In _The Prime Minister_ we reach the culmination of the political career of two of Trollope's favorite characters, and we learn how they handled the acquisition and the loss of power. And yet the memorable part of the book is not the political drama but the occurrence at the Tenway Junction, when Ferdinand Lopez finishes his meteoric career by throwing himself under the wheels of the morning express from Euston to Inverness. As in some of his other works (such as _Can You Forgive Her?_ in which Plantagenet and Glencora steal the scenes from the protagonists of the primary plot), the subplot upstages the primary story line. Lopez preys on the weaknesses of others (as does Lyndon Johnson in Caro's biography) and shrewdly makes a place for himself. But it is a place that will not last. Emily sees the real man she has married after the wedding ceremony (as Lady Bird Johnson learned that she was to be humiliated in front of their friends by her husband's peremptory and petty orders). Perhaps the most unpalatable of Lopez's commands to his wife is his telling her to "get round" her father in order to satisfy Lopez's urgent desire for money to cover his losses in speculation in guano. Lopez's initial conquests include not only the Whartons but even the Duchess of Omnium, who, still somewhat aggrieved after years of marriage that she was not allowed to marry the beautiful scoundrel Burgo Fitzgerald, has a weakness for charming and beautiful young scoundrels. There are no bounds to Lopez's ambition and effrontery: having lost an election in the Duke's home borough of Silverbridge and having had his campaign expenses reimbursed by his father-in-law Mr. Wharton, he writes the Duke and demands that the five hundred pounds expenses be paid by the Duke, since his wife had encouraged him to run for the office and the Duke had compelled her to withdraw the endorsement of "the Castle." Somewhat to his surprise, Lopez's letter hits a vulnerable target, and the Duke sends five hundred pounds. Nemesis stalks Lopez in the form of the market for guano, which fails to meet his expectations and requirements, and the steadfast refusal of Mr. Wharton to send good money after bad. And so to the Tenway Junction. Like so many others, he thought he could walk on water. So maybe this is why Trollope has a virtual monopoly on the political novel (and also the church novel). Scoundrels are more interesting. But wait; are there scoundrels in politics? Of course there are. This is where the biographer comes in with the life of Lyndon Johnson. For better or worse, that story wasn't fiction. One wishes for a latter-day Anthony Trollope to give us a story of such a towering figure, unencumbered by the requirements of nonfiction. THE OLD ORDER PASSETH THE DUKE'S CHILDREN