A NORTHERN TOUR
In the autumn of the year 1806 Mary Mitford, then eighteen years of
age, was taken by her father for a tour in the north of England with a
view of introducing her to his relations in Northumberland. The head of
the family was Mitford of Mitford Castle, a fine old Saxon edifice that
stands on high ground above the river Wansbeck at a point where two
fords meet, and from which circumstance the name Mid-ford is derived.
Miss Mitford speaks in her _Recollections_ of “the massive ruins of the
castle” as “the common ancestral home of our race and name,” and tells
us “of the wild and daring Wansbeck almost girdling it as a moat.”
The castle is about two miles distant from Morpeth, and there is a
quaint rhyme still current in the north-country which runs as follows:—
“Midford was Midford ere Morpeth was ane, And still shall be Midford
when Morpeth is gane.”
At the time of the Norman Conquest it appears that the castle and
barony were in the possession of a certain Robert de Mitford, whose
only child and heiress was a daughter named Sibella. This daughter was
given in marriage by the Conqueror to one of his knights—Sir Robert
Bertram—who had fought in the battle of Hastings. It seems that there
is a curious entry respecting this same knight in a contemporary
document written in Norman French to the effect that Sir Robert Bertram
_estoít tort_ (crooked). One would like to know if the Saxon maid was
happy with her deformed husband, but the old chronicles are of course
silent on that subject.[3]
[Footnote 3: See _Memories_, by Lord Redesdale, K.C.B., published 1915.]
It was on the 20th day of September (1806) that Mary Mitford, together
with her father and her father’s cousin, Mr. Nathaniel Ogle, who
possessed an estate in Northumberland, started upon their northern
tour. They travelled to London by stage-coach, but performed the rest
of their journey in Mr. Ogle’s private carriage. Having changed horses
at Waltham Cross and again at Wade’s Mill, they halted at Royston for
the first night, and then, continuing their journey with various other
haltings, reached Little Harle Tower in Northumberland a few days
later.
Little Harle Tower, which stands in a romantic glen through which the
Wansbeck flows, was to be the headquarters of the Mitfords during their
tour. It was the property of Lord and Lady Charles Murray Aynsley,
Lord Charles having taken the name of Aynsley on account of a large
property left to his wife by a relative of that name. He was a son of
the Duchess of Athol. Perhaps the reader may remember his appearance in
an early chapter of this work as a very bashful young man. Lady Charles
was a first cousin of Dr. Mitford’s.
Mary writes to her mother from Little Harle Tower on September 28th: “I
imagine Papa has told you all our plans, which are extremely pleasant.
Lord and Lady Charles stay longer in the country on purpose to receive
us, and have put off their visit to Alnwick Castle that they may take
us there, as well as to Lord Grey’s, Colonel Beaumont’s and half a
dozen other places.... The post, which _never_ goes oftener than
three times a week from hence, will not allow our writing again till
Wednesday, when we go to Sir William Lorraine’s, and hope to get a
frank from Colonel Beaumont whom we are to meet there.”
This was Mary Mitford’s first introduction into what is called high
society, and the simplicity of her ordinary life made her specially
enjoy her new experiences.
The Beaumonts were people of large property, and Mary describes the
wonderful attire of Mrs. Beaumont, who appeared at the Lorraines’
dinner-party (although it was supposed to be a small informal
gathering) in a lavender satin dress covered with Mechlin lace, and
whose jewels consisted of amethysts of priceless value forming a
waist-belt, a bandeau, a tiara, armlets, bracelets, etc. etc. to match.
Lady Lorraine’s dress was quite different. “Her ladyship is a small,
delicate woman,” writes Mary, “and she wore a plain cambric gown and
a small chip hat, without any sort of ornament either on her head or
neck.”
Mary made mental notes concerning many of her new acquaintance. She
describes a certain Mr. M. as “an oddity from affectation.” “And I
often think,” she adds, “that no young man affects singularity when he
can distinguish himself by something better.”
Writing from Kirkley, Mr. Ogle’s property, on October 8th, Mary says:
“We go to-morrow to Alnwick and return the same night. I will write you
a long account of our stately visit when I return to Morpeth.”
Alnwick Castle was at that time the abode of the Dowager Duchess of
Athol, the mother of Lord Charles Murray Aynsley. This same Duchess was
also (in her own right) Baroness Strange and Lady of Man. Her husband,
the third Duke of Athol, had died some thirty years before, and ever
since his death she seems to have enjoyed a position of ever-increasing
power and authority.
“To-morrow,” writes Mary, “is expected to be a very full day at the
Castle on account of the Sessions Ball. The ladies—the married ones I
mean—go in court dresses without hoops, and display their diamonds and
finery upon the occasion.”
Mary had to make her preparations accordingly. “You would have been
greatly amused,” she writes, “at my having my hair cut by Lord
Charles’s _frisseur_, who is by occupation a joiner, and actually
attended me with an apron covered with glue and a rule in his hand
instead of scissors.
“Thursday morning we rose early. I wore my ball dress, and Lady C.
lent me a beautiful necklace of Scotch pebbles very elegantly set,
with brooches and ornaments to match. My dress was never the least
discomposed during the whole day, though we travelled thirty miles
of dreadful roads to the Castle. Lord Charles’s horses had been sent
on to Framlington (eighteen miles) the day before, and we took four
post horses from Cambo to that place. We set out at eleven and reached
Framlington by two.... We passed Netherwitten ... and Sworland, the
magnificent seat of the famous Alexander Davison. I had likewise a good
view of the beautiful Roadly Craggs, by which the road passes, and
likewise over some of the moors.
“The entrance to Alnwick Castle is extremely striking. After passing
through three massive gateways you alight and enter a most magnificent
hall, lined with servants, who repeat your name to those stationed on
the stairs; these again re-echo the sound from one to the other, till
you find yourself in a most sumptuous drawing-room of great size and,
as I should imagine, forty feet in height. This is at least rather
formidable, but the sweetness of the Duchess soon did away every
impression but that of admiration. We arrived first, and Lady Charles
introduced me with particular distinction to the whole family; and
during the whole day I was never for one instant unaccompanied by
one of the charming Lady Percys, and principally by Lady Emily, the
youngest and most beautiful.
“We sat down sixty-five to dinner.... The dinner of course was served
on plate, and the middle of the table was decorated by a sumptuous
_plateau_. I met Sir Charles Monck, my cousin of Mitford, and several
people I had known at Little Harle. After dinner when the Duchess
found Lady Charles absolutely refused to stay all night, she resolved
at least that I should see the Castle, and sent Lady Emily to show me
the library, chapel, state bedrooms, etc., and, thinking I was fond
of dancing, she persuaded Lady C. to go for an hour with herself and
family to the Sessions Ball, which was held that night.
“The Duchess is still a most lovely woman, and dresses with particular
elegance. She wore a helmet of diamonds. The young ladies were
elegantly dressed in white and gold. The news of Lord Percy’s election
arrived after dinner.
“At nine we went to the ball given in the town, and the room was so
bad and the heat so excessive that I determined, considering the long
journey we had to take, not to dance, and refused my cousin Mitford
of Mitford, Mr. Selby, Mr. Alder, and half a dozen whose names I have
forgotten. At half-past ten we took leave of the Duchess and her
amiable daughters and commenced our journey homeward....
“We went on very quietly for some time when we suddenly discovered that
we had come about six miles out of our way.... This so much delayed us
that it was near seven o’clock in the morning before we reached home
[Morpeth]. Seventy miles, a splendid dinner and a ball all in one day!
Was not this a spirited expedition?”
Mary was well placed for enjoyment during this tour. “My cousins,”
she writes in later life, “were acquainted, as it seemed to me, with
everyone of consequence in the county, and were themselves two of the
most popular persons it contained, [so] as the young relative and
companion of this amiable couple, I saw the country and its inhabitants
to great advantage.”
Mary mentions two younger sisters of Lady Charles—Mary and Charlotte
Mitford—cousins of whom she became fond. They often accompanied the
travellers in their visiting tours, as did also the Aynsleys’ only son,
whom she speaks of as her father’s “dear godson, and the finest boy you
ever saw.”
Writing from Morpeth, where her father’s uncle, old Mr. Mitford, and
her cousins lived, she speaks of a plan for a tour in the northern
part of the county arranged by Sir Charles and Lady Aynsley for her
entertainment. “When I go back to Little Harle,” she says, “we shall
set out for Admiral Roddam’s upon the Cheviot Hills, Lord Tankerville’s
and Lord Grey’s.... I am so happy in this opportunity of seeing the
Cheviot Hills.” The tour proved a very pleasant and interesting one.
The party travelled in a coach and four, the road sometimes taking
them across the summit of the Cheviots and “above the clouds.”
They visited Fallerton and Simonsburn and also Hexham—her father’s
birthplace—finally halting at Alnwick.
At this time Mary was put into an awkward position by her father
suddenly quitting her and returning in all haste to Reading in order to
further the Parliamentary election of Mr. Shaw Lefevre, thus cancelling
all his engagements with their relatives and friends. She wrote to urge
his return, and finally he did so on the 3rd November, and towards the
end of the month both father and daughter returned home.
Late in life, recording the various events of her tour in the north,
Mary writes: “Years many and changeful have gone by since I trod those
northern braes; they at whose side I stood lie under the green sod;
yet still as I read of the Tyne or of the Wansbeck the bright rivers
sparkle before me, as if I had walked beside them but yesterday. I
still seem to stand with my dear father under the grey walls of that
grand old abbey church at Hexham whilst he points to the haunts of his
boyhood. Bright river Wansbeck! How many pleasant memories I owe to thy
mere name!”