Framley Parsonage by Anthony Trollope (good books to read for young adults TXT) 📕
Description
Framley Parsonage is the fourth novel in Trollope’s Chronicles of Barsetshire series. Originally a serial, it was first published as a book in 1861, and it has since been praised for its unsentimental depiction of the lives of middle-class people in the mid-Victorian era.
As with the other books in the series, Framley Parsonage is set in the fictious English county of Barsetshire, and deals with the doings of a variety of families and characters who live in the region, several of whom have appeared in the previous books; but it primarily concerns the young Reverend Mark Robarts.
Robarts has been appointed as vicar of the parish of Framley through the patronage of Lady Lufton of Framley Court, the mother of his long-time friend Ludovic, now Lord Lufton. After he and his wife Fanny take up residence in Framley Parsonage, Robarts is led into the society of some loose-living aristocrats through his friendship with Ludovic. Robarts eventually finds himself weakly consenting to his name being included on a bill for a loan to one of his new connections, Sowerby. By so doing, he becomes liable for debts he cannot possibly satisfy.
An important secondary thread involves Mark Robarts’ sister Lucy, who after their father’s death comes to live with her brother’s family at the parsonage. Through them, she becomes acquainted with Lady Lufton and her son Ludovic, and romantic complications ensue.
Framley Parsonage was originally published anonymously in serial form in Cornhill Magazine, and such was its popularity that during its publication a hysterical young woman apparently tried to gain notoriety in her country town by claiming to be its author. “The real writer,” we are told, “dealt very gently with the pretender.”
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- Author: Anthony Trollope
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“All the same, I wish that you and papa had remained up; that is, if they had made papa a bishop.”
“It’s no good thinking of that now, my dear. What I particularly wanted to say to you was this: I think you should know what are the ideas which Lady Lufton entertains.”
“Her ideas!” said Griselda, who had never troubled herself much in thinking about other people’s thoughts.
“Yes, Griselda. While you were staying down at Framley Court, and also, I suppose, since you have been up here in Bruton Street, you must have seen a good deal of—Lord Lufton.”
“He doesn’t come very often to Bruton Street—that is to say, not very often.”
“H-m,” ejaculated Mrs. Grantly, very gently. She would willingly have repressed the sound altogether, but it had been too much for her. If she found reason to think that Lady Lufton was playing her false, she would immediately take her daughter away, break up the treaty, and prepare for the Hartletop alliance. Such were the thoughts that ran through her mind. But she knew all the while that Lady Lufton was not false. The fault was not with Lady Lufton; nor, perhaps, altogether with Lord Lufton. Mrs. Grantly had understood the full force of the complaint which Lady Lufton had made against her daughter; and though she had of course defended her child, and on the whole had defended her successfully, yet she confessed to herself that Griselda’s chance of a first-rate establishment would be better if she were a little more impulsive. A man does not wish to marry a statue, let the statue be ever so statuesque. She could not teach her daughter to be impulsive, any more than she could teach her to be six feet high; but might it not be possible to teach her to seem so? The task was a very delicate one, even for a mother’s hand.
“Of course he cannot be at home now as much as he was down in the country, when he was living in the same house,” said Mrs. Grantly, whose business it was to take Lord Lufton’s part at the present moment. “He must be at his club, and at the House of Lords, and in twenty places.”
“He is very fond of going to parties, and he dances beautifully.”
“I am sure he does. I have seen as much as that myself, and I think I know someone with whom he likes to dance.” And the mother gave her daughter a loving little squeeze.
“Do you mean me, mamma?”
“Yes, I do mean you, my dear. And is it not true? Lady Lufton says that he likes dancing with you better than with anyone else in London.”
“I don’t know,” said Griselda, looking down upon the ground.
Mrs. Grantly thought that this upon the whole was rather a good opening. It might have been better. Some point of interest more serious in its nature than that of a waltz might have been found on which to connect her daughter’s sympathies with those of her future husband. But any point of interest was better than none; and it is so difficult to find points of interest in persons who by their nature are not impulsive.
“Lady Lufton says so, at any rate,” continued Mrs. Grantly, ever so cautiously. “She thinks that Lord Lufton likes no partner better. What do you think yourself, Griselda?”
“I don’t know, mamma.”
“But young ladies must think of such things, must they not?”
“Must they, mamma?”
“I suppose they do, don’t they? The truth is, Griselda, that Lady Lufton thinks that if—Can you guess what it is she thinks?”
“No, mamma.” But that was a fib on Griselda’s part.
“She thinks that my Griselda would make the best possible wife in the world for her son; and I think so too. I think that her son will be a very fortunate man if he can get such a wife. And now what do you think, Griselda?”
“I don’t think anything, mamma.”
But that would not do. It was absolutely necessary that she should think, and absolutely necessary that her mother should tell her so. Such a degree of unimpulsiveness as this would lead to—heaven knows what results! Lufton-Grantly treaties and Hartletop interests would be all thrown away upon a young lady who would not think anything of a noble suitor sighing for her smiles. Besides, it was not natural. Griselda, as her mother knew, had never been a girl of headlong feeling; but still she had had her likes and her dislikes. In that matter of the bishopric she was keen enough; and no one could evince a deeper interest in the subject of a well-made new dress than Griselda Grantly. It was not possible that she should be indifferent as to her future prospects, and she must know that those prospects depended mainly on her marriage. Her mother was almost angry with her, but nevertheless she went on very gently:
“You don’t think anything! But, my darling, you must think. You must make up your mind what would be your answer if Lord Lufton were to propose to you. That is what Lady Lufton wishes him to do.”
“But he never will, mamma.”
“And if he did?”
“But I’m sure he never will. He doesn’t think of such a thing at all—and—and—”
“And what, my dear?”
“I don’t know, mamma.”
“Surely you can speak out to me, dearest! All I care about is your happiness. Both Lady Lufton and I think that it would be a happy marriage if you both cared for each other enough. She thinks that he is fond of you. But if he were ten times Lord Lufton I would not tease you about it if I thought that you could not learn to care about him. What was it you were going to say, my dear?”
“Lord Lufton thinks a great deal more of
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