But our dear old friend, only the other day a duke, Planty Pall17 as he was lately called, devoted18 to work and to Parliament, an unselfish, friendly, wise man, who by no means wanted other men to cut their coats according to his pattern, was the last man in England to put himself forward as the enemy of an established delight. He did not hunt himself — but neither did he shoot, or fish, or play cards. He recreated himself with Blue Books, and speculations19 on Adam Smith had been his distraction20 — but he knew that he was himself peculiar21, and he respected the habits of others. It had fallen out in this wise. As the old Duke had become very old, the old Duke’s agent had gradually acquired more than an agent’s proper influence in the property; and as the Duke’s heir would not shoot himself, or pay attention to the shooting, and as the Duke would not let the shooting of his wood, Mr Fothergill, the steward22, had gradually become omnipotent23. Now Mr Fothergill was not a hunting man — but the mischief24 did not at all lie there. Lord Chiltern would not communicate with Mr Fothergill. Lord Chiltern would write to the Duke, and Mr Fothergill became an established enemy. Hinc illae irae . From this source sprung all those powerfully argued articles in The Field, Bell’s Life, and Land and Water — for on this matter all the sporting papers were of one mind.
There is something doubtless absurd in the intensity25 of the worship paid to the fox by hunting communities. The animal becomes sacred, and his preservation is a religion. His irregular destruction is a profanity, and words spoken to his injury are blasphemous26. Not long since a gentleman shot a fox running across a woodland ride in a hunting country. He had mistaken it for a hare, and had done the deed in the presence of keepers, owner, and friends. His feelings were so acute and his remorse27 so great that, in their pity, they had resolved to spare him; and then, on the spot, entered into a solemn compact that no one should be told. Encouraged by the forbearing tenderness, the unfortunate one ventured to return to the house of his friend, the owner of the wood, hoping that, in spite of the sacrilege committed, he might be able to face a world that would be ignorant of his crime. As the vulpicide, on the afternoon of the day of the deed, went along the corridor to his room, one maid-servant whispered to another, and the poor victim of an imperfect sight heard the words — “That’s he as shot the fox!” The gentleman did not appear at dinner, nor was he ever again seen in those parts.
Mr Fothergill had become angry. Lord Chiltern, as we know, had been very angry. And even the Duke was angry. The Duke was angry because Lord Chiltern had been violent — and Lord Chiltern had been violent because Mr Fothergill’s conduct had been, to his thinking, not only sacrilegious, but one continued course of wilful28 sacrilege. It may be said of Lord Chiltern that in his eagerness as a master of hounds he had almost abandoned his love of riding. To kill a certain number of foxes in the year, after the legitimate29 fashion, had become to him the one great study of life — and he did it with an energy equal to that which the Duke devoted to decimal coinage. His huntsman was always well mounted, with two horses; but Lord Chiltern would give up his own to the man and take charge of a weary animal as a common groom30 when he found that he might thus further the object of the day’s sport. He worked as men work only at pleasure. He never missed a day, even when cub-hunting required that he should leave his bed at 3 A . M . He was constant at his kennel31. He was always thinking about it. He devoted his life to the Brake Hounds. And it was too much for him that such a one as Mr Fothergill should be allowed to wire foxes in Trumpeton Wood! The Duke’s property, indeed! Surely all that was understood in England by this time. Now he had consented to come to Matching, bringing his wife with him, in order that the matter might be settled. There had been a threat that he would give up the country, in which case it was declared that it would be impossible to carry on the Brake Hunt in a manner satisfactory to masters, subscribers, owners of coverts, or farmers, unless a different order of things should be made to prevail in regard to Trumpeton Wood.
The Duke, however, had declined to interfere32 personally. He had told his wife that he should be delighted to welcome Lord and Lady Chiltern — as he would any other friends of hers. The guests, indeed, at the Duke’s house were never his guests, but always hers. But he could not allow himself to be brought into an argument with Lord Chiltern as to the management of his own property. The Duchess was made to understand that she must prevent any such awkwardness. And she did prevent it. “And now, Lord Chiltern,” she said, “how about the foxes?” She had taken care there should be a council of war around her. Lady Chiltern and Madame Goesler were present, and also Phineas Finn.
“Well — how about them?” said the lord, showing by the fiery33 eagerness of his eye, and the increased redness of his face, that though the matter had been introduced somewhat jocosely34, there could not really be any joke about it.
“Why couldn’t you keep it all out of the newspapers?”
“I don’t write the newspapers, Duchess. I can’t help the newspapers. When two hundred men ride through Trumpeton Wood, and see one fox found, and that fox with only three pads, of course the newspapers will say that the foxes are trapped.”
“We may have traps if we like it, Lord Chiltern.”
“Certainly — only say so, and we shall know where we are.” He looked very angry, and poor Lady Chiltern was covered with dismay. “The Duke can destroy the hunt if he pleases, no doubt,” said the lord.
“But we don’t like traps, Lord Chiltern — nor yet poison, nor anything that is wicked. I’d go and nurse the foxes myself if I knew how, wouldn’t I, Marie?”
“They have robbed the Duchess of her sleep for the last six months,” said Madame Goesler.
“And if they go on being not properly brought up and educated, they’ll make an old woman of me. As for the Duke, he can’t be comfortable in his arithmetic for thinking of them. But what can one do?”
“Change your keepers,” said Lord Chiltern energetically.
“It is easy to say — change your keepers. How am I to set about it? To whom can I apply to appoint others? Don’t you know what vested interests mean, Lord Chiltern?”
“Then nobody can manage his own property as he pleases?”
“Nobody can — unless he does the work himself. If I were to go and live in Trumpeton Wood I could do it; but you see I have to live here. I vote that we have an officer of State, to go in and out with the Government — with a seat in the Cabinet or not according as things go, and that we call him Foxmaster-General. It would be just the thing for Mr Finn.”
“There would be a salary, of course,” said Phineas.
“Then I suppose that nothing can be done,” said Lord Chiltern.
“My dear Lord Chiltern, everything has been done. Vested interests have been attended to. Keepers shall prefer foxes to pheasants, wires shall be unheard of, and Trumpeton Wood shall once again be the glory of the Brake Hunt. It won’t cost the Duke above a thousand or two a year.”
“I should be very sorry indeed to put the Duke to any unnecessary expense,” said Lord Chiltern solemnly — still fearing that the Duchess was only playing with him. It made him angry that he could not imbue35 other people with his idea of the seriousness of the amusement of a whole county.
“Do not think of it. We have pensioned poor Mr Fothergill, and he retires from the administration.”
“Then it’ll be all right,” said Lord Chiltern.
“I am so glad,” said his wife.
“And so the great Mr Fothergill falls from power, and goes down into obscurity,” said Madame Goesler.
“He was an impudent36 old man, and that’s the truth,” said the Duchess — “and he has always been my thorough detestation. But if you only knew what I have gone through to get rid of him — and all on account of Trumpeton Wood — you’d send me every brush taken in the Brake country during the next season.”
“Your Grace shall at any rate have one of them,” said Lord Chiltern. On the next day Lord and Lady Chiltern went back to Harrington Hall. When the end of August comes, a Master of Hounds — who is really a master — is wanted at home. Nothing short of an embassy on behalf of the great coverts of his country would have kept this master away at present; and now, his diplomacy37 having succeeded, he hurried back to make the most of its results. Lady Chiltern, before she went, made a little speech to Phineas Finn.
“You’ll come to us in the winter, Mr Finn?”
“I should like.”
“You must. No one was truer to you than we were, you know. Indeed, regarding you as we do, how should we not have been true? It was impossible to me that my old friend should have been — ”
“Oh, Lady Chiltern!”
“Of course you’ll come. You owe it to us to come. And may I say this? If there be anybody to come with you, that will make it only so much the better. If it should be so, of course there will be letters written?” To this question, however, Phineas Finn made no answer.
点击收听单词发音
1 acerbity | |
n.涩,酸,刻薄 | |
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2 proprietor | |
n.所有人;业主;经营者 | |
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3 detrimental | |
adj.损害的,造成伤害的 | |
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4 badger | |
v.一再烦扰,一再要求,纠缠 | |
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5 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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6 cogent | |
adj.强有力的,有说服力的 | |
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7 propensities | |
n.倾向,习性( propensity的名词复数 ) | |
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8 preservation | |
n.保护,维护,保存,保留,保持 | |
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9 permissible | |
adj.可允许的,许可的 | |
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10 opposition | |
n.反对,敌对 | |
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11 situated | |
adj.坐落在...的,处于某种境地的 | |
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12 coverts | |
n.隐蔽的,不公开的,秘密的( covert的名词复数 );复羽 | |
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13 homely | |
adj.家常的,简朴的;不漂亮的 | |
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14 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
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15 doomed | |
命定的 | |
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16 afflicted | |
使受痛苦,折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17 pall | |
v.覆盖,使平淡无味;n.柩衣,棺罩;棺材;帷幕 | |
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18 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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19 speculations | |
n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 );思考;投机活动;推断 | |
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20 distraction | |
n.精神涣散,精神不集中,消遣,娱乐 | |
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21 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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22 steward | |
n.乘务员,服务员;看管人;膳食管理员 | |
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23 omnipotent | |
adj.全能的,万能的 | |
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24 mischief | |
n.损害,伤害,危害;恶作剧,捣蛋,胡闹 | |
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25 intensity | |
n.强烈,剧烈;强度;烈度 | |
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26 blasphemous | |
adj.亵渎神明的,不敬神的 | |
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27 remorse | |
n.痛恨,悔恨,自责 | |
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28 wilful | |
adj.任性的,故意的 | |
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29 legitimate | |
adj.合法的,合理的,合乎逻辑的;v.使合法 | |
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30 groom | |
vt.给(马、狗等)梳毛,照料,使...整洁 | |
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31 kennel | |
n.狗舍,狗窝 | |
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32 interfere | |
v.(in)干涉,干预;(with)妨碍,打扰 | |
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33 fiery | |
adj.燃烧着的,火红的;暴躁的;激烈的 | |
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34 jocosely | |
adv.说玩笑地,诙谐地 | |
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35 imbue | |
v.灌输(某种强烈的情感或意见),感染 | |
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36 impudent | |
adj.鲁莽的,卑鄙的,厚颜无耻的 | |
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37 diplomacy | |
n.外交;外交手腕,交际手腕 | |
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