Group read: Dr Thorne by Anthony Trollope (Chapters 17 - 32)

Dr Thorne by Anthony Trollope (1858)

Hello, all!

This thread is for discussion of Chapters 17 - 32.

The characters of Dr Thorne:

Dr Thomas Thorne - who lives and practises in the village of Greshamsbury, in East Barsetshire; second cousin to the Thornes of Ullathorne
Mary Thorne - his niece who lives with him
Henry Thorne - the younger brother of Dr Thorne, Mary's father

Francis Newbold Gresham Sr - Squire of the property of Greshamsbury
Lady Arabella Gresham - his wife, the sister of the Earl de Courcy
Francis Newbold Gresham Jr (Frank) - their son and heir
Augusta Gresham
Beatrice Gresham
Sophia Gresham (and her unnamed twin sister)
Nina Gresham

The Earl de Courcy - a leading nobleman of West Barshetshire; a Whig
The Countess (Rosina) de Courcy
Lord Porlock - their eldest son and heir
The Honourable George de Courcy
The Honourable John de Courcy
Lady Amelia de Courcy
Lady Rosina de Courcy
Lady Margaretta de Courcy
Lady Alexandrina de Courcy

The Reverend Caleb Oriel - the rector of Greshamsbury
Patience Oriel - his sister

Roger Scatcherd - a stone-mason of Barchester, Mary Thorne's uncle; later Sir Roger Scatcherd, railway contractor
Lady Scatcherd - his wife
Louis Philippe Scatcherd - their son
Mary Scatcherd - Roger's sister, Mary Thorne's mother

Mr Moffat - Augusta Gresham's fiance; the Whig member for Barchester, backed by the de courcys and the Duke of Omnium

Dr Fillgrave - a doctor of Barchester; a rival and enemy of Dr Thorne
Mr Yates Umbleby - an attorney, and Squire Gresham's agent
Mr Winterbones - Sir Roger's confidential clerk

Mrs Umbleby - wife of Mr Yates Umbleby
Miss Gushing - a lady of Greshamsbury

Nice new thread Liz! I've now read through Chapter 19 so I'll just settle in here for a bit. I'm very much enjoying the book. Chapters 18 & 19 were especially amusing. Here were all these men angling for Martha Dunstable's hand, claiming it was all about love and admiration and had nothing to do with her fortune.

I really like Martha Dunstable. She isn't a bit cowed by anything, and has a practical and forthright view of all the motives behind the chase.

ETA: and she's kind, as in the letter to the silly Honorable George.

I'm here too - I finished the book this morning (sorry, couldn't wait).

I enjoyed Chapter 17: The Election which put me in mind of the election related section of The Pickwick Papers and like Laura I also found Chapters 18 & 19 very amusing although I was mislead by Ch 18 being titled The Rivals, into thinking that Miss Dunstable might become a rival with Miss Thorne for Frank.

Also from Chapter 19

He was not badly off, for Mr Athill was a friend of his own, who had held a living near Greshamsbury. Lately, however, at the lamented decease of Dr Stanhope—who had died of apoplexy at his villa in Italy—Mr Athill had been presented with the better preferment of Eiderdown, and had, therefore, removed to another part of the county. He was somewhat of a bon-vivant, and a man who thoroughly understood dinner-parties; and with much good nature he took Frank under his special protection.

Mr Stanhope's dead?? :-( I don't remember Mr Athill from the earlier Barsetshire novels.

I don't think Athill featured before.

I love the idea of a nice cushy parish (the better preferment) being called Eiderdown!

Isn't it terrific how much we loved the characters that Trollope created that we feel sad to learn of their demise? He's such a great developer of characters that we can't stand to let them go.

I too loved Martha Dunstable. I wonder if she'll appear in any of the rest of the booksin The Chronicles of Barsetshire? Liz?

#8 Bonnie, according to the introduction of my edition of Dr Throne she does :-)

As I remarked in the introduction, the wonderful thing about Miss Dunstable is you can easily imagine her done differently - a figure to be mocked or sneered at - yet she is a marvellous character drawn with real sensitivity.

#6

And isn't it interesting? - we all (all, surely?) cry, "OH, NO!!" when we hear that Dr Stanhope has died, and yet he's such an awful person. :)

#7

No, we haven't been introduced to Mr Athill before.

Eiderdown is marked on our map, I notice - in East Barsetshire, to the south of Plumstead.

#9

Heather, Heather {*shakes head reproachfully*} - I told you not to go reading those things! They're full of land-mines, trust me.

Chapter 17

In which an election is held in Barchester.

The two parties had outdone each other in the loudness of their assertions, that each would on his side conduct the election in strict conformity to law. There was to be no bribery. Bribery! who, indeed, in these days would dare to bribe; to give absolute money for an absolute vote, and pay for such an article in downright palpable sovereigns? No. Purity was much too rampant for that, and the means of detection too well understood. But purity was to be carried much further than this. There should be no treating; no hiring of two hundred voters to act as messengers at twenty shillings a day in looking up some four hundred other voters; no bands were to be paid for; no carriages furnished; no ribbons supplied. British voters were to vote, if vote they would, for the love and respect they bore to their chosen candidate. If so actuated, they would not vote, they might stay away; no other inducement would be offered.

Trollope goes to town on the election process in this chapter - though he seems equally critical of the corrupt process, and the idea that you can have an election without corruption. My feeling is that he deliberately sets up an election between a Whig and a Radical so that he can cut loose and say anything he likes; I don't think he would have allowed himself to be this critical if one of the candidates had been a Tory. Or perhaps you only get bribery when Whigs and Radicals are involved?? :)

HOWEVER---before any of us go any further in Trollope, there's an important personal detail we need to understand:

Some years after this, Trollope himself stood for Parliament, and the fact that he lost his election was one of the bitter disappointments of his life. We're talking some ten years from now ("now" being 1858) but his own parliamentary ambitions are something to keep in mind when reading his take on the electoral system.

    And now the important day of the election had arrived, and some men's hearts beat quickly enough. To be or not to a member of the British Parliament is a question of very considerable moment in a man's mind. Much is often said of the great penalties which the ambitious pay for enjoying this honour; of the tremendous expenses of elections; of the long, tedious hours of unpaid labour: of the weary days passed in the House; but, nevertheless, the prize is one very well worth the price paid for it—well worth any price that can be paid for it short of wading through dirt and dishonour.
    No other great European nation has anything like it to offer to the ambition of its citizens; for in no other great country of Europe, not even in those which are free, has the popular constitution obtained, as with us, true sovereignty and power of rule. Here it is so; and when a man lays himself out to be a member of Parliament, he plays the highest game and for the highest stakes which the country affords.

I didn't mention Stanhope's death before because the way Trollope just threw that in there, I thought I'd missed something. But yes, I was sad about that!!

Very interesting to read of Trollope's "future" Parliamentary ambitions.

Chapter 18

In which Miss Dunstable shows her appreciation of the good opinion of others.

    "She said you were very beautiful—"
    "Did she?—how good of her!"
    "No; I forgot. It—it was I that said that; and she said—what was it she said? She said, that after all, beauty was but skin deep—and that she valued you for your virtues and prudence rather than your good looks."
    "Virtues and prudence! She said I was prudent and virtuous?"
    "Yes."
    "And you talked of my beauty? That was so kind of you. You didn't either of you say anything about other matters?"
    "What other matters?"
    "Oh! I don't know. Only some people are sometimes valued rather for what they've got than for any good qualities belonging to themselves intrinsically."
    "That can never be the case with Miss Dunstable; especially not at Courcy Castle," said Frank, bowing easily from the corner of the sofa over which he was leaning.
    "Of course not," said Miss Dunstable; and Frank at once perceived that she spoke in a tone of voice differing much from that half-bantering, half-good-humoured manner that was customary with her. "Of course not: any such idea would be quite out of the question with Lady de Courcy."

Poor Miss Dunstable. :(

Chapter 19

In which Frank dines at Gatherum Castle.

    "Oh, no; you'll see no more of him. He always goes when the coffee comes. It's brought in as an excuse. We've had enough of the light of his countenance to last till next year. The duke and I are excellent friends; and have been so these fifteen years; but I never see more of him than that."
    "I shall go away," said Frank.
    "Nonsense. Mr de Courcy and your other friend won't stir for this hour yet."
    "I don't care. I shall walk on, and they may catch me. I may be wrong; but it seems to me that a man insults me when he asks me to dine with him and never speaks to me. I don't care if he be ten times Duke of Omnium; he can't be more than a gentleman, and as such I am his equal." And then, having thus given vent to his feelings in somewhat high-flown language, he walked forth and trudged away along the road towards Courcy.
    Frank Gresham had been born and bred a Conservative, whereas the Duke of Omnium was well known as a consistent Whig. There is no one so devoutly resolved to admit of no superior as your Conservative, born and bred, no one so inclined to high domestic despotism as your thoroughgoing consistent old Whig.

That last paragraph is perfectly typical Trollope, gently mocking inconsistencies on both sides. :)

Boy the Duke definitely changes, or at least we learn a lot more about him in the Palliser series.

And I do love his mocking of everyone. :)

I think we get to know him better. But it's also him having to change his behaviour as he takes more interest in the question of his heir.

So some of these characters are carried forth into the Palliser series?

Oh, yes, many of them. Though a lot of the action of the Palliser books is set in London around and in the House of Commons, most of the people they focus on are based in Barsetshire. Chronologically, the first Palliser book, Can You Forgive Her?, sits between the fifth and sixth Barset books.

Chapter 20

In which Miss Dunstable puts Frank in his place.

"Sell yourself for money! why, if I were a man I would not sell one jot of liberty for mountains of gold. What! tie myself in the heyday of my youth to a person I could never love, for a price! perjure myself, destroy myself—and not only myself, but her also, in order that I might live idly! Oh, heavens! Mr Gresham! can it be that the words of such a woman as your aunt have sunk so deeply in your heart; have blackened you so foully as to make you think of such vile folly as this? Have you forgotten your soul, your spirit, your man's energy, the treasure of your heart? And you, so young! For shame, Mr Gresham! for shame—for shame."

...but it's okay - they make up again:

    "It was half by way of making a fool of my aunt," said Frank, in an apologetic tone.
    "There is merit in that, at any rate," said Miss Dunstable.

I love their relationship!

I'm now up to Ch 25, I can see where this is going mostly and am enjoying the ride!

Okay, I definitely need to speed the heck up...

Chapter 21

In which no-one seems to realise Augusta Gresham's good fortune.

    Poor Mr Moffat! It is wonderful that as he sat in that gig, going to Gatherum Castle, planning how he would be off with Miss Gresham and afterwards on with Miss Dunstable, it is wonderful that he should not then have cast his eye behind him, and looked at that stalwart pair of shoulders which were so close to his own back. As he afterwards pondered on his scheme while sipping the duke's claret, it is odd that he should not have observed the fiery pride of purpose and power of wrath which was so plainly written on that young man's brow: or, when he matured, and finished, and carried out his purpose, that he did not think of that keen grasp which had already squeezed his own hand with somewhat too warm a vigour, even in the way of friendship.
    Poor Mr Moffat! it is probable that he forgot to think of Frank at all as connected with his promised bride; it is probable that he looked forward only to the squire's violence and the enmity of the house of Courcy; and that he found from enquiry at his heart's pulses, that he was man enough to meet these. Could he have guessed what a whip Frank Gresham would have bought at Cambridge—could he have divined what a letter would have been written to Harry Baker—it is probable, nay, we think we may say certain, that Miss Gresham would have become Mrs Moffat.

I find this chapter very concerning for a number of reasons. The novel runs the whole spectrum with respect to brothers defending their sisters' honour, from the extremity of the Scatcherds' situation to the absurdity of Mr Moffat - absurd, because Augusta certainly doesn't care: she's embarrassed but not hurt by the jilting.

This is what I find disturbing: it isn't really about the women at all. In neither case is the woman consulted or her feelings considered; it's male honour that's been outraged by proxy. We shouldn't forget that Roger Scatcherd initially meant to kill his sister as well as Henry Thorne.

Frank's attack on Moffat seems to boil down to the fact that a gentleman's daughter has been insulted by a tailor's son, which is in keeping with the overall tone of the novel. The implication here appears to be that no gentleman would offer such an insult, so it is interesting to consider that in a later book, Trollope would completely muddy the waters around this issue (and also around the question of who has the "right" to take revenge on behalf of a woman).

Chapter 22

In which losing his seat is too much for Sir Roger.

    She thought of sending for Dr Thorne; but she did not know under what guise to send for him,—whether as doctor or as friend: under neither would he now be welcome; and she well knew that Sir Roger was not the man to accept in good part either a doctor or a friend who might be unwelcome. She knew that this husband of hers, this man who, with all his faults, was the best of her friends, whom of all she loved best—she knew that he was killing himself, and yet she could do nothing. Sir Roger was his own master, and if kill himself he would, kill himself he must.
    And kill himself he did. Not indeed by one sudden blow. He did not take one huge dose of his consuming poison and then fall dead upon the floor. It would perhaps have been better for himself, and better for those around him, had he done so. No; the doctors had time to congregate around his bed; Lady Scatcherd was allowed a period of nurse-tending; the sick man was able to say his last few words and bid adieu to his portion of the lower world with dying decency...

This is a peculiar chapter. There's a definite sense that a man like Sir Roger had no business being in the House of Commons in the first place, yet we also get a painfully clear and even sympathetic understanding of what he suffers upon being turned out. Fascinating that this is years before Trollope's own parliamentary disappointment.

>22 lyzard: Well I'm glad you pointed out that it's not about the women at all Liz. I didn't read it that way when I read it. But I see why you're saying that because it is all about class separation.

>24 brenzi:: agree. These are very interesting insights that I would otherwise have missed!

Frank's marriage isn't about him, either. His female relations don't care that he wants to marry Mary and doesn't want to marry Miss Dunstable. His feelings aren't important. It's all about preserving the family's wealth and status. The men resort to physical violence to defend the family honor, while the women use psychological pressure to achieve a similar end.

That's true - but Frank retains, and exercises, the right to say no. (There's more we could say but not in conjunction with Chapter 21. :) )

Oh, well. I know I'm miles behind (almost?) everyone, but I'll continue on with my dawdling quotes, because I'm having too much fun picking them out to stop.

But carry on, the rest of you! :)

Chapter 23

In which the squire weighs birth and worth.

The squire kissed her forehead affectionately and took his leave, feeling, somehow, that he had been excused and pitied, and made much of; whereas he had called on his young neighbour with the intention of excusing, and pitying, and making much of her. He was not quite comfortable as he left the house; but, nevertheless, he was sufficiently honest-hearted to own to himself that Mary Thorne was a fine girl. Only that it was so absolutely necessary that Frank should marry money—and only, also, that poor Mary was such a birthless foundling in the world's esteem—only, but for these things, what a wife she would have made for that son of his!

>27 lyzard:: There's more we could say but not in conjunction with Chapter 21.
Oh but what about Chapter 26, which I've just finished, and which could be subtitled, "In which Dr. Thorne unleashes a can of whoop-ass on Lady Arabella" ? My that was satisfying!

HAHAHAHA, wasn't it just.

Hmm. I was actually considering "In which Lady arabella is on the receiving end of one of the great tellings-off" but on reflection I like "In which Dr. Thorne unleashes a can of whoop-ass on Lady Arabella" a lot better. :)

>32 lyzard:: it was indeed "one of the great tellings-off"!!

>30 lauralkeet: Perfect!

#15 - 18 Ooh, I hadn't realised the duke and other characters appeared in the Palliser series.

#19 I also thought that was a particularly quotable speech from Miss Dunstable :-)

#30 Love it!

I've started the first book in the Palliser series; so far I have not yet come across anyone I know from the Barchester Chronicles, but I'm looking forward to encountering them.

"Palliser" is the family name of the Dukes of Omnium...

the Palliser miniseries is fabulous, if you can find it.

Chapter 24

In which we are introduced to Louis Philippe Scatcherd.

    Louis Scatcherd was not a fool, nor was he naturally, perhaps, of a depraved disposition; but he had to reap the fruits of the worst education which England was able to give him. There were moments in his life when he felt that a better, a higher, nay, a much happier career was open to him than that which he had prepared himself to lead. Now and then he would reflect what money and rank might have done for him; he would look with wishful eyes to the proud doings of others of his age; would dream of quiet joys, of a sweet wife, of a house to which might be asked friends who were neither jockeys nor drunkards; he would dream of such things in his short intervals of constrained sobriety; but the dream would only serve to make him moody.
    This was the best side of his character; the worst, probably, was that which was brought into play by the fact that he was not a fool. He would have a better chance of redemption in this world—perhaps also in another—had he been a fool. As it was, he was no fool: he was not to be done, not he; he knew, no one better, the value of a shilling; he knew, also, how to keep his shillings, and how to spend them. He consorted much with blacklegs and such-like, because blacklegs were to his taste. But he boasted daily, nay, hourly to himself, and frequently to those around him, that the leeches who were stuck round him could draw but little blood from him. He could spend his money freely; but he would so spend it that he himself might reap the gratification of the expenditure. He was acute, crafty, knowing, and up to every damnable dodge practised by men of the class with whom he lived. At one-and-twenty he was that most odious of all odious characters—a close-fisted reprobate.

>>#38

It's inching closer to the top of my DVD rental queue as we speak. :)

Chapter 25

In which Dr Thorne takes a stand, and then regrets it.

    "Wait a while, doctor; just one minute longer. So you will do nothing for Louis, then?"
    "I will do everything for him that I can do."
    "Ah, yes! everything but the one thing that will save him. Well, I will not ask you again. But remember, Thorne, I shall alter my will to-morrow."
    "Do so by all means; you may well alter it for the better. If I may advise you, you will have down your own business attorney from London. If you will let me send he will be here before to-morrow night."
    "Thank you for nothing, Thorne: I can manage that matter myself. Now leave me; but remember, you have ruined that girl's fortune."

...

That he had done right in utterly repudiating all idea of a marriage between Mary and her cousin—of that he was certain enough; that no earthly consideration would have induced Mary to plight her troth to such a man—that, with him, was as certain as doom. But how far had he done right in keeping her from the sight of her uncle? How could he justify it to himself if he had thus robbed her of her inheritance, seeing that he had done so from a selfish fear lest she, who was now all his own, should be known to the world as belonging to others rather than to him? He had taken upon him on her behalf to reject wealth as valueless; and yet he had no sooner done so than he began to consume his hours with reflecting how great to her would be the value of wealth. And thus, when Sir Roger told him, as he left the room, that he had ruined Mary's fortune, he was hardly able to bear the taunt with equanimity...

It's interesting that it's taken him this long to admit how much self-interest there is in his determination to "protect" Mary from the Scatcherds.

Chapter 26

In which Dr. Thorne unleashes a can of whoop-ass on Lady Arabella.

Because YOU asked for it!!

    "He must marry money, doctor. Now we have, you see, with your assistance, contrived to separate him from dear Mary—"
    "With my assistance, Lady Arabella! I have given no assistance, nor have I meddled in the matter; nor will I."
    "Well, doctor, perhaps not meddled; but you agreed with me, you know, that the two young people had been imprudent."
    "I agreed to no such thing, Lady Arabella; never, never. I not only never agreed that Mary had been imprudent, but I will not agree to it now, and will not allow any one to assert it in my presence without contradicting it:" and then the doctor worked away at the thigh-bones in a manner that did rather alarm her ladyship.

...

    "But you do not mean to say that you will encourage this unfortunate boy to marry your niece?"
    "The unfortunate boy, Lady Arabella—whom, by the by, I regard as a very fortunate young man—is your son, not mine. I shall take no steps about his marriage, either one way or the other."
    "You think it right, then, that your niece should throw herself in his way?"
    "Throw herself in his way! What would you say if I came up to Greshamsbury, and spoke to you of your daughters in such language? What would my dear friend Mr Gresham say, if some neighbour's wife should come and so speak to him? I will tell you what he would say: he would quietly beg her to go back to her own home and meddle only with her own matters."
    This was dreadful to Lady Arabella. Even Dr Thorne had never before dared thus to lower her to the level of common humanity, and liken her to any other wife in the country-side. Moreover, she was not quite sure whether he, the parish doctor, was not desiring her, the earl's daughter, to go home and mind her own business.

...

    "Persecute her, Dr Thorne! You do not mean to say that I have persecuted her?"
    "Ah! but I do mean to say so. You do persecute her, and would continue to do so did I not defend her. It is not sufficient that she is forbidden to enter your domain—and so forbidden with the knowledge of all the country round—but you must come here also with the hope of interrupting all the innocent pleasures of her life. Fearing lest she should be allowed even to speak to your son, to hear a word of him through his own sister, you would put her in prison, tie her up, keep her from the light of day—"
    "Dr Thorne! how can you—"
    But the doctor was not to be interrupted.
    "It never occurs to you to tie him up, to put him in prison. No; he is the heir of Greshamsbury; he is your son, an earl's grandson. It is only natural, after all, that he should throw a few foolish words at the doctor's niece. But she! it is an offence not to be forgiven on her part that she should, however, unwillingly, have been forced to listen to them! Now understand me, Lady Arabella; if any of your family come to my house I shall be delighted to welcome them: if Mary should meet any of them elsewhere I shall be delighted to hear of it. Should she tell me to-morrow that she was engaged to marry Frank, I should talk the matter over with her, quite coolly, solely with a view to her interest, as would be my duty; feeling, at the same time, that Frank would be lucky in having such a wife. Now you know my mind, Lady Arabella. It is so I should do my duty;—you can do yours as you may think fit."

Chapter 27

In which Mr Gresham learns he has something in common with Dr Proudie.

    "Enough! Mr Gresham. No; it is not enough. I find that, in spite of what has occurred, the closest intimacy exists between the two families; that poor Beatrice, who is so very young, and not so prudent as she should be, is made to act as a go-between; and when I speak to the doctor, hoping that he will assist me in preventing this, he not only tells me that he means to encourage Mary in her plans, but positively insults me to my face, laughs at me for being an earl's daughter, and tells me—yes, he absolutely told me—to get out of his house."
    Let it be told with some shame as to the squire's conduct, that his first feeling on hearing this was one of envy—of envy and regret that he could not make the same uncivil request. Not that he wished to turn his wife absolutely out of his house; but he would have been very glad to have had the power of dismissing her summarily from his own room.

I laughed so hard when I read that. Poor Mr Gresham. Henpecked.

>42 lyzard:: that was just as much fun on a re-read!
>43 lyzard:: I love the Proudie comparison, I was thinking the same thing as I read that chapter. And the passage you quoted was hilarious.

Chapter 28

In which Sir Louis Scatcherd comes close to death for reasons other than his drinking.

    "As to marrying well," said Sir Louis, "you, I take it, will the be the last man, doctor, to quarrel with my choice."
    "Shall I?" said the doctor, smiling.
    "Well, you won't disapprove, I guess, as the Yankee says. What would you think of Miss Mary Thorne?"
    It must be said in Sir Louis's favour that he had probably no idea whatever of the estimation in which such young ladies as Mary Thorne are held by those who are nearest and dearest to them. He had no sort of conception that she was regarded by her uncle as an inestimable treasure, almost too precious to be rendered up to the arms of any man; and infinitely beyond any price in silver and gold, baronets' incomes of eight or ten thousand a year, and such coins usually current in the world's markets. He was a rich man and a baronet, and Mary was an unmarried girl without a portion. In Sir Louis's estimation he was offering everything, and asking for nothing. He certainly had some idea that girls were apt to be coy, and required a little wooing in the shape of presents, civil speeches—perhaps kisses also. The civil speeches he had, he thought, done, and imagined that they had been well received. The other things were to follow; an Arab pony, for instance,—and the kisses probably with it; and then all these difficulties would be smoothed.
    But he did not for a moment conceive that there would be any difficulty with the uncle. How should there be? Was he not a baronet with ten thousand a year coming to him? Had he not everything which fathers want for portionless daughters, and uncles for dependant nieces? Might he not well inform the doctor that he had something to tell him for his advantage?

And in the spirit of getting the heck on with it...

Chapter 29

In which a donkey intervenes.

    On a sudden he stood still, and pulling the donkey's rein, caused him to stand still also. The beast required very little persuasion to be so guided, and obligingly remained meekly passive.
    "Mary, Mary!" said Frank, throwing his arms round her knees as she sat upon her steed, and pressing his face against her body. "Mary, you were always honest; be honest now. I love you with all my heart. Will you be my wife?"
    But still Mary said not a word. She no longer bit her lips; she was beyond that, and was now using all her efforts to prevent her tears from falling absolutely on her lover's face. She said nothing. She could no more rebuke him now and send him from her than she could encourage him. She could only sit there shaking and crying and wishing she was on the ground. Frank, on the whole, rather liked the donkey. It enabled him to approach somewhat nearer to an embrace than he might have found practicable had they both been on their feet. The donkey himself was quite at his ease, and looked as though he was approvingly conscious of what was going on behind his ears.

The business with the donkey ended up being one of the most fondly remembered and referenced passages amongst Victorian critics and readers. :)

Chapter 30

In which the squire discovers that Frank has grown up.

The squire sipped his claret, but at the moment said nothing. There was a quiet, manly, but yet modest determination about his son that he had hardly noticed before. Frank had become legally of age, legally a man, when he was twenty-one. Nature, it seems, had postponed the ceremony till he was twenty-two. Nature often does postpone the ceremony even to a much later age;—sometimes, altogether forgets to accomplish it.

I'm interested in this:

"You married, sir, before you were one-and-twenty," said Frank. Yes, and repented before I was two-and-twenty. So did not say the squire.

Is that the earliest fictional example of what is, around the interwebz, usually rendered as:

Said no -------- ever.

Chapter 31

In which Frank leaves home, and Mary is ostracised.

    Mary, therefore, found herself utterly separated from Beatrice. She was not even able to learn what Beatrice would think, or did think, of the engagement as it now stood. She could not even explain to her friend that love had been too strong for her, and endeavour to get some comfort from that friend's absolution from her sin. This estrangement was now carried so far that she and Beatrice did not even meet on neutral ground. Lady Arabella made it known to Miss Oriel that her daughter could not meet Mary Thorne, even as strangers meet; and it was made known to others also. Mrs Yates Umbleby, and her dear friend Miss Gushing, to whose charming tea-parties none of the Greshamsbury ladies went above once in a twelvemonth, talked through the parish of this distressing difficulty. They would have been so happy to have asked dear Mary Thorne, only the Greshamsbury ladies did not approve.
    Mary was thus tabooed from all society in the place in which a twelvemonth since she had been, of all its denizens, perhaps the most courted. In those days, no bevy of Greshamsbury young ladies had fairly represented the Greshamsbury young ladyhood if Mary Thorne was not there. Now she was excluded from all such bevies. Patience did not quarrel with her, certainly;—came to see her frequently;—invited her to walk;—invited her frequently to the parsonage. But Mary was shy of acceding to such invitations, and at last frankly told her friend Patience, that she would not again break bread in Greshamsbury in any house in which she was not thought fit to meet the other guests who habitually resorted there.
    In truth, both the doctor and his niece were very sore, but they were of that temperament that keeps all its soreness to itself. Mary walked out by herself boldly, looking at least as though she were indifferent to all the world. She was, indeed, hardly treated. Young ladies' engagements are generally matters of profoundest secrecy, and are hardly known of by their near friends till marriage is a thing settled. But all the world knew of Mary's engagement within a month of that day on which she had neglected to expel Frank's finger from her hand; it had been told openly through the country-side that she had confessed her love for the young squire. Now it is disagreeable for a young lady to walk about under such circumstances, especially so when she has no female friend to keep her in countenance, more especially so when the gentleman is such importance in the neighbourhood as Frank was in that locality. It was a matter of moment to every farmer, and every farmer's wife, which bride Frank should marry of those bespoken for him; Mary, namely, or Money. Every yokel about the place had been made to understand that, by some feminine sleight of hand, the doctor's niece had managed to trap Master Frank, and that Master Frank had been sent out of the way so that he might, if yet possible, break through the trapping.

Chapter 32

In which Miss Gushing loses her faith, then changes her religion.

    And then there was Miss Gushing,—a young thing. Miss Gushing had a great advantage over the other competitors for the civilisation of Mr Oriel, namely, in this—that she was able to attend his morning services. If Mr Oriel was to be reached in any way, it was probable that he might be reached in this way. If anything could civilise him, this would do it. Therefore, the young thing, through all one long, tedious winter, tore herself from her warm bed, and was to be seen—no, not seen, but heard—entering Mr Oriel's church at six o'clock. With indefatigable assiduity the responses were made, uttered from under a close bonnet, and out of a dark corner, in an enthusiastically feminine voice, through the whole winter.
    Nor did Miss Gushing altogether fail in her object. When a clergyman's daily audience consists of but one person, and that person is a young lady, it is hardly possible that he should not become personally intimate with her; hardly possible that he should not be in some measure grateful. Miss Gushing's responses came from her with such fervour, and she begged for ghostly advice with such eager longing to have her scruples satisfied, that Mr Oriel had nothing for it but to give way to a certain amount of civilisation.
    By degrees it came to pass that Miss Gushing could never get her final prayer said, her shawl and boa adjusted, and stow away her nice new Prayer-Book with the red letters inside, and the cross on the back, till Mr Oriel had been into his vestry and got rid of his surplice. And then they met at the church-porch, and naturally walked together till Mr Oriel's cruel gateway separated them. The young thing did sometimes think that, as the parson's civilisation progressed, he might have taken the trouble to walk with her as far as Mr Yates Umbleby's hall door; but she had hope to sustain her, and a firm resolve to merit success, even though she might not attain it.

Ahem:

...Miss Gushing could never get her final prayer said, her shawl and boa adjusted, and stow away her nice new Prayer-Book with the red letters inside, and the cross on the back...

But alas for Miss Gushing!---

From the day that Miss Gushing heard of it—which was not however for some considerable time after this—she became an Independent Methodist. She could no longer, she said at first, have any faith in any religion; and for an hour or so she was almost tempted to swear that she could no longer have any faith in any man. She had nearly completed a worked cover for a credence-table when the news reached her, as to which, in the young enthusiasm of her heart, she had not been able to remain silent; it had already been promised to Mr Oriel; that promise she swore should not be kept. He was an apostate, she said, from his principles; an utter pervert; a false, designing man, with whom she would never have trusted herself alone on dark mornings had she known that he had such grovelling, worldly inclinations.

>48 lyzard:: I thought the donkey scene was rather sweet too.
>49 lyzard:: Said no -------- ever. -- LOL! That's perfect.

Good old Miss Gushing. Gets what she deserves.

And I adored that donkey.

And Mary ostracized makes me furious.

#42 & 43 Those were two good chapters :-)

OK, I'm nearly up to Chapter 26 and now I am going to hurry up to see the whoop-ass can!

Very interesting that Trollope later stood for Parliament.

>55 cushlareads:: tee hee, I'd forgotten about that!

Bump

Bump for thread two. I’m enjoying this quite a bit. I’d forgotten how smoothly Trollope goes down.