But we left him alone with his glory.”
Having given these two quotations we might properly leave the matter, but for another curious incident which occurred in 1852 when, being engaged in preparing for the press her Recollections of a Literary Life, Miss Mitford had her attention drawn to a French poem which she considered had either been translated from Mr. Wolfe’s poem and applied to some other hero, or that Mr. Wolfe, seeing this French poem,[15] had translated it and applied it as an ode on the burial of Sir John Moore. As to which was the better poem of the two, she unhesitatingly declared in favour of the French.
FOOTNOTES:
[15] “Les Funerailles de Beaumanoir.” Quoting this poem in his Reliques, Father Prout (Rev. Francis Mahony) says: “Nor is it necessary to add any translation of mine, the Rev. Mr. Wolfe having reproduced them on the occasion of Sir John Moore’s falling at Corunna under similar circumstances.”
CHAPTER IX
THE FIRST BOOK
Monsieur St. Quintin’s venture as a schoolmaster was so successful that he was able, towards the close of the year 1808, to retire in favour of Miss Rowden, who continued to conduct the school with as much ability and spirit as had her predecessor. When matters were settled she invited Miss Mitford up to town to enjoy the sights and participate in a round of social functions. These were fully described in letters to her mother beginning on May 20, 1809, and ending on June 4. They tell of an “elegant dinner” to M. St. Quintin on the occasion of his birthday and of an inspection of Miss Linwood’s exhibition, which consisted of copies, in needlework, from celebrated pictures of both ancient and modern masters. This exhibition was remarkable in every way and was extremely popular for a number of years. Miss Mitford describes it as having been fitted up at “a most immense expense; upwards of five thousand pounds. It is indeed very superb.” The lighting and arrangement were so cleverly carried out that visitors were frequently deceived and quite believed that they were gazing on original oil-paintings instead of needlework copies.
“I was at Hamlet’s” [the jewellers] “yesterday with Fanny, and summoning to my aid all the philosophy of a literary lady, contrived to escape without purchasing anything—but it was a hard trial. The newest fashion is beautiful. Sets of precious stones of all colours, and even gold and diamonds intermixed—without the slightest order or regularity. The effect is charming, but the price is enormous.” Like a moth at a candle-flame Miss Mitford hovered about Hamlet’s once more and was, apparently, not philosophic enough to avoid the inevitable singeing, for in the next letter she confesses—“Alas! I boasted too soon about Hamlet’s, and was seduced into spending half-a-guinea on a ruby clasp,” a purchase which evidently gave her pleasure, for she wore this clasp on every possible occasion afterwards, and was always careful to see that it was fastened in position when she had her portrait painted.
Then there were more dinner-parties at the St. Quintin’s and at Dr. Harness’s, varied by visits to the Exhibition of Water Colours and to the Haymarket Theatre to see A Cure for the Heartache and The Critic.
“Yesterday we went to the play. Emery’s acting was delightful. The ‘gods’ were so vociferous for the second act of The Critic that the performers were obliged to cut off some of the exquisite dialogue in the first. What a delightful thing it would be to have a playhouse without galleries! These very people, who curtailed some of the finest writing in the English language, encored five stupid songs!”
Sunday afternoon found the party walking among the fashionables in Kensington Gardens, with the honour of an introduction to Lord Folkestone, “papa’s friend,” who was all affability. “The people absolutely stopped to look at him; and well they might; for, independent of his political exertions, the present race of young men are such a set of frights, that he, though not very handsome, might pass for an Apollo amongst them.”