The great day, however, was Friday, June 24, 1814, when the members of the British and Foreign School Society dined together, at the Freemasons’ Tavern, on the occasion of their anniversary meeting. The Marquis of Lansdowne was in the chair, supported by the Dukes of Kent and Sussex, the Earls of Darnley and Eardley, and several other eminent persons. Miss Mitford and a party of friends were in the gallery “to hear splendid speeches and superlative poetry, and to see—but, alas! not to share—super-excellent eating.” Miss Mitford was always a great believer in, and supporter of all efforts which were made to facilitate the education of the people, and on this occasion her ode on The March of Mind, which she had specially composed for this event, was set to music and sung. “I did not believe my own ears when Lord Lansdowne, with his usual graceful eloquence, gave my health. I did not even believe it, when my old friend, the Duke of Kent, observing that Lord Lansdowne’s voice was not always strong enough to penetrate the depths of that immense assembly, reiterated it with stentorian lungs. Still less did I believe my ears when it was drunk with ‘three times three,’ a flourish of drums and trumpets from the Duke of Kent’s band, and the unanimous thundering and continued plaudits of five hundred people.... Everybody tells me such a compliment to a young untitled woman is absolutely unprecedented; and I am congratulated and be-praised by every soul who sees me.”
This London visit, in Miss Mitford’s twenty-seventh year, was an excellent piece of stage-management, and if it was due to the exertions of her father—and we may properly suppose it was—it stands as one achievement, at least, to his credit.
Home from these festivities, with the plaudits of the crowd and the congratulations of her friends still ringing in her ears, she had once again to face the problem of depleted coffers and how to set about the task of filling them. Each succeeding year there was trouble about the payment of taxes. “I do hope, my own dear love,” runs one of the letters, “that you returned to London yesterday, and that you have been actively employed to-day in getting money for the taxes. If not, you must set about it immediately, or the things will certainly be sold Monday or Tuesday. There is nothing but resolution and activity can make amends for the time that has been wasted at Bocking.” This last sentence alludes to the Doctor’s absence in Northumberland attending to the complicated money matters of a relative. Just previous to this Mrs. Mitford had written: “After sending off our letter to you, yesterday, Farmer Smith came to tell me what a piece of work the parish made with him about our unpaid rates. They have badgered him most unmercifully about sending a summons and compelling payment, but he is most unwilling to take any step that might be productive of uneasiness to you.... You will be astonished to hear that there is none of the farmers more outrageously violent than Mr. Taylor, who blusters and swears he will not pay his rates if they do not exact the immediate payment of yours.” The rates due at this time were for two years—£46 8s. in all, for which the Doctor had paid £10 on account.
Later on there is a promise of other, though similar trouble, in a letter to the Doctor addressed in great haste to him, and to three different localities, as they were not sure of his whereabouts. “I am sorry to tell you, my dearest father, that Mr. Riley’s clerk has just been here with a law-paper, utterly incomprehensible; but of which the intention is to inform you that, if the mortgage and interest be not paid before next Monday, a foreclosure and ejectment will immediately take place; indeed I am not sure whether this paper of jargon is not a sort of ejectment. We should have sent it to you but for the unfortunate circumstance of not knowing where you are. The clerk says you ought to write to Mr. Riley, and negotiate with him, and that if the interest had been paid, no trouble would have been given. Whether the interest will satisfy them now I cannot tell. No time must be lost in doing something, as next Monday some one will be put into possession.”
What a sorry plight the mother and daughter must have been in! No wonder that we read the daughter’s request for “a bottle of Russia Oil, to cure my grey locks.” And to make matters worse, there was pending a Chancery Suit in connection with the sale of Bertram House, which so soured the Doctor that he would have nothing done to the garden or grounds. The gravel was covered with moss, the turf lengthened into pasture, and the shrubberies into tangled thickets—a picture of desolation which only emphasized the misery of the financial outlook.
FOOTNOTES:
[17] Miss Mitford was wrong in this; Moore went to a cottage near Ashbourne, in Derbyshire.
CHAPTER XII
DWINDLING FORTUNES AND A GLEAM OF SUCCESS
Miss Mitford’s great and growing affection for the simple delights of the country is amply proved in some of the letters which she wrote to Sir William Elford during the years 1812-1815, and in the publication of her poems on Watlington Hill and Weston Grove. Of these two works Watlington Hill is, on the whole, in praise of coursing, although it also contains some fine descriptions of scenery which all who know the locality will recognize and appreciate. The piece was originally published as a separate poem and dedicated to “James Webb, Esq., and William Hayward, Esq.,” two coursing friends of her father’s, the last-named being the owner of the Watlington Farm which Dr. Mitford made his headquarters whenever a coursing meeting was in progress in the district. In this form it was published by A. J. Valpy, but later on was embodied in a volume entitled Dramatic Scenes, and published in 1827, by George B. Whittaker.
Weston Grove is a description of the place of that name, near Southampton Water, then the seat of William Chamberlayne, Esq., M.P.—another friend of the Mitfords—to whom the poem was inscribed. Neither of these works had a great sale.