The American Senator quotes

I never could understand why anybody should ever have begun to live at Dillsborough, or why the population there should have been at any time recruited by newcomers.

That a man with a family should cling to a house in which he has once established himself is intelligible.

Mr. Surtees, the curate, lived in lodgings in the town. He was a painstaking, eager, clever young man, with aspirations in church matters, which were always being checked by his rector.

Quieta non movere was the motto by which the rector governed his life, and he certainly was not at all the man to allow his curate to drive him into activity.

Such, at the time of our story, was the little town of Dillsborough.

“Fiddlesticks! Gentry!

Gentry are very well as long as you can make a living out of them.

You could afford to stick up for gentry till you lost the Bragton property.” This was a subject that was always sore between Mr. Masters and his wife. The former Mrs. Masters had been a lady—the daughter of a neighbouring clergyman;

People who used to know the first Mrs. Masters, such as Mrs. Mainwaring, and the doctor’s wife, and old Mrs. Cooper, the wife of the vicar of Mallingham, would not call on the second Mrs. Masters.

As Mrs. Masters was too high-spirited to run after people who did not want her, she took to hating gentry instead.

“We have always been on the other side,” said the old attorney—“I and my father and grandfather before me.”

“I don’t think she ever did anything naughty in those days. I don’t know whether she has changed for the worse since.”

“Mary is never naughty now,” said Dolly. “Kate and I are naughty, and it’s very much better fun than being good.”

“The world has found out that long ago, Miss Dolly; only the world is not quite so candid in owning it as you are. Will you come and walk round the house, Miss Masters?

“Half-a-dozen hounds couldn’t hunt a fox, Mr. Gotobed.”

“I guess half-a-dozen would do just as well, only for the show. What strikes me, Mr. Morton, on visiting this old country is that so much is done for show.”

“What do you say to New York, Mr. Gotobed?”

“

Everybody from whom work is expected should be paid. Then the work will be done, or those who pay will know the reason why.

”

Kate, who didn’t quite like being called “my dear,” but who knew that a lord has privileges, said that it was a very good pony. “Suppose we change,” said his lordship. “Could you ride my horse?” “He’s very big,” said Kate.

“You’d look like a tomtit on a haystack,” said his lordship. “And if you got on my pony, you’d look like a haystack on a tomtit,” said Kate.

Then it was felt that Kate Masters had had the best of that little encounter. “Yes;—I got one there,” said Lord Rufford, while his friends were laughing at him.

It had all been planned by Morton and acceded to by his grandmother. Mr. Gotobed throughout the dinner had the best of the conversation, though Lady Augustus had power enough to snub him on more than one occasion.

“Suppose we were to allow at once,” she said, “that everything is better in the United States than anywhere else, shouldn’t we get along easier?”

“I don’t know that getting along easy is what we have particularly got in view,” said Mr. Gotobed, who was certainly in quest of information.

Morton tried to make himself agreeable to his left-hand neighbour—trying also very hard to make himself believe that he was happy in his immediate position.

How often in the various amusements of the world is one tempted to pause a moment and ask oneself whether one really likes it!

He was conscious that he was working hard, struggling to be happy, painfully anxious to be sure that he was enjoying the luxury of being in love. But he was not at all contented. There she was, and very beautiful she looked;

“And when we’re all in the poorhouse what’ll you do then?” said Mrs. Masters—with her handkerchief out at the spur of the moment.

Whenever she roused her husband to a state of bellicose ire by her taunts she could always reduce him again by her tears.

Being well aware of this he would bear the taunts as long as he could, knowing that the tears would be still worse.

“My dear Mrs. Morton, really you may leave me to take care of myself and of my daughter too. You have lived so much out of the world for the last thirty years that it is quite amusing.”

“There are some persons’ worlds that it is a great deal better for a lady to be out of,” said Mrs. Morton.

Then Lady Augustus put up her hands, and turned round, and affected to laugh, of all which things Mr. Gotobed, who was studying English society, made notes in his own mind.

The Senator declared himself flattered by being regarded as a foreigner only “in a certain degree.” “You see you speak our language, Mr. Gotobed, and we can’t help thinking you are half-English.”

“We are two-thirds English, my lady,” said Mr. Gotobed; “but then we think the other third is an improvement.”

“We have nothing so nice as this;” as he spoke he waved his right hand to the different corners of the room.

“Make up for a great many faults,” said the Major.

“Of course, sir, when a man’s stomach rises above his intelligence he’ll have to argue accordingly,” said the Senator.

“Caneback, what are you going to ride tomorrow?” asked the lord who saw the necessity of changing the conversation, as far at least as the Major was concerned.

I heard the horse’s feet against his head.” Lord Rufford shuddered and put his hand round her waist to support her. At that time they were standing on the ground. “Don’t mind me if you can do any good to him.”

But there was nothing that Lord Rufford could do as four men were carrying the Major on a shutter.

So he and Arabella returned together, and when she got off her horse she was only able to throw herself into his arms.

But nevertheless it is a bore when a gentleman dies in your house—and a worse bore if he dies from an accident than from an illness for which his own body may be supposed to be responsible.

Though the gout should fly to a man’s stomach in your best bedroom, the idea never strikes you that your burgundy has done it!

But here the mare had done the mischief.

But he had loved no one particularly, had been dear to no one in these latter days of his life, had been of very little use in the world, and had done very little more for society than any other horse-trainer!

But nevertheless it is a bore when a gentleman dies in your house⁠—and a worse bore if he dies from an accident than from an illness for which his own body may be supposed to be responsible.

Though the gout should fly to a man’s stomach in your best bedroom, the idea never strikes you that your burgundy has done it! But here the mare had done the mischief.

“Is that to be all off? I insist upon having an answer to that question.”

“I believe you fancy, mamma, that a lot of men can be played like a parcel of chessmen, and that as soon as a knight is knocked on the head you can take him up and put him into the box and have done with him.”

“You haven’t done with Mr. Morton then?”

“Of course it’s all very nice. What’s the good of going on in that way? What a shame it is that a man like that should have so much and that a girl like me should have nothing at all.

I know twice as much as he does, and am twice as clever, and yet I’ve got to treat him as though he were a god.

He’s all very well, but what would anybody think of him if he were a younger brother with £300 a year.” This was a kind of philosophy which Lady Augustus hated. She threw herself back therefore in the phaeton and pretended to go to sleep.

“She may be clever,” said Lady Penwether, “but I do not think I should ever like her.”

“She is one of those girls whom only gentlemen like,” said Miss Penge.

“And whom they don’t like very long,” said Lady Penwether.

“Or to me,” said Miss Godolphin.

“I look on both of you and Eleanor as all one on the present occasion. I am considered to be falling over a precipice, and she has got hold of my coat tails. Of course you wouldn’t be Christians if you didn’t both of you seize a foot.”

“Looking at it in that light I certainly wish to be understood as holding on very fast,” said Miss Penge.

Her father said no further word to her, and her stepmother had been implored to be equally reticent. “I shan’t speak another word,” said Mrs. Masters; “her fortune is in her own hands and if she don’t choose to take it I’ve done with her.

One man may lead a horse to water but a hundred can’t make him drink.

It’s just the same with an obstinate pigheaded young woman.”

“Don’t you think you’d be less liable to cold with that window closed?” the old lady said to Mary. “Cosed—cosed—cosed,” said the bird, and Morton was of course constrained to shut the window. “He is a wonderful bird,” said the old lady.

“Wonderful bird;⁠—wonderful bird;⁠—wonderful bird,” said the parrot, who was quite at home with this expression.

“We shall be able to get some lunch at Hinxton,” said Reginald. “Inxton,” screamed the bird—“Caw—caw—caw.” “He’s worth a deal of money,” said the old lady.

Then the Paragon was shown into the room and Mounser Green and the young men were delighted to see him.

Colonial governors at their seats of government, and Ministers Plenipotentiary in their ambassadorial residences are very great persons indeed; and when met in society at home, with the stars and ribbons which are common among them now, they are less indeed, but still something.

But at the colonial and foreign offices in London, among the assistant secretaries and clerks, they are hardly more than common men. All the gingerbread is gone there.

But at the colonial and foreign offices in London, among the assistant secretaries and clerks, they are hardly more than common men. All the gingerbread is gone there.

His Excellency is no more than Jones, and the Representative or Alter Ego of Royalty mildly asks little favours of the junior clerks.

“Lord Drummond only wants to know what you wish and it shall be done,” said Mounser Green. Lord Drummond was the Minister for Foreign Affairs of the day. “I hope I need hardly say that we were delighted that you accepted the offer.”

“That’s very flattering, Mr. Gotobed, but I’m sure I don’t know why.”

“Because Lord Drummond always seems to me to have more on hand than he knows how to get through, and you never seem to have anything to do.”

“That’s not quite so flattering—and would be killing, only that I feel that your opinion is founded on error. Mens conscia recti, Mr. Gotobed.”

P.S. Mind you write—about Jack; and address to Lady Smijth—Greenacres Manor—Hastings.

There was a great deal in this letter which was not true. But then such ladies as Miss Trefoil can never afford to tell the truth.

The letter was not written from Murray’s Hotel, Lady Augustus having insisted on staying at certain lodgings in Orchard Street because her funds were low. But on previous occasions they had stayed at Murray’s.

Not that they were made halcyon to her by any of the joys of love.

In giving the girl her due it must be owned that she rarely allowed herself to indulge in simple pleasures.

If Lord Rufford, with the same rank and property, had been personally disagreeable to her it would have been the same.

Morton would not do anything further in the matter, neither would he. He was almost too mild a man to be a successful lawyer, and had a dislike to asking for money. Mr. Morton had promised to see him, but Mr. Morton had probably—forgotten it.

Some gentlemen seem apt to forget such promises.

Mr. Masters was somewhat surprised therefore when he was told one morning in his office that Mr. Morton from Bragton wished to see him. He thought that it must be Reginald Morton, having not heard that the Squire had returned to the country.

“I couldn’t speak out free to her—not if it was to save the whole place,” said the unfortunate lover. But Morton still continued his advice. As to leaving Chowton because a young lady refused him, that would be unmanly—

“There isn’t a bit of a man left about me,” said Larry weeping.

Morton nevertheless went on. Time would cure these wounds; but no time would give him back Chowton should he once part with it.

“And do you think I am dangerous?”

“You’re a sort of a five-barred gate,” said Arabella laughing. “Of course there is a little danger, but who is going to be stopped by that?”

He could make no reply to this because the Duchess called him away to give some account to Lady Chiltern about Goarly and the U.R.U., Lady Chiltern’s husband being a master of hounds and a great authority on all matters relating to hunting.

He had done so as a foreigner—loudly proclaiming as his reason for such action that the man he supported would be unfairly treated unless he gave his assistance. Of course he could not expect sympathy.

“I want no sympathy,” said the Senator;⁠—“I only want justice.”

Then the two gentlemen had become a little angry with each other. Morton was the last man in the world to have been aggressive on such a matter;—but with the Senator it was necessary either to be prostrate or to fight.

Mr. Bearside hinted in a very cavalier way that £20 might be thought of. A further payment of £20 would cover the money he was out of pocket. But this proposition Mr. Gotobed indignantly refused, and then left the office with his friend.

“Wherever there are lawyers there will be rogues,” said the Senator, as soon as he found himself in the street.

“It is a noble profession, that of the law; the finest perhaps that the work of the world affords; but it gives scope and temptation for roguery. I do not think, however, that you would find anything in America so bad as that.”

“Very good indeed,” said the Senator. “In the States we haven’t got into the way yet of using dinner clarets.”

It was as good as a play to see the rector wince under the ignominious word.

“Your great statesman added much to your national comfort when he took the duty off the lighter kinds of French wines.”

“It is a very good way.”

“Any way is a good way that answers the purpose. He has proposed, and I mean to make him stick to it.”

“Mamma, you are so silly! Do you not know what such a man is well enough to be sure that he’ll change his mind half-a-dozen times if he can? I don’t mean to let him; and now, after that, I won’t say another word.”

He breakfasted that morning at the inn at Stamford, and as he smoked his cigar afterwards, he positively resolved that he would under no circumstances marry Arabella Trefoil.

He was being hunted and run down, and, with the instinct of all animals that are hunted, he prepared himself for escape.

It might be said, no doubt would be said, that he behaved badly. That would be said because it would not be open to him to tell the truth.

“A little prudence I should say.”

“You might as well tell a fellow that it is his duty to be six feet high.”

“But what have you said to the young lady—or what has she said to you?”

I am a rich man with a title, and a big house, and a great command of luxuries. There are so many young ladies who would also like to be rich, and to have a title, and a big house, and a command of luxuries!

One sometimes feels oneself like a carcase in the midst of vultures.

”

But there arose to him the question whether all this had not arrived too late!

Of what good is it to open up the true delights of life to a man when you have so scotched and wounded him that he has no capability left of enjoying anything?

As he sat lonely with his pipe in his mouth he thought for a while that he would decline the invitation.

And what was there that she loved? She tried to ask herself some question even as to that. There certainly was no man for whom she cared a straw; nor had there been for the last six or eight years.

Even when he was kissing her she was thinking of her built-up hair, of her pearl powder, her paint, and of possible accidents and untoward revelations.

The loan of her lips had been for use only, and not for any pleasure which she had even in pleasing him. In her very swoon she had felt the need of being careful at all points.

The loan of her lips had been for use only, and not for any pleasure which she had even in pleasing him. In her very swoon she had felt the need of being careful at all points.

It was all labour, and all care⁠—and, alas, alas, all disappointment!

But there was a future through which she must live. How might she best avoid the misfortune of poverty for the twenty, thirty, or forty years which might be accorded to her? What did it matter whom or what she hated?

Various plans were fermenting in her brain; all, or any of which, if carried out at all, must be carried out at the same time and at once. There must be no delay, or that final chance of Patagonia would be gone.

The leader of a forlorn hope, though he be ever so resolved to die in the breach, still makes some preparation for his escape.

Among her plans the first in order was a resolution to see Lord Mistletoe whom she knew to be in town. Parliament was to meet in the course of the next week and he was to move the address.

If her cousin Mistletoe would not stir in her behalf what chance had she with her uncle? And, though she had thoroughly despised her cousin, she had understood and had unconsciously believed much that he had said to her.

“In these days one can’t make a man marry!”

What horrid days they were! But John Morton would marry her tomorrow if he were well—in spite of all her ill usage! Of course he would die and so she would again be overwhelmed;—but yet she would go and see him.

“It was extremely personal—all that you said about the purchase of livings,” said Morton. “How was I to know that?” rejoined the Senator.

“When in private society I inveigh against pickpockets I cannot imagine, sir, that there should be a pickpocket in the company.”

As the Senator said this he was grieving in his heart at the trouble he had occasioned, and was almost repenting the duties he had imposed on himself; but, yet, his voice was bellicose and antagonistic.

… of Legation at his capital had arisen from a mutual understanding between them that each was to be allowed to see the faults and to admire the virtues of their two countries, and that conversation between them was to be based on the mutual system.

But nobody can, in truth, endure to be told of shortcomings⁠—either on his own part or on that of his country.

He himself can abuse himself, or his country; but he cannot endure it from alien lips. Mr.

“What is to be got by it?” asked the unfortunate mother. In reply to this Arabella would say,

“Mamma, you have no heart;⁠—absolutely none. You ought to manoeuvre better than you do, for your feelings never stand in your way for a moment.”

All this had to be borne, and the old woman was forced at last not only to yield but to promise that she would accompany her daughter to Bragton. “I know how all this will end,” she said to Arabella.

“I’m sure I ought to be proud.”

“I don’t know the meaning of but, my Lord. I want to know what you mean to do.”

“Marriage isn’t in my line at all.”

“I don’t know the meaning of but, my Lord. I want to know what you mean to do.”

“Marriage isn’t in my line at all.”

“Then what the d⸺ business have you to go about and talk to a girl like that? Marriage not in your line! Who cares for your line? I never heard such impudence in all my life.

“Then what the d⸺ business have you to go about and talk to a girl like that? Marriage not in your line!

Who cares for your line?

I never heard such impudence in all my life. You get yourself engaged to a young lady of high rank and position and then you say that—marriage isn’t in your line.” Upon that he opened his eyes still wider, and glared upon the offender wrathfully.

“It is all your own—to do as you like with.”

“It is all my own, but not to do as I like with. With your feelings, with your ideas, how can you urge me to such an injustice?”

“Do I want it for myself? I do not even want it for anyone belonging to me. There is your cousin Peter.”

He had said that “thoroughly bad girl” was strong language, and when the Duchess defended the phrase he had expressed his opinion that Arabella was only a bad girl and not a thoroughly bad girl. The Duchess had said that it was the same thing.

“Then,” said the Duke, “why use a redundant expletive against your own relative?”

The Duchess, when she was accused of strong language, had not minded it much; but her feelings were hurt when a redundant expletive was attributed to her.

“You will do no such thing. Arabella, do not make a fool of yourself. Do you know what £8,000 will do for you? It is to be your own—absolutely beyond my reach or your father’s.”

“I would sooner go into the Thames off Waterloo Bridge than touch a farthing of his money,”

said Arabella with a spirit which the other woman did not at all understand. Hitherto in all these little dirty ways they had run with equal steps. The pretences, the subterfuges, the lies of the one had always been open to the other.

She was the niece of a Duke, and certainly a very clever woman. He had not wanted money and why shouldn’t he have married her? As for hunting him—that was a matter of course.

He was as much born and bred to be hunted as a fox.

He could not do it now as he had put too much power into the hands of the Penwethers, but he almost wished that he had. “I never intended it,” he said.

The idea of having the two extra fields made Larry’s mouth water, in spite of all his misfortunes.

The desire for land among such as Larry Twentyman is almost a disease in England.

With these two fields he would be able to walk almost round Dillsborough Wood without quitting his own property. He had been talking of selling Chowton within the last week or two. He had been thinking of selling it at the moment when Mr.

She had sworn that she would never be opposed to his little pleasures; but he knew what such oaths were worth.

Marriage altogether was a bore; but having a name and a large fortune, it was incumbent on him to transmit them to an immediate descendant.

And perhaps it was a worse bore to grow old without having specially bound any other human being to his interests. “How well I recollect that spot,” said Miss Penge. “It was there that Major Caneback took the fence.”

“She is the pluckiest girl I ever came across in my life,” said Lord Rufford. He knew very well what they were at, and was already almost inclined to think that they might as well be allowed to have their way.

Miss Penge was ladylike, quiet, and good, and was like a cool salad in a man’s mouth after spiced meat.

And the money would enable him to buy the Purefoy property which would probably be soon in the market. But he felt that he might as well give them a little trouble before he allowed himself to be hooked.

“I never thought you did very much. There was something I suppose in her riding, something in her audacity, something perhaps in her vivacity;—but through it all I did not think that you were enjoying yourself.

You may be sure of this, Lord Rufford, that when a woman is not specially liked by any other woman, she ought not to be specially liked by any man.

I have never heard that Miss Trefoil had a female friend.”

She will grace his table, nurse his children, and never for a moment give him cause to be ashamed of her. He will think that he loves her, and after a lapse of ten or fifteen years will probably really be fond of her.

From the moment that she is Lady Rufford, she will love him⁠—as she loves everything that is her own.

In spite of all his antecedents no one doubted his faith in this engagement;—no one wished to hurry him very much.

Then he preached her a sermon, expressing a hope as he went on, that as she was leaving the pleasures of life behind her, she would learn to like the work of life. “

I have found the pleasures very hard,

” she said. He spoke to her of the companion he hoped to find, of the possible children who might be dependent on their mother, of the position which she would hold, and of the manner in which she should fill it.

In this spirit we Americans and Englishmen go on writing books about each other, sometimes with bitterness enough, but generally with good final results. But in the meantime there has sprung up a jealousy which makes each inclined to hate the other at first sight.

Hate is difficult and expensive, and between individuals soon gives place to love.

“I cannot bear Americans as a rule, though I have been very lucky myself with a few friends.” Who in England has not heard that form of speech, over and over again?

When an intelligent Japanese travels in Great Britain or an intelligent Briton in Japan, he is struck with no wonder at national differences. He is on the other hand rather startled to find how like his strange brother is to him in many things.

Crime is persecuted, wickedness is condoned, and goodness treated with indifference in both countries.

Men care more for what they eat than anything else, and combine a closely defined idea of meum with a lax perception as to tuum.