always depend upon the uprightness, the courage, the self-denial of
those who made no protestations. At that time loud talking was
still the fashion, and loud living was considered romantic. They
both exist among us, but they are less admired, and there is a
different language spoken now to that of Dr. Mitford and his
school.* This must account for some of Miss Mitford's judgments of
what she calls a 'cynical' generation, to which she did little
justice.

*People nowadays are more ready to laugh than to admire when they
hear the lions bray; for mewing and bleating, the taste, I fear, is
on the increase.

II.

There is one penalty people pay for being authors, which is that
from cultivating vivid impressions and mental pictures they are apt
to take fancies too seriously and to mistake them for reality. In
story-telling this is well enough, and it interferes with nobody;
but in real history, and in one's own history most of all, this
faculty is apt to raise up bogies and nightmares along one's path;
and while one is fighting imaginary demons, the good things and true
are passed by unnoticed, the best realities of life are sometimes
overlooked. . . .

But after all, Mary Russell Mitford, who spent most of her time
gathering figs off thistles and making the best of her difficult
circumstances, suffered less than many people do from the influence
of imaginary things.