The Piozzis in Hanover Square—Scotch tour, 1789—Visit to Wales—Return to Streatham Park, 1790—Harriet Lee's romance—Nuneham and Mrs. Siddons, 1791—French Revolution—Cecilia's admirers—Apprehensions for Cecilia—The September massacres—Miss Weston's engagement.

In July 1788 the Piozzis took rooms at Exmouth, from which they had views "of sea and land, Lord Courtney's fine seat and Lord Lisburne's pretty grounds all facing us." But though there was "a very pretty little snug society" there, Mrs. Piozzi votes it "a dull place," where "if one is idle, one is lost." Idleness, however, was not one of her failings. Early in the year she had published her Letters to and from the late Samuel Johnson, LL.D., which made £500, and had a large sale. Some allusions in the correspondence, more truthful than complimentary, to Joseph Baretti, who had at one time acted as tutor to Miss Thrale at Streatham, roused him to make a coarse and violent attack upon her in the European Magazine, which caused her much pain. He also satirised her in a farce entitled The Sentimental Mother, in which she figures as Lady Fantasma Tunskull, and her husband as Signor Squalici. Yet she forgave him, and when he died in the following year, sent a kindly notice of him to the World. This year too, as she records in her Commonplace Book, she wrote a dramatic masque called The Fountains, which was much admired by Miss Farren, and which Sheridan and Kemble "pretended to like exceedingly," but contrived to lose the copy. She adds: "It has often been in my head to publish it with other poems—but 'tis better let that alone." About this time she must have been engaged on a more ambitious task, the record of her continental tour, which appeared in 1789 under the title of A Journey through France, Italy, and Germany. This was well received by the general public, though some of the Blue-Stockings objected to its colloquial style. Anna Seward, for instance, gently reproved "the pupil of Dr. Johnson" for "polluting with the vulgarisms of unpolished conversation her animated pages," and wrote as follows to Miss Weston, who defended her: "You say Mrs. Piozzi's style, in conversation, is exactly that of her travels. Our interviews were only two; no vulgarness of idiom or phrase, no ungrammatic inelegance struck me then as escaping, amidst the fascination of her wit, and the gaiety of her spirit; but inaccuracies and ungraceful expressions often pass unnoticed in the quick commerce of verbal society, that are very disgusting after their deliberate passage through the pen." The critics found fault with her matter as well as her manner, as did Gifford in the often quoted lines:

But she bore him no malice, and took her revenge by obtaining an invitation to a house where he was dining, to his obvious embarrassment, from which she relieved him by proposing "a glass of wine to their future good-fellowship."

As long as the Piozzis and Westons were living close together in town, there was naturally little occasion for letters, but they recommence in 1789 when Sophia had gone to Bath after an illness. On 13th April Mrs. Piozzi writes from Hanover Square, after a visit to Drury Lane: "I have scarcely slept since for the strong agitation into which Sothern and Siddons threw me last night in Isabella"; while her husband adds a P.S.: "I assure you I cried oll (sic) the Tragedy." This was no doubt Sothern's Fatal Marriage, in which Mrs. Siddons took the part of the heroine Isabella, a character in which she was painted by William Hamilton. Mrs. Piozzi was much interested in the thanksgiving for the King's recovery after his first illness, "the most joyful occasion ever known in England"; for which she wrote an Ode, which was printed (with emendations that greatly annoyed her) in the Public Advertiser. For the State procession to St. Paul's on 23rd April, Miss Weston had secured them places in a balcony, "which, if it tumbles down with our weight, why we fall in a good cause, but I wish the day were over."

This summer the Piozzis went northwards, intending, as it would seem, to emulate Johnson's Highland tour. On 11th July she writes from Scarborough: "We like our journey so far exceeding well, but 'tis as cold as October, and just that wintry feel upon the air; a Northern Summer is cold sport to be sure, but Castle Howard is a fine place, and the sea bathing at this town particularly good. What difference between Scarbro' and Exmouth! yet is this bay by no means without its beauties, but they are more of Features than Complexion." They made their way north as far as Edinburgh, but the projected Highland tour was given up; the biographers say on account of Cecilia's delicacy, but in a letter in Mr. Broadley's collection, written from Glasgow, 26th July, she says: "Our weather has been so very unfavourable here, and my own health so whimsical, I fear Mr. Piozzi will not venture far into the Highlands." The first letter of sufficient interest to be quoted at length is written from the Capital.

Edinburgh, 10 Jul. 1789.

And so you will not write again—no, that you will not, Dear Miss Weston,—with all your mock Humility!—till Mrs. Piozzi answers the last letter, and begs another. Well! so she does then: I never was good at pouting when a Miss; and after fifteen years are gone, one should know the value of Life better than to pout any part of it away. Write me a pretty Letter then directly, like a good girl, and tell me all the News. The emptier London is, the more figure a little News will make, as a short Woman shows best at Ranelagh when there is not much company. Echoes are best heard too when there are few People to break the sound, you know, so let the Travelling Trunks, Hat Boxes, and Imperials that pass over Westminster Bridge every Day at this time of the Year, be no excuse for your not writing. We have had a good Journey, and the Weather cannot be finer; a Northern Latitude is charming in July, and the long Days here at Edinburgh delightful—but no Days are long enough to admire its Situation or new Buildings, the symmetrical beauties of which last quite exceed my expectations, while the Romantic Magnificence of the first is such as gives no notion at all of the other. So I like Scotland vastly; and as we have Engagements for every Day, one should be ungrateful not to like the Scotch too. But for that my heart was always equally disposed.... I am much flattered with finding my Book read here, and everybody talks about Zeluco, but I hope no one more than myself, or with more true esteem of its Author....

The full title of the work just mentioned was Zeluco, various views of Human Nature, taken from Life and Manners, Foreign and Domestic, its object being "to trace the windings of vice, and delineate the disgusting features of villany." Its author, John Moore, M.D., an army physician, tutor to Douglas, eighth Duke of Hamilton, and father of General Sir John Moore, is frequently mentioned in the letters. He was in Paris during the massacres of the Revolution, and published the Journal kept during his residence there in 1793.

The Piozzis returned southward by Glasgow and the Lake District to Liverpool.

Liverpool, Sat. 22d Aug.

So dear Miss Weston, and her Hanover Square friends, have shared all the delights that Water can give this hot weather, while

"A River or a Sea

Was to us a Dish of Tea," &c.

Meantime I do not tell you 'twas judiciously managed to run from Lago Maggiore to Loch Lomond, and finish with the Cumberland Meres, any more than it would be wisely done to put Milton into the hands of a young beginner; and when good taste was obtained, lay Thomson's charming Seasons on the desk; then make your Pupil close his studies with Waller's poem on the Summer Islands.

Beg of Major Barry to make my peace with his countrymen; some one told me the other day they were offended at a passage in y^e Journey through Italy, and I should be very sorry on one side my head, and much flattered on the other, that they should think it worth their while....

We spent a sweet day at Drumphillin, near Glasgow, in consequence of Dr. Moore's attentive kindness, and even from that charming spot continued to see the majestic mountain which attracted all my admiration, and which still keeps possession of my heart. I took my last leave of it from the Duke of Hamilton's Summer House, but at a distance of seventy or eighty miles it may be discerned. If you ask me what single object has most impressed my mind in this journey of 800 miles round the Island, I shall reply Ben Lomond....

If I promised you an account of Glasgow, I did a foolish thing; what account can one give of a very fine, old-fashioned, regularly-built, continental-looking town?—full as Naples, yet solemn as Ferrara: after Glasgow too, everything looks so little.

I think Mr. Piozzi must write the account of this town, he is all day upon the Docks, and all night at the Theatre; both are crowded, yet both are clean: the streets embellished with showy shops all day, and lighted up like Oxford Road all night; a Harbour full of ships, a chearful, opulent, commodious city. Have you had enough for a dose? and will you give all our compliments to all our friends, and will you love my husband and Cecilia?

The Major Barry above mentioned, apparently a member of an Irish family, is frequently referred to in the letters. He became a Colonel in 1790, and acted as A.D.C. to Lord Rawdon (afterwards Marquess of Hastings) in the American War, in which capacity he sent home "the best despatches ever written." Retiring from the Army in 1794, he settled in Bath, where he was a prominent figure in literary and scientific circles till his death, which occurred shortly after that of Mrs. Piozzi.

From Liverpool they went to inspect Mrs. Piozzi's Welsh property, and the next letter gives the first hint of the idea of building a house on it, which was carried out later on. Perhaps the postscript was hardly meant seriously, as no steps were taken in the matter for some years, and Mrs. Piozzi herself states that the suggestion was made by the Marquis Trotti, who does not appear upon the scene till 1791.

Denbigh, Tuesday 1 Sep.

Dear Miss Weston,—I thank you for your invitation to pretty Ludlow, and shall let you know when we are likely to arrive there, that all possible advantage may be taken of your friendly hints. Mr. Knight is an old acquaintance of my Husband by the description you give of his taste and elegant conversation; at least it would be strange should there be two such men of any English name. Scotch and Welsh families are disposed in a different manner: we have but so many names, and all who bear those names are related to each other. I find a great resemblance between the two nations, in a hundred little peculiarities, and the Erse sounded so like my own native tongue that I wished for erudition to prove the original affinity between them.

The French nation was never a favourite of mine, and I see little done to encrease one's esteem of them as a nation. Their low people are very ignorant, their high ones very self-sufficient: you now read in every Paper the effects of that self-sufficiency acting upon that ignorance. Fermentation however will, after much turbulence, at length produce a clear spirit, though probably 'twill be a coarse one. They will know in a dozen years what they would have, and I fancy that will be once more an Absolute Monarchy....

Mr. Piozzi adds a P.S. "In a few days I intend go to see our little estate, and choose the place to building a little Cottage, and a little room for our dear friend Miss Weston.... G. P."

In her remarks on surnames Mrs. Piozzi does not display her usual acumen. There is hardly any English name of which it can safely be predicated that all the individuals who bear it are related to each other, and assuredly this is not the case with a name like Knight. She shows more penetration in her estimate of the trend of events in France, where the mutterings of the coming storm were already making themselves heard. The States-General had assembled in May, in June the Commons had constituted themselves the National Assembly, the Bastille had fallen on 14th July, and on 4th August the nobles had relinquished their hereditary privileges. Well within the twelve years which she postulates, the Revolution of Brumaire (1799) had practically put the supreme power in the hands of Bonaparte as First Consul, though he was not proclaimed Emperor till 1804.

From North Wales they went, by way of Ludlow, to Bath, probably for the benefit of Piozzi, who was already beginning to suffer from the attacks of gout which finally proved fatal.

Bath, 2 Nov. 1789.

Dear Miss Weston,—Not one letter do I owe you, nor three nor four, but forty if they would make compensation for your kind ones to Ludlow, where Miss Powell's politeness made the time pass very agreeably indeed, spight of rain, which, however provoking, could not conceal the beauty of its elegant environs, even from an eye made fastidious by the recent sight of richer and more splendid scenery.

Mrs. Byron read me the kind words for which Mr. Piozzi and I owe you so many thanks: she gains strength daily, and will be quite restored if kept clear from vexation, and indulged in her favourite exercises of riding and the Cold Bath. My husband and she have many an amicable spar about Bell's Oracle, on account of his savage treatment of dear Siddons, whose present state of health demands tenderness, while her general merit must enforce respect. I wonder, for my own part, what rage possesses the people who wish to see, or delight in seeing, virtue insulted. Let us not learn to tear characters in England, as persons are torne in France, and drink the intellectual life of our neighbours warm in our Lemonade.

Major Barry has written me a charming letter, Do tell him that he shall find my acknowledgements at Lichfield; I mean to write a reference to Miss Seward, about a critical dispute we had here at Bath some evenings ago, concerning the two new novels, which I find are set up in opposition to each other, and people take sides. You will easily imagine that Zeluco and Hayley's Young Widow are the competitors.

Give my kind love to Miss Williams when you see her, and tell her that she is one of the persons I please myself with hoping to see a great deal of this winter.

We are all going to the Milkwoman's Tragedy to-morrow; I fear with much ill will towards its success. Her ingratitude to Miss More deserves rough censure, but hissing the play will not mend her morals.

Miss Wallis is to play Belvidera next Saturday. She is scarcely more of a woman than Cecilia Thrale, and quite as young looking; very ladylike though, and a pretty behaved girl in a room. I advised Dimond in sport to act Douglas to her Lady Randolph, as a still more suitable part than Belvidera. Here's nonsense enough for one pacquet. 'Tis time to say how much I am dear Miss Weston's affect^e servant

H. L. P.

Mrs. Byron, whose name frequently recurs in the letters, was a daughter of John Trevannion, who married, "pour ses péchés," as Mrs. Piozzi elsewhere remarks, Admiral the Hon. John Byron, known in the Service as Foulweather Jack, the grandfather of the poet.

The attack on Mrs. Siddons in Bell's Oracle was one of the rare exceptions to the general chorus of praise she commonly evoked from the Press; it seems to have been quite undeserved, and her reputation was far too firmly established to be shaken by it.

Zeluco has already been referred to. Its competitor, The Young Widow, or a History of Cornelia Sudley, was the work of William Hayley, the poet, of whom Southey said: "Everything about that man is good, except his poetry." Yet it hit the popular taste, and he was even offered the Laureateship in succession to Warton.

The Milkwoman, Anna Maria Yearsley, otherwise "Lactilla," was a rustic genius discovered by Hannah More, who brought out a volume of her poems, for which she wrote a preface. But her action in investing the proceeds for the benefit of the authoress, without giving the latter any control of the money, produced a rupture between them, and the quarrel was carried on in the Press "to a disgusting excess," as their contemporaries thought. Besides her play of Earl Godwin, she wrote a novel called The Royal Captives, which met with some success, so that she was enabled to set up a Circulating Library at the Hot Wells, Clifton.

Miss Wallis, whose career began in the Smock Alley Theatre, Dublin, had just made her first appearance in England at Covent Garden, where she played Belvidera (in Otway's Venice Preserved) and other leading parts, with some success. But she seems to have found provincial audiences more appreciative, and played regularly at Bath and Bristol for five years.

In 1814, several years after his death, Mrs. Piozzi writes in her Commonplace Book: "Dimond the Bath Actor was, of all common mortals I have known, completely the best. So honourable that he left no debts unpaid, so prudent that he never overran his Income, Pious in his family, pleasant among his friends. Temperate in his appetites, and courageous to conquer the passion which no man could have felt more strongly."

With the return of the Piozzis to Town the letters cease until the summer of 1790, when the tenant vacated Streatham Park, and Mrs. Piozzi found herself again established there, but under happier auspices. In May and June she scribbles hasty notes of invitation to Miss Weston, explaining that "the Hay is carrying, the Weather changing, and even the Master of the House going to Town on horseback, because Jacob must not be disturbed." The special attraction held out was the presence of Mrs. Siddons, but illness prevented Miss Weston from coming till it was too late to meet her. Mrs. Siddons was herself suffering from some trouble, apparently rather mental than physical, for she adds at the end of one of Mrs. Piozzi's notes: "I fear my heart will fail me when I fail to receive the comfort and consolation of our dear Mrs. P. There are many disposed to comfort one, but no one knows so rationally or effectually how to do it as that unwearied spirit of kindness."

Streatham, 12 Oct. 1790.

I am watching the Moon's increase with more attentive and more interested care than ever I recollect to have watched it since your project of coming hither with the Colonel has depended on her getting fat. I am glad he is much at Lord Sydney's, and hope it bodes well for us all, and that he will soon have his orders to fight these hateful French, whose pretended love of England and English Liberty—in good time!—ends at last in real attachment to Spain, and to the ratification of old Family Compacts. I never expected better for my own part, and long for you to come and tell me all the harm of them you know. My Master looks better, and gains strength every day....

The Colonel here referred to was Colonel Barry, who had recently obtained promotion, and was hoping for active service. His patron was Thomas Townshend, second Viscount Sydney, who was Paymaster-General 1767, and Secretary for War 1782.

Streatham, 10 Nov. 1790.

Dear Miss Weston is always partial to me, but I think she now extends her kind thoughts, very charitably indeed, to the whole race of Authors, when a finely written book so convinces her of his virtue who wrote it. I do believe however that Mr. Burke has, in the glorious Pamphlet you so justly admire, given us his own true and genuine sentiments; and 'tis on such occasions that a writer shines, like the Sun, with his own native and unborrowed fire. This book will be a most extensively useful production at such a moment! and from such a man! Tell me what charming Miss Seward thinks of it....

The Pamphlet was, of course, Edmund Burke's Reflections on the Revolution in France, published this year, which ran through many editions, and was translated into several foreign languages.

Anna Seward, though a constant correspondent of Miss Weston's, was never very intimate with Mrs. Piozzi, whose literary style, as previously mentioned, she detested, though she admired her wit. This year she lost her father, the Canon of Lichfield, who had long been an invalid, but she continued to live at the Palace, which he had for many years occupied.

For the first half of 1791 only two letters are preserved, the first being written just as the Piozzis had decided to set out on a visit to Bath.

Tuesday, 11 Jan. 1791.

My dear Miss Weston did not use to be so silent, I hope it is not illness or ill-humour keeps her from writing. Here have been more storms, and very rough ones, since you left us; Lady Deerhurst apprehends the end of the World, but I think her own dissolution, poor dear, is likeliest to happen, for she is neither old nor tough like that, but very slight and feeble....

Peggy, Lady Deerhurst, was the daughter of a neighbour of the Piozzis at Streatham, Sir Abraham Pitches, Kt., and became the second wife of George William, then Lord Deerhurst, and afterwards seventh Earl Coventry. In spite of her feeble health she outlived her husband, and the dissolution which Mrs. Piozzi anticipates did not happen for near half a century.

Early in February the Piozzis went to Bath, from which place the next letter is written.

11 Feb. 1791, Fryday.

My dear Miss Weston must be among the very first to whom I give an Acct. of our safe arrival at a comfortable House, corner of Saville Row, Alfred Street. We ... ran hither in one day from Reading, but I found a strange Giddiness in my Head that was not allay'd by the noisy concourse of young Gamesters, Rakes, &c., at York House, where we staid till this Lodging was empty: and here I have good Air and good Water, and good Company—and at last—good Nights; so that I mean to be among the merriest immediately. The Place is full, and the pretty girls kind, as my Master says, so you must write pretty eloquent letters to hold his heart fast....

Miss Hotham's accounts of our sweet Siddons are better than common, so when things are at worst they mend, you see. Mr. Kemble's illness, gain'd only by shining too brightly, and wasting the Oyl in the Lamp, while here at Bath, is recovered by now I hope, and his spirits properly recruited....

Cecilia was fourteen years old three days ago, and all the ffolks say how she is grown, &c....

The letters cease after their return to Streatham, until Miss Weston in her turn went to stay with friends at Bath. Those which follow are full of an incipient romance which appealed strongly to Mrs. Piozzi, inasmuch as it bore a strong resemblance to her own. An acquaintance of her husband's, a certain Lorenzini, Marquis Trotti, their guest at Streatham, had been struck by the charms of Harriet Lee (afterwards joint authoress of the Canterbury Tales), who was now helping her sister Sophia in the school at Belvidere House. But considerations of worldly prudence, which had so far held him back from an actual declaration, seem finally to have prevailed, in spite of Mrs. Piozzi's well-meant encouragement. The final act of the drama is somewhat obscure, but from hints let fall in subsequent letters Harriet Lee would appear to have had rather a fortunate escape.

Streatham Park, Thursday, 28 Jul.

My dear Miss Weston,—I was happy to find the Prescription, which, after all, I did not find, but made little Kitchen copy. Do not forget Streatham, nor remit of your kindness towards me, or towards those I love, dear Harriet in particular: I hope you will contrive to see her very often.

Marquis Trotti is sensible of your partiality, and deserves all your esteem. His behaviour is such that were he my son I should kiss him, were he my brother I should be proud of him, and as he is only my good friend, I pity and respect him. There is much tenderness, joined with due manliness, in his character; he is a very fine young fellow.... But as Hermione says in the Midsummer Night's Dream:

"I never read in Tale or History

That course of true Love ever did run smooth,

But either it was crossed in Degree," &c.[3]

Well! if 'tis of the right sort, opposition will but encrease it, and as Marquis Trotti said to Buchetti in my company yesterday, "The time is approaching when aristocratic notions about marriage will fall to ground, and then those who have sacrifized their happiness to such folly will look but like Fools themselves."

Show this letter to our lovely and much beloved Harriet; she is, I think, the object of a very honourable and a very tender passion, and to a mind like hers that ought to be a very great comfort....

Write to me only in general, not particular terms. Write very soon tho', or I shall be gone to Mrs. Siddons's.

The great actress was seeking retirement and country air at Nuneham Courtney, on the banks of the Thames below Oxford, and thither all the Streatham household shortly betook themselves.

Buchetti, whom Mrs. Piozzi had known for some years, was evidently a friend of Trotti, but seems, in spite of his Italian name, to have been a Frenchman. There is a letter from him in Mr. Broadley's collection, dated Paris, 11th June 1789, written in English, and signed Abbé de Buchetti, telling Mrs. Piozzi that he had written to her from Cadiz in October 1788, giving an account of his travels in Andalusia, &c. He goes on to mention the forthcoming meeting of the French Estates to debate on the new Constitution, which he expects will be very interesting, and at which he hopes to be present. He adds compliments from Trotti.

The following lines by Mrs. Piozzi, dated Streatham, 6th July 1791, occur on a loose sheet among the letters:

Rectory House, Nuneham,

6 Aug. Saturday.

I promised my dear Miss Weston a long Letter from sweet Siddons's fairy Habitation, but had not an Idea of finding as elegant a Thing as it is. England can boast no happier Situation; a Hill scattered over with fragrance makes the Stand for our lovely little Cottage, while Isis rolls at his foot, and Oxford terminates our view. Ld. Harcourt's rich Wood covers a rising Ground that conceals the flat Country on the Left, and leaves no Spot unoccupied by cultivated, and I may say peculiar Beauty. How I should love to range these Walks with my own dear Streatham Coterie!—but now it is all broken up. The Marquis and my Master with M. Buchetti left us this Morning in search of Sublimer Scenes: I have given them a Tour into Wales—Cecilia and myself sit and look here for their Return—that is for my Husband's—unless Miss Owen's summons or Signal of distress lures me to Shrewsbury, where I could wait for him and be nearer. They will reach Worcester to-night, and visit Hagley to-morrow I trow. Never did mortal Nymph speed her polish'd Arrow more surely than has our Harriet done: never did stricken Deer struggle more ineffectually against the Shaft which has fix'd itself firm in his Heart than does her noble Lover. He has however no Mind, I fancy, to give up without an Effort—but no one better knows than I do the difficulty, up to impossibility, of such an Operation. She too feels, and feels sincerely, I'm sure; these are the true lasting Passions; when a serpentine Walk leads they know not whither: for in Love, as in Taste, I see

"He best succeeds who pleasingly confounds;

Surprizes, varies, and conceals the Bounds."

Console and sooth her, do, my charming Friend, she will find these five or six Weeks as many Years—but by then she will have her Admirer at the Hot Wells, where he may drink the Water to advantage. He is already much altered in countenance, but so interesting!...

There is nothing like living near a Nobleman's house for making a Democrate of one: here has been such a deal of Ceremony and Diddle Daddle to get these Letters frank'd as would make a plain Body mad—and I see not that you or Harriet will get them either quicker or cheaper for all the Ado we have made at last, but now I am out of Parliament myself I will beg no more Free Cost directions. Oh! would you believe the Gypsies have told Truth to Marquis Trotti? They said he would have a great Influx of Money soon—Yellow Boys you know they called them: and he said what stuff that was, because his Fortune could not easily admit of Increase, as it was already an entail'd Estate—and all his expectations well known to himself. But a few days ago a Letter from Italy informed him of unclaimed Dividends found in the Bank of Genoa, which might be his for asking. He will not go over to ask for them however; but sent his Father word he was indifferent about the Matter—he had enough &c.—he is of Aspasia's mind entirely—

"Love be our Wealth, and our Distinction Virtue."

His Income can be in no Danger though, do what he will: at least a very considerable one, of which I am glad: he is a deserving Character indeed, and will, I hope, lose very little by his Sentiments of Dignity and Sensibility of Heart. Let our Harriet read all this, I had no room for another Word in that I sent her. How beautiful a bit of writing did she send me upon leaving Streatham! I wish, when her Hand's in, some clever verses would but drop from it: tell her I say so: this is Inspiration's favourite Hour. How pleased it would make me if I were but addressed in them! Her Talents have really made a glorious Conquest, and she ought to cherish them. I long for the sight of her dear pale Ink, that I do....

It appears so strange and so shocking to put up my Letter without speaking of Miss Seward, that I can't bear it; nobody has such a notion of her Talents as I have, though all the world has talked so loudly about them. Her Mental and indeed her Personal Charms, when I last saw them, united the three grand Characteristics of Female Excellence to very great Perfection: I mean Majesty, Vivacity, and Sweetness.

Well! you may speak as ill of Bath as you please, but I wish I was there, and never look at old White Horse Hill, which one sees from the Terrace, without sighing to pass it on the Road—but Fate calls to Shrewsbury—and thither I shall hie me on the 20 of this Month. And now remember Missey, that to kindle and keep up a Man's Love so as to make him ardent enough for the overleaping Objections, is the true duty of prudent Friendship; not to make him talk of those very Objections which we know already, and which will only strengthen by talking of. So God bless you all, and love your

H. L. P.

The Aspasia here quoted appears to be the heroine of Beaumont and Fletcher's Maid's Tragedy.

Harriet Lee, as desired by Mrs. Piozzi, wrote the verses on Streatham Park which are given below.

Having successfully invoked her friend's muse, Mrs. Piozzi herself felt inspired to pay a poetical tribute to the absent Piozzi and Trotti; both poems, as it happened, being composed on the same day. It will be noticed that her fourth stanza contains a pretty pointed allusion to the marriage she hoped to bring about between the Marquis and Harriet Lee.

With regard to her own compositions she writes in her Commonplace Book: "Grave verses have seldom, I think, dropt from my pen. Poor dear Jane Hamilton, afterwards Holman, used to say she was at a loss to decide whether the ground work of my character was seriousness embellished with gaiety; or a blythe, pleasant temper, shaded with very serious, and not seldom melancholy, reflexions."

The next letter, though undated, was evidently written before that dated 18th August, and within a few days of receiving Harriet Lee's verses.

I know not, my dear Girl, whether the great Dictionary is a good incentive to Love or no, but if agreable letters produce it the Gypsie prophecy towards you will not surely be long in completing. I never read any Book so interesting or entertaining, therefore recommend no Novels, but write again, and that directly....

Dear, lovely, sweet Siddons is better; and at last tolerably reconciled to parting with me for the relief of those whose anguish is of the soul, while hers, I thank God, is confined wholly to the beautiful clay that fits it so neatly with its truly well suited inclosure....

And now my beloved friends do not think me wanting in my duty about our Lorenzini; I never was remiss in bringing the subject forward, never lost sight on't but from thinking it prudent so to do; as Adriana says,

"It was a Copy of our Conference,

Alone it was the subject of our Theme,

In company I often glanc'd at it,

Still did I place it in his constant view."[4]

[4] Comedy of Errors, V. i, 62.

The verses I dispatched after them to Denbigh, which they cannot yet have reached, a proof I never shrunk one instant from the cause, and as this moment has brought me a cold, stiff letter from him, dated Shrewsbury,—this moment shall carry one back from me to tell him I think it such. Meantime you know I never said that it was likely he should marry in this manner unless from irresistible impulse; the obstacles I know to be all but, if not wholly insurmountable. Only my notion of his Love is stronger than yours can be, who have seen so little of him; and proportionable power will vanquish proportionable, or rather disproportionable resistance. If Gunpowder enough is put under Mont Blanc—it must give way. Such was my reasoning always, and I still think it just. The last evening he spent here, crying over Piozzi's Song, and applying every word on't, as I could see, mentally to his own situation; looking all the while like very Death, and never sleeping in the night, but employing himself in penning his Journal forsooth, which consisted only of tender sallies at the sight of the Bath Road; at thoughts of leaving Streatham; &c., till his very heart was breaking with passion, apparently increased instead of diminished by absence. Vindicate my hopes and even belief that he will relieve his anguish, when become totally insupportable, by a union which every natural friend he has in the world will certainly disapprove. As to the letters which he brought down to the Library in his hand the morning we left Streatham, they were letters he had himself written, not received: I suppose to say that he was resolved on remaining another year in England. They had, as he confes't, cost him even tortures to write them. O my sweet Sophy! I know most fatally from experience every pang that poor young man is feeling; yet I was an Englishwoman! of a country where no such aristocratic notions are acknowledged as taint his hotter soil; and yet three years did I languish in agony, absence, and lingering expectation. "If fortune," said he to me one day, (dancing to the tune in his own head, for I had not mentioned fortune,) "If fortune were the only obstacle, I hate it, I despise it; I have been offered fortunes enough, the first in Lombardy I may say; but I abhor them all." "One may see," was the reply, "you have no such mean notions." "My Father pleased himself," said he, "I made no objections. If people were generous! but——" "But what, my Lord?" quoth I. He put his handkerchief to his eyes, and changed the conversation. Who would have pressed him further to tell that which I know already, and which no power on earth can cure; the difference of Birth, Religion, and Country? If however he has but love enough, all those three things which would drown him if he tried to swim across, may be leaped over; and I, who have taken the jump before him, never cease to show him how well I feel myself after it. For the rest, he is now in bad company for our cause to be sure; but I shall have another sight of him at Shrewsbury, before he gets to Bath, and will send thither all the particulars....

Nuneham, Thurs. 18 Aug. 1791.

One more long letter, dearest Miss Weston, and then away to Shrewsbury, whither direct your next. This last has been just as long reaching Oxford, whence I almost see myself within five hours of you, as a letter yesterday received from Marquis Trotti at Wrexham, a place not less, surely, than 140 miles off. They make a mighty slow progress, which tires my spirits to follow; and seem exceedingly well amused, a thing I was not absolutely dying to hear. Meantime, what he has written, tho' cold, has pensive passages in it which keep my hopes alive; and 'tis not cold neither, but guarded. Now I tho't it my duty to keep Harriet ignorant of nothing I knew, and as I have told her every good and desirable symptom, so have I left in no doubt his present disposition, for the first letter I copied for her, and this last I enclosed.

Was there ever such a storm seen in England as this last dreadful one of the 15th? Our December lightning that frighted you so was nothing to it. Where was my poor Husband then, I wonder? Perhaps on Snowdon, incumber'd with a horse no less confounded than himself. We were all here much alarm'd indeed, though Mrs. Siddons has mended ever since, I think....

Now for more public concerns, of which your last letter but one gives me the best information. It does really appear, contrary to my predictions, that all Europe will joyn to re-instate a descendant of that House of Bourbon, which, when represented by his ancestor Louis Quatorze, all Europe united to humble: but this should be considered as justice, not caprice. That last mentioned Prince sought openly to seize the rights of others, while his wretched successor has been cruelly deprived of his own; and the world will not look on, it seems, while the Crown of France is trampled on, though none stir'd a step even when the Sacred head of an English monarch was sever'd from his body by the Democrats of that day.

Helena Williams is a courageous damsel, and will, I hope, never be a distressed one in consequence of that conduct, which, if anything happens but good to her, will be condemned as rashness; and if she returns safe will be applauded as curiosity after the great objects in life, while we are listening only to hear how go the small ones. I find that fierce doings are expected, and I am much delighted with your nine thousand men: 'tis an admirable anecdote of old Marshal Saxe, and to me a new one. It will, may be, divert you to hear that he married a Lady he did not much like, merely because her name was Victoria, and that when he died, one of the female French wits said, what a pity it was that no De Profundis should be said for him who had so often made France sing Te Deum. He was a Lutheran, you know.

You never sent me word you liked my Verses, and they were really ingenious ones too; did Harriet ever shew them to you? If much applause ensues, I shall be tempted to copy over some stanzas made for pretty Siddons's little red book, where she keeps everything y^t has been ever said or sung in her praise, unprinted....

I expect a letter from my Travellers before I send this: meantime Heaven forefend that I should meet the Marquis at Shrewsbury. He will quit my Master at Denbigh, sure, and go thro' S. Wales to Bristol. Say everything that expresses esteem, love, and gratitude, to Mr. and Mrs. Whalley, and tell Miss Seward how valuable her health is even to me, who see so little of her: if she neglects it, she is doing public injury, and is worse than a Democrate....

French affairs, as reported in England at this juncture, were no doubt very confusing. The King's attempt to leave Paris in July had been frustrated, but he had been making overtures to most of the crowned heads in Europe, and intervention on the part of some of them must have appeared imminent.

It seems likely that Mrs. Piozzi made the acquaintance of Helen Maria Williams through their common friend, Dr. Moore. She was a girl of great natural ability, but of scanty education; for though born in London, she was brought up at Berwick-on-Tweed. She returned to town with her mother in 1781, being then about twenty years of age, bringing with her a romantic poem, "Edwin and Eltruda," which, like several subsequent works, met with considerable success. In 1788 she went with her mother to France, on a visit to a sister who had married a Swiss Protestant minister; and having enthusiastically adopted the principles of the Revolution, she made that country her home, and wrote a good deal on French politics, as will be noticed later. These proceedings, and her intimacy with J. H. Stone, who had been separated from his wife, provoked a good deal of hostile comment, both among her acquaintances, and in the papers like the Anti-Jacobin, of which she was not aware till much later. It was currently reported that she was living under Stone's protection, a view accepted in the Dictionary of National Biography. But it is not quite fair to judge her conduct solely on such ex-parte evidence, though perhaps it was all her biographer had to go upon. Her own letters, written to Mrs. Pennington, put a somewhat different complexion on the case. In the first of these, dated 2nd July 1803, she mentions that she is taking charge of the orphan children of her sister, who had died suddenly. She lives with her mother and another relative, Mrs. Persis Williams, whom she has never quitted for three days together since she left England, except for her journey to Switzerland, which was undertaken to save her neck. Stone procured her passport, but she travelled, not with him alone, as had been represented, but with three other gentlemen, one of whom was an English M.P., and on her arrival was placed under the charge of her brother-in-law's relatives. In 1811 she writes that her mother is dead, but that she is still living with Mrs. Persis Williams and her nephew. In another letter, dated 26th January 1819, after Stone's death, she mentions that his matrimonial troubles had begun before she knew him, and that it was his wife, "an odious woman," who provided herself with gallants in Paris, and then, seizing on the new Law of Divorce, "in spite of all our counsels," separated herself from her husband, who had by this time lost his fortune. After this they took Stone in, and he lived for twenty-five years as a member of the household.