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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 
 Jr
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE 
 
 VOL. I. •*- tl
 
 i/l II ///"/'/ ' I'll / /nil n/< <i /// • '/■ ^
 
 FRANCES TROLLOPE 
 
 HER LIFE AND LITERARY WORK 
 
 FROM 
 
 GEORGE III. TO VICTORIA 
 
 BY HER DAUGHTER-IN-LAW 
 
 FRANCES ELEANOR TROLLOPE 
 
 In Two Volumes 
 
 Volume One 
 
 LONDON 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON 
 
 ^Duolisfjcrs w ©rtrmarg to |t]cr ilfflajcstg 
 
 1895 
 
 {All Rights Reserved)
 
 TSTSf. 
 
 TO THE MOST DEAR MEMORY 
 
 OF 
 
 THOMAS ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE 
 
 I DEDICATE THIS RECORD OF 
 
 HIS MOTHER. 
 
 863850
 
 PREFACE 
 
 I PREFIX these few words to the Memoir of Mrs. 
 Trollope, not with any idea of trying to bespeak 
 the reader's interest in my subject, or to beg his 
 indulgence for my treatment of it. To the best 
 of my judgment, such attempts are seldom jus- 
 tifiable, and still more seldom successful. 
 
 That I desire to create such interest, and that I 
 need such indulgence, is very true. But I do not 
 think I shall obtain them by begging for them. 
 
 I wish merely, in the first place, to point out that, 
 although Thomas Adolphus and Anthony Trollope 
 have, in the course of their respective biographies, 
 written of their mother, yet she appears — neces- 
 sarily appears — only incidentally in their pages, 
 and is seen only by a side-light. I have thought 
 that her personality, and her literary career, 
 merited being described more fully. 
 
 I know not if there be another example in 
 literature, of an author so voluminous and suc- 
 cessful who had reached fifty years of age before 
 
 •:
 
 Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 the publication of his first work. Her sons believed 
 the case to be unique. But surprise at the energy 
 and industry which enabled her to accomplish so 
 much, beginning at a period of life when most 
 people are inclined to consider their work in the 
 world as drawing to a close, is increased a hundred- 
 fold when one is informed of the circumstances 
 under which some of her best books were written. 
 
 Those circumstances I have narrated as accu- 
 rately as it was in my power to give them. As 
 to the truth of my facts — a different thing, of 
 course, from truth of drawing : since a figure of 
 which each separate detail is correct may be 
 utterly unlifclike, — as to the faithfulness with 
 which I have copied the sources of my informa- 
 tion, I may venture to speak confidently. 
 
 In the second place, I desire to make my 
 acknowledgments to all who have kindly supplied 
 me with information, or lent me letters. To my 
 dear friend and sister-in-law, Mrs. Anthony Trol- 
 lope, to Miss Anna Drury, Mrs. Wayne, Mrs. 
 Gifford, of Arlington House, Oxford, Mrs. G. 
 Wharton-Robinson, Sir John Tilley, K.C.B., and 
 Mr. H. M. Trollopc, I offer my best thanks.
 
 A MEMOIR OF 
 
 FRANCES TROLLOPE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 "I always come back to my old point: if the artist has a 
 genuine subject given to him, he can do honest work." — Goethe, 
 Italienische Reise. 
 
 Forty years ago, any list of Englishwomen of 
 Letters would have been held to be strangely in- 
 complete without the name of Frances Trollope. 
 Fashions change ; reputations fade ; books are 
 forgotten. Nevertheless, an adequate acquaint- 
 ance with the lighter literature of this century, 
 must still include her works, or at least the names 
 of the principal ones. It cannot be doubted that 
 many greater writers than she are known to 
 the majority of readers by means of the book- 
 binder rather than the printer : i.e. by the lettering 
 vol. I. I
 
 2 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 on the backs of the volumes ! But the "Domestic 
 Manners of the Americans," and the "Vicar of 
 Wrexhill," are still read by those who are curious 
 about the manners and tone of thought of sixty or 
 seventy years ago. 
 
 Probably few persons at the present day arc 
 aware how high Mrs. Trollopc's reputation stood 
 in the third and fourth decades of this century ; — 
 how much she was talked of, written about, praised, 
 and, above all, abused. This latter was not the 
 least of the testimonies to the power with which 
 her pen was wielded. I remember reading, many 
 years ago, in a forgotten journal of belles lcttres, 
 that a certain review (one of the mightiest and 
 awfullest of the critical Areopagus) had called a 
 certain female writer of repute " a poor worm ; " 
 whereupon the journalist shrewdly observes that 
 the awful reviewer must have been very angry, 
 and that it took something considerably less in- 
 significant than " a poor worm " to make him so ! 
 
 Measured by this rule, Frances Trollope was 
 assuredly not a poor worm, for she made some of 
 her reviewers very angry indeed. In those days, 
 political feeling entered very largely into the esti- 
 mate of an author's works. If he were known to 
 be a Liberal, the Tories assailed him ; if a Tory,
 
 • 
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 3 
 
 the Radicals abused him. All literature of any 
 pith and popularity was judged very much .on 
 party lines. The advocates for an equal treat- 
 ment of the sexes in Art — those who demand for 
 women's work a fair field and no favour — could 
 certainly not have complained that Mrs. Trollope 
 was treated with any contemptuous indulgence by 
 reason of her sex. The critics, big and little, who __ , 
 disliked her writings, belaboured them as heartily 
 as though she had been a man — perhaps even a 
 little more heartily ! She was " chastised with the 
 valour of" their goosequills to a flattering point of 
 ruthlessness. Nevertheless, she was one of the 
 most successful writers of her day. 
 
 In the Nezu Monthly Magazine for 1839 there 
 appeared, together with a portrait of her, a brief 
 memoir of Mrs. Trollope, from which I extract the 
 following passages : — 
 
 "In the following year (1832) she published the 
 ' Domestic Manners of the Americans ; ' and from that 
 time to the present, a rapid succession of popular and 
 successful works has confirmed and extended the repu- 
 tation . which her first book achieved, and has won for 
 her an undisputed place among the principal favourites 
 of the public. . . . We would make a few remarks 
 on one peculiarity in the reception which her works 
 have met with. That Mrs. Trollope has, from the first
 
 4 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 commencement of her career up to the present time, been 
 uniformly and eminently successful as an author, no one 
 can gainsay or doubt. But, on the other hand, it is 
 equally clear that scarcely any of her works have escaped 
 the vehement and angry censure of some portion or 
 other of the public press. Certainly no other author of 
 the present day has been at once so much read, so 
 much admired, and so much abused." 
 
 The writer of the memoir proceeds to account 
 for these facts, by the intrinsic talent of her works 
 on the one hand, and the uncompromising honesty 
 of her character on the other. 
 
 "There may," he continues, "be many persons more 
 competent to form an opinion on many subjects than 
 Mrs. Trollope. Her views may be distorted by preju- 
 dice (as whose are not?), or she may form a judgment 
 too hastily. But we confess that we set a very high 
 value on Mrs. Trollope's opinion, for this reason : We 
 are sure that, be the subject what it may, and displeasing 
 to whom it may, that opinion will be freely, honestly, 
 and boldly expressed. This is, it is true, a course which 
 must and will make enemies (or opponents, rather); 
 but we would hold up the example of Mrs. Trollope to 
 all writers, as a proof that in authorship, as in other 
 crafts, ' honesty is the best policy.' " 
 
 Whether politic or not, honesty was the only 
 course possible to Frances Trollope. Truthful- 
 ness in word and deed continued to be one of her 
 most marked characteristics to the end of her life.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 5 
 
 Again and again her correspondents are found 
 alluding to her " straightforwardness," " frankness," 
 and " sincerity." Those who best knew her, could 
 not doubt that when she narrated an incident or 
 a conversation, she had actually witnessed what 
 she described. Whether her inferences from the 
 facts were always correct, is another question. Her 
 feelings were ardent, her apprehension was lively, 
 and she may sometimes, as her critic in the New 
 Monthly observes, have formed a judgment too 
 hastily. But it will scarcely be contended that 
 the drawing of erroneous conclusions is monopo- 
 lized by impulsive and warm-hearted persons ; or 
 that it is impossible to be wrong after the coolest 
 deliberation ! 
 
 I am not, however, concerned to vindicate 
 Frances Trollope's character for veracity as a 
 writer. Time has done that on many points 
 whereon some of her contemporaries impugned it. 
 My aim is to give as faithful a portrait as lies "*=/ 
 in my power, of a very remarkable Englishwoman, 
 and of the circumstances and environment of her 
 life. These are far enough removed — at all events 
 as regards the earlier years of it — from the present 
 period to have a certain quaint interest. And 
 those readers who would wish their
 
 6 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 " days to be 
 
 l5oun<l each to each by natural piety," 
 
 must ever contemplate with tenderness, as well as. 
 curiosity, any true picture of the generations that 
 have preceded our own. There is pathos in. the 
 sense of our human fellowship with those figures 
 whose outward garb — as well of the mind as the 
 body — was so different from that which we wear ; 
 and in the recognition that the warm blood pulsed 
 beneath high-waistcd gowns, and voluminous 
 muslin cravats, even as it pulses to-day under 
 attire so superior in the all-embracing merit of — 
 novelty. 
 
 Perhaps, too, there may be some value for us 
 in the increased respect for our vanished proge- 
 nitors, which must assuredly ensue from the perusal 
 of such domestic records as these. To say that 
 there were virtue and intellect, as well as cakes 
 and ale, in England when George the Third was 
 King, would be, no doubt, to utter a mere platitude. 
 But it has often occurred to me that the task of 
 calling attention to the particulars involved in that 
 general proposition, is not wholly superfluous. 
 London, of course, has always been a centre of 
 intellectual friction ; but in reading the papers 
 from which the following pages have been com-
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 7 
 
 piled, I have been much struck by the evidences 
 of culture, refinement, and mental activity among 
 very quiet families living in provincial towns and 
 rural parsonages seventy or eighty years ago. 
 And I have thought that what interested me so 
 much, might have an interest for others. 
 
 The records which I purpose laying before the 
 reader, have at least the incontestable merit of 
 truth. They consist chiefly of letters and diaries, 
 not written with a view to meet the public eye. 
 Such as they are, they are authentic and genuine. 
 The earliest of them were written eighty-seven 
 years ago, and they comprise glimpses of many 
 memorable men and women. Of stirring outward 
 adventure there is scarcely any. But there is 
 enacted, during many years, an interior drama, 
 which would be moving enough could I present 
 it to the reader half as vividly as I realize it 
 myself.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 C 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 "... love will go by contrast, as by likes." 
 
 Tennyson, The Sisters. 
 
 FRANCES Milton, afterwards known in the lite- 
 rary world as Frances Trollope, was born at 
 Staplcton, near Bristol, on the ioth of March, 
 1780. Her father was the Reverend William Milton, 
 who held at that time a living at Staplcton, but was 
 subsequently, and for many years, Vicar of Heck- 
 field, a New College Living just over the border 
 of Berkshire, in Hampshire. Her mother was a 
 Miss Gresley. That their descent on this side of 
 the house was by no means ignored by her chil- 
 dren, is proved by more than one jesting allusion 
 to " the illustrious Norman blood that flows in 
 our veins," and so on, in letters from her brother 
 to Frances Milton. 
 
 Mrs. Milton, nee Gresley, bore three children : 
 Mary, Henry, and Frances. Of the early years 
 of the Reverend William Milton's married life, I 
 have no record. His wife died while her children
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 9 
 
 were still very young, and Mr. Milton subsequently 
 married a Miss Partington, by whom he had no 
 family. He was a man of some attainments as 
 a mathematician ; and he had also a remarkable 
 love for mechanics, and no inconsiderable abilities 
 in that line. His tastes led him to spend a great 
 deal of time and money on mechanical contriv- 
 ances, from some of which he expected to reap 
 large profits — an expectation which, it is perhaps 
 needless to say, was never fulfilled. Mr. Milton's 
 "patent coach," and the great fortune it was to 
 earn, were the subject of some good-humoured 
 joking among his own family. But his mechanical / 
 researches were not characterized by mere dilettante 
 futility. A project of his for improving the port 
 of Bristol, was deemed worthy of the thanks of 
 the Corporation of that city, duly conveyed to 
 him on an official parchment, which I have seen. 
 And possibly some of his ideas may not have 
 been unfruitful, but may, in a more or less modi- 
 fied form, have contributed to the changes and 
 ameliorations brought about by the great works 
 subsequently undertaken in the docks and sea- 
 approaches of Bristol. 
 
 In the first chapter of T. Adolphus Trollope's 
 "What I Remember," affectionate mention is
 
 io A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 made of his grandfather Milton ; and mention, too, 
 of the great coach-house at Hcckfield Vicarage, 
 " always full of the strangest collection of models 
 of coaches." 
 
 There never was the least quarrel — no shade of 
 ill-will — between the young Miltons and their step- 
 mother ; but when Henry Milton was appointed to 
 a clerkship at the War Office, his two sisters left 
 Heckfield, and accompanied him to London to 
 keep house for him there. And very soon these 
 young people attracted around them a pleasant 
 circle of friends not at all of the commonplace 
 order. It would be, perhaps, more accurate to 
 attribute the special attraction to the wit and 
 brightness of Henry Milton and his sister Fanny. 
 Mary was a kind, excellent creature, sufficiently 
 sensible, but not of shining parts. She married 
 Captain, afterwards Admiral, Clyde, of the Royal 
 Navy, and lived to be a very old woman, sur- 
 viving her sister Fanny by a few years. Of Henry 
 Milton I have heard from those who remembered 
 him, that he was a peculiarly delightful companion 
 in society, and quick to appreciate all that was 
 best and brightest in the conversation of others. 
 At the time when they first made the acquaintance 
 of Mr. Trollopc, the brother and sisters were living
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. n 
 
 at No. 27, Keppel Street — the same street though 
 not the same house as that in which the first 
 years of Mr. and Mrs. Trollope's married life 
 were passed. 
 
 Anthony Trollope, in his autobiography, speaks 
 with tender appreciation of certain letters that 
 passed between his father and mother during their 
 courtship, and in the early days of their marriage. 
 And in his brother's " What I Remember " one 
 or two of these letters are quoted. It would not 
 have been " germane to the matter " in either of 
 the above-named books, to fill many pages with 
 this correspondence, It had but a collateral bear- 
 ing on the main subject. But in the present case 
 it forms part, and no unimportant part, of the 
 subject itself. No words of mine could so faith- 
 fully and vividly present certain traits of character 
 as they are shown in these old letters. 
 
 The whole collection, consisting of thir.ty-seven 
 letters, now lies before me, written on paper some- 
 what yellowed by time, but with ink that has 
 faded very little, in clear, neat characters. Mr. 
 Trollope's is indeed a specially beautiful hand- 
 writing in these earlier specimens of it. And he 
 is always careful about dates ; which the lady is 
 not. To pronounce on the subtle significance of
 
 12 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 certain habits, and to draw conclusions as to what 
 our fellow-creatures must naturally have been 
 likely to do, after we know them to have done 
 it, is an ex post facto kind of wisdom of tempting 
 facility. To me, who know his subsequent history, 
 some of the peculiarities in Mr. Trollope's letters 
 appear easy to account for. But I think that 
 otherwise I should have been puzzled to reconcile 
 them with other traits. For example, despite his 
 scrupulous accuracy of mind, there arc more errors, 
 more slips of the pen, in his letters than in those 
 of Miss Milton. Words are misplaced ; sometimes, 
 but more rarely, omitted, and frequently made into 
 orthographical monsters by tacking the tail of one 
 to the head of another, in hurrying on towards 
 what is to come next. It is as if the stream of 
 his mind, though clear in itself, were constantly 
 fretted by little rocks and boulders in its course. 
 Hers flows on more smoothly, with a cheerful case, 
 like a brimming river between meadows. 
 
 The first letter of the series is dated Lincoln's 
 Inn, July 19, 1809, and is anterior to any explicit 
 love-making, although there were probably more 
 or less vague suspicions in the Milton family that 
 a barrister, very strenuously industrious in his 
 profession, must have had a special motive for
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 13 
 
 writing such long notes, and copying out so many 
 verses, beyond the desire to make mankind better 
 acquainted with the English poems of Crowe, or 
 the Latin odes of the Rev. William Jones, of 
 Nayland.* 
 
 I premise that all the extracts from these letters 
 are printed in scrupulous accordance with the 
 originals. I have preserved spelling, punctuation, 
 and underlining as I found them. 
 
 '•' To Miss F. Milton. 
 " My dear Madam, 
 
 " Although I have been so long in performing 
 my promise of sending you a copy of Crowe's verses, I 
 trust you have given me credit for not having permitted 
 it to escape my memory. . . . The few stanzas addressed 
 ' To an Ass,' I have taken the liberty of adding, not as 
 in anywise equal to the Installation Ode, for indeed the 
 subject does not admit it, but as a production of the 
 same master, and as a contrast to the many paltry things 
 upon the same or a similar subject, from the New School. 
 The two little odes in Latin which you will also find 
 enclosed, I shall be very much obliged to you to give to 
 your brother. I flatter myself he will be very much 
 pleased with them, and they will probably be new to 
 
 * Crowe was a Fellow and Tutor of New College, and afterwards 
 Public Orator of the University of Oxford. In support of Mr. 
 Trollope's taste, it may be mentioned that Crowe's poems were 
 highly praised by Rogers and Tom Moore. The former studied 
 him for versification, and declared his poem of " Lewesdon Hill" 
 to be "full of noble passages."
 
 14 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 him. The first was written by the Rev. Wm. Jones, ot 
 Nayland (a name that will be long known and highly 
 respected by every lover of elegant and biblical learning), 
 in a moment, apparently, of despondency ; and at the 
 extremity of public danger that existed in the portentous 
 summer of 1792. ... I have been so much pleased 
 with these little odes that I would gladly see something 
 like a translation of them in our own language. Perhaps 
 your brother, at your request, might be induced to employ 
 a leisure hour in giving them an English dress; and 
 that I might lessen the impertinence of my joining you 
 in your entreaties, I have ventured at an attempt myself, 
 and have sent, together with the originals, a few stanzas 
 expressing what I conceive to be the sentiments of the 
 first of them. The singular elegance and terseness of 
 this ode I have not even dared to imitate ; not only from 
 a fear of my own powers proving deficient to such a task, 
 but from thinking it incapable of being expressed in our 
 tongue. 
 
 " I beg my best respects to your brother, and trusting 
 that you will both pardon the liberty which I cannot but 
 acknowledge myself guilty of having taken, I have to 
 assure you, 
 
 " My dear Madam, that I am, 
 
 " With the highest esteem, 
 "Your most devoted humble servant, 
 
 "Thos. Anth. Trollope." 
 
 The "portentous summer of 1792" must have 
 been well within the writer's recollection. He 
 was then eighteen years old. The allusion to the
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 15 
 
 " New School " was probably directed against the 
 imitators of Wordsworth and Coleridge. The 
 Lyrical Ballads, with the " Ancient Mariner," had 
 been published in 1798. There was, doubtless, 
 a great deal of literary as well as other rubbish 
 extant in the year 1808 ; but for our benefit the 
 good work has exemplified the doctrine of the 
 survival of the fittest — a soothing reflection in 
 these days of much printing, to those altruistic 
 persons who are concerned for the happiness and 
 improvement of posterity. 
 
 The next letter from Mr. Trollope is concerning 
 a certain umbrella, which he wishes Mr. Henry 
 Milton to keep ; but its real purpose is evidently 
 to give the writer an opportunity of addressing 
 Fanny Milton. It is not worth quoting at any 
 length, but there is one touch of nature in it that 
 makes the whole (umbelliferous) world kin. Mr. 
 Trollope writes — 
 
 " I really hope you will indulge me in the request that 
 it may henceforth be safely deposited in your house, since 
 experience has shown that they are very apt to ramble 
 from mine." 
 
 This racial peculiarity of wandering away from 
 its rightful owner is manifested as strongly as ever 
 in Xhefin de siecle umbrella !
 
 1 6 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 Miss Milton scribbled a hasty reply on the 
 blank sheet of this letter, which had been sent 
 out by hand, transmitting an invitation from her 
 brother to Mr. Trollope to dine with them "on 
 Friday." 
 
 There is an unimportant note from him a few 
 days later, thanking her for the loan of a book by 
 Miss Edgeworth ; and then comes the letter that 
 decided the fate of both their lives. It is undated 
 — a circumstance proving the strong preoccupation 
 of the writer's mind — but I find from other evi- 
 dence that it was written on the ist of November, 
 1808. 
 
 " To Miss Fanny Milton. 
 " My dear Madam, 
 
 " In the course of last spring, I was no little 
 delighted with the subject a certain debating Society had 
 chosen for their weekly discussion, which, to the best of my 
 recollection, was in the words, or to the effect following : 
 ' Is it most expedient for a man to make an avowal of 
 his attachment to a lady viva voce, anglice tcte-a-tctc, or by 
 epistolary correspondence?' What the determination 
 was that these learned orators came to upon a question 
 that must have been so interesting to all unmarried men, 
 did not reach me ; neither is it of consequence to me 
 upon the present occasion. But my reason for adverting 
 to this proposed debate, is because I well remember, 
 and probably, my dear Madam, you may also, that there 
 was one, altho' not of this honourable Society, who
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 17 
 
 expressed a most decided opinion upon the subject ; and 
 to that opinion I now think myself bound to submit. 
 To me, I must confess that the question appeared to be 
 calculated to afford an ample field for declamation, and 
 to be attended with considerable difficulty, but I believe 
 that the only observation I made at the time, was that 
 which Sir Roger de Coverley found so convenient and 
 apposite upon almost all occasions : ' Much was to be 
 said on both sides of the question.' And indeed, having 
 discovered your sentiments, and having no occasion to 
 waste any further thoughts upon the subject, my mind, 
 I confess, continues much in the same state of dubiety. 
 In submitting, therefore, to your opinion, I am making 
 no sacrifice of my own, altho' had the sacrifice been 
 necessary, your ideas, as they ought, would have been 
 the sole guide of my choice. 
 
 " I little thought, my dear Madam, that this preface 
 would have run to so considerable a length ; since, how- 
 ever, it explains the motive of my now addressing you, 
 it will save me the necessity of a more explicit avowal, 
 and sufficiently declare to you that my future happiness 
 on earth is at your disposal. 
 
 "It is impossible but that I must feel every anxiety 
 till I am favoured with your reply to this note, yet I 
 shall say nothing under the hopes of accelerating it. If, 
 indeed, as I trust is the case, you are not entirely unaware 
 that my chief delight has long since had its source in 
 your society and conversation ; and if, permit my vanity 
 to indulge the hope, there has been the slightest degree 
 of mutuality in this delight, then perhaps — I confess 
 I scarcely know what I was going to say, but perhaps 
 you would not require three weeks for passing a sentence 
 
 vol. 1. 2
 
 1 8 ./ MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP. . 
 
 on which I must so anxiously depend. Many circum- 
 stances, however, I know must, and indeed ought to be 
 taken into consideration before this serious, this final 
 step can be resolved upon. There is no one perhaps 
 that has a greater contempt for those who are induced 
 to contract alliances upon motives of a pecuniary nature, 
 than I have ; but at the same time I have had experience 
 enough to teach me that happiness is not to be expected 
 where the parties are no longer capable of enjoying 
 those necessaries and comforts of life to which they have 
 been accustomed, and which are commonly incident to 
 the rank and situation they hold in society. 
 
 "With these sentiments, and believing them to be 
 your own, as indeed they must be those of every sensible 
 and considerate person of either sex, I deem it an in- 
 dispensable duty in addressing myself to you on this 
 subject in which all my dearest interests are involved, 
 to make an open declaration of what grounds I have to 
 hope for the enjoyment of those comforts above alluded 
 to. But in doing this I have much to fear that you will 
 think me by far too sanguine; and indeed I too well 
 know myself that at any rate my hopes of happiness 
 must be postponed to a distant day. 
 
 " My present income, tho' somewhat uncertain since 
 part of it arises from my profession, is about ,£900 per 
 annum, but as near ^£200 of this proceeds from my 
 Fellowship at Oxford, this last emolument would drop 
 should I be no longer deemed a fit member of that 
 Society. I should also add that this income, trifling as 
 it is, is subject to certain incumbrances, but as it is 
 much beyond my expenditure as a single man, they are 
 gradually wearing away.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 19 
 
 "I trust, my dear Madam, you will not think me 
 presumptuous, nor imagine that I have been premature 
 in stating these particulars ; for surely if they are worthy 
 of our consideration at any time, it must be more candid 
 to enter into them at the first instance (altho' perhaps 
 the vulgar prejudice of an unthinking mind might lead 
 to a different conclusion) than to be obliged to have 
 recourse to them at a subsequent period. Indeed I 
 feel no apprehension that my motives will be liable to 
 have an unfavourable construction put upon them by 
 one whose — but let me avoid compliments, which were 
 always my detestation — fit tools only for knaves, and to 
 be employed against fools. 
 
 " I must now draw this long letter to a conclusion ; 
 a letter perhaps chiefly to be remarked by its singu- 
 larity, and particularly in its manner and style being so 
 little adapted to its subject. — If I have erred in this, I 
 must admit that it has been in a great measure with 
 design, as my sole object has been to make a declaration 
 which I could no longer conceal, and at the same time 
 to state those circumstances a knowledge of which, in 
 case you should think the subject of my writing 
 worthy your consideration, would be necessary for that 
 purpose. — In doing this in the most simple manner, and 
 in rejecting the flippant nonsense which I believe to be 
 •commonly used on occasions of this nature, I doubt not 
 I have acted as well in conformity with your sentiments, 
 as those of 
 
 " My dear Madam, 
 
 " Your sincere admirer and most devoted servant, 
 
 " Thos. Anth. Teollope."
 
 ' 
 
 20 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 There, young ladies and gentlemen, is an 
 authentic offer of marriage made in the days of 
 your great-grandfathers ! 
 
 But that it is an unusual specimen of such an 
 offer, even in those days, the writer himself, as 
 he says, is aware. It is curious to watch the 
 subterranean fire spurt out from beneath the iron- 
 bound crust with which the wooer has chosen to 
 cover it. The unfinished sentence, for example, 
 where he confesses that he hardly knows what 
 he was about to say — the sudden curvet from the 
 straight track sternly laid down for his pen, being 
 plainly due to the ecstatic vision he has allowed 
 himself to glance at, of charming Fanny Milton's 
 having some delight in his society ! And then, 
 again, the rigid way in which he pulls up his 
 Pegasus — throwing it, as it were, on its haunches 
 — when he finds himself rushing into the language 
 of compliment ! A cold man does not write in 
 that way. A cold man is under no apprehension 
 lest his feelings should run away with him. The 
 exaggerated repression of all verbal tenderness 
 in the letter may be a fault, or an error rather ; 
 but it does not spring from coldness of tempera- 
 ment. 
 
 And now here is the lady's answer, undated
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 21 
 
 by her, but endorsed by its recipient : " F. M., 
 received 2nd November, 1808." 
 
 " It does not require three weeks' consideration, Mr. 
 Trollope, to enable me to tell you that the letter you left 
 with me last night was most flattering and gratifying to 
 me. I value your good opinion too highly not to feel 
 that the generous proof you have given me of it must 
 for ever, and in any event, be remembered by me with 
 pride and gratitude. But I fear you are not sufficiently 
 aware that your choice, so flattering to me, is for your- 
 self a very imprudent one. You have every right in an 
 alliance of this kind, to expect a fortune greatly superior 
 to any I shall ever possess. And I agree too perfectly 
 with you in your ideas on this point not to think that 
 you ought to be informed of the truth in this particular 
 before you decide on so important a subject. All I 
 have independent of my father is ^"1300, and we each 
 recieve from him at present an annual allowance of 
 ^"50. What he would give either of us were we to 
 marry, I really do not know. 
 
 " In an affair of this kind, I do not think it any dis- 
 advantage to either party that some time should elapse 
 between the first contemplation and final decision of it ; 
 it gives each an opportunity of becoming acquainted 
 with the other's opinion on many important points which 
 -could not be canvassed before it was thought of, and 
 which it would be useless to discuss after it was settled. — 
 I have to thank you for chosing that manner of address- 
 ing me which I once so vaguely said I thought the 
 best, but I have more than once since I began writing 
 this, wished I had not said so. — I have not, nor can I
 
 22 A MEMOIR Of FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 express myself quite as I wish. There is something of 
 cold formality in what I have written, which is very 
 foreign to what I feci, — but I know not how to mend it. 
 
 "Fanny Milton." 
 
 A novelist would scarcely venture to let his 
 heroine write a similar letter under similar cir- 
 cumstances, nowadays. It might possibly fail 
 to enlist the reader's sympathies. And yet the 
 formality of it docs not strike one as being 
 repellant. It is the result of unaffected, modest 
 dignity. Since he has chosen to keep his ex pi 
 sions within such rigid bounds, it is not for her 
 to be more expansive. In a word, the manner 
 may be somewhat obsolete, but the sentiment 
 is not. Already, in these early written records 
 of her mind, we see the same open candour which 
 always distinguished it. She goes straight to 
 the point in speaking of her pecuniary position, 
 without any ambages. 
 
 The lover answers instantly, beginning this 
 time " My dearest Madam," and, signing himself 
 " Yours most truly and devoutly," says : " I am 
 made most happy by the answer you have done 
 me the honour of giving to my letter of last 
 night ; " and begs for a personal interview without 
 delay.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 23 
 
 After this the correspondence ceases until the 
 first days of December, when Miss Milton had 
 returned to her father's house at Heckfield, whence 
 she writes to announce her safe arrival. The 
 letter is dated December 2, 1808. 
 
 She begins by saying that "spite of being 
 quized" {sic) she would* have written as he 
 desired, yesterday, had it been possible to do 
 so. But the postman had left the Vicarage an 
 hour before she reached it. Her father was not 
 able to meet her in Reading at the end of the 
 coach journey, being obliged to dine out, "but 
 his servant did, and I had a fine, clear, cold, 
 moonlight evening for my eight-miles jumble in 
 his patent cart." She has not been able to see 
 her father before writing — 
 
 " But Mrs. Milton, who I told you settled all these 
 things has been telling me what it is their intention to 
 give me. . . . She says my father cannot now give me 
 more than ^1200 stock, and another ^100 for clothes; 
 that at his death I am to have the third of the little 
 estate I mentioned to you ; and at hers, the third of 
 ^"2000. I am afraid, nay I know, this is less than you 
 must have expected, and this vexes me much. . . . 
 Ought not this to make a difference as to the time at 
 which you mean to burden yourself with a poor wife ? 
 Indeed I think it ought. ... I am certainly sinnmg
 
 
 z^ -1 MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 against etiquette in writing to you first, but if you do not 
 mean that I should understand you are shocked at my 
 doing so, you will let me have a line from you Tuesday. 
 My father seemed much pleased by your letter ; he bids 
 me tell you he will answer it in person. Doth he and 
 Mrs. M. send their best regards to you, and I am — 
 
 " Yours very truly, 
 
 " Frances Milton." 
 
 " Fanny " had been written first, but the pen 
 had been drawn through it. There was probably 
 some jest between them on this subject, for in the 
 first letter in which Mr. Trollope uses her Chris- 
 tian name, he calls her "Fanny," and underlines 
 the word twice. Although her books, and almost 
 all her business communications bore the name 
 of Frances, Fanny was her home name all her life. 
 
 Mr. Milton went to town and had an interview 
 with his intended son-in-law, which appears to 
 have been satisfactory. The correspondence 
 between Frances Milton and her betrothed con- 
 tinues, with a few interruptions occasioned by her 
 visiting London, or his visiting Ileckficld, until 
 the date of their marriage, which took place in 
 the following May. These jaunts appear to have 
 been frequent. Nothing, indeed, strikes one more 
 in reading of the domestic records of those days, 
 than the perpetual movement and change of place
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 25 
 
 which went on among the Miltons, the Trollopes, 
 and all the widespread ramifications of their kin- 
 dred and friends. Some of us are accustomed to 
 think of those pre-steam - locomotive times as 
 being necessarily stay-at-home times, when a 
 journey once a year was a stirring event that fell 
 to the lot of comparatively few families. But that 
 is not the impression given by the documents 
 before me. Indeed, I suppose that we English 
 folk have always had a travelling strain in the 
 blood of us ; and it is certain that we have never, 
 speaking nationally, been apt to renounce an aim 
 we were inclined to, because its attainment was 
 not perfectly easy. 
 
 It would be tedious and unnecessary to give all 
 the letters during courtship in extenso ; but I ex- 
 tract such passages as appear to me to have 
 any interest for the reader of to-day, and also 
 one or two that throw a strong light on the 
 character of the writers, or carry on the story of 
 their lives. 
 
 Mr. Trollope, writing on the 5th of December, 
 1808, mentions having received a visit from Dr. 
 Nott, who came to get his assistance as a solicitor, 
 and "appeared surprised," says the writer, with a 
 touch of hauteur, " that I did not practise in that 
 
 .
 
 26 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 character." The Reverend Doctor's visit (he was a 
 prebendary of Winchester) was occasioned by some 
 difficulty that had arisen between himself and the 
 parishioners of a living to which he had lately been 
 appointed, on the subject of tithes. "The usual 
 subject of tithes," as Mr. Trollope says. And he 
 adds, "There nCvcr was a man, I believe, so little 
 c6nvcrsant with the common circumstances of life." 
 This Dr. Nott is described by T. Adolphus Trollope 
 in " What I Remember," as a refined-looking old 
 clergyman who was an elegant Italian scholar. 
 But he evidently knew less about tithes. He con- 
 tinued to be a valued friend of the Trollope famil) 
 as long as he lived. 
 
 Discussions are carried on between Lincoln's 
 Inn and Heckficld Vicarage, as to the choice of a 
 house for Mr. Trollope and his bride. The house 
 No. 1 6, Keppel Street, where they ultimately re- 
 sided, was Mr. Trollopc's own property. He 
 mentions in one letter that he has had an offer of 
 two thousand guineas for it. It is considered 
 larger than the newly married couple will require ; 
 while, on the other hand, No. 27, where' the younger 
 Miltons lived, was pronounced too small. This 
 must have been solely on the score of dignity ; 
 since a house that had sufficed to accommodate
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 27 
 
 the brother and two sisters, would, of course, have 
 held Mr. Trollope and his wife. 
 
 It is noticeable how large a part books play 
 throughout the correspondence. ' Scarcely a letter 
 passes without some literary allusion. Henry 
 Milton scribbles a word on the outside flap of the 
 great square letter about to be despatched by Mr. 
 Trollope, thanking his sister for a foreign grammar ; 
 there is a question of lending an Italian dictionary ; 
 and the current reviews are constantly quoted and 
 referred to. Fanny Milton sends an Italian sonnet 
 to her fiance, feeling sure that he will be able to 
 make out its meaning, as her father can read 
 Italian chiefly by means of his knowledge of 
 Latin (!) The enamoured gentleman makes the 
 required attempt, but honourably confesses that 
 he has failed ; and remarks that he cannot believe 
 any one would be capable of tasting the beauties 
 of an Italian poem, with no more preparation than 
 a classical education. Mr. Milton must, therefore, 
 he opines, have had some acquaintance with Italian 
 grammar — which proves to have been the case. 
 
 It is rather startling to find a lady who was still 
 living in the twenty-fifth year of our Queen's reign, 
 writing with some warmth on the disputed question 
 of the authenticity of Rowley's poems, and finding 

 
 28 A ME. If OIK OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 it difficult to believe they were written by " an un- 
 educated boy of seventeen." Chattcrton had been 
 dead thirty-nine years in 1809, but a volume then 
 recently published by a Dr. Sherwin had, to some 
 ephemeral degree, revived the old controversy. 
 " The subject," says Miss Milton, " is very interest- 
 ing to us all at the Vicarage." 
 
 Some portion of this interest may perhaps be 
 ascribed to the Miltons' connection with Bristol. 
 A family named Hellicar, who were Fanny Milton's 
 cousins through a Gresley alliance, is often alluded 
 to throughout these letters, and in the correspond- 
 ence of many subsequent years. They were, 
 apparently, Bristol merchants of considerable 
 wealth. In view of the approaching marriage, 
 Mrs. Hellicar sends a cordial invitation to the 
 betrothed couple to visit her on their bridal journey. 
 "Either," writes Fanny Milton, in transmitting the 
 invitation to Mr. Trollope, " at the Hellicars' 
 beautiful villa at Leigh, about six miles from 
 Bristol, or in their mansion in Bristol." I suppose 
 the great Bristol merchants have all migrated to 
 Clifton in these days. 
 
 Mr. Trollopc's family have all received the 
 announcement of his engagement very satisfac- 
 torily. Miss Milton has had " a very affectionate
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 29 
 
 letter from your sister Die " (she had married her 
 first cousin, Rev. Henry Trollope, brother of the 
 fifth and sixth baronets), and is to meet "your 
 uncle and Mrs. Meetkerke " when she comes to 
 town. Sir John and Lady Trollope hope to make 
 her acquaintance, and the former inquires privately 
 of his cousin, Thomas Anthony, what sort of 
 wedding present would be most acceptable. No 
 course of true love could have run more smoothly 
 than theirs in these days of courtship. 
 
 The gentleman's letters become not merely 
 more voluminous, but much easier and warmer in 
 their tone. There is a good deal of playfulness 
 in many of them, which contrasts strangely with 
 the ascetic, joyless temper ascribed to him by both 
 his sons in later years. Apropos of Miss Milton's 
 saying that she had sinned against etiquette in 
 writing to him first, he rejoins — 
 
 " Now the ice has been broken — since a letter has 
 been written both by yourself and me since your depar- 
 ture from London, I presume no etiquette can possibly 
 be violated in suffering me to hear from you again. But 
 if it should be thought so, do write and tell me of it, — 
 and when writing, you know, you certainly may tell me 
 anything else ! " 
 
 Several times he indulges in what, according 
 to the norma loquendi of to-day, is styled " chaff "
 
 30 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 (he would probably have termed it raillery), on the 
 subject of her share in the profits of the patent 
 coach. Her father, it seems, has formally made 
 over to her one-third of these — whenever they 
 happen to accrue! And Mr. Trollopc charges 
 her with having concealed the fact with a view of 
 keeping back a thousand a year or so, for her own 
 private pin-money. 
 
 Again, in urging her to make a visit to town 
 (she has taken up her abode at Heckfield, where 
 the marriage preparations are going on in a leisurely 
 fashion), he writes — 
 
 " I called on Mrs. Young who hoped you would return 
 to town before the 13th of next month, as they have 
 issued a few packs of cards for that evening, with ' a 
 violin ' at the bottom. The dance, I can assure you, is 
 intended to be a very gay one, and the old dowagers are 
 all invited for the 10th, that they may not be in the way 
 of the younger party on the 13th." 
 
 This division of the guests smacks, to our 
 notions, rather of a modern transatlantic fashion, 
 than of anything pertaining to English manners 
 in the reign of King George the Third! But 
 there is nothing new under the sun. 
 
 One new thing, by the way, is mentioned in a 
 letter of Mr. Trollope's, written in the first days 
 of 1 809 :
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 31 
 
 " Have you learnt that the public is threatened with 
 an opposition Edinbord Review, under the name of The 
 Quarterly, and under the auspices of Walter Scott ? 
 A quarrel between some of the editors of the famous 
 work, is said to have given rise to this new undertaking, 
 and that the indignation of W. Scott has no little served 
 to inflame it. I shall be sorry to see the talents divided, 
 and to give xos. for what we have given only 55-., for 
 this must be the consequence, I presume. Another new 
 review has already made its appearance conducted by 
 the veteran Cumberland, and bearing his name. The 
 chief peculiarity in it, is the signatures by the parties 
 reviewing. I have not yet seen it, but the account I 
 hear of it is by no means favourable. Indeed I should 
 not augur well of it." 
 
 I can find no mention elsewhere of this review 
 conducted by Richard Cumberland. It probably 
 did not survive above one or two numbers. Cum- 
 berland died Ln 181 1. The reader will have 
 remarked that Mr. Trollope purposes, as a matter 
 of course, buying both the Edinburgh and the 
 Quarterly, although he is sorry to give ten shillings 
 instead of five for his feast of reason. 
 
 In the same letter he enters into an elaborate 
 examination of the principal articles in the current 
 number of the Edinburgh Review ; especially one 
 on the poet Burns — who at this time had been 
 dead about twelve years, — showing a familiar
 
 32 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 acquaintance with, and love for his poems. Mr. 
 Trollope writes — 
 
 " There is a critique upon Burns, brought in Head and 
 shoulders as you will perceive. In quoting some stanzas 
 from the Cottager's (sic) Saturday Night, it is surprising 
 they should stop short just before the most enchanting 
 verses that perhaps Burns ever wrote, and particularly 
 since they have mentioned them as an instance of great 
 force of tenderness and truth. You cannot forget the 
 two stanzas beginning ' O happy love.' " 
 
 On another occasion Fanny Milton, writing to 
 him of a lady who seems to have incurred a little 
 ridicule by her manner, says very happily, " She 
 has a most innocent and friendly heart, and that, 
 as you quoted from your Burns, is ' what makes us 
 right or wrong.' " On her part she says that her 
 days arc divided between walking, sewing, and 
 " Dante or some of his brethren." So that these 
 folks in the quiet Hcckfield Vicarage live habitually 
 in very exalted company. 
 
 It is noteworthy that French phrases occur rather 
 frequently, not only in her letters, but his. He 
 writes: "Adieu! Aime-moi bicn. Aime-moi 
 toujours." And once, with a rare breaking away 
 from his habitual shy sobriety of expression, he 
 ends with these words: "Adieu! Mon amc est 
 toutc plcine dc toi ! " In answer to his prayer,
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 33 
 
 " Aime-moi toujours ! " she writes : " Love you 
 always ? I believe I must, for I cannot help it, 
 even though you do scold me when I don't deserve 
 it" And in relation to some small misunderstand- 
 ing between them, she says — 
 
 " Would Easter were come, and then we could quarrel 
 comfortably at our leisure. But at this distance I do not 
 love it so well. One written word that looks like anger, 
 may be read a great many times before the forgiving one 
 comes to efface it." 
 
 Many topics of the day are touched on in the 
 course of the correspondence. An elopement in 
 high life, which created a great public scandal at 
 the time, is made the text for some grave moraliz- 
 ing on Mr. Trollope's part. 
 
 " The increase of the most marked depravity in the 
 highest circles, the great effrontery with which this is 
 accompanied, and the very little discountenance it has 
 to struggle with, is truly deplorable. It is a real national 
 misfortune, the effects of which I think are easily to be 
 foreseen, and much to be dreaded." 
 
 Another time Miss Milton writes in great distress 
 
 / 
 about the trial of two gentlemen whom her family 
 
 have known intimately, and who, she hears, have 
 
 been condemned for wilful mitrder on the occasion 
 
 of the duel in which Lord Falkland was killed. 
 
 vol. 1. 3 
 
 X
 
 34 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 But Mr. Trollope's legal knowledge enables him 
 to assure her that the verdict was returned against 
 some person or persons unknown, and that Mr. 
 Powel — in whom the Miltons are especially in- 
 terested, and of whom she says, " From my know- 
 ledge of his character, I believe him to be as little 
 to blame as any one can be who fights a duel " — is 
 in no danger. 
 
 The burning of Drury Lane Theatre furnishes 
 one or two paragraphs to one of Mr. Trollope's 
 letters. On the 2Sth of February, 1809, he writes — 
 
 " Of the burning of Drury Lane Theatre, of course I 
 can give you no further account than what you have 
 heard from the newspapers. The loss must be great 
 indeed, extending to a very large number of people. 
 The spectacle, the whole of which I beheld from the 
 roof of my chambers [in Lincoln's Inn] was most awful 
 and magnificent. There never has been remembered a 
 fire that displayed so tremendous, and at the same time 
 so truly beautiful a sight. Every part of that large and 
 superb structure was enveloped in flames at the same 
 moment, and in about two hours was laid in ruins; a 
 small fragment of those lofty walls' only remaining to 
 mark in a more powerful manner the havoc and devasta- 
 tion this mighty element had spread around. Many 
 rumours have been circulated of this dreadful conflagra- 
 tion having been occasioned by design ; but I am happy 
 to say there appears to be no foundation for them. They 
 seem indeed only to have arisen from the remarkable
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 35 
 
 coincidence of the two great theatres of the metropolis 
 being consumed by fire in the short space of about five 
 months." 
 
 And now comes a letter, of which I will transcribe 
 a'great portion, because I think it a most curious 
 piece of self-revelation ; and because it shows the 
 spring and fountain-head of much of that deplor- 
 able gloom and unamiability of manner which 
 became in after-years so heavy a trial to his family, 
 and so dark a cloud over his own daily life. Of 
 course it did not bring all this enlightenment to 
 Fanny Milton as she read the closely crossed pages 
 of her lover's regular and beautiful handwriting. 
 But the ex post facto wisdom is again instructive 
 to us. 
 
 The letter is dated May 4, 1809, three weeks 
 before their marriage. After repudiating a charge 
 — made, seemingly, only half in earnest — that he 
 did not find Heckfield supremely interesting, he 
 thus proceeds — 
 
 " But perhaps I ought rather to accuse myself as the 
 author of them. [The doubts she had expressed.] 
 Perhaps they have arisen from the cold and flegmatic 
 manner of telling you how anxious I always am of know- 
 ing you are well, and particularly of receiving that 
 intelligence from yourself. But, my dearest love, are 
 you still to learn my character and sentiments? Are
 
 36 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 you yet to be informed in what detestation I hold all 
 ardent professions, and in what admiration actions that 
 want not the aid of declamation, but boldly speak for 
 themselves? When I see a man vehement in his ex- 
 pressions without any apparent or sufficient cause, I am 
 always inclined to suspect him. If he states to me a 
 plain fact and takes unnecessary pains to inforce the 
 truth of it, I immediately conclude it to be false. — From 
 these ideas, which perhaps you will say are not very 
 liberal ones, though I think they are founded upon 
 reason, and confirmed by observation, it may not be 
 improbable that I often seem to be too cautious of 
 makhig use of what might be considered a natural and 
 becoming warmth in my declarations ; but I confess, 
 whether it is from entertaining such sentiments as these 
 myself, or from any other cause, / always feel afraid of 
 raising doubts to the prejudice of my own sincerity * by 
 professing too much, or declaring myself in too vehement 
 a manner. Besides, if our professions are only consistent 
 with our actions, where is the necessity for them ? If 
 they go beyond them, they are evidently not to be 
 trusted." 
 
 There seems to me to be something very 
 pathetic in the honest wrong-headedncss of this 
 thoroughly candid statement. I think that in all 
 the circumstances of his after-life, where he put 
 himself into antagonism with his family, and 
 chilled the affection of his children it was Mr. 
 
 * The italics in this sentence are mine. — F. E. T.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 37 
 
 \ 
 Tollope's head, and not his heart, that was re- 
 sponsible for the evil. In latter years ill-health, 
 and the extraordinarily incautious use of powerful 
 drugs, no doubt increased his nervous irritability 
 until he lost power to control it But here in his 
 own avowed theory of life, we see the germ of the 
 deepest mischief. Because we may fairly mistrust 
 statements made in an exaggerated or too em- 
 phatic tone, therefore, forsooth, an honest man is 
 not to speak warmly out of the fulness of his 
 heart ! 
 
 Yes, it is the head that is wrong, in spite of his 
 clear mental vision and power of tracking a logical 
 fallacy, let it shift and double as it may. No man 
 can live reasonably with his fellow men by dint of 
 reason alone. We need sympathy also — sympathy 
 that is "as broad and general as the casing air," 
 and for which no. space is too vast, no cranny too 
 insignificant. Logic is, of course, merely a tool of 
 the mind. It can shape our thoughts, but cannot 
 create them. It is impossible to pack the whole 
 of human life into syllogisms, because we are 
 unable to formulate premises comprehensive 
 enough ; and the least little chink in the premise 
 may let in a great flood of error. Mr. Trollope 
 had strong feeling, but he mistrusted and starved 

 
 38 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 it. " If our professions," he says, " are only con- 
 sistent with our actions, where is the necessity for 
 them ? " The necessity for them lies deep in 
 human nature. He does not see that, in a vast 
 number of cases, kind words are kind actions. 
 
 And the same habit of mind led him, I believe, 
 into some of his gravest errors in matters of 
 business. It was reasonable, he would argue, that 
 such and such things should happen; ergo he must 
 and would take such and such a course. But he 
 made no allowance for the unreasonableness — or at 
 any rate for our inability to trace the reason — of 
 the complex circumstances furnished by human 
 passions and prejudices, nay, even by the weather 
 and the crops. And conscious of the unim- 
 peachable nature of his logic, he clung to projects 
 as fantastical as Alnaschar's, with sundry disastrous 
 consequences to himself and others. 
 
 But those days are still distant, and for the 
 present all is sunny with the betrothed couple. 
 I know nothing more sweet and touching than the 
 following passages from Fanny Milton's reply to 
 the foregoing letter : — 
 
 "What you say of professions is very just. Nay I 
 think it is great and noble. • But yet one cannot help 
 being pleased (at least women, I believe, cannot) with
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 39 
 
 expressions as well as proofs of tenderness from those 
 they love. Vehement professions I think I detest as 
 much as you can. Indeed vehemence, ihd it may express 
 passion, can never express tenderness. But I own my 
 heart welcomes a look or a word of fondness from those 
 who are dear to me, as cordially as it does more un- 
 equivocal proofs of attachment." 
 
 On the 23rd of May, 1809, Francis Milton was 
 married to Thomas Anthony Trollope at Heckfield. 
 The yellow old bundle of letters contains only two 
 or three written after the marriage, with a couple 
 of extracts from which I will bring this chapter to 
 a close. 
 
 On the ioth of August, 1810, Mrs. Trollope is at 
 her father's house with her first-born child, Thomas 
 Adolphus, then an infant between three and four 
 months old. Her husband is at Bedford on circuit, 
 and writes thus : — 
 
 " Mv DEAREST FANNY, 
 
 " I have this moment received your letter, and 
 have been made as happy as I can be at so great a 
 distance from one whom I will not name to you, at the 
 tidings it contains. — That ' all's well and Tom and his 
 mamma are enjoying themselves in the country ' is the 
 source of the greatest pleasure to me. — Yet I should not 
 say the greatest, since I look forward to the happiness 
 of seeing and partaking of this enjoyment with them. —
 
 40 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 I trust it is not a sin, or at least a venial one, to 
 wish 3 weeks and one day were expired. Then, my 
 Fanny, let time roll on as tardily as he will. ... I find 
 we are now called upon to attend the Judges in court. I 
 have only, therefore, to say God bless you, my dearest 
 Fanny, and our darling child. Give him a kiss for me every 
 morning and tell him his papa sends it to him. I shall 
 certainly expect to hear from you at Cambridge on 
 Tuesday — once again God bless you both, and believe 
 
 me, 
 
 " For ever yours, 
 
 "T. A. Trollope." 
 
 Here is the greater part of her reply ; and if 
 there be extant in fact or fiction a fresher, more 
 genuine, and charming picture of a young mother's 
 love and joy and pride, I know not where to look 
 for it. 
 
 "Heckfield, 1 2th August, 1810. 
 "Your letter, my beloved husband, was a cordial 
 to me of the most exhilarating kind, and accident made 
 it if possible more welcome to me. I heard Hannah 
 knock at the book-room door, which is opposite to mine, 
 and say here is a letter for you, sir. — I was on the 
 tip-toe of expectation, thinking my turn would come 
 next, but Hannah quitted the passage and left me no 
 letter. — I felt my heart swell grievously and 'unkind 
 Trollope ' rose to my wicked lips, but before I had time 
 to complain to our Tom of you, which had you been 
 guilty I certainly should have done, she returned, and
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 41 
 
 I almost doubt whether the sight of you could have 
 given me greater pleasure. 
 
 " I complied with your hard command, and delivered 
 your kiss to the boy, and then told him to kiss your 
 letter, in return, and the dear creature held it to his ruby 
 lips as if he understood me. I do not seriously mean 
 to say he was quite equal to this, but it is really wonder- 
 ful how quietly his intelligence increases from day to 
 day. My father is perfectly delighted with him, and 
 every day after dinner plays some new trick to try his 
 sagacity. Yesterday he put two glasses, the one empty, 
 and the other full, before him, — the former the young 
 tippler eyed with perfect indifference, the latter he tryed 
 all his little powers to get possession of, and at last drew 
 it to his mouth. The experiment was frequently re- 
 peated. — Were I not too wise to be vain, I should 
 certainly become so here. Everybody exclaims that my 
 darling is the loveliest creature they ever beheld, and 
 most, add (now pray endeavour to be as wise as I) that 
 he is very like his father. I screw my features into 
 all possible forms, that I may not look as delighted as 
 I feel. . . . Adieu my very dear husband. (I was 
 going to write dearest but recollected that your correct- 
 ness would laugh at me.) Adieu. — I will not dictate the 
 moment for your writing, but I shall wish, and wish, 
 and wish, till another comes. 
 
 "Yours wholly and for ever, 
 
 "F. Trollope." 
 
 \
 
 42 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " Tell me what company you keep, and I will tell you who you 
 are." — Common Proverb. 
 
 The first seven years of Mr. and Mrs. Trollope's 
 married life were passed at No. 16, Kcppel Street, 
 where five children were born to them : Thomas 
 Adolphus, Henry, Arthur William, Emily, and 
 Anthony. Emily, born on the /th of December, 
 1 813, was privately baptized and died on the same 
 day. There is no mention of the birth of this 
 infant in the autobiography of cither of Mrs. 
 Trollope's sons ; but the entry is written by Mr. 
 Trollope's hand in an old family Bible in my 
 possession. Two other daughters, Cecilia Frances 
 and a second Emily, were born in 1816 and 181S 
 respectively, at Harrow-on-the-Hill. Of all these 
 children, only three survived to middle life ; and 
 only two — Thomas Adolphus and Anthony — lived 
 to reach old age. Henry died at twenty years 
 old, Arthur at twelve, and Emily in her eighteenth 
 year.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 43 
 
 During their residence in Keppel Street the 
 Trollopes received, among other guests, several 
 Italian refugees. Of these General Guglielmo Pepe 
 was probably the best known. His acquaintance 
 was made through Lady Dyer (widow of General 
 Sir Thomas Dyer, who served with Moore at 
 Corunna and with Abercromby in Egypt), an 
 intimate friend of Mrs. Trollope's. Her name 
 will be met with several times in the course of 
 the following pages. Pepe was a man of un- 
 blemished honour and great kindness and sim- 
 plicity of nature. As I shall probably not have 
 occasion to recur to him, I will here insert, although 
 out of its due chronological order, the greater 
 portion of a letter from him to Mrs. Trollope. 
 The original is in French, by no means irreproach- 
 ably correct. 
 
 "41, Margaret Street, Cavendish Square, 
 
 "9th January, 1S25. 
 
 " Madam, 
 
 " I am very much obliged to you for the 
 letter which you had the kindness to write me, and 
 which I only received on Friday last by the hands of 
 our excellent friend Mr. Campbell. You are constant 
 in friendship, and I hold constancy to be a great virtue 
 in a lady. ... I beg you to let me know when you 
 come to London, that I may do myself the pleasure of 
 coming to see you.
 
 44 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 " In the month of September when I was in Worthing 
 I received a letter from our estimable General Lafayette. 
 He charges me to give many messages from him to you 
 and Mr. Trollope. The letter was written in the first 
 days after his arrival in America. 
 
 "I know that you lost one of your children a short 
 time ago." [This was Arthur, who had died in the 
 previous July.] " Last summer I lost my mother and 
 lather; and one of my brothers, although very rich, has 
 taken possession of all the money they left, and every- 
 thing else. For in Italy, and especially in Calabria, rich 
 people have a passion for accumulating money, and 
 keeping it well hidden in their houses. My other 
 brother Florestan behaves in the most noble manner 
 towards me, and one worthy of a man of sentiment and 
 character. He is administering the wreck of our fortune, 
 and is endeavouring to secure it from the despotism 
 under which my country groans. 
 
 " If all your family is in good health, and if you are 
 free from troubles, I wish you many more New Years like 
 this one. 
 
 " Your very devoted friend and servant, 
 
 "G. Pepi:." 
 
 The passion for accumulating money, even on 
 the part of rich people, is not so distinctively- 
 Italian as the good General appears to suppose ! 
 But the trait of hiding it in their houses, is more 
 so. Calabria remains to this day, in its remoter 
 parts, under social conditions that have changed 
 but little since the Middle Ages.
 
 
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 45 
 
 Mr. Trollope built a handsome and commodious 
 house near Harrow, on a farm held on lease from 
 Lord Northwick ; and thither he removed himself 
 and his family in the year 18 17. 
 
 It has been set forth in "What I Remember" 
 how disastrous was Mr. Trollope's farming specula- 
 tion. Indeed it ultimately resulted in financial 
 ruin, so far as Mr. Trollope's personal fortunes 
 were concerned. He had no practical knowledge 
 of farming ; and the earth, like the sea, has a 
 way of disregarding the most admirable a priori 
 theories, and can be subjugated only by hard 
 and painful experience. 
 
 But neither did he prosper in his own profession. 
 Mr. Trollope was allowed, by competent judges, 
 to be a remarkably sound and able Chancery 
 barrister ; yet his practice dwindled to the 
 vanishing point. Some of the good, as well as 
 the weak, points in his character contributed to 
 this result. He was unsparing in exposing a 
 fallacy, and would do so in no mitigated phrase ; 
 but the mere habit of scourging with the tongue 
 has not in other cases proved an obstacle to legal 
 or forensic success ! But Mr. Trollope was never 
 politic in his scourgings. He would demonstrate 
 the folly and incoherence of a rich client, as
 
 46 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 eagerly as he would scold a poor one. Verbal 
 nonsense was to him as a rat to a terrier, and he 
 set upon it and worried it whenever and wherever 
 it showed itself. 
 
 Unfortunately there is a great deal of unspoken 
 nonsense enacted in this world, as there is a vast 
 amount of sound sense manifested in an inarticu- 
 late fashion. And to the former category belonged 
 Mr. Trollope's speculation on the farm at Harrow. 
 Moreover his prospects were further blighted by 
 the loss of the inheritance he had been led to 
 expect from an old uncle, his mother's brother, 
 Adolphus Meetkerke, Esquire, of Julians, in Hert- 
 fordshire. This gentleman, who was left a child- 
 less widower at the age of sixty, married a second 
 wife, by whom he had a numerous family. Mr. 
 Trollope's expectation of his uncle's fortune had 
 not been rash or over-sanguine. It had been 
 acknowledged by Mr. Meetkerke, and Mr. 
 Trollope's eldest son was taken down to Julians 
 when a very young child, and presented to the 
 tenants as the heir. The disappointment was 
 . thus severe, but it was borne both by Mr. Trollope 
 and his wife with great dignity and fortitude. 
 
 The decline in the family fortunes was gradual ; 
 and several years of peace and happiness intervened
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 47 
 
 between the removal from Keppel Street, and the 
 catastrophe which compelled the withdrawal from 
 the farm. 
 
 Frances Trollope's nature was one that welcomed 
 every ray of sunshine, and diffused it again 
 liberally around her. To her children, no holiday 
 treat was preferable to a tete-a-tcte with her. Her 
 rare talents, combined with this cordial cheerful- 
 ness of disposition, made her popular with her 
 neighbours. It is not too much to say that the 
 most distinguished for character and intellect 
 among those who lived near her, valued and 
 sought her society. In three instances — that of 
 the Drurys of Harrow School, of the Merivales, 
 and of the family of Colonel Grant— the friend- 
 ships then formed have become hereditary, and 
 have descended through more than one generation 
 to the present day. Old Lady Milman, widow of 
 Sir Francis, who had been physician to Queen 
 Charlotte, and her sons, Sir William and the 
 Reverend Henry Milman the poet, with his lovely 
 wife, were frequent visitors. Lady Milman resided 
 at Pinner, and the family correspondence is full of 
 records of days and nights spent at her house. I 
 possess an old diary wherein T. A. Trollope, then 
 a Winchester schoolboy, records his opinion that
 
 43 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 Mrs. Henry Milman was quite the most beautiful 
 woman he had ever seen : the next most beautiful 
 being Mary Fauchc, daughter of Mr. Tomkison, 
 the pianoforte-maker. Mrs. Milman appears to 
 have had, in addition to her personal loveliness, 
 great charm of character. 
 
 Besides these neighbours the Trollopes received 
 frequent visitors from town. Mr. Trollope was 
 sociably inclined during these early years. lie 
 shared, to a considerable extent, in his wife's taste 
 for dramatic entertainments, and is frequently 
 found taking a part in the private theatricals they 
 got up in their house at Harrow. Among the 
 Trollopes' friends and visitors were the Garnetts, 
 Skerretts, Herman Merivale, Dr. Pertz (the famous 
 German savant, whose great collection " Monu- 
 menta Germanise Historica" is a monument of 
 learning and industry), George Hayter the painter, 
 Mary Russell Mitford, and many others. The 
 Misses Garnett were lifelong 'friends of Frances 
 Trollope. One of them, Julia Garnett, became 
 subsequently the first wife of Dr. Pertz. His 
 second wife, Miss Horner, also belonged to a 
 family, several of whose members were among the 
 Trollopes' valued friends. She was a sister of the 
 Misses Joanna and Susan Horner, authoresses of
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 49 
 
 "Walks in Florence." Dr. Pertz and his intended 
 bride were frequently staying in the Trollopes' 
 house together. 
 
 There is in the schoolboy diary previously 
 quoted, the note of one conversation between 
 young Tom Trollope and the learned German, 
 which is not without interest : — 
 
 " He made a great many enquiries about William of 
 Wykeham's colleges at Winton and Oxford ; about Eng- 
 lish mutton and wool, and about English timber. He 
 told me that in Germany the oaks grew much larger 
 than any elms, and that they were more common than 
 elms there. He said that next to our stage coaches the 
 Prussian were the fastest. He told me he thought 
 English would be the prevailing language at some 
 future time, and that French was not in so much request 
 on the Continent as it used to be. ... I found him a 
 very pleasant man, and his conversation very instruc- 
 tive," adds the young Wykhamist, sagely. 
 
 Pertz's opinion as to the future prevalence of 
 the English language is noteworthy as having been 
 uttered nearly seventy years ago. 
 
 The Misses Skerrett, like the Misses Garnett, 
 were friends of Frances Milton's maiden days. 
 They were the nieces of Mathias, author of the 
 "Pursuits of Literature," who once enjoyed a high 
 reputation as an Italian scholar. Mr. W. P. 
 
 vol. i. 4
 
 So A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 Courtney, in his notice of Mathias in the "Dic- 
 tionary of National Biography," asserts that "he 
 ranks as the best English scholar in the Italian 
 language since Milton." His nieces were women 
 of high accomplishments and intellect. One of 
 them, Miss Mary Anne Skerrett, filled for many 
 years a confidential post in the Queen's household. 
 Another very intimate friend was Captain Katcr, 
 known by the sobriquet of " Pendulum Kater," 
 from his discoveries in connection with the 
 pendulum, a man of the highest scientific reputa- 
 tion. Cecilia and Emily Trollope frequently 
 stayed as visitors with Captain and Mrs. Kater, 
 in their London residence, York House, Regent's 
 Park. In truth, if the Trollopes be judged, 
 according to the proverb, by the company they 
 keep, they must be accorded a large measure of 
 esteem. 
 
 A series of letters from Mrs. Trollope to her 
 eldest son, and carefully preserved by him, begins 
 /In the year 1823, and extends over a period of 
 thirty years. They furnish an outline of the family 
 history during that time ; and in many instances 
 the outline is amply filled in, and vividly coloured. 
 Both parents were unremitting in their corre- 
 spondence with their boys at school, and it
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 51 
 
 would be impossible to surpass the minute and 
 anxious interest they display for their children's 
 welfare. 
 
 The very first letter of the collection, written 
 by Mr. and Mrs. Trollope jointly, to their son 
 Tom at Winchester, contains characteristic traits 
 of both. It is dated October 25, 1823. 
 
 The mother begins by expressing her pleasure 
 at the good report of Tom's progress at school ; 
 and promises him "another cake, which Farmer" 
 [their old nurse] "seems determined shall be made 
 according to your directions." The father, while 
 commending Tom, bids him tell his brother Henry 
 (then also at Winchester, aged twelve years), that 
 no cake shall be sent until he can hear a better 
 account of Henry's industry. "You, my dear 
 Tom, must also partake in this loss, but I shall 
 know how to make amends." 
 
 Already Mr. Trollope has begun to manifest 
 that impatience of any cessation of study on the 
 part of his boys, and that habit of making exorbi- 
 tant demands on their industry, which increased 
 later to a degree that embittered their lives. There 
 is a passage in a letter from the Rev. William 
 Milton to his two elder grandsons at Winchester, 
 which, playfully as it is worded, marks this point
 
 52 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 very unmistakably. I am tempted to lay nearly 
 the whole letter before the reader as a delightful 
 specimen of a grandfathcrly epistle, and as afford- 
 ing a vivid glimpse of the personality of Frances 
 Milton's father. 
 
 I carefully preserve the abbreviations, the use of 
 capital letters in beginning every noun substantive, 
 and all the minutiae that can be produced in print. 
 I wish it were possible to give the exquisitely clear 
 and beautiful handwriting, wherein each letter is 
 perfectly formed. It is curious to remark through- 
 out this family correspondence the steady deteri- 
 oration of the handwriting in each successive 
 generation ! In this connection Horace's well- 
 thumbed lines, " AZtas parentum, pejor avis" etc., 
 might be quoted more patly, perhaps, than usual ; 
 for it is certain that in the art of calligraphy 
 we are inferior to our grandfathers, they to our 
 great-grandfathers, and the next generation will 
 probably take to type-writing and relinquish the 
 pen altogether. 
 
 The Arthur spoken of in this letter is Mrs. 
 Trollope's third son, who was then staying with 
 his grandparents, and, indeed, passed the greater 
 part of his short life in their home.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 53 
 
 " iSth November, 1823. 
 "Tom and Henry, 
 
 " My Dear Boys, 
 
 " Feeble as I am, Arthur will not let me rest, 
 unless I take up my Pen to give you a Line or two in 
 y e Basket. He would hardly have y e Face to persevere 
 in this, if he knew (as y e case is) that I have nothing 
 more principal to mention, than how incessant he is in 
 his pleasant Attentions towards me. He never lets me 
 take my short fine-weather Walks, without placing him- 
 self at my Side {claudit Latus). I term him my UoSrjyov 
 TepovTos. I have, as you both know, been a long time 
 in a very weak and poor State of Health : I wish I 
 could tell you I was growing better, but I cannot. 
 Arthur has been with me some Weeks : in which time 
 I have again taken him through Euclid; and I think 
 there is hardly to be found one, of his Age, more at 
 home in y e Matter; no one, I am sure, who more 
 relishes it and its cognate Subjects. Whatever be his 
 Path through Life, he will, I have no doubt, sometimes 
 find y e said Euclid his Staff, sometimes his Lamp. Can 
 you, Boys, suspend your Labours on y e Tongues of 
 Athens and of Rome, to sit in Criticism on that which 
 your silly Grandmother has now embasketted to you ? " 
 [The tongue in question formed part of a hamperful of 
 good things forwarded to Winchester. The young gentle- 
 men doubtless tore themselves away, now and then, 
 from their classical studies to discuss these dainties.] 
 " I give you both, Tom and Henry, I give you both 
 Caution (I know not which of you will thank me most) 
 not to think of going Home at y e approaching Christ- 
 mas Holidays j for in ten Days time, I shall send there
 
 54 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 a strange Folio Greek Grammar printed in 1580, which 
 I think will, now and then, furnish to your industrious 
 Father, half an Hour's Examination of its Plan and 
 Contents : in which you may, possibly, be invited to 
 partake, if it shall appear to promise other Information 
 than your present shorter Grammars give. I have heard 
 with Pleasure of y* Credit Tom has done himself with 
 his Task verses. I wish him to take home with him, a 
 Specimen, which his Mother will contrive to send me. 
 " With hearty best Wishes to both, 
 
 " believe me, your affectionate 
 " Grand Father, 
 
 "W. Milton." 
 
 Within the sheet of paper whereon the above 
 is written, there has been preserved a scrap ad- 
 dressed apparently to Mr. Trollope. It contains 
 these words : — 
 
 " Proper Notice has been sent to Winchester that this 
 formidable Greek Grammar in Folio would be sent to 
 Harrow; and a Caution given to y c two Lads there, 
 not to think of going to Harrow for their next Holidays 
 in any Expectation of Pastime ; as their sedulous Father 
 would hold them close to this old Book, if it was found 
 to contain anything worth his Attention. . . . Many 
 thanks for Tibullus, not forgetting y c Pheasant." 
 
 The following passage, in a letter of Mrs. Trol- 
 lope's to her son (written also in 1823), will appear 
 very strange in the eyes of readers of the present 
 day : —
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 55 
 
 " I wish you had been with me yesterday on your 
 pony, I rode Jack to a very delightful hunt in Wembley 
 Park. We had a delightful gallop, but did not kill the 
 hare, which, to say truth I was not sorry for, as that 
 part of the sport is but savage work. But the gentle- 
 men, I believe, were of a different opinion. The little 
 girls amused me exceedingly. They had been talking 
 and wondering a good deal about Mama's going hunt- 
 ing ; and when they saw me equipped and ready to 
 mount, Cecilia said, 'But Mama, you have not got a 
 gun ! You must have a gun ! ' I laughed heartily at 
 this, and told her I was not going shooting but cours- 
 ing ; upon which, with a great air of contempt, and 
 to show off her superior knowledge, Emily said ' No ; 
 Mama ought not to take a gun, but she ought to take 
 Neptune.' " 
 
 Neptune was their great Newfoundland dog ! 
 That " abstract and brief chronicle of the time " 
 which is furnished by our street advertisements, 
 informs me that various sports and pastimes are 
 carried on in Wembley Park ; but I do not imagine 
 that coursing the hare is among them ! 
 
 I must give one more extract from the letters of 
 this year. It was written on the occasion of some 
 school honours won by her eldest son : — 
 
 " November, 1823. 
 " Though so many letters have lately passed, my 
 dearest Tom, you must submit to receive one more, 
 that I may thank you for all the pleasure you have given
 
 56 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 me. Gratified pride is always a very agreeable sensa- 
 tion, but it is so often accompanied by some unamiable 
 feeling of superiority to others, that one is almost afraid 
 to indulge it. Now, however, I may be as proud as I 
 like without danger of being unamiable. The talents 
 and industry of a son may inspire a pride perfectly 
 innocent, and therefore I have indulged myself in telling 
 my friends how happy you have made me." 
 
 In the course of the following year (1824) Mr. 
 Trollope was induced by George Hayter to sit for 
 one of the lawyers in the picture of Lord Russell's 
 trial, which the artist was then painting for the 
 Duke of Bedford. The engraving from the picture 
 is well known. Mrs. Trollope writes that the work 
 is full of historical interest, and — so far as can 
 be judged in its present state — admirably painted. 
 " I shall like," she adds, "to see your father's head 
 there." 
 
 During the autumn they made an excursion to 
 the Isle of Wight, and, on their return, Mr. Trol- 
 lope finds his table at his chambers in Lincoln's 
 Inn, quite covered with law papers, many of which 
 demand his immediate attention ; so that his 
 professional business had not yet left him. 
 
 It is worthy of remark that Mrs. Trollope at this 
 time writes a great part of her letters to her sons 
 in French and Italian — a great part, but not the
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 57 
 
 whole, — for Tom petitions for "some English" in 
 every letter. She mentions, too, that her husband 
 is working hard to learn la dolce lingua, and that 
 she is really astonished at his progress. He is 
 reading Tiraboschi — " autore 11011 punto facile"- she 
 observes, — and she tells* Tom that on his return 
 home for the holidays, he and she must read Italian 
 together assiduously, "lest Papa should outstrip 
 us." The two boys, being at Winchester, call on 
 Dr. Nott, who held a prebendal stall there ; and 
 Dr. Nott writes to their mother a very agreeable 
 account of their visit, and is much pleased by the 
 elder boy's speaking to him of Dante. 
 
 Certainly whatever idea of, or interest in, Dante 
 the young Wykehamist possessed, must have been 
 derived solely from his mother. We have seen 
 Frances Milton a diligent student of " The mourn- \ 
 ful Tuscan's haunted rhyme," before her marriage. 
 And neither the cares of a family, nor the increas- 
 ing troubles and difficulties of her life, had blunted 
 her zest for Poetry and Art. Indeed, her enthu- 
 siasm in these directions was probably a powerful 
 antidote against sordid anxieties. The ability to 
 delight in great thoughts and beautiful images is, 
 to a mind like hers, as the wings of a dove, whereon 
 it can flee away and be at rest. 
 
 h"
 
 5S A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 The genial sympathy of her character is shown 
 by the desire she constantly evinces, that others 
 should share with her these intellectual enjoy- 
 ments. Her letters to her son arc full of such 
 anticipations as the following : — 
 
 " When you are next at home I shall insist upon your 
 going with me to the National Gallery. It begins to be 
 well worth seeing (1825), and /begin to be anxious to 
 find out whether you are likely to enjoy the pleasure 
 which a good picture is capable of bestowing. To me 
 the love of pictures has been through life a source of 
 very great pleasure, and I heartily wish it may become 
 so to you." 
 
 There are many allusions, also, to the progress 
 her daughter Cecilia is making in algebra with 
 their friend Captain Kater, at whose house the 
 little girl and her sister are staying. And the 
 father writes that they have all been celebrating 
 little Emily's seventh birthday at York House 
 with the Katers, and that he (Mr. Trollope) had 
 "taken her through a very good sum in vulgar 
 fractions " — a part of the birthday celebration 
 which, it is to be hoped, little Emily did not find 
 too oppressive ! 
 
 Mrs. Trollope herself had a great inclination 
 towards mathematical studies. She never had 
 time or opportunity to pursue them seriously ; but at 

 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 59 
 
 this period of her life she was frequently working 
 out problems and sending them to Tom at school. 
 The taste is not one with which she was likely to 
 be generally credited ; indeed, to most of those 
 who knew her in after-years, it would probably 
 have seemed quite foreign to her temperament and 
 tone of mind. Nevertheless she had it. In all 
 likelihood she inherited it from her father. It was 
 not the fashion in her day to talk much about 
 "heredity;" but it may safely be assumed that 
 children frequently resembled their progenitors a 
 century ago, and that the fact of their doing so had 
 not escaped the common observation of mankind. 

 
 6o ./ MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "There is no general doctrine which is not capable of eating 
 out our morality, if unchecked by the deep-seated habit of direct 
 fellow-feeling with individual fellow-men." — George Eliot, 
 MidJlcmarch. 
 
 It must have been previous to the year 1824 that 
 Mr. and Mrs. Trollopc paid an interesting visit to 
 General Lafayette at his country house, La Grange 
 — a visit of which she preserved a minute journal, 
 now before me. But I cannot fix the precise 
 period of it, for, alas ! although the days of the 
 month are carefully recorded, the date of the year 
 is not. And, by a provoking chance, a letter 
 addressed to Mrs. Trollope at La Grange also 
 lacks any indication of the year in which it is 
 written. I will, at any rate, record some extracts 
 from it in this place. 
 
 The means of introducing the Trollopes to so 
 intimate an acquaintance with General Lafayette, 
 was, doubtless, Miss Fanny Wright, Lafayette's 
 ward. The link which brought her into such close
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 61 
 
 intercourse with Frances Trollope was the Garnett 
 family, of whom mention has been made. 
 
 The journey from London to Paris occupied 
 three days, the travellers sleeping one night en 
 route at Calais. They left Harrow in Mr. Trol- 
 lope's gig at half-past three o'clock in the morning 
 of the 31st of August, and drove to London by the 
 light of a bright moon. An excellent breakfast was 
 ready for them at the house of their friend, George 
 Hayter ; and they had partaken of it in time to 
 reach the Tower Stairs by seven o'clock. Here 
 they found " the steamship " just ready to start. 
 They had delightful weather and an excellent 
 passage, and " the steamship " landed them in 
 Calais a little before eight o'clock in the evening. 
 " By immediately declaring for the Hotel Bour- 
 bon " [I know not if there be still a Hotel Bourbon 
 in Calais at this time, but its title dates itself as 
 being subsequent to the Battle of Waterloo] " we 
 were immediately taken under the care of a young 
 man, who passed us and our night-bags through 
 the Custom House, without examination." 
 
 They mounted the Paris diligence at nine the 
 next morning (finding it " full of English, within 
 and without"); and so, in the usual lumbering 
 fashion, stopping to feed at Boulogne, Abbeville,
 
 62 ./ MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 and Beauvais, they finally jolted into Paris at 
 eight o'clock on the evening of the 2nd of 
 September. 
 
 Their friends, the Garnctts, then residing in 
 Paris, had taken an apartment for them in the 
 Rue de Grenellc, and thither they drove at once, 
 after calling at their friends' house to learn the 
 address. " Being very tired by dust and sun, \vc 
 resisted all the Garnctts' entreaties to join the 
 party in their saloon, of whom Mr. Washington 
 Irvine (sic) made one." They subsequently met, 
 and made acquaintance with this delightful writer 
 during this same visit to Paris. Among other 
 personages whom they met, I may mention 
 Mr. Curran, "son and biographer of the Irish 
 barrister;" Mr. Wilkes, an American gentleman, 
 who was afterwards very friendly to Mrs. Trollope 
 in the United States ; Denon, the famous traveller, 
 whose collections they visited several times ; a 
 young Italian named Cobianchi, " a ci-devant aide- 
 de-camp of General Pepe's, a pleasing, animated 
 young man who spoke in raptures of his General ; " 
 and last, not least, General Lafayette, for whom 
 to the end of her life Mrs. Trollope entertained 
 the warmest affection and the deepest veneration. 
 
 And here, since my subject is Frances Trollope,
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 63 
 
 I need make no apology for saying a few words 
 about her political opinions. 
 
 It has been sometimes supposed that these were 
 originally strongly Liberal, but that the extraordi- 
 narily gracious reception accorded to her in Vienna 
 by persons of the highest rank, including the Impe- 
 rial family, had changed her views, and turned her, 
 in fact, into a high Tory. This is very far from 
 being the case, as is proved by her letters written 
 before her marriage, and long before she dreamed 
 that the world would ever interest itself in the 
 smallest degree in the question. Her husband 
 was, indeed, a Liberal (the reader will bear in mind 
 how greatly the political significance of that word 
 has been modified since his day), and thereby ran 
 counter, I believe, to the traditions of his family. 
 Early in their correspondence, Frances Milton 
 playfully tells him that, greatly as she admires the 
 ability displayed in certain writings which he has 
 praised, yet she and Mrs. Milton " are shocked at 
 the seditious tone of them." And there are other 
 passages in her letters to the like effect. She did 
 not, therefore, in latex life desert her original 
 principles. 
 
 It certainly can be no matter for reproach to 
 change one's political opinions ; at any rate we 
 
 ' 
 
 t
 
 
 64 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 have illustrious warranty for not deeming it so ; 
 and, moreover, readers of to-day may reasonably 
 say that the political opinions of Frances Trollope 
 are in themselves quite unimportant. True ; but 
 • her motives for forming and modifying them are 
 not unimportant, if we would gain a true know- 
 ledge of her character, and do justice to one who 
 can plead no longer for herself. Her opinions, 
 political and other, were, I presume, no more 
 impervious to the influence of those around her 
 than is the case with most of her fellow-creatures. 
 But, to speak frankly, it was republican America, 
 and not aristocratic Austria, that was responsible 
 for Mrs. Trollopc's marked conservatism through- 
 out her literary life. The blandishments of 
 Austrian Archduchesses could not, at all events, 
 have converted her before she had experienced 
 them ! Besides, the preface to the first edition of 
 her first book is conclusive as to this point. Nor 
 is the case by any means unexampled. The 
 pessimistic Italian proverb, "Roma veduta, fede 
 perduta" is capable, alas ! of a pretty wide appli- 
 cation in this world where the lamb of theory and 
 the lion of fact have not yet arrived at a millennial 
 good understanding. 
 
 At any rate, she was able to admire and
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 65 
 
 appreciate Lafayette, even although she might have 
 disputed many of his political doctrines. But 
 there are persons who seem to assume that one is 
 bound hand and foot to his theory, like Mazeppa 
 on his horse ; and is galloped away with, utterly 
 powerless to direct the course or modify the 
 pace ! 
 
 Such is the logical method familiar to certain 
 ardent teetotallers who, if you claim for yourself 
 the liberty to drink a glass of wine, at once infer 
 that you are a supporter of drunkenness and a 
 patron of delirium tremens ; and to those perfervid 
 Apostles of Peace, who construe your objection 
 to abolish the Army and Navy into a ferocious 
 enjoyment of slaughter. 
 
 The ten days passed in Paris before proceeding 
 to La Grange, were spent by our travellers in 
 sight-seeing. Of course all the public galleries 
 were visited, besides the collections of Sommariva 
 and M. Denon. Of the latter, she says, " It is con- 
 sidered the finest in the world for Egyptian and 
 Japan specimens." On another occasion they go 
 with Count Denon and a large party, chiefly 
 English, to see the collection of Spanish paintings 
 at Marshal Soult's. " The house of the Marechal 
 is splendid, and the collection a very fine one — 
 vol. 1. 5
 
 66 ./ MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 chiefly Murillo's," says Mrs. Trollopc. Then there 
 are visits to Pere la Chaise, to Versailles — where 
 she is not too bigoted a monarchist to observe 
 that " it proves Louis le Grand to have been the 
 vainest, most lavish, and most selfish of men " — 
 to St. Cloud, and other well-known lions. Several 
 evenings are passed at the Theatre Frangais, where 
 Talma and Mdlle. Mars are playing. Mrs. Trollopc 
 is especially enchanted with Mdlle. Mars, whom 
 she saw one evening act " Elmire " in Tartu lj\\ and 
 a blind girl in an afterpiece, to a house crowded 
 in every part. Nor did they omit to do " a great 
 deal of shopping in the Palais Royal." 
 
 At length, on the 13th of September, Mr. and 
 Mrs. Trollope set off, accompanied by General 
 Lafayette, to drive to the country house of the 
 latter. The name of the estate is La Grange, and 
 it is situated about forty miles from Paris, in the 
 department of Seinc-et-Marne, near Rosay. 
 
 Here the General resided in patriarchal fashion, 
 surrounded by many members of his family. It 
 was difficult at first for the strangers to find their 
 way, so to speak, amid this numerous circle, but 
 Mrs. Trollopc soon learned the name and position 
 of each individual. The party included M. and 
 Madame de Segur, two married daughters of the
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 67 
 
 General with six of their children, three unmarried 
 daughters, various other relatives and connections, 
 a lady who was there to teach music, and the 
 young boy's tutor. Miss Fanny Wright and her 
 sister Camilla had been expected to join the party, 
 but, from some misunderstanding as to the date, 
 did not appear. They sat down to dinner almost 
 immediately on the arrival of the travellers, a 
 party of twenty-one. The style of living at the 
 Chateau was very handsome and stately ; in fact 
 it is probable that many a German princeling of 
 that day was neither so well lodged, nor so well 
 served, as the Republican General. 
 
 " Six of the General's men-servants waited at table. 
 These did not include two who had attended us from 
 Paris. The dinner was excellent, and served in a very 
 agreeable style, though not a l'Anglaise. The second 
 course consisted of vegetables and sweet dishes, all served 
 in silver. Then followed an excellent dessert and some 
 very fine wine, one glass of which was handed to each 
 person by the butler. . . . Our apartment is charming. 
 It consists of two rooms and two closets. In the largest 
 room is a very handsome bed in a recess, with rich 
 crimson satin curtains, and a quilt of the same, covering 
 the bed by day. In the smaller room is a small bed for 
 Monsieur, if it were preferred. One closet is completely 
 fitted up as a cabinet de toilette, the other to contain the 
 valises, etc. . . . We passed the evening in two very 
 handsome saloons. The inner one is round, being in
 
 \J 
 
 68 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 one of the large turrets of the chateau. It is a noble 
 room." 
 
 The inhabitants of this luxurious abode were 
 persons of culture and refinement. Music, con- 
 versation, or reading aloud — the reader being 
 generally M. de Segur, of whom Mrs. Trollope 
 says that he reads admirably — occupy as much of 
 the evenings as is not spent in rambling about the 
 lovely lawns and woods by the light of a brilliant 
 moon. But the great charm and attraction of the 
 whole visit, to Mrs. Trollope, is the opportunity of 
 enjoying the society of her host. I will here throw 
 together all the notes of his conversation which I 
 find in the journal. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Trollope first met General 
 Lafayette at dinner in the house of Miss Wright, 
 on the third day after their arrival in Paris. 
 
 " Nothing," writes Mrs. Trollope, " could be more 
 interesting than the conversation of this illustrious man ; — 
 quiet and simple in his manners, open and unconstrained 
 in giving his opinion, gentle and unassuming in listening 
 to the opinions of others. He talked with ease and 
 frankness of the most interesting events of his life, and 
 described to us the entrance of Lewis the 16th into Paris, 
 when he came to assume the national colours. He 
 lamented the death of the King, not only on the score of 
 humanity, but as a most grievous want of policy in the
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 69 
 
 republicans. Had they, said he, instead of falsely ac- 
 cusing him as one of the worst of men, proclaimed him 
 as he really was, one of the best of Kings, they might 
 have shewn to demonstration that even such were 
 dangerous to the liberty and happiness of the people, 
 and without injustice, and without crime, he might have 
 been removed in safety and honour from a country no 
 longer in a condition to submit to the yoke." 
 
 It is not a little astonishing to find Lafayette 
 discussing, as a possible alternative to what really 
 happened, that the men who enacted the French 
 Revolution, either would, or could, have " pro- 
 claimed Louis XVI. one of the best of Kings ; " and 
 assuming that it would have been practicable for 
 the Republicans to prove their case, by quietly 
 " removing the monarch in safety and honour," etc. 
 They were much more concerned to show to 
 demonstration that the people can be dangerous 
 to the liberty and happiness of Kings ! But Lafa- 
 yette's good faith in thus speaking cannot be 
 doubted. 
 
 " Among other anecdotes, he told us that during his 
 five years' imprisonment in Austria, he and his four 
 aides-de-camp were removed from one prison to another 
 just at the time the King's trial was going on. The in- 
 habitants of a town they passed through, requested 
 permission of their guards ' to look at the wild beasts 
 they were conducting.' This was granted, and their
 
 jo A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 curious visitors began to talk to them of the King. 
 Lafayette spoke of the position in which he (the King) 
 stood, with all the sorrow he felt. His auditors ex- 
 claimed with surprise, 'Monsieur, reus ttes le premier 
 Rkpublicain qui a jamais partt avec dicence du malheureux 
 roi* Nothing could be kinder or more flattering than 
 his manner to us. He spoke in the kindest way of our 
 visiting him at La Grange, and altogether I should 
 think my journey to France well repaid, were this after 
 noon passed in his society the sole result of it." 
 
 At La Grange the General and several of the 
 ladies of his family took long walks with their 
 guests through the delightful woods in the neigh- 
 bourhood. On one occasion, 
 
 "as soon as dinner was over, a large open carriage, 
 which the General called his Russian carriage, came to 
 the door to take some of us to a Fete de village. The 
 rest of the party walked. Nothing could exceed the 
 beauty of the evening, and the scene in front of a pretty 
 little rustic church was enchanting. It was delightful to 
 watch the good man looking like the father of the hamlet, 
 dispensing his smiles around. All the young people 
 from the chateau joined in the dance. Trollope danced 
 with them. The young rustics performed their quadrilles 
 in a style that might have been envied by a London 
 drawing-room, — particularly by the gentlemen of it." 
 
 The following day she records that — 
 
 " The General, Madame de Maubourg, Trollope, and 
 I, took a very beautiful walk to two pretty fountains,
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 71 
 
 surrounded by woods, chiefly of Acacia, which grows 
 here to a great size, and in vast profusion. Occasionally 
 we sate down on the benches which his taste had placed 
 in the loveliest spots. To hear him talk of the events of 
 his past life, his sentiments, his opinions, was a treat 
 well worth visiting France to enjoy. Wisdom and 
 goodness mark every word he utters, and his sweet, 
 gentle, unassuming manner makes it delicious to listen 
 to him. . . . After tea, which was made and served a. 
 l'Anglaise in the great saloon, I sate between M. de 
 Segur and M. de Lafayette, and enjoyed a couple of 
 hours of very delightful conversation. The General 
 told us that when the Allies were in Paris, he met the 
 Emperor of Russia at Madame de StaeTs. He had 
 much conversation with him. He [the Emperor] took 
 him aside and spoke very freely of the Bourbons. The 
 General said he hoped adversity might have improved 
 them. ' No,' said the Emperor, ' they are unimproved 
 and unimprovable. Mark what I say, Lafayette; they 
 are unimproved, and unimprovable.' On another occa- 
 sion the Emperor was speaking with great reprobation 
 of the African slave trade. He looked at the General, 
 who happened also to be looking at him. ' I know,' 
 said the Emperor, ' what Lafayette is thinking.' ' May 
 I enquire ? ' said the General. ' You think that I, who 
 am the Emperor of Serfs, have no right to reprobate 
 slavery.' The General told me that the Emperor of 
 Russia often thought justly and liberally, but that he 
 was become a bigot, and had devoted himself to the 
 Holy Alliance. 
 
 " M. de Segur told many amusing anecdotes of the 
 Court of Russia when he was Ambassador there ; among
 
 72 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 others, that Paul had said, when in familiar conversation, 
 'AH the sovereigns of Europe are fools, — all without one 
 exception.' He then enumerated them, challenging the 
 possibility of contradiction. ' And as for myself,' he- 
 added, ' I may be something better. But wait a little, 
 and I shall be as bad as the rest of them.' ' 
 
 Among some gentlemen who came one day to 
 dine at La Grange, Mrs. Trollope mentions 
 
 "Monsieur dc Shomicr (?) one of the Judges; a man 
 of great talent and of the highest character. The 
 General told me a fine anecdote of the manner in which 
 he, being one alone among twenty, made his brethren 
 reverse an iniquitous decree which they had voted, by 
 declaring that he would publicly tear his gown from his 
 shoulders, if they issued it." 
 
 On two evenings there was dancing at the 
 chateau among the house party — quadiilles and 
 waltzes. There were more readings of tragedies 
 by M. de Segur, singing by Nathalie Lafayette — 
 who had a beautiful voice — and her sisters, and 
 some pianoforte playing by " a wonderful little 
 girl of fourteen, who had recently received the 
 first prize from the French Academy." And then 
 the visit came to an end. 
 
 The night before their departure, they danced 
 nearly all the evening, and then, as they were to 
 start very early, took leave of all the party
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 73 
 
 " excepting the beloved General, who has promised 
 to dine with us in Paris on Thursday." 
 
 The beloved General got up between five and 
 six o'clock in the morning of the 22nd of September, 
 to see his guests off. They had evidently made an 
 excellent impression at La Grange ; and the 
 flattering attentions bestowed on Frances Trollope 
 by such a man as Lafayette, and by his circle, are 
 certainly a tribute to her personal qualities of 
 head and heart. She was not rich, she was not 
 then, as she afterwards became, a lion of the 
 literary world, even assuming for a moment that 
 such considerations would have weighed with 
 them ; she was simply an English gentlewoman, 
 whose outward circumstances in no way dis- 
 tinguished her from thousands of others. But 
 she was herself, and her personality was not a 
 common one. 
 
 Lafayette kept his promise of dining with Mr. 
 and Mrs. Trollope in Paris, and on the last evening 
 of their stay there, he was present at a farewell 
 party, given in their honour by Miss Fanny 
 Wright. Mrs. Trollope writes in her journal : — 
 
 " The adieu from him was very painful to me. Never 
 did I meet with a being so every way perfect. I may 
 not hope to see him again, but the recollection of him 

 
 74 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 will remain with me as long as I have life, nor would I 
 lose this recollection for the world." 
 
 The page on which these words arc written has 
 probably remained unseen by any eye, save her 
 eldest son's, for between seventy and eighty years. 
 The words are a genuine expression of feeling, 
 and serve to prove that Frances Trollope's warm 
 enthusiasm was, as Emerson says of man, " a noble 
 endogenous plant that grows from within, outward," 
 and was independent of the applause and excite- 
 ment of la gakrie. 
 
 She did, however, meet Lafayette again ; and 
 that he continued to remember her with cordiality, 
 is shown by his message to her through General 
 Pepe, and by a letter from himself written to her 
 in the United States, which will be quoted in its 
 proper place.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 75 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " To be resigned when ills betide, 
 Patient when favours are denied, 
 
 And pleased with favours given, — 
 Dear Chloe, this is wisdom's part ; 
 This is that incense of the heart 
 Whose perfume smells to Heaven." 
 
 Cotton, The Fireside. 
 
 In the course of the year 1825, some clouds begin 
 to obscure the fortunes of the family at Julians, 
 as Mr. Trollope had called his house. 
 
 In the first place, Henry, who was with his 
 brother at Winchester, was causing his parents 
 great anxiety by his idleness. It must be remem- 
 bered that it was not merely his school career 
 that was in question. The boy's whole future — 
 so they thought — was at stake. On his diligence 
 and his progress at Winchester, depended his going 
 to New College, and all that hung thereby. But 
 Henry was idle. He bewailed his wasted oppor- 
 tunities later, very bitterly. And perhaps his lack 
 of sustained energy was in a great measure due 
 to physical causes. Although of a powerful,
 
 76 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 muscular frame, like all his brothers, he had in 
 his constitution the germs of that disease which 
 carried off Arthur and Emily in their early youth, 
 and struck down Cecilia in her prime. Henry had 
 a bright intelligence and a warm heart ; but he 
 was of a haughty, exacting, and irritable temper. 
 The bent of his mind appears to have been towards 
 natural science. He had made considerable pro- 
 gress, before his death, in geological studies, and 
 was a Fellow of the Geological Society. At 
 Winchester, however, he failed to do well — to the 
 anger of his father, and the deep sorrow and 
 mortification of both parents. 
 
 Mr. Trollope's letters to his sons at this time 
 are extraordinary from their minute and reiterated 
 questions about every detail of their progress at 
 Winchester, their status in their "part," the 
 prospects of each individual in the school at the 
 next election for New College, and a hundred 
 more points. The mere reading of these old 
 letters seems to arouse a kind of irritable antago- 
 nism. Nothing is taken for granted. Everything 
 is discu-sed and inquired into, with the most 
 wearisome insistance. In short he worries the 
 boys unsparingly and unceasingly, unconscious 
 that he risks creating a revulsion of feeling that
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 77 
 
 may frustrate the very object he has at heart. 
 His aim is solely their benefit. No father could 
 display more single-minded devotion to the welfare 
 of his family than did Thomas Anthony Trollope. 
 But he never put himself for a moment in the 
 boys' place. He could not — at all events he did 
 not — pause to imagine sympathetically how his 
 letters would affect them. What he had to say, 
 he reasoned, was right and just ; it was proper 
 that he should be kept informed of their progress ; 
 it was his duty to urge them onward. Therefore 
 no repetition, and no insistance to attain this end, 
 could be excessive. It is a painfully interesting 
 study of character. 
 
 Then, besides this anxiety, there appear the 
 beginnings of difficulty about money. Mrs. 
 Trollope and her faithful nurse Farmer are making 
 various garments — cricketing flannels, and so forth 
 — at home, for the young Wykehamists, from 
 motives of economy. She " flatters herself that 
 they will turn out something worthy of a very 
 good tailor." They have been working hard. 
 The father frequently suggests, in answer to the 
 boys' appeals, that old shoes and trousers should 
 be mended, rather than new ones bought. And 
 then there is the relinquishment of a projected
 
 A MEMOIR OF I- RAX I'ROLLOPE. 
 
 holiday tour for the whole family in the Isle of 
 Wight, from want of funds. They cannot go 
 unless they should be able to let their house. 
 They have had "a nibble;" but it has come to 
 nothing. In a letter to her eldest son, dated May, 
 1825, Mrs. Trollope states the case plainly : — 
 
 " I enclose half a crown from Papa, — a proof at once 
 of poverty and kindness. Without the former it would 
 be more, without the latter it would be nothing. All the 
 world are poor as Job, — and, rather poorer, for Job put 
 none of his sons to public schools, and had no clients who 
 did not pay him. Next year I fear we shall be poorer 
 still, for assuredly there will be no hay. We are positive!) 
 burnt up as if it were a hot mid-summer." 
 
 And then, having made her plaint — no very bitter 
 one — she goes on to discuss Walter Scott's novel 
 of " Woodstock," which she thinks Tom will like 
 much. 
 
 " It is not equal," she opines, " to ' Ivanhoe ' and 
 some of the very first; but it is greatly superior to ' The 
 Monastery ' and some of the very last." 
 
 Circumstances must have mended somewhat, a 
 few months later — perhaps some of the defaulting 
 clients paid their debts ; the hay was beyond 
 amendment! — for in the autumn of this year, Mr. 
 and Mrs. Trollope paid a round of visits in Lincoln-
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 79 
 
 shire, and subsequently made a short excursion 
 to France. They visited Mr. Trollope's brother 
 Henry, Sir John and Lady Trollope at Casewick, 
 Mr. Linton at his place near Buckden, and Mr. 
 Dymoke. 
 
 Mrs. Trollope writes — 
 
 " I wished for you very much last week, for we have 
 paid a visit where we were surrounded by the most 
 interesting antiquities. We have been passing a couple 
 of days at Scrivelsby, the residence of the Champion of 
 England (not the boxing champion !). Mr. Dymoke is 
 the descendant of the Marmions. Perhaps you will 
 remember the lines in Sir Walter Scott's poem, ' They 
 hailed him Lord of Fontenaye, of Lutterwood and 
 Scrivelsby, of Tamworth tower and town.' The first- 
 named place is in Normandy, and I have promised the 
 Champion to poke about the ruins and look for his arms." 
 
 It was probably during this visit to France that 
 the idea first arose of removing Henry from 
 Winchester and placing him in a counting-house 
 in Paris, in order to learn the language and gain 
 some knowledge of business. The project was 
 carried out the following year, but without any 
 good result. 
 
 The mother continues to write assiduously to 
 both her boys, and her letters must have been 
 precious to them. We have seen that they were
 
 80 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 treasured by her eldest son for seventy years. 
 Between Tom and his mother there was naturally 
 more equal communion of minds than was 
 possible, at this time, with the younger children. 
 She constantly asks him to tell her what he 
 thinks of such and such a book, or on some 
 question of the day. At one time it is a novel 
 of Walter Scott's ; at another it is Lord Byron's 
 " Cain " that is under discussion ; at another, 
 Ariosto. When her son's holidays are approaching, 
 she writes : " I hope you and I shall have some 
 good talks together." Poetry and ethics are among 
 the topics she looks forward to discussing. But, 
 although those words may sound rather grandilo- 
 quent, there was no pedantry, no assumption of 
 profundity in her mind. To her poetry and 
 ethics were genuinely interesting ; and, fortunately 
 for the majority of us, it is possible to be genuinely 
 interested in great and lofty themes, without the 
 possession of deep learning or extraordinary 
 wisdom, 
 si Frances Trollope never made the smallest pre- 
 tension to be considered what her contemporaries 
 called a blue-stocking. Certainly such a pretension 
 would, in her case, have been absurd ; but that 
 fact has not always sufficed to deter mortals
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. Si 
 
 from pretending. She was, moreover, singularly- 
 free from self-conceit. When the days of her 
 great success came, when the public eagerly read 
 and the publishers eagerly bought her books, 
 and when London society voted her the literary 
 lion of the season, and besieged her with flattering 
 invitations, there is no trace to be found, in her 
 most private and familiar letters, of bumptious- 
 ness ; no undue puffed-up-ness, if I may venture 
 to use such a word. Gratification there is, ot 
 course ; pleasure in the praise she received, and 
 far more pleasure in the prospect that her work 
 would be valuable to those whom she loved, and 
 for whom she strove and laboured so valiantly. 
 There was a steady ballast which saved her from 
 being blown about by every wind of popularity — 
 the ballast of strong sense and sterling honesty. 
 
 Nor should her happy perception of the 
 humourous side of things be omitted from the 
 ballast. It is a good gift, and a great preserver 
 of sanity. 
 
 Early in the spring of 1826, Tom was made 
 candle-keeper ; * and his mother writes him a 
 
 * Candle-keepers are "the seven college inferiors who have 
 been longest in college. They are invested with certain privileges. 
 The office which gave rise to the title has been long extinct." — 
 "Notions: a Winchester Word-book," by R. G. K. Wrench. 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 S3 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 joking letter of congratulation, but with some 
 earnest feeling under the jokes. 
 
 "Hail! All hail I As Volumnia bowed low before 
 her Coriolanus, so do I bow low before my — Tom. Oh 
 dreadful bathos ! No ; before my great Adolphus, that 
 lion of the West ! And as Volumnia knelt to her son 
 for mercy on the Romans, so do I kneel to thee for 
 mercy on thy fags. . . . Let me not say: ' . . . But 
 Tom, proud Tom, drest in a little brief authority, like an 
 angry ape plays such fantastic tricks in candle-keep; n_ 
 pride, as make praepostors laugh ' ! " 
 
 In the summer Mr. and Mrs. Trollope again 
 visited Paris, taking Henry with them ; and once 
 more we find them in the midst of interesting 
 and distinguished people. Among those whom 
 she met and conversed with, she enumerates 
 Sismondi the historian, Benjamin Constant, and 
 the American novelist Fennimore Cooper. Of 
 Sismondi she writes : " He is, indeed, an admirable 
 man in every way, and is, moreover, what all 
 clever people are not — extremely agreeable." She 
 also thought Benjamin Constant amiable and 
 agreeable in manner. "And so, by the way, is 
 his wife, who was a German princess." Of Mr. 
 Cooper she says that he has obtained the appella- 
 tion of the Walter Scott of America, and that 
 he has written some very clever novels. But she
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 8 
 
 j 
 
 was not pleasantly impressed by him personally. 
 She again saw her revered and beloved friend, 
 Lafayette. The General must have invited them 
 all to his country house ; for she writes, after her 
 return to England, to her eldest son : — 
 
 "Henry particularly wished for you and talked of you, 
 when he was swallowing grapes by wholesale in General 
 Lafayette's vineyard, and breathed many tender wishes 
 for your presence." 
 
 Henry enjoyed his visit to the General extremely, 
 and liked the novelty of Paris ; but he was natu- 
 rally downcast on parting with his parents, and 
 remaining alone in a foreign city. His mother 
 thought him neither well nor cheerful when she 
 left him. This was the first keen sorrow in the 
 long chain of sorrows, anxieties, and separation 
 from those she loved, which hung heavily on 
 Frances Trollope during many ensuing years. 
 There had been the greatest difficulty in finding 
 a home for the boy in Paris. At last they suc- 
 ceeded in placing him in the family of M. Monod, 
 " a Protestant Swiss clergyman, who seems to be 
 a very pleasing sensible man." But the expense 
 was greater than they had calculated on. 
 
 What was the precise object that Mr. Trollope 
 had in his mind in placing his son in a Parisian
 
 8+ A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 house of business, and what was the precise nature 
 of the business, I cannot tell. No doubt he con- 
 ceived it to be the means of enabling Henry to 
 earn his livelihood ; but all the details seem to 
 have been vague. The scheme — like almost all 
 Mr. Trollope's schemes — proved a failure. And 
 it seems to have been entered upon with singular 
 precipitation. Neither by temperament nor edu- 
 cation was Henry adapted for the position in 
 which he found himself — a boy barely fifteen, in 
 a foreign city, and amidst surroundings the like" 
 of which he had never had any previous knowledge 
 of. To take a Winchester schoolboy (and a 
 Winchester schoolboy of seventy years ago !) and 
 plunge him all at once into a Parisian counting- 
 house in order that he might become familiar with 
 mercantile affairs, would have been an unhopeful 
 experiment in most cases. In Henry's case it was 
 utterly futile. 
 
 At first, however, the boy seems to have made 
 the best of it. He wrote cheerful letters home, 
 and his parents had good accounts of him from 
 other sources. A French friend of theirs, Colonel 
 Marbot, returning to England from Paris, goes 
 down to Harrow to see them, and, writes Mrs. 
 Trollope —
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 85 
 
 "gives a most excellent account of Henry. He says 
 he is industrious in his office, and speaks French to the 
 admiration of his hearers. He affirms, indeed, that he 
 can speak French as well as he, Colonel Marbot, can 
 English ; who, you know, has been some years in this 
 country." 
 
 Henry, however, with characteristic honesty, de- 
 clares to his brother — who, it appears, reported 
 this flattering speech — that it is absurd to suppose 
 a person who has been but four months in Paris 
 can talk French properly ; that he can read 
 fluently and write fairly, but does not consider 
 that he can talk at all ! 
 
 I glean a few extracts from the boy's letters to 
 his brother at this time, which are amusing. 
 
 One remark which he gravely makes is that 
 French cookery is not so oily as he expected ! 
 He does not find " things " so cheap as he expected 
 either ; although the one item that he gives, 
 namely, that "grapes cost four sous or twopence 
 a pound," certainly appears to be cheap enough. 
 He adds, "You buy water here at exactly the 
 same price as in the Isle of Wight " (!) The 
 young gentleman is highly contemptuous of the 
 conveyance which carried him and his parents 
 from Calais to Paris.
 
 86 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 "Oh, if you could but see the diligence or coach ! 
 Picture to yourself a long vehicle fixed on four high cart- 
 wheels, ahout the length of two English stage coaches, 
 and scarcely painted at all. It has 3 bodies, and carries 
 15 inside and 6 outside passengers. And then, what 
 curious kinds of harness ! And the traces, — some of 
 rope, some chain." 
 
 But he is greatly impressed by some of the public 
 buildings in Paris. During the two days spent 
 there before proceeding to La Grange, he visited 
 the Louvre and Tuilcries, several churches, the 
 Champs Elysees (which he pronounces to be "just 
 nothing "), climbed to the top of the column in 
 the Place Vendome, and went twice to the theatre. 
 On the journey from Paris to Rosay, en route 
 to La Grange, he remarks the abundance of wild 
 apple and pear-trees: "Not here and there, but 
 like elms or blackberry bushes in England." Of 
 La Grange he says : 
 
 " It is an old house, not at all ruinous, but ins 
 historique. The mote (sic) is about fifty yards across. 
 There is no drawbridge. There are shewn in the wall, 
 the marks of cannon shot fired when the place was 
 invested by the celebrated Marshal Turenne." 
 
 He saw cider being made, and a great abundance 
 of apples lying in heaps in the orchard, of which
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 87 
 
 he ate " as many as were convenient" — a delightful 
 phrase ! 
 
 In Paris he is employed at the office in trans- 
 lating French letters into English, and English 
 letters into French, until about four o'clock in the 
 afternoon. After that hour he seems to be at 
 liberty to go where he pleases. All his parents' 
 friends receive him kindly. He enumerates among 
 the houses to which he goes most frequently, those 
 of the Garnetts, General Lafayette (when the 
 latter is in Paris), and Miss Clarke, afterwards 
 Madame Mohl. In one letter there is a description 
 of the Fete du roi, as to which he tells his brother 
 that he has never seen, and never will see, anything 
 like it in England. 
 
 " In the evening the whole of Paris was illuminated, 
 and the theatres were open the whole day, morning, and 
 evening, and middle of the day. Anybody might go 
 in free. The King paid all the playhouses to keep on 
 acting the whole day. Nobody went in but the rabble. 
 In the Champs Elysees there were four theatres erected, 
 and raised so high that everybody in the Champs 
 Elysees could see them. There were also about eight 
 high stages erected for the music, and it played con- 
 tinually during the whole day. There were 3 soaped 
 poles to climb for sacks (?) and other things. Also 
 there were 8 great square places hollow inside, four
 
 88 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 full of bread and meat, and four of wine. And a soldier 
 inside each threw out bread and meat ; and the wine all 
 ran about like a fountain, not only for the people to 
 drink, but to carry away by pailfuls. And to crown all, 
 a great balloon, and in the evening at dark, some 
 admirable fireworks. A thousand rockets were let off 
 at once." 
 
 On the day of the Fete he saw the Duke of 
 Bordeaux, the heir presumptive, driving in the 
 Champs Elysees. 
 
 " He was in a carriage drawn by six horses, and 
 there were soldiers riding on either side, and another 
 empty carriage behind, in case the one he is in should 
 break down or overset. The Duke of Bordeaux is 
 seven years old, and wears a sword, and he was looking 
 out of his carriage window and making faces." 
 
 There, at least, is an authentic bit of history ! 
 And here is another. 
 
 " When I am walking, it is not uncommon to hear the 
 boys holloa out ' Voici le petit goddam ! Nous battrons 
 les Anglais avec des manc/ies a balai ! ' " 
 
 To be sure, that was twelve whole years after 
 Waterloo. 
 
 Meanwhile, at Harrow, despite some troubles at 
 hand, and more ahead, there was a good deal of 
 sociability and enjoyment. 
 
 Some private theatricals were given at the
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 89 
 
 Trol lopes' house, and Mr. Trollope, who was 
 pressed into the corps dramatique, displays a great 
 interest in the affair, talks of the many rehearsals 
 that were necessary, and says, " Stevens is a good 
 prompter, and thunders capitally ; we have not 
 tried our lightening yet." 
 
 In October, 1826, Mrs. Trollope writes to her 
 eldest son at Winchester : — 
 
 " I wish you had been with us on the night of our 
 grand representation. We natter ourselves that we were 
 extremely successful. I may truly say that we had a 
 full house, and the applause was most flattering. It 
 was very fortunate for us that we had to perform it 
 first more privately before your aunt and uncle. This 
 we did twice, and it led us to perceive many errors, and 
 to make many important alterations." 
 
 She then describes their ingenious contrivances 
 for the wise en scene. Their first piece was 
 Moliere's Femmes Savantes, acted in the original 
 French ; their second, some burlesque or extrava- 
 ganza of the day. 
 
 " In the Femmes Savantes," she writes, " we fitted up 
 the stage with every kind of thing you can imagine fit 
 to fill the drawing-room of a blue lady, — books, maps, 
 plans of the moon, telescopes, rolls of paper, MSS., 
 etc. Upon the white curtain opposite the windows, 
 were fixed engravings, and two little tables loaded with 
 
 V
 
 90 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 quartos were placed under them. All this, well shewn 
 by the light of the lamps, had a very good effect, and 
 we left the audience several minutes to admire it after 
 the curtain drew up, before we made our entree. The 
 clapping was prodigious ! I must not attempt to describe 
 the glories of the magnificent tragedy that followed. 
 I hope you will live to see it. After supper seven 
 young Drurys were deputed to request a repetition of 
 the performances. They all came to the top of the 
 table aud knelt down to implore this favour of my 
 majesty. You never saw a prettier group." 
 
 A month or two later, she gives an account of a 
 little encounter she had with the Vicar of Harrow, 
 the Rev. Mr. Cunningham. 
 
 There was considerable antagonism at that 
 time in Harrow, between the party self-styled 
 Evangelical, and those who, holding simply by 
 the doctrine and customs of the Established 
 Church, were apt to suspect a savour of hypocrisy 
 and self-righteousness, in the Evangelicals. Mr. 
 Cunningham's preaching and teaching were very 
 popular with a large number of persons, but they 
 did not find favour with many of his leading 
 parishioners. Between those very important 
 Harrovians, the Drurys, and their Vicar, there 
 raged, indeed, open warfare {vide " What I Re- 
 member," ch. iv.). Mrs. Trollopc was always 
 specially averse from the forms of speech and
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 91 
 
 methods of teaching associated with Low Church- 
 ism, nor was this aversion in any degree due to 
 indifference on the subject of religion. Her son 
 has remarked in his Reminiscences that he cannot 
 remember having received any religious teaching 
 from her, in any set form. But this was the 
 recollection of a Wykehamist, who left his home 
 at ten years old, and passed from the nursery and 
 nursery teaching at an unusually early age. 
 Curiously enough, the very first guest who came 
 to stay in the English home he made in Devon- 
 shire, on leaving Italy after a sojourn there of 
 some forty years, was a lady who was almost his 
 contemporary, who had been the playfellow and 
 intimate friend of his sisters, and who cherished a 
 warm affection for his mother's memory. This 
 loyal old friend took him to task pretty sharply 
 for what struck her as being a little reflection on 
 his mother's principles and practice in the matter 
 of religious instruction. "Why, Tom," said she, 
 "what could you be thinking of? I spent weeks 
 in the house at Harrow when I was a child, and a 
 young girl, and I remember that your mother 
 made a point of hearing us — your sisters Cecilia 
 and Emily, and myself — read a portion of Scrip- 
 ture and the Church Catechism every morning."
 
 92 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 T. A. Trollopc was hurt by the thought that 
 as this lady had taken his words, so might they be 
 taken by others. And he expressed a wish that 
 it were possible to do his mother justice in this 
 particular. That wish I have now fulfilled. 
 
 To return to the Vicar of Harrow. Frances Trol- 
 lope writes — 
 
 "We dined at Mr. B.'s last Tuesday, and alas ! I was 
 the only lady of the party not 'pious.' I was quite 
 thrown out, when they began to talk of selling ^200 
 worth of pincushions for various Christian purposes. 
 Mr. Cunningham was there, and told me that he had 
 heard that I had been amusing myself at his expense, 
 by repeating what he had said about the virtuous manner 
 in which certain young ladies played the piano-forte. I 
 told him that I had ; upon which he turned the other 
 cheek and asked me 'why?' Whereupon I answered 
 with my usual sincerity, ' because you deserved it, sir.' 
 However, this sharp encounter of our wits by no means 
 disturbed the harmony of the- evening, for it was carried 
 on at the corner of a sopha, and we parted the tenderest 
 of friends." 
 
 In one of the very numerous letters written at 
 this time by Mr. Trollopc to his eldest son, occurs 
 this passage : — 
 
 (< 
 
 Mr. Sewell, from the Isle of Wight, the father of 
 your brother Collegiate, called upon me yesterday. He 
 seems to be a very sensible man."
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 93 
 
 The brother collegiate was the present Warden of 
 New College, the Rev. James Edward Sewell, D.D. 
 And here I cannot refrain from giving an example 
 of the way in which English public-school life 
 forges a chain of comradeship that truly binds 
 men's days each to each throughout many years. 
 
 In the spring of 1891, T. Adolphus Trollope 
 was the guest of Mrs. Jeune (widow of the Bishop 
 of Peterborough, formerly Head of Pembroke) at 
 her house in Oxford ; and there, at a dinner-party, 
 among other interesting and distinguished persons, 
 he met his old schoolfellow James Edward Sewell, 
 for the first time since sixty odd years. Mrs. 
 Jeune, with her unfailing gracious tact and con- 
 sideration, had altered the usual disposition of the 
 guests at her table, to allow these two to sit next 
 to each other, in order that T. A. Trollope, who 
 was deaf, might be able to enjoy the Warden's 
 conversation. 
 
 It was very touching to see these two men, both 
 enjoying a green old age, taking up the thread of 
 the long past years, and talking of vanished days 
 and vanished people with a fresh and living .in- 
 terest. But the manner of their first meeting was 
 the characteristic point. Those of Mrs. Jeune's 
 guests who were staying in the house were all
 
 94 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 assembled in the drawing-room, when the Warden 
 of New College was announced. After saluting 
 his hostess, the Warden walked straight across the 
 room to his fellow-Wykehamist. A grip of the 
 hand was exchanged. " How are you, Trollope ? " 
 — "How are you, Scwell ? " And they began to 
 chat as easily and tranquilly as though the sixty 
 years which divided their last parting from tl 
 present meeting had been but sixty minutes ! 
 
 But it is time to return to the period when the 
 venerable Warden of New College, and the his- 
 torian of the Commonwealth of Florence, were 
 schoolboys, with the long road of life still stretch- 
 ing before them into the unknown future. 
 
 Early in the year 1827, Mr. and Mrs. Trollope's 
 letters constantly express alternate hopefulness 
 and anxiety about getting their son Anthony into 
 Winchester — the father entering, as usual, into 
 minute calculations of the chances of a vacancy, 
 and urging his eldest son to give him every detail 
 as to the boys who may possibly resign before the 
 next election, and so forth. In fact, Anthony was 
 admitted to college in the April of this year. 
 
 There is before me an affecting letter from Mrs 
 Trollope to her son Tom, dated April 11, 1S27. 
 pointing out with great earnestness how essential
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 95 
 
 it is that he should do all in his power to keep his 
 brother up to the mark. 
 
 "Your father," she writes, "must certainly consider 
 himself as very fortunate in getting three boys into Col- 
 lege, and yet it will not do us much good, unless we get 
 some dispers * of the New College loaves and fishes. 
 As far as Anthony is concerned this must very much 
 depend on you. I dare say you will often find him idle 
 and plaguing enough. But remember, dear Tom, that, 
 in a family like ours, everything gained by one is felt 
 personally and individually by all. He is a good- 
 hearted fellow, and clings so to the idea of being Tom's 
 pupil, and sleeping in Tom's chamber, that I think you 
 will find advice and remonstrance better taken by him 
 than by poor Henry. Greatly comforted am I to know 
 that Tony has a prefect brother. I well remember 
 what I used to suffer at the idea of what my ' little 
 Tom ' was enduring." 
 
 Tom had gone to Winchester at the unusually 
 early age of ten. Both his brothers, Henry and 
 Anthony, were twelve years old when they entered 
 college. 
 
 In the course of this year, I find the first men- 
 tion in the family correspondence of a person who 
 afterwards played an important part during Mrs. 
 Trollope's stay in the United States, and became 
 
 * It may be worth while to state, for the information of non- 
 Wykehamical readers, that " disper " is the Winchester word for a 
 portion of food.
 
 • 
 
 96 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 known as the illustrator of many of her books — 
 Monsieur Augustc Ilcrvieu, the artist. How the 
 family first became acquainted with him I do not 
 know. Probably it was, directly or indirectly, 
 / through Miss Wright and the Lafayettcs. At any 
 rate, in 1827 he had become a familiar visitor, 
 and frequently an inmate, in the house at Harrow. 
 To one of Mr. Trollope's letters at this time, 
 concerning the despatch of sundry classics for his 
 son's use at Winchester, M. Hcrvicu appends the 
 following postscript, which I give verbatim ct 
 literatim : — 
 
 " My dear Thom, 
 
 " if this Anacreon can please you, I do oftert 
 you. 
 
 "AUGUSTE HERVIEU." 
 
 One more summer vacation was spent by the 
 family at Julians, when they were all united. It 
 was decided that Henry should return from Paris, 
 to his boundless joy. Mrs. Trollope writes to her 
 eldest son, about a month before the holidays : — 
 
 "I enclose you Henry's last letter. I hope you will 
 share the delight he anticipates from the family reunion. 
 I expect to enjoy it myself, not a little. I have already 
 been planning sundry ' drolleries ' to amuse us all. As 
 I am to stay at home all the long vacation, I hope to be
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 97 
 
 very happy there. We must have our French play 
 again, and ' Chrononhotonthologos ' into the bargain. 
 I flatter myself that you will this year find some fruit 
 left for you ; — at least the gooseberries, currants, peaches, 
 nectarines, and apricots, all promise largely." 
 
 It is a cheerful picture of a sunny season and 
 a sunny mind. But it is the last of its kind for 
 some time. The pleasant home was to be broken 
 up, its inmates scattered, and the bright, brave 
 spirit to whom they all turned for comfort in 
 trouble and sympathy in joy, was to be sorely 
 tried by exile, disaster, and disappointment, before 
 any good days came again. 
 
 vol. 1.
 
 9 8 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 •' La compagnic c>t belle ct bonne, — mais c'est avec une grantk- 
 joic qu'on se slpare." — Madame de Sevicni:, Letter 84. 
 
 1/ The circumstances which led to Mrs. Trollope's 
 visiting the United States, and the speculation 
 which her husband entered into there, with the 
 hope of retrieving his shattered fortunes, have been 
 set forth in the autobiographies of their sons 
 Thomas Adolphus and Anthony. But many par- 
 ticulars of her life in America have been omitted, 
 both in their books and her own. It could not, 
 indeed, have been otherwise. An attentive perusal 
 and careful collation of many letters and docu- 
 ments, written and printed, have been necessary in 
 order to present these particulars with any degree 
 of clearness and without repetition of what has 
 already appeared. The lapse of time has made it 
 now possible to tell much that could not so well 
 have been said fifty or sixty years ago. Distance 
 of time, as well of space, not only softens, but 
 reveals many objects.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 99 
 
 A few words will suffice to say that the farming 
 operations at Julians tended steadily towards 
 failure ; that Mr. Trollope let the excellent house 
 he had built, and removed to a farm-house at 
 Harrow Weald (the same which Anthony Trollope 
 has described in his novel of " Orley Farm ") ; 
 and that he resolved to invest the last remnant of 
 his capital in a speculation at Cincinnati, in the 
 United States of America. The speculation con- , 
 sisted in building a kind of bazaar or emporium, 
 where a variety of fancy articles, chiefly imported 
 from Europe, were to be sold. There was also a 
 hope and expectation of finding employment for 
 Henry in the United States. 
 
 It was arranged that Mrs. Trollope, with her 
 two young daughters and her son Henry, should 
 go first to America and settle sundry preliminaries, 
 and that Mr. Trollope should join them there later, 
 but not with any idea of eventually settling in the 
 United States. 
 
 Mrs. Trollope, with her three children, Henry, 
 Cecilia, and Emily, sailed from London for New 
 Orleans on the 4th of November, 1827, and arrived 
 at the mouth of the Mississippi on the Christmas 
 Day following, the voyage having thus occupied 
 a little over seven weeks. It was a peculiarly 
 
 }
 
 ioo A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 prosperous one as regarded its weather, and a 
 smooth voyage, like a smooth life, offers but little 
 material to the narrator. But, notwithstanding the 
 general serenity of sea and sky, they did meet with 
 one exciting incident, which Mrs. Trollope has 
 omitted in her book on the United States. She 
 has recorded it in some private notes now before 
 me. The incident was nothing less than their being 
 chased by a pirate ! I give it in her own words : — 
 
 "We were sitting on deck, watching, as usual, the 
 setting sun, when, as darkness approached, one among 
 us descried in the west, a light that appeared like that of 
 a beacon. We called to the captain to tell us what it 
 was. He looked very grave, and said, ' it is a signal to 
 us, to lie to.' 'Shall you do so?' we asked. He 
 appeared not to hear us ; but we immediately heard him 
 giving orders which were followed by hoisting as much 
 additional canvas as we could safely carry. He evidently 
 kept out of our way to avoid questions, and we saw there 
 was something wrong though we knew not what 
 
 "The next morning when I got on deck, I saw every 
 glass on board pointed to a speck on the horizon. ' Is 
 she gaining on us ? ' was pronounced in accents of so 
 much anxiety by the standers-by, that I became con- 
 vinced something terrible was approaching. When the 
 good captain found that he could no longer conceal the 
 fact, he confessed that there was every reason to believe 
 we were chased by a pirate. 
 
 "For some hours our situation was painful enough. 
 The common sailors, having less discretion than the
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 101 
 
 captain, scrupled not to assure us that they should all 
 be barbarously murdered, and that we should be robbed 
 and chained down to our berths at least; if not thrown, 
 one upon the other, into the sea ! The stranger sail 
 evidently gained upon us, and terror was as evidently 
 doing the same, when another vessel, and a right gallant 
 one, was discovered chasing our chaser. The latter 
 tacked, and shifted, and at length veered about, scudding 
 away as fast as possible before the wind, with the English 
 man-of-war (as she was soon discovered to be) after her. 
 " I doubt if the females on board felt more relieved at 
 their escape than did the crew. It is true they knew 
 better what the danger was, than we did ; and various, 
 and most ghastly, were the stories with which they enter- 
 tained us for many days afterwards, of the ' water-rats ' 
 that frequent the entrance to the Mexican Gulf." 
 
 It has not been found possible to "police" the 
 mighty Atlantic into uniform good behaviour ; but 
 the Cunard passenger ploughing with swift keel 
 through its waters, may at least congratulate him- 
 self on being free from any danger of pirates — 
 which was a very real one eight and sixty years 
 ago! 
 
 Miss Frances Wright was Mrs. Trollope's travel- 
 ling companion on this voyage ; and it is probable 
 — although I can furnish no proof of it — that the 
 whole scheme of the American speculation was 
 originally suggested by her to the Trollope family. 
 The more so, as I find that she was staying in
 
 102 A ME MO I \NCES TROLLOP 
 
 their house at Harrow only two months before the 
 voyage was undertaken. 
 
 In a description of this remarkable woman in 
 " What I Remember;' T. A. Trollopc writes— 
 
 " There exists — still findable, I suppose, in some 
 London fonds de magasin — a large lithographed portrait 
 of her. She is represented standing with her hand on 
 the neck of a grey horse (the same old gig horse that had 
 drawn my parents and myself over so many miles of 
 Devonshire, Somersetshire, and Monmouthshire roads 
 and cross-roads), and, if I remember rightly, in Turkish 
 trousers." 
 
 He did remember rightly ; for I have discovered, 
 not in a London fonds de magasin, but in an old 
 folio scrap-book belonging to the family, the very 
 lithographcd portrait in question. There stands 
 Frances Wright, leaning on the old grey horse, as 
 T. A. Trollope describes her. It cannot be said 
 that the drawing of the quadruped is felicitous. 
 But the artist, M. Hervieu, has succeeded bettei 
 with his human model. The portrait represents a 
 tall, handsome woman, with regular features, richly 
 curling hair cut short all over the head, and an 
 earnest expression of countenance. And she is 
 dressed absolutely and positively in the Bloomer 
 costume ! Any one turning to the illustrations 
 of Pi!i:c>'., published at the period when Mr-
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 103 
 
 Bloomer was making her crusade in favour of this 
 costume, may see the counterpart of that worn by 
 Frances Wright in the early part of the present 
 century. There it is — short tunic, wide sash round 
 the waist, full trousers gathered in at the ankle — 
 even to the broad-brimmed straw hat which she 
 holds in her hand. Nothing new under the sun? 
 No, not even " rational dress " ! 
 
 Miss Wright had already spent two years in 
 the United States, previous to a prolonged sojourn 
 in Paris, where, as we have seen, she was on terms 
 of affectionate friendship with General Lafayette 
 and his family. She was also a friend of the 
 well-known Robert Owen of Lanark, socialist and 
 philanthropist. 
 
 Mr. Owen had, in 1825, established a colony, on 
 communistic principles, in the state of Indiana. 
 The estate comprised twenty thousand acres of 
 land near the Wabash river. Here, in a valley- 
 named New Harmony, life was to be carried on 
 in accordance with Mr. Owen's social views. 
 Industry, Peace, and Plenty, were to bless the 
 settlement ; and those disasters of the Old World, 
 which were, in his opinion, due to long-rooted 
 error, were to be rectified in the New. Miss A 
 Frances Wright was as fervid and single-minded
 
 1 
 
 104 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 an enthusiast as Mr. Robert Owen, and was, like 
 him, read)- to give irrefragable proof of her 
 sincerity by sacrificing the considerable fortune 
 she possessed to the good of the cause. 
 
 The cause which she particularly had at heart 
 in the year 1S27, was the abolition of negro 
 slavery. Later on, she lectured vehemently 
 against revealed religion, and had a scheme for 
 erecting a Temple of Science, where education was 
 to be carried on upon her own principles. 
 
 Miss Wright had purchased an estate in the 
 midst of a partially cleared forest in Tennessee, 
 called Nashoba. It was to be cultivated by free 
 negroes. One of her pet schemes was to prove 
 the intellectual equality of the black and white 
 races, which, she was persuaded, could be effected 
 to demonstration by giving an absolutely identical 
 education to white and negro children in "mixed 
 classes." 
 
 Mrs. Trollope had proposed passing some months 
 at Nashoba with Miss Wright and her sister ; but 
 I do not find any hint of plans for a more pro- 
 longed residence there, nor of any sort of partner- 
 ship in the educational schemes. It is possible 
 that there may have been some idea of finding 
 employment for Henry at Nashoba. If so, this
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 105 
 
 hope went down in the general flood of disappoint- 
 ment which overwhelmed the English family when 
 they saw the settlement. 
 
 Mrs. Trollope has described in print her arrival 
 at Nashoba, and the desolate savagery of the 
 spot. But, far from exaggerating the wretched 
 conditions of the life there, she has, in a measure, 
 extenuated them, by giving a mere general state- 
 ment, which is never so effective in such a case 
 as particular instances. Ideas as to what con- 
 stitutes severe discomfort, vary greatly in different 
 individuals. Dirt, for example, is not fatal to 
 the cheerfulness of some persons. I will, there- 
 fore, give one or two details from Mrs. Trollope's 
 private notes, and leave the reader to form his own 
 judgment on the facts. 
 
 " The Frances Wright of Nashoba, in dress, look, and 
 manner, bore no more resemblance to the Miss Wright 
 I had known and admired in London and Paris, than 
 did her log-cabin to the Tuileries, or Buckingham Palace. 
 But, to do her justice, I believe her imagination was so 
 exclusively occupied on the scheme she had in view, 
 that all her other faculties were, in a manner, suspended ! 
 When we arrived at Nashoba, they were without milk, 
 without beverage of any kind, except rain water ; the 
 river Wolf being too distant to send to, constantly. 
 Wheaten bread they used but very sparingly, and, to us, 
 the Indian corn bread was uneatable. They had no
 
 106 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP L. 
 
 vegetables but rice and a few potatoes we brought with 
 
 us ; no meat but pork ; no butter ; no cheese. I shared 
 her bedroom. It had no ceiling, and the floor consisted 
 of planks laid loosely upon piles that raised it some feet 
 from the earth. The rain had access through the wooden 
 roof, and the chimney, which was of logs slightly plastered 
 with mud, caught fire at least a dozen times in a day. 
 And yet I verily believe that Miss Wright was un- 
 affectedly surprised at perceiving that I did not find 
 their manner of life everything that reasonable beings 
 could wish for. She herself made her meals on a bit of 
 I ndian corn bread, and a cup of very indifferent cold water, 
 and while doing so, smiled with the sort of complacent > 
 that we may conceive Peter the Hermit felt when eating 
 his acorns in the wilderness. ... I found her amiable 
 sister, Mrs. Whitby, in very bad health, which she con- 
 fessed she attributed to the climate ! This so much 
 alarmed me for my children, that I decided upon leaving 
 the place with as little delay as possible, and did so, at 
 the end of ten days." 
 
 But there was one person of the part)-, whose 
 disappointment was far more acute than Mr-, 
 Trollope's, and whose manifestation of it she de- 
 scribes in a letter addressed on the 14th of March, 
 1828, from Cincinnati, to her" beloved boys" at 
 Winchester. This person was M. Augustc Ilcrvieu, 
 who had accomDanicd Miss Wricrht to Nashoba. 
 
 Nashoba could scared}- have been looked upon, 
 even by the most sanguine enthusiast, as a hopeful
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 107 
 
 field for the art of a portrait-painter. But it was 
 as a teacher that M. Hervieu's talents were to be 
 utilized. He was to be professor of drawing — 
 presumably to the " mixed classes." Mrs. Trollope 
 writes — 
 
 " I must now tell you of INI. Hervieu's adventures. 
 You know that Miss Wright induced him to accompany 
 her to her settlement, for the purpose of teaching draw- 
 ing in her schools there. As soon as he arrived, he 
 asked, ' Where is the school ? ' and was answered, ' It 
 is not yet formed.' I think I never saw a man in such 
 a rage. He wept with passion and grief mixed, I believe. 
 He immediately determined upon going to the little 
 town of Memphis, fifteen miles from Miss W.'s settle- 
 ment, and trying to get some employment there. He 
 succeeded beyond his expectations, and made more than 
 enough to pay all his expenses. But the place is so 
 small, that he had soon done all there was to do, and he 
 was quite ready to accompany us to Cincinnati." 
 
 It turned out that Monsieur Hervieu's presence 
 in Cincinnati was of the greatest comfort and 
 assistance to Mrs. Trollope and her family. Her 
 letters report many traits of the most generous 
 kindness on his part, acknowledged with the most 
 generous warmth on hers. In after years, Hervieu's 
 relations with the family became less pleasant. 
 His eccentricities and somewhat over-weening 
 temper were irksome to all, especially to the
 
 ioS A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 younger members of the family. But in any 
 honest biography of Frances Trollope, justice 
 must be done to the warmhearted Frenchman 
 who stood so staunchly by her and her children 
 when they sorely needed a friend. 
 
 The Nashoba scheme, it is almost superfluous 
 to say, failed utterly. Within a few months of 
 Mrs. Trollope's departure from the place, Miss 
 Wright and her sister had also left it, and the little 
 blacks who were to have figured in the " mixed 
 classes " were, together with all the other slaves 
 (between twenty and thirty), shipped off to Hayti. 
 Mrs. Trollope says that Miss Wright herself 
 accompanied them thither, and left them under 
 the care of the President. This measure, at all 
 events, was not only a kind, but a wise one. It 
 was, perhaps, the only way of securing the safety 
 and freedom of her negroes. And probably they 
 did not deeply lament that the experiment which 
 was to have proved their intellectual equality with 
 the white race, had been thus nipped in the bud. 
 
 Another deception befell Mrs. Trollope in con- 
 nection with New Harmony, whither her son 
 Henry was sent, on the faith of what proved to 
 be absolutely false pretences. 
 
 We must have the courage to tell the truth, even
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. log 
 
 about the failure of the best intentions. That the 
 intentions of Mr. Robert Owen and Miss Frances 
 Wright — like those of many another fanatical 
 enthusiast — were good, cannot be doubted. As 
 little can it be doubted that a grain or two of 
 humility would have furnished a leaven of price- 
 less value to the mass of their theories. A grain 
 or two of humility might have given them pause 
 before embracing a root-and-branch system of 
 cutting down and digging up everything, in order 
 to begin all over again. A grain or two of 
 humility might have suggested that they possibly 
 did not possess the superhuman wisdom necessary 
 for carrying on such an enterprise beyond the pre- 
 liminary stage of destruction. But the grain or two 
 of humility were lacking ; and the root-and-branch 
 system is so seductive to vanity and the thirst for 
 personal predominance ! A witty French writer 
 has said, in one of his novels, " Le bien ne se fait 
 qu'eti detail? At any rate, it would be well if 
 those who desire the good of their fellow-creatures, 
 would condescend to begin with doing the duty, 
 however humble, which lies nearest to them. 
 
 Mrs. Trollope gives a lively account of the fate 
 of New Harmony and its society in an early chapter 
 of her "Domestic Manners of the Americans."
 
 no A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 Her private notes, as usual, more than corroborate 
 her printed statements. Mr. Owen finally broke 
 off" all connection with the place in 1828. But 
 Mr. Maclure, a Scotchman of some property, had 
 founded a school in New Harmony, to which he 
 liberally contributed a fine collection of books, 
 scientific instruments, etc. The expense of keep- 
 ing it up was to be defrayed by the profits derived 
 from the labours of the pupils, who were to alter- 
 nate, at certain fixed hours, manual toil with 
 intellectual study. Thither was Henry Trollope 
 sent, on the faith of sundry rose-coloured repre- 
 sentations. Pie found on his arrival that Mr. 
 Maclure had left New Harmony ; that the direction 
 of the place was in the hands of his " partner," a 
 French woman ; that this practical-minded person 
 had entirely dropped the intellectual part of the 
 programme, but had adhered tenaciously to the 
 plan of making all the young people on the settle- 
 ment work hard with their hands ; and that the 
 result was great prosperity — for the lady. Many 
 of the youths sent there, in the hope of receiving 
 an excellent education, belonged to poor families 
 living at a great distance, and had no money to 
 enable them to return to their homes. 
 
 In a letter from Henry to his brothers, he says
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. in 
 
 a brief, but sufficiently graphic word about his 
 existence at this settlement founded with such 
 high pretensions. Henry had not only to earn his 
 bread, but to make it, and bake it, and to labour 
 i in the fields all day. Such is, such doubtless has 
 been for ages, the lot of millions of men. But it 
 was scarcely necessary to cross the Atlantic, in order 
 to discover that the New World has not, in this 
 respect, improved on the conditions of the Old. 
 
 It was not possible to remove Henry from New 
 Harmony as soon as the hopeless state of things 
 there became manifest, for Mrs. Trollope was 
 literally without money. By some unexplained 
 accident, no letters reached her for half a year 
 after leaving England. In one of her letters to her 
 son Tom, written on the 4th of May, 1828 — just six 
 months after her departure — she mentions that she 
 is despatching by the same mail, her ninth letter 
 to Mr. Trollope, and that she has not yet received 
 one line in return ! 
 
 There is no department of life in which the 
 advantages enjoyed by us in the present day, over 
 our forefathers, are more striking and incontestable 
 than the post-office. Mrs. Trollope's letters from 
 various countries, and during many years, give 
 details as to the delay, uncertainty, and expense
 
 ii2 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP K. 
 
 connected with postal communications, which 
 appear almost incredible to us now. In one letter 
 from Cincinnati, she instructs her son to inquire 
 about a certain coffee-house, called the North and 
 South America Coffee-house, whence, she has been 
 told, a letter can be despatched to the United 
 States at a cheaper rate than they have been pay- 
 ing ! She is sure that she could often get her 
 letters more quickly if they were despatched 
 directly from London, instead of being sent first 
 to Liverpool. But this, she says, 
 
 "cannot be done by putting them into the London 
 post office, but by learning, either at Lloyd's, or at the 
 above-named coffee-house, what vessels are going from 
 the port of London, and when" 
 
 All this would seem rather extraordinary to the 
 present authorities at St. Martin's-le-Grand. 
 
 Mr. Trollope, on his part, was suffering anxiety 
 at the non-arrival of letters from his wife. But in 
 her case the distress was increased by the pressure 
 of absolute want. 
 
 " I cannot express to you," she writes to her sons, 
 " the dreadful anxiety to which this silence gives birth. 
 Is your father ill ? Is he dead? Have his affairs fallen 
 into such confusion that he has not been able to procure 
 the money necessary to send us a remittance? Wher- 
 ever you may be, my dearest Tom, when you receive
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 113 
 
 this, I entreat you to write to me immediately. Our 
 situation here would be dreadful, were it not for M. 
 Hervieu's grateful, and generous kindness. It is more 
 than a month that we have not had a mouthful of food 
 that he has not paid for. How are you both, my darling 
 boys ? Oh, what could I do — alas, I have nothing to 
 give, but what would I not give, to have you both for 
 half an hour ! Dear Tom, dear Anthony, do not forget 
 us ! " 
 
 The situation was truly dreadful. She was in 
 a strange country, separated by thousands of miles 
 from husband, home, and friends, and with three 
 helpless young creatures depending on her pru- 
 dence and energy. One side of this letter is 
 covered by the effusions of Cecilia (then a child of 
 eleven) and Henry. Both are dejected enough. 
 The poor little girl winds up hers with these 
 words : " Cincinnati is a very pretty little town, 
 but I heartily hope papa will come and take us 
 away from it ! " She was not the only one of the 
 party who hoped so. The mother squeezes in at 
 the end a highly characteristic postscript : " I 
 think the young people have tried to make us 
 appear more wretched than we are. Do not be 
 unhappy about us, dear ones* Adieu." 
 
 By the 30th of the following June, however, 
 
 * The italics are mine. — F. E. T. 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 
 
 ii4 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 things have mended. Mr. Trollope is expected 
 
 to go out to them immediately (as a matter of 
 fact he did not sail for America until September), 
 and they arc all eagerly looking forward to his 
 arrival. Although they have nearly reached the 
 hottest season, they have not as yet suffered from 
 the heat. Henry has been very ill, but his malady 
 began before the hot weather. (Its immediate 
 cause was, probably, the mental misery and bodily- 
 hardship endured at New Harmony.) His mother 
 writes — 
 
 " You would hardly know Henry and me, we are both 
 grown so thin. This climate is a very strange one. 
 The heat, though the thermometer is sometimes as high 
 as 104, is not very terrible, but the vicissitudes of the 
 weather are most extraordinary, and the climate of Eng- 
 land is, in comparison with this, very little subject to 
 change." 
 
 The sudden alternations of temperature are 
 often commented on in the family correspondence ; 
 and Henry tells his brothers that an American 
 man of science declared to him that in Cincinnati 
 he had observed a variation of forty degrees in the 
 course of a single da)- ! 
 
 It is in this letter of the 30th of June, 182N, that 
 wc find the first hint of the possibility of Mrs. 
 Trollopc's writing a book about America.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 115 
 
 " I amuse myself," she says, " by making notes, and , 
 hope some day to manufacture them into a volume. 
 This is a remote corner of the world, and but seldom 
 visited " [you will remember, good reader, that she is 
 speaking of the Cincinnati of seventy years ago], " and 
 I think that if Hervieu could find time to furnish 
 sketches of scenery, and groups, a very taking little 
 volume might be produced." 
 
 The one volume grew into two, and the work 
 certainly proved to be " taking ; " but equally 
 certainly it owed a very small part, if any, of its 
 attraction to M. Hervieu's pencil. But Frances 
 Trollope's previsions about her own success were 
 always very modest, even after she had gained a 
 high place in public favour. The motive which 
 instigated her to attempt authorship, was, un- 
 doubtedly, the desire to add to the slender re- 
 sources of the family. Without giving unqualified 
 acceptance to Dr. Johnson's strong assertion that 
 " no man but a fool ever wrote books except for 
 money," one may go so far as to say that a vast 
 number of good books have been written for 
 money !
 
 n6 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP::. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " Xcl mezzo del cammin di nostra vita 
 Mi ritrovai per una selva oscura. 
 * * * * 
 
 Ahi ! quanto a dir cos'era e cosa dura, 
 Questa selva selvaggia, ed aspra, e forte ! " 
 
 Dante, Divine Comedy, Canto i. 
 
 Mr. Trollope, accompanied by his eldest son, 
 paid a brief visit to America in the autumn of 
 /i328, and the final arrangements were then made 
 for building and opening the bazaar. The place- 
 was intended to serve various purposes besides 
 that of an emporium for the sale of fancy goods. 
 Among other projects, there was to be exhibited a 
 panorama of London, which Hervieu was to paint. 
 There is no doubt that Mr. and Mrs. Trollope 
 received a great dual of local encouragement for 
 their scheme. On that point there is plenty of 
 testimony. Some of the encouragement may have 
 been given from interested and dishonest motives ; 
 but much of it was, doubtless, genuine enough, 
 although surprisingly rash. But enthusiasm is
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 117 
 
 •everywhere apt to prevail over prudence, in the 
 disposal of other people's money. 
 
 It is due to Mr. Trollope to state that in this 
 disastrous speculation, he was not (as had been 
 the case in some other matters) running counter 
 to the advice and wishes of his wife. I do not 
 think that Mrs. Trollope would ever have originated 
 the idea of going to the United States, but, being 
 there, she certainly founded great hopes on the 
 scheme of the bazaar ; and she entered into the 
 preparations with all her native energy and vivacity. 
 
 Her husband and son returned to Europe, 
 leaving her with the two little girls and poor 
 Henry — for whom it seemed terribly difficult to 
 find a niche in the world — to start the new under- 
 taking. 
 
 It would be worse than useless to attempt any 
 detailed account of the disappointment of all their 
 hopes. It may be stated in a few words that the 
 bazaar was a total failure, and that the capital 
 embarked in it might as well — for all the benefit 
 the Trollope family ever derived from it — have 
 been thrown into the Atlantic Ocean. 
 
 And yet, indirectly, the project opened a 
 prosperous career to Frances Trollope. It is no 
 exaggeration to say that she achieved a brilliant 
 
 J J
 
 n S A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 literary position, and a comfortable competence, 
 and that the first step to both was the publication 
 of the "Domestic Manners of the Americans." 
 The book has been enormously read, and it would 
 be superfluous to recapitulate any of its contents. 
 But some more extracts from her private letters 
 and notes may be found interesting and amusing. 
 
 After the departure of her husband she received 
 a kind letter from General Lafayette, and writes 
 to England : — 
 
 " The same post which brought me the General's letter, 
 
 brought one also from him to Mr. N " [a resident 
 
 in Cincinnati] " requesting him to do all he can to make 
 our residence here agreeable. Such an introduction is 
 worth something in this country. I am very much 
 pleased by these letters of Lafayette. They contain, 
 in fact, the first certain assurance that we are not a set 
 of very accomplished swindlers !" 
 
 I copy here Lafayette's letter as it lies before 
 me, in its almost faultless English. One fault, 
 indeed, there is — the persistent mis-spelling of 
 her name as Troloppe. But this orthography of 
 the family patronymic I have found so frequent, 
 among all sorts and conditions of men, at home 
 and abroad, as to suggest the idea that there 
 must be some mysterious reason in the eternal 
 fitness of things why it ought to be so written !
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 119 
 
 "Lagrange, November nth, 1828. 
 "Dear Madam, 
 
 " I do not know when this letter may reach you, 
 having been told, under a later date than your Cincin- 
 nati confidential communication, that it was your inten- 
 tion to move with your family to New York. I am 
 afraid my letters to my friends, the N. family, will not 
 have arrived in time ; but hope your acquaintance will 
 have been formed on the ground of common remem- 
 brance and feelings in behalf of your old absent friend. 
 
 " While our dear Fanny was giving us the general, and 
 minute, features of the New Harmony system, and, not- 
 withstanding her enthusiasm, of the uncomfortableness 
 of Nashoba life, I wondered at the determination of a 
 London lady to make herself a Forest pioneer ! The 
 more so after the letter I had received from you, dear 
 madam, before I came to Paris. I admired the effect 
 of her" [Miss Wright's] "eloquence, the warmth of your 
 friendship. But not knowing your other motives to go 
 to the U.S., and thinking it would be very hard on my 
 part to remonstrate against so affectionate a determina- 
 tion on behalf of the beloved girls, I had only to pour 
 my tender blessings upon you, as upon them. I have 
 already expressed how much I grieved to hear you had 
 left Nashoba after a visit of eight days. Not that I ever 
 thought that sort of forest life could suit you, or can 
 object to the sense of other duties which called you at 
 a distance from your enterprising friends, but because so 
 abrupt a separation might be prejudiciable {sic) to them. 
 No explanation was obtained from Fanny, who only, 
 in a kind word, mentioned your departure. Your Cin- 
 cinnati letter with all its details, for which I am much
 
 120 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TR0LL0PE. 
 
 obliged to you, has been the sole account I had given 
 to me on those, so very, very interesting subjects. I 
 have not for a long while heard from Fanny and Camilla. 
 I suppress the feelings which several particulars of your 
 letter could not fail to excite, but request you, dear 
 madam, to write as frequently and as minutely as you 
 can to me. Should you be still in Ohio, my corre- 
 spondence with N. must, at a long distance of time 1 
 fear, have answered your purpose. In New York you 
 are surrounded with friends. I hope the next packet 
 will bring me letters from Fanny, and let me know where 
 you now are. In the meanwhile I send these lines to 
 Mr. Wilkes, and requesting my best regards to Mr. 
 Troloppe, to your son, and all the family, I am very 
 affectionately 
 
 " Your friend, 
 
 " Lafayette." 
 
 The General's kind solicitude on behalf of Fanny 
 Wright and her sister, must have subjected him 
 to considerable anxiety and many disappoint- 
 ments ; for it was not possible to induce the 
 former to write fully on any other topic than 
 that which engrossed her imagination for the 
 time being. 
 
 In a letter from Mrs. Trollopc to her son, dated 
 Cincinnati, May i, 1S29, wc get an amusing 
 glimpse of Fanny Wright. She was now devot- 
 ing all her zeal ami enthusiasm to preaching 
 .theism, combined with such simple and practical
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 121 
 
 moral precepts as that " Affection shall form the 
 only marriage ; kind feeling and kind action, the 
 only religion ; respect for the feelings and liberties 
 of others, the only restraint ; and union of interest, 
 the only bond of peace and security ! " 
 Mrs. Trollope writes — 
 
 " I have mentioned in a former letter that Miss Wright 
 has bought a church at New York for the delivery of 
 her own lectures, — and all others, as I imagine, on the 
 same side of the question. Whether the speculation is 
 likely to answer to her as a matter of profit, I have not 
 heard. If it does not, I think she will speedily be 
 distressed for funds. I am greatly mistaken if her 
 gazette" [a socialistic journal published at New Har- 
 mony] "long continues to pay its own expenses. It is 
 so inexpressibly fatiguing to read the same thing ex- 
 pressed in five thousand different ways, even though it 
 be the amusing assurance that the world was made by 
 chance. I remember General Lafayette once reading 
 me a letter of F. W.'s in reply to one of his which had 
 conveyed to her some (as he thought) important European 
 news. She assured him that she felt her mind so elevated 
 above all the petty concerns of life, that she could no 
 longer give attention to such subjects. The remaining 
 pages of a long letter were occupied by a minute narra- 
 tive of domestic proceedings at Nashoba ; and told how 
 black Peggy stole a pair of shoes, and how black Jenny 
 quarrelled with black Joe, etc. The same, or a similar, 
 state of mind is, I think, visible in every page of her 
 twaddling gazette. Everything that she can catch which
 
 122 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 has a bearing upon her own particular dogmas, and her 
 own particular whims, finds place there in wearisome 
 succession; but all subjects of general import, interesting 
 to man as he is, not to man as she dreams he might be, 
 are excluded. And I doubt if any preacher that evei 
 lived, from Bossuet to Cunningham inclusive, has been 
 able to produce more yawns from a given number of 
 pages, than Frances Wright." 
 
 One more mention of this singular woman may 
 be given before taking leave of her in these pages, 
 because it is an original and contemporary record 
 of a very characteristic little scene. The passages 
 I transcribe are from a diary kept by T. A. Trol- 
 lopc during his short visit to the United States. 
 He had taken leave of his mother, and was waiting 
 with his father in New York to sail for Europe : — 
 
 " Thursday, February the fifth, 1S29. 
 " Went to call on Miss Wright. I found her sitting at 
 a table opposite to William Owen to whom she intro- 
 duced me. The table was covered with sheets of paper, 
 — some written all over, some partially covered, and 
 some as innocent as spotless whiteness could make them. 
 Some printed sheets were mingled with the confused 
 heap, and a huge pewter inkstand stood in the middle of 
 the table, equidistant from the two composers. She 
 received me very graciously, asked about my adventures 
 in the West, etc., and what were my prospects and inten- 
 tions in England. The conversation then turned to 
 General Jackson" [then recently elected President, after
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 123 
 
 a tough contest, in which his competitor was Quincy 
 Adams], "whom she said she knew perfectly well ; and 
 from him to the tariff. She said that although she ap- 
 proved of the general principles of free trade, she 
 thought that political economists had taken erroneous 
 views of the matter." 
 
 This sweeping utterance irresistibly recalls the 
 delightful man servant in George Eliot's essay, who 
 being asked, " What is the cause of the tides, 
 Pummel?" replies: "Well, sir, nobody rightly 
 knows. Many gives their opinion. But if I was 
 to give mine, it 'ud be different." 
 
 "She was about to explain her ideas to me on this 
 subject, when we were interrupted by a woman who was 
 ushered in, and requested an interview with Miss Wright. 
 After a somewhat lengthy and periphrastic preamble, 
 the good lady intimated that perhaps it might be more 
 agrecble to Miss Wright, to speak her opinion in private. 
 Miss Wright said there was no subject on which she was 
 not ready to give her sentiments before the gentlemen 
 then with her, — Mr. Owen and myself. The woman then 
 abruptly began : ' Miss, they tell me that you say the 
 Devil has more friends than God. Do you say so?' 
 ' No, indeed ; I say very little about God or devil' ' I 
 thought you preached no such thing ! ' ' Oh no ; I never 
 preach at all.' " {Lecture^ the wise it call]. " The 
 woman then went on to state her particular case. It 
 was that her brother was a sectarian preacher, but that 
 when he was not engaged in his spiritual trade he
 
 124 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP K. 
 
 followed the more wordly, and possibly more profitable, 
 one of making 'gambling instruments' — by which 1 
 presume the woman meant cards or dice. Now she- 
 argued that her brother ought to abandon one of these 
 callings, and not serve both God and Mammon. On 
 this point she requested Miss Wright's opinion. Miss 
 Wright was all smiles and condescension, and gave her a 
 long sentence of advice, the substance of which was to 
 attend her (F. W.'s) lectures. The woman then departed, 
 saying as she went, ' They told me as I should be afraid 
 of you. But I knowed we was too much alike for that ! ' 
 I said I feared Miss Wright did not make so good a 
 thing of her consultations, as the lawyers and physicians 
 did of theirs. She said, ' Oh no ; I am dreadfully 
 plagued by these sort of interviews.' " 
 
 Ay, as a ball-room beauty is "dreadfully 
 plagued" by the admiring attentions of those 
 tiresome men ! And yet, apart from the delusions 
 of vanity, Fanny Wright honestly wished well to 
 her fellow-creatures, and desired to do them good. 
 If she was a quack, she was one who believed in 
 her own nostrums. 
 
 In the autumn of this same year a storm of 
 misfortune burst upon the family in America. 
 Besides the complete ruin of the bazaar speculation, 
 Mrs. Trollope was prostrated by a most serious 
 illness. Her life was at one time quite despaired 
 if by the doctors, and her recovery appears to have
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 125 
 
 astonished every one. It was a severe trial of the 
 magnificent constitution which enabled her to do 
 and to endure so much, and " to live after it to be 
 eighty-three ! " as her son says. 
 
 The following extracts from her letters will best 
 tell the story of the latter part of her stay in 
 America. I will string them together, merely 
 interpolating an explanatory sentence when neces- 
 sary, and premising that they were written from 
 the immediate neighbourhood of the city of 
 Washington. 
 
 "April, 1830. 
 " Nothing, my dearest Tom, but the state of mind I was 
 in when Henry left me, could excuse my not writing to 
 you by him. I will not now dwell on all that has hap- 
 pened. You will doubtless learn it soon enough from 
 Henry. I trust the return to his native air will restore 
 his health, which was dreadfully shaken in the climate 
 of Cincinnati." 
 
 Henry had returned to Europe in the spring. 
 The manner of his arrival at home after such an 
 absence, and such a voyage, is too singular and 
 characteristic to be omitted. I again copy from 
 the diary of his elder brother, then at Harrow : — 
 
 " Monday, April 19th, 1830. 
 " At half-past twelve last night I was awakened by a 
 knocking at the door, and having got up and gone down,
 
 [26 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 I found Henry at the door, who had just arrived by the 
 
 coach from Liverpool, and walked down here. I gave 
 him my bed, and passed the rest of the night in a large 
 chair. He came across in a British trader, the Da!housi< 
 Castle. All to-day has, of course, been consumed in 
 talking to him." 
 
 In all probability the payment of the coach fare 
 from Liverpool to London had exhausted Henry's 
 purse. Innumerable instances could be given of 
 the boys being left absolutely penniless. Their 
 father seems never to have considered it possible 
 that they could want ready money. They all 
 appear to have accepted quite naturally his 
 Spartan views as to personal comfort. But for 
 a delicate lad of cighteeen, having suffered hard- 
 ships and sickness in a foreign land, and just 
 arrived after a tedious voyage across the Atlantic 
 Ocean in a sailing-ship, — for such a one to perform 
 the last portion of his journey on foot arriving 
 after midnight, seems a somewhat severe ex- 
 perience. Yet I find no further remark on it 
 in the family correspondence. To return to 
 Mrs. Trollope's letters : — 
 
 " The pleasantest feeling that I have experienced for 
 a very long time, was that produced by reading the 
 certificates you took with you to College. Dear, dear 
 Tom, let me ever hear you spoken of thus, and I think
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 127 
 
 I cannot be quite unhappy, let what will arrive. For 
 your own sake, as well as for mine, cherish and nourish 
 your intellectual faculties to the utmost. Let me hear 
 of you ! I am sure you have the stuff in you to become 
 something. The anxiety you expressed during my long 
 and melancholy illness touched me deeply. I never 
 thought I should address you again, my beloved son. 
 
 " I am now with the oldest friend I have in the 
 world." [This was Mrs. Stone, eldest sister of the Julia 
 Garnett, who married Dr. Pertz.] " She is a most agre- 
 able woman, and seems as well pleased to resume our 
 old friendship as I am. With her I hope to remain 
 until something can be arranged for our future plans. 
 I fear that our means, crippled as they have been by 
 the loss at Cincinnati, will not allow us to live decently 
 in England until some return from the property there 
 can help us to do so. But let me not fill my letter, 
 which I can so seldom afford to send, or you to receive, 
 with our troubles." 
 
 She then goes on to speak of the city of 
 Washington, the capitol, the Chamber of Repre- 
 sentatives, etc., in terms of warm admiration. 
 Many of the passages in her letters are to be 
 found verbatim in her book on America. And, 
 surely, there could be no more complete proof 
 of her truthfulness and sincerity : for the letters 
 were written first ; they are communications of the 
 most confidential kind from a mother to her son ; 
 and were certainly written without foreseeing
 
 128 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 that they would be hoarded by him for sixty 
 years as a precious possession, and finally pre- 
 sented to the world through the medium of 
 printer's ink ! Later in the summer she writes — 
 
 " I imagine that when this reaches you, you will be 
 at home for the long vacation. Oh how I long to see 
 you all ! — to know how you, my dear Tom, now almost 
 of age, are going on, — what your present hopes arc, . 
 what their foundation. Alas, since last we conversed 
 together my life has been almost one continued scene 
 of suffering. Often have I rejoiced that you were where 
 you could not see it. Yet often would I have given 
 much to have your affection to support me. Everything 
 from the time you left us, went wrong, spite of exertions 
 — nay hard labour, on our part that would pain you to 
 hear of. I suspect that poor Henry, in suffering as he 
 did in every way at Cincinnati, thought he had suffered 
 enough, and that he has altogether avoided giving the 
 painful details to your father; for by his letters it appears 
 that he is still ignorant of nearly all the events that 
 preceded our departure. For instance, he says that he 
 ' cannot imagine why it was necessary for Henry to set 
 off immediately,' when the fact was that < very bed liad 
 been seized-^ and that we — your sisters and myself — were 
 sleeping together in one small bed at Major L.'s " [a 
 Cincinnati neighbour] "and boarding there, as well as 
 Henry and Hervieu who both lay on the floor in the 
 kitchen, ./or the value of mj parlour carpet. And yet your 
 father wonders why Henry did not stay the winter ! 
 
 " In one letter, in answer to one of mine in which I 
 stated our situation, your father writes, ' How is it
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 129 
 
 possible that you are dependent on Hervieu for your 
 living, when I have sent out goods to the amount of 
 ^2000? ' 
 
 " Is it not strange, Tom, that he does not yet know 
 that these goods never brought one penny into my hands? 
 The proceeds of those we sold, went to the workmen 
 and servants, and the rest were seized. I trust my letters 
 have reached him, and that he now knows this fact, but 
 I would have you recal it to his memory. 
 
 " My only hope in quitting Cincinatti was that my 
 old friend Mrs. Stone would be able to receive my girls 
 and me until our return home and the manner of it, 
 could be settled. I then hoped that some of the brilliant 
 prophecies which poor Hervieu heard for his picture, 
 would be realized. But here again disappointment has 
 followed us." 
 
 The picture was a large oil-painting repre- 
 senting the landing of General Lafayette in 
 America. It was exhibited at Philadelphia and 
 at Washington, and greatly praised. But the 
 exhibition did not pay its expenses. 
 
 " The only thing that has not disappointed me, is the 
 friendship of Mrs. Stone. Nothing can exceed her kind- 
 ness, and with her we have found a home the tranquillity 
 of which has done much towards the recovery of my 
 health both of mind and body. But you must expect, 
 my dear Tom, if Heaven indeed permits my safe return, 
 to see a very old lady ! My eyes have greatly failed me 
 since my illness. I can do nothing without spectacles, 
 and I can no longer walk as I did. But I am infinitely 
 
 vol. 1. q
 
 130 ./ MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 better than when I came here" [i.e. to Stonington, her 
 friend's house], "and still young enough to enjoy a long, 
 long talk with you as in days of yore. 
 
 " Give our most affectionate love to your father. We 
 have lately sent him through Mr. Vaughan " [then British 
 Minister to the United States] " a packet containing 
 letters from your sisters. This disappointment respect- 
 ing the picture, will, I fear, prevent my seeing Niagara. 
 I regret this the more, as I fear my book will seem very 
 imperfect without it. But I can hardly hope that 
 what Hervieu can make this winter, will admit of this 
 additional expense. He has several good pupils, and 
 he has just had a fifty-dollar portrait ordered. He p 
 for our board here. Were my dear friend Mrs. Stone 
 as rich as she deserves to be, this expense would be 
 spared. But she has a very large family, and has had 
 most serious losses. I wish widi all my soul that you 
 could see and hear poor Hervieu ! He seems only to 
 live in the hope of helping us. He has set his heart 
 on getting us home without drawing on your father's 
 diminished purse. God send us safe home, and he will, 
 I know, be repaid, not only in money, but by the grati- 
 tude and affection of my husband and children. Bait 
 sometimes my heart sinks when I think of our present 
 ■ lependence. 
 
 " Poor Cecilia is literally without shoes, and I mean 
 to sell one or two small articles to-morrow to procure 
 some for her, and for Emily. I sit still and write, write, 
 write, — so old shoes last me a long time. As to other 
 articles of dress, we should any of us as soon think of 
 buying diamonds ! Your dear sisters have had a pretty 
 sharp lesson in economy. They mend, — -and mend, —
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 131 
 
 and mend. They are, indeed, treasures to me, and their 
 devoted affection outweighs all my misfortunes. I often 
 comfort myself with thinking that they would not have 
 loved me so tenderly, had they not seen me suffer. 
 
 "You will think, my dear boy, that I am trying to 
 increase your affection for me by the same means ! But 
 I wish not that you should be ignorant of our life since 
 we parted. It is not one sheet, however, nor a dozen, 
 that could do justice to it. Be not unhappy about us 
 nevertheless, dearest. We are really very comfortable 
 here ; you know enough of composition to be aware that 
 nothing more completely and agreeably occupies the 
 mind ; and Hope — that quits us the last, perhaps, of all 
 our friends — tells me that it is possible my book may 
 succeed. It will have great advantages from Hervieu's 
 drawings. If it should succeed, a second book would 
 bring money. If I can but get home next spring, I feel 
 as if I should still find the means of being happy and 
 comfortable. 
 
 " My poor dear Anthony will have outgrown our 
 recollection ! Tell him not to outgrow his affection for 
 us. No day passes, — hardly an hour — without our talk- 
 ing of you all. I hope a letter from your father is on 
 the way. Tell Henry that my wrist has lately recovered 
 greatly, and that I trust his ankle will do the same. 
 The dear girls would fill a volume with phrases of love. 
 Say all that is affectionate from all to all. God bless 
 you, my dearest Tom. 
 
 " Ever your affectionate mother, 
 
 "F. Trollope." 
 
 Truly these are not sentimental grievances nor 
 imaginary woes !
 
 132 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 The eagerly longed-for return to home did not 
 take place quite so soon as had been hoped. It 
 was not in the spring, but in the full summer of 
 1 83 1 that Mrs. Trollope with her two daughters 
 and M. Hervicu quitted the United States. They 
 sailed from the port of New York, and landed at 
 Woolwich on the 5th of August, proceeding direct 
 from Woolwich to Harrow. T. A. Trollope had 
 on that day gone up to London to see if he could 
 gather any tidings of them, and on his return 
 home found them arrived. 
 
 His diary for the two following days records 
 that nearly all their waking hours were occupied 
 in hearing and telling all that had befallen both 
 divisions of the family since their last parting. 
 Tom found his mother looking much better than, 
 from her letters, he had expected. And in the 
 joy and excitement of the reunion, he says, "we 
 talked, talked, talked all day long."
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 13 
 
 jj 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " If, therefore, the profession you have chosen has some un- 
 expected inconveniences, console yourself by reflecting that no 
 profession is without them ; and that all the importunities and 
 perplexities of business are softness and luxury compared with the 
 incessant cravings of vacancy and the unsatisfactory expedients of 
 idleness." — Johnson, BoswelPs Life. 
 
 From the day of her return to England, there 
 began a period of literary activity for Frances 
 Trollope, which lasted over twenty-five years. The 
 more one investigates the records of her life, the 
 more astonishing appears her conscientious and 
 unflagging industry. No doubt she had a certain 
 enjoyment in her work. No good work can be 
 done quite unenjoyingly ; but the industry which 
 induced her to stick to it until it was accomplished, 
 whether she were willing or unwilling, sick or 
 sorry, is none the less admirable. 
 
 The two volumes which she had brought with 
 her from the United States were offered to the 
 firm of Whittaker and Treacher of Ave Maria 
 Lane, and originally published by them in the
 
 i ; ./ MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP L. 
 
 spring of 1S32; but the copyright was eventually- 
 sold to Messrs. Bentley and Son, who were the 
 publishers also of her works on " Paris and the 
 Parisians," "Vienna and the Austrian s," as well 
 as of the most successful of her novels, including 
 "Tremordyn Cliff," " Jonathan Jefferson Whitlaw," 
 " The Widow Barnaby," and " The Vicar of 
 Wrexhill." 
 
 I have no intention of entering into bygone 
 
 quarrels, but it must be broadly stated that 
 
 JVlrs. Trollope's relations with Mr. Whittakcr had 
 
 become considerably strained before she finally 
 
 broke off all dealings with the firm. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott, speaking of publishers, says : 
 "It is a wrathful trade ; and the irritabile gciuts 
 comprehends the book-selling as well as the book- 
 writing species." 
 
 If this be so — and Sir Walter's authority and 
 experience carry weight — it must arise from the 
 circumstance that the appreciation of a work of 
 art, unlike that of other saleable articles, depends 
 on individual temperament, sagacity, education, 
 and so forth, and cannot be reduced to a certain 
 standard, as can the quality of cotton stuffs and 
 hardware. There is a market price for the latter 
 commodities ; but every book has to be valued
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 135 
 
 by private judgment before it is submitted to the 
 public. A conflict of opinions is apt to be even 
 more bitter than a conflict of interests ; and when 
 both are in the field at once, considerable " wrath- 
 fulness " may be expected. 
 
 It is pleasant, however, to be able to add that 
 in the case of Mrs. Trollope's dealings with Messrs. 
 Bentley and Son, there was no quarrel. Some 
 differences, no doubt, arose in the course of them. 
 It was inevitable that they should do so. But 
 they were conducted, on both sides, with fairness 
 and courtesy. I have in my possession several 
 letters from Mrs. Trollope, expressing her obliga- 
 tions to Mr. Richard Bentley for acts of kindness 
 and consideration in the manner of his payments, 
 at a time when she was hard pressed for money 
 to supply the needs of a whole family dependent 
 on her exertions. 
 
 A few days after "The Domestic Manners of 
 the Americans " had been consigned in Ave Maria 
 Lane, T. A. Trollope calling, at his mother's 
 request, on Mr. Whittaker to inquire as to its 
 fate, was told that " Basil Hall was reading the 
 manuscript." 
 
 I am not aware whether there had been any 
 previous acquaintance between their families — I
 
 136 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 am inclined to think not, — but from the time of 
 Mrs. Trollope's first negotiations with a publisher, 
 she found in Captain Basil Hall, to the end of his 
 life, a judicious, zealous, and loyal friend. His 
 opinion of the book on America was highly 
 favourable. He wrote of it to the authoress with 
 warm praise, and gave her, moreover, most valua- 
 ble business advice as to the terms of publication, 
 and so forth. 
 
 Meanwhile the manuscript had been privately 
 submitted to Henry Milman. I glean the follow- 
 ing extracts from Mrs. Trollope's letters to her 
 son during the autumn of 183 1, when the question 
 — so all-important to her — of the publication of 
 her book was being decided. The first is dated 
 on the 1 2th of October, from " The Sacred Den, 
 Harrow ; " the family having so nicknamed the 
 little room she used to write in. 
 
 "Yesterday the whole Milman family mounted the 
 stairs to my room, clamorously calling for ' More book ! 
 More book ! ' Imagine me, if you please, looking ex- 
 tremely modest, but being vastly delighted. I certainly 
 did not intend that they should all read the M.S. 
 beforehand, but wished to take his [Henry Milman's] 
 opinion on the religious passages, ami I am very glad 
 I did so. He does not think me at all too strong, am! 
 his observations on other passages are excellent. I
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 137 
 
 know his taste may be trusted, and I shall not fail to 
 profit by it. The old Lady Milman told me that if I 
 had been hid behind the door the evening before, I might 
 have been well contented with what I heard, which was 
 what could rarely happen to authors so placed ! All 
 this is very encouraging. ... So the Bill is gone ! " 
 [alluding to the throwing out of the first Reform Bill by 
 the peers]. "Everything has been tranquil as yet. A 
 mob collected round the House of Lords Monday night, 
 but we have as yet heard of no violence. That happy 
 personage, your poetry professor" [Henry Milman was 
 elected Professor of Poetry at Oxford in 182 1] "is to dine 
 to-day at Lockhart's, to meet Walter Scott and Tom 
 Moore. He says that if the mob visits them he shall 
 take ' little Tom ' by the arm, and feel quite safe." 
 
 She alludes with great contempt to a well- 
 known vagary of Lord Brougham, who, in his 
 great speech as Lord Chancellor, on the second 
 reading of the Reform Bill, ended by a prayer, and 
 fell on his knees on the woolsack, and asks — 
 
 " Had the venerable Eldon played such monkey tricks 
 when he had a point to gain, what would have been 
 said of him ? Henry Milman told me that the Lord 
 Advocate sate down one evening in the House beside 
 Croker ; on which Croker addressed him very courteously, 
 saying that as men of Letters they ought not to permit 
 political difference of opinion to keep them asunder, 
 and that he should be happy to make his acquaintance. 
 Jeffrey received the overture with equal courtesy, and 
 some days after, again placed himself near Croker. He
 
 138 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 then began addressing him in a very confidential tune, 
 and told him that he was perfectly disgusted with 
 Brougham, who had treated him in the most insolent 
 manner imaginable ! " 
 
 Later on she writes that she has requested her 
 isin, Charlotte Hellicar, to send her some par- 
 ticulars of the Bristol riots, which had then recently 
 taken place, and with which all England was 
 ringing. The Hcllicars' town house was quite- 
 near the scene of the greatest disorders. 
 
 " Imagine their terror ! " Mrs. Trollope writes. " The 
 II. Milmans have been staying with Sir William in 
 London for a few days, and dined at Judge Alderson's. 
 It seems that the talk was all of massacres and riots. 
 If the upper classes fall into a panic, it is over with us. 
 But if they sustain the shock manfully, I believe there 
 is nothing to fear." 
 
 An amusing scrap from M. Hervicu, inserted in 
 this letter, displays less stoutheartedness! I give 
 
 his English as I find it. 
 
 " Certes I could not choose a worse time to write to 
 you. I have been for nearly three weeks vexed beyond 
 the power of any mild temper. First this cursed 
 Keforme Bill, then my illustrations to Billy Taylor, with 
 all their genuine merit, cannot bring me a single penny, 
 then the lithographic stone from France is not yet here, 
 your poor Mamma has been floating about from incerti- 
 tude to incertitude, cholera morbus and revolution spread
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 139 
 
 their wings over everything we meet, — yes, we must all 
 go to the devil at last ! That is my firm opinion." 
 
 Luckily it was not Frances Trollope's. For such 
 pessimistic previsions are rather apt to bring about 
 their own fulfilment ! 
 
 The incertitude in which poor Hervieu describes 
 Mrs. Trollope as "floating," regarded, of course,, 
 the final agreement about her book. As to the 
 cholera morbus, it was a very real terror. Captain 
 Kater was so scared by the reports of it, that he 
 fled with his family to France, although, as Mrs. 
 Trollope remarks, he was not likely to be at all 
 safer there than at home. Hervieu himself, about 
 this time, had an attack which perilously resembled 
 this dreaded disease. Mrs. Trollope nursed him 
 indefatigably, and says : " I am quite proud of my 
 patient, who, I really think, without a good doctor 
 and nurse, might have been in very considerable 
 danger." 
 
 She is never either so busy, or so anxious, as to 
 be indifferent to her friends. Nearly every letter 
 contains proof of the hearty interest she took in 
 their joys and their sorrows. In one, she urges 
 Tom to endeavour to sell certain books at Oxford, 
 for the benefit of a family fallen into distress ; in 
 another she tells him —
 
 Uo A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP K. 
 
 " I was much pleased the other day, by a visit from 
 my old friend Herman Merivule. He was always a 
 favourite of mine, and I still think him very particularly 
 agreeable. He had a halo of pretty Urury cousins 
 round him, but I almost forgot they were there, so well 
 pleased was I to listen to him." 
 
 Mrs. Trollope certainly showed her discrimina- 
 tion in admiring this brilliant young- man, who had 
 already made a high reputation for himself, 
 although only five and twenty years of age, and 
 whose after-career was full of honours. 
 
 Then a large part of her letters is occupied by 
 the strange story of an old friend of her husband's. 
 This gentleman, a Mr. Smith, contrived to convey 
 a letter from a private madhouse in Salisbury, 
 where he had been improperly placed, and was 
 then imprisoned, to Mr. Trollope, beseeching him, 
 in the most touching terms, to come to his assist- 
 ance. Mr. Trollope at once set off on what would 
 have seemed to many persons a Quixotic errand, 
 and was certainly one involving much that was 
 difficult and disagreeable. At Salisbury he received 
 great kindness and hospitality in the house of a 
 local clergyman, who seems to have taken great 
 interest in the case. Mr. Trollope evidently dis- 
 played both ability and energy on behalf of his 
 ill-used friend. lie had to overcome man)-
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 141 
 
 obstacles, and his wife says that she conceives the 
 keeper of the madhouse to be a sufficiently accom- 
 plished villain to serve Mr. Bulwer for a hero, 
 adding, " I am not sure that I will not take him 
 myself, one of these days ! " 
 
 It is good to know that these humane efforts were 
 successful. Mr. Trollope brought his friend away 
 from Salisbury in triumph, and Mr. Smith re- 
 mained for some days at Harrow, where his 
 amiable manners and cultivated mind made the 
 most favourable impression on all the family. He 
 ended his days peacefully in the house of his sisters, 
 who were much attached to him. 
 
 Mrs. Trollope writes of this story with as intense 
 and lively an interest, as though she had no 
 anxieties in her own family circle, and were quite 
 at leisure to attend to the troubles of those out- 
 side it. 
 
 Nay ! I have written an idle word. Absence 
 of personal sorrow has not been found a guarantee 
 for sympathy with the sorrows of others. Imagi- 
 nation enough to comprehend, and benevolence 
 enough to feel for them, are what is needed. And 
 a charitably compassionate spirit is a fountain that 
 flows the more abundantly the more it is drawn 
 upon.
 
 142 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 The negotiation with Mr. Whittaker dragged 
 its slow length along, in a somewhat harassing 
 manner. She writes — 
 
 "I have another letter from Captain Hall, long, and 
 very friendly. He tells me not to sign and seal the agree- 
 ment with W. until I have communicated with him. . . . 
 He is now at Portsmouth, in attendance on Sir Walter 
 Scott, who is to pass the winter at Naples for his health. 
 My dear Lady Dyer urges my going to stay with her, 
 but I may not do it consistently with my present plans. 
 I have done nothing to my new book, nor shall I till 
 the other is gone to press. I always feel that I have 
 still something more to do to it. I took an early dinner 
 on Wednesday with the young Lady Milman. She is a 
 charming woman, and I must find time to pass another 
 day with her, for I like her better than most things I meet 
 in this working-day world. I have, however, made a 
 point of refusing invitations. Did I not, I plainly see 
 that I should have time for nothing hut botching up a 
 cheap, smart wardrobe, and eating dinners and suppers 
 which I could not return. . . . Mr. Cunningham brought 
 Dr. Longley here the other morning to introduce him 
 to me. He seems a pleasant, conversable man." 
 
 Dr. Longley, afterwards Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury, had been appointed to the Head Mastership 
 of Harrow School in 1829, during Mrs. Trollope's 
 absence from Europe. It is a significant indica- 
 tion of the esteem with which she was held, that 
 the Vicar — despite her deplorable views as to the
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 143 
 
 Evangelical party — should have thought it worth 
 his while to be the means of presenting to her so 
 great a potentate as the Head Master of Harrow 
 School is — at any rate in Harrow. 
 
 At length she is able to tell her son that (thanks 
 chiefly, it would appear, to Captain Basil Hall's 
 indefatigable kindness) the agreement for her book 
 is signed, and the manuscript in the publishers' 
 hands. 
 
 " I quake a little, but if I can get even a little money, 
 I will not mind abuse, — nor labour. Lady Milman, with 
 whom I have been passing two days, told me she hoped 
 I should be ready with something else. Now, as I have 
 never mentioned this intention there, I was well pleased 
 to find it had occurred to them as the natural and proper 
 result of the encouragement I have received. . . . 
 While my head is at work upon story-telling and money- 
 making, I often encourage my energy, and solace my 
 fatigue by thinking that if I should succeed in getting 
 up one step of the literary ladder, it would incontestibly 
 help you immediately to the second." 
 
 Again, in speaking of certain hopes she enter- 
 tained, she breaks off suddenly — 
 
 " What a Jew I grow ! My whole thoughts run, 
 morning, noon, and night, on the possibility of getting 
 something by this, that, or the other. I have, however, 
 human feeling enough left, to delight in the idea of
 
 144 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 seeing you in the Christmas vacation. Adieu, beloved 
 son ! " 
 
 A significant commentary on the foregoing, is 
 furnished by a few lines from Mr. Trollopc, written 
 by way of postscript, wherein he says, that he sends 
 his son a draft for fifteen pounds, but considers 
 that eleven ought to be amply sufficient for the 
 dead quarter, and hopes that Tom will bring four 
 pounds home with him, for they will be much 
 wanted there ! 
 
 And all this time Mrs. Trollopc was sorely tried 
 by what certainly seems to have been the strangely 
 harsh treatment of Henry by his father, and by 
 the results of it. 
 
 Tom was at Oxford, having gone thither with 
 an exhibition from Winchester. Henry, after his 
 return from America, had been entered at Caius 
 College, Cambridge, but withdrawn after a short 
 time, deficiente crumena, as his brother writes in 
 his diary. He was now to read law with a Mr. 
 Lovat, at his chambers in London. But at this 
 point there arose endless discussions respecting the 
 allowance which could be deemed sufficient to 
 supply Henry with the bare necessaries of life — 
 nobody seems to have thought of expecting more ! 
 — while he was in London. Mr. Trollopc was by
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRAXCES TROLLOPE. 145 
 
 no means a miserly man. He loved to dispense 
 hospitality as long as he had means to do so, and 
 could be generous to his friends. But he seems 
 to have been absolutely a prey to a sort of mono- 
 mania on the subject of allowing his sons any 
 money. He never appeared to think that they 
 could, or ought to need it ! And the Spartan 
 regime to which he thought it quite natural they 
 should submit, was of incredible rigour. Henry 
 on his part deeply resented what he thought to be 
 injustice, and the result was scenes of the most 
 painful kind between father and son ; scenes 
 where the mother was called in by Henry to 
 mediate between them, and became herself so 
 shaken and agitated as to be obliged sometimes 
 to have recourse to a dose of laudanum to procure 
 a night's rest ! 
 
 It would have been impossible to present any 
 adequate picture of the conditions under which 
 Frances Trollope performed some of the best of 
 her literary work, without revealing this "rift 
 within the lute " at home. But I am persuaded — 
 and I think any candid reader, who has perused 
 the autobiographies of his two sons, must be per- 
 suaded — that the explanation given by T. A. 
 Trollope of his father's state of mind during his 
 
 vol. 1. 10
 
 i \6 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP K. 
 
 latter years, is the true one. I must be allowed 
 to quote here one or two brief passages from 
 " What I Remember." The writer states the case 
 better than I can do it, and speaks with an 
 authority on the subject to which I cannot 
 pretend. 
 
 " The terrible irritability of his temper, which some- 
 times in his latter years reached a pitch that made one 
 fear his reason was, or would become, unhinged, was 
 undoubtedly due to the shattering of his nervous system 
 caused by the habitual use of calomel. ... I am more 
 convinced that bodily ailment was the causa causa/is of 
 most, if not of all this unhappy idiosyncracy, that I have 
 before me abundant evidence that as a young man he 
 was beloved and esteemed by his contemporaries and 
 associates. . . . What so grievously changed him? I 
 do not believe that he was soured by pecuniary misfor- 
 tunes, though he had more than enough. His first great 
 misfortune — the marriage of his old widower uncle whose 
 heir he was to have been — was, I have the means of 
 knowing, borne by him well, bravely, and with dignity. 
 I believe that he was destroyed, mind and body, by 
 calomel habitually used during long years." 
 
 Add to the baneful effects of the drug so reck- 
 lessly taken, a temperament naturally prone to 
 hypochondria, and his tendency, early manifested, 
 to check any display of tenderness as being liable 
 to the suspicion of insincerity, and it is not difficult
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 147 
 
 to imagine that he became truly a terror and an 
 oppression to those whom he best loved. Such a 
 state of mind calls forth sincere pity for its victim ; 
 and certainly not less pity for those who were 
 constantly exposed to the ebullitions of a most 
 violent and, apparently, incalculable irritability. 
 
 But in the autumn of this year Mr. Trollope 
 began a literary attempt of his own ; and it acted, 
 in a great degree, as a safety-valve for the morbid 
 energies of his mind. His wife writes : — 
 
 " I cannot express my delight at his having found an 
 occupation. He really seems quite another being ; — and 
 so am I too, in consequence." 
 
 This work was an " Encyclopaedia Ecclesiastica," 
 of which one volume only ever appeared. I possess 
 it — a goodly quarto, published in 1834 by John 
 Murray, Albemarle Street, and printed in very 
 clear and beautiful type. Since it cannot be sup- 
 posed that many copies of this solitary, unmated 
 volume are extant in the world, I here give the 
 full title-page for the information of the curious in 
 such matters : — 
 
 " An Encyclopaedia Ecclesiastica ; or, a complete his- 
 tory of the Church, containing a full and compendious 
 explanation of all ecclesiastical rites and ceremonies ; a 
 distinct and accurate account of all denominations of
 
 14S A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 Christians, from the earliest ages of Christianity to the 
 present time; together with a definition of terms usually 
 occurring in ecclesiastical writers. By Thomas Anthony 
 Trollope, LL.R, late Fellow of New College, Oxford, 
 Barrister-at-law." 
 
 It is illustrated by some very good lithographs 
 (drawn by Ilervieu), representing monks and nuns 
 in the habits of their various Orders. 
 
 One wonders that he should have thought it 
 possible to complete such an undertaking unas- 
 sisted. And yet his industry was so portentous, 
 and his learning so respectable, that he might, 
 perhaps, have achieved it had his life been pro- 
 longed. But he died within a year after the issue 
 of the first volume ; and his eldest son has recorded 
 how, and under what difficulties, he laboured at it 
 to the end. His wife mentions, while the work- 
 was still in progress, that he has had 
 
 " a most kind, flattering, and liberal answer to his pro- 
 spectus, from the Bishop of Hereford, enclosing £\o 
 for tlic whole work, which he says he is too old to see 
 published." 
 
 This was Dr. George Isaac Huntingford, Bishop 
 of Hereford, and Warden of Winchester College, 
 then an old man of eighty-four. He died only 
 a few months after writing the above-mentioned 
 letter. He had been Warden of Winchester during
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 149 
 
 Mr. Trollope's time there, and still held that office 
 when Tom and Anthony were in college. He 
 had, therefore, known the family for so long a 
 period as to make this testimony of his friendship 
 and good opinion unusually valuable. 
 
 There arose, also, a gleam of hope in another 
 direction : Mr. Trollope applied for a London 
 magistracy then vacant. It is a position he would 
 have filled admirably. His honour and imparti- 
 ality were above suspicion ; his knowledge of law 
 was solid and extensive ; and his clear-headedness 
 beyond the power of sophistry to bamboozle. His 
 uncle, Mr. Adolphus Meetkerke, who had, it seems, 
 some influence with the Whig party, called on 
 Lord Melbourne (then Home Secretary in Lord 
 Grey's administration) to solicit the place for his 
 nephew. 
 
 "Lord Melbourne," writes Mrs. Trollope, ''received 
 him very civilly, and desired him to request Mr. Trol- 
 lope to write to him on the business. Your father did 
 so. Lord M. immediately replied by a note from him- 
 self. The answer did not appear to me to be favourable. 
 Your father, however, says that he has 110 doubt that 
 Lord M. intended to intimate that he should have the 
 office. . . . Think no more of this, my dearest Tom. 
 / shall not be disappointed. And I trust your father 
 will not feel it very deeply."
 
 150 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 She understands that her book is to be reviewed 
 in the Quarterly. And Miss Milman has just 
 received a letter from her brother Henry in Lon- 
 don, from which Mrs. Trollope transcribes the 
 following passage for her son to see : — 
 
 "I must not forget to say that Lockhart has read the 
 first volume of Mrs. Trollope's book, with which he is 
 very much amused. He said it was the cleverest woman's 
 book he had read for a long time." 
 
 It was not yet published, but copies had been 
 sent to the reviews, and it was being talked of. 
 
 "The young Lady Milman says she has heard it 
 spoken of in several places quite distinct from each 
 other. Dr. Longley told the Milmans that he under- 
 stood it was very entertaining, — in short, to tell you the 
 truth, I am afraid it is being over-puffed beforehand, 
 and that it iv ill fall sadly flat afterwards." * 
 
 Truly, her mind was not much subject to the 
 gaseous inflation of vanity. 
 
 The following letter contains passages too 
 characteristic to be omitted : — 
 
 " Harrow Weald, Midnight, Feb. 17th, 1832. 
 "The bubble has burst, my dearest Tom; and the 
 magistracy can be dreamt of no more by any of us. . . . 
 So much for bad news. On the other hand, your 
 
 * The italics arc mine. — F. E. T.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 151 
 
 father's MS. has been perused by one of Murray's 
 readers, and much approved. This he learnt yesterday 
 in an interview with Murray himself. Before they parted, 
 the following conversation took place : 
 
 " Murray. ' 1 think, Mr. Trollope, that your adver- 
 tisement should appear in the next Quarterly? 
 
 " Trollope. ' When will the next number come out, 
 Mr. Murray?' 
 
 "Murray. l In a day or two, sir.' 
 
 " Trollope. ' Indeed ! I thought it would not appear 
 till next month.' 
 
 " Murray. ' We have some important political articles 
 that we want to put forward.' 
 
 " Trollope. ' I am somewhat interested in the next 
 number.' 
 
 " Murray. ' Aye? By the bye ! — Trollope — who the 
 devil is Mrs. Trollope ? Her book is the cleverest thing 
 I ever read. I have read it through. So spirited ! ' 
 
 " Trollope. ' The lady is my wife.' 
 
 " Murray. ' Why did she not bring it to me ? It 
 will sell like wildfire ! She ought to have brought it to 
 me. But I will help it all I can. You must introduce 
 me to her.' 
 
 " There, my son, what do you think of that ? May I 
 not say like Lord Byron, ' I awoke one morning and 
 found myself famous ' ? ' The American Exile ' [a novel, 
 afterwards published under the title of ' The Refugee in 
 America '], does not sleep, — although I sometimes fear he 
 may make others do so ! I have finished my first volume, 
 and two long chapters of my second. If the printer's 
 devil, Lockhart, Hall, Milman, and Murray, are right, 
 then — let it be as bad as it will, — I shall get something for
 
 1,2 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 it. It is strange to observe how circumstances can 
 change one's character. I remember the time when a 
 glowing review in the Quarterly, and the being read 
 before publication, and approved, by the set above 
 mentioned, would have made me as proud as a peacock. 
 But now — I only count the possible pence. 
 
 " Apropos of which I may tell you that on Lockhart's 
 report I bought a quarter of a pound of green tea, and 
 on Murray's, half a pound of fresh butter, and at this 
 moment — past eleven p.m. — I am sipping my favourite 
 nectar with all appurtenances, in solitary comfort by the 
 light of a wax candle. I am already reaping the fruit 
 of my literary honours; for Hervieu, astounded at the 
 wit I have put forth, and expecting more to come, has 
 insisted on my having his room to write in at night, and 
 declares himself to be extremely comfortable in a smaller 
 one." 
 
 A few days later the personal introduction to 
 Mr. Murray took place. Mrs. Trollope had been 
 to town to visit her old and greatly beloved friend 
 Lady Dyer — now married a second time to a 
 German nobleman Baron von Zandt, — and she took 
 thc opportunity of calling on Mr. Murray. She 
 writes — 
 
 " Mr. Murray received me in a very flattering manner. 
 . . . Murray's drawing-room — or, rather, library — is 
 magnificent. Such books ! He showed me many MSS. 
 of Lord Byron's: some queer and curious enough. 
 Your father was talking to him all the time about his
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 153 
 
 work, or I should have got more conversation with him. 
 He seemed very well inclined that way. I have been 
 working very hard at the novel, and have sent it to 
 Captain and Mrs. Hall for judgment. I tremble, as you 
 may well imagine. I will write the moment I hear their 
 verdict. If it be favourable, I think I have a good chance 
 of leaving behind me when we start for the Continent " 
 [she was contemplating a tour in Germany, to be 
 described in a book of travels], "wherewithal to support 
 us for some time in comfort, on our return." 
 
 Then, on the 19th of March, 1832, her first and 
 most famous book was presented to the public. 
 
 x^
 
 154 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " Some minds are tempered happily, and mixed 
 With such ingredients of good sense, and taste 
 Of what is excellent in Man." 
 
 Cowper, The Task. 
 
 " The Domestic Manners of the Americans " made, 
 as all the world knows, a great success. Mrs. 
 Trollope did not, at first, realize how great a suc- 
 cess. But even when she obtained a clearer know- 
 ledge on that subject by the most convincing proofs 
 — namely, that the first edition was speedily 
 exhausted, and was followed by a second, a third, 
 and a fourth — her good sense and genuine modesty 
 prevented her from rashly concluding that her 
 fortune was made. On the contrary, she shows 
 even more diffidence about her second book than 
 her first ; and is eager to avail herself of all her 
 friend Captain Basil Hall's suggestions and emen- 
 dations. 
 
 Meanwhile, her reputation was spreading. The 
 public talked of her book ; the periodical press
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 155 
 
 wrote about it ; and the fashionable world voted 
 her a lion, and desired to have her in their saloons. 
 She writes — 
 
 " Mr. Trollope told Murray yesterday, that I had a 
 novel nearly ready. ' Yes,' said Murray, ' I know that ; 
 and a very clever one too.' ' Where can you have heard 
 that ? ' said Mr. Trollope. ' From Lockhart,' replied 
 Murray. This I trace to my kind friend Lady Milman, 
 junior. She is very intimate with the Lockharts. Baron 
 von Zandt told me the other day, that he was going on 
 the Continent, and intended himself to present 'my 
 admirable volumes ' to the King of Bavaria. He believes 
 they will be translated into German. Everything that 
 adds to fame, helps to bring money. You see I think of 
 nothing but base lucre ! Mrs. Hall tells me that Theodore 
 Hook says the book is too clever to have been written 
 by a woman. Saucy, that ! " 
 
 Saucy, no doubt. But, of course, flattering. 
 And Theodore Hook's joke is very much fairer 
 than the Jove-like condescension, the " pretty- 
 well-considering " tone, adopted by some critics of 
 women's books — in the year 1832. 
 
 Early in April Mrs. Trollope was again in 
 London, whence she sent a long letter to her son 
 Tom, then spending the Easter vacation, together 
 with his young sister Emily, in the house of their 
 cousin Miss Fanny Bent, at Exeter. It begins :
 
 156 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 " I promised to send you the first news of my 
 receipts, my dear Tom, Emily, and Co. ! " 
 
 The "Co." included her well-beloved cousin, 
 Fanny Bent This letter strikingly illustrates the 
 singular frankness of the writer's character. Few 
 persons would have been inclined to give so un- 
 reserved an account of their money transactions. 
 And it may be admitted that prudence would have 
 dictated more reserve. But I am not trying to 
 paint Frances Trollopc as she might have been, 
 but as she was. Infallibility is not claimed for her. 
 But it is claimed for her that none of the revelations 
 made by her openness of character are calculated 
 to make us love her the less. 
 
 She enters minutely into the disposition of the 
 money she has hitherto earned. It is nearly all 
 parcelled out for others. Hcrvicu is to have half 
 the proceeds of the second edition of the " Domestic 
 Manners." This, I think, will be generally held 
 to be a very excessive proportion for his share of 
 the work, judged on its merits. But that had been 
 the bargain, and of course it was adhered to. Nor 
 do I find any trace of discontent with it on her part. 
 
 There are some curious items in the budget which 
 she so frankly communicates to her correspondents. 
 Among other things she pays for all the coal and
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 157 
 
 candles used in her own room during the winter. 
 But unless her husband can find means to con- 
 tribute, she will be totally unable to pay £180 
 needed for Henry, until she shall have sold an 
 edition of the novel. The list winds up with " A 
 few indispensable necessaries for myself, and money 
 enough to take us to Julia Pertz." 
 
 She had a scheme for taking her daughter Cecilia 
 to stay for a year with Dr. and Madame Pertz 
 in Hanover, where the former was then Royal 
 Librarian and Archivist, and had achieved a dis- 
 tinguished reputation — by no means limited to his 
 native land — by the publication of the first volume 
 of the " Monumenta Germanise Historica." This 
 project was to be combined with a book of German 
 travels, for which Mrs. Trollope hoped to receive a 
 commission from Murray ; and Tom was to be of 
 the party in the long vacation. His mother looked 
 forward most eagerly to travelling on the Continent 
 with him. This wish is expressed over and over 
 again in her letters, from the time when he was a 
 schoolboy of fifteen. 
 
 After the above financial statement in her letter, 
 she proceeds — 
 
 " I think I told you that I was going to dine with Mr. 
 Murray. I did so on Monday last, and a most splendid
 
 158 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 entertainment it was. Mr. and Mrs. Lockhart, Mr. 
 Croker, Captain Hall, Mr. Landor, and half a dozen 
 more, all lions, were there. I was abundantly com- 
 plimented. Tuesday I breakfasted with Captain Hall, 
 and on Wednesday went with him and his wife to a 
 morning assembly at Mrs. S.'s. Then I was introduced 
 to half the poets, painters, wits, and wonders that were 
 in town. And there again I was beflattered most out- 
 rageously. ... I am quite weary of being in London, 
 and hope to get away to-morrow evening. I have done 
 nothing very gay, except seeing Madame Vestris and 
 Liston. If the cholera is wry bad on the Continent, my 
 dear Tom, we must postpone our going." 
 
 She did leave London, but found it necessary 
 — or, at least, very desirable — to return to it shortly. 
 And she seems to have remained there during the 
 greater part of the season. She took a lodging 
 for Cecilia and herself in Thayer Street, Manchester 
 Square. On April 25th she writes — 
 
 " You would laugh did you know to what an extent 
 I am lionized. Two invitations arrived yesterday from 
 Mrs. S. !" 
 
 This was a lady of fashion whom Henry, in 
 writing to his brother, irreverently describes as 
 " the lion-huntress." The phrase reminds one of 
 the delightful Mrs. Leo Hunter of Eatanswill. 
 That fascinating woman had not yet appeared to 
 enchant mankind ; but her prototypes, of higher
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 159 
 
 or lower gentility, were extant in life if not in 
 literature. Mrs. S.'s son had been a fellow- 
 Wykehamist with Tom Trollope, and sends many 
 compliments and regards to him through Miss 
 Cecilia, who has accompanied her mother to one or 
 two large assemblies. I know not whether it were 
 because Mrs. S. had not written a successful book 
 of travels, but Tom responds in a rather lukewarm 
 fashion to these civilities, and seems to have but a 
 hazy recollection of his dear friend ! 
 
 Praise of another kind, and one that could not 
 fail to be gratifying, comes from a different quarter. 
 
 " To-day I got a letter from Captain Hamilton " [author 
 of ' Cyril Thornton '] " in which he tells me that his two 
 neighbours on the Lakes, Southey and Wordsworth, are 
 both delighted. Captain Kater writes a volume of pane- 
 gyric, and in short I am bepraised so violently that " — 
 observe the conclusion she draws ! — " I am afraid my 
 poor little novel will disappoint everybody." 
 
 Among others who write congratulatory letters 
 are the Gabells and Miss Mitford. Mrs. Trollope 
 says that Captain Basil Hall continues to be " a 
 most kind and efficient friend and admirable critic." 
 I have before me several letters from Captain Hall 
 to her, from one of which I shall have to quote at 
 some length later on. In London he and his wife
 
 160 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 showed her kindness of the truest and most prac- 
 tically friendly sort. There is something very 
 frank, pleasant, and unaffected about his commu- 
 nications. Here is one little note : — 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Trollope, 
 
 " I met the Miss Berrys to-day, who ate 
 exceedingly anxious to see you, and they have begged 
 to have the honour of your company on Sunday evening 
 next, at No. S, Curzon Street Of course you must 
 have heard of them often. Miss Berry is herself an 
 author, and one of the pleasantest persons in the world. 
 They are enchanted with your book, and say that every 
 word and thought in it bears internal evidence of truth, 
 and carries authority with it accordingly. So I hope, if 
 you can, you will come. But, of course, don't bother 
 yourself. Only, in writing to me, make your answer 
 such as I can send on. If you can contrive to come, 
 you had best come to us first — say at 8 — and we can 
 attack the party together. Do as you like, however, 
 and leave it to me to fight your battles. 
 
 " Ever truly yours, 
 
 "Basil Hall." 
 
 Mrs. Trollope did accompany the Halls to Miss 
 Berry's, and met, of course, a very brilliant society. 
 Although it would be absurd to suppose that her 
 reception there was not gratifying to her, yet she 
 keeps her head, and writes, indeed, half quizzing 
 herself for the fuss that is made about her.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRAXCES TROLLOP E. 161 
 
 " I went last night," she writes to her son, " with 
 Captain and Mrs. Hall to a party at Miss Berry's in 
 Curzon Street. They are ladies famous for their con- 
 versation parties; and a very 'good 1 set were assembled 
 there. I dare not, even to you, repeat all the things 
 that were said to me. A. few, however, you shall have ! 
 
 "The Countess of Morley told me she was certain 
 that if I drove through London proclaiming who I was, 
 I should have the horses taken off and be drawn in 
 triumph from one end of town to the other ! The 
 Honourable Mr. Somebody declared that my thunder- 
 storm was the finest thing in prose or verse. Lady 
 Charlotte Lindsay implored me to go on writing — never 
 was anything so delightful. Lady Louisa Stewart told 
 me that I had quite put English out of fashion, and that 
 every one was talking Yankee talk. In short I was 
 overpowered I But all this must help the sale of the next 
 book whatever may happen after. 
 
 " Next Wednesday Cecilia is going with me to Lady 
 Alderson's — a splendid party I am told. How strange 
 all this seems ! " 
 
 During the early part of this season, Mrs. Trol- 
 lope sat for her portrait to Hervieu — a process 
 which she describes as " a dreadful consumer of 
 time." But she submits to it for his sake, as several 
 of his friends have urged him strongly to do it — 
 doubtless by way of an advertisement for himself. 
 
 This was the oil-painting of which an engraving 
 — truth compels me to say a very bad one ! — 
 
 VOL. I. II
 
 1 62 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 appeared in the popular one-volume edition of the 
 "Domestic Manners of the Americans," in 1S39. 
 Very many of the Long series of visitors who 
 passed through T. A. Trollopc's house at Florence, 
 and subsequently at Rome, will remember the 
 original picture, which always hung in the study 
 where he wrote. It was one of the best executed 
 of Hervieu's portraits, and an excellent likeness, 
 although the engraving vulgarises it out of all 
 recognition. 
 
 The subsequent fate of this portrait is wrapped 
 in mystery. When T. A. Trollope finally left 
 Italy to establish himself in England, his mother's 
 portrait— not a miniature in a casket, which might 
 easily be lost or mislaid, but a life-size three- 
 quarters figure — was despatched to London with 
 other cases, to the care of a relative. The cases 
 remained there until it was time to send them to 
 the house which T. A. Trollope had taken in 
 Devonshire. But ameng them was not the por- 
 trait of Frances Trollope, nor has it been traced 
 from that time to this ! A not improbable ex- 
 planation is that it never left Italy, although the 
 authorization necessary for exporting all works of 
 art was duly obtained. It is quite within the 
 range of possibility that the picture has come, by
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 163 
 
 a circuitous route, into the hands of some dealer 
 in bric-a-brac ; and that it may be sold as the 
 authentic effigy of a Roman Principessa, or dis- 
 posed of as a family portrait .to some prosperous 
 parvenu willing to give a good price for the luxury 
 of a few ancestors. 
 
 The London season of 1832 went on with really 
 a stronger family resemblance to the London 
 season of 1895 than perhaps the present genera- 
 tion could readily believe ! And Mrs. Trollope 
 was in the full rush of society. She writes — 
 
 " I hope the whirl of engagements in which I live, will 
 be advantageous to me — to us, rather. But I almost 
 doubt if I shall not lose more than I can ever gain. It 
 is true that everybody tells me they are longing for the 
 novel, but the novel has yet half a volume to be finished, 
 and I can scarcely find an hour in each day to give 
 to it." 
 
 This must have been "The Refugee," which 
 appeared in the course of the year. 
 
 " The life I lead makes it impossible for me to write 
 much. I trust it will help me on, but, though flattering 
 and agreeable, it is fatiguing to excess. You would 
 stare to see the mass of cards round my chimney-glass. 
 I hope it will ?iot blow quite over before you can share it* 
 Thursday I am to dine with the Countess of St. Germans. 
 
 * The italics are mine. — F. E. T.
 
 1 64 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 'Evenings' and 'Mornings' arc incessant. God bless 
 you, and preserve the brain of your venerable mother 
 through this whirl ! " 
 
 Henry Trollope was made a fellow of the Geo- 
 graphical Society, in the May of this year. He 
 occasionally accompanied his mother to some of 
 the assemblies to which she was invited. But his 
 brain seems to have been in as little danger as 
 hers, of becoming intoxicated with fashion and 
 finery. Here is an extract from one of his letters 
 to his brother at Oxford : — 
 
 " At the Miss Berrys' I had the honour and glory 
 and so forth, of being introduced to the famous Coun- 
 tess of Morley. She is still very handsome. Captain 
 Hall was very kind, and introduced me to a great many 
 people — Mr. Stanley among others, who had a friend 
 residing at New Harmony, and who was well-known to 
 me. It seemed so strange, on this side of the Atlantic, 
 to be talked to about a queer enthusiast in that Ultima 
 Thule of society. I promise myself great pleasure in 
 going to Mr. Murchison's to-night. I suppose you 
 know he is President of the Geological Society." [Mr., 
 afterwards Sir Roderick, Murchison had been elected to 
 this post in 1 83 i.j "I would rather be acquainted with 
 him than with anybody in London." 
 
 Famous countesses who were " still very hand- 
 some" might have found that statement difficult 
 to believe.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 165 
 
 In several letters of this period, there are allusions 
 to the disturbed state of the public mind. There 
 is, I think, considerable comfort for the lovers of 
 this 
 
 << land of settled government, 
 
 A land of just and old renown, 
 Where Freedom broadens slowly down 
 From precedent to precedent : " 
 
 in the perusal of such contemporary glimpses of 
 the flying day, as it flew sixty years ago. It was 
 eminently practical wisdom that put into the 
 mouth of a leader of men the encouraging * passi 
 graviora." 
 
 Henry writes to his brother on the 12th of May — 
 
 " I have seen a good many people very violent about 
 the Bill, and the Whig Ministry. The King is abused 
 by all. Radical meetings are held at every pot-house 
 almost, and the most seditious placards are circulated. 
 The names I have heard for the next cabinet are, for 
 Premier, Grey again, Wellington, Peel ; for Chancellor, 
 Sugden, Lyndhurst, — all which, I suppose, is tugs * to 
 you." 
 
 On the 14th Mrs. Trollope writes — 
 
 " I will not say we are alarmed, because, in fact, I am 
 not. But many expect riots in London to-day, in con- 
 sequence of placards posted in all parts of the city, calling 
 upon the citizens to assemble in the Regent's Park. We 
 
 * Tugs is Wykehamical for stale news.
 
 iC6 A MEMOIR (>/■' FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 are here on the high road to it, but everything is quiet. 
 ... I have been living among high Tories, and have 
 had the honour of meeting sundry peers, but their apathy 
 and despair provoke me beyond expression. If we are 
 to be lost, it will be the fault of this party, who, as I told 
 Lord E." [name undecipherable] " the other day, appear 
 to me to do nothing but lie on their sophas, and groan." 
 
 She goes on to say that her own affairs stand 
 still, the book trade participating in the depression 
 of things in general. 
 
 " Whittaker seems in utter despair at the state of 
 affairs. I am told that every one is collecting gold to be 
 ready to start ! . . . Had I not heard so much of certain 
 ruin, I should have enjoyed my season of popularity 
 greatly." 
 
 A little over a year previous, Oxford had been 
 disturbed by anticipations of a visit from the 
 " Swing " rioters. And the Bristol outrages were 
 still fresh in the public mind. 
 
 A letter addressed by Mrs. Trollope to her eldest 
 son at Oxford on the last day of May, contains 
 some words of sound advice. I know not whether 
 the advice respecting the desirability of taking a 
 good degree, be obsolete. I am inclined to believe 
 not. But what she writes of books of travel, must 
 certainly be applicable to all periods. Her son
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 167 
 
 was planning a tour in the rural parts of Germany, 
 and a book describing it. She writes— 
 
 " I have long looked forward to your entering on the 
 career of authorship, with (I think) a well founded hope 
 of your success. As to your first start, I should wish it 
 to be exactly in the path which tempts your fancy most ; 
 and the sort of work you mention would give ample scope 
 for talent in various ways. The objections are,— first, 
 your not speaking the language, which would rob you of 
 that sort of racy originality which the remarks, and even 
 the phrases, of the people among whom you travel, can 
 alone give to such a work. Secondly, how can you 
 prepare for your degree if you are thus occupied? I 
 have not time, my dearest Tom, to express fully all I 
 could say on the vital importance of this preliminary step 
 being well taken. Remember the sort of effect which 
 this must produce in after-life. Whether you apply for 
 a Fellowship, a pupil, a living, a London lectureship, an 
 article in the Quarterly, or an engagement with a book- 
 seller, a good degree will aid you at first setting out, 
 beyond anything else whatever. Be firm to this object. 
 ... I have much, too much, to interrupt me, but I trust 
 I shall have finished soon, and moreover that the time I 
 have given to engagements is not lost, speaking pro- 
 fessionally." 
 
 Three weeks later she says — 
 
 " I write expressly to announce to you that / have 
 finished my book, and right glad am I to say so. I shall 
 not, however, be able to send it to Capt. Hall until
 
 i OS A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP K. 
 
 Monday, as Cecilia will not have finished the manuscript 
 before." 
 
 Cecilia was now installed as her mother's aman- 
 uensis and transcriber for the press. 
 
 " Heaven grant it may pay me ! I really have worked 
 very hard at it. . . . To-morrow I set to work on that 
 part of my MS. which has been already submitted to 
 Capt. Hall, and mean to go through it carefully, pro- 
 fitting by his remarks. I have written over thirty pages 
 to-day, so excuse blank paper." 
 
 The trip to Germany, including a visit to 
 Hanover, and to her friends the Pertz's, which Mrs. 
 Trollope had been eagerly anticipating, had to be 
 abandoned in consequence of the disturbed state 
 of the Continent, and of the cholera which was 
 raging in many parts of Germany. Mrs. Trollope 
 says that she should feel herself to be absolutely 
 criminal, were she to expose her daughters to such 
 danger as she hears talked of. In addition to the 
 dreadful epidemic, people were predicting that 
 within a short time Germany would become the 
 seat of war! The relinquishment of her project 
 mortified and vexed her greatly. But she takes it 
 all in her usual brave, unselfish spirit, and seems 
 chiefly anxious to console the others for their dis- 
 appointment.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 169 
 
 " For me," she writes, " I must endure the present as 
 well as I can, work hard, and look to better luck in 
 future for the enjoyment of what I may gain by my • 
 labour." 
 
 During the month of July, negotiations were 
 
 proceeding with Mr. Whittaker for the publication 
 
 of her novel "The Refugee." Captain Basil Hall 
 
 was again her active and disinterested adviser as to 
 
 the business part of the bargain. She finally 
 
 agreed to sell one edition of the work, consisting 
 
 of twelve hundred copies, to Messrs. Whittaker 
 
 and Treacher, for four hundred pounds. Her 
 
 friends considered this a very high price for one 
 
 edition, and several of them warned her not to be 
 
 too sanguine for the future. Captain Hall writes 
 
 to wish her joy, but adds that she must not expect 
 
 a book of this kind to succeed like the former one 
 
 — nor anything like it. 
 
 " So," she writes to her son, " I carefully restrain my 
 hopes. . . . Should my little fame expire directly, and 
 no further returns reward my labours, I shall burn my 
 pen, and immediately seek a situation where I may earn 
 something. In families of distinction women of my age 
 are often highly paid for superintending masters, and 
 directing a course of study. I trust it will not come to 
 this ; but the word of my Maecenas, one from Miss 
 Gabell in the same warning tone, and Miss Milman's 
 laughing words, ' You must not expect to make a thousand
 
 170 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TR0LL0PE. 
 
 pounds arry year !' have set me thinking a little upon 
 the uncertain nature of literary success. And I have- 
 therefore made up my mind to do without it." 
 
 In my judgment there is something very ad- 
 mirable — nay, astonishing, in the absolute clear- 
 headedness, candour, and modesty, of all this, lie 
 it remembered that not only had she just been 
 overwhelmed by the praise and petting of society, 
 but that her publisher had given proof, beyond the 
 suspicion of flattery, of his faith in her powers. 
 And yet she neither becomes presumptuous in 
 anticipation of success, nor embittered by the 
 thought of failure. 
 
 The money earned by her first book was, she 
 says, "oozing fast." The rents from some house 
 property of her husband's in London did not come 
 in ; the annual sum paid to Lord Northwick for 
 the farm steadily swallowed up all profits ; and 
 other money affairs of Mr. Trollope's turned out 
 disastrously. Failure seemed to follow him with 
 almost demoniac malice. Moreover, his suffering 
 from headache was constant. It is extraordinary 
 in how large a number of the family letters the 
 statement occurs, " Papa is in bed with headache." 
 Or, "Your father wished to add a few lines but is 
 too unwell, being prostrate with headache."
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 171 
 
 It is difficult to imagine what would have be- 
 come of the family had Frances Trollope not been 
 able to earn some money ; for the items she sets 
 down of her expenditure, apart from her hus- 
 band's, include " half a year's rent and taxes paid 
 in advance ; a good bed, pillows, bolsters, sopha, 
 and a chest of drawers bought at a sale ; and five 
 guineas at Hookham's." Moreover, she stands 
 engaged to purchase a cow, malt for brewing, and 
 to pay between seventy and eighty pounds for 
 fixtures before Michaelmas ! 
 
 The fixtures were in the house which they called 
 Julians Hill — the same mentioned before as the 
 original of " Orley Farm " — whither the family re- 
 moved in September. All these charges were a 
 heavy weight on her shoulders. But she says she 
 so longs to have a home in some degree deserving 
 the name, that she will willingly give up all other 
 indulgences to obtain it. 
 
 It seems strange that such ordinary articles of 
 household furniture as some of those enumerated, 
 should have then to be provided. But during 
 her absence in America, the material part of the 
 household seems to have gone to ruin. In a pre- 
 ceding letter there is a touching passage about the 
 anguish it had caused her to see Tom (who, in his
 
 V 
 
 172 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 youth, was, like his father, subject to severe head- 
 aches) " lying in a comfortless garret, without a 
 pillow under his poor aching head." In a letter 
 to her husband enumerating the necessaries lack- 
 ing in their house, she says, "You know that not 
 one of our five children has a pillow for his head." 
 
 This degree of privation is beyond what their 
 straitened circumstances could wholly account for. 
 Mr. Trollope, as has been pointed out elsewhere, 
 had developed a singular, ascetic disregard for 
 physical comforts — or rather, perhaps, a Spartan 
 resolve to disdain them : enduring hardships — 
 some of which might easily have been mitigated 
 — with a stubborn unfiinchingness, sustained pos- 
 sibly by a half-unconscious persuasion that he was 
 thereby taking his share in the heat and burthen 
 of the day. 
 
 And thus, amid many and increasing domestic 
 cares, lightened, however, by a brilliant, literary 
 success and the warm and faithful attachment of 
 many friends, the year 1832, which had been so 
 momentous for her, and for all belonging to her, 
 came to an end.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 173 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " On me dit que pourvu que je ne parle ni de l'autorite, ni du 
 culte, ni de la politique, ni de la morale, ni des gens en place, ni de 
 l'opera, ni des autres spectacles, ni de personne qui tienne a quelque 
 chose, je puis tout imprimer librement." — Beaumarchais, Mariage 
 de Figaro. 
 
 (Motto chosen by Mrs. Trollope for her book on America.) 
 
 "The Refugee" made a decided success, but it 
 was attacked with great virulence from an un- 
 expected quarter. It was the subject of a hostile 
 article in the Quarterly Review, the chief reason 
 for alluding to which now is that it elicited a very 
 characteristic letter from Captain Basil Hall. The 
 original now lies before me, and shall speak for 
 itself. 
 
 " 71, Harley Street, Monday Morning, 
 
 "21st January, 1833. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Trollope, 
 
 " I not only did not write the article in the 
 Quarterly Review on your novel, but I was quite as much 
 vexed at it as you could be, perhaps as much, or more, 
 surprised. I shall of course take all the pains I can to
 
 174 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 do away with any such impression as that you allude to. 
 And although I do not think it possible that the Bishop 
 of London can have stated what you have been told " 
 [presumably that Captain Hall was the author of the 
 article], " I shall nevertheless write his Lordship a line 
 to put the matter right in that quarter. And I shall ask 
 Mr. Lockhart not to say who is the author (for that I 
 have no wish to know), but to oblige me by stating, if 
 asked, that I certainly am not. I shall beg him to add 
 that I entirely disapprove of the criticism, which I con- 
 sider not only most unfair, but in every sense of the 
 word uncalled-for. 
 
 " You must be aware that, having written such a book 
 as your travels, you necessarily raised an immense host 
 of vindictive, vulgar, active enemies, and this is but one 
 of thousands of envenomed shafts which you must 
 expect to have shot at you. But I feel particularly 
 obliged to you to have given me an opportunity of turn- 
 ing off the point of this particular blow. How little can 
 any one know of either you or me, who could for an 
 instant credit such a preposterous inconsistency as this 
 report implies ! Never mind ! Your book and mine 
 have both done some good we must trust. But you 
 must recollect that in this world there is nothing gained 
 above the common line, without risk, and no risk without 
 boldness. Now you have had the boldness to publish 
 your opinions on America, and having thereby incurred 
 the risk of censure and ridicule, you must not shrink 
 from the endurance, /have already had my share, and 
 have taken it all in good humour. Even this black bit 
 of calumny — which it is, if ever there was a morsel came 
 out of hell — has only amused me, as proving the success
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 175 
 
 with which I have driven home my point. So pray 
 borrow a little of my philosophy, and accept all such 
 things as compliments to your talents, and testimonies 
 to your truth. 
 
 " We shall be most glad to see you here when you 
 chance to be in town. 
 
 " Ever yours with the truest respect, 
 
 confidence, and regard, 
 
 " Basil Hall." 
 
 There is a frank, honest, sailor-like tone in this, 
 as in all Captain Hall's letters I have seen, that 
 has the wholesome freshness of a sea-breeze. And 
 his words are not only spirited, but sensible. 
 
 "The brave man venerates, the base man fears." 
 
 And, however much authors may venerate their 
 critics collectively, it is neither valiant nor politic 
 to be too much afraid of them individually. 
 
 That Mrs. Trollope was far from being hyper- 
 sensitive to criticism, was abundantly proved under L/ 
 many circumstances. But the personal attacks 
 to which she was subject — to a degree inconceivable 
 by those who have not read the contemporary 
 journals that occupied themselves with her works 
 — could not fail sometimes to give pain. These 
 attacks were, of course, in one sense a compliment 
 to her talents, as Captain Hall says. To have
 
 176 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 " half a brick heaved" at one, may, under certain 
 circumstances, be a testimony to the respectability 
 of one's appearance, but that reflection will 
 scarcely console one for a black eye ! 
 
 A few days after the above letter from Captain 
 Hall, Mrs. Trollope received one from Mr. George 
 Bartley, the actor, from which I give one or two 
 extracts. Mr. and Mrs. Bartley were among her 
 friends. There is frequent mention of both of 
 them in the family correspondence. 
 
 " 19, Charlotte Street, Portland Tlacc, 
 
 29th January, 1833. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Trollope, 
 
 " It is very seldom that I can command time 
 to attack three volumes, but I have contrived to find 
 enough to read your ' Refugee,' and am desirous of ex- 
 pressing the great pleasure I felt during the perusal. 
 r j The whole of the scenes at Rochester are capital. And 
 ' I calculate if I live from July to Eternity, I shall never 
 obliviate that go ! ' The interest of the story is ex- 
 tremely well kept up, and I reflect on the book altogether 
 with unmixed satisfaction. You must not blame me, 
 however, for owning that your scenes from real life 
 (which I am sure very many of them are) awakened in 
 me the most interest, and yielded me the most entertain- 
 ment. ... In brief, my dear Madam, pray accept my 
 sincere acknowledgements for the pleasure you have given 
 to a poor fellow whose time is generally so much occu- 
 pied, that he dare not venture much out of his daily
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 177 
 
 track, — and when he does, he seldom meets with such a 
 reward ! 
 
 "With best regards to Mr. Trollope and your family, 
 
 I am, 
 " My dear Madam, 
 " faithfully your obliged servant, 
 
 " Geo. Bartley." 
 
 A letter from Cecilia Trollope to her brother 
 at Oxford in the early part of this year, gives an 
 account of a visit to Covent Garden on the occasion 
 of Mrs. Bartley's final retirement from the stage. 
 
 " The Grants and ourselves, a party of eleven, went 
 to see Macbeth on Monday, and were more delighted 
 than I can express. Macready played ' Macbeth ' very 
 finely. I liked him about sixty thousand times better 
 than I did Young in the same part, and liked Mrs. 
 Bartley in about the same proportion better than I did 
 Fanny Kemble. Mrs. Bartley looked quite beautiful. 
 There was a great row in the pit during her last scene. 
 And they made such a noise during the little address in 
 which she took leave, that scarcely a word could be 
 heard." 
 
 There was a constellation of dramatic celebrities 
 assembled to do honour to Mrs. Bartley. Madame 
 Vestris played " Kate O'Brien " in the afterpiece 
 of Perfection, and Taglioni, Albert, and other stars 
 of the ballet danced in a divertissement. Apropos 
 of Madame Vestris, here is an instance of the fate 
 
 vol. 1. 12
 
 178 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 that attends all artists — especially, perhaps, female 
 artists — who have been long before the public : 
 having their age exaggerated. Cecilia remarks 
 with astonishment that " Madame Vestris, though 
 past fifty, looked quite young." Madame Vestris 
 was then just thirty-six years old. 
 
 In the same letter the writer describes a visit to 
 the exhibition of pictures at Somerset House, and 
 says — repeating, of course, what she hears — that 
 " the best picture is a portrait of Sir Walter Scott 
 as a shepherd, by Landseer." This picture has 
 become widely known by engravings. 
 
 The portrait of Mrs. Trollope, the mysterious 
 fate of which has been mentioned, was in the same 
 exhibition, and attracted a great deal of attention. 
 A silly little sneer about it, dragged in by the 
 head and shoulders, appeared in a contemporary 
 literary journal. The writer (whose business was 
 to judge the painter, but who in this instance 
 appears to have limited himself to carping at the 
 sitter !) says — 
 
 "This is the portrait of the sarcastic Mrs. Trollope. 
 The painter has not flattered her good looks. He has 
 had vinegar in his brush, too." 
 
 (The " too" is delightful.) Here there is evidently 
 some reproach, or reproof, implied in the epithet
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 179 
 
 "sarcastic" Sarcasm, like other things, may be 
 good and useful, or bad and mischievous, accord- 
 ing as it is applied. Tartuffe and the Femmes 
 Savantes would no doubt have objected to it under 
 any circumstances. The critic reveals a somewhat 
 limited and ignorant conception of the nature of 
 sarcasm, when he describes it as being manifested 
 by a vinegar-y expression of countenance ! But 
 the word "vinegar" applied to their mother, was 
 received by all the family with the greatest 
 hilarity. Cecilia writes to her brother in high 
 amusement : " Mamma now goes by the name, at 
 home, of old Madam Vinegar ! " 
 
 The influenza was raging in England during the 
 summer of this year. Various friends of the 
 family, in London and elsewhere, were stricken 
 with it ; and at Harrow all the Drurys, all the 
 Longleys, and all the Trollopes had it — a pretty 
 large contingent ! The epidemic seems to have 
 manifested itself under as many various symptoms 
 as in its more recent visitations. Mr. H., the 
 family medical attendant (apothecary, as he was 
 then often called), adopted what we should now 
 consider appallingly "heroic" methods of dealing 
 with it. Henry had fourteen leeches applied to 
 him ; Anthony was bled until he fainted ; Cecilia
 
 i So A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 became hysterical from weakness ; and M. Hervieu, 
 after having swallowed sundry powerful draughts 
 and pills, was found wandering in the fields, a rush 
 of blood to the head having produced delirium ! 
 Mrs. Cox, the lady's maid, and Emily, were the 
 longest in recovering. In Mrs. Trollope's case the 
 influenza was accompanied by a considerable 
 amount of fever, and it was some time before she 
 threw off the effects of it. Indeed, according to 
 the account of the quantity of doses they were 
 made to swallow, they must all have had to recover 
 from the remedies as well as the disease. 
 
 Mrs. Trollope was at this time finishing her 
 novel of " The Abbess," and writes — 
 
 " I have never, at any period of my work, felt so 
 pressed — I may add, so oppressed — as at present. I 
 think I have fever still hanging about me." 
 
 But still she worked on ! 
 
 In October, 1832, the family had started The 
 Magpie, and it is a frequent topic in Cecilia's 
 letters. The Magpie is described on its title-page 
 as " a weekly Magazine of Literature, Politics, 
 Science, and Art," bearing the motto : " Pagina 
 judicium subitura movetur" The whole is in 
 manuscript ; each contribution being written on 
 one side of the paper, and pasted into its place
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 181 
 
 on the blank page of a great folio scrap-book now 
 before me. 
 
 It was, of course, mainly a joke ; or, rather, a 
 half-joking, half-serious playing at literature. I 
 believe there are one or two persons still living 
 who can remember The Magpie and the important 
 evenings when the contributors assembled to hear 
 it read allowed. This was usually done in the 
 Trollopes' house, but sometimes in that of their 
 neighbour, Colonel Grant. Among the contri- 
 butors were Mrs. Grant, and a member of the 
 Drury family. The " Magpies " were somewhat 
 exclusive. They had no desire to shine before 
 the general public. Occasionally an outsider 
 would petition for leave to be present at a reading, 
 and this was generally granted. But the privilege 
 was rather jealously guarded. Possibly for this 
 very reason — the desire of human nature to open a 
 locked door being ineradicable — the number of 
 such applicants increased greatly ; and Cecilia 
 writes with grave indignation to her brother at 
 Oxford, that she should not be surprised if all 
 Harrow became " Magpies " before his return ! 
 
 Henry was the editor, and appears to have held 
 most professionally Draconian views as to the 
 treatment of his contributors. The whole thing
 
 iS2 ./ MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 is more or less childlike, and can have no interest 
 for the general reader, beyond what may be found 
 in any true fragment of the real life, the ways 
 and words, of a past generation ; nor is it for a 
 moment pretended that The Magpie is a monu- 
 ment of family genius, or the production of 
 intellectual prodigies. But there is considerable 
 talent and a quaint sense of humour in many of 
 the little articles. And they are all strikingly 
 individual. Apart from the testimony of the 
 handwriting, no one at all acquainted with the 
 various members of the family could fail to 
 recognize the author of each contribution. Mrs. 
 Trollope's hard-worked pen sometimes finds the 
 necessary minutes to indite a few lines. A letter 
 signed "Your intending admirer and constant 
 reader, Scrutator," in the first number, offers 
 occasional contributions, in several long-winded 
 and involved sentences so carefully guarded from 
 possible misconstruction, as to be almost un- 
 intelligible on a first reading! It is, of course, 
 Mr. Trollope's. The mother, having evidently 
 been implored and petitioned to write something, 
 dashes off a few lines with the signature of " Grub 
 Street," solemnly warning the editor never on any 
 account to employ weary and hackneyed writers,
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 183 
 
 who, if, by any unlikely chance, they should get 
 hold of an idea, are certain to use it for the manu- 
 facture of three volumes post octavo, instead of 
 presenting it in three lines to The Magpie ! But 
 this ingenious device does not save her from 
 further demands : for in more than one letter of 
 Cecilia's I find such notices as " A very good 
 Magpie last week. Mamma wrote two things for 
 us ! " The editor, in his opening address in the 
 first number, appeals, he says, with no undue 
 diffidence to his distinguished public, " holding it 
 altogether unnecessary to apologize to authors for 
 any defects in their own compositions ! " But 
 enough of The Magpie. 
 
 Two works were published by Mrs. Trollope in 
 1833: one a three-volume novel called' "The 
 Abbess," published by Whittaker, and the last of 
 her works issued by him, and the other entitled 
 " The Mother's Manual." This latter is the only 
 book of hers which I do not possess. It was 
 favourably reviewed in the AtJienceiun ; but, in 
 truth, it has not much merit. It is a humorous 
 poem on the well-worn topic of match-making 
 mothers and husband-hunting daughters. It is 
 a slender octavo volume, remarkably well printed, 
 with handsome margins, and illustrated by twenty 
 
 V 
 
 '/
 
 1 84 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOV 
 
 plates designed by Hervieu. These, by the way, 
 are decidedly the best of his illustrations to Mrs. 
 Trollope's books. The Athenosum also gives high 
 praise to " The Abbess." This is perhaps the least 
 known of her early novels, and is written in a 
 rather high-flown, ultra-romantic vein, quite out of 
 her usual manner. But it will compare favourably 
 with many popular novels of its time and class. 
 
 No sooner is one piece of work finished than 
 she prepares to begin another. She had made up 
 her mind to undertake a foreign tour, with the 
 purpose of describing it in a book of travels, and 
 we have seen how her first scheme was frustrated 
 by the cholera and by rumours of war. She now 
 resolved to visit Belgium as well as part of Western 
 Germany. Her eldest son was still at the uni- 
 versity, preparing for his degree ; and she was 
 accompanied on this journey by her second son 
 Henry and Monsieur Hervieu. The latter was 
 to have furnished illustrations to her book ; but a 
 few lines appended to the table of contents, sets 
 forth that— 
 
 " The sketches by Mr. Hervieu so frequently alluded 
 to in the following pages, were intended to accompany 
 this publication ; but the expense of engraving them in 
 the style they deserved was found so great, that the idea 
 was abandoned."
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 185 
 
 The degree to which she evidently believed M. 
 Hervieu's drawings would be likely to help the 
 success of her books, appears very strange, after 
 having" examined his illustrations to "The 
 Domestic Manners," "Paris and the Parisians," 
 and other works. And yet she was by no means 
 alone in thinking well of them. Over and over 
 again distinguished persons are quoted in her 
 letters as having expressed the highest approba- 
 tion of them. And the majority of the press 
 writers of the day certainly did not fall foul of 
 them. One or two original sepia and water- 
 colour drawings by M. Hervieu, are certainly better 
 than the published lithographs and etchings. But, 
 indeed, this is saying but little. These drawings 
 furnish in some degree a scale whereby to measure 
 the wonderful improvement of public taste and 
 knowledge in this direction during the last half 
 century. Illustrative woodcuts are scattered broad- 
 cast throughout scores of periodicals nowadays 
 (not to speak of the especially artistic journals), 
 which for correctness of drawing, expression, and 
 truth, M. Hervieu could no more have rivalled 
 than he could have painted Titian's " Assumption." 
 A certain humorous appreciation of his author's 
 meaning when humour was in question, and a
 
 iS6 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 certain quick eye for the grotesque and ridiculous, 
 he had. But his conceptions were often coarsely, 
 and sometimes feebly, rendered. 
 
 Mrs. Trollopc, with Henry and Hervieu, left 
 England for Belgium on the ist of June, 1833. 
 T/heir first halt was at Ostend, in the house of Mr. 
 "Fauche, the British Consul, whose wife was an old 
 acquaintance of theirs. This lady, a daughter of 
 Mr. Tomkison, the well-known pianoforte maker, 
 was remarkable for her personal beauty, and for 
 the possession of a very fine voice. Brought up in 
 the midst of the best musical world of that day, 
 her talent had been highly cultivated ; and her 
 singing rivalled that of more than one first-rate 
 professional artist. 
 
 Mrs. Fauche had arranged some amateur 
 theatricals, and engaged Henry Trollopc before- 
 hand to take part in them. He was to perform 
 " Tony Lumpkin " in Goldsmith's She Stoops to 
 Conquer ; and M. Hervieu was cast for "Diggory" 
 in the same comedy. This latter performance, at 
 any rate, must have been highly comic. It is 
 difficult to imagine Diggory's utterances about 
 " grouse in the gun-room," delivered with a strong 
 French accent ! The afterpiece was the extrava- 
 ganza of Bombastes Fitrioso, which had very nearly
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 187 
 
 brought the evening's entertainment to a tragic 
 conclusion : for in it Henry Trollope, fighting a 
 burlesque duel, received a wound in the thigh from 
 his adversary's sword, which confined him to his 
 bed for ten days. 
 
 Fortunately, there were no further ill conse- 
 quences from the accident. The occurrence is 
 recorded in Mrs. Trollope's book, but there she 
 naturally passes it over as lightly as possible. In 
 private letters home, however, it is plain that it 
 caused her at first considerable anxiety. The 
 wound was very deep, and inflammation was 
 feared. As usual she had to be chief nurse, her 
 son desiring her almost constant presence at his 
 bedside. At the same time she was making notes 
 for her book, and endeavouring to see as much as 
 possible of the neighbourhood in which she found 
 herself. As soon as Henry was able to walk a 
 short distance with the help of a pair of crutches, 
 they pursued their journey to Bruges. The mode 
 of conveyance from Ostend thither was a barge on 
 the canal, the smooth, gliding movement of which 
 was very favourable to the invalid. 
 
 Within a week after his wife's departure from 
 England, Mr. Trollope was taken seriously ill. He 
 appears to have had a seizure of an apoplectic
 
 1 88 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 nature, and was for some hours in great danger. 
 After being subjected to the usual treatment of 
 bleeding and cupping, he recovered, although re- 
 maining, of course, much weakened. His daughter 
 Cecilia was assured by Mr. H., the local practitioner 
 at Harrow, that there was no danger of a re- 
 currence of the attack— the nature of which he 
 avoided specifying to her by any name. Never- 
 theless, a second attack took place about three 
 weeks after the first. It seems, however, to have 
 been less severe, and the recovery more rapid. 
 
 By one of those postal miscarriages so frequently 
 chronicled in the family correspondence of this 
 and an earlier period, Cecilia's letter containing the 
 news of her father's illness did not reach Mrs. 
 Trollope until long after date ; and in the interim 
 other reassuring letters had been received. Mrs. 
 Trollope, writing from Liege, says that had the 
 first letter reached her in due course, she would at 
 once have relinquished all engagements and re- 
 turned to England. So that the delay might after 
 all be considered a fortunate circumstance for her. 
 In fact, when her father began to recover, Cecilia 
 was much perturbed by the idea that her mother 
 ivould hasten back, and lose the expense and 
 labour of the journey already made.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 189 
 
 The two volumes of travels entitled, " Belgium 
 and Western Germany in 1833," were published 
 by Mr. Murray, and appeared early in 1834. The 
 ground Mrs. Trollope here travels over, was a 
 beaten track even sixty years ago. But there are, 
 nevertheless, many pages of her book still worth 
 reading, both for the sake of what is changed and 
 of what remains unchanged. A few words in the 
 preface seem to me to be so well said, and are of 
 so much wider applicability than merely to this 
 unpretending work, that I will venture to quote 
 them. 
 
 " My little volumes on America have been much read. 
 Many have said that this was owing to their being written 
 with strong party feeling : but I — who am in the secret 
 — know that such was not the case. The cause of their 
 success, therefore, must be sought elsewhere ; and I 
 attribute it solely to that intuitive power of discerning 
 what is written with truth, which is possessed, often 
 unconsciously, by every reader. Ee he pleased, or dis- 
 pleased by the pictures brought before him, he feels that 
 the images portrayed are real ; and this will interest, 
 even if it vex him. 
 
 " I have an inveterate habit of suffering all I see to 
 make a deep impression on my memory ; and the result 
 of this is a sort of mosaic, by no means very grand in 
 outline or skilful in drawing ; but each morsel of colour 
 has the reality of truth — in which there is ever some 
 value. And it is on this, and this alone, that I rest my 

 
 i 9 o A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 hope that the following pages may be acceptable to the 
 public." 
 
 I think that Mrs. Trollopc's perception, mani- 
 fested in this work, of the intrinsic greatness of 
 Germany — its massive force, and its moral and 
 intellectual worth — is not a little remarkable, when 
 we consider the time, and the circumstances, in 
 which she wrote. To begin with, her acquaintance 
 with the language was very superficial, and scarcely 
 more than enabled her to make herself understood 
 by the population of waiters, chambermaids, coach- 
 men, and valets de place with whom the passing 
 tourist comes into contact ; so that she had no 
 first-hand acquaintance with German literature to 
 help her to a sound judgment of the people. And 
 as for the elements of political greatness in 
 Germany, it is not difficult to recognize them in 
 1895, but they lay considerably less on the surface 
 in 1833. All that was true, solid, and genuine in 
 the nation, appealed to her true, solid, and genuine 
 character. As the German proverb has it, " What 
 comes from the heart, goes to the heart." And 
 this organ is an indispensable assistant to the head, 
 in comprehending human beings. Many pro- 
 foundly sagacious ■ persons have fallen into sad 
 blunders from the lack of it.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 191 
 
 1 
 
 She confesses in the course of her book that she 
 
 despairs of ever acquiring " that last finish of an 
 accomplished traveller, so general in these latter 
 days — the nil admirari? There is, if we consider 
 it honestly, something stupid, as well as repulsive, 
 in this nil admirari tone of mind, whether real or 
 affected. But, as Mr. Carlyle somewhere says, a 
 canary-bird can only hold his own quantity of 
 wonder ! 
 
 An interesting visit was paid by Mrs. Trollope 
 during this tour to the Landgravine of Hesse- 
 Homburg, Princess Elizabeth of England, the 
 third daughter of George the Third and Queen 
 Charlotte. The Princess received her with great 
 kindness, and walked with her through a suite of 
 rooms in her palace near Frankfort-on-the-Main, 
 from the windows of which a beautiful view was 
 enjoyed. The library contained a large and 
 excellent collection of books. The Princess said, 
 " I brought these volumes with me from England," 
 adding, with a smile, " I am proud of my library." 
 Speaking of the beauty of the scenery, she said, 
 " I can never forget Windsor and Richmond, but 
 Germany is a glorious country." In one of the 
 rooms hung a portrait of George the Third, before 
 which Mrs. Trollope stopped, struck by the powerful
 
 192 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 likeness. " You know that portrait," said the 
 Princess. "It is my father. It is quite perfect." 
 It will be remembered that Mr. Thackeray alludes 
 to this same portrait in his "Four Georges." He, 
 too, saw it in the apartment of the Landgravine, 
 "amidst books and Windsor furniture and a 
 hundred fond reminiscences of her English home." 
 
 Before the end of the tour, Mrs. Trollope had 
 the satisfaction of paying the previously deferred 
 visit to her friends Dr. and Mrs. Pertz. She 
 stayed in their house in Hanover, and under 
 Dr. Pertz's auspices had the best possible oppor- 
 tunity of examining the fine library, and all other 
 objects of interest in the town and neighbourhood. 
 
 Mr. Trollope joined the travelling party at 
 Hamburg, and they all returned to England 
 together.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 193 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " In Bruges town is many a street 
 Whence busy life hath, fled, 
 Where, without hurry, noiseless feet 
 The grass-grown pavement tread." 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 Immediately on her arrival at home, Mrs. Trol- 
 lope was busily engaged in arranging the notes 
 she had made during her travels. 
 
 Besides this work, her mind was occupied in a 
 more painful way, for she found herself, on her 
 return to England, plunged into the midst of ever- 
 growing money difficulties. 
 
 Quite at the beginning of 1834, when the family 
 was assembled at Harrow — as it proved, for the 
 last time — the scheme of leaving England for a 
 continental residence was canvassed among them. 
 Mrs. Trollope, although by no means then antici- 
 pating such a crash as really happened, already 
 foresaw that it must, sooner or later, become 
 impossible to continue their life at Harrow. She 
 was therefore anxious to ascertain what provision 
 
 vol. 1. 13
 
 194 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES IKOLLOPE. 
 
 remained out of the wreck of their property, on 
 the regular payment of which she might rely. 
 
 In her strenuous efforts to do this, her brother 
 Henry Milton assisted her; and in the course of 
 their investigations some circumstances came to 
 light which would appear incredible, did not our 
 daily experience bear witness to the truth of the 
 homely proverb that "the shoemaker's wife is ever 
 the worst shod." Mr. Trollopc's legal knowledge 
 and acumen would have been vigilantly exercised 
 on behalf of his clients, but in the case of his own 
 family affairs they seemed to have slept as though 
 under some malignant spell. It appeared that 
 not only had Mrs. Trollopc's marriage settlement 
 not been registered, but two gentlemen who, with 
 Henry Milton, were her trustees, had never signed 
 it ! Moreover, title deeds of property in Keppel 
 Street and elsewhere were found to have been 
 lodged as security in the hands of various persons, 
 without due acknowledgment being received for 
 them. 
 
 Mrs. Trollopc was, of course, terribly agitated 
 by these discoveries. Her husband seems to have 
 done his best to remedy the mischief, and to have 
 co-operated with Henry Milton to that end. But 
 some losses were already irreparable.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 195 
 
 The place Mrs. Trollope had fixed her mind on 
 as their foreign residence was Bruges. It united 
 two great advantages — cheapness of living and 
 easiness of access from London. Her friend Mrs. 
 Fauche assisted her in seeking a dwelling. But 
 before it was finally decided on, she wished her 
 family to see and approve of the house ; and it 
 was therefore agreed that they should all proceed 
 in the summer to Belgium, and board with the 
 Fauches (who occupied a much larger house than 
 they needed for their own use) until their future 
 home was chosen. 
 
 In the midst of all these anxieties, occupations, 
 and interruptions, her attention to her own work 
 never relaxed. She had despatched a portion of 
 her manuscript to Mr. Murray in February ; and 
 subsequently paid him one or two personal visits 
 in Albemarle Street, to carry on the negotiation 
 for publishing it. During one of her trips to 
 London for this purpose, she called on her old 
 friend, the Rev. Dr. Nott, who was then lodging 
 in St. James's Place. Her eldest son accompanied 
 her, and has preserved a record of the visit in his 
 diary. One point in it may have an interest for 
 some readers, namely, that Dr. Nott had just been 
 engaged on a translation of our liturgy into Italian,
 
 i«/) A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 for the use of a congregation at Malta. He com- 
 plained that "some of the Bishops" (he did not 
 say which of them) opposed its adoption on 
 grounds which he considered frivolous and igno- 
 rant. For instance, one bishop knew nothing of 
 the existence of the Latin authorized version of 
 the Liturgy made by Pearson and others, and 
 dedicated to King Charles the Second. Another 
 objected to part of Dr. Nott's version, which on 
 turning to it proved to be adopted word for word 
 from Diodati's translation, long acknowledged by 
 the Church. Dr. Nott was greatly scandalized by 
 the Episcopal lack of knowledge on these points. 
 But, my own ignorance of the matter being quite 
 as profound as the Bishops', I must leave it to the 
 better-instructed reader to determine how far Dr. 
 Nott was justified. 
 
 After leaving St. James's Place, T. A. Trollope 
 witnessed a procession which is scarcely likely to 
 meet the eye of any passer-by in London nowa- 
 days. It was the funeral cortege of some nobleman, 
 passing down Regent Street. There were ten 
 mourning-coaches, and a large number of led 
 saddle-horses, one of which carried the deceased 
 peer's coronet on a cushion ! 
 
 The mother and son had a satisfactory interview
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 197 
 
 with Mr. Murray the same day. Tom writes in 
 his diary — 
 
 "As soon as Mr. Murray came into the room, my 
 mother went straight to her point, and asked him if he 
 thought of publishing her book. His reply was, ' Indeed, 
 I do think of it.' " 
 
 He appeared to have formed a very favourable 
 opinion of the part of the manuscript which he 
 had seen, and asked for more. He was told that 
 he should have the remainder as soon as Mrs. 
 Trollope could complete the passages required to 
 bind her notes together. "For," said she, "the 
 book really consists of notes taken at the time ; 
 and I have now merely to thread them into a 
 consecutive form." Mr. Murray said he was very 
 glad to hear it, as that was the real way to 
 write a book of travels, giving the genuine first 
 impressions. 
 
 Before returning to Oxford for the Easter term, 
 T. A. Trollope went down to Lincolnshire to fetch 
 his sister Cecilia, who had been visiting her uncle, 
 Henry Trollope, and spending Christmas at Scri- 
 velsby with the Dymokes. His aunt and uncle 
 received him most kindly, and " tipped " him very 
 generously : his uncle making him a present of 
 ten pounds, and his aunt of five, " to prevent his
 
 198 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP !■:. 
 
 being out-of-pocket by the journey." Mr. Trol- 
 lope's brother Henry was a consistently kind friend 
 to his sister-in-law and her children. When they 
 first removed to Belgium he lent Mrs. Trollopc a 
 hundred pounds, which sum, it was agreed, should 
 be repaid out of her earnings. It was so repaid. 
 And, indeed, unless from that source, it is difficult 
 to conjecture how it could ever have been repaid 
 at all ! 
 
 It is worth noting that, in all their money 
 troubles, the family never lost the support and 
 kindness of their friends. Those who were their 
 nearest neighbours, and consequently most inti- 
 mate with them, stuck to them staunchly ; and 
 friends and relatives at a distance were equally 
 kind and helpful. The Milmans' house at Pin- 
 ner was always open to Mrs. Trollopc and her 
 daughters. And the Katers, the Basil Halls, the 
 Gabells, the Frcelings, the Skerrets, and many 
 more, were untiring in offers of help and hospi- 
 tality. As to the family of Colonel Grant, their 
 warm and loyal affection was beyond description. 
 Nor was Frances Trollopc the woman to forget 
 it, or to return it with lukewarm gratitude am! 
 grudging acknowledgments. 
 
 Mr. Henry Milton had, by the help of his
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 199 
 
 solicitor, succeeded in regaining possession of the 
 title-deeds of some property which formed part of 
 his sister's marriage-settlement, and was arranging 
 to have a certain small annual sum assigned to 
 Mrs. Trollope's sole use for the maintenance of 
 herself and her daughters, before she ventured to 
 ^o abroad. Some of the deeds had been in the 
 hands of a person who showed a considerable 
 disposition to detain them ; and their recovery 
 had required a great deal of trouble and some 
 diplomacy. But Mr. Milton's solicitor, for all 
 fee, " politely begged a copy of the Domestic 
 Manners," as Mrs. Trollope wrote to her son. 
 
 The latter had been ill after his return to the 
 university, and was, besides, nervous and anxious 
 about the result of the impending examination for 
 his degree. His mother writes — 
 
 " Keep up your spirits, dearest Tom, and do not 
 anticipate disappointment. We are, in truth, arrived at 
 the corner I have so often talked about, and if we can 
 but turn it, things must be better with us than we have 
 seen them for years. ^250 in a cheap country, with 
 my own management, and the hope of gaining more by 
 my own means, yours, and Henry's, cannot be called a 
 dreary prospect. Courage ! and you will do well. You 
 cannot suppose that the generality of those who have 
 taken degrees are your superiors. I am sure they are 
 not. Courage ! and we will make a tour together yet."
 
 200 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 The cheery hint as to the possibility of Henry's 
 adding to the family earnings, arose from his 
 having found a pupil to read with for a few weeks 
 at this time. The pupil lived at Fulham, and 
 Henry was installed in a little lodging close to 
 his Uncle Milton's house there, with his sister 
 Cecilia near at hand to take care of him. She 
 was the guest of her aunt and uncle. A letter 
 from her to her brother at Oxford is franked by 
 a personage whom the young lady with youthful 
 emphasis and extravagance characterises as " one 
 of the greatest rascals unhung ! " This was Mr. 
 Daniel Whittle Harvey, M.P. for Colchester. Pro- 
 bably Cecilia's knowledge of him was almost 
 confined to the facts that his application to be 
 called to the bar had been refused by the Benchers 
 of the Inner Temple on the ground of malprac- 
 tices as an attorney, and that he was a Radical 
 politician and a Dissenter. His frank is before 
 me, written in a legible hand. Whether it were 
 contrary to his political principles to recognize 
 such social distinctions, I cannot say, but the 
 address to " T. A. Trollopc, Magdalen Hall, 
 Oxford," is without the customary addition of 
 " Esquire." As few of my readers arc likely to 
 have much information about Mr. Daniel Whittle
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 20 \ 
 
 Harvey, it is fair to add that, although the judges, 
 in their quality of visitors of the Inn, confirmed 
 the decision of the Benchers not to admit him, 
 yet a Select Committee of the House of Commons, 
 Daniel O'Connell in the chair, exonerated Mr. 
 Harvey from the charges of fraud made against 
 him. He founded the Sunday Times newspaper, 
 and was appointed Commissioner of the City Police 
 force under Lord Melbourne's Government, which 
 post he filled for twenty-three years. 
 
 With her invariable responsiveness to every 
 gleam of hope and sunshine, Mrs. Trollope wrote, 
 as we have seen, cheerfully about her son Henry. 
 But on his return to Harrow at the termination of 
 his engagement, he was so evidently out of health 
 that his mother, had him examined by the local 
 practitioner. This gentleman's verdict was that 
 Henry's state required the most extreme care, but 
 he hoped his lungs were not yet touched. Whether 
 this were a pious falsehood to soothe the mother's 
 anxiety, or the result of an unskilful diagnosis, 
 the melancholy fact was that the poor young 
 man was already marked out as a victim of 
 consumption. 
 
 The preparations for removing to Belgium were 
 going on. It was settled that Mr. Trollope was 
 
 <
 
 202 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 to cross to Ostend on the [8th of April, and his 
 wife, with Henry and her daughters, were to follow 
 on the succeeding Saturday. A letter announcing 
 these arrangements to Tom, betrays no suspicion 
 of what was imminent at Harrow ; but within a 
 few hours of Trollopc's departure from his house, 
 an execution was put into it at the suit of Lord 
 Northwick. 
 
 This episode has been described in the auto- 
 biography of Anthony Trollopc ; but one or two 
 circumstances not mentioned (and, indeed, doubt- 
 less not known) by him, fall within my province 
 to narrate. One of these circumstances is that 
 Mrs. Trollope bought back, out of her own money, 
 many indispensable articles of household furniture, 
 at the appraiser's valuation. Another is highly 
 characteristic of her unselfishness and courage. 
 Her son Tom was, as has been stated, reading for 
 his degree at Oxford, and in a somewhat despondent 
 state of mind about it. She refrained from telling 
 him the particulars of the distressing scenes she 
 had undergone at Harrow, until he had success- 
 fully passed the ordeal. She writes to him on the 
 ioth of May :— 
 
 "That you should think you had reason to complain 
 of me is most natural. And yet when you know why 1
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 203 
 
 have not written to you, I feel certain you will feel the 
 value of my silence. Your father had not left the house 
 five hours before it was filled with bailiffs who seized on 
 everything it contained, at the suit of Lord Northwick. 
 We were ourselves of course obliged to quit the premises, 
 and but for the affectionate friendship of the Grants, 
 should have been without a shelter to cover us. At this 
 moment you were in all the agony of your examination. 
 Where would have been your power of mind, had I com- 
 municated our dreadful situation ? It was then I wrote 
 the letter which you justly call vague. Was I wrong? 
 
 "Meanwhile I settled everything for going abroad. 
 My trunks were packed and sent on board the steam- 
 boat, when Mr. H. told me that he considered the 
 coast of Ostend, or even its neighbourhood, would be 
 fatal for Henry. I will not say a word of the agony 
 this occasioned. I instantly sent off Hervieu and 
 Anthony to get the things back, and wrote to Fanny 
 Bent to tell her that I would bring down Henry to 
 Devonshire. I did this at great expense, for he was 
 obliged to sleep on the road. But I have left him better 
 and safe under her most kind care in Dawlish. On 
 Saturday next I go to Ostend with Emily. I must send 
 Fanny Bent money to pay Henry's expenses at Dawlish. 
 And whether we shall have enough to find us bread till 
 the June rents come in, I am very doubtful." 
 
 From Cecilia's letters at this time, it is evident 
 that the general feeling in Harrow was strongly 
 against Lord Northwick's action, and in favour of 
 the Trollopes'. Not to speak of Colonel and Mrs.
 
 204 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 Grant, Lady Mil man offered to receive cither, or 
 both, the girls at Tinner for as long as they chose 
 to stay ; other neighbouring acquaintances, who 
 were much less intimate with the family, came 
 forward in a similar spirit ; and even the Vicar, 
 Mr. Cunningham, paid a long visit to Mrs. Trollope, 
 and invited her daughters to his house. 
 
 Another gleam of comfort amid her troubles was 
 that the publication by Mr. Murray of her book-, 
 "Belgium and Western Germany," was finally 
 arranged. Henry Milton undertook to correct the 
 proof-sheets for his sister, she herself having 
 scarcely an hour at her own disposal before quitting 
 England. She had to see Lord Northwick and 
 other persons, and to attend to a mass of business 
 connected with their departure from Harrow. 
 
 In answer to some inquiries from her son at 
 Oxford as to what arrangements had been made, 
 especially respecting the farm, she writes — 
 
 "Nothing, surely, of equal importance was ever left 
 in such a manner (unless it were the bazaar at Cincinnati). 
 I have done, and will do, all I can to set things in order. 
 But I must see, and talk to you before you can have an 
 idea of how everything has been left." 
 
 Of personal complaint, there is no word beyond 
 this—
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 205 
 
 " Cecilia and Anthony crossed to Ostend last week. 
 I remained here with Emily to see Lord Northwick, 
 Rowe the constable who has the warrant, and many 
 other persons. And in truth I was not sorry after my 
 fatiguing and anxious journey into Devonshire, to remain 
 quietly here" [she was then in Colonel Grant's house 
 at Harrow] " for a few days, before I begin the harrass 
 and fatigue of preparing a new home with such little 
 means of making it comfortable." 
 
 All the family (with the exception of Tom, who, 
 on leaving the university, had found an engage- 
 ment to read with a pupil in London for a few 
 weeks) were soon settled in a house a short distance 
 outside Bruges, called the Chateau d'Hondt. Mrs. 
 Trollope writes early in July to her eldest son, ask- 
 ing him to bring her, when he comes, a ream of 
 writing paper, and a supply of pens. 
 
 " The day before yesterday I opened my MS. again 
 for the first time since Friday iSth April, — on which 
 day we turned our backs for ever upon Julian Hill, and 
 I now feel sufficiently inclined to work upon it. But I 
 am shocked and surprised to discover my great want of 
 tools. My paper has almost entirely dwindled away for 
 the letters of the family, and I find not more than half a 
 dozen little pens in my box." 
 
 The manuscript alluded to, was that of the 
 novel published in the following year by Richard 
 Bentley, under the title of " Tremordyn Cliff." It
 
 206 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 was one of her most successful novels, although 
 completed under circumstances of extraordinary 
 pain and difficult)'. 
 
 Henry was thought to have greatly benefited 
 by his stay at Dawlish, and, by his own desire, 
 joined his family at the Chateau d'Hondt towards 
 the middle of July. Among the little facts which 
 help one's imagination to reconstruct the daily life 
 of a past generation, I may mention that one of 
 the commissions which Mrs. Trollopc gives her 
 son, is to bring her "six pounds of wax ends" 
 those she can buy in Bruges being wretchcdly 
 bad and very dear. He is on no account to buy 
 spermaceti. These wax ends were, no doubt, the 
 remains of candles partially consumed in wealthy 
 mansions, club-houses, and so forth. A supply of 
 old brown Windsor soap is also demanded. 
 
 Tom is desired to call personally on Mr. Murray 
 in Albemarle Street, and to consult him as to the 
 best method of conveying a copy of her book on 
 Belgium and Western Germany to the Landgravine 
 of Hcsse-Homburg. A copy is to be sent also to 
 Dr. and Mrs. Pertz in Hanover. "As to the rest 
 of my friends," writes Mrs. Trollope, " I hope they 
 will cither buy or hire ! " 
 
 It had been at first intended that Tom should
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 207 
 
 accompany his brother Henry to Ostend — chiefly 
 that the invalid might have his care and atten- 
 tion on the voyage. But the pupil could not be 
 neglected, and Henry therefore went over alone. 
 .When his brother saw him in London on his way 
 from Devonshire to the Continent, he was shocked 
 at the change in his appearance, and thought him 
 looking "desperately ill." He seems from this time 
 to have entertained no hope of Henry's ultimate 
 recovery, and records in his diary, his fear that 
 " owing to his youth and strength, Henry's struggle 
 with the dread disease may be long and painful." 
 
 Henry, like his brothers, had a remarkably 
 powerful and muscular frame. 
 
 After his arrival at Bruges, there seems to have 
 been one of those deceitful rallies so common in 
 cases of consumption. The mother, hoping against 
 hope, began soon afterwards to revolve in her 
 mind a scheme for sending him to the West Indies. 
 She thus writes of it to her eldest son : — 
 
 " I want you to give all your attention to a plan 
 wherein lies nearly all my hope for his recovery. We 
 have heard the most extraordinary accounts of the 
 recovery of desperate cases, by a voyage to the West 
 Indies. And my heart — as well as his own, poor 
 fellow, — is now fixed on his going with you to Jamaica. 
 Bishop Lipscomb will, I am sure, receive you with all
 
 208 ./ MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 kindness. . . . The means for this must come from 
 Murray. His letter tells me that half the impression is 
 sold, and that as soon as the whole is disposed of, he 
 will let me draw on him. My hopes and fears for this, 
 make me sick at heart. Yet I do, and will trust that 
 1 shall not be doomed to see this precious hope pass 
 away from me." 
 
 Tom, at his mother's behest, made inquiries at 
 the docks about the cost of a passage to Jamaica, 
 and also to Madeira. The fare to Jamaica was 
 stated to be forty-six pounds, and that to Madeira 
 thirty or thirty-five pounds ; the average length of 
 passage to the latter place being twenty days. He 
 writes a melancholy little note in his diary to the 
 effect that he fears this must be quite beyond his 
 mother's means. 
 
 The scheme was, however, abandoned on other 
 grounds. On the 29th of July Mrs. Trollopc 
 writes — 
 
 "After many consultations, and collecting the best 
 information I can get on the subject, we are led to 
 think that sailing about from port to port in the Mediter- 
 ranean, and passing the winter months on its shores, 
 would be better for Henry than the West Indies. And 
 he himself greatly prefers the idea of it. Let me know 
 what your feelings are respecting accompanying him. . . . 
 I thought that you might have seen some notices in the 
 papers about the book " [Belgium and Western Germany].
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRAXCES TROLLOPE. 209 
 
 " Now that I believe Henry's only hope of life hangs on 
 the change of climate, you may guess with what anxiety 
 I look for every indication that may give me a hope of 
 finding the means of giving it him. . . . My mind is in 
 no good state for composition, but I do my best. Henry 
 is, I think, a little better. His cough is not so bad as I 
 had expected ; but his weakness is very great." 
 
 During this summer a tragedy by Miss Mitford, 
 entitled C/iar/es the First, was performed at the 
 Victoria Theatre, with Mr. Abbott as the King. 
 T. A. Trollope, having a ticket given to him, went 
 to see it. Of the play he merely says that he 
 " did not much like it ; " but of the acting, he 
 declares it was execrable. He called on Miss 
 Mitford and her father, who were then in town, 
 and "talked about the tragedy." Miss Mitford 
 on this occasion strongly advised him to pay a 
 visit to his grandfather's widow, Mrs. Milton, at 
 Reading. She probably thought that, in the family 
 circumstances, the visit might be politic. Tom 
 was kindly received, and pressed to return ; but 
 there is no record of any substantial assistance 
 being received from Mrs. Milton. 
 
 Mrs. Trollope's life at the Chateau d'Hondt at 
 this period was one of continued strain and stress. 
 She says that scarcely any one would believe how 
 little time she has for writing, since she cannot refuse 
 
 vol. 1. 14
 
 210 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 to give the greater portion of licr day to Henry ; 
 and yet she must get on a little with the novel 
 ("Trcmordyn Cliff"), or all hopes from that source 
 would have to be laid aside, at the very season 
 in which such help will be wanted for her son's 
 winter abroad. 
 
 "I wait to hear from you that something near ^"ioo 
 is due from Murray, and when I know this, I will write 
 to him stating the simple fact, and asking his permission 
 to draw for that sum. . . . Learn if possible how the 
 sale goes on. It is dreadful to think that dear Henry's 
 life may perhaps depend upon it ! " 
 
 Later, in the middle of August, the Mediterranean 
 tour was given up altogether, on the advice of a 
 Belgian physician mentioned in the letters only 
 by an initial. In all probability this gentleman's 
 medical knowledge led him to foresee that the end 
 must come in a few months, and he therefore dis- 
 suaded Mrs. Trollopc from sending her boy abroad 
 to die. She says — 
 
 " I need not dwell upon the feelings produced by Dr. 
 B.'s letter. Yet I feel that he is right. Henry bears the 
 disappointment better than I could have expected, — but 
 yet it is one." 
 
 Poor Henry was anything but a gentle and 
 patient invalid. The irritability of his temper
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 211 
 
 became almost unendurable except by the all- 
 enduring mother. She passed nearly all his waking 
 hours with him : writing at her novel when he 
 would let her be at peace to do so, and talking or 
 reading to him when he desired it. Then when he 
 slept she kept herself awake by the use of strong 
 coffee (as has been chronicled by her sons T. 
 Adolphus and Anthony), and wrote nearly all 
 night. Another pang was added to her sufferings 
 by the increasing delicacy of her youngest child 
 Emily. And Mrs. Trollope had to accomplish the 
 difficult task of keeping the brother and sister as 
 much apart as possible, without letting either 
 suspect the reason. Above all things she desired 
 to conceal from Henry the extreme gravity of his 
 condition. It would, as she said, do no good to 
 tell him of it, and the revelation that his state was 
 hopeless would have given rise to agonizing scenes. 
 Hopeless, indeed, the young man's state was. 
 And yet until within a month or two of the end 
 his poor mother experienced fluctuations of feeling, 
 during which she coitld not accept the despairing 
 truth. 
 
 " There are still moments," she writes, " when I think 
 it possible he may recover. But my fears predominate. 
 My life is too sad, and the calls upon me too incessant, 
 
 .
 
 212 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 to let mc write much. But I must submit to this. There 
 is no help for it." 
 
 If success in her calling, and the applause of the 
 world, could have made Frances Trollope happy, 
 there was no lack of either at this time. Literary 
 success, indeed, gave her some comfort ; but only 
 as ensuring due tendance, skill, and, to sonic- 
 degree, luxuries, for those she loved. 
 
 About the end of August, John Murray, junior, 
 surprised her by a visit to the Chateau d'Hondt. 
 He had good-naturedly brought with him a copy 
 of the Quarterly Review, containing a very favour- 
 able notice of her " Belgium." Mrs. Trollope says 
 that the criticism particularly pleased her because, 
 being written without any political allusions, its 
 praise could not, she thought, be attributed to 
 party bias. 
 
 Leopold, King of the Belgians, and his consort 
 visited Ostcnd about this time, and informed Mr. 
 Fauche, the British Consul, that they had read Mrs. 
 Trollope's book " with great pleasure." The King 
 further intimated that if Mrs. Trollope came to 
 Ostend he should be happy to receive her. 
 
 To the latter gracious intimation which reached 
 her through a Belgian gentleman named Stcinmctx, 
 and through the Fauchcs, Mrs. Trollope with, as
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 213 
 
 it seems to me, equal dignity and prudence, replied 
 that should such a flattering desire be conveyed to 
 her officially, she would hasten to obey his Majesty's 
 commands ; but that, otherwise, she had no present 
 intention of leaving her home for Ostend. Her 
 position with respect to their Belgian majesties 
 was a somewhat delicate one ; for although there 
 are not a great many pages on the subject of 
 politics in the Belgian portion of her book, yet 
 when the subject is mentioned, she, with her usual 
 uncompromising honesty, allows it to be seen that 
 she has no sympathy with the revolution which 
 separated Holland from Belgium and placed Prince 
 Leopold of Saxe-Coburg on the throne of the 
 latter country. 
 
 To the prince's personal qualities, however, she 
 paid a warm tribute. 
 
 As to the pleasure with which the King and 
 Queen have read her book, she takes the statement 
 with her accustomed sober sense wherever her own 
 praises are concerned, and writes to her son — 
 
 " I have reason to know that King Leopold had been 
 told that my book was a violent and vituperative attack 
 on him and his government ! So when he read it for 
 himself, he was naturally pleased at rinding it so much 
 better than he had expected ! "
 
 214 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP/:. 
 
 Here, as in so many another passage of her 
 literary life, one cannot but be struck by the 
 intemperance of the accusations brought against her. 
 Her critics seem to get into such a violent passion 
 when they find fault with her views and opinions ! 
 One is reminded a little of Sir Anthony Absolute 
 in a foaming fury, exhorting his son to follow his 
 example and " keep cool." The fact is, that Mrs. 
 Trollope's printed statements are usually character- 
 ized by considerable sobriety of diction. She is 
 seldom rhetorical, not often enthusiastic, in her 
 phraseology. To talk of " violence " and " vitu- 
 peration," in connection with her book on Belgium, 
 is literally absurd. King Leopold adopted a course 
 which seems to have been by no means the universal 
 practice of her critics, and read what she had 
 written before pronouncing a judgment on it. 
 
 This is a good plan if you wish to know what an 
 author has really said ; but it is sometimes open 
 to the objection of chilling the ardour of your 
 attack. 
 
 Cecilia writes to her brother of the " Royal 
 civilities " which seem to have impressed the society 
 at Ostcnd and at Bruges. She also explains the 
 origin of an absurd report that was current in both 
 places — that " an American captain " had met
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 215 
 
 Mrs. Trollope on the public promenade at Ostend 
 and had insulted her ! The sole foundation for the 
 story was, that Mr. B., a local banker, had men- 
 tioned in the hearing of a person who understood 
 but little English, that an American captain then 
 visiting Ostend wished to see Mrs. Trollope, and 
 had inquired if she were likely to appear on the 
 promenade, and desired to have her pointed out to 
 him. The expression of this very innocent and 
 natural curiosity was distorted by the listener into 
 a threat of insults dire, and the American gentle- 
 man was maligned — but certainly not by Frances 
 Trollope. 
 
 Mrs. Trollope recurs again to the subject of 
 John Murray's visit, and says " he took coffee 
 with us, and gave us a delightful quantity of 
 literary gossip, all fresh from the mint." He also 
 spoke confidently of a second edition of her book 
 on Belgium. 
 
 At the beginning of September, Mrs. Trollope 
 rather suddenly resolved on a brief visit to Lon- 
 don. This was undertaken solely on Henry's 
 account, and by his desire. He expressed a wish 
 to consult a leading London physician. But there 
 was also a restless craving for change of scene, 
 which belongs to his disease. The means to
 
 2i6 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 undertake the journey were furnished in the follow- 
 ing manner. 
 
 Mrs. Trollope's dear friend, Lady Dyer, had 
 lent her, a few months previously, a sum of money 
 which was now to be repaid. But on hearing that 
 the sum was about to be paid in to the hands of 
 her London banker, Lady Dyer wrote, earnestly 
 begging that the discharge of the debt should be 
 postponed until money matters were easier with. 
 her friend. 
 
 The kind and generous offer was accepted. As 
 soon as Henry heard of it, he was wild to have the 
 money employed on a journey to London. His 
 mother, writing to Tom to procure a lodging for 
 her, for Henry, and for Emily, is almost apolo- 
 getic as to this expenditure. And, indeed, the 
 measure could not be defended on economical 
 grounds. But the poor mother touchingly pleads 
 that "Anything which relieved the tedium of the 
 poor fellow's lingering complaint, would be a 
 blessing." 
 
 On the 8th of September she arrived in Lon- 
 don with her son and youngest daughter, and took 
 up her abode in a lodging in Northumberland 
 Street, Marylebone.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 217 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 "Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more, 
 Children not thine have trod my nursery floor ; 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 Short-lived possession ! But the record fair 
 That memory keeps of all thy kindness there, 
 Still outlives many a storm." 
 
 Cowper, Lines on his Mother's Picture. 
 
 AMONG all sorts and conditions of men there are 
 few homes to which the presence of a beneficent 
 physician has not brought some lightening of care, 
 some comfort to the mind as well as to the body. 
 In our own country it would be difficult to find 
 a household that has not some tale to tell of 
 devotion, skill, and disinterestedness among the 
 members of this noble profession. The very poor 
 have reason to bless the charitable doctor ; but 
 blessings — not loud, but deep — are perhaps still 
 more often invoked upon him by the not very 
 poor : those to whom the payment of a large fee 
 is a sore strain, yet whose place in the world 
 makes it imperative that the strain should be 
 encountered.
 
 2l8 ./ MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 The physician to whom Mrs. Trollopc was 
 recommended to apply for an opinion on her son 
 Henry's case, was a Dr. Harrison, of whom I 
 know no more than that he was a doctor of repute 
 in London sixty odd years ago, and a friend of 
 the Misses Skerrctt. This gentleman paid several 
 visits, and made a long and patient examination 
 of Henry. He also examined Emily ; and brought 
 with him on one occasion a brother practitioner 
 of high standing, in order that Mrs. Trollope 
 might have the benefit of a second opinion. The 
 second opinion coincided only too perfectly with 
 the first ; and both shut the door on all hope as 
 to Henry. They pronounced also that Emily was 
 in a precarious state. Dr. Harrison, in spite of 
 reiterated attempts to induce him to accept some 
 payment, absolutely declined to take any fee. 
 
 In the afternoon after his first visit, Mrs. Trol- 
 lopc and her eldest son took a long walk round 
 the Regent's Park ; and then the poor mother 
 told Tom that the verdict on his brother was 
 "no hope." Dr. Harrison had wisely and kindly 
 told the mother the truth. But from poor Henry 
 the truth had still to be concealed ; and the task 
 of concealment — which fell, of course, chiefly upon 
 her — was a long agony. But with regard to
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 219 
 
 Emily she still clung to hope ; and for all her 
 children she still kept a brave, bright front, and 
 made life as cheerful to them as was possible in 
 her circumstances. 
 
 During this visit to England she saw Mr. Mur- 
 ray, who paid a considerable sum of money for 
 the Belgian book. A second edition of it was 
 published this autumn. 
 
 Although the London season was over, and the 
 London " world " mostly out of town, yet Mrs. 
 Trollope saw a few of her old friends. She dined 
 quietly with Sir William and Lady Milman, and 
 one or two others. At this time also, T. A. 
 Trollope met at dinner at his Uncle Milman's 
 house in Fulham, a personage in whom all the 
 family had taken some interest, but whom none 
 of them had hitherto met. This was the Rev. 
 Isaac Fidler, who had written a work on America. 
 It concerned, I believe, chiefly the statistics of 
 labour and employment. But in the course of 
 it he tells the following anecdote (N.B. — I have 
 not his work before me, and quote from a letter 
 addressed to Mrs. Trollope) : — 
 
 " One day, conversing with some American gentlemen 
 about the ' Domestic Manners,' one of them asserted 
 that it was a tissue of illiberal falsehoods. Mr. Fidler
 
 220 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP . 
 
 thereupon desired them to get the book, and said that 
 if they found one statement illiberal or false, he would 
 do penance for his countrywoman, and eat her book. 
 The work was procured, and — he doubted not — care- 
 fully read through. But the following morning on his 
 enquiring the result of their search, they desired that 
 no further mention might be made of Mrs. Trollo; 
 name ! " 
 
 T. A. Trollope reports in his diary that he 
 thought the reverend gentleman rather a heavy- 
 sort of man, but that he was said to be a profound 
 scholar, and especially learned in Sanscrit. 
 
 On the 26th of September, Mrs. Trollope, with 
 Henry and Emily, returned to Belgium. Her 
 eldest son accompanied them to the Tower wharf, 
 and saw them on board the Ostend boat. At the 
 end of the entry in his diary he writes : " Poor 
 Henry ! Have I seen him for the last time ? " It 
 proved to be indeed the last time. 
 
 After her return to the Chateau d'Hondt, Mrs. 
 Trollope suffered from an acute attack of rheuma- 
 tism in the shoulders, and was very ill. She 
 mentions the fact merely that her son may com- 
 municate it to Mrs. Grant and other friends as an 
 excuse for her having failed to answer their letters. 
 " My shoulders are in such very severe pain that I 
 can hardly guide my pen," she says. Nevertheless,.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 221 
 
 the pen was compelled, by indomitable energy, 
 to do its daily allotted stage of work for the 
 press. 
 
 Mr. Milton, at this time, sent a pressing invita- 
 tion to his niece Cecilia to pay a long visit to his 
 house at Fulham. His motive was, to remove her 
 from the neighbourhood of Henry's sick-room. 
 Mrs. Trollope thankfully accepted the offer. Much 
 as she knew she should miss her daughter, she 
 rejoiced to place her " in safety," as she says. 
 
 Cecilia arrived duly ; and on the 16th of October, 
 her brother Tom returning from Fulham where he 
 had dined, witnessed the conflagration that de- 
 stroyed the Houses of Parliament. He describes 
 in his diary how he perceived in the heavens the 
 reflection of a large fire ; how he left the Fulham 
 coach in Piccadilly, ran down to the Park, and 
 learned that the Houses of Parliament were on 
 fire ; how he made his way with great difficulty 
 through the crowd to Westminster Bridge, and 
 with still greater difficulty managed to mount to 
 the top of the parapet, where, holding on by one of 
 the lamp irons, he had a complete view of the 
 splendid and terrible spectacle. 
 
 He notes another circumstance, which I give, for 
 the sake of a humble little historic parallel : " I
 
 222 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 heard many persons expressing exultation at the 
 fire." 
 
 A year, or perhaps somewhat less than a year, 
 ago, — at any rate in the course of Anno Domini 
 1894, — a friend of mine was going over Westminster 
 Abbey, in company with many other persons. 
 His attention was attracted by the conversation of 
 two men in the garb of decent artisans, whose 
 whole interest in the building appeared to consist 
 in anticipations of its destruction. Before every 
 noble historic monument, especially before the 
 monuments of Kings, powers, and principalities, 
 they cheered each other with previsions of how 
 " all that " would be done away with, razed to the 
 ground, scattered into dust, in the good time 
 coming when Revolution and Socialism should have 
 triumphed. No doubt they conceived themselves 
 to be quite in the van of progress — among the 
 pioneers of the newest and most " up-to-date " 
 ideas, to use the graceful phrase in vogue. And 
 yet just sixty years previous, among the mob that 
 witnessed the great fire of 1S34, there were many 
 individuals holding precisely the same views. 
 
 The fact is, that the number of those qui ante nos 
 .nostra dixcrunt, is oppressively great in all depart- 
 ments of human affairs. And the worst of it is,
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 223 
 
 they refuse to perish ! They crop up with mortify- 
 ing liveliness in unexpected places, and unhand- 
 somely rob us of our claims to originality. 
 
 From Bruges up to almost the end of the year 
 the accounts are of Henry's steadily increasing 
 illness, and of his mother's steadily increasing 
 difficulty in working at her novel. And yet, as she 
 writes, the inevitable expenses of her son's pro- 
 tracted malady, and the growing certainty (arising 
 from failures in the payment of London rents, cost 
 of repairs, and other causes) that the bulk of what 
 income they could rely on must come from her 
 earnings, were a constant spur to labour. A few 
 extracts from her letters will give a vivid picture 
 of her life at this time. The first extract is dated 
 27th of October. 
 
 " The more I feel pressed by the want of money, the 
 more I fret over the ever-recurring impediments to my 
 getting on with ' Tremordyn Cliff.' But indeed I do my 
 best, — not to put the impediments aside, for that would 
 be impossible, or, at any rate, what I ought not to do — 
 but I try to get on in spite of them. I have taken to sit 
 up, under the awakening influence of coffee, for about 
 three hours every other night. If I can keep this up it 
 will greatly help me. Henry is very uncertain in his 
 hours. Sometimes he lies in bed very late, and then I 
 scribble away ; but when he gets up, it is over for the 
 day. . . . Emily is very little with him. She comes up
 
 2:4 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 for half an hour after he has taken his tea, and stays 
 while I read aloud two chapters in the Bible. This was 
 his request. I place her on the side of the fire next me, 
 and at a good distance from his place . 
 
 " He now lives entirely upstairs, in the room that was 
 the girls'. I sit alone with him fro m four o'clock — his 
 dinner hour — till nine. This makes a long, long evening. 
 For some time I did not even go downstairs to tea ; but 
 now I do, which is a great relief, though it lasts but for 
 a few minutes. . . . You will wonder to hear that he has 
 taken to carpentering, and has bought various tools. It 
 is astonishing to see the steadiness and firmness with 
 which he hammers. I think, on the whole, he has 
 suffered less of late." 
 
 It is all very pathetic ! 
 
 But then there did come a piece of good fortune, 
 which Mrs. Trollope, and indeed all the family, 
 /welcomed with hearty satisfaction. This was An- 
 ' thony's appointment at the Post- Office. At first 
 sight it might seem that this small clerkship was 
 no such great boon to a young man born in his 
 state of life, and brought up — in his earlier years, 
 at all events — with much higher prospects. But 
 it was a settled position, with a certain salary, and 
 a reasonable prospect of promotion. And nothing 
 is more noticeable, and, I will add, more honour- 
 able, throughout the chronicles of the family, than 
 the simple way in which all honest employment is
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 2:5 
 
 accepted by each and all of them. If it be true 
 that " bon sang ne peut mentir," I think we must 
 admit that it is never more respectably mani- 
 fested than in the disdain of small gentilities, and 
 the freedom from that envious dread of subjection 
 which afflicts a certain class of mind. 
 
 None of the family could then foresee that not 
 only would Anthony highly distinguish himself 
 in his new calling, but that the wide experience 
 of many phases and classes of English life gained 
 in pursuing it, would furnish food for his literary 
 faculty, and enable him to draw so many types 
 of genuine native character — the Lily Dales and 
 Mrs. Proudies, the Archdeacon Grantleys and 
 Johnny Eameses — that have delighted the reading 
 world. 
 
 This Post- Office appointment was obtained 
 through Mrs. Trollope's old friends the Freelings. 
 Sir Francis Freeling was at this time Secretary 
 to the Post-Office, and his daughter-in-law, Mrs. 
 Clayton Freeling, was a dear friend of Mrs. Trol- 
 lope's. T. A. Trollope enters in his diary on the 
 28th of October:— 
 
 " I got a letter from Mr. Freeling to-day, containing 
 an offer to Anthony of a place in the Post Office, and 
 desiring to see me upon it." 
 
 vol. 1. 15
 
 226 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 The next day he went to Mr. Frceling "at the 
 Excise," and was informed that letters on the 
 subject had been sent to Anthony (who was then 
 at Brussels with the Rev. William Drury) and to 
 his mother at Bruges. 
 
 Mr. Smiles, in his interesting memoir of John 
 Murray, entitled " A Publisher and his Friends," 
 has fallen into a little error on this subject. He 
 writes — 
 
 " Mr. Murray was frequently invited to obtain situa- 
 tions for young men in London. It was through his 
 influence with Sir Francis Freeling, with whom he was 
 very intimate, that Mrs. Trollope obtained for her son 
 Anthony a clerkship in the Post Office. She writes from 
 Bruges to Mr. Murray (20th January, 1835) expressing 
 her thanks to him and to the Freelings. . . . She 
 deplored the loss of her boy, but says, ' I can never 
 forget that the last weeks of his life here were rendered 
 as comfortable as they could be, by your premature 
 payment." (Vol. ii. p. 384.) 
 
 Mr. Murray may very possibly have mentioned 
 Anthony's name to Sir Francis Freeling, but, as I 
 have said, the Freelings were already old friends 
 of his family, and I find no allusion to Mr. Mur- 
 ray's intervention in any of their letters. There 
 is also an apparent confusion in the passage 
 quoted, between Mrs. Trollope's two sons. When 
 she speaks of her boy whose last weeks were made
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 227 
 
 comfortable by Mr. Murray's obliging premature 
 payment (for her book on Belgium and Western 
 Germany) she means, of course, poor Henry. 
 
 The sad drama in Bruges was nearing its end. 
 On the 2nd November she writes — 
 
 " My life is a very sad one, but I keep up as well as 
 I can. And I write too, — though I scarcely know how 
 I can do it." 
 
 Alluding to Anthony's appointment, she says : 
 " I am happier in receiving this news than I 
 thought anything just now could make me." 
 Again later — 
 
 "What a blessing are the dear Grants to you ! How 
 I rejoice at the comfort it must be to you to go there as 
 you do ! Indeed we have no cause to complain of our 
 friends; for our sorrows have drawn them nearer, and 
 not sent them away from us." 
 
 Her brother Henry Milton has expressed him- 
 self delighted at Anthony's appointment; mentions 
 that he himself began (as a clerk in the War Office) 
 with ninety pounds a year, and sends congratu- 
 lations to "his brother clerk." 
 
 Early in December Mrs. Trollope writes — 
 
 " This is my night for writing, — not letters, but novel ; 
 so do not wonder at my scrawling with more rapidity 
 than precision. Tell my dear, dear friend at Harrow " 
 [Mrs. Grant], "whose kindness to you binds me to her
 
 228 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 for ever, that I will write to her next week. But tell 
 her also that in spite of everything I go on with my 
 book, which makes the indulgence of scribbling even to 
 her, a thing that must be taken only now and then ; — 
 though, Heaven knows, I love her better than all my 
 heroines. . . . Poor Henry grows daily more exigeant 
 as to my time. It is so hard to refuse him in his sad 
 state when he wishes to have me with him. But I do 
 get on, though not so fast as I wish. And I do take 
 care of myself, dear Tom ; — all the more because my 
 children wish it. My working nights are far from dis- 
 agreeable, and I sleep the night after, like a top. . . . 
 I have great hopes that my dear kind cousin Fanny 
 Bent will come to me. Think what a comfort this 
 would be ! Emily is getting well fast, and if we were 
 less sad in our circumstances would, I feel sure, be quite 
 herself again. Henry is very bad. Poor dear, dear 
 fellow ! It is heartbreaking to watch him. God bless 
 you, my beloved son. Write to me often. It is such 
 a comfort." 
 
 Then on the 23rd of December comes the end. 
 She writes on this date : — 
 
 " It is over. My poor Henry breathed his last about 
 nine o'clock this morning. I wish Cecilia to return to 
 us immediately, and I would wish you to bring her over. 
 After all I have suffered— and it has been very much 
 — I need the comfort of your presence. Make as little 
 delay as possible, — and this very much for Emily's sake. 
 Nothing will do her so much good as having you both 
 here. The doctor here declares her well, but delicate
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 229 
 
 and nervous. ... If it were possible for you to go 
 down to Dover on Friday night, and (if the weather 
 were perfectly good) to sail for Ostend on Saturday, I 
 should be very thankful. We want the comfort of seeing 
 you and Cecilia, dearest Tom. We have suffered greatly. 
 Give our most affectionate love to dear, dear Anthony. 
 Tell him I will write to him in a day or two, but cannot 
 do it now. God bless you."
 
 >3o A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 "J'aime qu'un Russc soit Russe, 
 Et qu'un Anglais soit Anglais. 
 Si l'on est Prussien en Prusse, 
 En France soyons Francais. 
 * * * * 
 
 Mes amis, mes amis, 
 Soyons de notre pays ! " 
 
 B^RANGER. 
 
 The wonderful elasticity of spirit — the power of 
 recovering from the oppression of sorrow — which 
 Mrs. Trollope possessed, has been dwelt upon by 
 both her sons. But this power was incalculably 
 stimulated by the thought of those who, humanly 
 speaking, depended on her for the happiness and 
 prosperity of their future lives. 
 
 To her, as to many another mourner, it would 
 doubtless have been soothing to give way for a 
 time to grief; to brood over the memory of her 
 lost son, and to ease the aching of her heart by 
 unrestrained tears. But there were others to be 
 thought of. There was her husband, whose health 
 was rapidly failing ; there was Emily, delicate
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 231 
 
 and fragile, and already showing unmistakable 
 symptoms of the terrible disease which had car- 
 ried off her brother ; there was her elder daughter 
 Cecilia ; and there were her two dearly loved 
 boys. She must be up and doing. 
 
 The success of her travels in Belgium and 
 Western Germany no doubt suggested to her the 
 idea of writing " Paris and the Parisians." The 
 plan must have been in her mind even before 
 Henry's death. 
 
 About the middle of February, 1835, she went 
 to London, and writes thence early in the follow- 
 ing March, announcing that she has agreed with 
 Mr. Bentley for a work on Paris, in two volumes. 
 It is to be completed and in the printer's hands by 
 October. 
 
 During Mrs. Trollope's absence in London on 
 this business, her husband, with Tom and Cecilia, 
 remained at the Chateau d'Hondt. I find the 
 following strange circumstance recorded in her 
 son's diary at this time : — 
 
 " Saturday, February 21st. 
 " It was a very fine sunny morning, and I walked to 
 the Grande Place and amused myself by strolling among 
 the market folks. I saw a respectable looking man on 
 horseback carrying a large tricoloured flag, attended by 
 two men beating drums, selling bills to the people (of
 
 2^2 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 which I bought one) purporting to be a letter from 
 young Napoleon" [the Duke of Reichstadt] "to Louis 
 Philippe. He was declaring to the people that this 
 prince had risen from the dead.* I heard afterwards 
 that it has caused a good deal of speculation as to the 
 probable result in the town." 
 
 The result in the town appears to have been 
 a no more important one than to make the 
 market folks stare, to delight the boy popula- 
 tion, to furnish subject-matter for talk to the 
 wiseacres in many a cabaret, and, last not least, 
 to give " the respectable looking man on horse- 
 back " a plentiful harvest of sous by the sale of his 
 bills. But the whole scene smacks rather of the 
 fifteenth century and Perkin Warbeck, than of the 
 enlightened epoch Anno Domini 1835. 
 
 In the same diary is noted, on the 31st of 
 March, " My mother returned this evening, to the 
 great joy of all concerned." 
 
 Mrs. Trollope was in the midst of preparations 
 for her departure for Paris, when a letter came to 
 her eldest son offering him the position of assist- 
 ant master at King Edward's Grammar School in 
 
 * This handbill is in my possession. It is printed botli in Flemish 
 and French. It is an appeal to Louis Philippe to allow the (sot - 
 c/isatif) writer to give his services as a soldier to France. The poor 
 boy died in 1832 ; and the handbill is said to be "licensed l° r 
 distribution in I'aris" in 1834.— F. E. T.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 233 
 
 Birmingham. It was decided in family conclave 
 that this should be accepted, and that Tom 
 should start forthwith for Birmingham. With 
 his usual promptitude he set off by the earliest 
 possible conveyance from Bruges next day. 
 
 The whole story of the repeated postponements 
 of his election, and of his final appointment, has 
 been fully told in "What I Remember." I will 
 therefore merely give, as briefly as possible, one 
 or two facts necessary for explaining the position 
 to readers unacquainted with those memoirs. 
 
 After numerous delays and disappointments, it 
 was decided that the formal nomination of an 
 assistant master should not be made until the new 
 school buildings in New Street, then in course of 
 erection, should be completed. And, in fact, T. A. 
 Trollope was not finally appointed until the early 
 part of the year 1837. 
 
 At Birmingham, on his first visit, with which we 
 are now concerned, he was very kindly received 
 by the Rev. Dr. Jeune, then Head Master of 
 the Grammar School, and subsequently Head of 
 Pembroke College, Oxford, and Bishop of Peter- 
 borough ; and to him and his charming wife, T. A. 
 Trollope was indebted for constant friendliness 
 during the whole period he spent in Birmingham.
 
 234 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 It has been already set down in these pages how, 
 towards the close of his life, he had the satisfac- 
 tion of once more meeting his old friend Mrs. 
 Jeune, and of being her guest in Oxford. For 
 years he had been accustomed to speak of her as 
 one of the most delightful women he had known, 
 and one of the handsomest. Youth and its 
 attractions had long passed away when he met 
 her in 1891 ; but not so the charm of culture, 
 intellect, and gracious dignity, which made her 
 still one of the most delightful of women. 
 
 In the April of this year, 1S35, Mrs. Trollope 
 lost one of her oldest and most intimate friends, 
 Captain Kater. Tom, being in London on his 
 way back to Belgium after the hurried rush to 
 Birmingham, spent an April afternoon with Captain 
 Kater and thought him then better, and in better 
 spirits than he had been for some time past. (He 
 had been suffering from hypochondria.) But two 
 days afterwards he received a note from Miss 
 Henrietta Skerrctt, telling him that Captain 
 Kater had died suddenly from a stroke of 
 apoplexy. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Trollope, with their daughters and 
 
 isieur Ilcrvieu, who was to illustrate her book, 
 
 had meanwhile established themselves in Paris in
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 235 
 
 an apartment at No. 6, Rue de Provence. Their 
 dear friend Mrs. Garnett was living in Paris, much 
 to the Trollopes' satisfaction. 
 
 This period, the early part of King Louis 
 Philippe's reign, was undoubtedly a very interest- 
 ing one in which to visit Paris. But there was 
 a seething fermentation still going on throughout 
 the whole social body, that made it extraordinarily 
 difficult to obtain any view of the state of public 
 feeling which should be at once wide and distinct ; 
 or to form any trustworthy generalization from so 
 many conflicting opinions. As to the former, it 
 may be granted that the difficulty was not special 
 to that place or that period. What is called public 
 feeling is everywhere a very Protean appearance, 
 capable of almost infinite variety ; and may be 
 quoted, like Scripture, in support of the most 
 heterogeneous doctrines. All that a passing 
 traveller could do — and the task was no light 
 one — was diligently to collect, and faithfully to 
 record, the facts he had the opportunity of 
 witnessing. 
 
 The skill with which Mrs. Trollope has com-\ ' 
 bined her materials into an amusing whole, and 
 the vividness with which she paints her pictures of 
 Paris and Parisian life under the Citizen-King,
 
 230 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 arc very striking. I think that in this work she 
 shows herself more mistress of her craft than in 
 any of her preceding ones. I do not mean that 
 she shows herself to be a cleverer woman ; but that 
 all traces of the " prentice han' " have vanished, 
 and that there is a steady command of her 
 materials, only to be attained by diligence and 
 experience. 
 
 Seven years had elapsed since Mrs. Trollopc 
 had last been in Paris — seven years which had had 
 crowded into them many startling political changes, 
 besides the inevitable changes due to growth and 
 decay, common to all living bodies, material and 
 social. When she had last seen the Tuileries, 
 the banner that floated above it bore the fleurs de 
 lis. Since then had come the flight of Charles X., 
 the Revolution of '30, and the accession of Louis 
 Philippe as King of the French. France had not 
 yet by any means recovered tranquillity after the 
 storms that had shaken her for nearly half a 
 century. The gigantic convulsion of the Great 
 French Revolution, the strain of the Napoleonic 
 wars, the restoration of the Bourbons at the point 
 of foreign bayonets, had left all men's minds 
 disturbed, anxious, and uneasy, to whatever 
 political party they might belong.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 237 
 
 Young France was Republican ; Old France 
 was Legitimist ; Middle-aged France was — at any 
 rate as to the great majority — desirous of support- 
 ing the government of Louis Philippe, in so far as 
 it seemed to promise the stability of law and 
 order. A French gentleman who belonged, by 
 birth and family traditions, to the ancien regime, 
 said to Mrs. Trollope, " Let him who has seized 
 the helm keep it. If he be an able steersman, he 
 will bring us into smooth water, and it is no longer 
 time for us to ask how he got his commission." 
 The Young France party, although it had real 
 enthusiasm — ay, and real genius — among its mem- 
 bers, was prone to manifest its opinions in public 
 by the symbolism of preposterous attire and 
 ferocity of beard — whenever, that is, their " having 
 in beard," as Rosalind says, chanced to be more 
 than "a younger brother's revenue." But, indeed, 
 more than one party was recognized by the shape 
 and size of its hat ! As for the Sovereign People, 
 one of the most remarkable of their newly acquired 
 rights, appeared to be the privilege of presenting 
 themselves dirty instead of clean, before the eyes of 
 the public. In former days no one, for instance, was 
 allowed to enter the Tuileries Gardens except in 
 decent attire. All that was required was that they
 
 23S A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 should be clad in neat garments, such as they were 
 always in the habit of wearing on Sundays and 
 holidays. Such days were, one would suppose, the 
 only times when an industrious man or woman of 
 the blouse, or apron-wearing class, would be likely 
 to have either leisure or inclination to stroll in a 
 public garden. And, in fact, no doubt it was so. 
 The gentry who claimed the proud privilege of 
 appearing as dirty and ragged as they chose in the 
 garden of the King's palace, were for the most part 
 loafers. 
 
 Mrs. Trollope had access to a great many 
 Parisian salons professing a great many different 
 shades of opinion, and to one or two whose glory 
 it was to welcome all shades of opinion. 
 
 Some of her conversational experiences were 
 very amusing. Of one lady holding advanced 
 Republican theories, she writes — 
 
 " I really never saw or heard of any fanaticism equal 
 to that with which this lady worships destruction ! 
 Whatever is, is wrong, appears to be the rule by which 
 her judgment is guided in all things." 
 
 Another lady — young and rather pretty, — after 
 some obliging assurances of the pleasure she felt 
 in making the acquaintance of Madame Trollope, 
 poured forth a flood of eloquence intended to
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 239 
 
 convert her from her erroneous monarchical prin- 
 ciples, assuring her that nothing so cramped the 
 mind, and that a constant succession of political 
 changes kept the faculties of a nation on the qui 
 vive, and, " abstractedly considered as a mental 
 operation, must be incalculably more beneficial 
 than the half-dormant state which ensues after 
 long continuance in one position, let it be what it 
 may." 
 
 This is a striking and, to me, novel view of the 
 matter. I presume that the mental cramp arising 
 from having continued to believe from generation 
 to generation that two and two make four, has 
 rendered most of us incapable of even trying to 
 conceive them as amounting to five. 
 
 One hostess is famous for her soirees antithe- 
 tiques, where the guests are chiefly remarkable for 
 being in all things opposed to one another. This 
 seems, as Mrs. Trollope observes, a singular device 
 for arranging a sociable party. Nevertheless, she 
 adds that Madame H.'s soirees are very delightful 
 soirees for all that. In another salon the lions are 
 all musical celebrities, and " roar you as gently as 
 any sucking " — nightingale. Yet another lady pre- 
 fers to collect foreigners of the philosophical- 
 revolutionary class, and so forth.
 
 240 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 On one occasion Mrs. Trollopc dined in company 
 with a literary colleague — a Parisian gentleman 
 who had just returned from visiting England, — 
 and was placed next him at table. The gentleman 
 had made but a flying visit to London, and had 
 no colloquial knowledge of our language ; never- 
 theless, he deemed himself an authority as to our 
 insular habits and customs, and was accepted as 
 such by many of his countrymen. 
 
 He opened the conversation with Mrs. Trollope 
 by saying, " You do not, I think, use table-napkins 
 in England. Do you not find them rather embar- 
 rassing ? " His next remark was, "I observed 
 during my stay in England that it was not the 
 custom to eat soup. I hope, however, that you do 
 not find it disagreeable to your palate." 
 
 "Did you dine much in private society?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Oh no; I did not. My time was too con- 
 stantly occupied to permit of my doing so." 
 
 " Oh, well, we have some good hotels in 
 London." 
 
 " I did very well ; for I never permitted myself 
 to venture anywhere for the purpose of dining, 
 except to your celebrated Leicester Square. It is 
 the most fashionable part of London, I believe, or
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 241 
 
 at least the only fashionable restaurants are to be 
 found there." 
 
 Mrs. Trollope ventured to hint that there were 
 other parts of London which enjoyed a better 
 reputation in this respect than Leicester Square. 
 But her observation was not well received ; and 
 she heard the traveller say in a half-whisper to his 
 neighbour on the other side of him, who had been 
 attentively listening to their conversation, "Pas 
 exacted 
 
 How comically this reminds us of some reported 
 utterances of a recent — and incomparably more 
 distinguished — French visitor to our metropolis ! 
 One wonders if any English man of letters could 
 be found who would venture to pronounce authori- 
 tatively as to French cookery and table etiquette, 
 on the strength of having dined daily for a 
 fortnight at a Restaurant Duval ? 
 
 But these little absurdities and extravagances 
 did not so occupy Mrs. Trollope's attention, as 
 to make her inappreciative of the brilliant con- 
 versation and easy gaiety which distinguished 
 Parisian society in general. She entertained a 
 very high admiration for Frenchwomen, whose 
 domestic virtues, as well as their social graces, 
 she staunchly upheld. She observes, with equal 
 
 vol. 1. 16
 
 2+2 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 justice and shrewdness, that the universal respect 
 accorded to them in their own /tomes, by sons, 
 brothers, fathers, and husbands, must be founded 
 on esteem, and could not long continue without 
 it. This household deference is, of course, a very 
 different thing from the mere complimentary 
 homage of gallantry, which, as we all know, may 
 co-exist with a very contemptuous estimate of 
 womanhood. 
 
 I note here, because I think it a striking illus- 
 tration of the character and intellect which I 
 am endeavouring to portray, that Mrs. Trollope 
 expresses in this work an enthusiastic admira- 
 tion for George Sand's literary genius. It is 
 striking, because nothing could be more opposed 
 . to Frances Trollope's principles and prejudices, 
 tthan the principles and prejudices of George 
 Sand. Her politics, her ethics, and her religion 
 were all alike abhorrent to the Englishwoman. 
 Nevertheless, that docs not prevent the latter 
 from personally admiring and openly extolling 
 the exquisite style, the wonderful power of de- 
 scription, and the poetic imagination of the great 
 Frenchwoman. 
 
 I am tempted to transcribe a short passage 
 from a chapter wholly devoted to George Sand,
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 243 
 
 because it appears to me an admirable bit of 
 appreciative criticism ; and although written by 
 a foreigner, it would, I believe, be endorsed by 
 all French men of letters : — 
 
 " I will give you a few lines from a little story called 
 'Mattea' just to show you how she can treat a theme 
 worn threadbare before she was born. Is there, in 
 truth, any picture much less new than that of a gondola 
 with a guitar in it, gliding along the canals of Venice ? 
 But see what she makes of it. 
 
 " ' La guitare est un instrument qui n'a son existence 
 veritable qu'a Venise, la ville silencieuse et sonore. 
 Quand une gondole rase ce fleuve d'encre phospho- 
 rescente, ou chaque coup de rame enfonce un eclair, 
 tandis qu'une grele de petites notes legeres, nettes, et 
 folatres, bondit, et rebondit sur les cordes que parcourt 
 une main invisible, on voudrait arreter et saisir cette 
 melodie faible mais distincte, qui agace l'oreille des 
 passants, et qui fuit le long des grandes ombres des 
 palais, comme pour appeler les belles aux fenetres, et 
 passer en leur disant — Ce n'est pas pour vous la 
 serenade ; et vous ne saurez ni d'ou elle vient, ni ou 
 elle va ! ' 
 
 "Could Rousseau himself have chosen apter words? 
 Do they not seem an echo to the sound she describes? " 
 
 Of George Sand's private life Mrs. Trollope 
 professes to know very little ; and she justly says 
 that " the private history of an author ought never
 
 zu A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 to mix itself with a judgment of his works." But 
 she concludes the above-mentioned chapter thus: — 
 
 " Who is there but would wish that the great and 
 good qualities of this gifted woman (for she must have 
 both) should break forth from whatever cloud sorrow 
 or misfortune may have thrown over her, and that 
 the rest of her days may pass in the tranquil develop- 
 ment of her extraordinary talents, and in such a display 
 of them to the public, as shall leave its admiration 
 unmixed?" 
 
 Her many visits to Madame Recamier at the 
 Abbaye-aux-Bois have been dwelt on at some 
 length not only by Mrs. Trollope herself, but in the 
 " Reminiscences " of her eldest son. Miss Clarke 
 —afterwards Madame Mohl, who also lived in 
 the Abbaye-aux-Bois — was also often visited, and 
 the evenings at her house thoroughly enjoyed. 
 The chief attraction in Madame Recamier's salon 
 was Madame Recamier herself, the fascination 
 of whose grace and beauty — she was still beauti- 
 ful even in 1835 ! — was enhanced by unaffected 
 sweetness and genuine kindliness. Her great 
 "lion" was M. de Chateaubriand. He was 
 then writing his " Memoircs d'Outre-Tombe," and 
 the privilege of hearing a chapter of this work 
 read aloud in Madame Recamier's salon was
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 245 
 
 eagerly coveted by all literary Paris, and by a 
 great part of Paris that was not literary. Mrs. 
 Trollope and her daughters were among the 
 favoured guests on one such occasion, when the 
 reader was no less a person than M. Ampere, 
 while the Vicomte de Chateaubriand sat by, 
 the cynosure of all eyes ! 
 
 The rapid spread of Paris, even within the space 
 of seven years, attracted Mrs. Trollope's attention. 
 She remarks on the number of handsome dwellings 
 springing up in the north-western division of Paris ; 
 and it is curious to find her saying that this new 
 world of houses reminds her of the early days of 
 Russell Square and all the region about it ! 
 
 "The Church of the Madeleine, instead of being, as I 
 formerly remember it, nearly at the extremity of Paris, 
 has now a new city behind it. And if things go on at 
 the same rate at which they seem to be advancing at 
 present, we shall see it — or at least our children will — 
 occupying as central a position as St. Martins-in-the- 
 Fields." 
 
 Among her most delightful reminiscences of 
 Paris in former days, was the acting of Mdlle. 
 Mars ; and she confesses that she felt a little 
 trepidation in taking her children to see the great 
 actress whom she had often praised to them enthu- 
 siastically, lest the changes which seven years
 
 246 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 had made should disappoint their expectations. 
 However, Tartuffe was announced at the Theatre 
 Francais, and Mrs. Trollopc seized the opportunity 
 of once more seeing Mdlle. Mars as " Elmire," and 
 once more finding herself before the curtain which 
 she had so often seen rise on Talma, Duchcnois, 
 and Mars. 
 
 The house was crowded in every part ; quite as 
 crowded as she had ever seen it at the performances 
 of the same actress fifteen years before, when she 
 first remarked the extraordinary power of attraction 
 in a woman even then long past the first bloom of 
 beauty ! 
 
 And Mars ? Mars was still Mars — unrivalled in 
 grace, charm, and artistic perfection. Mrs. Trollopc 
 writes of this extraordinary artist : — 
 
 " That the ear should be gratified, and the feelings 
 awakened, by the skilful intonations of a voice, the 
 sweetest perhaps ever bestowed on mortal, is quite 
 intelligible ; but that the eye should follow with such 
 unwearied delight every look and movement of a woman, 
 not only old, — for that does sometimes happen at Paris, — 
 but known to be so, from one end of Europe to the 
 other, is certainly a singular phenomenon. ... How 
 delicious would be Moliere's pleasure could he behold 
 the creature of his own fancy thus exquisitely alive before 
 him, and could he mark, moreover, the thrill that 
 makes itself felt along the closely packed rows of the
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 247 
 
 parterre, when his wit, conveyed by this charming con- 
 ductor, runs round the house like the touch of electricity ! 
 Do you think the best smile of Louis le Grand could be 
 worth this ? " 
 
 Mrs. Trollope was convinced that Mdlle. Mars 
 could read Corneille and Racine as effectively as 
 Mrs. Siddons read Shakespeare. And the follow- 
 ing passage may interest my readers, as showing 
 that the dramatic genius of our great Sarah was 
 not solely of that stilted, monotonous-majestic 
 sort, that some of us moderns imagine. 
 
 " I well remember coming home from one of Mrs. 
 Siddons's readings with a passionate desire to see her 
 act the part of ' Hamlet ; ' and from another, quite per- 
 suaded that the witch-scenes in Macbeth should be so 
 arranged that she should speak every word of them ! " 
 
 Mrs. Trollope's letters during this year are not 
 numerous. Her son was with her during great 
 part of the time ; and as to other correspondents, 
 she excused herself from writing to them frequently 
 from Paris, on the ground that she had little time 
 for letters until the business she had come to do 
 should be accomplished. 
 
 She was indefatigable in making herself ac- 
 quainted with all that could be interesting to the 
 English reader, so far as this was possible. And
 
 
 \/ 
 
 24S A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 besides the daily sight-seeing, she was very much 
 welcomed in society. 
 
 To conclude the subject of her book on Paris 
 and the Parisians, I may state now that it was 
 attacked by a portion of the press with great 
 rancour, but — the "but" may have its encourage- 
 ments for the intending author — but it was highly 
 successful ! The publisher was satisfied ; the 
 work was widely read, sold well, and reached a 
 second edition. 
 
 Anthony Trollope, in a letter to his brother, 
 written in January, 1836, says — 
 
 " Mamma will, I feel confident, have a second 
 thousand of the Paris." [This proved to be correct.] 
 " No work of hers was ever abused so much — or sold so 
 fast — or praised in the periodicals so little, — especially 
 by her own party." 
 
 Abused, in truth, she was, to an • extravagant 
 degree. One reviewer goes so far as to accuse her, 
 in good set terms, of being bribed by the Govern- 
 ment of Louis Philippe to praise it, contrary to 
 her real convictions ! This particular " half brick " 
 is certainly a very jagged missile, notwithstanding 
 the implied compliment to her powers, as a writer 
 whose pen a great monarch and his ministers 
 deemed it worth while to win over by bribery and 
 corruption !
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 249 
 
 This wanton and, in fact, libellous accusation, 
 stung her for a moment into hot indignation. 
 And, indeed, one cannot but think that there is 
 ample scope for disparagement at the command of 
 the anonymous critic, without his descending to 
 calumny. One's grammar, one's brains, one's 
 breeding, one's lack of taste, one's incorrigible 
 prejudice and invincible stupidity, are all fair 
 game, and may be torn to tatters without eliciting 
 a protest. He who prints a book takes his risk of 
 all that, and must bear it, if it comes, without 
 whining. But the attack in question was such as, 
 I am persuaded, no periodical of equal standing 
 would now print. 
 
 Mrs. Trollope wrote a spirited defence of her- 
 self, which was intended to be prefixed to the 
 second edition of her book on Paris. The manu- 
 script of it is in my possession. To the best of 
 my belief, it never appeared in print. She yielded, 
 no doubt, to prudent counsels on the subject. 
 And yet I cannot, for my own part, profess 
 myself convinced that discretion in such cases 
 is always the better part of valour. It is this kind 
 of prudence on which the bully confidently reckons. 
 And to shake that confidence must surely con- 
 tribute to decency of tone in literary discussion.
 
 -So A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 Mrs. Trollopc states, in a letter to her son, 
 that she has never received so many compliments 
 from private friends, on any of her books as 
 on this. Sir Francis Freeling writes to her son 
 Anthony that he considers the ability and tact 
 shown in treating a very difficult subject, to be 
 quite surprising. Mrs. Milton considers it her 
 best book. On the other hand, she gives a list 
 of powerful journals that have been, as she bluntly 
 phrases it, " very abusive " (and from the specimen 
 above recorded, we may believe that the phrase 
 is not too strong !), and she winds up her letter 
 characteristically thus : " But what is much more 
 to the purpose than this, the book sells well."
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 251 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " There is a reaper whose name is Death, 
 And, with his sickle keen, 
 He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, 
 And the flowers that grow between." 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 On the 23rd of October, 1835, Frances Trollope's 
 husband died at the Chateau d'Hondt, near 
 Bruges, after a long and gradual decay of health. 
 
 He had been, as has been stated, in Paris 
 during the spring and early summer, and had 
 consulted more than one physician of high repute 
 there. But his constitution, originally of ex- 
 ceptional strength, had been completely under- 
 mined by the use of calomel. One of his Parisian 
 doctors declared that he should have taken him 
 of be nearly twenty years older than his real age, 
 which was sixty-two. Both his sons have written 
 of him with a deep sense of the sadness of his 
 latter years, and of the pathos of a life marked 
 by persistent failure, despite many good gifts of 
 nature and fortune.
 
 252 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 His wife had for some time been the sole bread- 
 winner of the family. As his widow she still 
 had a strong stimulus to exertion, in the desire 
 to improve the position and prospects of her 
 sons, and to provide for her daughters. 
 
 Thomas Anthony Trollope was laid to rest in 
 the cemetery outside the gate of St. Catherine 
 at Bruges, near the grave of his son Henry. A 
 tombstone was erected to his memory, the in- 
 scription on which was written by his eldest son. 
 
 During the months that intervened between 
 the conclusion of her stay in Paris and the 
 death of her husband, Mrs. Trollope had been 
 working on a novel, subsequently published by 
 Mr. Richard Bentley in the spring of 1836, under 
 the title of "Jonathan Jefferson Whitlaw." Mr. 
 Bentley had at first suggested a volume of 
 detached sketches, to be called " Scenes on the 
 Mississipi," the idea of which originated in the in- 
 spection of a portfolio of Hervieu's drawings made 
 in America. But he soon agreed with Mrs. Trollope 
 that a continuous story would be preferable. 
 
 The book went through more than one edition, 
 and must rank among her most successful novels. 
 > It is, however, a painful, although undoubtedly 
 powerful, story. 

 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 253 
 
 Its tone and aim may be at once understood 
 by the dedication prefixed to it — 
 
 " To those States of the American Union in which 
 slavery has been abolished, or never permitted, these 
 volumes are respectfully dedicated." 
 
 
 The novel is a very strongly coloured and 
 
 dreadful picture of the evils of slavery. More 
 
 strongly coloured and more dreadful than the 
 
 picture drawn many years later by the American 
 
 author of "Uncle Tom's Cabin," and " Dred," 
 
 it, of course, is not. But it is doubtless less ,/ 
 
 accurate in many of its details of negro life. Both 
 
 books have incurred the charge of exaggeration 
 
 and even of misrepresentation. Such charges 
 
 were inevitable from the very nature of the 
 
 work. Books written for the purpose of exposing 
 
 the evils of any existing institution, deal chiefly, 
 
 and avowedly, with those evils. There may be 
 
 flowers and wholesome herbs growing side by 
 
 side with the poisonous weeds, but those are 
 
 not the author's business. The man who writes 
 
 a medical treatise on some deadly disease, knows 
 
 perfectly well that there are thousands of healthy 
 
 human bodies free from it ; but his task is not 
 
 to describe healthy bodies. Whether this method,
 
 254 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP K. 
 
 however rational in treating of medical science, 
 is desirable in a work of art, is another matter. 
 
 It must, I think, have been in Mrs. Trollope's 
 mind very shortly after her husband's death to 
 leave Belgium and return to England, although 
 no plan of the kind had been openly canvassed. 
 She intended, before settling herself in a new 
 home, to make a journey to Italy, and even 
 possibly to spend the winter in Rome, partly 
 with the hope that the southern climate might 
 benefit Emily, who was drooping more and more. 
 But this project was abandoned. Mrs. Trollope 
 had gone to England after her husband's death to 
 arrange many matters of business, and had taken 
 Emily with her, Tom and Cecilia remaining at the 
 Chateau d'Hondt. Dr. Harrison, after a careful 
 examination of Emily, reported that her chest 
 was very delicate, that she required the greatest 
 care, and that it would be safer for her to remain 
 in England until the spring. 
 
 "After this opinion," writes Mrs. Trollope, "I can, 
 of course, have no farther thoughts of Italy for the 
 present. I have therefore determined on immediately 
 looking out for a house near London. I much wish I 
 could come to help you in getting through all the 
 business you will have to perform previous to biddi 
 .1 final adieu to Belgium, but this is quite impossible.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 2 
 
 OJ 
 
 She has by no means recovered the cold and fatigue of 
 her journey hither. . . . She is very weak, and eats 
 hardly anything. I am miserably anxious, but struggle 
 to keep up my spirits, as I must set to work again 
 directly. 
 
 And a few days later — 
 
 " My fears are all directed to one point, — the health 
 of my dear Emily. If she is very ill, I much misdoubt 
 my power of writing. Yet in any case I shall remember, 
 dear Tom, that you have claims on me as well as my 
 dear girl in her sick chamber ; and I will earnestly try to 
 do my duty to both." 
 
 She finally decided on taking a house at Hadley, 
 but could not have possession of it until January. 
 Meanwhile, she lived in lodgings in London. On 
 the 30th of November she writes — 
 
 "I am very very greatly alarmed about my Emily. 
 She has lost strength rapidly, she eats nothing, her cough 
 is decidedly worse than it has ever been. My anxiety 
 is dreadful, — and the more so because I dare not show 
 it. But this is a theme I must not dwell on — for all our 
 sakes." 
 
 Mrs. Trollope was anxious to keep her elder 
 daughter apart from the invalid, and it was a 
 difficult task. The two girls were tenderly attached 
 to each other, and it was of course desirable to 
 conceal from Emily the risk which her sister
 
 \ 
 
 256 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 would incur by being near her. An invitation 
 to Cecilia to visit the elder Lady Milman at 
 Pinner, was therefore at once accepted. Lady 
 Milman was very fond of Cecilia, and put forth 
 the plea that she felt herself to be growing very 
 old and feeble, and wished to have her dear young 
 friend with her once more before her death. 
 
 Mrs. Trollopc and her maid, Mrs. Cox, were 
 left therefore to nurse the sick girl. Emily's sweet 
 temper and unselfishness to some extent lightened 
 her mother's hard task at this time. She was 
 never irritable, never exacting about engrossing 
 her mother's society, as Henry had been. She 
 fully recognized the necessity of certain hours of 
 seclusion, if literary work were to be done at all. 
 
 Besides " Jonathan Jefferson Whitlaw," which, 
 it had been stipulated, was to appear in April, 
 Mrs. Trollope had made an agreement with Mr. 
 Bentley for another novel. This she had at first 
 intended to call "The Unco' Guid." But its title 
 was changed to "The Vicar of Wrcxhill." The 
 subject had long been in her mind. Her very 
 intimate friend, Henrietta Skerrett, had years 
 before furnished her with many facts which Mrs. 
 Trollopc at once perceived could be effectively 
 worked into fiction — of course on the condition
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 257 
 
 of their being modified, as facts need to be before 
 they are acceptable in any work of art. Even the 
 most fanatical "realist" is compelled to select his 
 facts — if not by reason of their quality, yet at any 
 rate from the sheer unmanageableness of their 
 quantity ! And this selection is, in itself, a process 
 of modification. 
 
 " The Vicar of Wrexhill " is, perhaps, the best 
 known of all Frances Trollope's novels, and pro- 
 duced a marked sensation when it first appeared 
 in 1837. 
 
 In the " Life of George Eliot," written by 
 her husband, is the following extract from her 
 journal : — 
 
 "March 24th, 1859. Mr. Herbert Spencer brought 
 us word that 'Adam Bede' had been quoted by Mr. 
 Charles Buxton in the House of Commons. As the 
 farmer's wife says in ' Adam Bede,' ' It wants to be 
 hatched over again, and hatched different.' " 
 
 The incident is recorded with natural gratification. 
 A similar sort of compliment was paid to Frances , 
 Trollope, and by a political opponent. She says 
 in a letter to her son : "lam pleased at Sydney 
 Smith's quoting the • Vicar of Wrexhill ' in his 
 letter to Lord John." And in a subsequent letter, 
 vol. 1. 17
 
 2 5 8 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 evidently replying to some question on the subjeel . 
 she writes — 
 
 "Peter Plymley quoted me in his letter to Lord John 
 Russell; and respecting some clause in the Church Bill, 
 after abusing it considerably, added, by way of climax, 
 ' This is a clause worthy the Vicar of Wrexhill himself! ' " 
 
 The book excited a good deal of animosity, 
 y J as was natural. One absurd point was the 
 persistence with which a certain clergyman of 
 the Low Church party, insisted on considering 
 himself to be the original of the Reverend 
 William Jacob Cartwright, Vicar of Wrexhill. 
 Like the politicans of whom Gay sings — 
 
 "If you mention vice or bribe, 
 'Tis so pat to all the tribe, 
 Each cries ' That was levelled at me ! ' " 
 
 this reverend gentleman appeared quite eager 
 to lay claim to all the unpleasant traits of the 
 Vicar ! But the character was, of course, not 
 a portrait of any one individual. That it was 
 widely recognized as the type of a class, is un- 
 doubted. Neither partisans nor opponents would 
 have entered into hot controversy about the 
 mere exaggerated picture of a creature as unreal 
 as the Giant Blundcrbore. 
 
 Mrs. Trollope entered on her occupancy of
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 259 
 
 the house at Haclley, in January, 1836; and on 
 the 1 2th of the following February, her youngest 
 child Emily died there within a month of com- " 
 pleting her eighteenth year. She had survived 
 her brother Henry little over a year, and her 
 father not quite four months. 
 
 Anthony conveyed the news to his brother, 
 who was still at Bruges, in the following letter : — 
 
 "My dear Tom, 
 
 " It is all over ! Poor Emily breathed her last 
 this morning. She died without any pain, and without 
 a struggle. Her little strength had been gradually 
 declining, and her breath left her without the slightest 
 convulsion, or making any change in her features or 
 face. Were it not for the ashy colour, I should think 
 she was sleeping. I never saw anything more beau- 
 tifully placid and composed. ... It is much better that 
 it is now, than that her life should have been prolonged 
 only to undergo the agonies which Henry suffered. 
 Cecilia was at Pinner when it happened, and she has 
 not heard of it yet. I shall go for her to-morrow. You 
 went to the same house to fetch her when Henry died." 
 
 The poor mother adds a word : 
 
 " I cannot let the news of my Emily's death reach 
 you, dearest Tom, without a line from me. You know 
 in part how dear she was, and you will pity me, — and 
 her poor solitary sister too. God bless you ! " 
 
 The death of Emily was a deep grief to her
 
 
 260 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 mother. She was the youngest child, the pet 
 of all the family, and a creature of a most bright 
 and loving nature. Her eldest brother retained 
 a tender memory of her to the end of his life, 
 and was fond of recalling her delight in natural 
 beauty, and especially in the beauty of the skies. 
 When quite a little child, she would call the 
 others to gaze with her at the cloud-scenery, and 
 wonder why all people did not enjoy it more. 
 
 Of Mrs. Trollope's three remaining children, 
 her two sons survived her ; and thirteen years 
 elapsed after Emily's death, without making 
 another gap in the diminished family circle. 
 Early in the summer, Cecilia, who doubtless 
 needed change of air and scene, went on a visit 
 to her mother's old and valued friends the 
 Garnetts, at St. Germains, near Paris. 
 
 In July, 1836, Mrs. Trollope started to make the 
 journey described in her book entitled " Vienna 
 and the Austrians." It is rightly so entitled, 
 although the tour included parts of Swabia, 
 Bavaria, Tyrol, and the Salz Kammcrgut ; for 
 Vienna is her principal subject, and the majority 
 of her pages are devoted to it. The party 
 consisted of Mrs. Trollope, her son Tom, a friend 
 of his who had been an undergraduate with him
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 261 
 
 at Oxford, Monsieur Hervieu, Mrs. Cox, the lady's 
 maid, and Cecilia, whom they picked up in Paris. 
 They started — all but Cecilia — from Anthony's 
 lodgings in London, where they had all assembled 
 between six and seven o'clock on the evening 
 of the 2 1st of July, and proceeded by the night 
 mail-coach to Dover. They reached Dover at 
 five o'clock the next morning, and crossed the 
 Channel in a steamboat, the passage occupying 
 somewhat less than three hours. 
 
 Many incidents of their journey before they 
 reached Vienna, recorded in private letters and 
 diaries, are omitted in the printed book, because 
 they were experiences then common to most 
 travellers. But the lapse of close upon sixty 
 years has given to some of them the interest 
 pertaining to a vanished time. It seems strange, 
 for instance, to read — 
 
 "We stepped on board the vessel from the quay at 
 Dover, and congratulated ourselves on escaping the 
 extortionate demands of the Dover boatmen, — thereby 
 shouting before we were out of the wood : for we were 
 obliged to take a boat at Calais, where the rogues made 
 us pay four and a half francs each, for rowing us a 
 hundred yards." 
 
 The journey by diligence from Calais to Paris, 
 occupied thirty-seven hours. They had incredible
 
 262 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 trouble in getting their passport duly signed, 
 sealed, stamped, vised, or whatever was neces- 
 sary, before leaving Paris again for Germany, 
 being obliged to go to four different places in 
 different parts of Paris, and to each of them twice 
 over ! 
 
 During the few days that Mrs. Trollope re- 
 mained in Paris, she received the visit of her 
 old friend General Pepe, and that must have been, 
 I think, the last time they met. The fetes to 
 commemorate the (then) last French Revolution — 
 so called of The Three Days — were just about 
 to take place, and among the preparations going 
 on for their celebration, was the opening of the 
 Arc de Triomphe at the Barriere de l'Etoilc, to 
 public inspection for the first time. It had hitherto 
 been surrounded by scaffolding which almost 
 completely concealed it. " All Paris" was talking 
 in those days of King Louis Philippe's refusal 
 to attend the annual review during the fetes of 
 this year, Mrs. Trollope says that the King's 
 decision caused much speculation, some surprise, 
 and a little disappointment; "but the peaceable 
 part of the public evidently approves the caution 
 which has decided that the chief magistrate shall 
 not go forth to be shot at."
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 263 
 
 In an early page of " Vienna and the Austrians," 
 its authoress, on leaving what was then French 
 territory for Germany, writes: "The Rhine is so 
 noble and natural a frontier, that it is a pity it 
 should ever be violated." And her son, thirty-five 
 years later, marked the passage with a pencilled 
 line, and the date " 1871." 
 
 I may mention here what Mrs. Trollope has, 
 naturally, omitted in her book, that not only were 
 such men as Dannecker, the great sculptor, and 
 Professor Schwab perfectly acquainted with her 
 literary reputation, but the landlord of a modest 
 hostelry at Stuttgart, where the two young men 
 had installed themselves, knew her name at once, 
 wanted to give the whole party his best rooms at 
 the lowest price, and insisted on treating T. A. 
 Trollope and his friend with some superlatively 
 fine old wine from his private cellar ! Some years 
 previous, Henry Trollope, on a walking tour in a 
 wild part of Devonshire, being caught in a violent 
 storm, was not only sheltered, but hospitably 
 entertained, and pressed to remain for two or three 
 days in a country house, solely on the strength of 
 his mother's literary reputation. Many writers — 
 to paraphrase Goldsmith — " may flourish, but must 
 fade." Frances Trollope at all events did flourish ;
 
 264 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 and I know no instance of an author who has 
 withstood the intoxication of popular success with 
 more quiet strength of mind than hers. 
 
 The visit to Dannecker in his studio at Stuttgart, 
 has been described in "Vienna and the Austrians," 
 as well as in " What I Remember." Monsieur 
 Hervicu obtained permission from the fine old 
 artist to sketch his portrait as he stood looking up 
 at his own colossal bust of Schiller ; and it is one 
 of the illustrations to Mrs. Trollope's book. The 
 original drawing is before me. To his autograph 
 written beneath it, Dannecker has added in pencil 
 the words " ccrit sans lunettes." He was then 
 seventy-six years old. 
 
 The journey Vienna-wards was pursued by way 
 of Tubingen, Ulm, Augsburg, etc., to the Tyrol 
 and Salzburg ; thence to Munich and Ratisbon. 
 At Reichenhalle, T. A. Trollope mentions in his 
 journal that he was gravely written down by an 
 official at the town gate, as " Mr. Passport and 
 family " ! They were in the huge travelling carriage 
 of a LohnkutscJier, and the driver paused, as in duty 
 bound, on passing the gate. 
 
 "A man in uniform came out with a book under his 
 arm. ' Passport ? ' said I, meaning to enquire if that were 
 what he wanted. Whereupon he immediately booked
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 265 
 
 me in his big register as Mr. P. ! I did not undeceive 
 him. Our coachman, who perceived the mistake, laughed 
 heartily, and drove on." 
 
 Mrs. Trollope's remarkable vigour of body, as 
 well as of mind, was strikingly manifested through- 
 out this journey. She was then fifty-seven years 
 old, yet she walked a great deal along steep and 
 fatiguing paths ; wherever a view was to be gained, 
 a historical building to be examined, or a bit of 
 choice scenery inaccessible on wheels to be ex- 
 plored, she was ready to climb and scramble with 
 the youngest of the party. And she endured very 
 considerable privations and discomforts on the 
 voyage down the Danube from Ratisbon to Vienna. 
 
 The vessel in which this voyage was performed 
 was little better than a raft, with a narrow, sloping- 
 roofed shelter in the midst of it, dignified by the 
 name of cabin, the whole constructed of rough 
 boards ! They were put ashore to sleep every 
 night, usually at some miserable riverside village, 
 where bed and board were coarse, poor, and in 
 many instances dirty. They were a week in 
 reaching Vienna by this means, and during several 
 days of the week, had heavy rain added to their 
 other discomforts. 
 
 Yet Mrs. Trollope endured them all staunchly
 
 266 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 — staunchly, not stoically. She neither was nor 
 affected to be serenely indifferent under this sort 
 of trial. Great sorrows — as she proved — she was 
 able to bear with greatness of spirit. But the 
 temperament which made her so intensely appre- 
 ciative of the good things of life, rendered her 
 also susceptible to physical discomfort. But the 
 moment the discomfort was past, she dismissed it 
 from her mind. The moment the sun showed 
 himself from behind a cloud, she would wring out 
 her dripping cloak and begin to enjoy the land- 
 scape. And even in the midst of some of the 
 worst annoyances, a touch of humour could brighten 
 her mood as instantaneously as the ray of sun- 
 shine. This cheering element was frequently 
 supplied by Mrs. Cox, who, after the fashion of 
 her kind, v/as far more intolerant of the rough side 
 of things than the rest of the party, and who, 
 moreover, occasionally added imaginary horrors 
 to the miseries of their night's lodging. 
 
 Once, after having retired for the night, Cox 
 reappeared in the big, gloomy, fiiclcss chamber, 
 where they had all supped (and which also con- 
 tained the beds of Mrs. Trollope and her daughter), 
 and in a tragic voice demanded that the gentle- 
 men should accompany her to inspect a loose plank
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 267 
 
 in the flooring beneath her bed, as she had strong 
 reason for believing that it was a trap-door through 
 which the people of the house were in the habit of 
 dropping the bodies of their murdered victims into 
 the Danube. She had read more than one romantic 
 story of German robbers, lonely inns, mysterious 
 disappearance of travellers, and so forth ; and 
 here was a loose plank, which she considered 
 furnished strong presumptive evidence that these 
 customs of the country were thoroughly carried out 
 in the house in question. It was quite vain to 
 point out to her, and even to prove to demonstra- 
 tion, that if it were possible for her to insinuate her 
 person into the space covered by the loose plank, 
 she could fall no lower than the inn kitchen, which 
 was beneath her room. Cox refused to be shorn 
 of her tragic dignity, and persisted, with many 
 gloomy shakings of the head, that whenever " they " 
 did make away with folks, " they " always dropped 
 'em into the river ! 
 
 At length the raft landed its passengers for the 
 last time, at a lonely inn a mile or two from 
 Kloster Neuburg, where our party got beds ; and 
 the next night, the 16th of September, they slept 
 an comfort at a good Viennese Hotel in the 
 Leopoldstadt.
 
 263 A MEMOIR OF FRAXCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 "However one condemns the policy of Austria ... it is i 
 possible not to be struck with her liberal provision for her own 
 immediate people. The public institutions of all kinds in Vienna 
 are allowed to be the finest and most liberally endowed on the 
 Continent. Her hospitals, prisons, houses of industry, and schools, 
 are on an imperial scale of munificence. The Emperor himself is 
 a father to his subjects, and every tongue blesses him." — N. P. 
 W ii. lis, the American traveller, 1S33. 
 
 Of Mrs. Trollopc's stay in Vienna she has given 
 a very full, a very graphic, and a very amusing 
 sj account in her book. Minute comparison with 
 contemporary journals and letters, shows that the 
 account is perfectly trustworthy and accurate as to 
 all matters of fact, so far as she was able to make 
 herself acquainted with them. Her inferences from 
 the facts, both here and elsewhere, may, of course, 
 be disputed. But the honesty of her intention will 
 not, I think, be disputed by any candid observer — 
 particularly if he follows the plan of Leopold, King 
 of the Belgians, and reads her book for himself! 
 
 It would be out of the question to attempt here 
 any recapitulation of the mass of varied inform-
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 269 
 
 ation contained in Mrs. Trollope's two volumes. 
 She was received in the most exclusive salons of 
 that most aristocratic capital, and thus had 
 opportunities, not only of becoming familiar with 
 its society, but of witnessing several gorgeous court 
 spectacles, to which access would have been im- 
 possible without the intervention of powerful friends. 
 Of these spectacles the installation of eleven knights 
 of the order of the Golden Fleece was the most 
 superb, as well as the most historically interesting. 
 Among the new knights, were two Imperial Arch- 
 dukes, Prince Lichtenstein, and Prince Adolphus of 
 Schwarzenberg. This pageant was, for a stranger, 
 perhaps the most striking of all that Vienna had 
 to show ; but there were innumerable others made 
 brilliant by the dazzling jewels of the women and 
 the rich and varied uniforms of the men. The 
 costume of the Hungarian nobles particularly 
 delighted Mrs. Trollope by its extraordinarily 
 picturesque effect. 
 
 Mrs. Trollope had the advantage of being made 
 welcome also in the houses of what was called la 
 society boursiere — bankers and financiers, whom all 
 their wealth could not enable to pass the line of 
 demarcation that separated them from the blue- 
 blooded nobles boasting their sixteen quarterings.
 
 270 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 The society in many of the houses of these finan- 
 cial magnates was extremely pleasant ; and Mrs. 
 Trollope expressly mentions that, as a rule, they 
 had far better music than was to be heard in the 
 aristocratic salons. With one of these families Mrs. 
 Trollope, and still more her son, became intimate 
 in after-years at Florence. The daughter of the 
 house married the well-known Hungarian patriot, 
 politician, and savcuit, Franz Pulszky, who passed 
 many years of exile under the shadow of Brunei- 
 leschi's dome ; and her widowed mother also came 
 to reside there. 
 
 But whether the Viennese society were aristo- 
 cratic, boursiere, artistic, or learned, the keynote 
 of all alike was cordial kindness and hospitality. 
 The opera was, strangely enough, found to be 
 very disappointing. Mrs. Trollope intensely loved 
 music, and had looked forward with delight to 
 hearing Mozart and Haydn performed by Aus- 
 trians. The singing was in general very bad, 
 although the orchestra was excellent. She was 
 told that the reason why defective voices and 
 defective methods of using them were heard in 
 Vienna, was not because superior vocal artists 
 were attracted to London and Paris by higher pay, 
 but because there were at that time no superior
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 271 
 
 vocal artists, the last of the race having recently 
 expired in the person of Malibran ! But Mrs. 
 Trollope remarks that she could not forget there 
 were such throats still in existence as those of 
 Grisi, Lablache, Rubini, Tamburini, and Pasta ; 
 nor could she forget the effect produced by the 
 three first-named of these great vocalists, whom 
 she had heard singing together at a private concert 
 the evening before she quitted London. In the 
 Court chapel, however, and in one or two other 
 churches, the singing was fine ; and she immensely 
 admired the unaccompanied vocal music in the 
 Jewish synagogue. Her judgment on this point 
 was confirmed by no less an authority than that 
 of John Cramer. The veteran musician was at 
 that time living in Vienna, and he and his wife went 
 with Mrs. Trollope and her party to the synagogue. 
 Cramer was enthusiastic in his praise of the voices, 
 and of the wonderful skill with which they sustained 
 themselves and executed the most complicated 
 divisions without the support of any instrument. 
 
 In his journal, T. A. Trollope more than once 
 speaks of the meanness, inconvenience, and general 
 shabbiness of the Vienna opera house, although it 
 was constantly frequented by the Imperial family 
 and the Court. He says, " The entrance and
 
 272 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 passages are far worse, narrower, and shabbier 
 than at the Surrey or Sadler's Wells." Neither 
 did he find the Burg Theatre at all equal to those 
 of London, but the acting in it was delightful. 
 The celebrated Madame Rettich was the leading 
 female performer, and was voted by the whole 
 family the most perfect actress then on the stage 
 — always excepting Mdlle. Mars. It must be 
 remembered that Mrs. Bartley and Fanny Kemble 
 had at that time retired from the theatre. They 
 several times had the pleasure of hearing Thalberg 
 and Vieuxtemps, both already celebrated despite 
 their youth ; and the dance music of Lanncr and 
 Strauss (first of that dynasty) was then, as now, 
 unapproachable for verve and charm when played 
 by a Viennese orchestra. 
 
 Not long before Christmas, T. A. Trollope 
 received an unexpected summons to repair forth- 
 with to Birmingham. The long-deferred election 
 had at last taken place, and he had suddenly to 
 break off his pleasant sojourn in Vienna and set 
 out in the wintry weather on a journey across 
 Europe. All further imprinted records of their 
 visit to Vienna are therefore only to be gleaned 
 from the letters of his mother and sister. One 
 more extract I may perhaps venture to make from
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 273 
 
 his journal before closing it, although it concerns 
 not Austria alone. 
 
 Lord Alvanley, whose acquaintance Mrs. Trol- 
 lope had made at the British Embassy, was a 
 frequent visitor at her apartments in the HoJicn 
 Markt. T. A. Trollope writes, on the 15th 
 November, 1836: — 
 
 " Lord Alvanley called here to-day, and sate talking a 
 long time. I think him a well-informed, sensible, and 
 amusing man, with simple and good-natured manners. 
 He talked a great deal about Hungary, its increasing 
 importance, and the difficult game Austria had to play 
 with respect to it. . . . In the course of conversation, 
 he mentioned a circumstance as having come under his 
 own observation, which is worth recording. When 
 Hunt * was committed to prison it was at a time of 
 much distress, dearness of provisions, and want of work. 
 He passed through London on his way to Ilchester jail. 
 A vast number of the discontented turned out to escort 
 him, and a riot was feared. Two years afterwards, when 
 the country was in a much more prosperous state and 
 work was plentiful, Hunt was liberated, and again 
 passed through London on his way from Ilchester. A 
 few idle vagabonds hooted him as he passed. On both 
 occasions Lord Alvanley was, he said, a witness to the 
 above facts." 
 
 The winter season in Vienna was made particu- 
 larly brilliant this year by the marriage of the 
 
 * This was Henry Hunt, a well-known political agitator. 
 VOL. I. 18
 
 274 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 Archduchess Theresa with the King of Naples, 
 the same who afterwards earned in Italy the 
 nickname of King Bomba. There were Court 
 concerts, receptions, and gala festivities of all 
 kinds. Among these was conspicuous a ball given 
 by the Turkish Ambassador, Ahmed Ferik Pasha, 
 in the palace belonging to Prince Esterhazy in the 
 Mariahilf Faubourg. This entertainment delighted 
 the society by its novelty ; for this, it appears, was 
 the first occasion on which the ladies of Vienna 
 had been received by any representative of the 
 Sublime Porte. 
 
 His Mussulman Excellency must have been a 
 very good-natured personage. Cecilia Trollope 
 mentions him frequently in her letters, and evi- 
 dently thought him very " good fun." His French 
 — in which language they conversed together — 
 amused her excessively. 
 
 " He never," she writes, " uses any verbs, but he gets 
 on very well without them. He made me a very polite- 
 speech at his ball, to thank mamma and me for coming 
 so far to honour him ; and added that he feared it was 
 cold. I mentioned that there was snow on the ground, 
 when he burst out 'Nieigef Crc nom ! Neigc, mois dc 
 wars? Diablc, diable ! Pas jolt. Diabkl* Who 
 could have taught the poor man to swear so ? " 
 
 In another letter she tells this good story of
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 275 
 
 him, which, it would appear, she had from the 
 Princess Metternich herself. 
 
 " The Turk always admired the beautiful Melanie " 
 [Princess Metternich] "extremely. But the first time 
 he saw the Princess Wasa, he went up to Melanie and 
 said to her very gravely, ' Tres fache . Pas ma faute. 
 Princesse Wasa plus jo lie. Tres fache!'" 
 
 Towards the end of her stay in Vienna, Mrs. 
 Trollope had a good deal of vexation from the 
 behaviour of her maid, Cox. But, as she wrote 
 to her son, it was a vexation generally accompanied 
 by irrepressible bursts of laughter, for the Abigail 
 had become utterly absurd. 
 
 " Mrs. Cox has taken it into her head that she must 
 return to her husband directly; although according to 
 my present plan, I should bring her home some weeks 
 before the year that she (and he) agreed for, expires. 
 But her head is completely turned. You never saw 
 anything more perfectly ludicrous than the general 
 elegance of her manners since she has made the ac- 
 quaintance of a set of fine English servants here. Her 
 present conjugal devotion arises solely, I am quite sure, 
 from the fact that some of the said servants are going 
 home at the beginning of next month ; and she would 
 like to join them, thinking it would be more agreeable 
 to travel en dame than en soubrettc. She dined with a 
 party of these exquisites the other day, and told us on 
 her return that she had drunk four glasses of champagne ; 
 and that one lady who sate next her, declared she should
 
 2 ■-.. ./ MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 like to drink three bottles ! The other day while waiting 
 at the tea table, she informed us that one of the gentlemen 
 at this same party, was most uncommonly clever ; and 
 that they had all been telling him it was quite a shame 
 he did not write his travels! ! ! Do tell your friend 
 B. this. He will enjoy it." 
 
 With both Prince and Princess Mettcrnich, Mrs. 
 Trollopc came to be on what may, without exag- 
 geration, be called terms of intimacy. She says 
 a great deal about the famous statesman in her 
 book ; and her private letters are full of allusions 
 to him and to his wife, written in a tone of the 
 most cordial admiration and esteem. 
 
 The incident of the man on horseback dis- 
 tributing handbills in the market-place at Bruges, 
 illustrates the vitality at that day of the Napoleonic 
 Legend. And the following words of the Austrian 
 statesman furnish a commentary on that legend, 
 which is full of wisdom — wisdom of that practical 
 and seeming-simple sort which appears to many 
 persons a mere matter of course, after it has been 
 uttered. 
 
 "Immediately after the revolution of 1830, which 
 ended in placing Louis Philippe on the throne of France, 
 there came to Vienna a personage well-known in the 
 political world of the first French Empire, with a secret 
 mission to make certain proposals to the government of
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 277 
 
 Kaiser Franz, touching his grandson the young Duke 
 of Reichstadt. Prince Metternich entered into no pre- 
 liminary discussion, but enquired at once ' What do you 
 ask, and what do you expect, from us ? ' It was answered 
 that what the party demanded was merely permission to 
 conduct the Duke of Reichstadt to the frontier of France, 
 where his presence, and the magic name of Napoleon 
 would at once overthrow the tottering government which 
 was threatening to fall and cover la patrie with its 
 ruins, etc. 
 
 " ' And what guarantee would the Duke of Reichstadt 
 have for his future ? ' asked the Prince. 
 
 " ' The courage and affection of the whole French 
 People, who would form an invulnerable rampart around 
 him,' was the reply. 
 
 " Metternich calmly rejoined that the Kaiser would 
 never for a moment think of acceding to such a pro- 
 posal. And he added ' Moreover you entirely deceive 
 yourselves as to the issue of such an enterprise ; or, 
 rather, as to the duration of its results. To attempt 
 Bonapartism without Bonaparte, is an absolutely falla- 
 cious idea. 1 " 
 
 It will be generally admitted that the course of 
 European history has justified the Prince's dictum. 
 Bonapartism without Bonaparte has actually been 
 tried, with what results the world knows. 
 
 The more important and characteristic anecdotes 
 of Prince Metternich that Mrs. Trollope has to 
 relate, are naturally found in her book. But here 
 is an authentic little story which has never, I
 
 27S A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 believe, been printed. Mrs. Trollope writes on the 
 19th of December, 1836 : — 
 
 " I find from Baron Hammer-Purgstall * that young 
 John Murray has been in Vienna since we have been 
 here. He told me that the young man was passionately 
 desirous of getting a peep at the Prince, and begged 
 him, if possible, to manage it for him. Baron Hammer 
 told him that the Minister walked every morning about 
 that time on the Bastei, and that if Murray would come 
 at once with him, he would ascertain if the Prince were 
 gone. By a lucky chance Metternich appeared at the 
 moment; and Hammer immediately presented his youny 
 friend as an English gentleman who had greatly wished 
 to see him. The Prince chatted with him for a few 
 minutes very graciously. So well pleased was the young 
 bibliopole with this good nature in Hammer, that on his 
 return to England, he sent him out a set of Byron's 
 works. When Hammer next saw the Prince, he told 
 him that he had to thank him for a fine copy of Byron. 
 And when he explained how, Metternich said ' Fill your 
 library in the same way if you can, Hammer. I am 
 quite at your service ! ' " 
 
 On one occasion Princess Metternich, hearing 
 that Mrs. Trollope was indisposed, called on her 
 personally, and remained chatting with her a long 
 time. This was said to be a very unusual honour, 
 for Melanic Metternich had the reputation of being 
 the haughtiest woman in the empire. 
 
 * This was the famous Orientalist, punningly called Malleus 
 Asiaticorum, or the Asiatic Hammer.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 279 
 
 Some twenty odd years ago, T. A. Trollope was 
 travelling in the beautiful district near Ischl, and 
 on a lake steamboat got into conversation with a 
 very pleasing elderly lady, who, with her two 
 daughters, was making a summer tour in those 
 parts. They were Hungarians, and, like all the 
 cultured members of that nation, wonderfully 
 polyglot. They all three spoke English remark- 
 ably well. The talk fell on old times and old 
 customs in Vienna, and the lady said, " I came out 
 in society the year that the celebrated Mrs. 
 Trollope was in Vienna, and I remember seeing 
 her at a ball at the Metternichs'." 
 
 When the son of " the celebrated Mrs. Trollope " 
 revealed his name and his relationship to the 
 authoress, his new acquaintance was delighted, 
 and began to chat quite confidentially, reviving, as 
 T. A. Trollope said, many memories which had 
 been dormant in his brain for four decades. She 
 spoke much of Melanie Metternich, and declared 
 that she had loved and admired her with all a 
 very young girl's enthusiasm for a beautiful and 
 brilliant woman older than herself. " They said 
 she was proud," said her compatriot. " Well, I 
 suppose she was. But she was very kind-hearted. 
 I shall never forget all her goodness to me as a
 
 iSo A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 young and very timid girl just introduced into 
 society. She was my social godmother, so to say ; 
 for my own mother was in ill health, and could 
 not accompany me to balls and soirees." 
 
 It was at least a disinterested testimony, and 
 one certainly not dictated by a lively sense of 
 benefits to come. 
 
 But not only the Princess Mcttcrnich, but her 
 mother, the Countess Zichy-Fcrrari — a woman 
 said, by those who disliked her, to be ten degree- 
 haughtier than her daughter! — was extremely kind 
 and friendly to Mrs. Trollope. The Countess 
 gave her and her daughter Cecilia a very cordial 
 invitation to stay with her at her chateau in 
 Hungary, at no great distance from Presburg. 
 Mrs. Trollope much regretted that this visit did 
 not take place, as she was particularly desirous of 
 seeing something of Hungary. She had, however, 
 to relinquish it for the reason which she gives in a 
 private letter, as follows : — 
 
 " This is owing to the marriage of Count Zichy, our 
 friend's son. He brought his young bride to Vienna 
 to visit his family, and thus prevented the old Countess 
 from going back to Hungary at the time she had pro- 
 posed. We could not therefore have made our visit to 
 her without waiting longer than we could afford, — either 
 in time or money. . . . The kindness shewn us went
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 28 1 
 
 on increasing to the last hour of our stay, and invitations 
 to return reached us from the highest quarters. Our 
 last Vienna dinner was eaten at the Metterinchs'. And 
 the evening before was passed at Prince Wasa's, where 
 we met the Archduke Francis (the next heir to the 
 Empire) and his wife the Archduchess Sophia ; * the 
 Grand Duchess Stephanie of Baden; the Grand Duke 
 of Lucca ; Prince and Princess Metternich ; and only 
 one or two others. The party was assembled expressly 
 to meet me, — an honour never, I believe, conferred 
 before on any lady who had not been presented." 
 
 The evening is recorded in "Vienna and the 
 Austrians," but without the statement that all 
 these illustrious personages were assembled for 
 the express purpose of meeting its authoress ! 
 Such a statement would have sounded too boast- 
 ful there ; but in a private letter to her son, it 
 very naturally and inoffensively finds a place. 
 
 Mrs. Trollope and her daughter left Vienna 
 in May, carrying with them a grateful sense of 
 the kindness that had been heaped upon them, 
 and many memories of the beautiful, stately, and 
 interesting scenes they had witnessed. 
 
 The recent royal nuptials at Stowe give an 
 interest to the following incident of Mrs. Trollope's 
 homeward journey. She was travelling down the 
 
 * These were the parents of the present Emperor of Austria, 
 Francis Joseph. He was at that time a child of about six years old.
 
 2Sz A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 Rhine to Rotterdam towards the end of May, 
 and says — 
 
 " At Mayence, where we passed an idle day before 
 we eommenced our river voyage, w r e had the good luck 
 to fall in with the cortege of the fair Princess Helen, 
 Duchess elect of Orleans. She dined at the hotel where 
 we were ; and we had repeated opportunities of seeing 
 her charming face so near, and so uninterruptedly, as 
 to permit our passing judgment on it. To my taste 
 she is very lovely. Her eyes are beautiful ; her person 
 is tall, and very elegant ; and there is such a mingling 
 of sweetness and intellect in her countenance, as must 
 ensure her, I should think, an admiring welcome from 
 our critical neighbours." 
 
 How many strange and moving adventures 
 have happened within the half century since 
 those words were written, both to the Royal 
 Family of France and their former subjects " our 
 critical neighbours ! "
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 283 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 "As in the winters left behind, 
 
 Again our ancient games had place, 
 The mimic picture's breathing grace, 
 And dance and song and hoodman-blind." 
 
 Tennyson, In Metnoriam. 
 
 By the middle of June Mrs. Trollope was fairly 
 settled in her house at Hadley, and describes 
 her pleasure at finding the roses in bloom, and 
 in the peace and quiet of the place, after the 
 season of incessant excitement and exertion which 
 she had passed through at Vienna. Cecilia was, 
 of course, with her mother ; Anthony was within 
 easy reach of her, and came down to spend the 
 night whenever his duties at the Post-Office 
 permitted ; and Tom was installed as assistant 
 master in the Grammar School at Birmingham, 
 and able to visit Hadley during the holidays. 
 
 But the " quiet " enjoyed at Hadley was merely 
 relative, like all sublunary things. It was not 
 long before the house was filled with a succes- 
 sion of visitors. They were for the most part,
 
 2S4 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 however, either relatives, or friends so intimate as 
 to require no ceremony in their reception. 
 
 No sooner had Mrs. Trollopc established her- 
 self in her English home, than she set to work- 
 on a new book — a novel in three volumes, called 
 " A Romance of Vienna." Her " Vicar of W rex- 
 hill " came out on the 7th of September ; " Vienna 
 and the Austrians," although completed and out 
 of her hands, did not appear until the following 
 spring ; nevertheless she indulged herself with 
 no period of idleness. 
 
 The mixture of enjouement and energy in her 
 character was very extraordinary. So great, 
 indeed, was the aijouement, that at times it 
 concealed the energy. Her son Anthony has 
 said in his autobiography, that her children might 
 have thought more of her efforts during the 
 terrible time of strain and stress before Henry's 
 death, if she had not seemed to accept hard 
 literary labour under the most painful conditions, 
 as the most natural thing in the world for a 
 woman of her age. No doubt that is true. But 
 on one or two occasions she was impelled by 
 circumstances to state with plainness that her 
 work, although performed most willingly, involved 
 self-sacrifice and the exercise of a determined will
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 285 
 
 Such an occasion arose in the autumn of 1837. 
 
 Some gossip reached her at second-hand, through 
 
 an old friend, to the effect that her eldest son 
 
 purposed rashly throwing up his appointment at 
 
 Birmingham. The report proved, on inquiry from 
 
 himself, to be quite incorrect. But in the brief 
 
 interval during which she believed it, she wrote 
 
 a letter to her son containing the following 
 passages : — 
 
 " I am fifty-eight years old, my dear Tom. And 
 although, when I am well and in good spirits, I talk 
 of what I may yet do, I cannot conceal from you or 
 from myself, that my doings are nearly over. . . . Your 
 friend has left you, and you are dull. But think you 
 that my work is not dull too ? Think you that at my 
 age, when the strength fails and the spirits flag, I can 
 go on for ever writing with pleasure ? . . . You know 
 what heavy, uphill work I have hitherto had ; and may 
 pretty well guess what the effect on me would be, of 
 sanctioning your throwing up a certain maintenance, 
 before I have cleared myself from the claims that still 
 hang upon me. Believe me, I should be perfectly 
 miserable did I look forward to your remaining where 
 you are ; for I see, and I feel, that you cannot be happy 
 there. But give me the great comfort of knowing that 
 you have sufficient strength of mind and resolution, to 
 stick to it for a little while, till we see our way clear 
 before us. ... I have not yet been able to resume my 
 daily task. I have not yet recovered my strength after
 
 286 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 a severe cold. But if God gives me health, I do not 
 mean to spare myself, be assured." 
 
 Her son must have hastened to reassure her as 
 to the report which had so disquieted her, for her 
 letter begins thus : — 
 
 " My dear, dear Tom, 
 
 " I give you a thousand thanks, and I beg 
 you to give me a thousand pardons, — for less will not 
 wipe out the remorse I feel ! All you say of the authors 
 of this falsehood, is most true and well-merited. I ask 
 myself, ' Could I have written in this manner to any 
 friend of mine ? ' I think the bare idea of doing so 
 would have shocked me ; and, therefore, I have a right 
 to be angry." 
 
 The following statement is worth noting as 
 having been written in the year 1837, and as show- 
 ing that the difficulty of finding employment for 
 educated young men is not quite so modern an 
 evil as we are apt to suppose : — 
 
 " I can give you no idea of the multitude of young 
 men — gentlemen, in every sense — who are pining and 
 starving for lack of employment. It seems, sometimes, 
 as if the knowledge of such cases reached me on purpose 
 to make me feel grateful that my two dear sons possess 
 the means of existence without setting off for New 
 Holland. ... I have finished my book (all but re- 
 reading it), and I am ready to enjoy my holidays as
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 287 
 
 much as you are, dear Tom ! — Though I mean to set off 
 again with small interval. But I shall only work an hour 
 or two a day as long as you are here. I long to have 
 you here before the snow comes, for it is a dreadful 
 season for journeying, either by sea or land. We shall 
 have a house-full during the early part of the holidays. 
 The Grants come on the 22nd. The Colonel goes away 
 on the 23rd; but the dear girls, and (I hope) Mrs. 
 Grant, remain until after New Year's Day. On the 23rd 
 Mr. and Mrs. Chandos Hoskins Wren (our Rhine 
 friends) come and stay to the 26th. He seems very 
 desirous of meeting you. I think he knows Dr. Jeune. 
 Henrietta and Irene Jones * will be with us all the time, — 
 so that on the whole my chambers will be pretty well 
 packed ! Don't think me wickedly extravagant for this. 
 I have worked so hard, that I think I may try to give my 
 children a merry Christmas with a safe conscience. \ Pray 
 be in spirits for bouts rimes and the like. We shall want 
 all that sort of thing to help us. And I shall want you 
 to trot me out sometimes, spite of wind and weather, 
 as in days of yore. I do truly believe that so many 
 pages in proof of my industry would not now be burthen- 
 ing bookshelves, had you not done me this good service 
 at Harrow." 
 
 It is affecting to remember that her son con- 
 tinued to do her "this good service" to within a 
 few days of the close of her long life. Some of 
 
 * This is the lady mentioned in Chap. V. as T. A. Trollope's 
 first visitor in his Devonshire home. 
 
 t The italics in this passage are mine. — F. E. T.
 
 -SS A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 those who visited him at his villa in Florence may 
 recall how unfailingly T. A. Trollopc held himself 
 ready to give his mother his arm for her daily 
 promenade in the garden, or under the shelter of 
 the colonnade that surrounded it, and how no 
 engagement was allowed to interfere with the 
 punctual performance of this duty. 
 
 In November Mrs. Trollopc went to London for 
 the day, on her brother's invitation, chiefly to see 
 the young Queen pass by on her way to some civic 
 festivity, Mr. Henry Milton having secured ex- 
 cellent windows in Pall Mall. Mrs. Trollope 
 writes : " The little Queen looked very young, and 
 very pretty yesterday. The Duke of Wellington 
 got even a louder cheer than she did." 
 
 Tom had been expressing discouragement and 
 disappointment at the refusal of a work he had 
 offered to a publisher, and his mother writes — 
 
 " My dearest Tom, 
 
 " You must keep up your courage as I have 
 long kept up mine amidst very hard work, and much 
 anxiety. You have youth for you ; and will, I con- 
 fidently hope, exchange the drudgery you hate, for an 
 employment more congenial. But certain bread — when 
 all I can do is so very ////certain — is too precious to be- 
 east away hastily. For your spirits, I know no better 
 receipt than telling you to cast your eyes back over my
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 2S9 
 
 literary history: — A MS. sent to Colburn, declined; 
 one to Murray returned at the end of six months un- 
 opened j another to a man in the Strand, sent back with 
 the assurance that the trade was so bad, no one could 
 publish without loss. All this I bore, and worked up 
 against it all ; — with what result you know. 
 
 " 'Lay this to your heart, and Farewell ! ' " 
 
 The family correspondence of several years 
 after Frances Trollope's literary success had been 
 achieved, contains many allusions to money diffi- 
 culties and the pressure of debt — not of her 
 incurring. It would have been tedious and useless 
 to print all such allusions, — or even a quarter of 
 them. But I give the following extract from one 
 of Mrs. Trollope's letters by way of throwing some 
 light, once for all, on the fact that her matchless 
 industry, and the very large sums she earned by 
 it, did not at once place the family in easy 
 circumstances. 
 
 After speaking of the non-payment of rent by 
 some of their London tenants, of the great expense 
 of repairs, of the deterioration of their property, 
 and of the consequences of the long and disastrous 
 tenancy of the Harrow Farm, and the crushing 
 failure of the speculation in Cincinnati, she writes — 
 
 " However, I work, and work, and work. And if 
 God spares my life and health, I hope that the time will 
 vol. 1. 19
 
 2,o .1 MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP!.. 
 
 come when I may call myself out of debt, and may 
 calculate on spending the money I have earned, instead 
 of fretting that it does not cover all my liabilities." 
 
 The Christmas of 1837 was spent very merrily 
 at Hadley. The party assembled there was a 
 very delightful one. Mrs. Trollope had the happi- 
 ness of having both her sons with her, as well as 
 her daughter, and she was surrounded by a bevy 
 of pretty girls. But the chief inspiration of all the 
 gaiety came from the unflagging spirit, the bright 
 humour, and the unselfish sympathy with others' 
 joy, of the mistress of the house. 
 
 During this winter Mrs. Trollope had the 
 pleasure of a visit from her Viennese acquaintance, 
 the Baron Charles Hiigel. Mention is made of 
 him in her book on Vienna, as one of the most 
 agreeable persons she met there. He had travelled 
 much through parts of India then very little 
 known to Europeans — I dare say they arc now 
 intersected in all directions by railways, telegraph 
 wires, and telephones — and, unlike Mrs. Cox's friend 
 the accomplished footman, had written his travels. 
 They were published in an English translation by 
 Mr. Murray. Cecilia Trollope took a romantic, 
 jilish interest in Baron Hiigel, by reason of the 
 story current in Vienna that he had been desperately
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 291 
 
 in love with the beautiful Melanie Metternich 
 before her marriage, and that when she accepted 
 the Prince he set off in despair for the uttermost 
 parts of India. Perhaps the process of shedding 
 ink has cured as many fevers as phlebotomy. 
 Goethe naively tells us that he had recourse to it 
 when his feelings were deeply affected, and wrote 
 off his sorrow ! At all events, Baron Hiigel 
 returned to Europe with a more tranquil mind 
 and a vast quantity of manuscript for the press. 
 He visited Florence in after-years, and was a 
 prominent figure in the society there. 
 
 In the early spring of 1838 there seems to have 
 been a severe visitation of influenza in England. 
 Mrs. Trollope, Cecilia, and Anthony were all 
 attacked by it, and one of the most marked 
 symptoms was an alarmingly rapid decrease of 
 strength. Cecilia, after only two days' illness, 
 fainted on trying to stand up ; and Anthony's 
 weakness was manifested by his inability to lift 
 his sister on to her bed after she had swooned — 
 a task that his strong young arms would have 
 made nothing of at another time. It will be 
 remembered that exactly the same terrible loss 
 of strength in those attacked marked the influenza 
 epidemic which raged through Europe a few years
 
 2)2 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 ago. Mrs. Trollopc's illness culminated in an 
 inflammation of the eyes, which prevented her 
 from doing any literary work for some time. She 
 says that it lost her a whole month, but adds, 
 " Industry must atone for sickness ! " 
 
 In this year two events occurred in the family, 
 of which the first in importance, though not in 
 date, was Cecilia's engagement to Mr. — now Sir 
 John — Tilley ; and the other was T. A. Trollopc's 
 resigning his post at Birmingham and arranging 
 to live altogether with his mother. The step was 
 taken not only with her full concurrence, but by 
 her express desire. No doubt her severe illness, 
 coupled with the prospect of loneliness occasioned 
 by Cecilia's marriage, made her cling the more 
 to the society of her son. And then, advancing 
 years and — what does not often accompany them 
 — increasing work made her feel the need of his 
 protection and help in all business transactions. 
 He discusses the arrangement in his diary, and 
 comes to the conclusion that, on the whole, it will 
 be good for them both. 
 
 That it largely contributed to the happiness of 
 his mother's latter years cannot be questioned. 
 And as little can it be questioned by those who 
 best knew him, that it enabled him to live a life
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E 293 
 
 more congenial to his tastes and character, than 
 almost any other that could have been proposed 
 to him. Nor did it turn him into a drone in the 
 hive. It is to be noted that from the time of his 
 leaving Birmingham began the real period of his 
 literary activity. 
 
 The first-fruits of this — in book form, that is to 
 say, for he had dabbled previously in magazine 
 articles, etc. — was a work in two volumes published 
 by Colburn, and called " A Summer in Brittany." 
 It was very fairly successful, and its author has 
 told in his Reminiscences how the old John 
 Murray of those days good-naturedly showed him 
 a favourable review of it in the Times, saying, 
 with a broad smile, " There ! So you have 
 waked this morning to find yourself famous ! " 
 The book did not appear until 1840. But it was 
 the outcome of two successive journeys to Brittany, 
 and a large part of the manuscript had been sub- 
 mitted to his mother's judgment in 1838. I 
 mention it here for the sake of quoting a quaint 
 saying of hers about it in a letter to her son : — 
 
 " Your MS., which I have re-perused with great 
 attention, is in my opinion well written and interesting. 
 And although I would not permit myself to be influenced 
 in the advice I had given you " [the advice to leave
 
 V 
 
 ; ./ MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 Birmingham] "by any feeling of admiration for a pro- 
 duction so like a grandchild, in its relation to me, yet 
 I cannot but feel that the hand which wrote it may 
 write more." 
 
 Shortly afterwards she informs him that Mr. 
 Bcntlcy has agreed to take two more novels — one 
 in November, and one in the following May. 
 These must have been the two novels called 
 respectively "The Widow Barnaby" and "The 
 Widow Married." Of these the first was highly 
 successful, and met with less hostile criticism than 
 any of her books. Nevertheless, I do not think 
 it would please a reader of the present day as 
 well as some of her other novels. It has great 
 spirit and entrain ; but it is painted with a brush 
 somewhat too big and colours somewhat too 
 glaring. The very same incidents, narrated with 
 more modern treatment, might produce a novel 
 that should hit the taste of many readers in the 
 present year of grace. But the fine folks are a 
 little over-refined, and the vulgar folks a little too 
 vulgar. Very likely the picture was not over- 
 charged when it was drawn. At any rate, it was 
 accepted and applauded by contemporaries. We 
 are told that " the style is the man." Certain it 
 is that the style is the novel ; and the style of
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 295 
 
 " The Widow Barnaby " is now undeniably old- 
 fashioned. * 
 
 In the March of this year (1838) Mrs. Trollope 
 for the first time met Charles Dickens, for whose 
 genius she always had a high admiration. In the 
 letter mentioning this circumstance, she uses a 
 phrase which shows how " Pickwick " had already 
 furnished many words and sayings that had entered 
 into our common parlance. 
 
 " Cecilia, Irene, and I, passed the soiree (I don't mean 
 that we passed by, or in any way neglected, a leg of 
 mutton !) on Thursday with Mrs. Bartley, where we met 
 Boz, who desired to be presented to me. I had a good 
 deal of talk with him. He is extremely lively and in- 
 telligent, has the appearance of being very young, and 
 although called excessively shy, seemed not at all averse 
 from conversation." 
 
 Perhaps I may be forgiven for suggesting that 
 he found her also " lively and intelligent ; " and 
 that nothing so readily overcomes shyness, as the 
 sense that your interlocutor is a genuine person, 
 speaking sincerely the thought that is in him. 
 The least suspicion of humbug, or of a sneer, 
 makes shyness retire into itself and stay there. 
 
 Two persons could scarcely have been found 
 in all the world of literature, whose political 
 principles and social views were at that time
 
 296 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROEEOPE. 
 
 jnore opposed to each other, than Frances Trollope 
 and Charles Dickens. But there arose a strong 
 sympathy between them, nevertheless. Mrs. Trol- 
 lope's son has written in " What I Remember," of 
 this great English novelist, with the friendly 
 warmth that he felt. I am credibly informed (I 
 have not looked at the pages myself) that, in 
 a gossiping book of recollections published long 
 after Dickens's death, T. A. Trollope has been 
 assailed for having done so ! If this be so, it was 
 a double-barrelled sort of pop-gun intended to hit 
 both writers — the greater and the less. Perhaps, 
 after all, that old-fashioned, rough heaving of half- 
 bricks at a living author was not the worst kind 
 of attack. It may, of course, be urged that if you 
 wait to throw stones at a man until he is safely 
 dead, you avoid hurting his feelings. But the 
 reflection will obstinately recur, that you also 
 avoid the risk of being hurt yourself in return. 
 
 During the course of this same year, Mrs. 
 Trollope made the acquaintance of Judge Hali- 
 burton, the celebrated " Sam Slick." Mr. Bentley 
 \v*as the medium of the introduction, which proved 
 to be a very pleasant one. How friendly their 
 intercourse became, may be seen by the following 
 letter which, although written five years later,
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 297 
 
 on a subsequent visit of Judge Haliburton's to 
 England, may as well be inserted here. 
 
 " 3rd August, '43. 
 " London, 6, Spring Gardens. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Trollope, 
 
 " On my return to London from the country, 
 I found your very kind note, and lose no time in assuring 
 you of the great gratification it has given me to be 
 assured that we can meet once more. My leave of 
 absence was only for three months, and I am obliged 
 to embark again for Nova Scotia on the 3rd of September. 
 If I can get thro' my business at the Colonial Office 
 in time, I will go down to Devonshire before the 17th 
 inst. If not, I will arrange matters so as to be posi- 
 tively in London on the 25th, and hope to be able, 
 indeed, to accomplish both. — If you come to London, 
 what will be your address ? Because, as it will be close 
 upon the heels of my embarcation, I should like to call 
 upon you as soon as you can be able to give me the 
 gratification of an interview. — I am much grieved to 
 hear that your health requires nursing, and that your 
 plans, as well as your comfort, have been so materially 
 interfered with by indisposition. I trust in God that 
 the change of air which you purpose, will accomplish 
 a perfect restoration. — My last three or four days are 
 devoted to an excursion to the Lakes, during which I 
 promise myself the pleasure of renewing my acquaint- 
 ance with Mrs. Tilley. — I am sorry to say I have not 
 enjoyed this visit as I did my last. My spirits are not 
 the same, and when alone I suffer a good deal of depres- 
 sion. But I am much benefitted, and hope to return
 
 2)3 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 with a better tone of nerves. I shall move Heaven and 
 earth to leave this, if possible on the 12th or 13th. At 
 all events, please God, on one or other of the clays 
 you have mentioned, I shall have the pleasure to shake 
 you by the hand, and assure you of the attachment 
 
 " Of yours always, 
 
 " Thos. Haliburton." 
 
 Among the old letters of this year, I find a few- 
 lines from Mrs. Trollopc's cousin, Fanny Bent, 
 addressed to Tom in Birmingham, and giving him 
 a commission which reads amusingly now. Imagine 
 anybody's thinking it necessary in these days to 
 explain elaborately to any correspondent — I had 
 almost added "in a?iy part of the world" — the 
 structure and use of a spring mattress ! But here 
 is what Miss Bent wrote fifty-seven years ago : — 
 
 "A manufacturer in Birmingham fabricates cushions, 
 mattresses, etc., of which the interior is composed of 
 elastic iron springs. The maker made a bed of this 
 sort for Sir William Cave of Stratton, a few years since. 
 Now, I want to know what the price of such a bed as 
 that would be, and — if I should like the report — how long 
 before it could be made. If you could ferret out the 
 name of the man, and the particulars, I should feel 
 obliged." 
 
 People may differ about Free Trade, and the 
 value of the Reform Bill, but I believe we shall all
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 299 
 
 agree in thinking that our half of the century is 
 better off than the former half, in the matter of 
 mattresses. 
 
 Mrs. Trollope decided on taking a house in 
 London, and in the month of June fixed upon one 
 in York Street, Portman Square. But she did not 
 immediately take possession of it. In the early 
 part of September she took lodgings in Dover 
 for a few weeks, feeling the need of the sea air 
 both for herself and her daughter. Tom ac- 
 companied his mother and sister, and records in 
 his diary long walks taken with the former over 
 the cliffs before breakfast, and how he and his 
 mother alternately gazed at the beautiful lights 
 and shadows on the sea, and watched the process 
 of tunnelling for the new railway between Dover 
 and London — that great highway to the Continent 
 that we all know so well ! 
 
 The rector of St. Mary's, Dover, at this time was 
 the Rev. Mr. Maule, who had married one of Mrs. 
 Trollope's Bristol cousins. He and his family 
 were highly cultured and very pleasant people, 
 and the Trollopes spent several evenings at their 
 house very agreeably. 
 
 The close of this year must have been partly 
 occupied in preparations for Cecilia's wedding.
 
 300 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 She was married on the nth of February, 1839, 
 at St. Mary's Church, Bryanstone Square, to Mr. 
 John Tilley of the Post-Office. The union was 
 one of love on both sides, and was a perfectly 
 happy one so far as constant affection could make 
 it so. But they lost many children — one daughter 
 only living to grow up out of a numerous family — 
 and Cecilia herself was carried off in her prime by 
 the same malady which had been fatal to Arthur, 
 Henry, and Emily. 
 
 On the day of the wedding, after the bride and 
 bridegroom had departed, Mrs. Trollope, with Tom 
 and Anthony, and the Misses Mary and Kate Grant, 
 who had been bridesmaids, drove down to Hayes, 
 where Colonel Grant was then residing. The next 
 day Mrs. Trollope returned to town by the Great 
 Western Railway, and her son notes in his diary 
 that it was the first railway his mother had ever 
 been on. Although then in her sixtieth year, she 
 lived to make more railway journeys than many 
 persons accomplish in the whole course of their 
 lives. 
 
 Indeed, her second railway journey was made 
 within ten days of the first, for on the 20th of 
 February she set out by the mail train for Man- 
 chester. The object of her going thither was to
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 301 
 
 collect material for a work she had engaged to 
 write, on the condition of the factory hands. 
 
 Lord Ashley, afterwards Earl of Shaftesbury, 
 was greatly interested in her projected work, and 
 furnished her with many letters of introduction. 
 All this has been told at some length in " What I 
 Remember." 
 
 The book was written, and published in serial 
 form under the title of " The Life and Adventures 
 of Michael Armstrong, the Factory Boy," by Mr. 
 Colburn. He paid a high price for it, and did 
 not complain of his bargain. We may therefore 
 conclude that its sale was satisfactory, although 
 Mrs. Trollope writes in a private letter a short 
 time after its publication : — 
 
 "The 'Widow' continues to be in great favour. But 
 between ourselves, I don't think any one cares much for 
 1 Michael Armstrong ' — except the Chartists. A new \ 
 kind of patrons for me ! " 
 
 She spared no pains to acquaint herself with the 
 real condition of the people she intended writing 
 about, and, with her son, visited many scenes of 
 pitiable wretchedness and revolting squalor. Her 
 investigations indeed needed a stout heart and a 
 healthy frame to carry them out. Not that she 
 was ever in the least danger of being molested in 
 

 
 
 302 ./ MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 the course of them but that every sense was 
 sickened, and the very heart-strings wrung by 
 what she witnessed. The subject need not be 
 pursued here. The world has heard all about the 
 factory legislation, ami the crying evils that called 
 it forth. Whether Mrs. Trollope's book helped to 
 attract public attention to the subject (which was 
 what had been hoped when it was planned) I 
 cannot tell. It is certain, at all events, that she 
 did her work with all her accustomed honesty and 
 energy. 
 
 To return for a moment to the subject of railway 
 travelling in England in the "thirties." It may 
 interest some readers to know that the mail train 
 from London to Manchester was timed to run the 
 distance in eleven hours, but on the occasion of 
 Mrs. Trollope's journey, arrived one hour and a 
 half late ; that the train was too heavy for the 
 powers of the engine, and a second engine had to 
 be put on at Wolverton ; that thus reinforced, it 
 reached Birmingham six hours and a half after 
 leaving London, and the passengers were allowed 
 half an hour at Birmingham to dine !
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 j«j 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 " We will compound this quarrel." 
 
 Shakespeare, Taming of the Shrew. 
 
 The year 1839 must have been one of exceptional 
 activity even for that marvellously industrious 
 worker Frances Trollope, for no fewer than three 
 novels—" The Widow Married," " One Fault," and 
 " Charles Chesterfield " — appeared in 1840, which 
 must all have been written within the preceding 
 twelvemonth. 
 
 And yet the course of her work was interrupted, 
 first by illness, and later by an expedition into 
 the Lake country to visit her daughter, Mrs. 
 Tilley. Mrs. Trollope suffered from acute in- 
 flammation of the trachea, and was attended by 
 Dr. Elliotson, of whose medical skill she had a 
 high opinion. Her eldest son was away in France, 
 and she writes to him on July 6th, evidently in 
 reply to his anxious inquiries : — 
 
 " Truly, and sincerely, and on the faith of an honest 
 mother, my dearest Tom, I am, save a cough, quite 
 
 '
 
 301 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 well again. I owe much to Dr. Elliotson. You com- 
 plain of the weather, but I suspect that no one can 
 know what a regular winter-summer is, save those who 
 enjoy the article genuine in England. Those who have 
 kept a diary of the weather assert that we have had 
 easterly winds pretty nearly steady for six months. It 
 is this which has sent me, in common with a multitude 
 of others, to a sick bed. . . . Alas, dear Tom, I feel as 
 if I did not deserve your kind fears respecting my being 
 overworked. On the contrary I have been idle. But 
 this too may be mended by a little quid perseverance 
 which will not hurt me." 
 
 Early in July T. A. Trollope returned to Eng- 
 land, and on the 26th started with his mother for 
 Penrith, to visit his sister and brother-in-law. 
 
 In " What I Remember " the chief incidents of 
 this visit have been recorded, but one or two 
 gleanings from letters and diaries may supplement 
 them. 
 
 Herbert Hill, Southcy's son-in-law, was then 
 living at Rydal, and taking pupils ; and with him 
 the Trollopcs were pleased to renew their former 
 acquaintance. Captain Hamilton, the author of 
 "Cyril Thornton," and a well-known contributor 
 to Blackzvood, was at this time residing with his 
 second wife, in the neighbourhood, and they 
 much enjoyed his conversation, especially about
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 305 
 
 Coleridge, Southey, Wordsworth, and De Quincey, 
 all of whom he knew well. 
 
 " He thought Wordsworth a man of genius, and 
 Southey a man of talent only. Wordsworth, he said, 
 laid open to the first comer the whole budget of his 
 mind without reserve : while Southey was cautious and 
 reticent. The first was the child of Nature whose most 
 loved haunt was the fell side ; the latter was the polished 
 man of the world whose favourite retiring spot was his 
 library. Of De Quincey and Coleridge he said that 
 opium-eating had had the same effect on both : — that of 
 destroying the moral feeling. . . . He said the difference 
 was remarkable in the conduct of Coleridge towards 
 Wordsworth and Southey. The latter he never would 
 admit to be a genius, — never had a high opinion of his 
 abilities in any way, and treated him, when in his com- 
 pany, with scant observance ; whereas of Wordsworth 
 he always said that he acknowledged in him a spirit of 
 a superior order." 
 
 It may be noted that during this visit, when 
 T. A. Trollope wished to rise at half-past four 
 in the morning in order to begin a pedestrian 
 excursion betimes, it was his mother, of all the 
 household, on whom he relied for calling him, 
 and who did call him punctually. 
 
 She, as well as her son, was much pleased with 
 the Lake scenery. There is frequent mention in 
 her letters of walks and drives throughout a wide 
 
 vol. 1. 20
 
 306 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP F. 
 
 radius around Penrith, which she greatly enjoyed. 
 She speaks in one place of some lodgings that 
 were to be had in a cottage called " The Dove's 
 Nest," formerly inhabited by Mrs. Hemans, and 
 suggests that it might be a pleasant place wherein 
 to spend a few months "after her return from Italy." 
 For this cherished project of a journey to Italy, 
 again and again postponed, was never relinquished. 
 Quite at the end of this year Mrs. Trollope went 
 to Paris, where her son joined her, and they re- 
 mained there together until the following spring. 
 
 Mrs. Trollope's visit to Paris in 1840 was, in 
 some respects, even more pleasant than that of 
 five years before. She was again in the midst 
 of the most brilliant society — fashionable and 
 literary ; and the only drawback to her enjoyment 
 was that the incessant invitations consumed nearly 
 all the time she wished to dedicate to her work, 
 for, needless to say, she was again at work. 
 Especially after her son's departure (he left Paris 
 early in the spring for a tour in Central France) 
 she was overwhelmed with invitations and social 
 attentions of all sorts. 
 
 In April, 1840, she writes — 
 
 " I do not believe that the whole earth has any spot 
 where it would be so difficult for me to write, as in Paris.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 307 
 
 Kindness, in consideration of my solitude, neutralizes 
 all my good resolutions. Would it not sound finely 
 conceited were I to say that the act of answering the 
 mere billets de societe takes up time that is worth scores 
 of pounds to me ? Yet such is positively the fact. But 
 so many people go out of town after Passion Week, that 
 parties must cease ; and as a quiet dinner does not 
 involve the necessity of sitting up till three o'clock in 
 the morning, I may improve a little by means of my 
 alarum which I recovered from the maker yesterday." 
 
 It was at this time that she made the acquaint- 
 ance of the Vicomte and Vicomtesse d'Henin 
 and their charming daughter, of whom T. A. 
 Trollope has written in his memoirs. The cynical 
 old saying, that no one ever speaks of a friend 
 quite so kindly in his absence as in his presence, 
 is flatly contradicted by many passages in Mrs. 
 Trollope's letters. She loved her friends sincerely, 
 and praised them heartily behind their backs. 
 
 It was also during this season in Paris that she 
 first met Lady Bulwer. It is not to be supposed 
 that Mrs. Trollope was blind to this lady's defects. 
 Her passionate temper, her unreasoning impulsive- 
 ness, her thoughtless extravagance, were faults 
 which would have been plain enough to a much 
 less keen observer. But she thought that Lady 
 Bulwer had been injured and calumniated, and
 
 3oS A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 she felt very strongly that even worse faults would 
 not have justified the treatment to which Lady 
 Bulwer had been subjected. 
 
 In a letter written from Paris to her daughter 
 Cecilia, and dated the 13th of February, 1840, 
 Mrs. Trollopc says — 
 
 " My interesting difficulties respecting Lady Bulwer 
 and her brother-in-law * increase greatly. All jesting 
 apart, it is exceedingly embarrassing. He is decidedly 
 one of the most agreeable, animated, conversable people 
 in existence ; and she is one of the most ill-used and 
 pitiable. I believe her character to be perfectly irre- 
 proachable. But she is not as quiet as I would wish her 
 to be, in her grief; and were it not that the enforced 
 absence of her children excuses any violence of sorrow, 
 I should say that she compromised her dignity by her 
 lamentations. As it is, however, I do pity her heartily, 
 and most certainly shall not close my doors against her 
 until I have reason to change my opinion of her." 
 
 Lady Bulwer repaid her new friend's loyalty 
 with enthusiastic gratitude. In many of her letters 
 she reiterates her thanks for Mrs. Trollope's 
 courage, truthfulness, and sincerity in standing 
 by her when she was in need of a friend. Lady 
 Bulwer's novels may have but little merit — I do 
 not know them — but there is considerable wit and 
 
 * Sir Henry Bulwer, whom the Trollopes always liked, and 
 who was in later years a frequent guest at the Villino in Florence.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 309 
 
 brightness in her letters. It is not every kind of 
 talent, however, that has the necessary affinity 
 with printer's ink to enable it to be advantageously 
 manifested through that medium. The following 
 passage occurs in a letter from Lady Bulvver to 
 Mrs. Trollope, dated January 26th, 1840: — 
 
 " I have received a note of thanks from that American 
 gentleman, Mr. W., who dined with me yesterday, for 
 having procured him the pleasure of meeting you. He 
 is a great admirer of yours, and says you have done his 
 country a great deal of good." 
 
 The Princess Belgiojoso's house was one that 
 Mrs. Trollope frequently visited. The Princess's 
 special hobby, and special gift — for she was a very 
 fine pianist — was music ; and the world crowded 
 to her salons to hear Handel and other classical 
 masters interpreted by some of the first executants 
 of the day. Princess Czartoryski is specially 
 mentioned in Mrs. Trollope's letters as a very 
 delightful woman, " full of intellect and very charm- 
 ing manners." 
 
 Lord Granville was at this time our Ambassador 
 in Paris, and Mrs. Trollope was received at the 
 Embassy with particular civility, Lady Granville 
 giving her a personal invitation to visit them on 
 the evenings when the society at her house was
 
 310 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 more intimate and less numerous than at the 
 great receptions, lending her her box at the opera, 
 and so on. T. A. Trollope records in his diary 
 that his mother and himself were present at a very- 
 splendid entertainment in honour of the marriage 
 of our Queen. Her Majesty was married on 
 Monday, the ioth of February, 1840, and the 
 Embassy ball took place on the following Friday, 
 the 14th. The diary makes special mention of a 
 large temporary room erected in the garden, which 
 was " a great success." This erection and the 
 whole fete are described in Lady Granville's 
 memoirs. 
 
 In the letter to Mrs. Tilley previously quoted, 
 her mother says, in reference to this fete : — 
 
 " To-morrow is the wedding fete at Lord Granville's. 
 It is expected to be very brilliant. Carpenters are at 
 work and a whole suite of upstairs rooms is to be opened. 
 I should like to have all my three sons " [she included 
 Cecilia's husband, to whom she was much attached, 
 among her ' sons '] "and my elegant daughter there with 
 me, for I expect it will be pretty, gay, and agreable." 
 
 After a little gossip about the royal marriage, 
 which was naturally the topic of the day, Mrs. 
 Trollope, in allusion to the reduction of the pro- 
 posed income of Prince Albert on a motion of
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 311 
 
 Colonel Sibthorp's, supported by the party of Sir 
 
 Robert Peel, says — 
 
 "Eiitrenous\ think the Tories behaved abominably 
 about the Prince in all ways. He ought to have had 
 precedence, and he ought to have had the ^50,000 a 
 year." 
 
 She very early discerned the great qualities of 
 the Queen's husband — an unprejudiced clear- 
 sightedness not so universal in 1840 as it became 
 fifty years later : for, as the Italian proverb has it, 
 Delia sapienza del poi, son piene anche le fosse, 
 " There's enough wisdom after the fact, to fill all 
 the ditches." 
 
 The most important social event of Mrs. 
 Trollope's visit to Paris this year, was her pre- 
 sentation to Louis Philippe and the French Royal 
 Family at the Tuileries, by her friend Lady 
 Catherine Bernard. A brief account of the inter- 
 view occurs in a letter from Mrs. Trollope to her 
 son. It is inserted in the midst of other topics of 
 more immediate moment, and is not dwelt on at 
 any length, although she neither was, nor affected 
 to be, stoically indifferent to the high compliments 
 paid her. Here are her words : — 
 
 " The greatest exploit I have to tell you of, is having 
 been presented at the Tuileries by Lady Catherine
 
 3i2 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 Bernard My reception was a most gracious one ; Kii 
 Queen, Duchesse de Nemours, Princess Clementine, 
 and Madame Adelaide, all spoke in a flattering manner 
 of their having long known me by my books, etc. 
 Lady Catherine said it was enough to turn one's 
 head. The pretty bride " [Duchess de Nemours] " spoke 
 to me in very good English, and told me she re- 
 membered seeing me in Vienna, — where, in fact, I 
 remember meeting her at the Turkish Ambassador's 
 ball. She also said, 'I have read all your books, Mrs. 
 Trollope, and I like them so much ! ' The Queen's 
 parting words were ' Je suis bien aise de vous voir ici.' 
 The King asked me, with a look of something like fun, 
 if I should like to go back to America. / longed 1 1 
 return the question to him ! " 
 
 Mrs. Trollope was again a frequent visitor in 
 the salons of Madame Recamier, and of Miss 
 Clarke (not yet Madame Mohl), and she had the 
 pleasure of meeting her old friend General Fepe 
 at the house of Mrs. Gilchrist, the lady he after- 
 wards married. In a letter to her daughter, she 
 says, " Pepe seems quite to have forgiven me, 
 dear soul, for all my Austrian sins." Further on 
 in the same letter, she describes several conversa- 
 tions she had with a man whose name was then 
 very well known in Europe — Count Gonfaloniere, 
 for thirteen years a political prisoner in the 
 Austrian fortress of Spilsbcrg.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 313 
 
 " About his tremendous imprisonment he seeks neither 
 to speak, nor to avoid speaking. When I asked for 
 particulars, he gave them freely. He told me that 
 during the whole thirteen years, his great object had 
 been not to consume his thoughts. His great terror was 
 madness. They were just conscious of daylight for 
 about three hours in every day ; — the rest was darkness. 
 
 " The Count entirely acquits Metternich of all blame. 
 He says that, believing him (the Count) to be dangerous, 
 he would have done almost anything rather than not 
 secure him ; but that, once secured, the horrors, the 
 fearful horrors of his imprisonment would never have 
 followed had Metternich had his will. He besought the 
 Emperor to let him furnish Count Gonfaloniere with 
 books out of his own library ; but Francis replied that 
 'the object of imprisonment was not amusement.' The 
 Count seemed delighted to speak of Ferdinand, and of 
 the active kindness of his nature : and told me that 
 almost his first words on learning that he was Emperor 
 were ' C'en est fait done, de tous ces emprisonnements. 
 Je n'aime pas cela ; — 5a me fait triste. Je n'en veux 
 plus, — absolument je n'en veux plus.' " 
 
 Gonfaloniere's testimony in favour of Metternich 
 is above suspicion, and is interesting. 
 
 Anthony paid a visit to his mother in Paris in 
 the course of this winter, and greatly enjoyed, his 
 mother says, "going to so many good parties." 
 He certainly could not have had a better intro- 
 duction than his mother's. Her visiting list was a
 
 3U A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 roll-call of the most illustrious personages in Paris, 
 native and foreign. 
 
 It seems that at the beginning of the year 1840 — 
 on the 6th of January, to be precise — it had been 
 agreed by many serious persons that our globe was 
 to be destroyed by a comet. Mrs. Trollope writes 
 to her daughter : — 
 
 " The comet that is to eat us up on the 6th has been 
 seen. If the predictions prove true, this letter will be so 
 scorched before it reaches Penrith, that you will be 
 unable to read it However, as you will yourself be a 
 cinder, it will not so much signify ! " 
 
 She was greatly delighted by the recent birth of 
 a little grand-daughter named after herself, and 
 says — 
 
 " Let me not languish in ignorance, dearest, of the 
 
 progress of my Fanny. Her being named Frances 
 
 Trollope, is of all my honours and glories, the one I 
 like best." 
 
 The following July Mrs. Trollope returned to 
 Cumberland to her daughter's house. The railway 
 to Penrith was not yet completed ; and she had 
 to travel nearly fifty miles of the journey by 
 coach. 
 
 It must have been at this period that she first 
 conceived the idea of making a permanent home
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 315 
 
 in the north country. There was a house to be 
 sold, the property of Mr. de Whelpdale, on which 
 she had set her affections ; but a hitch about the 
 production of the title-deeds prevented her from 
 concluding the purchase. Finally a site was 
 chosen, on which she (or rather her son for her) 
 subsequently built the house called Carlton Hill. 
 But a visit to Italy was still intended for the 
 winter. 
 
 This, however, was once again postponed by 
 reason of the disquieting accounts she heard of 
 the disturbed state of the Continent, and especially 
 of France. Some of her correspondents in Paris 
 inform her on the 10th of September, that "only 
 last Monday, all diligences and omnibuses passing 
 through the Ouartier St. Antoine, were seized and 
 overturned to make barricades by the mob ; all 
 business at the Bourse was stopped, the shops 
 shut, and very general fear of a universal rising of 
 the operatives throughout France, seems to exist." 
 Mrs. Trollope begs her son to consult Robert 
 Pauncefote as to the truth of the state of things. 
 He has many friends in Paris with whom he 
 probably corresponds. 
 
 This name of Pauncefote, which occurs frequently 
 in the family correspondence, is that of some highly
 
 3<6 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 valued friends of the Trollopes ; and several letters 
 from Mrs. Pauncefote remain among the papers in 
 my possession. The name is, of course, widely and 
 honourably known now as that of Sir Julian Paunce- 
 fote, our Ambassador to the United States. He 
 is a son of Mrs. Trollope's old friend ; and with 
 one of her daughters, the Baroness von Lachmann- 
 Falkenau, T. A. Trollope had the happiness in 
 after-years of renewing the friendship of his youth. 
 She and her husband visited him at his villa near 
 Florence, and he was subsequently her guest at 
 her charming house in Dresden. The biographer 
 of Frances Trollope may be excused for emphasiz- 
 ing the fact that, in so many cases her friendships 
 were inherited, and have descended to a second, 
 and even a third generation — a testimony to 
 sterling qualities on both sides. 
 
 More than one letter to her son shows that she 
 dreads the journey through France ; and she 
 inquires earnestly what will be the difference in 
 time and cost, of approaching Italy by way of 
 Germany instead. There was evidently an out- 
 break of Anglophobia raging in Paris ; and a letter 
 which appeared in some Parisian periodical did not 
 altogether reassure Mrs. Trollope. She writes on 
 September i ith : —
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 317 
 
 " A letter appears from one of the six thousand Re- 
 publicans who dined together outside the barrier last 
 week, stating that they did not intend to massacre all 
 the English. Kind ! ! ! " 
 
 The newspapers were full of alarmist articles, and 
 predictions of popular tumults and bloodshed. 
 
 As to the hatred of the English, which occasion- 
 ally assumes an epidemic form on the Continent, 
 we might almost accept the saying of a Roman 
 friend of T. A. Trollope's, which amused him 
 mightily. This gentleman was expatiating on the 
 sufferings to which the Italian troops in Africa 
 were exposed from the climate. It was all very 
 well, he said, to be a Sicilian, or a Calabrian ; but 
 Sicily was not Africa, and the sun of Massowah 
 was a far fiercer luminary than that of Calabria. 
 An English lady in company suggested that, since 
 torrid heat was so trying to Southern Europeans, 
 our soldiers must have suffered still more in the 
 Soudan and in parts of India. " No, no ; not at 
 all ! " exclaimed the Roman. Then, with a gentle 
 shake of the head, and an air of grave conviction, 
 he added, " Loro sono abituati," You English are 
 used to it ! 
 
 However, despite this national and eel-like habit 
 of being skinned, Mrs. Trollope's apprehensions
 
 3iS A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 
 
 prevailed, and the Italian journey was once more 
 put off. 
 
 She had other motives to determine her on 
 taking this course, besides the dread of continental 
 revolutions. One very strong one was her desire 
 to complete two more novels which she had en- 
 gaged to write, before leaving England again. 
 These were, "The Ward of Thorpe Combe," 
 published by Mr. Bentley, and " The Blue Belles 
 of England," published by Messrs. Sanders and 
 Ottley. Of the latter book, further mention will 
 have to be made by-and-by. It was settled that 
 Mrs. Trollope should remain for the present with 
 Mr. and Mrs. Tilley, and that Tom, who was then 
 in London, should join her in Cumberland later on. 
 
 Tom had expressed an intention of making a 
 trip to Paris by himself, but he put off his journey 
 in deference to his mother's earnest wish. In 
 December, however, he did go there, and has 
 given an account of his stay in " What I Re- 
 member." In his mother's letters addressed to 
 him there, there are frequent and most affectionate 
 messages to her dear Adele (Mdlle. d'Henin), 
 and cordial inquiries about many other friends. 
 She begs he will call on M. Gasparin, at whose 
 house, she reminds him, he first met Guizot ; and
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 319 
 
 hopes he has not neglected to leave a card at the 
 Embassy, " as it would be both ungracious and 
 ungrateful to omit it." 
 
 " How you must enjoy," she writes, " seeing the 
 d'Henins, the Cokers,* and all the dear people again ! 
 Reading what you say of your pleasant evenings is 
 about half as good as being there with you myself! " 
 
 Meanwhile she had been enjoying some plea- 
 sant society in Cumberland, superintending the 
 beginnings of her new house and garden, and 
 working hard with her pen. For the society, she 
 mentions among the houses she best likes to go 
 to, Edenhall, the seat of Sir George Musgrave (of 
 whom, and of Lady Musgrave, she says, " I think 
 they will be very pleasant neighbours. I get on 
 with them "), and Lowther Castle. She writes to 
 her son : — 
 
 " 1 accepted an invitation from Lord Lonsdale to 
 dine and sleep at Lowther Castle. I spent as agreeable 
 an evening and morning as I can remember. The old 
 man is delightful, and so is his daughter Lady Frederick 
 Bentinck." 
 
 Regarding the plans of the new house, her 
 letters are full of details written for Tom's advice 
 
 * Mrs. Coker was a daughter of Major Aubrey, the great 
 authority on whist.
 
 32o ./ MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 and approval. And as to the pen-work, she quietly 
 says — 
 
 " I get up at half-past four every morning, and get 
 nearly the whole of my day's task accomplished before 
 breakfast." 
 
 She had the pleasure of seeing her son An- 
 thony this autumn. He paid a flying visit to 
 Cumberland. 
 
 Lady Bulvver had been greatly disappointed by 
 Mrs. Trollope's not joining her this year in Italy ; 
 and Mrs. Pauncefote had written from Milan and 
 Florence, hoping to see her. But she consoles 
 herself and her son by looking forward to meeting 
 these friends, and to seeing Italy, in the spring of 
 1 841, when she will have earned enough to supply 
 the funds necessary for building the house at 
 Carlton Hill, and defraying other necessary ex- 
 penses. In these days of cheap tours, circular 
 tickets, and Cook's coupons, the following seems 
 a somewhat magnificent calculation ; but here is 
 Mrs. Trollope's statement : — 
 
 " You remember my friends Major and Mrs. Wil- 
 liams told me repeatedly that they never could spend 
 more than a hundred pounds a month (in Italy), travel- 
 ling with two servants and three post-horses. We should 
 only be absent seven — or at the most eight — months,
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPS. 321 
 
 without any servants, and being in all things economical 
 for the sake of our new home. ... If we do it in 
 this manner, it cannot cost us more than five hundred 
 pounds." 
 
 Hitherto, with the exception of some jars and 
 frets inseparable from human affairs, Mrs. Trol- 
 lope's relations with her publishers had been fairly 
 smooth. But in the spring of 1841 a serious 
 difference, which distressed her greatly, arose 
 between her and Mr. Colburn. Her novel of 
 "Charles Chesterfield" had been published by 
 him in serial form in the New Monthly Magazine, 
 and another novel in three volumes, entitled " Har- 
 grave," had been agreed for between them. The 
 manuscript of this latter work was sent up to 
 Mr. Colburn in January, 1841, by the hand of 
 Mrs. Trollope's brother Henry Milton ; but Mr. 
 Colburn declined to receive it, and declared that 
 he intended to be off his bargain altogether, on 
 the ground that Mrs. Trollope had vitiated all her 
 contracts with him, by publishing another novel 
 ("The Blue Belles of England") with a rival 
 publisher, in serial form, simultaneously with the 
 publication of " Charles Chesterfield." Mr. Col- 
 burn refused to pay the price stipulated for 
 "Hargrave" except on legal compulsion, threat- 
 
 VOL. I. 2 r 
 
 X
 
 322 ./ MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 encd to fight the case, and to publish all the 
 particulars of his business transactions with Mrs. 
 Trollope — which, he asserted, had been nearly 
 uniformly to his detriment, and in nowise to his 
 profit. This latter statement must surely have 
 been an ebullition of that "wrathfulness" which 
 Sir Walter Scott observed to be a frequent 
 characteristic of the publishers' trade — for Mr. 
 Colburn would scarcely have maintained in cold 
 blood, that he had persisted in purchasing wares 
 at a steady loss to himself, when he had nothing 
 to do but decline them ! 
 
 Mrs. Trollope took the matter very much to 
 heart, not, perhaps, making sufficient allowance 
 \i for the inaccuracy of wrathfulness. She wrote 
 from Penrith to her son in Paris, in great pertur- 
 bation. So painful to her was the thought of a 
 public squabble, that she would have been willing 
 to withdraw her novel of " Margrave," and release 
 Mr. Colburn from his contract, rather than go to 
 law ; but that having signed the agreement for 
 the purchase of the site of Carlton Hill, and under- 
 taken to pay for it in certain stated instalments, 
 she could not forego the payment for " Hargrave " 
 at the stipulated time, without, in her turn, repu- 
 diating her liabilities.
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOP E. 323 
 
 The idea of giving up her claim on Mr. Colburn 
 without a struggle, was, of course, put aside by her 
 son and brother. Mr. John Young, the Trollopes' 
 kinsman, good friend, and family lawyer, was 
 appealed to. His opinion, than which no sounder 
 one was to be had at that day in England, was 
 that Mr. Colburn had no case. Mrs. Trollope 
 writes — 
 
 " Of one thing I feel quite sure : — namely, that John 
 Young will not advise a suit through which he cannot 
 see his way. And therefore if he advises legal pro- 
 ceedings, and you agree with him, I submit." 
 
 The matter was, however, finally arranged without 
 legal proceedings, Mr. Colburn paying six hundred 
 and twenty-five pounds and publishing the novel, 
 which, by the way, had a very good success, and / 
 reached a second edition in 1843. 
 
 Again I must narrate an instance of Mrs. 
 Trollope's straightforward candour and modesty 
 about her own writings. Her brother sent her a 
 sheet of criticisms upon " Hargrave," coupled with 
 the somewhat cool suggestion that she should 
 " lay it aside and write another " ! She writes to 
 her son : — 
 
 " My brother has told me his opinion of my poor 
 book, as candidly as he has told it to you. All I have
 
 324 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 
 
 to say in reply is that others like it. This, and the 
 remembrance of some of his former criticisms, prevent 
 me from thinking it advisable immediately to burn my 
 book and set myself down to writing another. However 
 I am very willing to go over the MS. and see if I can 
 mend it. If the bore were not too great for you I should 
 be very grateful if you would cast your eye over it. Do 
 not scruple to change words or phrases at your will." 
 
 Mr. Milton had on several previous occasions 
 been in error — if public favour is to be the test — 
 as to the comparative merits of his sister's books. 
 But all experience shows that literary criticism, if 
 a science at all, is, at any rate, a very ///exact 
 science ! 
 
 A severe judgment of her novel was not one 
 of the things which had much power to afflict 
 Frances Trollopc. She was singularly free from 
 the sensitiveness of vanity. But sensitiveness on 
 other points she had a large share of; and she 
 had been terribly depressed during the weeks in 
 which her quarrel with Mr. Colburn was going on. 
 She confessed that she shrank from the prospect 
 of being held up publicly as " a greedy, grasping, 
 conscienceless woman." As soon as the matter 
 was settled, she writes — 
 
 " I am almost ashamed to own the utter discourage- 
 ment and depression into which I had fallen. It has
 
 A MEMOIR OF FRANCES TROLLOPE. 325 
 
 been totally out of my power to write regularly, since 
 the blow fell upon me. But now I shall start with fresli 
 vigour, and shall, I hope, be able to get through my 
 work by the time you mention." 
 
 At length the arrangements for the long-talked- 
 of journey were made. Mrs. Trollope writes from 
 Penrith in March : — 
 
 " Need I tell you, dearest Tom, that I am satisfied, — 
 nay thankful ? " [As to the arrangement come to with 
 Mr. Colburn.] " And, trust me, I enjoy too the con- 
 viction that you must be as well pleased as I. Shall 
 we really go to Italy? Is it possible after so many 
 impediments ? . . . Remember that I must stay three 
 days in Paris. I shall let the Garnetts know as soon 
 as the date is fixed. I can be ready to leave this place 
 by the first ; but as that is All Fools' Day, let us say 
 the second of April ! God speed us on our way, dear 
 Tom ! Truly, if the journey gives us pleasure, we have 
 not got it without pain." 
 
 She- joined her son in London by the time 
 fixed ; and a few days afterwards they started 
 together for Italy. 
 
 kxd OF VOL. 1. 
 
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