The Beauty Of The Village E-Book

Mary Russell Mitford

• Herausgeber: Booksell-Verlag
• Kategorie: Lebensstil
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

In "The Beauty of the Village," Mary Russell Mitford invites readers into the picturesque English countryside, capturing the idyllic charm and rustic life of rural communities. Through her vivid and evocative prose, Mitford employs a blend of personal reflection and detailed observation, crafting a work that transcends mere descriptive narratives. The book is emblematic of the Romantic era, intertwining nature with human experience, showcasing her keen sensitivity to the nuances of village life while framing it against the backdrop of social change in early 19th-century England. Mitford, renowned for her deep affection for the English countryside, provides an authentic lens through which the reader can appreciate her subjects. Her upbringing in a village setting, coupled with her literary ambitions, imbued her writing with an authentic voice that resonates trustworthiness and intimacy. Drawing inspiration from her own experiences and the characters she encountered, Mitford'Äôs work reflects her understanding of both the beauty and struggles of rural existence, aiming to elevate the perspective of country life. Recommended for lovers of pastoral literature and those intrigued by the intersection of nature and narrative, "The Beauty of the Village" offers a poignant exploration of community and place. Mitford'Äôs eloquent portrayals and rich descriptions compel the reader to immerse themselves in the serene world she so lovingly depicts, making this a worthy addition to any literary collection.

Leseprobe

Mary Russell Mitford

The Beauty Of The Village

Published by Good Press, 2020

[email protected]

EAN 4064066106058

Table of Contents

Cover

Titlepage

Text

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Three years ago, Hannah Colson was, beyond all manner of dispute, the prettiest girl in Aberleigh. It was a rare union of face, form, complexion, and expression. Of that just height, which, although certainly tall, would yet hardly be called so, her figure united to its youthful roundness, and still more youthful lightness, an airy flexibility, a bounding grace, and when in repose, a gentle dignity, which alternately reminded one of a fawn bounding through the forest, or a swan at rest upon the lake. A sculptor would have modelled her for the youngest of the Graces; whilst a painter, caught by the bright colouring of that fair blooming face, the white forehead so vividly contrasted by the masses of dark curls, the jet-black eyebrows, and long rich eyelashes, which shaded her finely-cut grey eye, and the pearly teeth disclosed by the scarlet lips, whose every movement was an unconscious smile, would doubtless have selected her for the very goddess of youth. Beyond all question, Hannah Colson, at eighteen, was the beauty of Aberleigh, and, unfortunately, no inhabitant of that populous village was more thoroughly aware that she was so than the fair damsel herself.

Her late father, good Master Colson, had been all his life a respectable and flourishing master bricklayer in the place. Many a man with less pretensions to the title would call himself a builder now-a-days, or "by'r lady," an architect, and put forth a flaming card, vaunting his accomplishments in the mason's craft, his skill in plans and elevations, and his unparalleled dispatch and cheapness in carrying his designs into execution. But John Colson was no new-fangled personage. A plain honest tradesman was our bricklayer, and thoroughly of the old school; one who did his duty to his employers with punctual industry, who was never above his calling, a good son, a good brother, a good husband, and an excellent father, who trained up a large family in the way they should go, and never entered a public-house in his life.

The loss of this invaluable parent about three years before had been the only grief that Hannah Colson had known. But as her father, although loving her with the mixture of pride and fondness, which her remarkable beauty, her delightful gaiety, and the accident of her being by many years the youngest of his children, rendered natural, if not excusable, had yet been the only one about her, who had discernment to perceive, and authority to check her little ebullitions of vanity and self-will; she felt, as soon as the first natural tears were wiped away, that a restraint had been removed, and, scarcely knowing why, was too soon consoled for the greatest misfortune that could possibly have befallen one so dangerously gifted. Her mother was a kind, good, gentle woman, who having by necessity worked hard in the early part of her life, still continued the practice, partly from inclination, partly from a sense of duty, and partly from mere habit, and amongst her many excellent qualities had the Ailie Dinmont propensity of giving all her children their own way,* especially this the blooming cadette of the family: and her eldest brother, a bachelor—who, succeeding to his father's business, took his place as master of the house, retaining his surviving parent as its mistress, and his pretty sister as something between a plaything and a pet, both in their several ways seemed vying with each other as to which should most thoroughly humour and indulge the lovely creature whom nature had already done her best or her worst to spoil to their hands.