In the novels of Barbara Pym we can locate two essential poles to which her clergymen’s lives gravitate to differing degrees. The Roman idea (perhaps I should emphasise here that I use Roman in the sense of Ancient Rome and not in the sense of Roman Catholic!) may be seen to be pushing the point, but the more we attempt to separate and categorise the women, excellent or not, in the final analysis, we come to a deeper distinction that that between Allegra Gray’s silver fox fur and Jane Cleveland’s baggy tweeds. I do not think that it is pushing this topic too far to say that the fundamental difference is religious belief; the varying degrees to which God and spirituality are actually part of the consciousness of the vicar’s wife. Naturally, and indeed primarily, much humour is afforded by the well-observed narration of these women’s lives, all, as we are so often told, in the rarefied atmosphere of an Austen novel. In Pym we certainly find Augustan wit but it exists against a backdrop of influence from the Victorian romantic novel: Victorian courtship is constantly foregrounded and then debunked. The figure of the matron is identified by her powerful personality and her power over others, especially her husband. The ‘martyr’ image comes from the mouth of Henry Hoccleve – this is his term for church-going spinsters and disappointed women. Sometimes – in Pym if not in life – they marry clergy or reject their proposals, or some, notably Jane Cleveland, achieve martyrdom within marriage or, rather, have it thrust upon them. In the end, it is not exactly a pretty picture. There are too many arrogant clergy, too many unsuitable or unpleasant wives in what often seems to be a clear-sighted but pessimistic picture of Church of England personnel.