What I Remember, Volume 2

What I Remember, Volume 2

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Thomas Adolphus Trollope
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Title: What I Remember, Volume 2
Author: Thomas Adolphus Trollope
Release Date: May 28, 2004 [eBook #12471]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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REMEMBER, VOLUME 2 ***
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WHAT I REMEMBER
BY

THOMAS ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. II
1887

CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
IN THE NORTH OF ENGLAND
CHAPTER II.
JOURNEY IN BRITTANY
CHAPTER III.
AT PENRITH.--AT PARIS
CHAPTER IV.
IN WESTERN FRANCE.--AGAIN IN PARIS
CHAPTER V.
IN IRELAND.--AT ILFRACOMBE--IN FLORENCE
CHAPTER VI.
IN FLORENCE
CHAPTER VII.

CHARLES DICKENS
CHAPTER VIII.
AT LUCCA BATHS
CHAPTER IX.
THE GARROWS.--SCIENTIFIC CONGRESSES.--MY FIRST
MARRIAGE
CHAPTER X
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING
CHAPTER XI.
REMINISCENCES AT FLORENCE
CHAPTER XII.
REMINISCENCES AT FLORENCE
CHAPTER XIII.
LETTERS FROM PEARD--GARIBALDI--LETTERS FROM
PULSZKY
CHAPTER XIV.
WALTER S. LANDOR.--G.P. MARSH
CHAPTER XV.
MR. AND MRS. LEWES
CHAPTER XVI.

LETTERS FROM MR. AND MRS. LEWES
CHAPTER XVII.
MY MOTHER.--LETTERS OF MARY MITFORD.--LETTERS OF
T.C. GRATTAN
CHAPTER XVIII.
THEODOSIA TROLLOPE
CHAPTER XIX.
DEATH OF MR. GARROW--PROTESTANT CEMETERY.--ANGEL
IN THE HOUSE NO MORE
CHAPTER XX.
CONCLUSION
INDEX
CHAPTER I.
No! as I said at the end of the last chapter but one, before I was led
away by the circumstances of that time to give the world the benefit of
my magnetic reminiscences--valeat quantum!--I was not yet bitten,
despite Colley Grattan's urgings, with any temptation to attempt fiction,
and "passion, me boy!" But I am surprised on turning over my old
diaries to find how much I was writing, and planning to write, in those
days, and not less surprised at the amount of running about which I
accomplished.
My life in those years of the thirties must have been a very busy one. I
find myself writing and sending off a surprising number of "articles" on
all sorts of subjects--reviews, sketches of travel, biographical notices,
fragments from the byeways of history, and the like, to all kinds of

periodical publications, many of them long since dead and forgotten.
That the world should have forgotten all these articles "goes without
saying." But what is not perhaps so common an incident in the career of
a penman is, that I had in the majority of cases utterly forgotten them,
and all about them, until they were recalled to mind by turning the
yellow pages of my treasured but almost equally forgotten journals! I
beg to observe, also, that all this pen-work was not only printed, but
paid for. My motives were of a decidedly mercenary description. "Hic
scribit famâ ductus, at ille fame." I belonged emphatically to the latter
category, and little indeed of my multifarious productions ever found
its final resting place in the waste-paper basket. They were rejected
often, but re-despatched a second and a third time, if necessary, to some
other "organ," and eventually swallowed by some editor or other.
I am surprised, too, at the amount of locomotion which I contrived to
combine with all this scribbling. I must have gone about, I think, like a
tax-gatherer, with an inkstand slung to my button-hole! And in truth I
was industrious; for I find myself in full swing of some journey,
arriving at my inn tired at night, and finishing and sending off some
article before I went to my bed. But it must have been only by means of
the joint supplies contributed by all my editors that I could have found
the means of paying all the stage-coaches, diligences, and steamboats
which I find the record of my continually employing. "Navibus atque
Quadrigis petimus bene vivere!" And I succeeded by their means in
living, if not well, at least very pleasantly.
For I was born a rambler.
I heard just now a story of a little boy, who replied to the common
question, "What he would like to be when he grew up?" by saying that
he should like to be either a giant or a retired stockbroker! I find the
qualifying adjective delicious, and admire the pronounced taste for
repose indicated by either side of the alternative. But my propensities
were more active, and in the days before I entered my teens I used
always to reply to similar demands, that I would be a "king's
messenger"! I knew no other life which approached so nearly to
perpetual motion. "The road" was my paradise, and it is a true saying

that the