Chapter V (2)

Well! Robinson refuses my labour'd Work. He has been at Bath and
Bristol, and cannot recover his health sufficiently to _enter
upon new engagements_: he is going to leave off business, and
cannot prevail upon himself to undertake so large a book, he
says. Did _you_ see or hear of him? Or did he pass any time at
Belvidere House? And does he undertake any _smaller_ works, I
wonder? _Lesser_ is a word I will not use, but it would gratify
me to know. I sent him a letter to put him in better spirits, if
possible, and better humour: for tho' I despair not of selling
my stuff, I shall hate hawking it about London, which will at
last be the case....

The incomparable Coterie you mention as loving and remembering
us with kindness, will make me rich amends in their society if
I can wind up my little matters, and come to Bath in Spring.
But here is a degree of scarcity and dearness, both present and
expected, that worries my Master and his House Book horribly....
Everything costs double, besides double Taxes, double necessity
of expence, and so forth. London will be much my terror indeed,
but I hope our stay will be a short one.

Oh! what would have become of my wretched nerves, had I been
in the Theatre that awfully impressive night? What would have
become of _your_ nerves? of dear Mrs. de Luc's? The tryal would
have been _too_ great. Susan and Sophy were there; so was Mr.
Gillon. It will go hard with the Traytor, I am told, if the Jury
do not find him guilty. The King's _Guardian Angel_ must appear
in _person_ to protect him next time, because it will be such
encouragement to the Jacobins to attempt his life, that nothing
_less_ can save him....

George Robinson, the "King of Booksellers," who had a villa at Streatham, was born in Cumberland, and coming to London in 1755, began his career in the house of Rivington. He set up for himself in Paternoster Row in 1764, and died in 1801. It is somewhat remarkable that Mrs. Piozzi's principles allowed her to patronize him, seeing that he had been fined, not many years before, for selling Tom Paine's _Rights of Man_.

The King was shot at in his box at Drury Lane on 15th May, but the assailant, James Hatfield, proved to be a lunatic, and the attempt had no political importance.

[_July 1800._]

... I am sorry Mr. and Mrs. Whalley are declining so; their
pretty cottage will be a shady retreat for them this hot
weather. We are roasting here on the sunny side of a high hill,
but never was such hay made before; 40 acres cut and carried
in 12 days is really curious, and without _one_ shower. Did
you observe the odd Phænomenon exhibited on Trinity Sunday in
the evening? It alarmed those who _did_ observe it, and our
Caernarvonshire and Anglesea neighbours, who understand not how
many tricks Electricity can play, were frighted to see the sun
apparently go _back_ when he set, no fewer than three diameters
of himself.

Mr. Lloyd of Wickwar, whom you have heard me mention as an
astronomer, and a man well known at Sir Joseph Banks's, etc.,
said it was a surprizing thing, and, for what he had observed,
wholly _new_: he attributed it to the state of atmosphere. The
same appearance was noticed likewise at Shrewsbury. _I saw it
not_; I was not looking....

What is this story of Harry Siddons? Is he really to marry Miss
Scott, the great fortune of the North? If he does, the Sun may
set in the _East_ if it will, without attracting our charming
Friend's attention I suppose, and no wonder. Miss Lees say
nothing, perhaps think the _more_. What a thing it would be!

My Book must go to the public market and take its chance in
October. Buonaparte will possibly finish it for me, and destroy
the Empire as he did the Papacy. Our Ministry keep feeding
Francis with money, for which he will sell, not his birthright,
like Esau, but all _except_ his birthright, and content himself
with the old Crowns of Bohemia and Hungary, resigning even the
name of King of the _Romans_ to those Gauls who invaded 'em
2000 years ago, and have never lost sight of a hope so late to
be accomplished as poor Rome's utter destruction. The sun may
well be seen to shew signs and wonders when such occurrences are
coming forward.

Meanwhile what say you to Bishop Horsley's denouncing the
_Schools_ of impiety and sedition? Did even our dear Dr.
Randolph think that London was so far advanced in wickedness? or
even Hannah More? It is truly dreadful....

Mr. Piozzi and I have been married now 16 years, and we are
used to keep our anniversary, but it happened at a perverse
time of y^e week and month this year. And so instead of feeding
the rich, we fed the poor, and every one of our 35 Haymakers
had a good noggin of soup, and a lump of beef in it, and a
suet dumpling; and they were like the people in The Deserter,
who sing--"Joy, joy to the Duchess wherever she goes." And
my Master's health was _sincerely_ drank, though not very
_copiously_: for bread and beer are yet considered as _luxuries_
in our poor skin and bone Country; while the Lords and Ladies
round the Capital are paying five guineas for a Peach, etc.,
and Daughters of Liverpool spend, in one entertainment, what
frighted all France when requested for a frolick of poor
Antoinette,--Daughter of the Cæsars.

Well! Mr. Piozzi has gone to a little--not a very
little--expense, in repairing old Bach-y-graig for the new
tenant. Our neighbours advised him to tumble the venerable ruin
quite down, and build a snug farmhouse with the materials; but
he would not. And so, poking about, we found some very curious
bricks with stories on them, composed in 1500, and one large
one with Catherine de Berayne's arms, derived from Charlemagne.
'Twas she whose husband built y^e house, you know, (Sir Richard
Clough--_see Pennant_;) and being descended immediately from
fair Catherine of France, whom Shakespear makes us familiar
with, and who married Owen Tudor after her first husband's
death, heroic Harry the Vth, drew her descent by the Mother's
side from Charlemagne. I have set her achievement in front now,
and a stone to say the Mansion was repaired and beautified
by Gabriel Piozzi Esq. in the year 1800. It will last to the
World's end now, I believe.

The dear little boy whom you used to love has spent his vacation
time at Streatham again. He will, I hope, be wiser in proportion
as he is less happy, and less spoiled: _safer_ he certainly is,
and we hear a good character of his scholarship....

The report of Henry Siddons' engagement to Miss Scott seems to have been mere gossip, as he married Miss Murray in 1802.

The account of the surrender of his titles by the Emperor Francis also seems to have been somewhat premature. He proclaimed himself hereditary Emperor of Austria in 1804, and it was not till 1806, after the formation of the Confederation of the Rhine, that he formally resigned the imperial crown, and so brought to a close the Holy Roman Empire, founded by Charlemagne, and the Kingdom of Germany. Bonaparte, however, had anticipated his resignation, and had himself appointed Emperor by decree of the Senate in 1804.

_From a drawing by J. Hooper, 1776_]

Samuel Horsley, Bishop successively of St. David's, Rochester, and St. Asaph, was the great opponent of Priestly and the Unitarians, against whom several of his charges were directed.

Pennant's account of the home of Mrs. Piozzi's ancestors runs thus (_Tour in Wales_, vol. ii. p. 22). "In the bottom [of the Clwyd Valley] lies, half buried in the woods, the singular house of Bachegraig. It consists of a mansion, and three sides, enclosing a square court. The first consists of a vast hall and parlour; the rest of it rises into six wonderful stories, including the cupola, and forms from the second floor the figure of a pyramid: the rooms small and inconvenient. The bricks are admirable, and appear to have been made in Holland; and the model of the house was probably brought from Flanders, where this species of building was not unfrequent. The country people say that it was built by the Devil in one night, and that the Architect still preserves an apartment in it; but Sir Richard Clough, an eminent merchant of Queen Elizabeth's reign, seems to have a better title to the honour. The initials of his name are in iron on the front, with the date 1567, and on the gateway that of 1569." It is stated in _Piozziana_ that the vane bore the date 1537. An account of Sir Richard Clough and Catherine of Berayne has been given in the Introduction, to which the reader is referred.

BRYNBELLA, _Sat. night, 6 or 7 of Sept. 1800_.

Dear Mrs. Pennington's eyes yet serve her, I find, to write the
very charmingest letters in the world, and Dr. Randolph is of
the same opinion; that to the travellers was admirable, and my
own, just received, most excellent. They left Wales yesterday,
and have carried ugly weather home with them; but I hope and
_think_ that the bright sun illuminated their last glimpse of
Denbighshire, from the heights round romantic Llangollen. I
never saw people so well, or so happy, or so good humoured, on
a journey where inconveniences must necessarily arise, such as
would teize many tempers accustomed to _home life_....

What the meaning can be of _bread rising_ is past my power to
divine. Wheat falls, and grass grows, and these rains have put
out the fires which injured the hilly grounds. Nothing is truer
than your observation on men's counteracting Providence in all
they can, but of late times some permission seems to have been
given them that it _should be_ counteracted. Victory bestows
honour on our arms, but produces no good to our nation. Plenty
creates no peace, and opulence no wealth among us: I cannot
fathom it. We seem upon the eve of a general pacification thro'
all Europe, but I scarce expect _quiet_ in _any_ Country,
much less our own, to be the consequence of such extensive
treaties....

Poor dear Jane Holman complains of the Greatheeds that they were
_too fine_ to visit her in London. She is recovering from her
severe illness, and will, I hope, be happy, though the world
was all _displeased_ at her connection. Mrs. Siddons will have
a cruel loss if her husband dies, though he was no professed
wit, nor beau, nor _Damon_, and tho' I doubt me much if he was
even the _very prudent_ man folks take him for. Yet will he be a
loss, and "_Seldom comes a better_" is no bad proverb. Her son
was expected to make his fortune among the fair at one time,
but I now hear no more on't.

Mrs. Wynne, Cecilia's Mother-in-law, is come home to Wales
ten years younger than she left it, and infinitely handsomer
of course. I do not think that will be _my_ case when I leave
home next; but selling my Book advantageously will, I suppose,
heighten my _bloom_. We must have _things as they are_, as
Baretti used to say, when he threw ill at Backgammon. My
Master's capital health must keep mine up. I never saw _him_ in
better looks, and Mrs. Randolph will tell you how smart he has
made old Bach-y-graig, the name of which they both forgot, I'm
sure, before two miles were past; and Lord Mountjoy only saw
Lleweny.

Whenever Lady Hesketh crosses your walks, say to her how much I
respect her, and how glad I feel that the sweet little Princess
is to be happy in virtuous and wise attendants on her infancy,
Lady Elgin and Miss Hunt.

"Never harm, nor spell, nor charm
Will come _that_ Faery's pillow nigh,
While _they_ sing her lullaby."

Brynbella is _the fashion_. We have people coming to take views
from it, and travellers out of number,--_Tourists_, as the silly
word is. Miss Thrales are among the Lakes, I believe these are
modish places now for summer, as for winter modish _Streets_.
Comical enough! Yet the general face of things must be confessed
very gloomy, though Stocks rise, and _that_ comforts many who
look superficially, or never _look at all_ beyond Finsbury
Square and Hyde Park Corner. My fear is lest Mr. Pitt may be one
of those: if such the case, _he_ will be _amazed_ whenever the
evil moment comes, which would only give grief, not amaze, yours

H. L. P.

John, fourth Earl of Bute, son of the Minister, was made Viscount Mountjoy, Earl of Windsor, and Marquess of Bute in 1796.

The Lady Hesketh here mentioned seems to have been Harriet, daughter and coheir of Ashley Cowper, who married Thomas Hesketh of Rufford, afterwards created a Baronet. She was the cousin and favourite correspondent of Cowper the poet, and died at Clifton 1807. Lady Elgin, the other attendant of the little Princess of Wales, was the wife of Thomas the seventh Earl, best known as the collector of the Elgin Marbles.

The prospect of a general peace proved fallacious. After the battle of Marengo in June, operations were suspended by the armistice of Alessandria, but peace was not concluded, and Austria, urged on by England, recommenced hostilities at the end of the year.

STREATHAM PARK, _6 Nov. 1800_.

Dear Mrs. Pennington will like a letter with this date, though
it tells her nothing except that we are not at home here; it
is however exceedingly difficult for us to find that truth out
from our good Tenant's behaviour to us, or that of his servants.
They are all wonderfully kind and civil, and I fancy we shall
go on as we _have_ done; nothing is as yet finally settled, but
we have every pleasing expectation in _prospect_. _Retrospect_
is already disposed of, and you will be pleased that 'tis
launched from a good aristocratic House. How does Col. Barry
excuse himself _to_ himself, I wonder, for his so long and so
wide deviation from the train of opinions he seemed as if well
rooted in, when we were first acquainted? An agreeable talker is
a great loss to the good cause, and I shall be happier when you
tell me that he is tired of the bad one.

We have been but once in Town yet, and that for two hours only,
one spent with Stockdale, and one with Siddons, who is lean and
nerve-shaken, but lovely as ever, and was preparing to shine in
Elvira the evening of our visit. Her husband walked in with his
two sticks, and chatted chearfully; her eldest daughter appeared
to _me_ in high health and spirits, and Miss Lee, who was there,
made a good report of the youngest....

We live among the Commercial men here, not the professed wits,
yet more love and esteem for literature it would be hard to
find. Perhaps familiarity, even with _that_, lessens regard.
Here has Mr. Giles laid out a Thousand Pounds (no less,) in
books for our Library; and Mr. Gillon grieves when a second-hand
Shakespear slips from his hand at an auction for want of courage
to give beyond 20 Guineas for it. Who says money is not plenty?
Truth is England contains more money than meat just now, I mean
in proportion, but corn is coming in, and rice, from every
quarter of the world; and I hope people will forbear to fly out,
and increase their own distresses. The Coachman will get them
through every bog, and safely by every precipice, I think, if
they will but let the _check-string_ alone, and not hinder him
from saving them and _himself_, who runs _more_ than an equal
risque with all of us, and is in haste to find the carriage
clear of embarrassments as _we_ are. If we believe our eyes, all
will be well; if our ears, all will be dismal. Offers of peace
are talked of, and no wonder. France is afraid of being driven
from Egypt, whence she means to fright our East India Company,
if incapable to injure it. I hate their insidious offers,
resembling those magical deceptions we used to talk about,
where a friendly hand appeared as if presenting a nosegay, but
no sooner was it reached at than a dagger started forward in
its place. Remember that all our journey has been thro' loyal
places; Sir Rich. Hill's fine seat, Lord Bradford's, and the old
abiding place of virtue and learning, Oxford.

Two days the first of these sweet scenes delay'd us, and Mr.
Piozzi clambered thro' the Grotto. Three days were given to
the hospitalities and comforts of Weston Park, and Mr. Gray
was unwilling to let me leave _their_ curiosities unexamined;
so kept us three days more among the Museums etc. of far fam'd
Rhedycina....

Will it raise your spirits to hear that I expect release early
in January? After business must come pleasure, and for that
_our_ eyes turn naturally to Bath. Till then a Hotel and Tavern
must be dear Mr. Piozzi's residence, in order to accommodate his
wife by living close to the Bookseller's, who assures us that if
we will come to Jermyn Street and mind our work closely, it may
be launched with the New Year, and 8 weeks of confinement finish
all. Wish it success kind Friend, and make Miss Powell and Mr.
Pennington--ay and good Mother too,--drink a glass to the health
of the two Quarto Vols. you saw advertised this morning under
the name of your

H. L. P.

Though Stockdale's publications may have had aristocratic tendencies, the publisher himself was of humble origin and rough manners. Like Robinson he was a Cumberland man, and is reputed to have been originally a blacksmith. In London he worked his way up from the position of a publisher's porter to that of the head of a successful business. It may have been a recommendation to Mrs. Piozzi that he had printed, and partly edited, Dr. Johnson's works.

Hawkestone, near Shrewsbury, was the seat of Sir Richard Hill, Bart., M.P. for Salop, who was the elder brother of the Rev. Rowland Hill, the celebrated preacher. Lord Bradford's seat was Weston Park, near Shifnall. Its then owner was Orlando (Bridgeman), Baron, and afterwards Earl of Bradford.

Mrs. Piozzi's cicerone at Oxford was, in all probability, the Rev. Robert Gray, D.D., of St. Mary Hall, Bampton Lecturer in 1796, who was afterwards Prebendary of Durham, and appointed Bishop of Bristol in 1827.

STREATHAM PARK, _Monday Morng._ Dec. (8) 1800.

(Franked "E. Russell.")

I received, my dear Friend, your melancholy letter, and am sorry
to agree with you in that croaking duet which we have long kept
up together, both by letter and conversation. Things do go on
very shiningly, and even brilliantly, but like the ice-island
you liked so in my book, there is an unseen thaw below, and we
shall topple over when 'tis least expected. Be perswaded however
of England's _comparative_ happiness. Every other nation suffers
more than we do, more than perhaps the deepest croaker amongst
us gives him leave to apprehend; and so singular is the state
of Europe just now, that sudden peace would accelerate the ruin
of France, of Germany, of Russia, and of the Britannic Islands.
The first would then be repaid her ravages over poor dear Italy,
by seeing her own hungry and desperate plunderers come home
clamourous for rewards they never can receive, and food which
the neglected lands could not produce for them. The second
would inevitably split into divisions productive of certain
annihilation to the _Empire_, leaving Francis King only in
Hungary, Bohemia, etc.; while Russia, left the theatre of Paul's
caprices, would heat itself into rebellion soon, and throw the
North of Europe into confusions much worse than those consequent
on the present war. Great Britain would feel herself restrained
in her commerce, cut off from power of adding to that wealth for
which she is now envy'd by all mankind. Nor could cessation of
hostilities benefit any of the belligerent powers, except Rome
and Turkey: and they, poor things! fated to fall, and falling,
expiate their predecessor's crimes and follies, continue to
foment those troubles to which, whoever conquers, they are sure
to be the destined victims. I think you recollect Mr. Lanzoni;
his accounts of Italian distress, public and private, would half
break your heart....

Dear Siddons' story is a tragical one, but the ending has been
happy, she will now, I flatter myself, be no more tormented.
[Having undergone a painful operation] she is now thin as a
lath, and light as air, but safe, as every body thinks. Her
behaviour--angelic creature--was on _this_ tryal as on _all_ her
tryals, exemplary; firm but unostentatious. Sir James said she
was a _real_ Heroine, and no Actress on the occasion.

Lysons called at the Hotel, and got me a sight of some
manuscripts kept in the British Museum, which I wanted for my
work; but he is gone to Bath now. The work is coming quick to a
conclusion, and will have a print of the Authour on its first
page. My heart delights not in the notion of being Bookseller
so, as well as Book_maker_; but one cannot have all as one
likes, and I hope people will _buy away_. Those friends who
mean to serve me _in earnest_ write to Stockdale even now,
desiring to be "put down for an early copy." I shall _present_
you with one, but do canvass your rich friends, and get them to
purchase for honour, and for profit's sake, and all. The darling
Randolphs have done me all possible kindness in that way, so
has Mr. Chappelow; and Stockdale shows his numerous _orders_ as
nest-eggs or decoys....

Meanwhile Miss Thrales drove thro' London to Brighton, the seat
of gayety till Town revels commence. We dined together, and
parted at the lodgings of the Show Woman called a Nyctalope or
Albina, with red eyes like a white Rabbet, very curious!...

The prospect of sudden peace was the result of further French successes. Moreau and Ney had beaten the Austrians at Hohenlinden on 2nd December and an armistice was signed at Steyer ceding the fortresses of the Tyrol, &c. Another was signed in Italy, as the result of further victories there, ceding the North Italian ports. And when Murat threatened Naples, a third armistice, closing the Neapolitan ports to England, practically ended the war.

STREATHAM PARK, _Sat. 10 Jan. 1801_.

My dear Mrs. Pennington's two charming letters waited my arrival
at old Streatham Park, whence a variety of things detained us,
but people are certainly never so busy as when they have nothing
at all to do. My Book, once written, was not a bit more off my
hands, for Stockdale and I are partners in the property, and if
he is an honest man--so much the better for your H. L. P.

Of all active, and diligent, and highly successful friends, the
first must be acknowledged to wear the name of John Gillon. That
extraordinary man brought a list of private orders from people
of his own particular acquaintance to our _business dinner_ upon
New Year's day, and the list took away Stockdale's breath,--much
more _mine_. It consisted of 80 gentlemen, to which ten have
been added since. Not content with _that_, he made a little
feast for drinking success to it at the London Tavern, and set
the people all wild for _Retrospection_. This is good news, is
not it? And the consequence will be great, for I shall expect
a letter before the first of February to say that the first
edition is wholly run off. That day will probably rise on us at
Bath, if my Master keeps clear of Gout, and our plans are not
broken in upon by vexations unforseen....

Things are never as good as one is led to hope, but they are
seldom as bad as we are impelled to fear. The bread is at its
dearest, the Enemy is arrived at its utmost pitch of insolence.
France is less dangerous to Britain, altho' more formidable to
other countries, than she has been. Buonaparte will not long
outlive the peace, let him make it how and when he pleases. No
Buonaparte _can_ satisfy _his troops_ when they return into the
bosom of their native country, pamper'd by promises, and flushed
with conquest. A furious outbreak at Paris must necessarily
ensue, and you may rely on my prediction being verified.

Pretty Siddons told me about Hannah More, but I never
understood the merits of the cause clearly till your letter
explained it; my [heart] grieves lest it should affect her
health. Our charming friend in Great Marlborough Street has
never been so free from complaint since I have known her; and
her appearance in the character of Constance transcends all
which the stage ever shew'd _me_. The dress is so _appropriate_,
and so _becoming_, that its first impression is prodigious,
and would be disadvantageous to one who could not keep up the
interest it excites. Kemble seems much out of health this
winter, and has a _slowness_ upon his manner which I do not
like; but the public is in high good humour with him....

Adieu, dear Friend, send me another pretty kind letter, and a
_true_ account of what people say to my Book....

Hannah More's trouble arose through a Sunday school which she had opened at Blagdon in 1795, at the request of Bere, the curate, who soon afterwards complained that the master she had appointed was holding a Conventicle. This was stopped, but fresh complaints in 1800 led to an inquiry by the Chancellor and Rector, and Hannah closed the school in November. The Rector, however, thinking his curate had been too officious, tried to dismiss him, and the school was reopened in January 1801. But the curate declined to resign, and the school was again closed. When a new Bishop (Beadon) was appointed to Bath and Wells, Hannah applied to him for direction, and obtained his sympathy and support: and so after she had been, as she said, "battered, hacked, scalped, and tomahawked for three years," the unedifying controversy came to an end.

_Wensday Night_, READING, _21 Jan. 1801_.

We are coming, dear Mrs. Pennington, as your good husband says,
but very tardily, and much like the journey of Catherine and
Petruchio; so dirty are the ways, and so many our crosses,
when travelling with Rat and Mole driven by a sick coachman,
who makes himself a little more sick at every stage by doing
more than he is able, and by crying lest we should at length
be provoked to leave him on the road. He is in no danger, poor
soul! Mr. Piozzi has just sent him our chicken broth, and we
wait here a day for Miss Allen to go kiss her father and mother,
an errand so few folks want to go upon.... I think the beds will
be _aired_ at least, for never were so many people crowding from
one city to another as now from Bath to London.

How it rejoyces my heart to hear you _really like the book_!
and that Miss Jane Powell approves of the contrasted character
visible in those excellent Roman Emperors. The other volume will
be most read, and the 19th chapter of _that_ will perhaps be
most liked. I will correct the typographical errors in _your_
book with my own hand, if you will bring it with you to Bath....
Stockdale was hurrying to drive out a new edition before we
left London, and I was forced to _hold him in_. We shall hear
all _our_ faults, and the printer's too, when the Reviews make
their appearance.... Charming Hannah More will tranquillize her
mind soon, and only dislike the Established Church a _little_
more than usual, for this ill-timed bustle some individuals have
made against one of the most valuable members of Society. For as
Dr. Johnson says of Watts,--Such she was that every Christian
Communion must have been proud of her.

Do not fear the Northern combination: we can hurt _those_
fellows more than they can hurt us. And as to a French invasion,
it was, in my mind, never less likely, nor ever less to be
feared. That Europe is running to ruin I see plain enough, and
we must go after the rest, but it will be _after_ a good many of
them are gone, I think....

The combination of the Northern Powers, Russia, Sweden, and Denmark, organised by the Emperor Paul against England, was the result of the irritation caused by our insisting on the right to search even neutral vessels for enemies' goods; but was soon broken up by the battle of Copenhagen and the death of Paul.

[_P.M._ BATH] _31 Jan. 1801_.

My dear Mrs. Pennington's is indeed a dismal letter, and our
Master is truly sorry, and so am I. The amusement I get at Bath,
when without your conversation, is feeling myself benefited by
these darling waters, and hearing the Circulating Library men
say that the book sells very well. Stockdale tells me of praises
bestowed on it by the Briton, Times, and Porcupine, but I have
never seen any....

Miss Jane Powell must be left, I think, to cut out her own
happiness. She is very sensible, and very charming, but you may
remember that Dr. Johnson says in his tale of The Fountains,
"You may be lovely, but 'tis not a necessary consequence that
you should therefore be beloved." We must hope she will not
fling so much merit and beauty away: but if she does, let us
remember she could not have been happy _without_ changing her
mode of life; and those who enter on family cares now, have
need of strong affection on one side or the other, to support
them thro' so rough a journey as what is left of life's road is
likely to afford them. The people who are _indifferent_ now are
truly unwise to marry.

We shall look to your _coming home_ for much chat on all
subjects, and principally the book which has so long plagued your

H. L. P.

[_P.M._ BATH] _Tuesday, 10 Feb. 1801_.

... To your enquiries how things are going here, my reply is,
_never so bad_. Fish, flesh, and fowl, all are double price,
and tho' we live as retired as 'tis possible, the little red
book you remember of marketing expences goes on worse and worse.
Even Laura Chapel is raised one third, and the journey hither
cost double what it used to do. These are facts. It is equally
true indeed, that the waters do my health good, but 'tis a heavy
charge, _this same health_, upon one's husband, though _he_ may
not _say_ or even _think_ so. Bachelors live at immense costs
however. Mr. Roach or Roche told us yesterday that he and his
son paid £200 for 5 weeks eating and sleeping at York House:
his servants at board wages all the while. Tea alone stood them
in six shillings o' day. Fine times! And Mrs. Mores, our next
neighbours, tell me Mr. Pitt has already quitted the helm, and
old Britannia is left to weather the storm how she can, without
pilot, rudder, or compass; and tow a troublesome sister after
her besides. God send her safe to port! He only can....

My own book, though much diffused, and rapidly sold, has not yet
brought me a _shilling_, and it was upon that I fully depended
for our reimbursement of these few weeks' charges here in Bath.
_Six_ only of those weeks yet remain: some of them I still
flatter myself we shall still pass together....

After the union with Ireland, Pitt had become convinced that it was necessary to carry a measure of Catholic Emancipation; but as the King felt scruples about breaking, as he believed, his Coronation Oath, by giving his assent to such a Bill, Pitt resigned, much to George's distress, and was succeeded by Addington.

BRYNBELLA, _5 April, 1801_.

My dear Mrs. Pennington will be delighted to hear that we are
got home safe, in spite of my _nose_, which is restor'd to its
original size, colour, and shape: having transmitted all ill
humour to the shoulder, more fit for carriage of a burden so
oppressive.

Some heaviness has reached my heart tho', and some weight hangs
on my spirits. The first intelligence that struck us upon the
very confines of our Principality, smiling as it seemed with
hope of future plenty, was the death of a friend. You have,
I am sure, heard me mention as an agreeable acquaintance and
excellent preacher, a Mr. John Mostyn, Curate of Denbigh. He
_perished_, it seems, poor soul, in the hard weather which
succeeded that day on which we dined with Dr. Randolph, walking
home from his Father's house to his own:--perish'd of _cold_!
and was buried in drifts of snow,--

How sunk his soul!
What black despair! What horrors fill'd his heart,
When round him night resistless closing fast,
And o'er his inmost vitals creeping cold,
Lay'd him on the wild Heath a stiffen'd corpse,
Far from the track and blest abode of Man.

[Thompson.]

These verses have almost haunted me ever since; so has his
figure, chearful and gay, not 38 years old. But we will change
the subject and the side of paper.

Tell dearest Siddons, when you see her, that _her_ picture was
the first thing we unpacked, and _her_ handkerchief the finest
thing I appeared in while at Bath: the _only_ thing I shall wear
here till--till what? I can't answer that question.

Poor Harriet Lee's lowness, the day we dined at Mrs. Stratton's,
affected everybody present, and she ran home, unable to bear
company. Can you tell whether the conversation of approving, nay
_admiring_ friends, has been yet able to reconcile her to past
vexations, for they scarce can be accounted calamities.

We have contagion even at St. Asaph, but 'tis occasioned by want
of wholesome food. When the plenty I still predict shall once
arrive, there will be no distemper but _ill-humour_. Meanwhile
some cause for _that_ does doubtless exist, when the ports are
filled with grain, and the poor perishing of hunger. Our Bishop,
detained in London by illness, is much wanted, and we came home
too late to save our old favourite labourer, Edward Davies, who
expired eight hours before our arrival; saying that if we made
haste he _yet_ should live, because we should send him something
_nice_ from our own _plates_, as we did when he was sick once
before. When _such_ things present themselves to one's mind,
how vain must be the hope of Reviewers and Critics to draw it
on their empty abuse! I would there were no worse afflictions
to lament than those created by buzzers and stingers like
_them_. Nevertheless _pray_ tell me how Hannah More supports
_her_ torrent of scurrility. She was a kind soul, and came to
see us for five minutes before we got into the Chaise at Laura
Place, looking very well, thank God! apparently not worse for
her long illness and confinement. Her sister is _too_ right tho'
concerning the general distress for _victuals_....

I carry this letter with me to S. Asaph Cathedral, Easter
Sunday, and put it in the Post Office there after service. The
Ladies at Llangollen enquired much for you. They have more news
and more stories than one could dream of. Their _best_ however
is concerning their own old Maid Mary, from whose character one
would think Sophia Lee had pourtray'd that of Connor in her tale
of the Two Emilys. Mary, seeing her Ladies' eyes fix'd, one fine
night lately, upon the stars, said to Miss Ponsonby, "Ah! Madam,
you once showed me a fine sight in the heavens, the Belt of
_O'Bryan_; but I suppose we shall see it no more now, since the
_Union_." To this nothing, sure, can be added.

(_P.M._ DENBIGH), _26 Apr. 1801_.

What a letter! What a pleasure to have such a Correspondent! You
really can scarce imagine, my dear Friend, how completely your
kind Frank-full set before my eyes the scenes I was so wishing
to have witness'd. Peace and plenty are coming, and dear Dr.
Randolph's first sermon after the Victory at Copenhaguen, must
have given a foretaste of all the felicities in their train to
his enraptur'd auditors, I doubt not.

The effect of national fervour and national happiness upon Sweet
Siddons charmed me; and it was so nicely accompanied too by her
maternal exultation. The child in your account had suffered
scarce anything from y^e alarming symptoms which so frighted the
whole house of Belvidere....

Why, you have had a nice Holyday time indeed! And _you_,
like the dear King, will recover by dint of good news. My
rheumatism has mended ever since you said how Mr. Whalley liked
Retrospection, and a kind letter from Mr. Gray, saying it was
well thought of at Oxford, made me throw off a little fur
tippet, which, till to-day's _post_, I wore to ward off these
early winds. Ods Blushes and Blooms! The poor Cherry trees have
dropt their pretty flow'rs in one night. A sturdy Pear tree or
two resist all Northern Combinations against _them_: but Peaches
and Nectarines we shall have none of this Summer, content to
see wheat falling, Stocks rising, and damaged Rice coming in by
shiploads to feed _those Pigs_ which my friends on the South
Parade so talked of.

Meantime it was well done of the wise and good men to go out and
harangue the rioters; they will go underground again now, and
give their instigators _fresh_ trouble to find _fresh_ arguments
to set them on _fresh_ mischief _in due time_. Well! God save
great George our King! While he lives many a Laurel bush will
be used to decorate our doors.... By the time this reaches your
Hot Wells, good accounts may possibly arrive from Egypt. The
death of Paul will sit _heavy on the soul_ of Abdallah Menou,
like the Ghost in Shakespeare's Richard, and _fall his edgeless
sword_.[16] May he _but_ hear that news before the battle,
_I'll_ answer for its success.

[16] _Rich. III_, V. iii, 135.

Great credit ought really to be given to that amiable creature,
the Duchess of York, for being able to make everybody love
_her_, while they naturally and necessarily abhor her brother.
And it was pretty of her husband to cry at the tragedy: they
very seldom _do_ cry.

When you write tell me how Sotherby's play went off; our
Newspaper never names the Theatre, so Mrs. Siddons's name
reaches me only through your letters. When our Bishop returns
I shall get free'd covers, and write oftener, for the sake of
goading your pen to an answer.... With regard to Mr. Pennington,
he hardly _can_ come to any real harm. The complaints of gouty
men are sure to end, however they may begin, in a fit of Gout;
and _better_ assurance of long life is granted to no living
mortal. He will quarrel with the man, and vex about the maid,
and they will leave him, and then he will get others;--all will
lead _uneasy_ lives, but no lives will be shorten'd, except
_your own_, by fretting concerning what can neither be helped
nor mended....

Success had attended English efforts abroad in more than one direction. The Northern Confederation having adopted an attitude of "armed neutrality," and laid an embargo on British goods, a fleet was sent to Copenhagen under Sir Hyde Parker, with Nelson as second in command. The latter grew impatient of the cautious tactics of his chief, and his daring attack on the Danish forts and fleet on April 1, resulted in the capture of the latter, and the detachment of Denmark from the League. In Russia the assassination of the Emperor Paul on March 24 (which Buonaparte in the _Moniteur_ ascribed to the machinations of England) placed Alexander on the throne, who at once reversed his predecessor's policy, and so the Confederation collapsed. In Egypt General Menou had succeeded Kleber in command of the French army, which was unable to prevent the landing of Sir Ralph Abercromby's expedition on March 2: and though the English General fell at the battle of Alexandria, that city and Cairo fell into our hands, and it became evident that the French could not maintain their hold on the country.

The shock of Pitt's resignation, and the prospect of Roman Catholic emancipation, had again unhinged the King's mind. But the attack was a brief one, and by March 14 he was sufficiently recovered to accept the formal resignation of his ministers.

Frederick, Duke of York, had married in 1791 Frederica, Princess Royal of Prussia, a state whose partitions of Poland and timid attitude of neutrality to France during two reigns, were not calculated to render its rulers popular in England.

BRYNBELLA, _22 May 1801_.

My dear and valued Friend now receives a letter of _business_
from Brynbella. The trunk with all our clothes, books,
papers,--_everything_,--which Hodgkins saw booked ... upon the
22d of March, is never arrived yet, and this is the 22d of May.
I have heard of it just now, though, and in an odd manner. A man
who says he signs for some Mr. Lye, the date, Bristol, tells me
it is gone by sea to Liverpool. What madness! It was meant for
_Chester Waggon_, the old conveyance by which Mr. Wiltshire has
regularly sent it these three years. Could you be kind enough to
enquire about it?...

And now do, dear Friend, find me out another thing. We are told
Miss Thrale is at Bath for her _health_; and the idea keeps me
very uneasy, the more as she never writes. _You saw_ the last
letter I ever received from any of them. I dare say Dr. Parry
is her Physician, and you could know from _him_, without any
immediate enquiry as if _I_ wished to hear, which she would
consider as if intrusive and inquisitive, and would _say_ it was
affectation....

Let us thank God for the happy change in public affairs at
least, peace and plenty are not far off.

From Egypt old Rome in the days of Domitian
To make her tyrannical Emperor smile,
Fresh roses brought over, for Winter provision,
That bloom'd on the Tyber as once on the Nile.

But bold Abercrombie, whom Britons confide in,
_His Flora_ sent home with far different spoil;
The invincible army of Frenchmen deriding,
Their standards he seiz'd on the banks of the Nile.

Thus end the exploits of renown'd Buonaparte,
Who fell upon Egypt with force and with guile,
Throwing dust in the eyes of each Mussulman hearty,
Dust pregnant with plagues on the banks of the Nile.

Of warriors ill-fated if England must tell soon,
Her losses, though deep, she'll repair in a while;
With Moore, Smith, and Berry, Ball, Trowbridge, and Nelson,
A hero we'll count for each mouth of the Nile.

Mr. Pennington will see an allusion to an Epigram of Martial[17]
in the first stanza; but never mind, 'tis a good Ballad to roar
at a club, and the tune, Rural Felicity, or Ellen o' Roon. But
what fellows those old Romans were after all!! Fetching (as they
actually did) Oysters from England and Roses from Egypt for one
winter evening's entertainment....

[17] Martial, _Epig._ vi. 80: Ad Cæsarem de rosis hibernis.