And there was not only diversity, but with it great confusion. The political feelings of the country are, as a rule, so well marked that it is easy, as to almost every question, to separate the sheep from the goats. With but few exceptions one can tell where to look for the supporters and where for the opponents of one measure or of another. Meetings are called in this or in that public hall to assist or to combat the Minister of the day, and men know what they are about. But now it was not so. It was understood that Mr Daubeny, the accredited7 leader of the Conservatives, was about to bring in the bill, but no one as yet knew who would support the bill, His own party, to a man — without a single exception — were certainly opposed to the measure in their minds. It must be so. It could not but be certain that they should hate it. Each individual sitting on the Conservative side in either House did most certainly within his own bosom8 cry Ichabod when the fatal news reached his ears. But such private opinions and inward wailings need not, and probably would not, guide the body. Ichabod had been cried before, though probably never with such intensity9 of feeling. Disestablishment might be worse than Free Trade or Household Suffrage10, but was not more absolutely opposed to Conservative convictions than had been those great measures. And yet the party, as a party, had swallowed them both. To the first and lesser11 evil, a compact little body of staunch Commoners had stood forth12 in opposition13 — but nothing had come of it to those true Britons beyond a feeling of living in the cold shade of exclusion14. When the greater evil arrived, that of Household Suffrage — a measure which twenty years since would hardly have been advocated by the advanced Liberals of the day — the Conservatives had learned to acknowledge the folly15 of clinging to their own convictions, and had swallowed the dose without serious disruption of their ranks. Every man — with but an exception or two — took the measure up, some with faces so singularly distorted as to create true pity, some with an assumption of indifference16, some with affected17 glee. But in the double process the party had become used to this mode of carrying on the public service. As poor old England must go to the dogs, as the doom18 had been pronounced against the country that it should be ruled by the folly of the many foolish, and not by the wisdom of the few wise, why should the few wise remain out in the cold — seeing, as they did, that by so doing no good would be done to the country? Dissensions among their foes19 did, when properly used, give them power — but such power they could only use by carrying measures which they themselves believed to be ruinous. But the ruin would be as certain should they abstain20. Each individual might have gloried in standing21 aloof22 — in hiding his face beneath his toga, and in remembering that Rome did once exist in her splendour. But a party cannot afford to hide its face in its toga. A party has to be practical. A party can only live by having its share of Garters, lord-lieutenants, bishops23, and attorney-generals. Though the country were ruined, the party should be supported. Hitherto the party had been supported, and had latterly enjoyed almost its share of stars and Garters — thanks to the individual skill and strategy of that great English political Von Moltke Mr Daubeny.
And now what would the party say about the disestablishment of the Church? Even a party must draw the line somewhere. It was bad to sacrifice things mundane24; but this thing was the very Holy of Holies! Was nothing to be conserved25 by a Conservative party? What if Mr Daubeny were to explain some day to the electors of East Barsetshire that an hereditary26 peerage was an absurdity27? What if in some rural nook of his Boeotia he should suggest in ambiguous language to the farmers that a Republic was the only form of Government capable of a logical defence? Duke had already said to Duke, and Earl to Earl, and Baronet to Baronet that there must be a line somewhere. Bishops as a rule say but little to each other, and now were afraid to say anything. The Church, which had been, which was, so truly beloved — surely that must be beyond the line! And yet there crept through the very marrow28 of the party an agonising belief that Mr Daubeny would carry the bulk of his party with him into the lobby of the House of Commons.
But if such was the dismay of the Conservatives, how shall any writer depict29 the consternation of the Liberals? If there be a feeling odious30 to the mind of a sober, hardworking man, it is the feeling that the bread he has earned is to be taken out of his mouth. The pay, the patronage31, the powers, and the pleasure of Government were all due to the Liberals. “God bless my soul,” said Mr Ratler, who always saw things in a practical light, “we have a larger fighting majority than any party has had since Lord Liverpool’s time. They have no right to attempt it. They are bound to go out.” “There’s nothing of honesty left in politics,” said Mr Bonteen, declaring that he was sick of the life. Barrington Erle thought that the whole Liberal party should oppose the measure. Though they were Liberals they were not democrats32; nor yet infidels. But when Barrington Erle said this, the great leaders of the Liberal party had not as yet decided33 on their ground of action.
There was much difficulty in reaching any decision. It had been asserted so often that the disestablishment of the Church was only a question of time, that the intelligence of the country had gradually so learned to regard it. Who had said so, men did not know and did not inquire — but the words were spoken everywhere. Parsons with sad hearts — men who in their own parishes were enthusiastic, pure, pious34, and useful — whispered them in the dead of the night to the wives of their bosoms35. Bishops, who had become less pure by contact with the world at clubs, shrugged36 their shoulders and wagged their heads, and remembered comfortably the sanctity of vested interests. Statesmen listened to them with politeness, and did not deny that they were true. In the free intercourse37 of closest friendships the matter was discussed between ex-Secretaries of State. The Press teemed38 with the assertion that it was only a question of time. Some fervent39, credulous40 friends predicted another century of life — some hard-hearted logical opponents thought that twenty years would put an end to the anomaly: a few stout41 enemies had sworn on the hustings42 with an anathema43 that the present Session should see the deposition44 from her high place of this eldest45 daughter of the woman of Babylon. But none had expected the blow so soon as this; and none certainly had expected it from this hand.
But what should the Liberal party do? Ratler was for opposing Mr Daubeny with all their force, without touching46 the merits of the case. It was no fitting work for Mr Daubeny, and the suddenness of the proposition coming from such a quarter would justify47 them now and for ever, even though they themselves should disestablish everything before the Session were over. Barrington Erle, suffering under a real political conviction for once in his life, was desirous of a positive and chivalric48 defence of the Church. He believed in the twenty years. Mr Bonteen shut himself up in disgust. Things were amiss; and, as he thought, the evil was due to want of party zeal49 on the part of his own leader, Mr Gresham. He did not dare to say this, lest, when the house door should at last be opened, he might not be invited to enter with the others; but such was his conviction. “If we were all a little less in the abstract, and a little more in the concrete, it would be better for us.” Laurence Fitzgibbon, when these words had been whispered to him by Mr Bonteen, had hardly understood them; but it had been explained to him that his friend had meant “men, not measures’. When Parliament met, Mr Gresham, the leader of the Liberal party, had not as yet expressed any desire to his general followers50.
The Queen’s Speech was read, and the one paragraph which seemed to possess any great public interest was almost a repetition of the words which Mr Daubeny had spoken to the electors of East Barsetshire. “It will probably be necessary for you to review the connection which still exists between, and which binds51 together, the Church and the State.” Mr Daubeny’s words had of course been more fluent, but the gist52 of the expression was the same. He had been quite in earnest when addressing his friends in the country. And though there had been but an interval53 of a few weeks, the Conservative party in the two Houses heard the paragraph read without surprise and without a murmur54. Some said that the gentlemen on the Treasury55 Bench in the House of Commons did not look to be comfortable. Mr Daubeny sat with his hat over his brow, mute, apparently56 impassive and unapproachable, during the reading of the Speech and the moving and seconding of the Address. The House was very full, and there was much murmuring on the side of the Opposition — but from the Government benches hardly a sound was heard, as a young gentleman, from one of the Midland counties, in a deputy-lieutenant’s uniform, who had hitherto been known for no particular ideas of his own, but had been believed to be at any rate true to the Church, explained, not in very clear language, that the time had at length come when the interests of religion demanded a wider support and a fuller sympathy than could be afforded under that system of Church endowment and State establishment for which the country had hitherto been so grateful, and for which the country had such boundless57 occasion for gratitude58. Another gentleman, in the uniform of the Guards, seconded the Address, and declared that in nothing was the sagacity of a Legislature so necessary as in discerning the period in which that which had hitherto been good ceased to be serviceable. The status pupillaris was mentioned, and it was understood that he had implied that England was now old enough to go on in matters of religion without a tutor in the shape of a State Church.
Who makes the speeches, absolutely puts together the words, which are uttered when the Address is moved and seconded? It can hardly be that lessons are prepared and sent to the noble lords and honourable59 gentlemen to be learned by heart like a school-boy’s task. And yet, from their construction, style, and general tone — from the platitudes60 which they contain as well as from the general safety and good sense of the remarks — from the absence of any attempt to improve a great occasion by the fire of oratory62, one cannot but be convinced that a very absolute control is exercised. The gorgeously apparelled speakers, who seem to have great latitude61 allowed them in the matter of clothing, have certainly very little in the matter of language. And then it always seems that either of the four might have made the speech of any of the others. It could not have been the case that the Hon. Colonel Mowbray Dick, the Member for West Bustard, had really elaborated out of his own head that theory of the status pupillaris, A better fellow, or a more popular officer, or a sweeter-tempered gentleman than Mowbray Dick does not exist; but he certainly never entertained advanced opinions respecting the religious education of his country. When he is at home with his family, he always goes to church, and there has been an end of it.
And then the fight began. The thunderbolts of opposition were unloosed, and the fires of political rancour blazed high. Mr Gresham rose to his legs, and declared to all the world that which he had hitherto kept secret from his own party. It was known afterwards that in discussion with his own dearly-beloved political friend, Lord Cantrip, he had expressed his unbounded anger at the duplicity, greed for power, and want of patriotism63 displayed by his opponent; but he had acknowledged that the blow had come so quick and so unexpectedly that he thought it better to leave the matter to the House without instruction from himself. He now revelled64 in sarcasm65, and before his speech was over raged into wrath66. He would move an amendment67 to the Address for two reasons — first because this was no moment for bringing before Parliament the question of the Church establishment, when as yet no well-considered opportunity of expressing itself on the subject had been afforded to the country, and secondly68 because any measure of reform on that matter should certainly not come to them from the right honourable gentleman opposite. As to the first objection, he should withhold69 his arguments till the bill suggested had been presented to them. It was in handling the second that he displayed his great power of invective70. All those men who then sat in the House, and who on that night crowded the galleries, remember his tones as, turning to the dissenters71 who usually supported him, and pointing over the table to his opponents, he uttered that well-worn quotation72, “ Quod minime reris ‘ — then he paused, and began again; ” Quod minime reris — Graia pandetur ab urbe “ The power and inflexion of his voice at the word “ Graia +af” were certainly very wonderful. He ended by moving an amendment to the Address, and asking for support equally from one side of the House as from the other.
When at length Mr Daubeny moved his hat from his brow and rose to his legs he began by expressing his thankfulness that he had not been made a victim to the personal violence of the right honourable gentleman. He continued the same strain of badinage73 throughout — in which he was thought to have been wrong, as it was a method of defence, or attack, for which his peculiar74 powers hardly suited him. As to any bill that was to be laid upon the table, he had not as yet produced it. He did not doubt that the dissenting75 interests of the country would welcome relief from an anomaly, let it come whence it might, even Graia ab urbe, and he waved his hand back to the clustering Conservatives who sat behind him. That the right honourable gentleman should be angry he could understand, as the return to power of the right honourable gentleman and his party had been anticipated, and he might almost say discounted as a certainty.
Then, when Mr Daubeny sat down, the House was adjourned76.
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1 hubbub | |
n.嘈杂;骚乱 | |
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2 consternation | |
n.大为吃惊,惊骇 | |
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3 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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4 incubus | |
n.负担;恶梦 | |
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5 superstition | |
n.迷信,迷信行为 | |
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6 bigotry | |
n.偏见,偏执,持偏见的行为[态度]等 | |
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7 accredited | |
adj.可接受的;可信任的;公认的;质量合格的v.相信( accredit的过去式和过去分词 );委托;委任;把…归结于 | |
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8 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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9 intensity | |
n.强烈,剧烈;强度;烈度 | |
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10 suffrage | |
n.投票,选举权,参政权 | |
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11 lesser | |
adj.次要的,较小的;adv.较小地,较少地 | |
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12 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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13 opposition | |
n.反对,敌对 | |
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14 exclusion | |
n.拒绝,排除,排斥,远足,远途旅行 | |
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15 folly | |
n.愚笨,愚蠢,蠢事,蠢行,傻话 | |
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16 indifference | |
n.不感兴趣,不关心,冷淡,不在乎 | |
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17 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
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18 doom | |
n.厄运,劫数;v.注定,命定 | |
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19 foes | |
敌人,仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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20 abstain | |
v.自制,戒绝,弃权,避免 | |
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21 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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22 aloof | |
adj.远离的;冷淡的,漠不关心的 | |
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23 bishops | |
(基督教某些教派管辖大教区的)主教( bishop的名词复数 ); (国际象棋的)象 | |
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24 mundane | |
adj.平凡的;尘世的;宇宙的 | |
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25 conserved | |
v.保护,保藏,保存( conserve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26 hereditary | |
adj.遗传的,遗传性的,可继承的,世袭的 | |
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27 absurdity | |
n.荒谬,愚蠢;谬论 | |
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28 marrow | |
n.骨髓;精华;活力 | |
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29 depict | |
vt.描画,描绘;描写,描述 | |
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30 odious | |
adj.可憎的,讨厌的 | |
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31 patronage | |
n.赞助,支援,援助;光顾,捧场 | |
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32 democrats | |
n.民主主义者,民主人士( democrat的名词复数 ) | |
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33 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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34 pious | |
adj.虔诚的;道貌岸然的 | |
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35 bosoms | |
胸部( bosom的名词复数 ); 胸怀; 女衣胸部(或胸襟); 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
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36 shrugged | |
vt.耸肩(shrug的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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37 intercourse | |
n.性交;交流,交往,交际 | |
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38 teemed | |
v.充满( teem的过去式和过去分词 );到处都是;(指水、雨等)暴降;倾注 | |
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39 fervent | |
adj.热的,热烈的,热情的 | |
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40 credulous | |
adj.轻信的,易信的 | |
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42 hustings | |
n.竞选活动 | |
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43 anathema | |
n.诅咒;被诅咒的人(物),十分讨厌的人(物) | |
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44 deposition | |
n.免职,罢官;作证;沉淀;沉淀物 | |
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45 eldest | |
adj.最年长的,最年老的 | |
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46 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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47 justify | |
vt.证明…正当(或有理),为…辩护 | |
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48 chivalric | |
有武士气概的,有武士风范的 | |
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49 zeal | |
n.热心,热情,热忱 | |
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50 followers | |
追随者( follower的名词复数 ); 用户; 契据的附面; 从动件 | |
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51 binds | |
v.约束( bind的第三人称单数 );装订;捆绑;(用长布条)缠绕 | |
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52 gist | |
n.要旨;梗概 | |
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53 interval | |
n.间隔,间距;幕间休息,中场休息 | |
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54 murmur | |
n.低语,低声的怨言;v.低语,低声而言 | |
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55 treasury | |
n.宝库;国库,金库;文库 | |
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56 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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57 boundless | |
adj.无限的;无边无际的;巨大的 | |
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58 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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59 honourable | |
adj.可敬的;荣誉的,光荣的 | |
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60 platitudes | |
n.平常的话,老生常谈,陈词滥调( platitude的名词复数 );滥套子 | |
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61 latitude | |
n.纬度,行动或言论的自由(范围),(pl.)地区 | |
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62 oratory | |
n.演讲术;词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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63 patriotism | |
n.爱国精神,爱国心,爱国主义 | |
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64 revelled | |
v.作乐( revel的过去式和过去分词 );狂欢;着迷;陶醉 | |
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65 sarcasm | |
n.讥讽,讽刺,嘲弄,反话 (adj.sarcastic) | |
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66 wrath | |
n.愤怒,愤慨,暴怒 | |
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67 amendment | |
n.改正,修正,改善,修正案 | |
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68 secondly | |
adv.第二,其次 | |
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69 withhold | |
v.拒绝,不给;使停止,阻挡 | |
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70 invective | |
n.痛骂,恶意抨击 | |
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71 dissenters | |
n.持异议者,持不同意见者( dissenter的名词复数 ) | |
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72 quotation | |
n.引文,引语,语录;报价,牌价,行情 | |
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73 badinage | |
n.开玩笑,打趣 | |
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74 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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75 dissenting | |
adj.不同意的 | |
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76 adjourned | |
(使)休会, (使)休庭( adjourn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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