Framley Parsonage by Anthony Trollope (good books to read for young adults TXT) 📕

his high consideration the state of affairs, and seeing with his eagle’s eye that the welfare of his countrymen at large required that some great step should be initiated, he had at once summoned to his mansion many members of the Lower House, and some also of the House of Lords⁠—mention was here especially made of the all-venerable and all-wise Lord Boanerges; and men went on to say that there, in deep conclave, he had made known to them his views. It was thus agreed that the head of affairs, Whig as he was, must fall. The country required it, and the duke did his duty. This was the beginning, the world said, of that celebrated confederation, by which the ministry was overturned, and⁠—as the Goody Twoshoes added⁠—the country saved. But the Jupiter took all the credit to itself; and the Jupiter was not far wrong. All the credit was due to the Jupiter⁠—in that, as in everything else.

In the meantime the Duke of Omnium entertained his guests in the quiet princely style, but did not condescend to have much conversation on politics either with Mr. Supplehouse or with Mr. Harold Smith. And as for Lord Boanerges, he spent the morning on which the above-described conversation took place in teaching Miss Dunstable to blow soap-bubbles on scientific principles.

“Dear, dear!” said Miss Dunstable, as sparks of knowledge came flying in upon her mind. “I always thought that a soap-bubble was a soap-bubble, and I never asked the reason why. One doesn’t, you know, my lord.”

“Pardon me, Miss Dunstable,” said the old lord, “one does; but nine hundred and ninety-nine do not.”

“And the nine hundred and ninety-nine have the best of it,” said Miss Dunstable. “What pleasure can one have in a ghost after one has seen the phosphorus rubbed on?”

“Quite true, my dear lady. ‘If ignorance be bliss, ’tis folly to be wise.’ It all lies in the ‘if.’ ”

Then Miss Dunstable began to sing:⁠—

“ ‘What tho’ I trace each herb and flower
That sips the morning dew⁠—’

—you know the rest, my lord.”

Lord Boanerges did know almost everything, but he did not know that; and so Miss Dunstable went on:⁠—

“ ‘Did I not own Jehovah’s power
How vain were all I knew.’ ”

“Exactly, exactly, Miss Dunstable,” said his lordship; “but why not own the power and trace the flower as well? perhaps one might help the other.”

Upon the whole I am afraid that Lord Boanerges got the best of it. But then that is his line. He has been getting the best of it all his life.

It was observed by all that the duke was especially attentive to young Mr. Frank Gresham, the gentleman on whom and on whose wife Miss Dunstable had seized so vehemently. This Mr. Gresham was the richest commoner in the county, and it was rumoured that at the next election he would be one of the members for the East Riding. Now the duke had little or nothing to do with the East Riding, and it was well known that young Gresham would be brought forward as a strong conservative. But, nevertheless, his acres were so extensive and his money so plentiful that he was worth a duke’s notice. Mr. Sowerby also was almost more than civil to him, as was natural, seeing that this very young man by a mere scratch of his pen could turn a scrap of paper into a banknote of almost fabulous value.

“So you have the East Barsetshire hounds at Boxall Hill; have you not?” said the duke.

“The hounds are there,” said Frank. “But I am not the master.”

“Oh! I understood⁠—”

“My father has them. But he finds Boxall Hill more centrical than Greshamsbury. The dogs and horses have to go shorter distances.”

“Boxall Hill is very centrical.”

“Oh, exactly!”

“And your young gorse coverts are doing well?”

“Pretty well⁠—gorse won’t thrive everywhere, I find. I wish it would.”

“That’s just what I say to Fothergill; and then where there’s much woodland you can’t get the vermin to leave it.”

“But we haven’t a tree at Boxall Hill,” said Mrs. Gresham.

“Ah, yes; you’re new there, certainly; you’ve enough of it at Greshamsbury in all conscience. There’s a larger extent of wood there than we have; isn’t there, Fothergill?”

Mr. Fothergill said that the Greshamsbury woods were very extensive, but that, perhaps, he thought⁠—

“Oh, ah! I know,” said the duke. “The Black Forest in its old days was nothing to Gatherum woods, according to Fothergill. And then again, nothing in East Barsetshire could be equal to anything in West Barsetshire. Isn’t that it; eh, Fothergill?”

Mr. Fothergill professed that he had been brought up in that faith and intended to die in it.

“Your exotics at Boxall Hill are very fine, magnificent!” said Mr. Sowerby.

“I’d sooner have one full-grown oak standing in its pride alone,” said young Gresham, rather grandiloquently, “than all the exotics in the world.”

“They’ll come in due time,” said the duke.

“But the due time won’t be in my days. And so they’re going to cut down Chaldicotes forest, are they, Mr. Sowerby?”

“Well, I can’t tell you that. They are going to disforest it. I have been ranger since I was twenty-two, and I don’t yet know whether that means cutting down.”

“Not only cutting down, but rooting up,” said Mr. Fothergill.

“It’s a murderous shame,” said Frank Gresham; “and I will say one thing, I don’t think any but a Whig government would do it.”

“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed his grace. “At any rate I’m sure of this,” he said, “that if a conservative government did do so, the Whigs would be just as indignant as you are now.”

“I’ll tell you what you ought to do, Mr. Gresham,” said Sowerby: “put in an offer for the whole of the West Barsetshire crown property; they will be very glad to sell it.”

“And we should be delighted to welcome you on this side of the border,” said the duke.

Young Gresham did feel rather flattered. There were not many men in the county to whom such an offer could be made without an absurdity. It might be doubted whether the duke himself could purchase the Chace of