1786-1855
[Sidenote: S. C. Hall’s _Memories of Great Men_.]
“I certainly was disappointed when a stout little lady, tightened
up in a shawl, rolled into the parlour of Newman Street, and Mrs.
Holland announced her as Miss Mitford; her short petticoats showing
wonderfully stout leather boots, her shawl _bundled_ on, and a little
black coal-scuttle bonnet--when bonnets were expanding--added to the
effect of her natural shortness and rotundity; but her manner was that
of a cordial country gentlewoman; the pressure of her ‘fat’ little
hands (for she extended both) was warm; her eyes, both soft and bright,
looked kindly and frankly into mine; and her pretty rosy mouth dimpled
with smiles that were always sweet and friendly.... She was always
pleasant to look at, and had her face not been cast in so broad--so
‘out-spread’--a mould, she would have been handsome; even with that
disadvantage, if her figure had been tall enough to carry her head with
dignity, she would have been so; but she was most vexatiously ‘dumpy.’
Miss Landon ‘hit off’ her appearance when she whispered, the first time
she saw her (and it was at our house), ‘Sancho Panza in petticoats!’
but when Miss Mitford spoke, the awkward effect vanished,--her pleasant
voice, her beaming eyes and smiles, made you forget the wide expanse of
face; and the roley-poley figure, when seated, did not appear really
short.”--1828.
[Sidenote: James Payn’s _Literary Recollections_.]
“I can never forget the little figure rolled up in two chairs in the
little Swallowfield room, packed round with books up to the ceiling, on
to the floor--the little figure with clothes on of course, but of no
recognised or recognisable pattern; and somewhere out of the upper end
of the heap, gleaming under a great deep, globular brow, two such eyes
as I never, perhaps, saw in any other Englishwoman--though I believe
she must have had French blood in her veins, to breed such eyes, and
such a tongue, for the beautiful speech which came out of that ugly (it
was that) face, and the glitter and depth too of the eyes, like live
coals--perfectly honest the while, both lips and eyes--these seemed to
me to be attributes of the highest French, or rather Gallic, not of the
highest English, woman. In any case, she was a triumph of mind over
matter, of spirit over flesh, which gave the lie to all materialism,
and puts Professor Bain out of court--at least out of court with those
who use fair induction about the men and women whom they meet and
know.”--About 1851.
[Sidenote: James Payn’s _Literary Recollections_.]
“I seem to see the dear little old lady now, looking like a venerable
fairy, with bright sparkling eyes, a clear, incisive voice, and a
laugh that carried you away with it. I never saw a woman with such an
enjoyment of--I was about to say a joke, but the word is too coarse
for her--of a pleasantry. She was the warmest of friends, and with all
her love of fun never alluded to their weaknesses.... I well remember
our first interview. I expected to find the authoress of _Our Village_
in a most picturesque residence, overgrown with honeysuckle and roses,
and set in an old-fashioned garden. Her little cottage at Swallowfield,
near Reading, did not answer this picture at all. It was a cottage,
but not a pretty one, placed where three roads met, with only a piece
of green before it. But if the dwelling disappointed me, the owner did
not. I was ushered upstairs (for at that time, crippled by rheumatism,
she was unable to leave her room) into a small apartment, lined with
books from floor to ceiling, and fragrant with flowers; its tenant
rose from her arm-chair with difficulty, but with a sunny smile and
a charming manner bade me welcome. My father had been an old friend
of hers, and she spoke of my home and belongings as only a woman can
speak of such things. Then we plunged, _in medias res_, into men and
books.”--1852.