THE FRAMLEY SET, AND THE CHALDICOTES SET.
It will be necessary that I should say a word or two of some of the
people named in the few preceding pages, and also of the localities in
which they lived.
Of Lady Lufton herself enough, perhaps, has been written to introduce
her to my readers. The Framley property belonged to her son; but
as Lufton Park--an ancient ramshackle place in another county--had
heretofore been the family residence of the Lufton family, Framley
Court had been apportioned to her for her residence for life. Lord
Lufton himself was still unmarried; and as he had no establishment at
Lufton Park--which indeed had not been inhabited since his grandfather
died--he lived with his mother when it suited him to live anywhere
in that neighbourhood. The widow would fain have seen more of him
than he allowed her to do. He had a shooting-lodge in Scotland, and
apartments in London, and a string of horses in Leicestershire--much to
the disgust of the county gentry around him, who held that their own
hunting was as good as any that England could afford. His lordship,
however, paid his subscription to the East Barsetshire pack, and then
thought himself at liberty to follow his own pleasure as to his own
amusement.
Framley itself was a pleasant country place, having about it nothing
of seignorial dignity or grandeur, but possessing everything necessary
for the comfort of country life. The house was a low building of two
stories, built at different periods, and devoid of all pretensions to
any style of architecture; but the rooms, though not lofty, were warm
and comfortable, and the gardens were trim and neat beyond all others
in the county. Indeed, it was for its gardens only that Framley Court
was celebrated.
Village there was none, properly speaking. The high road went winding
about through the Framley paddocks, shrubberies, and wood-skirted home
fields, for a mile and a half, not two hundred yards of which ran in
a straight line; and there was a cross-road which passed down through
the domain, whereby there came to be a locality called Framley Cross.
Here stood the “Lufton Arms,” and here, at Framley Cross, the hounds
occasionally would meet; for the Framley woods were drawn in spite of
the young lord’s truant disposition; and then, at the Cross also, lived
the shoemaker, who kept the post-office.
Framley church was distant from this just a quarter of a mile, and
stood immediately opposite to the chief entrance to Framley Court. It
was but a mean, ugly building, having been erected about a hundred
years since, when all churches then built were made to be mean and
ugly; nor was it large enough for the congregation, some of whom
were thus driven to the dissenting chapels, the Sions and Ebenezers,
which had got themselves established on each side of the parish, in
putting down which Lady Lufton thought that her pet parson was hardly
as energetic as he might be. It was, therefore, a matter near to Lady
Lufton’s heart to see a new church built, and she was urgent in her
eloquence, both with her son and with the vicar, to have this good work
commenced.
Beyond the church, but close to it, were the boys’ school and girls’
school, two distinct buildings, which owed their erection to Lady
Lufton’s energy; then came a neat little grocer’s shop, the neat grocer
being the clerk and sexton, and the neat grocer’s wife, the pew-opener
in the church. Podgens was their name, and they were great favourites
with her ladyship, both having been servants up at the house.
And here the road took a sudden turn to the left, turning, as it were,
away from Framley Court; and just beyond the turn was the vicarage,
so that there was a little garden path running from the back of the
vicarage grounds into the churchyard, cutting the Podgens’s off into
an isolated corner of their own;--from whence, to tell the truth, the
vicar would have been glad to banish them and their cabbages, could he
have had the power to do so. For has not the small vineyard of Naboth
been always an eyesore to neighbouring potentates?
The potentate in this case had as little excuse as Ahab, for nothing
in the parsonage way could be more perfect than his parsonage. It
had all the details requisite for the house of a moderate gentleman
with moderate means, and none of those expensive superfluities which
immoderate gentlemen demand, or which themselves demand--immoderate
means. And then the gardens and paddocks were exactly suited to it;
and everything was in good order;--not exactly new, so as to be raw
and uncovered, and redolent of workmen; but just at that era of their
existence in which newness gives way to comfortable homeliness.
Other village at Framley there was none. At the back of the Court, up
one of those cross-roads, there was another small shop or two, and
there was a very neat cottage residence, in which lived the widow of
a former curate, another _protégé_ of Lady Lufton’s; and there was a
big, staring brick house, in which the present curate lived; but this
was a full mile distant from the church, and farther from Framley
Court, standing on that cross-road which runs from Framley Cross in a
direction away from the mansion. This gentleman, the Rev. Evan Jones,
might, from his age, have been the vicar’s father; but he had been for
many years curate of Framley; and though he was personally disliked by
Lady Lufton, as being low church in his principles, and unsightly in
his appearance, nevertheless, she would not urge his removal. He had
two or three pupils in that large brick house, and if turned out from
these and from his curacy, might find it difficult to establish himself
elsewhere. On this account, mercy was extended to the Rev. E. Jones,
and, in spite of his red face and awkward big feet, he was invited to
dine at Framley Court, with his plain daughter, once in every three
months.
Over and above these, there was hardly a house in the parish of
Framley, outside the bounds of Framley Court, except those of farmers
and farm labourers; and yet the parish was of large extent.
Framley is in the eastern division of the county of Barsetshire, which,
as all the world knows, is, politically speaking, as true blue a county
as any in England. There have been backslidings even here, it is true;
but then, in what county have there not been such backslidings? Where,
in these pinchbeck days, can we hope to find the old agricultural
virtue in all its purity? But, among those backsliders, I regret to
say, that men now reckon Lord Lufton. Not that he is a violent Whig, or
perhaps that he is a Whig at all. But he jeers and sneers at the old
county doings; declares, when solicited on the subject, that, as far
as he is concerned, Mr. Bright may sit for the county, if he pleases;
and alleges, that being unfortunately a peer, he has no right even to
interest himself in the question. All this is deeply regretted, for, in
the old days, there was no portion of the county more decidedly true
blue than that Framley district; and, indeed, up to the present day,
the dowager is able to give an occasional helping hand.
Chaldicotes is the seat of Nathaniel Sowerby, Esq., who, at the moment
supposed to be now present, is one of the members for the Western
Division of Barsetshire. But this Western Division can boast none of
the fine political attributes which grace its twin brother. It is
decidedly Whig, and is almost governed in its politics by one or two
great Whig families.
It has been said that Mark Robarts was about to pay a visit to
Chaldicotes, and it has been hinted that his wife would have been as
well pleased had this not been the case. Such was certainly the fact;
for she, dear, prudent, excellent wife as she was, knew that Mr.
Sowerby was not the most eligible friend in the world for a young
clergyman, and knew, also, that there was but one other house in the
whole county, the name of which was so distasteful to Lady Lufton. The
reasons for this were, I may say, manifold. In the first place, Mr.
Sowerby was a Whig, and was seated in Parliament mainly by the interest
of that great Whig autocrat the Duke of Omnium, whose residence was
more dangerous even than that of Mr. Sowerby, and whom Lady Lufton
regarded as an impersonation of Lucifer upon earth. Mr. Sowerby, too,
was unmarried--as indeed, also, was Lord Lufton, much to his mother’s
grief. Mr. Sowerby, it is true, was fifty, whereas the young lord was
as yet only twenty-six, but, nevertheless, her ladyship was becoming
anxious on the subject. In her mind, every man was bound to marry as
soon as he could maintain a wife; and she held an idea--a quite private
tenet, of which she was herself but imperfectly conscious--that men
in general were inclined to neglect this duty for their own selfish
gratifications, that the wicked ones encouraged the more innocent in
this neglect, and that many would not marry at all, were not an unseen
coercion exercised against them by the other sex. The Duke of Omnium
was the very head of all such sinners, and Lady Lufton greatly feared
that her son might be made subject to the baneful Omnium influence, by
means of Mr. Sowerby and Chaldicotes.
And then Mr. Sowerby was known to be a very poor man, with a very large
estate. He had wasted, men said, much on electioneering, and more in
gambling. A considerable portion of his property had already gone into
the hands of the Duke, who, as a rule, bought up everything around him
that was to be purchased. Indeed it was said of him by his enemies,
that so covetous was he of Barsetshire property, that he would lead a
young neighbour on to his ruin, in order that he might get his land.
What--oh! what if he should come to be possessed in this way of any of
the fair acres of Framley Court? What if he should become possessed of
them all? It can hardly be wondered at that Lady Lufton should not like
Chaldicotes.
The Chaldicotes set, as Lady Lufton called them, were in every way
opposed to what a set should be according to her ideas. She liked
cheerful, quiet, well-to-do people, who loved their Church, their
country, and their Queen, and who were not too anxious to make a noise
in the world. She desired that all the farmers round her should be able
to pay their rents without trouble, that all the old women should have
warm flannel petticoats, that the working men should be saved from
rheumatism by healthy food and dry houses, that they should all be
obedient to their pastors and masters--temporal as well as spiritual.
That was her idea of loving her country. She desired also that the
copses should be full of pheasants, the stubble-field of partridges,
and the gorse covers of foxes;--in that way, also, she loved her
country. She had ardently longed, during that Crimean war, that the
Russians might be beaten--but not by the French, to the exclusion of
the English, as had seemed to her to be too much the case; and hardly
by the English under the dictatorship of Lord Palmerston. Indeed,
she had had but little faith in that war after Lord Aberdeen had been
expelled. If, indeed, Lord Derby could have come in!
But now as to this Chaldicotes set. After all, there was nothing
so very dangerous about them; for it was in London, not in the
country, that Mr. Sowerby indulged, if he did indulge, his bachelor
mal-practices. Speaking of them as a set, the chief offender was Mr.
Harold Smith, or perhaps his wife. He also was a member of Parliament,
and, as many thought, a rising man. His father had been for many years
a debater in the House, and had held high office. Harold, in early
life, had intended himself for the cabinet; and if working hard at his
trade could ensure success, he ought to obtain it sooner or later.
He had already filled more than one subordinate station, had been at
the Treasury, and for a month or two at the Admiralty, astonishing
official mankind by his diligence. Those last-named few months had
been under Lord Aberdeen, with whom he had been forced to retire. He
was a younger son, and not possessed of any large fortune. Politics
as a profession was therefore of importance to him. He had in early
life married a sister of Mr. Sowerby; and as the lady was some six or
seven years older than himself, and had brought with her but a scanty
dowry, people thought that in this matter Mr. Harold Smith had not
been perspicacious. Mr. Harold Smith was not personally a popular man
with any party, though some judged him to be eminently useful. He
was laborious, well-informed, and, on the whole, honest; but he was
conceited, long-winded, and pompous.
Mrs. Harold Smith was the very opposite of her lord. She was a clever,
bright woman, good-looking for her time of life--and she was now over
forty--with a keen sense of the value of all worldly things, and a
keen relish for all the world’s pleasures. She was neither laborious,
nor well-informed, nor perhaps altogether honest--what woman ever
understood the necessity or recognized the advantage of political
honesty? but then she was neither dull nor pompous, and if she was
conceited, she did not show it. She was a disappointed woman, as
regards her husband; seeing that she had married him on the speculation
that he would at once become politically important; and as yet Mr.
Smith had not quite fulfilled the prophecies of his early life.
And Lady Lufton, when she spoke of the Chaldicotes set, distinctly
included, in her own mind, the Bishop of Barchester, and his wife
and daughter. Seeing that Bishop Proudie was, of course, a man much
addicted to religion and to religious thinking, and that Mr. Sowerby
himself had no peculiar religious sentiments whatever, there would not
at first sight appear to be ground for much intercourse, and perhaps
there was not much of such intercourse; but Mrs. Proudie and Mrs.
Harold Smith were firm friends of four or five years’ standing--ever
since the Proudies came into the diocese; and therefore the bishop
was usually taken to Chaldicotes whenever Mrs. Smith paid her brother
a visit. Now Bishop Proudie was by no means a High Church dignitary,
and Lady Lufton had never forgiven him for coming into that diocese.
She had, instinctively, a high respect for the episcopal office;
but of Bishop Proudie himself she hardly thought better than she did
of Mr. Sowerby, or of that fabricator of evil, the Duke of Omnium.
Whenever Mr. Robarts would plead that in going anywhere he would have
the benefit of meeting the bishop, Lady Lufton would slightly curl her
upper lip. She could not say in words, that Bishop Proudie--bishop as
he certainly must be called--was no better than he ought to be; but by
that curl of her lip she did explain to those who knew her that such
was the inner feeling of her heart.
And then it was understood--Mark Robarts, at least, had so heard,
and the information soon reached Framley Court--that Mr. Supplehouse
was to make one of the Chaldicotes party. Now Mr. Supplehouse was a
worse companion for a gentlemanlike, young, High Church, conservative
county parson than even Harold Smith. He also was in Parliament, and
had been extolled during the early days of that Russian war by some
portion of the metropolitan daily press, as the only man who could save
the country. Let him be in the ministry, the _Jupiter_ had said, and
there would be some hope of reform, some chance that England’s ancient
glory would not be allowed in these perilous times to go headlong to
oblivion. And upon this the ministry, not anticipating much salvation
from Mr. Supplehouse, but willing, as they usually are, to have the
_Jupiter_ at their back, did send for that gentleman, and gave him
some footing among them. But how can a man born to save a nation, and
to lead a people, be content to fill the chair of an under-secretary?
Supplehouse was not content, and soon gave it to be understood that
his place was much higher than any yet tendered to him. The seals of
high office, or war to the knife, was the alternative which he offered
to a much-belaboured Head of Affairs--nothing doubting that the Head
of Affairs would recognize the claimant’s value, and would have before
his eyes a wholesome fear of the _Jupiter_. But the Head of Affairs,
much belaboured as he was, knew that he might pay too high even for Mr.
Supplehouse and the _Jupiter_; and the saviour of the nation was told
that he might swing his tomahawk. Since that time he had been swinging
his tomahawk, but not with so much effect as had been anticipated. He
also was very intimate with Mr. Sowerby, and was decidedly one of the
Chaldicotes set.
And there were many others included in the stigma whose sins were
political or religious rather than moral. But they were gall and
wormwood to Lady Lufton, who regarded them as children of the Lost
One, and who grieved with a mother’s grief when she knew that her son
was among them, and felt all a patron’s anger when she heard that her
clerical _protégé_ was about to seek such society. Mrs. Robarts might
well say that Lady Lufton would be annoyed.
“You won’t call at the house before you go, will you?” the wife asked
on the following morning. He was to start after lunch on that day,
driving himself in his own gig, so as to reach Chaldicotes, some
twenty-four miles distant, before dinner.
“No, I think not. What good should I do?”
“Well, I can’t explain; but I think I should call: partly, perhaps, to
show her that as I had determined to go, I was not afraid of telling
her so.”
“Afraid! That’s nonsense, Fanny. I’m not afraid of her. But I don’t see
why I should bring down upon myself the disagreeable things she will
say. Besides, I have not time. I must walk up and see Jones about the
duties; and then, what with getting ready, I shall have enough to do to
get off in time.”
He paid his visit to Mr. Jones, the curate, feeling no qualms of
conscience there, as he rather boasted of all the members of Parliament
he was going to meet, and of the bishop who would be with them. Mr.
Evan Jones was only his curate, and in speaking to him on the matter he
could talk as though it were quite the proper thing for a vicar to meet
his bishop at the house of a county member. And one would be inclined
to say that it was proper: only why could he not talk of it in the same
tone to Lady Lufton? And then, having kissed his wife and children, he
drove off, well pleased with his prospect for the coming ten days, but
already anticipating some discomfort on his return.
On the three following days, Mrs. Robarts did not meet her ladyship.
She did not exactly take any steps to avoid such a meeting, but she did
not purposely go up to the big house. She went to her school as usual,
and made one or two calls among the farmers’ wives, but put no foot
within the Framley Court grounds. She was braver than her husband, but
even she did not wish to anticipate the evil day.
On the Saturday, just before it began to get dusk, when she was
thinking of preparing for the fatal plunge, her friend, Lady Meredith,
came to her.
“So, Fanny, we shall again be so unfortunate as to miss Mr. Robarts,”
said her ladyship.
“Yes. Did you ever know anything so unlucky? But he had promised Mr.
Sowerby before he heard that you were coming. Pray do not think that he
would have gone away had he known it.”
“We should have been sorry to keep him from so much more amusing a
party.”
“Now, Justinia, you are unfair. You intend to imply that he has gone to
Chaldicotes, because he likes it better than Framley Court; but that is
not the case. I hope Lady Lufton does not think that it is.”
Lady Meredith laughed as she put her arm round her friend’s waist.
“Don’t lose your eloquence in defending him to me,” she said. “You’ll
want all that for my mother.”
“But is your mother angry?” asked Mrs. Robarts, showing by her
countenance, how eager she was for true tidings on the subject.
“Well, Fanny, you know her ladyship as well as I do. She thinks so very
highly of the vicar of Framley, that she does begrudge him to those
politicians at Chaldicotes.”
“But, Justinia, the bishop is to be there, you know.”
“I don’t think that that consideration will at all reconcile my mother
to the gentleman’s absence. He ought to be very proud, I know, to find
that he is so much thought of. But come, Fanny, I want you to walk back
with me, and you can dress at the house. And now we’ll go and look at
the children.”
After that, as they walked together to Framley Court, Mrs. Robarts made
her friend promise that she would stand by her if any serious attack
were made on the absent clergyman.
“Are you going up to your room at once?” said the vicar’s wife, as soon
as they were inside the porch leading into the hall. Lady Meredith
immediately knew what her friend meant, and decided that the evil day
should not be postponed. “We had better go in, and have it over,”
she said, “and then we shall be comfortable for the evening.” So the
drawing-room door was opened, and there was Lady Lufton alone upon the
sofa.
“Now, mamma,” said the daughter, “you mustn’t scold Fanny much about
Mr. Robarts. He has gone to preach a charity sermon before the bishop,
and under those circumstances, perhaps, he could not refuse.” This was
a stretch on the part of Lady Meredith--put in with much good nature,
no doubt; but still a stretch; for no one had supposed that the bishop
would remain at Chaldicotes for the Sunday.
“How do you do, Fanny?” said Lady Lufton, getting up. “I am not
going to scold her; and I don’t know how you can talk such nonsense,
Justinia. Of course, we are very sorry not to have Mr. Robarts; more
especially as he was not here the last Sunday that Sir George was with
us. I do like to see Mr. Robarts in his own church, certainly; and I
don’t like any other clergyman there as well. If Fanny takes that for
scolding, why----”
“Oh! no, Lady Lufton; and it’s so kind of you to say so. But Mr.
Robarts was so sorry that he had accepted this invitation to
Chaldicotes, before he heard that Sir George was coming, and----”
“Oh, I know that Chaldicotes has great attractions which we cannot
offer,” said Lady Lufton.
“Indeed, it was not that. But he was asked to preach, you know; and Mr.
Harold Smith----” Poor Fanny was only making it worse. Had she been
worldly wise, she would have accepted the little compliment implied in
Lady Lufton’s first rebuke, and then have held her peace.
“Oh, yes; the Harold Smiths! They are irresistible, I know. How could
any man refuse to join a party, graced both by Mrs. Harold Smith and
Mrs. Proudie--even though his duty should require him to stay away?”
“Now, mamma--” said Justinia.
“Well, my dear, what am I to say? You would not wish me to tell a
fib. I don’t like Mrs. Harold Smith--at least, what I hear of her;
for it has not been my fortune to meet her since her marriage. It may
be conceited; but to own the truth, I think that Mr. Robarts would
be better off with us at Framley than with the Harold Smiths at
Chaldicotes,--even though Mrs. Proudie be thrown into the bargain.”
It was nearly dark, and therefore the rising colour in the face of Mrs.
Robarts could not be seen. She, however, was too good a wife to hear
these things said without some anger within her bosom. She could blame
her husband in her own mind; but it was intolerable to her that others
should blame him in her hearing.
“He would undoubtedly be better off,” she said; “but then, Lady Lufton,
people can’t always go exactly where they will be best off. Gentlemen
sometimes must----”
“Well--well, my dear, that will do. He has not taken you, at any
rate; and so we will forgive him.” And Lady Lufton kissed her. “As it
is,”--and she affected a low whisper between the two young wives--“as
it is, we must e’en put up with poor old Evan Jones. He is to be here
to-night, and we must go and dress to receive him.”
And so they went off. Lady Lufton was quite good enough at heart to
like Mrs. Robarts all the better for standing up for her absent lord.