Autobiography of Anthony Trollope | Page 3

done none? But
this I protest:--that nothing that I say shall be untrue. I will set down
naught in malice; nor will I give to myself, or others, honour which I do
not believe to have been fairly won. My boyhood was, I think, as
unhappy as that of a young gentleman could well be, my misfortunes
arising from a mixture of poverty and gentle standing on the part of my
father, and from an utter want on my part of the juvenile manhood
which enables some boys to hold up their heads even among the
distresses which such a position is sure to produce.
I was born in 1815, in Keppel Street, Russell Square; and while a baby,
was carried down to Harrow, where my father had built a house on a
large farm which, in an evil hour he took on a long lease from Lord
Northwick. That farm was the grave of all my father's hopes, ambition,
and prosperity, the cause of my mother's sufferings, and of those of her

children, and perhaps the director of her destiny and of ours. My father
had been a Wykamist and a fellow of New College, and Winchester
was the destination of my brothers and myself; but as he had friends
among the masters at Harrow, and as the school offered an education
almost gratuitous to children living in the parish, he, with a certain
aptitude to do things differently from others, which accompanied him
throughout his life, determined to use that august seminary as "t'other
school" for Winchester, and sent three of us there, one after the other, at
the age of seven. My father at this time was a Chancery barrister
practising in London, occupying dingy, almost suicidal chambers, at
No. 23 Old Square, Lincoln's Inn,--chambers which on one melancholy
occasion did become absolutely suicidal. [Footnote: A pupil of his
destroyed himself in the rooms.] He was, as I have been informed by
those quite competent to know, an excellent and most conscientious
lawyer, but plagued with so bad a temper, that he drove the attorneys
from him. In his early days he was a man of some small fortune and of
higher hopes. These stood so high at the time of my birth, that he was
felt to be entitled to a country house, as well as to that in Keppel Street;
and in order that he might build such a residence, he took the farm.
This place he called Julians, and the land runs up to the foot of the hill
on which the school and the church stand,--on the side towards London.
Things there went much against him; the farm was ruinous, and I
remember that we all regarded the Lord Northwick of those days as a
cormorant who was eating us up. My father's clients deserted him. He
purchased various dark gloomy chambers in and about Chancery Lane,
and his purchases always went wrong. Then, as a final crushing blow,
and old uncle, whose heir he was to have been, married and had a
family! The house in London was let; and also the house he built at
Harrow, from which he descended to a farmhouse on the land, which I
have endeavoured to make known to some readers under the name of
Orley Farm. This place, just as it was when we lived there, is to be seen
in the frontispiece to the first edition of that novel, having the good
fortune to be delineated by no less a pencil than that of John Millais.
My two elder brothers had been sent as day-boarders to Harrow School
from the bigger house, and may probably have been received among
the aristocratic crowd,--not on equal terms, because a day-boarder at
Harrow in those days was never so received,--but at any rate as other

day-boarders. I do not suppose that they were well treated, but I doubt
whether they were subjected to the ignominy which I endured. I was
only seven, and I think that boys at seven are now spared among their
more considerate seniors. I was never spared; and was not even allowed
to run to and fro between our house and the school without a daily
purgatory. No doubt my appearance was against me. I remember well,
when I was still the junior boy in the school, Dr. Butler, the
head-master, stopping me in the street, and asking me, with all the
clouds of Jove upon his brow and the thunder in his voice, whether it
was possible that Harrow School was disgraced by so disreputably dirty
a boy as I! Oh, what I felt at that moment! But I could not look my
feelings. I do not doubt that I was dirty;--but I think that he was cruel.
He must have known me had