But in nothing, as she thought, had her husband been so silly as in his abandonment of Silverbridge. When she heard that the day was fixed7 for declaring the vacancy8, she ventured to ask him a question. His manner to her lately had been more than urbane9, more than affectionate;—it had almost been that of a lover. He had petted her and caressed10 her when they met, and once even said that nothing should really trouble him as long as he had her with him. Such a speech as that never in his life had he made before to her! So she plucked up her courage and asked her question,—not exactly on that occasion, but soon afterwards; "May not I say a word to Sprugeon about the election?"
"Not a word!" And he looked at her as he had looked on that day when he had told her of the Major's sins. She tossed her head and pouted12 her lips and walked on without speaking. If it was to be so, then indeed would she have failed. And, therefore, though in his general manner he was loving to her, things were not going smooth with her.
And things were not going smooth with him because there had reached him a most troublous dispatch from Sir Orlando Drought only two days before the Cabinet meeting at which the points to be made in the Queen's speech were to be decided13. It had been already agreed that a proposition should be made to Parliament by the Government, for an extension of the county suffrage14, with some slight redistribution of seats. The towns with less than 20,000 inhabitants were to take in some increased portions of the country parishes around. But there was not enough of a policy in this to satisfy Sir Orlando, nor was the conduct of the bill through the House to be placed in his hands. That was to be intrusted to Mr. Monk15, and Mr. Monk would be, if not nominally16 the Leader, yet the chief man of the Government in the House of Commons. This was displeasing17 to Sir Orlando, and he had, therefore, demanded from the Prime Minister more of a "policy." Sir Orlando's present idea of a policy was the building four bigger ships of war than had ever been built before,—with larger guns, and more men, and thicker iron plates, and, above all, with a greater expenditure18 of money. He had even gone so far as to say, though not in his semi-official letter to the Prime Minister, that he thought that "The Salvation19 of the Empire" should be the cry of the Coalition20 party. "After all," he said, "what the people care about is the Salvation of the Empire!" Sir Orlando was at the head of the Admiralty; and if glory was to be achieved by the four ships, it would rest first on the head of Sir Orlando.
Now the Duke thought that the Empire was safe, and had been throughout his political life averse21 to increasing the army and navy estimates. He regarded the four ships as altogether unnecessary,—and when reminded that he might in this way consolidate22 the Coalition, said that he would rather do without the Coalition and the four ships than have to do with both of them together,—an opinion which was thought by some to be almost traitorous23 to the party as now organised. The secrets of Cabinets are not to be disclosed lightly, but it came to be understood,—as what is done at Cabinet meetings generally does come to be understood,—that there was something like a disagreement. The Prime Minister, the Duke of St. Bungay, and Mr. Monk were altogether against the four ships. Sir Orlando was supported by Lord Drummond and another of his old friends. At the advice of the elder Duke, a paragraph was hatched, in which it was declared that her Majesty24, "having regard to the safety of the nation and the possible, though happily not probable, chances of war, thought that the present strength of the navy should be considered." "It will give him scope for a new gun-boat on an altered principle," said the Duke of St. Bungay. But the Prime Minister, could he have had his own way, would have given Sir Orlando no scope whatever. He would have let the Coalition have gone to the dogs and have fallen himself into infinite political ruin, but that he did not dare that men should hereafter say of him that this attempt at government had failed because he was stubborn, imperious, and self-confident. He had known when he took his present place that he must yield to others; but he had not known how terrible it is to have to yield when a principle is in question,—how great is the suffering when a man finds himself compelled to do that which he thinks should not be done! Therefore, though he had been strangely loving to his wife, the time had not gone smoothly with him.
In direct disobedience to her husband the Duchess did speak a word to Mr. Sprugeon. When at the Castle she was frequently driven through Silverbridge, and on one occasion had her carriage stopped at the ironmonger's door. Out came Mr. Sprugeon, and there were at first half-a-dozen standing25 by who could hear what she said. Millepois, the cook, wanted to have some new kind of iron plate erected26 in the kitchen. Of course she had provided herself beforehand with her excuse. As a rule, when the cook wanted anything done, he did not send word to the tradesman by the Duchess. But on this occasion the Duchess was personally most anxious. She wanted to see how the iron plate would work. It was to be a particular kind of iron plate. Then, having watched her opportunity, she said her word, "I suppose we shall be safe with Mr. Lopez?" When Mr. Sprugeon was about to reply, she shook her head and went on about the iron plate. This would be quite enough to let Mr. Sprugeon understand that she was still anxious about the borough27. Mr. Sprugeon was an intelligent man, and possessed28 of discretion29 to a certain extent. As soon as he saw the little frown and the shake of the head, he understood it all. He and the Duchess had a secret together. Would not everything about the Castle in which a morsel30 of iron was employed want renewing? And would not the Duchess take care that it should all be renewed by Sprugeon? But then he must be active, and his activity would be of no avail unless others helped him. So he whispered a word to Sprout31, and it soon became known that the Castle interest was all alive.
But unfortunately the Duke was also on the alert. The Duke had been very much in earnest when he made up his mind that the old custom should be abandoned at Silverbridge and had endeavoured to impress that determination of his upon his wife. The Duke knew more about his property and was better acquainted with its details than his wife or others believed. He heard that in spite of all his orders the Castle interest was being maintained, and a word was said to him which seemed to imply that this was his wife's doings. It was then about the middle of February, and arrangements were in process for the removal of the family to London. The Duke had already been up to London for the meeting of Parliament, and had now come back to Gatherum, purporting32 to return to London with his wife. Then it was that it was hinted to him that her Grace was still anxious as to the election,—and had manifested her anxiety. The rumour33 hurt him, though he did not in the least believe it. It showed to him, as he thought, not that his wife had been false to him,—as in truth she had been,—but that even her name could not be kept free from slander34. And when he spoke35 to her on the subject, he did so rather with the view of proving to her how necessary it was that she should keep herself altogether aloof36 from such matters, than with any wish to make further inquiry37. But he elicited38 the whole truth. "It is so hard to kill an old established evil," he said.
"What evil have you failed to kill now?"
"Those people at Silverbridge still say that I want to return a member for them."
"Oh; that's the evil! You know I think that instead of killing39 an evil, you have murdered an excellent institution." This at any rate was very imprudent on the part of the Duchess. After that disobedient word spoken to Mr. Sprugeon, she should have been more on her guard.
"As to that, Glencora, I must judge for myself."
"Oh yes,—you have been jury, and judge, and executioner."
"I have done as I thought right to do. I am sorry that I should fail to carry you with me in such a matter, but even failing in that I must do my duty. You will at any rate agree with me that when I say the thing should be done, it should be done."
"If you wanted to destroy the house, and cut down all the trees, and turn the place into a wilderness40, I suppose you would only have to speak. Of course I know it would be wrong that I should have an opinion. As 'man' you are of course to have your own way." She was in one of her most aggravating41 moods. Though he might compel her to obey, he could not compel her to hold her tongue.
"Glencora, I don't think you know how much you add to my troubles, or you would not speak to me like that."
"What am I to say? It seems to me that any more suicidal thing than throwing away the borough never was done. Who will thank you? What additional support will you get? How will it increase your power? It's like King Lear throwing off his clothes in the storm because his daughters turned him out. And you didn't do it because you thought it right."
"Yes, I did," he said, scowling42.
"You did it because Major Pountney disgusted you. You kicked him out. Why wouldn't that satisfy you without sacrificing the borough? It isn't what I think or say about it, but that everybody is thinking and saying the same thing."
"I choose that it shall be so."
"Very well."
"And I don't choose that your name shall be mixed up in it. They say in Silverbridge that you are canvassing43 for Mr. Lopez."
"Who says so?"
"I presume it's not true."
"Who says so, Plantagenet?"
"It matters not who has said so, if it be untrue. I presume it to be false."
"Of course it is false." Then the Duchess remembered her word to Mr. Sprugeon, and the cowardice44 of the lie was heavy on her. I doubt whether she would have been so shocked by the idea of a falsehood as to have been kept back from it had she before resolved that it would save her; but she was not in her practice a false woman, her courage being too high for falsehood. It now seemed to her that by this lie she was owning herself to be quelled45 and brought into absolute subjection by her husband. So she burst out into truth. "Now I think of it, I did say a word to Mr. Sprugeon. I told him that—that I hoped Mr. Lopez would be returned. I don't know whether you call that canvassing."
"I desired you not to speak to Mr. Sprugeon," he thundered forth46.
"That's all very well, Plantagenet, but if you desire me to hold my tongue altogether, what am I to do?"
"What business is this of yours?"
"I suppose I may have my political sympathies as well as another. Really you are becoming so autocratic that I shall have to go in for women's rights."
"You mean me to understand then that you intend to put yourself in opposition47 to me."
"What a fuss you make about it all!" she said. "Nothing that one can do is right! You make me wish that I was a milkmaid or a farmer's wife." So saying she bounced out of the room, leaving the Duke sick at heart, low in spirit, and doubtful whether he were right or wrong in his attempts to manage his wife. Surely he must be right in feeling that in his high office a clearer conduct and cleaner way of walking was expected from him than from other men! Noblesse oblige! To his uncle the privilege of returning a member to Parliament had been a thing of course; and when the Radical48 newspapers of the day abused his uncle, his uncle took that abuse as a thing of course. The old Duke acted after his kind, and did not care what others said of him. And he himself, when he first came to his dukedom, was not as he was now. Duties, though they were heavy enough, were lighter49 then. Serious matters were less serious. There was this and that matter of public policy on which he was intent, but, thinking humbly50 of himself, he had not yet learned to conceive that he must fit his public conduct in all things to a straight rule of patriotic51 justice. Now it was different with him, and though the change was painful, he felt it to be imperative52. He would fain have been as other men, but he could not. But in this change it was so needful to him that he should carry with him the full sympathies of one person;—that she who was the nearest to him of all should act with him! And now she had not only disobeyed him, but had told him, as some grocer's wife might tell her husband, that he was "making a fuss about it all!"
And then, as he thought of the scene which has been described, he could not quite approve of himself. He knew that he was too self-conscious,—that he was thinking too much about his own conduct and the conduct of others to him. The phrase had been odious53 to him, but still he could not acquit54 himself of "making a fuss." Of one thing only was he sure,—that a grievous calamity55 had befallen him when circumstances compelled him to become the Queen's Prime Minister.
He said nothing further to his wife till they were in London together, and then he was tempted56 to caress11 her again, to be loving to her, and to show her that he had forgiven her. But she was brusque to him, as though she did not wish to be forgiven. "Cora," he said, "do not separate yourself from me."
"Separate myself! What on earth do you mean? I have not dreamed of such a thing." The Duchess answered him as though he had alluded57 to some actual separation.
"I do not mean that. God forbid that a misfortune such as that should ever happen! Do not disjoin yourself from me in all these troubles."
"What am I to do when you scold me? You must know pretty well by this time that I don't like to be scolded. 'I desired you not to speak to Mr. Sprugeon!'" As she repeated his words she imitated his manner and voice closely. "I shouldn't dream of addressing the children with such magnificence of anger. 'What business is it of yours?' No woman likes that sort of thing, and I'm not sure that I am acquainted with any woman who likes it much less than—Glencora, Duchess of Omnium." As she said these last words in a low whisper, she curtseyed down to the ground.
"You know how anxious I am," he began, "that you should share everything with me,—even in politics. But in all things there must at last be one voice that shall be the ruling voice."
"And that is to be yours,—of course."
"In such a matter as this it must be."
"And, therefore, I like to do a little business of my own behind your back. It's human nature, and you've got to put up with it. I wish you had a better wife. I dare say there are many who would be better. There's the Duchess of St. Bungay who never troubles her husband about politics, but only scolds him because the wind blows from the east. It is just possible there might be worse."
"Oh, Glencora!"
"You had better make the best you can of your bargain and not expect too much from her. And don't ride over her with a very high horse. And let her have her own way a little if you really believe that she has your interest at heart."
After this he was quite aware that she had got the better of him altogether. On that occasion he smiled and kissed her, and went his way. But he was by no means satisfied. That he should be thwarted58 by her, ate into his very heart;—and it was a wretched thing to him that he could not make her understand his feeling in this respect. If it were to go on he must throw up everything. Ruat c[oe]lum, fiat60—proper subordination from his wife in regard to public matters! No wife had a fuller allowance of privilege, or more complete power in her hands, as to things fit for women's management. But it was intolerable to him that she should seek to interfere61 with him in matters of a public nature. And she was constantly doing so. She had always this or that aspirant62 for office on hand;—this or that job to be carried, though the jobs were not perhaps much in themselves;—this or that affair to be managed by her own political allies, such as Barrington Erle and Phineas Finn. And in his heart he suspected her of a design of managing the Government in her own way, with her own particular friend, Mrs. Finn, for her Prime Minister. If he could in no other way put an end to such evils as these, he must put an end to his own political life. Ruat c[oe]lum, fiat justitia. Now "justitia" to him was not compatible with feminine interference in his own special work.
It may therefore be understood that things were not going very smoothly with the Duke and Duchess; and it may also be understood why the Duchess had had very little to say to Mr. Lopez about the election. She was aware that she owed something to Mr. Lopez, whom she had certainly encouraged to stand for the borough, and she had therefore sent her card to his wife and was prepared to invite them both to her parties;—but just at present she was a little tired of Ferdinand Lopez, and perhaps unjustly disposed to couple him with that unfortunate wretch59, Major Pountney.
点击收听单词发音
1 smoothly | |
adv.平滑地,顺利地,流利地,流畅地 | |
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2 mansion | |
n.大厦,大楼;宅第 | |
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3 veering | |
n.改变的;犹豫的;顺时针方向转向;特指使船尾转向上风来改变航向v.(尤指交通工具)改变方向或路线( veer的现在分词 );(指谈话内容、人的行为或观点)突然改变;(指风) (在北半球按顺时针方向、在南半球按逆时针方向)逐渐转向;风向顺时针转 | |
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4 clenches | |
v.紧握,抓紧,咬紧( clench的第三人称单数 ) | |
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5 reprobate | |
n.无赖汉;堕落的人 | |
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6 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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7 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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8 vacancy | |
n.(旅馆的)空位,空房,(职务的)空缺 | |
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9 urbane | |
adj.温文尔雅的,懂礼的 | |
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10 caressed | |
爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11 caress | |
vt./n.爱抚,抚摸 | |
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12 pouted | |
v.撅(嘴)( pout的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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14 suffrage | |
n.投票,选举权,参政权 | |
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15 monk | |
n.和尚,僧侣,修道士 | |
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16 nominally | |
在名义上,表面地; 应名儿 | |
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17 displeasing | |
不愉快的,令人发火的 | |
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18 expenditure | |
n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出;使用,消耗 | |
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19 salvation | |
n.(尤指基督)救世,超度,拯救,解困 | |
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20 coalition | |
n.结合体,同盟,结合,联合 | |
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21 averse | |
adj.厌恶的;反对的,不乐意的 | |
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22 consolidate | |
v.使加固,使加强;(把...)联为一体,合并 | |
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23 traitorous | |
adj. 叛国的, 不忠的, 背信弃义的 | |
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24 majesty | |
n.雄伟,壮丽,庄严,威严;最高权威,王权 | |
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25 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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26 ERECTED | |
adj. 直立的,竖立的,笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立,建立 | |
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27 borough | |
n.享有自治权的市镇;(英)自治市镇 | |
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28 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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29 discretion | |
n.谨慎;随意处理 | |
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30 morsel | |
n.一口,一点点 | |
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31 sprout | |
n.芽,萌芽;vt.使发芽,摘去芽;vi.长芽,抽条 | |
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32 purporting | |
v.声称是…,(装得)像是…的样子( purport的现在分词 ) | |
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33 rumour | |
n.谣言,谣传,传闻 | |
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34 slander | |
n./v.诽谤,污蔑 | |
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35 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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36 aloof | |
adj.远离的;冷淡的,漠不关心的 | |
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37 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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38 elicited | |
引出,探出( elicit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39 killing | |
n.巨额利润;突然赚大钱,发大财 | |
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40 wilderness | |
n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等,荒漠 | |
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41 aggravating | |
adj.恼人的,讨厌的 | |
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42 scowling | |
怒视,生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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43 canvassing | |
v.(在政治方面)游说( canvass的现在分词 );调查(如选举前选民的)意见;为讨论而提出(意见等);详细检查 | |
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44 cowardice | |
n.胆小,怯懦 | |
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45 quelled | |
v.(用武力)制止,结束,镇压( quell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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47 opposition | |
n.反对,敌对 | |
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48 radical | |
n.激进份子,原子团,根号;adj.根本的,激进的,彻底的 | |
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49 lighter | |
n.打火机,点火器;驳船;v.用驳船运送;light的比较级 | |
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50 humbly | |
adv. 恭顺地,谦卑地 | |
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51 patriotic | |
adj.爱国的,有爱国心的 | |
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52 imperative | |
n.命令,需要;规则;祈使语气;adj.强制的;紧急的 | |
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53 odious | |
adj.可憎的,讨厌的 | |
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54 acquit | |
vt.宣判无罪;(oneself)使(自己)表现出 | |
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55 calamity | |
n.灾害,祸患,不幸事件 | |
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56 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
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57 alluded | |
提及,暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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58 thwarted | |
阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 ); 使受挫折; 挫败; 横过 | |
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59 wretch | |
n.可怜的人,不幸的人;卑鄙的人 | |
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60 fiat | |
n.命令,法令,批准;vt.批准,颁布 | |
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61 interfere | |
v.(in)干涉,干预;(with)妨碍,打扰 | |
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62 aspirant | |
n.热望者;adj.渴望的 | |
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