England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
In the heart of the town was situated the banking-house of Godolphin,
Crosse, and Godolphin. It was an old-established and most respected
firm, sound and wealthy. The third partner and second Godolphin,
mentioned in it, was Thomas Godolphin, Sir George Godolphin's eldest
son. Until he joined it, it had been Godolphin and Crosse. It was a
matter of arrangement, understood by Mr. Crosse, that when anything
happened to Sir George, Thomas would step into his father's place, as
head of the firm, and George, whose name at present did not appear,
though he had been long in the bank, would represent the last name; so
that it would still remain Godolphin, Crosse, and Godolphin. Mr. Crosse,
who, like Sir George, was getting in years, was remarkable for nothing
but a close attention to business. He was a widower, without children,
and Prior's Ash wondered who would be the better for the filling of his
garners.
The Godolphins could trace back to the ages of the monks. But of no very
high ancestry boasted they; no titles, places, or honours; they ranked
among the landed gentry as owners of Ashlydyat, and that was all. It was
quite enough for them: to be lords of Ashlydyat was an honour they would
not have bartered for a dukedom. They held by Ashlydyat. It was their
pride, their stronghold, their boast. Had feudal times been in fashion
now, they would have dug a moat around it, and fenced it in with
fortifications, and called it their castle. Why did they so love it? It
was but a poor place at best; nothing to look at; and, in the matter of
space inside, was somewhat straitened. Oak-panelled rooms, dark as
mahogany and garnished with cross beams, low ceilings, and mullioned
windows, are not the most consonant to modern taste. People thought that
the Godolphins loved it from its associations and traditions; from the
very fact that certain superstitions attached to it. Foolish
superstitions, you will be inclined to call them, as contrasted with the
enlightenment of these matter-of-fact days--I had almost said these days
of materialism.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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