Anthony Trollope - Autobiography of Anthony Trollope

as to the probable fate of the money. "The letter has been taken,"

said the Colonel, turning to me angrily, "and, by G----! there has

been nobody in the room but you and I." As he spoke, he thundered

his fist down upon the table. "Then," said I, "by G----! you have

taken it." And I also thundered my fist down;--but, accidentally,

not upon the table. There was there a standing movable desk, at

which, I presume, it was the Colonel's habit to write, and on this

movable desk was a large bottle full of ink. My fist unfortunately

came on the desk, and the ink at once flew up, covering the Colonel's

face and shirt-front. Then it was a sight to see that senior clerk,

as he seized a quite of blotting-paper, and rushed to the aid of his

superior officer, striving to mop up the ink; and a sight also to

see the Colonel, in his agony, hit right out through the blotting-paper

at that senior clerk's unoffending stomach. At that moment there

came in the Colonel's private secretary, with the letter and the

money, and I was desired to go back to my own room. This was an

incident not much in my favour, though I do not know that it did

me special harm.

I was always in trouble. A young woman down in the country had

taken it into her head that she would like to marry me,--and a very

foolish young woman she must have been to entertain such a wish.

I need not tell that part of the story more at length, otherwise

than by protesting that no young man in such a position was ever

much less to blame than I had been in this. The invitation had

come from her, and I had lacked the pluck to give it a decided

negative; but I had left the house within half an hour, going away

without my dinner, and had never returned to it. Then there was a

correspondence,--if that can be called a correspondence in which

all the letters came from one side. At last the mother appeared at

the Post Office. My hair almost stands on my head now as I remember

the figure of the woman walking into the big room in which I sat

with six or seven other clerks, having a large basket on her arm and

an immense bonnet on her head. The messenger had vainly endeavoured

to persuade her to remain in the ante-room. She followed the man

in, and walking up the centre of the room, addressed me in a loud

voice: "Anthony Trollope, when are you going to marry my daughter?"

We have all had our worst moments, and that was one of my worst. I

lived through it, however, and did not marry the young lady. These

little incidents were all against me in the office.

And then a certain other phase of my private life crept into official

view, and did me a damage. As I shall explain just now, I rarely

at this time had any money wherewith to pay my bills. In this state

of things a certain tailor had taken from me an acceptance for, I

think, (pounds)12, which found its way into the hands of a money-lender.

With that man, who lived in a little street near Mecklenburgh Square,

I formed a most heart-rending but a most intimate acquaintance.

In cash I once received from him (pounds)4. For that and for the original

amount of the tailor's bill, which grew monstrously under repeated

renewals, I paid ultimately something over (pounds)200. That is so common

a story as to be hardly worth the telling; but the peculiarity of

this man was that he became so attached to me as to visit me every

day at my office. For a long period he found it to be worth his

while to walk up those stone steps daily, and come and stand behind

my chair, whispering to me always the same words: "Now I wish you

would be punctual. If you only would be punctual, I should like

you to have anything you want." He was a little, clean, old man,

who always wore a high starched white cravat inside of which he

had a habit of twisting his chin as he uttered his caution. When I

remember the constant persistency of his visits, I cannot but feel

that he was paid very badly for his time and trouble. Those visits

were very terrible, and can have hardly been of service to me in

the office.

Of one other misfortune which happened to me in those days I must

tell the tale. A junior clerk in the secretary's office was always

told off to sleep upon the premises, and he was supposed to be the

presiding genius of the establishment when the other members of

the Secretary's department had left the building. On an occasion

when I was still little more than a lad,--perhaps one-and-twenty

years old,--I was filling this responsible position. At about seven

in the evening word was brought to me that the Queen of,--I think

Saxony, but I am sure it was a Queen,--wanted to see the night

mails sent out. At this time, when there were many mail-coaches,

this was a show, and august visitors would sometimes come to see

it. But preparation was generally made beforehand, and some pundit

of the office would be at hand to do the honours. On this occasion

we were taken by surprise, and there was no pundit. I therefore

gave the orders, and accompanied her Majesty around the building,

walking backwards, as I conceived to be proper, and often in great

peril as I did so, up and down the stairs. I was, however, quite

satisfied with my own manner of performing an unaccustomed and most

important duty. There were two old gentlemen with her Majesty, who,

no doubt, were German barons, and an ancient baroness also. They

had come and, when they had seen the sights, took their departure

in two glass coaches. As they were preparing to go, I saw the two

barons consulting together in deep whispers, and then as the result

of that conversation one of them handed me a half-a-crown! That

also was a bad moment.

I came up to town, as I said before, purporting to live a jolly

life upon (pounds)90 per annum. I remained seven years in the General Post

Office, and when I left it my income was (pounds)140. During the whole

of this time I was hopelessly in debt. There were two intervals,

amounting together to nearly two years, in which I lived with

my mother, and therefore lived in comfort,--but even then I was

overwhelmed with debt. She paid much for me,--paid all that I

asked her to pay, and all that she could find out that I owed. But

who in such a condition ever tells all and makes a clean breast of

it? The debts, of course, were not large, but I cannot think now

how I could have lived, and sometimes have enjoyed life, with such

a burden of duns as I endured. Sheriff's officers with uncanny

documents, of which I never understood anything, were common

attendants on me. And yet I do not remember that I was ever locked

up, though I think I was twice a prisoner. In such emergencies some

one paid for me. And now, looking back at it, I have to ask myself

whether my youth was very wicked. I did no good in it; but was there

fair ground for expecting good from me? When I reached London no

mode of life was prepared for me,--no advice even given to me. I

went into lodgings, and then had to dispose of my time. I belonged

to no club, and knew very few friends who would receive me into

their houses. In such a condition of life a young man should no

doubt go home after his work, and spend the long hours of the evening

in reading good books and drinking tea. A lad brought up by strict

parents, and without having had even a view of gayer things, might

perhaps do so. I had passed all my life at public schools, where I