Chapter IV (2)

We are in a leaky ship, we must pump or drown, and those are the
greatest enemies to general safety who cry, "Oh, don't fatigue
the poor men at the pumps with such hard work; see how cruel you
are to urge them thus beyond their strength!" Not at all cruel;
let us pump now with spirit, and the vessel _may yet_ get into
harbour, but 'tis no moment this for general relaxation.

When I was going over the Alps with Mr. Piozzi, the sight of a
dreadful precipice made me afraid, and I said I would walk: it
was very late in a fine summer evening. "Sit still," cried my
Master. "I cannot sit still," replied I, "_stop, stop!_" "You
disturb the drivers, you will make them overturn us, pray sit
still." No, I would _not_ sit still, I would _walk_. "Well,
walk away then," said Mr. Piozzi, "if you _will_ walk; there
are troops of wolves ranging the mountains now, I was told so
at the last inn; they will find their prey out in an instant."
Oh you can't imagine after that how still and quiet I sate in
the carriage. Britannia, in a similar situation, must act like
H. L. P. She must let the driver alone, and he will avoid the
precipice; she must not expose herself to this troop of wolves.

But my rheumatic arm aches with even _thus_ much writing, and
my heart aches for my own mental, and my husband's corporeal
sufferings; my loyal soul too aches for the general pressure
upon our brave King and skilful Minister; but tho' Cecilia does
refuse to repay the £1400 she owes Mr. Piozzi, I will _not_
grudge the taxes nor will he try to evade them. We raised two
puppies I meant to drown, that _they_ likewise might be entered.

Mr. Mostyn's Mother, not _much_ better treated by our haughty
Cecy than I have been, has sold one of her estates for £10,000,
and given the money to her _daughter_. She is gone to live at
Bath, I'm told....

When Mr. Piozzi recovers our meaning is to go to Streatham Park,
and wind up our affairs, and come back hither, and live snug,
and save money enough to pay our just debts, and _bury_ us. If
we _could_ live 3 years more, we should have our income clear of
every incumbrance, and I should publish another _Jest Book_: but
both our healths are visibly declining. Love us, and pray for
us, and write again soon....

The friendly Master in Chancery was John Wilmot of Berkswell Hall, F.R.S., M.P. for Tiverton and for Coventry, who assumed the additional surname of Eardley in 1812, and was ancestor of the present Sir John Eardley-Wilmot, Bart.

The "skilful Minister" was of course Pitt, who had been driven into the war against his convictions, and though carrying it on to the best of his ability, lost no opportunity of working for peace. This, however, now appeared to be farther off than ever by reason of the general dread and hatred inspired by the projected French invasion.

STREATHAM PARK, _27 Feb. 1798_.

My dear Mrs. Pennington will like to see a letter dated from
old Streatham Park. We got there on Fryday, after a journey
made pleasant by repeated visits on the way.... Two days were
delightfully disposed of with the Recluses at Llangollen
Cottage, where you would, I think, leave _your_ heart a willing
prisoner. They conquer and keep in their enchanted Castle all
travellers passing that particular road--at least all those
for whom they spread their nets. Harriet Lee escaped by some
poetical chance, but they like her book. We were hungry for
pleasure after so long a fast, and enjoyed everything with
double delight.

My nerves are however terribly shaken, and I do believe we must
and shall return home to Wales through Bath and Bristol, and
embrace our dear Mrs. Pennington.... But we will not talk of
declining health. Individuals are now of less consequence than
ever, while the Nation, the Continent, the World itself, seems
in its last convulsions. Can too many efforts be made to keep
these marauders out, these pests of Society, who have shaken
such a fabric to its foundations? I think no efforts great
enough, though our Ministers and Soldiers and Sailors do set a
sublime example, sure; and we must all follow at distance.

We have advertised Streatham Park to be let for three years: if
Miss Thrales would have accepted it rent-free, only paying the
taxes, they should have had it for nothing; but some Grandee,
who is reducing his establishment, shall pay us £500 o'year. I
thought Mr. Piozzi most paternally kind in his offer of it to
the young ladies, but they refused with disdain. They are used
to _refuse good offers_, as people tell _me_.

Mr. Mostyn's Lady is of age now, and in possession of £40,000,
but nothing can we get from _them_ except bills of tradesmen,
from whom Cecy took up articles without our knowledge or
consent, whilst in our house; and those bills Mostyn meanly
refuses to pay, because, as minor's debts, the people cannot
arrest him. So runs the world, need one wonder if God Almighty
is tired of it? I am nearly tired of it myself.

The weather however is charming. You mistake in fancying
Brynbella a cold spot. The Gardener brought me in two pots of
the finest Carnations I ever saw in my life upon my birthday,
27 Jan., this year; and we have no hothouse. The side of our
hill is particularly warm, quite a _côte-rotie_.... Surrey looks
marvellous dull and dreary compared to the brilliant scenery
from our parlours and bed-chamber windows in Wales. But the
bustle here amuses me, and I like the sight of London, looking
like an Ant-hill suddenly stirred with a stick, well enough.

I have not seen dear Siddons yet, but rejoice sincerely in what
I hear of her happiness. Being a lucky darling of Fortune, we
got her to buy us a Lottery Ticket this year, and chuse us
the number. _Joy will come well in such a needful time_,[12]
as Juliet says. And apropos to Juliet, Miss Hamilton seems
perfectly happy with her Romeo. Nothing was ever so kind as her
parents have been. They gave her away, and they strip themselves
to furnish her house, and they now add to their excessive
fondness for _her_, their adoration of Mr. Holman, who, I really
believe, will behave most sweetly and honourably to all....

[12] "And joy comes well in such a needy time."--_Romeo and Juliet_,
III. v. 106.

A curious account of discoveries made in the interior parts
of Africa, where large Cities and Civilised Nations are now
supposed to have long resided, attracts _my_ attention
forcibly; and much chat will we have together when we meet upon
these subjects and a thousand more....

_By W. Angus after Dodd, 1784. From a print in the British Museum_]

The celebrated ladies of Llangollen were Lady Eleanor Butler, sister of John, seventeenth Earl of Ormonde, who had retired from society about twenty years previously with her friend Sarah, daughter of Chambre Brabazon Ponsonby, a cousin of the Earl of Bessborough. They took a cottage at Plasnewydd in the Vale of Llangollen, where they lived for half a century, and were visited by most of the celebrities of the time. About two years before this date Anna Seward wrote her poem of "Llangollen Vale" in their honour. Lady Eleanor died in 1829 and her friend in 1831.

Joseph George Holman, a member of Queen's College, Oxford, though he never took a degree, made his début on the stage in 1784 at Covent Garden, where he acted till 1800. His wife, so frequently referred to in the letters, was Jane, daughter of the Rev. the Hon. Frederick Hamilton, a scion of the Duke of Hamilton's family.

In 1795 Mungo Park started from Gambia to explore the course of the Niger, and subsequently visited the States on the southern edge of the Great Sahara, returning, via America, in 1797. An account of his expedition was drawn up for the African Association in 1798, which is probably what Mrs. Piozzi had seen, but his own detailed account was not finished till 1799.

STREATHAM PARK, _Tuesday, 27 Mar. 1798_.

My dearest Mrs. Pennington is too good a woman to wish me to
make promises I cannot keep, and too kind a friend not to be
sorry that I have no certainty of one day after another. _If_ we
let this house as we hope to do, we may possibly, and I hope we
shall be able to spend next Winter or Spring at Bath, Bristol,
and its environs; _perhaps_ we shall be able to coax you away
with us to pretty Brinbella, where our final and favourite
residence seems to be fixed. But everything is so uncertain.
England, Europe, the whole World seems so convulsed, and so
incapable of judging its own destiny for 3 or 4 years to come,
that I absolutely consider it as presumption next to madness to
promise anything about coming here or going there. We must all
do what suits us at the time I fancy.

Dear Mr. Whalley above all people verifies the prophecy that "a
man shall seek to go into a city, and shall not be able." He
himself proposed setting out for Ireland as this very day, in
company of Sir Walter James; but they will neither of them go
_now_, I trust, when whole families are flocking _from_ thence
to Wales, etc. for refuge. We dined in his and Mrs. Whalley's
company at Mrs. Siddons's last week, and went with them at night
to the Eidouranion, a pretty Astronomical Show. Maria dined in
the room, and looked (to me) as usual, yet everybody says she
is ill, and in fact she was bled that very evening, while we
were at the Lecture. Shutting a young half-consumptive girl up
in _one unchanged air_ for 3 or 4 months, would make _any_ of
them ill, and ill-humoured too, I should think. But 'tis _the
new way_ to make them breathe their own infected breath over and
over again now, in defiance of old books, old experience, and
good old common sense. Ah, my dear friend, there are many _new
ways_,--and a dreadful place do they lead to. You should read
Robinson's book, and I should translate and abridge Barruel's,
if I did my duty to the Public, but I really have not time. My
own long, heavy work, in which I am engaged, takes every moment
that can be spared from family concerns. Mr. and Mrs. Mostyn
however give me _no_ trouble, I have neither seen nor heard
anything from them these many months....

I wonder if the pretty Misses go in _self_ coloured drawers
and stockings, and Brutus Heads with you as they do here. It
is a horrible sight: but no one in this part of the world is
considered as ridiculous, except the Bishops and Lords who
commanded the Opera Dancers to put their clothes on again, or
leave the Country. _My_ fair Daughters have made a league with
the House of Siddons, which I feel rather cooler to me than
usual. Never mind! Those who know the World wonder at nothing:
those who _do not_, must learn the World, or leave it. My ever
kind Mrs. Pennington is of the Old School still, and remembers
the precept given by old Father Homer 3 or 4000 years ago,
saying that

A gen'rous friendship no cold medium knows,
Burns with one love, with one resentment glows;
The same our views, our int'rests still should be,
My friend must _hate_ the man that injures _me_.

But we will talk of public calamity, if you please, it swallows,
or ought to swallow up private concerns completely. I wish
you to read the True Briton of March 8. There is a letter
from Venice in it which _we know but too well to be genuine_.
I translated and printed it myself, that none might remain
ignorant of the manner in which France treats those who never
offended her. What are _we_ to expect from French generosity?
Let us, like the Swiss, sell our lives as dear as we can. They
oppose, and are cut to pieces. Italy complies, is pillaged and
undone; like what Pope says of the famous Duchess of Marlborough,

Who breaks with _her_ provokes revenge from Hell,
But he's a bolder man who dares be well.

I wish they would put their armament in motion; 'tis possible
that God Almighty may permit us to destroy it, and then the
Continent may be delivered from y^s dreadful scourge. Their
Italian and Dutch subjects would soon rebell, and they would be
driven about finely. Distress at home would follow ill success
abroad, and they would end like one of their own air-balloons,
set on fire, and blazing, and burning out, and falling to
ground. _This is our only chance--the only hope_ of yours ever
affect^ly

H. L. P.

The exodus from Ireland was due to the apprehended rising of the United Irishmen, which was then preparing. The principal conspirators had just been arrested when Mrs. Piozzi wrote, and martial law was proclaimed shortly afterwards.

Mrs. Piozzi's apprehensions about Maria Siddons proved but too well founded. A change of treatment was tried soon afterwards, and she was sent to Clifton in June, in the hope that a change of air and a course of "the Waters" might benefit her complaint. For a time she obtained relief, and as her mother was unable to be with her, Mrs. Pennington undertook the charge. But the disease had progressed too far, and four months later she died, tended to the end by her sister Sally and Mrs. Pennington.

John Robinson, secretary to the Royal Society of Edinburgh, and Professor of Natural Philosophy in the University, was an important contributor to the third edition of the _Encyclopædia Britannica_. The work alluded to was published in 1797 under the title of "Proofs of a Conspiracy against all the Religions and Governments of Europe, carried on in the secret meetings of Freemasons, Illuminati, and Reading Societies, collected from good Authorities." The book, which contemporary critics describe as "a hasty production," was chiefly concerned with French and German societies.

The Abbé Barruel, Almoner to the Princess of Conti, had written in 1794 a history of the clergy during the French Revolution. In 1797 he published his _Mémoires pour servir â l'Histoire du Jacobinisme_, designed to show that the Revolution was the work of Voltaire and his friends, and was aimed primarily at religion, and only secondarily at the Government. An English edition, of which Mrs. Piozzi does not seem to have heard, appeared about the same time.

The brothers Montgolfier had discovered the principle of the fire balloon in 1783, and in the same year the brothers Robert (also Frenchmen) inflated a balloon with hydrogen gas. What Mrs. Piozzi no doubt had in her mind was the tragic fate of Pilâtre de Rozier (the first human being to entrust himself to the air), who in 1785 attempted to combine the two systems, with disastrous results. The balloon took fire, and he and his companion lost their lives.

Having humbled Austria, Bonaparte had turned his attention to England. An army was raised and marched to the Channel, to await a convenient moment for crossing, when sufficient transport had been collected. But larger schemes of an Eastern campaign were now occupying his mind, and the project of invasion was not vigorously pushed forward. Indeed it may have been designed rather to draw off attention from the preparations for his Egyptian expedition.

STREATHAM PARK, _last Sunday in April 1798_.

Well, dearest Mrs. Pennington! we have been to London since I
had your last kind letter. And what did we see in London? Why
we saw some pictures, the spoil of Italy and Flanders, which
the French sell to those who bid highest;--and we saw charming
Siddons, the boast of our own Country, more admirable than ever
in this new play of the Stranger. _She_ is not cold to her old
friends, Heaven knows, yet there _is an iciness in the house_
that I cannot describe. One reason may be that as everybody
takes sides now, and many go there that are not on _your side
and mine_, it _must_ be as it is; and I always meet Mr. Twiss
there, a fierce man who married her sister, with a brown Brutus
Head,--I feel afraid of all the men that wear it.

Have you seen my Three Warnings made political use of in a new
Pamphlet? It will soon be at Bristol, no doubt, as it seems a
favourite with the Public.

Mr. Whalley will soon leave these busy scenes for his Cottage,
and we shall soon get _home to Brynbella_, I hope. My poor
Master is too lame to _march_ in the King's service, but he is
a good loyalist, and a better _hoper_ than his wife, though
I really do think things are mending. People seem _aw'd_ by
the _times_, without being _afraid_ of the _French_: and that
is exactly the spirit I would have them show. Our sailors and
soldiers are true to the cause, and an armed nation (tho'
small,) is irresistible. If it should please God that the
descent should be made now, and fail, England would be happier,
and I fear, prouder than ever; for there is no other place left
for France to conquer, and Lord Bridport promises to defend us
bravely.

Mr. and Mrs. Mostyn were invited to meet us for a short dinner
at Miss Thrale's the day we were _all_ engaged to dear Siddons's
Benefit. So we curtsied, and smiled, and drank each others good
health, and ran to our _separate Boxes_ at the Theatre, and
'scaped all explanations; and that did nicely.... Lady Derby is
so altered you would not know her,--grown so immensely _fat_,
and _white_, and her hair changed,--but not her sweet character
and pleasing manners, which remain still superiorly lovely.
Mrs. Holman is grown actually _handsome_, and seems happiest of
human beings; so here are _Braave Alteraations_, as the Fool
said to Mr. Whalley. Mr. Holman is a very pleasing, and very
unaffectedly agreeable man.... Your old acquaintance Mr. Rogers
remains single yet....

Helen Williams's last Book is beautiful, but she is a wicked
little Democrate, and I'm told, lives publickly with Mr. Stone,
whose wife is still alive. Nobody tells me anything of Dr.
Moore, but Cumberland keeps on writing plays and romances; and
I'm in the middle of a _big_ book, Heav'n send it may not for
y^t reason be a _dull_ one; but I will be a good hoper myself.
Harriet Lee never sent me the Heirship of Roselva,--tell her I
say so. When come out the next Canterbury Tales? People surprize
me by turning their heads so to fancy compositions--I never
could do it.

Adieu! We have let this place for £550 per annum for 3 years;
and if we beat the French away, and things begin to _right
again_, as the Seaman's phrase is, we will come to Bath and
Bristol the very first months of the next New Year....

_The Stranger_ was a spectacular drama adapted from a tragedy by Kotzebue, dealing with the Spaniards and Indians in America, which had a great vogue in England owing to its patriotic sentiments, which were interpreted as bearing on current history. No less than four English translations, one by "Monk" Lewis, appeared in the course of this year. Sheridan's adaptation was not published till 1799.

Francis Twiss, son of an English merchant in Holland, married in 1786 Frances (Fanny), second daughter of Roger Kemble, and sister of Mrs. Siddons, who then retired from the stage and, assisted by her husband, kept a girls' school at Bath. She is described after her marriage as being "big as a house"; while her husband, who took "absolute clouds of snuff," was thin, pale, and stooping, but very dogmatic. He compiled in 1805 the earliest concordance to Shakespeare.

The political version of Mrs. Piozzi's poem was entitled "Three Warnings to John Bull before he dies, by an old Acquaintance of the Public," wherein John is exhorted to show "a unanimous spirit in assisting Government, a just and manly regard for our Established Religion, and an immediate amendment of Manners." The authorship does not seem to have been disclosed.

Helen Williams' latest work was "A Tour in Switzerland, or a view of the present state of the Governments and Manners of those Cantons, with Comparative Sketches of the present state of Paris." The tour was taken in company with Stone, who had been sent thither on a mission by the French Government.

In _The Mysterious Marriage, or the Heirship of Rosalva_, Harriet Lee introduced what she claimed as an original feature, viz. a female ghost; but this does not help the plot, which the _British Critic_ dismisses as "ordinary," while the characters, whether angelical or diabolical, were but commonplace, and the verses were the worst part of the performance. The _Critic_ allowed, however, that _The Canterbury Tales for 1797_, published this year, showed much ingenuity and fancy, and expressed a hope for more.

Cumberland's five-act play, _False Impressions_, appeared in 1797 at Covent Garden, and had a moderate success. The _British Critic_ sums it up as "only a sketch, but a sketch by a master, which might have been worked up into something much better."

Mrs. Piozzi herself had evidently now embarked on _Retrospection_, her most ambitious, and probably her least successful work, which was not completed till 1801.

SHREWSBURY, _Thursday, rejoycing day, 1798_.

MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,--Your sweet cordial letter should
have had earlier thanks, tho' warmer I possess not, but I really
dreaded having it to say we could not come; so many vexations
and combinations happen'd which often and often did I think
would hinder us. We are however so _far_ on our road.... My
Master's heel is very poorly, but we shall come _hopping_; and
Mr. Pennington is most excessively kind in giving us so generous
an invitation. You shall do whatever you please with us for one
whole week, and then we will get, if possible into a nice house
at Bath, where you shall return the visit _for a month_.

And now, that things may look, may _really_ look as they _used_
to do, Allen is returned to my Service.... We have neither of
us been well settled or happy since we parted, so we are come
together again. The Maid who succeeded Allen in my place was
a _Lady_ of good family and agreeable accomplishments; but I
believe neither she liked _me_ much, nor I _her_. To my much
amazement and distraction, three days before we left home, a
fortnight ago, the _Lady_ married our _Welsh Gardener_.... This
moment however I have the comfort of seeing myself once more
with my old Attendant, who, after living seven years in _my_
house, hated every other.... She will rejoice to see _Dear
Miss Weston_ again, but whose joy can be like mine? 'Tis seven
years now since I was in Somersetshire, and six years since we
embraced our dear Sophia. May God give us a happy meeting! but
my poor Master is as lame as a tree....

[_P.M._ "DENBIGH"]

I will write a very long letter to dear Mrs. Pennington this
1st of August 1798, in defiance of Miss Owen, who says she came
hither for my company, and will lose none of it. She must lose
some however, for I will not part with old Friends for want of
pen and ink conversation. If it _should_ please God that we
might meet this next year, we would have much chat,--and I will
not despair.... I do _think_ we shall meet--and talk over the
false and fading hopes which we see people entertain of Europe's
peaceful re-establishment after all these commotions....

Of _my_ heavy work I can give a better account by word than
letter; you shall see it if we come to the West. But with regard
to translating Barruel, my heart has wished to do it twenty
times, only that some one has always stept in before me somehow;
and rendered my trouble unnecessary.

You have Robinson's book, no doubt, and the strange coincidence
between that and the French one must necessarily convince
the whole world of those dreadful truths which they both
assert. People should stand upon their guard at such times of
enormous wickedness. Have you read Mr. Godwin's life of his
deceased Lady? There's a _morality_ worthy the new lights of
philosophical religion: _pray_ read it.

Helen Williams's Book is not without its danger. She infuses
_her_ venom in such sweetness of style, and in such moderate
quantities; I think no corruption has a better chance to spread.

The two Emilys are delightful. Ever on the verge of
impossibility, Sophia's charming pen leads one to read on,
and to persuade oneself for a moment, from line to line, that
a woman made completely ugly should be able to inspire the
tenderest passion, and have power beside to keep a man from
enjoyment of all those pleasures his rank, and that of their
children, entitles him to. This _may be so_, but Lothayre's
story of the skeleton is nearer to my _credence_. A wonder
for _ten minutes_ one's heart revolts not from, be it ever so
contrary to nature and experience, a wonder for _ten years_--is
a wonder indeed. The denouement however is exquisitely managed,
and that return to y^e subject, as Musicians call it, which
marks all the last pages, bringing back the first to your
remembrance, appears to me a chef d'œuvre of art and skill.
'Tis a very beautiful book.

I think Miss Seward never writes now. The Recluse Ladies at
Llangollen, who pick up every rarety in literature, are much her
admirers. Are _you_ in correspondence with her now?

Here is my paper exhausted, and not a word of politics. But what
does it signify? There are but two ways. Either you must creep
to the French, as other nations do, or you must spend all your
money to oppose them. I should not hesitate for _myself_; I
had rather be taxed till I was forced to dig Potatoes and boil
them, than I would see the Abbé Sieyes in _our_ King's Drawing
Room: and I hope His Majesty would rather be killed fighting
at the head of his true subjects against these Atheists, than
receive them into his confidence who are unworthy to stand in
his sight. _He_ alone, except the King of Naples, refused to be
an Illuminé. You shall see _they_ will last longest....

_By Ridley after Sir Thos. Lawrence, 1809

From the Collection of A. M. Broadley, Esq._]

The correspondence with Anna Seward had ceased in 1791 or 1792, when the "Swan" felt it her duty to write to Mrs. Pennington, as she tells Mrs. Powys, "with an ingenuousness on my part which I thought necessary to her welfare, but which her spirit was too high to brook." The breach in their friendship was not healed till 1804.

William Godwin, author of _An Inquiry concerning Political Justice_, made the acquaintance of Mary Wollstonecraft, after she had been deserted by Imlay, in 1796, and in March 1797 they were married, though the ceremony was incompatible with the opinions they both professed. She died in September the same year, shortly after the birth of their only child Mary, the second wife of Percy Bysshe Shelley. _The Memoirs of the Author of The Vindication of the Rights of Woman_ were published by her husband in 1798, as were also her own posthumous works. He afterwards proposed to Harriet Lee, but was rejected.

Emanuel Joseph, Comte Sieyes, Canon of Treguier, having adopted the principles of the Revolution, became Deputy for Paris, assisted to form the National Assembly, and was one of those who voted for the King's death. He declined a seat on the Directory in 1797, but accepted it two years later, and along with Bonaparte plotted the Revolution of Brumaire.

BRYNBELLA, _Fryday 24 Sep. 1798_.

My dear Mrs. Pennington was very kind in thinking of old
friends, when so much present matter, and so important too, was
filling up both mind and time. May all end for the best!

I can no more guess where Mrs. Siddons actually is than where
Buonaparte is. The Papers announce her at Drury Lane, acting
for Palmer's family. A letter from a friend at Brighthelmstone
tells how she is playing Mrs. Beverley for the amusement of the
Prince of Wales, Lady Jersey, Lady Deerhurst, and Lady Lade;
and how she lives there in a house I often inhabited before I
had the pleasure of knowing _her_. What you say induces me to
believe her at the Hot Wells. Wherever _she_ is, there is the
best assemblage of beauty, talents, and discretion that ever
graced a single female character. She will have much to suffer
I'm afraid, but she will suffer with gentleness and submission,
propriety and patience. _You_, my dear Friend, will have your
consciousness of well-doing to support you thro' the trying
scene: but my heart bleeds for you, and my best comfort lies in
the hope that we shall meet soon after Christmas....

Meanwhile 'tis nearly miraculous that 400 sail should thus have
_slipt unperceived_, away from Admiral Nelson and his fleet of
_observation_. The Bishop of S. Asaph says that while we are
gazing after them in the Levant, tidings will arrive that they
are on the coast of Ireland. He may be right for aught I know;
things happen so very wide of all expectation. You remember the
meeting at Tyre, where he who first saw the rising sun was to
be saluted King. All stared towards the East, of course, except
one man, and he, with his back to the rest, first discerned
the rays shooting upward against a high tower, in the contrary
and opposite direction. We will salute our Bishop wisest of
conjecturers if Buonaparte attempts the Sister Kingdom; but I
shall not account the Invaders wise in delaying their invasion
so long. They would _now_ give Lord Cornwallis a complete
triumph, and give us an opportunity of showing the world that
France makes no impression upon King George the 3rd's dominions.

Did you read Mr. Siddons's incomparable Ballad upon the Great
Nation? 'Tis really excellent in its kind....

If you are all _tolerably_ tranquil at Dowry Square, do ask what
became of an agreeable Mr. Crampton, in whose company I supped
last Spring in Great Marlbro' Street, who said he was going
thither, and gave me the first idea how matters really stood. I
concluded him a Lover of one of the young Ladies. Pray present
me to them _both_, if with you, and assure them of my sincerest
wishes and _prayers_, (_they_ are old-fashioned things;) and do,
my dear Mrs. Pennington, keep up your own spirits, if possible,
for your Mother and your Husband's sake, and a little for the
sake of your ever faithful

H. L. PIOZZI.

It is clear that Mrs. Pennington had informed Mrs. Piozzi of the grave condition of Maria Siddons, and had let her see something of the anxiety she was suffering; but regarding the principal cause of this anxiety, and the tragedy which was being enacted before her eyes, she evidently maintained a strict silence--even to her most intimate friend--or some mention must have been made in the course of the correspondence of Thomas Lawrence. That artistic but erratic genius, after having been for some time the accepted lover of Sally Siddons, suddenly transferred his affections to Maria, not long before her fatal illness, and what is most remarkable, obtained the consent of all parties concerned. But while Maria was at Clifton he began to realise that he had made a mistake--that his heart was Sally's after all, and the fear that Maria might exact a death-bed promise from Sally (as indeed actually happened) that she would never marry him, for the time being almost overturned his reason. His agitated letters, and still more agitating interviews, did much to add to Mrs. Pennington's anxieties during this trying period. The whole tragedy, as revealed in the letters of the persons most nearly concerned, has been told by the present editor in _An Artist's Love Story_.

John Palmer, a son of the doorkeeper at Drury Lane, was an actor of some repute. His sudden death in August 1797 while acting at Liverpool in _The Stranger_, aroused much sympathy for his family, and benefits were arranged for them at Liverpool, the Haymarket, and Drury Lane, at the latter of which Mrs. Siddons seems to have assisted. Sally's letters show that Maria's condition had caused her to abandon her professional engagements and hasten to her daughter's bedside.

The Lady Lade who is included among the Prince's entourage was Thrale's sister, who in the crisis of his affairs, as mentioned in the Introduction, had lent him £5000 to help him to tide over his difficulties. Fanny Burney describes her as having been "very handsome, but now I think getting quite ugly, at least she has the sort of face I like not."

The explanation of the French fleet's escape from Nelson's watchful eye is that it went to the north of Candia, while he took the more direct course to the south of the island, and so arrived first at Alexandria, which he left in pursuit of the French only two days before they arrived.

Lewis Bagot, Bishop of St. Asaph, more successful as a divine than as a prophet, was one of the two whom Cowper (in the _Tirocinium_) excepts from his scathing condemnation of the episcopal bench.

"For Providence, that seems concerned t' exempt
The hallowed bench from absolute contempt,
In spite of all the wrigglers into place
Still keeps a seat or two for worth and grace;
And therefore 'tis that, though the sight be rare,
We sometimes see a Lowth or Bagot there."

BRYNBELLA, _Oct. 4, 1798_.

Your letter, dearest Mrs. Pennington, came three days before
the public prints announced the fatal tydings. I can give
no consolation certainly; that which I receive is from the
consciousness of the charming parent's perfect resignation
to his almighty _will_ who disposes everything for the best;
who _snatches_ Palmer from the stage of life, by means which
most _impress_ mankind, in order y^t general compassion may
be excited for his offspring, which, had he dyed in any other
manner, would have been wholly forgotten by the world, although
not a whit less distressed than now. That Pow'r which in a short
time after _steals_ by slow degrees the long-sinking life of
Maria Siddons from her friends, by means best calculated to
fatigue their feelings, and blunt that acute grief which is
ever caused by the sufferings of a youthful patient. I am quite
confident that if Admiral Nelson by his prodigious victory could
purchase peace for Europe, he might in four years time die in
his own house, and not be _half as much regretted_ as is the
lovely object of your late attention. Every letter I receive
from every creature is filled with her praise, and breathes an
unfeigned sorrow for her loss. Virtue well tried through many a
refining fire, Learning lost to the world she illuminated, and
Courage taken from the Island protected by her arms, excites
not as much sorrow as Maria Siddons, represented to every
imagination as sweet, and gentle, and soothing; as _young_ in
short, for in youth lies every charm.

When will mankind have done hoping and expecting from a
generation not yet mature that excellence which cannot be found
among our own contemporaries: at least not found but with
drawbacks so heavy the character can hardly carry them? Never.
When Harriet Lee says no state is so enviable as that of a
Grandmother, she means that life will not last long enough to
disappoint expectation of happiness to the object of attention.
But poor Mrs. Hamilton can tell another tale. She is grandmother
to a Lady whose husband is a frolicker; rides round his own
Billiard Table on his own poney, and performs a thousand feats
that may delight _his own_ grandmother for aught I know, (if he
has one,) but frightens his wife's ancestress out of her wits.

Well! we shall meet some time I do think, and talk all matters
over, merry and sad. In the mean time tell dear Mrs. Siddons how
truly I love and pity her, and accept my venerating regard for
that prodigious friendship _you_ have evinced, thro' the scenes
I can easily imagine....

The reference to Nelson's "prodigious victory" shows that the news of the battle of the Nile, fought on 1st August, must have penetrated to Wales when Mrs. Piozzi wrote, though Nelson's despatch dated 3rd August was not published in the _London Gazette_ till 3rd October.

The next letter was doubtless a reply to one giving a more detailed account of Maria's last moments, such as Mrs. Pennington sent to several of her correspondents, and in which she dwelt at some length on the courage and resignation shown by Maria in the last days of her life.

BRYNBELLA, _22 Oct. 1798_.

I was exceedingly glad, dearest Mrs. Pennington, when I heard
_you_ were released. Such fatigues fall very heavy on such
feelings, but the consciousness of what you condemned yourself
to suffer for the sake of a friend will act as a cordial through
your whole life,--a long one, I hope and pray,--and at its end,
will return warm and consolatory to your own tender heart.

Meanwhile I would not wish your indulgence of a fancy which,
if not erroneous, is at least liable to gross error: and my
dear _Sophia_ should be _wise_, and prefer dry wisdom to
brilliant imagination. There is no real inference to be drawn
from peoples' behaviour in their last moments to the character
they would sustain in life, was their recovery permitted. No
inference at all. The great Duke of Marlborough was known to
show pusillanimity at the parting hour, and people are not
yet weary of saying how Samuel Johnson was afraid of death. I
read in the Medical Transactions one day the account of a Mr.
Bellamy, Mercer in Covent Garden, his extraordinary illness,
and composed resignation, which would have done honour to a
Saint, a Scholar, or a Hero. Yet was dear Mr. Bellamy quite a
common man, _like the next man_, and had he recovered, would
undoubtedly have returned to the same undistinguished mediocrity
in which he had already lived 30 years. But his complaint itself
tended by some means to remove the cloud from that celestial
spark which _dwells in all_; whilst those disorders of which the
Warrior and the Man of Knowledge died contributed to keep that
spark from being seen. Had Heaven restor'd all three to pristine
vigour, _they_ would once more have shone as soldiers and
instructors,--men who protect and benefit their species,--_the
other_ would once more have stood behind a counter and sold
silks by the yard. We will not rate the dignity even of
_Bodies_, much less of _Souls_, by the figure they make at their
departure: nothing _goes out_, as we call it, more brightly than
a fire of deal-shavings.

Now let me request you my kind, generous friend, not to suppose
me deficient in concern, either for lost Maria, or her surviving
admirers. The Father's sensation of loss will not abate so
readily as that of our transcendant and now doubly-dear Mrs.
Siddons. _She_ must return to the duties and cares of life, and
in them, as in her own pure heart, will find a med'cine for her
grief. But _his_ expectations from a daughter's beauty, _his_
purposed pride in those charms which 'tis now clear that she
posess'd, are blasted in the most incurable manner. I am sorry
for Mr. Siddons from my very soul.

Let us now take some leisure to rejoyce in the triumphs of
our own Country, and the just punishment of those perfidious
enemies who, having sown the seeds of misery in every Nation,
will soon see all united against them, and owing their internal
safety to their outward exertions for destroying them; like
poyson'd Princes in a Tragedy, who just live long enough to make
the Tyrant fall, and end the Drama by a proper catastrophe.
The moment we have crushed these odious French, and obtained
a general peace, in that moment will the venom they have
disseminated begin its work, and set a Revolution going in every
kingdom. But I do think that they will be destroyed first....

I cried over your charming letter for an hour, notwithstanding
I answer it so coldly, but Truth is always _cold_, from being
_naked_ perhaps, and what I have said is the _truest_, though
not the _prettiest_ thing you have heard upon the melancholy
subject....

BRYNBELLA, _Sunday 11th Nov. 1798_.

MY DEAREST MRS. PENNINGTON,--I have got your sweet
letter, and do now verily and indeed hope, trust, and believe
that I shall embrace the kind writer on, or very nearly about
the 6th day of December next. There is our plan _told clear_, as
my Master says, and bids me _scrivere una Lettera_, (don't you
remember?) and tell our true friend that we are coming.

Thus 'tis. I am appointed Queen of our County Assembly, with
Lord Kirkwall who is King Consort. We take it by Quarters
here, and _our_ Quarter expires next Thursday sennight--the
full moon,--'tis our third and last night, and I shall come
home at five in the morning,--change my dress and drink my
Coffee, and set out for the famous Cottage of Llangollen Vale,
where dwell the fair and noble Recluses of whom you have heard
so much, Lady Eleanor Butler, and Miss Ponsonby.... Well! we
spend two days with them, and then away to dear Miss Owen at
Shrewsbury.... On the 3rd therefore we start from her to you,
from Shrewsbury to Bristol, and I suppose Wednesday or Thursday
will see our meeting, hitherto deferred for six long years....
We must stay a week, no more, for I really want Bath Waters....
I hope you will come to Bath, and that sweet Siddons will meet
us there; her husband gives me hopes of it, and that will be
_too much_ felicity: to see her where I saw her _first_ with
admiration, and now to see her again, with beauty unimpaired,
talents improved; see her in _your_ company at Bath, and call
her Friend!!! Oh, then I _should_ say the tide was changed, of
private as of public affairs....

I can talk of nothing else, so will not try.
Call up the Chaises then, make no delay,
Accessible is none but _Bristol Way_....