Chapter III (1)

Miss Weston marries Wm. Pennington, 1792--Execution of
Louis XVI--Reconciliation of Mrs. Piozzi and her daughters,
1793--Irish Rebellion--"British Synonymy"--Fleming's
prophecies--Cecilia's flirtations--Residence at Denbigh,
1794--Building of Brynbella.

By the time the next letter was written Miss Weston had become Mrs. Pennington, and had taken up her abode at the Hot Wells, in a house in Dowry Square. It points to a serious estrangement between Mrs. Siddons and her husband, though nothing is said as to the cause. Mr. Siddons, like Mr. Thrale, seems to have been reserved, and somewhat lacking in sympathy for, if not actually jealous of, his brilliant wife; but so far as one can judge, his conduct as a husband was outwardly quite correct, and even exemplary.

Mrs. Piozzi's Commonplace Book, now in the possession of Mr. Broadley, contains a note on Count Andriani, whom she describes as "a Milanese nobleman, a bold dashing fellow, who went up in an air-balloon about 1781-2, when such exploits were rare." She goes on to relate how his outspoken preference for Killarney as compared with Loch Lomond offended Helen Williams, who, though born in London, chose to consider Scotland her native country, on the strength of having been brought up at Berwick-on-Tweed.

My dear sweet friend rates my little tokens of goodwill too
high.... But let us talk of nothing but _your_ happiness, and
_my_ comfort in the thought of it. Dear Mr. Pennington is
already sensible of your worth, and will be more so, when he
knows you as I do! He has won all our hearts here, and his
charming wife will do the same with his friends wherever they
are....

Poor Siddons pities my very soul to see her: an indignant
melancholy sits on her fine face, and care corrodes her very
vitals, I do think. God only can comfort her, and His grace
alone support her, for she is all resentment; and that beauty,
fame, and fortune she has now so long posess'd, add to her
misery, not take from it. I am sincerely afflicted for her
suffering virtue, never did I see a purer mind, but it is
now sullied by the thoughts that she has washed her hands in
innocence in vain! How shall I do to endure the sight of her
odious husband? I suppose he comes to-morrow.

STREATHAM PARK, _Thursday, 10 Jan. 1793_.

Who is silent and sullen _now_ of these two scribbling Mrs.
P.P.'s? not Mrs. Piozzi, sure. No, nor her poor Husband, who,
tho' now laid up with the gout worse than ever I knew him,
thinks of you often, and added a Postscript to my last letter
with the Ballad in it. Oh, but the Church and King Ballad is a
great deal better than mine; 'tis really a sweet copy of verses,
and _you_ will cry over it. Enquire and get it to read. I doubt
not of its being the production of some very capital hand.

Our Master is too bad to be diverted by anything: 50 hours has
that unhappy Mortal lain on an actual rack of torment, nor ever
dozed once except for 7 or 8 minutes, not ten. 'Tis truly a
dismal life, and Mrs. Siddons has called home Sally, and Mr.
Davies is making holyday at Brighthelmston, and there is nobody
to make out Whist with good old Mr. Jones. I just had a peep of
the Lees and Greatheeds, it was however _but_ a peep. We went to
Town one night and saw Euphrasia, and caught a cold which Piozzi
attributes to the Kanquroo, etc., that we carried the children
to look at next morning. "Ah! those Ferocious Beasts are been my
Ruin" quoth he....

Marquis Trotti writes from Vienna, where he is retired, like
Isabinda in The Wonder, to avoid matrimony, as the Italians here
tell me; and they fancy him attached to Miss Hamilton, who, they
say, is highly accomplished, tho' plain, and a prodigiously well
known and admired authour. When we talk of people's affairs, I
hope and suppose we always make just such wise assertions, for
who at last _really_ knows the affairs and thoughts of another?
You are however ignorant of nothing belonging to _my_ family
concerns, you'll say; 'tis true; but one reason may be there is
nothing I wish to conceal. We have no money for Bath this year,
Brynbella drains all away; and Cecy prefers a week's flash in
London to a month at Bath, she says. And she perhaps knows why
better than she will tell to you, or to yours ever,

H. L. P.

Say you are alive, and well, and happy, and tell Mr. Pennington
how much we all wish him so. Adieu! My Master's bell rings, I
run. Farewell.

By "Euphrasia" she probably meant to designate Murphy's play, usually known as _The Grecian Daughter_, in which the heroine Euphrasia, daughter of Evander, saves her father's life in prison by suckling him. In her reference to Isabinda she seems to have suffered from a momentary (and unusual) lapse of memory. The name of the heroine in _The Wonder_, otherwise _A Woman keeps a Secret_, by Mrs. Centlivre, is Isabella; Isabinda is a character in _The Busybody_, by the same writer.

The Miss Hamilton here referred to seems to have been Eliza, sister of Captain Charles Hamilton, a member of the Woodhall family, who was living in London shortly before this date; but her most successful work, the _Letters of a Hindoo Rajah_, was not published till 1796.

Mr. Broadley's collection contains a letter written this year to Mrs. Piozzi by Harriet Lee, which shows that the latter had not quite banished Trotti from her thoughts, though she does profess her determination to live and die an old maid. "Should you have any letter from Vienna,--and I know not why, but am disposed to believe you have had the last,--pray be so good as to ask in your answer whether he knows anything of the fate of Gen. de Paoli, and if he is really dead. You may, if you please, add that I begg'd you to make the enquiry."

Just at this time Mrs. Pennington fell ill, and Mrs. Piozzi writes an anxious letter of enquiry, but of no particular interest, to her husband on 14th January; but by the time it reached him, the invalid was sufficiently recovered to answer for herself.

STREATHAM PARK, _17 Jan. 1793_.

Oh what pleasure did the sight of your handwriting give us all,
my ever kind, my ever partial friend! Poor Mr. Piozzi really
suffered for you in the midst of his own pains, and they have
been great and serious. He is now just trying to crawl, and that
very miserably indeed, and his hands, etc., so entirely useless
for a whole week he could not even use the pocket handkerchief
for himself. Are not you very sorry? 'Tis my fear that it will
be long before he can ever play the Pastorale, etc.

Here is bitter weather too, and that retards both his and your
recovery, and sweet Siddons has relapsed, and Sally is with
her, as bad as bad can be, and Pepys attending them both. I'm
told London has a violent Influenza in it, and will keep my
Miss out while I can, but one's arms do so ache with pulling at
an unbroken Filly that longs to hurt herself by skipping into
some mischief or other, that, like the old Vicar in Goldsmith's
Novel, I get weary of being wise, and resolve to see people once
happy in almost any way.

Meantime Harriet Lee quits London, after making me only one
pityful visit or two. I gave her the elegant verses called a
Ballad for Church and King, she may copy them for you; I fancy
them written by Bishop Porteous, without knowing very well
why. Poor Louis' fate was decided on last Monday, but we know
not yet what that fate is. Your anecdote is very interesting,
I shall read it to all the Democrates. Meantime 'tis supposed
that a plague is begun in Austria. Long live the Turnep Cart,
say you. If things go on so rapidly I shall become a list'ner.
The King of Naples has really behaved very paltrily, and poor
Pius Sextus is forced to solicit help from his excluded and
excommunicated brother Martin at last. I suppose we shall send
a fleet into the Mediterranean for protection of Italy; they
will all be contented to see us pay the expence of a war they
have not spirit to fight for themselves. Fye on 'em all! _Tutti
Compagni_, says yours,

H. L. P.

Dr. Beilby Porteous was now Bishop of London, to which see he had been translated from Chester in 1787. He had a greater reputation as a preacher than as an author, but was said to have had some share in Hannah More's _Cœlebs in Search of a Wife_.

Hugues Basseville, an envoy of the French Republic, having been murdered at the foot of Trajan's Column in Rome on 13th January, Pius VI was charged with complicity, and so was driven in self-defence to join the League of the Germanic States against France. Martin, as typifying the Lutherans, is as old as Dryden's _Hind and Panther_, and stands for Luther himself in Swift's _Tale of a Tub_, but Mrs. Piozzi probably had in her mind its use by Dr. Arbuthnot in his _History of John Bull_.

Ferdinand I, King of Naples, was at first disposed to sympathise with the Revolution, but the execution of Louis drove him to join the league of Austria and England against the Republic.

STREATHAM PARK, _24 Jan. 1793_.

MY DEAR FRIEND,--It _is_ very vexatious that we cannot
come to Bath this year, and I am excessively grieved at it for a
thousand reasons....

I _hope_ we shall make a point of showing our attachment
to Royalty and Loyalty by wearing black for the poor King
of France, whose murder is meant only as prelude to still
more extensive ruin and destruction of all things most dear
and sacred in the eyes of Christian and civilised nations:
destruction to the Arts, the Altar, and the Throne. Have you
seen the large spot upon the Sun's disk, discernible to a naked
eye, and large as a button on a man's coat? None was ever seen
without a telescope till now; and last Sunday, when London's
caliginous atmosphere had stript old Titan of his rays, and
render'd his face as you have often seen it, red and round,
like a piece of iron heated in the fire, a considerable crowd
gathered about St. Paul's, and viewed the phenomenon distinctly.
So at least Mr. Greatheed informed us, who was himself among the
starers....

Piozzi continues immovable; he says "I advance towards recovery
indeed like the Lobsters--I go backward. Tell so to Mrs.
Pennington." You see I have not changed his mode of expression.
Sweet Siddons has been here to careen and refit after her
terrible cold. She returns to duty this moment, and carries this
letter to the Post Office, only waiting while I assure you of
the continued affection of your ever faithful and affect^e

H. L. P.

Mr. Pennington's turn came next; for it appears that an attack of gout had prevented his directing some special entertainment, perhaps in the nature of a benefit, at the Hot Wells.

STREATHAM PARK, _30 Jan. 1793_.

Poor, dear, kind Mrs. Pennington!

I am glad and sorry and all in a breath from what your letter
tells me: had we been at Bath, matters would have gone just the
same....

Why does not that hapless Queen of France dye of grief at
once, and spare Frenchmen the crime of murdering an Emperor
of Austria's daughter, whom they have already reduced to the
disgrace of begging a black gown of his murderers, to wear for
her Consort's death? I never heard anything so horrible as the
account of the King's execution, and I fear there is no war
to be made upon the wretches neither. Mrs. Mackay gives us to
understand that Rome is ripe for rebellion, and Ireland is half
under arms. All private concerns seem lost in public amazement
somehow. But dear Miss Owen's brother has got a large windfall,
it seems, by his crazy cousin of Porkington's burning himself to
death, airing his shirt: and that nasty Mr. Stone, that we all
hate so, is come away from France; I'm glad of that too....

Marquis Trotti is safe at Vienna. I want a letter from him
concerning the plot there. Mrs. Siddons is in her business,
and Sally with her; Maria coming home. Major Semple was one
of the active men, I find, at Louis XVI's execution. His wife
returns to England with her little flock, on pretence of broils
in France, but I suppose in order to avoid her husband. I have
read the 5th edition of Village Politics, but I had seen another
thing written before that, called Liberty and Equality, prettier
still in the same way, and fancy it the production of Mr. Graves
of Claverton. 'Tis in his style, and very interesting and very
clever indeed....

James George Semple wrote his autobiography in Tothill Fields Prison in 1790, from which it appears that his wife was a daughter of Elizabeth, the "amazing" Duchess of Kingston, that he had served in America and on the Continent, and being then on General Berruyer's staff, had witnessed the execution of Louis XVI. But this was the more respectable side of his career, against which must be set the fact that he had found it convenient on certain occasions to pass under four or five different aliases, and that he had been twice sentenced for fraud, and once to transportation, which he narrowly escaped. So his wife may have had good reasons for putting the Channel between them.

"Village Politics, by Will Chip," was the work of Hannah More, published in 1792, which was thought so highly of that it was distributed gratis, not only by patriotic societies, but even by the Government. The proceeds of its sale enabled her to begin her series of Cheap Repository Tracts. The Rev. Richard Graves, who held the living of Claverton, near Bath, till he was nearly ninety, had been a prolific writer of poetry, but was best known as the author of a novel, _The Spiritual Quixote_.

_By G. Clent after Sir Thos. Lawrence_]

Maria, the second daughter of Mrs. Siddons, now about fourteen years old, had been educated at a boarding-school in Calais. She, like her sister Sally, was beautiful but delicate, and was carried off by consumption a few years later.

_Thursday, 7 Feb. 1793._

And so your kind heart beats still for those helpless ladies
in the prison at Paris: so does Mr. Piozzi's; he cannot rest
for thinking on the accounts (I hope greatly exaggerated,) of
insults offered to their persons,--the _young_ Princess Royal's
in particular. Can such things be, and no lightning fall yet?
The Sun may well hide his head....

Dear, charming Siddons goes on as usual, and another fair
daughter is come home to give her something more to do; and
an old Tragedy, written ages ago by Mr. Murphy, is coming out
at last, a mythological play of the dark days, Theseus and
Adriadne, and _that_ old ware. I guess not how it will be liked.
Meantime we hear no more news than you do. You know that the
King and Nation cry War! War! glorious War! while Opposition
longs for Peace and dull Delay, and an Ambassador to the
Fish-women of Paris. _You_ know that Mr. Grey would not wear
black for the King of France; and _you_ know the story of the
Dauphin running out and crying "I'll go, and beg, and kneel to
them to send home my Papa alive"; and the brutal centinel
catching up the child, and thrusting him in with "Get back,
you troublesome Bastard, he's no Papa of yours." The insulted
Sovreign only said "_Too much! too much!_" and stept into the
coach. This anecdote from _Mr. Ray_, who had it in a private
letter from a friend at Paris: I call that good authority.
_Everyone_ knows he rode _backward_ in the coach: two impudent
Officers of the National Guard sitting in the front seat; and
how oddly they must feel the while, methinks! Well! if we live
we shall see some signal vengeance overtake these gallants, that
I do believe; and in the meantime war is hourly expected by
all, desired by the Court no doubt, and wished for by the bulk
of mankind in general. It will be good sport for Naples, Spain,
etc., to see France humbled, and England impoverished, and their
dastardly selves sitting snug; but I believe Holland will be
lost if we don't stir, _and those things must not be_. Dumourier
has promised to plant his tree in Amsterdam on the 17th, and
none but ourselves can hinder it. Venice has been overflowed
with a high tide, so has Rotterdam; "the sea and the waves
roaring, men's hearts failing them for fear, and for looking on
those things that shall come upon the earth." What says dear Mr.
Whalley? Miss More has written very sweetly, and is applauded by
all the world for her nice Village Politics. 'Tis more read than
that little Pamphlet _I_ like so, called Liberty and Equality;
but the more of those things go about the better; if one misses,
another may hit. _My_ stuff will please perhaps: I sent a sheet
to the Crown and Anchor for distribution this morning,--a
threepenny touch, but you shall not be told till you find out
which is mine. Mr. Greatheed being asked which side Mrs. Piozzi
was of quickened my zeal. I hope it cannot be ever asked again.

Farewell, dear Friend; wish my rheumatism well,--if it is
rheumatism, I take James' Analeptic Pills for it, they cannot
hurt me, and while I remain above ground, most gratefully and
affectionately shall I ever be yours,

H. L. P.

The "old Tragedy" was that of the _Rival Sisters_, written in 1786, but not acted till 18th March 1793, when it was staged for the benefit of Mrs. Siddons, who took the part of Ariadne. Its author had in his own life played many parts, having at one time or other been a bank clerk, an actor, an author, a barrister, and a commissioner in bankruptcy. He was an old friend of Thrale, who was indebted to him for the introduction of Johnson to his circle; and about this time he was the means of making the Piozzis acquainted with Samuel Rogers the poet.

Though Mrs. Piozzi does not seem aware of it, the French had declared war on England on 1st February; but just then the Republic was more engaged on the regeneration of Holland by means of the army of Dumouriez, which, after the defeat of the Austrians, had occupied Belgium.

LONDON, _12 Mar. 1793_.

Do not despond so, dear Friend, all will be well. I saw Mr.
Parsons lately, who was full of your praise, and said how that
conduct which always did please the World, now pleased it more.

Public matters have at length taken the wished for turn, and
France must soon be humbled. No longer will our worthless
Democrates boast the friendship of a _powerful_ and _victorious_
Republic, as they called her: she will be tatter'd and torne in
pieces now very soon, I doubt not.

Meantime here are we, _amusing_ ourselves, and the weeks _do_
fly so heavily, compared with what I find them in the Country,
while Flo barks, and the Parrot takes him off. Well! but I
really have neither been sullen nor sick. I have covered Cecy
with finery, and sate up till morning at every place without
repining, while she was diverted, I hope. Drummond took no
notice of her at the only Public Place we saw him at, so I
trust that foolery is finished, and nine days more shall see
me counting my Poultry, and kissing my _Canes_ at home, where
Spring pours out all her sweets to tempt us back, and there will
I finish this letter.

STREATHAM PARK THEN, _20 Mar. 1793_.

Here we are again, and in new characters somehow, or else old
ones revived. Last Saturday, at Mr. Jones's, Piozzi received a
Billet from Miss Thrale, requesting to see him next morning. He
attended her summons while I went to Church, and heard, at my
return, her intention of coming to see me the day following,
_at my own hour_, with her Sisters. I appointed 12, and she
promised for the other Ladies and herself. My Master saw only
the _eldest_, but our good hospitable Landlord, rejoicing in
this new and strange event, (which gives every one's curiosity
an air of _tender interest_ that it would be ill manners in me
to repress,) spread his finest tablecloths, and invited them
to _breakfast at ten_, an hour they appear'd eagerly to catch
at, and coming to their appointment, sate down with us and Mr.
Rich'd Greatheed, and Baron Dillon, who came in by chance; while
each, _thinking_ I trust on everything else in the world, agreed
to _converse_ only on popular topics. Susanna felt nervous,
however, and left the room with Cecy for a moment, but Miss
Thrale and I stood our ground admirably, and I beg'd Mr. Rich^d
Greatheed to tell dear Siddons how well (like Rosalind,) I had
_counterfeited_. Night carried me to _her_ Benefit, and Company
crowded round all day, so that my spirits were so oddly kept
afloat that, upon my honest word, I have never been _sleepy_
since Saturday that Piozzi received the letter, and this is
Wednesday morning.

Well! we returned the visit, and invited the Ladies here on
Easter Monday to _Dinner_. All the Town would buy _tickets_ I'm
sure, with pleasure, could they procure 'em, and pass through
danger itself willingly, _to see the sight_. I told my Master
it would have been best to take the little Theatre, and give
them the whole show at once. Nothing does revolt me so as that
true British spirit of tearing out every private transaction for
public discussion and amusement: it makes one's feelings appear
affected if indulged, and annihilated if they are repressed. But
this luxurious Nation longs to learn what cannot be known, and
see what its own very light renders incapable of being clearly
discerned. For when they _have_ stared in our _faces_ on such an
occasion, how much do they find out of our _hearts_?

Farewell! and do write to me: I can talk of nothing but _this_,
and will talk no more about that, so Adieu, and love your true
friend

H. L. PIOZZI.

_Easter Tuesday._

My dear Mrs. Pennington has often seen people talked into
misery, 'tis the way now to talk me into happiness; but I am
content to be happy the way other people please, and I am sure
_they are right_. I returned the visit I told you of next
day, and they all din'd and supped here last _Monday_,--oh!
yesterday--after an interval of fourteen days, in which I saw
nothing of them. However all is vastly well, they are contented
to take me up, as they set me down, without alledging a reason;
and I am contented to be taken and left by _them_ without
reasoning on the matter at all. We had a brilliant day, with
feast, and dance, and song, and broke not up till four o'clock
in the morning. Our elastic house pulled out to embrace _them_,
and the Hamiltons, kind and sweet, the Greatheeds, Miss Owen,
dear old Mr. Jones, and all the Siddons family. One of my
delights was to see Cecilia dancing with Mr. Richard Greatheed,
who, when he felt her pulse at Guy's Cliffe, I feared would
never have made Allemande with her. Everybody seemed pleased
however, and we all _were_ pleased. Our acquaintance will
henceforth be theirs, and things will shake naturally into their
proper places. Nothing could exceed the kindness of our common
friends, except my sensibility of it. The Girls seemed less shy
of Mr. Piozzi than of me, comical enough! But he is _so_ good,
and _so_ attentive to them! How you would love him! And public
concerns were prohibited the conversation, so Mr. Greatheed was
quite charming. The dear Broadheads could not come, their uncle
is dead, and has disinherited them, leaving £50,000 to a little
Currier's boy, who as I say will jump out of his _skin_ for joy
I suppose, while they fret as I once did on a like occasion....

The reconciliation thus unexpectedly brought about was perhaps a little too formal to be permanent, being the result of policy rather than affection. The daughters seem to have inherited a large share of their father's cold and reserved nature, and never to have been sufficiently in sympathy with their mother to understand her impulsive disposition. There was never any open rupture, but as causes of friction arose, chiefly in connection with business matters, they drifted gradually apart; more rapidly after Piozzi's death, when his widow found another and more absorbing interest in the career of their adopted son. She, on her side, does not appear to have made any sustained effort to keep in touch with them, and at the close of her life she was almost a stranger to her own children, who seldom wrote--she mentions Lady Keith's "annual letter" on 1st January 1818--and never visited her at Bath.

STREATHAM PARK, _21 Apr. 1793_.

I am truly sorry, dear Friend, that things go no better, but
'tis a sad world, and so we always knew it was: kind Piozzi is
quite grieved for Mr. Pennington's long continued illness.

Joe George, the sick labourer, was turning the earth over
this morning among the clumps, and saw me feeding your black
cock;--"And pray, Madam" (said he,) "what is become of Miss
Weston? I never see her now,--and so good she was!" "Didn't
you know, George, that Miss Weston was married, and lived
at Bristol?" "No, Madam, because they never tell poor folks
anything,--and I am as glad as the best of them, and I'll drink
her health." You may guess how the dialogue ended.

We are to dine in Town and meet charming Siddons at Mr.
Greatheed's on Fryday next; our own Ladies too--alias
Titmice--will be there. Nothing serves them but fagging me
out, that we may show ourselves together _in public_, Susanna
says; so out I march, and do not laugh nor cry, though under
perpetual temptations to both, for why did we not always do so?
or what has happened to make us do so _now_? My comprehension
reaches not these wonders. Cecilia thinks 'tis a merry life,
and when she is in a calm, as mine Hostess Quickly says by Doll
Tearsheet, she is _sick_.[9]

[9] "An they be once in a calm, they are sick."--_2 Henry IV_, II.
iv. 40.

Drummond follows us about with his baffled countenance, making
my words good, who told him the Girl would never be nearer
marrying him than she was that day, when I had the honour of
predicting how I should see them pass each other in public,
saying to their separate parties, "That's the man who was
troublesome to me,"--and "That's the girl who jilted me." Just
so was it at Yaniwitz's Benefit....

Your favourites in the Temple tower are yet alive, but help
is further off than we thought for. Dumourier's army were
not of his mind, you see; France will not yet be quiet under
kingly government, her convulsions must be yet stronger before
the crisis comes on, and this frenzy fever abates. Madame
Elizabeth's character rises upon one every day; had you heard
Mr. Stretton, who saw it all, tell the tale of the 22^d of June,
I think you would have cry'd till now; so sweet yet so steady a
creature! Sure, she will not _yet_ be sent after the brother she
alone can ever resemble.

Adieu dear soul! My arms ach with putting the Library to
rights. The old work, say you, and I would I had my old
assistant, says your faithful

H. L. P.

The allusion to Dumouriez recalls a curious episode in the history of the Revolution. That general had for some time been distrusted by the Jacobins, and after a defeat at Neerwinden he made terms with the Austrians, by which he agreed to abandon Belgium. This of course meant ruin, if not death, and as a last desperate resource he started to lead his army on Paris, hoping, with the aid of the Gironde, to overthrow the Jacobins, as a preliminary to setting up a constitutional monarch in the person of the Duc de Chartres. But the Girondists were not prepared to adopt such a scheme, which only served to throw more power into the hands of the Jacobins, who proposed the creation of the Committee of Public Safety to deal with the situation, and summoned Dumouriez to give an account of himself before the Convention. At this critical moment his army failed him; his old troops might have followed him, but the new Jacobin Volunteers mutinied, and he was driven to take refuge, with the Orleans princes, in the Austrian camp.

STREATHAM PARK, _Fryday 26 Apr. 1793_.

I hasten to thank dear Mrs. Pennington for her kind letters. We
have got a man, and his name is _Goodluck_, and I hope it will
be ominous.... You know the state of my heart pretty exactly,
how then can you say that you are ignorant of my political
opinions. God forbid that, among Christian people, there should
be _two_ opinions concerning the impiety of these French rebels,
who trample under feet every sentiment of honour and virtue,
everything sacred and everything respectable.

Lady Inchiquin, who met us at Mr. Macnamara's yesterday, has
seen a letter from Miss Edgeworth, sister to the late King of
France's Confessor. Her brother told _her_ that the poor injured
Sovreign said, when they drowned his voice on his attempt
to harangue his subjects from the scaffold, "They will not
listen, well! I shall be heard in Heaven," and so to prayers;
where Mr. Edgeworth, kneeling down and endeavouring to collect
his thoughts, felt himself suddenly covered with the royal
blood, so speedy was the execution of their guilty sentence. We
see however divine vengeance overtaking them daily; and 'tis
_my_ belief that no _men_ are to have the punishing of these
crimes, but that the perpetrators of them will fall by their
own or their companions' hands, or perish by famine, storm, or
other dreadful judgements. You see we take no ships, yet all
their fleets are ruined. The combined armies gain few signal
victories, yet their forces moulder away.

Lady Inchiquin told a tale of the poor victims in the Tower, not
exactly, but much like yours; and if 'tis sure that they are to
be seen for sixpence thus, everybody will have a tale to tell,
and we shall hear as many false as true. Mr. Stretton said _he
was shown them_; but I had not, when he said so, a notion of the
sight being a thing paid for....

Harriet [Lee] says in her last letter that the fellow who stole
an heiress, Miss Clarke, from a Boarding School in Bristol,
is afraid the girl will hang him after all; a pretty youth he
must be to have obtained no more tender interest than _hanging_
in a lady's heart of thirteen or fourteen years old all this
while, for no one but _she can_ hang him, that's sure. Do send
me some particulars, I forgot to bid Harriet write concerning
it. Bristol has always some wonder to exhibit, an impostor, or a
poet, or a devil, or some _strange creature_....

_By R. J. Lane after Sir Thos. Lawrence_]

The Lady Inchiquin here referred to must have been the wife of Murrough, fifth Earl of Inchiquin, afterwards created Marquess of Thomond, who married in 1792, Mary, daughter of John Palmer of Torrington, and niece of Sir Joshua Reynolds. Abbé (Henry Essex) Edgeworth de Firmont, who belonged to a junior branch of the Edgeworthstown family, was confessor to the Princess Elizabeth, and to Louis XVI on the scaffold, and after the restoration became chaplain to Louis XVIII. He was granted a pension by Pitt, and died in 1807 of a fever contracted while ministering to the French prisoners.

_Wensday, 22 May._

I am always ready to converse with my dear Mrs. Pennington,
and always ready--so is Mr. Piozzi--to love your excellent
Husband.... I rejoyce Mrs. Weston is so happy, and hope her good
son will lure away all her affection and even remembrance from
the bad son.

We were all together at Ranelagh two nights ago, and staid till
morning, Mrs. Greatheed and the young Siddonses with us; Sally
quite outlooked her sister by the bye, and was very finely
drest. Of _our_ Misses, Susanna is ever most admired, but I
think the eldest and youngest very pretty dears too.

Meantime the young King of France is dying, poysoned I suppose;
but to quiet the peoples' minds about him, he and his mother
are removed to a better place than the Temple, the Palace de
Luxembourg. Well! and we none of us hear a word from Helena
Williams since I wrote last. Dr. Moore got £800 for his book,
so we cannot doubt its excellence. I wish I could give you just
such a proof of the merits of our poor Synonymes. Streatham Park
does look beautiful, my Master has new gravelled the walks, and
_your_ Lilac is in _such_ beauty.

Sweet Siddons will be quite well. Farquhar, like a wise
fellow, goes to Sir Lucas to ask how he shall manage her; let
a Scotchman alone for doing nothing, and yet keeping every one
pleased. That man knows the mind's anatomy nicely, whether he is
skilled in the body's or no.

Brynbella goes on; the water surrounds the house in a full
stream ten feet deep, and the maids may catch the Trout in the
frying pan, Mead says, without more ado; while the men may cart
home the coals from a pit two miles off.

If Cecilia would marry and take Streatham from us, I should like
to hie _home_, and dye, like a Hare, upon the old _form_, near
the place I was _kindled_ at. We should be as near you there
as here. Cecy is very naughty; runs bills of £40 at Bague the
Milliner's, and hides the dresses she sends home, hashing them
about, and spoiling the look and appearance of them that _we may
not know_. Silly little Titmouse! Always in a secret, and always
in a scrape, and no Miss Weston to preach her over. Oh dear!...

Adieu! I shall be very happy to receive Harriet Lee. You will
be all of one mind, and ask that fellow to supper at last, as
I said you would. If the girl is contented no one alive has a
right to call his conduct in question, after she comes of age
and acknowledges him, which I never doubted her doing....

Dr. Moore's successful book must have been his "Journal during a residence in France, from the beginning of August to the middle of December, 1792," containing an account of the massacres, a work which is often quoted by Carlyle.

Mrs. Piozzi was just now bringing out a somewhat ambitious work in two volumes, under the title of "British Synonymy, or an attempt to regulate the Choice of Words in familiar Conversation." It was a chatty, discursive book, "entertaining rather than scientific," as the _British Critic_ said, its chief interest lying in the store of anecdotes introduced as illustrations; but it contained some rather acute distinctions and clever analysis. Her old adversary Gifford and others again fell foul of her style, charging her with bringing to her task "a jargon long since proverbial for its vulgarity, an incapability of defining a single term in the language, and just so much Latin, from a child's Syntax, as suffices to expose the ignorance she so anxiously labours to conceal."

_Tuesday, 10 June._

My dear Mrs. Pennington's accidents and afflictions have really
given us very serious concern.... Mrs. Siddons is handsomer and
more charming than ever. Lady Randolph took leave of the stage
last Fryday, and I saw the exertions she made with some little
anxiety; but here she is, as well and as chearful as can be.
Mr. Murphy too is now almost perpetually in our society, and my
own Lasses beat up our quarters whenever London affords little
of that tumultuous amusement which delights the first 30 years
of life. Mrs. Greatheed has not _yet_ done delighting in them
however; Susan Thrale says _they two_ are the last in every
publick place, the last in every great Assembly. Well! I tried a
little raking myself this year, but it does not suit me somehow,
I can make too little sport out on't, and the people tell me
nothing which I did not know before, and _that_ is what _I_ want
from company always.

Mr. Stone at Paris, the man who went over with dear Helena
Williams, is guillotined. 'Tis now said he ruined a good wife,
who brought him £20,000, and did a hundred shocking things, I
know not how truly; but his worthy brother here is a horrible
fellow, and will soon make a most dishonourable exit, I am told.
You must read a Pamphlet, translated from the French, a very
short one, called _Dangers which threaten Europe_. I have seen
nothing as wise a long time,--always excepting my own stupendous
performances, of course. Apropos, the European Magazine speaks
very kindly of my little Synonymes, very kindly indeed, and
selects the Adieu and Farewell as a specimen. Harriet Lee never
writes to me hardly, and her Marquis, who used to be punctual at
_Whitsuntide_ and _Christmas_, supposing her _here_, has failed
these holydays. How all the Foreigners must wonder at the fate
of their heroe, Horne Tooke! That fellow was a great seducer,
I am happy he is out of the way. Farewell _and_ Adieu, dear
Friend....

The report of Stone's execution was unfounded; he lived, as stated above, till 1818. His brother William justified Mrs. Piozzi's prognostications, being tried for high treason along with Jackson in 1796. Horne Tooke is best known, apart from the stormy politics in which he was immersed, as the opponent of Junius, and author of _The Diversions of Purley_. The son of a poulterer named Horne, he took the name of Tooke in compliance with the terms of a will in 1782. He was educated at Cambridge, and entered as a student at the Inner Temple, but relinquished law to take holy orders, though he soon abandoned both the dress and duties of his office. A friend of Wilkes, he was drawn into politics, became a member of the Corresponding Society, and founded another known as the Society for Constitutional Reform. His republican and revolutionary views brought him under the notice of the Government, who decided to make an example of him. He was accordingly arrested on a charge of high treason by a warrant from the Secretary of State, and brought to trial, but was acquitted in 1794.

STREATHAM PARK, _16 Jun. 1793_.

Every letter I receive from you, my dear Friend, not only
convinces me most unnecessarily of the loss I sustain in wanting
your conversation, but shows me that we do not understand each
other half as well at a distance. What could I ever have hinted
to make you suppose I consider'd the diminution of your just
dislike of Mr. Drummond as possible? He looked like a baffled
Blockhead at Yaniewitz's concert; and if he had any memory might
recollect what I said to him early in the business, when my
tongue pronounced his fate precisely as it happened that night.
"Sir," said I, "the child is but a child, and knows not what
love is: she may be amused with having a _Lover_ for aught I
can tell, but in two years I shall see you pass each other in a
Public Place,--she saying to her friends 'that's the man that
was troublesome to me,'--you saying to yours 'that's the girl
that jilted me?'" And so the matter ended....

The dear Siddons left me yesterday. She has charming daughters
now, and so have I, so we can see little of each other. The
currents of life draw those who delight in mutual and friendly
chat apart from one another, without fault or blame of anyone's,

But busy, busy still art thou
To join the joyless, luckless vow;
The heart from pleasure to delude,
And join the gentle to the rude....

Sally is exceedingly well, and just as pretty as every pretty
girl of the same age, and prettier than Maria, because her face
looks cleaner.

You are lucky in Lady Asgill's friendship, the Miss I count
little upon. A conversible companion of six and thirty years old
is a good thing, and an infant under seven a delightful thing;
but a Miss of 17 can charm nothing, as I should think, but a
Master of 27. I grow too old for either, but the last is far
most agreeable....

Do not you enjoy the thoughts of our late discovery that
this famous Anacharsis Cloots, so well known in the National
Convention for forwarding the cause of apostacy and rebellion,
is no greater nor no less a man at last than _Dignum_, our
thief, who worked on the Justitia Hulk about 15 years ago,
and people used to go and see how daintily he fingered the
wheelbarrow, I remember. Well! this is the hero of modern
Democracy, the legislator of France, the renouncer of his
baptismal vow, the champion of Atheism, and _orator of the human
race_. Mr. Lysons came over from Putney late one evening o'
purpose to tell it me, and is it not a capital anecdote?...

Not a word of poor Helena in all this long letter; that's a
shame, yet I think _her_ much more sincere than Dr. Moore, who,
while he condemns every fact, justifies (you may observe,)
every principle on which the facts were committed....

The identification of the English thief with the French orator, though doubtless a "capital anecdote," seems to be of the _ben trovato_ rather than of the _vero_ order. The individual in question was the Baron Jean Baptiste Clootz, who assumed the prenomen of Anacharsis to suggest his resemblance to the character of Anacharsis the Scythian in the Abbé Barthélemy's Romance.

_From an engraving by Dance, 1793, in the Collection of A. M.
Broadley, Esq._]

The Lady Asgill here referred to would seem to be the wife of Sir Charles Asgill, who succeeded to the Baronetcy in 1788, and in the same year married Sophia, daughter of Admiral Sir Charles Ogle.

_Fryday 19 Jul._

My dear Mrs. Pennington is a good Girl to write as often as she
does while so many avocations call her: may the Ball turn out
everything she wishes, and far away fly the Gout! Dear Siddons
has had an alarm for her husband and Maria, who were overturned
somewhere, and a little hurt; she keeps well herself however,
and Mr. Gray, (who has been there to see,) says that she and
Sally are as charming as ever....

The French are in a sad plight, but you may observe that God
Almighty resolves to punish them without our meddling. The
offences were certainly greater towards Him than towards us,
and I perceive as yet that the combined armies have done France
nothing but good. All the union they have shown among themselves
has been occasioned by the Princes who invade them. Meantime
it was meet, right, and our bounden duty, to oppose their
principles and practice; I only mean that they will at length
(as it appears,) fall by their own swords, not ours.

Mr. Este, more democrate than ever, is going to Italy, and asked
me for letters. You may be sure I refused them, tho' so much
obliged to him, and so full of personal good wishes for his
welfare as an individual. It hurt me at the moment, but

Beyond or love, or _friendship's sacred band_,
Beyond myself, I prize my native land.

And so I refused letters of recommendation to a man whose only
business and pleasure is the dissemination of principles I
abhor, and who goes out of England only to return with those
principles more firmly adhering to him. He was a delightful
creature before ever he went to France, and Abate Fontana will
not mend his notions in Italy. Mr. Dance the profilist is making
a collection of celebrated heads; I have sate, but nobody knows
me, they say, so I am to sit again. Lysons runs about with
great zeal on the occasion, and I fancy they will go down to
Nuneham....

Poor Barron Dillon has had his Daughter in law killed, and his
house in Ireland torne down by the rabble who call themselves
Defenders--I am exceeding sorry. Piozzi talks about going down
with Mr. Ray, or Mr. Chappelow, or both, to see Brinbella, and
come back without delay; how dull we shall be the while! Cecilia
without her sisters,--they are gone to Southampton,--and I shall
have lost Harriet Lee....

Here is rain at last,--we were all burn'd up till it came, and
I really found London, when we dined there and took leave of
our fair Daughters three nights ago, as cool, and almost as
_green_ as poor Streatham Park. No fruit, no afterpasture, no
milk have we had this long time, and shall actually kill and eat
the fatted calf on our wedding day next Thursday, because nobody
would buy it to feed....

"Baron Dillon" was Sir John Dillon, M.P., who had a free Barony of the Holy Roman Empire conferred upon him in 1782 by the Emperor Joseph II, which title he was authorised to bear in this country. He was created a Baronet in 1801. His murdered daughter-in-law was Charlotte, daughter of John Hamilton, who had married his eldest son, Charles Drake Dillon. The "Defenders" were the Roman associations corresponding to the Protestant "Peep o' Day Boys": both were now beginning to be merged in the "United Irishmen."

The Rev. Charles Este, Reader at Whitehall Chapel, published in 1785, _A Journey through Flanders, Brabant, and Germany, to Switzerland_, which the _British Critic_ describes as "chatty, and brightly written." He was subsequently proprietor of the _Morning Post_, the _World_, and the _Telegraph_.

STREATHAM PARK, _Sat. 10 Aug. 1793_.

MY DEAREST MRS. PENNINGTON,--Nothing was ever so well
or so truly said as your observation concerning public notions
in France, except what you said likewise about private notions
in England, and _my_ Husband and _your_ Husband's true taste for
an elegant Knick-Knack.

I have had a letter from an old acquaintance, Helen Williams,
my eyes could scarce believe it; but she says it was with
difficulty she found means to get it over, and certain is the
case, it came hither by Penny Post. No tenderness was ever so
seducing as her tenderness, no lamentation ever so pathetic;
begging and intreating to know how we all do, and whether we
still recollect her with kindness, etc. Many sweet words to
Harriet, many to Mrs. Siddons, with enquiry if she remains still
upon the Stage, "for not even _her_ fame can reach me now at
this sad distance," is the expression. Poor soul! she adverts to
our felicity at Streatham Park, and says how happy we all are
here, (I think so truly,) while she listens only to the sound of
the Tocsin, in which "_more is meant than meets the ear_." Such
is her quotation, and it impresses me strongly, for on this very
day, the 10th of August, my heart tells me dreadful deeds will
be performed in that theatre of massacre and madness--Paris.
God keep her in personal safety! Meantime I will not write to
her: she has given me directions, but as I told dear Mr. Este
the other day, who put me to similar pain by begging letters for
Italy, I will not help those forward who are doing, or trying to
do, mischief,--

Beyond or love, or friendship's sacred band,
Beyond myself, I prize my Native Land.

And our sweet Master, whom the King has lately been graciously
pleased to make an Englishman, in act and effect, as well as in
true heart and firm loyalty, says I am in the right....

I shall scold Mr. Pennington if he suffers moody and still
pensiveness to petrify your active qualifications, and I
understand even the situation of your affairs requires a
chearful carriage, and gay manners. Assume them, and they will
cling to you. Miss Farren tries that trick, and it succeeds too,
notwithstanding her _real_ health and looks are much impaired,
but I hope bathing in the sea may in some measure restore
them. We hear that Miss Burney has a Tragedy acted,--accepted
I mean,--and _to be_ acted by Sheridan's Company, who are
all delighted with it. We hear too that she is married to a
foreigner of fashion; and we _did_ hear her brother was dead at
Bath, but he contradicts the report himself in the Newspapers;
so, perhaps will his sister to-morrow. Adieu....

Elizabeth Farren was the daughter of George Farren, a surgeon of Cork, who joined a strolling company of players. After acting at Bath and elsewhere in the provinces, she appeared at the Haymarket and Drury Lane, where she played leading parts till her marriage with Lord Derby.

Fanny Burney had married M. D'Arblay, a French refugee officer, 31st July and 1st August 1793. Her tragedy of _Edwy and Elgiva_ was not acted till 1795, when Mrs. Siddons and her brother assisted at its production. The breach between her and Mrs. Piozzi, which dated from the latter's second marriage, was not healed for many years. The reconciliation is thus recorded in the Commonplace Book. "Madame D'Arblay, always smooth, always alluring, passed two or three hours with me to-day. My perfect forgiveness of l'aimable Traitresse was not the act of Duty, but the impulsion of Pleasure, rationally sought for, where it was at all times sure of being found--in her conversation."

STREATHAM PARK, _19 Sep. 1793_.

My dear Friend, and your letter says I must call you my _old_
Friend too. "_Ma'am I'm sorry._" ...

Helena Williams's situation is a strange one, but though my
affection and esteem is all for her, my compassion leans towards
the poor Mother and Sister whom she has dragged into this
Hornets' nest. Mr. Chappelow is of your mind, that they will
never come out on't....

Your namesake was always scrupulously steady never to wear
rouge, so that may account for _her_ ill looks,

Though Rouge can never find the way
To stop the progress of decay,
Or mend a ruined face.

Miss Farren alters terribly too, and dear Siddons, after all her
lamentations about ill health, looks incomparably handsome, I am
told....

Those [events] which occur in this part of the world are not
exceedingly important; the best thing I know is dear Siddons's
return to it, though for so short a time; the worst is her
setting off for Ireland in this stormy season, but it will
answer to her husband and family, _she_ has fame and fortune
enough without running further hazards. All will go well
however, I doubt not, and if they ask why she tears herself to
pieces so, she must say with Abigail in the Drummer,

I'll clap my hand upon my purse, and tell 'em
'Twas for a thousand Pounds and Mr. Vellum.

_More_ news from the Continent. Now if the Royal Family can
'scape their murderous pursuers but a few months more, one may
pronounce them safe, I think, and they may be permitted to dye
in their beds by the effect of past terrors and ill-usage,
instead of expiring by the hand of sudden and immediate
massacre....

The "namesake" who abjured rouge (which Mrs. Piozzi always used) was very likely Sophia Lee. _The Drummer_ was a play by Addison, otherwise known as _The Haunted House_.

STREATHAM PARK, _4 of Nov. Monday, 1793_.

My dear Mrs. Pennington's handwriting always gives me
pleasure.... We shall surely come to you, at least I doubt it
not, the end of next Autumn, and shall visit the Cottage, and
see how like Streatham Park is to Longford Court, etc.... We
shall by then, I fear, have to talk of poor Helen Williams in a
way that shocks me. She said _here_ she could dye with pleasure
for French Liberty, but she will fall by French Tyranny at last.
I verily think when those wretches have spilt all the Blood
Royal, they will call out our Country Folks to feed the popular
fury and turn the current of it from themselves.... The Queen's
murder has some circumstances of horror belonging to it which
I fancy you have not heard, and which I will not be the first
to tell. I gained them by conversing with the foreigners. My
imagination often leads me to think that matters are tending
forward towards some great event, interesting to all the
Christian world, which is almost in serious danger _now_ by the
Turk's preparation for assisting these Atheists to destroy us....