Frank Mildmay | Page 6

Of the filthy manner in
which our food was prepared, I can only say that the bare recollection
of it excites nausea; and to this hour, bread and milk, suet pudding, and
shoulders of mutton, are objects of my deep-rooted aversion. The
conduct of the ushers, who were either tyrannical extortioners, or
partakers in our crimes--the constant loss of our clothes by the
dishonesty or carelessness of the servants--the purloining our silver
spoons, sheets, and towels, when we went away, upon the plea of
"custom"--the charges in the account for windows which I had never
broken, and books which I had never received--the shameful difference
between the annual cost promised by the master, and the sum actually
charged, ought to have opened the eyes of my father.
I am aware how excellent many of these institutions are, and that there
are few so bad as the one I was sent to. The history of my life will
prove of what vital importance it is to ascertain the character of the
master and mistress as to other points besides teaching Greek and Latin,
before a child is intrusted--to their care. I ought to have observed, that
during my stay at this school, I had made some proficiency in
mathematics and algebra.
My father had procured for me a berth on board a fine frigate at

Plymouth, and the interval between my nomination and joining was
spent by my parents in giving advice to me, and directions to the
several tradesmen respecting my equipment. The large chest, the sword,
the cocked-hat, the half-boots, were all ordered in succession; and the
arrival of each article, either of use or ornament, was anticipated by me
with a degree of impatience which can only be compared to that of a
ship's company arrived off Dennose from a three years' station in India,
and who hope to be at anchor at Spithead before sunset. The
circumstance of my going to sea affected my father in no other way
than it interfered with his domestic comforts by the immoderate grief of
my poor mother. In any other point of view my choice of profession
was a source of no regret to him. I had an elder brother, who was
intended to have the family estates, and who was then at Oxford,
receiving an education suitable to his rank in life, and also learning
how to spend his money like a gentleman. Younger brothers are, in
such cases, just as well out of the way, particularly one of my turbulent
disposition: a man-of-war, therefore, like another piece of timber, has
its uses. My father paid all the bills with great philosophy, and made
me a liberal allowance for my age.
The hour of departure drew near; my chest had been sent off by the
Plymouth waggon, and a hackney-coach drew up to the door, to convey
me to the White Horse Cellar. The letting down of the rattling steps
completely overthrew the small remains of fortitude which my dearest
mother had reserved for our separation, and she threw her arms around
my neck in a frenzy of grief. I beheld her emotions with a countenance
as unmoved as the figure-head of a ship; while she covered my stoic
face with kisses, and washed it with her tears. I almost wondered what
it all meant, and wished the scene was over.
My father helped me out of this dilemma; taking me firmly by the arm,
he led me out of the room; my mother sank upon the sofa, and hid her
face in her pocket-handkerchief. I walked as quickly to the coach as
common decency would permit. My father looked at me, as if he would
inquire of my very inward soul whether I really did possess human
feelings? I felt the meaning of this, even in my then tender years; and
such was my sense of propriety, that I mustered up a tear for each eye,

which, I hope, answered the intended purpose. We say at sea, "When
you have no decency sham a little;" and I verily believe I should have
beheld my poor mother in her coffin with less regret than I could have
foregone the gay and lovely scenes which I anticipated.
How amply has this want of feeling towards a tender parent been
recalled to my mind, and severely punished, in the events of my
vagrant life!
CHAPTER TWO.
Injuries may be atoned for and forgiven: but insults admit of no
compensation. They degrade the mind in its own esteem, and force it to
recover its level by revenge.
JUNIUS.
There are certain events in our lives poetically and beautifully
described by Moore as "green spots in memory's waste." Such are the
emotions arising from the attainment, after a long pursuit, of any
darling object of