And the
reason of their defeat and destruction, he avers, was simply this, that
they were a slaveholding aristocracy. As such they _must_ perish; the
earth, he declares, will not and cannot afford them a dwelling-place.
Indeed, he repeatedly lays it down as a law of history that slaveholding
aristocracies must go down before the progress of the world, and must go
down in blood.
_The Small House at Allington_. By ANTHONY TROLLOPE. New York: Harper &
Brothers.
This is probably the best of Mr. Trollope's numerous works. It is by no
means different in kind from its predecessors; for it stands in the path
struck out by "The Warden" ten years ago. But it is better, inasmuch as
it is later; that is, it is by ten years better than "The Warden," and
by four years better than "Framley Parsonage." Mr. Trollope's course has
been very even,--too even, almost, to be called brilliant; for success
has become almost monotonous with him. His first novel was a triumph,
after its kind; and a list of his subsequent works would be but a record
of repeated triumphs. He has closely adhered to the method which he
found so serviceable at first; and although it is not for the general
critic to say whether he has felt temptations to turn aside, we may be
sure, in view of his unbroken popularity, that he has either been very
happy or very wise.
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