guesthouses and b&bs in the £15 to £25 range, so finding somewhere to stay should not be a problem.

Getting there

Fast trains run regularly from Waterloo. A standard five-day return costs £21.60; to book, call 0845 600 0650. National Express (08705 808080, www.gobycoach.com) runs coaches from Victoria coach station; the journey takes about two hours and costs £15 for a period return.