Test Bank for Starting Out with Python (4th

Edition) 4th Edition download

https://testbankmall.com/product/test-bank-for-starting-out-with-
python-4th-edition-4th-edition/

Find test banks or solution manuals at testbankmall.com today!

We have selected some products that you may be interested in
Click the link to download now or visit testbankmall.com
for more options!.

Starting Out with Python 4th Edition Gaddis Test Bank

https://testbankmall.com/product/starting-out-with-python-4th-edition-
gaddis-test-bank/

Test Bank for Starting Out with Python (4th Edition) 4th
Edition

https://testbankmall.com/product/test-bank-for-starting-out-with-
python-4th-edition-4th-edition/

Test Bank for Starting out with Python, 5th Edition, Tony
Gaddis

https://testbankmall.com/product/test-bank-for-starting-out-with-
python-5th-edition-tony-gaddis/

Test Bank for Special Events: Creating and Sustaining a

New World for Celebration, 7th Edition by Goldblatt

https://testbankmall.com/product/test-bank-for-special-events-
creating-and-sustaining-a-new-world-for-celebration-7th-edition-by-
goldblatt/
Test Bank for How Children Develop Fourth Edition

https://testbankmall.com/product/test-bank-for-how-children-develop-
fourth-edition/

Test Bank for Criminological Theory A Text/Reader, 3rd

Edition, Stephen G. Tibbetts, Craig Hemmens,

https://testbankmall.com/product/test-bank-for-criminological-theory-
a-text-reader-3rd-edition-stephen-g-tibbetts-craig-hemmens/

Test Bank for 3-2-1 Code It!, 2020, 8th Edition, Michelle
Green

https://testbankmall.com/product/test-bank-for-3-2-1-code-it-2020-8th-
edition-michelle-green/

Microeconomics Perloff 7th Edition Solutions Manual

https://testbankmall.com/product/microeconomics-perloff-7th-edition-
solutions-manual/

Test Bank for Introduction to Business Law, 4th Edition:

Beatty

https://testbankmall.com/product/test-bank-for-introduction-to-
business-law-4th-edition-beatty/
Solution Manual for CFIN 3 3rd Edition by Besley

https://testbankmall.com/product/solution-manual-for-cfin-3-3rd-
edition-by-besley/
 ANS: F

10. IDLE is an alternative method to using a text editor to write, execute, and test a Python program.

ANS: T

MULTIPLE CHOICE

1. Programs are commonly referred to as

a. system software
b. software
c. application software
d. utility programs
ANS: B

2. Which of the following is considered to be the world's first programmable electronic computer?
a. IBM
b. Dell
c. ENIAC
d. Gateway
ANS: C

3. Where does a computer store a program and the data that the program is working with while the
program is running?
a. in main memory
b. in the CPU
c. in secondary storage
d. in the microprocessor
ANS: A

4. What type of volatile memory is usually used only for temporary storage while running a program?
a. ROM
b. TMM
c. RAM
d. TVM
ANS: C

5. Which of the following is not a microprocessor manufacturing company?

a. Intel
b. Dell
c. AMD
d. Motorola
ANS: B

6. Which computer language uses short words known as mnemonics for writing programs?
a. Assembly
 b. Java
c. Pascal
d. Visual Basic
ANS: A

7. The process known as the __________ cycle is used by the CPU to execute instructions in a program.
a. decode-fetch-execute
b. decode-execute-fetch
c. fetch-decode-execute
d. fetch-execute-decode
ANS: C

8. Which language is referred to as a low-level language?

a. C++
b. Assembly language
c. Java
d. Python
ANS: B

9. The following is an example of an instruction written in which computer language?

10110000
a. Assembly language
b. Java
c. machine language
d. C#
ANS: C

10. The encoding technique used to store negative numbers in the computer's memory is called
a. Unicode
b. ASCII
c. floating-point notation
d. two's complement
ANS: D

11. The __________ coding scheme contains a set of 128 numeric codes that are used to represent
characters in the computer's memory.
a. Unicode
b. ASCII
c. ENIAC
d. two's complement
ANS: B

12. The smallest storage location in a computer's memory is known as a

a. byte
b. ketter
c. switch
 d. bit
ANS: D

13. What is the largest value that can be stored in one byte?
a. 255
b. 128
c. 8
d. 65535
ANS: A

14. The disk drive is a secondary storage device that stores data by __________ encoding it onto a
spinning circular disk.
a. electrically
b. magnetically
c. digitally
d. optically
ANS: B

15. A __________ has no moving parts and operates faster than a traditional disk drive.
a. DVD drive
b. solid state drive
c. jumper drive
d. hyper drive
ANS: B

16. Which of the following is not a major component of a typical computer system?
a. the CPU
b. main memory
c. the operating system
d. secondary storage devices
ANS: C

17. Which type of error prevents the program from running?

a. syntax
b. human
c. grammatical
d. logical
ANS: A

18. What is the decimal value of the following binary number?

10011101
a. 157
b. 8
c. 156
d. 28
ANS: C
MULTIPLE RESPONSE

1. Select all that apply. To create a Python program you can use
a. a text editor
b. a word processor if you save your file as a .docx
c. IDLE
d. Excel
ANS: A, C

COMPLETION

1. A(n) ___________ is a set of instructions that a computer follows to perform a task.

ANS: program

2. The term ___________ refers to all the physical devices that make up a computer.

ANS: hardware

3. The __________ is the part of the computer that actually runs programs and is the most important
component in a computer.

ANS: central processing unit, CPU

4. A disk drive stores data by __________ encoding it onto a circular disk.

ANS: magnetically

5. __________ are small central processing unit chips.

ANS: Microprocessors

6. __________ is a type of memory that can hold data for long periods of time, even when there is no
power to the computer.

ANS: Secondary storage

7. Main memory is commonly known as __________.

ANS: random-access memory, RAM

8. USB drives store data using __________ memory.

ANS: flash

9. The Python __________ is a program that can read Python programming statements and execute them.

ANS: interpreter
10. In __________ mode, the interpreter reads the contents of a file that contains Python statements and
executes each statement.

ANS: script
Random documents with unrelated
content Scribd suggests to you:
time, too, is nearly the date at which an ordeal of the same kind was gone
through by Reginald Russell in Paris.
Phineas Finn’s Irish exile was short. He had recently lost his wife in
Dublin, when a letter from his old friend, Lady Laura Standish’s cousin,
Barrington Erle, told him of just the thing to suit him in the shape of a
parliamentary investment for a little legacy into which he had come. This
was the vacant seat in Lord Brentford’s borough of Tankerville. To London
therefore he hurries. In the solitude of his Jermyn Street Hotel he is
surprised and gladdened by a letter from the former Violet Effingham, now
Lady Chiltern, conveying a particularly cordial invitation to their country
house, Harrington Hall. So he feels himself really on the way back to the
old life formerly so much enjoyed and, as it seemed, but a few months since
withdrawn from him for ever. But his welcome is not absolutely unanimous.
Among those who, as a personal offence to themselves, resent his
reappearance after having made up their minds that he was finally out of
their way, Finn’s most malevolent ill-wisher is Mr. Bonteen. Phineas has
just got back to St. Stephen’s as member for Tankerville; shortly afterwards
goes into the Reform Club; here, stung by Bonteen’s remarks, he almost
comes to blows with Bonteen; a little later he is seen walking home Mr.
Bonteen’s way. The next morning Bonteen is found dead in a Mayfair alley
with his skull broken, manifestly by such a pocket bludgeon as Finn is
known to be in the habit of carrying for protection against garrotters. The
Irish member’s arrest follows; it might have gone hard with him in court but
for Madame Goesler’s resourcefulness, devotion, and ready wit. The tide of
circumstantial evidence, so far flowing strongly against Phineas, now turns,
and, thanks entirely to Madame Goesler’s vigilance and skill, gives Trollope
the chance of a hit at his old enemies, the evangelicals, by setting in
conclusively against a dissenting minister who now replaces Phineas in the
dock, but just contrives to cheat the gallows. Phineas, of course, finds a
rising statesman’s ideal wife in Madame Goesler, and is henceforth known
as the prosperous middle-aged M.P.
Here, it will be seen, is the same blending as in Orley Farm and Can You
Forgive Her? of tears with laughter, of the terrible with the ludicrous, and
of more than melodrama with downright farce. The darker background to
the social or political scenes is supplied chiefly by the relations between Mr.
Kennedy and his wife, to whom might be added Phineas Finn himself. To
begin with, Lady Laura Standish probably would never have become Lady
Laura Kennedy if the handsome young Irishman who won her heart directly
she saw him had pressed his suit with the audacity she perhaps looked for
against that of the priggish and insipid Kennedy. As it is, loving him from
the first, she nurses a steadily deepening passion for him till her
widowhood, where Trollope with artistic delicacy leaves her, feeling no
doubt that all the proprieties of fiction would be violated if married
happiness were awarded to the two parties in a flirtation that, innocent
throughout in itself, had been associated with such domestic discomfort and
havoc. Take her for what the novelist meant her to be, Lady Laura, well
thought out, firmly, not less than, at each point, consistently drawn, is a
good specimen of the mid-nineteenth century society woman of the better
sort. She had, indeed, her exact parallel in at least one commanding
ornament of Mayfair drawing-rooms concerning whom Lord Beaconsfield
said, “She needs only a husband of the right sort to be a statesman’s
helpmate.” On both sides the Laura and Phineas friendship is pure
throughout; it is only not absolutely without reproach because the lady
refuses to give it up after her husband’s disapproval and jealousy have been
plainly and, for success, too peremptorily signified. Kennedy commits that
and other mistakes because he does not quite come up to the idea of
Trollope’s perfect gentleman and man of the world. To begin with he is a
devout Presbyterian; this defect alone was almost as fatal in Trollope’s eyes
as it would have been with Charles II himself. When they are staying at
Loughlinter Lady Laura complains of her headache and begs to be excused
kirk. Kennedy delivers a little discourse on the malady of headache
generally and his wife’s headache in particular. The ailment, he lays down,
proceeds from either the stomach or nerves. In the former case the walk to
church should prove beneficial; in the latter, the malady, he plainly
intimates, comes from Phineas Finn. This insinuation acts as a last straw.
Lady Laura Kennedy leaves her husband’s house and settles with her father
abroad at Dresden. There Phineas is about to visit her when, before starting,
he adds insult to injury by asking Kennedy whether he can take any
message to his wife. This naturally leads to an angry scene between the two
men shortly afterwards, with fresh violence on both sides.
Trollope loved newspaper writers even a little less than he did
evangelicals; in The Warden he had dealt some rather clumsy thrusts at
them. In his later novels, including that now considered, he personifies
them in the vulgar, unscrupulous Quintus Slide of The People’s Banner.
This ruffian of the Press embitters and complicates the Finn-Kennedy
embroglio for personal spite against Phineas and for the enlivenment of his
own columns with some spicy personalities obtained from the now half-
maddened Kennedy himself. Infuriated with jealousy because, not
unnaturally, incredulous of the really Platonic conditions of his wife’s
friendship with Phineas, Kennedy has one more personal passage with the
Irish Member, noticeable only because it contains a repetition of the attempt
at murder with a pistol that had already, when the quarrel lay between John
Grey and George Vavasor, done duty in Can You Forgive Her? As for Lady
Laura, she lives out a faded life in attendance on her father, Lord Brentford,
and only reappears in England to hear from her old lover of his intention to
secure himself against pecuniary troubles in the future by persuading
Madame Goesler to become Mrs. Finn. This is the second announcement of
the same kind which poor Lady Laura has had to face; for some years
earlier it was to her also he confided his intention of trying his chance with
Violet Effingham. This is a little too much even for so fond and blind an
admirer of Phineas as the widowed Lady Laura Kennedy. “Why,” she
exclaims, “to me of all persons in the world do you come with the story of
your intentions? I could bear it when you came to me about Violet, because
I loved her even though she robbed me, but how am I to bear it now in the
case of a woman I loathe?”
The curtain falls upon poor Lady Laura, sobbing her heart out upon the
false one’s breast in Saulsby Park with self-reproaches for having
worshipped him instead of her God; upon Phineas flourishing as Madame
Goesler’s husband, a prosperous middle-aged M.P., refusing the offer of a
place in Mr. Gresham’s Government because, as the newly made Mrs.
Phineas Finn puts it, a rich wife’s husband can afford to prefer freedom to
responsibility. The only figures of the Phineas group prominently
reappearing in the subsequent political stories are Planty Pal transformed
into the Duke of Omnium and his Duchess, formerly Lady Glencora. The
new duke presides over no Cabinet, but takes a paternal interest in public
affairs generally, and is specially delighted at the improved prospects of his
old fiscal fad, decimal coinage. The duchess, having sown all her wild oats,
settles down into a great political lady of the most aspiring and imperious
kind. Her mistakes in that part illustrate Trollope’s favourite moral that the
feminine ambition “which o’erleaps itself” spoils instead of adorns
whatever it may touch.
 There is little, as has been already said, in Trollope’s first two political
novels to fix the parliamentary period to which they belong. As regards
good looks, Phineas may have had something in common with Colonel
King-Harman, whom the novelist occasionally met at the Arts Club, but at
all other points Trollope’s Irish Member, by his fine presence, winning
manners, and his return to St. Stephen’s after an interval of absence,
suggests Sir John Pope Hennessy rather than any other representative of the
Emerald Isle during the pre-Household Suffrage portion of the Victorian
age. For the rest, Prime Minister Gladstone and Prime Minister Gresham
only resemble each other in the first letter of their names. The future Lord
Beaconsfield, however, is clearly meant by Daubeny. Disraeli is the subject
of a verbal photograph as the brilliant and unscrupulous charlatan who
dishes the Whigs, not over parliamentary reform but over Church
Disestablishment. But the politician pitted against Daubeny bears scarcely a
remote resemblance to Disraeli’s arch antagonist. Among those who resist
Daubeny’s designs, the foremost, the already-mentioned Gresham,
universally respected, admired, is too reserved and self-contained for
popularity. He therefore recalls Sir Robert Peel rather than the most famous
of Peel’s disciples or successors. Trollope’s Turnbull as the angular,
inflexibly upright, middle-class M.P. shows no trace of the Cobden, John
Bright, or any of that school reflected in the Job Thornberry of Disraeli’s
Endymion. The fact of the publication of Endymion being later, by some ten
years, than that of Phineas Finn does away with the suggestion that
Trollope’s Turnbull was modelled from Disraeli’s Thornberry. In like
manner Monk, Trollope’s ideal parliament man, is evolved entirely from his
creator’s inner consciousness. So too Plantagenet Palliser had no original
among the well-born, scientific financiers of the House of Commons in
Trollope’s time, but merely personifies his creator’s notion of the pattern
gentleman, the soul of honour and of chivalrous consideration in his
treatment equally of Lady Glencora’s flirtations when his bride-elect and of
her ill-devised socio-political strategies after she has become Duchess of
Omnium. At each stage of his development from the Planty Pal of Can You
Forgive Her? to the inheritance of the ducal title in Phineas Redux, these
aspects of his character are consistently, logically, as well as at every point
effectively, sustained. When, in Phineas Finn, his uncle’s death sends him
to the Upper House, to be known henceforth as the duke, while not holding
office he becomes the oracle, the good genius and presiding potentate of his
party.
The Prime Minister (1876) shows him as the First Lord of the Treasury,
always gracious, calm, and strong, though often harassed by his wife’s
intermeddling in public affairs, and, as in the case of Ferdinand Lopez, by
her patronage of discreditable supporters. For, if the duke be the ornament
of his order and his vocation, Lady Glencora, since becoming Her Grace,
has transformed herself into a satire upon feminine aspiration when
untempered by true womanly feeling and good sense. The Duchess of
Omnium was, I fancy, felt by Trollope himself to be, as he put it to me, une
grande dame manquée. Trollope’s lifelong Harrow contemporary and loyal
friend, Sir William Gregory, so often mentioned in these pages, called his
Irish member a libel upon the Irish gentleman. The relations in which
Phineas Finn stood to his own sex were those of Trollope’s duchess to the
genuine great lady of existing political drawing-rooms. Of moral fibre,
harder and coarser than when first introduced as the girlish but even then
sufficiently shrewd Lady Glencora, she provokes, when seen in The Prime
Minister, disadvantageous comparison with another politician’s wife, her
equal in fortune, whom she once called an adventuress, but has since
promoted to the first place in her friendship. Mrs. Max Goesler, now Mrs.
Phineas Finn, who herself might have been a duchess had she liked, is a
rising statesman’s model wife, knowing exactly when to help her husband
by appearing in the foreground, and how to advance his interests by
unadvertised activity behind the scenes. But then Mrs. Max was a real
figure in the society of Trollope’s day, and the Duchess of Omnium was an
abstraction.
The characters, however, in The Prime Minister, on which Trollope
relied to popularise the book, by relieving the strain of the demand that the
purely political portions made on the reader’s attention are those of Emily
Wharton, whose life is marred by her marriage with the aspiring incarnation
of city scampdom, Lopez, and of Arthur Fletcher, Emily’s blameless lover,
who eventually becomes her husband. Trollope himself was never seen to
greater advantage than in the best professional society. Especially did he
shine when talking with doctors like his particular friend, Sir Richard
Quain, or with lawyers of the old school such as he had first known from
his father. Nothing, therefore, in The Prime Minister is better than Emily’s
father, the shrewd old-world barrister, reminiscent of the bygone legal
celebrities, Jockey Bell, the first conveyancer of his time, or Leech, Master
of the Rolls.[27] The snobbish and pretentious knave, Lopez, has entrapped
into partnership in his commercial infamies a city drudge as low as
personally he is harmless, named Parker. Not unworthy of Dickens, is the
praise deserved by the simple and graphic drollery of Trollope’s description
of Sexty Parker amid the mean surroundings of his suburban home, with his
poor wife’s affrighted protests at the dangerous degree to which he is being
made the tool of Lopez, or Parker’s picture on his seaside holiday, smoking
his pipe and drinking his gin and water in the shabby villa’s porch, while his
ill-clad and ill-nourished children make mischief of every kind in the stony
and almost flowerless garden. An effective contrast to these scenes of
squalid domesticity is forthcoming in the varied company at Gatherum
Castle, now inhabited by Planty Pal as Duke of Omnium, and despotically
managed by Lady Glencora as duchess, who, by way of forming a party of
her own, has invited some rather shady guests. Among these is Lopez; how
the duke sees through him, soon showing him the door, and how His Grace,
beset by an uncongenial house-party, platonically consoles himself with
Lady Rosina De Courcy as well as follows her advice to take care of his
health by wearing cork soles, is told in Trollope’s best manner.
With this social by-play are mingled the Silverbridge parliamentary
contests; here Beverley is drawn upon once more, and the election agents,
Sprugeon and Sprout, are pen and ink photographs of Trollope’s Yorkshire
friends. The Prime Minister ends with the hideous suicide of the villain of
the piece, Ferdinand Lopez. All the incidents leading up to that catastrophe
make very unpleasant reading indeed.
Infinitely superior to The Prime Minister is The Duke’s Children. Here
our author regains his old and happier cunning in the portrait of Isabel
Boncassen. This American beauty combines high intellectual power with
absolute perfection of face and figure. Still more arresting is her English
counterpart, Lady Mabel Grex. That heroine, an impoverished and
profligate nobleman’s daughter, had passed scathless through the trying
ordeal of her earlier days. Neither the keenness of her insight nor the
strength of her will is impaired; her capacity of entire devotion where her
heart is really touched has not suffered from any hardening experiences of
life’s seamy side. Yet some time has to pass before she can do justice to
these great qualities, though from the first she makes herself felt as the good
genius of the story. Meanwhile, the widowed Duke of Omnium has had
trouble both with his sons and daughter. These vexations to some degree
involve Lady Mabel Grex. His eldest son, Lord Silverbridge, a good deal
both of the scapegrace and the spendthrift, has managed to drop £70,000 on
a single race. The duke’s only daughter, Lady Mary Palliser, is scarcely less
unsatisfactory. With the pick of the peerage as well as the plutocracy to
choose from, she perversely refuses to marry anyone but Frank Tregear, a
Cornish squire’s penniless younger son. Frank, however, and Lady Mabel
Grex are already the subjects of a reciprocal passion. This attachment is
doomed for money reasons never to end in marriage. Even after she has
convinced herself that this love is hopeless, Mabel Grex only becomes
resigned to the inevitable after a long and agonised struggle with herself. It
ends, however, in her accepting an offer from the duke’s heir, Silverbridge.
At the same time Frank Tregear breaks off with Mabel and transfers his
affections to the Duke of Omnium’s daughter, the already mentioned Lady
Mary. Defeated at every point, as well as crushed under the burden of a
hopeless love, Mabel Grex passively accepts the doom of aimless poverty
and absolute desolation for the rest of her days.
 CHAPTER XIV

AMERICAN MISSIONS AND COLONIAL TOURS

Trollope’s third visit to America—That of 1868 about the Postal Treaty

and Copyright Commission—Mr. and Mrs. Trollope’s Australian
visit (1871) to their sheep-farming son—Family or personal features
and influences in the colonial novels suggested by this journey—
Trollope as colonial novelist compared with Charles Reade and
Henry Kingsley—Why the colonial novels were preceded by The
Eustace Diamonds—Rival South African travellers—Trollope
follows Froude to the Cape—What he thought about the country’s
present and future—How he found out Dr. Jameson and Miss
Schreiner—John Blackwood, Trollope’s particular friend among
publishers—Trollope, Blackwood’s pattern writer—Julius Cæsar—
Anthony’s birthday present to John—The South African book—
What the critics said—Well-timed and sells accordingly.

S O far, it has been practicable to follow Trollope’s productions almost

exactly in the order in which they came from his pen. The political
novels, as has been seen, constitute a series whose successive parts are
even more closely connected than the various instalments of the Barchester
novels. Thus, Phineas Finn and Phineas Redux form a single story; The
Prime Minister and The Duke’s Children contain the underplots or afterplots
of what has gone before. The Beverley adventure and its reflection in Ralph
the Heir, three years afterwards (1871), formed the biographical prelude to
the little group of stories in which Phineas Finn came first. The
examination of these in the preceding chapter, once begun, had to be
completed, or their unity would have been lost. Hence, some unavoidable
little interruption of strict chronological sequence and the momentary
neglect, now to be repaired, of Trollope’s other doings in the Beverley year.
The value set by the Government on Trollope’s Post Office work was
shown immediately after he had resigned his post at St. Martin’s-le-Grand.
Nothing could be more complimentary than the request that he would make
a third journey to the United States for the conclusion of a new postal treaty
at Washington.[28] That task occupied exactly three months and three
weeks; it was begun April 8th and ended July 27th. Then he brought back to
England a success more complete than, from the uncongenial variety of the
American representatives with whom he had to deal, he had at times feared
might prove possible.
The visit also had its literary usefulness. While occupied with the
Washington officials he studied the traits subsequently bodied forth in his
American Senator, and before he went home he made advantageous
arrangements with the publishers in New York. During the fourteen years of
life, however, which still remained for him he crossed and recrossed the
Atlantic twice more; altogether therefore he made no less than five different
appearances in the great Republic. Each of them was turned by him to good
account not more in business matters than in observing the American-Irish
developments described elaborately in The Land Leaguers. The United
States public and publishers also did Trollope a particularly good turn by
appreciating the political novels, less warmly, indeed, than the Barchester
books, but far more cordially than had been done by home consumers of
these products. The one work that New York readers would not have was
The Cornhill reprint, Brown, Jones and Robinson, pronounced, not perhaps
unjustly, by the first American critic of the day, Dr. R. Shelton Mackenzie,
the most stupid story ever coming from the same pen. With that exception
Trollope’s magazine pieces suited the taste of New York better than they did
that of London; during 1860 Harper’s pleased all its friends by publishing
his short stories, The Courtship of Susan Bell, The O’Conors of Castle
Conor, and Relics of General Chassé. These were produced here in the
three volumes entitled Tales of All Countries. Trollope’s style, both in his
earlier and later days, was occasionally apt to be much influenced by his
friend Charles Lever. Of the compositions just enumerated, The O’Conors,
a transcript of his own early Irish observations, had a remarkable American
success, perhaps because a certain adventurous breeziness of movement as
of style exactly suited a public whose passing taste had for the moment
been more or less formed, not only by Charles Lever, but by those who had
been before him, as Fenimore Cooper and Captain Marryat. Harper’s did
also more for Trollope than show him as a short story writer at his best; it
introduced its readers to The Small House at Allington, Orley Farm, as well
as to several of his less known efforts, such as Lady Anna.
Generally, the transatlantic verdict confirmed that of the old country and
gave the palm to the pen and ink photographs of provincial home life. In
one respect, however, America strikingly showed its independence of
English estimates by unanimously crediting the political series from
Phineas Finn to The Duke’s Children with a vividness of portraiture, an
experience of and an insight into the leading personages, forces, and
incidents of British public life such as Trollope’s own countrymen had not
then discovered. Why this should have been so it is not difficult to see. In
England, those who cared for the political novel were still under the
Disraelian spell when Trollope put forth his impressions of public life as he
had observed it in the stories that opened with Phineas Finn (1869), and
only closed with The Duke’s Children (1880). During all those years the
intellectual fascination possessed by Disraeli, whether as writer or
politician, for the English public, so far from diminishing, had, upon the
whole, deepened. The sustained brilliancy of Lothair (1868), and Endymion
(1881), sent readers back to Coningsby, Sybil, and Tancred. Of that literary
enchantment the United States knew comparatively little. As a political
novelist, Trollope was judged on his own merits, without, as in England,
any reference to the dazzling and unapproachable genius who had preceded
him. Before Disraeli, Plumer Ward had portrayed statesmen in romances,
which were generally forgotten by Englishmen, while Bulwer-Lytton had
given something of a political flavour to his best-known novels. By the
standard of Ward and Lytton, rather than, as was the case in England, of
Disraeli, the Americans judged Trollope. They accordingly found in him an
actuality and naturalness at once instructive and refreshing; nor did they
miss the verbal fireworks for which the Coningsby novels had accustomed
the English reader to look.
It has already been shown how, on other subjects, Trollope stood with
the American public; before following him in his overseas movements,
some details may here be given of his practical relations with the American
publisher. From English publishers, Trollope, according to his own
estimate, received in all a little under £70,000. His American receipts were
rather more than £3000.[29] Beside his Post Office Commission, Trollope,
during his American visit of 1868, also acted as the Foreign Office
representative on the subject of International Copyright. That, however, is a
question scarcely suitable for treatment here. As regards the primary and
Postal errand, he accomplished the purpose for which he had been sent, and
obtained the terms asked by the English Government. By the Convention
which he negotiated, the postage on a half ounce letter between England
and the United States was fixed at sixpence. With respect to the literary
relations of the two countries, Trollope brought back no equally definite
result, but only failed to do so because, in the nature of things, success was
then impossible. In the diplomacy of St. Martin’s-le-Grand, Trollope
essayed nothing which he did not carry through. The literary monument of
his Egyptian journey in 1858 had been no work descriptive of the country,
but a novel, The Bertrams. For, unless he had found himself so far on his
way as Cairo, he would never have pilgrimaged to Jerusalem, or collected
the material in local colour for the Syrian scenes and incidents in that novel.
His official work had then been a Postal Convention with the Egyptian
authorities for our Australian and Indian mails across the Delta. The same
kind of duty he had performed so well ten years earlier was repeated after
the same fashion in 1868.
Trollope’s various transatlantic trips were the prelude to more extended
tours on that other side of the world where his postal rather than literary
labours had already made him a name. These Antipodean experiences were,
during the last eight years of his life, to give him as a novelist something
like a new lease of vigour and freshness. Trollope’s instinctive sympathy
with the temper and tendencies of his time, whatever the movement in
progress might be, had, as the reader already knows, during his earliest
youth, showed itself in the readiness with which he came under the
influence of Anglican leaders. A little later the perennial Irish question, in
its social as well as political, its sentimental not less than its practical
aspects, filled the air, and gave both direction and colour to his initial
experiment as a novelist, The Macdermots (1847). Active interest in politics
was delayed till the season of youth and enthusiasm had been outlived. But,
when a little over fifty, he could not resist the temptation to take a
combatant’s part in the battle, then at its height between the two great party
leaders of the time. Beaten at Beverley, and so debarred from delivering
himself about men and measures at St. Stephen’s, Trollope turned to
account the experiences he had gathered and the opinions he had formed, in
the Phineas Finn stories.
Meanwhile, however, a new interest in the Greater Britain beyond the
seas had deeply stirred the popular imagination, and reflected itself in the
writings of his best known contemporaries. Trollope accordingly realised
that he had been wasting on party energies meant for the Empire. Natural
affection and the conscious need of securing imaginative freshness by entire
change of scene and thought were other motives operating in the same
direction. Within two or three years of recrossing the Atlantic homewards,
Trollope planned a yet more extensive tour with the set purpose of bringing
back from the Antipodes materials, not only for history, but for fiction. The
earliest writer of Trollope’s day to feel and express the transoceanic
inspiration of the new epoch was Bulwer-Lytton, some eight years before he
became Colonial Secretary in the Derby Government. The example of The
Caxtons soon proved contagious. In 1856 Trollope’s exact contemporary,
Charles Reade, published It’s Never too Late to Mend, whose dramatised
form, in 1866, not only revived the original story’s interest, but infused
fresh force into the agitation against transporting English criminals to
Australasian colonies. In 1859 Henry Kingsley suffused his spirited
romances, Geoffrey Hamlyn and The Hillyars and the Burtons with the local
colour he had collected during a short residence under the Southern Cross;
thus as a colonial novelist he differed from Reade, and resembled Trollope,
[30] in describing, from personal knowledge, the scenes and incidents whose
word-pictures bear in every detail the stamp of fidelity to life. The original
and chief motive of Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Trollope’s expedition, in the
May of 1871, to the other side of the world, was that they might see once
more a son then sheep-farming in the Australian Bush. Trollope himself
would have felt uncomfortable if he had embarked without feeling that,
while making holiday in a far country, he was also collecting impressions
for at least one new book.
Before actually setting sail, therefore, he had contracted with Chapman
and Hall for the Australian volumes published in 1873, and had also found a
newspaper opening for certain travel letters, to be incorporated afterwards
in the book. This, on coming out in 1873, was pronounced, by The Times,
“the most agreeable, just, and acute work ever written on the subject.” On
the other hand, The Athenæum and The Saturday Review dwelt on the
length, the diffuseness, and the want of method of the ponderous volumes,
“as dull as they are big.” Perplexity of arrangement, and occasional
obscurity of diction, were other charges made by these critics against the
work. Good taste in dealing with all personal matters was the chief merit
compensating for decline in literary power, which even these censors
allowed. The shrewdness of insight with which The Times credited Trollope
was praise abundantly justified by events. Indeed Trollope’s one mistake in
judgment was his prophecy about the annexation of Tasmania by Victoria.
Any movement of this kind he might, with a little more carefulness of
enquiry and accuracy of observation, have convinced himself was purely
local in its origin, never, in its growth, exceeded the narrowest limits, and
was repudiated, even in his day, by responsible Tasmanian as well as
Victorian statesmen. It never consequently entered into the regions of
practical politics.
His faith in the certainty of Australasian federation rested on much
stronger ground. Its fulfilment he did not live to witness. That took place
sixteen years after his death when, in the March of 1898, the Australian
Commonwealth bill became law. The book, written in his cabin during the
homeward voyage, succeeded beyond the author’s or publisher’s
expectations. This was due, first, to its happily-timed appearance; secondly,
to the convenient compass within which it brought together the best that
had been said by other writers, and all, indeed, which the average reader
could wish to know about the history, the politics, the society, the
resemblances to or differences from the Mother Country noticed by
Trollope during his eighteen months’ stay in Melbourne, New South Wales,
Tasmania, Western Australia, and New Zealand. The book contained few of
the carefully prepared literary effects investing the account of the West
Indies with a thoroughly popular charm. But, whenever in his Australasian
volumes Trollope dealt with what had struck him as really noteworthy, he
showed himself once more nearly at his best; especially in his comparison
between sheep-farming and ostrich-farming as careers, in his few mining
scenes, and, above all, in his most graphic and informing account of the
road system, which he had minutely studied. The first novel resulting from
the Australian jaunt had in it many more touches of personal and domestic
autobiography than the travel volumes. Like Phineas Redux, it first came
out in The Graphic, and showed the intellectual benefit received by the
novelist from his wanderings under the Southern Cross.
Harry Heathcote of Gangoill (1874), marked by no signs of imaginative
exhaustion, as well as written throughout in the old picturesque fashion, is
based on the industrial fortunes of Trollope’s Australian son, chequered by
climatic caprices and ill-minded neighbours, but in spite of all this, by
unflagging perseverance, steadily advancing. Most of the Trollopian
qualities, the imperious prejudices, and the autocratic independence,
combined with more amiable features appear in the hero. He had been one
of the original settlers, who acquired their land by the simple process of
“claiming” it. After he had made a good start with his work a fresh
Government scheme allowed newcomers to buy whatever land they liked,
even though it were already bespoke by the earlier settlers. The sole
condition of purchase was that the land thus bought must exceed a certain
minimum value. Of course the right of compulsory purchase given to the
“free selectors,” as they were called, made them at loggerheads with such as
had already established themselves before they came.
Heathcote naturally saw in his nearest neighbour, a free selector, Giles
Medlicot, a man fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils, and of affections
dark as Erebus.[31] Soon there comes a great and dangerous drought. The
sheep farmers are on the watch day and night against one of those prairie
fires that would, in a few minutes, destroy all their flocks’ food. Heathcote,
ready to think all evil of the detested interloper, without any reason suspects
the free selector, Medlicot, of a design to burn his farm and stock. Of course
he is wrong; and no flames, by whomsoever kindled, burst out on his
property, at least for the present. Eventually, however, there comes on him
the fiery foe, more dreaded by the pastoral squatter than pestilence or
famine. Then the gratuitously accused Medlicot proves Heathcote’s true
friend; and by his own courage and skill keeps the outbreak within narrower
limits than Heathcote had ever hoped. A large portion of the farm buildings
and plant is thus saved. The story ends with the reconciliation of the two
men so long and irrationally kept apart by mutual mistrust. Medlicot’s
marriage to Heathcote’s sister-in-law is the seal and fruit of a new
friendship.
The plot is too slight and the narrative too short to afford room for much
character creation. To those who follow, as is being done in these pages,
Trollope’s industrial course, the book has an interest quite independent of
its actual contents. It was written by Trollope in his sixtieth year. Of the
other colonial novelists already mentioned, Charles Reade had not long
turned forty when he published It’s Never Too Late To Mend, and Henry
Kingsley was under thirty at the time of writing Geoffrey Hamlyn. This is
the book whose glowing wealth of local colour, scenic word-painting, and
keen appreciation of Antipodean character won for it the praise of an
Australian epic. Kingsley’s and Reade’s romances of life on the other side
of the world were followed in 1866 by Hugh Nisbet’s Australian stories.
These three writers present a spirited and complete panorama of colonial
existence, character, and manner. All wrote in the very prime of their
powers, but none enlivened his subjects with a stronger glow of fancy or
handled them with more sureness and strength than, at the age of three-
score, was shown by Trollope in describing the fight with the flames in his
Harry Heathcote of Gangoil. This novel, like its colonial successor five
years later, John Caldigate, shows, better than could be done by pages of
biographical detail, that, after more than half a century of exacting and
incessant work, its author’s power of accurately observing and mastering in
their full significance new facts or ideas remained practically unimpaired.
The home and the life to which Trollope returned in England during
December, 1872, were not the same as he had left behind him when
embarking a year and a half earlier on the Great Britain for his colonial
voyage. The pleasant house at Waltham Cross, with its roomy and always
well-filled stables, its many hospitalities and its comparative nearness to the
meets of the Essex Hounds, was exchanged for the abode in Montagu
Square. Here Trollope passed the later portion of his London life. Here too,
on settling himself, he began to live with the personages of the Australian
goldfields story that was to appear in 1879. Long before then, however, he
had become sufficiently intimate with other creations of his fancy to put
them into print. An old friend, Lizzie, (Lady Eustace), received his first
attention; in 1873 came The Eustace Diamonds. This novel, like The Belton
Estate, had first been written for The Fortnightly Review. Its leading figure
casually reappears in later works, especially in The Prime Minister, where
Ferdinand Lopez shows at once his scoundrelism and ignorance of the
world in making certain absurd proposals to an attractive, vivacious, but
particularly wide-awake lady. What Lizzie Eustace is in The Prime
Minister, she had shown herself before in The Eustace Diamonds.
This rich, personable, and clever heroine labours under one weakness:
she can never speak the truth. As Lizzie Greystock, she made a brilliant
marriage with an elderly and opulent baronet. She had not passed her first
youth when she was left a widow more than comfortably provided for.
Amongst her husband’s personal estate is a magnificent diamond necklace
worth £20,000, an heirloom which, at his express wish, the lady used to
wear. To this precious ornament the dead baronet’s nearest relations
disputed her claim, on the ground that as a family possession it was not his
to give. “But,” replied her ladyship, “he gave it to me for my very own,
telling me that my appearance with it would be the best of all tributes to his
memory.” Lady Eustace no more expected this account of the matter to be
believed than she believed it herself. To one thing, however, she had made
up her mind: no one should take the costly trinket out of her hands.
Consequently wherever she goes it accompanies her.
During one journey she believes she has lost it and gives the alarm.
Soon, however, she recovers her treasure, but does not impart the fact to the
police, whom she has caused to raise a hue and cry. One day the necklace is
really stolen, and the constables, having obtained a clue, succeed in placing
themselves on its track. Restoration is followed by exposure; Lizzie
Eustace’s marriage connections persevere with their purpose of regaining
for themselves the late baronet’s alleged gift to his wife. Lady Eustace’s
besetting weaknesses do not prevent her good looks and captivating
manners from attracting suitors for her hand. Amongst these are Frank
Greystock, one of Trollope’s most conventional and least interesting
specimens of gilded youth; Lord Fawn, a titled booby, afterwards promoted
to a place among the lay figures in the parliamentary sketches; and another
sprig of nobility, Lord George de Bruce Carruthers, of doubtful reputation
and of a bold, bad, buccaneer appearance. Each of these, however, when it
comes to the point, fights off; Lizzie Eustace, to her chagrin, is left without
one of the trousered sex in tow. At this extremity, there appears on the scene
an ecclesiastical candidate for what she is pleased to call her heart. This
white-chokered adventurer is the Rev. Joseph Emilius, partly Jew, partly
Pole, and wholly scamp, being, in fact, the popular preacher who in Phineas
Redux commits the murder of Mr. Bonteen, on suspicion of which Phineas
is arrested. But by that time Emilius, having served his turn, has ceased to
be Lady Eustace’s second husband in anything but name.
Unlike Gladstone, Disraeli did not consume much contemporary fiction,
parrying any questions on the subject with, “when I want to read a novel, I
write one.” Nor, except to Matthew Arnold, did he often talk to authors
about their works. But soon after the appearance of The Eustace Diamonds,
meeting Trollope at Lord Stanhope’s dinner-table, the great man said to our
novelist, “I have long known, Mr. Trollope, your churchmen and
churchwomen; may I congratulate you on the same happy lightness of touch
in the portrait of your new adventuress?” By 1879, some five years after
Harry Heathcote of Gangoil, there had been completed the process of
incubation, resulting in the second of the two colonial stories, John
Caldigate.
 That novel, chiefly written during the voyage to South Africa, presently
to be mentioned, had for its scene the Australian gold-diggings. We have
long since seen how, during his Harrow days, Anthony Trollope, as a day
boy, lived with his father at Julians. Of that there is some reminiscence in
the intercourse under the old family roof between the actual owner of the
Cambridgeshire estate called Folking and his heir. The two have hot words;
the quarrel ends in John’s selling the right of entail to his father for a lump
sum in hard cash. With this he pays his debts. Together with an old college
friend, Dick Shand, he sets off for the Australian goldfields.
The girl he loves has been left behind him, but on his way out he is
ensnared by Mrs. Smith, a mysterious lady with a past, fascinating by her
manner rather than her beauty, and now provided by her relatives with a
passage out that she may not get into mischief nearer home. Some time
after their arrival at the diggings, Dick Shand, whose weakness has always
been drink, breaks out and disappears, leaving no trace behind. Caldigate
perseveres, finds first one nugget, then another. At this rate he by and by
comes back a rich man. The first thing done by the masterful and newly-
fledged young Crœsus is to seek and obtain reconciliation with his equally
masterful father. Next, having borne down her mother’s fierce opposition,
he marries his boyhood’s flame, Hester Bolton, the daughter of his father’s
banker.
The young couple’s wedded happiness is interrupted by the appearance
of Mrs. Smith, together with John Caldigate’s old goldfield pals, Tom
Crinkett and Mick Maggott. These have bought Caldigate’s claim for a
large sum, only to find the gold suddenly give out. Hence their demand for
half the purchase-money’s (£20,000) return, under threat of a charge of
bigamy for having married Hester while an earlier wife, Mrs. Smith, was
yet alive. Thoroughly scared, Caldigate places his affairs in a solicitor’s
hands, but commits the fatal mistake of paying as hush-money the £20,000
demanded by the conspirators. This, of course, tells heavily against him at
the trial, and he has to face other evidence, at least as damning. The charge
of bigamy, on which the trial takes place, is supported by an envelope
addressed in John Caldigate’s writing to Mrs. John Caldigate. As to this,
Caldigate admits having once written the words in jest, but denies having
sent the envelope, which, it must be added, bears the Post Office stamp. In
the face of such evidence the jury could do nothing but convict. After the
verdict, Hester finds herself a wife without a husband; her refusal to return
home is followed by her capture, and forcible detention beneath the parental
roof. But now there begins a sequence of events, all combining to establish
John Caldigate’s innocence and to promise liberation from prison.
In manipulating the official details that are to make John Caldigate a free
man, Trollope shows the same painstaking ingenuity as he had done during
his term of Irish duty in bringing to light the frauds of the Connemara
postmaster. An amusingly acute Post Office clerk proves the stamp on the
envelope to have been manufactured after the date recorded in the stamp. It
was, therefore, a clear case of fake. Next, Dick Shand surprises everyone by
coming home to depose on oath that the alleged marriage could not by any
possibility have taken place at the time alleged. Finally, the conspirators
quarrel over their respective shares in the £20,000, whose payment so
disastrously incriminated Caldigate. One of the gang turns Queen’s
evidence; doing so, he secures the release of the prisoner, who returns to his
faithful wife.
It is as unpleasant as it is a powerful story; at not a few points equal in
graphic vigour and in harrowing multiplicity of incident to the strong but
revoltingly painful descriptions which mark another of Charles Reade’s
novels of colonial as well as maritime adventure, Hard Cash. The pictures
of goldfield life are suggestive enough as far as they go, but would certainly
have been better had not Trollope felt himself under the necessity of having
the book finished on his arrival at Cape Town.
Noticeable for the rapidity of its movement, as well as the freshness of
its description, this second and last colonial novel contains a study of
character, executed with as much power and care as is to be found in any of
the later stories. Mrs. Bolton, Hester’s mother, is an object-lesson of
evangelicalism, seen, not in the actual teaching, but in its results. Bromley,
the Vicar of Folking, Caldigate’s native place, is a typical easy-going
clergyman, a favourite with the squire, and, as we are left to conclude, with
all his right-thinking parishioners. Mrs. Bolton, unfortunately, has taken her
theology from those less genial, and, indeed, Calvinistic teachers, at whom,
though no fresh representative of the class is mentioned by name, Trollope
deals a farewell blow. Mrs. Bolton, a strong-minded woman, is not in
herself bad-hearted. But for the downright inhumanity of her religious
principles, she would have been a good and wise parent instead of a bitter
Low Churchwoman. It is of course a painful, but an effective picture,
because brought out under its author’s pervading and deep conviction in
these matters. The increasing bitterness of Trollope’s anti-evangelical
temper was not merely an inheritance of the spirit of his mother’s Vicar of
Wrexhill, or his early association with F. W. Faber and other Oxford
Anglicans already mentioned; it came also from his own disappointing
experience of what he considered evangelicalism’s effects on the happiness
and character of those he loved. Not later than July 21, 1877, had been the
date fixed by the author for sending in the complete manuscript. On that
day he had no sooner landed in South Africa than he dropped his packet
into the Cape Town Post Office; for at least half the novel was written
during Trollope’s voyage to South Africa.
“A poor, niggery, yellow-faced, half-bred sort of place, with an ugly
Dutch flavour about it,” was the visitor’s earliest impression of the region in
which he had just set foot. It improved a little on acquaintance; but never
interested or impressed him in the same way as Australia. He found it,
however, equally favourable to pedestrianism and penmanship. “I am,” he
said in one of his home letters, “on my legs every day among the hills for
four hours, and every day, too, I do my four hours writing about what I have
seen and heard, after the fashion of our friend Froude.[32] I then sleep eight
hours without stirring. The other eight hours are divided between reading
and eating, with preponderance to the latter.” “The one person,” wrote
Trollope to a Scotch friend in 1878, “who has most struck me here, is a
certain young compatriot of yours, Leander Starr Jameson, who has just
started in medical practice at Kimberley, and in whom I see qualities that
will go to the making of events in this country.” When free from the
influence of personal feeling, Trollope was seldom far out in his estimates
of character. This acute presage concerning the then little known future
leader of the famous raid was first confided, if I mistake not, to John
Blackwood, the sole recipient of many of Trollope’s best sayings, and the
friend whom he valued more highly than he did any other member of his
own generation. After a really touching and unique fashion, Trollope, nine
years earlier, had shown his attachment to the famous Scotch publisher; for,
in 1870, he had contributed Cæsar to the Ancient Classics series, the
copyright being a free present to “my old friend John Blackwood.”
On the other hand, Blackwood found in Trollope none of the obstinacy
about which he had heard from others, but a most pleasant and docile
readiness to profit in his work by a publisher’s hints. In his quite
affectionate acknowledgment of the Cæsar, he said, “I value it the more
because I have looked this gift-horse in the mouth.” “Your new classical
venture,” said Blackwood to Trollope, “was in a line so different from
anything else you had done, that I scanned it closely; I can, therefore, speak
of its merits.”
Long before this, indeed, Trollope had been cited by Blackwood as a
model contributor. Charles Reade resented some of Blackwood’s proposed
emendations, especially in the case of some interminably diffuse love-
making scenes or conversations. “I have,” mildly rejoined the publisher,
“but ventured on submitting to you considerations, which other authors of
great experience in such feminine matters, for instance, Trollope, willingly
received.” Relations between the two novelists were already a little strained
because of Trollope’s complaint that Reade had taken the notion of the play
The Wandering Heir from his own story Ralph the Heir. Blackwood’s
compliments to Trollope must have rankled in Reade’s heart; for about this
time Reade alluded to Trollope as a literary knobstick, a publisher’s rat, and
other pleasant terms including, I think, his favourite reproach of
Homunculus. But peace-making friends intervened, and the matter settled
itself almost as amicably as at Bob Sawyer’s supper table in Lant Street
borough.
The volumes on South Africa, begun the very day John Caldigate left
Cape Town for Edinburgh, were issued by Chapman and Hall. The subject
had at least for some time been full of topical interest. In the May of 1875
the Colonial Secretary, Lord Carnarvon, had proposed to Sir Henry
Berkeley, the Cape Town Governor, to confederate the three British
colonies, Cape Town, Natal, Griqua Land West, and the two Dutch
republics, The Orange River Free State, and The Transvaal Republic. J. A.
Froude, the historian, then travelling for his health’s sake after his wife’s
death, had, at the Minister’s wish, surveyed the possibilities of the
federation on the spot. Local jealousies prevented the scheme from being
carried through, or rather reduced a great imperial project to a mere
enabling measure in the South African Act of August 1877. During 1874 the
popular concern for South African affairs culminated in the Langalibalele
rising and the shortly following Zulu War with Cetewayo. Then came Sir
Theophilus Shepstone’s annexation of The Orange River Free State
diamond-fields, and Sir Bartle Frere’s Cape Governorship and South
African High Commissionership followed in 1877.
 No two nineteenth century men of letters were personally more unlike
each other than James Anthony Froude and Anthony Trollope. “Old
Trollope, after banging about the world so long, now treading in my
footsteps, and, like an intellectual bluebottle, buzzing about at Cape Town”
was the historian’s characteristic comment, made in his softest and silkiest
tones on the novelist’s voyage to the country, visited by himself some seven
years earlier. Trollope secured his object by getting out his South African
book some two years before Froude, in 1880, had published a line on the
subject. In the Kimberley district, Trollope, we have already seen, had
discovered the historic “Dr. Jim.” He next made the acquaintance and
sounded the praises of the clever young lady Miss Olive Schreiner, author
of The Story of an African Farm, published on Trollope’s instance by
Chapman and Hall.
In 1878, however, no really popular work about the southern parts of the
dark continent had appeared before Trollope’s volumes. These drew the
Cape provinces, Natal, The Transvaal, and the diamond fields in The
Orange River Free State exactly as at the time they were, and liberally
relieved their purely historical or descriptive contents with touches often as
instructive as they were humorous, revealing scenery and character by the
flashlight of a representative anecdote or well-turned phrase. The Transvaal
annexation, accomplished before his visit, is called, in a rather Carlylean
phrase, one of the “highest-handed acts in history”: “It was,” said Trollope,
“a typical instance of the beneficent injustice of the British.” For the rest,
diamond-fields and goldmines alike struck him as a “meretricious means of
attracting population to the country.” The Boer farmers are very fine fellows
of their kind, most unhandsomely treated by all English writers except
himself. As for the proposed withdrawal from The Transvaal, it is an idea
only worthy of a pusillanimous dunderhead. The reception given to the
South African book by the critics and public markedly indicated a recovery
of the popularity which a year or two earlier had seemed for the moment on
the wane. The Times declared it had not a page uninstructive or dull. The
Athenæum found that, coming in the nick of time, it admirably supplied a
public want. “Full of freshness and individuality in all its presentations,
social and political,” said The Academy. “Always judicious, often very
entertaining, and only from sometimes excessive zeal a trifle diffuse,”
chimed in The Spectator.
 More satisfactory and important to Trollope than the book’s mere
success was the attention it secured from colonial readers, both at home and
abroad, more particularly with the South African department of the Colonial
Office in Whitehall. Lord Carnarvon was then responsible for the
government of Greater Britain. Before his retirement from the Beaconsfield
administration on the advance of the British fleet to Constantinople early in
1878, he had read or heard enough of the work to find its views of South
African federation of more value to a responsible statesman than the details,
bearing on that subject, already brought back to him by Froude from the
Cape. This fact soon developed into intimacy what had hitherto been only a
casual acquaintance. There then lived, at the age of seventy-six, the third
Earl Grey; he had been the singularly able and unsympathetic Colonial
Minister in the Russell administration of 1846. Trollope and Lord
Carnarvon chanced, one day, to come out together from a room in the
Athenæum where Lord Grey was. “His mistake,” said Trollope, referring to
Russell’s ex-Colonial Secretary, “always seemed to be his domination by
the idea of its being possible to give representative institutions and to stop
short of responsible government, after the English fashion under Elizabeth
and the Stuarts.” It was a casual remark, but associated itself with an
episode in Trollope’s life about which something must be said in the next
chapter.
 CHAPTER XV

CLOSING ACQUAINTANCES, SCENES, AND BOOKS

 Trollope on the third Earl Grey, the fourth Earl of Carnarvon and the
Colonies—Intimacy at Highclere and its literary consequences—
Trollope and Cicero 1879—Fraternally criticised by T. A. Trollope
and others—Fear of literary fogeydom produces later up-to-date
novels beginning with He Knew He was Right—A similarity
between Trollope and Dickens—Trollope and Delane—The editor’s
article and novelist’s book about social and financial scandals of the
time—Mr. Scarborough’s Family, Trollope’s first novel for a
Dickens magazine—Retirement from Montagu Square to North
End, Harting—Last Irish novels, An Eye for an Eye (1879), The
Land Leaguers (1883), Dr. Wortle’s School—General estimate—
Last London Residence—Seizure at Sir John Tilley’s—Death in
Welbeck Street—Funeral at Kensal Green.

T HE intimacy with the fourth Lord Carnarvon, and the warm welcome
awaiting him, on his frequent visits to Highclere in or after 1878, were
the direct social results of Trollope’s colonial travels and books,
especially of his South African experiences. “My own Post Office work,”
Trollope once said to me, “together with my own ideas of colonial
administration, naturally attracted me to a colonial Minister who, before
becoming the head of the department, had a hand in abolishing the old
Australian mail service, in creating the Encumbered States Act for the West
Indies, in improving England’s African relations with France by the
exchange of Albuda for Portendic, in terminating the Hudson Bay
monopoly, and of creating British Columbia as an imperial dependency. I
could not but contrast Lord Grey’s colonial policy between 1846 and 1852
with Lord Carnarvon’s, which immediately followed. To do this was to see
that Carnarvon understood what Grey had always missed,
Welcome to our website – the perfect destination for book lovers and
knowledge seekers. We believe that every book holds a new world,
offering opportunities for learning, discovery, and personal growth.
That’s why we are dedicated to bringing you a diverse collection of
books, ranging from classic literature and specialized publications to
self-development guides and children's books.

More than just a book-buying platform, we strive to be a bridge

connecting you with timeless cultural and intellectual values. With an
elegant, user-friendly interface and a smart search system, you can
quickly find the books that best suit your interests. Additionally,
our special promotions and home delivery services help you save time
and fully enjoy the joy of reading.

Join us on a journey of knowledge exploration, passion nurturing, and

personal growth every day!

testbankmall.com