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 ^L I E) RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVE.RSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS
 
 '-4.4:r„ 
 
 %U>Uj' '/
 
 FRANK ALLERTON.
 
 FRANK ALLERTON 
 
 ^U ^utoVlOQX^p^^. 
 
 BY 
 
 AUGUSTUS MONGREDIEN. 
 
 ' Non tilla Musis pagina gratior, 
 Qoam quse severis ludicra jungere 
 Novit, fatigatamque nugis 
 Utilibos recreare mentem." 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 SAMUEL TINSLEY & CO., 
 
 10 SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND. 
 
 1878. 
 
 [^All rights reserved.']
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 I. My Entrance into Life, a.d, 1718 
 II. I GO TO School. 1732 — 1735 
 
 III. Chevalier de Livordy. 1735 — 1736 
 
 IV. I OBTAIN AN Appointment. 1737 
 V. The Lottery Mania. 1738 . 
 
 VL My Father's Papers. 1739 . 
 
 VII. Sir Robert Walpole. 1740 . 
 VIII. Three QUIET Years. 1741 — 1743 
 
 IX. A NEW Actor on our Stage. 1744 
 X. Martin Brerewood 
 
 XI. A Declaration 
 XII. A Political Plot . 
 XIII. The Countess Molina . 
 XIY. A disagreeable Surprise 
 XY. Confessions of my Father, Andrew Alleeton 
 
 PAGE 
 
 1 
 
 10 
 
 24 
 
 53 
 
 72 
 
 94 
 
 117 
 
 131 
 
 139 
 
 150 
 
 168 
 
 183 
 
 202 
 
 219 
 
 238
 
 Digitized by the Internet Arcliive 
 
 in 2009 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 hiip://www.archive.org/details/frankallertonaL
 
 FRANK ALLERTON: 
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MY ENTRANCE INTO LIFE. 1718. 
 
 Where is the man, woman, or child that is not 
 fond of a story ? In all ages the human race, 
 and at all ages human beings, have taken 
 delight both in historic records, which are 
 often false, and in works of fiction, which are 
 often true. But to me biography is of all 
 forms of narrative the most interesting, espe- 
 cially when the biographer is an autobiogra- 
 pher. In the latter case it is like Rembrandt's 
 portrait, painted by himself. The worker is at 
 once the producer and the subject of the work. 
 Of all the works of antiquity those that, in 
 my opinion, we could least spare are old 
 Plutarch's Lives and the splendid historical 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 FRANK ALLEUTON: 
 
 romance of Quintus Curtius. What ^ve want 
 is not a mero chronological record or a dry 
 catalogue of events, but the spirited touches 
 and racy descriptions which give us a clear 
 conception of the men treated of, and impress 
 us with a sense of their life and reality. We 
 all like to observe tlie different ways in Avhicli 
 different people have been affected by the 
 same circumstances, to trace the motives by 
 which each has been actuated, and to compare 
 the impressions which a given train of events 
 did produce on them and would have produced 
 on ourselves. 
 
 Such is the infinite variety of human 
 character, that its combinations are inexhaust- 
 ible, and our curiosity is never sated. Indeed, 
 our pleasure is not only enhanced by, but 
 chiefly derived from, that wonderful diversity. 
 Every human being has his own peculiar 
 mental and moral features, just as his face has 
 its own special physiognomy, which (Dromios 
 apart) can never be mistaken for another. 
 Nor has any human life ever been the exact 
 counterpart of any other life. This diver- 
 erence runs throuo-h the whole of our habits 
 and modes of being. Fifty children at school
 
 ^.V AUTOBIOGBAPHY 
 
 are taught by one writing-master, and their 
 elementary pot-hook& and hangers exhibit a 
 great family likeness ; but as they progress, 
 individuality asserts itself, and finally no two 
 handwritings are alike. Straightforward, clear- 
 headed men write a crabbed and illegible 
 scrawl, while dull drivellers frequently clothe 
 their nonsense in fine, bold, clear characters. 
 In the sexes this distinctiveness is signally 
 evinced. With rare exceptions, the difference 
 between the handwriting of a man and that of 
 a woman is so marked that one can scarcely 
 ever be taken for the other. 
 
 Let these remarks be my apology for 
 writing the story of the most eventful period 
 of my life. Xo one is a good judge of his own 
 performances ; but I fancy that if I read these 
 adventures as having happened to a stranger, 
 I should not find them altogether devoid of 
 interest. 
 
 I was born in 1718, at Paris, where my 
 father, Andrew Allerton, then resided. Ours 
 is an old Berkshire family, and the estate at 
 Allerton, with its mansion, the Allerton Manor 
 House, had been in the possession of the family 
 for untold generations* but it was then so
 
 FBANK ALLERTON: 
 
 deeply mortgaged that tlie rents did little more 
 than cover the interest. For that and for 
 some other reasons my father resided abroad. 
 As for my mother, I never knew her, as she 
 had died in giving me birth. 
 
 I shall skim very lightly at present over 
 my father's history, as more ample details 
 will hereafter be given in connexion Avith 
 some stirring incidents in my own life. It 
 will be sufficient now to state that, when I was 
 five years of age, my father brought me over 
 to England, and left me in the charge and 
 under the guardianship of my uncle and aunt, 
 Mr. and Mrs. Uppenham. To my uncle he 
 assigned the management and stewardship of 
 the Allerton estate, and any surjDlus, after 
 paying the interest on the. mortgages, was to 
 be used to defray the expense of my main- 
 tenance and education. My father then re- 
 turned to Paris, where he died a year or two 
 afterwards. 
 
 Mr. Meredith Uppenham had married a sister 
 of my father's, and they had one child, a 
 daughter, named Alice. She was a joyous, 
 little toddling thing, with long flaxen curly 
 hair, two or three years younger than myself,
 
 AN AJJTOBIOGBAFEY, 
 
 who was as deliglited to have a playmate 
 as I was, so that we soon became fast 
 friends. 
 
 My uncle's character will sufficiently develope 
 itself in the sequel to obviate the necessity of 
 my saying more at present than that he was 
 a most estimable and kind-hearted man, ex- 
 ceedingly well informed, and always adding 
 to his stock of information by constant read- 
 ing. Without being wealthy, his means were 
 more than adequate to his wants, and he lived 
 a life of learned leisure. 
 
 Mrs. Uppenham, my aunt, was a woman of 
 handsome features, commanding presence, and 
 of considerable intellectual power. Whatever 
 she felt and willed, she felt and willed strongly. 
 She was staunch in her beUefs and affections, 
 inflexible in her resolutions, and almost pain- 
 fully conscientious in the performance of what 
 she deemed her duty. She was deeply attached 
 to my lovable uncle, over whom she at the 
 same time exercised great influence. 
 
 From early associations as well as from family 
 traditions, both were warm adherents of the 
 Jacobite cause, and their sincere fealty to th© 
 Protestant Church did not interfere witli their
 
 FRANK ALLEItTON 
 
 ardent zeal for the restoration of the Catholic 
 dynasty of the Stuarts. 
 
 Such was the family of which I was admitted 
 a member, at so early a period in my life that 
 I never had any but the vaguest and dreamiest 
 recollections of any other home. In every re- 
 spect I was treated as a beloved son ; and little 
 Alice and I played together, studied together, 
 and glided away from childhood together in 
 the free intimacy of brother and sister. 
 
 My aunt Iiad, from some reason or other, 
 imbibed a rooted dislike to public schools, and, 
 having inoculated her husband with the same 
 prejudice, it was determined that the two 
 children should receive the unalloyed benefit 
 of home education. Our early years were 
 therefore subjected to the training at first of a 
 governess only, then of a governess backed 
 and reinforced by masters, and at last of 
 masters only. 
 
 By the time that I was fourteen years of 
 age, I had really learned a good deal ; but it was 
 evident to my uncle that there were some 
 other elements, indispensable to complete the 
 education of a man, which I had still to 
 acquire, and which I never should acquire
 
 ^.Y AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 under my present system of instruction. It 
 was not that manly exercises had been 
 neglected : in fencing, riding, rowing, swim- 
 ming, &c., I had been well taught, and I was 
 no mean proficient. But a boy is an incom- 
 plete boy without a fair amount of male com- 
 panionship. He is in danger of becoming 
 either a milksop or a prig, unless he comes into 
 contact with the pugnacity, the selfishness, the 
 rivalry, and the petulance of other boys. He 
 requires, on the one hand, to be stirred into 
 emulation, and on the other to be hustled out 
 of undue conceit of his own merits : in the 
 process his sense of self-importance gets 
 weakened, and he gradually settles down to 
 his proper level. Such experiences are very 
 necessary to a lad to prepare him for his 
 entrance into the world, where, if some degree 
 of self-knowledge has not previously been 
 attained, it is only to be acquired at an exorbi- 
 tantly high price. 
 
 After some discussion, during which there 
 was an upheaval of that deep-lying stratum of 
 firmness in my uncle's mind which rarely came 
 to the surface, but to which, when it did, my 
 aunt always discreetly succumbed, it was settled
 
 FRANK ALLERTON 
 
 that I was to be sent to some finisliinsr-school, 
 where I miglit consort with lads of my own 
 age, or older. 
 
 /^And now, my dear Meredith," said my 
 aunt, ^^ that I have yielded to your wishes (and 
 I promise to faithfully carry them out), you 
 must leave to me the selection of the school 
 to which Frank is to be sent. It must be none 
 of your seminaries for Whiggism, your Hano- 
 verian conscience-traps, your hot-beds for dis- 
 loyalty and infidelity, but a reputable institu- 
 tion, conducted by some pious, learned, and old- 
 fashioned Episcopalian, free from the leaven 
 of revolutionary principles, and equally free 
 from the taint of papistical tendencies." 
 
 '^ Very good, my dear," said my uncle ; ^^ I 
 leave it to you, but with one proviso : it must 
 be a large school. I want Frank to be thrown 
 among a crowd of his fellows, to feel the 
 jostling and pressure of the throng; I want 
 him to know by exjDerience something of the 
 bad as well as of the good of this world ; I 
 want him to Iiave his temper tried, his wishes 
 thwarted, his kindness abused, his credulity 
 laughed at, and, generally, his toes trodden 
 on. All this cannot be effectually accom-
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 plished at a small school. A hundred boys is 
 my minimum. Please to remember that this 
 is my sine qud iion." 
 
 My aunt acquiesced, and set to work to find 
 an establishment that should combine her 
 husband's and her own requirements. After 
 many inquiries and advertisements, both 
 answered and inserted, my aunt fixed on Dr. 
 Burridge's Academy at Highgate, as fulfilling 
 all the desiderata, and, after some correspond- 
 ence with the doctor, which she deemed satis- 
 factory, and consultation with two friends who 
 shared her political views, and whose sons were 
 committed to his care, I was entered as a pupil 
 in Dr. Burridge's establishment.
 
 10 FBANK ALLERTON: 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 I GO TO SCHOOL. 1732 — 1735. 
 
 On the resumption of studies after the mid- 
 summer holidays my uncle escorted me to 
 Virgil House, and formally consigned me into 
 the charge of Dr. Burridge. 
 
 Virgil House was, as it were, twins, two 
 mansions in the Grrove at Highgate having 
 been thrown into one. It was a very large 
 establishment, and, being both expensive and 
 fashionable, the pujDils were generally the sons 
 of persons in good position. But my aunt 
 was quite mistaken in the notion she had 
 formed that the inculcation of Tory principles 
 went hand in hand with Greek and Latin in 
 the educational scheme of Dr. Burridge. Half 
 the pupils, at least, were the scions of Whig
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 11 
 
 families, who Avere under the contrary impres- 
 sion that Whig doctrines were there instilled 
 along with grammar and mathematics. But 
 Dr. Burridge steered clear both of the Tory 
 Scylla and the Whig Charybdis. He contented 
 himself with giving his pupils a thoroughly 
 sound education, totally irrespective of political 
 controversies ; and thus my aunt, like a true 
 woman, had selected the right school for the 
 wrong reasons. 
 
 Tall, portly, and dignified, with a face rest- 
 ing on massive, square jaw-bones, and arched 
 over by huge, shaggy eyebrows. Dr. Burridge 
 was evidently a man not to be trifled with ; 
 but there was a benevolent and almost a merry 
 twinkle in his deep-seated but sharp grey 
 eyes, of which the attractiveness neutralized 
 the awe which his sterner physical attributes 
 created. While he was indifferent to, and per- 
 haps entertained a kind of philosophical 
 disdain for, both extremes of political partisan- 
 ship, he so ingeniously coquetted with those 
 cautious parents who, before entrusting him 
 with their precious offspring, were desirous of 
 ascertaining his own private views on politics, 
 that, whichever side they were upon, they
 
 12 FRANK ALLERTON: 
 
 generally went away with the impression that 
 the Doctor, while, too discreet to commit him- 
 self, was ^^ all right." 
 
 And thus it occurred that his school was 
 attended by boys whose j^arents represented 
 every shade of political opinion. 
 
 Dr. Burridge so overflowed with learning 
 that it ran over the brim and spilt all round him. 
 It oozed out of him in tlie sliape of classical 
 quotations — long Latinized words ending in 
 iblej ity, and cUion — and sententious remarks 
 as dogmatic, and sometimes as ambiguous, as 
 the oracle of Delphi. 
 
 This flow of erudition fascinated the parents, 
 who thought that by living in such an atmo- 
 sphere of learning their sons must surely im- 
 bibe some of it; and, in conjunction with a 
 deep, sonorous voice, a burly form, and the 
 alternate rise and depression of those vast 
 shaggy eyebrows, it awed the boys into won- 
 dering submissiveness. 
 
 ^' My dear Dr. Burridge," said my uncle, after 
 having introduced me, ^^ I am sure, from what 
 I have heard of you, and from what you have 
 written to Mrs. Uppenham, that you will take 
 care to foster in my nephew those sound prin-
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 13 
 
 ciples as to Church and State which will con- 
 duce to his well-being in after life." 
 
 ^^ Worthy sir," replied Dr. Burridge, with 
 the emjDhasis which underscored his slightest 
 sayings, ^^ principles are the groundwork of 
 character. If the foundation be sound, the 
 superstructure is secure. Testa semel im- 
 hutaj &c." 
 
 '^ You may perhaps know, indeed may per- 
 haps share, the opinion which I hold as to the 
 indefeasible rights of a legitimate king. I 
 feel that I am safe in talking of these matters 
 with you." 
 
 ^^ You are. I am the inviolate depository 
 of many similar confidences. The struggles 
 between abstract right and expediency are not 
 unknown to me." 
 
 '^ I see you take my meaning.'' 
 
 ^' I do. It is the old encounter between de 
 jure and de facto. Heaven will protect the 
 right." 
 
 ^^ Amen! — Dr. Burridge, I see that you are 
 one of the right sort. I commend Frank to 
 your kind care. Adieu I '' 
 
 x\nd my uncle departed, charmed with the 
 orthodoxy of the Doctor's opinions, although to
 
 14 FRANK ALLERTON: 
 
 what they really were he had carefully abstained 
 from giving any clue. 
 
 After undergoing tlie ordeal of mystifications 
 and persecutions to which the ''new boy" is 
 always subject, I soon got initiated, and settled 
 down resignedly, if not cheerfully, to my 
 work. In a short time I had formed a special 
 attachment to one of my schoolfellows, a bright, 
 merry boy of about my own age, named Cliarles 
 rramj)ton ; and he took a similar fancy to me. 
 We heljDcd each other in our lessons, we shared 
 each other's treats, and we fought each other's 
 battles. We became inseparable, and con- 
 stantly strolled together with our arms round 
 each other's necks, making all manner of 
 mutual confidences and confessions. To my 
 surprise, I discovered that he was a full-blown 
 Hanoverian Whig. For tlie moment I was 
 quite shocked. I had been taught at home to 
 consider tlie supporters of the intrusive dynasty 
 as mean time-servers, who abandoned their 
 riglitful sovereign in distress, and curried 
 favour with the usurper from low and mer- 
 cenary motives. But, as I had no strong 
 personal feeling in the matter, I soon re- 
 covered, and said to Charley, —
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPHY. 15 
 
 ^^ I had no idea that you were a common 
 Brunswick man. I am for the rightful king, I 
 am. But never mind ; I like you, Charley, 
 and I '11 look that over.'' 
 
 '' And I," said Charley, '^ will wink at your 
 being a silly old Jacobite. After all, who 
 cares ? Shall we have a game at leap-frog ? " 
 
 ^^ Stop, Charley ! This is what puzzles me. 
 How did you manage to get into this school ? 
 The Doctor, you know, is an out-and-out 
 ^ King and his rights ' man, and would no 
 
 more let a Whig in than a " Here I was 
 
 hard up for a simile — '^ an elephant." 
 
 ^' You gumph ! Why it 's just the contrary. 
 He is dead for the Protestant succession." 
 
 '^ Nonsense ; you don't say so ? " 
 
 ^' At least, he led my mother to believe so. 
 My mother brought me here, you know. She 
 and the Doctor talked a lot, and here is what 
 they said." 
 
 From what he told me, I make out that 
 what passed must have been something like the 
 following. I shall not record every one of the 
 learned quotations with which Dr. Burridge 
 interlarded his discourse ; they would be 
 unintelligible to many, and savour of pedantry
 
 16 FRANK ALLERTON: 
 
 to all ; nor would they serve any purpose, as 
 he used them not to express, but simply to 
 illustrate, his meaning. I may take this opjDor- 
 tunity of stating that, for somewhat similar 
 reasons, I have, throughout this work, omitted 
 the cursing and swearing, the silly oaths and 
 foul words, which are of such common use 
 (though perhaps less now than some years ago) 
 among all classes of men. With rare excep- 
 tions, they are mere thoughtless, unmeaning 
 expletives, the outcome of habit and routine, 
 that neither add force to lano^uag-e nor serve 
 for the delineation of character. They are 
 disgusting both to write and to read, and I 
 will not sully my pages with them. While I 
 am about it, I may add that, when I introduce 
 a foreigner speaking English, it shall not be in 
 the imperfect language which he really uses. 
 An exact transcript of it, when thoroughly 
 carried out, produces a jargon which is some- 
 times unintelligible and always tiresome, and, 
 when carried out partially, is much more 
 unnatural than when not attempted at all ; 
 for that a person sliould speak partly in 
 broken and partly in pure English is a per- 
 petual and perplexing violation of reality. My
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPEY. 17 
 
 object is, more to convey the meaning of the 
 speaker than to set down his actual words, 
 except in those cases in which his mode of 
 expression is as essential a characteristic as 
 are his thoughts themselves. 
 
 On the occasion of bringing Charley to 
 Virgil House, Mrs. Frampton, whom he some- 
 what irreverently described as being in the habit 
 of chopping up her sentences into small mouth- 
 fuls, to enable them, as he said, to go down 
 more easily, spoke thus, — 
 
 ^' Dr. Burridge, listen, please. Lady Griggs, 
 — you know Lady Griggs ? " 
 
 '^ Madam, Lady Griggs is the revered 
 consort of my revered friend. Alderman Sir 
 Jeremiah Griggs." 
 
 ^^She recommended me here. ^ Dr. Bur- 
 ridge,' says she, ^is staunch; send Charley 
 to him.' ' Staunch in what ? ' says I. 
 ^ Glorious revolution,' says she. Are you 
 that ? '' 
 
 '^ Madam, all revolutions are glorious when 
 they tend to improvement. Time, madam, 
 — tempus edax rerum^ — rolls heavily over and 
 crushes into extinction old, worm-eaten, and 
 effete institutions. If new ones spring up, 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 FRANK ALLEETON: 
 
 better suited to the requirements of the age^ 
 let us hail them ! " 
 
 ^^Beautifully put, Doctor! Then Lady 
 Griggs — a very great friend of mine, you 
 know — told me, ' You will find the Doctor,' 
 says she, ' strong, amazingly strong, on Pro- 
 testant succession.' " 
 
 ^^ Madam, I am strong on all matters tending 
 to the welfare of our beloved country. Those 
 conditions which are essential to it I not only 
 readily conform to, but cheerfully accept, and, 
 as long as they last, will strenuously contend 
 for." 
 
 ^'Dear me! how fine! My husband, Mr. 
 Frampton, — you know Mr. Frampton, of the 
 Secret Service Office, — well, ^ I hear,' says he, 
 ' that the Doctor is right.' ^ About what ? ' 
 says I. ' Whig principles,' says he. Are 
 you ? " 
 
 ^' Madam, if I may define Whigs as the 
 champions of progress, and their opponents as 
 the advocates of immutability, who can hesi- 
 tate between them ? " 
 
 ^^ Well, I do admire that in you. Doctor. 
 You don't just say, ^Yes' or ^ No ' to my 
 questions — that is what ordinary people do — but
 
 AX AUTOBIOGBAPET. 19 
 
 you give reasons, and then I know where I am. 
 ' Ask the Doctor/ says my husband, ' which he 
 is for.' ' What is which ? ' says I. ^ Moving 
 on or going back ? ' says he. What shall I 
 tell him, Doctor ? " 
 
 ^* Tell him, madam,. that all changes for the 
 better are acceptable to me. Tempora mu- 
 tantur, and so must everything else. What we 
 want is improvement : improvement impKes 
 change: ergo, those who resist change, resist 
 improvement. Q. E. Z>." 
 
 '' Nothing can be more explicit. Your 
 frankness delights me : I am perfectly satisfied. 
 Take great care of Charles. Adieu ! '' 
 
 WTien I told Charlie of the corresponding 
 scene, when I had been introduced to the 
 Doctor by my father, we were much amused 
 by the contrast. But, boy-like, thinking very 
 little of the sanctity of convictions, we voted 
 Dr. Burridge to have been by far the cleverest 
 actor in those little interludes. 
 
 The school was a large and well-conducted 
 one. We had a good supply of clever in- 
 structors 5 and yet the strain on the pupils was 
 not made too heavy. In extreme cases Dr. 
 Burridge was a strict disciplinarian, and flog-
 
 20 FBANK ALLEUTON: 
 
 ging was mercilessly resorted to. But to 
 those breaches of school-law that arose from a 
 sluggish intellect, or that sprang out of high 
 spirits or sudden impulse, he was lenient in 
 corporal j^unishment, although ruthless in the 
 infliction of magniloquent expostulation ; in- 
 deed, we would sometimes have preferred a 
 mild birching to a prolonged remonstrance. 
 But, at all events, he drew a line, — he did not 
 preach and flog too ; and, on the whole, we all 
 of us liked and respected the Doctor. 
 
 As to influence over our religious or political 
 opinions, he never tried to exercise any. He 
 neither uprooted our old tenets nor inculcated 
 fresh. His pupils never could discover whether 
 he were Whig or Tory, High Church or Low 
 Church. In regard to such topics, he was a 
 mere '^ chip in porridge," which, after all, is a 
 much better thing than ^' death in the pot.'' 
 
 On the other hand, he never let slip an 
 opportunity of exalting and glorifying to us 
 the higher virtues, such as truthfulness,' self- 
 respect, generosity, and brotherly love ; and, in 
 consequence, a healthy feeling and a manly 
 tone pervaded the school. It was quite stirring 
 to hear the large-hearted pedant earnestly
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 21 
 
 preaching peace and good-will in defiant, 
 trumpet-like tones, and proclaiming, with the 
 voice of a Stentor and the emphasis of a 
 Demosthenes, his favourite saying, that union 
 with others you cannot enforce, but charity to 
 others you can always practise. 
 
 I spent three hapjDy and not unprofitable 
 years at Virgil House. About once a month I 
 walked to my uncle's on the Saturday after- 
 noon, and returned to Highgate early on the 
 Monday morning; so that, with these occasional, 
 in addition to the usual Midsummer holidays, 
 my intercourse with my adopted home in Red 
 Lion Square and its kind inmates was not 
 severed by any long break. 
 
 That dear old village, Highgate, where our 
 school was situated, is a very small place, a 
 few miles from London, and was so called from 
 the toll-gate in its centre, that stands on the 
 high road from London to the North. It con- 
 sists of a few mansions, a few shops, and a 
 disproportionate number of inns and taverns, 
 of which the chief and oldest is the old Gate 
 House. It is at this inn chiefly, but also in 
 smaller number at the Rose and Crown, the 
 Angel, and the Flask, that the absurd but
 
 22 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 ancient practice of swearing on the Horns, as 
 it is called, is forced on most of those travellers 
 who have not the courage to resist or the means 
 of buying off the infliction. Many from weak- 
 ness, some from curiosity, and not a few for 
 the fun of the thing, acquiesce in the grotesque 
 ceremony, and, as I and Charley more than 
 once witnessed, made fools of themselves for 
 the amusement of clowns and the profit of inn- 
 keepers. The landlord of the Gate House told 
 us, ^' There is so much doing in this way that 
 I am obliged to hire a man as swearer-in. I 
 have sworn in from a hundred to a hundred 
 and twenty in a day. Bodies of tailors come 
 up here from town, bringing five or six new 
 shopmates with them to be sworn ; and I often 
 have parties of ladies and gentlemen in private 
 carriages come up purposely to be made free 
 of Highgate in this way." The mere swear- 
 ing in is not a long or difficult affair ; but it 
 results in a large expenditure for beer or wine 
 on the part of the victim, drunkenness on the 
 part of the sharers of the feast, and the pocket- 
 ing of a heavy score on the part of the land- 
 lord. 
 
 Ever since my school-boy days I have re-
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 25 
 
 tained an affectionate recollection of old High- 
 gate, with its elevated position and its magni- 
 ficent views of London. The two ponds near 
 the Gate House were formed by the excavation 
 of gravel which was taken to make the low 
 road in Holloway. Old Fuller, alluding to this 
 removal of the soil from one place to the other, 
 calls it '^ a two-handed charity, providing water 
 on the hill, where it was wanted, and cleanli- 
 ness in the valley, which before was passed 
 with difficulty."
 
 24 FRANK ALLEETON : 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CHEVALIER DE LIVORDY. 1735 — 1736. 
 
 After leaving school I continued my studies at 
 home under the direction of my uncle, and 
 with the assistance of various masters. My 
 uncle was an excellent classical scholar, and a 
 glutton at reading books of all sorts. It was, 
 however, the old Latin commentators and 
 emendators, Scaliger, Vossius, Salmasius, and 
 others, that he chiefly delighted in. He loved 
 to poke into the holes and corners of literature, 
 and to drag out of those neglected recesses 
 some piece of ingenious criticism, or spicy 
 paradox, or biographical scandal. He would 
 now and then pick out some forgotten writer, 
 some faded celebrity, such as Postellus or Tri- 
 themius, and descant upon his eccentric teach- 
 ings ; or he would fish up from the depths of
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 26 
 
 oblivion some unread Latin poet, such as 
 Audoenus or Vida, and declaim against the in- 
 justice and caprice of popular applause. He 
 would say, ^' You talk of the dryness of my 
 studies ! Nonsense ! You do not know the 
 fun there is in those old fellows. Why, who 
 can read Plato's ^ Hippias Major ' without a 
 hearty laugh? There is not a comic scene in 
 Moliere that is so amusing. Again, read the 
 letters that passed between Politian and his 
 friend Barbarus about the gender of the word 
 ^ culex.' The correspondence commences on 
 both sides by the most fulsome compliments 
 and expressions of intense esteem and admira- 
 tion. Gradually, as the dispute warms, the 
 regard cools ; and at about the twelfth exchange 
 of letters they wind up by blackguarding each 
 other furiously, and all about the doubtful 
 gender of the word ' culex ' ! Then look at 
 the cruel fate of Peter Pach ! You smile? 
 Just the way of the world ! You laugh at a 
 name which you ought to revere. Denmark 
 ought to be as proud of Petrus Pachius j^oeta 
 as of Tycho Brahe. He was the greatest Latin 
 poet since Virgil. He wrote, among other 
 ingenious works, the ' Pugna Porcorum,' a
 
 26 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 poem of 1,000 hexameters, every word in 
 which h'terally began with the letter p. Match 
 me that if you can. Now, again, you ladies 
 pique yourselves on your knowledge of music 
 and musical composers. Very well. There is 
 a composition, of world-wide celebrity, that 
 attracts crowded and appreciative auditories, 
 and is never listened to but with intense ad- 
 miration. Nor is it a mere cantata, but a 
 lengthened performance. I allude to the 
 splendid ^ Miserere,' which is chanted every 
 Good Friday at the Sistine Chapel in Rome. 
 It is confessedly the work of a composer of 
 the very highest order of merit. Do you know 
 his name ? No ? Of course not. You very 
 likely have never heard of it. It is Tommaso 
 Baj ! Another instance of capricious injustice 
 in the distribution of fame." But it was only 
 when among- ourselves that mv uncle indulsred 
 
 '& 
 
 my 
 
 in this vein. In general society he was, like 
 Addison, reticent, kept his learning within 
 bounds, and rarely made a quotation. 
 
 I found my old playmate, cousin Alice, just 
 hovering on the confines between girlhood and 
 womanhood. A dainty age, that sweet fifteen, 
 when, day by day, figure, face, and mind
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
 
 develope fresh charms, and gradually grow 
 and expand into their perfect forms. Among 
 her many accomplishments, music held a high 
 place. She was passionately fond of it, and 
 her exquisite performance on the harpsichord 
 was only surpassed by the sweet, thrilling, and 
 sympathetic tones of her voice when singing. 
 I taught her chess, and she taught me to hum 
 a second in a vocal duet ; and so passed we our 
 time together as happy as little birds. 
 
 My aunt was addicted to theological studies 
 and embroidery. Hooker's ' Polity,' or a 
 volume of quaint, pithy, poetical Jeremy 
 Taylor, reclined on a stand before her, while 
 she worked away like a Penelope at her colour- 
 weaving. Her strength of mind and decision 
 of character carried all the greater weight with 
 us all, because they were never displayed 
 except in affairs of some importance. In 
 ordinary everyday matters she was indulgent 
 and genial to an extent that might induce a 
 careless observer to fancy that she never had 
 her own way ; but in reality it was quite the 
 contrary. She reserved her influence for fit- 
 ting conjunctures, and, when she did speak 
 seriously and express an earnest opinion, she
 
 28 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 was listened to with the utmost attention and 
 deference. Some have a knack of wearing out 
 their authority by bringing it forward on every 
 petty occasion, and it thus gets wasted and 
 frittered away, grain by grain, on a pack of 
 trumpery, trivial subjects. 
 
 About this time I took fencing lessons from 
 a celebrated prqfesseur d ^escrime, the Chevalier 
 de Livordy. He was a tall, spare man, of 
 about fifty, well versed in his art, and wonder- 
 fully spry and active for his age. At his 
 ^^ court," as he called it, which was a sj)acious 
 room in St. Martin's Lane, hung round with 
 weapons of prodigious variety, as well as with 
 masks, gloves, and defensive armour of all 
 kinds, I met with many persons of note, for 
 he was mucli in vogue. 
 
 I learned much from him, and he sometimes 
 complimented me on my proficiency in the use 
 of the rapier. He always dressed well, and, 
 notwithstanding many peculiarities, had the 
 address and manners of a gentleman. His 
 conversation interested me, and I occasionally 
 — with the permission of my aunt, which fully 
 implied that of my uncle — invited him to spend 
 the evening at our house.
 
 ^.V AUTOBIOGBAPET. 29 
 
 I will ofive you a sketch of some of tlie con- 
 
 to' 
 
 versations on these occasions, as they may 
 divert you as they did me. But first I must 
 tell you something of his history and character. 
 He professed to be a Frenchman ; but as to his 
 nationality I have my doubts. He spoke 
 English so fluently, though with a provincial 
 accent, and French so indifferently, though 
 very fond of introducing French phrases, that 
 his residence of twenty years in London, which 
 is the period he assigned to it, hardly suffices 
 to account for his acquiring so much of the 
 former and forgetting so much of the latter. 
 Indeed, various little mannerisms have some- 
 times induced me to think that Ireland must 
 have been his native country. 
 
 He was much addicted to boasting, and in 
 all matters connected with himself was the 
 most audacious perverter of truth that I ever 
 met with. "With a soft smile, and a low and 
 gentle voice, he would utter the most pre- 
 posterous and startling untruths in relation to 
 his own doings. His hearers might be de- 
 ceived for some few minutes, but they soon 
 detected his exaggerations ; for his statements 
 were not only incredible, but often contradic-
 
 30 FRANK ALLERTON: 
 
 tory. He did not show any consciousness of 
 the incredulity they excited, but, cahn and 
 impassive, he went on from one improbable 
 narrative to another, as coolly as if he had 
 been uttering so many truisms. He saw you 
 lift your eyebrows, but ascribed it to admira- 
 tion. If his hearers smiled and looked at each 
 other wonderingly, he assumed, or affected to 
 assume, these to be marks of interest. 
 
 But, on the other hand, in narrating events, 
 or describing scenes, in which he did not him- 
 self figure as an actor, this tendency to distort 
 or exaggerate ceased to appear. He might 
 perhaps embellish, but his imagination never 
 led him in these cases beyond the bounds of 
 probability. He had seen much of the world, 
 and teemed with anecdotes about old customs, 
 past events, and defunct celebrities. As a 
 chronicler he was delightful : it was only 
 when he dealt with his own adventures that 
 he betraved his weakness, and fell into absurd- 
 ities. His gentle manners and deferential 
 courtesy to ladies won my aunt's and Alice's 
 favour, and his peculiarities rather amused 
 than offended them. 
 
 After the usual general topics had been used
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 31 
 
 up, such as health and weather, the conversa- 
 tion would direct itself on the particular news 
 of the day. 
 
 Me. Uppenham. ^^ What a curious story each 
 of the 135 individuals who dined together to- 
 day at Ironmongers' Hall would have to tell I " 
 
 Mrs. Uppenham. ^' Who were they ? " 
 
 Mr. U. ^' Men who had from time to time 
 been taken by the Barbary pirates and reduced 
 to slavery. They have been released from cap- 
 tivity by a newly made treaty with the Dey of 
 Algiers." 
 
 Alice. *^ Were they all Englishmen ? " 
 
 Mr. U. ^^All; and among them were nine 
 commanders of vessels which had been pirati- 
 cally seized by those wretches." 
 
 Mrs. U. '^ The man who is at present King 
 ought to be ashamed of himself to let his sub- 
 jects be kidnapped in this way, and then 
 meanly beg them off by treaties with this 
 pirate ! " 
 
 Mr. U. '^Better that than leave them to 
 their fate. They were presented this morning 
 to George II., who gave them lOOL; and many 
 others added donations of five and ten guineas. 
 Sir CharJps Wasrer subscribed 50^." 
 
 "O
 
 82 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 De Livordy. ^^ Besides, madam, you must 
 bear in mind that this is no new thing. About 
 twenty years ago, the Emperor of Morocco 
 released by treaty 280 Englishmen who had 
 for years been captives in the Moorish states. 
 I saw them go in procession, clad in the 
 Moorish habit, to St. Paul's, where the chap- 
 lain of the Bishop of London preached a 
 sermon appropriate to the occasion. After the 
 sermon they proceeded to St. James's, where 
 the King visited them in the garden, and pre- 
 sented them with 500/. After this they filed 
 off to Leicester House, and received 250/. from 
 the Prince of Wales." 
 
 A. '' How delighted the families of these 
 men must have been to regain their husbands, 
 or fathers, or brothers, whom they must have 
 given up as lost to them for ever ! " 
 
 De L. ^^ Not in every case. One of the 
 men I became acquainted with. He had been 
 captured nine years before his deliverance, 
 when mate in a Levant trader. During that 
 time, he was successively quarryman, gardener, 
 cook, and pipe-bearer to an old dervish or priest, 
 who did not treat him very badly. On his 
 return to England, he proceeded to Yarmouth,
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 33 
 
 where he had left his wife and two children. 
 He found, to his dismay, that she had re- 
 married, and was now the mother of three 
 children more. In vain he recalled himself to 
 her recollection ; she swore that he was an 
 impostor, and that she had never seen him 
 before in her life. He was so disgusted and 
 disheartened that he went to sea again, and 
 was never heard of more ; probably he found 
 his way back to his old master, the dervish." 
 
 I. ^'Besides, in many cases no doubt death 
 must have been busy among the men's 
 families, and poverty have desolated many a 
 hearth." 
 
 De L. '' I was myself once very nearly 
 captured by an Algerian corsair. It was a 
 few years before I came over to England that 
 I and three friends engaged a small felouque 
 at Marseilles, for a pleasure trip to Corsica. 
 When about twenty miles from Bastia, a 
 piratical sloop, carrying enormous sails, bore 
 down upon us, and, as escape seemed impos- 
 sible, we determined to make the best resist- 
 ance we could. It was a desperate resolve, as 
 w^e were only eight, viz., four passengers and 
 four sailors, so that I had to supplement force 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 FPUNK ALLERTON: 
 
 by stratagem. It happened that we had 
 brought with us four Turkish dresses, with a 
 view to masquerading in Bastia, for it was 
 Carnival time. 
 
 '^ I made my three friends hastily darken 
 their faces and put on the Turkish dresses ; 
 and I did the same. I then tied the hands of 
 the four sailors with ro23es, and made them lie 
 down, while we, with ^^istols in hand, stood 
 guard over them. By the time the sloop came 
 alongside of us, we had just completed these 
 preparations. They hailed us, and I replied 
 with a shout, making a salaam. The Algerian 
 captain, seeing us arrayed in orthodox gar- 
 ments, accosted us in language of which I of 
 course did not understand one word. I 
 answered in improvised gibberish, of which 
 he, of course, understood just as little. 
 
 ^^ This kind of intercourse could naturally 
 lead to no very satisfactory result ; but my 
 calm demeanour (for I listened and spoke with 
 folded arms, and the dignified phlegm of a true 
 Ottoman) completely threw the Algerian off 
 his guard, and he was puzzled to make us 
 out. At last he made up his mind to see with 
 his eyes, since lie could not hear with his ears;
 
 AX AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 35 
 
 and he jumped from the deck of the sloop on 
 to that of our felouque. He was a big burly 
 fellow, with a thick grizzled beard, and 
 squinted so horribly that his eyes seemed as 
 though one were looking at the other. He 
 drew his curved scimitar, and after giving a 
 glance at the four rope-bound sailors, who 
 naturally were so scared at the idea of Algerian 
 slavery that true terror was depicted in their 
 countenances, and also at their three guards, 
 in masquerade dresses, who kept their pistols 
 pointed at the supposed captives with admirable 
 fierceness, he addi-essed me some question or 
 other in his abominable lingo. 
 
 '' I felt that all was lost, unless I played my 
 part properly, and, summoning to my mind all 
 the Turkish words I ever knew, I stood majes- 
 tically erect, placed my left hand across my 
 breast, looked at one of his eyes (at both it 
 was impossible), and pointing emphatically 
 with my right to myself, I exclaimed, ^ Os- 
 manlee ! ' then, slowly pointing to the four 
 sailors, I hissed out with the most demoniacal 
 sneer I could muster, ^Giaour ! ' The Moor 
 burst into a loud laugh, and made another 
 unintelligible speech. 1 laughed responsively,
 
 36 FRANK ALLEBTON : 
 
 and made him a long reply in gibberish, for I 
 dared not use French, lest he might know enough 
 of that language to detect the ruse, and at the 
 end I made him a solemn Oriental salaam. 
 
 ^' The poor man was fairly puzzled. It was 
 evident that he thought us Turks; but why 
 did we speak so different a language from his 
 own ? Could we be true believers from some 
 distant province in which some peculiar dialect 
 prevailed ? How came we in this small craft ? 
 How came our dresses to be so magnificently 
 clean ? 
 
 ^' While many such thoughts were no doubt 
 crossing his brain, our felouque had drifted 
 towards the stern of the sloop. I touched my 
 Moorish friend lightly on the arm, and, leading 
 him to the fore part of the felouque, I took up 
 a coil of rope that lay there, and, uncoiling it, 
 fastened one end to a stake projecting on our 
 deck, and the other I threw on board the sloop. 
 I then by signs, accompanied by much jab- 
 bering, made him understand, as well as I 
 could, that I wished his vessel to tow us after 
 it, and so for him to take possession both of 
 the felouque and of the four ^ Giaours.' Tlie 
 idea seemed to please him. He grinned, and
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPHY, 
 
 climbing up to his own craft gave orders which 
 resulted in attaching the connecting rope on 
 board the sloop, and so we followed in his 
 wake. Night was approaching, and, as the 
 weather was gloomy, it was not long before 
 we were enveloped in darkness. At the earliest 
 moment that I thought it prudent, we cut the 
 rope and parted company from our j^ii'atical 
 consort, very glad d'en etre quitte a si ho/i 
 marche. We safely arrived at Bastia, where 
 we narrated our adventure, to the great amuse- 
 ment of our friends, and spent a merry 
 Carnival." 
 
 Mr. U. '^ Truly a wonderful escape ! " 
 
 De L. "I have had many much more 
 wonderful escapes. In the year 1720, when 
 the big South Sea Bubble and hundreds of its 
 progeny of infant bubbles burst — " 
 
 I. (Anxious to nip this other adventure in 
 the bud.) '^ Oh, what a year of excitement it 
 must have been ! Were you in the thick 
 of it?" 
 
 De L. ^^ I was. One afternoon, I was re- 
 turning home from Jonathan's very melan- 
 choly, for on that day I had lost my third 
 fortune — "
 
 38 FBANK ALLERTON : 
 
 A. ^^Your third fortune, Chevalier! How 
 shocking ! " 
 
 I. '^ Yes, indeed. Pray tell us how for- 
 tunes were made and lost at that eventful 
 period." 
 
 ' Mrs. U. *^ Pray let the Chevalier finish the 
 story that he was commencing." 
 
 De L. ^> Since Miss Alice deigns to take an 
 interest in my fortunes and their vicissitudes, 
 I may explain to her that I became by turns a 
 rich and a poor man three times within the 
 space of a few months." 
 
 Mr. U. '' I suppose in connexion with the 
 speculations of that notorious year. I remem- 
 ber reading about them in the Weekly Journal, 
 but as I myself took no part in them I shall 
 not be sorry to learn something of the secret 
 machinery, the hidden cranks and wheels, by 
 which the juggle was performed, from one 
 who has been behind the scenes." 
 
 De L. '^ Alas ! sir, it was less the ingenuity 
 of the contrivers than it was the madness of 
 the public that caused the mischief. An 
 insane desire of becoming suddenly rich took 
 possession of high and low. The epidemic 
 had commenced in my charming patiie,
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 39 
 
 France, and thence it spread to this country, 
 where it raged with increased intensity." 
 
 Mr. U. *' Ax French disease, but of Scotch 
 origin through John Law." 
 
 De L. ^^ For a couple of years I had in- 
 vested my small savings in vSouth Sea Stock, 
 at the moderate rates then current, and was 
 quite content with the fair interest 1 received ; 
 but early in 1720 the price had risen so high, 
 under the influence of the increasino* mania 
 for jobbing in it, that I determined to sell my 
 stock, and the modest 800/. I held realized nearly 
 4,000/., a sum which to me was wealth. That 
 I call my fortune number one. Happy if I had 
 remained contented with it ! " 
 
 I. ^^ And what did vou do with the 
 money ? " 
 
 De L. ^^ Just so. How to invest the money 
 was my difficulty and my danger. I determined 
 to consult an old friend of mine who was doing 
 an extensive business at Jonathan's Coffee 
 House, as a stockjobber. He was a Jew whom 
 I had known in Paris under the name of De 
 Castro ; and I had then rendered him an 
 essential service by assisting his escape from 
 France."
 
 40 FRANK ALLEETON: 
 
 I. ^' Had he then been guilty of some 
 offence ? " 
 
 De L. '^ Nothing serious. A mere infringe- 
 ment of some legal form in the details of his 
 business, which was being daily committed by 
 others. But they being Christians it was 
 overlooked ; and he being a Jew, hated for his 
 religion and envied for his success, it brought 
 him in difficulties with Monsieur I'lntendant 
 de la Police. As he knew that he would be 
 heavily fined, De Castro hastily remitted all 
 his funds to a friend in London, and followed 
 them there himself. Not long afterwards, I 
 also came over to settle here. De Castro found 
 me out, and requited my services to him by 
 many good offices and useful introductions, and 
 we remained excellent friends. He had adopted 
 here the name of Castrow, and was supposed 
 to have acquired considerable wealth. To this 
 friend I addressed myself for advice how to 
 lay out my money to the best advantage. 
 
 ^^^ First of all,' said he, ^ you must be cool 
 — cool as a cucumber. These are exciting 
 times, and there is a heap of money to be 
 made ; but, if you get flustered and fiery, you 
 are lost. Let '^cucumber" be your motto.
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY, 41 
 
 Whenever I have been tempted to act raslilj, 
 or say ^^ yes " too' quickly, '^ cucumber '' have 
 I muttered to myself, and have refrained. 
 Cucumber has saved me from no end of losses. 
 Therefore, Chevalier, let us say '' cucumber" 
 together, and consider your case.' 
 
 ^^ I told him what I had done, and how much 
 I had realized, adding that I wanted him to 
 guide me as to the best mode of investing my 
 4,000?. 
 
 '' ' There are fifty ways,' said he ; ^ but most 
 of them are dangerous. A number of new 
 and wild projects are being daily started, 
 which I would not touch with the tongs. 
 Several are at a premium, but there will be a 
 reaction and they will collapse. None of these 
 for me. " Cucumber " is my motto, and caution 
 my pilot. You sold your South Sea Stock at 
 402 ; well, do you think that it will go on 
 rising for ever and ever ? Certainly not ; a 
 fall must come, and on that we must base our 
 operations. Your course is clear. Go in as a 
 bear ! ' 
 
 ^^ On my expressing my utter ignorance as 
 to how or why I was to assume the shape of 
 that animal, he explained, —
 
 42 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 ^' ^ You liave heard of the hunter who sold 
 the bear's skin first, and tJien set to work to 
 catcli the bear ; well, so you must sell S. S. S. 
 (short for South Sea Stock) for delivery in a 
 fortnight. This you can do to-day at 407. 
 By that time it may be down to 300. Then 
 you buy it at that figure, and deliver it at 400, 
 making 100^. jorofit on every 400/. you have 
 sold. A valuable bear's skin it Avill be, will it 
 not? — what I call a nice little operation in 
 furriery.' 
 
 ^^ ^ But,' I asked, ' supposing that, during the 
 fortnight, the jDrice of S. S. S. should rise 
 instead of falling ? ' 
 
 ^' ^ Oh ! ' replied he, * if you are for the rise, 
 that is a difi'erent thing, and you should buy 
 instead of selling. But a rise is out of the 
 question. S. S. S. has advanced from 112 to 
 407 in a run, and reaction is sure to set in. 
 You must be cool. Only excited fools 
 believe in a perpetual advance of prices. 
 As soon believe tliat a rocket will never 
 come down. Say '^cucumber," and believe in 
 reaction.' 
 
 ^'I yielded to his superior knowledge and 
 coolness, and instructed him to sell the bear's-
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPHY. 43 
 
 skin, and be sure to catch the bear in good 
 time. 
 
 " ' Do not fear,' said he ; ^ I am not one to 
 leave things to the last moment. The instant 
 I see a fair margin of profit for you I will 
 make the purchase against the sale, even though 
 it were ten days before it be required, and 
 even if I had reason to believe that your 
 profit would be larger by waiting. Whenever 
 tempted to increase my risks in order to increase 
 my gains, I steady myself, cry ^^ cucumber," 
 and go in for prudence and moderation.' 
 
 ^^ To cut the story short, that perverse 
 S. S. S. continued to advance instead of fall- 
 ing, and at the end of the fortnight the opera- 
 tion was closed, and I lost 8,000Z. by it. Of 
 course, Castrow was utterly disgusted. He 
 showed me clearly that the Stock ought to 
 have gone down ; that it was driven up by a 
 parcel of excited fools, to whom the coolness of 
 cucumber was utterly unknown ; and that I 
 should see shortly that he was quite right. 
 Meanwhile, however, my money was gone, 
 and thus I made and lost my first fortune. I 
 fear I shall tire you if I go on to describe my 
 two other rises and falls."
 
 44 FBANK ALLERTON : 
 
 All of us. ^' No ; pray go on. Let us hear 
 all your ups and downs." 
 
 De L. '^ Some of you must remember, all 
 of you must have heard of, the general in- 
 fatuation that prevailed that year. The most 
 ridiculous projects were mooted and adopted. 
 Companies were formed, and the shares at 
 once taken up and resold at a premium. Four 
 millions were subscribed — of course on paper 
 — for establishing a general foundry ; as much 
 for improving malt liquor ; two ^millions to buy 
 and sell pitch ; two millions for suppressing 
 thieves, and insuring against their depreda- 
 tions ; two millions to supply Deal with fresh 
 water ; ten millions for a royal fishery in Great 
 Britain; three millions for a g^-and dispensary; 
 in fact, the aggregate amount of capital 
 which the various shareholders were under 
 engagement to subscribe exceeded 500,000,000/. 
 But as for some^ time the shares passed from 
 one to the other at increasing premiums, all 
 who touched them made a profit : and this 
 encouraged them to repeat the process on 
 fresh adventures. New schemes could not be 
 hatched quick enough to meet the demand, 
 and the impatient public taunted the directors
 
 ^.V AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 45 
 
 and other schemers with sterility of invention. 
 To supply this inordinate demand, subscriptions 
 were demanded for companies', the names and 
 purposes of which were only to be revealed at 
 some subsequent period. 
 
 '^ For instance, I remember — I think nearly 
 verbatim — an advertisement wliich apjDeared in 
 Mist's Journal. It ran thus, — ^ This day, the 
 8th instant, at Sam's Coffee House, at three in 
 the afternoon, a book will be opened for enter- 
 ing into a joint co-partnership for carrying on 
 a thing that will turn to the advantage of the 
 concerned ' ; and the applicants were innumer- 
 able. 
 
 '' One day, before the mania had by any 
 means reached its height, I received an invita- 
 tion from my friend Castrow to call on him 
 without fail that evening at his private house, 
 a neat little country box in Goodman's Fields. 
 He received me with open arms. ^ Now, 
 Chevalier,' said he, ' I am going to replace 
 the 3,000/. I was unfortunate enough to be 
 instrumental in causing you to lose. I have 
 alwavs considered it a moral debt, which I 
 was bound to make good.' I was touched 
 by his generosity, and warmly expressed my
 
 46 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 thanks. ' You have not lieard from me for 
 some little while/ continued he, ^ because I was 
 waiting for the proper time to perform that 
 act of justice. The time has now come, De 
 Livordy, and I shall henceforth be relieved 
 from self-reproach.' 
 
 '' He then opened his desk, took out a 
 packet, and, presenting it to me, he said, 
 ' Eeceive this, my friend, as a proof of the 
 sincerity of my regard.' 
 
 '^ Not doubting but that the packet contained 
 notes or/bills to a large amount, I began to feel 
 some scruples of delicacy as to receiving it. 
 But before I could make up my mind Castrow 
 said, ^ Open the packet. Chevalier, and look at 
 the contents.' 1 did so ; and found in it a 
 number of square cards, on each of which was 
 printed the following notice ; — ' The bearer is 
 hereby authorized to subscribe lOOl. to the Globe 
 Sail-cloth Company, which in due time will be 
 formed and publicly announced,' signed with 
 some name which I could not decipher, and 
 sealed on the left-hand corner with the sign of 
 the Globe Tavern in wax. I looked at these 
 cards rather blankly, and my feelings of grati- 
 tude received a decided check.
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPHY. 4:7 
 
 ^' ^ These/ said Castrow, ' are 100 Globe per- 
 mits, now worth in the open market 15/. each.' 
 
 '^ ^ Come,' thought I, ^ here is at all events 
 1,500Z. for me.' 
 
 ^^ ^ I obtained them for you,' continued 
 Castrow, ^ as a particular favour, from my 
 friend Blantwell, one of the directors, at the 
 price of 10/. each, so favour me with your note 
 of hand for 1,000/. Even if you sold them this 
 day there would be a clear gain to you of 500/. , 
 but I strongly advise you not to do so.' 
 
 ^^ ^ Well,' thought I, ' even 500/. is better than 
 nothing.' I then thanked him, though with 
 rather less effusion than before, and requested 
 he would sell them at once for me, and then 
 hand me the expected 500/. 
 
 " ^ Nonsense, Chevalier ! ' cried Castrow ; 
 ^ you have no nerve. I want you to keep 
 them till they rise to fifty, which they are sure 
 to do ; and then you will just recover the 
 money which you lost before.' 
 
 ^' ^ Is it the cautious Castrow,' said I, 'who 
 is now for grasping at inordinate profits, even 
 with increased risks? Where is your cool- 
 ness ? Remember •' cucumber ! ' " 
 
 '^ ' My friend,' replied Castrow, ' cucumber
 
 48 FRANK ALLERTON: 
 
 is out of season. We must adapt our diet to 
 circumstances. There is at the present time 
 such an influx of fools determined to drop 
 their money that it would be positively wasteful 
 and immoral not to pick it up. Wait a few 
 days, and you will see how Globe permits will 
 rise. They have only just been planted ; wait 
 till they grow a little.' 
 
 '^ I followed his advice, and at the end of 
 the ensuing week we sold them at fifty-six, 
 and my 1,000^. dilated suddenly into 5,600^. 
 A few days after I saw them quoted at sixty- 
 three, and such had become my greed for gain 
 that I almost repented at having sold so soon ; 
 and that, messieurs and mesdames, was my 
 second fortune. 
 
 ^' As to my third, I shall not detain you 
 lonjr. Our old friend South Sea Stock had 
 advanced to 640, at which price I, who had 
 beared them at 400, invested in them all my 
 money, by the advice of my friend Castro w, 
 who, having abjured cucumber, seemed now 
 to be fevered by a course of pepper and mus- 
 tard. He wanted me to swear on the Old 
 Testament not to part with my stock till it 
 reached 1,000. I did not swear, but I acted
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 49 
 
 as if I had. In September our dear S. S. S. 
 kept rising and rising, and those who made 
 money by it spent it freely, revelled in 
 South Sea jewels, set up South Sea coaches, 
 and bought South Sea estates. At the theatres, 
 new pieces, such as ^ The Humours of 
 Change Alley ' and ^ The Stockjobber turned 
 Gentleman,' levelled their satire at the pro- 
 jectors and their dupes. From the pulpits 
 parsons (themselves not quite innocent of 
 speculations) fulminated against Mammon. 
 The print-shops teemed with caricatures about 
 bubble-blowing and pocket-picking. Ballads, 
 in the most abusive and ungrammatical 
 doggrel, were sung about the streets. Packs 
 of bubble-cards were published at 2^. 6d. each, 
 every card having an engraving of some one of 
 the hundred and odd companies that had been 
 started, with a pointless ejDigram of four lines 
 on it. In society it was not unusual for a lady 
 when playing cards to exclaim, as she played 
 out a knave, ' There 's a director for you ! ' 
 
 ^^ But all this raillery had little effect on the 
 busy votaries of speculation. One morning, 
 towards the end of September, I was offered 
 98 1|^ for my S. S. S. I took time to calculate 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 FRANK ALLEBTON: 
 
 and consider. A sale at 98 1|^ would have 
 yielded me my third additional fortune — a 
 good 3,000/. to append to my previous gains 
 of 5,600/., and I felt very much inclined to 
 accept the offer. But then 981 i was such an 
 odd, queer, uncouth kind of a price. Why not 
 go in for the beautifully simple, clear, round 
 (totus teres atqice rotundus) figure of 1,000? 
 It was only waiting a few hours. Why should 
 I be so morbidly anxious to clutch at my gold ? 
 I was a sober-minded man, and if the price 
 went up to 1,100, as no doubt it would, after I 
 had sold, I should yiew it with equanimity ; 
 but as to selling under 1,000, ^No,' said I to 
 myself ; ^ round figures for ever ! If the man 
 can pay 980 odd, surely he can give the 1,000, 
 unless he is a greedy beast. How men can 
 be such curmudgeons as to lay any stress 
 on such a slight difference is inconceivable 
 to me.' 
 
 ^^ So I went back to my buyer, who was wait- 
 ing patiently for my answer, and I said to him, 
 ^ No ; I hold for just the round figure of 1,000. 
 That is what I will accept, and no less.' This 
 occurred at Jonathan's during the temporary 
 absence of Castro w. A few minutes afterwards
 
 AN AVTOBIOGEAFRY. 51 
 
 he came in, and I told him of the offer I had 
 refused. 
 
 ^^^Do you know,' said he, Hhat I feel a 
 taste of cucumber in my mouth, and if I had 
 been here I should have advised you to sell. 
 I cannot help thinking that we are on the crest 
 of the wave. Go to your buyer, and say you 
 accept his offer.' I did so, but the man had 
 just supplied himself in some other quarter. 
 Next day I was only offered 940, which was 
 of course absurd, having refused 98 1^ the day 
 before. Day after day prices fell ; no one 
 could say w^hy. When the quotation came 
 down to 640, at which I had bought, I became 
 frightened, and determined to sell. But alas ! 
 the quotation was a nominal one, and there 
 were no actual buyers. On the 1st of October 
 the stock had fallen to 370, and on the 6th to 
 180. A panic seized me ; I became a frantic 
 seller at any price, and finally accepted 64, 
 which was one-tenth of what I had bought at, 
 and one-fifteenth of what I had been such a 
 fool as to refuse. Thus did I lose my second 
 and third fortune at ' one fell swoop.' And 
 here I am nevertheless, ladies, at your 
 
 service." 
 
 UBRARf -
 
 52 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 We thanked M. de Livordy very much 
 for his interesting reminiscences, and, as the 
 hour was getting late, he made his bow and 
 departed, leaving us wondering how much of 
 his narrative was true and how much was 
 invented.
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 63 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 I OBTAIN AN APPOINTMENT. 1737. 
 
 What my career was to be, my kind guardians 
 had not yet decided. Whether I was to pre- 
 pare for becoming in due time a general or an 
 admiral, a bishop or a lord chancellor, was still 
 an open question. But, while they were con- 
 sidering the point, an opening presented itself 
 for a clerkship in the War Office, and it was 
 settled that I should condescend to this ad 
 interim, if only to keep me from idleness. It 
 was a post in the Flint and Pipeclay Depart- 
 ment, requiring no previous knowledge, very 
 little present labour, and affording a gentle- 
 manly position and a gentlemanly income of 
 300/. per annum. How this piece of prefer- 
 ment fell to us, I will tell you. 
 
 Sir Eobert Walpole had for some time been
 
 54: FRANK ALLEETON : 
 
 under obligations to a parson, the Eev. Arthur 
 Sturrell, for having* procured him two votes at 
 a critical stage of the Excise Bill, and had pro- 
 mised on his word of honour (a simple promise 
 would have been breakable) that SturrcU 
 should have the earliest preferment in Walpole's 
 gift that did not exceed 300/. a year. 
 
 At one of the many jovial dinners given by the 
 convivial Minister, the parson, who was a merry 
 toper, was one of the guests. In the midst of 
 the feast, when each man had got well into his 
 second bottle, Walpole receives a disjiatch. 
 With a brief apology he opens it, and, tossing 
 the paper on to the floor, exclaims in his jolly 
 way, ^^ It 's only a trumpery 300Z. a year. Who 
 will have it?" A general chorus of ^^I!" 
 But, when the noise subsided a little, our parson 
 cried out, ^^Sir Eobert, I claim it! Hold to 
 your word. I was to have the first 800/. a year 
 
 that came in your way." ^^ By , parson, 
 
 you are right ! I owe it you, and you shall 
 have it. But, mind, you take it for better, for 
 worse, as you do a wife." ^^ You say it is 300/. 
 a year ? " ^' Yes, it is." ^' All right. I can't get 
 better, and I don't want worse ; so book it to 
 me." " Very well ! Mind it is in extinction of
 
 ^.Y AUTOBIOGBAPEY. 55 
 
 all claims. Gentlemen, you all bear witness to 
 this ?" ^' Yes, yes." '' Very well, it 's a bargain. 
 Sturrell, let us shake hands upon it." The par- 
 son shook hands and asked, ^' Where is the living 
 situated. Sir Robert ? " '' Living ! who said it 
 was a living ? Why, it 's a clerkship in the 
 Flint and Pipeclay Office ! " A loud roar of 
 laughter at the parson's expense followed this 
 announcement. ^' Oh, but I did not mean 
 that," said Sturrell ; '^ I thought that it was a 
 Church living ! " ^^ That 's your look-out ; I 
 never said so." '^ But I cannot be a clerk in an 
 office ? " ^' Why not ? What prevents you from 
 being parson and clerk too?" ^' If," said 
 another, ^^ instead of the Pipeclay, it had been 
 the Clay -pipe Office, it would have suited the 
 parson better." And the poor parson had to 
 endure more jeering and laughter. All his 
 efforts to cancel his bargain proved fruitless. 
 Sir Robert, whose delight at having outwitted the 
 parson was boundless, proved inexorable. ^' I '11 
 tell you what, in two words," said he; '^it's 
 that or nothing. You wanted 300/. a year, and 
 you have got it. If you cannot use the nomi- 
 nation yourself, sell it. We don't care who 
 goes in, provided he is anything decent." With
 
 r^G FRANK ALLEUTON: 
 
 that Sturrell liad to be content. He did sell it 
 for 400/. to an old lady, who made a birthday 
 present of it to her son, who handed it in pay- 
 ment of a debt of lionour to a Captain Sel- 
 lowes, who owed my uncle 300/., with two 
 years' accumulated interest. In cancelment of 
 this debt, which he considered a very doubtful 
 one, my uncle gladly accejDted the nomination 
 in question, and, after a few formalities, I was 
 without much difficulty installed into my new 
 post. 
 
 If any sour-minded economist should take 
 exception to an office where so much was spent 
 and so little was done, let him feel rebuked 
 w^hen he learns that matters were much worse 
 a few years before. Then there were two 
 separate departments — one for flints to arm 
 the muskets, and one for pipeclay to adorn the 
 musketeers. Then there were two sets of 
 offices, two sets of clerks, and, of course, 
 double the amount of expenditure. 
 
 By an effort of patriotism and an abnega- 
 tion of patronage that was quite unprecedented, 
 the Minister consolidated the two establish- 
 ments, and saved the country 2,500L per 
 annum.
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. ' 57 
 
 But the clever Minister made good political 
 capital out of his viiiuous act. Wlienever ac- 
 cused of extravagance, he only had to quote 
 his consolidation of the Flint and Pipeclay 
 Departments as an instance of his zeal for 
 ^' reducing expenditure without impairing 
 efficiency," and the accuser was silenced. The 
 case was made a stalking-horse to ride down 
 and trample on the Opposition whenever they 
 inveighed against waste and peculation. This 
 saving of 2,500/. cost the country at least ten 
 times the amount. It atoned for a multitude 
 of jobs, just as cheaj) charity covers a multi- 
 tude of lucrative sins. 
 
 The Chevalier de Livordy continued to 
 spend an occasional evening with us, and to 
 entertain us with his inexhaustible budget of 
 stories. Part of their merit, no doubt, con- 
 sisted in his charming way of telling them; 
 a voice, gentle, but varied ; little gesture, 
 but that very expressive ; and just enough 
 inflection of tone and glance of the eye to 
 mark his points, — never enough to exaggerate 
 them. 
 
 I must give you one more sample of these 
 pleasant evenings.
 
 58 FBANK ALLEBTON : 
 
 Miis. U. ^' I have been this morning' to make 
 some pm-chases, for the first time, at the new 
 Fleet Market, opened the other day by Sir 
 John Bernard, the Lord Mayor, instead of the 
 old Stocks' Market, defmict." 
 
 Mr. U. ^^ You may add, and in the place of 
 the old Fleet Ditch, buried ; and a good thing, 
 too ! Let us say, Requiescat in pace, without 
 adding, Resurgat ; for a viler infliction on the 
 nostrils than that huge gutter of filth never 
 disgraced the name of river. Why the Cloaca 
 maxima must have been lavender-water com- 
 j)ared with it." 
 
 De L. '^ I cannot say that I view the dis- 
 appearance of the old old Flete with unmixed 
 feelings ; and I am glad that they have only 
 arched it over as far as Fleet Street. One may, 
 at least, still trace its course into the Thames. 
 I rather grudge the gradual encroachments of 
 new on old London. Why, they will be pulling 
 down London Bridge next. We are getting 
 into the new, tlie bare, and the stiff, instead of 
 the ancient, the picturesque, and the genial. 
 What will our modern poets do without the 
 river Flete? See how Dryden, Pope, Gay, 
 Garth, and others revelled in its turbid stream !
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 59 
 
 I hope, madam, that the new market answered 
 jour expectations." 
 
 Mrs. U. ^^It did not. There was a little 
 fruit on sale, but scarcely any meat or fish. I 
 fancy dealers do not easily take to new markets. 
 Then the booths are poor constructions, not 
 above ten or twelve feet in height." 
 
 De L. '^ There was a stipulation made that 
 the booths should not exceed fifteen feet. The 
 market charter provides for that." 
 
 Mrs. U. ^' Besides which, the incessant ham- 
 mering at the numerous undertakers' shops, 
 scattered up and down the street, was quite dis- 
 tressing." 
 
 De L. ^' Bad enough ; but not quite so bad 
 as the din of the coppersmiths in Houndsditch. 
 Strange how particular trades affect particular 
 streets." 
 
 Mr. U. ^^ So Bucklersbury is full of herb- 
 shops ; but that is accounted for by its vicinity 
 to the Stocks' Market. Hence Shakspeare's 
 allusion to the smell of ^ Bucklersbury in 
 simpling time.' So an old dramatist, I think 
 Webster, says, ' Go into Bucklersbury, and 
 fetch me two ounces of preserved melons.' " 
 
 I. *' But, of all thoroughfares, I should have
 
 60 FRANK ALLERTON: 
 
 thought London Bridge the noisiest, from the 
 incessant uproar of the traffic day and night." 
 
 De L. -"^Mr. Frank is right. The noise is 
 like the continuous rusli of a cataract. But I 
 understand that the inhabitants get so accus- 
 tomed to it, that they cannot sleep in the 
 country because it is so quiet." 
 
 Mr. U. ^^ London Bridge is, beyond con- 
 troversy, the most frequented thorouglifare in 
 the world ; and the stream of traffic is as inex- 
 haustible as the waters of a river. ^ Lahitur et 
 labetur in omne vohihilis cBvum' Rome had 
 several bridges ; London has but one. It is the 
 only vinculum or connecting link between one 
 side of the river and the other for half a million 
 of human beings — a narrow isthmus between 
 two continents." 
 
 De L. ^^ Besides, the road is so narrow, on 
 account of the houses, that it never exceeds 
 twenty feet, and in some places contracts to 
 twelve ; so that although no space is reserved 
 for foot-passengers, and the entire width is 
 allotted to horse traffic, this can only creep 
 along like a funeral procession spun out in- 
 terminably." 
 
 Mrs. U. ^^ There is some talk, I have heard,
 
 ^.V AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 61 
 
 of widening the road by pulling down the 
 houses on the bridge." 
 
 A. ^^ Oh, what a desecration! I hope that 
 they will never do that. Those dear, old, 
 quaint, rumshackled, picturesque houses, with 
 their lofty arches thrown over from one side of 
 the street to the other like rainbows ! And 
 then the old chapel on the centre pier, and 
 Nonsuch House I Surely they can never be such 
 Goths as to destroy all those beautiful objects." 
 
 Mr. U. ^^ Just like these foolish, impulsive, 
 adorable women ! They infinitely prefer a lot 
 of mouldy, dilapidated, unwholesome, and 
 tottering tenements to convenience, usefulness, 
 health, and safety. Are you aware, daughter 
 of mine, that the only secure plan for a foot- 
 passenger to cross the bridge is to follow behind 
 a carriage or cart, and take his chance of the 
 horse that comes behind biting a piece out of 
 his shoulder?" 
 
 A. ^^ Why not take refuge in a shop when 
 the crush becomes dangerous ? " 
 
 Mr. U. '' And stay there till all the carriages 
 have gone by ? Wait, like ^ rusticus, dum dejiuit 
 amnis ' ? Thank you, dear ! I should have to 
 bid an eternal adieu to Red Lion Square."
 
 62 FBANK ALLEETON : 
 
 De L. ^' It is in serious contemplation to 
 have a second bridge over the Thames, some- 
 where about Westminster. It is being designed 
 by Mr. Labelye, and will probably be com- 
 menced in another year or two." 
 
 Mr. U. ^' So I hear; and it will be an im- 
 mense relief to the traffic over London Bridge, 
 which, already enormous, is increasing, and 
 will soon become unmanageable." 
 
 De L. ^' And yet, in spite of this enormous 
 traffic, it is not many years since I performed a 
 curious feat. In April, 1722, in company with 
 some other gentlemen, I dined in the middle 
 of the London Bridge roadway. You may 
 smile, my good friends, but it was so. It was 
 at two o'clock in the afternoon, in the open air, 
 in the middle of the street, and near the centre 
 arch of the bridge. We had a large table set 
 up, were waited on by three or four servants, 
 and we remained for four hours over our wine 
 and punch." 
 
 Omnes. ^' Oh, Chevalier ! Oh, M. de 
 Livordy ! Come, that is too much ! " 
 
 De L. ''It is the literal truth. The feast 
 was given by Baldwin, the rich hosier, in front 
 of his own house on London Bridge ; and there
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPEY. 
 
 was no small crowd round us to enjoy the 
 sight." 
 
 Mrs. U. ^^ But were you not run into by the 
 carts and other vehicles ? " 
 
 De L. '^ They left us quite unmolested." 
 
 I. '^ Were you acting under the authority of 
 either Government or the civic body ? " 
 
 De L. ^' No ; it was quite a private dinner." 
 
 A. ^' Was there a chain or a barrier thrown 
 across the entrance of the bridge to stop the 
 traffic on that day ? " 
 
 De L. '' There was neither chain nor barrier 
 to obstruct the entrance. The traffic stoj)ped 
 of its own accord." 
 
 Omnes. ^^ Then we give it up." 
 
 De L. ^' The solution is simple. The central 
 drawbridge had got out of order, and during 
 the few days required for its repair the bridge 
 ceased to be a thoroughfare ; and although 
 there was no physical obstruction to carriages, 
 &c., yet they, of course, kept away, having 
 notice that the bridge could not be crossed." 
 
 Mr. U. ^^You did right to tell us quickly, 
 or we should very soon have guessed it." 
 
 De L. ^^ I am not sure of that. You were 
 half disposed to look upon it as a little
 
 64 FJIANK ALLERTON: 
 
 romance of my invention. It is not those 
 enigmas which have the most simple solution 
 that are most easily deciphered, as witness the 
 egg of Columbus. In fact, I was nearly led 
 into a duel through a perplexing circumstance, 
 that proved simple enough when explained. 
 Shall I tell you what it was ? " 
 
 Mrs. U. '' Do, pray. Chevalier." 
 
 De L. ^^ When I lived at Paris I frequented 
 the Cafe Colbert. One evening a well-dressed 
 young man, with one eye, came in and seated 
 himself at my table. He would have been a 
 fine-looking fellow, but for an ugly black j)atch 
 over his right eye. Two days afterwards we 
 met again at the same place, and got on 
 speaking terms; and in about a week we 
 became very friendly. He was well informed 
 on general topics, but very reserved as to his 
 own affairs ; and all I gathered from him was 
 that his name was Gudaine, and that he was 
 staying in Paris for a little time on private 
 business. The next day I was dining with 
 four other friends at the Couteau d'Or, when 
 one of them, Capitaine Rodevin, casually re- 
 marked that he had three or four times dined 
 in this same place with a one-eyed young man
 
 .l.V AUTOBIOGBAPHY. 65 
 
 who, though a provincial, seemed a well-bred 
 and gentlemanly fellow. I pricked up my 
 ears, and asked, — 
 
 ^' ^ Do you know his name ? "Was it 
 Gudaine ? ' 
 
 ^^^Yes,' said the Capitaine ; that's the 
 man.' 
 
 ^^' Curious! I too have met him several 
 times at the Cafe Colbert, and have made his 
 acquaintance.' 
 
 ^^^Ah! and do you not agree with me, 
 Chevalier, that he is a very pleasant com- 
 panion ? ' 
 
 ^' ^I do, indeed, Capitaine, and were it not 
 for that ugly black patch over his right eye he 
 would be a noble-looking — ' 
 
 ^'^Stop!' cried the Capitaine; ^ you mean 
 his left eye.' 
 
 '^^Not at all: I said his right eye, and I 
 mean it.' 
 
 '^ ' Excuse me ; you could not have observed 
 him properly, or you have forgotten. I assure 
 you that it is the left eye.' 
 
 ^^ ' I am sorry to say, my dear Capitaine, 
 that you are quite wrong. I took particular 
 notice ; for his habit was to lean on his right 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 FBANK ALLERTON : 
 
 elbow, and rest liis diseased eye with the patch 
 on the j)alm of his right hand, while he used 
 his left to convey his cup of coffee to his 
 mouth.' 
 
 ^' ^ You have dreamed it, my good friend, 
 and I will prove it. You see, gentlemen, that 
 little table in the corner, near the window. 
 Now, observe, Gudaine always seats himself 
 at that table, with his back to the wall, and in 
 that position his diseased eye is always next to 
 the window. Now you can see yourselves 
 that in such case it must be the left eye.' 
 
 ^^^Well,' said they, ^ it looks like it, cer- 
 tainly.' 
 
 ^^ ' How could it possibly be the right eye ? ' 
 
 '^ I was nettled at this persistency in wrong, 
 for that he was wrong I felt as certain as of 
 my own existence, and I said with some 
 warmth, — 
 
 '^ ^ I affirm, in the most positive manner, that 
 it is Mr. Gudaine's right eye that is affected ; 
 and no doubt Monsieur le Capitaine has 
 mistaken that corner of the room for the 
 opposite corner, where it would be the right 
 eye that was nearest the window.' 
 
 *' ' I am docile under contradiction when I
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 67 
 
 am in the wrong ; but when I am right — and I 
 generally am — I am not the man to submit to 
 it. Do you mean to say, sir, that I do not 
 know the. difference between my right and my 
 left hand?' 
 
 ^' ' I always thought you did, up to this 
 moment ; now I have my doubts.' 
 
 '^ ' MorUeUj &est trop fort ! I cannot brook 
 this insult, and — ' 
 
 '' ' Sto]3, stop, friends ! ' interposed the eldest 
 among us, the Vicomte de Baspre, who saw 
 that we were on the verge of a serious quarrel : 
 * one would think that the object of your 
 dispute were Helen of Troy, or some living 
 lady of equal charms, whereas really it is only 
 the ugly black patch over the eye of a man. 
 A very unworthy casus belli I In such a cause, 
 stake gold, not life. Rodevin,' he continued, 
 addressing the Capitaine, ^ will you bet De 
 Livordy a louis d'or that you are 
 right?' 
 
 ^' ^Willingly,' replied he. 
 
 ^^^ Done I 'said I. 
 
 '' ' Jules,' cried the Capitaine to the waiter, 
 ^you know that one-eyed gentleman that I 
 sometimes dine with at the corner table ? '
 
 68 FBANK ALLERTON : 
 
 ^^ ^ Yes, sir,' replied the waiter; ^Mr. 
 Gudaine, is it not ? ' 
 
 '^ ^ The same. Well, let me know when he 
 makes his appearance.' 
 
 ^' ^ He has just come in, sir, through the 
 other door.' 
 
 ^^ ^ Ah ! then present to him my compliments, 
 as well as those of the Chevalier de Livordy, 
 and beg that he will do us the honour of 
 joining us here.' 
 
 '^ Accordingly, in a few moments, the waiter 
 returned, followed by Mr. Gudaine, to whom 
 he was showing the way to our table. But 
 what w^as our astonishment when we found 
 that now Mr. Gudaine had no black patch on 
 either eye ! Could it be the right man ? Yes, 
 it was ; for he came up and bowed to us both in 
 the most friendly manner, saying, with a cordial 
 laugh, — 
 
 ^'^I see, gentlemen, that you are looking 
 hard at my eyes, and are wondering at the 
 marvellously sudden cure that has restored my 
 sight. But I will explain all. For family 
 reasons, which it is superfluous to relate, 
 I had to disguise myself for a few days 
 imtil a reconciliation took place between two
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY, 69 
 
 relations. That disguise I effected by means 
 of the black patch that you saw on one of my 
 eyes. The two relations are now reconciled ; I 
 am the happiest of men, and I am heartily 
 glad at being able to throw oft' that disgusting 
 and troublesome deformity.' 
 
 '^We congratulated Mr. Gudaine at his 
 relief from what might truly be called a terrible 
 eyesore, and hoped for the continuance of his 
 friendship. 
 
 ^^^But,' added I, ^I have a bet of a louis 
 d'or with my friend, le Capitaine Rodevin here, 
 as to which was the eye on which you wore 
 the patch — the right or the left. Perhaps you 
 will be good enough to tell us, and decide who 
 is the winner of the bet. Do you agree, Ca]Di- 
 taine ? ' 
 
 ^^ ^ Yes,' replied the Capitaine; ^ I am quite 
 content to abide by Mr. Gudaine's decision.' 
 
 ^^ 'You have both won, gentlemen.' 
 
 '''How can that be?' 
 
 " 'I found it exceedingly uncomfortable, as 
 well as very injurious to the sight, to have 
 always the same eye bunged up ; so, from time 
 to time, I removed the black patch from one 
 eye to the other ; but, to lessen the chances of
 
 70 FRANK ALLERTON: 
 
 detection, I always contrived to present the 
 same appearance at the same place. Hence it 
 was that I invariably placed the patch on my 
 right eye when I visited the Cafe Colbert, and 
 on my left eye when I visited the Couteau d'Or. 
 I therefore, gentlemen, consider your bet as a 
 drawn one.' 
 
 '^ We were much amused at this unexpected 
 issue to our dispute, and ended by spending a 
 pleasant and jovial evening with our new 
 friend." 
 
 Mr. U. ^^ Very good indeed. Moral: never 
 make too sure of anything." 
 
 De Livordy did not remain much longer; 
 but I remember that, among other curious matters 
 with which he entertained us, he stated that, 
 some fifteen or twenty years before, several of 
 the newspapers, by way of sign or motto, had 
 the following woodcut on the top of their first 
 page :— 
 
 N 
 W
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPHY. 
 
 thereby giving their readers to understand that 
 they communicated XEWS from the four 
 quarters of the globe. Very ingenious and 
 very pithy ; but unfortunately it displayed the 
 same defect as, no doubt, their intelligence 
 often did — viz., inaccuracy; for it will be 
 observed that the east was placed where the 
 west should be, and, if the cardinal points were 
 set with astronomical precision, the reading 
 would be altered to XWES.
 
 72 FRANK ALLERTON 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE LOTTERY MANIA. 1738. 
 
 Charley Frampton had left Dr. Burridge's 
 school a year before I did ; but, on my taking 
 up my residence at my uncle's, we renewed 
 our acquaintance and often met. I introduced 
 him to our circle ; but my aunt did not much 
 fancy him, partly on account of his dashing, 
 flippant, and scoffing manner, but chiefly be- 
 cause he was the son of that Whig and Hano- 
 verian par excellence^ Mr. Frampton of the 
 Secret Service Office. She consequently did 
 not, although always civil to him, much en- 
 courage his visits. 
 
 I, however, occasionally spent a few hours 
 with him, to enjoy his lively sallies ; for, how- 
 ever satirical he might be in his remarks about 
 others, to me he was always friendly and good
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPHY. 73 
 
 natured. One evening that I called on him at 
 his chambers — for he did not live with his 
 father, being supposed to be too hard at work 
 studying for the law to lose his time in the 
 domestic circle — I found him in high glee. 
 
 '^ Frank," he exclaimed, '' I am so glad you 
 have come. You know my fondness for eccen- 
 tric characters. I stumbled on one two days 
 ago that is quite adorable." 
 
 ^^ VV^hat, some great author? Perhaps a 
 poet?" 
 
 *'Bah! take the pen from between their 
 fingers, and authors, as a rule, are the most 
 commonplace of beings. Xo ; my hero is a 
 shop-boy." 
 
 ^^What?" 
 
 ^^ Just so — a shop-boy. Imagine a big 
 shock of tangled, bright red hair overhanging 
 a bony, angular face buttered over with 
 freckles, and supported by a tall, lean, loose- 
 jointed body ; the whole being the property of 
 an ill-dressed lad of about sixteen." 
 
 *' Well, Charley, I see nothing so enchanting 
 in all that." 
 
 '' No more did I at first. I was strolling 
 about Aldersgate Street — you know what a
 
 7A FBANK ALLERTON: 
 
 lonely, out-of-the-way place it is, as deserted as 
 if all the residents had died of the plague, and 
 all the houses were to let — when this raw youth 
 comes up to me, and, knocking his forehead 
 with his forefinger by way of salute, says, 
 ' Please, sir, which is Sadler's Wells ? ' The 
 plumpness of the question amused me, for it 
 implied that one of the surrounding buildings 
 must be the theatre in question, and that I only 
 had to point at it with my finger to satisfy the 
 querist. I determined to undeceive him as to 
 the immediate propinquity of Sadler's Wells, 
 and therefore answered him, ' Sadler's Wells, 
 my man, is at Pimlico.' ' Where 's that? ' he 
 innocently asked. ' Near Wapping,' was my 
 reply. ' Then AVapping 's moved,' said he ; 
 ' cos it used to be on the old river, while 
 Sadler's Wells is on the New River.' I an- 
 swered with a fresh mystification ; but I found 
 my friend, with all his grammatical heresies, 
 quite able to bandy jokes with me, and, in 
 short, he took my fun so good-humouredly, 
 and displayed so much barbaric originality and 
 quaintness, that I not only conducted him to 
 Sadler's Wells, but paid for two j)it tickets and 
 went in with him. During the time that
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPHY. 7o 
 
 elapsed before the performances commenced — 
 for we were full early — I elicited from him 
 that he was shop-boy to Mr. and Mrs. Reffs 
 the grocer in Long Lane, and that this half- 
 holiday was given him because he had *put 
 them up to a thing or two.' I then extracted 
 from him full details about this ^ thing or two,' 
 and when I came home I committed it all 
 to paper. Would you like to read it ? I hope 
 that you will say yes, as that is what I wrote 
 it for. Besides, it is highly moral, which, St. 
 Francis ! is quite in your line. It shows what 
 the lottery mania is leading us to." 
 
 ^^ A very laudable object. We who live on 
 the mere surface of the community take too 
 little heed as to what is passing in the depths 
 below." 
 
 ^' Of course I prefer spending my life among 
 the luxurious hundreds ; but I do like an oc- 
 'Casional deep dive among the millions, and 
 observe their particular ways of preying on 
 each other. Deceit and humbug are just as 
 rife with them as with us ; but then they as- 
 sume novel and grotesque shapes which it is 
 Tery interesting to contemplate." 
 
 " But surely, friend, this is not an exact re-
 
 FRANK ALLERTON 
 
 port of what your red-haired phenomenon 
 imparted to you ? " 
 
 ^^ Not quite; but the pith and substance is 
 his, and I have only put it into shape, and 
 thrown in a dash of colour here and there." 
 
 I read the paper, and, finding it rather droll, 
 I transcribe it here as a sample of Charley's 
 style, and a sketch of the humours of the 
 times : — 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 
 
 Mr. Reffs, a grocer, tvith an increasing family 
 and a decreasing trade. 
 
 Mrs. Eeffs, his wife, ivho has touching reminis- 
 cences of past grandeur when lady^s maid 
 to Lady Griggs. 
 
 Shirty, their shop-hoy — a workhouse foundling. 
 Mr. C. Fiximpton^s red-haired pheno- 
 menon. 
 
 Scene. — The back parlour of a grocer^s shop 
 in Long Lane, Smithfield. 
 
 Enter Me. and Mrs. Eeffs. 
 
 Mr. Eeffs. My dear, I am sorry to inform 
 you that our takings to-day are worse than
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 77 
 
 ever, — two and twopence in cash, four and 
 fourpence on credit ! 
 
 Mrs. Eeffs. What 's come to the j)lace ? 
 You used, at one time, to take your regular 
 twenty and thirty shillings a day in bright 
 silver. 
 
 Eeffs. And yet I work harder, sell cheaper, 
 and talk civiller than I ever did. I never 
 made such a lovely show in the window. 
 That barley-sugar church steeple draws a crowd 
 of people to look at it outside ; but, hang it^ 
 they don't come in. 
 
 Mrs. R. I '11 tell you what it is ; we are 
 not low enough for the neighbourhood. We 're 
 too genteel for Long Lane. If I could force 
 my nature to be low, we 'd get on like blazes. 
 
 Reffs. I don't think it 's that. I 'm afraid 
 it 's those Hickses. Bother them ! why didn't 
 they set up their new shop in the next parish ? 
 
 Mrs. R. It's quite impossible that can be 
 the cause. Why, I know positively that Mrs. 
 Hicks was a kitchen-maid. 
 
 Reffs. That 's no odds. Our customers are 
 civil enough, find no fault, and give no reasons; 
 but I know, through Shirty, that many of them 
 have left us to go to the Hickses.
 
 78 FRANK ALLEETON : 
 
 Mks. 11. How does Shirty know ? 
 
 Reffs. Shirty is an idle rascal, but as sharp 
 as vinegar and as quick as a minnow. The 
 rogue eats our figs, and sucks our sugar, but he 
 sticks up for the old shop like a Nero. He has 
 watched on the sly, and has seen lots of our 
 customers — aye, some of them that owe us 
 money too — sneak into the new shop ten doors 
 off. 
 
 Mks. E,. Shameful ! — to leave an old re- 
 spectable concern like ours, for that dirty, new- 
 fangled booth, — for it 's little else ; and Mrs. 
 Hicks dressing as slovenly as she does, and her 
 hair 's not knowing the touch of a comb for 
 weeks ! 
 
 Reffs. There must be some reason; and 
 Shirty has a notion about it which may not be 
 so very far from the mark. 
 
 Mrs. R. And what is that ? 
 
 Reffs. Very absurd, you '11 say ; but there 
 may be something in it. Hicks has got painted 
 up over his door, ^^ Hicks, lottery grocer," 
 and sticks in his window a notice that buyers 
 at his shop will have the chance of getting a 
 prize of twenty guineas at a lottery to be 
 drawn at his shop at Christmas.
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPEY. 79 
 
 Mrs. R. Wliat nonsense ! You know tliat 
 the lottery will never be drawn ; or, if it is, the 
 prize will never be paid. 
 
 Eeffs. I know ? Well, mayhap I do. But 
 what's the use of my knowing it, if other 
 people don't ? If they are took in, meanwhile 
 we suffer. 
 
 Mrs. R. But what a low, mean, base, shabby 
 mode of doing business ! 
 
 Reffs. Scandalous ! Of com\se, no respect- 
 able tradesman could descend to such \T.le 
 tricks. 
 
 Mrs. R. It 's little better than swindling ! I 
 have read about these little-go lotteries in the 
 papers, decoying poor people to their ruin, and 
 tempting servants to rob their employers to 
 buy tickets. 
 
 Reffs. Devil's engines for turning honest 
 men into rogues ! 
 
 Mrs. R. Cheating never prosj)ers ! Hicks 
 will suffer for this. 
 
 Reffs. No doubt : they '11 catch it hot some 
 day. But, mean time, the wretches are kidnap- 
 ping our customers. 
 
 Mrs. R. Let them. The day of reckoning 
 will come upon them like a thief in the night !
 
 80 FRANK ALLERTON: 
 
 Reffs. Very like ; but, meanwhile, where are 
 we to get the money to pay our rent ? 
 
 Mrs. R. Rent ! what 's rent compared with 
 virtue ? Let 's do Avhat is right, John, and 
 trust the Lord for our rent. 
 
 Reffs. All very fine, but the landlord won't 
 trust us for it. Not but what I 'd cut off my 
 hand sooner than demean myself to such low 
 shifts ; but what are we to do ? 
 
 Mrs. R. Write a letter to Hicks, and explain 
 calmly to him what a vile, dishonourable thing 
 it is of him to entice our customers away by 
 such disgraceful tricks. Ask him in a friendly 
 manner whether he is aware that he has a 
 soul to be saved, and whether he is going 
 about it the right way. Show him what he 
 ought — 
 
 Reffs. Pshaw ! my dear, that wili never do. 
 He would only laugh at us. Suppose we call 
 Shirty in, and cross-examine him about this 
 matter ? 
 
 Mrs. R. Very well, as you like. But, John, 
 keep a sharp look-out after this lad ; he may, 
 for aught you know, be robbing the till to put 
 into lotteries himself. 
 
 Reffs. All right. Shirty !
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 81 
 
 Enter Shirty, luith u shutter on his shoulder. 
 
 Shirty. Door is open, please, and three 
 more shutters to put up. Shall I leave them 
 and come to you, or leave you and go to them ? 
 
 Reffs. Finish closing, of course. 
 
 S. As you please ; people might still come in. 
 Hicks's is wide open, with a flaring brass lamp. 
 
 Mrs. E. We are not bound to go by what is 
 done at such low places. Respectable shojDs 
 close at this hour. 
 
 S. All right. Only I knows of a pound of 
 dips and three red herrings as went past us on 
 Tuesday night, cos we was shut. [_Exit Shirty. 
 
 Mrs. R. That 's the worst of having to cope 
 with these common peoj^le. They are at it 
 early and late. They run your legs off to 
 keep up with them. No wonder they can't 
 find time to wash their faces. 
 
 Reffs. Dodd, the barber, tells me that Hicks 
 never goes to him, but, like a miserly screw, 
 shaves himself. What a mean trick ! 
 
 Re-enter Shirty. 
 S. I 've shut up ; so you 're quite safe fi'om 
 any more bizness to-night. Shall I go down 
 and get my supper ? 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 Reffs. Stay a moment, Shirty. You had 
 an idea, you told me, that the Hickses got our 
 customers away by means of their lottery 
 scheme. But surely people are not such fools 
 as to be taken in by that ? 
 
 S. Ain't they, though? Lord love you^ 
 
 they 're much bigger fools than they need be 
 
 for that. It 's a sure bait to trap them. I Ve 
 
 heerd of things a thousand times less treackly 
 
 ^ than that catching heaps of flies. 
 
 Mrs. E. But you know that the lottery will 
 never be drawn, nor the prize paid. They 're 
 sure to find some way of sneaking out of it. 
 
 S. Mayhap they may, but then there 's the 
 chance. Now, you see, I have been told when 
 speaking to myself that I 'm no fool ; and yet 
 if I had groceries to buy I 'd go to Hicks's, 
 and not here. 
 
 Mrs. E. What! you would leave the old 
 shop! 
 
 S. Why not? If I was an outsider, with 
 money in my pocket, I 'd spend it where I got 
 most for it. Why should I stick to the old 
 shop for better or worse ? If I 've been an old 
 customer, and spent lots at tlie old shop, why 
 then it 's the old shop that owes me the turn.
 
 ^.Y AUTOBIOGEAPHY, 83 
 
 I ^m not bound to throw up twenty guineas for 
 the sake of the old shop. 
 
 Reffs. You talk of twenty guineas, Shirty, 
 as if you were sure of them, whereas you know 
 it 's ten thousand to one if you ever get them. 
 
 S. What o' that ? Who stays counting up 
 by clock-work what the chances is or isn't ? 
 The ghost of a chance is enough. People 
 doats on a chance, and don't stop to put it in 
 the scales to see how much it weighs. If for 
 ninepence a man can buy a pound of sugar at 
 your shop, and a pound of sugar, with a chance 
 to boot, at Hicks's, why, in course, he goes to 
 the lottery-shop. 
 
 Reffs. Confound those lottery-shops anc 
 lotteries altogether ! 
 
 S. All right ; but they go in and win all the 
 same. There 's no fun in coming to our shop. 
 People swap their money for our pepper, and 
 it's all over. But at Hicks's, for the same 
 money, they get as much pepper, and the fun 
 of having something to dream about besides. 
 
 Reffs. To dream about, yes ; and it 's 
 nothing but a dream ! 
 
 S. What does it matter ? That 's quite 
 enough for a chap to hug and fondle and
 
 84 FBANK ALLERTON : 
 
 coddle up in his mind, so that, for the time, 
 it 's as good as real to him. It 's like a doll 
 girls toss about and fancy a live baby. And 
 then it lasts such a while ! One night we lies 
 awake, and sets our wits to work as to what we 
 shall do with the twenty guineas when we gets 
 'em. Oh ! so and so. Next night we spend 
 it quite a different way ; and before the time 
 comes, we 've spent it in make-believe a 
 hundred times over. Law love you, if the 
 twenty guineas never does come at all, we 've 
 had all its worth in fun and fancy ; and all 
 this you get at Hicks's for nothing. 
 
 Mrs. R. It's a deceitful snare, and people 
 ought to know better. 
 
 S. Ought ! ^^ Ought " is a nasty word. It 
 always means that you 're to do something 
 you don't like, such as ^^ You ought to take 
 a dose of jalap." '^ You ought to listen 
 to the sarmon and not go asleep." '^You 
 ought to love a chap that 's boxed your ears." 
 ' ' You ought to pay your debts, though you ' ve 
 no money." Well, one good thing is that 
 ^'oughting" don't do much; people go their 
 own way in spite of it. 
 
 Reffs. Now look here, Shirty ; what do you
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAFHY. 85 
 
 think is the best thing to be done to meet this 
 crooked way of luring customers ? 
 
 S. Why, to take to it yourself, to be sure. 
 You 're now fighting with your fists agin a man 
 as fights with a sword. You take to the sword 
 too, and you '11 win the day. 
 
 Reffs. If one could only be j)ei'suaded that 
 it was genteel, one might just look at the idea 
 and turn it over. 
 
 S. Genteel ! why, what can be more tip-top, 
 red-hot genteel than the king ? And see what 
 a lot of money he 's making by his lotteries ! 
 Why they tell me he couldn't pay his butcher's 
 bills without them. And who are you for to 
 say that it 's ^Trong to do what King George 
 does ? Why, it 's flat mutiny ! 
 
 Mrs. R. I suppose that there are some re- 
 spectable shops that have taken to this sort of 
 thing ? 
 
 S. Hundreds, and soon will be thousands. 
 Why, some of the very high- class trades have 
 gone into it. I knows lots of lottery-tailors 
 and lottery-drapers ; and I 've heerd, but 
 ain't sure, that there 's a lottery-banker : but, 
 if you go downwards, you '11 find them in 
 every alley. Them 's the chaj)s that are
 
 fi'> FBANK ALLERTON: 
 
 sucking away all the trade from you 
 stiff uns. 
 
 Mrs. R. It is hard lines to see your business 
 walking" away from you. 
 
 S. Walking ! — running, you mean. There 's 
 a barber in Ram Court that 's just a-coining of 
 money. His charge is twopence for a shave, 
 but he gives a jorize of ten pounds. He has 
 ten times the custom he had when he only 
 charged a penny. 
 
 Reffs. If it was not like going down in the 
 eyes of the world, why — 
 
 S. Going down ? Not a bit ! It 's up you 
 go in the eyes of the world, if you sacks the 
 money. It ain't like swimming, but just the 
 other way. Empty pockets sink you. Lots of 
 gold buoys you up, and keeps you up. Tell 
 3^ou what, master, you just go in for the lottery 
 dodge, and my wages will be riz in a month. 
 
 Reffs. It might be worth considering. 
 
 Mrs. R. If it could be done in some new 
 way ; some higher st34e, as it were — more dig- 
 nified, more — 
 
 S. Tell you what. Put up a hundred bags 
 — pound bags — of moist sugar, and stick up a 
 notice as there's a guinea-piece in one of
 
 ^.V AUTOBIOGBAFHY. 87 
 
 them — you don't know which — and the lucky 
 tinder may keep it. 
 
 Reffs. Nonsense ! what should I get by 
 that ? I should not make a guinea's profit out 
 of the whole boiling. 
 
 S. [contemptuously). Why, of course I never 
 meant that the guinea should be there ! It 's 
 only giving old Mrs. Rimmer, the charwoman, 
 a shilling to say that she got the lucky bag 
 and sacked the guinea. Then you could play 
 the same game over again, and your sugar 
 would all go ofE in a twinkling. 
 
 Reffs. You wicked boy, that would be 
 cheating ! I would sooner starve. 
 
 Mrs. R. Well, I don't know; people would 
 get their full money's worth in sugar, and I 'm 
 sure it would be a charity to poor Mrs. 
 Rimmer to enable her to earn an honest 
 shilling. 
 
 S. To be sure it would. But if you 're 
 squeamish, and want to do the thing grand, let 's 
 look out for some other dodge. 
 
 Mrs. R. Suppose we published to the world 
 that to the largest buyer in the course of a 
 year at our shop we should, every Christmas, 
 present gratis a — -well — a shagreen snuff-box ?
 
 FRANK ALLEBTON: 
 
 S. Who do you think would put themselves 
 out of the way for a f ourpenny box ? Besides, 
 all,j the small buyers would keep away, 'cos 
 they 'd no chance. Now they all gets a chance 
 at Hicks's, — large and small. 
 
 Reffs. Can't you, Shirty, find something 
 feasible to projDose ? How slow you are ! 
 You might have thought of a dozen things by 
 this. 
 
 S. {slaijpmg his forehead). I have it ; yes, 
 I have it ! 
 
 Mes. E. Then out with it. 
 
 S. This is a dodge, and no mistake. Quite 
 snuffs out old Hicks's rushlight. Quite a big go ! 
 
 Mrs. R. But come, young man, explain 
 what your notion is. 
 
 S. Sounds quite grand. Smells of Garra- 
 way's and rich Jews. 
 
 Reffs. If you don't quickly say what your 
 plan is, why — I'll invent it myself! Now, 
 what is it ? 
 
 S. Hicks's prize is twenty guineas. You 
 make yours five hundred pounds. 
 
 Reffs. Five hundred pounds ! You 're mad. 
 Shirty. Where the deuce is the money to 
 come from ?
 
 ^.V AUTOBIOGBAPHY. S9 
 
 S. Out of the six hundred you get, if you 
 have to pay anything at all. 
 
 Reffs. I don't understand ; do you, my 
 dear ? 
 
 Mrs. R. No, John. I fear the poor lad is 
 crazy. 
 
 S. If you pay five hundred pounds you get 
 a hundred by it. So that, unless you lose, you 
 gain nothing. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Reffs. (shaking their heads). 
 Poor fellow ! he 's very far gone ! 
 
 S. You don't see it yet ; but you soort 
 will. Now, look here ! The first thing you 
 do is to go and buy a sixteenth share of a 
 ticket in the State lottery, say No. 1001. 
 That won't cost much. Then you come back 
 here to blow the trumpet, and make it known 
 far and wide that, in case Xo. 1001 in the 
 State lottery gets the ten thousand pounds 
 prize, then you bind youi'self to put down five 
 hundred pounds as a prize to be drawn for at 
 Christmas by the holders of tickets that you 're 
 going to give to every buyer of a guinea's 
 worth of goods at your shop. Now do you 
 see? 
 
 Reffs. Oh, yes. Let's see. If Xo. 1001
 
 90 FEANK ALLEETON: 
 
 comes a blank, then I give tickets, and 
 out of the five hundred I pay six ; but, if it 
 turns up a prize, why of course I lose 
 nothing. Something of that sort, wasn't it ? 
 You should explain it more clearly. You 
 muddle it up. 
 
 S. Why, it 's as clear as starch. If No. 
 1001 wins the big prize, you get six hundred 
 pounds, and give away five hundred out of it ; 
 and if it turns up a blank, you give away what 
 you get, — that is, nothing. 
 
 Mrs. R. Don't you see ? If we give away 
 nothing, we get nothing ourselves : our only 
 hope of getting something is by giving five 
 hundred pounds to our customers. 
 
 Eeffs. Of course, of course; it's quite 
 simple. As far as I can sum it up, all that 
 we have to lay out is a trifle to pay for a 
 sixteenth share in No. 1001. But, Shirty, 
 why must it be that number, 1001 ? 
 
 S. Any number will do. No. 5,000,000J 
 if you like. 
 
 Mrs. R. This appears to me a respectable 
 plan. Five hundred pounds is a respectable 
 sum ; twenty guineas is low, but five hundred 
 pounds puts it on a respectable footing.
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 91 
 
 Reffs. I really think it would attract cus- 
 iomers back again to our shop. 
 
 S. Sure to. And then you might print your 
 ticket summut in the style of the real ones as 
 sold at the lottery-offices. 
 
 Reffs. Not a bad idea. It would look as if 
 we were somehow connected with the State 
 lottery itself. 
 
 Mrs. R. And then issuing printed tickets has 
 such a respectable appearance. 
 
 Reffs. But, look here. Supposing that we 
 should get the prize, and have to pay the five 
 hundred pounds, could we not stipulate that the 
 amount should be taken out in groceries ? 
 
 S. Won't do. People will rush at gold like 
 a bull at a red rag; but they won't stir for 
 treacle and mustard. 
 
 Reffs. But, again, why give five hundred 
 pounds ? Would not two hundred and fifty 
 do ? It 's an enormous sum compared with 
 Hicks's beggarly twenty guineas. 
 
 S. No such thing ! Yours is beggarly com- 
 pared with his. His twenty guineas come out 
 of his own pocket. All that comes out of 
 yours is a few shillings for the sixteenth share. 
 His customers do get the chance of his money ;
 
 92 FRANK ALLEItTON : 
 
 yours only get the chance of your chance. It 's 
 thousands to one that they never get nothing 
 even to draw for. 
 
 Reffs. That's true enough; but, then, per- 
 haps people won't be attracted to us by such a 
 remote chance as that ? 
 
 S. Yes, they will, cos people are fools. The 
 sum's big, and that will make up for the 
 chance being weak, if even they do think of 
 that, and I dare say they won't. 
 
 Reffs. Well, really, I think that it is a very 
 feasible plan. What do you say to it, my 
 dear ? 
 
 Mrs. R. Yes; and very respectable, too. 
 Only think ! Five hundred pounds and real 
 printed tickets. I wonder what those low 
 people, the Hickses, will say to that? They 
 will be terribly cut up, poor things. One 
 almost pities them, with their paltry twenty 
 guineas — pooh ! 
 
 Reffs. Very well, then, we will decide on 
 adopting this plan ; and I tliink that we are 
 entitled to great credit for hitting on it. 
 
 Mrs. R. If it succeeds we '11 call it Reffs's 
 patent. 
 
 Reffs. I had my work to do to shape it out
 
 AN AUTOBIOGEAPET. 93 
 
 of SHrty's rather crude notions. They required 
 to be unmuddled. 
 
 Mes. E. Rough hints are very well, but they 
 want to be ironed smooth [to get the creases 
 out. 
 
 Eeffs. Still he did his best for us, poor 
 fellow I and if we find the scheme answer in a 
 week or two, he shall have a half-holiday, with 
 a half-crown to spend on it. 
 
 The scheme did answer ; but all that Shirty 
 got by it was his half-holiday at Sadler's Wells 
 with me. His ingenious device was fathered 
 and mothered by Mr. and Mrs. Reffs, and he 
 obtained neither profit nor credit from it. 
 
 / build ye your nests, little birds ! 
 
 c,. , . 1 grow ye your fleeces, O sheep ! 
 
 Sic vos non vobis/ , , ^ , . 
 
 ) gather ye honey, O bees ! 
 
 ^ draw ye, oxen ! the plough. 
 
 So ends my friend Charley's little sketch, 
 which amused me at the time, and which I 
 introduce here with the less scruple, because 
 Shirty plays a rather important part in a 
 subsequent stage of these memoirs.
 
 94 FRANK ALLEETOX 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 MY father's papers. 1739. 
 
 On the day that I completed my twenty-first 
 year, my uncle called me into his little study, 
 and, placing in my hands a sealed packet, he 
 said, — 
 
 '^ Frank, my dear boy, these papers were 
 sent to me through a trusty friend by your 
 father. I received them in 1725 — fourteen 
 years ago ; and, in compliance with the direc- 
 tions in his hand-writing on the outside, I 
 now hand them over to you." 
 
 I looked at the address, and found on it the 
 following words: — ^^ To be given to my son 
 Francis Allerton, when he shall have attained the 
 age of twenty-one. He may then peruse the 
 contents. For my follies, my vices, and my 
 misdeeds, let him make what allowance his
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPEY, 95 
 
 filial piety may suggest, and, by steering clear 
 of them, escape the fate of his unhappy father, 
 Andrew Allerton." I turned the packet 
 over and over mechanically, whilst a host of 
 conflicting emotions rose within me. I felt, by 
 a kind of intuition, that the revelations thus to 
 be made would be of a distressing nature, and 
 might prove subversive of the affectionate 
 veneration which I had always entertained 
 towards the memory of my father. Of my 
 parents I knew little, and that little I had, 
 from time to time, gleaned from my uncle and 
 aunt, whose kindly hearts had suppressed all 
 unfavourable details. I merely knew that my 
 mother had died in giving me birth ; that my 
 father, who had suffered heavy losses through 
 connexion with the Jacobite rising in 1715, 
 had been finally ruined by an attempt to 
 retrieve his fortunes in 1720, by means of 
 speculations in the South Sea and other bubbles 
 of that epoch ; and that he then returned to 
 Paris, where he died in 1725. Was I now to 
 know my father better only to respect him 
 less ? Was I to be harrowed by a recital of 
 his ^' follies, vices, and misdeeds '' ? 
 
 '^ Uncle," said I, while I felt my eyes
 
 96 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 becoming dim with rising tears, ^^is it abso- 
 lutely necessary that this packet should be 
 opened at all ? " 
 
 '^ If you regard it in the light of a duty, 
 Frank," he replied, ^^you must not shrink 
 from it." 
 
 ^^ Why rend the veil," said I, ^Hhat time 
 has thrown over past troubles and misfortunes ? 
 I seek your advice, my dear uncle, because 
 you may be swayed by reasons unknown to 
 me. For myself, I have little curiosity and 
 much dread in regard to these disclosures." 
 
 ^^ If," replied my uncle, '' your father enjoins 
 you to read his communication, you are bound 
 to do so. But, let us see. No, there is no 
 injunction. The words on the address are, 
 ' He may then peruse the contents.' I think, 
 therefore, that it is optional with you to open 
 the packet or not." 
 
 ^^ Thanks, uncle ; then I think that I will 
 decide on not disturbing the secrets of the 
 grave." 
 
 ^^ Follow your own inspirations, Frank. 
 Besides, you can at any time unseal and peruse 
 the communication, should you feel so inclined. 
 It is not a case of ^ now or never.' Take the
 
 .4.V AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 97 
 
 packet. Lock it up, and you may make your- 
 self acquainted with its contents whenever you 
 feel more inclined than you a^^pear to be 
 now." 
 
 I thanked my uncle, and, acting on his 
 advice, I locked the packet up in my private 
 desk, where it remained for some years un- 
 touched. Under what circumstances I finally 
 broke the seal will be explained later on. 
 
 This interview, and the subject of it, soon 
 vanished from my memory, and I spent a 
 happy evening with my kind guardians, who 
 had invited a few friends to celebrate the occa- 
 sion of my attaining my majority. Among 
 them w^as Charley Frampton, who gave full 
 vent to his high spirits, and amused us all by 
 his playful wit, while, however, he shocked 
 some (my aunt included) by the audacitv of 
 his satire. I could not help fervently hoping 
 that time and experience might strengthen the 
 wit, and temper the satire. 
 
 My life passed on very pleasantly. Most of the 
 day was spent at the office, which I attended 
 very regularly, and where I did my best to 
 render myself useful. My evenings were 
 mostly devoted to reading, and sometimes to 
 
 VOL. T. H
 
 98 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 music and chess with Alice. Now and then I 
 escorted the ladies to a concert or to the opera, 
 especially when the music was HandePsj for 
 we were all great admirers of his compositions. 
 
 But the day of days to me was Saturday, 
 for on that day I left the office early, and, 
 unless the weather was very adverse, it be- 
 came a settled practice that I should take Alice 
 for a long walk each Saturday afternoon, '' for 
 the sake of healthful exercise," said the old 
 ones, ^^ for the sake of the exquisite enjoy- 
 ment,'' thought the young ones. 
 
 Occasionally I would take what my uncle 
 called a '^ bachelor's fling," and have a bout of 
 fencing at De Livordy's ; or take a dish of 
 chocolate at the Cocoa Nut, to read the papers, 
 and listen to coffee-house talk ; or go with 
 Charley to the play-house, where wit and 
 licentiousness, splendid acting, and shameless 
 ribaldry alternately charmed and disgusted 
 me ; or drop in at Figg's rooms to witness his 
 wonderful adroitness at the foils, the gloves, 
 and the quarter-staff. 
 
 One day I had only just returned from the 
 office, when Charley Frampton rushed in with 
 his usual impetuosity, saying, —
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPET. 99 
 
 '^ Come along, Frank. I have had a tip 
 from my dear, snuffy, old godmother in the 
 shape of five bright golden guineas, and I want 
 to drink her health." 
 
 ^^Why should I ''come along,'" said I, 
 '^ merely because you want to drink your god- 
 mother's health?" 
 
 ''How can I drink it alone, sillv bov ? 
 Look sharp ! Don your walking-coat, thatch 
 your head with your best triangular, assume 
 your clouded cane, and I will o-ive vou a 
 dinner at Pontack's." 
 
 ''Who is he?" 
 
 " Pontack is not a 'he.' He was once, but 
 he died forty years ago. Pontack now is a 
 ' thing.' " 
 
 "What thing?" 
 
 " Blest ignorance I Only possible in a man 
 who forms one of a strict, orderly, square, 
 mathematical family like yours. Why, you 're 
 a regular barn fowl, that have got your wings 
 so clipped to prevent you flying over the 
 enclosure that you would hardly know a thing 
 outside of your hen-coop but for such a friend 
 as I am." 
 
 '^ Well, you have taught me much foolery.
 
 100 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 Charley, I admit ; but you have not yet told 
 me what Hhing' Pontack is." 
 
 '^ V/ell, get yourself ready," said Charley; 
 '^ tell your ladies that you are going into the 
 city with a demure Quaker friend, and I will 
 enlighten you as we walk." 
 
 I do as bidden, and we sally forth. 
 
 '^ AYell, Frank," said Charley, '' Pontack'sis 
 a cook-shop." 
 
 ^' A cook-shop ! " I exclaimed ; ^' then why go 
 so far for one ? I know of five close by, in 
 Holborn." 
 
 ' ' A cook-shop it is ; but it is the first in the 
 world. It caters for the wealthiest, the most 
 critical, and the most fastidious dinner-eaters 
 in London. Lucullus, Apicius, Vitellius, and 
 Heliogabalus feed there every day." 
 
 ^' Pretty company to introduce a friend to I" 
 
 ^^ Peace, tyro! Who has not dined at 
 Pontack's has never dined yet. To chew and 
 gorge is for brute animals ; it is for man to eat 
 and taste. To these higher sensations of a 
 higher nature the culinary artists at Pontack's 
 worthily minister." 
 
 ^^ Far-fetched apology for gormandizing ! " 
 '^Fie, beardless boy! If we are to satisfy
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAFHY. 101 
 
 the animal cravings of nature, let us, at least, 
 do it in the most intellectual manner. What 
 is man but a complicated alimentary canal 
 Avith trimmings, videlicet limbs, brains, and 
 nerves ? Now the very existence of the latter 
 depends on the regularity with which the de- 
 mands of the former are met. Pontack enables 
 us to satisfy those demands with delight to our- 
 selves, and so to combine duty with pleasui'e." 
 
 ''And where is this temple of gluttony 
 situated ? " 
 
 ''It is cdsily ensconced near Christ Church, 
 in a quiet passage leading out of Newgate Street, 
 wliicli is daily tlireaded by appreciative votaries. 
 It is now nearly half a centmy since this cele- 
 brated establishment was founded by Monsieur 
 de Pontac, President du Parlement de Bor- 
 deaux (no less a person, if you please), who was 
 a large vineyard proprietor. By means of this 
 tavern he laid do^^i a conduit for his wine, and 
 so contrived that, wliile the barrel was fixed at 
 Bordeaux, the tap opened in Newgate Street, 
 London.'' 
 
 " Then" Bacchus is the deity cliiefly wor- 
 sliipped at this temple ? " 
 
 "Not now: there are many other places
 
 102 FRANK ALLEIiTON: 
 
 where you may get good wine ; but exquisite 
 dishes, exquisitely served — the j^ure ideal of 
 gastronomy — nowhere but at Pontack's. No 
 abundance, mind ! A profusion of food is 
 simply loathsome. No true epicure ever over- 
 eats himself. But you will get well-ordered 
 variety, and, in that variety, due proportion 
 and gradation. There must be harmony among 
 dishes as among colours. If ill assorted, one kills 
 the other, and artistic taste is cruelly offended. 
 No ; drinking is here a secondary affair : to 
 hold the highest professorship in the science of 
 eating is the summit of Pontack's ambition." * 
 
 * It does not api)ear that the *' proportion and gradation " 
 of dishes to which Mr. Frampton, Junior, refers, were of 
 universal recognition among the dinner-givers of that period. 
 Mrs. Delany (see her ' Letters/ vol. ii. p. 468) gives a dinner 
 to an archbishop, a bishop, and other notorieties, and takes such 
 pride in the meiiu which she has provided for the occa.'sion, 
 that she describes it in full to her sister ; and here it is. 
 After the first course, consisting of fish, soup, beefsteaks, 
 rabbits and onions, and fillet of veal, comes the 
 
 SECOND COURSE. 
 
 Turkey Pout, 
 
 Grilled Salmon, pickled Ji^almon, 
 
 Quails, 
 
 Peas, Cream, Mushrooms, 
 
 Apple-pie, 
 Crab, Leveret, Cheesecakes.
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 103 
 
 In similar talk we beguiled the time till we 
 reached the ordinary, in praise of which my 
 friend had been so eloquent. 
 
 We took the back road to the City, and 
 almost repented it when we arrived at the 
 pm-lieus of Smithfield ; for in Cross Street we 
 were all but crushed against the walls of the 
 houses by a huge coimtry waggon that occu- 
 pied the whole width of the street, and we 
 narrowly esca^Ded being gored by a bull, driven 
 to madness by the blows and yells of the cattle- 
 men. 
 
 It was about five o'clock when we made our 
 appearance at Pontack's. At that late hour 
 the crush of business was over ; the bulk of 
 London had been dinnered, and had gone to 
 vintners' and taverns to be wined. The spacious 
 
 This is followed by a dessert, just as promiscuous and inco- 
 herent, in which Dutch cheese comes next door to strawberries 
 and cream, and orange butter follows currants and goose- 
 berries. She gives another bill of fare at p. 331, and the 
 following is the exact rotation of the first course : — Turkey, 
 boiled leg of mutton, greens, soup, plum-pudding, roast loin 
 of veal, and venison pasty. And yet Mrs. Delany had dined 
 at Pontack's (as she herself states, p. 82), along with the 
 Duke and Duchess of Portland, Lady Wallingford, and others, 
 when they " took a jaunt to see city shows." — Editor.
 
 104 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 room was dotted witli only a few stragglers 
 like ourselves, so that we had an ample choice 
 of tables and attendants. A trim, active, well- 
 dressed waiter obsequiously received Charley's 
 orders. These he gave with a cool assumption 
 of familiar acquaintance with the latest in- 
 ventions of the culinary art — this a la Bronsvic, 
 that d la Reine Caroline^ &c. — that extorted 
 my admiration. Of course they were quite 
 new and strange to him ; but, to hear him, you 
 would fancy that he dined on French messes 
 every day. But on all subjects Charley had a 
 happy knack of making small acquirements go 
 a long way. This he effected by keeping out 
 of view, as much as possible, his immense stock 
 of ignorance, and disj)layiiig, as forcibly as he 
 could, his small stock of knowledge ; just as 
 traders with limited stores jDarade the great 
 bulk of them in their shop-mndows, while 
 dummies occuj^y the shelves inside. 
 
 Then came a learned conference on mnes, 
 many of which, I am sure, Charley had never 
 even heard the names of, but which he flip- 
 pantly pooh-poohed, till at last the belligerent 
 powers came to a treaty, and contracted for a 
 bottle of Pontac, hatit cru, to begin mtli.
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 105 
 
 While the dinner was being prepared, 
 Charley opened a conversation ^ith oui- at- 
 tendant. 
 
 ^'Have you/' he asked, ^^lad much good 
 company lately, Lewis ? I believe your name 
 is Lewis ? " 
 
 ^^Beg pardon, sir; name's Francois." 
 
 Waiters are always so hurried that they get 
 into the habit of lopping the 2:>ronouns off theii^ 
 verbs, and otherwise cKpping the edges of their 
 sentences. 
 
 '^ Ah, yes 1 Francois. Are you French ? '- 
 
 ^^Unfortunately, sir, English." 
 
 ^^ Why unfortunately ? " 
 
 ^^ French waiter talking bad English gets 
 tln'ee shillings a week more than English 
 waiter talking bad French. Latter 's my case, 
 
 sir." 
 
 '^ Then why have a French name ? " 
 
 '^Allowed sixpence a week extra for that, 
 sir." 
 
 ^^ Hardly worth the money. I suppose you 
 woidd black your face and wait as a nigger for 
 another couple of shillings a week ? " 
 
 ^^ Certainly not, sir"; then, after a short 
 pause, as though thinking whether we might be
 
 106 FRANK ALLEETON : 
 
 inclined to embark in the speculation, lie added, 
 ^' might for five." 
 
 ^^ Too dear, Francois," said Charley. ^^ Have 
 you had nmcli good company lately ? " 
 
 ^^ Good, sir? Yes, sir; good for house, — not 
 for waiters." 
 
 ^^ How is that?" 
 
 *^ People of quality, very grand, but very 
 stingy : much trouble, small returns. Prefer 
 serving open-hearted young gentlemen like 
 you, sir." 
 
 ^' But, you see, Fran9ois, that your argument 
 proves too much: it makes it impossible for 
 us to be liberal without admitting ourselves to 
 be vidgar. To i^roYe our gentility we shall be 
 compelled to be shabby." 
 
 '^ Oh, please ; don't mean that. A lord 
 may be a stingy hunks ; but don't follow that 
 every stingy hunks is a lord." 
 
 Dinner now interrupted this discussion. It 
 was no doubt a great work of art, and may have 
 been worth all it cost ; but, before it was half 
 over, I had improvidently sated my appetite ; so 
 that the last few courses formed charming pic- 
 tures for the eye, but had to be ignored by my 
 palate.
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. :07 
 
 Towards the end of the spiiposiiim, when 
 the grosser viands were about to be replaced by 
 sparkling glasses and ethereal wine, Charley, 
 glancing his eye round the room, suddenly 
 exclaimed, — 
 
 ^^Ah! whom do I spy at that corner table 
 near the ^dndow? Surely it is Harry Field- 
 ing ! " 
 
 '' Do you know him ? " 
 
 ^^I have only met him once; but that is 
 quite enough to identify that remarkable face.'' 
 
 ^^ There are two of them at that table: 
 which of the two do tou mean ? " 
 
 '^ Not the fat beast, ^vdtli his back to us. How 
 can that be a remarkable face ? ^Hiy this 
 fellow looks as if he had no face at all, but was 
 a square block of body, with a hole on the top 
 to bmy half his wig in. Apoplexy has marked 
 him for his own. No, not liim ; but the man 
 mth the keen, sharp features, who fronts us." 
 
 '' The one with a very long nose ? " 
 
 ^' Yes, and vdi\\ an equally long chin." 
 
 ^'When that man is seventy his nose and 
 liis chin t\^11 meet." 
 
 ^'Then they will never meet, for he never 
 will be seventy. He is living away at the rate
 
 108 FBANK ALLERTON 
 
 of three years in one. He is rapidly wasting 
 his fund of vitality. He is the wittiest and 
 giddiest of men. He writes plays by the 
 dozen, of which one or two are super-excellent 
 and the rest dull trash." 
 
 ''Is he not the author of that exquisite bur- 
 lesque, ' Tom Thumb ' ? " 
 
 ''He is indeed; and also of that awful rub- 
 bish, ' The Modern Husband.' He writes for 
 bread, and has no time to ^vrite for fame. He 
 has, I think — and so does my father, who is 
 keen on these matters — an immense fund of 
 original humour and wit ; and }'et, such is his 
 hurry to produce a play, that, instead of 
 weaving his own materials, he pilfers other 
 people's, and some of his most popular pieces, 
 such as the 'Mock Doctor' and 'Miser,' are 
 little better than translations from the French 
 of Moli^re." 
 
 " Perhaps," I suggested, " Duel or Morice * 
 press their spurs into his flanks, and urge him 
 into unhealthy activity." 
 
 " It is so, Frank, and more's the pity. He 
 is of an excellent family; but his father, the 
 
 * The " leading " bailitfs (Sheriff's officers) of that 
 period.
 
 AN ATJTOBIOGBAFHY. 109 
 
 general, is j)oor, and the nominal 200/. a year 
 wliicli lie gets (or rather does not get) just 
 suffices to replenish his snufF-box. I have quite 
 a s^Tnpathy for poor Harry Fielding; for my 
 father allows me 2001. a year, with this great 
 difference, however, that he really does pay it.''* 
 The general manager at Pontack's was a 
 naturalized Frenchman of the name of Baron. 
 He was a son of the celebrated. French actor, 
 Michel Baron, well known as the chief jDer- 
 former in Moliere^s dramatic corps, and the in- 
 timate friend of the greatest dramatist that 
 France has ever produced. Pontack's Baron 
 (or as he was sometimes familiarly called, Baron 
 Pontack) was a man of about five-and-fiftv, 
 well bred and well informed, who fulfilled the 
 duties of his station T^ith shrewdness and 
 success. But it was on the topic of wines and 
 
 * This was written some years before Fielding had 
 immortalized his name by his great novel, * Tom Jones.' 
 Mr. Frampton's prediction that his career would be a short 
 one was verified, as poor Fielding died in Lisbon at the age of 
 forty-eight. Had he lived, the world would no doubt have been 
 enriched by productions of great merit, for the only novel he 
 wrote subsequently to * Tom Jones ' (I mean ' Amelia ') 
 exhibits to my mind a decided improvement on its pre- 
 decessor; although I know that this is not the general 
 opinion. — Editor.
 
 no FBANK ALLEUTON: 
 
 vintages that he was pre-eminent. He had con- 
 centrated all his energies upon this one study, 
 and he was supposed to be the first judge of 
 bouquet in the world. 
 
 Charley had heard how fond Baron Avas of 
 expatiating on his favourite theme, and, as is 
 the frequent practice, he sent Fran9ois with his 
 compliments, to invite him to share with us a 
 bottle of his best foaming Epernay. Mr. Baron 
 readily obeyed our summons, and we were soon 
 engaged in conversation. I could not but 
 admire the tact with which Charley, who had 
 never given the subject any serious attention, 
 conferred on his shallowness the appearance of 
 profundity by starting a theory which ap- 
 proached to a paradox. Nothing like a 
 paradox to simulate profundity. The novelty 
 startles, and the apparent absurdity provokes 
 attention. To have arrived at a conclusion 
 opposite to that commonly received necessarily 
 assumes that the speaker not only knows all 
 that other people can have to say on the sub- 
 ject, but a good deal more. It implies, though 
 it does not express, some such a course of 
 reasoning as this. '^ Of course the common 
 notion is so and so, on such and such grounds.
 
 ^.V AUTOBIOGBAPHT. Ill 
 
 Everybody knows that; but if y(jii go far 
 deeper than all that routine stuff, as I have 
 done, you will find the common notion quite 
 inconclusive, and you will agree with me that, 
 after all, it is quite within the limits of reason- 
 able h}^othesis that the old traditional suppo- 
 sition of the moon being made of green cheese 
 is not so far removed from the ^possibility of 
 truth as is vulgarly believed." 
 
 Charley boldly advanced a joroposition that, 
 as he afterwards confessed to me, only occurred 
 to him on the spur of the moment. 
 
 '^ I have no doubt, Monsiem* Baron," said he, 
 ^^ that deeply as you have reflected on these 
 interesting subjects, you vnll agree ^dth me, 
 who, with far more limited experience, have 
 also given them some thought, that the cultiva- 
 tion of the white grape-bearing vine is a mis- 
 take much to be regretted." 
 . ^^ In what sense, I pray you, do you conceive 
 that it is a mistake ? " 
 
 '^ I mean that as a wine-producer the white- 
 fruited vine — the ' \T.tis vinif era fructu albo ' — is 
 so much inferior to the purple-berried species, that 
 it ought to be extii'pated and superseded by the 
 latter."
 
 112 FRANK ALLERTON: 
 
 " This is quite new to nie," said Baron ; 
 '^ pray exj^lain yourself further." 
 
 ^^ The true original natural vine," said 
 Charley, as im^^ressively as if he was sure of 
 the fact, '^ bears purple fruit. The golden 
 variety is a mere accidental sport. It is an 
 unnatural monstrosity. White wine is an 
 inferior essence. The sack of our ancestors, 
 now called canary, — the Spanish Xerez, known 
 as sherry, — the low order of wines, called 
 Suresne, — all these sickly, yellow juices, are so in- 
 finitely inferior in flavour, in odom^ (or bouquet), 
 in tone, and in colour to the noble produce of 
 the purple grapes that they ought to give way 
 to them, and all the best soils and slopes and 
 sites now devoted to the former ought to be 
 smTendered to the cultivation of the latter." 
 
 '^ Pardon me, sir," said Mr. Baron, with a 
 deprecatory smile ; " I have listened with atten- 
 tion to the views which you have so ingeniously 
 projDOunded, but I regret that I cannot coincide 
 with them. I cannot admit that the produce 
 of the golden bunches is at all inferior to that 
 of the purple fruit. I could find much to say 
 on this subject; but I will confine myself to 
 one instance. Till within the last sixty or
 
 AX AUTOBIOGRAPHT. 113 
 
 seventy years, the glorious ^T.ne districts of 
 sunny Champagne were planted with the purple- 
 fruited species only. The 'v\ine it produced 
 presented the same dark tint, delicate flavour, 
 and ambrosial perfume as do now the wines of 
 Gascony, which you mass together under the 
 name of claret, and of the large central zone 
 which you indiscriminately call Burgundy." 
 
 ^^And pray,'' triumphantly asked Charley, 
 '' have you any fault to find with that delicious, 
 ruby-tinted produce ? " 
 
 " Certainly not. I grant you, Avorthy sii', 
 that it was most highly valued, and, fi^om the 
 chanoines of Rheims to the popes and cardinals 
 of Rome, it formed the special and favourite 
 beverage of ecclesiastical epicures. But a little 
 more than half a centmy ago, for reasons 
 wliich I have not been able clearly to ascertain, 
 the golden-graped vine became a general object 
 of cultm-e in the TOieyards of Champagne, to 
 the displacement of the old species, and white 
 instead of red vdne became the staple of the 
 country." 
 
 ^'And I warrant me," put in Charley, tenta- 
 tively, ^' that it lost some of the celebrity which 
 it had formerly enjoyed." 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 FRANK ALLERTON: 
 
 "You are right, sir, it did, for a time; but 
 soon, through the S2)ecial interj)osition of Divine 
 Providence, a miraculous discovery was made 
 by a holy friar which added another to the 
 many blessings which man enjoys. About the 
 year 1700, Father Perignon, a monk of the 
 Order of St. Benedict, supernaturally inspired, 
 invented a process which rendered the white 
 wine of Epernay and Rheims famous and 
 popular throughout the world. He made it 
 effervescent. Under his treatment it bubbled 
 and sparkled, and hissed and foamed, till the 
 spectators almost thought that it was the wine 
 itself that was intoxicated. Here was an im- 
 mense addition to the sum of human pleasures ! 
 This Perignon wine (for so it was at first 
 named, after its inventor) realized enormous 
 prices. For a long time the secret was kept 
 inviolate, and effervescing champagne was a 
 luxury for princes. Since then the process 
 has become known to all wine-growers, the 
 price has fallen, and champagne has now 
 become almost vulgar, so extensive is its popu- 
 larity. Now mark! the effervescing process 
 has been applied with only very partial success 
 to red wines, and I therefore appeal to you
 
 ^.V AUTOBIOGBAPHT. 115 
 
 whether the sparkling golden nectar, which the 
 plains of Champagne now supply, is not a 
 striking improvement on the pm-ple liquid 
 which they formerly yielded. Honom-, there- 
 fore, to the golden grape and its glorious 
 juice ! " 
 
 By tliis time we had finished our wine, and 
 Charley, wishing to close the feast, merely 
 answered, — 
 
 '' You are a very eloquent advocate, Mr. 
 Baron, and your cause had a powerful ally in 
 the fittino; illustration wliich tliis bottle afforded 
 us of the excellence which white wine can 
 attain. I regret that an apj^ointment prevents 
 me from arguing the point out with you to-day. 
 Au revoir f '' 
 
 In a short time, Charley having disembar- 
 rassed himself of some of his godmother's 
 golden guineas, we departed, perhaps not much 
 wiser, but certainly not sadder men. 
 
 > We finished the evening by going to the 
 King's Theatre, in the Haymarket, to hear 
 Mr. Handel's new oratorio, ' Israel in Egypt.' 
 It was brought out a few nights before, but 
 had such poor success, and had been attended 
 by such dwindling audiences, that to keep it
 
 116 FEANK ALLERTON: 
 
 ^ Agoing" Handel had interspersed it witli 
 ^^ favourite songs." These were horridly out 
 of keeping, but they received more applause 
 than any of the other jiarts. 
 
 I enjoyed the oratorio very well. There 
 are in it some wonderful choruses, but they 
 were badly sung, and by too few voices. They 
 are so massive that to give them full effect they 
 require a vast volume of sound, which they do 
 not get from the limited vocal company which 
 a theatre can afford to engage. When Handel 
 first composed his oratorios, he intended them 
 to be performed dramatically and in character, 
 like operas; but as people objected to this, 
 thinking it profane, he relinquished the idea, 
 and now the oratorio occupies an equivocal and 
 precarious position between an opera and a 
 church-service. Indeed the oratorios of Handel 
 arie more fitted for a cathedral than for a play- 
 house ; and I cannot help fancying that they 
 might create a profound impression if they 
 were sung by numerous voices in Westminster 
 Abbey, an event which however is not at all 
 likely ever to take place.
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY, 11 
 
 CHAPTER yil. 
 
 SIR ROBERT WALPOLE. 1740. 
 
 This year is particularly impressed on my 
 memory by the great frost which had set in at 
 Chiistmas. The Thames was frozen over, and 
 the navigation was not resumed till the 20th of 
 February. Strange ^^ithin what a limited 
 range of temperature human life is possible ! 
 A few degrees make all the difference between 
 om- being frozen or broiled. Does all life then 
 end above and below those narrow limits ? 
 Are such conditions as we know to be necessary 
 to oiu^ own existence the onlv conditions under 
 which any organized existence is possible ? 
 May there not be creatui^es to whom 500 degrees 
 above, or 500 degrees below zero are the normal 
 and healthy temperatures ? I am inclined to 
 think that there are. Forgive the passing 
 speculation.
 
 118 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 One day Charley called on me for a walk, 
 promising that he would show me a curiosity. 
 I acceded, and he dragged me right to the 
 other end of that dreary and muddy thorough- 
 fare, Tottenham Court Road, till he stopped 
 opposite a stonemason's yard. 
 
 "' Look now, Frank," said he ; '' does nothing 
 strike you ? " 
 
 I saw nothing but a lot of tombstones, ceno- 
 taphs, hie jacets, and. square slabs ready to 
 receive complimentary inscriptions from wealthy 
 heirs to deceased virtues. 
 
 ^^ You unobservant mole!" exclaimed 
 Charley. '' Look at this signboard. A tomb- 
 stone rampant. Underneath, ^ P. AVliitehead, 
 Stonemason ' ; and below that this delicious 
 inscription, ' Si monumentum quseris, respice,' 
 as much as to say, ' If you are in search of a 
 monument, take a look round.' " 
 
 I was certainly much amused at this inge- 
 nious perversion of Sir Christopher Wren's 
 celebrated epitaph into an invitation to inspect 
 a stonecutter's stock ; but it struck me that it 
 was a long way to come for it, when Charley 
 might have told me all about it sitting on a 
 chair.
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPEY. 119 
 
 However, I quite forgave him, as on our way- 
 there and back he entertained me T\dth a lively 
 account of a dinner which his father had given 
 two days before, and at which he had been one 
 of the guests. I will give you my version of 
 it, founded on Charley's narrative. 
 
 Mr. Frampton occupied a high and con- 
 fidential post in the Secret Ser^T.ce Office, 
 which brought him into frequent and familiar 
 contact mth the Prime Minister, Sir Robert 
 Walpole. In common with all men of com- 
 manding talent. Sir Eobert possessed the 
 faculty of morally influencing all those with 
 whom he came into contact. Some loved, some 
 admired, some feared, and some hated him ; 
 but to none was he indifferent. Of those who 
 hated him, by far the greatest number were 
 actuated more by envy at liis position than by 
 personal antagonism to the man. On the other 
 hand, those who loved him had the double 
 incentive of regard for him individually, and of 
 regard for his high office, Avhich enabled him 
 to shower down favours on his friends ; and I 
 need not say that he had many : what minister 
 has not ? 
 
 But among them he had none more zealous
 
 120 FBANK ALLEBTON: 
 
 or more faithful than Mr. Frampton. Walpole 
 was his beau ideal, his idol ; and he remained 
 devoted to him through good report and evil 
 report. 
 
 But it was not the Minister's public measures 
 or his line of policy that Frampton defended 
 or eulogized. He took it for granted that, 
 emanating as they did from his chief, liis 
 measures were ^^ all right." He did not trouble 
 himself as to their intrinsic merits, nor did 
 he perplex himself by reading what was said 
 on the other side. If he lighted on an ad- 
 verse article in the Craftsman, he simj^ly cried 
 ^^Rot!" and turned over to an account in 
 the next column of a cock-fight. He loved 
 Walpole for qualities which had their coiniter- 
 parts in his own nature. Both were clever, 
 wily, sagacious, and good-humom^ed, but, at 
 the same time, rough, imperious, overbearing, 
 and unscrupulous ; and both, without entertain- 
 ing much admiration for, or indeed belief in, 
 moral principle, detested and despised that 
 spurious affectation of it which they deemed 
 hypocrisy, and termed ''humbug." 
 
 What excited Mr. Framjiton's warm en- 
 thusiasm was Walpole's consummate dexterity in
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAFEY. 121 
 
 maintaining for so long a period liis f avoiu' vrixh. 
 tlie King and liis majority in the Parliament. 
 The himiiliations which the Minister had to 
 midergo to secm-e the former were little known 
 to Mr. Frampton ; but, from the natm^e of his 
 office, he was priv}^ to the bribery and corrup- 
 tion by which the latter was obtamed. Indeed, 
 he was one of the main channels through wliich 
 flowed the stream of seduction ; nor was the 
 function at all uncongenial to his taste. 
 
 With an inconsistency, howeyer, by no means 
 unaccountable if analyzed, while he admired 
 the giyer he desj)ised the receiyer of the bribe. 
 For the man who sold himself his contempt was 
 unbounded; but to the man who bought him 
 he looked w^ with respect and admiration. 
 
 On the occasion of the dinner to which 
 Charley had referred, the guests consisted of 
 three of ^h. Frampton's colleagues in the 
 Secret Seryice Office, and Charley was the only 
 outsider, so that the conyersation assumed quite 
 a confidential turn. AYhen the cloth was re- 
 moyed, and the seryants, haying replaced the 
 edibles by the potables, had retired, the inter- 
 com^se became more unrestrained. 
 
 Stragley, a young fellow who belonged to a
 
 122 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 good old Whig family, was one of the guests. 
 While thoroughly convinced that by serving 
 his party he was serving his country, he enter- 
 tained some foolish youthful crotchets (which 
 were however vanishing year by year) as to the 
 possible, though remote, contingency of patriot- 
 ism not being incompatible with purity. 
 
 " Pity," he observed to Mr. Frampton, " that 
 Sir Robert Walpole's ends, which are so 
 laudable, cannot be attained without using 
 means which are not — " 
 
 ^' You might as well say," replied Mr. Framp- 
 ton, ^Hhat it is a pity you cannot rescue a 
 drowning man without wetting your shoes. A 
 Minister who should scruple at buying a vote 
 to save his country would be a poor creature 
 indeed." 
 
 ' ' But the Minister who would contemn such 
 devices, and rest his power on nobler founda- 
 tions — " 
 
 '^ Would assuredly be turned out in a week 
 — at least, in these times, gentlemen," continued 
 Frampton, who, by this time, was far advanced 
 in his second bottle, and was inspired both by 
 his theme and his wine. '^ The only tests of 
 the comparative efficacy of opposite means are
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 123 
 
 success and failure. I decidedly prefer the 
 strong man who wins the battle to the worthy 
 man who loses it. Hence my admiration for 
 Sir Robert. Battles are not won by the exer- 
 cise of the cardinal virtues, but by hard blows 
 and knocks. If you applaud the victor, you 
 must not be sentimental about the blows and 
 knocks. Friend Stragley extols Sir Robert's 
 success, under which the country enjoys peace 
 and prosperity, but would like him to acliieve it 
 by other expedients than those he uses : that is, 
 he desires the end and shrinks from the means. 
 Are you as competent a judge of the means of 
 success as the man who has succeeded ? Sir 
 Robert kills his man at fifty paces with his in- 
 fluence musket, and you tell him that he woiJd 
 have done as well ^ith 3'oiu' j^^ty jDojDgun. 
 Nonsense ! Let the strong man use the weajDons 
 which he knows to be best fitted to his purpose." 
 
 "Then," said Stragley, ''for the men who 
 owe theu' failures to the tenderness of their con- 
 sciences you have no s}Tiipathy .? " 
 
 ''None whatever," answered FramiDton ; 
 "not so much as the few di'ops that would 
 make tliis bumper, which I toss off to Sir 
 Robert's health, overflow. Such men are
 
 124 FRANK aLLERTON : 
 
 like pistols loaded with bran instead of gun- 
 powder, formidable to look at, but when they 
 are required to shoot the bran don't ignite. 
 Now Sir Robert is a jiistol well charged with 
 real gunpowder, which never misses fire. 
 He is no sham, but a j^recious hard reality. 
 Those who have wrestled with liim have found 
 that out. What he wants done he takes good 
 care to have done. When done, it is well 
 done ; and if the means he used to get it done 
 were the surest means, then Avere they also the 
 best." 
 
 ^' But if state necessity justifies the men who 
 buy votes, what justifies the men who sell 
 them ? " 
 
 ^ ^ Nothing, ' ' warmly replied FramjDton . ' ^ For 
 such men I entertain the most unmitigated con- 
 tempt. They are either poor, weak creatm^es, 
 or wicked, unprincipled wretches. I have seen 
 lots of both classes ; they have passed through 
 om^ hands in scores — scabby sheep or rapacious 
 wolves, every one of them." 
 
 ^' You are right, Mr. Frampton," said another 
 of the company — Mr. Wrigglesworth, a very 
 old hand in the office, and thoroughly inm^ed to 
 the process of converting hollow enemies inta
 
 AX AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 12'. 
 
 hollow friends; ''tliey are a rum lot. The 
 poor ones do affect a kind of shamefaced re- 
 luctance at coming into the market to sell 
 themselves — a mincing air of ' My poverty 
 but not my ^ill consents ' resignation — but 
 those are the few. The great majority are im- 
 pelled by far lower motives than indigence, 
 such as, for instance, avarice, greedy to accu- 
 mulate ; ambition, panting to rise, regardless 
 of the means ; cowardice, fearing the shadow 
 of a danger ; envy, grudging the position 
 which another has attained to ; ^iride, grovel- 
 ling low in the dust, to stand high in the eyes 
 of the world ; revenge, sinking all self-respect 
 in the lon^'ino: to stiike a blow at an enemv. 
 Such are the questionable objects wliich they 
 seek to attain by questionable means. The 
 healthy strain of open and honourable conten- 
 tion they feel unequal to. They are like sturdy 
 mendicants who, abjuring honest work, prefer 
 to beg." 
 
 ^' Bravo, Wrigglesworth ! " said Mr. Framp- 
 ton ; ^^ you know them well. But there is one 
 class that you have not referred to. I mean 
 the stately, high-floT^Ti men in buckram, who 
 are scandalized at the idea of taking money.
 
 126 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 To sell their vote for gold I Out upon it I 
 Higli-mincled men ! — are they to be confounded 
 with the mercenary crew whose god is 
 mammon ? Perish the thought ! At the same 
 time, any honourable consideration — a red or 
 blue ribbon, a post for themselves or their son, 
 a piece of preferment, a deanery for a cousin, 
 or even a place in the Excise for a poor relation, 
 — oh, well, some of these things might induce 
 them to reconsider their last vote, &c. In 
 truth, my friend Stragley, if these are the 
 people against whom you inveigh, I go heartily 
 with you." 
 
 ''Pardon the freedom of my remark, Mr. 
 Frampton ; but we are here among close friends. 
 It is whispered in a certain circle of sound 
 orthodox Whigs that Sir Eobert is too lavish of 
 his good things to those whose opposition he 
 wishes to neutralize, which makes him too 
 sparing of them to those whose support is his 
 mainstay ; that he is so profuse in his gifts to 
 bribe his opponents, that there is little left 
 with which to reward his friends ; in short, that 
 his partisans fare worse than his adversaries." 
 
 ''Bah! " sneeringly retorted Mr. Frampton, 
 " why what a fool Sir Robert would be to waste
 
 AN AUT0BI0GBAP3T. 127 
 
 his favours on those who will support him, 
 whether or no, when he can use those favours 
 in securing the co-operation of those who would 
 otherwise oppose him ! " 
 
 ^^Well, that is a consideration, certainly. 
 But it savours more of jDolicj than of grati- 
 tude ! " 
 
 ^^ So it ought. What right has Sir Robert to 
 indulge his own selfish feeling of gratitude to 
 his adherents, at the exjDense of the general 
 policy which is to ^^romote the happiness of a 
 nation? The rewards that precede services 
 that are to be rendered must naturally claim 
 preference over those which follow services that 
 have been rendered. But console yourselves, 
 my friends, I do not think that there is any truth 
 in the allegation. The national cow yields such 
 an abundance of milk that there is plenty for 
 all. Gentlemen, I will give you a toast. 
 Here 's continued health and endurance to the 
 national cow ; and may her dugs never supply 
 any but a Whig milk-pail ! " 
 
 The toast was drunk amid laughter and ap- 
 plause. 
 
 ^^As we are among friends," said Mr. 
 Wrigglesworth, ^' and may therefore pick holes
 
 128 FRANK ALLEBTON ,- 
 
 in our party, allow me to say that instances 
 have occurred, more than once, in which the 
 votes have been given and the promised reward 
 withheld." 
 
 ^' As to that," observed Frampton, '^served 
 them right." 
 
 ^' Perhaps so ; but it is bad i^olicy. It injures 
 our credit in the market, and makes business 
 difficult. I do not think that Walpole himself 
 ever committed such an error ; but I know that 
 it has occurred with his slippery colleague, 
 Lord F." 
 
 ''Lord F. slippery! Not a bit of it," 
 cried Frampton, who, though not caring a 
 button for Lord F., yet deemed it his duty to 
 ujDliold every person and every practice, every 
 man and every measure, connected mtli the 
 Walpole Ministry. '' I do not know anybody 
 that is more reliable than Lord F." 
 
 Loud cries of '' Oh ! oh ! " greeted this 
 assertion, for Lord F. was notoriously as loose 
 in the performance of his i:)romises as he was 
 obstinate in his adherence to his opinions. 
 
 '' I maintain," continued Mr. Frampton, 
 ^' that no man can be more depended upon in 
 regard to both his opinions and his promises.
 
 ^.Y AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 129 
 
 The former he never abandons ; the latter he 
 never keeps. In this course he is so consistent 
 and unswerving that none can be ever deceived 
 by him." 
 
 ^^ Well, to be sm^e/' replied Straglev, ^^in 
 that sense you may be right. I understand 
 that Shippen once said of Sir Robeii: — " 
 
 ^^ That square-toed old Tory, Sliippen! 
 Pray do not quote the opinion of so bitter an 
 opponent." 
 
 ^' An out-and-out Jacobite," added Wnggies- 
 worth, ^' a rough bear, who thinks it manly to 
 be rude, and calls acrimony candour ! " 
 
 ''Whom," continued Frampton, "Pope 
 styles ' Downright Shippen,' because he could 
 not say ' Upright Shippen ' of such a rascal ! " 
 
 " Be that as it may," rejoined Stragley, 
 ' ' what he said of Sir Robert was by no means 
 ill natm^ed. Speaking in his bluff manner, he 
 said, "• Robin and I are honest men. He is for 
 King George, and I am for King James. But 
 as for those fellows with the Ions: cravats, 
 Sandys and the rest, they only desire places 
 under one king or the other.' " 
 
 " Bravely spoken," said Frampton, "of the 
 old fellow! But Sir Robert needs to have a 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 180 FRANK ALLETITON: 
 
 few friendly enemies, for lie has not a few 
 hostile friends." 
 
 ^' Oh, I warrant," said Wrigglesworth, 
 ^' that he holds his own against any of them, 
 big or little. Talking of little, I remember, in 
 1733, when theproiDOsed Excise Act raised such 
 a storm in the comitry, Sir Robert was one 
 night at the theatre in the Haymarket, and 
 one of the comedians introduced in his part a 
 disparaging allusion to the Excise Act. Sir 
 Robert waited till the performance was over, 
 then went behind the scenes and demanded of 
 the prompter whether the offensive words were 
 part of the play. Upon receiving an assurance 
 that they were not. Sir Robert u^d mtli his 
 cane, and gave the actor who had improvised 
 them a sound thrashing for his impertinence." 
 
 All joined in approval of the Minister's 
 spirited conduct; and the conversation then 
 shifting into theatrical and other subjects 
 Charley's report of it there terminated.
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAFHY. 131 
 
 CHAPTEK VIII. 
 
 THREE QUIET YEARS. 1741 — 1743. 
 
 During these years tlie current of my life 
 glided on so smoothly that it fiu'nishes no 
 incidents worthy of being recorded. Nor was 
 the period enlivened by many stirring public 
 events. The gradual defeat in Parliament and 
 final retirement from power of Sir Eobert 
 Walpole occm-red in February, 1742, and 
 formed a topic of universal interest. For 
 twenty-one years he had occupied the post of 
 Prime Minister, and had been the most power- 
 ful man in the kingdom, not even excepting 
 the two kings whom he had successively served. 
 They were, indeed, kings ; but, as Shakespere 
 has it, he was ^^ viceroy over them." As plain 
 Sir Blue String (so he was called) he wielded 
 enormous power, while as Earl of Orf ord (wliich
 
 132 FRANK ALLERTON ,- 
 
 he became after his fall) he is a mere cipher, 
 and it is said even that he is in j)ecmiiary diffi- 
 culties from having spent too much on his huge 
 house at Houghton. When lie resigned, the 
 king, hard and selfish as he is, instead of hold- 
 ing his hand for his kneeling servant to kiss, 
 fell upon his neck, and, bursting into tears, 
 affectionately embraced liim. As at Alex- 
 ander's death his kingdom lost its unity, and 
 was divided among his generals, so after 
 Walpole's fall the post of Prime Minister lost 
 its power, and, while weak Wilmington occu- 
 pied the post, the real power was distributed 
 among the Pulteneys, Carterets, Newcastles, 
 and others. It is said that no pope ever occu- 
 pied the see of Eome so long as the twenty 
 four years assigned to St. Peter. I doubt 
 whether any Prime Minister will ever occu2)y 
 the post so long as the twenty-one years that 
 Walpole enjoyed it. 
 
 Although not fond of literature himself, he 
 was the cause of much literature in others. He 
 was a fruitful theme for prose and verse. He 
 was alternately nauseously flattered and in- 
 famously libelled. Most writers began by 
 praising him ; but when they found that he took
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 133 
 
 no notice of them, tliey tired of that, and 
 punished him, some by their silence, others by 
 their censure. Determined to get something- 
 out of him, they first tried to wheedle him by 
 flattery, and, failing that, they tried to bully 
 him by satire. Sir Hanbury Williams is an 
 honourable exception. He was faithful to 
 Walpole from first to last. His witty poems 
 are the delight of the age, and he pelted the 
 Minister's enemies, especially Pulteney, with an 
 incessant shower of odes, burlesques, songs, 
 fables, and epigrams. 
 
 But with the common herd it was otherwise. 
 For instance, Harry Fielding, who, since we 
 met him at Pontack's two years ago, has taken 
 to a new field for his talents, and has just pub- 
 lished the • History and Adventures of Joseph 
 Andrews,' is an example of the grateful musk- 
 deer converted by neglect into the ofiensive 
 polecat. 
 
 By-the-bye, I may as well say that this ' His- 
 tory of Joseph Andrews,' which is amusing 
 enough, was written as a burlesque upon a dull, 
 prosy story called ' Pamela,' published by some 
 printer in Salisbury Court, which has obtained 
 a certain vogue lately.
 
 184 FRANK ALLEETON .- 
 
 Well, to go on ; Fielding in 1730 wrote 
 some verses to Walpole, in which he unblush- 
 ingly asks him for a place. He winds up by 
 saying,— 
 
 " If you should ask what pleases best ? 
 To get the most, and do the least. 
 What fitted for? You know, I'm sure, 
 I 'm fittest for— a sinecure ! " 
 
 Getting no response from the careless Minister, 
 he took his revenge by lashing him with lam- 
 poons. 
 
 Dean Swift, the most perfidious of flatterers, 
 and the most acrid of satirists, attacked him 
 vehemently. As long as political antagonism 
 was the sole motive for the oiislaught, the 
 abuse was mild ; but a trifling matter of a 
 private nature supervened which fired the 
 Dean's fury into a flame, and the invective 
 became coarse, bitter, and personal. A young- 
 relation of the Dean's whose name resembled 
 his (for the young man was christened Deane 
 Swift), but whose character did not, for he was 
 neither witty nor wicked, was known to and 
 patronized by Sir Kobert Walpole. The 
 Minister had taken a fancy to the young 
 fellow, and urged him to take orders, adding
 
 AX AUTOBIOGRAPHT. 135 
 
 that, if he did so, he would provide for 
 liim, and, perhaps, in due time make him a 
 bishop. 
 
 This reached the ears of the Dean, who was 
 equally enraged with his namesake and with 
 the Minister. His hopes of becoming a bishop 
 himseK had long since vanished, and the idea 
 of a younger man and a relation being pro- 
 moted over his head was intolerable. He 
 bullied Mr. D. Swift, whose estate was mort- 
 gaged to the Dean for 1,500/., into a promise 
 that he would not enter into the Chmx'h at all, 
 and thus had the pleasure of depri^T.ng his 
 relative of all his chances of advancement. 
 
 On Walpole, he took the only revenge 
 which it was in his power to take, and levelled 
 at him a bitter and caustic satire. Some idea 
 of it maybe formed by the following extract: — 
 
 " With favour and fortune fastidiously blest, 
 He 's loud in his laugh, and he 's coarse in his jest." 
 
 (Who was so ^^ coarse in his jest " as the Dean 
 himself ?) 
 
 " Oppressing true merit, exalting the base, 
 And selling his country to purchase his place. 
 Of virtue and worth by profession ajiber; 
 Of juries and senates the bully and briber."
 
 136 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 The ter.sene«s of the invective hardly atones- 
 for its excessive virulence. 
 
 Talking of terseness, a friend of mine, who 
 knew him well, gave me the following concise 
 description of that able writer but unsuccessful 
 statesman, Lord Bolingbroke. ^' A tall, fair 
 man, pitted with the small-pox ; vivacious, 
 witty, passionate, good-humoured ; a sad liber- 
 tine ; drinks hard, sleeps little ; indefatigable, a 
 hearty friend J a bitter enemy." 
 
 About tliis time cousin Alice and I began to 
 take great delight in the examination and 
 study of flowers and shrubs and trees, and in 
 our Saturday -afternoon walks fj^'icl frequent 
 visits to the physic-garden at Chelsea, under the 
 able direction of Mr. Miller, to Bisho}) Comp- 
 ton's plantations at Fulham Palace, and to Mr, 
 Peter Collinson's fine collection at Peckham. 
 We also made an occasional inspection of Mr. 
 Gray's nurseries at Fidham, celebrated for new 
 American plants, of which a catalogue has 
 lately been published.* 
 
 What an infinite diversity there is in natui'e ! 
 
 * This famous old nursery-garden still survives ; and its 
 reputation is well maintained by its present owners, Messrs. 
 Osborne & Sons. — Editor.
 
 AN AUTOBIOGEAPEY. 137 
 
 For instance, of the Iris (Flom^e-de-luce) old 
 Gerarde describes no less than twenty-nine 
 species. Xot\^ his big folio was published in 
 1636, a centiuy ago, since which time a great 
 number of new sj^ecies have been introduced 
 from abroad by Tradescant, Collinson, and 
 others. 
 
 I wonder whether the time will ever come 
 when every plant or tree growing throughout 
 the world in temperate zones, having a climate 
 similar to om^s, will be introduced and made to 
 grow in om^ English gardens and j^lantations. 
 Why not? 
 
 By-the-bye, what an elaborate work that is 
 of old Gerarde's. It contains no less than 5,000 
 woodcuts of a large size; being pictorial repre- 
 sentations of the different shrubs, &c., which 
 he describes. One is confused and op^^ressed 
 by the immense number of plants wliich he re- 
 cords, and of which he sings the praises. Each 
 of these, if we are to believe the venerable 
 enthusiast, possesses an average of five different 
 curative virtues ; so that, if our ^' physitions," as 
 Gerarde spells the word, do not remove all our 
 various ailments, it is certainly not Gerarde's 
 fault. For gout and rheumatism alone he
 
 138 FRANK ALLERTON .- 
 
 enumerates no less than 400 infallible specifics ; 
 so tliat if man is still subject to those com- 
 plaints, it is due to sheer wanton neglect. 
 Indeed, if there be a tithe of truth in the sana- 
 tive properties of these various herbs, why 
 should not 23ain and disease be altogether eli- 
 minated from the face of the earth? ^' Cm- 
 moriatur homo, cui salvia crescit in horto ? " 
 
 Unfortunately I have noticed that the num- 
 ber of ^^ infallible remedies" is always large in 
 proportion to the incurableness of the malady ; 
 just as the stronger the fortress is the more 
 troops are required to besiege it ; with this dif- 
 ference, however, that the troops combine for 
 a simultaneous attack, whereas the remedies 
 have to attack the disease one by one. For, 
 to mix the 400 specifics for rheumatism to- 
 gether in one huge bowl, and administer that, 
 would, I fear, be of little avail.
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPHY. 139 
 
 HAPTER IX. 
 
 A NEW ACTOR OX OUR STAGE. 174i. 
 
 One evening, in the spring of this year 174^1:, I 
 returned home rather late from the office, and 
 found assembled the usual cosy family group. 
 My uncle was deep in the perusal of that bitter 
 and ferocious attack of Milton's on poor old 
 Salmasius that literally slaughtered him. My 
 aunt was engaged in conning over a more inno- 
 cent but still tougher work, viz.. Lord Claren- 
 don's answer to Hobbes's 'Leviathan.' I did 
 once try (being strenuously enjoined to do so) 
 to read that work, but I stuck fast at one par- 
 ticular sentence, about the middle of the book, 
 which was spun out to the unconscionable 
 length of one page and a half quarto, without 
 a full-stop. It was a most wonderful sentence, 
 perfectly grammatical, and logically congruous, 
 .but so swollen out by parenthesis within paren-
 
 140 FRANK ALLERTON: 
 
 thesis, so cut up into subsidiary statements 
 loosely cemented to the general framework by 
 ^^if," ^^as," ^^ but," and other copulative con- 
 junctions, that you had to examine how it was 
 that the eleventh separate proposition dove- 
 tailed into, and was connected with, the ten pre- 
 ceding ones, before you could understand the 
 sense of the whole. For twenty minutes I toiled 
 at this monster sentence, — I laboriously made it 
 out, — shut the book, and never opened it again. 
 
 But to return : my aunt was reading, or 
 trying to read,, that interesting book, and dear 
 cousin Alice (how sweet the smile with which 
 she welcomed me home I) was embroidering 
 some stiff piece of brocade. 
 
 Soon after I had joined the circle my uncle 
 said to me, ^' Frank, w^e have had a visitor here 
 to-day. Read this." I took the document 
 which he handed me. It was in the form of a 
 large square-folded letter, addressed as follows 
 in a stiff, formal liand : — ■ 
 
 " For my worthy and estimable kinsman, 
 
 " Meeedith Uppenham, Gentleman, 
 *' These, by the hands of my young and singular good friend, 
 *' Master Martin Brerewood." 
 
 Inside was a letter of introduction and recom-
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. Ill 
 
 mendation from a distant cousin of my micle's 
 in favom- of the said Martin Brerewood. From 
 the crabbed characters and the old-fashioned 
 style of superscription long since discarded, I 
 at once knew that the sender must be that 
 venerable piece of antiquity, Sir John New- 
 som. 
 
 We all of us, and so did the world at large, 
 entertained respect for the character, and 
 derived amusement from the harmless foibles, of 
 this worthy old man. He was a Jacobite 
 member of the House of Commons, but was 
 popular with all parties. Sir John adored the 
 past, and used all his efforts to prevent the 
 present from running away from it. All old 
 customs, old modes of thought, and old repu- 
 tations were the objects of his panegyric. It 
 was more from this peculiar bent of mind that 
 he retained his loyalty to the Stuart exiles than 
 from any deep conviction of the abstract justice 
 of their cause. Indeed, in the exhibition of 
 his political predilections he was so mild and 
 courtly — they assumed so much more the sem- 
 blance of an archaeological hobby than of party 
 feeling — that the Whigs bore him no malice; 
 and, in fact, from his genial manners he had
 
 142 FBA?JK ALLERTON: 
 
 become a kind of personal pet in the House^ 
 even among the Walpolites. 
 
 I glanced over the letter, and then asked, 
 '^Pray, micle, did Sir John's ^ young and sin- 
 gular friend ' favour you witli a call ? " 
 
 ^' He did, Frank," returned my uncle. ^^ He 
 delivered his credentials personally this morn- 
 
 ing." 
 
 ^' Some homespun provincial, I suppose, sir," 
 said I, ^^ anxious to see the Tower, and sup at 
 Vauxhall?" 
 
 '^ No such novice as you think, fair nephew," 
 replied my uncle. ^'You Londoners fancy 
 that all country people must be clodhoppers, 
 just as the Greeks held all non-Greeks to be 
 barbarians. But, as to that, ask your aunt and 
 Alice. Women are critical judges in regard to 
 rusticity and good-breeding." 
 
 '' Has this Mr. — Mr. Brerewood," asked I, 
 ''been introduced, then, to the ladies?" 
 
 ''Yes," replied my uncle. "After half an 
 hour's converse with him in the little study on 
 matters of some importance, I invited him into 
 the withdrawing-room, where, in accordance 
 with a message I had sent her, your aunt had 
 prepared some slight refreshment."
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 143 
 
 ^^Ancl what, dear aunt/' I asked, "is your 
 verdict on this representative of the shires of 
 England?" 
 
 " Nay," replied she, '' you should rather say 
 of the shores of France ; for he is just from 
 there. He is a great traveller, and Paris appears 
 to be more familiar to liim than London." 
 
 " Then I suppose," said I, with a faint 
 approach to a sneer, for I somehow had taken a 
 dislike to this intruder, " he has brought over 
 the newest French fashions, and is duly stored 
 with French frippery and affectation ? " 
 
 " Not at all," replied my aunt : ^^ he appears 
 to be a thorough gentleman, of good address 
 and pleasing manners. Of his moral prin- 
 ciples I of course cannot speak, but I was 
 gratified to learn that he is warmly attached to 
 the good old cause." 
 
 " Perhaj)s," insinuated I, "he had ascer- 
 tained your leaning towards it, and to obtain 
 your favour he may have affected a sym- 
 pathy—" 
 
 " Which he did not feel, you mean," inter- 
 rupted my uncle. " You do him injustice, 
 Frank. I have good reason to know that he is 
 not only zealous, but actively engaged on
 
 144: FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 behalf of the rightful monarch. His is no 
 mere lip-service." 
 
 ^' Would, Frank/' exclaimed my aunt, ^^ that 
 you were half as warm an adherent to the 
 cause of the Stuarts as he is ! You seem to 
 me to be growing more and more indifferent to 
 it every day." 
 
 ^' But J dear mother," kindly interposed 
 Alice, '^ Frank never dealt largely in profes- 
 sions." 
 
 ^^ It may be well," replied my aunt, ^^ not to 
 be too forward, but to keep back altogether is 
 quite a different thing. What a falling off 
 from his poor father, who sealed his devotion 
 and loyalty by ruin and death ! " 
 
 " Come, my dear aunt," said I, " you must 
 admit that the fact of my father's ruin and 
 death being the result of his connexion with 
 the party can hardly constitute its title to my 
 favour." 
 
 <« Why not ? " she replied. ^^ The daughter of 
 a soldier does not love her country a whit the 
 less because her father died in its defence." 
 
 " True, my dear," said my uncle ; '^ but the 
 dulce et decovuin does not repair the bereave- 
 ment, or wipe away the tears. At the same
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHT. 145 
 
 time I do wish that Frank were more eager and 
 cordial in tlie adoption of the hereditary 
 political doctrines of his family.'' 
 
 ^^ But, sir," said I, ^^ may not those doctrines 
 be susceptible of modification from changes in 
 the circiunstances on which they were originally 
 based ? " 
 
 Modestly expressed as were my doubts, they 
 startled my aunt, and she exclaimed, — 
 
 ^^ Frank, I am sm-prised! Why, this reason- 
 ing is the very essence of Whig sophistry ! It 
 is the ignoble plea of expediency itself." 
 
 ^^Modification, do you say?" added my 
 uncle. '^I do not believe in modification. It 
 gradually unfastens, nail by nail, and screw by 
 screw, the entire framework of the political 
 fabric. Octavius Caesar modified the old Roman 
 constitution, and it lapsed into Imperialism. 
 William of Normandy modified our old Saxon 
 polity, and it lapsed into feudalism. William 
 of Holland modified our old Church and State 
 organization, and it lapsed into — " 
 
 ^^Yes," broke in my aunt, impetuously, 
 '^ into Wliiggery, infidelity, Hanoverian wars, 
 German bad women, foreign mercenaries, heavy 
 taxes, a national debt, a corrupt parliament — " 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 FBANK ALLERTON : 
 
 ^^ Well," interrupted my uncle, ^^let us say, 
 et csetera, et cjctera. To tell the truth, I would 
 rather hark back to the old cover than move on 
 to beat up new ones. Be that as it may, I fancy, 
 Frank, that your great friend, your jidus 
 Achates^ jowag Frampton, has mainly con- 
 tributed to unsettle your notions. Now, when 
 I introduce you to Mr. Brerewood, I hope that 
 you will take to each other, and he may then 
 perhaps buttress you up on the other side, and 
 get you upright again." 
 
 ^'Well, uncle," I replied, ^^ I pity the man 
 who requires buttressing on both sides to make 
 him stand erect. However, I shall be happy 
 to make the acquaintance of your hero." 
 
 ^^ Very well, Frank. I have invited him to 
 dine with us next Thursday at four o'clock ; and 
 mind you get away from yom^ office early 
 enough to join us." 
 
 ^^With pleasure," I replied. ^^ Aunty dear, 
 bear with my political scepticism for the jjre- 
 sent. I am giving, and shall give, the question 
 serious study and reflection, so as to arrive at 
 some definite and fixed opinion upon it." 
 
 ^^Pray do so, Frank, earnestly and search- 
 ingly."
 
 ^.V AUTOBIOGRAPHY, 147 
 
 ^' But what," asked I, really anxious to know 
 the penalty I might have to pay for political 
 heresy, ^^if the result of my search be con- 
 victions different from yom^ own ? " 
 
 ^^ Heaven forbid, Frank! I can scarcely 
 think that honest inquiry can lead you astray. 
 But, even if it should, better that than your 
 present cold indifference to matters that vitally 
 affect the welfare of your comitry." 
 
 ^' May we not say," 2^^^ in Alice, modestly, 
 '^ that the community is like a picnic, to which, 
 as all enjoy it, each should bring some contri- 
 bution, however small, — except cliildi^en, such 
 as Frank and myself." 
 
 No immediate rejoinder being made, she 
 quickly added, so as to change the rather 
 ticklish conversation, ^^And now, Frank, if 
 you will bring out the chessboard, I will show 
 you a wonderful checkmate given by Count 
 Bruhl to that fierce antagonist of mine, Anna 
 EoUston. She showed it to me to-day." 
 
 " That square-headed spinster is, I fear, a 
 better player than either you or I." 
 
 *^ She is," replied Alice ; ^' and that is why I 
 felt a little malicious pleasure in seeing how 
 thoroughly the count demolished her."
 
 148 FEANK ALLERTON .- 
 
 '^ That, however, is not very much to her 
 discredit, for I suppose that he is the finest 
 j^layer not only in England, but perhaps in 
 Europe." 
 
 '^ I thought so too, but — you remember 
 Danican, the composer of tliat little French 
 song you liked so much, ' Je t'aimerai 
 toujours,' the young fellow who at eleven years 
 of ajie wrote that motet for four voices that 
 Louis XV. praised so highly ? " 
 
 ^^Well yes: what of him?" 
 
 "• Miss Rollston tells me that he is a first- 
 rate chess-player, and that when Count Bruhl, 
 some little time ago, visited Paris, he was 
 beaten by young Danican." 
 
 '^ That is singular, for now I think of it, 
 I was told at Parsloe's that there was only 
 one man who could beat Count Bruhl, and 
 that was a Frenchman named Philidor. 
 Are there two Frenchmen, then, to 
 whom the count must yield the palm at 
 chess ? " 
 
 ^^Not at all," replied Alice ; ^' they are one 
 and the same man. He was born Danican, 
 and dubbed himself Philidor; probably a 
 travelling name, as kings on a voyage, to pre-
 
 ^.Y AUTOBIOGRAPHT : 140 
 
 serve their incognito, call themselves Duke or 
 Baron So-and-So." 
 
 ^^ Bravo, then, Monsieur Danican-Philidor ! 
 By-the-bye, Alice, we shall have a chance of 
 seeing him, for I am told that he intends visit- 
 ing England next year/' 
 
 '^ You must get an introduction to him, 
 Frank." 
 
 ^^ I will ; and in the mean time you must sing 
 me ^ Je t'aimerai toujours ' (what pretty words 
 they are !), in honour of Danican, and after that 
 we will have a game at .chess in honour of 
 Philidor." 
 
 ^•' Very well ; but I am thinking that Philidor 
 had better remain Danican, and concentrate 
 his energies on musical composition, as that 
 may hand his fame down to posterity, whereas 
 of immortality as a chess-jDlayer, there is no 
 possible chance, and his talent for the game 
 will only live in the remembrance of the few 
 personal friends with whom he may play." 
 
 I fully acquiesced in this opinion, and so 
 another quiet and happy evening passed away.
 
 150 FRANK ALLEBTON 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 MARTIN BREREWOOD. 
 
 On the following Thursday I was duly 
 introduced to Mr. Martin Brerewood. As he 
 has played an important part in the most event- 
 ful crisis of my career, I must present to you the 
 most life-like picture of the man that I can draw. 
 At the time of his introduction to our circle 
 he was about thirty years of age. He was 
 very tall, and his graceful figure was so well 
 proportioned that no one would have imagined 
 that he measured, as he did, fully six feet in 
 height, till he was in immediate proximity with 
 other men ; and then, such was his erect car- 
 riage and imposing mien, that his statm'e 
 aj)peared greater than it really was. The 
 features of his face, taken separately, might 
 hardly perhaps challenge rigorous criticism. 
 His mouth was a little too deeply set between
 
 AN AUTOBIOGEAPHY. 151 
 
 lips just a little too thin. His nose was some- 
 what too alDruj^tly aquiline, his chin a trifle too 
 long and projecting, and his complexion too 
 uniformly pale and colourless ; but these devia- 
 tions from the ideal were very slight, and the 
 tout oisemhle was very handsome and fasci- 
 nating. It was a face that impressed all 
 beholders, men as well as women, with an irre- 
 sistible sense of manly beauty and mental 
 power. But it was his large hazel-brown eyes 
 which perhaj^s formed his most powerful 
 charm. As your o^m eyes encountered their 
 bright beams, you felt as though he were look- 
 ing through and through you. They seemed 
 to dive into your inmost soul's recesses, and you 
 could not help retm-ning involuntary glances 
 as though of welcome and reciprocity. It was 
 curious, however, to notice that in his eyes yom-s 
 could read nothing. Penetrating but imj)ene- 
 trable, they searched you, but refused to be 
 searched. You might yield up to them the 
 secret of your own feehngs, but you could 
 elicit no revelation in return. Indeed, I never 
 knew liim to abide a steady gaze from others ; 
 when prolonged, liis own eyes sank and lowered 
 under its influence.
 
 152 FRANK ALLERTON .- 
 
 His smile was enclianting ; for every feature, 
 especially liis radiant eyes, seemed to smile in 
 unison with his lips ; and yet there were times, 
 when you could not but fancy that this sun-lit 
 smile broke out too suddenly, and was too sud- 
 denly quenched — as though it were an act 
 of volition not of impulse. His exuberant 
 dark-brown hair, combed away from his ample 
 forehead, hung in graceful curls over his 
 shoulders ; for he used powder sparingly, and 
 only where the hat cro^vned the head. Wlien 
 I add to all this that he always dressed well (I 
 mean as a gentleman, not as a fop), and that his 
 manner and address were as attractive as his 
 figiu-e, you have as complete a sketch as I am 
 comj)etent to give you of Martin Brerewood's 
 external appearance. 
 
 As to the man himself, the inner being, of 
 which only the husk or shell has been described, 
 I must decline any attempt to portray him. I 
 must relinquish in despair the task of analyzing 
 that busy brain and wayward heart. His 
 actions, as I narrate them, his motives, as I un- 
 fold them, will best guide you to an estimate of 
 his character. 
 
 His natural abilities were of the highest
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHT. Id?, 
 
 orclerj and an excellent college education had 
 afforded tliem full development. Long inter- 
 course with the best society, abroad as well as 
 at home, had added to the native graces of a 
 well-bred English gentleman that ease of 
 manner, and adaptability to the tastes and 
 humours of others, of wliicli it is so difficult to 
 resist the charm. His com^age and skill in the 
 use of the rapier had been tested in more than 
 one duello, and he was unanimously pronounced 
 by the ladies to be of unrivalled elegance as a 
 performer in the graceful minuet or lively 
 coranto. 
 
 He was the second son of Eustace Brerewood 
 of Briarwood, the representative of an old 
 Devonshire family, to whom the estate had 
 descended from a long line of ancestors. The 
 Briarwood estate, from which the family name, 
 with a slight deflection, was derived, was not a 
 very large or valuable one, but was amply 
 sufficient to entitle its possessors to rank T\T.th 
 the landed gentry of the county, and to enable 
 them to maintain a good position among their 
 compeers. The traditions of the family had for 
 generations been connected mth the High 
 Church and State party. Martin's grandfather
 
 154 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 had served against the Duke of Monmouth at 
 Sedgemoor in 1685, and had feasted the ruth- 
 less Jeffreys at Briarwood, on his savage circuit 
 through the western counties. Eustace Brere- 
 wood, Martin's father, had been one of the 
 plotters, and nearly one of the actors, in the 
 abortive outbreak of 1715. Nurtured in these 
 hereditary principles, it is no wonder that 
 Martin Brerewood should have thrown himself, 
 with the vigour and energy natural to him, into 
 the vortex of that desperate struggle which the 
 adherents of the Stuarts were organizing in 
 1743 and 1744, and which came to its climax in 
 1745. 
 
 Such was the man whose fate, for a brief but 
 eventful period, was so intertwined with my 
 own that it seemed as if we could not deviate 
 into separate paths. At every step I took, he 
 was in my way, as I in his. When first we 
 met, we were, at least I know that I was, dis- 
 posed to cultivate friendly relations. There 
 were many points about him which excited not 
 my envy, but my admiration ; and I sought not 
 to copy him, but to improve myself in those 
 matters in which I felt his superiority. Our 
 interests, however, soon clashed, and, as you
 
 AN AUTOBIOGPcAPHY. lo5 
 
 will see in the sequel, I had to sustain his 
 powerful enmity. You must confess that he 
 was a formidable antagonist to encounter. 
 
 My uncle's party was but a small one. The 
 only guests were Mr. Brerewood, Sir John 
 Newsom, his introducer, and Alice's late gover- 
 ness and old fiiend Miss EoUston, a lady who 
 occupied an undefined position in that large, 
 shifting zone of years that separates 3^outh from 
 old age. Dming dinner little passed that was 
 noticeable. Mr. Brerewood was ver}^ polite 
 and attentive to the ladies. AKce received his 
 compliments quietly; but I observed that my 
 aunt was by no means insensible to the desire 
 he evinced of being agreeable to her, and she 
 was evidently pleased -with him. 
 
 When the ladies retired, the conversation 
 gradually assumed a political tm^n. My loyalty, 
 which of course meant disloyalty to the reign- 
 ing government, was taken for granted, and 
 the usual Jacobite toasts were drmik. '^ Worthy 
 Mr. Uppenham," said Sir John, ^4t has de- 
 lighted me to be the means of introducing to 
 you such a fine chip of a good old block as my 
 young friend here." 
 
 ^^I am grateful to you," replied my uncle,
 
 JoG FRANK ALLEBTON: 
 
 ^' for the acquaintance. The Brerewoods of 
 Briarwood are well knoAvii to me by name and 
 fame. They belong to the good old stock — the 
 2msca gens mortalium — who have made England 
 what she is. They have stamichly adhered — " 
 
 '' To the good old cause," broke in Sir John, 
 who had a knack of finishing sentences iot his 
 friends whenever they halted at all in search 
 of a word; ^' yes, you may well say that. My 
 old friend Eustace, the father of your young 
 guest, was uj), and very nearly out, in 1715 ; 
 and his grandfather fought against Monmouth. 
 Now we see their merits reflected in Master 
 Martin." 
 
 '^I fear. Sir John," said Brerewood, ^^tliat 
 your compliment to me is premature. I have 
 done nothing yet, and the praise due to my 
 ancestors it is not for me to claim." 
 
 '' Modestly spoken," said my uncle. ^^ ^ Qua3 
 non fecimus ipsi vix ea nostra voco.' " 
 
 '^But I would fain hope," continued Brere- 
 wood, ^'tliat the time is not far distant when 
 the old soldiers in the fight mil don their 
 armour, and the younger ones may then show 
 themselves not unworthy of their sires." 
 
 '' As to the old ones donning their arniom',"
 
 AX AUTOBIOGRAPnT. 157 
 
 observed Sir John, " I presimie you speak 
 metajDliorieally ; for these aged iDones of mine 
 require gentle treatment, which they do not 
 always meet with at the hands of mine ancient 
 foe, the gout." 
 
 '^ Of course, my dear Sir John," rej^lied 
 Brerewood, ^'I spoke metaphorically. Yoiu- 
 part is to contribute good coimsel, moral in- 
 fluence, and able guidance. It is for such as 
 Mr. Francis and myself to supply the thews and 
 sinews." 
 
 '^ Ah, well, yes ; no doubt," said my uncle, 
 hesitatingly. ^'All in good time; but at pre- 
 sent we are far off from a crisis : and mean 
 time — " 
 
 ^^ Mean time," interposed Sir Jolin, ^'what 
 we have to do is to carefully watch events." 
 
 '^ Pardon me, respected sirs," rejoined Brere- 
 wood, glancing round the room to make sm^e 
 of oiu" being alone, and lowering his voice, 
 '' events are hastening on, and the sincerity of 
 every man's professions will, ere long, be fairly 
 tested. I presume that we are all firm and 
 devoted friends here ? " 
 
 I was not at all prepared to become the con- 
 fidant of, far less a particij^ator in, any political
 
 158 FRANK ALLERTON: 
 
 design or measure in favour of either of the 
 contending parties. My convictions as to 
 ^^ under which king" I was content to live 
 were as yet unformed, so that, till I had de- 
 liberately arrived at a conclusion, it was pre- 
 mature to ^^ speak or die!" and I wished to 
 avoid committing myself. I therefore ventured 
 to reply, ^^ If that question only refers to the 
 private regard and friendshijD which we enter- 
 tain towards each other, I am sm-e that we 
 shall all answer it in the affirmative. But if it 
 implies our common concurrence in some pro- 
 ject connected with public affairs or political 
 parties, I am hardly prepared to go so far." 
 
 ^^ I am not aware," said my uncle, ^^ of any 
 special project having been mooted." 
 
 "' Nor I," said Sir John. '^ I entertain 
 decided opinions, sincere wishes, and, I may 
 add, strong hopes; but as to a practical project, 
 that is quite a different thing." 
 
 '^It will be my privilege, as well as my 
 duty, gentlemen," said Brerewood, ^^to lay 
 before you at an early date some definite plan. 
 Meanwhile, it would be a pleasure to me to be 
 made quite sure that we all of us entertain the 
 same ulterior views. I fancied that Mr. Aller-
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPHY. 159 
 
 ton's remark might possibly bear a construction 
 at variance with such an accord." 
 
 " May I venture to suggest," said I, ^Hhat 
 this is hardly the time or the place to enter on 
 explanations and discussions on matters so 
 delicate ? " 
 
 Neither my uncle nor Sir John Newsom 
 were at all anxious to elicit Brerewood's 
 '' definite plan." Like many other of the 
 Jacobites, especially the elderly ones, they 
 faitlifully clung to their abstract theory ; but, 
 when it came to carry it out in practice, their 
 enthusiasm somewhat cooled. As Sir John had 
 said, they warmly entertained opinions, mshes, 
 and even hopes, but it was not so easy to screw 
 them up to the point of staking life and j^ro- 
 perty on their realization. My suggestion, 
 therefore, met my uncle's approval, and he 
 said, ^^ Well, perhaps Frank is right. You see, 
 Mr. Brerewood, we might be interruj)ted, if 
 not overheard, and it might be as well to — " 
 
 '^ Yes; adjourn the meeting," interposed Sir 
 John. '' I admire om- friend Master Martin's 
 ardour; it is quite refreshing in this age of 
 apathy and scepticism to be carried back to the 
 good old times of earnestness and vigom^, w^hen
 
 160 FUANK ALLERTON : 
 
 men fought and bled for their party, and the 
 sword cut the Gordian knot which, nowadays, 
 it is sought to unravel by intrigue and cunning. 
 But we must not compromise the good old 
 cause by hasty and indiscreet j^i'^ceedings. 
 By-the-bye, Upi3enham, you remember the 
 grey mare that you admired so much; I 
 have sold her to Lord Carteret for thirty 
 guineas ! " 
 
 ^^Have you, really?'' returned my uncle; 
 ^^and very cheap, too," &c. 
 
 Brerewood felt that this abrupt change in the 
 conversation was an unmistakable protest 
 against its continuance, and, gracefully accept- 
 ing the position, though not without a smile in 
 Avhich a trace of contempt was discernible, he 
 turned to me and said, '' Are you fond of music, 
 Mr. Allerton ? " 
 
 ^'I am, very," I replied, ^^and from 3-our 
 question, Mr. Brerewood, I infer that you are 
 no less so." 
 
 ^^You are right. I intend to-morrow night 
 to go to the King's Theatre, to hear Lampu- 
 gnani's new opera, ' Alceste.' If you are not 
 better engaged, will you do me the favour to 
 come and take a dish of chocolate with me at
 
 ^.V AUTOBIOGBAPBY. 161 
 
 tlie Cocoa Xut, and -afterwards accompany me 
 to the theatre ? " 
 
 " I accej)t your invitation with pleasm-e. At 
 the same time I must confess to yon that, in 
 my opinion, Lampugnani does not, as a com- 
 poser, stand in the highest rank." 
 
 ^'Well, I like him," retm'ned Brerewood. 
 '' However, you cannot have heard his ^ Alceste' 
 yet, for it is only just out. I understand that 
 Monticelli sings divinely in it, and that the aria 
 ' Questo bacio ' is a masterpiece of elegance 
 and pathos. Before you finally condemn poor 
 Lampugnani, you must Hsten to this air." 
 
 '^ I will cheeifeUy give your favomite another 
 trial; but as a rule," I said, ^'I consider the 
 ItaHan school rather light and flimsy, and pre- 
 fer the massive style of Bach and Handel." 
 
 ^'Ah, yes. Handel, or rather, Hendel, if 
 you please ! A heav}" Grerman, ostentatiously 
 23atronized by the Hanoverian clique. Om- party 
 does not take to liim. AYe put his music down 
 as noisy and eccentric. Too many notes ! " 
 
 ^^Is there not," I asked, '^a little political 
 bias in that judgment ? " 
 
 ^' Frankly, yes, a great deal. But, hang it ! 
 one must not surrender to the enemy even in 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 ]62 FEANK ALLERTON; 
 
 the matter of crotchets and quavers. We 
 ^ honest men ' must be true to each other ; so 
 long live Bononcini, even though — " 
 
 The company now broke up at the suggestion 
 of Sir John, and we joined the ladies upstairs. 
 Mr. Brerewood made himself very agreeable. 
 He gave us some pleasant sketches of Parisian 
 society, and related some racy anecdotes ) of 
 Lord Bolingbroke, with whom he was intimate, 
 and whom he had lately seen in the French 
 capital. Alice afterwards sang a couple of 
 songs in her usual charming and impressive 
 manner, and om* guest was evidently much 
 struck with her performance. 
 
 Before departing, Mr. Brerewood persuaded 
 the ladies to make up a party to Vauxhall 
 on the following Tuesday, but as my uncle 
 never cared for such gaieties, I was deputed to 
 act as his representative, and the ladies were 
 to be escorted by Mr. Brerewood and myself. 
 Somehow I did not altogether relish the footing 
 of quasi-intimacy into which that gentleman 
 was drifting, but I had neither the power nor 
 the right to interfere. 
 
 After the ladies had retired for the night, 
 my uncle said to me, ^^ Look here, Frank, you
 
 ^.V AUTOBIOGBAPHY. 163 
 
 will have to make up jour mind decidedly as 
 to your politics. I am bound, partly by con- 
 viction, and partly by old associations, to the 
 cause of the Stuart family. The latter influence 
 you also must feel, for loyalty is traditional 
 in your family ; but how far it may be coun- 
 teracted in your case by other considerations I 
 cannot tell." 
 
 ^' To say the truth, uncle," I pleaded, ''I 
 have never yet devoted serious thought to 
 political subjects." 
 
 '' Time then that you should. Under a fonn 
 of Government that is definitely settled the 
 necessity is not so cogent. But these are dis- 
 jointed times, and every man should contribute 
 his push either to one side or the other." 
 
 ''I have never had the presumjDtion to 
 imagine that anything I could say or do could 
 exercise the slightest influence over the com'se 
 of events, so I even let it flow on." 
 
 '^ It is the duty of every citizen to contribute 
 his mite, if not to the conduct of ]3ublic affairs, 
 at least to the formation of public opinion. ^ Of 
 what avail is my single mite ? ' you will ask. 
 Of great avail. The acciunulated force of 
 millions of these individually small mites is pro-
 
 1(34 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 digious. You hardly realize the enormous 
 aggregate power of minute things in immense 
 numbers. A drop of Avater is a mere atom, 
 but out of myriads of these drops is built up 
 the wave that dashes the frigate against the 
 rocks ; a single locust is an insignificant insect, 
 but a large swarm obscures the sky and re- 
 duces a province to famine ; the carcase of a 
 tiger is, in one day, picked clean to the bones 
 by a single colony of ants ; and it is by the 
 adaptation of the same principle that our rapa- 
 cious Ministry has been enabled last year to 
 extract from the nation the incredible sum of 
 ten millions of golden guineas. No ; believe 
 me, Frank, it is not only a mistake but a 
 wrong for any man to withhold his mite, whether 
 in thought, or word or act, especially at so 
 critical a period as is the present." 
 
 '^You allude, no doubt," said I, impressed 
 by my uncle's earnestness, '^ to the efforts which 
 are likely to be made to change the dpiasty ? " 
 
 " Say rather to restore the dynasty. It is 
 the Whigs who made the change. Yes ; a 
 struggle is impending. I view it Avith evil 
 forebodings, and not without some apprehen- 
 sions of danger to our Protestant establishment
 
 AX AVTOBIOGRAVEY, 165 
 
 from the advent of a Catholic king. Xever- 
 theless, my path lies distinctly defined before 
 me, and I must follow it. But you ? " 
 
 ^'I do not see my way so clearly, but I 
 promise you, uncle, that I will seek earnestly 
 for light on this matter ; and I acknowledge 
 the necessity for a decision in respect to it." 
 
 ^'Very good, Frank, I hold you to yom- 
 promise. I can make allowance for youi^ hesi- 
 tation while you are weighing the idvos and 
 cons^ — while the suit is sub judice ; but you 
 must remember that your aunt feels more than 
 she reasons on the subject ; and therefore so 
 magnifies the ^97'05, and so parvifies the cons, 
 that you must exjDect far less allowance from 
 her." 
 
 "Does not the question, sir, resolve itself 
 into tliis? Under which d^iiasty can good 
 government and the welfare of the people best 
 be secured ? " 
 
 ''Xo; it goes deeper than that. Yom\s is 
 only the particular question ; whereas you have 
 to examine the general question to which the 
 former is subsidiary. The present King George 
 — the usuq^er — may (we will suppose it, though 
 far from true) be a better ruler than the present
 
 1G6 FRANK ALLEETON: 
 
 King James, the rightful moiiarcli ; but that is 
 a mere accident. The next King James may 
 be a better ruler than the next King George, 
 and then what will you do ? Will you change 
 back again ? No ; you must disentangle your- 
 self from special and exceptional cases, and 
 grapple with the broad, general principle which 
 we contend for. It is that of direct hereditary 
 succession. We maintain that, putting aside 
 the disj^uted theory of Divine right, hereditary 
 succession is a clear and well-defined principle, 
 which should not, and shall not, be departed 
 from. In fact, unless it be adhered to strictly 
 and thoroughly, it ceases to be a principle, and 
 becomes an exj^edient. It ceases to be a 
 standard for men to conform to, but becomes a 
 regulation for men to make or unmake. That 
 principle unerringly points out the man who is 
 to be monarch of these realms. Depart from 
 that, and who is to appoint the man ? Some 
 will be for Dick, some for Tom, and some for 
 Harry ; and civil broils and perhaps civil war 
 must ensue. You are wafted to and fro, arhitrio 
 popularis aurce. The monarchy virtually 
 becomes elective, like that of Poland, and, I 
 fear, with the same disastrous results."
 
 AX AUTOBIOGEAPHY. 167 
 
 ^^But are there not," I asked, ^'exceptional 
 cases, in which a departure from your principle 
 would be productive of more good than an 
 adherence to it ? " 
 
 '' The same question might be asked as to 
 occasional deviations from truth. Xo doubt 
 there are exceptional cases in which a depar- 
 ture from truth would be productive of more 
 good than an adherence to it." 
 
 "Yes; but a violation of truth involves a 
 general evil out of all proportion to the par- 
 ticular advantage it may, in isolated instances, 
 secure." 
 
 " That is just what we say of the direct 
 hereditary principle. And now, Frank, I will 
 say good-night. I do not want to force my 
 views upon you ; but I do ask you to give them 
 fair play, and to consider them carefully and 
 dispassionately. ' ' 
 
 I readily promised my excellent uncle that I 
 should do so, and we separated for the night.
 
 168 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 A DECLARATION. 
 
 One glorious afternoon in May (it was on 
 Saturday, the 15tli — I remember it well) Alice 
 and I were taking one of our wonted country 
 walks, and had seated ourselves to rest on a 
 moss-clad knob formed by the clustering and 
 knotted roots of an old ash-tree. For years 
 past, ever since we were children, we had been 
 accustomed to take such walks. At first they 
 were enjoined on us by my uncle and aunt for the 
 sake of exercise and health ; but we soon took 
 such delight in these pleasant rambles that 
 they had long since ceased to be a duty, and 
 had become a treat and a luxury. Saturday was 
 the day that we generally selected for our 
 stroll, as on that day I returned rather earlier 
 from the office.
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPEY. 169 
 
 We were both of us passionately fond of 
 wild flowers, and we gradually learned the 
 names and special abodes of all the rarer 
 beauties. We ascertained and noted the parti- 
 cular spots which each species afi'ected, and 
 watched over the growth and welfare of our 
 favourites as though we had ourselves planted 
 them. Indeed, we did try our best to transfer 
 them to our own little j^^o^ of ground in 
 London, but in vain. Like caged wild birds, 
 they sickened, pined, and died. The more we 
 nursed and petted them the less they thrived. 
 So that, as they refused to dwell with us, we 
 had to visit them in their own native haunts, 
 and a source of never-failing delight it was. 
 ^ We found a patch of swamp in one of the 
 lower parts of Hampstead Heath, skirting a 
 small pool, which was the dwelling of the 
 insect-trapping sun-dew,* mtli its hairy leaves, 
 each hair exuding a dewdrop ; of the spread- 
 ing bog-pimpernel, t bmied under its own 
 
 * Drosera rotundifolia. I give here the botanical names, 
 as they are now known, of the plants named by Mr. AUerton, 
 as the English names do not, in all parts of the country, 
 refer to the same plant. 
 
 t Anagallis teyiella.
 
 170 FRANK ALLEIiTON : 
 
 swarm of pink flowers ; of the modest, succu- 
 lent water-blinks;* of the scorpion-grass, f 
 whose flowers shade off from yellow to blue 
 during their short span of life ; of the venom- 
 ous rascal crow's foot, J creative of beggars' 
 sores, with several other bibulous water-plants. 
 Then we had discovered, "few and far 
 between," two or three waste, sheep-trodden 
 knolls, whose short, flne herbage was inter- 
 mixed with wild thyme, g grateful for being 
 trampled on, and emitting most fragrance 
 when most crushed; bird's foot,|| with its 
 minute, three-clawed fruit; heath bed-straw,^ 
 hugging the ground in long tresses, powdered 
 over by myriads of snowy flowers ; buck's 
 horn plantain,** whose skeleton leaves starred 
 the soil with horizontal tufts ; the wiry milk- 
 wort, tt whose crested blossoms are arrayed 
 now in purple, now in pink, and now in 
 white ; and other diminutive creeping-plants 
 whose dwarfish growth eluded the teeth of the 
 browsing cattle. 
 
 * Montia fontana. || Ornithopus perpnsillus. 
 
 t Myosotis versicolor. ^ Galium saxatile, 
 
 X Ranunculus sceleratus. ** Plantago coronopus. 
 
 § Thymus serpyllum. f f Polygala vulgaris.
 
 ^.V AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 171 
 
 There was a favourite old crumbling wall in 
 Islington that divided the road from a farm- 
 stead. This was a mine of wealth to ns. 
 Besides an abmidant and varied crop of mosses 
 and liverworts, it pelded to us the trailing 
 thread-stemmed toad-flax,* never bare of 
 flowers, the wall penmnvort,t whose juicy leaf 
 sits centrally on its stalk, Kke a mushroom ; 
 those dainty ferns, the hairy-backed ceterach,J 
 the mortar-loving wall-rue, § and the black- 
 stalked spleen wort, II while the summit was 
 crowded witli the crimson snajDdragon,^ the 
 fragrant wallflower,** the shining crane's- 
 bill, ft whose lower leaves seem stained with 
 blood, and other gay flowers. 
 
 We knew of a little sunny, reclining nook, 
 wherein revelled the wild strawberry, J J with its 
 sweet fruit so tantalizingly small, the shy and 
 retiring Moschatell,§§ the luxuriant golden bed- 
 straw, |||| and the bristling bugloss. ^51 ^^ ^^^ 
 
 * Lina7'ia cymbalaria. ** Cheiranthus cheiri. 
 
 t Cotyledon nmhiUcus. f-f Geranium hicidum. 
 
 X Ceterach oMciimrum. +J Fraqaria vesca. 
 
 § Asplenium R^itamuraria. §§ Adoxa mosrhatellina. 
 II Asplenhim Adiantum nigrum. \\\\ Galium verum. 
 "% Antirrhinum majus. ^^ Echium vulgare.
 
 i72 FRANK ALLERTON .- 
 
 exultingly discovered a little trickling brook, 
 issuing from some shale through which a road 
 had been cut, whose mouth was bearded over 
 with a spongy tuft of golden saxifrage,* and 
 whose bed was for some distance lined with 
 ivy -leaved bell-flower, f In short, we had a 
 score of stations for our various vegetable pets, 
 to each of which in turn we paid loving visits. 
 
 But, to resume. We were seated, Alice and 
 I, in one of those fields near Highgate which 
 skirt Swayne Lane, and before us lay the 
 glorious expanse of London town, mtli its 
 hundred steeples presided over by the noble 
 dome of St. Paul's. 
 
 Uj) to this day no word of love liad ever 
 passed between us. Like brother and sister 
 we had grown up in daily tightening bonds of 
 sympathy and affection. Never had a cloud 
 darkened our companionship. We each felt, we 
 neither doubted, the sincerity of our mutual 
 regard. But it had as yet no distinctive cha- 
 racter. The genial warmth of om^ cousinly 
 attachment glowed equably from day to day, 
 montli to month, year to year, without being 
 fanned into the fierce flame of lovers' love. I 
 
 * Chrysophnium opposiiifolium. f Campanula hederacea.
 
 ^.V AUTOBIOGBAPHY. 17^ 
 
 had never had occasion to gauge the depth of 
 my feeling towards AHce. We had always 
 lived together without hindrance and without 
 check. We had never looked into the possible 
 future. As was yesterday, as is to-day, why 
 should not to-morrow be ? Where the stream 
 of existence flows in smooth, unbroken con- 
 tinuity our modes of thought may undergo 
 change, but the change is so gradual as to be 
 imperceptible. It requires some break, some 
 sudden shock, to crystallize the old habitual into 
 a new conscious state of being. Some such 
 process had occm-red with me within the last 
 few days, and had opened my eyes to the true 
 nature of my feelings towards Alice. 
 
 It was Martin Brerewood's attentions to her 
 that aroused me. ^^1lat did this man mean by 
 showing his admiration for Alice ? Did he 
 dare to projoose to himself to stand between me 
 and her ? Had not my life hitherto been bound 
 up with hers ? Could I tolerate the notion that 
 the time might come, perhaps was coming, when 
 we should no longer walk hand-in-hand along 
 the road of life ? Oh, no, no ! — perish the 
 thought ! And vet I had done nothing: to en- 
 sm-e my possession of her. I had sim2oly taken
 
 174: FRANK ALLERTOX: 
 
 for granted that no one would interfere be- 
 tween us. 
 
 But now a cliill of uncertainty benumbed 
 me. What, if Alice, loving me only as a dear 
 brother, should prefer another to love as a 
 husband ? What if my uncle and aunt, look- 
 ing upon me only as an adopted son, should 
 have other views as to the selection of a son-in- 
 law ? Fool that I had been to have left this 
 vital matter so long in doubt ! To have waited 
 until another suitor put forth his claims before 
 I put forth mine ! To be, as it were, second in 
 the field ! I now felt the full, glowing fervour 
 of man's love for woman. Newly awakened 
 hopes and fears thrilled through my soul, and I 
 determined, without delay, to know the worst 
 or the best. 
 
 We had agreed to take our accustomed walk 
 on the Saturday I have referred to, and that 
 was the occasion I had fixed upon to ascertain 
 my fate. During our walk, I must have 
 appeared to Alice very dull ; for, easy as the 
 task of speaking my thoughts appeared till I 
 attempted it, the moment I opened my mouth 
 to commence I stammered, hesitated, and sud- 
 denly turned off to some trivial remark. My
 
 ^.Y AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 175 
 
 heart beat violently, my mouth was parched, 
 and a nervous tremor ran tlu^ough my frame. 
 Do not laugh at me, ye who read this. If you 
 do, it must be because you never had so large 
 a sum of happiness trembling in the balance. 
 A misplaced word, an equivocal phrase, too 
 much ardom- or too much coldness, — in fact, the 
 slightest mistake, I nervously and absurdly 
 feared, might, perchance, be misconstrued, and 
 mar the happiness of a life. 
 
 We had been for some little time gazing' 
 silently at the sun-lit prospect around, when, 
 seized by a sudden impulse, I took Alice's hand 
 in mine, as I had often done before, but never 
 with the same feeling and significance, and, 
 looking at her fondly, I said, — 
 
 ^' Alice, we have been very happ}', have we 
 not ? " 
 
 " Very happy, Frank," she replied ; '^ every- 
 body is so good to us." 
 
 ^'Let us, then," I suddenly exclaimed, 
 ^^ swear to be happy all our lives ! " 
 
 ^' Silly youth! as if swearing eternal happi- 
 ness would give it us, or insure us immunity 
 from troubles." 
 
 '^ At all events, if they came, we could bear
 
 176 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 them all the better if we bore them together. 
 With you, dearest Alice, at my side, I could 
 ^ smile at grief ' ; without you — but what am I 
 saying ? I could not live without you." 
 
 ^^ Do not put it so strongly, Frank. A fever, 
 an accident, the duties of life — many things 
 may part us, whether we like it or not." 
 
 ^'The duties of life?" I exclaimed, almost 
 fiercely. ''Wliat duties? Surely you cannot 
 mean that there are duties that could step 
 between us ? " 
 
 ^^I know of none at present, Frank," she 
 slowly said, ^'but I can imagine." 
 
 "Stop, Alice," I exclaimed fervently; "it 
 must come out ! Kindly hear me ! I love 
 you, dearest, with an intensity of love compared 
 with which our old childish and cousinly affec- 
 tion is as cold as ice ! This no longer suffices 
 me. No ! I myself feel infinitely more, — I 
 want infinitely more from you. Alice, will 
 you be my wife ? Nothing less than a wife's 
 love can satisfy me." And, as there was no 
 instant reply, I added in alarm, "Have I 
 been too abrupt, too rash, too presuming ? " 
 
 As I poured out these almost incoherent 
 phrases, I looked searchingly at Alice. Her
 
 ^.V uiUTOBIOGBAPHY. 177 
 
 eyes were cast cLot^ti, her face was roseate with 
 blushes, and for a few moments she remained 
 motionless as a statue. Suddenly she lifted her 
 eyes to mine (I observed that they were 
 moistened, but not quite overflowing with tears), 
 and, presenting me her. hand, she said, gently 
 but firmly, — 
 
 '' Frank, I will be yom^ T\ife ! '' 
 
 O magic words that filled my soul with 
 unutterable joy ! How in rapturous terms I 
 thanked her, how we interchanged sweet con- 
 fessions, how we unveiled oiu- hearts to each 
 other, how she reclined her head on my breast, 
 how I snatched the first passionate kiss of love, 
 — all tliis I need not describe. Wliat a contrast 
 to my feelings a few minutes before ! Then I 
 was a prey to fears and doubts, faintly tempered 
 by bashful hopes ; now my heart was swimming 
 in bliss. 
 
 How long we remained on that rugged seat 
 of gnarled ash-roots I never knew. It seemed 
 like a few minutes, but it was impossible that 
 we could have said so much, felt so much, and 
 lived so much in that short space of time. 
 Besides, the shadows had singularly lengthened, 
 and the sun had made sensible approaches 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 towards the horizon, so that, unless the earth 
 had been revolving on its axis with suddenly 
 accelerated velocity, we must have tarried in 
 that hajDpy spot for a considerable space of time. 
 
 At length we set out homewards. Our con- 
 versation gradually descended from the empy- 
 rean heights of romance to the dull level of 
 reality. 
 
 '^In all these di^eams of happiness," said 
 Alice, ^' we have taken for granted, Frank, that 
 my choice will meet with the apj^roval of my 
 father and mother." 
 
 ^^Can we doubt it, deares-t? They have 
 reared us together as plajaiiates, and they have 
 left us to enjoy each other's company as 
 man and woman. They must have foreseen 
 our attachment, and probably we are now only 
 dutifully carrying out their own designs." 
 
 '^ Certainly it is reasonable to suppose that 
 my mother would otherwise have warned me 
 against you, sir. But perhaps she under- 
 rated your attractions, and did not think you 
 dangerous." 
 
 ''But your father, Alice, must have known 
 that yon were, and ought to have cautioned me 
 in good time. As he has not done so, he has
 
 AX AUTOBIOGBAPHY. 179 
 
 wickedly exposed me to peril, and must take 
 the consequences." 
 
 '' On the other hand, it is strange that notliing 
 has ever been said by my mother, in reference 
 to me and you, denoting any views as to our 
 future relations to each other. It is true that 
 her strong mind is not given to dwell on such 
 matters. But, Frank, we must not remain in this 
 false position a moment longer than necessary. 
 You will take the earliest opportunity of speak- 
 ing to my father, as I shall of confiding all to 
 my mother." 
 
 ^^Be it so, dear girl. But supposing — well, 
 supposing " (and here an aguish feeling again 
 began to creep over me) ''that there were 
 some opposition, sm^ely — " 
 
 ^'Dear Frank," said she, ''suppose nothing 
 at present. Let us turn to brighter thoughts. 
 I fancy — well, was it not a rather sudden 
 impulse that led you to your welcome folly of 
 this afternoon? Yesterday you were still a 
 mild cousin ; to-day you are transformed into 
 a brisk lover." 
 
 '' You quick-sighted sylph ! The transforma- 
 tion was not quite as abrupt as you have stated, 
 but still—"
 
 180 FJRANK ALLEETON: 
 
 " And sliall I tell you who hastened the 
 catastrophe? It was Mr. Brerewood'' ; and she 
 looked at me with a knowing smile. 
 
 ^' Again you are right," I replied, somewhat 
 sheepishly. 
 
 '' His attentions, disagreeable as they were 
 to me, were still more disagreeable to you, as I 
 gladly noticed." 
 
 '' The presumptuous coxcomb ! To imagine 
 that with a few honeyed phrases and empty 
 smiles he could jauntily win away from me a 
 treasure to which it had taken me a lifetime 
 to deserve the slightest claim ! " 
 
 ^^ It is not always, indeed, not often that 
 such a dreadfully long j)rocess is required to 
 kindle a flame. Poets tell us of love at first 
 sight. However, I think, Frank, that you are 
 too hard on Mr. Brerewood. He may not 
 liave known of your pretensions to my hand. 
 Indeed, I myself could only make a guess at 
 them." 
 
 " Surely, Alice, you must have observed how 
 much I loved you ? " 
 
 ^' A woman is not justified in trusting in 
 these matters to observation. She expects to 
 be spoken to as well as looked at. The eye
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPIJY. 181 
 
 may be eloquent, but lier ' Yes ' or " No ' must 
 be uttered only in reply to the tongue."' 
 
 '^ I am sure Brerewood noticed my feelings 
 towards you, just as I noticed his evident admi- 
 ration." 
 
 ^^ Which made you jealous, and yom* jealousy 
 made you speak out. Thus, as I said, I am 
 indebted for yom* declaration to Mr. Brere- 
 wood." 
 
 ^^But, Alice, you must admit that if his 
 admiration was evident to you. mine must 
 have been, to say the least, quite as much so." 
 
 ^^Not at all," she replied. ^^His admiration 
 was clearly for the woman, wlnle yom^s might 
 have been only for the old playmate and cousin. 
 Indeed, you confess that it is only recently 
 that the natm-e and pm-pose of yom- admiration 
 became evident to yourself. It was not for me 
 to forestall you in the discovery." 
 
 '^ True, Alice, I loved you all along with the 
 same kind of love, but did not know it. The 
 fact is that I had been trotting by yom- side 
 for so many years that I requii-ed a slight 
 touch of the spur to break out into a canter." 
 
 ^'But you see now, Frank," she said, with a 
 mnsome smile, ''that just as I could not reject
 
 182 FRANK ALLERTON: 
 
 Mr. Brerewood before lie made an offer, so I 
 could not accept you before you proposed, 
 sir." 
 
 '' Well," said I, exultingly, '^ at all events 
 now, darling, I have proposed and you have 
 accepted, and I am the haj)piest of men." 
 
 By this time we had reached home.
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPET. 183 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A POLITICAL PLOT. 
 
 On the morning of that happy Saturday which 
 had given me the sweet assurance of Alice's love, 
 a long conference had been held between my 
 uncle and aunt and Martin Brerewood. I was 
 then of com^se at the office, and Ahce had been 
 designedly sent out by her mother to execute 
 some commissions and make some purchases, 
 wliich necessitated her absence for a couple of 
 hours. Neither of us was, therefore, aware 
 that a meeting had taken place. It was only 
 in after years that I learned from my uncle the 
 particulars which I Tvdll insert in tliis place, to 
 wliich they chronologically belong. I must be 
 pardoned if I describe what passed in a conver- 
 sational form ; for while, not having been 
 present, I may put in each speaker's mouth 
 words different from those he really used, and
 
 184 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 may perhaps change the order in which the 
 subjects discussed were actually presented, I 
 can vouch for the general accuracy of my 
 description, not only as to the topics adverted 
 to and the results arrived at, but also as to the 
 mode in which they were viewed and treated 
 by each interlocutor. 
 
 Martin Brerewood. " Before I enter on the 
 details which I have engaged to-day to give 
 you, should you persist in your intentions, 
 forgive me if I remind you in a formal manner, 
 first, that the design with which you are about 
 to be identified is, however jDraiseworthy; 
 not unattended with danger ; secondly, that 
 your participation in it is spontaneous, and is 
 not due to any persuasion used by me ; and, 
 thirdly, that you have not yet committed 
 yom-selves, so that you are still in time to draw 
 back, if you so choose.'' 
 
 Mrs. Uppenham. ^^ Thanks, Master Martin, 
 for your consideration ; but we should hardly 
 have gone so far as we have already gone, 
 without having duly reflected on the risks 
 involved in the enterprise; and as to your 
 share in the formation of our resolve, make 
 your mind easy, for we have arrived at it not
 
 ^:\' AUTOBIOGRAPHY. ISo 
 
 out of regard for you, but from a deep con^T.c- 
 tion of the sacredness of the cause, and from a 
 feeling of devoted loyalty to oui' rightful 
 sovereio^i Kin 2^ James the Third." 
 
 Mr. U. "I presume also, friend Brerewood, 
 that om" concm-rence in a common cause does 
 not bind us irretrievably to opinions from 
 wliich we may dissent, or to proceedings of 
 which we may disapprove ? " 
 
 M. B. '' Most decidedly not, my dear sir. 
 It was only a stem sense of duty that overcame 
 my reluctance to utter a warning that might 
 seem to convey a doubt of your earnestness. 
 But I have perforaied that imgracious task, and 
 now beg to tm-n to a more congenial topic. 
 To free our country from a detested usurpation 
 is the end wliich we all have in view, and 
 I invoke yom- aid and co-operation.'' 
 
 Mrs. U. ^^ Om- readv willinoniess to assist we 
 have already signified in general terms, and 
 to ascertain in what particular shape our 
 assistance is required was the professed object 
 of oiu- meeting to-day." 
 
 M. B. '^ Quite so, madam, and I mil explain. 
 The unfortunate issue of the expedition at- 
 tempted last February has rendered it necessar^^
 
 18G FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 to weave afresh the web which that disastrous 
 event destroyed." 
 
 Mrs. U. '' Many of our friends here have 
 been led to doubt the sincerity of our French 
 aUies on that occasion, as well as the rumoured 
 extent of their preparations." 
 
 M. B. " They do injustice to the French 
 Government. A well-appointed army of 15,000 
 men was assembled at Calais, Boulogne, and 
 Dunkirk, commanded by the greatest general 
 of the age, Marshal Saxe ; transports were 
 collected and constructed to convey them to 
 the shores of Kent, with an ample supply of 
 arms, ammunition, siege-trains, &c., and Prince 
 Charles himself superintended the preparations, 
 and was to be escorted to his dominions by 
 this formidable array. Could France be ex- 
 pected to do more ? " 
 
 Mrs. U. '^ Certainly not, Mr. Brerewood. 
 The loyalists in England only asked for 10,000 
 men as a nucleus round which to rally. They 
 would themselves do the rest, and that little 
 army would soon have swelled into ten times 
 its number had it landed. But it did not 
 land." 
 
 M. B. '' But was that the fault of France ? "
 
 .4A^ AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 187 
 
 Mrs. U. '' That is the question which we wish 
 to have clearly solved. We know that the 
 French squadron that was to convoy the trans- 
 ports with troops to oiu^ coasts was attacked 
 and driven back by Sir John Norris's fleet ; and 
 that so far the French had to }Held, and Eng- 
 lish prowess, exerted in a bad cause, was vic- 
 torious. But the French ships were only 
 dispersed, and not destroyed nor even injured ; 
 and some are sceptical as to the real cause that 
 led to the sudden and total abandonment of the 
 enterprise. A destructive storm was alleged. 
 Was that only a pretext, or was it a 
 reality ? " 
 
 M. B. ^^ My dear lady, it was a terrible 
 reality. It was one of the most fiuious tor- 
 nadoes that ever swept over the northern shores 
 of France. Of the larger ships several were 
 totally wrecked, and the smaller vessels and 
 transports were so dashed one against the other 
 that few escaped injury. The loss of life 
 was fearful, and all hopes of conveying the 
 troops across the Channel on that occasion 
 vanished. Alas! it was a sad reality, and 
 no pretext. It seemed as if, for some in- 
 scrutable reason, Providence had decreed
 
 188 FRANK ALLEUTOX : 
 
 that the expedition should not take place at 
 that juncture." 
 
 " Mr. U. '' England is lucky in storms. The 
 same mysterious intervention saved her from 
 the Spanish Armada. The designs of men may 
 be based on the firmest foundation of knowai 
 causes and effects, but out of the infinite un- 
 known there is suddenly launched a thunder- 
 bolt which shivers them into dust. Beware 
 of the unexpected ; it is generally calamitous ! 
 Nor does the worthiness of its purpose protect 
 a design from such evil chances. Nee fortuna 
 2orohat causas, sequiturque merentesy 
 
 Mrs. U. ^^ I thank you, Mr. Brerewood, for 
 your explanation. It is complete and satis- 
 factory. I thought it right to ^^lace before you 
 in their strongest light the misgivings as to 
 French sincerity which some have entertained, 
 or at least expressed, in order to elicit your 
 opinion of them. I am glad to see that they 
 are far from being shared by you." 
 
 M. B. ^^ Far indeed, madam. And I hope 
 that you also are now free from all doubt, as 
 part of my mission is to claim renewed con- 
 fidence in French support." 
 
 Mr. U. '^Hard fate ! That England should
 
 AX ArTOBIOGRAPEY. 189 
 
 be unable to right herself ^dthoiit French aid ! 
 — that we should have countrvmen for foes, and 
 enemies for friends ! " 
 
 M. B. '' Yet it is so. I am in communication 
 with most of King James's adherents of any 
 note. With barely an exception, they pro- 
 nounce it folly to rise unless supjDorted by 
 foreign troops. With an army, however small, 
 as a rall37ing point, ^dth the presence in their 
 midst of the chivalrous prince, Charles Edward, 
 to represent his father, success would be cer- 
 tain ; the bold would rush forward with alacrity, 
 the wavering and timid would, non j^cissihus 
 (eqitis perhaps, but in due time, follow, till all 
 England was roused from the lethargy which 
 makes Hanoverian nde possible, and we should 
 have the revolution of 1688 enacted over again, 
 only with the parts reversed." 
 
 Mrs. U. ' ' Have you found our friends zealous 
 and determined ? Are they numerous and in- 
 fluential?'' 
 
 M. B. ^' Zealous to enthusiasm, madam, and 
 determined imto rashness; always, however, 
 under the condition that the assistance of foreign 
 troops shall render it not positively imjDiTident 
 for them openly to display that zeal and deter-
 
 190 FRANK ALLERTON: 
 
 mination. As to their numbers, if you include 
 those who silently and covertly wish well to the 
 cause of the Stuarts, and whom a gleam of suc- 
 cess would rally round their banner, you may 
 comjDute them at three-fourths of the i:)opulation ; 
 but if you refer to those who are prepared to 
 take a bold initiative, and to lead instead of 
 following, the muster-roll is a fair but more 
 limited one." 
 
 Mr. U. " How can you expect a larger 
 proportion of political than of religious mar- 
 tyrs ? We are a Protestant peoj)le, but it is 
 under the condition (to use your phrase) that 
 our lives and fortunes are not to be jeopardized 
 by our creed. Witness om- marching backwards 
 and forwards between PojDcry and Protestant- 
 ism at the beck of Henry VIII. and his two 
 daughters ! " 
 
 M. B. ^' To increase the number of om^ active 
 friends, to marshal them into a compact and 
 united body, and to direct their energies towards 
 a defined and practical end, such is my mission 
 from your sovereign and his ally, the French 
 king." 
 
 Mrs. U. ^' Say then, Mr. Brerewood, what is 
 it that you wish us to do ? "
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 191 
 
 M. B. (producing a jpaper.) '' To sign this 
 document ; but first let me explain further. 
 You know that the most powerM Minister in 
 the French government is the Cardinal Tencin, 
 who owed his promotion to the Cardinalate to 
 the influence of om^ King James III. with the 
 court of Rome. His gratitude for this friendly 
 act, as well as the dictates of policy, induced the 
 cardinal to organize the expedition of which 
 we have been lamenting the failure, and which, 
 had it been attended with success, would bv 
 this time have freed England from foreign 
 domination. As om^ friends will not (and I am 
 far from censuring their prudence) take action 
 without French co-o^Deration, our object now is 
 to prevail on the cardinal to renew liis efforts, 
 and to repair the failm^e of last February by 
 making a fresh and vigorous attempt to land 
 an army in England, T\4th Prince Charles at its 
 head." 
 
 Mks. U. '' And will he do so ? " 
 
 M. B. '' He will ; and the more boldly, as he 
 has not the same motive for reserve as in Feb- 
 ruary ; for then war had not been declared 
 between France and England. Now, however, 
 it is different : war was declared in March,
 
 192 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 and hostilities have commenced. The English 
 Ministry, to humour their master's Hanoverian 
 proclivities, are directing all their efforts to the 
 war in Germany, and England is almost denuded 
 of troops, so that a more favourable oppor- 
 tunity for our operations could not present 
 itself." 
 
 Mrs. U. ^^Is then the French Government 
 actually concerting the measures on behalf of 
 the king to which you have alluded ? " 
 
 M. B. ''Not yet; and that brings me to the 
 point to which I am to call your attention. 
 When the last abortive attempt was planned, 
 the cardinal had (with few exceptions) only 
 verbal assurances, indirectly conveyed from a 
 number of gentlemen of position, ability, and 
 wealth, that as soon as the standard of James III. 
 was unfurled in Kent, under the auspices of a 
 French force, they, and through their influence 
 crowds of others, would flock to it. Their 
 sincerity was unfortunately not put to the test; 
 but the French Government now require, before 
 it engages in so serious an undertaking as the 
 invasion (so to call it) of England, to have the 
 Avritten (instead of as before the verbal) assur- 
 ances of the king's adherents that they will,
 
 ^.Y AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 193 
 
 the moment the French army has disembarked, 
 rise in arms, proclaim King James, join the 
 French, and take an active part in the struggle." 
 
 Mrs. U. '^That demand does not seem an 
 unreasonable one. I presume that the paper 
 you hold is the document to the required effect, 
 and you wish Mr. Uppenham's signatm-e to be 
 attached to it." 
 
 M. B. ^' You are right, madam, it is so; but 
 I still have a few words of previous explanation 
 to offer. You will only find some fifteen or 
 sixteen signatures to the memorandum, and for 
 this paucity of names there are several reasons. 
 In the first place, I have not yet called on one-half 
 of the persons who are do^vni on the list furnished 
 to me. Then a large proportion of the most 
 influential as well as the most zealous of our 
 supporters have, in the exercise of an option 
 offered them, preferred signifying their adhesion 
 to the engagements contained in this paper in 
 separate direct letters addressed to the king. 
 Of these letters some have been confided to me 
 for delivery, and others have been sent directly 
 through other channels. This option is of 
 course also submitted to Mr. Uppenham, and it 
 is for him to make liis election. Again (and this 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 FRANK ALLERTON- 
 
 category includes the largest number), many 
 have signified their willingness to add their 
 names to the pa^Dcr as soon as a certain 
 number of signatures have been obtained to it. 
 Some stij^idate for twenty, others thirty, and 
 several fifty; so that I am in this dilemma, 
 that as long as signatures are really valuable 
 I get but few, but the moment I shall have 
 obtained the necessary number (and fifty will 
 answer every purpose) they will be forthcoming* 
 in superfluous abundance." 
 
 Mr. U. " The silly flock will not follow three 
 sheep over the stile, but they will six." 
 
 Mrs. U. " The faint hearts ! As if, supposing 
 them to be men of honourable intent, and sin- 
 cere in the cause, it could matter a straw which 
 name appeared first and which last ! Indeed, 
 the contention ought to have been for the 
 earliest place in the list." 
 
 M. B. '^Bravely spoken, Mrs. Uppenham ! 
 Would that such earnestness and courage as 
 yours were more frequent among those with 
 whom I have to deal ! I assure you that I am 
 sometimes moved to wrath, and sometimes 
 chilled into discouragement, by the difficulties 
 which I have to encounter."
 
 AN AVTOBIOGBAFEY. 195 
 
 Mrs. U. ''I can imagine that your task is 
 no easy one." 
 
 M. B. '' No, indeed I I have to encourage 
 the timid, animate the cold, stimulate the lazy, 
 embolden the cowardly, arouse the liesitating, 
 flatter the conceited, cajole the mercenary, and 
 in each case to be on my guard against the 
 treacherous. No ; my task is no easy one, but 
 I am sustained by the hope of success and my 
 devotion to the cause." 
 
 Mrs. U. '^ Mr. Brerewood, I admire yom- 
 energy. Your services deserve the grateful 
 recognition of every loyal subject. I beKeve, 
 Meredith, that I may ask Mr. Brerewood to 
 hand you the paper fov your signature ? " 
 
 Mr. U. ^^ Certainly; it is not that my name 
 is of itself of much importance, but its value 
 may be a little enhanced by its being among 
 the earlier signatures. Bis qui cito.'^ 
 
 M. B. ''Many thanks for yom* unhesitating 
 compliance. And now there is another request 
 I have to make in fuitherance of the cause 
 which we have at heart. Mav I ventm-e to 
 
 mi 
 
 express it ? " 
 
 Mrs. U. '' How can you doubt it ? We have 
 now entered into a solemn engagement to serve
 
 196 , FRANK ALLEUTON .- 
 
 His Majesty and to assist in the restoration of 
 his rights, and you will find us ready to put 
 our hands to the work." 
 
 M. B. ^^ There are three waverers of some- 
 what high position, whom I am anxious to 
 bring under a written agreement. Each pro- 
 mises to sign provided the other two will, but not 
 one of them will take the initiative; nor will 
 they, though they occasionally meet in society, 
 consent to a meeting at each other's houses, 
 nor at my lodgings, nor, indeed, at any place 
 to which any suspicion might attach. But, 
 from what dropped from one of them, I have 
 reason to believe that they might attend a 
 rendezvous under your roof. If you would 
 kindly spare one of your rooms for an hour, 
 some day next week, it might be the occasion 
 of securing some valuable recruits to His 
 Majesty's service." 
 
 Mr. U. (returning the paper, after having 
 signed it). '' I see nothing in this document 
 which any loyal subject of James III. could 
 hesitate to put his name to. Do I know any 
 of the three gentlemen you^ allude to?" 
 
 M. B. '^ Two of them you know personally, 
 and the other onp. by reputation. But I have
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY, l;-? 
 
 passed my word to two of tliem that I shall 
 diyulge their names to no one until they have 
 definitively joined, or declined joining. The 
 third, who has not bound me by such a pro- 
 mise, is Mr. Gayley, a cousin of the late Mr. 
 Shij)pen.'' 
 
 Mr. U. '^ Would my presence be required ? '^ 
 
 M. B. ''It would not be objected to, if such 
 were your wish ; but I question whether it 
 would assist me, as such shy birds are more 
 easily approached by a solitary sportsman. 
 Indeed, if I were able to assure them that you 
 would be out of town on that day — " 
 
 Mrs. U. ''I understand. It is rather luuni- 
 liating that any friends to the king should 
 require such manceuvring; but I suppose we 
 must take men as we find them, and if you will 
 let us know the day fixed for the meeting, I 
 will select it for a \dsit to the Broughtons, at 
 Chigwell, and I have no doubt, Meredith, that 
 you will accompany me." 
 
 Mr. U. '' Certainly, my dear. I will take 
 care, Mr. Brerewood, that a room shall be 
 placed at your disposal on that day." 
 
 M. B. ' ' Many thanks ; and I shall hope to give 
 you a good report of the meeting. Meanwhile,
 
 198 FRANK ALLEBTON .- 
 
 there is one more topic which I should like to 
 broach, if you will not think it too great a 
 liberty." 
 
 Mr. U. '' Speak freely, pray." 
 
 M. B. ''I have the greatest personal regard 
 for your nephew Mr. Allerton, but I have 
 reason to believe that he l)y no means shares 
 our political opinions." 
 
 Mrs. U. ' ^ I fear that you are right ; but 
 have you any grounds for sujoposing that he is 
 not only indifferent, but hostile, to them ? " 
 
 M. B. ^'Frankly, I have; and I strongly 
 advise you not to let him know one syllable of 
 the engagement Mr. Uppenham has entered 
 into, or, indeed, anything of what has passed 
 between us to-day." 
 
 Mr. U. '^ Frank is perfectly aware of our 
 feelings of devoted loyalty to the king. He 
 promised me some days ago to institute a 
 thorough inquiry into the great question of the 
 day, ' Who is our rightful king ? ' and to let 
 me know the result. I shall this evening call 
 upon him to give me his reply." 
 
 M. B. ^' I trust that his decision will be in 
 favour of King James, and that we may find 
 in him a trusty ally."
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPHY. 199 
 
 Mrs. U. '' I reluctantly confess that I doubt 
 it. Frank's mind has been inoculated with 
 AVliig venom, administered by that conceited 
 young man, Frampton." 
 
 M. B. ^^ Do you mean the son of that man in 
 the Secret Service Office, who for many 
 years, formerly under that clever knave Wal- 
 pole, now under that kna^dsh dullard Pelham, 
 has been the impure channel through wliicli 
 those infamous bribes were conveved wliich 
 have perverted the morals, corrupted the 
 honesty, and effected the apostasy of so many 
 men who otherwise would have remained 
 faithful to the good old cause ? '' 
 
 Mrs. U. '' The very man ! He fully deserves 
 your invective." 
 
 M. B. ^^ A political Satan, whose mission it is 
 to tempt the weak to violate their consciences 
 and forswear their convictions ! to whom 
 truth and loyalty are as evils to be extirpated, 
 and Whiggism and Atheism as ^drtues to be 
 fostered ! whose gifts are as fatal as the sliirt of 
 Nessus, and whose very touch is contamination ! 
 Strano^e that the hard-earned o:old of honest 
 Englishmen should be used to extinguish 
 English honesty ! ''
 
 200 FIIANK ALLERTON: 
 
 Mrs. U. ^' I share your just indignation. It 
 is the son of this man that Frank Allerton has 
 chosen for his intimate friend." 
 
 M. B. ''I have heard of this yomig man, 
 too. Specious, flippant, and cynical, he is an 
 amusing but dangerous companion. He is 
 devoid of religious principle ; and his writings — 
 for he is a literary hack in pay of the Govern- 
 ment — are full of bitter sarcasms and malignant 
 sneers directed against our holy cause." 
 
 Mr. U. '' And yet, in what intercom'se I have 
 had with young Mr. Frampton, I never noticed 
 any tendency towards cynicism, or heard any 
 remark savouring of either irreligion or of the 
 other extreme, intolerance." 
 
 Mrs. U. ^^ Naturally he would play the 
 hypocrite before you, and so add one more to 
 his other vices." 
 
 M. B. ^' That young Frampton is in close 
 communication with the Government I know 
 for certainty. In what capacity I only know 
 from rumour." 
 
 Mrs. U. '' And what does rumour say ? " 
 
 M. B. '' That he collects intelligence, chiefly 
 personal, and reports it to his employers." 
 
 Mr. U. '^ In other words, that he is a spy.
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPHY. liOl 
 
 It may be, but I should hardly tliink so. Even 
 if true, we must fancA' Mm base to the lowest 
 depths of degradation to suspect that he would 
 make use of his intimacy with Frank to extract 
 from him information as to what was passing in 
 tliis house." 
 
 M. B. ^' I have too little knowledge of the 
 rules and etiquette of that vocation to determine 
 the exact j^oint at which the S2)y ends and the 
 friend begins ; but the open, truthful nature of 
 Mr. Allerton must be completely at the mercy 
 of an artful and unscrupulous man." 
 
 Mrs. U. ^^ If Frank declares his determina- 
 tion to side with us, I will trust him implicitly. 
 If, on the other hand, he pronounces in favour 
 of the present order of things, there may be 
 danger to our plans in his constant proximity, 
 and we shall have to seek a remedy." 
 
 M. B. " By-the-bye, Mr. Allerton and I 
 have an appointment tliis evening, and I am to 
 call here to fetch him. I have promised to in- 
 troduce liim to some friends of mine. If you 
 will now excuse me, I will take my leave." 
 
 The conference then ended, and Mr. Brere- 
 wood departed.
 
 202 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 CHAPTER Xlir. 
 
 THE COUNTESS MOLINA. 
 
 A FEW days before the eventful Saturday which 
 I have described, Martin Brerewood paid a visit 
 to his co-partner in political intrigue, the 
 Countess Molina. As I and my destiny were 
 deeply involved in the arrangements made l)y 
 them at this interview, I will give a sketch of' 
 it from memoranda which fell into my hands a 
 long time afterwards. 
 
 The Countess Molina had arrived from Genoa 
 two or three months previously, with letters of 
 introduction from high-class people there to a 
 few families of good position in London. She 
 rented handsomely furnished apartments in 
 Clarges Street, appeared possessed of ample 
 means, and received the visits of many repu- 
 table people. But it was soon evident that, 
 for some reason or other, her lady friends were
 
 .4.Y AVTOBIOGBAPHY. 203 
 
 falling off, and by degrees the bulk of her 
 visitors became composed of influential gentle- 
 men of the Jacobite party. Although coming 
 from Italy, and bearing an Italian name, she 
 spoke Italian indifferently, but French Avitli 
 great fluency, which she explained by stating 
 that she had been educated and had spent most 
 of her life in France. She also talked English 
 mth some ease, but, as is usual with foreigners, 
 selecting the wrong words, placing them in the 
 AVi'ong order, giving them the T\Tong pronuncia- 
 tion, and bestowing an excess of emphasis on 
 the wrong S3dlable of the wrong word. 
 
 She was a fine portly woman of about fifty, 
 with a dark complexion, dark haii', and black 
 flashing eyes, of a commanding presence, gifted 
 mth a voice so melodious that it gave a charm 
 to every solecism she uttered. She was dressed 
 in the newest, which by no means always 
 implies the most extravagant, style of fashion. 
 For instance, the widest circumference of her 
 hoop was not at the lowest part of her dress, 
 as was the prevailing mode, but higher up 
 towards the hips, though not so high up as the 
 stiff farthingales of the Elizabethan epoch, so 
 that the dress fell in almost perpendicular folds
 
 204 FRANK ALIERTON: 
 
 down to the ground, instead of expanding* 
 gradually from tlic waist and reaching its 
 greatest amplitude at its lowest extremity. This 
 rational modification of the monstrous hoop 
 which, in a room where an equal number of 
 each sex was assembled, gave nine-tenths of its 
 area to the ladies, was just at that time about to 
 be introduced. 
 
 The ostensible pretext for her visit to London 
 was to put forward her claims to some property 
 bequeathed to her by a distant relation ; but in 
 reality she was an emissary in the pay of the 
 French Government, to whom was assigned the 
 task of assisting the manoeuvres of the Jacobite 
 agents, and at the same time of reporting to 
 the French Ministers as to their activity, their 
 success, and (perhaps chiefly) their fidelity. It 
 was to suppress, as far as possible, all trace of 
 her connexion with the Parisian authorities 
 that she had been directed to make Genoa her 
 starting-place, and had obtained thence, through 
 the influence of Rome, introductory letters from 
 some Italian families of distinction. 
 
 Among the representatives of the Jacobite 
 cause to whom London had been assigned as 
 the scene of action, few were so able, so active^
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 205 
 
 or so influential as Martin Brerewood, and the 
 relations between the Countess Molina and him 
 had become proportionately confidential. Be- 
 sides the political ties which knit them together, 
 there existed a mutual adnmation of each 
 other's talents, a mutual liking for each other^s 
 society, and, it must be added, a mutual mis- 
 trust of each other's character. Her reticence 
 as to her antecedents, wliicli baffled all his 
 ingenuity of research, her evidently false posi- 
 tion in the social scale, her talent for political 
 intrigue, her fertility of resource when diffi- 
 culties occmTed, her sagacity in discovering 
 and taking advantage of the foibles of those 
 with whom she came in contact, made it evident 
 to Brerewood that, wliile she was a powerful 
 ally, her position was too doubtful, and her 
 abilities too versatile, to justify him in trusting 
 her implicitly. 
 
 She, on the other hand, whilst she appreciated 
 liis personal attractions and accomplishments, 
 as well as his rare energy and intelligence, 
 quickly discerned the devouring ambition and 
 intense selfishness which were his ruling pas- 
 sions, and to which every other feeling was 
 unscrupulously sacrificed.
 
 20(J FRANK ALLERTON: 
 
 Mr. Brcrcwood was iisliercd into the boudcjir 
 of tlie countess, a small room cut off by a 
 narrow passage from the principal apartments, 
 and so isolated as to secure complete privacy. 
 It was luxuriously a2:)pointed, and rejilete Avitli 
 those tasteful ornaments and eleo^ant trifles 
 which Avomen take such delight in. The 
 countess was seated at an escritoire, which on 
 seeing her visitor she shut and locked, and 
 rising welcomed him, saying in French, ''Well, 
 my preux chevalier, what success yesterday ? 
 Did you land the fish that you thought you had 
 hooked ? Sit down, and tell me about it." 
 
 So saying, and pointing to a chair, she seated 
 herself on a low couch by its side. 
 
 '' My dear countess," replied he, in the same 
 language, for he spoke French fluently, '' I 
 found I had caught a snake instead of a fish, 
 and I quickly threw him back into the water. 
 I have every reason to believe that this seem- 
 ingly obtuse person was set to catch me. 
 We have tacitly agreed to ignore each other's 
 existence. But what have you done mth Lord 
 Fernleigh ? " 
 
 '' After a few struggles," replied the countess, 
 ''he has yielded, and has shown me a letter of
 
 AN AUTOBIOGEAPEY. 207 
 
 adhesion, indited by himself to His Majesty 
 James III., which he is about sending by a 
 sure hand to its address." 
 
 '' Are you certain that it ever ^vill be sent ? " 
 ^' I shall only be certain when he assm-es me 
 tliat it has been sent. His lordsliip's sense of 
 lionour makes nice distinctions. He vrill break 
 a 2:)romise, but will not tell a lie. His pledges 
 as to the future I place no reliance on, but his 
 assertions as to the past I fully believe. What 
 progress are you making with the UjDpen- 
 liams ? " 
 
 ^^ I have their verbal and shall, in a day or 
 two, obtain their written engagement," replied 
 Brerewood, only telling half the truth. 
 
 ''And their nephew, Mr. AUerton ? You 
 IH'omised to introduce him to me. AYhen ^yi[l 
 YOU bring him ? " 
 
 '' How insatiably cm-ious you are, countess, 
 about this pedantic puppy ! You have cross- 
 examined me twenty times about his appear- 
 ance, his habits, and his morals, till I am sick 
 of the subject ; and now you want me to bring 
 him here. AVhat can be yom- motive ? " 
 
 '' Motive ? As if a woman must always have 
 a motive ! Surely feminine curiosity is an alh
 
 208 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 sufficient motive. However, you want a reason 
 for it ? You shall have it. I want to see 
 young Allerton because — I want to see him; 
 and that is a true woman's reason. Will you 
 bring him ? " 
 
 '^ I will, if you will engage to keep 
 him. I hate him : he is in my way where 
 he is.' 
 
 ^^Ah!" exclaimed the countess, sharply, 
 whilst she directed a keen glance at her visitor, 
 ^^you hate him? You want him out of your 
 way ? What is your reason for this ? '' 
 
 ^^ Eeason ? " replied Brerewood, with a touch 
 of sarcasm. ^^As if a man must necessarily 
 have reasons, any more than a woman ! " 
 
 ^^My dear Mr. Brerewood, I am sure that 
 you have your reasons, and I think I can guess 
 them. They are not founded on political con- 
 siderations, for you say you hate Mr. Allerton; 
 and you have no political hatreds. In that 
 sphere you rarely go beyond likes and dislikes. 
 You are actuated in this case by some strong 
 personal feeling. Surely — no, it cannot be 
 
 l\^Qj^ Did you not tell me the other day 
 
 that Allerton was enamoured of his cousin, the 
 Uppenham girl ? "
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPHY. 209 
 
 ''Well, yes; what of that ? I tliink I must 
 leave you now ; I have an appointment." 
 
 ''And that she/' continued the countess, 
 without taking the slightest notice of his 
 declared intention to depart, " seemed on very 
 fi'iendly terms with Mm. Yes, I see it all now ; 
 and it is charming ! My dear Brerewood, I 
 must congratulate you : you are in love." 
 
 " Absm-d ! But even supposing I were ? " 
 
 " You are raised in my estimation, sir. 
 Powerful intellect, loftv aims, indefati enable 
 energy, I have always given you credit for ; 
 but I never was quite sure, till now, whether 
 you had a heart. Love is a highly respectable 
 weakness, and is, in your case, redeemed 
 from commonplace by a smart infusion of 
 jealousy.'- 
 
 ' ' Really, madam, your banter is approaching 
 the limits of my endurance. Do you take me 
 for a tjTO in love ? Bah ! ' I We kissed and 
 I Ve 2)rattled with fifty fair maids,' as the song 
 says." 
 
 " I have no doubt of that ; but, if I mistake 
 not, this is your first serious afiair. I can now 
 understand how Mr. Allerton is in your way. 
 Poor Mr. Brerewood ! It is not so easy to dis- 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 FBANK ALLEBTON: 
 
 place, still less to replace, a favoured lover, 
 especially as, living under the same roof, he 
 and the Dulcinea are as constantly in each 
 other's society as though they were married ; 
 perhaps a great deal more so." 
 
 '^Well, well! Admitting, just for the sake 
 of the argument, that your surmise were correct, 
 your observations are not very consoling." 
 
 ^^Consolations, my dear friend, are of very 
 little use in such cases. What you want is 
 assistance." 
 
 ^^If you could afford me the latter, I 
 should be quite willing to dispense with 
 the former." 
 
 The countess remained pensive a few minutes, 
 while Brerewood, rising from his seat, paced 
 i^npatiently up and down the room. At length 
 she said, — 
 
 '' Sit down, Mr. Brerewood, and listen to 
 me. Supposing that I were able to assist 
 you in a way you little dream of, and 
 that, in order to do so, I decided on deviating 
 from a course of action that I had long adopted 
 and adhered to, what should I gain by such a 
 sacrifice of a cherished scheme ? " 
 
 ''My dear countess," warmly exclaimed
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 211 
 
 Brerewood, '^you would earn my eternal 
 gratitude ! " 
 
 ^' Of course, dear friend, that I should 
 naturally expect. But what shape would that 
 gratitude assume ? " 
 
 ^^ What shape?" 
 
 '' Yes. You see, gratitude is so elastic a 
 word : it may be the symbol of so many dif- 
 ferent things. It may mean a flow of elegant 
 expressions, or a diamond ring, or the effectual 
 furtherance of a favourite scheme, or an annuity 
 for life ; or it may remain a mere symbol never 
 condensed into any practical result at all. Is 
 it not so ? " 
 
 ^' Ah, yes, I understand. But bef pre we take 
 a realistic view of that refined sentiment, 
 gratitude, allow me to ask you what you pro- 
 pose to do for me. What would be the means 
 that you would employ ? " 
 
 '^ Before I answer, you must inform me what 
 it is that you wish to be done.'' 
 
 '^ Of com-se, proceeding on the hypothesis 
 you have so ingeniously framed, my first wish 
 would be — " 
 
 " Hold, my friend ! I cannot waste my time 
 in devising and discussing schemes applicable
 
 212 FRANK ALLEBTON ; 
 
 to a supjDosititious case. Eomances are charming 
 to read, but I do not care contributing to the 
 com2)osition of one. Unless your love for Miss 
 Uppenham and your jealousy of Mr. Allerton 
 are realities, and admitted by you to be so, I 
 must decline to interfere." 
 
 '^ Well, madam," said Brerewood, passion- 
 ately, ^^have it so, if you will. I love Alice 
 Uppenham ; I hate Francis Allerton. The one 
 I intend to win for a wife ; the other I want to 
 remove from that ^ coign of Vantage,' liis 
 uncle's house ; for while he is there he is in 
 my way." 
 
 '^ As to winning the lady, you will hardly 
 expect me to do that for you. So gallant a 
 cavalier would never submit to the humiliation 
 of making love by proxy. As to the removal 
 of young Allerton from his uncle's roof, on 
 what do you found your present hojjes of 
 success ? " 
 
 ' ' The young fellow has a certain stm^dy 
 independence of mind ; and entertaining, as 
 he does, a strong tendency to Whig princi2)les, 
 there is a degree of political antagonism 
 between him and the rest of the family which 
 I am trying to work up into a feud. He has
 
 AN AVTOBIOGBAPHY. 213 
 
 been summoned to declare, in a few days, 
 ' under which king ' he intends to ' live or 
 die ' ; and as they are, all of them, an obstinate 
 set, especially the uncompromising aunt, I am 
 in hopes of creating a salutary amount of 
 discord and strife." 
 
 '' Are you sm-e that a political would suffice 
 to ensure a domestic separation ? " 
 
 ^^ By no means sure ; and that is just the point 
 at wliich I am most in want of assistance." 
 
 '^ But supposing young Allerton should 
 decide on siding with the cause which you and 
 I have so much at heart, and of which you have, 
 no doubt, in your conversations with him, been 
 so eloquent an advocate ? " 
 
 '^ I have reason to believe that his decision 
 will be in a contrary direction. Indeed, to say 
 the truth, wliich, from your meaning smile, I 
 fancy that you guess at already, in my pohtical 
 talk with Allerton I have been exceptionally 
 candid." 
 
 ^'Candid?" 
 
 '^ Yes ; there is no deception like candour, 
 when it is jDroperly directed. I have confessed 
 to him, what we carefully conceal from others, 
 and as much as we can from ourselves, the
 
 214 FRANK ALLERTON ,- 
 
 igiioble motives — ambition, selfishness, and 
 venality — which actuate three-fourths of the 
 leaders of the Jacobite party in England.'' 
 
 ^^And no doubt you were equally candid 
 in your exposition of His Sacred Majesty James 
 III.'s views as to divine rights, passive obedi- 
 ence, &c. ? " 
 
 '^ I was ; but I tempered my admissions with 
 regrets that so holy a cause should be open to 
 such blemishes, and obliged to use such tools, 
 with assurances that the evil was temporary and 
 remediable, and with hojoes that what I had, in 
 a moment of impulsive frankness, incautiously 
 disclosed would not prejudice him against om^ 
 party. Above all, I appealed to him not to 
 take advantage of my indiscretion, and easily 
 persuaded him to promise entire secrecy." 
 
 '^ I admire your insidious artlessness ; but 
 tell me, do you think that the uncle and aunt 
 are favourable to Allerton's views towards their 
 daughter ? " 
 
 '' I have studied that question, but have not 
 quite solved it. I incline to believe that, inas- 
 much as the young people were brought up 
 together from childhood as brother and sister, 
 the elders have not yet looked seriously at the
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 215 
 
 contingency of their becoming anything else 
 to each other. And now, fair lady, I have 
 answered your questions, do you still see your 
 way to promote my designs ? " 
 
 ^ado; but—" 
 
 ^^ But my definition of eternal gratitude must 
 be satisfactory ? " 
 
 '^ I was not thinking of that just now ; but, 
 since you put me in mind of it, you may take 
 it for granted that that is one condition." 
 
 '^ And will you now acquaint me with the 
 nature and source of that mysterious influence 
 which is to be so powerfully exerted on my 
 behalf?" 
 
 '^ Far from that, I have not even made up 
 my mind whether I shall use it or not." 
 
 ^' 'Sdeath! madam, you do not mean to say 
 that you have led me on by a false lure to make 
 these revelations of my secret feelings and 
 projects to gratify your idle curiosity, and to 
 leave me, after all, in the lurch ? " 
 
 '^I promised nothing," said the countess, 
 coldly. 
 
 *^No; but you led me to expect much," 
 replied Brerewood, warmly ; ^' and you are 
 mistaken if you fancy that I shall tamely sub-
 
 216 FBANK ALLEBTOX : 
 
 mit to the indignity of having succumbed to 
 youi' wiles, and gratuitously unveiled to you 
 my innermost thoughts and aspii'ations." 
 
 "Calm yom-self, Mr. Brerewood: yom- sus- 
 picions are unjust. The step which I am dis- 
 posed to take in yom- favoui- involves such a 
 distm^bance of my previous plans that I do not 
 choose to commit myself to it without fmi:her 
 reflection. Remember that it has suggested 
 itself in the com-se of this conversation, and it 
 is too important a measure for me to adopt on 
 the spm- of the moment. I shall let you know 
 my decision.'' 
 
 "And when shall I be made acquainted T^ith 
 it? There is no time to lose, and I detest 
 being kejDt in suspense." 
 
 " Listen to the way in wliich I propose to 
 deal with the matter. AiTange with Mr. 
 Allerton that you and he shall pay me a visit 
 on Satm'day evening next. I shall be alone, 
 and jDrepared to take a decided com^se. Do 
 you think that you can induce liim to 
 come ? '' 
 
 "Yes; I have little doubt of it. I have 
 excited in him some curiosity about you, and 
 he has signified his willingness to accompany
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 217 
 
 me on any evening that you might name to 
 receive tis." 
 
 '' Good. Xow to the second point. ^Ir. 
 Brerewoodj I want money. My remittances 
 come irregularly from France^ and my expenses 
 are heavy. Are you prepared to meet me on 
 this point ? " 
 
 '' Fully, countess. I naturally expected 
 such a demand. But do not amerce me in too 
 heavy a sum. Remember that what I have to 
 get in return is at present an unknown quan- 
 tity." 
 
 '' I know that you will be hard of belief, but 
 I assure you that money is the smallest of 
 the considerations that induce me to contem- 
 plate interference in the affair, and indeed is- 
 merely the feather that turns the scale between 
 two conflicting sets of motives." 
 
 '' Very well, my dear countess, I will con- 
 tribute the feather, and it shall help to warm 
 yoiu* nest.'^ 
 
 '' Then bring with you a small packet that 
 shall contain a fifty -poimd bank-note, and a 
 written engagement to pay me two more fifties 
 when Mr. Allerton shall, in consequence of my 
 procedm-e, be compelled to quit his uncle's roof .'^
 
 218 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 ^^ That seems reasonable, and not over ex- 
 pensive. Shall we then close the bargain ? " 
 
 ^^ Not yet. When you see me on Saturday 
 evening you will offer me the packet as from a 
 friend ; let us call her Lady Jones. If I refuse 
 it, saying that it is a mistake, you will con- 
 clude that, on deliberation, I have declined 
 taking any part in the matter in question." 
 
 '^ Can you not let me know before then ? " 
 
 ^^No; I will only decide then. But if I 
 accept the packet, that will be a token that I 
 agree, and I shall then proceed at once to the 
 execution of my project." 
 
 '^What, on the spot? — with only Allerton 
 and myself present ? Then you intend speak- 
 ing to him about it ? How can you possibly 
 expect that he will listen to — Pshaw ! it seems 
 absurd." 
 
 ^^ It is not my habit to deal in absm'dities. 
 Trust to me. Perform you your part ;^ I shall 
 be prepared to perform mine." 
 
 Having concluded this curious arrangement, 
 Brerewood took his departure.
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 219 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A DISAGREEABLE SURPRISE. 
 
 Whex Alice and I had returned home from our 
 deHcions walk on that bUssful Saturday she 
 ran upstairs to her room, no doubt to think it 
 all over again ; and I proceeded to the draw- 
 ing-room, where I found my uncle and aunt 
 apparently absorbed in serious conversation, 
 which they abruptly suspended when they saw 
 me approach. 
 
 "Frank," said my uncle, "I want a few 
 words with you ; but I will not detain you long, 
 as I Imow that you have an appointment with 
 Mr. Brerewood. I met him to-day, and he 
 told me that he was to call for you this 
 evening." 
 
 "Thank you, my dear uncle; but, if you 
 want me, I would prefer to stay ^dth you to 
 going out. Indeed, I am somewhat fatigued
 
 220 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 with my walk, and would rather not accompany 
 Mr. Brerewood." 
 
 '' I think," said my amit, '^ that it would be 
 wrong to disappoint Mr. Br ere wood, since he is 
 coming purposely to fetch you." 
 
 ^'Yes, Frank, you had better go," said my 
 uncle ; ^' but you can spare half an hom^ to 
 resolve our doubts, once and for ever, as to the 
 jDart you intend taking in the political struggle 
 which is now fast approaching." 
 
 Dming the few days that had elapsed since 
 my uncle had exacted from me a promise that 
 I would, without delay, arrive at a decided 
 opinion on the paramount political question of 
 the day, and assume a definite position with 
 regard to it, I had given the subject the most 
 serious consideration. My leaning had always 
 been towards the Protestant succession as now 
 established ; and continued investigation and 
 reflection had now converted that leaning into 
 a conviction. Not that the present order of 
 things was by any means perfect, but what it 
 was proposed to substitute for it seemed to me 
 worse ; and to purchase a deterioration at the 
 price of a civil war looked to me very much like 
 a criminal absurdity. I had therefore deter-
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 221 
 
 mined that I would not be a party to the sub- 
 version of the present form of government, and 
 the only sacrifice I could conscientiously make 
 to my uncle's views was a discreet and im- 
 partial neutrality. I therefore replied, — 
 
 ^^ Is it absolutely necessary that I should 
 take a decided part in a conflict wherein 
 honesty of purpose and conscientious convic- 
 tions animate so many true men on each side?" 
 
 ^^ Fie ! Frank," exclaimed my aunt. ^^ There 
 may, as you say, be true men on each side ; but 
 those are no true men who weakly palter 
 between one side and the other." 
 
 '^ My dear nephew," interposed my uncle, 
 '' I have more than once urged upon you, and 
 you have more than once j^romised me, to insti- 
 tute a careful and solemn inquiry into the vital 
 question that divides by a fathomless gulf the 
 friends of royalty from the friends of revolu- 
 tion. Have you performed your promise ? " 
 
 ^^ I have, uncle, so far as my abilities go." 
 
 ^^ And your verdict ? Speak out, Frank; I 
 put it to your conscience as an honest man to 
 declare it unmistakablv." 
 
 '^ Then on my conscience, uncle, I believe 
 that it would be adverse to the interests of the
 
 222 FEANK ALLERTON .- 
 
 country to subvert the existing Govern- 
 ment." 
 
 '^ I thought so ! " exclaimed my aunt. ^' Alas 
 for the Allertons ! " 
 
 ^^Stay, my dear," said my uncle. ^^ Wlnle 
 we lament his error, we cannot but applaud his 
 truthfulness." 
 
 ^' My dear uncle and aunt, do not take it ill 
 that I cannot share your political opinions, and, 
 above all, do not imagine that I am so con- 
 ceited as to sit in judgment upon them. I fully 
 acknowledge that I am your inferior in 
 capacity as well as in experience, and that your 
 power of sifting right from wrong exceeds 
 mine. But it was at your request that I under- 
 took to investigate the subject and draw my 
 own conclusions. If in seeldng for truth 1 
 have lighted on what you deem a falsity, it is 
 at least the result of conscientious inquiry, and 
 it has become a sincere conviction." 
 
 '' The more earnest your belief, Frank," said 
 my aunt, with some severity of tone, '^ the 
 more hopeless is your conversion. Mereditli, 
 it is in great measure your fault. Instead of 
 instilling into his mind fixed and definite prin- 
 jiples, you have encouraged in him a spirit of
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 223 
 
 independent researcli, and you see where it 
 has led ! " 
 
 '' My dear," gravely responded my uncle, 
 ^^ principles which are not of native growth in 
 the mind, but are only transplanted there 
 ready grown, enjoy but a feeble vitality." 
 
 " A house divided against itself cannot 
 stand," observed my amit. ^' Wliat is to be 
 done ? " 
 
 This observation pointed to a possible change 
 in the amicable relations that had always 
 subsisted between us, and I was filled with 
 alarm. But two or tliree hours before I had 
 reached the summit of felicity by receiving- 
 from Alice the assurance that my love for 
 her was returned ; and now, just as I was 
 about asking from her parents their consent to 
 our union, grave differences had arisen between 
 us, 'on a subject to which I knew that they (and 
 especially my aunt) attached the utmost im- 
 portance. 
 
 '' But, my dear aunt," said I, ^^ pray do not 
 talk of division. Do not let me be the slightest 
 liindrance to the prosecution of your plans. 
 All I seek for, what I would be grateful to you 
 for allowing me, is simple neutrality."
 
 224 FRANK ALLERTON .- 
 
 ^^ I do not believe in neutrality," rejoined 
 my aunt. '' I cannot conceive any person being 
 neutral, tliat is to say, indifferent, heedless, 
 and, so to say, colourless, in a matter like this, 
 Avhich is not merely an abstract theory, but a 
 living principle, which must be actively fought 
 for or fought against. He who is not with us 
 is against us." 
 
 ^^ I think," said my uncle, ^'that we had 
 better not prolong the present discussion. 
 Mr. Brerewood will be here directly ; and 
 while you are out, Frank, your aunt and I 
 will think and talk over the matter." 
 
 I took the hint, for I was myself rather at a 
 loss how to continue a conversation that had 
 assumed so embarrassing a tone, and accord- 
 ingly I went to my room to prepare myself for 
 my visit at the house of the lady to whom 
 Brerewood was to introduce me. He came 
 shortly after, and, as the evening was fine, we 
 agreed to walk to Clarges Street, where this, 
 lady resided. 
 
 '^ Do you expect," asked I, as we walked 
 along, ^^that there will be much company at 
 the countess's to-night ? " 
 
 ^^ I fancy not," replied Brerewood ; '^ Wed-
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 225 
 
 nesdays are her reception-days, not Satm^days. 
 Besides, as she has expressed rather a pressing 
 wish to make youi' personal acquaintance, I 
 suppose she will want to converse more with 
 you than she could do if her company were 
 numerous. Did . you ever hear her name 
 before I casually mentioned it to you ? " 
 
 '' Never. What makes you ask ? " 
 
 ^^ Nothing ; except that, from one or two 
 expressions that fell fi'om her unwittingly, I 
 fancy that she has some knowledge of yom* 
 family." 
 
 ^'Not impossible: my father many years 
 ago lived a good deal in France. Is your 
 acquaintance with this Countess Molina of old 
 date ? " 
 
 ^' By no means," replied Brerewood. '^ She 
 came from Genoa a few months ago, with letters 
 of introduction to first-rate ^^eople here. Some 
 of these were friends of mine, and tlnrough 
 them I formed her acquaintance. She is verv 
 entertaining, clever, and rather caustic. She 
 exercises her wit on her foes even in their 
 presence, and, of course, on her friends when 
 they are absent." 
 
 '' Then it may be better to be her foe than lier 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 224 FRANK ALLEBTON .- 
 
 ^^ I do not believe in neutrality," rejoined 
 my aunt. '' I cannot conceive any person being 
 neutral, that is to say, indifferent, heedless, 
 and, so to say, colourless, in a matter like this, 
 which is not merely an abstract theory, but a 
 living principle, which must be actively fought 
 for or fought against. He who is not with us 
 is against us." 
 
 ^^ I think," said my uncle, ''that we had 
 better not prolong the present discussion. 
 Mr. Brerewood will be here directly ; and 
 while you are out, Frank, yom- aunt and I 
 will think and talk over the matter." 
 
 I took the hint, for I was myself rather at a 
 loss how to continue a conversation that had 
 assumed so embarrassing a tone, and accord- 
 ingly I went to my room to prepare myself for 
 my visit at the house of the lady to whom 
 Brerewood was to introduce me. He came 
 shortly after, and, as the evening was fine, we 
 agreed to walk to Clarges Street, where this 
 lady resided. 
 
 '' Do you expect," asked I, as we walked 
 along, '' that there will be much company at 
 the countess's to-night ? " 
 
 '' I fancy not," replied Brerewood; ''Wed-
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 225 
 
 nesdays are her reception-days, not Saturdays. 
 Besides, as she has expressed rather a pressing 
 wish to make youi' personal acquaintance, I 
 suppose she will want to converse more with 
 you than she could do if her company were 
 numerous. Did . you ever hear her name 
 before I casually mentioned it to you ? '' 
 
 '' Never. What makes you ask ? " 
 
 '' Nothing ; except that, from one or two 
 expressions that fell fi'om her unwittingly, I 
 fancy that she has some knowledge of 3'om' 
 family." 
 
 ''Not impossible: my father many years 
 ago lived a good deal in France. Is yom- 
 acquaintance with this Coimtess Molina of old 
 date ? " 
 
 '' By no means," replied Brerewood. *' She 
 came fi'om Genoa a few months ago, with letters 
 of introduction to first-rate people here. Some 
 of these were friends of mine, and throusfh 
 them I formed her acquaintance. She is verv 
 entertaining, clever, and rather caustic. She 
 exercises her wit on her foes even in their 
 j)resence, and, of course, on her friends when 
 they are absent." 
 
 '' Then it may be better to be her foe than her 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 friend ; for the former, being present, may parry 
 her attacks, Avhile the latter, being absent, is 
 defenceless." 
 
 '' Yes ; but the blow dealt on your person 
 may hurt you, wliile that aimed at your 
 shadow is unfelt." 
 
 In such talk we beguiled the time till we 
 arrived at our destination. I must have proved, 
 however, but poor company, as my mind was 
 continually reverting to the contrast between 
 my delightful teterd-tete with Alice and my 
 unpleasant interview, subsequently, with her 
 parents. I certainly was not in a frame of 
 mind to make a very favourable impression 
 on the new acquaintance I was about to 
 visit. 
 
 We found the Countess Molina alone ; not in 
 the great reception-room, but in a smaller one 
 beyond. She accorded me a gracious recep- 
 tion, and, after a short chat on trivial topics, 
 Brerewood went over to her and presented her 
 with a small packet, adding a few words which 
 I could not catch. She took it, saying, — 
 
 ^^ Thanks; I will see that it is carefully 
 acknowledged. ' ' 
 
 Then turning to me, she observed, —
 
 AN AVTOBIOGBATHY. 
 
 ''I believe you were born in France, Islw 
 Allertoii, were you not ? " 
 
 '' I was, madam."" 
 
 '^Have you agreeable reminiscences of yoiu* 
 native country ? " 
 
 ^' Hardly any at all, agreeable or otherwise. 
 My father brought me to England when a mere 
 child, and I have never ^dsited France since 
 then.'' 
 
 ^^ Have you any remembrance of the persons 
 composing your father's household at the time 
 you quitted Paris ? " 
 
 '^Really, my recollections of that period are 
 very confused, and I have never cared much to 
 recur to them.'' 
 
 ''I hope, Mr. Allerton, that it will not be 
 disagreeable to you to have the events of your 
 early life recalled to your memory; for, to 
 say the truth, that is the precise purpose for 
 which I requested Mr. Brerewood to bring you 
 here." 
 
 I was too amazed to reply at once to this 
 speech, which struck me as bordering on 
 impertinence, and which certainly was totally 
 unexpected. I looked at Brerewood, and he 
 at me. Astonishment was depicted on botJi
 
 228 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 our countenances ; but in his there was a lurk- 
 ing smile, as though his surprise were mingled 
 with a sense of amusement. 
 
 '^Pray, Mr. Allerton," continued the coun- 
 tess, seeing that I did not answer, '^ do you 
 remember a person of the name of Zillah ? " 
 
 I did recollect such a name ; but, piqued by 
 this unwarrantable intrusion into my private 
 affairs, I determined not to submit to her 
 cross-examination. 
 
 ^^ Madam," I replied, ''do me the favour to 
 select some other topic for conversation. I 
 must frankly avow my distaste to that which 
 you have just introduced." 
 
 '' I am sorry, indeed, for that," rejoined the 
 countess, " as I am compelled to j^ursue the 
 theme, however unwelcome. Since you de- 
 cline answering my questions, I will myself 
 impart the information which they were in- 
 tended to elicit." 
 
 ''I cannot divine, madam, your motive for 
 making these communications; but I do not 
 think that any motive can justify you in 
 making them against the will of the person 
 whom they chiefly concern, and I decidedly 
 object."
 
 AX AVTOBJOGBATHY. 
 
 ^' Ah, you object, do you?'' said the coan- 
 tess, rising abruptly, and speaking with .some 
 vehemence. ^^Do you dare assume a tone of 
 defiance ? Well, then, listen ! This Zillah was 
 your mother, and not, as the world has been 
 imposed upon to believe, Madame Allerton. 
 You are the illegitimate son of Andrew Aller- 
 ton ! " 
 
 At this terrible announcement I started to 
 my feet, as did Brerewood. 
 
 '^Mr. Brerewood/' I warmly exclaimed, 
 "" have you knomngly brought me here to 
 receive the insult implied by this infamous 
 fabrication ? '' 
 
 '' On my word," replied he, '' I had not the 
 faintest idea of the facts which — '' 
 
 '^ Facts?" 
 
 '^ Well, of the allegations that have just been 
 set forth by this lady." 
 
 ^^ Pray acquit Mr. Brerewood of all know- 
 ledge of the secret that I have just dividged,'^ 
 said the countess, coolly. 
 
 I was paralyzed with astonishment at the uii- 
 paralleled audacity of the statements so ludely 
 made. While I was endeavouring to think of 
 what I should say or do, I saw Brerewood go
 
 2.30 FRANK ALLERTON: 
 
 up to the countess, and in an undertone, whicli 
 liowever was audible to me, he said to her, 
 ^^ Are you not going too far?" She answered 
 him abruptly and loudly, '^ No ! " He shrugged 
 his shoulders and retired. It was evident to me 
 that he no more believed her story than I did. 
 
 '^ Brerewood," I said at last, '' it is clear that 
 something has disordered the brain of this lady. 
 Wlio is she that dares to utter such scandalous 
 falsehoods ? " 
 
 ''Who is she, you ask? Well, you shall 
 know," passionately exclaimed the countess. 
 " I am Zillah ! I am your mother ! " 
 
 ''Phew!" said Brerewood, half to him- 
 self; "another tremendous clap of theatrical 
 thunder ! " 
 
 As for myself, this new imposture added in- 
 tense disgust to my indignation. 
 
 " Let us go," I said : " the woman is mad." 
 
 " Stay ! " said the countess, in a fierce voice, 
 almost amounting to a shriek. " Have you the 
 audacity, Frederick, — for that is your name, and 
 not Francis, — to deny that you for years have 
 been aware of the facts I have just stated, for 
 years have been parading a false name, and 
 knowingly assuming a false position ? "
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPEY. 231 
 
 ^^ Woman!" I cried, boiling over vdth. rage, 
 ^^if yon are not mad, yon mnst be atrociously 
 ^dcked to forge snch lies." 
 
 ^^What!" said she, in a somewhat calmer 
 tone, '' do you mean seriously to assert that 
 you had not till now become acquainted with 
 the secret of your birth ? But — bah 1 I am 
 not to be deceived: you have knowai it for 
 years ! " 
 
 '^Eeally, countess," expostulated Brerewood, 
 ^'you are pressing Mr. Allerton too hard. 
 Wliatever amomit of truth there may prove to 
 be in the version you have given of his birth, of 
 this I am quite certain (and I owe it to him to 
 declare it), that it is new to him, and takes 
 him by surprise as much as it does me." 
 
 By this time I had somewhat cooled down, 
 and I began to see clearly that I could gain 
 nothing by losing my temper, and that I had 
 better treat the whole affair Tvith contempt. 
 
 '^ Mr. Brerewood," I said, ^^I must decline 
 holding any further communication with this 
 person ; but for your satisfaction, and in justice 
 to myself, I must aver to you that I never till 
 now heard a single syllable of the story we 
 have just been told, and I entertain not the
 
 234 FBANK ALLERTON : 
 
 some foundation of truth in this story ? The 
 bare possibility made me shudder. What ? was 
 I no longer Francis Allerton, the legitimate 
 son, but Frederick Something, the offspring of 
 this woman ? This woman my mother ? Hor- 
 rible ! I hated her. Was it all a dream ? I 
 determined to fly home and read the fatal 
 packet that was to fix my destiny for 
 ever. 
 
 These thoughts flashed like lightning through 
 my mind, and, turning to the countess, I said — 
 
 '' Madam, if you are really under the im- 
 pression that you have spoken the truth, and 
 are simply labouring under some hallucination, 
 there may be an excuse for the pain that you 
 have to-night inflicted on me. But if I dis- 
 cover that you have wantonly annoyed me by 
 calumnious fabrications, my respect for yom* 
 sex shall not save you from the effects of my 
 just resentment." 
 
 ^^ Young man," replied the countess, with a 
 certain amount of scornful dignity, ^'before 
 you assume this pompous style, go' home and 
 read the document which it was your duty to 
 have read long ago, and you will then talk in a 
 different strain."
 
 .4.Y AUTOBIOGRAPHY, 235 
 
 I then left the room hastily, T\dthoiit Ijiddirig- 
 adieu even to Brerewood, and rushed out of the 
 house. I began bv walking at a rapid pace in 
 the direction of home ; but soon my legs tot- 
 tered, a feeling of faintness overcame me, and 
 I Tvas compelled to lean against some railings 
 to prevent myself fi'om falling. This was the 
 third time this day that my feelings had been 
 excited to their highest jiitch. The glowing- 
 hopes, the beaming joy, which my interview 
 with dear, dear Alice had raised in my heart 
 were now overshadowed by gloomy misgivings 
 verging on the darkness of despair. 
 
 I had been for some minutes brooding over 
 my altered prospects, and was recovering fi'om 
 the physical weakness that had temporarily 
 prostrated me, when I heard a rapid footstep 
 approaching, and in another moment Brerewood 
 had taken hold of my arm, and we were walk- 
 ing leism-ely together. 
 
 '^ Allerton," said he, '^ I was perfectly amazed 
 and shocked at what fell from the lips of 
 Countess Molina this evening. I trust that it 
 will all prove a delusion of hers." 
 
 ^'I trust so — I tliink so," replied I, very 
 much annoyed to have to hold any converse on
 
 23G FRANK ALLEUTON : 
 
 the subject, ^'biit do not let me detain you; it 
 is getting late." 
 
 '' Indeed I must accomj)any you home. You 
 seem ill and shaky, and I cannot leave you so. 
 You will, of course, sift this story thoroughly." 
 
 ' ' Of course — of course. I can get cm very 
 well alone, thanks." 
 
 ^^No doubt you had strong motives for not 
 opening the packet from your father when it 
 was delivered to you ? " 
 
 ^M thought I was doing for the best; but 
 why should I trouble you to accompany me any 
 further ? " 
 
 ^'It is no trouble, and it is only what you 
 would do to me under similar circumstances. 
 Perhaps you did not care about reading the 
 paper because you knew the contents from 
 other sources ? " 
 
 '^ Indeed, not so ; you do me injustice. If I 
 had known any facts approaching in the 
 remotest degree to the circumstances set forth 
 to-night, do you think that — " 
 
 '^ Oh, of course. Pray forgive me ; I did not 
 think of that. The question escaped me un- 
 thinkingly." 
 
 "^Eeally, Mr. Brerewood, I would rather that
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPHT. 237 
 
 you left me to walk home quietly, pondering on 
 the singularity of my position." 
 
 '' Your position, as you say, is a singular one ; 
 and if I can be of any assistance to you, j^ray 
 command me. Do you think that Mr. Uppen- 
 ham has not all along been aware of the con- 
 tents of your father's paj^er ? " 
 
 ''It is a painful effort, Mr. Brerewood, to 
 apply my mind to the subject for the present. 
 Pray leave me," and I withdrew my arm from 
 his. 
 
 Seeing me resolute, he said, "Goodnight," 
 and went his way. 
 
 The moment I arrived home, I flew upstairs 
 to my own room, took the packet from its 
 hiding-place, and, tearing it open, read what 
 follows.
 
 ^38 FRANK ALLERTON 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ANDREW ALLEJrrON. 
 
 I, Andrew Allerton, Avas born in 1693, of a 
 ij^oocl old Berksliirc family, whose residence was 
 the Allerton Manor-house, in the villaofe of the 
 same name. Whether the village was named 
 after the family, or the family after the village, 
 was a question never determined, nor ever 
 worth determining. What can it matter ? My 
 grandfather, who was one of Charles II. 's 
 graceless favourites, brought a large accession 
 of wealtli (how obtained it is bootless to inquire) 
 to the moderate patrimony which he had in- 
 lierited ; and as he had been a spendthrift in his 
 youth, and had become grasping, in his middle 
 (career, he by a natural progression slided into 
 avarice in his old age. 
 
 My father Mathew found himself, one fine
 
 AN AVTOBIOGBAPEY, 239 
 
 day, deprived of an asthmatic and stingy 
 parent, and possessed of an ample fortune. He 
 affected deep regret for the former, and pro- 
 ceeded without delay to squander the latter. He 
 was, like all our race (I know it to my cost), 
 cursed mth passions of almost uncontrollahle 
 intensity, and if he ever did try to check them 
 (which may be doubted) he entirely failed, for 
 they certainly had their full play. He married 
 a cousin, one of the Broughtons ; and as she 
 was as proud, as imperious, and as obstinate as 
 he was, they led a sad life. Wine, women, and 
 the gaming-table soon undermined his strong 
 constitution, and dissipated most of his ample 
 fortune. 
 
 The children were four in number — three boys 
 and a girl. I was the second born, Francis the 
 eldest, Frederick the next in succession to me, 
 and Jane, the girl, the youngest of all. 
 Frederick, at nineteen, fell in love mtli the 
 daughter of a wealthy tradesman, and, with the 
 headlong impetuosity of his race, contracted a 
 clandestine marriage with her ; then, knowing 
 that he would never be forgiven by his father, 
 he emigrated suddenly with his bride to Vir- 
 ginia. Whether he was tomahawked by the
 
 240 FRANK ALLERTON ,- 
 
 Indians, or became a wealthy planter, we never 
 knew, as he was not heard of any more. 
 
 The storm of anger which this event excited 
 in the head of the family was, as might have 
 been expected, extravagant. He exhaled a 
 portion of his fury in maledictions upon us, the 
 children who had not absconded, and in biting 
 sarcasms against the wife of his bosom, who had 
 no more to do with it than he had. He then 
 hastened to London to efface the excitement of 
 wrath by that of gambling. 
 
 A few weeks afterwards my ill-fated father 
 was killed in a midniglit broil with the riotous 
 and ferocious Mohawks — a convivial band com- 
 posed of young fellows belonging to some of 
 the noblest and wealthiest families in England. 
 It appears that he was pursuing an intrigue with 
 some citizen's wife, and having disguised himself 
 in the dress of a tradesman, on liis way home he 
 was taken for one of that class by the howl- 
 ing, drunken Mohawks (they never selected any 
 person of quality for their prey), and assailed ac- 
 cordingly. Not that they had any design upon 
 his life or purse, — oh no ; all they wanted was 
 amusement, and what could be more amusing 
 than to place their victim inside a large barrel,
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY, 241 
 
 which they always had at hand, and then roll him 
 along the streets, with hoarse j^seans of victory 
 to drown the cries of the sufferer ? This they 
 attempted to do with my father, but they found 
 in liim a man of other mettle. He drew his 
 sword and laid about him furiously, wounded 
 several of the noble revellers, who, irritated at 
 this unjustifiable resistance on the part of a low 
 shopkeeper, pierced him through and through, 
 and left him dead on the sjDot. 
 
 Needless to say that when the rank of the 
 murdered man was recognized there was a 
 loud outcry, and what would have been 
 deemed a venial offence if a man of low de- 
 gree had been the martyr was stigmatized as 
 a shameful outrage. But how to discover the 
 guilty parties ? There was no evidence to fix 
 the crime on any one. A wealthy baronet, 
 and the younger son of a duke, were strongly 
 suspected to have been the ringleaders ; but the 
 scent gradually grew cold, and very soon the 
 pursuit was relinquished. 
 
 After the solemn mockery of a gorgeous 
 funeral, my mother ascertained, by means of 
 the family lawyer, that, although very serious 
 inroads had been made in the patrimony my 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 242 FBANK ALLEBTON : 
 
 father had inherited, he had not had time to 
 squander the whole, which was fortunate for 
 us. 
 
 At the time of my father's death, in 1714, I 
 was of age, and my brother Francis two years 
 older. We were very fond of each other, 
 though constantly quarrelling. Our mother 
 doted on us both ; but her imperious natm-e 
 could not brook our wayward freaks nor bear 
 with our outbursts of temper, so that days 
 of sunshine alternated with days of stormy 
 strife. Our family had never known any other 
 atmosphere than that of discord ; and self-will, 
 self-indulgence, and impatience of control 
 seemed to be the special attributes of our race. 
 Soon a fresh calamity spread desolation 
 amongst us. A virulent form of that cm-se to 
 humanity, the small-pox, pervaded the village 
 of Allerton. It reached the Manor-house, and 
 all the family, as well as most of the servants, 
 were smitten by the horrible infection. My 
 mother and elder brother died of it. I escaped, 
 after being despaired of ; but I was furrowed all 
 over with the unseemly scars that disfigure so 
 many of the victims of this modern plague. 
 My sister Jane fortunately recovered Avithout
 
 .4.N^ AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 243 
 
 incurring this terrible penalty, so much more 
 intolerable to a woman than to us. 
 
 The loss of my mother and brother (esj)e- 
 cially that of the former) caused me unutter- 
 able grief. Not a week had passed, during her 
 lifetime, without some fresh feud starting up 
 between us. Bitter words were frequently 
 exchanged. I inveighed against her as a 
 tyrant ; she reviled me as a rebel ; and yet 
 underlying these fierce contentions a vast 
 fund of mutual fondness dwelt in both our 
 hearts. I knew that she loved me devotedly ; 
 it was, perhaps, the love of the tigress for her 
 whelps, but I revelled and reposed in it, and 
 felt that, come what may, my mother and I 
 would have stood side by side against the 
 whole world. 
 
 Now I was left solitary and without a tie 
 on earth except my sister Jane, with whom 
 I had little sympathy. She was as proud and 
 self-willed as the rest of us, but her manner 
 was cold and midemonstrative. She had been 
 promised in marriage, not without her consent, 
 but certainl}' without any display on her part 
 of rapturous love, to Mr. Uppenham, a young 
 gentleman of good family and fair position.
 
 244 FRANK ALLEBTON .- 
 
 He was one of tliose tiresome persons called 
 respectable. His morality verged on Puri- 
 tanism, his good-breeding on priggishness, and 
 liis learning on pedantry. He Avas painfully 
 good, and I was not sorry when, a decent time 
 having elapsed, the marriage took place, and 
 he carried my sister off to his own home. 
 
 About this time (August, 1715) the Earl of 
 Mar summoned the friends of King James to 
 rally round him in Scotland, and he soon col- 
 lected a considerable force. In Lancashire, too, 
 the gallant Forster, aided by the Earl of Der- 
 wentwater, Viscount Kenmure, and many 
 other noblemen and gentlemen, raised the 
 standard of revolt against the Hanoverian 
 sway, and determined to die or reinstate the 
 Stuart dynasty on the throne, now wrongfully 
 occupied by a German usurper. Our race had 
 always been loyal to the core, and the oppor- 
 tunity thus afforded me of drawing my sword 
 in the good old cause I embraced with avidity. 
 I raised all the money I could by mortgage 
 and loan, and with plenty of gold in my 
 valise, two fine horses, and one faithful atten- 
 dant, Antony, rode swiftly on to join Forster 
 in the North. Antony was the son of our old
 
 AN AUTOBIOGIiAPHY 
 
 steward, and a devoted adherent botli of the 
 house of Stuart and the house of Allerton. He 
 divided his allegiance between thenij and 
 when both came to grief transferred it to Mr. 
 Uppenham, who, to do him justice, was also a 
 friend to the rightful cause, in liis timid, re- 
 spectable way. 
 
 I need not advert to om* defeat. Lukewarm- 
 ness, incapacity, treachery, and divided coun- 
 sels made failure inevitable. At the battle of 
 Preston I narrowly escaped being made prisoner, 
 but got away with a gash across the face, wliich 
 harmonized gracefully with the marks wliich the 
 small-pox had not long before imprinted on it. 
 Antony stuck to me, and together we got to 
 Liverpool, whence, by means of an extortionate 
 bribe, a passage to Ha^^-e was obtained, and 
 thus we escaped the untoward fate which 
 attended many of om^ brave and noble friends. 
 By the time I arrived at Paris I had nearly 
 expended all my money. King James had 
 gone on his wild-goose chase to Scotland, where 
 he arrived too late, and whence he departed too 
 early. He landed at Peterhead on Christmas 
 Day, just in time to find his cause lost, and 
 re-embarked for France on the 10th of January,
 
 24G FItANK ALLEBTON: 
 
 without making any attempt to renew the 
 struggle. 
 
 At Paris I met with many friends (friends ? 
 well, yes, friends in a way) of my father, who 
 had left behind him lively recollections of his 
 eccentricities. It so happened that licentious- 
 ness had just come into fashion. The old king, 
 Louis XIV., who had sinned as long as he 
 could, and who, when he grew old, and could 
 sin no more, became an austere devotee, had 
 died a few days before ; and the witty, disso- 
 lute, and good-natured regent, D' Orleans, 
 inaugurated quite a new order of things. Just 
 as free-and-easy Charles II. rescued mirth and 
 pleasure and ^^ their crew" from the stony 
 grasp of strait-laced Cromwell, so in France 
 the riotous revels of the Regency succeeded to 
 the gloomy asceticism of Louis XIV. 
 
 I threw myself greedily into this vortex of 
 dissipation, and was soon admitted to the 
 delightful suppers of the Palais Royal. The 
 regent distinguished me by his favour ; and I 
 even obtained the goodwill of a much more 
 powerful man, his preceptor and minister, Abbe 
 Dubois. This curious comj^ound of the most 
 opposite qualities was then rising rapidly to
 
 AX AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 247 
 
 supreme power. A mere plebeian, lie was hated 
 and courted, despised and worsliip^^ed, by the 
 proudest nobles in the land. 
 
 I had soon spent all the money I had brought 
 with me, and having nearly exhausted all my 
 borrowing power, one day, finding Dubois in 
 exceptionally good humom^, I ventm-ed, in a 
 fit of desperation, to tell liim how I was situated. 
 Fortunately — for he was generally c}Tiical and 
 morose — he took it in good part. 
 
 ^^Allerton," said he, ''I like yom- audacity. 
 There is not another man in France who would 
 have selected the Abbe Dubois, for his father- 
 confessor. Well, I must justify yom- foolhardy 
 trust in me. Are you married ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 '' Will you marry ? " 
 
 " A woman, or a fortune ? '' boldly asked I. 
 
 ^^Both." 
 
 ' ' Decidedly, yes ; but the prettier the one, 
 and the larger the other, the better ! " replied I. 
 
 ''Diable!" said he, ^'you are particular. 
 But/a^ voire affaire. I am very intimate with 
 the Countess of Feuillemorte. Now she " — 
 
 '^Many thanks, Monsiem^ I'Abb^; but I 
 would sooner cut off my right hand than"—
 
 248 FRANK ALLERTON : 
 
 ''Ball! you goose," interrupted Dubois, in 
 his turn ; ''it is not her tliat I am proposing to 
 you. I have not done with her yet. She has 
 a niece maturing in a convent, just expanding 
 into womanhood, of whose hand and fortune I 
 can disjDose. You shall have her." 
 
 " How can I have deserved so rich a boon ?" 
 
 "Do not ascribe it," he replied, "altogether 
 to my desire to assist you. I have private 
 reasons for wishing this heiress to become the 
 wife of a foreigner. The arrangement I pro- 
 pose mil suit you and enter into my own views. 
 So expect to receive a card of invitation to la 
 Comtesse de Feuillemorte's Wednesday's re- 
 ception, and I will see that IVrademoiselle Hen- 
 riette shall be present." 
 
 " But j)erhaps, sir," I humbly suggested, " I 
 may not find favour in the lady's eyes." 
 
 " Bah ! " said Dubois, " that would not matter. 
 But you are too modest. Barring your face, 
 which is awfully ugly, your voice, which is 
 harsh, your temper, which is violent, and yom^ 
 circumstances, which are desperate, you are an 
 excellent parti for any lady." 
 
 To cut the matter short, all was soon arranged. 
 The countess, for reasons I could never divine,
 
 AN AUTOBIOGBAPHY. 249 
 
 seemed anxious for the match ; and as for Hen- 
 riette, she in her shy, coy manner evinced no 
 repugnance to the husband thus j^rovided for 
 her. She was very pretty, very graceful ; and 
 her manners, like her smile, were most winning. 
 She seemed to take much pleasure in listening 
 to my adventures in the North of England, 
 and I suppose that my ghastly features were, 
 like Othello's copper skin, atoned for by ^Hhe 
 dangers I had passed." 
 
 The marriage soon took place. Henriette's 
 fortune was settled upon her ; but a large sum 
 of money, the sm^plus of several years' revenue 
 over the expenditm-e, was handed to me. 
 In this way I was relieved from all my pecu- 
 niary difficulties. Sm-ely now, if ever, I might 
 have been happy. My vnie was all that a hus- 
 band could wish — handsome, kind, affectionate, 
 thoughtful, and so sweet tempered that my 
 occasional paroxysms of anger or C}micism had 
 little apparent effect upon her. She waited 
 patiently till the storm had expended its fury, 
 forgot or overlooked tlie unjust and offensive 
 words that might have dropped from me in my 
 rage, and when she saw the right moment had 
 anived, she would look at me fixedh', and with
 
 2.H) FRANK ALLETiTON: 
 
 a moaning' smile say, " If I have done or said 
 auglit amiss, dear Andrew, forgive me "; or on 
 some other occasion would cast her arms round 
 my neck, exclaiming in a mock-tragical tone, 
 ^' Soyons amis, Cinna," under which treatment 
 I speedily recovered, and clear, brilliant sun- 
 shine succeeded to the tempest. 
 
 I had sense enough to know how much 
 superior her patient love was to my fitful fond- 
 ness. Often, when the reaction set in from such 
 outbreaks of temper, have I passionately sworn 
 to her that I would never again give way to 
 those insane ebullitions, and with tender 
 caresses have craved her forgiveness. 
 
 '^Andrew, love," she would reply, ''they are 
 in your very nature, and I accept them as part 
 of your dear self. You nuiy cm'b, but can 
 hardly totally subdue them. But we vdll try 
 together, will we not ? '' 
 
 She was pure as falling snow, single minded, 
 truthful, and frank even to fearlessness. She 
 spontaneously told me that, before she had seen 
 nu), her love had been sought by a young poet of 
 the name of D' Anglas, who had professed himself 
 deeply enamoured of her ; that they had met at 
 the house of her aunt the comtesse, but never
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 251 
 
 alone ; that lie had plied her with odes, sonnets, 
 songs, and lyric effusions of all kinds, as well as 
 with prosaic and heroic letters ; that she had sent 
 liim back the latter, but, on account of the real 
 talent dis2Jayed in them, had retained the 
 former, which, however, she now placed in my 
 hands ; that her sentiments towards tliis ardent 
 lover had been confined to esteem for him per- 
 sonally, and her admiration had only extended 
 to his productions, Avhich were certainly very 
 clever. This voluntary statement placed me 
 quite at ease with regard to my wife's ante- 
 cedents ; for few women ever had so little to 
 confess, and fewer still would have made any 
 confession at all. 
 
 Again I say that sm^ely now, if ever, I might 
 have been happy. Far from it; for, whilst 
 really feeling the warmest affection and the 
 most tender regard for my admirable wife, I was 
 acting towards her with the grossest deceit. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
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