A Cyclopaedia of Female Biography/Mitford, Mary Russell
MITFORD, MARY RUSSELL,
Was born on the 16th. of December, 1786, at Alresford, in Hampshire. Her father was of an old Northumberland family, one of the Mitfords of Mitford Castle; her mother the only daughter of the Rev. Dr. Russell, of Ash, in Hampshire, and she was their only child. When still a young girl, about the year 1806, Miss Mitford published a volume of miscellaneous poems, and two volumes of narrative poetry after the manner of Scott, "Christina the Maid of the South Seas," (founded upon the story of the mutineers of the Bounty, afterwards taken up by Lord Byron;) and "Blanche, a Spanish Story." These books sold well and obtained a fair share of popularity, and some of them were reprinted in America. However, Miss Mitford herself was not satisfied with them, and for several of the following years devoted herself to reading instead of writing; indeed it is doubtful whether she would ever have written again had not she, with her parents, been reduced from the high affluence to which they were born, to comparative poverty. Filial affection induced her to resume the pen she had so long thrown aside, and accordingly she wrote the series of papers which afterwards formed the first volume of "Our Village, Sketches of Rural Character and Scenery." about 1820. But so little was the peculiar and original excellence of her descriptions understood at first, that, after being rejected by the more important publications, they at last saw the 'light in the "Lady's Magazine." The public were not long in discovering the beauties of a style so fresh yet so finished, and in appreciating the delicate humour and the simple pathos of these tales; and the result was, that the popularity of these sketches outgrew that of the works of a loftier order from the same pen; and every nook and comer of the cluster of cottages around Three-Mile-Cross, near Reading, in Berkshire, (in one of which the authoress herself resided,) is as well known as the streets and lanes around the reader's own home. Four other volumes of sketches were afterwards added; the fifth, and last, in 1832. Extending her observation from the country village to the market-town, Miss Mitford published another interesting volume of descriptions, entitled "Belford Regis." She edited three volumes, called "Stories of American Life by American Writers." She also published a volume of "Country Stories;" a volume of "Dramatic Scenes;" an opera called "Sadak and Kalasrade," and four tragedies, the first entitled "Julian," which was represented at the great London Theatre in 1823, Mr. Macready played Julian. Her next was "Foscari;" then "Rienzi" and "Charles the First;" all were successful. "Rienzi," in particular, long continued a favourite. She also edited four volumes of "Finden's Tableaux,' and contributed many articles, both prose and poetical, to other annuals and magazines. An edition of her dramatic works was published in two volumes, in 1854; and shortly before this her last tale "Atherton," a pleasant story told with all the freshness and love of nature which characterizes her earlier sketches of country life, although the author's physical powers were then so greatly impaired as to render any enjoyment of the external beauties of nature impossible.
Miss Mitford died at Swallowfield Cottage. near Reading, which her writings have made a classic spot, in 1855, she being then her her sixty-ninth year.
The following extract from a note written to a friend a short time before her death, will serve to show the cheerfulness and beautiful serenity of her mind during the closing hours of her career, which had been one of no little trouble and suffering: "I take for granted that you know my afflictions; but God is very merciful—He has left unwithered my intellect and my affections, and, at this very moment, I am sitting at the open window, inhaling the sweet summer air; ajar of beautiful roses on the windowsill within-side; a perfect sheaf of fresh-gathered meadow-sweet, sending in its almondy fragrance from without; and although too much sunken in the chair to look down on my little flower-beds, 1 have the blue sky, the green trees, and the distant harvest-fields for a prospect. There is consolation here—the best consolation, next to the goodness of God, is the beauty of nature."