Our Village | Page 5

He
was not only recklessly extravagant, but addicted to high play. His
wife's large fortune, his daughter's, his own patrimony, all passed
through his hands in an incredibly short space of time, but his wife and
daughter were never heard to complain of his conduct, nor appeared to
admire him less.'
The story of Miss Mitford's 2O,OOO pounds is unique among the
adventures of authoresses. Dr. Mitford, having spent all his wife's
fortune, and having brought his family from a comfortable home, with
flowers and a Turkey carpet, to a small lodging near Blackfriars Bridge,
determined to present his daughter with an expensive lottery ticket on
the occasion of her tenth birthday. She had a fancy for No. 2224, of
which the added numbers came to 10. This number actually came out
the first prize of 2O,OOO pounds, which money started the family once
more in comparative affluence. Dr. Mitford immediately built a new
square house, which he calls Bertram House, on the site of a pretty old
farmhouse which he causes to be pulled down. He also orders a
dessert-service painted with the Mitford arms; Mrs. Mitford is supplied
with a carriage, and she subscribes to a circulating library.
A list still exists of the books taken out by her for her daughter's use;
some fifty-five volumes a month, chiefly trash: 'Vicenza,' 'A Sailor's
Friendship and Soldier's Love,' 'Clarentina,' 'Robert and Adela,' 'The
Count de Valmont,' 'The Three Spaniards,' 'De Clifford' (in four
volumes) and so on.
The next two or three years were brilliant enough; for the family must
have lived at the rate of three or four thousand a year. Their hospitality
was profuse, they had servants, carriages, they bought pictures and
furniture, they entertained. Cobbett was among their intimate friends.
The Doctor naturally enough invested in a good many more lottery
tickets, but without any further return.
The ladies seem to take it as a matter of course that he should speculate

and gamble at cards, and indeed do anything and everything he fancied,
but they beg him at least to keep to respectable clubs. He is constantly
away. His daughter tries to tempt him home with the bloom of her
hyacinths. 'How they long to see him again!' she says, 'how greatly
have they been disappointed, when, every day, the journey to Reading
has been fruitless. The driver of the Reading coach is quite accustomed
to being waylaid by their carriage.' Then she tells him about the
primroses, but neither hyacinths nor primroses bring the Doctor away
from his cards. Finally, the rhododendrons and the azaleas are in bloom,
but these also fail to attract him.
Miss Mitford herself as she grows up is sent to London more than once,
to the St. Quintin's and elsewhere. She goes to the play and to
Westminster Hall, she sees her hero, Charles James Fox, and has the
happiness of watching him helped on to his horse. Mr. Romilly delights
her, but her greatest favourite of all is Mr. Whitbread. 'You know I am
always an enthusiast,' she writes, 'but at present it is impossible to
describe the admiration I feel for this exalted character.' She speaks of
his voice 'which she could listen to with transport even if he spoke in an
unknown language!' she writes a sonnet to him, 'an impromptu, on
hearing Mr. Whitbread declare in Westminster Hall that he fondly
trusted his name would descend to posterity.'
'The hope of Fame thy noble bosom fires, Nor vain the hope thy ardent
mind inspires; In British breasts whilst Purity remains, Whilst Liberty
her blessed abode retains, Still shall the muse of History proclaim To
future ages thy immortal name!'
There are many references to the celebrities of the time in her letters
home,--every one agrees as to the extreme folly of Sheridan's
entertainments, Mrs. Opie is spoken of as a rising authoress, etc. etc.
etc.
Miss Austen used to go to 23 Hans Place, and Miss Mitford used to
stay at No. 22, but not at the same time. Mrs. Mitford had known Miss
Austen as a child. She may perhaps be forgiven for some prejudice and
maternal jealousy, in her later impressions, but Mary Mitford admired
Jane Austen always with warmest enthusiasm. She writes to her mother
at length from London, describing everything, all the people and books
and experiences that she comes across,--the elegant suppers at
Brompton, the Grecian lamps, Mr. Barker's beauty, Mr. Plummer's

plainness, and the destruction of her purple gown.
Mrs. Mitford writes back in return describing Reading festivities, 'an
agreeable dinner at Doctor Valpy's, where Mrs. Women and Miss
Peacock are present and Mr. J. Simpson, M.P.; the dinner very good,
two full courses and one remove, the soup giving place to one quarter
of lamb.' Mrs. Mitford sends a menu