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AUTOBIOGKAPHY &c, OP MRS, PIOZZI
VOL. II.
LONDOJf
miNTED BY 8POTTISWOODE AND CO.
ITEW-STREE SQUAEB
AUTOBIOGRAPHY
LETTERS AND LITERARY REMAINS
OF
MRS. PIOZZI (THRALE) //e
^Lfxiuf4x ^A&t
EDITED WITH NOTES
AN INTRODUCTOEY ACCOUNT OF HEE LIFE AND WEITINGS
A. HAYWABD, ESQ. Q.C.
Welcome, Associate- Forms, where'er we turn;
Fill, Streatham's Hebe, the Johnsonian urn St. Stephen's
In Two Volumes
VOL. II.
LONDON
LONGMAN, GREEN, LONGMAN, AND ROBERTS
1861
CONTENTS
OF
THE SECOND VOLUME.
Page
MISCELLANIES OK ORIGINAL COMPOSITIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE . 1
The Three "Warnings . . . , . .3
Duty and Pleasure . . . . . .7
The Streatham Portraits . . . . .9
Asheri . . . . - . . . .19
Character of Thrale . . . . . .26
Translation . . . . . . .30
A Frightful Story . . . 32
Delia Crusca . . . . . . .35
Ode to Society . . . . . . .39
Epigrams and Translations . . . . .43
Dedication and Preface of the "Florence Miscellany" . 50
Occasional Versos . . . . . .53
LETTERS . . . . . . . .61
EXTRACTS FROM " THRALIANA " including sketches of " The charm-
ing S. S.," Baretti, the Burneys, the Misses Thrale, &c., with re-
flections on love, marriage, calumny, and self-sacrifice . . 329
EXTRACTS FROM " BRITISH SYNONYMY '' . 354
ERRATA IN VOL. II.
p. 57, as heading to the verses 'on the top of the page read " On a
Watch."
p. 72, this letter and the one beginning at p. 81 should be transposed.
p. 155, for " 1814" read " 1816."
p. 174, note, for " swearing-list " read " Swearing Act."
MISCELLANIES
ORIGINAL COMPOSITIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE.
VOL. II.
MISCELLANIES
OB
ORIGINAL COMPOSITIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE/
THE THREE WARNINGS.
A TALE.
THE tree of deepest root is found
Least willing still to quit the ground;
'Twas therefore said by ancient sages,
That love of life increased with years.
So much, that in our latter stages,
When pains grow sharp and sickness rages,
The greatest love of life appears.
This great affection to believe,
Which all confess but few perceive,
If old affections can't prevail,
Be pleased to hear a modern tale.
When sports went round, and all were gay,
On neighbour Dobson's wedding day,
* Under this head I have printed only those which were found
detached. The majority of her fugitive pieces and occasional
verses are contained in the Letters.
B 2
MISCELLANIES.
Death called aside the jocund groom,
With him into another room :
And looking grave, you must, says he,
Quit your sweet bride, and come with me.
With you, and quit my Susan's side ?
With you ! the hapless husband cried :
Young as I am ; 'tis monstrous hard ;
Besides, in truth, I'm not prepared :
My thoughts on other matters go,
This is my wedding night, you know.
What more he urg'd I have not heard,
His reasons could not well be stronger,
So Death the poor delinquent spared,
And left to live a little longer.
Yet calling up a serious look,
His hour glass tumbled while he spoke,
Neighbour, he said, farewell. No more
Shall Death disturb your mirthful hour,
And further to avoid all blame
Of cruelty upon my name,
To give you time for preparation,
And fit you for your future station,
Three several warnings you shall have
Before you 're sumrnon'd to the grave :
Willing, for once, I'll quit my prey,
And grant a kind reprieve ;
In hopes you '11 have no more to say
But when I call again this way,
Well pleas'd the world will leave.
THE THREE WARNINGS.
To these conditions both consented,
And parted perfectly contented.
What next the hero of our tale befell,
How long he lived, how wise, how well,
How roundly he pursued his course,
And smok'd his pipe, and strok'd his horse,
The willing muse shall tell :
He chaffer'd then, he bought, he sold,
Nor once perceived his growing old,
Nor thought of Death as near ;
His friends not false, his wife no shrew,
Many his gains, his children few,
He pass'd his hours in peace ;
But while he view'd his wealth increase,
While thus along life's dusty road,
The beaten track content he trod,
Old time whose haste no mortal spares
Uncall'd, unheeded, unawares,
Brought him on his eightieth year.
And now one night in musing mood,
As all alone he sate,
Th' unwelcome messenger of fate
Once more before him stood.
Half stilled with anger and surprise,
So soon returned ! old Dobson cries.
So soon, d' ye call it ! Death replies :
Surely, my friend, you 're but in jest ;
Since I was here before
'Tis six-and- thirty years at least,
And you are now fourscore.
B 3
MISCELLANIES.
So much the worse, the clown rejoin'd,
To spare the aged would be kind ;
However, see your search be legal
And your authority Is 't regal ?
Else you are come on a fool's errand,
With but a secretary's warrant.
Besides, you promised me three warnings,
Which I have looked for nights and mornings ;
But for that loss of time and ease
I can recover damages.
I know, cries Death, that at the best,
I seldom am a welcome guest ;
But don't be captious, friend, at least;
I little thought you'd still be able
To stump about your farm and stable ;
Your years have run to a great length,
I wish you joy tho' of your strength.
Hold, says the farmer, not so fast,
I have been lame these four years past.
And no great wonder, Death replies ;
However, you still keep your eyes,
And sure to see one's loves and friends,
For legs and arms would make amends.
Perhaps, says Dobson, so it might,
But, latterly, I've lost my sight.
This is a shocking story, faith,
Yet there's some comfort still, says Death ;
Each strives your sadness to amuse,
I warrant you have all the news.
DUTY AND PLEASURE.
There's none, cries he, and if there were,
I'm grown so deaf, I could not hear.
Nay then, the spectre stern rejoin'd,
These are unjustifiable yearnings ;
If you are lame, and deaf, and blind,
You've had your three sufficient warnings.
So come along, no more we'll part :
He said, and touch'd him with his dart ;
And now old Dobson, turning pale,
Yields to his fate so ends my tale.
DUTY AND PLEASURE.
DUTY and Pleasure long at strife,
Cross'd in the common walks of life ;
Pray, don't disturb me, get you gone,
Cries Duty in a serious tone :
Then with a smile keep off, my dear,
Nor force me thus to be severe.
Lord, Sir, she cries, you're grown so grave
You make yourself a perfect slave ;
I can't think why we disagree,
You may turn Methodist for me.
But if you'll neither laugh nor play,
At least don't stop me on my way ;
Yet sure one moment you might steal
To see our lovely Miss O'Neill ;
B 4
MISCELLANIES.
One hour to relaxation give,
Oh ! lend one hour from life to live.
And here's a bird and there's a flower,
Dear Duty, walk a little slower.
My youthful task is not half done,
Cries Duty, with an inward groan ;
False colours on each object spread,
I scarce see whence or where I'm led ;
Your bragg'd enjoyments mount the wind,
And leave their venom'd stings behind.
Where are you flown ? Voices around
Cry Pleasure long has left this ground :
Old age advances haste away ;
Nor lose the light of parting day.
See sickness follows, sorrow threats ;
Waste no more time in vain regrets.
One moment more to Duty given,.
Might reach perhaps the gates of heaven,
Where only each with each delighted,
Duty and Pleasure live united.
THE STREATHAM PORTRAITS.
MADAME D'ARBLAY'S description of the Streatham
Portraits will be the best preface to the following verses
on them : " Mrs. Thrale and her eldest daughter were
in one piece, over the fire-place (of the library), at full
length. The rest of the pictures were all three-
quarters. Mr. Thrale was over the door leading to his
study. The general collection then began by Lord
Sandys and Lord Westcote (Lyttelton), two early noble
friends of Mr. Thrale. Then followed Dr. Johnson, Mr.
Burke, Dr. Goldsmith, Mr. Murphy, Mr. Garrick, Mr.
Baretti, Sir Robert Chambers, and Sir Joshua Reynolds
himself all painted in the highest style of this great
master, who much delighted in this his Streatham
gallery. There was place left but for one more frame
when the acquaintance with Dr. Burney began at
Streatham^"
The whole of them were sold by auction in the spring
of 1816. According to Mrs. Piozzi's marked catalogue,
they fetched respectively the following prices, which
appear to vary according to the celebrity of the sub-
jects, and to make small account of the pictures con-
sidered as works of art : " Lord Sandys, 36?. 15s.
(Lady Downshire) ; Lord Lyttelton, 43 1. Is. (Mr.
Lyttelton, his son) ; Mrs. Piozzi and her daughter,
81?. 18s. (S. Boddington, Esq., a rich merchant); Gold-
smith (duplicate of the original), 133?. 7s. (Duke of
Bedford) ; Sir J. Reynolds, 128?. 2s. (R. Sharp, Esq.,
10 MISCELLANIES.
M.P.); Sir K. Chambers, 84?. (Laxly Chambers, his
widow) ; David Grarrick, 183?. 15s. (Dr. Charles Burney) ;
Baretti, 31?. 10s. (Stewart, Esq., I know not who); Dr.
Burney, 84?. (Dr. C. Burney, his son) ; Edmund Burke,
252?. (R. Sharp, Esq., M.P.); Dr. Johnson, 378?.
(Watson Taylor, Esq.), by whom for Mr. Murphy was
offered 102?, 18s., but I bought it in." In 1780
Reynolds raised the price of his portraits (three-quarter
size) from thirty-five to fifty guineas, which, Mrs.
Piozzi complains, made the Streatham portraits in many
instances cost more than they fetched, as she had to pay
for them after Mr. Thrale's death at the increased
price. Her own prefatory remarks are :
"With the dismal years 1772 and 1773 ended much
of my misery, no doubt. The recollection of the sweet
and saint-like manner in which my incomparable mother
meekly laid down her temporal existence, sweetened
the loss of her who I shall see no more in this world,
and whose situation in the next will probably be too
high for my most fervent aspirations. The loss of our
dear boy fell so heavy on my husband, that it became my
duty to endure it courageously, and shake away as much
of the weight as it was possible. Among other efforts to
amuse myself and my eldest daughter, now my daily
companion, and a charming one, but never partial to a
mother who sought in vain to obtain her friendship,
was a fancy I took of writing little paltry verse cha-
racters of the gentlemen who sate for their portraits in
the library, and of whose sittings I was cruelly impatient.
No wonder ! when such calamity was hanging over our
heads as is mentioned in the last volume. Let that
THE STREATHAM PORTRAITS. 11
reflection make you hesitate in censuring the satirical
vein which perhaps does run through them all :
i.
LORD SANDYS appears first, at the head of the tribe,
But flat insipidity who can describe ?
When such parents and wife as might check even
Pindar,
Form family compacts his progress to hinder :
Their oppression for forty long years he endur'd,
The nobleman sunk, and the scholar obscurd ;
Till rank, reason, virtue, endeav'ring in vain
To fling off their burden, and break off their chain,
Can at last but regret, not resist, his hard fate,
Like Enceladus, crush'd by the mountainous weight.
n.
Next him on the right hand, see Lyttelton hang ;
Polite in behaviour, prolix in harangue.
With power well matur'd, with science well bred,
He had studied, had travell'd, had reason'd, had read.
Yet the mind, as the body, was wanting in strength,
For in Lyttelton everything run into length ;
Of his long wheaten straw that the farmer complains,
Where the chaff is still found to outnumber the
grains.
in.
In these features* so placid, so cool, so serene,
What trace of the wit or the Welshwoman 's seen ?
* She complained in prose as well as in verse of the want of
likeness in her own portrait. Northcote, in his Life .of Reynolds,
12 MISCELLANIES.
What trace of the tender, the rough, the refm'd,
The soul in which such contrarieties join'd!
Where, tho' merriment loves over method to rule,
Religion resides, and the virtues keep school :
Till when tir'd we condemn her dogmatical air,
Like a rocket she rises, and leaves us to stare.
To such contradictions d'ye wish for a clue ?
Keep vanity still, that vile passion, in view,
For 'tis thus the slow miner his fortune to make,
Of arsenic thin scatter'd pursues the pale track,
Secure where that poison pollutes the rich ground,
That it points to the place where some silver is found.
IV.
Of a virgin so tender*, the face or the fame
Alike would be injur'd by praise or by blame ;
observed of Sir Joshua's pictures in general that " they possess a
degree of merit superior to mere portraits ; they assume the rank
of history. His portraits of men are distinguished by a certain
air of dignity, and those of women and children by a grace, a
beauty, and simplicity which have seldom been equalled and never
surpassed. In his attempts to give character where it did not
exist, he has sometimes lost likeness, but the deficiencies of the
portrait were often compensated by the beauty of the picture."
Mrs. Piozzi remarks on this passage : u True, in my portrait above
all, there is really no resemblance, and the character is less like
my father's daughter than Pharaoh's." Speaking of Sir Joshua's
picture of- Lady Sarah Bunbury " sacrificing to the Graces," Mrs.
Piozzi says : " Lady Sarah never did sacrifice to the Graces. Her
beauty was in her face, which had few equals ; but she was a
cricket player, and ate beefsteaks upon the Steyne at Brighthelm-
stone."
* Her eldest daughter, then a child.
THE STREATHAM PORTRAITS. 13
To the world's fiery trial too early consign'd,
She soon shall experience it, cruel or kind.
His concern thus the artful enameller hides,
And his well-finish'd work to the furnace confides ;
But jocund resumes it secure from decay,
If the colours stand firm on the dangerous day.
v.
A manner so studied, so vacant a face,
These features the mind of our Murphy disgrace,
A mind unaffected, soft, artless, and true,
A mind which, though ductile, has dignity too.
Where virtues ill-sorted are huddled in heaps,
Humanity triumphs, and piety sleeps ;
A mind in which mirth may with merit reside,
And Learning turns Frolic, with Humour, his guide.
Whilst wit, follies, faults, its fertility prove,
Till the faults you grow fond of, the follies you love,
And corrupted at length by the sweet conversation,
You swear there's no honesty left in the nation.
An African landscape thus breaks on the sight,
Where confusion and wildness increase the delight ;
Till in wanton luxuriance indulging our eye,
We faint in the forcible fragrance, and die.
VI.
From our Goldsmith's anomalous character, who
Can withhold his contempt, and his reverence too ?
From a poet so polished, so paltry a fellow !
From critic, historian, or vile Punchinello !
14 MISCELLANIES.
From a heart in which meanness had made her abode,
From a foot that each path of vulgarity trod ;
From a head to invent, and a hand to adorn,
Unskilled in the schools, a philosopher born.
By disguise undefended, by jealousy smit,
This lusus iwturce, nondescript in wit,
May best be compared to those Anamorphoses,
Which for lectures to ladies th' optician proposes ;
All deformity seeming, in some points of view,
In others quite accurate, regular, true :
Till the student no more sees the figure that shock'd
her,
But all in his likeness our odd little doctor.
VII.
Of Eeynolds all good should be said, and no harm ;
Tho' the heart is too frigid, the pencil too warm ;
Yet each fault from his converse we still must dis-
claim,
As his temper 'tis peaceful, and pure as his fame.
Nothing in it o'erflows, nothing ever is wanting,
It nor chills like his kindness, nor glows like his
painting.
When Johnson by strength overpowers our mind,
When Montagu dazzles, and Burke strikes us blind ;
To Reynolds well pleas'd for relief we must run,
Rejoice in his shadow, and shrink from the sun.
vm.
In this luminous portrait requiring no shade,
See Chambers' soft character sweetly display'd :
THE STREATHAM PORTRAITS. 15
Oh ! quickly return with that genuine smile,
Nor longer let India's temptations beguile,
But fly from a climate where moist relaxation
Invades with her torpor th' effeminate nation,
Where metals and marbles will melt and decay,
Fear, man, for thy virtue, and hasten away.
IX.
Here Grarrick's lov'd features our mem'ry may trace,
Here praise is exhausted, and blame has no place.
Many portraits like this would defeat my whole
scheme,
For what new can be said on so hackney'd a theme ?
"Tis thus on old Ocean whole days one may look,
Every change well recorded in some well-known
book ;
Till with vain expectation fatiguing our eyes,
Nor the storm nor the calm one new image supplies.
x.
See Thrale from intruders defending his door,
While he wishes his house would with people run o'er ;
Unlike his companions, the make of his mind,
In great things expanded, in small things confind.
Yet his purse at their call and his meat to their taste,
The wits he delighted in lov'd him at last ;
And finding no prominent follies to fleer at,
Eespected his wealth and applauded his merit:
Much like that empirical chemist was he
Who thought Anima Mundi the grand panacea.
16 MISCELLANIES.
Yet when every kind element help'd his collection,
Fell sick while the med'cine was yet in projection.
XI.
Baretti hangs next, by his frowns you may know him,
He has lately been reading some new published
poem;
He finds the poor author a blockhead, a beast,
A fool without sentiment, judgment, or taste.
Ever thus let our critic his insolence fling,
Like the hornet in Homer, impatient to sting.
Let him rally his friends for their frailties before 'em,
And scorn the dull praise of that dull thing, decorum :
"While tenderness, temper, and truth he despises,
And only the triumph of victory prizes.
Yet let us be candid x and where shall we find
So active, so able, so ardent a mind ?
To your children more soft, more polite with your
servant,
More firm in distress, or in friendship more fervent.
Thus ^Etna enraged her artillery pours,
And tumbles down palaces, princes, and towers ;
While the fortunate peasantry fix'd at its foot,
Can make it a hot-house to ripen their fruit.
XII.
See next, happy contrast ! in Burney combine
Every power to please, every talent to shine.
In professional science a second to none,
In social if second, thro' shyness alone.
THE STREATHAM PORTRAITS. 17
So sits the sweet violet close to the ground,
Whilst holy-oaks and sunflow'rs flant it around.
His character form'd free, confiding, and kind,
Grown cautious by habit, by station confin'd 1 :
Tho' born to improve and enlighten our days,
In a supple facility fixes his praise ;
And contented to sooth, unambitious to strike,
Has a faint praise from all men, from all men alike.
While thus the rich wines of Frontiniac impart
Their sweets to our palate, their warmth to our heart,
All in praise of a liquor so luscious agree,
From the monarch of France to the wild Cherokee.
XIII.
See Burke's bright intelligence beams from his face,
To his language gives splendour, his action gives grace ;
Let us list to the learning that tongue can display,
Let it steal all reflection, all reason away ;
Lest home to his house we the patriot pursue,
Where scenes of another sort rise to our view ;
Where Av'rice usurps sage Economy's look,*
And Humour cracks jokes out of Eibaldry's book :
Till no longer in silence confession can lurk,
That from chaos and cobwebs could spring even Burke.
Thus, 'mong dirty companions conceal'd in the ground,
And unnotic'd by all, the proud metal was found,
Which, exalted by place, and by polish refin'd,
Could comfort, corrupt, and confound all mankind.
* Till he got his pension, Burke was always poor ; and the
wonder is how he managed to make both ends meet at all.
VOL. II. C
18 MISCELLANIES.
XIY.
Gigantic in knowledge, in virtue, in strength,
With Johnson our company closes at length :
So the Greeks from the cavern of Polypheme past,
When, wisest and greatest, Ulysses came last,
To his comrades contemptuous, we see him look down
On their wit and their worth with a general frown :
While from Science' proud tree the rich fruit he
receives,
Who could shake the whole trunk while they turn'd
a few leaves.
Th' inflammable temper, the positive tongue,
Too conscious of right for endurance of wrong,
We suffer from Johnson, contented to find
That some notice we gain from so noble a mind ;
And pardon our hurts, since so many have found
The balm of instruction pour'd into the wound.
'Tis thus for its virtues the chymists extol
Pure rectified spirit, sublime alcohol.
From noxious putrescence preservative pure,
A cordial in health, and in sickness a cure :
But oppos'd to the sun, taking fire at his rays,
Burns bright to the bottom, and ends in a blaze.
19
ASHERI.
ARABIAN tales, all Oriental tales indeed, are full of
"imagination, void of common sense. The lady who
recounts can scarcely fail to amuse. She is herself so
handsome and so charming, the story must please, be it
what it will ; but they must be listeners like Sir James
Fellowes who can feel interest in an old man's narration,
and hear attentively the Eabbinical story concerning
A search after Asheri.
Four young men, then, stood round their father's
death-bed. " I cannot speak what I wish you to hear,"
whispered the dying parent ; " but there is a Genius
residing in the neighbouring wood, who pretends to
direct mortals to Asheri. Meanwhile, accept my house
and lands ; they are not large, but will afford an
elegant sufficiency. Farewell."
Three of the brothers set out instantly for the wood.
The fourth staid at home ; and, having performed the last
filial duties to a father he revered, began to cultivate
his farm, and court his neighbour's daughter to share it
with him. She was virtuous, kind, and amiable. We
will leave them, and follow the adventurers, who soon
arrived at the obscure habitation of the reputed sage,
bosomed in trees, and his hut darkened with ivy. Scarce
could the ambiguous mandates be heard ; still less could
20 MISCELLANIES.
the speaker (Imagination) be discerned through the
gloom. " What is this Asheri we are to look out for ? "
said one brother. " Oh ! when once seen, no eye can
be mistaken," replied a voice from within the grot.
" Three beautiful forms uniting under one radiant head,
compose the sighed-for object." "/ am a passionate
admirer of beauty," interrupted the youth. " Shall I
not find the lovely creature at Grand Cairo ? " " Seek
your desire there," was the reply ; " the soil will be con-
genial to your nature." He set off without studying for
an answer.
When the next brother made application: "I wonder,"
said he, "how this renowned Asheri should ever be
found without obtaining court-favour, and permission
to proceed in the search." "At Ispahan, Sir, you
may procure both. Here are letters for the young
Sophy of Persia, scarce thirteen years old, and her
mother the Sultana Valadiv" A respectful bow con-
stituted this youth's adieu, and he put himself imme-
diately on progress.
The third, who till now had been employed in laugh-
ing at and mimicking his companions, remained a
moment with the Genius of the wood ; and " Well,
Sir," said he, " which way shall 1 take towards find-
ing this fabulous being, this faultless wonder, this
non-existent chimera, Asheri ? " " Oh, you are a wit :
make your debut at Delhi ; 'tis the only mart for talents."
Aboul, willing to try 'his fortune, soon set out : and
after fifteen years for so long my tale lasts he was
observed by two mendicants of ragged and wretched
ASHERI. 21
appearance ; who, fainting with hunger and exhausted
by disease, addressed him as he sate upon a stone by the
wayside leading to Kouristan, 400 miles from Delhi.
" I have no money, my honest friends," said he ; " but
you shall share my dinner of brown bread and goat's
milk. You have scarcely strength, I see, to reach the
cottage : I will run home and fetch two wooden bowls
full." He did so, and they were refreshed, and recog-
nised each other. It was now who should tell his
hapless history; but Aboul was ablest and gave the
following account :
" You left me," said he, " with that rascally con-
juror, Imagination by name, whose delight it is to dress
up a phantom for po.or afflicted mortals to follow, and
he calls it Asheri. My destiny led me to seek in Delhi
the bright reward of superior talents ; but it was never
my attention to claim applause till I had deserved it ;
so my lamp went not out at night till I had composed
a book of tales for publication, short ones, but well-
varied, for novels were the mode at Delhi. In a
week's time the book was in every hand that could hold
one. The reviews criticised, but the ladies bought it,
and the criticisms did me more good than harm. An
ill-spent note called me to the toilette of a great lady ;
invitations then crowded round me, suppers without
end, and dinners undesired. At first this was not un-
pleasant, and I began to think Asheri not far distant.
I wrote elaborate poems in praise of my protectress,
entered into none of her intrigues ; lout against all the
people she hated there were store of lampoons and
C 3
22 MISCELLANIES.
choice of epigrams ready, composed by the fashionable
author, your hapless brother Aboul. Favoured by one
society, therefore, persecuted by another; adored by
one set of ignorant females, tormented by another set ;
stared at by a neutral class as if I had been a monster ;
everything I said repeated, and wrong repeated ; every-
thing I did related, and wrong related; I gained in-
formation that my patroness was on the eve of losing
her friend the vizier's confidence, which a younger beauty
(a woman she despised) was stealing away. My business
was to satirize the vizier, who could not read ; but soon
understanding from others that it was done with acri-
mony of which Aboul only was capable, my Fatima
was threatened ; and to save herself, promised to give me
up ; but, in the clothes I exchanged instantly for those
of a grateful slave, my escape was perfected, and you
will not suspect me of seeking this invisible Asheri in
the mean character of a village pedagogue, for such
you find mej after fifteen years' separation, though,
really, explaining to babies the rudiments of literature
is at least a far less offensive employment than that of
trying to instruct self-sufficient fools who take up their
teachers out of vanity and discard them out of pride.
I have been long enough a wit and an author. Now
tell me your adventures."
" Mine" said the passionate admirer of beauty, " are
soon told. I dashed at Cairo into the full tide of what
the world calls pleasure, till dissipation was no more a
name. Five of the fifteen years were spent in ruining my-
self and others. The ten remaining proved too few for
ASHERI. 23
my repentance, too many for my endurance. My frame
exhausted, my very mind enfeebled, life is to me only a
lengthening calamity. What was your course, Mesrou ?"
" My course was wretched," replied Mesrou ; " but
my aim was well taken, and the goal I aimed at grand.
Resolving to subdue all meaner passions, and dedicate
myself to ambitious pursuits^ I entered Ispahan with
hope swelling in rny heart, and presented my credentials
to Sultana Valadi. She was old and ugly, amorous and
vindictive. No matter ; she guided the helm of State
for her young son, whose honour she conceived would
still be best secured by keeping his subjects continually
at war. I was a coadjutor completely to her taste in
public and private, having small care for the nation,
and few scruples of delicacy. We spared no expenses
for the support of the army, but our generals were some-
times beaten and disgraced, us ; sometimes victorious, and
then they came home to insult us. My sultana's temper,
crooked as her person, grew wholly insupportable ; every
misfortune was set down to my account as minister, and
money became hard to find. Taxes offended the people,
and the soldiers refused to enforce them. The lady
was affrighted at the spirit she had raised ; and, when
I observed her one evening as if mixing some powders
in the Cherbette we were to drink after stlpper, I was
affrighted too : and, grasping her so roughly that resist-
ance was vain, I held the prepared potion to her own
lips. Fortunately for my innocence, the Yaladi, in her
ungovernable fury at such treatment, broke a blood-
vessel, and I left her to expire unpitied on the sofa, while
c 4
24 MISCELLANIES.
the bustle gave me time to drop my turban ; and, snatch-
ing the lay frock from off a dervise in the crowd, covered
myself up, and escaped from being the prime minister
at Ispahan. Let us now try to find our fourth brother,
Ittai, and return, though ragged, to our father's house."
The first man they met showed the leading path, and
pointed out the way. Arrived, they saw the fields so
much improved, it was scarce possible to recognise the
place. The man of talents, however, climbing a ladder
which was reared against the wall for some reason, looked
in, and perceived Ittai dancing at the celebration of his
son's birthday. " Oh, brother ! " he exclaimed, " here we
are ; we have never found Asheri." " That is a truth,
indeed," replied a little figure from behind the screen,
" for I have never moved for fifteen years from this very
spot." " Is that the beautiful creature we were taught to
expect ? " cried out the man of pleasure. Ittai set wide
his door, and a burst of brilliancy illuminated the dwell-
ing. Virtue, Love, and Friendship three forms under
one radiant head dazzled their sight ; and, " Keep your
distance," said the well-tuned voice : " Asheri abhors
men who deny the existence of what all must wish, but
none will ever find in pleasure, fame, or power. Asheri
dwells in heaven, visiting in disguise even the favoured
mortals who, like Ittai, send up their pious aspirations
there, and live contented with their lot below." The
brothers waked as from a dream, resolving to forget all
their projects of felicity in this life ; which they closed
in company with Ittai ; and each half hoped he saw a
ASHERI. 25
gleam of Asheri, as this world gradually receded from
their view, and soft futurity advanced to meet them.
Streatham Park, April 3, 1816. Mrs. Piozzi gave
me this (the foregoing) paper in the Library. After
telling several amusing anecdotes, she mentioned one of
Sir R. Jebb. One day somebody had given him a bottle
of castor oil, very pure ; it had but lately been brought
into use. Before he left his home, he gave it in charge
to his man, telling him to be careful of it. After the
lapse of a considerable time, Sir Eichard asked his
servant for the oil. "Oh, it's all used!" replied he.
" Used ! " said Sir Richard ; " how and when, Sir ? " "I
put it in the castor when wanted, and gave it to the
company." The way of telling this story by Mrs. Piozzi
added to the humour, and renders all description useless.
Sir James Fellmues.
26 MISCELLANIES.
HER CHARACTER OF THRALE.
As this is Thraliana, I will now write Mr. Thralls
character in it. It is not because I am in good or ill-
humour with him or he with me, for we are not ca-
pricious people, but have, I believe, the same opinion of
each other at all places and times.
Mr. Thrale's person is manly, his countenance agree-
able, his eyes steady and of the deepest blue ; his
look neither soft nor severe, neither sprightly nor
gloomy, but thoughtful and intelligent ; his address is
neither caressive nor repulsive, but unaffectedly civil
and decorous ; and his manner more completely free
from every kind of trick or particularity than I ever
saw any person's. He is a man wholly, as I think, out
of the power of mimickry. He loves money, and is
diligent to obtain it ; but he loves liberality too, and is
willing enough both to give generously and to spend
fashionably. His passions either are not strong, or else
he keeps them under such command that they seldom
disturb his tranquillity or his friends ; and it must, I
think, be something more than common which can affect
him strongly, either with hope, fear, anger, love, or joy.
His regard for his father's memory is remarkably great,
and he has been a most exemplary brother; though,
HER CHARACTER OF THRALE. 27
when the house of his favourite sister was on fire, and
we were all alarmed with the account of it in the night,
I well remember that he never rose, but bidding the
servant who called us to go to her assistance, quietly
turned about and slept to his usual hour. I must give
another trait of his tranquillity on a different occasion.
He had built great casks holding 1000 hogsheads each,
and was much pleased with their profit and appearance.
One day, however, he came down to Streatham as usual
to dinner, and after hearing and talking of a hundred
trifles, " but I forgot," says he, " to tell you how one of
my great casks is burst, and all the beer run out."
Mr. Thrale's sobriety, and the decency of his con-
versation, being wholly free from all oaths, ribaldry and
profaneness, make him a man exceedingly comfortable
to live with ; while the easiness of his temper and slow-
ness to take offence add greatly to his value as a do-
mestic man. Yet I think his servants do not much love
him, and I am not sure that his children have much
affection for him ; low people almost all indeed agree
to abhor him, as he has none of that officious and cordial
manner which is universally required by them, nor any
skill to dissemble his dislike of their coarseness. With
regard to his wife, though little tender of her person, he
is very partial to her understanding ; but he is obliging
to nobody, and confers a favour less pleasingly than
many a man refuses to confer one. This appears to me
to be as just a character as can be given of the man
with whom I have now lived thirteen years ; and though
he is extremely reserved and uncommunicative, yet one
28 MISCELLANIES.
must know something of him after so long acquaintance.
Johnson has a very great degree of kindness and esteem
for him, and says if he would talk more, his manner
would be very completely that of a perfect gentleman.
(Here follow Master Pepys' verses addressed to Thrale
on his wedding-day, October, 1776.)
People have a strange propensity to making vows
on trifling occasions, a trick one would not think of,
but I once caught my husband at it, and have since
then been suspicious that 'tis oftener done than believed.
For example : Mr. Thrale and I were driving through
E. Grinsted, and found the inn we used to put up at
destroyed by fire. He expressed great uneasiness, and
I still kept crying, * Why can we not go to the other
inn ? 'tis a very good house ; here is no difficulty in the
case.' All this while Mr. Thrale grew violently impatient,
endeavoured to bribe the post-boy to go on to the next
post-town, &c., but in vain ; till, pressed by inquiries
and solicitations he could no longer elude, he confessed
to me that he had sworn an oath or made a vow, I
forget which, seventeen years before, never to set his
foot within those doors again, having had some fraud
practised on him by a landlord who then kept the house,
but had been dead long enough ago. When I heard
this all was well ; I desired him to sit in the chaise
while the horses were changed, and walked into the
house myself to get some refreshment the while.
In 1779, June, after his recovery from the first fit of
paralysis, she writes :
His head is as clear as ever; his spirits indeed are
HER CHAKACTER OP THRALE. 29
low, but they will mend ; few people live in such a state
of preparation for eternity, I think, as my dear master
has done since I have been connected with him ; re-
gular in his public and private devotions, constant at
the Sacrament, temperate in his appetites, moderate in
his passions, he has less to apprehend from a sudden
summons than any man I have known who was young
and gay, and high in health and fortune like him.
30 MISCELLANIES.
TRANSLATION OF LAURA BASSI'S VERSES.
MESSER CHRISTOFOEO, who shewed us the Specola at
Bologna, and made his short but pathetic eulogium on
the lamented Dottoressa, pointed with his finger (I
believe he could not speak) to her much admired and
well-known verses on the gate :
" Si tibi pulchra domus, si splendida mensa, quid inde ?
Si species auri, argenti quoque massa, quid inde ?
Si tibi sponsa decens, si sit generosa, quid inde ?
Si tibi sunt nati; si prsedia magna, quid inde?
Si fueris pulcher, fortis, divesve, quid inde?
Si doceas alios in qualibet arte ; quid inde ?
Si longus servorum inserviat ordo : quid inde ?
Si faveat mundus, si prospera cuncta, quid inde ?
Si prior, aut abbas, si dux, si papa, quid inde ?
Si felix annos regnes per mille, quid inde ?
Si rota Fortunes se tollit ad astra, quid inde ?
Tam cito, tamque cito fugiunt haec ut nihil, inde.
Sola manet Virtus ; nos glorificabimur, inde.
Ergo Deo pare, bene nam tibi provenit inde."
I brought them home of course, and tried to trans-
late them; but ventured not the translation out of
my sight till now.
26th October, 1815.
TRANSLATION OF LAURA BASSl's VERSES. 31
TRANSLATION OR IMITATION OF LAURA BASSl'S VERSES.
Thy mansion splendid, and thy service plate,
Thy coffers fill'd with gold ; well ! what of that ?
Thy spouse the envy of all other men,
Thy children beautiful and rich, what then ?
Vig'rous thy youth, unmortgag'd thy estate,
Of arts the applauded teacher ; what of that ?
Troops of acquaintance, and of slaves a train,
This world's prosperity complete, what then ?
Prince, pope, or emperor's thy smiling fate,
With a long life's enjoyment, what of that?
By Fortune's wheel tost high beyond our ken,
Too soon shall following Time cry Well ! what then?
Virtue alone remains ; on Virtue wait,
All else / sweep away ; but what of that ?
Trust (rod, and Time defy : eternal is your date.
32 MISCELLANIES.
A FRIGHTFUL STORY.
HERE (at Florence) our little English coterie printed a
book, and called it the " Florence Miscellany," you
have seen it at my lodgings, and here, one day, for
a frolic, we betted a wager who could invent the most
frightful story, and produce by dinner time.* The
clock struck three, and by five we were to meet again.
Merry brought a very fine one, but Mr. Grreatheed
burned his, and the following
" FRAGMENT OF A SCENE NEAR NAPLES "
carried off the palm of victory.
He tore her from the bleeding body of her hus-
band, and throwing her across his horse, spurred him
forward, till even the imaginary noises, which for a while
pursued his flight, began to fade away and leave him
leisure to reanimate his brutal passion. He alighted
in a distant and deserted place, and by the faint light
which the new moon afforded some moments ere she
sunk below the horizon, examined his companion, and
found her dead. A crowd of horrid images possessed
his mind, but that which prevailed was the fear of
discovery. He regained his seat, intent upon escape,
* A somewhat similar compact or competition produced
" Frankenstein " and rt The Vampire."
A FRIGHTFUL STORY. 33
but the horse trembled, and refused to stir. Euggiero
resolved to lose no time in fruitless contentions with
his steed, but fly away as fast as it was possible. He
ran for a full hour, then found himself entangled by
some unseen substance that hindered him from pro-
ceeding.
The mountain, which had for thirty years been si-
lent, then gave a hollow groan. Euggiero knew not
that it was the mountain : but a column of blue flame
shot up from the crater convinced him, while gather-
ing clouds and solemn stillness of the air announced
an approaching earthquake. Euggiero's joynts began
to loosen with the united sensations of guilt and fear;
surrounded on all sides by torrents of indurated lava,
which he recollected to have heard flowed from Vesu-
vius the year that he was born, when both his parents
perished in the flames, and he himself was saved as if
by miracle, his feet stood fixed by difficulty, whilst
his mind ran rapidly over past events. The mountain
now swelled with a second sigh, more solemn than be-
fore. The hollow ground heaved under him, and by
the light of an electrick cloud which caught the blaze
as it blew over the hill, he happily discovered a dis-
tant crucifix, and seeking with steps become somewhat
more steady to gain it. Tears for the first time eased
his heart, and gave hope of returning humanity.
Euggiero now prayed for life only that he might gain
time to request forgiveness ; and after a variety of
penances courageously endured, he lives at this day, a
hermit on Vesuvius^ religion making that residence
VOL. II. D
34 MISCELLANIES.
delightful, the sight of which, when guilty, chilled him
with horror, and he scruples not to relate the story
of his conversion to those who, passing that way, are
sure to partake his hospitality.
This story was never seen since that day by any one.
35
BELLA CRUSCA VERSES.
AMONG many other undeserved praises I received at
generous Florence, I select these from Mr. Merry, whom
we called Delia Crusca, because he was a member of
their academy:
" Oh you ! whose piercing azure eye
Heads in each heart the feelings there ;
You ! that with purest sympathy
Our transports and our woes can share ;
You ! that by fond experience prove,
The virtuous bliss of Piozzi's love ;
Who while his breast affection warms,
With merit heightens music's charms ;
" Oh deign to accept the verse sincere
Nor yet deride my rustic reed ;
But pitying wait my woes to hear,
For pity sure is folly's meed :
The good, the liberal, and the kind,
Possess a tolerating mind :
Nor view the madman with a frown
Because of straw he weaves a crown."
These were sincere .verses indeed ; for he wanted me
not to join the Greatheeds and Parsons and Piozzi, who
D 2
36 MISCELLANIES.
were all persuading him to go home, and not fling any
more time away in prosecuting his dangerous passion
for Lady Cowper ; while the Grand Duke himself was
his rival. I answered his application, poor fellow ! in
the concluding verses of our " Florence Miscellany."
They wanted it larger ; so I said :
The book's imperfect you declare
And Piozzi has not given her share ;
What's to be done ? some wits in vogue,
Would quickly find an epilogue ;
Composed of whim, and mirth, and satire,
Without one drop of true good nature ;
But trust me ; 'tis corrupted taste
To make so merry with the last :
When in that fatal word we find
Each foe to gayety combined.
Since parting then on Arno's shore
We part perhaps to meet no more ;
Let these last lines some truths contain,
More clear than bright, less sweet than plain.
Thou first ; to sooth whose feeling heart
The Muse bestowed her lenient art ;
Accept her counsel, quit this coast
With only one short lustrum lost :
Nor longer let the tuneful strain
On foreign ears be poured in vain ;
The wreath which on thy brow should live,
Britannia's hand alone can give.
BELLA CKUSCA VERSES. 3?
Meanwhile for Bertie Fate prepares *
A mingled wreath of joys and cares ;
When politics and party-rage
Shall strive such talents to engage,
And call him to controul the great,
And fix the nicely balanced state :
Till charming Anna's gentler mind,
For storms of faction ne'er designed,
Shall think with pleasure on the times
When Arno listened to his rhymes ;
And reckon among Heav'n's best mercies,
Our Piozzi's voice, and Parson's verses.
Thou too ; who oft hast strung the lyre
To liveliest notes of gay desire ;
No longer seek these scorching flames,
And trifle with Italian dames ;
But haste to Britain's chaster isle,
Receive some fair one's virgin smile,
Accept her vows, reward her truth,
And guard from ills her artless youth.
Keep her from knowledge of the crimes
That taint the sweets of warmer climes ;
But let her weaker bloom disclose
The beauties of a hothouse rose :
Whose leaves no insects ever haunted,
Whose perfume but to one is granted ;
* Mr. Greatheed. She describes him as completely under the
influence, of his wife, the charming Anna.
D 3
38 MISCELLANIES.
Pleased with her partner to retire
And cheer the safe domestic fire.
While I who, half-amphibious grown,
Now scarce call any place my own
Will learn to view with eye serene
Life's empty plot, and shifting scene ;
And trusting still to Heav'n's high care,
Fix my firm habitation there :
'Twas thus the Grecian sage of old,
As by Herodotus we're told,
Accused by them who sate above,
As wanting in his country's love :
" 'Tis that," cried he, " which most I prize,"
And pointing upwards, shewed the skies.
39
ODE TO SOCIETY.
I.
SOCIETY ! gregarious dame ! *
Who knows thy favour'd haunts to name ?
Whether at Paris you prepare
The supper and the chat to share,
While fix'd in artificial row,
Laughter displays its teeth of snow :
Grimace with raillery rejoices,
And song of many mingled voices,
Till young coquetry's artful wile
Some foreign novice shall beguile,
Who home return'd, still prates of thee,
Light, flippant, French Society.
II.
Or whether, with your zone unbound,
You ramble gaudy Venice round,
Resolv'd the inviting sweets to prove,
Of friendship warm, and willing love ;
* See Yol. I. p. 202. Moore has substituted Posterity for Society.
His reports of conversations are both meagre and inaccurate. Thus
(vol. iii. p. 196) he says : " In talking of letters being charged by
weight, he (Canning) said the post-office once refused to carry a
letter of Sir J. Cox Hippesley's, it was so dull." Canning said
" so heavy " ; the letter being the worthy baronet's printed letter
against Catholic Emancipation.
40 MISCELLANIES
Where softly roll th' obedient seas,
Sacred to luxury and ease,
In coffee-house or casino gay
Till the too quick return of day,
Th' enchanted votary who sighs
For sentiments without disguise,
Clear, unaffected, fond, and free,
In Venice finds Society.
in.
Or if to wiser Britain led,
Your vagrant feet desire to tread
With ineasur'd step and anxious care,
The precincts pure of Portman-square
While wit with elegance combin'd,
And polish'd manners there you'll find :
The taste correct and fertile mind :
Kemember vigilance lurks near,
And silence with unnotic'd sneer,
Who watches but to tell again
Your foibles with to-morrow's pen ;
Till titt'ring malice smiles to see
Your wonder grave Society.
IV.
Far from your busy crowded court,
Tranquillity makes her resort ;
Where ? mid cold Staffa's columns rude,
Besides majestic solitude ;
* The residence of her old rival, Mrs. Montague.
1
ODE TO SOCIETY. 41
Or where in some sad Brachman's cell,
Meek innocence delights to dwell,
Weeping with unexperienc'd eye,
The death of a departed fly :
Or in Hetruria's heights sublime,
Where science self might fear to climb,
But that she seeks a smile from thee,
And wooes thy praise, Society.
v.
Thence let me view the plains below,
From rough St. Julian's rugged brow ;
Hear the loud torrents swift descending,
Or mark the beauteous rainbow bending,
Till Heaven regains its favourite hue,
^Ether divine ! celestial blue !
Then bosom' d high in myrtle bower,
View letter'd Pisa's pendent tower ;
The sea's wide scene, the port's loud throng,
Of rude and gentle, right and wrong ;
A motley group which yet agree
To call themselves Society.
VI.
Oh ! thou still sought by wealth and fame,
Dispenser of applause and blame :
While flatt'ry ever at thy side,
With slander can thy smiles divide ;
Far from thy haunts, oh ! let me stray,
But grant one friend to cheer my way,
42 MISCELLANIES.
Whose converse bland, whose music's art,
May cheer my soul, and heal my heart ;
Let soft content our steps pursue,
And bliss eternal bound our view :
Pow'r I'll resign, and pomp, and glee,
Thy best-lov'd sweets Society.
DIDO EPIGRAMS.
We were speaking the other day of the famous
epigram in Ausonius :
" Infelix Dido, nulli bene nupta marito,
Hoc moriente fugis, hoc fugiente peris."
Two lords, in vain, unlucky Dido tries,
One dead, she flies the land ; one fled, she dies.*
u Pauvre Didon ! on t'a reduite
De tes maris le triste sort ;
L'un en mourant cause ta fuite,
L'autre en fuyant cause ta mort."
is reckoned a beautiful version of this epigram.
* To the same class of jeu-x d 'esprit as this epitaph on Dido,
belongs one made on Thynne, " Tom of Ten Thousand," after his
assassination by Konigsmark, who wished to marry the widow, the
heiress of the Percys. Thynne's marriage had not been con-
summated, and he was said to have promised marriage to a maid
of honour whom he had seduced.
" Here lies Tom Thynne of Longleat Hall,
Who never would so have miscarried,
Had he married the woman he lay withal,
Or lay with the woman he married."
DIDO EPIGRAMS. 43
There is, however, a very old passage in Davison,
alluding to the same story:
" Oh, most unhappy Dido !
Unlucky wife, and eke unhappy widow :
Unhappy in thy honest mate,
And in thy love unfortunate."
When Lady Bolingbroke led off the Grim. Con. Dance,
about thirty-five years ago, the town made a famous
bustle concerning her ladyship's name Diana. She
married Topham Beauclerc, and when her first husband
died, some wag made these verses :
" Ah ! lovely, luckless Lady Di,
So oddly link'd to either spouse :
Who can your Grordian knot untie ?
Or who dissolve your double vows ?
" And where will our amazement lead to ?
When we survey your various life ?
Whose living lord made you a widow,
Whose dead one leaves you still a wife."
Can you endure any more nonsense about Dido ?
" Make me (says a college tutor) some verses on the
gerunds di, do, dum, as a punishment for the strange
grammatical fault I found in your last composition."
" Here they are, Sir "-
When Dido's spouse to Dido would not come,
Then Dido wept in silence, and was Dido dumb.
Will it amuse you to read some of the unmerited
44 MISCELLANIES.
praises I picked up in this charming society? When
we all stood round the pianoeforte, and I felt encouraged
to reply to Bertola's complimentary verses, which were
certainly improvised ; when he sung :
" Esser mi saran fatali
Cento rivali e cento ;
Ma piu che i rniei rivali
La tua virtu pavento.
" Non in sen d'angliche mura
I tuoi be' lumi al di se schiuse ;
Tu nascesti, de un dio me lo giura,
Ove nacquero le Muse."
To which I replied :
Delicati al par che forti
Son li versi di Bertola ;
Dolce fiuon che mi consola
Mentre lui cantando va ;
Ma tentando d' imitarli
S' io m' ingegno, oh, Dio ! invano :
Dall' inusitata mano,
II plettrino caschera.
We were in a large company last night, where a beau-
tiful woman of quality came in dressed according to the
present taste, with a gauze head-dress, adjusted turban-
wise, and a heron's feather; the neck wholly bare.
Abate Bertola bid me look at her, and, recollecting
himself a moment, made this epigram improvise :
DELLA CRTJSCA VERSES. 45
Volto e crin hai di Sultana,
Perche mai mi vien disdetto,
Sodducente Mussulmana
Di gittarti il fazzoletto ?
of which I can give no better imitation than the fol-
lowing :
While turban 'd head and plumage high
A Sultaness proclaims my Cloe ;
Thus tempted, tho' no Turk, I'll try
The handkerchief you scorn to throw ye.
This is however a weak specimen of his powers,
whose charming fables have so completely, in my
mind, surpassed all that has ever been written in that
way since La Fontaine. I am strongly tempted to
give one little story, and translate it too :
Una lucertoletta
Diceva al cocodrillo,
Oh quanto mi diletta
Di veder finalmente
Un della mia famiglia
Si grande e si potente !
Ho fatto mille miglia
Per venirvi a vedere,
Mentre tra noi si serba
Di voi memoria viva ;
Benche fuggiam tra 1' erba
46 MISCELLANIES.
E il sassoso sentiero :
In sen pero non langue
L' onor del prisco sangue.
L' anfibio re dormiva
A quest! complimenti,
Pur sugli ultimi accent!
Dal sonno se riscosse
E dimando chi fosse ?
La parentela antica,
II viaggio, la fatica,
Quella torno a dire,
Ed ei torne a dormire.
Lascia i grand! ed i potent!,
A sognar per parent! ;
Puoi cortesi stimarli
Se dorm on mentre parli.
Walking full many a weary mile
The lizard met the crocodile
And thus began How fat, how fair,
How finely guarded, Sir, you are !
Tis really charming thus to see
One's kindred in prosperity,
I've travell'd far to find your coast,
But sure the labour was not lost :
For you must think we don't forget
Our loving cousin now so great ;
BELLA CRUSCA VERSES. 47
And tho' our humble habitations
Are such as suit our slender stations,
The honour of the lizard blood
Was never better understood.
Th' amphibious prince, who slept content,
Ne'er listening to her compliment,
At this expression rais'd his head,
And Pray who are you ? coolly said.
The little creature now renew'd,
Her history of toils subdu'd,
Her zeal to see her cousin's face,
The glory of her ancient race ;
But looking nearer, found my lord
Was fast asleep again and snor'd.
Ne'er press upon a rich relation
Eais'd to the ranks of higher station ;
Or if you will disturb your coz,
Be happy that he does but doze.
Here, then, are Abate Eavasi's verses, which he
called his
PARTENZA.
Ah ! non resiste il cuore
A vedermi lasciar,
lo sento a palpitar
Ei manca, ei muore.
E in mezzo a tal dolore
43 MISCELLANIES.
Co' tronchi accenti,
Co' flebili lamenti,
Altro non sa dir 1' animo mio,
Ch'addio, gran donna! eccelsa, donna,
addio !
RONDO.
Ne' viaggi tuoi rammentati
D' un fido servidor ;
Nell' Inghilterra ancor,
Non ti scordar di me.
Ch' io, dovunque vado,
Sempre verrammi in mente,
Che donna si eccellente
Non trovasi di te.
Conservami 1'amico
L' amato tuo consorte,
Dilli che anche la morte
Potra violar mia fe.
49
VERSES ON BUFFON.
WHILE we were daily receiving some tender adieux
from our Milanese friends, the famous Buffon died, and
changed the conversation. He was blind a few days
before his death, and occasioned this epigram :
" Ah ! s'il est vrai que Buffon perd les yeux,
Que le jour se refuse au foyer des lumieres :
La nature a la fin punit les curieux,
Qui penetroient tous ses mysteres."
The Abate Bossi translated it thus :
" Ah ! s'e ver che Buffon cieco diventa,
Se alle pupille sue il di s' asconde ;
Natura alia fin gelosa confonde
Chi entro gl' arcani suoi penetrar tenta."
Buffon's bright eyes at length grow dim,
Dame Nature now no more will yield ;
Or longer lend her light to him
Who all her mysteries revealed.
This last of course was done by your own little
friend ; who was careful to preserve a power over her
own language, although beginning almost to think in
Italian, by such constant use.
VOL. II. E
50 MISCELLANIES.
FLORENCE MISCELLANY.
Dedication (writer not specified).
WHAT a whimsical task, my dear friends, you impose
To contribute a fine Dedication in prose !
Our Piozzi, methinks, is much fitter for this,
For she writes the Preface, and can't write amiss.
But my thoughts neither beautiful are nor sublime,
So I wrap them in metre, and tag them with rhime,
Like theatrical dresses, if tinsel'd enough,
The tinsel one stares at, nor thinks of the stuff,
We mean not our book for the public inspection,
Then why should we court e'en a Monarch's protection?
For too oft the good Prince such a critic of lays is,
He scarcely knows how to peruse his own praises.
Ourselves and our friends we for Patrons will chuse,
No others will read us, and these will excuse.
Preface, by Mrs. Piozzi.*
PREFACES to Books, like Prologues to Plays, will seldom
be found to invite Readers, and still less often to convey
importance. Excuses for mean Performances add only
the baseness of submission to poverty of sentiment, and
* See Vol. I. p. 133.
FLORENCE MISCELLANY. 51
take from insipidity the praise of being inoffensive. We
do not however by this little address mean to deprecate
public Criticism, or solicit Eegard ; why we wrote the
verses may be easily explain'd, we wrote them to divert
ourselves, and to say kind things of each other ; we col-
lected them that our reciprocal expressions of kindness
might not be lost, and we printed them because we had
no reason to be ashamed of our mutual partiality.
Portrait Painting, though unadorn'd by allegorical
allusions and unsupported by recollection of events or
places, will be esteem'd for ever as one of the most
durable methods to keep Tenderness alive and preserve
Friendship from decay : nor do I observe that the room
here where Artists of many Ages have contributed their
own likenesses to the Royal Grallery is less frequented
than that which contains the statue of a slave and the
picture of a Sibyl. Our little Book can scarcely be less
important to Readers of a distant Age or Nation than
we ourselves are ready to acknowledge it : the waters of
a mineral spring which sparkle in the glass, and exhi-
larate the spirits of those who drink them on the spot,
grow vapid and tasteless by carriage and keeping ; and
though we have perhaps transgress'd the Persian Rule
of sitting silent till we could find something important
or instructive to say, we shall at least be allow'd to have
glisten'd innocently in Italian Sunshine, and to have
imbibed from it's rays the warmth of mutual Benevo-
lence, though we may have miss'd the hardness and
polish that some coarser Metal might have obtain'd by
heat of equal force. I will not however lengthen out
E 2
52 MISCELLANIES.
my Preface ; if the Book is but a feather, tying 1 a stone
to it can be no good policy, though it were a precious
one ; the lighter body would not mate the heavy one
swim, but the heavy body would inevitably make the
light one sink.
53
SOCIAL VERSES,
ON Tuesday evening, the 26th December, 1815, (writes
Mr. Fellowes) we met at the Vineyards, our conversa-
tion led to the House of Commons, and my father
expressed a wish that I had been a member, adding
that he believed I should have followed that line with
more pleasure than physic. Mrs. Piozzi assented to
this, in her usual good humoured complimentary man-
ner. I made an observation about illusion, &c., and
something was said about Spain, and the beauties of
the language, and I read the following Spanish verses
to her, which pleased from their simplicity and neat-
ness:
" La otra noche sonaba,
Que feliz sueno,
A decirte lo iva,
Pero no quieso.
Permita el Amor,
Que algun dia tu suenes,
Lo que sone yo."
On the following morning I received from Mrs.
Piozzi these lines :
" The amorous Spaniard's glowing dream,
Joined with our doctor's soberer scheme,
E 3
54 MISCELLANIES.
Caused in my brain confusion ;
Yet when before my closing eyes,
I saw Saint Stephen's chapel rise,
Say ; was that all illusion ?
" Oh, if the stream of eloquence,
I saw you gracefully dispense,
Was fancied all and vain :
Daylight no more I wish to see,
But drive back dull reality,
And turn to dream again.
" Mr. Linton takes this imitation of the verses you
showed me last night. H. L. P."
During her stay in Italy (writes Sir J. Fellowes)
in this delightful society, upon the banks of the Arno,
which was duly enli vened by brilliant wit and classic
taste, the conversation often turned upon more serious
subjects, and one day it was proposed to write an im-
promptu upon the fatal monosyllable now, the present
moment passing away even before the word is written
that explains it. This pretty quatrain was produced
by Delia Crusca, who had been asserting that all past
actions are nihilitic, and that the immediate raoment
was the whole of human existence :
" One endless Now stands o'er th' eventful stream
Of all that may be with colossal stride ;
VERSES. |
And sees beneath life's proudest pageants gleam,
And sees beneath the wrecks of empire glide."
To this H. L. P. replied : -
'Tis yours the present moment to redeem,
And powerful snatch from Time's too rapid stream ;
While self-impell'd, the rest redundant roll,
Slumb'ring to stagnate in oblivion's pool."
LINES WRITTEN JULY 28lH, 1815.
Is it of intellectual powers,
Which time developes, time devours,
Which twenty years perhaps are ours,
That man is vain ?
Of such the infant shows no sign,
And childhood shuns the dazzling shine,
Of knowledge bright with rays divine,
As mental pain.
Still less when passion bears the sway,
Unbridled youth brooks no delay,
He drives dull reason far away,
With scorn avow'd.
For twenty years she reigns at most,
Labour and study pay the cost ;
Just to be rais'd is all our boast,
Above the crowd.
E 4
56 MISCELLANIES.
Sickness then fills th' uneasy chair,
Sorrow, and loss, and strife, and care ;
While faith just saves us from despair,
Wishing to die.
Till the farce ends as it began,
Eeason deserts the dying man,
And leaves to encounter as he can
Eternity.
ON A WEEPING WILLOW PLACED OVER AGAINST THE
SUNDIAL AT BRYNBELLA, NOV. 28TH, 1802.
Mark how the weeping willow stands,
Near the recording stone ;
It seems to blame our idle hands,
And mourn the moments flown.
Thus conscience holds our fancy fast,
With care too oft' affected ;
Pretending to lament the past,
The present still neglected.
Yet shall the swift improving plant
With spring her leaves resume ;
Nor let the example she can grant,
Descend on winter's gloom.
Loiter no more then near the tree,
Nor on the dial gaze ;
If but an hour be giv'n to thee,
Act right while yet it stays.
VERSES. 57
When Pleasure marks each hour that flies,
And Youth rejoyces in his prime,
It may be good, it may be wise,
To watch with care the flight of time.
But now ; when friends and hours are seen
To part, and ne'er return again ;
Who would admit of a machine
To mark how few there yet remain ?
I am asked to produce some etrennes for dear Mrs.
Lutwyche. Will these verses do, accompanied by a
bouquet ?
The charms we find Maria still possess,
Deciduous plants like these but ill express :
Your emblem in a brighter clime we see,
No season robs of flow'rs the Orange Tree.
HER LAST VERSES.
TIME, DEATH, AND H. L. P.
MOKS (loquitur).
Tell her, old Time of foot so fleet,
Once caught, she can't our strokes avoid
H. L. P.
I know it ; but when next we meet,
'Twill be to see you both destroyed.
LETTERS.
61
LETTERS.
THE two brothers to whom the first batch of the fol-
lowing letters are addressed, were members of a county
family settled for more than two centuries at Hempsted
in Gloucestershire. Both were eminently distinguished
by the extent and variety of their antiquarian and
literary acquirements, as well as highly esteemed for
their social qualities. It is sufficient to mention their
principal work, the "Magna Britannia," which they
undertook in copartnership. The younger, Samuel,
afterwards Keeper of the Eecords in the Tower and a
V.P.E.S., was presented to Johnson and favourably re-
ceived by him ; but the acquaintance commenced only
a few months before Johnson's death.
The present proprietor of Hempsted Court and
rector of Eodrnarton (the family living) amply sustains
the hereditary reputation of his family, being the
author of several works of learning, ingenuity and
research.
A selection of letters from Mrs. Piozzi to the same
62 LETTERS.
gentlemen, of an earlier date, appeared in " Bentley's
Miscellany," in 1849.
To the Rev. Daniel Lysons.
4 o'clock in the morning of
Saturday 16, 1794.
DEAR MR. LYSONS, Here are we returned home from
a concert at one house, a card assembly at a second, a
ball and supper at a third. The pain in my side, which
has tormented me all evening, should not however have
prevented my giving the girls their frolic, and enjoying
your company myself; but servants and horses can't
stand it if I can, and even Cecilia consents not to be
waked in four hours after she lies down. Excuse us all,
therefore, and believe me ever truly yours,
H. L. PIOZZI.
To the Rev. Daniel Lysons.
Denbigh, N. W., Wednesday,
7th January, 1795.
DEAR MR. LYSONS, I write to you, knowing that you
are stationary, and you will tell your brother that
we are coming back to Streatham Park, where our first
pleasure will be to see and converse with our long
absent friends, among which I hope long to reckon you
both. Many strange events, but I think no good ones,
have taken place since we parted ; yet, although many
accidents have happened, I see not that the fog clears
LETTERS. 63
or dissipates, so as to give us any good view of the end
yet. Those who live nearer the centre may perhaps
obtain better intelligence, and see further than we do ;
and more light may break in still before the fourth or
fifth of February, when we shall request your company,
or his, or both for a day's comfortable chat. What do
the Opposition say concerning their projects for peace
with a nation that continues, or rather renews, pre-
datory hostilities, while the armistice (themselves were
contented to grant) remains in full force ?
Has no, caricatura print been made yet of a French-
man shaking Nic Frog by the hand in a sinister manner,
at the same time that the other arm is employed in
cutting his throat ? They are terrible fellows, to be
sure ; and if they take Pampeluna, the King and Queen
of Spain will have to run away from Madrid, as the
Stadhtholder and his lady from Holland, I suppose ; so
you will do well to finish your Environs of London*
quickly while that lasts.
How do your amiable neighbours, the Miss Petti-
wards ? You will have dear Siddons amongst you soon,
I hear, for they have taken Mr. Cologon's pretty villa.
Write once more, do, before we meet, and say you will
come to Streatham Park soon, and make a world of chat
with my master, and Cecy, and, dear Sir, yours ever,
very sincerely,
H. L. PIOZZI.
Pick me up some literary intelligence if any can be
* Mr. Lysons was engaged in a topographical work entitled
" The Environs of London."
G4 LETTERS.
found. I hear Miss Burney that was Madame D'Ar.-
blaye is writing for the stage.
To ike Rev. Daniel Lysons.
Denbigh, Sunday night, 15th February, 1795.
DEAR MR. LYSONS, A thousand thanks for your
letter, and literary intelligence. I suspect the tragedy
&c.* will prove a second Chattertonism ; this is an age
of imposture. What became of the philosopher in St.
Martin's Lane, who advertised a while ago that he gave
life and motion to stone figures, that moved and turned
in every direction at the word of command ? I never
saw it in the paper but once ; 'twas a curious advertise-
ment. So is Mr. Kemble's in another way; he has
proved himself no conjuror, sure, to get into such a
scrape, but Alexander and Statira will pull him out, I
suppose, f Poor dear Mrs. Siddons is never well long
together, always some torment, body or mind, or both.
Are people only sick in London (by the way), or do
they die ? not of any one contagious disorder, but of
various maladies. I suspect there is disposition to mor-
tality in the town, sure enough, for never did I read of
so many deaths together ; these violent changes from cold
to heat, and from heat to cold, occasion a great deal of it.
For the Princess of "Wales, I think little about her
just now, and still less about that horrid Mr. Brothers ;
* The celebrated Ireland forgeries.
f lie was obliged to make a public apology for indecorous
behaviour to a lady, afterwards his sister-in-law.
LETTERS. 65
but it will be a dreadful thing to see the King and
Queen of Spain setting out upon their travels, as appears
by no means improbable, if the French are in possession
of Pampeluna. The Spaniards can fight nothing but
bulls ; we shall have that royal family unroosted, I verily
believe, and in a few months too. The capture of
Holland will seem a light thing in comparison of so
heavy a calamity when it comes to pass, for all the
riches of Mexico will then drop into the wrong scale.
" But we will not be over- exquisite
To scan the fashion of uncertain evils/'
as Milton says ; but keep out famine by liberality, and
contagion by cleanliness, as long as ever we can ; loving
our gallant seamen meantime, and rewarding them with
all the honours and profits old England has to bestow.
I should like to read your Fast sermon ; we shall
have a very good one here, for among other comforts
Denbigh possesses that of an excellent preacher and
reader. Pray tell how the day is observed in London
and its environs : I shall be curious to hear ; and do
assure you with the greatest sincerity that letters-
from you and your brother are most desirable treats.
He is cruel, though, and keeps close Mum. Pray
are the Greatheeds in town ? what do they say of Mr.
Kemble's conduct ? and what of their countryman
Shakespeare's extraordinary resuscitation? It seems
to me a sort of tub to the whale, a thing to catch
attention, and detain it from other matters. When we
see Mr. Lloyd of Wickwor, whom we here justly call
VOL. II. F
66 LETTERS.
the philosopher, I shall find what he thinks of the dis-
covery. Give my kindest regards to your very amiable
neighbours, Miss Pettiwards; they must take double
care of their mother now, if possible, for all the people
past a certain age seem to be dropping off.
'Tis very wicked in me to send you these sixpenny-
worths of interrogations every time I feel my ignorance
of what passes in the world painful to myself, or dis-
graceful among those whom I wish to entertain ; but
whoever is rich will be borrowed from : so Adieu ! and
write soon, and accept my master's and Cecilia's best
compliments from, dear Sir, yours most faithfully,
H. L. PIOZZI.
To the Rev. Daniel Lysons.
Brynbella, 9th February, 1796.
You really can scarcely believe, dear Mr. Lysons, how
much entertainment and pleasure was given us by your
agreeable and friendly letter, in which however you do
not mention your brother, but I doubt not he is well
and happy. You do not mention the high price of
provisions neither, though sufficient to make everybody
unhappy ; but this mild season, and good plenty of
coals, I trust, contribute to keep people quiet, assisted
by our new laws against sedition. I have found a wise
book at last Miss Thrale sent it me on Monopoly
and Eeform of Manners ; printed for Faulder. It should
be given about, I think, like Hannah More's penny
books, and got by heart for a task by servants, appren-
LETTERS. 67
tices, &c., and much finer people, though they are too
fine by half.
The Chinese embassy * will not tempt three guineas
out of my pocket, say what they will, and say it how
they will. ^Eneas Anderson has convinced me that it
was an empty business at best.
Your account of Shakespear's being forged and fooled
after so many years' peace and quietness, most exactly
tallies with what my heart told me upon reading the
queen's supposed letter to him in our newspaper. I
have seen no other, but was struck with the word
amuse. She would have said pastyme. The other
phrase was hardly received in France (whence we got it)
so early as the days of Elizabeth. The dates, however,
are decisive, when you tell me she is made to promote
the -amusement of a man then known to be dead. The
Earl of Leicester was ranger here of Denbigh Green,
you know ; and my ancestor, Salusbury of Bachygraig,
opposed his innovation when he sought to enclose the
common for his use. The tyrant followed him up,
though, till he got his life ; and not contented with
that, brought his first cousin, Salusbury of Llewenney,
my mother's ancestor, to death likewise, by way of
revenge ; all which shall serve as my pretext for a good
piece of the Green whenever it is ordered for cultiva-
tion. Meantime, let me request an early narrative of
Vortigern's success. I -think they will pluck his painted
vest from him, but we shall see.
* The work on Lord Macartney's Embassy to China, price three
guineas,
F 2
68 LETTERS.
It has been long matter of surprise to me that
the less-instructed part of our common audiences in
London never miss being right in their judgment of a
play, or even of the language ; for as to incidents, those
are as obvious to one set of men as to another, if pro-
bable or not. But what I mean is this : when Lady
Macbeth tells them that the grooms of Duncan's chamber
she will with wine and wassel so convince, &c., they
think it (as it certainly is) perfectly right, and in cha-
racter with the times ; but let Cumberland or Jephson
use the same phrase, and say they will convince a knot
of friends with drink, a loud shout of laughter would,
without any instigation, burst from the upper gallery ;
every single member of which, talked to apart, would
appear to know very little, if anything, concerning the
history of their native tongue. For these reasons it is
scarce a fair wager how this new tragedy is received,
without they bring it out in Shakspear's name, which I
do think would save it harmless, so long as they be-
lieved the imposition.
Meantime, I see by the newspapers people continue
to insult the king, throwing stones at him as he passes.
Methinks the very word stone should be offensive to all
his family : one mad fool of the name persecuted Princess
Sophia, as I remember, with offers of marriage ; and this
coachmaker or coal-merchant, or what was the anagram-
matical gentleman who signed Enots, he seems to have
escaped by testimonials to his character from the rich
Democrates. I think they are all Gall Stones, and I
heartily wish we were rid of them.
LETTERS. 69
What becomes of the Beavor family ? I never write
to Mrs. Grillies, because I know she hates letters ; but
my true esteem of her brave brothers does not lessen
by absence. Mrs. D'Arblaye's new novel is not adver-
tised yet. Somebody told me Lady Eglinton is turned
writer now she has married the son of Doctor More ;
but perhaps it was a joke. Will Miss Farren's coronet
never be put on ? I thought the paralytic countess
would have made way for her long ago.
Dear, charming Siddons keeps her empire over all
hearts still, I hope ; if an Irish plan takes place in her
arrangements this spring, we shall not despair to see
her at Brynbella. Tell her so with my true love.
There is a new pamphlet supposed by Jones, the
Hutchinsonian, to say that our Saviour's Coming (but
not the end of the world) is at hand. I cannot recol-
lect the title of it, but do buy and send it to Streatham
Park with any other little thing worth notice, but no
three-guinea books. I wonder who wrote the small
tract about Monopoly ; 'tis monstrously clever, and
clever only because its true. So is my conclusion of
this letter, saying that I am most sincerely, dear Sir,
yours,
H. L. PIOZZI.
My master * unites in compliments.
* It is curious that she could call her second husband by this
name, so well calculated to revive the memory of her first.
70 LETTERS.
To the Rev. Daniel Lysons.
Brynbella, 9th July, 1796.
BEAR MR. LYSONS, This is a letter of mere request,
to beg remembrances from old and distant friends. Do
pray write now and then, and make me up a good long
letter of small London chat: you can scarcely think
how welcome living intelligence is to those who have
chiefly the dead to converse with, and I work hard at
old stuff all morning, and sigh for some evening con-
versation about literature and politics, and the common
occurrences of the day.
Esher, or Asher, in Surrey, is a place I cannot find in
your Environs. It was my grandmother's property, and
she sold it to the Pelhams ; her mother lies buried there
with a painted or coloured monument if I recollect
rightly, though 'tis many years since I saw it. Mr.
Piozzi used to promise me a drive thither, but we never
went.
Hume says that Cardinal "Wolsey retired to that seat
when the king withdrew his favour from him ; and Mr.
Fitzmaurice, from whose library I borrowed the book,
queries the place, and doubts whether he ever was there ;
although Stowe tells for I remember it how Wolsey
alighted from his horse in the road between Asher and
Richmond, to receive the ring which Henry sent him,
and threw himself on his knees in the dirt from thank-
fulness that he was not wholly out of favour. I wish
you would set me right. Likewise I want to know
where the spot once called Castle-risings now stands.
LETTERS. 71
Edward II.'s queen Isabella was confined there to her
death, but lived very grand, I trust, for she had 3000^.
a year, a sum equal to a royal jointure now, I suppose.
Hume says it was ten miles from London, and it must
be nearer now.
Do Mr. Walpole's works sell, and is his Love Story
that you once read to me in them ? I liked the letters
to Hannah More mightily.
If Mr. Bunbury's Little Gray Man is printed, do
send it hither ; the ladies at Llangollen are dying for it.
They like those old Scandinavian tales and the imita-
tions of them exceedingly; and tell me about the
prince and princess of this loyal country, one province
of which alone had disgraced itself; and now no Angle-
sey militiaman is spoken to by the Cymrodorion, but
all completely sent to Coventry, for nobody wants them
in Ireland.
The mysterious expedition of Buonaparte will I hope
end at worst in revolutionising the Greek Islands, and
restoring the old names to Peloponnaesus, Eubcea, &c.
I should be sorry he ever got to India, but waking the
Turks from their long sleep will not grieve me. The
Knights of Malta make a triste figure at last ; I suppose
Mr. Weishoupt's emissaries were beforehand with the
hero of Italy, as they call him.
My husband is particularly disgusted with the people
that exalt Buonaparte's personal courage and valorous
deeds. "He goes nowhere unless he is called," says
Mr. Piozzi ; if he wanted to show his prowess, why
did not he come here, or to Ireland ? we would have
F 4
72 LETTERS.
shown him sport ; but like Caliban, those fellows will be
wise henceforward and sue for grace, and worship the
French no more, unless they are still greater blunderers
than even J take them for, who am ever, dear Sir, yours
faithfully,
H. L. P.
To the Rev. Daniel Lysons.
Brynbella, Tuesday Evening 1 , 1797.
I THANK you very sincerely for the entertaining letter
I received the other day. Indeed, my dear Sir, you can
scarcely imagine how much a cargo of London chat en-
livens our conversation here in the country, where those
deceased topics of the town revive and flourish which
were withering away upon their native seed-bed. When
you have anything fit for transplantation, pray send
hither, where there is more soil than trees in almost
every sense. Burke's pamphlet and his answerers "are
in full bloom with us now; but you have forgotten
them, I trust, and are busy about what is in succession.
Miss Thrale has promised me Watson's Apology. Could
you, as you walk about and examine books upon stalls,
find me a second, or third, or thirteenth-hand. History
of Poetry, by Warton, or of Music, by Hawkins ; I
should be much obliged to you ; but it must be under
a guinea price. I have the good editions myself at
Streatham Park. Your book of " Ladies' Dresses " must
have received curious addition, by what I see and hear
of the present fashions ; but cutting off hair is the
foolishest among the foolish. When they are tired of
LETTERS. 73
going without clothes, 'tis easy putting them on again ;
but what they will do for the poor cropt and shorn
heads, now there are no convents, I cannot guess.
Do people rejoice now wheat falls in price? they
made heavy lament when it was high, or do we only
sigh for peace that we may b6 at leisure to meditate
mischief ?
And so I see that both Ministry and Opposition have
at last agreed in one point ; they join against the
Lapdogs :
" So when two dogs are fighting in the streets,
"With a third dor/ one of these two dogs meets ;
"With angry teeth he bites him to the bone,
And this dog smarts for what that dog had done."
These verses are somewhat too soft and mellifluous for
the occasion, being Fielding's, but I half long to ad-
dress a doggrel epistle to Mr. Dent * ; he would be as
angry as Mr. Parsons, no doubt, and I understand his
wrath is very great. What becomes of Ireland, I wonder,
now his solemn mockery is ended. It was a forged
bill, you see, and the public did well to protest it.f
If Mrs. Siddons was to work at Drury Lane all winter
and run about all summer, she would have had no
* Who gained the nickname of Dog Dent by this piece of legis-
lation.
f " Yortigern " was acted and damned on April 2, 1796. The
last audible line was
" And when this solemn mockery is o'er,"
which Kemble was accused of uttering in a manner to precipitate
the catastrophe.
74 LETTERS.
enjoyment of Putney ; and the young ones, for whose
sake she is to work and run, would never have delighted
in an out of town residence. Cecilia is coming to the
scene of action, London, where I think there were
enough just such half-hatched chickens without her
and Mr. Mostyn adding to the number ; but then they
do not care what I think, so 'tis all one. The Bishop
of Bangor likes Wales no better than she does, I sup-
pose, but he ought not to have said so ; because an old
bishop should be wiser than a -pretty wench, and much
will be endured from her, very little from him, espe-
cially in these days ; he is got into a cruel embarrass-
ment.
Tell something about our Princess of Wales and her
domestiques, and of our infant queen-expectant, pietty
creature ! I should somehow like to see that baby ex-
cessively. My hope is that every English heart will
devote itself to the service of so much innocence and
sweetness.
I depend upon an excellent account of " Almeyda ;" *
the epilogue is charming. Only one fault ; 'tis an epi-
logue would do for any play. I call such things verses
to be let. Prologues and epilogues should, to be perfect,
be appropriate, referring to what has been presented, or
is to present itself before the audience. This, however,
is playful and pretty, and so far as I know or can re-
member, quite original.
Adieu, dear Sir, and bid your brother not quite forget
* Miss Lee's play.
LETTERS. 75
me. The arm of an old vestal virgin kept under ground
since Agricola's time, is cold compared with the hand of
his and your faithful servant,
H. L. PIOZZI.
To the Rev. Daniel Lysons.
Brynbella, Sunday.
(post-mark, 1796.)
DEAR MR. LYSONS, You have at last written me
so kind and so entertaining a letter, that no paper on
my part shall be wasted in reproaches ; I thank you
very kindly, but you should never suppose me in-
formed of things which you cannot help hearing ; but
they escape me easily enough. I do hear of the Arch
Duke's successes however, and of poor Italy's dis-
grace ; I hear of peace too when shall we see it ? Mr.
Ireland is a pleasant gentleman indeed, and his
last act his best act in my mind ; absolution follows
confession ; I have done being angry with him now.
There is a note in Mr. Malone's pamphlet * for which
I would give half a dozen publications of fifty pages
each concerning the times; it contains my senti-
ments so exactly that I may easily commend the
writer's good sense and sound judgment. The mys-
teries of Carlton House surpass those of Udolpho :
may they end as those do, in mere nihility. I will not
quarrel with you for making no reply to my questions
about " Camilla," f because I have read it myself, and
* Against the Ireland forgeries,
t Madame D'Arblay's novel.
76 LETTERS.
because these are really not times for any man of the
living world to waste his moments in weighing of fea-
thers ; he, however, who neglects to read Burke's last
pamphlet, loses much of a very rational pleasure.
I turn the page to talk of yours and your brother's
discoveries*, of which I honestly wish you much joy.
There are medals at Capo di Monte with a pagan triumph
on one side, and on the other the monogram of Christ ;
but connoisseurs told me those were Constantino's, who
was, you know, enrolled among the heathen gods ; but I
can give no account of its connection with a temple to
Neptune, and what a little temple it is ! only thirty
feet long ; are you sure it is a temple after all ? We
had a base-born Constantine in Britayne, had we not,
about Honorius's time? he made his son Csesar if I
remember well ; was he in Dorsetshire ? or was this
long room mere private property, and Neptune no-
thing but an ornament as he is now. I should
like to know if the 3 was concealed or plainly set
in view. Christians wore them of divers kinds I be-
lieve in places of persecution, much as the Eoyalists
in France carried the effigies of Louis Seize about
them in unsuspected forms ; and the ill treatment
of those who professed our religion did not cease im-
mediately in remote parts of the empire, although it
ended in the capital after the outspread Labarum had
swept its foes away. Perhaps, too, the mark was not
unknown to Constantine, when he saw it somehow
* Of Roman antiquities at Woodchester, on which Mr. Samuel
Lysons based two valuable publications.
LETTERS. 77
miraculously displayed with the Greek words expres-
sive of In hoc Signo vinces under it ; perhaps (but
these are too bold conjectures) it had been a private
sign among Christians before, and was exalted only
not first recognised at the grand battle between him
and Maxentius. The 24th chapter of St. Matthew and
the 30th verse, give one an idea that it shall again ap-
pear ; as the sign of the Son of Man is there spoken of
as preceding our Saviour's second coming. There are
medals with another monogram upon them resembling
the arbitrary mark of a planet, with a triumph on the
other side and a hand held out from the clouds ; if they
mean Constantine, 'tis awkwardly expressed, because he
refused to triumph after the ancient manner.
I doubt whether ^Etius thrice consul, to whom the
groans of the Britons . . . was a Christian ; Placidia
we know was. Could he have had any share in your
marine worship? When the sea drove them back to
the barbarians who by dint of numbers forced them
forward on the sea, perhaps they tried what pleasing-
old Neptune might do for them ; some heathens in
the Roman army might recommend the measure. Num-
berless are the connections between Christian and
pagan ornaments in Italy. I saw a Madonna in the
Vatican with Cybele's tower on her head, and other
insignia of that goddess, from the workman's confusion,
as it appears, between Mater Dei and Mater Deorum ;
and there is an altar in the church where Sannazarius
reposes at Naples, decorated with the story of Jupiter
and Leda. But I have left no room for Mr. Piozzi's
78 LETTERS.
compliments: he talks of being at Streatham Park
early next spring, where I hope to thank you for many
a kind letter received before that time. Write soon, do,
and believe me ever with just esteem,
Dear Sir, yours and your brother's obliged
and faithful servant,
H. L. P.
To the Rev. Daniel Lysons.
Brynbella, Thursday.
(No other date, and no post-mark.)
DEAR MR. LYSONS, Accept a renewal of inquiries,
literary and domestic ; but 'tis for yourself I inquire ;
your brother, we know, is well and busy with his subter-
ranean discoveries. What statues has he found ? they
will be very valuable ; and tell me for mercy's sake
what this Apology for the Bible * means : we live in
fine times sure when the Bible wants an apology from
the bishops. How is Mr. Burke's book received ? and
what will his regicide peace be ? I see no sign of peace
except in the books: for they make them ready to battle
in all parts of the world, and we shall have the Turks
upon us directly if we chase French ships into their
very harbours so. No matter ! my half-crown for Flo
shall be willingly contributed, though I do think seri-
ously that the Dog Tax and Repeal of Grame Laws will
have an exceeding bad effect on the country, where
* Bishop Watson's celebrated answer to Paine and Gibbon.
LETTERS. 97
gentlemen will want inducements to remain when
hunting and coursing and shooting are at an end.
Horses will lower in price, however, and little oats will
be sown at all. I think democracy in all her insidious-
ness could not have contrived a more certain principle
of levelling, and republicanism in all her pride could
not plan more perfect gratification than that of seeing
the young farmers' sons cocking their guns in face of a
landlord upon whom no man feeling any dependence,
he will shelter himself among the crowds of London,
and prefer being jostled at Vauxhall by his taylor, to
the being robbed of innocent amusements by those who
were bred on his land, and fed on his bounty.*
Our Chester paper even now reproaches the rich with
their donations of bread and meat, which are already
styled insults on the poor's independence ; and Mr.
Chappelon, who has been here on a visit, protested he
was glad to get alive out of Norfolk, because he had
presumed to give his parishioners barley and potatoe
bread baked in his own oven. I wish you would write
me a long letter, and tell me a great deal about the
living world ; and something of the dead too, for I see
Mr. Howard's epitaph, but cannot guess who wrote it.
Vortigern will, I trust, be condemned almost without
a hearing, so completely does the laugh go against
it. This is the age of forgeries. I never read of so
* If indignation makes verses, it does not supply syntax ;
and tliis sentence, which I have not attempted to correct, bears a
strong resemblance to that of the county member who described
Sir Robert Peel as " not the sort of man that you could put salt
upon his tail."
80 LETTERS.
many causes celebres in that way as of late ; but poor
dear Mrs. Siddons saves Ireland awhile, I suppose, by
her ill health, and keeps Miss Lee from fame and for-
tune which she expects to acquire by " Almeyda." Does
Madame D'Arblay's novel promise well ? Fanny wrote
better before she was married than since, however
that came about. I understand nothing concerning the
young baronet that lost so much at backgammon.
Those tales are seldom true to the extent they are
related : much like the stories of mad dogs, which
chiefly exist in newspapers; but I fear Lady West-
meath's Divorce Bill, like Mrs. Mullins, will carry con-
viction of her infidelity all over the world. We knew
her and her lord at Bath, very well. I try every time
I write to get some intelligence of the Beavor family,
but without effect.
Selden says marriage is the act of a man's life
which least concerns his acquaintance, yet, adds he,
'tis the very act of his life which they most busy
themselves about. Now Heaven knows, I never did
disturb myself or him by Dr. Gillies's marriage, though
it affected me exceedingly ; his amiable lady and
her family being of my most favourite acquaintance,
and they are all lost to me somehow. Mr. Rogers'
name has crost me but once since we left London
either : it was when he gave evidence in favour of
that anagrammatic Mr. Stone*, who wrote his name
* On Stone's trial, the author of " The Pleasures of Memory "
proved a conversation with him. in the streets, tending to show
that he made no mystery of that which was charged as treason-
able.
LETTERS. 81
backwards, as witches are said to do; who deal in
deeds of darkness, and sing
" When good kings bleed we rejoice," &c.
How does your book of fashionable dresses go on ?
it must, I think, receive some curious additions by what
one hears and sees ; for a caricature print of a famous
fine lady who leads the Mode has already reached poor
little Denbigh.
To the Rev. Daniel Lysons.
Brynbella, 5th Jan. 1796.
DEAK MR. LYSONS, After making repeated in-
quiries for you of all our common friends, I begin to
find out that the best way is to ask yourself. Dear
Siddons was always a slow correspondent, though a kind
wellwisher ; and she has so much to do in good earnest,
that we must forgive her not sitting down to write
letters either of fact or sentiment ; for a little of both
these I apply to you, and beg a little chat for informa-
tion of what is going forward. Tell me, in the first
place, concerning your own health and your wicked
brother's, who forgets his old correspondent very shame-
fully; after that, let the sedition bills or the Shakes-
pear manuscripts take post according to the bustle made
about them in London. Make me understand why
Mr. Hayley writes Milton's life, and why Doctor Ander-
son publishes Johnson's. Those roads are so beaten
they will get dust in their own eyes sure, instead of
VOL. II. G
82 LETTERS.
throwing any into the eyes of their readers; at this
distance from the scene of action I cannot guess their
intents. Tell what other new books attract notice, and
what becomes of the Whig Club now 'tis divided like
Paris into sections. I fancy France will be divided
into sections at last, a bit to Royalists, another bit to
Republicans; and perhaps the very name of a nation
so disgraced by crimes and follies will be lost for ever.
No matter ! I long to see Burke's letter to Arthur
Young : his predictions have the best claim to attention
of any living wight.
Oh pray what becomes of the man who set mankind
a staring this time last year ? he is in a madhouse, is
not he? We had a slight earthquake about eight or
ten weeks ago, and such extraordinary weather as never
did I witness ; very providential sure that it should
continue so warm and mild and open while bread
remains at such an advanced price. Yesterday the
prospect was clear and bright as spring ; nor have we
B3en ice hitherto ; but storms enough to blow the very
bouse down, and I fear prevent our West India fleet
from ever arriving at its place of destination. A beauti-
ful prismatic halo round the moon in an elliptic form
very elegant on Christmas Day, was said by our rural
philosophers to be a rare but certain precursor of tem-
pest, and so it proved : I was, however, glad to have
seen a meteor so uncommon.
Has your brother examined any of the gold from our
new mine in Ireland ? The bishop showed us some, and
Mr. Lloyd, I think, sent specimens to Sir Joseph Banks
LETTERS. 83
it is supposed purer, and less drugged with alloy than
what comes immediately from Peru could we but get
enough of it. Meanwhile / had half a ticket in the
Irish Lottery with Mr. Murphy, but can hear nothing
either of my fortune or my partner. Take compassion
do, and send us a long letter. Mr. Piozzi adds his best
compliments to mine, with wishes of a happy New Year.
The pianoforte is not quite neglected, though he has
lost Mrs. Bagot, who sings such sweet duets. Cecilia
and her husband are well and merry; my other
daughters write me word from Clifton that they like
Mrs. Pennington and attend her benefit balls, which I
am glad of. You will expect no news from me, but I
shall be very desirous to receive your thanks for oblig-
ing inquiries. They are all I have to send, except the
truest regards of Brynbella to Putney ; and pray tell
me that those agreeable Miss Pettiwards are well who
have probably quite forgotten by this time, dear Mr.
Lyson's
Ever faithful humble servant,
H. L. PIOZZI.
To the Rev. Daniel Lysons.
Brynbella, 3rd Sept. 1802.
AND now we are come home at last after an eight
months' absence, and a 500 miles' tour, 'tis high time
to congratulate dear Mr. and Mrs. Lysons on the
happy event of which the newspapers informed us,
whilst in a/ar country, though none more pleasing than
Gloucestershire. We passed a fortnight or three weeks
a 2
84 LETTERS.
at Cheltenham, where I remembered the pretty planted
walk finishing with a tall spire, when I was there a
child in company of my mother and my aunts ; and I
think I remember the Smith's epitaph in the church-
yard, because when reading " Camden's Remains " many
years after, it came in my head how much cleverer that
is, which he preserves, and in the same style. John
English's inscription on his monument was however too
deep for me then to be struck with, 'tis almost too deep
now. The marking capitals to denote the name of
Jesus in that strange way, neither anagram nor acrostic,
is exceedingly curious ; I warrant you have a true copy
of it, and perhaps will give me one. Write to me, dear
Mr. Lysons, and tell me something. Tell me particu-
larly about the new comer to Rodmarton's Health,
Strength, and Beauty. The excellence of so new a
comer will be comprised in those three words ; and if the
truth were well known, the first implies the other two
completely.
Here am I without anything to feed on but my own
thoughts ; our house is painting and ornamenting, and
they have thrust the few books I possess, all into one
closet on a heap. My thoughts are fuller than they
were though ; by the addition of your brother's kind-
ness in showing me the stone at Somerset House, from
which if I could lecum but little, for want of more skill
in languages, I can please my busy fancy well enough,
perhaps better than if sullen truth intruded and catched
imagination by the bridle. For example, my recollec-
tion says that among the hieroglyphicks, I saw a croiv
LETTERS. 85
perpetually, and I do think, that this same crow came
originally out of the same nest as old Odin's reafan
that King Kegner Lodbrog's three weird sisters worked
for Hialmar, a standard of victory (ladies still present
consecrated colours to the troops you know), and a
raven then was the lucky impress in every part of the
world, which had not perhaps wholly forgotten its being
dismissed from the ark as a bird chosen for purpose of
fixing future nations in permanent happiness. The
Egyptians least of all forgot that great event, and when
I see in the library at Somerset House a vase brought
from the Musquito shore adorned with Grecian fret-
work, I cannot wonder at any marks of affinity be-
tween old Coptic and Scandinavian ideas.
Besides does not Justin say? I told you true that
1 could not get at a book ; does not some one say how
Ptolemy that finished the Cut from Nile to the Red
Sea, and whose deification act is said to be now in our
antiquarians' room in the Strand, joined with Grallo
Greeks and Galatians against Antigonus ? The Gauls,
wherever planted, considered a crow as their coat
armour, if we may call it so ; and lost all courage for
that very reason, when the fatal bird perched on a
Roman's helmet, called Corvinus from that day by his
own countrymen, who readily adopted all neighbouring
superstitions. I do believe the croaking raven * meant
victory in hieroglyphic language, and am impatient now
till clear translation shows the analogy, and makes some
* Hardly in Macbeth, act i. so. 3.
G 3
80 LETTERS.
explanation. If the British Critic was to see this stuff,
he would say my letters were in rhyme I suppose, as he
says "Retrospection" is written in blank verse. Lord
bless the people, what things do come into their heads !
Mine is at present very full of Kader Idris : I never saw
it till this summer, and a grand sight it is. We crossed
South Wales, and bathed in the sea at Tenby; Mr.
Piozzi kept clear of confinement at least, though he
complains of being very tender- footed. He unites with
me in true regards and compliments; or more properly
in sincere uncomplimentary . good wishes to you and
yours; and bears me witness, that I am always very
truly, dear Mr. Lyson's
Faithful servant,
H. L. P.
Pray write me a long letter.
To Samuel Lysons, Esq.
Wednesday, 10th Feb. 1808.
DEAR MB. LYSONS, I have not written to you a long
time, and now I cannot help writing. I loved your
brother so much, and wished him happy so sincerely,
his change of life affects me, and my feelings will not
permit me to tell him so. Tell him yourself, my good
friend,, and assure yourself that the account of his wife's
death in the papers gave me a sensation beyond what
my acquaintance with her called for. But she was
pretty when we last met, and she was young, and it
seems so odd and melancholy to look in the grave for
those one used to see at the tea-table ! Well ! you
LETTERS. 87
who live among the records of past life will bear these
things better ; my spirits are much depressed by Mr.
Piozzi's miserable state of health, nor can the gaieties
I hear of draw my attention from the sorrows that I see.
Mrs. Mostyn has politely taken a week's share of them
just now while her sons are absent, and the London
winter not begun. Our winter commenced in No-
vember, and when it will end I know not. The moun-
tains are still covered with snow, and such tempestuous
weather did I never witness.
The political wonders have increased since the sus-
pension of our correspondence so much, that we are all
tired of wondering at them ; but this new discovery of
a nest of Christians in Travancore must be considered
as curious by everybody who reads of it. Tell me the
price of Buchanan's book and its character ; I see no-
thing but extracts, and those imperfect ones ; and tell
me some literary chat, remembering our distance from
all possibility of adding a new idea to our stock, except
by the voluntary subscriptions and contributions (to use
an hospital phrase) of the nobility, gentry, and others.
Hospital phrases, indeed, best suit the dwellers at Bryn-
bella ; but Doctor Johnson never wrong was right,
pre-eminently right in this : That chronic diseases are
never cured; and acute ones, if recovered from, cure
themselves. The maxim has been confirmed by my
experience every day since to me first pronounced,
and I dare say the late unfortunate event in your own
family affords it no contradiction.
Has your brother many children left him by his lady,
G 4
88 LETTERS.
and is he living at Hempstead Court ? He had better
get to London, and lose his cares in the crowd.
Dear Mr. Lysons, do write to me, and in the mean-
time pity me and my poor husband, whose sufferings
one should believe, on a cursory view of them, wholly
insupportable ; but God gives the courage, with the
necessity of exerting it.
Adieu, and believe me, ever faithfully yours,
H. L. PIOZZI.
I hear all good of Mrs. Siddons.
To Samuel Lysons, Esq.
Brynbella, 22 Aug. 1813.
MRS. PIOZZI presents her most respectful compliments
to her old friend Mr. Lysons, as Governor of the
British Institution, with an earnest request that he will
protect her portraits from being copied, as she was
strictly promised before she could consent to lend them.
It would break her heart, and ruin the value of the
pictures to posterity, and now some artist living at No.
50, Eathbone Place, who spells his name so that she
cannot read it, unless 'tis Joseph, writes to her, begging
he may copy the portrait of Doctor Johnson, when she
was hoping all the four were by this time restored to
their places at old Streatham Park. Mrs. Piozzi wishes
Mr. Lysons joy of his brother's marriage, but hopes he
himself is not now at Hemstead Hall, as she knows not
where to apply.
LETTERS. 89
To Samuel Lysons, Esq.
Brynbella, 17 Feb. 1814.
DEAR MR. LYSONS, I was desired by some dispu-
tants to obtain correct information, and felt immediately
that I could be sure of it from none but yourself. The
question is, What authority can be produced, for an
account given in some public print, of a frost on the
River Thames, equal, or nearly equal to this last, in
the second or third centuries ? Do me the very great
kindness to let me know ; and where you read the fact,
whether in Holinshed, Stowe, Speed, or Strype's Annals,
and from what record the incident is taken, it having
been averred that no records could then have been
kept. I mean in 260 or 270 A. D.
Having now discharged my commission, I take the
opportunity, though late, of wishing you and your bro-
ther a happy new year, and full enjoyment of the feli-
cities which people seem in such strong expectation
of. Your living world is so remote from us here, and
the intelligence so limited, that I know absolutely
nothing of what is going forward. My correspondents
always begin their letters with, You have heard so
much of, &c., &c., that I am precluded hearing at all.
Come now, do send me a kind letter, and tell me if
Madame D'Arblaye gets 3000^. for her book or no *, and
if Lord Byron is to be called over about some verses f
* " The Wanderer, or Female Difficulties," published in 1814.
t The verses beginning :
" Weep, daughter of a royal line."
90 LETTERS. .
he has written, as the papers hint. And tell me how
the peacemakers will accommodate the Pope, and the
little King of Rome too ; and the Emperor of Germany
beside, whose second title was King of the Romans, and
how all this and ten times more is to be settled, before
St. David's Day. Wonders! wonders! wonders! Why
Katterfelto and his cat never pretended to such im-
possibilities. What says your brother to these days?
He used to feel amazed at the occurrences of twenty-one
years ago ; but if everything we saw so tumbled about
then, can be so easily and swiftly arranged now, much
of our horror and surprise might have been saved.
The fire at the Custom House must have been very
dreadful ; I hope you suffered nothing but sorrow for
the general loss. Devonshire Square is a place, the
situation of which is unknown to me, but I have friends
there, who I should grieve for, if they came to any
harm.
Adieu, dear Mr. Lysons : if I live, which no other old
goose does I think through this winter, we shall meet
at old Streatham Park, and I shall once more tell you
truly, and tell you personally, how faithfully
I am yours,
H. L. PIOZZI.
LETTERS. 91
MISS WYNN'S COMMONPLACE BOOK.
THE following extracts from some of Mrs. Piozzi's letters
to a Welsh neighbour, are copied from Miss Williams
Wynn's commonplace book :
1797. 'Tis really not unworthy observation, how
the vital part of every country has been struck at during
the last ten years. Loyalty and love of their Grand
Monarque was a characteristic of Parisian manners.
Their Sovereign has been executed. Eeligion and the
fine arts comforted the Italians for loss of liberty and of
conquests. Their ceremonies are now insulted, their
models of excellence taken forcibly away. Our English
John, safe in his wooden walls, counted the treasures of
the Bank and feared no ill while ships and money lasted.
Our guineas are turned to paper, our fleets mutiny, and
our boobies here in London run to crown the dead
delegates with flowers, forgetting how we were all terri-
fied when the Thames was blocked up, the trade stopt,
and an actual civil war at Sheerness, not twenty miles
from the capital.
1799. Your heart would melt to hear the horrid
tales from Italy.! Poor Conte di Frow, late Turinese
92 LETTERS.
Ambassador, comes now and then to disburthen his
heart and vent his sorrows on us, and, lamenting more
his King's misfortunes than his own, tells how that
hapless Prince knelt on the ground in vain before the
unfeeling general of the French forces begging a
brother's life, while that commander, lately a low at-
torney of some country town, showed him humbled to
his brother officers, and made the scene a matter of
encouragement to France to persist in her resolves
against crowned heads. This was Sardinia's King.
The royal family of Naples suffered little less, &c. &c.
Dear Mr. Piozzi's countrymen tell him that the oxen,
&c. in the North of Italy have been so put in requisi-
tion, that large tracts of land lie waste for want of cul-
tivation, whilst civil war of opinions among the inhabi-
tants, some holding fast by the old way, and some
embracing the new notions brought amongst them by
the French, make that once lovely country a theatre of
agony, and produce such dearness of provisions, that
at Grenoa a dog's head was sold for five shillings during
the siege, and friends, enemies, soldiers, traders, alike
perished more by hunger than by the sword.
1813. Compliments of the season. It is a very
old fashion. Our ancestors used to send mistletoe to
each other. The Eomans presented dates and dried
figs to their friends, and the modern Italians make up
elegant boxes of sweetmeats for the same purpose. We
keep our oaks as clean as we can from all parasitical
plants. We leave the sugar plums for children, and
send empty wishes of a merry Christmas and a happy
LETTERS. 93
New Year, even that good custom is going out apace.
Well, Ovid's line to Grermanicus was the prettiest:
" Dii tibi dent annos, a te nam caetera sumes."
Buonaparte doubtless thought such a speech would suit
him some months ago, but he must renounce all hope
of being Germanicus.
1814. Your partiality will encourage me to along
chat with you concerning the atmospheric stones which
have attracted much of my attention. I do believe that
Diana of the Ephesians was no other than one ef
these, and it was thought, you know, that she fell down
from Jupiter, but I have heard a Camb-man maintain
that it was possible that the moon might produce them
an idea best befitting to a lunatic. Dr. Milner's joke
on such im mechanical notions is the very best I know
the ready-furnished house. They must, I think, go
up before they fall down, and certainly there are more
volcanoes at work than we are watching, which fill the
air with substances of an attractive kind, which, for the
most part, assume conical shapes, as Nature when alone
appears particularly to delight in. The Dea Pessinuntia,
or Cybele of classic mythology, was, I fancy, a mere
meteoric composition. They washed her with much
silly reverence, you remember, and Heliogabalus's black
stone, which he drove into Eome with four white horses,
was nothing better, only the form happened to be
perhaps a more regular and perfect cone. He was a
Syrian, you know, and this, dropping from heavea
94 LETTERS.
as they believed, served excellently to represent their
Bel, or Baal, or lost Thammuz, the Sun, in short, of
which divinity he was priest, as a pyraeum of aspiring
flame. . . .
Let me hope that you will not pursue geology till
it leads you into doubts destructive of all comfort in
this world, and all happiness in the next. I am
not afraid of Gibbon. Whoever has a true taste of
Cicero's sweetness and Virgil's majesty, will not take his
modern terseness of expression or neatness of finish,
so completely French, for perfection With
regard to our own nobility and people of fashion getting
into these horrid scrapes of swindling and stock -jobbing*,
and the Lord knows what they fright me to read of
them. We need no longer say with Capt. Macheath,
^" I wonder \ve han't better company
Upon Tyburn tree."
The executive Power should really address them now in
the official phrase of
My lords and gentlemen !
Meanwhile Alexander deserved much of the bustle
we made about him. When a child, it seems, his grand-
mother, the great autocratix Catherine, took an English
boy out of a merchant's counting-house at Petersburgh
and put him about the young Czar as a playfellow and
to teach him our language. When she had done with
him he was sent off of course, and Alexander confessed
* This evidently alludes to the fraud for which Lord Dun-
donald was unjustly punished.
LETTERS. 95
that his companion was forgotten. One day, however,
in the crowds of London, the Emperor recognised a face
that he knew, and made the man come up and say in
what way he was now, and how he could be served ;
after which interview no time was lost, till the Prince
Regent had not promised only, but actually provided,
this old companion of his new friend with a place in the
Treasury of 5001. a-year. Such actions are like those
related in novels, and acted on the stage
I refused every invitation for the shows in the Park,
and saw the red glare over London so plainly from my
own gate, that every moment added to my rejoicing that
I was no nearer the crush and the crowd when so many
unnamed human creatures perished. Miles Peter
Andrews, the rich and gay, sent out two hundred cards
of invitation to see the festivities from his windows,
verandah, &c., but Miles Peter Andrews (his friends
say) went off before the fireworks ; so his heir removed
the body and received company himself. You and I
have read of a golden age, a silver, and an iron age :
is not that we live in, the marble age ? so smooth, so
cold, so polished
Meantime 'tis really curious to hear the different
opinions of those who live at the Fountain Head
of information. London at this moment exhibits bills
stuck up on every post, with Murder in large letters
on it, soliciting the apprehension of a felon who has
killed his sweetheart, and the lawyers all declare
that the annals of Newgate are disgraced (comical
enough) by the proceedings of the common people
96 LETTERS.
these last three years. . . . Per contra, as shop-
keepers would express it, you may see the good people
(I visit many of those who style themselves the Evan-
gelicals) congratulating me and each other on the
diffusion of religious knowledge and consequent virtuous
behaviour. Jews, say they, are converting, slaves re-
leasing, and heathen nations obtaining instruction by
means of missionaries warm in the cause of piety, and
useful in researches for bettering the general condition
of mankind. Preachers, no longer supine, vie with
each other in eloquent persuasion of their hearers. Who,
twenty or thirty years ago, would have run after any
one of those who now adorn our pulpits ? and are, as
far as I can observe, very coolly listened to. Such is my
survey of London in 1814.
1817. The improvements in London amused me
very much, and such a glare is cast by the gas lights, I
knew not where I was after sunset. Old Father Thames,
adorned by four beautiful bridges, will hardly remember
what a poor figure he made eighty years ago, I suppose,
when gay folks went to Yauxhall in barges*, an attendant
barge carrying a capital band of music playing Handel's
water music as it has never been played since.
I saw Mr. Wanzey yesterday evening. His account
of the procession at Eome, consisting of Christian slaves
* " One evening, at Mrs. Doyley's, when the party had been
talking of the glories of Waterloo bridge, then just opened, a
gentleman turned to the lady of the house and said, ' You and I,
Mrs. Doyley, remember the time when London had but one
bridge.' Miss Grimston was p.esent." Note by Miss W, Wynn.
LETTERS. 97
liberated by Lord Exmouth, was very Interesting.* They
walked up the long street, Strada del Popolo, in uni-
form, and up to St. Peter's Church, attended by all
the priesthood singing Litanies, Thanksgivings, &c. ;
then depositing their standards at the foot of the altar,
prostrated themselves before the cross, and returned
blessing the English, and crying, as soon as they had
passed the church doors, " Vivan i bravi Inglesi ! Viva
la santa religione, &c."
We are party mad here. I do not mean politically
so, but the people run to numberless parties of a night.
No illness or affliction keeps them out of a crowd. A
lady at my next door almost had her party on Sunday
night, and her husband invited a large company to
dinner on the Tuesday following. "Nay," said Dr.
Gribbs, " I doubt whether Mrs. will live beyond
Tuesday. She is very ill indeed." At three o'clock the
husband sent to put off his company, and at eight o'clock
she died. He sent his cards out that day fortnight, and
had his party again. So runs our world away. The
men play at macko and lose their thousands all morn-
ing; one gentleman was seen to pay seven guineas for
the cards he had used in four hours only.
1818. Mrs. Lutwych will have the loss not only of
* " It ia very strange that the vulgar mistake of writing ad-
jectives with capital letters occurs frequently in these letters. I
have copied some of her oddly affected orthography. She is always
set (flauyhing. Through a long negociation she speaks always 'of
the Piano e forte which they are buying for Boddylwyddau."
Note by Miss W. Wynn. Was it a vulgar mistake at the time ?
VOL. ii. ir
98 LETTERS.
a good husband and certain friend, but she will lose her
greatest admirer too, which few people could boast of in
conjugal life, besides herself and me. Alas! alas! but
we must lose or be lost. Her death would have broken
his heart. The most painful sight of all is a sick baby,
for there is such a vegetating power, such a disposition
in the habit to drive that death away which grown
people often seem half to invite, that it shocks one ;
and I hoped poor Angelo would have been the staff of
my age. You can scarce think how low-spirited all these
things make me. I am glad the sea is at hand to wash
care away. This weather is melancholy, and so is all one
hears of riots and conspiracies, and people that call
aloud for murderers, as the Jews did for Barabbas. The
trifling spasms which assailed me this morning will do
very little indeed nothing, I trust, towards releasing
me from this busy world, described by many as daily
improving. P. S. You wonder at my saying the people
call aloud for murderers, but my paper says there were
placards distributed in Court while the trials went for-
ward, saying, We want a Bellingham.
1819. Llewenney Hall pulled down too! and its
forests Alia cadit quercus ; but schools are made of the
bricks, and Teachery, as I call it in a word of my own
inventing, goes on at a famous rate ; yet one does not
remember it is ever said in the Old or New Testament,
te If you study My ways, and learn My commandments ; "
but " if you walk in My ways, and observe My command-
ments to do them,'" which was surely never so little prac-
tised as now. Well, the work of reformation runs
LETTERS. 99
forward apace. Female associations are forming every
day and everywhere. They come into your kitchens,
instruct your servants, tell them how their masters and
ladies run to perdition, give them books against tyranny,
and tell them they are all slaves.
Your vraie amie octogenaire,
H. L. P.
1820. I certainly feel sorry for his death; and if I
do not feel alarmed, who am three or four years older,
it is because even the grim Lion Death may be rendered
familiar by stroking, and never suffering him long out of
sight Will you hear the story of my
present neighbour ? Zenobia Stevens, of a good family
not far off, had a lease of ninety-nine years under the
Duke of Bolton, and lived it out. When she went
herself arid gave it up, her kind landlord begged her to
keep the house during her life, and offering her a glass
of wine, " One, if your Grace pleases," was her prudent
reply, " but as I am to ride twelve miles on a young colt
these short evenings, I am afraid of being giddy-headed."
H 2
100 LETTERS.
MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 17th January, 1815.
ACCEPT a thousand compliments ; I found the pas-
quinade after a long search as it was given me on the
inauguration of Buonaparte.
" Romani ! vi mostro un bel Quadro,
II santo Padre va coronar un Ladro ;
Un Pio per conservar la Fede
Lascia la Sede,
Un altro Pio per serbar la Sede
Lascia la Fede."
Romans ! behold a picture new,
The Holy Father crowns a thief;
Our group exhibits to your view
Wonders which far exceed belief.
Pius the Sixth his seat could leave
To save alive our Christian faith ;
His successor that seat to save,
Abandon'd her to certain death.
H. L. P.
LETTERS. 101
The sense is kept, and the point blunted in the
translation, but so it is in all translations.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, April 10, 1815.
I RETURN your paper, dear Sir, and thank you for the
additional conviction it has given me, that argument
and eloquence can be found in Free States only, de-
cision and promptitude in Despotic Governments alone.
While we are talking, they will act however, and our
pelf will put the puppets in motion.
Do you remember the French Fable of Dragon a
plusieurs Testes, and Dragon a plusieurs Queues? I
will look for it. Meanwhile I wish Buonaparte was
pulled down. Too long he has made the world his
pedestal, mankind the gazers, the sole figure, he !
Mrs. Dimond is just come in, and invites me to her
box to see Mr. Betty.
The Star containing Lord Liverpool's and Castle-
reagh's speeches on the Prince's message.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 10 April, 1815.
MY DEAR SIR, This is a copy of the memorandum
I took when the Bishop of Killala (Stock) showed me
the fact in Mezeray's History of France.
" When Hugh Capet was first set in the seat of power,
he consulted an astrologer, who told him his descen-
H 3
102 LETTERS.
dants would scarcely wear the crown above 800 years.
* Will it ' (says the King), ' make any difference to the
dynasty, if I consent, not to be crown'd at all ? ' * Oh
yes ! ' was the reply. * They will then sit at least 806
years.' " . . . . and so they did : for if you add 806 to
the year 987 when Hugh Capet was inaugurated, it gives
you the year 1793 when his descendant Louis XVII.
was murdered in prison. Les Horoscopes etoient fort a
la mode en ces Terns la. The bishop said it was 816
I remember, and I took the memorandum in haste : if
it was really so, their time was not expired till two
years ago. ? Tis an odd circumstance at any rate : an
odder still, that you should prefer my version of Adrian's
lines, to those of better poets.
" Animula vagula, blandula,
Hospes comesque corporis,
Qvse nunc abibis in loca !
Pallidula, rigida, nudula,
Nee ut soles dabis joca."
Grentle soul ! a moment stay,
Whither wouldst thou wing thy way ?
Cheer once more thy house of clay,
Once more prattle and be gay :
See, thy fluttering pinions play ;
Grentle soul ! a moment stay.*
* Thus translated by Pope :
{l Oh, fleeting spirit, wandering fire,
That long has warm'd my tender breast,
Wilt thou no more my frame inspire ?
No more a pleasing cheerful guest ?
LETTERS. 103
The conversation we had that serious evening last
week on the most serious of all subjects, put the verses
in my head which you will read over leaf, with your
accustomed partiality to, Dear Sir,
Your very much obliged,
H. L. P.
I had some of the lines lying unremembered in my
mind ever since the year 1809, but I believe never
written out.
Heart ! where heav'd my earliest sigh,
First to live, and last to die ;
Fortress of receding life,
Why maintain this useless strife ?
Weary of their long delay
Time and Death demand their prey :
Worne with cares, and wearied, thou ;
Willingly their claim allow :
Soon shall Time and Death destroy'd
Drop in th' illimitable void,
Whilst thou thy petty powers shalt ply,
An atom of eternity.
For when the trumpet's lofty sound
Shall echo thro' the vast profound ;
When with revivifying heat
All nature's numerous pulses beat,
Whither, ah ! whither art thou flying,
To what dark, undiscover'd shore ?
Thou seem'st all trembling 1 , shivering, dying,
And wit and humour are no more."
H 4
104 LETTERS.
Touch'd by the Master's hand : shall come
Thy unforgotten pendulum ;
No longer feeble, cold, and slow ;
Eetarded still by grief or woe ;
But firm to mark th' unfmish'd hour,
That shall all grief and woe devour.
To Miss Fellowes.
Monday Night, 24 April, 1815.
MY DEAR Miss FELLOWES, I send you the strangest
thing I ever saw ; an adaptation of the mystical beast
described in the thirteenth chapter of >t. John's Apoca-
lypse, to the name of Napoleon Buonaparte, in Spanish.
It has been done in England various times, and in
various manners ; but that it should be done as it is
here in a country of bigotted Romanists, is indeed sur-
prising. If you send it to Sir James, send it very
carefully, for it cannot be got again, and he alone de-
serves it; perhaps 'tis better, keep it for him. My
letter contains nothing but some verses he liked when
he heard them read last night : I send it open that you
may read the lines if you please, and say you like them
too. Farewell ! If I find I can go to Sidmouth this
year, it must be for the two months, September and
October : and I must be here again to begin November.
What folly and madness, at my age, to be talking of
pleasure I am to receive six months hence ! ! But I
must talk what the Spaniards call disparates while
H. L. P.
LETTERS. 105
A FABLE FOB APRIL, 1815.
A modern traveller, they say,
Crossing the wilds of Africa,
Saw a strange serpent at a distance,
Moving majestically slow :
With fifty heads at least in show,
Not placed together in a row,
As if to yield assistance ;
But here and there, and up and down,
Some with and some without a crown,
Foaming with rage and grinning with vexation
Against a dragon which behind a brake
Waited without much fear the attack,
And swell'd with indignation.
His lofty head disdain'd'the ground,
His neck was long and pliant ;
Could stretch to earth's remotest bound,
Or lick the scraps that lie on't.
Of ugly tails a tortuous train
Still twisted in his rear ;
But whilst to follow they were fain,
He viewed their motions with disdain,
In that alone sincere.
To watch these mighty monsters greeting
Our traveller climb'd a lofty tree ;
Where safe and clearly he could see
All that befell their meeting.
But whilst the various heads combiu'd,
From every hedge resistance find ;
106 LETTERS.
Till hope's grown fat and anger cooling
Each his companion ridiculing,
The sly insinuating snake
Slipt his long body through the brake.
Defied his followers to find him,
And tuck'd his servile tails behind him.
To Sir James Felloiues.
Blake's Hotel, Monday, July 31st, 1815.
Mr dear Sir James Fellowes's friendly heart will
feel pleased that the spasms he drove away, returned
no more : altho' you were really scarce out of the street
before I received a cold short note from Mr. Merrik
Hoare, who married one of the sisters, to say that Lord
Keith, who married the other, wished to decline pur-
chasing : so here I am no whit nearer disposing of
Streatham Park than when I sate still in Bath. Money
spent and nothing done : but bills thronging in every
hour. Mr. Ward, the solicitor, has sent his demand of
116. 18s. 3d. I think, for expences concerning Salus-
bury's marriage. I call that the felicity bill : those
which produce nothing but infelicity, all refer to Strea-
tham of course. But you ran away without your epi-
gram translated so much apropos :
" Creanciers ! maudite canaille,
Commissaire, huissiers et recors ;
Vous aurez bien le diable au corps
Si vous emportez la muraille."
LETTERS. 107*
Creditors ! ye cursed crew,
Bailiffs, blackguards, not a few :
Look well around, for here's my all :
You've left me nothing but this wall,
And sure to give each dev'l his due,
This wall's too strong for them or you.
I must make the most of my house now they have
left it on my hands, must I not ? may I not ? and, like
my countrymen at Waterloo, sell my life as dear as I
can. Oh terque quaterque beati ! those who fell at
the battle of St. Jean, when compared to the miseries
of Cadiz and Xeres ; and oh, happy Sir James Fellowes !
whose book, well disseminated, will save us from these
horrors, or from an accumulation of them ; when the
Cambridge fever shall break out again among the Lin-
colnshire fens, if we have unfavourable seasons. The
best years of my temporal existence I don't mean the
happiest ; but the best for powers of improvement, ob-
servation, &c. were past in what is now Park Street,
Southwark, but then Deadman's Place ; so called be-
cause of the pest houses which were established there in
the Great Plague of London. From clerks, and black-
guards not a few, I learn'd there that Long Lane, Kent
Street, and one other place of which the name has slipt
my memory, were exempt from infection during the
whole time of general sickness, and that their safety
was imputed to its being the residence of tanners. I
am, however, now convinced from your book, that it
was seclusion, not tan, that preserved them. And do
108 LETTERS.
not, dear Sir, despise your sibyl's prediction: for that
(rod's judgments are abroad, it is in vain to deny; and
though France will support the heaviest weight of them
till her phial is run out ; our proximity, and fond in-
clination to connect with her, may, and naturally will
produce direful effects in many ways upon the morals,
the purses, and the health of Great Britain.
Do you observe that there is already a pretender
started to the Bourbon throne ? You cannot (as I can)
recollect in the very early days of the Eevolution, that
Abbe Sieyes declared he had saved the real Dauphin
from Robertspierre, and substituted another baby of
equal age to endure the fury of the homicides. Some
of us believed the tale, and some, the greater number }
laughed at those who did believe it. But an intelli-
gent Italian, since dead, assured me that the last Pope,
Braschi, believed it ; and marked the youth, in conse-
quence of that belief, with a Fleur-de-Lys upon his
leg. Whether the young man described in the news-
paper as seizing the Duchess d'Angoulesme, is that
person or another : or whether some fellow under the
influence of national insanity, imagines himself the
Dauphin ; he is likely enough to disturb them and
divide their friends. Such times by the violence of
fermentation produce extraordinary virtues; but your
incomparable Don Diego Alvarez de la Fuente would
never have had his excellence of character properly
appreciated, had you not been the man to hand his
fame down to posterity. JSneas would have been for-
gotten but for Virgil.
LETTERS. 109
I am not yet aware that any suspicion of promoting
contagion during the fearful moments you describe,
lighted on the Jews : the propensity they show to deal
in old clothes makes it very likely that they should now
and then propagate infectious diseases among their
Christian persecutors, but I hope those days are coming
fast to an end ; when France has been disposed of, their
turn will come. You will find a kind word or two for
them in the first chapter of my second volume (of
" Eetrospection ") but the last chapter in the first vo-
lume is my favourite, and should be read before the
short dissertation on the Hebrews for twenty reasons.
I hope you like my preface, and find it modest enough,
tho' the critics had no mercy on my sauciness.
Well ! now the' rest of this letter shall be like other
people's letters, and say how hot the streets are, and
how disagreeable London is in the summer months ; and
how sincerely happy I should have been to pass the
next six or seven weeks at Sidmouth, but that,
Oh, such speeches are not like other people's letters at
all : but that, I have not (with an income of
20001. a year) 51. to spend on myself, so encumber'd am
I with debts and taxes. Leak says he must pay 401.
Property Tax, now, this minute. He is a good creature,
and will be a bitter loss to his poor mistress, whenever
we part ; although the keeping him, and his wife, and
his child, is dreadful, is it not? Since, however, in
mental as in bodily plagues, despondency brings on ruin
faster than it would come of itself:
" What yet remains ? but well what's left to use,
And keep good humour still, whate'er we lose."
1 10 LETTERS.
Give my best love to dear Miss Fellowes, compli-
ments to Mrs. Dorset if with you, and true regards to
your venerable and happy parents, beseeching them all
to remember that they have a true servant in, Dear Sir,
your infinitely obliged,
H. L. P.
The battle with Anderdon will be fought to-morrow.
1 make sure of losing the field ; my generals are un-
skilful. Direct Mrs. Piozzi, Bath.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Monday Morning, Blake's Hotel,
7th Aug. 1815.
MY DEAR SIR JAMES FELLOWES, When in the library
at Streatham Park yesterday, I just looked into an old
book of my writing, now completely out of print, and
found these long-forgotten lines. The date 1792.
Shall impious France, though frantic grown,
Drag her pale victims from the throne.
Shall royal blood be spilt :
Yet think neglectful-Heav'n will spare,
And by conniving seem to share
In such gigantic guilt?
No, tardy-footed vengeance stalks
Bound her depopulated walks,
Waiting the fateful hour ;
When human skill no more can save,
But hot contagion fills the grave,
And famine bids devour.
LETTERS. Ill
Rise, warriors, rise ! with hostile sway
Accelerate that dreadful day,
Revenge the royal cause :
Exerting well-united force,
Tear all decrees that would divorce
True liberty from laws.
Is it not very odd I should so predict what is sure
enough likely now to befall them, and yet never predict
what has befallen myself? But I do not even now repent
my journey. The offer to my daughters was not only
made, but in person repeated ; so my conscience is clear
of blame if we sell, there are, however, those who
think nothing but an acre of land will in two or three
years be worth a guinea.
The funds do fall so strangely, and so fast. Should
these explainers of the prophecies prove the wise men
we take them for, and should the call of the Jews be at
hand their taking out such monstrous sums would
break us down at once ; but the Turkish empire must
give way before that hour approaches; and rapidly as
the wheel does run down the hill, increasing in velo-
city every circle it makes, I can't believe that things
are coming so very forward, but that poor H. L. P.
may, by the mercy of God, escape those scenes of tur-
bulence and confusion.
Your book*, however, helps to alarm me. I had no
* " Reports of the Pestilential Disorder of Andalusia, &c. &c. ;
with a Detailed Account of the Epidemic in Gibraltar, in 1804,
&c. &c." London : 1815,
1 12 LETTERS.
*
notion that such pestilence had been so near, and you
can have but little notion how little we were impressed
by newspaper accounts of what you yourself not only
witnessed but endured. From all future ills that
Heaven may protect you, is the sincere wish and prayer
of yours and your charming family's
Truly obliged,
H. L. PIOZZI.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, August 24th, 1815.
I COULD not recollect poor dear Grarrick's verses yes-
terday, when we were talking on the subject : although
they were made in the library at Streatham Park and,
by Johnson's approbation and consent, substituted in-
stead of Murphy's, which he thought pedantic.
" Ye fair married dames who so often deplore
That a lover once blest, is a lover no more ;
Attend to my counsel, nor blush to be taught,
That prudence must cherish what beauty has caught.
" Use the man whom you wed like your fav'rite guitar.
Though there's music in both, they are both apt to jar ;
How tuneful and soft from a delicate touch ;
Not handled too roughly, nor played on too much. *
* " The soul of music slumbers in the shell,
'Till waked and kindled by the master's spell ;
And feeling hearts, touch them but rightly, pour
A thousand melodies unheard before. " ROGEBS.
LETTERS. 113
" The sparrow and linnet will feed from your hand,
Grow tame by caressing, and come at command ;
Exert with your husbands the same happy skill,
For hearts like your birds may be tamed to your will.
" Be gay and good-humoured, complying, and kind,
Turn the chief of your care from your face to your mind,
Attractions so pleasing, resistless will prove,
And Hymen shall rivet the fetters of Love."
Murphy's Song :
" Attend all ye fair, and I'll tell ye the art,
To bind every fancy with ease in your chains ;
To hold in soft fetters the conjugal heart,
And banish from Hymen his doubts and his pains.
" When Juno accepted the cestus of Love,
At first she was handsome, she charming became ;
It taught her with skill the soft passions to move,
To kindle at once, and to keep up the flame.
" Thence flows the gay chat more than reason that
charms,
The eloquent blush that can beauty improve ;
The fond sigh, the sweet look, the soft touch that
alarms ;
With the tender disdain that renewal of love.
" Ye fair ! take the cestus, and trust to its power,
The mind unaccomplished, mere features are vain ;
When wit and good humour enliven each hour,
The Loves, Joys, and Graces will walk in your train."
VOL. II. I
114 LETTERS.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Monday, 28 August, 1815.
RETROSPECTION, too much crowded with figures ; antici-
pation, in every sense, a blank I and thus it is, Dear Sir,
that the world runs away. Mrs. Flint and Dun (where
you bought the bitter horehound,) hard as one of her
names, and dreadful as the other, told me our lost for-
tune on Saturday night ; I send it you, enclosed to Miss
Fellowes, who will accompany it with pleasanter tydings
I hope. Do the friends, for whom you are sacrificing
health, make you large compensation by trying to be
happy themselves ? I hope they do. If more induce-
ments are wanting, they will surely think on that.
I have been plagued with a gumboil, a mouth abscess.
Punishment upon the peccant part for all that rattling
nonsense it poured out on Fryday morning, when you
met Miss Williams here; but we had been talking
gravely before, and my mother used to repeat a Spanish
refrain, which you know, I dare say, but I do not, ex-
pressing : from a companion that knows but one book,
. and can! relate but one story, Good Lord deliver me ;
and sure enough monotony will always tire, whether the
talk be of mutton or of metaphysics.
" One charm displayed, another strik e o ur view,
In quick variety for ever new/'
as some among our Streatham wits used to say, was
her forte.
Well ! but Leak thinks, I see, that necessity will com-
LETTERS. 115
pel me to dispose for ever of that place, and Lady Wil-
liams invites me strongly to quit every place; and
purchase a beautiful cottage, near my own native sea,
with sublime mountain scenery, and good convenience
for bathing, twenty or thirty miles from Brynbella
(where, by the way, there is a baby born,) and two or
three hundred miles from London or from Bath, The
place is to be hired, or sold with its faery furniture, and
you would laugh to see little Bessy Jones's fear, lest I
should accept the offer, and as she says, bury myself
completely alive. She knows well enough what North
Wales is in winter.
Shall I try the book of names first, and without
further care concerning money, after the debts are paid,
venture on No. 8 Gray Street ? I should like that
better. This East Indian war, however, will keep the
Property Tax on most certainly, perhaps increase it, and
that will affect all our purses.
The Cambrian heiress passed an hour here this morn-
ing. She is really a very rational girl, and her father
says Cobbett's last performance is beyond all measure
inflammatory.
We shall surely have a stolen, literal or figurative,
and the first would do least harm ; but here's the bit of
paper quite exhausted, without a word of the portrait.
My letters give the truest portrait after all, and this is
a miniature of
Dear Sir James Fellowes's
exceedingly obliged servant,
H. L. P.
T Q
116 LETTERS.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Wednesday, 27th September, 1815.
WHY Dear Sir James Fellowes ! Peter the Cruel was
surely your ancestor instead of mine. After the thou-
sand kindnesses of you and your charming family,
hombres y hembras, had heaped on your ever obliged
H. L. P., to run out of the town so, and never call to
say farewell. Ah ! never mind ; I shall pursue you with
letters, and they shall be more serious than you count
on. I took your Spanish Bible myself to Linton's (the
man in Hetling Court), on Monday morning; and
thither the "Wraxall shall follow, when I have finished
cramming it with literary gossip. Your name on the
first page secures it for the present.
Now do not wrong me by suspicion of low spirits.
All the absurdity consists in making you an offer of
such trifling remembrances ; but with regard to my life,
which has already past the portion of time allotted to
our species, forgetfulness of danger would be fatuity,
not courage. You would not think highly of a soldier,
who, hearing the enemy's trumpet though at a distance,
should compose himself to take another nap; but what,
would he deserve, who should be found sleeping on an
attack ?
I have lived to witness very great wonders, and am
told that Bramah the great mechanic is in expectation
of perfecting the guidance of an air balloon, so as to
exhibit in an almost miraculous manner upon Westmin-
ster Bridge next Spring. I saw one of the first, the very
LETTERS. 117
first, Mongolfier, I believe, go up from the Luxembourg
Gardens at Paris ; and in about an hour after, express-
ing my anxiety whither Pilatre de Eosier and his friend
Charles were gone, meaning of course to what part of
France they would be carried, a grave man made
reply : " Je crois, Madame, qu'ils sont alles, ces Mes-
sieurs-la, pour voir le lieu ou les vents se forment."
What fellows Frenchmen are ! and always have been.
I long for your brother's new account of them, and if I
could turn the figures from seventy-four to forty-seven,
I would certainly go and see them myself: in a less
hazardous vehicle than an air balloon.
Abate Parini made a pretty impromptu on that we
saw go up at Paris, and I translated it, here it is :
"E LA MACCHINA CHE PAELA.
" Eccomi dal Mondo e Meraviglia e Gioco,
Farmi grande in un punto, e lieve io sento,
E col fumo nel grembo ed a piedi il fuoco,
Salgo per aria e mi confido al vento.
" E mentre aprir nuovo cammino io tento,
A 1'uom, cui 1'onda, e cui la terra 6 poco,
Fra incerti moti e 1'anco dubbio evento,
Alto gridando la natura invoco.
" Oh Madre delle cose ! arbitrio prenda
L'uomo per me de questo aereo regno ;
Se cio fia mai che piu beato il renda :
I 3
118 LETTERS.
" Ma se nuocer poi dee, 1'audace ingegno
Perda 1'opra, e'l consiglio ; e fa ch'io splenda
D'una stolta impotenza eterno segno."
THE MACHINE SPEAKS.
In empty space behold me hurl'd,
The sport and wonder of the world :
Who eager gaze, whilst I aspire
Expanded with aerial fire.
And since man's selfish race demands
More empire than the seas and lands ;
For him my courage mounts the skies,
Invoking nature as I rise.
Mother of all ! if thus refin'd
My flights can benefit mankind,
Let them by me new realms prepare,
And take possession of the air.
But if to ills alone I lead,
Quickly, oh quick let me recede ;
Or blaze a splendid exhibition,
A beacon for their mad ambition.
And now after all this prattle, adieu !
H. L. P.
LETTERS. 1 19
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Tuesday Night, 3rd Oct. 1815.
WITH regard to public matters, I think Maximilian,
the witty Emperor of Germany, was not far from right
when he said that he, like Agamemnon of old, was Rex
Regum ; the King of France, Rex Asinorum ; the King
of England, Rex Diabolorum (though he had not heard
of the Irish mutineers of our day) ; the King of Spain
Rex Hominum. I hope they will verify the appellation
and behave like men and gentlemen. Of dear Cer-
vantes' merit, you must know most, and those who do
so. must most value him. I believe there is no writer
in Europe as popular no not Shakespear himself, who
is justly the idol of his own country while the Spanish
hero is hero of every country no nation that does
not swarm with prints, and resound with stories of Don
Quixote and 'tis very likely I am quoting my own
book when I say so, but there is no remembering the
crowded figures clustered together in "Retrospection."
We will talk of the name book when I am grown rich ;
it will do nothing for me till I don't want it, and that
day I purpose to see on the 25th of next July, if not
hindered by Los Hatos, and cramped in my noble ex-
ertions. Nine months, is it not, to July ? Well ! I
have carried many a heavy burden for nine months, and
why not a load of debt ? 'tis a new sort of burthen,
but Leak writes me word that Gillow's bill has many
charges in it that cannot be supported, so if he can
heave off a hundred weight, things will run better,
I 4
120 LETTERS.
and 'tis only following your example about the vexatious
tooth bearing, and forbearing, and wearing the misery
out.
Our theatre is open, and I saw the new opera dancers
from Mrs. Dimond's box. La Prima Donna is the
smallest creature I ever saw, that was not a dwarf; her
husband a Colossus of a fellow, and the waltze they
dance together, just the very oddest thing I ever saw
in my life. We were talking here one morning, if you
recollect, with Miss Williams, of these Baylerinas, and
the ideas they intended to excite. The present set ex-
cite no ideas except of dry admiration for the astonish-
ing difficulties they perform, and some serious fears lest
they should break their slender limbs in the perform-
ance. Holding out one leg and one arm in a parallel
line, is destructive of all grace ; and when, after spring-
ing up to a prodigious height, they come down on the
point of one toe nothing can exceed our wonder at
its possibility, except one's joy that they escape in
safety. Music and dancing are no longer what they
were, and I grow less pleased with both every hour
" Year chases year, decay pursues decay,
Still drops some joy from with'ring life away."
But do not let us teize dear Miss Fellowes to write ;
it only worries her, and whilst I am conscious of it,
cannot delight me. While secure of a friend's affec-
tionate regard, I abhor dunning them for letters ; when
my heart tells me that their kindness is growing cold,
and feels weary of keeping up an uninteresting corre-
LETTEES. 121
spondence, 'tis then that silence is a mute that
strangles.
I am enchanted to think of your brother and sister's
felicity : they are the most amiable, and most deserving
of happiness, that can be found; and how wise they
were to discover the value of happiness in time, and
fling no more of it away !
We have an old beauty come here to Bath you scarce
can remember her one of the very very much admired
women, Lady Stanley. Poor thing ! she went to France
and Italy early in life, learned les manieres and les
tournures, and how gay a thing it was to despise her hus-
band, who was completely even with her
" In youth she conquer' d with so wild a rage,
As left her scarce a subject in her age :
For foreign glories, foreign joys, to roam,
No thought of peace, or happiness at home."
Her fortune, however, as an independent heiress, she
held fast ; and her wit and pleasantry seem but little
impaired ; but the loss of health sent her here, and she
wonders to see mine so good, so indeed do I ; but we
were no puling family ; my father, both my grandfathers,
and three uncles, all died suddenly, which renders me
more watchful of course. Never mind; Pope says,
"Act well your part, there all the honour lies."
" Nos sumus in scena quin et mandante magistro
Quisque datas agiinus partes ; sit longa brevisve,
Fabula, nil refert."
I hope you will come to Bath soon, and give me
some good advice. I do hope you will : nobody will
122 LETTERS.
be more observant of it, as nobody ever could esteem
it more than does dear Sir James Fellowes's ever obliged
and faithful
H. L. PIOZZI.
You have made all your friends my friends. Pray
tell them what a grateful heart that is, which they have
been so kind to.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 10th Oct. 1815.
SUCH letters would make anybody well. I will im-
plicitly follow the advice of my incomparable friend,
and I will not advertise Streatham Park till you ap-
prove the measure. Alas, dear Sir, my wish is to con-
ciliate, not provoke them. Lord North's maxim, ' ' Ami-
citise sempiterna3, inimicitise placabiles," * is the best
in the world ; and they will perhaps one day tell you
that I have always followed it. Meanwhile, I will not
swear that the cross winds of domestic life have for-
borne to injure my tackling, and if I can now get home
under jury masts, how thankful ought I to be ! Apro-
pos to jury masts, what can be the meaning of such
an awkward word? I have not a dictionary in the
room, but I dare say they mean mats de durer. Masts
that will just serve and last but for a short time. Now
if I am the worse for the musket shot of this warring
world, how reasonable is it to expect that you should
* Popularly rendered : " Enmities in dust ; friendships
marble."
LETTERS. 123
have suffered, who have been so exposed to its heaviest
artillery ! Let us never have done rejoycing that you
are returned to the bosom of your family, and permitted
to enjoy their happiness which you have unremittingly
prefered to your own.
I was selfish, once, and but once in my life; and
though they lost nothing by my second marriage, my
friends (as one's relations are popularly called) never
could be persuaded to forgive it ; was not it always
so ? Your Spanish Bible, in the eighteenth chapter of
Saint Matthew's Gospel, shows us how to obtain pardon
by applying to the right place and person, not to our
cruel fellow servants. .....
So here is reciprocation of confidence, and a con-
fession no one but your kind self could deserve or
indeed comprehend ......
Where the mad warrior fights for fame,
And life beneath him lies ;
"Tis love of praise that bears the blame,
And those that blame are wise.
When female levity and youth
Run wild a thousand ways ;
Each stander by, with equal truth,
Arraigns the love of praise.
But praises when by virtue given,
To virtue are assign'd ;
They light like harbingers from Heav'n,
And cheer the trembling mind.
124 LETTEES.
Tis then with pride resembling shame,
We bask beneath their rays ;
And virtue with an humbler name,
Becomes the love of praise.
Adieu then ! and retain for Mil Anos y mas your
kindness for poor
H. L. P.
I remember an awkward Irish Miss once, when it
was the fashion to give sentimental toasts, making us
all look silly, because the men laughed so, who loved
rough merriment, when in reply to their request of a
sentiment, she made answer, " What we think on most,
Sir, and talk on least." Mrs. Hoare and I both would
feel that to be Streatham Park.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Tuesday Night, 24th Oct. 1815.
No anecdote, nor no verses, no, nor even your praises,
which so highly I value, can give equal pleasure to the
account you send me of your health. May Grod Al-
mighty, long, very long, preserve it for all our sakes ;
and inspire you with gratitude for its restoration, as he
has inspired you with skill to preserve it.
The day was so bright, and at one time so fine, I
was impelled to make the rhymes you will read en-
closed. Collins promises me the "Travel Book" on
Thursday, which I shall correct for you, and make as
LETTERS. 125
clean, and as little unworthy of your acceptance, as I
can.
Doctor Fellowes is certainly right ; I took my account
of Katherine's cruelty, from Grovani's, whose "Memoirs
des Cours d'ltalie " I left in Wales. Are these verses in
your margin ? they should be there.
" Elle fit oublier, par un esprit sublime,
D'un pouvoir odieux les enormes abus ;
Et sur un trone acquis par le crime,
Elle se maintint par ses vertus."
Her dazzling reign so brightly shone,
Few sought to mark the crimes they courted ;
Whilst on her ill-acquired throne
She sate ; by virtue's self-supported.
The Anecdotes of Doctor Johnson were begun at
Milan, where we first heard of his death, and so written
on, from milestone to milestone, till arriving at Leg-
horn, we shipped them off to England.
Mr. Thrale had always advised me to treasure up
some of the valuable pearls that fell from his (Johnson's)
lips, in conversation ; and Mr. Piozzi was so indignant
at the treatment I met with from his executors, that he
spirited me up to give my own account of Doctor John-
son, in my own way ; and not send to them the detached
bits which they required with such assumed superiority
and distance of manner, although most of them were
intimates of the house till they thought it deserted for
ever. I think we must not tell your dear father that
126 LETTERS.
his friend Bennet Langton was one of them. If we
do, he will not say as Dr. Johnson did,
f( Sit anima mea cum Langtono."
But my marriage had offended them all, beyond hope
of pardon.
Now judge my transport, and my husband's, when at
Home we received letters saying the book was bought
with such avidity, that Cadell had not one copy left,
when the King sent for it at ten o'clock at night, and
lie was forced to beg one from a friend, to supply his
Majesty's impatience, who sate up all night reading it.
Samuel Lysons, Esq., Keeper of the Records in the
Tower, then a law student in the Temple, made my
bargain with the bookseller, from whom, on my return,
I received 300?., a sum unexampled in those days for
so small a volume.
And here, my dear Sir, is a truly-told anecdote of
yours and your charming family's gratefully attached,
H. L. P.
Pray present them my verses.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Sunday, 15th October, 1815.
No, no ; it was Jael that killed Sisera, who was a
warrior, not a woman. The termination in a does not in
Hebrew feminize a name, any more than the termination
in o renders a name masculine in the Greek. mD^D,
Sisera, was the proper name of the general of a hostile
LETTERS. 127
army sent to subdue Israel, and reduce them forcibly to
acknowledge as Deity the very same abominations they
are adoring even now, as our friend the general knows,
further to the eastward. Tabor is still an insulated mount;
it was called Itabyrius by the profane writers ; but indeed
to be a good bible scholar is better far, and ivill carry
further, than being the best Greek one ; and if the
Spanish version does justice to that magnificent piece of
lyric poetry for such it is which you read in the fifth
chapter of Judges, called the Song of Deborah and Barak,
you will be enchanted with it. Lowth's praise of it is
sublime indeed ; and Kurstness, or Pelicanus as they
call him, says boldly : " Now let jour Homer or Virgil
find a passage equal in eloquence and beauty to the last
eight verses of that incomparable ode."
I believe the challenge cannot be answered ; but if
you really do value my taste in literature and my opinion
in the choice of books, assure yourself I would give all
Lord Spencer's library for his best bible ; reflecting, with
Locke and Paley, that of that work Grod is the author,
Truth is the subject, and its tendency Eternal Life.
Should such at length become your preference, too ; it
might not, possibly, but it is too presumptuous to say
so ; yet it perhaps might not be in this world only, so
soon to be hid from our eyes that dear Sir James
Fellowes should have cause to recollect with compla-
cency his partial friendship for poor
H. L. PIOZZI.
The vulgar menace of I'll be after you with a sic-
128 LETTERS.
surrarti means, as far as it means anything, Til follow
you up with a writ of certiorari *, to call up the records,
that justice may be done impartially.
To Sir James Felloives.
Bath, 19th Oct. 1815.
THE next best thing to shaking a friend by the hand
is seeing his fomcZwriting. .1 am happy to read yours, and
most earnestly hope you will keep close to the house
till better days. The ladies will have sad weather to
travel in. General Grarslin did me a great deal of
honour, and deserved some amusement in payment for
his trouble in finding the house.
If it were not for flattery, I should break my heart
yet, old bills not counted on coming against me so : but
I don't care, as the children say ; I shall out of my
plagues, and out of my prison too, next July.
Meanwhile, dear old Doctor Lort, the Greek pro-
fessor, was godfather to the gentleman you mention,
and his surname went to the bishop at the font as a
Christian name. You will find Doctor Lort mentioned
under the article Daphne, as I remember.
But I have had a nice dish of flattery dressed to my
taste this morning. That grave Mr. Lucas brought
his son here, that he might see the first woman
in England forsooth. So I am now grown one of
* She is substantially right. It is a -writ for the removal of the
proceedings, civil or criminal, from an inferior to a superior juris-
diction.
LETTERS. 129
the curiosities of Bath, it seems, and one of the Anti-
quities.
This evening a chair will carry me to Mrs. Holroyd's,
to meet two other females, whom Richardson taught
the town to call old tabbies, attended, says he, by young
grimalkins. Now that's wrong ; because they are
young tabbies, and when grown grey are gi^is malkins,
I suppose. Is not this fine nonsense for the first woman ?
Prima Donna ! in good time !
If I could detain your man to say one grave serious
word, it would express my content that your dear father
is arrived to take care of my inestimable friend, Sir
James Fellowes, whose health is of such consequence.
Mind what he says, and believe me, most sincerely
your obliged servant, H. L. P.
October 27, 1815,
" Mrs. Piozzi," remarks Sir J. Fellowes in a memo-,
randum on this letter, " dined with our family party
to-day. Speaking of Hogarth, she mentioned a clever
impromptu, addressed to Mr. Tighe, who was intent
upon some Greek book when dinner was ready :
" * Then come to dinner, do, my honest Tighe,
And leave thy Greek, and 77 ft TT.
eat a bit o' pie.' ' :
To Sir James Fellowes.
30 October^ 1815.
IF dear Sir James Fellowes still continues under dis-
cipline, this anecdote of Hogarth and of his little friend
VOL. n. K
130 LETTERS.
may amuse him. My father and he were very intimate,
and he often dined with us. One day when he had
done so, my aunt and a groupe of young cousins came
in the afternoon, evenings were earlier things than
they are now, and 3 o'clock the common dinner-hour.
I had got a then new thing I suppose, which was called
Game of the Groose, and felt earnest that we children
might be allowed a round table to play at it, but was
half afraid of my uncle's and my father's grave looks.
Hogarth said, good-humouredly, "1 will come, my dears,
and play at it with you." Our joy was great, and the
sport began under my management and direction. The
pool rose to five shillings, a fortune to us monkeys,
and when I won it, I capered for delight.
But the next time we went to Leicester Fields, Mr.
Hogarth was painting, and bid me sit to him ;
" And now look here," said he, " I am doing this
for you. You are not fourteen years old yet, I
think, but you will be twenty-four, and this portrait
will then be like you. Tis the lady's last stake ; see
how she hesitates between her money and her honour.
Take you care ; I see an ardour for play in your eyes
and in your heart : don't indulge it. I shall give you
this picture as a warning, because I love you now, you
are so good a girl." In a fortnight's time after that
visit we went out of town. He died somewhat suddenly,
I believe, and I never saw my poor portrait again ; till,
going to Fonthill many, many years afterward, I met it
there, and Mr. Piozzi observed the likeness when I was
showing him the fine house, then deserted by Mr. Beck-
LETTERS. 131
ford. The summer before last it was exhibited in Pall
Mall as the property of Lord Charlemont. I asked Mrs.
Hoare, who was admiring it, if she ever saw any person
it resembled. She said no, unless it might once have
been like me, and we turned away to look at something
else.
With regard to play, I have been always particular in
avoiding it, so that I scarce know whether the inclina-
tion ever subsisted or not. The scene he drew will
certainly remind any one of poor H. L. P., and no one
but yourself knows the story.
But I must tell you how well your dear father is,
and how heartily I made him laugh this morning at
one of my comical stories, true as the day, which I heard
a silly lady in my own country two or three years ago
ask me quite suddenly before a room full of company, to
tell her ; " for," says she, " you know Mrs. Piozzi does
understand everything ; what bone her son broke at the
battle of Talavera." This was too hard a question ; but
the lady went on: "No, no," continued she, "not hard
to Mrs. Piozzi. Louisa, you lost the letter very pro-
vokingly which had the fine word in it ; and now you
laugh, you ill-natured thing, because I can't recollect it,
but Mrs. Piozzi will know in a minute." Turning to
me : " It was one of your fine words, I say, and very
like fable-book." " I have," said I, " heard that Mr.
Morgan's horse fell upon him, and perhaps broke the
fibula, or small bone of his master's leg." "There,
there ! " cries out the lady ; " I told you Mrs. Piozzi
would know it at once."
K 2
132 LETTERS.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Sunday, 26th November, 1815.
WE all remembered you at the Lutwyches last
Thursday, where the galanterie of the master of the
house was quite the prettiest thing presented on the
occasion. With one dying marigold these lines :
" The gift of him whose heart can't vary,
How paradoxical ! Behold !
Having no gold to give my Mary,
I here present this marygold,"
They received my fleurs and fleurettes very obligingly,
and shewed my worked fly, finely mounted as a fire-
screen. Well ! all that is politeness, is it not ? a strong
polish, over which everything glides and rolls and
appears to make no impression, but if you look closely
you will discern afterwards a lasting stain. Time's
daughters (the days of the year) like the daughters of
man, are deceitful; while young and in their papa's
house, they flatter and promise the pleasures of next
July to one confiding lover, a prize in the lottery to
another : but see them come out, wrinkled and rough-
ened with what each of them calls unforeseen vexations ;
their votaries turn away, not as they should do, to
mansions beyond their control ; but looking back, make
love to a younger sister, and trust another day.
Yesterday did better ; Mrs. Holroyd's party : we were
a choice set indeed. But she had unluckily asked
talkers to play the part of hearers, while Mrs. Lysons
LETTERS. 133
sung, and Mrs. Twiss * read. So one said the selection
of songs was a dull one ; another thought it was foolish
to be listening to " Macbeth " in a room, when we had
so lately seen i-t represented with every additional assist-
ance on a stage. I persuaded her to take up Milton,
and try what could be done with the second book ; her
sister read the fourth book, I remember, at Doctor
Whalley's, about five or six years ago, and Sir William
Weller Pepys made this impromptu while she was
speaking, repeating it the moment she had done :
" When Siddons reads from Milton's page,
Then sound and sense unite ;
Her varying tones our hearts engage
With exquisite delight :
So well those varying tones accord
With his seraphic strain ;
We hear, we feel, in every word,
His angels speak again."
A "' To Sir James Fellowes.
1st December, 1815.
THE customary season of good wishes; which, like
your Spanish oranges, are in warm hearts a fruit of
every season, dear Sir James Fellowes has anticipated,
in expressing a kind hope that my next year may prove
more happy than the last. Recollect meanwhile that
* The wife of Francis Twiss, (author of the " Complete Verbal
Index to Shakspeare,") and mother of the late Horace Twiss. She
was the sister of Mrs. Siddons, and very like her. She read
beautifully, as I well remember, having been domesticated with
the family as a private pupil of Mr. Twiss for two years.
K 3
134 LETTEKS.
my last year began with making your acquaintance, and
I hope ends with having gained your friendship. Will
a good house in Gay Street (should I ever live to enjoy
it) mark 1816 as agreeably? I say not. Accounts
from Streatham Park, however, are neither good nor
bad. The place is a mere drag upon my mind, a drain
upon my purse ; and no Marquis of Staffordjret appears,
nor do I feel as if anything were likely to be done
there, good or bad.
The best joke going here, and most like your hors de
combat, was made on the bustle with which Mr. Parish
presented Princess Talleyrand to a large company at his
house; where some wag observed that the lady had
gone through many adventures, and now was come to
the parish.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Now eighteen hundred and fifteen
Will quickly write herself has been.
For tho' success was never seen
Brilliant as ours in bright fifteen ;
Old Time will rear his lofty skreen,
To part us from the year fifteen.
If, then, this frail though nice machine
Can last till death of dear fifteen,
Let those few hours that lie between
Throw no disgrace on past fifteen !
Free from reproaches, coarse or keen,
Be sung the dirge of dead fifteen !
LETTERS. 135
While peace extends her olive green
O'er the pale wounds of poor fifteen.
Nor let th' enticing air and mien,
The promis'd freshness of sixteen,
Lead us to tempt, howe'er serene,
Eternity ! Offended queen.
Vineyards, Wednesday Night,
6 December, 1815.
I HAVE been dining with your dear family, as happily
as we could dine without our kind absentee. I think
you will find the effects of your father's fine Malaga in
the above impromptu from
H. L. P.
For mercy's sake burn this stuff; it seems strange
even to myself, after tea.
To Sir James Felloives.
Bath, Monday Evening,
11 December, 1815.
VERY ill pleased with myself for sending such an
empty scrap when my heart was full, but it was because
your servant waited at the door for it ; and very ill
disposed to delight in your determination upon the
choice of life, as Doctor Johnson calls it in his "Kasselas."
I sit down now to write you as long a letter as I like,
and fairly send it to the post. My dear Sir James Fel-
lowes confesses that I have spoiled him for the frivolous
conversation of beaux and belles ; if I say all I think,,
I shall disgust you from the project of practising medi-
K 4
136 LETTERS.
cine in a thronged metropolis, where those that employ
a physician pretend not to know how far his skill is
worthy of confidence, and those that reject him, have
no means of guessing wherein lies his deficience ; who
choose a doctor, as girls choose a husband, because some
other head, as empty as their own, was casually filled
with a fancy, that of his being fashionable. Is there
any other rudder used in present life but the mode ?
Is there any other book read but " Khoda?" * And is
not that admired because it shows every body what they
like best ? their own faces in the' glass. I beg par-
don, your brother's little work is well spoken of by every
body ; but Walter Scott has certainly fallen in the
plains of Waterloo : I was always half afraid that Arctic
Phoebus would set in a fog.
We had a pretty evening at the Lutwyches, where
I repeated your pretty speech and spoiled it from
complete nervousness, the word best calculated to dis-
guise ill-humour : and which induced a strangling or
choking at the dinner table, which politeness, how-
ever, smoothed down so well that nobody was aware
on't, but your dear sister, who called aloud for water.
Shall I put it in the " Biographical Memoires " that
both my husbands lived and died in the persuasion
that I should expire suddenly, or by accident? It is
true that they did think so, and that I think so too. Let
it serve as one among many inducements to live in a
* " Rhoda " a novel, in four volumes, published by Colburn.
Her remark on it resembles one made by Madame de Se'vigne' on
the play of Les Visionnaires.
LETTERS. 137
state of preparation. Well ! if I die to-morrow, Gril-
lowes' people have now had 1700?. of the 23801. which
their bill came to : and Leak says we may cut the bill
down to 2070?. if we could pay it quick, and save the
interest : so I sent him 200?. now of the January divi-
dends, and must owe him 170?. instead of owing them
380?. I don't like the arrangement, though an advan-
tageous one ; but I like nothing else better, as in the
case of your London practice ; apropos to which I will
add one good thing : you will see women to more ad-
vantage than in a ball room ; attentive to a sick parent,
brother, or sister, and you will say :
" Oh woman ! in our hours of ease
Capricious, coy, and hard to please ;
When grief and anguish wring the brow,
A ministering angel thou."
Those are Walter Scott's lines, and very pretty sure.
While you accept my criticism, and quote my " Sy-
nonymes," I will not complain (though but just three
years behind your father) of the taedium vitae. By
the way, I am engaged to dine at the dear Vineyards on
the 14th of February, and you are engaged to be at the
Lutwyches on the 15th of this December.
I met your mamma in the street, and said, " Well !
Ma'am ! Sir James Fellowes has not forgot me
though among so many charmers." " Forgot you ! ! "
replied Mrs. Fellowes, " I would not give a pin for him
if he forgot you" So you see I have a friend at court.
Poor old Dr. Harrington is going, and I now wish
him gone. When the bright visions painted by the
138 LETTERS.
pencil of youth, or those no less dear to us formed by
the firmer hand of maturity, on the canvass of human
understanding, grow dull, and dirty, and dingey, like
those landschapes of Titian done when he was ninety
years old, 'tis more kind to let them drop quietly in
pieces, than sew them coarsely together, and bid for
them as a rarety. I wish he would pack up and be
gone.
Dr. Holland helped to lower my spirits too : all my
Venetian friends killed or beggared by this vile revolu-
tion. How melancholy !
So Farewell ! and for a short time, dear Sir : come
soon and chase the gathering clouds away.
" Mon premier est le premier de son espece,
Mon second n'eut un premier jamais :
Mon tout, je n'aime guere le vous dire."
H. L. P.
But adieu !
Dr. Myddelton had been troubled with cramps and
spasms, but shook them off, and used the slipper bath.
When in it one evening he cried, " Oh, my head," and
died without another word or groan.
"Nil mini rescribas, attamen ipse veni."
To Sir James Fellowes.
5 November, 1815.
I SEND my dear Sir James Fellowes the " Synonymes "
that he may finish with the best thing I ever wrote ; I
send likewise my defence of his favourite "Retrospec-
tion:" they were very civil to the Synonymy, and there
LETTERS. 139
was a fine eulogium on the string of words, calling
over the meaning of crush, overwhelm, ruin, in the first
volume. I have marked very few passages, but hope
you will like many.
I have no other way of showing the regard with
which I shall for ever remain,
Your obliged friend,
H. L. P.
How kind you are and how partial ! and what an un-
speakable loss shall I have when you enter on a London
life and London practice. Dr. Holland, who writes
about the Ionian Islands, is going to London to practise,
and exchange the Cyclades for the sick ladies; he has
been a lyon here for three whole days. I caught the
Queue du Lion, and passed one evening in his company,
but a whole menagerie would make me no compensation
for exchange of sentiment in friendly converse. Oh !
do make haste to Bath, and let me lament my fate to
you personally. Is that being grateful to Heaven,
though, when one year's valuable friendship has been
granted, at a time when so few years can be expected
by poor
H. L. PIOZZI,
" Let us leave the best example that we can." I
have, however, much to say to you about the Bio-
graphical Memoires, which are really in some degree of
forwardness.
Adieu ! Groing to dine with the Lutwyches, Sunday,
10th December, 1815.
140 LETTERS.
Bath, Wednesday,
13th December, 1815.
MY dear Doctor Thackeray's kind partiality followed
me so long and so far upon my journey through life,
I think he has enough left even now not to be weary-
ing of hearing how I do, and what I do in a situation
very new to me indeed, but rendered supportable by
the countenance and conversation of pleasant friends
and agreeable acquaintance. The accounts I hear from
Wales, too, make me very happy and thankful, and
convince me that my tenderness was bestowed on
worthy creatures who seem to make themselves much
beloved in their neighbourhood. Oh how that neigh-
bourhood is changed ! Oh how many sighs shall I
have to leave on every house as I pass it, if it should
please Grod that I can come down next July, unen-
cumbered by debts and no longer haunted by vexations
which have tormented me for two long years ! But you
are country gentleman enough to know that a high
paling round a park of two miles extent, besides front-
ing a large house made by my exertions as if wholly
new *, -and then furnishing it in modern style su-
premely elegant, though I thought not costly, cannot
be done but by enormous expense, and, in fact, sur-
veyors, carpenters, and cabinet makers, have driven
poor Hester Lynch Piozzi into a little Bath lodging,
where Miss Letitia Barnston found her, two rooms and
* She is speaking of Streatham.
LETTERS. 141
two maids her whole establishment; a drawing of
Brynbella, and by the fair hand of Mrs. Salusbury, her
greatest ornament.
Meanwhile our town, like yours, takes turn for the
fine dancers or fine actors when they have a week to
spare ; and as for private talent, there never were so
many young people so skilled in music as now. I
heard a child of ten years old, perform on the forte
piano last week like a professor. The winter seems as
if it would be a long one, it began early, and many old
people sink under the rapid changes. Doctor Har-
rington, however, kept his eighty-ninth birthday a
while ago, and listened with delight to his charming
compositions. The last catch and glee are said to be
the best he ever produced, and sure he lives a proof
that air and exercise are not the preservatives of life
which we account them, as he always visited his
patients in a chair half a century ago, as he now visits
his acquaintance, and always with his mouchoir at his
face to keep away every breath of wind ; when walking
in the abbey with his son-in-law last summer, " Come,"
said he, " let us choose a spot for my old bones," and
recollecting himself suddenly
" These ancient walls, with many a mouldering bust,
But show how well Bath waters lay the dust."
If you have not heard that impromptu before, you will
like it. Adieu, dear Sir ! and make my best regards
to Mrs. Thackeray, with love to the lasses who were
nice babies. Do you remember Selina, she would be
Mrs. Piozzi herself ? Now write me a kind word, do,
142 LETTERS.
and say you will be glad to see me next July, but how
unlikely is there should there be anything left of your
poor
HESTER LYNCH PIOZZI.
To Sir James Fellowes.
MY DEAR SIR,- - Come to Laura Chapel next Sunday,
and listen to my favourite preacher, when he winds up
the whole year. 'Tis a hackneyed theme, but from
him I cannot help expecting somewhat new, at least
somewhat particularly impressive. My desire of your
happiness must end in steril good wishes, handed down
from generation to generation, dirtied and tarnished by
too much wear and tear. Is not it melancholy to have
fresh feelings, and none but worn-out words to express
them in ?
To experience every sentiment of the truest and most
disinterested friendship, and to say only that I am,
dear Sir, your most obliged servant,
H. L. PIOZZI.
Bath, 30th December, 1815.
To Sir James Fellowes.
6th January, 1816.
GOOSEY LINTON is a good goosey, and deserves apple
sauce when apples are dearest. I see no mistakes at
all, and if you find any, I will rectify them.
The Travel Book and the anecdotes there will show
you perplexities of a new and untoward nature; for
LETTERS. 143
though I had witnessed much theological talk, contro-
versy was wholly strange to me; and now dear Sir
James Fellowes will see, as he has often felt, what a
wretched thing the happiest human life would be, were
this all : but who, without pain's advice would e'er be
good ; and who, without death but would be good in
vain ? The old undertaker's motto, "Mors janua vitse,"
is after all our best consolation.
That every comfort may attend your staying hither
and your going hence, after mil anos y mas, is the
unceasing wish of your much obliged, &c.,
H. L. P.
My jour de naissance is coming round in a few days,
now ; and as Pope says,
" With added years of life brings nothing new,
But like a sieve lets every blessing through :
Some joy still lost, as each vain year runs o'er;
And all we gain, some sad reflection more.
Is this a birthday ! 'tis, alas, too clear
"Tis but the funeral of the former year."
Yet will I not (like Dr. Johnson) quarrel with my
birthday. To have been born into this world is our
only claim for some sort of place in a better ; and surely
to have gained attention and friendship from Doctor
Collier in my early days, the hour of female attention
being scarce arrived, and from Sir James Fellowes in my
latter scenes, when that bright hour was over, might
well compensate for those long, busy, intermediate acts,
even of a more tragic drama than I was engaged in,
through a fatiguing past indeed ; sometimes very sweetly
144 LETTERS.
supported, many times very cruelly thwarted, by my
companions on the same stage ; and now, if all is to be
soon over, Valete et plaudite.
H. L. PIOZZI.
Here is a dreadful storm ; the sea runs very high, no
doubt. I could not get out to-day.
Ask the young ladies if they can describe to you the
colour of the wind; if they can tell you the tint of
the storm !
'Tis an enigma. Adieu.
11 January, 1816.
(Jour de Naissance, 27th January.)
Tuesday night, 16th January, 1816.
MY dear Sir James Fellowes will like a long inde-
pendent letter about a thousand other people and things.
When I am one of the family cluster we can think only
of you. Yet poor old Dr. Harrington must be thought
of; he will be seen no more. Was it not pretty and af-
fecting that they played his fine sacred music so lately,
and by dint of loud and reiterated applause called him
forward as he was retiring, to thank him for their enter-
tainment ? He returned, bowed ; went home, sickened,
and ! This was a classical conclusion of his life
indeed ; like the characters at the end of Terence's plays,
who cry Valete omnes et plaudite I But I would wish a
less public exit, and say Vale ! to my nearest friend,
Voi altri applaudite to the rest.
Apropos, did you ever read Spencer's long string of
verses, every stanza ending with Wife, Children, and
LETTERS. 145
Friends ? I can neither find nor recollect them rightly ;
but too well does my then hurt mind retain my answer
to a lady (one of the Burneys) who quoted a line
expressive of contempt for general admiration, going
on to this passage, which I do remember :
" Away with the laurel, o'er me wave the willow,
Set up by the hand of wife, children, and friends."
My reply was " No ; for," said I,
" Should love domestic plant the tree,
Hope still would be defeated ;
Children and friends would crowd to see
The neighbouring cattle eat it.
" Deciduous plants will lose their leaves
With winter's provocation ;
And ev'ry sigh that sorrow heaves
Will sap the slight foundation.
" Till in a sea of follies tost,
Foes to each fine emotion ;
Our drooping willow 's driven and lost
On Life's tempestuous ocean.
" While true to time-worn worth, we view
The verdant laurel rising ;
Firm-fixed, and of unchangeful hue,
Each wintry blush despising.
YOL. II. L
146 LETTERS.
" Around the late-reposing head
This faithful foliage hovers ;
Points out the merits of the dead,
And many a failing covers.
" And should the berries e'er invite
Some envious nibbling neighbour,
A blister'd tongue succeeds the bite,
And best repays their labour."
Did you believe I could ever have expressed myself
with so much bitterness ? but if people will break the
heart even of an apricot, sweetest and most insipid of
all fruits, the kernel will yield a harsh flavour.
Poor Doctor Harrington, like myself, has found the
kindness that sweetened his existence always from with-
out doors, never from within.
My cough is no longer a bad one, but the hoarseness
does not go off ; and when I tried to tell old stories last
night to amuse, I found the voice very odious ; so
Sir James Fellowes is best off now, that has me
for a correspondent. Don't you remember, in some
of my stuff, how Johnson sayd if he was married to
Lady Cotton, he would live a hundred miles away from
her, and make her write to him. " Once a week,"
added he, " I could bear a letter from the creature, but
it is the poorest talker, sure, that ever opened lips."
Well, if you asked the pretty girls to tell you the
colour of the wind, and explain to you the tint of the
storm, they would say the storm rose, I imagine, and
LETTERS. 147
the wind blew. We used to spell the colour so in very
old days.
Meanwhile, the geological maps of what is to be
discerned under ground, are fine things certainly ; but
I feel so completely expectant of going to make strata
myself, that the science does not much allure me, al-
though I am deeply concerned in it at seventy-five
years old. Dear me ! 'tis a silly thing to try to extract
sunbeams from cucumbers, like Swift's projector in
" Gulliver's Travels."
Princess Charlotte has at length made her choice, it
seems, of Le Prince de Saxe-Coburg, a handsome man,
and she thinks so. Without that power of making
impression, beauty in either sex is a complete nihility ;
find me a better word, and that shall be turned out by
her who wishes to keep the best in every sense for you.
Your faithful
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 17 January, 1816.
I TOLD dear Sir James that his next letter should cost
him nothing, and sure nothing can equal the event it
tells. But Sevigne's pen alone could describe it ; could
excite your wonder so, and produce no disappointment.
A lady, then, well-born, well-looking too, my near
neighbour, marries a gentleman, an officer, a general
officer. Where, say you, is the wonder ? She is thirty-
six years old. She marries General Doukin, senior ; his
L 2
148 LETTERS.
military cloak and old cocked hat have won her.
Needs any man despair ? He called her in to dinner
the very day his wife, thirty years younger than he,
was carried out a corpse. She told her son and daugh-
ters that it would be so, and so it will be. The bride-
groom in his ninety-first year.
Miss Wroughton is arrived. She says her mother is
ninety-seven years old. I bid her be careful of les es-
pouseurs, and told her of General Doukin. She says
her mother has the full use of her understanding, and
is of course out of any such danger.
Among all the afflictions which vex our human frame,
the most dreadful (says Dr. Johnson) is the uncertain
continuance of reason.
Grod preserve yours unclouded and serene for at least
half a century more. As no man ever employed it to
more benignant purposes, so no man ever merited longer
possession of felicity ; great as can be wished to her
best friend in her best moments by your faithful
H. L. P.
Doctor Harrington kept his wits to the last minute,
and laughed when they told him the story I have told
you.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Sunday, 21 Jan. 1816.
MR. GREENFIELD preached a very fine Oraisonfunebre
upon poor old Harrington to-day, and used my very
expressions ; was not it odd enough ! Not odd at all,
LETTERS. 149
say you, that Mrs. Piozzi should like his compositions,
if that is the case.
But I have something less pleasant bills following
me from - . Small shot, indeed, but mortifying in
the extreme. I told your ... I was like some
famous boxer that was knocked down by a farthing
candle artfully slung at his head, while yet bleeding
and bruised to death almost, from a victory newly won.
Dr. Goldsmith, whose feet "every path of vulgarity
trod," told us once of an ale-house wager. A man betted
that he would produce a person who should perform
this operation on some well-known hero of the fist ; who,
not being apprised of the frolic, and panting for breath
and refreshment, felt this sudden hit upon his temporal
artery, and dropped down, demolished by a farthing
candle. *
Now do not you believe me sensible to my own
anxieties, careless of yours. I hope you know me
better ; but a moment's variety will contribute to amuse
your mind and repay you some of the pleasure no,
not pleasure ; how can this stuff give any but a mo-
mentary recollection that you have a friend, and that
that friend is
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 25 January, 1816.
I HAVE suffered much from nervous irritation, but
your kind father is so good to me. I did not tell him
* This story of Goldsmith's is mentioned by Boswell.
L3
150 LETTERS.
that I apprehended aphthae, but the lady who was afraid
of her own hearth-rug could not be more fanciful than
I have been.
" Strong and more strong her terrors rose,
Her shadow did the nymph appal ;
She trembled at her own long nose,
It looked so long against the wall.
Now for what the newspaper calls miscellaneous
articles. Your father bids me drink the Bath water,
and I did do so yesterday, and was more alive than . . .
and I tried the Bishop of Salisbury's party last night,
but made a poor figure, so hoarse. A mute Piozzi
is a miserable thing indeed, but health will mend.
The bishop is very agreeable ; and though he is a
nobleman now and a courtier, remembers old times and
old jokes, and how he and I sat down together on
a dirty bench in St. Mark's Place, Venice, to hear a
Dominican friar, while harlequin jumped about un-
heeded on the other side of the square.
Your .... must see the new book, though the best
thing in it is telling how the foreigner comes to an inn
at Dover, and finding a member of the Bang-up Club
loitering about the yard, cries, " Here, Ostler, hold my
horse." " Know your road work better, you . . . ."
replies the other, and challenges him. Escaped from
this misery, he meets a lady going to a party, her head
heaped in the fashionable way with flowers. " Sell me
some roses, pretty dear ! " cries the new-arrived foreigner,
laying hold of them. " Insulting fellow ! " cries the girl ;
I'll have you punished for an assault." A passer-by re-
LETTERS. 151
lieves him from this difficulty, and they strike up a friend-
ship and go together to the inn. " Pray, Sir, who have I
the honour to be so much obliged to ? " says the stranger.
" I, Sir, am captain of the band of pensioners." The
Spaniard looks in his English dictionary (Johnson's)
for so hard a word ; and finds Pensioner, a man hired
for the destruction of his country. " Oh ! for pity leave
me directly," cries he ; "I am in company with a chief
of banditti. What will become of me ? Gret out of my
apartments."
Well ! now I will have done with all this buffooning
nonsense, and with the truest regard,
H. L. P.
To Sir James Felloives.
Saturday, 3 February, 1816.
I HAVE some very curious things at Streatham, more
curious than you think for ; one pair of frightful old
Etruscan jars, for example, given me by a monsignore,
Ennio Visconte, a Milanese nobleman then resident at
Rome, and a first-rate connoisseur.
" These," said I, " are indeed antiques." " Antiques ! "
replies the man ; " why they were antiques when in
Cicero's cabinet. Antiques ! why they were antiques in
Eomulus's time; they are coeval with the Babylonish
captivity." With proper blushes I accepted them, and
there they are.
I have a pair of old blue and white porcelain bottles,
too, which were brought into my family by an old Sa-
L 4 v
152 LETTERS.
lusbury in the year 1400 ; and my grandmother, used
to frighten my father from improper matches, by
holding them in her hand, and protesting she would
break them ; " for," said she, " they came by the
Eed Sea before the passage round the Cape of Good
Hope was discovered, and do you think they shall ever
be possessed by Miss Such-a-one ? " When, however, she
learned that he had united himself with his cousin
Cotton of Combermere's daughter, she said : " Well,
then, now I will kiss my old bottles, and keep them for
John's eldest child." They are yet in her possession,
1816.
To-morrow I shall break quarantine, go to church
(in a chair), and give Grod thanks for all his mercies.
Your ever obliged and grateful
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 29 February, 1816.
SUCH a kind letter as your dear father put in my
hand this day, and I, bankrupt even in acknowledg-
ment, can only curtsey and say, Thank you, Sir. In
return for your confidence, however, I shall tell you a
secret; and that is, that I am engaged to dine at No. 13
on Tuesday next, 5th March, and your mamma says
we are to drink sweet wine, I suppose till we see
double.
My heart has been so bruised of late ; it did promise
me to think all of the next world and no more of this ;
LETTERS. 153
but Doctor Halley said, you know, that in the centre
of this globe there was a great spherical magnet pulling
and attracting us down to earth ; from which pieces,
which he calls Terrellse, broken off from the grand
loadstone but partaking its powers, are scattered up
and down in order to hold us fast. Your happiness is
one of these Terrellse to me, and I wish to remain here
till I see it completed, for which reason not a word will
I utter about provocations, only to say they had nothing
to do with the small shot.
My next letter from dear Sir James will be dated
Streatham Park. Thus will he
" Ope the hospitable gate,
Ope for friendship, not for state.
Friends well chosen enter there,
Confidence and truth sincere ;
Love, in mutual faith secure,
Transport generous and pure ;
Sparkling from the soul within,
Never boasted, always seen."
Is it not a shame to fancy you have time to read
a letter? yet vanity, that vile passion, says you will
read it.
And now let me finish with the most serious and
solemn wishes for every possible happiness to you and
yourself, and yourself's half. I like the expression, 'tis
sincere and new ; new I suppose because it is sincere.
So God bless you, my dear and highly-valued friend.
Yours, &c.
H. L. P.
154 LETTERS.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 1 March, 1816.
ON St. Taffy's day does 's little Welsh friend
renew her wishes of happiness. The th ought of its being
so near, and the delightful certainty of your going to
my house at Streatham Park to be happy, puts me
in the best good-humour possible. And since
has written again without insolence or peevishness, I
have contented myself, in reply to his inquiries after
my health, with saying that my cough is gone, and that
I hope he is recovered from his nettle-spring rash,
which seems to burst out annually, as I had an odd
letter from him in the same style ten or twelve months
ago.
We are raving mad here about the property tax.
Will it be abolished or no ?
General Doukin is married and Mrs. Wroughton dead,
characters well known in Bath. They are nearly of an
age, but the lady's is the more prudent step, sure, after
ninety.
Did Leak show you the bason I was baptized in so
many years ago ? it is in the china closet next the
drawing-room door, with a bit of dirty paper in it which
Mr. Piozzi made me write, I think but am not sure,
lest it should be confounded with the other things.
Did you never go to Hampton Palace, Hampton
Court I mean, and see a poor, half-starved, snuffy-nosed
old woman showing the now nearly empty rooms, and
saying in a shrill though sleepy tone : " And here's
LETTERS. 155
Prince George of Denmark over the chimney." Then,
with a sigh : " Over the chimney Prince George of
Denmark," hoping her task near over.
Now don't you be thinking of her when I show my
little show, as Mrs. Siddons was caught recollecting
some of my silly jokes, and burst out o' laughing in the
most mournful part of Aspasia's character, to the amuse-
ment of Kemble and annoyance of all the actors at
rehearsal.
Adieu, dear Sir, and burn this nonsense, for the sake
of your faithful, obliged,
H. L. P.
Give my truest regards to your brother, and tell the
lady you love best, how sincerely I am disposed to love
her ; and write to me from Streatham Park. Oh ! that
is the letter I long for.
To Sir James Fellowes.
IS April, 1814
MY home for fifty years will I hope procure me, by
disposing of it, a temporary residence for the remainder
of my short term ; and what more ought to be wished
by one who will soon take up a narrower space ? I am
glad Squib * is so sanguine. Did you see real Squib,
the father ? he is a very good-looking man.
There is an old story of Balbus f, when QuaBstor at
* The well known auctioneer of Saville Row.
f The anecdote is recorded in a letter to Cicero from Apicius
Pollio.
156 LETTERS.
Seville, throwing an auctioneer to the lyons in his me-
nagerie, because a female friend who was selling up her
possessions complained to him, that the auctioneer was
so ugly and deformed, he frighted all buyers away.
Our people will lose no bidders by that fault ; but is it
not odd that the world, with all its fluctuations, should
have undergone so little change ? Always vexations,
disappointments, and inadequate anger for what can
hardly be helped, though the mode of expressing that
anger is altered by the different situations of society.
Always a friend or two perhaps in the world like Sir
J F ; always luckless ladies enough, like your
faithful, obliged,
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Here is the 9th of May ; and now if S J
F renews his kind invitation very pressingly, I
will have the honour to wait on him and his lady in
the Whitsun Week, having a mind to break up, as
children say, for the holy days, and run to see the Water-
loo Bridge, the Western Exchange, and other London
wonders ; then return, shut my front windows, and pro-
test myself (with the strictest truth) in the country.
Hope, says Lord Bacon, is a good breakfast, but a bad
supper ; and with regard to this life, he is right ; no
other supper would sit easy, however, during the long
night of the grave.
Do you feel interested in Southey's or Canning's
Attack and Defence ? I am pleased to see them turn
with so much vigour on their enemies.
LETTERS. 157
The prettiest new book, however, is " Chalmers on
Modern Astronomy," which he reconciles to Scripture in
a manner he seems to fancy unexampled, but it is not
so. The work is worth reading, nevertheless, and I
have a notion you would like it.
Let me hear that you are very busy. Business for
men of leisure, and leisure for men of business, in due
proportions I mean, would really add to mortals' happi-
ness here below more than mortal man can imagine.
Adieu ; and believe me, yours most faithfully,
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Wednesday, 22 May, 1816.
MY dear Sir James has broken the Mum at last ; and
I will now tell him how we are hesitating between a
convenient house on the Queen's Parade, or pretty No. 8,
Gay Street, which is particularly inconvenient for the
servants below stairs. Either of them ought to con-
tent me well enough after how I have been living a
common expression, but infamous bad English.
Apropos, Charles Kemble has been here acting ; and
in some part of a comedy written by Murphy, said,
" We are like Cymon and Iphigenia in Dryden's Fables."
The ladies stared, but the scholars said he was right ;
and I said it were better be wrong than so pedantic, for
'tis always called Iphigenia in common use. Mr.
Lutwyche held with the wise men, and he, you know, is
a good prosodist. I quoted Pope's " Homer," 9th book,
11 Laodice and Iphigenia fair,
And bright Chrysothemis with golden hair."
158 LETTERS.
" Oh ! " said Mr. Mangin, " Pope is no firm authority ;
he calls the wife of Pluto Proserpine, as in colloquial
chat, when writing his fine ode on St. Cecilia's Day. But
old Milton disdained such barbarism ; he calls her Pro-
serpina, as in the Greek." We all appealed to Falconer ;
dear Sir J - was too far away. I know not the
success of our appeal yet.
Well ! here are fine apple blossoms, pink and white,
as any lady can make herself, and here is peace, too,
and I think plenty.
When we were all looking at the fireworks in 1748
from temporary buildings, fragile enough I suppose,
Dr. Barton merrily exclaimed, " Do you call this a good
peace, which brings so many heads to the scaffold ? "
Adieu, dear Sir, and believe me ever, yours faithfully,
H. L. P.
In reference to the intended sale of Streatham, my
health will be better when the whole business is decided.
At present I have neither taste nor smell ; and as Prior
says,
" No man would ask for my opinion
Between an oyster and an onion " (pronounce inion).
To Sir James Felloives.
Bath, Saturday Night, 3rd August, 1816.
I AM so glad to leave this town, with the agreeable
taste of what was most agreeable to me in it, that I
shall never have done thanking you, dear Sir, for your
very kind letter, and shall direct this straight forward
LETTERS. 159
to Adbury House. After church to-morrow the chaise
runs us to Eodborough, another two days more will
finish the journey, and I shall see Salusbury's babies.
The lady in the straw. Query, why do we say lying-
in-women are in the straw ? I think it was originally
an allusion to the Blessed Virgin Mary, who had no
other accommodation.
Lady F is very obliging, she will like Ofrims-
thorpe so much ; I am glad you are going, and shall be
most glad when you return. I pass some happy days
together in Gray Street : the plate is already on the door
with my name, and you will say, " I see she has bra-
soned it." * The old ebony chairs from Streatham Park
will meet you in the entry, and it will make the house
look like home, and if you advise me to, so I will
make it my home, buying the lease and furniture. If
I really should return from Wales, bright and brisk, and
if (to speak in earnest) it should please (rod that I
should, Oh how many shoulds! live this longest of
all long years through, and like to begin another in
the same place, why then I will purchase the whole
concern. Nor will Salusbury have reason to regret, as
1000Z. may be better by that time in stone than in stock,
&c.
* " Until to some conspicuous square they pass,
And blason on the door their names in brass." Don Juan.
When Lord Stowell married and set up house with the Marchioness
of Sligo, the brass plate with his name was placed under the brass
plate with hers. " So," said Jekyll, " I find you are already
obliged to knock under. " Lord Stowell reversed the position of
the plates. "Now," said Jekyll, "you are knocked up."
160 LETTERS.
S is the wise man I always thought him, and
forbearing to make one among the shoal of self-im-
pelled fish, that rush to the opposite shore, they know
not why, is a new proof of it.
Madame D'Arblaye, cydevant my dear friend Miss
Burney, says there are 50,000 English at Paris now.
Suppose on an average each spent only a guinea a-
week, what a sum is quitting the country for a year ?
and they will not stay a shorter time if economy is
their point 2,600,OOOZ, 50,000 millions (an't it) and
600,OOOZ.
Should not some stop be put to the folly ? And we
the while making subscriptions which they avoid, and
you feeding the poor whom they neglect !
How I shall delight in seeing Adbury House and en-
virons ! and hearing the cottagers blessing my worthy
friends. Assure yourself, dear Sir, such blessings are
your best purchases. Meanwhile, the workmen must
have their share, and what is very odd, one hates them
at first, and for a long time indeed ; but I remember
Piozzi and I felt a strange vacancy in our minds, when
they were all gone. 'Tis so in everything. We had an
oak tree in a little island no bigger than itself, and sur-
rounded with water, which an oak tree abhors. We
dried the pond up, and the tree pined away.
But here comes Miss Williams, loaded with presents
for me to carry to her family; and not another word
can I say, and not another moment have I to say it in.
LETTERS. 161
To Miss Fellowes.
THIS letter to dear Miss F., begun at Blake's Hotel,
London, will be ended at Streatham Park. Your bro-
ther, and the kind General (Grarston), have called, and
will meet me at the old house. I hope he will be
there to receive . me, or how shall I present myself to
the lady ?
London looks very dull, very dull indeed ; I augur
ill of the times, and feel glad to be going where love
and happiness attend me. Saturday I saw one of my
daughters, who rejected all connexion with the place
for herself and Co. ; and now every true friend I have
in the world, dear Sir J first in command, must
and do approve of my putting everything to open sale.
I have surely suffered enough, and you and your good
father know I have suffered within less than what people
call, an inch of one's life.
To Sir James Felloives.
Streatham Park, 2 April.
WELL ! I have presented myself, and the lady (who is
much nearer to a very pretty woman than I expected)
received me with great kindness. Lady Abdy and Miss
Abdy are here and charming.
We dine with them next Thursday, when Sir
goes to the Drawing Room, and we return here at night,
and leave them Saturday morning, to dine with business
people at London.
VOL. II. M
162 LETTERS.
The men are here making catalogues, and calling out
for my dear Miss 's ever faithful,
H. L. P.
This note was written in King Street, 6th Jan. 1816, 10 P.M.
THANKS, a thousand and a thousand more, my dear
Sir. Your kindness is without limitation, and your pity
very soothing to a mind, which once could fly so high,
but wounded as it has been, flutters now and beats the
ground, when trying to rise up and (like Floretta's gold-
finch) to sing in circles round your head, as gratitude
demands from your incessantly obliged,
H. L. P.
Buenos noches,
Felicissima notte,
Bon soir,
Grute nacht,
Grood night,
Vale.
On her return from London she thus writes :
To Sir James Fdlowes.
Bath, Wednesday, 10 April, 1816.
MY dear S and Lady will like to hear that
I got safe through the thunder and lightning on Sun-
day evening by taking shelter at Salt Hill, from whence
I ran hither, over a road watered as if by a water-cart,
the next day, and arrived at my smoky hut on Monday
night, eighty-eight miles in twelve hours.
LETTERS. 163
I found Lady Keith's card on my table at Blake's
Hotel on Saturday night, and returned the visit on
Sunday, leaving the kindest letter I knew how to write.
I did more, I left orders with Leak and Squibb, to take
their money if they offered, but if they did not offer,
to hurry on the sale of the pictures at Streatham, and
put me out of pain as soon as possible.
This morning I went into a public auction here in
Milsom Street, and saw sold a varnished-up performance
of Peter Neef, for thirty-four guineas ; this gave me
spirits, so did the story of these Bank restrictions,
which they say will operate immediately in making
money plenty.
I am a miserable financier, but you will understand
me, as Miss Streatfield's maid said I should, when
she asked me to lend her lady Milk and Asparagus
Lost. I did immediately comprehend her meanings
and sent her the " Milton's Paradise Lost" you saw in
Streatham Park Library. Perhaps my Bank restric-
tions may be as awkwardly worded.
Adieu ! this vile paper tears my worn out pens, and
my worn out patience quite to pieces, or I would send
inure, though kinder I could not send.
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 30 May, 1816.
MY DEAR SIR, .... I will be careful about
sea bathing. Dr. Gibbes bid me beware of the re-ac-
tion, but what can one do towards keeping such thing
M 2
164 LETTERS.
at a distance ? Cowper says, you know, and truly and
sweetly :
" Fate steals along with silent tread,
Most dangerous when least we dread ;
Frowns in the storm with angry brow,
But in the sunshine strikes the blow."
Now, don't you believe me low spirited ; few people ever
had such uniformly good spirits. Did I tell you I had
saved Murphy* from the general wreck ? and that Mr.
Watson Taylor wrote after me to beg him for 1571. 10s. ;
but I am no longer poor, and when I was, there
ought surely to be some difference made between
fidelity and unkindness. When B s (Burneys) were
treacherous and Baretti boisterous against poor un-
offending H. L. P., dear Murphy was faithful found,
among the faithless faithful only he :
" He, like his muse, no mean retreating made,
But follow'd faithful to the silent shade."
Equally attached to both my husbands, he lived with us
till he could in a manner live no longer ; and his por-
trait is now on the easel, with that of Mr. Thrale,
coming to Bath; my mother, whom both of them
adored, keeping them company.
Let us, however, bid you farewell, assuring you how
much I am, yours,
H. L. P.
* Portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds, painted for the library at
Streatham.
LETTERS. 165
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Tuesday, 9 July, 1816.
NOT yet forgotten by dear Sir James Fellowes, his
old friend hastens to inform him that she does mend,
slowly, and heavily; but yet she feels climbing up,
rather than sliding down, the hill.
So Sheridan is going, and Mrs. Jordan gone : in want
both of them, though perhaps not actually of want
either of them : shocking enough ! and Mary Mayhew
dying, and Miss Katherine Griffith dead. Equo pede
pulsat the old enemy Death:
Le Pauvre en sa cabane ou le chaume le couvre
Est sujet a ses Loix :
Et la garde qui veille a la porte du Louvre,
N'en defend pas nos Hois.
The Misses here are all reading " Glenarvon," * "a
monstrous tale of things impossible," at least one hopes
so. I have finished it at last, though not comprehended
it : and can only say with King Lear :
" An ounce of civet, good Apothecary,
To sweeten my imagination."
Your dear father and mother, meanwhile, are happier
than the very poets could dream for them ; if Miss
would but get quite well ; I think this world has no
more to give them. You, dear Sir, must present them
my truest regards, and accept every good wish from
yours ever,
H. L. P.
* A novel by Lady Caroline Lamb; the two principal characters
were supposed to be intended for Lord Byron and herself.
>l 3
ICG LETTERS.
I feel sorry the Parliament is broken up ; for, laugh
as one may, in that House does reside the united wis-
dom of the nation. " Wisdom," says Solomon, " crieth
in the streets, but no man heareth." I think in London
streets the horn blowers and the flowers in blow con-
trive to drown his voice.
To Miss Fellou'es.
Bath, 18 July, 1810.
YOUR letter, dear Miss Fellowes, came to my hand
late last night. I do not, this morning, believe this the
last day of our foolish and wicked world, but I think it
the worst day I ever saw at this season of the year.
All are uneasy about the'ruin it is causing, and though
nothing impels English people into church but a famous
preacher, many feel alarm at the effect this extraordi-
nary weather will have on the hay and corn.* Mean-
while our friends here at pretty T i would be happy
but for the necessity of fires in July, and the oddity
of living enveloped with cold mist, unable to enjoy
their beautiful spot, or see fifty yards from it.
Death still holds a court for himself here in New
King Street ; whence poor old Colonel Erving will be
carried to Walcot in a day or two : I shook hands with
him on Monday morning, and passed him in a chair,
going out. On Wednesday morning, much earlier than
that hour, he was a corpse ; without any previous illness,
* On the 18th July, 1860, the weather and its apprehended
consequences were the same.
LETTERS. 167
except mere old age. Dr. Fellowes remembers him in
America.
Have you read " Glenarvon," and its key ? I hope
some newer fooling has taken up the Londoners' atten-
tion by now. We Bath folks are content to admire
Lady Loudon and Moira's beautiful Asiatic, not having
Lady H 's atheist to stare at * ; but any thing will
do. But I am detaining you with questions concerning
people and things, by this time wholly forgotten among
your folks.
Distance between friends produces that certain vexa-
tion : one talks to them on worn-out subjects always,
and that is the grand cause of letters being generally
insipid, unless they tell of one's health : and I think
yours and mine have been long absent from their
owners ; yours only mislaid I hope ; but lost, and of no'
value to those who find it, is the once very strong and
active constitution of your truly faithful and obliged
friend,
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Monday, 22 July, 1810.
HERE'S terrifying weather indeed. Such a thunder-
storm on the 18th as I have seldom seen in England.
B. J 's observed the fire ball in the street, and
* The late Mr. Allen, who lived with Lord and Lady Holland
as a member of the family, was called Lady Holland's pet
atheist.
M 4
163 LETTERS.
report soon told us the frightful effects left behind it at
poor Windsor's here in James Street. You must re-
member to have copper, not iron, bell wires ; nothing
else saved the lives of those pretty children : I live to
the fields you know, and escaped all the wonders, nor
could quite believe till Mrs. Windsor shewed me her
floor, burned in places, her wall pushed in, and her
plate-warmer in the kitchen perforated very curiously
indeed ; and all this on a cold rainy day.
Worse storms tear the atmosphere to pieces in Italy
every summer evening, yet I never but once heard of
any life lost or endangered: but then they have no
newspapers, so much may happen without one's hearing
of it.
Miss W s showed me a letter from Lady e
that says, M - M w is getting quite well, by
taking the juice of red nettles ! ! I never heard of red
nettles before ; and make no doubt but a few pebble-
stones boyled in milk, would be just as efficacious. But
Hope is drawn with an anchor always, and common
sense is never strong enough to weigh it up.
The mischief is, we seldom drop or cast it in the
proper harbour ; it would then keep steady, and deserve
the name the Komans gave it, anchora sacra ....
I shall probably not live to see you in the happy char-
acter of father ; but remember my words, or rather
those of old Archbishop Leighton ; when speaking of
education, he said, "Fill you the bushel with good
wheat yourself; because then fools and foes will have
less room to cram in chaff."
LETTERS. 169
Nothing better has ever been said upon the subject.
Adieu ! you well know how to get more such stuff when
you wish it, from dear Sir, your old and faithful friend,
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Wednesday, 18 September, 181G.
. . . . The best scraps I could pick up, you will
read over leaf. They were written in imitation of the
Greek verses by Metrodorus, or Posidippus (which was
it ?) for " Life against Life." I read them long ago,
translated in the " Adventurer ;" but cannot recollect
what number they are in, besides that I possess not the
book.
FOR LONDON.
Can we through London streets be led
Without rejoycing as we tread?
The city's wealth our eye surveys,
The court attracts our lighter gaze ;
Whilst charity her arm extends,
And sick and poor find host of friends.
Wit sparkles round our rosy wine,
And beauty boasts her charms divine :
Musick prolongs our festive nights,
And morning calls to fresh delights ;
A London residence then give,
For here alone I seem to live.
170 LETTERS.
AGAINST LONDON.
Can London streets by man be trod
Without repenting on the road ?
Where nobles, whelmed in shame or debt,
And bankrupts swell each sad gazette ;
All licensed death our frame attacks,
And to his aid calls hosts of quacks ;
False smiles on beauty's face appear,
And wit evaporates in a sneer.
Dangers impede our days' delights,
And vermin vex our sleepless nights ;
From London, then, let's quickly fly
In rural shades to live or die.
After a good dose of London, and then A y, I
think you will read these verses con amore.
Yours, dear Sir, ever,
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 25 September, 1810.
THE promptness with which I answer dear Sir J
F is the surest proof of my rejoicing in his
letters We had a delightful day at F ,
where Mr. H F and I had no little talk upon
the subject you recommended to my consideration, and
which is surely now the most interesting of all subjects.
My private opinion is, that the person who leads the
Hebrews on, against their old oppressor, the Sultan, is
one of the false, the Pseudo Christs, against whom our
LETTERS. 1 7 1
Lord warns his disciples ; first, in the 24th chapter of
St. Matthew, 4th and 5tb verses ; then in the same
chapter, 23rd and 24th verses. The first of these im-
postors arose very soon after Christ's Ascension, Barcho-
chebas by name, and he vomited fire, and led astray
multitudes. Dositheus was another ; I think " Ketro-
spection " mentions one or two, and we had Joanna
Southcote within these two or three years in England.
She seems to have been one of those mentioned in the
26th verse of the same chapter, saying, " Behold he is
in the secret chambers," but, says our Saviour, "Go not
forth." The same injunctions are repeated in St. Mark,
the 13th chapter, 6th verse ; and the 8th chapter of St.
Luke gives a similar prohibition. This person, however,
may be the great Antichrist, or Antechrist, though I do
not believe it. The Protestants, you know, have attri-
buted that character uniformly to the Papal Power ; but
Romanists, following the opinion of Father Malvenda,
a Spanish Fryar, who flourished in 1600, and was an
admirable Hebraist, believe that Antichrist is to be a
Jew, of the tribe of Dan, that he will reign three years
and a half, and shew many miracles. When Jacob pro-
nounced his prophetic blessing on his sons, he says,
" Dan shall be a serpent in the way," and a dragon was
always painted on their standard. Jeremiah says, " the
armies of Dan shall devour the earth ;" and when St.
John, in his Apocalypse, saw the angel sealing the
twelve tribes of Israel, 'tis observable that Dan is
omitted. Conjectures concerning Antichrist arc, how-
ever, quite innumerable. There is a folio volume In
172 LETTERS.
our Bodleian Library at Oxford, written to assert that
Oliver Cromwell was the person, and Mr. Faber, you
know, said it was Buonaparte, or gave us reason to
believe he thought so. St. Paul's description of him in
his 2nd chapter of his 2nd epistle to the Thessalonians
as preceding the general judgment, does always appear
to me as if designed to pourtray one single man, who-
ever he may be ; but Bishop Newton and all cool ex-
positors seem to think the Papacy was intended ; and
your brother, as an orthodox Protestant divine, is of
that opinion.
Meanwhile it does strike all reflecting people, that
great changes are about to take place ; things advance
with a velocity best compared to the rapidity of a wheel
down hill, increasing at every step. I own myself con-
vinced of the approach of
11 That great day for which all days were made ;
Great day of dread, decision and despair,
When nature struggling in the pangs of death
hows God in tenois arid the skies on fire."
YOUNG.
Whether this catastrophe is to happen forty or fifty
years hence, is, however, of no consequence to me as an
individual. My last day must come long before.
The nonsense verses for and against London were
written when I was very sick of it, so the last were
best of course. You must read Gray's " Connections
between Sacred Writ and Classic Literature ;" it is a
very fine performance and much admired.
Yours while
H. L. P.
LETTERS 173
To Sir James Fellowes.
30 September, 1816.
. IN January 1817 such, will be my fortune ;
and who in their wits, circumstanced as I am, can wish
for more ? Your dear mother laughed when I told her
I was buying plate, linen, &c. to begin the world with,
like a boy just come of age.
But life is a strange thing, and has been often com-
pared to a river. " Labitur et labetur," &c.
Leave the lofty glacier's side,
Leave the mountain's solemn pride :
Down some gently sloping hill
Let's pursue this silent rill,
Noiseless as it seems to flow,
Wrapt in some poetic dream :
Watch the windings of the stream.
In such varied currents twisting,
Still escaping, still existing :
Let us find life's emblem here :
Haste away ! The lake is near.
"Wales inspired these verses, which, of course, Sir
J F never saw : but he can make life valuable
as delightful. God keep the lake far distant from liitn
for a thousand sakes
Dr. Robert Gray, who wrote the new book that every
one is reading, wrote the lines under our sun-dial at
Brymbella :
174 LETTERS.
" Umbra tegit lapsas, praesentique imminet horse ;
Dum lux, dum lucis semita virtus agat. : '
" Ere yet the threat'ning shade o'erspread the hour,
Hasten, bright Virtue, and assert thy power."
The well known George Henry Grlasae* said there was
a fault in the prosody, and wished to correct it, as thus :
* Tte Rev. George Henry Glasse, author of several volumes
of sermons, and some translations from the learned languages.
Amongst Mrs. Piozzi's papers, were found notes of the fol-
lowing anecdotes concerning him. On Miss Blaquieres bidding
him write some verses for her, he said, " he had nothing to write
upon." "Then," replied the lady, " write upon nothing" he im-
mediately obeyed :
" And wilt thou, Nymph, compel my lays,
And force me sing thy rival's praise ?
Why, then, in this thing let's agree,
That I love no thing more than thee."
On passing through a turnpike gate to officiate at a neighbouring
parish, he claimed exemption from paying the toll ; the turnpike-
man, who was intoxicated, insisted upon payment, making use
of abusive language and swearing many oaths ; upon which Mr.
Glasse paid the toll demanded, saying at the same time that he
should have it returned or the man should be fined for every oath he
had sworn ; this Glasse carried into effect. Shortly afterwards he
received a letter from the turnpike-man, fining him for not reading
the swearing list once a quarter in the Church, agreeably to the
Act of Parliament then in force.
His life terminated strangely and lamentably. He had been to
the city to raise a sum of money to pay his debts, or (some say) to
enable him to escape from his creditors to the Continent. On his
return in a hackney-coach, he left his pocket-book containing the
money in banknotes on the seat, and on discovering his loss, com-
mitted suicide. The day following, the pocket-book with its contents
LETTERS. 175
" Umbra tegit lapsam, pisesentique imminet horse
Hospes, disce ex me vivere, disce mori."
" Ere yet the unreturning shadows fly,
Gro mortals ; learn to live, and learn to die."
Tell me which you prefer ; I like the English of the
last best, myself; but the first, of course, remains round
the little marble pillar set up by Mr. Piozzi, and very
much admired for its elegance. Oh ! what a beautiful
house and place it is ! Salusbury did make me the
compliment of not cutting down a weeping willow we
planted, because I had made verses on it.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Monday, 7 October, 1816.
I HAVE got no new books to read ; Mr. Whalley re-
commended me some verses, a long poem indeed, but
to me very unintelligible. Modern writers resemble the
cuttle-fish that hides himself from all pursuers in his
own ink. That is not Doctor Grray's case, however : I
think you will like his performance exceedingly. The
weather is as gloomy as November, and the poor gleaners
can get no corn out of the stubble ; it rots and grows,
and threatens ruin both to small and great.
was brought by the driver to the hotel at which he had stopped.
Neptune Smith was more fortunate. lie flung himself into the
sea after casting up his betting book, from a conviction that the
balance was against him ; was fished out, found that he had cast
up his book wrong, and lived many years to exult in his nickname.
176 LETTERS.
Miss Hudson says a famine will bring us to our
senses : I say it will deprive us of the little wits we
have left. The delirium proceeding from hunger will
have fatal consequences, because vulgar minds will feel
sure that 'tis somebody's fault, and woe to the mortal
they pitch upon.
Send a consoling word, dear Sir, for my fancy sees
very bad visions. The world always does see most to
endure, when most blind, says old Fuller: perhaps that
is now the case with yours faithfully and gratefully,
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 11 October, 1816.
IN adversity, in prosperity, ever dear and kind friend,
my Wraxall opens well. What signifies knowledge
locked up, either in man or book ? I think if Lady
Keith has a fault besides her disregard of poor H. L. P.,
that is hers.
Oh ! here is a new book come out, that I know not
how she will like, or how the public will like. Do you
remember my telling you, that in the year 1813, when
I was in London upon Salusbury's business, before his
marriage some months, a Mr. White sent to tell me,
through Doctor Myddleton, that he possessed a manu-
script of Johnson's, and wished me to ascertain that
the handwriting was his own. I invited both gentle-
men to dinner, we were at Blake's Hotel, and Dr.
Gray, afterwards Bishop of Bristol, met them, and
I saw that the MSS. was genuine. It was a diary
LETTERS. 177
of the little journey that Mr. Thrale, and Mr. John-
son (such he was then), and Miss Thrale and myself
made into North Wales, in the year 1774. There
was nothing in it of consequence, that I saw, except a
pretty parallel * between Hawkestone, the country seat
of Sir Eichard Hill, and Ham, the country seat of Mr.
Port, in Derbyshire. But the gentleman who possessed
it, seemed shy of letting me read the whole, and did
not, as it appeared, like being asked how it came into
his hands, but repeatedly observed he would print it
only it was not sufficiently bulky for publication. He
said he could swell it out, &c.
We parted, however, and met no more ; but when I
came first into New King Street, here, Nov. 1814, a
poor widow woman, a Mrs. Parker, offering me seven-
teen genuine letters of Doctor Johnson, which I could
by no means think of purchasing for myself, in my
then present circumstances: I recommended her to
apply to Mr. White, and she came again in three weeks'
time, better dressed, and thanked me for the twenty-
five guineas he had given her ; from which hour I saw
her no more, nor ever heard of or from Mr. White
again.
Since you and I parted at Streatham Park, however,
a Mr. Duppa has written me many letters, chiefly in-
quiring after my family ; what relationship I have to
Lord Combermere, to Sir Lynch Salusbury Cotton, &c.,
* This (< pretty parallel " is what I had in my mind when
speaking of Johnson's notice of Lord Kilmorey's place, Vol. I.
p. 78.
VOL. II. N
178 LETTERS.
n d comically enough asking who my aunt was, and if
she was such a fool as Doctor Johnson described her.
I replied she was my aunt only by marriage, though
related to my mother's brother, who she did marry;
that she was a Miss Cotton, heiress of Etwall and
Belleport, in Derbyshire. Her youngest sister was
Countess of Ferrers, and none of them particularly
bright, I believe, but as I expressed it, Johnson was
a good despiser.
So now here is Johnson's Diary, printed and pub-
lished with a facsimile of his handwriting. If Mr.
Duppa does not send me one, he is as shabby as it
seems our Doctor thought me, when I gave but a crown
to the old clerk. The poor clerk had probably never
seen a crown in his possession before. Things were
very distant A. D. 1774, from what they are 1816.
I am sadly afraid of Lady K.'s being displeased, and
fancying I promoted this publication. Could I have
caught her for a quarter-of-an-hour, I should have
proved my innocence, and might have shown her Dup-
pa's letter ; but she left neither note, card, nor message,
and when my servant ran to all the inns in chase of her,
he learned that she had left the White Hart at twelve
o'clock. Vexatious ! but it can't be helped.
I hope the pretty little girl my people saw with her,
will pay her more tender attention.
LETTERS. 179
To Sir James Fellowes.
October 14, 1816.
YOUR brother Dorset has lent me Bubb Dodington's
Diary, and I have done nothing but read it ever since.
'Tis a retrospection of my young days, very amusing
certainly, but anecdote is all the rage, and John-
son's Diary is selling rapidly, though the contents are
bien maigre, I must confess. Apropos, Mr. Duppa has
sent me the book, and I perceive has politely suppressed
some sarcastic expressions about my family, the Cottons,
whom we visited at Combermere, and at Lleweney. I
was the last of the Salusburys, so they escaped. But I
remember his saying once, " It would be no loss if all
your relations were spitted like larks, and roasted for
the lap dog's supper."
It would certainly have been no loss to me, as they
have behaved themselves ; but one hates to see them
insulted.
This letter is written in the dark, you will hardly be
able to read it, but if words are wanting, supply the
chasm with the kindest. They will have best chance to
express the unalterable sentiments of
H. L. P.
Your brother Dorset and I disagree only in our opi-
nions concerning Buonaparte, of whom he thinks much
higher than I do ; although as Balzac says of the Eo-
mans :
" Le ciel benissoit toutes leurs fautes,
Le ciel couronnoit toutes leurs folies."
N 2
180 LETTERS.
We must, however, watch the end ; for, till a man
dies, we can neither pronounce him very great or very
happy ; 30 said at least one of the sages of antiquity.
Adieu !
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Fryday, 1 Nov. 1816.
WHEN my heart first made election of Sir J. Fellowes,
not only as a present but as a future friend, I felt
rather than knew, that he would never forget or forsake
me. Everything I see and hear confirms my saucy
prejudice.
Such a Sunday evening I passed in Marlborough
Buildings *, where I used to meet friends, so beloved,
companions so cheerful, sent me home to Bessy Jones f
with a half-breaking heart ; and in every vein Johnson's
well-founded horror of the last.
The family left Bath next day, for Paris, where they
have taken a house for a year ! Poor Boisgeler is dead,
you know. One could not care in earnest for Boisge-
ler, but at my age, 'tis like losing the milestones in the
last stage of a long journey.
We shall, however, both of us, have a cruel loss in
the Lutwyches. How happy, how elegant is the epi-
taph on poor Mary. Beautiful, though not too shewy ;
just as it should be. I am afraid to trust myself with
translating or even praising it.
H. L. P.
* At the house of the Lutwyches.
t Her maidr
LETTERS. 181
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Nov. 29, 1816.
ANOTHER letter you shall have, dear Sir, and that
directly.
Cobbett has been galvanizing the multitude finely, I
am told, in his last paper. " Be scum no longer," says
he, " be no longer called scum, I say." Did I ever tell
you a story of which this reminds me, concerning the
blind Lord North's father, old Gruildford ; who delighted
in affecting coarse expressions, and used to say to his
friends when he met them, " Oh, such a one, how does
the pot boil ? ' Some democrat, who probably disliked
the rough address, when Wilkes and liberty set Lon-
don maddening, called to Lord Guildford across a
circle of ladies round the tea-table, and cried exultingly,
" Well my good lord, how does the pot boil now ? "
"Troth, Sir," replied the peer, without hesitation,
"just as you gentlemen would wish it to do, scum
uppermost."
I am so afraid this tale is not new to you, any more
than baptizing the bells. We have two in England,
you know, that were christened Thomas. The Oxford
one I forget all account of ; but when the devil was sat
up to look over Lincoln Cathedral, the wise folk found
baptizing the bell was an efficacious method of sending
him off. Some of their conclave, however, being in-
credulous, " Let us," said they, " baptize the bell by
name .of the doubting apostle, and that will do," so he
is Tom o' Lincoln.
N 3
] 82 LETTERS.
I fancy the phenomenon you allude to at Valencia,
where they are, I trust, not much improved in philo-
sophy, was a real meteor. The atmosphere is loaded
with vapour, certainly, in a way not wholly natural ;
and has been all the summer, if summer it may be
called. Adieu!
This letter has been written all by scraps and
snatches ; people coming in without ceasing, and steal-
ing the wits from my head, the pen from my fingers,
every moment. Let it at least do its duty in present-
ing my best regards and compliments to 's accept-
ance.
Paper therefore fly with speed,
Let thy friend make haste to read,
To be read, is all thy meed,
Hark ! the bell is ringing !
Can such stuff come from any creature but
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 27 Dec. 1816.
THANK you, my dear Sir, for the kind wishes that I
restore you from my heart a hundred fold.
It was odd enough, and pretty enough, that the hap-
piest day of the year should have been the finest ; but
indeed I never saw such a 25th of December, and what
blowing weather followed ! But we must expect it now
to be slippy, drippy, nippy ; after which, showery,
bowery, flowery ; then hoppy, croppy, poppy ; oh ! and
autumn wheezy, sneezy, freezy ; as good, sure, as Fabre
LETTERS. 183
d'Eglan tine's Mvose, Pluviose, Ventose, &c. I wonder
if any of that nonsense will be remembered !
There is a good French joke now at Paris, concerning
the King's illness ; for say the Jacobins,
" Si Louis s'en allait,
Charles dix paraitrait."
Meaning that
" Charles tfts-parai trait."
'Tis well they are so merrily disposed.
Mrs. Lutwyche writes in capital spirits, but your own
dear father's heart is as light as a Frenchman's, though
solid like John Bull. We had a world of chat to-day
when he brought me your letter about Lord and Lady
Mount Edgecombe, being parted like Mr. Sullen and
his wife in the comedy ; east, west, north, south ; far as
the Poles asunder. They have been married just nine
months. She wedded twice before, and now they cry,
" terque quaterque beati ! " I suppose.
Mrs. Dimond offers me a place in her box to-night,
whence will be seen Massinger's horrible " Sir Giles
Overreach," played by Mr. Kean. If he can stretch
that hideous character as he does others, quite beyond
all the authors meant or wished, it will shock us too
much for endurance, though in these days people do
require mustard to everything. Actors, preachers, who-
ever keeps within the bounds of decency, may not we
add patriots ? are all censured for tameness, and con-
sidered as cold-hearted animals, scarce worthy to crawl
on the earth.
N 4
184 LETTERS.
Meanwhile, the thoughts of your Ad bury establish-
ment charm me, and I feel sure that my dear friend
will never fall into tfiis new and fatal whimsey, of fat-
ting beasts, while men are wanting food. It is a sense-
less thing to see calves, and sheep, crammed till they
cannot walk, but are driven into the town for show, in
their carriage, like Daniel Lambert in his easy chair,
when the mutton and veal so managed is not eatable,
and the very fat useless to tallow-chandlers for want of
solidity. I really wonder nobody takes the matter up
as seriously censurable.*
We are subscribing here at a great rate, to imitate
the Londoners. I told Hammersley, that the donation
of 50,0001. to 50,000 poor, put me in mind of Merlin,
the German mechanick, who, when people were terrify-
ing each other about the invasion, some five and thirty
years ago, proposed to let them come, and then meet
them with a guinea each, and beg of them to go home
never reflecting, till heartily laughed at, that they
would come again next week for another guinea a-
piece. Surely these are senseless methods of preserving
tranquillity.f The people want nothing but employment
* It was remarked by Lord Macaulay that prize oxen were
only fit to make candles, and prize poems to light them.
t They are not much unlike what were proposed by sundry
opponents of the Volunteer Movement at its commencement.
Some years ago, during a popular rising in Yorkshire, a well-
known banker wrote to the Home Office, that if the malcontents
did not receive a cheque (meaning check) he would not answer
for the consequences. The obvious answer was, that he was the
best man to apply the proposed remedy.
LETTERS. 185
and pay, and then they will love the hand that helps
them, while feeding them by subscription leaves them
not a whit obliged, but in some sort, and scarce un-
justly, offended ; while the donors are impoverishing
themselves.
Well ! all this you know better than I do, but Doc-
tor Fellowes charged me to give you some tydings of
my own health, because I confessed to him that I had
been taking dear No. 1, and he probably thought that
if the sails would not turn with a common wind, it was
a proof somewhat was the matter with the mill ; but
with all my comforts it would be graceless to complain.
Adieu, dear Sir ; may your next year be happy ! all
spring, showery, bowery, flowery. I really do believe
it will be the happiest year of your life, it will make
of the most dutyful and affectionate son upon earth,
the wisest and- tenderest father. Do not, however, for-
get, that in 1815, you promised long and faithful friend-
ship to her who knows the value of all your good
qualities, and who will be, while life lasts, perhaps still
longer, your sincere, as obliged,
H. L. P.
To Sir James Felloives.
Bath, 4th January, 1817.
'Tis well for me, dear Sir, that my letters meet so
kindly partial a reader ; for I have a notion they often
repeat themselves. Doctor Johnson, and men less wise
than he, say we forget everything but what passes in
our own mind. Those ideas are among the most fleeting
of mine.
186 - LETTERS.
That I had not seen the great actor (Kean) in Sir Giles
Overreach when last writing to Adbury, is however per-
fect in my remembrance ; he did it very finely indeed.
A clear voice and dignified manner are not necessary
to the character, and personal beauty would take off too
much from one's aversion. I was well entertained, and
caught no cold at all.
My New Year's Day party went off to everybody's
satisfaction. Next morning brought verses with " Attic
wit " and " graceful Piozzi " in them, and praises of the
music, which I praised myself for enduring. With
good manoeuvring, however, I kept them from singing
Italian, and everybody was the better pleased ; but I
had rather talk of your trees.
Miss Williams says you must make the children of
your cottagers bring in the Hawthorn berries at so
much the lapful, and put them in a large tub
or pot, and place them in sand, a layer of berries
and a layer of sand, to be put out at the proper
season. Acorns, too, might be gathered, she says,
every autumn, and save you buying dwarfish and
ricketty things from imposing nursery and seedsmen.
Her care for your pocket is very comical indeed, but
those fine plantations at her brother's country seat
haunt the poor dear soul's fancy everlastingly ; and she
remembers and knows that 51. would have paid the
whole cost ; for in old Judge Williams' time there were
not, as now, things of every kind to be bought. They
planted their own beech mast and fir apples ; and cer-
tainly the trees are worth ten times as much to posterity.
LETTERS. 187
Miller, the great botanist of fifty years ago, told me that
an acorn grounded, as he expressed it, on the same day
with a seven year's old oak, would be taller and stronger
than his competitor in seven years time. I told Mr.
Thrale so, but he was in haste to be happy ; and now
the trees he bought, younglings, are nothing, as you
saw, while Bodylwyddan Woods are quite in a thriving
state.
So here's a wise letter, and that always resembles a
dull one ; but let dullness have its due : and remember
that if life and conversation are happily compared to a
bowl of punch, there must be more water in it than
spirit, acid, or sugar. Besides that, I am convinced 'tis
variety alone can delight us either in a book or a com-
panion.* " Eather than always wit, let none be there,"
says Cowley, who had himself enough for two people,
and I know not why, but my heart feels heavy somehow.
Dear ! dear ! what a fragile thing life is ! A young
man was riding full gallop down this street f yesterday ;
and fell down dash at the very spot where Miss Shuttle-
worth was killed. He is not dead this morning, poor
fellow ! but in a sad way, I fear. This street always
was like Virgil's Tartarus, and now 'tis like the high
road to it. Coal carts scrattling up the hill often used
to make me think
" Ilinc ex audiri gemitus, et sseva sonaro
Verbera ; turn stridor ferri, tractseque catenre."
* " On lie plait pas longtemps si Ton n'a qu'une sorte d'esprit."
-Rochefoucauld.
f Gay Street, Bath.
188 LETTERS.
Well! no matter; our exits and entrances are ap-
parently innumerable, and no two alike. Here comes
Miss W daggled like a duck-shooting spaniel on a
dirty November day, and catching her very death with
cold, to tell me that S J F must not put
the seeds of his pine cones, that I call fir apples, into
sand. They must be dried in napkins, &c. &c.
So now adieu, my dear Sir. I have got a member
of parliament by happy fortune to free my nonsense,
and cover with his frank my compliments to .
I asked my servant how your letter was brought me,
for it came in the midst of my little bustle on the 1st of
January. " Indeed, Ma'am," replied the man, " I can't
tell, but it seemed to arrive promiscuously."
Once more farewell, and believe me ever yours,
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Sunday, 4 January, 1817.
AH ! he was a wise man who said Hope is a good
breakfast but a bad dinner. It shall be my supper,
however, when all 's said and done, and the epilogue
spoken upon poor H. L. P.
This snow will do infinite service, but I want some-
thing to string my spirits up to concert pitch. The
parties are going forward through frost and snow, but
I come home from them, when I d& go, a little duller
than at setting out. One reason is they will sing to
LETTERS. 139
me, the men will ; and oh ! how much rather would I
hear a dog howl !
Your friend was very kind, sate and chatted
with me very good-naturedly, and did not sing.
Here is a thin quarto book come out concerning Miss
McEvoy ; you should see it. The Shropshire boy was
not a better deceiver, if the wise men who attest these
wonders do indeed give credit to them. For my own
part, I think the world is superannuating apace, and I
suppose sees double like drunken people, and horses
that are going to lose their eye-sight. Such an age of
imposture was sure never known. Joanna Southcote, the
Fortunate Youth, and Miss McEvoy, all in four years !
With stories of the of that put belief out
of all possibility. Poor Wales, too, a principality with-
out a prince, whenever the king dies.
Mrs. Lutwyche has written from Rome ; says her hus-
band can walk now seven miles o' day. They spend their
time in seeing sights under the direction of far-famed
Cornelia Knight*, and rejoycing in the society of the first
society of the first city in Europe never mentioning
the famine and distressful state of the inhabitants,
which Sir Thomas and Lady Liddel protest is beyond
endurance, Capua alone having lost 12,000 human
creatures from hunger and consequent disease within
the last two years, and this corresponds with Dr. Whal-
ley's account of Northern Italy.
What is one to believe ? Now dispose of my com-
pliments, loves, and respects, and Addio !
* Author of " Marcus Flaminius " and other works.
190 LETTERS.
To Sir James Fdlowes.
Bath, 16 January, 1817.
ON the seventy-sixth anniversary of my life, according
to your good father's reckoning, the first thing I do after
returning Grod thanks, is to write to dear Sir James.
Kemble is here, and has called on me ; I was shocked
at the alteration in his face and person. Poor fellow !
But the public were, or rather was, very contented, and
huzzaed his Coriolanus gallantly. I was glad for twenty
reasons ; Brutus and Sicinius being precisely the Hunt
and Cobbett of 2000 years ago, it was delightful to hear
how they were hissed.
Our hills exhibit a heavy snow, but it does not lie in
this warm town.
These are days when nothing can be deemed impos-
sible. I think the people in Thibet are right for my
part, who kneel down when a female baby is born, and
pray that she may have a physician for her husband.
He would at least keep her from such exploits, as
Mrs. M , who frighted me so by going out to dinner
into the country the llth day after delivery ; the very
hearing of it half killed me, who was then in Wales.
Miss W - walks about this horrid weather with a
weight of clothes which would kill any one whose an-
cestors had not worn armour, and then strips for the
evening party, covered (if covered) only by trinkets just
fit for the eldest Miss - . Such is the world, and such
are its inhabitants. Do not suffer yourself to be too
LETTERS. 191
sorry that I am so near out of it. If my setting sun
leaves one long red streak behind, to lengthen the twi-
light and keep back dark oblivion, shall I not be happy
and thankful ? whilst I am recollected as your true and
trusty old friend,
H. L. P.
Verses on the 16th of January, 1817, the seventy-
sixth anniversary of her life.
Whilst all on Piozzi's natal day
Their tributary offerings pay,
Of due congratulation ;
Let not my faithful muse forget
To pay her just, her willing debt,
Upon the glad occasion.
Nor, lady ! deem she here presents
Those cold unmeaning compliments
Made only for the ear ;
Hers is true tribute of the heart,
Expressed, indeed, with little art,
But honest and sincere.
Then deign t' accept the votive lay,
Incited by this festal day
We hail with such delight.
To friendship sacred, and to song,
Let joy the happy hour prolong,
And stay their rapid flight.
192 LETTERS.
Nor shall my interested prayer
Invoke for you one added year
Than every way may please ;
I wish their number limited
To those which come accompanied
With happiness and ease.
Yet frequent may the Day return,
And distant that which we shall mourn
Keturns no more for you ;
With silent pain the mental eye
Pierces thro' deep futurity,
And turns her from the view.
At length, by years alone opprest,
When summon'd hence to join the blest
In their celestial sphere ;
Resign'd you'll quit us at the last,
Viewing without regret the past,
The future without fear.
But friendship whispers to the heart,
That tho' condemn'd on earth to part
From those it lov'd before :
Its ties unbroken still remain,
And former friends shall meet again,
To separate no more.
LETTERS. 193
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 23 January, 1817.
DOES ever read novels ? The second and third
volumes of a strange book, entitled " Tales of my Land-
lord " [" Old Mortality "] are very fine in their way.
People say 'tis like reading Shakespear ! I say 'tis
as like Shakespear as a glass of peppermint water is to
a bottle of the finest French brandy ; but the third I
think it is the third volume, is very impressive for the
moment, without spectres or any trick played, except the
sensations of Morton when going to be executed, and the
gay conversation of Claverhouse immediately following,
which is a happy contrast indeed.
I will, however, detain you no longer than to say
not how much, for it would not be said in an hour
but how very sincerely I remain, your obliged and faith-
ful friend, whilst
H. L. PIOZZI.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Saturday night, 8 February, 1817.
I HAVE disengaged myself from the party this evening
was to have been lost in, for the pleasure of thanking
dear Sir James for the very friendly letter brought me
to-day by his happy father, who was going down the town
to sign his name among the honest men who promise to
rally round our excellent Constitution. All this looks
well, as you say ; but I so hate to recollect the times *
when England was divided between factions much re-
* 1680. See Macaulay'a History, vol. i. p. 256.
VOL. II.
194 LETTERS.
sembling ours, and calling one set petitioners, and the
other set abhorrers of the petitions, I suppose.
France is no happier, no richer than Great Britain ;
all Europe is enveloped in these frightful fogs.
Your friend and I had a very nice conversation about
political economy. The people certainly feel offended at
seeing one man receive 12,000., another 20,000. o' year
in return for no apparent service done ; but I am not
sure they are injured at all, unless the possessor carries his
wealth and spends it in a foreign country. Were we to
roast all the race-horses, and give the corn which feeds
them to the poor, making "Hambletonian" into soup,
&c., what would become of the grooms and the jockies
and their helpers and h^3gers-on ? They would know
how to till the ground no better than their masters; and
we should have so many more thieves, professed, that are
now merely amateurs and dillettanti. Servants out of
place are among the worst members of society ; and a
gentleman once told me that none of the wretches sent
to Botany Bay were so truly untractable as that class.
" They can do nothing," said he, " but wait at table
where there is no one to sit down at it, or stand behind
a carriage and cry Go on with an air, when no lady
listens and no carriage can be found,
" ' "Where the gilt chariot never marks the way,
Where none learn Ombre, none e'er taste Bohea.' "
Mr. Eobertson has received his money by now. If
everybody was really and bona fide to use their fortunes
with economy, what would become of his 120 pipes of
wine and of his correspondence abroad ? But he hopes
to sell some to the sinecurists, I doubt not, while their
LETTERS. 195
valets and livery servants drink an inferior sort. Ah
me ! Government is a long and sometimes a tangled
chain, but tearing but one rusty link will rather weaken
than brighten it.
Veniamo ad altro, as Baretti used to say. Boswell
and he were both of them treacherous inmates, but
their books are very pretty, very interesting, and very
well written.
The best writers are not the best friends, and the
last character is more to be valued than the first by
contemporaries; after fifty years, indeed, the others
carry away all the applause.
Apropos, Madame D'Arblay is said to be writing a
new work ; and the " Pastor's Fireside," by Miss Porter,
comes in for a large share of praise, after the " Tales of
my Landlord." But my paper comes to an end, my
candles burn down to the socket, my fire is gone almost
out, and I have not yet said, though I hope you have felt,
that everything will diminish before either absence or
silence can lessen the regard of your obliged and sincere
H. L. PIOZZI.
To Sir James Felloives.
Bath, 5 March, 1817.
WELL, my dear Sir, Salusbury came to his time, but
is obliged to run away so, we have hardly had a moment
for necessary chat. I rely on you to tell him what
clothes he must wear, what fees he must pay, and to
whom. As a prudent mortal, he would willingly have
o 2
196 LETTERS.
escaped such costly titles : but I really do not think it
right to refuse honours from a sovereign when offered
them ; I am not yet so much a modern democrate.
" Stick to the crown, though it hang upon a thornbush,"
was old Sir William Wyndham's precept, and we have
heard none better. Mr. Dorset Fellowes is Mr. Salus-
bury ready-made friend ; he will kindly in intro-
ducing him to you assist, dear Sir,
Your ever obliged and faithful
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Sunday, March 9th, 1817.
YOUR melancholy letter, my dear Sir, reminded me
of an autograph I once saw of Alexander Pope, saying
to Martha Blount: "My poor father died in my arms
this morning. If at such a moment I did not forget
you ; assure yourself I never can. A. P."
I felt something like the same consolation as she
must have done.
M is deeply affected . . . loses sleep. I have
not seen the D P ; everybody makes too sure ;
we are all such hopers. Get well, and away for
Adbury, where pleasure, and fair weather, and what is
well worth both, agreeable entertainments, await you.
This season requires attention in you farmers, and
the times require attention from you as an English gen-
tleman, the character perhaps most to be respected of
any that Europe has in it.
LETTERS. 197
Stocks rise every hour, but let us not for that reason
over-hope ourselves; there are heavy clouds hanging
about, and every nation has a right to expect storms :
we have not yet had our share.
Farewell, my dear friend, and shew your superiority
to disappointment as you have shewn it in a thousand
instances to ill-fortune in other forms and shapes
acquiring every one's esteem, and the ever unrivalled
regard and value of your obliged servant,
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Sunday, 20 March, 1817.
AT present we are close on Passion Week, a period
forgotten in town, I believe, where a gay man once asked
me whether Christmas Day was always on a Fryday ?
" because," said he, " they call it Good Fryday, don't
they ? and they neither dance nor play at cards." Such
a question could not be asked in Spain or Italy. This
moment Miss calls for my letter and expresses
uneasiness about the dear D r. I hope her affection
magnifies the distress ; but at our age we must break :
and if the last tickets do linger in the wheel, why people
will give more than their value for them, though often
blanks at last.
These reflexions are forced on me by a visit from poor
dear Mr. Chappelow, a friend of thirty years' standing,
who comes here to take a last leave of poor
H. L. P. !
o 3
198 LETTERS.
To Sir Jaines Fellowes.
Begun Sunday, March 20, 1817.
I WAS going to write you a letter this morning, but
Miss called, and I sent it away half written. My
spirits have been much lowered by poor Mr. Chap-
pelow's visit, but this is a season for mortification, and
a stronger memento mom, saw I never.
Your dear father has sons and daughters round him,
but my wretched old friend, a batchelor ecclesiastic,
with nobody to tell him that he is getting superan-
nuated, affords indeed a melancholy spectacle.
Mrs. Broadhead, too, dying in the Crescent *, plump
and gay three months ago, now pale and wrinkled like
one's white handkerchief after Mrs. Siddons' benefit ;
mondo f mondanio ! as Baretti used to say.
Well ! here's Monday, the first of Passion week, and
I do hope the people's hunger for amusement will be
suspended here till Easter holidays.
Pretty little Mrs. GK, . the doctor's wife, must go
abroad, or die at home of weakness and atrophy.
Parry's colossal form (tenacious of life) permits not his
departure, but detains him here, helpless, hopeless,
senseless, except to agonising pain ; gout, stone, and
palsey, upon one man. Dreadful ! and suspended so
(like Mahomet's tomb) between life and death.
No matter, those whose lives are longest forget what
past in their maturer years, remembering best the early
* This lady is, I believe, living still.
LETTERS. 139
days of youth. Mr. Chappelow, my superannuated
visitant, recollects marrying Doctor Parry when he first
took orders. Those whose date is shorter, laugh at the
parts that are past. The boy despises the baby ; the
man contemns the boy ; a philosopher scorns the man,
and a Christian pities them all. When we approach
the confines of immortality, however, the best is to
look forward ; for retrospection is but a blotted page to
wiser and better folks than dear Sir James Fellowes's
ever obliged and faithful
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Monday, 14 April, 1817.
I THANK you, my dear Sir, for your kind letter. You
are very good-natured to think about my health, who
am, as it appears, neither racked with pain, like our
poor friend at T., nor panting with an asthma, like the
dear Doctor, about whom I observe Miss to be
visibly uneasy, though by no means well herself.
That we must either outlive those who are most valued
by us, or go ourselves, and quit the stage to them, seems
hard to remember, though the first lesson that we
learn : what we fear to lose rises in value. Distance has
such an effect, that even the apprehension produces
consequences. " When you were near me," says Pope,
" I only thought of you as a good neighbour ; at a hun-
dred miles from me, my fancy formed you beautiful ;
and now ! (they had crossed the seas remember) you
o 4
200 LETTERS.
are a goddess, and your little sister approaching to di-
vinity."*
This was said in sport, but there is truth in most
jests. We look on those approaching the banks of a
river all must cross, with ten times the interest they
excited when dancing in the meadow. Yet let them
cross it once, and get fairly out of sight, how soon are
they out of mind !
My proximity to the river's brink, all overcast with
fog, and now and then disturbed by fume and vapour,
shews me very imperfectly the schemes and monstrous
projects of our time, and shews me them in dispropor-
tions too. They are not regularly formed gyants, like
Polypheme, but one-eyed as he was ; and weak, although
gigantick, from being so badly put together.
The rise of our friends is unnatural, and " nothing
now is, but what is not," according to Macbeth's opi-
nion.
A gentleman far from here, who has large concern
in the iron-works of a neighbouring county, called
fifteen of his principal people together the other day,
and told them he was no longer able to give them
piece-work such is the phrase because his rents were
so ill-paid ; but he would present them with a pound
note each every Monday morning, till they were to
resume their old employment, as he wished might soon
be the case for all their sakes. God bless your honour,
was the immediate reply : with thanks and expressions
* " 'Tia distance lends enchantment to the view." CAMPBELL.
LETTERS. 201
of (as he believes) sincere attachment. They said,
however, that the bargain could not be formally acceded
to, till letters arrived from Manchester, but that they
would wait on his honour the following Wednesday, and
settle matters. Wednesday came, and so did the fifteen
workmen, but with altered countenances. Friends had
taught them not to be bamboozled, was their word ; so
their employer might keep his money, and they would
throw themselves upon the parish. A measure instantly
adopted, to the distress of the parish, and triumph of
their Manchester acquaintance !
So dry a season after a long season of wet, is good
for the ground, I dare say ; but we shall be all pulver-
ized by and by, if no rain falls. I am already weary
on 't, and feel apprehensive lest the haymaking should
be hurt by an abundance of what we are now sighing
for, &c.
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Fryday night, 16 May, 1817.
WELL, well ! 'tis fine saying We will do this and we
will do that when death is so near, saying, " No, you
shall not," to us all. Poor Callan the upholsterer, my
landlady in Westgate Street, went perfectly well to bed,
called up her daughter at 4 o'clock, Mrs. Booth, told
her she should die in half an hour, and kept her word
to a second.
The corporation yesterday, all well and merry, marched
down the South Parade in some silly procession, I know
202 LETTERS.
not what, endeavoured to cross the river in the ferry-
boat, upset the machine, and sixteen of them were
drowned, at noonday, in sight of the walkers up and
down. Mr. Marshall, curate of the abbey, 'scaped by
miracle, resolving to walk round and meet them, in spite
of their entreaties to make one of the frolickers.
A stranger thing never befell, because the river is so
shrunk by our long series of dry weather, I am sure
your brother Thomas could cross it on foot ; and you
know there is a rope, too, which by some marvellous
fatality none of them clung to.
So there is no need of ice-islands to drown, or of
dreadful diseases to kill us, when it pleases Grod to call
either the great Alexander, or your little friend,
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Wednesday, 28 May, 1817.
Miss tells me, dear Sir, that she has room in
her letter to squeeze in a note from me ; but what is to
be said in the note, who can tell ? We talk here of
the insurrection at Brazil, or of the girl that drowned
herself yesterday morning, or the ten times more won-
derful tale of the Welsh girl, who returned by her own
good will to the house of a man who was proved seven
years before to have beaten and starved her almost to
death. Oh ! that beats all the stories that I ever heard
or told.
H. L. PIOZZI.
LETTERS. 203
To Sir James Fellowes.
31 May, 1817.
IT is very fine, my dear Sir, and I am well persuaded
on 't, that your kindness for poor H. L. P. is not to be
damped by climate, nor I hope diminished by distance.
Yet there is no harm in the journeys being put off,
though I should really like to hear what Dr. Whalley
does mean by these improbable tales of starvation upon
iiie continent.
I fancy his servants shut him up, and told him only
what they wished him to hear.
The story of Eliza Davies is, however, most dis-
graceful to this land of liberty and opulence. If such
atrocities can be committed in London, what may not
happen in Eussia or even in Portugal ?
We have been all engaged in care for a girl who
drowned herself in our canal here, but whose only cause
of concern was her inability to squeeze some rich friend
out of 5001. ; he sent her 50L, but that she scorned.
What is come to the people ? Lunacy ? One would
think so, to hear these wonders.
The Dean of Winchester's account of Bennet Lang-
ton coming to town some few years after the death of
Dr. Johnson, and finding no house where he was even
asked to dinner, was exceedingly comical. Mr. Wilber-
force dismissed him with a cold " Adieu, dear Sir, I
hope we shall meet in heaven ! " How capricious is
the public taste ! I remember when to have Langton
204 LETTERS.
at a man's house stamped him at once a literary cha-
racter.*
Johnson's fame, meanwhile, lives even in the lightest
and slightest shreds of his wit and learning.
We have a caricature print here now of Sir John
Lade going through all the stages of profligate folly, and
drowning himself at last, with Dr. Johnson's verses be-
ginning
" Long expected one-and-twenty,
Lingering year, at length is flown,"
written under, exactly as I printed them in his letters
to me, only I omitted the name, as a civility to the
family which showed me nothing but spite after Mr.
Thrale's death.
Well ! I will be prudent, and recover the bruises my
purse has suffered by sitting still as a mouse. Was I
once at Adbury, temptations to go further would be
irresistible, so I will take good advice instead of kind
invitation, and keep quiet.
A glass of Bath water before dinner, or half a glass of
Mr. Divie afterf, will keep my inside tolerably good-
humoured, I hope, though dining from home is still
unpleasant to me, and la bile is my utter aversion,
" For that is bitter with a witness,
And kinder souls delight in sweetness, &c. v
Your good mother is recovering gradually but cer-
* The Earl of Norwich, who ranked as the wit of Charles the
First's court, was voted a bore at the court of Charles the Second.
f Divie Robertson was a wine merchant at Bath.
LETTERS. 205
tainly. The dear Doctor is, as he terms himself, true
heart of oak.
They are always the same true and partial friends
to dear Sir James's ever obliged and faithful
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Thursday, 26 June, 1817.
I CANNOT sufficiently rejoyce, my dear Sir, or be half
thankful enough for the intelligence your kind charm-
ing sister has this moment given me, of your resolution
to run no further in chase of hot weather than the
Queen's Drawing Boom of this day. Poor Salusbury !
I think if he escapes fever it is sufficient felicity. Such
a journey in such a June ! and the thermometer stand-
ing at 82 in my cool marble hall. I have the head-
ache myself, caught perhaps by reading Mrs. Carter's
letters, which tell of nothing else, and yet all our pale
blue ladies here, are saying how fine they are. Come,
there is one good thing in them : she says to Mrs. Mon-
tague :
" Your scheme of omitting the house, and improving
the plantations, is founded on a motive equally good
and wise. Time would sink the proudest palace you
could raise, into ruins ; but eternity will secure to you
the wealth which is applied in the encouragement of
honest industry and relief of distress."
I like the intention of the sentence here quoted, ex-
cessively ; but 'tis awkwardly expressed, because masons
206 LETTERS.
and bricklayers want money and encouragement as
much as gardeners and planters, no doubt; yet am I
all of her mind, to prefer improvements on land, rather
than sink sums which may be wanted, in building
houses and stables, which never repay the owner and
too often remain for ages
" Remnants of things that have pass'd away,
Fragments of stone rear'd by creatures of clay."
Poor old Lleweney Hall ! pulled down after standing
1000 years in possession of the Salusburys, made over
to Lord Kirkwall's father in the last century, and now
demolished by fine Mr. Hughes, of the Parys Moun-
tain, would cure any one of pride in houses, or in an-
cestry.
Land is the only thing'which can pretend to duration,
though you see our funds keep up very finely, 'spite
of ill-willers ; and what a piece of work has been made
with these housebreakers, and street ruffians, to convert
them into gentlemen, and try them for high treason ! *
The Dean of Winchester says, one of the jury was penny
collector to Lord C.
Here is heavenly weather, however, and if anything
can put or keep people in good humour with those above
them, a copious harvest is of all most likely.
You will see my fair daughters at the Drawing Eoom,
of course. They hurried home for it I fancy, for S.
has written to me, expressing her regrets at leaving
* The Thistlewood conspirators.
LETTERS. 207
Paris, " where ladies have nothing to do with menage
de famille, and can entertain themselves their own
way." Yet I believe she has, of all women, least to
regret on that side her head.
" Like a City wife or a beauty,
She has flutter'd life away ;
She has known no other duty,
But to dress, eat, drink, and play."
This for your privacy as Grloster says.
Ah dear Sir ! what a loss I should have had by your
journey to the Continent. I shall now not care a straw
about missing Adbury this year, for there Adbury stands,
and there resides its master ; and like the Irish lover,
who says, "Arrah^my dear Sheelah, (or Shalah) ! If I
was once within forty miles of you, I would never desire
to be nearer you, in all my life, and still in the same
little island," when he was transported to Botany Bay.
Your dear father and mother are so well and so happy
at Sidmouth, they half persuade me to go and see them
there ; and when all debts are paid, the 5001. bought in
again, which I sold out in March, and a certain sum
dans la poche, who knows what may be done by dear
Sir James Fellowes's ever obliged and grateful
H. L. PIOZZI.
Miss Fellowes assures me this stuff shall cost you
nothing, or you should have had more on't at least, by
way of making out the bargain ; did you care about
Caraboo ?
208 LETTERS.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 1 July, 1817.
No, my dear Sir, I will not stir from home till after
the 25th of July, which day made me happy thirty-
three years ago, after the suffering so many sorrows,
and here will I keep its beloved anniversary, always
remembering
" St. James's Church and St. James's Day,
And good Mr. James that gave me away."
Adbury will be beautiful the last week of my fa-
vourite month, and London will be empty the first
week of August, so that will just suit me ; for the small
shot, as we used to call trifling debts, will be all dis-
charged by then ; my 500L brought back again into the
three per cent, consols, and myself at liberty to come
and thank Sir James for his kindly repeated invitations.
The bustle we made about Caraboo * was very comical
indeed. Those who thought her an impostor dared not
say so. Such was the persuasion of the people to be-
lieve her a decided Oriental, though she never had the
skill to write her odd characters in the Eastern manner,
but beginning from the left hand clearly proved herself a
novice, though she had made up a good alphabet enough,
composed of Persic, Arabic, and Hebrew letters. I put
my opinion of her into bad verses, as you shall see,
more spiteful to Murray, who refused my book than
worth your reading for any other merit ; but if you
* A woman of bad character, who passed herself off at Bath and
Bristol as Caraboo, Princess of Jarasu.
LETTERS. 209
have not seen the new poem, you will not laugh as I
wish you to do :
Our bright maid of Bristol by all men admired,
Till ev'n admiration itself grows half tired ;
While praying, or swearing, or swimming, or fencing,
All merits in one happy female condensing ;
The more I examine his wonderful book,
The more I'm persuaded she's Moore's Lallah Eookh.
In her black cotton shawl which no heart can resist,
While the morn, like her character, melts into mist,
Addressing old Titan with tender devotion,*
Or shrinking averse from the treacherous ocean ;
The ship which produced her, the swain who forsook,
All bring to my memory Moore's Lallah Rookh.
Should Murray once wind her, no pelf would he spare,
Indulging her taste in each Turkish bazaar ;
The Mukratoo rabble f oh how he would scare 'em !
And long live the lady, the light of his haram !
The rich feast of roses he knows how to cook,
Who gave three thousand pounds for Moore's fam'd
Lallah Rookh."
My dear Sir James will perceive that his old friend
has not forgotten her old follies,
" Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires,"
as Gray says, and we go on to the last, jogging in the
same dusty road.
* Caraboo pretended to worship the sun.
f If a man offered to touch her she cried out, Muckratoo.
VOL. II. P
210 LETTERS.
Apropos, I don't believe London will be empty
enough for me till September. I will not go to en-
counter invitations and parties on the one hand, slights
and cold looks on the other. Everybody shall be away
when I present myself at Blake's Hotel, unless, per-
haps, poor Lady Kirkwall ; and if she can get her an-
nuity paid, she will put herself in some cool place, I
hope, after such heating work of both body and mind.
After all, you and your family are safe in Hampshire,
and summer is before us. This hay weather is bad
indeed ; and I did think we waited too long for the
rain ; we shall now have more than we want. S'intende
acqua, says the Italian gardener, who had been praying
for rain, ma non tempesta.
We hear that the lady, whose good-nature the little
gipsey imposed upon, is so struck with her ingenuity,
that she protests they shall never part again. By the
same rule, Rundell and Bridge ought to make the
swindler, who cheated them of 24,000. the other day,
head clerk of their house, if they can catch him.
Would you laugh to see me in a white hat and rib-
bands ! The black * was wholly insupportable during
the violent heats, and thunder always gives me a sullen
headache.
Con mille rispetti. Addio.
Yours ever truly attached,
H. L. P.
* She never left off her black silk dress after the death of
Piozzi.
LETTERS. 211
To Sir James Fellowes.
Blake's Hotel, 23rd Aug. 1817.
LONDON is most embellished since I saw it last, but
the Regent's Park disappoints me : had it been as I
fancied, a place appropriated to the Regent, with ran-
gers, &c., the boundaries of London northward would
have been ascertained, and a beautiful spot, like Hyde
Park, have contributed to the health and ornament of
the metropolis ; but buildings there are, it seems, hourly
increasing, and it will end in an irregular square at
last, of which there are enough already. The bridges
are very fine, and will make my old habitation, South-
wark, a gay place in due time, I dare say.
Here is a little sunshine after the rain, and the pale
white-faced wheat will be got in somehow. But no
golden ears, no rich coloured grain imbrowned the
views in Berkshire, as I came along. The " cold un-
ripened beauties of the North " must have a melancholy
appearance to foreigners from warm climates, to whom
the verdure of fields and snugness of comfortable cot-
tages would make this year but broken amends, I am
confident.
Can you tell what's good for the bite of a dead viper's
tooth.* Oyl, I trust, and emollients ; yet 'tis a slow
remedy. I feel ashamed to think how much the post-
humous poyson has disturbed me. "Write a word of
consolation, and Adieu.
# Alluding to Beloe.
P 2
212 LETTERS.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Blake's Hotel, 29 August, 1817.
I HAVE been living with poor dear Lady K and
her mother ; up to their very eyes in love and law, dis-
tressed as nothing human ever was distressed, and will
I suppose (in Dr. Johnson's phrase) be at last delivered
as nothing human ever was delivered. Siddons and
they are the only people I have seen, but the things
are charming, and the places so improved that, without
hyperbole, I actually passed through South wark the
borough I canvassed three times, and inhabited thirteen
years without knowing where they had carried me
any more than if I had been found in Ispahan.
The gas-lights, and steam-boats, and new bridges are
all incomparable, and will serve us for chat at the castle,
when your Honour has counted your money, the grand
pacifier of all quarrels, although the fountain whence
spring so many disputes. But adieu ! I must dress to
dine what I call out of town, the top-house in Baker
Street.* Make my best regards and sincerest good
wishes acceptable to Lady F , and believe me
hers and yours while
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 3 September, 1817.
JOT to my dear Sir James Fellowes. Mil anos y
mas, and through the whole thousand, friends to value
him no less than I do.
The cock and hens will be beforehand with me, how-
* At Mrs. Siddons'.
LETTERS. 213
ever, in my congratulations ; Smith assures me they are
beautiful and healthy ; and were to be on their journey
yesterday ; when I concluded mine. We had lovely
weather ; a negative day as I call it, no sun, no rain, no
wind, no dust. Driving through the Devizes, I recol-
lected an old epigram which I wrote there, some cen-
turies ago, when Sir Fletcher Norton was Oh, but I
dare say 'tis in a blank leaf of your " Wraxall ;" if it is
not, you shall have it another day.* Meanwhile, as sub-
lime effusions are the fashion, what think you of my
verses lamenting the fate of my own sisterhood ? when
Bagshot, Hownslow, &c. were first taken into cultiva-
tion, and beginning :
Goosey ! goosey ! gander !
Whither will you wander
When your commons all are gone,
That you plum'd yourselves upon ?
Sure I think they'll leave no places
Where to wash our feathery faces,
All the world's become our foes
From this hurry to enclose.
Could a ray of hope spring from one's
Interest in the House of Commons,
I'd exhaust my last poor quill
To avert th' impending ill.
But the troop of Foxites there
Make the mournful goose despair :
And for t' others there's no chance,
While they rate their geese as swans.
* See Vol. I. p. 339.
p 3
214 LETTERS.
But yon are tired of this stuff, or at least I am : the
harvest is worth talking about, and a very good harvest
I now believe it will be. But to see haymaking, wheat
carrying, and barley full ripe, all at once, is new ; so far
as I have looked on life, and the staff of life. One
newly-turned up field exhibited shocks of corn on one
side of it, manure on the other, the plough at work in
the middle. A curious combination !
The Mount at Marlborough was too dewy in the
morning, and it was quite dark when I got in over
night, we had chatted so long, and so comfortably : it
would have been a famous thing to have run up a hill
which I ran up in the year 1750, the maid calling after
me, "Miss! don't you jump over the hedges." Car-
dinal du Perron, you know, did purchase an estate for
double the money another man would have given, be-
cause he leaped a famous leap on those grounds seventy
years before : I did not, however, understand that he
could have leaped it again. *
Miss Williams is in trouble; her beau very ill indeed,
and keeps bed ; Mr. Cam attending him : by her
odd account it seems Haemorrhoids, Haemorrhage, or
some undescribable mischief. She is zealous, however,
about your dairy, &c. My description of it set all her
head to work. I have friends here going to Ireland : it
would make your very ducks and drakes laugh to see
her diligence (ill-employed) in persuading me to instruct
* The Archbishop of Armagh/meeting the Earl of Carhampton,
boasted that his legs carried him as well as ever, "Ay, my
Lord, but not to the same places."
LETTERS. 215
them which way they should go ; for cheapest, best, &c.
How can she multiply her cares so ! ! But she would
think us no less absurd, for making enquiries now, A. D.
1817, concerning the ^Egyptian Mary, who died in the
desart beyond Jordan in the year 430 : having never
seen a human face for forty-seven years, living on raw
roots and herbage, with no change of clothing from the
dress she wore at the moment her conversion took place.
She was then a notorious profligate, yet wished to attend
the festival of Fete Dieu, but felt herself supernaturally
repelled by the pressure of an unseen hand, and a voice
crying Unworthy Mary. She retired, so warned, from
the cathedral, resolved to break off all connection with
a world she had behaved so ill in, and after making
solemn vows of penitence, tried the church door again,
which opened to her of its own accord. This apparent
approval of Heaven sent Mary to perpetual solitude and
sorrow : to alleviate which in her last moments, Zosi-
mus the hermit was sent to administer the last conso-
lation a Christian can receive. She took the eucharist
though speechless from exhaustion, and when the hermit
came next day, he found only a lifeless corpse, with the
pathetic words " Poor Mary " traced in the burning
sand. Has not Murillo done the story justice? Better,
oh, better far, than the poor quill of yours and Lady
Fellowes's ever,
H. L. P.*
* Mrs. Piozzi, on her return to Bath from Adbury, where she
had paid us a visit, having admired my fine picture by Murillo, sent
me the above account, taken from the Popish legend. J. F,
P 4
216 LETTERS.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, September 8, 1817.
WHAT an unreasonable friend is dear Sir James Fel-
lowes ! as unreasonable as partial, I think ; and that is
enough. On the same day that we obtain attestations
of all the Tales told in the " Grolden Legend," and that
will not be soon, he may expect another strange letter,
just like the last, from his much obliged H. L. P. My
story is abridged from a French abridgment of the old
book. Authority enough, as it is not only to be found
in "L'Advocat's Biography," but in Danet's "Account
of Christian Antiquities." I would not, however, swear
to the truth of any tale told in the dark ages. The
world sees most visions (says Fuller) when she is most
blind, and the ophthalmia of those days, inflamed by
persecution on the one hand, and hope of immediate
beatitude on the other, presented objects of strange
distortion doubtless ; while the difficulty of committing
anything to paper, multiplied and magnified every de-
viation into a miracle. Such are the accounts reli-
giously believed by Romanists of St. Francis retiring to
the desart, making himself a wife of snow, &c. and
while under these dreadful mortifications, receiving in
vision from our crucified Saviour's own immediate touch
a separate mark or stigma, is it not ? upon each hand
and foot. Your picture seems as if stretching round
to touch the side of the saint as I remember, and 'tis
related how his wounds dropt blood, though later than
^Egyptian Mary's legend by nearly seven centuries.
LETTERS. 217
Alas ! the while : that such delusions were thought
necessary to prop our faith, or propagate Christianity
brought down from heaven by the God of Truth him-
self. Romanism, however, cannot, even now, divest
itself of love for pious frauds, and hatred to all sects
except their own. See how they are working themselves
into power ! reminding one of the old fable in our
babies' books : where the poor axe lies helpless in the
wood, lamenting his incapacity to serve his friends or
get his own living, for want of a handle, and you (says
he) cruel creatures ! wont give me even a twig. After
a long time spent in such intreaties, one of the young
ash, a sapling, takes compassion, "and here, my lad,"
he cries, " thou shalt have this branch of mine, make
thee a handle;" he does so, says the fable, and cuts
down the whole grove. What else did he want it for ?
Ah ! old Sir Fletcher Norton, that I wrote the epi-
gram upon, was no sapling ; no truly, he was made of
sterner stuff. But the present state of things has
spoiled my epigram, like that which was drowned (as
Boswell said) when the grand piece of water was made
at Blenheim, and
" The arch, the height of his ambition shows,
The stream, an emblem of hia bounty flows,"
was no longer a joke.
And now here is just such a letter as the last ; and
in yours a confirmation of my own just surprize at your
talk of partridge shooting, when such loads of corn were
yet unhoused. Soon, however,
218 LETTERS.
" Shall the staunch pointer brave the sultry heat,
And tread the stubble with unfeeling feet. "
And till then you must carefully preserve your album
of fowls immaculate. The ginger wing will not I hope
be hereditary : if it is, I shall get somebody to thrust
Mr. Kenrick down the throat of his own alligator, as
they do infants in China. The weather is truly de-
lightful, and good for workmen at home, as for harvest
men abroad. Enjoy it, dear Sir, and never forget Lady
Fellowes's and your own true servant,
H. L. P.
Do you recollect the little Simon Paap, a dwarf whom
you and I went to see, and he said he would have the
honour to drink a bottle with Sir James Fellowes, comi-
cally enough? and produced a tiny vial out of his
pocket that he called his pocket pistol ? He is here
now, and the people go to see him. Bessy Bell was
glad to shake hands with her handsome husband, I
doubt not: but as I flatter myself she has still some
regard for her poor mistress, I shall beg you will not
withdraw yours from her.
Farewell ! and present me properly to Lady Fellowes.
I am glad she likes my notion of the fine Murillo. She
will be much amused with Caraboo.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, September 25, 1817.
How kind the have been ! never forgetting their
little friend at No. 8, but sending me crouted cream, &c.
LETTEES. 219
They thought a little soothing would do me good, 1
suppose, after Mr. Beloe's venomous attack.
No matter ; here is a copious and beautiful harvest,
and many happy hearts in consequence, Salusbury's
beyond all. I don't know when I can recollect the
barley in Wales housed by the last week in September,
and we are painting, and repairing, and emulating Lon-
don, all we can, nothing doubtful but that the second
and third cities of England will soon follow the first,
being paved with iron and lighted with air.
Mrs. Mostyn, for whom I was, as you know, anxious,
is said to be well, and disposed for a journey to Italy.
Those who return from thence say the English are in
high favour, owing chiefly to Lord Exmouth, whose
liberation of Catholic slaves at Algiers struck the Eoman
people as an act worthy Christians, and scarce to be
credited of British heretics.
Mr. Wanzey tells me a thing scarcely to be credited
of Komish bigots; no less than that the Protestants
have hired an apartment near the Colonna Trajana ;
where our English liturgy is read every Sunday by some
of the numerous clergymen belonging to our Church,
who are loitering about that city unprohibited, unno-
ticed, unoffended.* Such connivance who could have
hoped for in 1785? Mr. W says that our country-
* James Smith used to "tell a story, on the authority of Sir
George Beaumont, that the English applied to the Pope to bless
a cemetery so that they might lie in consecrated ground, and
that his Holiness replied, all he coidd do for them was to curse
any spot they might select for the purpose, so that they might lie
in desecrated ground.
220 LETTERS.
men spend 1000Z. per diem in Italy ; in Eome only,
if I am not mistaken.
How good and wise, meanwhile, is , staying at
his own beautiful house, and embellishing it every
hour.
I have seen the lyons old and young, but was surprised
to witness the oddity of a female setting-dog suckling
her young enemies. The whelp is not half as tame as
some cubs shown at Bath last year, that played with
the children of the town and with one another just like
kittens. I pulled those about myself, but this little
rascal was surly.
Waterloo Panorama, however, and the learned Italian
dog Manito, must be visited. I think next week will
have exhibited all the wonders London can produce at
this time of year, and then my horses' heads will turn
homewards on the 1st day of the new month, Sep-
tember.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 8 October, 1817.
DON'T buy the book, dear Sir.* That method only
propagates the mischief. You know me too well not
to believe me completely callous to literary abuse. But
this man (who I never saw but once in my life, eighteen
years ago) tells the public that Mr. Piozzi pulled down
* The Sexagenarian, by Beloe. His statement, false in every
particular, more, than quadruples her Welsh rent-roll.
LETTERS. 221
my old family seat at Bachygraig, and that when he
was dead I searched the Alps for a young mountaineer
to inherit my estate of 40001. per annum. Now, in the
first place, Mr. Piozzi paid off a mortgage that was on
the Welsh estate with 70001. of his own money, not
mine. He then repaired and beautified old Bachygraig
at a great expense, rebuilt and pewed the church, made
a fine vault for my ancestors, and built Brynbella to
live in, because the family mansion lay down low by
the river side.
He begged my name for his brother's son, and when
the French invaded Italy, sent for him hither, an infant
unable to walk or talk ; lived till the lad was fourteen
years old, and died, never naming him in his will, but
leaving all to me. Why, I must have been worse
than Mr. Beloe himself, to do any otherwise than I
have done.
Yes, yes, when people will talk of what they know
nothing about, see what nonsense follows.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Wednesday, 6 November, 1817.
THE Queen has driven us all completely distracted ;
such a bustle Bath never witnessed before. She drinks
at the pump-room, purposes going to say her prayers
at the Abbey Church, and a box is making up for her
at the theatre.
Your S 1 W 's life appears to affect the D r
more than I hoped it would. Women bear crosses
222 LETTERS.
better than men do, but they bear surprises worse.
Give me time, and I'll go gravely up to the guillotine ;
but set me down suddenly within view of a battle, I
shall be a corpse before the first fire is over through
fear, whilst my footman shall feel animation from the
scene, and long to make one in the sport.
" Heres, si scires unum tua tempera mensem ;
Ut rides dum sit forsitan una dies,"
was said to men who always count upon an escape;
women provide for certainties as well as they know how.
But here's my translation, which probably I have
shewn you long ago, yet I somehow think not either :
If you thought you should live but a month, how you'd cry,
Yet you laugh though you know you to-morrow may die.
Here are worse pens, and papers, and handwriting
than those I am always most happy to see, but the post
shall not pass my door with his bell whilst I go can-
vassing for franks ; no, indeed, and my health is quite,
in the matron phrase, as well as can be expected. So
adieu, and believe me yours faithfully,
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Fryday, 28 November, 1817.
MR. brought me so kind a message begging a
letter, that I can't help complying.
Everybody's spirits are mending on our Queen's re-
turn. The people are running up and down again ; and
LETTERS. 223
those who have any names many, too, of those who
have none leave them at her Majesty's door.
To a mere spectator the appearance of things is
dismal. The burst of grief * is, however, pretty well
gone by ; but if it was a proof of our virtue, as Mr.
Grinfield said it was, why so let it be accounted.
His assertion, indeed, that no profligate country ever
regrets a prince or princess for their moral qualities, is
more pleasing than strictly true. When was ancient
Kome more sunk in vice than when all its inhabitants
poured forth to meet and lament over the ashes of
Britannicus ! Their theatres about that time, too, did
certainly exhibit ballets enactions equal to our own ;
and by the accounts I hear of Covent Garden and its
gay salon, we are even trying to go beyond them if
possible.
The description brought me by a friend was so elo-
quent it reminded me of Milton's devils building and
lighting up with gas their pandemonium :
" Nigh on the plain in many cells prepar'd
That underneath had veins of liquid fire
Sluic'd from the lake ; mechanic multitudes
With wondrous art founded the massy ore,
Severing each kind, and scummed the bullion dross.
Others as soon had formed within the ground
A various mould, and from the boiling cells
By strange conveyance fill'd each hollow nook.
Till sudden from the soil a fabric huge
Rose like an exhalation. From the roof
* Occasioned by the death of the Princess Charlotte.
224 LETTERS.
Pendent by subtle magic many a row
Of starry lamps and blazing cussets, fed
With naphtha and asphaltus, yielded light
As from a sky."*
When I repeated the lines, he swore that Milton had
invented the gas-lights, and given the first draught of
our grand theatres in London.
This letter I shall take to , so that they may
put it in their pockets with a heavy load of compliments
and offers of service from Sir James's oldest friend,
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fdlowes.
Bath, Monday, 15 December, 1817.
DR. GRAY, whose name and character you know,
laments the loss of his mother, because, says he, she
died so unexpectedly, at ninety-one years old ! He
had left her in high health and spirits but three weeks
before. Such is this world, its inhabitants, and their
ideas. He has sent me his Connexions, and two sermons
on the princess's death, protesting that he will or will
not publish them as I approve or condemn. The subject
is not treated in a commonplace manner, you may be
sure, when touched by his hand. Poor princess ! she
has really stood like an Academy figure to be viewed in
various lights. The shadows in his sketch are eminently
deep and broad, an impressive Kembrandt.
Veniamo ad altro. That one friend should send me
* Paradise Lost, book i. The quotation is singularly happy,
and is one among many instances of her knowledge and readiness.
LETTERS. 225
sermons to criticise, while the theatrical folks try to
court me out of an epilogue, does look as if they
thought I was not quite superannuated.
Of the clusters in the Pump-Room, who swarm
round Queen Caroline as if she were actually the queen
bee, courtiers must give you an account : of the eccle-
siastical history you will soon hear a great deal, but I'm
not sure whether it will interest you. Everybody writ-
ing at the same time on the same subject does no harm.
The same ideas may be delivered out with attractions
that may lure minds of a different make ; and you will
kindly rejoyce that I came out alive from the Octagon
Chapel, where Ryder, Bishop of (jlo'ster, preached in
behalf of the missionaries to a crowd such as my long
life never witnessed ; we were packed like seeds in a
sun-flower.
At the Guildhall two days after, when pious con-
tributors were expected to come and applaud, Archdeacon
Thomas suddenly appeared, and protested against the
meeting as schismatical. So he was hissed home by
the serious Christians, Evangelicals as they sometimes
call themselves, half the population of Bath at any
rate, and his friends felt uneasy ; till yesterday the
Duke of Clarence, some say the Queen, some say both,
consoled him by their particular notice. All which you
will learn better from Colonel C , who, for ought I
know, presides at the presentations.
Adieu, dear Sir, with assurances of my being ever
gratefully and faithfully your obliged
H. L. P.
VOL. II. Q
226 LETTERS.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 23 January, 1818.
WHEN and in what year will the women find out
that company makes one gay only as it brings out that
gayety which was in the heart before ? A great coat
makes a man warm, I suppose, not by virtue of any
warmth in the coat, but as it keeps the natural heat of
the body from flying away. Yet parties are all the
rage, and I shall have one next week, and put my
wisdom to sleep the while.
Doctor Gribbes has been very good to me, very kind
and attentive. Illness commonly catches me by the
throat, you know, and makes a mute of me for a while,
punishing the peccant part. In a few years those
things will be made easy : Miss McEvoy sees with her
finger tips, and Miss Somebody* embroiders with her
shoulder and elbow ; no need of hands and arms for the
old purposes, say the improvers of the world. Have
you read " Frankenstein or the Modern Prometheus ?"
I have never seen such an audacious, and I might add,
such an ingenious, piece of impiety. But Faber says,
you know, that the world is to end in 1866 ; so the old
gentleman below stairs must work double tides for
these next fifty years, and he has a good assistant in
Mr. Hone, who is surely well paid for his work.
Meanwhile the virtuous few, as it is the fashion to
call them, are instructing the poor, and keeping schools
for young people in the country. Lady Williams writes
me word that one of her sisters, a managing woman,
* Miss Biffin.
LETTERS. 227
who is in the habit of looking into her own affairs,
took one of these instructed maidens for her cook three
weeks ago. The dinners did well enough, and she went
into her kitchen to say so one morning; when the
whole family seemed collected round and expressing
such attention in their gaping countenances, the door
opened unawares to them all ; and " enter the King and
Laertes," cried the cook, in an attitude of recitation, her
back towards the lady, whose only difficulty was to say,
who was most astonished ? Well, dear Sir ! here is a
world of nonsensical babble such as you used to like,
and when you go to London (if you do go) you must
make me amends, and tell me all about the succession,
after it has been well contested in the House of Par-
liament. But we shall meet before then at dear No. 13,
and I shall see Lady Fellowes in her new character of
nurse-a-baby, and we shall have a full table and a merry
day ; fine weather of course this year, in which even
the North Pole is become passable, and everything
cheerful may be expected, when such mountains of ice
have been thawed I think. So adieu ! and continue to
be the kind and partial friend, though you will not be
the correspondent, of your obliged and faithful servant,
H. L. P.
To Sir James Felloices.
Bath, Monday, 2 March, 1818.
THE best joke going here is about the man who
killed his wife the other day : they printed his name
Q 2
228 LETTERS.
Haitch, if you remember, but after he had cut his own
throat, they wrote him down Mr. Aitch : no wonder, for
when the windpipe was divided, you know, how could
he retain his Aspirate ?
St. David's Day has been a rough one, and your
brother Dorset forces me on the reflection that it was
a Saturday's moon. But what reflections or what con-
jectures can they form who shall lose time and space
at least the old-fashioned methods of reckoning them
by being under the pole, seeing the sun always at the
same altitude, finding neither east nor west, neither lati-
tude nor longitude, contemplating their own figures
represented as in a mirror on the opposing cloud, and
viewing their old acquaintance the rainbow no longer
an arch but a circle ?
Will they come home pretending not to have shud-
dered at such appearances? and will they feel more
terror of being titter'd at for speaking of such things as
extraordinary ? Oh yes, I dare say they will, than
wonder at the strange phenomena ! There was a time
in my life when I would have been happy to have gone
and come back safe as a cabbin boy rather than not
make one in such an expedition ; and am now actually
eager to hear of their setting out, that I may have
some chance of hailing their happy return. Mean-
while my health is not to be complained of; but when-
ever I catch cold, my eyes suffer somewhat unusually.
This stuff is written with one candle and a green
shade over it, which makes me incline to be sullen,
LETTERS. 229
and say what vile pens these [are, when, perhaps, 'tis
one of the well deserved warnings knocking at the door
of dear Sir ,T. F.'s faithful and grateful servant,
H. L. P.
To Sir James Felloiues.
Bath, 17 March, 1818.
I AM much flattered, my dear Sir, by the fault you
find with my letter being too short. Yet I'm disposed
not to lengthen this unreasonably, for fear your mind
should be engaged when it arrives. May that engage-
ment prove prosperous ! and let me make haste to tell
you what happened to me the other day, lest you should
not have leisure to laugh at it. Our Regent having
sent for specimens of curious marbles to the north coast
of Africa, Mr. Smith has discovered not the marbles
(one never finds what one is looking for), but a better
thing, the possibility of getting at the long sought
for city, on the Zaire or Congo River, which they have
tried so vainly to bring to light.
I who heard of this discovery in the morning, said
hastily to Captain Digby, who sate next me, " So
Tombuctoo is found at last ! " " Ah, ah ! " says a man
on the other side me, " what was that fellow hiding
for ? Forgery, I suppose ; and what names those
scoundrels give one another with their slang Tom
Buckle to ! "
Well ! and there is a ship disinterred (to use a
fashionable phrase and not a bad one) ; for the ship
has been buried in the earth many centuries no doubt,
i 3
230 LETTERS.
forty miles from the nearest sea, somewhere in Caff-
raria. Ton jours VAfrique (say Frenchmen), nous
aurons done de la fricassee, (VAfrique assez] ; but
those who are not in jest are of opinion that the Cape
of Good Hope was once detatched from the continent,
an island like Terra del Fuego at Cape Horn.
" Thus do men run to and fro, and knowledge is
much increased," as, says the Prophet Daniel, it will be,
when this world is near its conclusion. I know not
how far distant that event may be, but every thing is
doing, and everything is happening, that we are told
will happen, and that we are sure will be done, in the
concluding centuries of terrestrial existence. Yet people
are in such haste to accelerate their own perdition,
that a clergyman has hanged himself at the Castle
and Ball this morning, I don't know his name ; and
if I did, your brother D. knows that " The Wonder, or
A Woman keeps a Secret," has been performed with
success at No. 8, Gay Street, within this last fortnight.
So adieu, dear Sir, and write oftener, if the letter
only contains the words Steady and all well.
The foreigners say we English ruin the uniformity of
our handwriting by taking a new pen every tenth line.
I say, the not doing it every time you turn the paper,
makes one's letter look like a masqued figure of day and
night. This is written in the dark. Farewell and be
happy as is wished you by your ever, &c.,
H. L. P.
LETTERS, 231
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 21 March, 1818.
Tho' my muse is grown old,
And her life blood all cold,
Still trembling from any surprise a ;
Warm congratulation,
With true admiration,
Must welcome our pretty Eliza.
Excuse this nonsense : my head is full of the lauda-
num I took last night, more perhaps from fear than
from feel of the same nephritic affection that made me
miserable this time last year. The poppy, however,
which nature sows amongst the corn to show us that
sleep is as necessary as bread, did its duty, and here
am I, better than when E saw me lying on the
couch yesterday evening pretty late, when he brought
me the happy news Adieu,' dear Sir. (rod bless you
and yours, prays most fervently, Your
H. L. P
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, April, 1818.
WHILST I was trying to reconcile myself to the un-
easy state of being wholly forgotten by dear Sir J. F.,
I met his excellent father in Collins's Library, looking
wonderfully well; but saying you had toothache and
faceache, and I don't know what beside. So I resolved
to write you a long letter as the only opiate which can-
not injure the nerves.
Q -i
232 LETTERS.
And now shall it be books or people that we talk
about ? Of books, let us both begin and end with Gis-
borne's new publication upon Natural Theology, a
tiny work, but replete with good sense, sound learning,
and pious reflections. I shall buy and perhaps inter-
leave it, apropos to poor me and my quondam pos-
sessions. You see Doctor Burney, who purchased his
father's portrait and dear Grarrick's at my sale, now
drops down dead, and the library, pictures, &c. are
purchased (if my information is correct) by the British
Museum !
When will the ladies be more or less strict in their
manner of dressing ? A genteel young clergyman in our
Upper Crescent told his mamma, about ten days ago,
that he had lost his heart to pretty Miss Prideaux, and
that he must absolutely marry her or die ! La chere
mere of course replied gravely, " My dear, you have
not been acquainted with the lady above a fortnight,
let me recommend it to you to see more of her."
" More of her ! " exclaims the lad ; " why, T have seen
down to the fifth rib on each side already."
Will this story help to cure the toothache ? It will
serve to convince Captain J. F. and yourself, that as
you have always acknowledged the British belles to
exceed those of every other nation, you may now say,
with truth, that they outstrip them.
I am very sorry to see the death of Sir Eichard Mus-
grave in the papers. He was much my admirer forty
years ago, and what was more to his credit by half, he
wrote the History of the Irish Rebellion and all its
LETTERS. 233
horrors, a work one word of which has never yet been
contradicted.* It will now obtain its due celebrity I
hope, and, indeed, it ought to grace the library of your
lovely country seat. Shall you go thither soon ? The
swallows and cuckoos will meet you in May, and I
really expect a hot baking summer after all this soak-
ing rain. Warm weather would give us a famous
harvest, and your children will be delighted with the
butterflies before they leave our land.
Salusbury says I must come to Brynbella and see his
young plantations animal and vegetable next July ;
and if health goes no worse than it has been, I shall
just hope to be no nuisance,-- -a difficult matter, the dif-
ference in his lady's age from mine considered. The
babies will be interesting at any rate. We have a nest
of babies here, females all, I think, to whom our
old friend Matilda Hook was a complete nothing : the
eldest, a small creature, taking off Mr. Kean in Shy-
lock and King Eichard, convulses every audience with
delight. I am going this evening, Saturday, 25th, and
shall give you an account when I come home, and then
you will have a long letter instead of a good one.
Well, dear Sir ! here am I come home, after being
more astonished than delighted. Clara (Fisher), who
played Richard III., did it extremely well. She is just
such a little thing as Simon Paap, the dwarf, that you
and I went to see, and I daresay is a dwarf; but 'tis an
amusing exhibition upon the whole. If you have seen
* On the contrary, it is considered a very one-sided production.
234 LETTERS.
the children in London, however, where the size of the
house and the actors are so contrasted, the effect must
be twice as powerful, and nothing remains to be said
on the subject by your tedious correspondent and
affectionate, &c.
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
6 May, 1818.
I SHALL be glad when the modish world permits you
to exchange the sight of emerald trinkets for that of
green fields, and lapis lazuli tables for a clear blue
sky.
I grieve for Bullock, however, who first found out the
quarry of Verd antique marble in our county of An-
glesea. Apropos, that little island has no little to
boast : three times has she ruled over the three king-
doms of nature. Once when Druidic superstition swelled
every sea breeze with her howlings, and Mona's thickly-
planted woods covered her cromlechs from the sight of
Agricola. Once again, when destruction had laid her
plains bare of timber ; herds of black cattle feeding on
the mountains, supplied the London markets for more
than five centuries ; and are mentioned in some of the
coronation feasts. The present day, by this dear Bul-
lock's ingenuity, discovered treasures of marble in her
rocky bosom, and exhibits specimens of ./Egyptian green
not to be surpassed by anything which antiquity has
bequeathed us.
LETTERS. 235
I was ranting on in the same strain before Miss
W when she exclaimed : " Ah ! roast him ; is that
odious Bullock dead at last, that cheated my brother,
Sir John, giving him 5001. for a bit of land, that to be
sure we thought not worth 501. but which that fellow
knew contained these blocks of green stone, dyed by
the copper, nothing else in the world." Well ! if it was
so, Anglesea is still the queen of mineral nature, in
right of her mines. Venus, too, is she not ? Sprung
from the sea, and showing her brazen face in every part
of the world.
Sir Joseph Banks will consider Bullock as a loss to
all students in natural history. I am glad you attend
his Sunday nights : they used to be delightful ; and I
hope he does not grow too much enfeebled by age, but
makes them still worth your care.
You used to say how I preached the end of the world,
but here was a learned Dr. Hales stood up in our pulpit
at Lama, last Sunday, and said sixty-two years more
would complete its duration. This was, in the modern
phrase, committing himself, and the laughers all stuffed
their handkerchiefs into their mouths, and the man
went on explaining his calculation and minding them
ne'er a whit.
The actors are more easily abashed ; Mr. Young
looked full of distress when he saw Lady St tit-
tering in the stage box at his well played Zanga, and
the beautiful girls, her daughters, counterfeiting sleep.
But derision is a thing no powers, except those of piety,
can endure. At her approach, wit darkens, and, as
236 LETTERS.
Milton says of Eve, in her presence, Wisdom's self loses
discountenanced, and like Folly shews.
Those large fields of ice starve the people's hearts,
and they think insensibility a merit, I suppose. Dis-
tinction it is not, for they all do it.
I did not English, or rather Anglicise, any of the
mottoes, but have been long of your mind, that Gr. H.
Grlasse's is the best. He was an extraordinary man, " le
galant le plus pedant, et le pedant le plus galant, qu'on
puisse voir." Science, which acted as a sceptre in the
hand of Johnson, and was used as a club by Dr. Parr,
became a lady's fan when played with by George Henry
Grlasse. I wish you had known them all three that you
might applaud the fancy. You often do approve the
odd fancies of your truly attached
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 20 May, 1818.
MY dear Sir James Fellowes's last letter was so long
and so kind, that I could wish for another chat with
him ; did not the idea intrude of his being all engaged
with these quality weddings, and that he would wish
my large sheet of paper, perhaps, back in my own
writing-box. Well ! no matter ; there are some people
one never can get quit of, say the great folks, and you
perceive I am one of them. Meanwhile we were making
impromptu charades and nonsensical trifles the other
day, when one of the company said suddenly :
LETTERS. 237
" Why is Mrs. Piozzi like a kaleidoscope ? "
REPLY.
The brilliant colours that appear
Shine, like her wit, distinct and clear ;
While Fancy's fleeting magic power
Combines to charm each varying hour :
Giving to trifles light as wind
The lustre of her fertile mind,
Imparting pleasure and surprize,
Delighting still our hearts and eyes.
Grood-natured at least, was not it ? But we have not
the fine thing here, constructed by Brewster *, uniting
camera obscura with the other catoptric devices. Oh !
how I should like to see that, and the exhibition, in
your company. You really should write me some ac-
count of it. This weather will bring wealth to the
farmers, and felicity to the apple vats. A Devonshire
lady, Sir Stafford Northcote's wife, who knows your
brother Henry, says there is promise of more cyder this
year than has been known for many summers, and as to
hay and wheat there can surely be no want.
The Queen's approaching death gives no concern but
to the tradesmen, who want to sell their pinks and
yellows I suppose ; though something should be settled
concerning the guardianship of her poor old husband's
person. Our Demagogues are to make a grand push
for triennial parliaments, they say. People are in such
haste to be happy ; they play short whist, short com-
* Sir David Brewster, Principal of the University of Edin-
burgh, &c.
238 LETTERS.
ruerce, &c. but after all these complaints of bad har-
vests, I did not expect them to cry for short commons ;
so that's one of my silly jokes. Is it a joke that Buo-
naparte is dying dropsical ? Ay, ay : sweetly sung the
old French poet who said of such folks :
" Tant que la Fortune vous seconde,
Vous etes les maitres du monde,
Votre gloire nous eblouit :
Mais au grand revers funeste
Le masque tombe, 1'homme reste,
Et le heros s'evanouit."
Bright with fortune's dazzling favour
Seconding each bold endeavour,
Warriors tame our souls to fear ;
But reverses spoil their feigning,
Down drops mask ; the man remaining,
While the heroes disappear.
Well ! 'tis no great matter whether they are turned
off the kaleidoscope or no, if we listen to Dr. Hales,
the great theologian, under whose quarto volumes on
Chronology, poor Upham's shelves are bending. He
stood up in Mr. Grinfield's pulpit last Sunday fortnight
(as, perhaps, I told you), and said confidently that the
world would end that day sixty-two years. It was the
anniversary of our Lord's Ascension ; and perhaps it may
be so. You will find innumerable reflections on that
event, in King's " Morsels of Criticism," which I have
loaded, if not deformed, by numberless notes manu-
script, but legible enough, for I looked them over
LETTERS. 239
since Hales's sermon, as I thought they would amuse
you. 'Tis almost a pity you should suffer them to be
sold after my death.
Sir Joseph Banks's evenings must this year be more
interesting than ever, though I do fear the North Pole
expedition will be a long time in finishing, and the
people here are so desirous always to put extinguishers
on their own entertainment. The ice field attached to
our Ultima Thule, Fulda or Fulah, is now said to be a
mere newspaper story.
Yours faithfully,
H. L. P.
Adbury must be in high beauty just now when do
you go thither ? I hear much of an exploding mineral
in Derbyshire, that is to supply our deficiency in vol-
canic matter ; and my curiosity is all alive about it :
what mineral can they mean ?
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, June 1. 1818.
MY shamefacedness, and my desire of talking about
twenty other things, kept me from showing you the
verses I sent - in answer to her exaggerated compli-
ments, and kept me too from reading you some which
she made impromptu on my complaining of the loss of
youth and its accompaniments, beauty, admiration, &c.
" Oh talk not to me of the days that are flown ;
Tho' Youth's cheerful blossoms decline,
Even Autumn and Winter their treasures can boast,
While Virtue's pure sunshine is thine.
240 LETTERS.
" In each season of life there are blessings in store ;
Then still, my dear friend, be it ours,
To rejoice in the fruit our life's harvest may give,
Nor repine at the loss of its flowers."
To this I replied :
Where Winter chills the leafless grove,
Silent to mirth and dead to love,
Should robin from some slippery spray
Tune up his long-remembered lay,
Each passenger would cheer the bird,
In Summer's concert scarcely heard.
When Jura's icy mountains rise,
Let one green spot salute our eyesj
Amid the lofty glaciers lost
As if forgotten by the frost ;
Each Briton smiles, extends the hand,
And cries, Oh charming Switzerland !
My talents thus your eyes allure,
And please, reduced to miniature ;
'Tis thus you sooth my fond regret,
For times I never can forget ;
And thus your praises, partial friend,
Excite the spirits they commend.
Miss O'Neill will be visible here with the naked eye,
as men say of a new star or comet, on the 13th June
next, Saturday se'nnight. I shall make her panegyric
an excuse for another letter. The first debut on these
boards is Belvidera, which I have seen Siddons 'play to
LETTEKS. 241
Dimond's, Brereton's, and to Kemble s Jaffier, well re-
collecting how she spake and acted every passage,
particularly her soft but striking " Farewell ! remember
Twelve ! " which was sure to electrify the house ; but I
must say " Farewell ! remember five ! " which when
the clock has struck, the postman will wait for no
more from yours ever faithfully,
H. L. P.
To Miss Willoughby.
Monday, 15th June, 1818.
MY dear Miss Willoughby was very kind in writing so
soon, but do not call me unkind in writing so late ; I
waited to see Miss O'Neill. She is a charming crea-
ture without doubt, and charms, as it should seem, with-
out intending it, calling in no aid from dress, or air, or
studied elegance, such as in old days one expected to
find in a public professor or dramatic recitation ; but
like Dryden's Cleopatra,
" She casts a look so languishingly sweet,
As if, secure of all beholders' hearts,
Neglecting, she can take them."
Comparing such an actress with Mrs. Siddons, is like
holding up a pearl of nice purity, and asking you if it
is not superior to a brilliant of the first weight and
water. You are fortunate in finding a cool place during
these unlooked-for heats of a summer season long for-
gotten in our country. My house is, as you know, on
the hill's side; but down in Green Park Buildings,
VOL. II. R
242 LETTERS.
one can't help thinking how a fairy would feel if held
down at the bottom of a bowl, from which the hot punch
had just been poured away.
But I am going to Wales, if these elections will have
left me any untired horses. Meanwhile, our pretty
friend, Mrs. Webbe, had a very nice party some time
ago, and her brother presided so kindly. I fancy he is
a good sort of man, but loves a wonder ; and told me
the other day of a gentleman who expected to sit in the
House of Peers as Earl of Huntingdon. A gay dream,
I suppose ; but Mrs. Fox will know if there is any truth
in the tale.
Well ! I do hope your favourites, the Wards, will rise
in the profession. He is indefatigable ; and though I
felt him feeble and sinking in some parts, some scenes
I mean, of that never-ending Jaffier, he sustained many
scenes admirably; the one with Kenault was inimi-
table, and 'tis long, indeed, since I have seen such a
beautiful Pierre as Conway. Mr. Ward is so correct,
too, so never-wrong. The poet has always justice done
him by a scholar-like speaker; on the whole, I was
very well entertained.
Miss Stratton, one of them, is really very pretty:
she went in hysterics at Belvidera's distress, so did
Miss Grlover. I said we should all melt into tears,
but the joke was good for nothing, the house was no
hotter (where I sate) than any other house entered of
late by dear Miss Willoughby's ever faithful, humble
servant,
H. L. PIOZZI.
LETTERS. 243
To Sir James Fellowes.
Thursday, June 18th, 1818.
IT was sweetly done of you, indeed, dear Sir, to put
the little warm bottle, and the warm kind invitation
into your brother's pocket so. God forbid that I should
outlive that quantity of Cayenne pepper, and want
more ! ! An old Welsh squire did certainly keep on
breathing till brandy was not sufficiently exciting for
him without Cayenne pepper, but I think he was turned
of ninety.
Well ! Miss O'Neill might have moved him even
then. Our ladies are all in hysterics, our gentlemen's
hands quite blistered with clapping, and her stage com-
panions worn to a thread with standing up like chairs
in a children's country dance, while she alone commands
the attention of such audiences, as Bath never witnessed
till now. The box-keepers said last night that the num-
bers Kean drew after him were nothing to it. She per-
forms every evening for seven days together : but Clifton
is near, if she does break a blood-vessel or two.
A Dublin bookseller expects to end his days Earl
of Upper Ossory, 'tis said ; and a young lieutenant of a
man of war hopes to sit in the Upper House with the old,
and to me dear, title of Huntingdon. Oh, the last earl
was one of my truly partial friends ! but Count Flahaut's*
* Count Flahaut married the only daughter of Viscount Keith
by his first wife. Miss Thrale was his second, by whom he left
an only daughter, the Hon. Mrs. A. J. Villiers.
B 2
244 LETTERS.
claim has proved of more importance than them all, by
digging out this obsolete law.
Formerly, as I have read, whenever a Scotch gentle-
man meditated a journey southward, he used to have
the crier's bell rung up and down Edinburgh for many
weeks beforehand, to ascertain the parcels and packages
he considered himself as bound to carry for his neigh-
bours, and to settle the expences, &c., but tempora mu-
tantur; and Mr. Scrase told me once that he had made
gentlemen's wills when they left the county of Sussex
about Brighthelmstone : describing the leave-takings,
&c., as if the people had been setting out for a discovery
of the North Pole. Mr. Scrase was eighty-six years
old when I first knew him in 1765: a man of great
abilities then, and of delightful conversation. But what
he most delighted to converse about, was the famous
Farinelli. Indeed, of all public performers, I believe
Farinelli was the only one whom no successor ever pre-
tended to equal.
LETTERS. 245
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 1st July, 1818.
THE heat has certainly exhaled my faculties, and I
have but just life enough left to laugh at the fourteen
taylors who, united under a flag with Liberty and In-
dependence on it, went to vote for some of these gay
fellows, I forget which ; " but the motto is ill chosen," said
I ; " they should have written up Measures not Men ! "
Sir Thomas Lethbridge, however, gave in last night ;
oh how unlikely, how impossible, was it for him to
hope for a seat, who had sent the popular favourite, Sir
Francis Burdett, to the Tower*, I wonder he would try !
Doctor Gray says in his last kind letter, that we
quarrel with no time but the present. Hope still anti-
cipates pleasure for a future day ; and those that are
past, delight us by recollection. He longs to see me
and Mrs. Mostyn, he says, to talk about old Streatham
Park. His sisters and nieces, two old ladies and two
youngish ones, are come to settle here at Bath, and he
begs me to introduce them into society ; but 'tis the
wrong time of year : I tried to make them a party for
to-morrow, but cannot muster twenty faces, everybody
has left town ; in a week more, I shall leave it too.
* He moved the committal of Sir Francis, whose language, he
said, " made his hair stand on end." Excited by an ironical
cheer, he added, "it really had that effect." In allusion to this
unlucky declaration, he was saluted with cries of porcupine and
encountered by pictures of that animal wherever he went during
the election.
B 3
246 LETTERS.
Wales will be quiet at least, and people expect health
and pleasure from change of air, which having once de-
lighted us, we talk of its enjoyments when no longer
capable of enjoying them.
No matter ! the farce must go on till the curtain
drops, and if everybody left off their disguisings as they
grew old, why age would appear with still more de-
formity than at present. Have you interested yourself
concerning the discovery of Ossian's originality, so long
doubted, so strenuously denied ? The concatenation
arose in my mind from his expressive words : " Age
is dark and unlovely, it is like the glimmering light of
the moon when it shines through the broken clouds ;
the blast of the north is on the desolate plain, and the
traveller shrinks on his journey."
I feel sometimes ready to shrink from mine to North
Wales ; and your good-natured brother said, he wished
I should change my destination, and go no further than
Sidmouth. I told him this was my last long frolic ;
and that next year (if I am to see A. D. 1819) I would
try to spend the summer of it in Devonshire ; and so
I will.
Meanwhile you will have a stormy Session of Par-
liament, made still more so by the Catholic Question
being brought forward. Forcing religion into the dispute,
will set all in a state of effervescence ; for although, poor
thing, she is disregarded in common moments, and left
like a football covered with mould and dust, give that
football but a kick, and set the sport going, all the
youth of the village will mix in the game, and some
LETTEBS. 247
eyes will be beat out and some blows exchanged, be-
fore they lay the poor football to sleep under the old
wall again, little as they really care for it.
Well ! but you must not pay ninepence for this let-
ter without my insertion of a joke you will like, perhaps,
because it is mine; of the man who comes into a
coffeehouse at Ilchester during the heat of our election
contest, and asks for the news. " Ah, Lord, Sir ! " re-
plies the waiter, " we are badly off for papers. The
popular candidate has got the day ; the poor old 'Times'
has been torn to pieces in the scuffle, a sea captain has
catched up . our only ' Pilot,' because he could see
neither 'Sun' nor 'Star'; and no 'Courier' can be
got for love or money. They are all on the road to
Bath." Adieu ! and don't wholly forget yours ever,
H. L. P.
I have lost a day as well as my wits I find. This is
the 2nd not the 1st of July. Bessy and I set out for
our own country on Friday, 10th ; so if you will not
write soon, the direction must be Brynbella, near Den-
bigh, N. Wales.
To Sir James Fellowes.
No. 8, Gay Street, Tuesday Night,
15th September, 1818.
WHEN I was about seven years older than your Tommy,
we had a permitted holyday : and two of my uncle, Sir
L. S. Cotton's, children, with poor Miss Owen and her
B 4
248 LETTERS.
brother, came, and one of our gambols was to dance
round him or her who sat in the middle, and teize them
till they quitted their post, when another took it, and
underwent the same worry.
When George Cotton however (afterwards Dean of
Chester) was seated, no arts, no tricks, no force could
make him move ; so that Jack Owen came and whis-
pered me : "If you'll help, we will make him jump up,
stout as he is. Let you and I set fire to Mrs. Salus-
bury's papers here in the closet, and make a noise.
George will run away I warrant you, and look foolish
enough." I took the hint, and cried fire at the very
top of my voice. Out ran my mother and her com-
pany from their tea or cards, in the next room, frighted
beyond all telling, ..." and Dear Mama, don't be
angry," cried I, " it was only to get Greorge out of his
place."
Query, is Cobbet any wiser ? You have finished his
nonsense by now.
I have got a sort of French Thraliana : fragments
of letters written by Madame , Louis XIV.'s bro-
ther's wife, to our Queen Caroline, grandmother to
George III. of England. I can hardly unpack my
trunks for the avidity I feel to read this (to many) un-
interesting stuff: to me more than delightful.
Madame's account of her visit to a Female Benedictine
Convent, where she saw a nun of the royal family amuse
herself by shooting at a target and firing pistols at a
mark, is very curious ; and shows one how difficult it is
LETTERS. 249
to dispose of leisure hours ; for this lady had very few
hours indeed that by the rules of the convent she could
call her own ; and this was her way of getting rid of
them : the most extraordinary method that ever met
my eye in reading through seventy years, Time's short
preface to the " Volume of Eternity."
I can add no more but that, I am, Dear Sir,
Yours and Lady Fellowes's ever obliged
and grateful and faithful,
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Michaelmas Day, 1818,
like the 1st of May.
NOTHING kills the Queen, however. It is really a
great misfortune to be kept panting for breath so, and
screaming with pain by medical skill : were she a sub-
ject, I suppose, they would have released her long ago ;
but diseases and distresses of the human frame must
lead to death at length, as the smallest brooks of the
most inland country will sink in the sea at last. Sleep
gave me up to his brother, says some old writer, and
then
" Soles occidere et redire possunt;
Nobis cum semel occidit brevis lux,
Nox est perpetua una dormienda." Catullus.
Pretty lines certainly for a heathen poet. Will these
do in imitation?
250 LETTERS.
The sun that sets, with light refin'd
Eeturns to gild the plains ;
When man's short day has once declin'd,
Perpetual night remains.
And recollecting that some old bishop who cured
himself of the dropsy by reading " Quintus Curtius,"
pointed out a pleasant remedy, I sent to Upham for
Coxe's newly written "Life of John Duke of Marl-
borough," in hopes Blenheim would do as well as the
Battle of Arbela, and so it did ; I am very well again,
now.
The glance I gave into " Thraliana " showed me these
verses, better adapted to my present age than to that in
which they were written. In hope of amusing you I
write them out, and pray read them to pretty Lady
Fellowes
" J'aurai bientot quatre-vingt ans ;
Je crois qu'a cette heure il est temps
De dedaigner la vie ;
Aussi je la perds sans regret,
Et je fais gai'ement mon paquet,
Bon soir la compagnie.
" Lorsque d'icy je partirai,
Je ne scais pas trop ou j'irai,
Mais en Dieu je me fie :
II ne me peut mener que bien,
Aussi je n'apprehends rien :
Bon soir la compagnie.
LETTERS. 251
" J'ai goute de tous les plaisirs,
J'ai perdu jusqu'aux desirs,
A present je m'ennuye :
Lorsqu'on n'est plus bon a rien
On se retire, et on fait bien,
Eon soir la compagnie."
And now, after a thousand repetitions of a thousand
kind compliments to Lady F., and kisses to her darling
babies, I shall take a thin pen, and write out my ver-
sion of President Lamoignon's lines not much am-
plified
Arriv'd at grave and grey fourscore,
"Tis time to think on life no more ;
Time to be gone ; and therefore I
Can quit this world without a sigh :
Without or sorrow, care, or fright
Can bid the company good night.
When hence we part, 'tis hard to say
Whither we rove, or which the way ;
But He who sent me here can show
My doubtful footsteps where to go ;
So trusting to His truth and might,
I'll bid the company good night.
I've tasted here of every joy,
But time can taste itself destroy ;
It teizes me to see how soon
Quite good for nothing I am grown ;
252 LETTERS.
When such the case, 'tis surely right
To bid the company good night.
Adieu ! and accept this Michaelmas goosery with
your accustomed kindness for
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Thursday, 15th October, 1818.
MY dear Sir James Fellowes, like his own western
sun, delights to warm and gild the evening of a stormy
day; but I have no commissions that I remember.
Divic Robinson has sent the wine, and I have sent him
the money, so that's all over. When you feel your own
purse too heavy, take it to Mortlocks, 290, in Oxford
Street : and carry Lady Fellowes a beautiful specimen
of South Wales china, and tell him how I am panting
for my ice pails and -large dishes to use this day sen-
night.
The horrid story of Mr. Bowles shooting his own
favourite nephew, heir to his estate, I believe, will make
me shudder at a partridge all this autumn. 'Tis a sad
thing one cannot buy these birds like ducks and geese.
But the thoughts of meeting at Mr. and Mrs. Greatheed's
again, and meeting at Adbury ! Oh I must not indulge
such extravagant fancies, and Lady Fellowes must not
encourage them. She is too good to us all. Was the
young Lady of Grey's Cliffe with the Greatheeds ? No
girl that ever I saw could compare with your brother's
LETTERS. 253
daughter for beauty and apparent intelligence at her
age, but I suppose she will not maintain her superiority
for twenty years ; if she does, the poets will weary all
readers with verses written in her praise. Apropos to
poets, I think Lord Byron's " Pegasus " is moulting his
wings ; one hears nothing of him or his muse. Madame
D'Arblay writes and comes, and cries, and goes to live
at London with her son. She is very charming : she
always was ; but I will never trust her more. The first
time one is betrayed by semblance of friendship, may
be the fault of another ; the second time, 'tis one's own
fault ; and to be twice made April fool by the same trick
after ten years old, is too late.
Did you like the last volume of the " Tales of my
Landlord " ? I prefer a pretty novel little spoken of,
called " Civilisation." If I did not recommend it to Lady
Fellowes, I ought to have recommended it. Dr. Whal-
ley says 'tis written by Hannah More, and the girls call
it a preaching novel, and resolve not to look at a page
of it. The British Museum is the thing worth seeing
in London, and I missed it. English people make every
curiosity so difficult of access, that you may live among
us half a century, and see nothing. Foreigners throw
the doors open, and take no present going in or out.
Our fees at palaces, and our card money under the
candlesticks, are certainly a remainder of old ill man-
ners ; nor can I reconcile to myself, or to my notions
about good breeding, the trick of prescribing to our
visitants the stake they shall play for in our house. I
feel as well disposed to say what cap they should wear,
254 LETTERS.
or what ribbonds they should buy. Let them buy and
wear what they will.
All seem disposed to liberate Buonaparte. The dash-
ing people, because he will make a dash ; and they
will like to see the old firework, after a pause, burst
out in a new wheel, or throw up a showy serpent
for us to stare at. The grave folks expect him to
fulfil Faber's new prediction of great things yet to be
accomplished by the Francic Emperor, and all consider
the sovereigns as very fruitlessly employed in en-
deavouring to shut the Temple of Janus. Meanwhile
there is an old metaphysical work, which I cannot take
pleasure in reading, published by Hartley, ancestor
to David Hartley, in the year 1749. Eighty-first pro-
position says : " It is probable that all civil govern-
ments will soon be overturned." His eighty-second pro-
position has these words : " It is highly probable, and
to be expected, that all Church government will in
course of less than a century be completely dissolved."
Nobody minded him at the moment, I suppose, except
a few pens which were preparing to answer him, but
his calculation must now be allowed to have been a
good one. France led the fashion, and all the world
is following it. Did I tell you of the conquest I made
in Wales of the Bishop of St. Asaph, Luxmore ? He
says now : " What is become of that little Mrs. Piozzi ?
who shone here among us like a meteor for a month or
two, and then away; when will she return, do you
know? we are very dull without her." And so they
are sure enough ; no music, no cards, nor no conversa-
LETTERS. 255
tion, except the petty quarrels which infest all coun-
ties distant from the metropolis, round whose central
globe we roll at different distances, and Denbighshire
is Saturnian in every sense of the word : their sorrows,
as well as their joys, are so stupid. One would think
Doctor Young had passed his life among them, when
he says :
" Without misfortunes, what calamity !
And what hostility without a foe ! "
Adieu ! and do not make it long, Dear Sir, before
you come and cheer the hearts of Kussell Street and
Gay Street : and don't run away with your brother
Dorset. I shall try to borrow him of his good-natured
lady for my flash next Thursday, 20th, being ever-
more
Yours and all your family's
obliged and faithful,
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, October 29th and 30th, 1818.
THE ravens of my dear Sir James Fellowes are phea-
sants : brilliant in colour and tasteful to perfection.
Your letter made me recollect the verses. The planting
scheme enchants me. Kobert shall give you account of
my diligence :
" And as the crescent acorns swell,
These oaks to future time shall tell,
How friendship like themselves can shoot
To Heaven its height, through Earth its root."
256 LETTERS.
My mind has yet some youth in it, as you say, who
know it best. The battered case, however, has had
some blows lately.
I am perpetually stopped in these last stages of my
long journey for want of horses, and shall be late home
of course ; so like all travellers, I read the tombstones in
the next churchyard, and without further allegory, how
the deaths do increase round one !
Miss Fellowes called on me this morning. She is
in high looks, and does not perhaps entertain those
apprehensions about poor dear Mamma, which you can-
not avoid being sensible of : but do not be too selfish.
People of her age cannot long be detained here: no,
nor of mine either. Cowley says :
" It grieves me when I see what fate
Does on the best of mortals wait,
Poets or lovers let them be,
'Tis neither love nor poesy
Can arm against Death's weakest dart
The fertile head, or honest heart.
For when our life in the decline
Touches th' inevitable line,
In Death's strong hand a grape-stone proves
Fatal as thunder is in Jove's."
Meanwhile let us die but once, and not double the
pang by cowardice, or poyson the dart by wilful sin, but
meet the hour with at least as much deference to God's
will, as every Turk shows to that of the Orran Signer.
" It is the Sultan's pleasure," says he, " and so ends the
matter, here's my head."
I have set my acorns. 'Tis the oddest thing in the
world that the wind blew me an ash and a sycamore
LETTERS. 057
key into this little garden a year ago, and George put
them in the ground, and they prospered.
So you will have a Piozzi forest some day, but take
care and claim them, and let nobody but yourself get a
twig; and if I live till they are old enough, they shall
be marked and ticketted.
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 1st December, 1818.
WELL ! now I will not wait for a letter from Adbury,
though I do desire it above all things in the world ; for
you will like to hear how the Persians * behaved at an
English family dinner, and I am dying to tell dear Sir
James Fellowes how much I was entertained.
It is truly astonishing to see how they have mastered
our language, and caught up our European manners.
Men who have sate on carpets for thirty years, and eat
with chopsticks, are really a little better bred than the
rest of the company, manage knives, forks and chairs,
with grace and propriety, and what they ought not to
do (for they are Mussulmen) take their glass like an
* Meerza Saefar and Meerza Saulih (the two Persians mentioned
in these letters), two of the most distinguished personages sent
into this country three years ago by Abbas Meerza, the reigning
Prince of Persia. They speak English fluently, and are quite
familiar with our manners and customs, and are at no loss to defend
ablv their opinions. They are dressed in the costume of their
country. I saw them at Bath, Nov. 29, one in a scarlet and gold
pelisse, the other blue. J. F. 1818.
VOL. II. S
258 LETTERS.
English country squire, and flirt with the girls famously.
I told them, however, that
" The glowing dames of Persia's royal court
Have faces flush'd with more exalted charms ;
The Sun that rolls his chariot o'er their heads,
Works up more fire and colour in their cheeks :
Arriv'd 'mong these, the prince will soon forget
Our pale unripen'd beauties of the North."
Well ! I really was very ill bred myself; studied these
men all day, and turned them over like the leaves of
a book, to get what information could be obtained.
What pleased me best was the confirmation of my own
conjecture concerning the names of Cyrus and Darius.
The last means sovereign, as I always believed, and
the first is synonymous with Cosroe. My fear of being
mistaken ever since I gave you my " Eetrospection," has
haunted me night and day. Error is such an insinu-
ating thing, it works through every book like water
through a filtering stone. Let us go, and say with
Horace : Satis lusistis, satis bibistis, &c. We must go,
that's certain, and 'tis the only thing that is certain.
Kat a TTsOavs ends all the cases Dr. James quotes from
your old friend Hippocrates.
Meanwhile ladies leave cards, and starving females
write romances. The novel called " Marriage " * is the
newest and merriest. How marriage should be a new
thing, that is at least as old .as Adam, the author
* By Miss Ferrier. It received a high compliment from Sir
Walter Scott in the preface to one of his novels. It was followed
by the "Inheritance " by the same writer.
LETTERS. 259
may tell : but 'tis a very comical thing, and would
make Lady Fellowes laugh on a long evening.
Here is the first frost on the first day of winter:
quite right. The next three months, of w T hich this is
one, ought to be drippy, slippy, nippy.
Pluviose, Nivose, Ventose : all that stuff is very pret-
tily put together in the " Clavis Calendarise." I wonder
you never looked at mine, crowded with notes I would
say deformed : but you would only answer Pish ! The
author, an Irishman, has borrowed most liberally from
" Ketrospection," and never said thank you, Mrs. Piozzi:
but no matter, 'tis a very useful book, and not unenter-
taining. But I must write to Doctor Gray, and thank
him for his very, very kind letter. One would think I
was like Sir Epicure Mammon in Ben Jonson's "Alche-
mist," who fancying he had found the philosopher's
stone, was enumerating the felicities it would purchase,
and cried out in a rapture :
" I will have grave divines to flatter me,
Poets I will not heed."
Adieu, dear Sir, and assure yourself that although no
poet, nor grave divine, your friendship is the most
valued possession of
Yours and your family's ever obliged and faithful,
H. L. P.
a 2
260 LETTERS.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Jan. 6, 1819.
. MR. MANGIN is come from Paris, and says my " Syno-
nymes" are all the rage there ; and they have got a print
of me, and asked him if it was like cette dame celebre.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 12 Jan. 1819.
So although dear Sir James Fellowes is screwed up,
as in a vice, by bad verse and worse prosing, poor H.
L. P. cannot squeeze a letter out of him. Well ! so it
is with Salusbury not a word from him either. The
ladies are better correspondents by half; they will at
least tell one, poor souls, how sick they are.
Meanwhile, here is my annual foolery at hand al-
most ; it really seems but the other day since our last
celebration. But
11 Thus perish years, as moments from our view.
Some mourned, some loved, all lost ; too many, yet too few."
I have, however, added to my stock of ideas, since
1819 came in, the sight of a man flying on the slack
rope, and of another man professedly fire proof. I
have likewise seen red snow brought from within the
Polar circle, and have seen the man who witnessed a
phenomenon often read of with wonder, a circular rain-
bow. Curiosity is supposed exclusively to belong to
youth ; but 'tis foolish to leave this world without
LETTERS. 261
knowing what's done in it, especially as eternity will be
past in that which is to come.
Doctor Charles Parry, who shewed me the Arctic
rareties, and traced his brother's track for me on the
enormous map we looked over, is very indignant at
their needless haste to return home without doing their
errand in any wise ; though these two or three occur-
rences render their voyage interesting. They will cer-
tainly go again next summer, and make another visit
to the new nation, who never saw ship, or even canoe,
like the people predicted to Ulysses in Homer. They
indeed called an oar when they saw one, a corn-van ;
but these poor creatures never saw corn, or encountered
an enemy.
They contemplated the " Alexander " and " Isabella "
long before they could believe them inanimate and
worked to motion by mortals like themselves ; and
when, embracing the masts, they found them dead wood,
they burst into a horse laugh and continued holding their
sides our people guessed not why, but I think it was
at the mistake of their reporters, who had miscalled
them male and female gyants and probably added
some false wonders of their own ; for truth is native of
no clime hitherto discovered but by Grulliver.
And now do, dear Sir James Fellowes, come home to
us and see good mamma who pined after you last
time, sadly. You said you had two old women at Ad-
bury weeder women I believe, who wanted you there.
I am sure you have two old women here who want you
as much, or more. The weeds of conversation weary
K 3
262 LETTEES.
me to death with " Dear Maam, I hope you caught
no cold at the last party ; Lord bless me ! how hot the
rooms were ! Well ! I do hate hot rooms above all
living things, &c., &c."
Oh come back for very pity reddes dulce loqui and
do not make me force my partner's hand incessantly
thus, for a fragment of comfortable chat. The Bishop
of Meath is your best substitute : he is very good-hu-
moured, and writes verses, and shews me what he has
written. Apropos, poor Lady Crewe is dead an object
of deformity ! The greatest beauty of her time : at
least, the most admired woman ; " Whose mind kept
the promise was made by her face;" as Charles Fox
said and sung. But palsy shook her frame, and cancer
gnawed it. Oh may such a death never reach yours and
your dear family's ever,
H. L. PIOZZI.
Farewell! remember, not 12, but 26.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Jan. 17, 1819.
INDEED, my dear Sir, it is very comical in you to
fancy my letters so superior ; but as a mountebank said,
who I heard haranguing the crowd upon Berwick-upon-
Tweed : " People of a good taste likes my deceptions,
and so says I, despitur ; " meaning decipiatur of course,
wherever he had gained his classic knowledge.
Our fire-eaters continue their tricks, and are said to
get a great deal of money. That they do really and
LETTERS. 263
bond fide swallow boyling oyl into their stomachs and
arsenic, eating a good supper and sleeping sound after-
wards who can believe? There must be a quick sub-
stitution effected by legerdemain of a glass without
poyson, for the glass we see ^vith poyson ; just at the
moment Ma'amselle prepares in appearance to receive
its contents down her throat.
As new a thing, though not as strange perhaps, was
exhibited the other day by and before Lords and
Commons, themselves convened in Parliament, without
either King or Chancellor, but, substitution again. And
now for the Catholick Question justly so called, for its
consequences will be universal, and you will find the
most difficult question possible decided by mere pre-
judice not investigation. The Eomanists, I see, expect
a very favourable issue to their cause, which will come
on, we are told, soon as the petitions are decided.
But you would rather hear about the red snow, and I
would rather tell about it.
What Doctor Charles Parry showed me was preserved
in very large transparent phials, hermetically sealed.
It was blood red, and I saw a little sediment. Did it?
Oh, no ! did it fall red from the clouds ? said I. " We
cannot tell," was the reply. " My brother saw no snow
fall while he was in that district, but he gathered what
he gave me not from the surface but at two feet deep
in the drifts. It lay at least four or five feet on the
earth, and was of the same colour down at the very
bottom." They saw white snow in plenty upon the
distant flaciers. The wise men in the ships attributed
O *
s 4
264 LETTERS.
the sanguinary hue to aerolite stones which fall in large
quantities ; and the new discovered Esquimaux (for Es-
quimaux they are) make knives and saws such as they
do make, poor creatures, of this sky-dropt iron, having
no other metal of any sort or kind. I was talking to
your brother Dorset concerning the astonishment of
our late-found northern friends, at seeing the "Isabella"
and " Alexander " with their attendant boats ; and ob-
served how well Dryden must have studied human
nature, when he gave his beautiful description of Cortez's
first arrival in Mexico. " Oh," said he, " write to James
and remind him of the excellent adaptation you have
made ; the lines are little known." Here 'tis then :
" ' We went obedient, Sir, to your command,
To view the utmost limits of the land ;
To that sea shore, where no more world is found,
But foaming billows breaking on the ground j
There for a while my eyes no objects met
But distant skies that in the ocean set,
Or low-hung clouds that dipt themselves in rain
To shake their fleeces on the earth again.
At last, as far as I could cast my eyes
Upon the sea, somewhat methought did rise,
Like bluish mists, which still appearing more,
Took dreadful shapes, and mov'd towards the shore.'
' What shapes did these new wonders represent ? '
' More strange than all your wonder can invent :
The object I could first distinctly view,
Were tall straight trees that o'er the waters flew :
Wings on their sides instead of leaves did grow,
Which gather'd all the breath the winds could blow :
And while their bodies cut the yielding seas,
Low at their feet lay floating palaces.'
' Came they alive, or dead upon our shore ? '
LETTERS. 265
'Alas ! they liv'd too sure ; I heard them roar.
They tiirn'd their sides, and to each other spoke ;
I saw their words hreak forth in fire and smoke,
Sure 'tis their voice that thunders from on high,
Or these the younger brothers of the sky.
Deaf with the noise, I took my hasty flight,
No mortal courage could endure the sight.' "
It is, as your brother observed, very remarkable, that
the idea of a savage should thus have possessed a
court poet ; but besides the exquisite beauty of Dryden's
Virgilian diction, there is a truth as to the sentiment,
that fills one's soul with wonder at the comprehensive-
ness of such a mind. Ay, ay, when pyramids crumble
to dust like the bodies of kings they were meant to
cover good poetry and power of language will re-
main : till well written inscriptions shall outlast their
monuments. But I am growing enthusiastic, and feel
glad the paper is so near full, that I may be forced to
leave off. Whenever dearPiozzi caught me ranting in
this manner, he used to say " Ah, ha, vien Vestro
adesso" So adieu !
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 9 Feb. 1819.
IF any thing could give astringency to my ink,
and make me write a constrained letter to dear Sir
James Fellowes, it would be the feel of my mind with
regard to your late situation, and the feel of my own
mouth, which has been so uneasy to me, that fears of
carcinoma haunted me three days and nights at least,
while the silence I was obliged to use became no cha-
2&6 LETTERS.
racter but that of your Algerine mutes, that strangle
and say nothing.
Common sense at length suggested that it was only
relaxation so I used your white stuff, and honey of
roses ; and now
"My mouth praises God with joyful lips."
Oh anything, sweet heaven! but a cancer. I should
then indeed have to follow my angelic mother eheu !
nonpassibus equis down the last dark and slippery hill.
If, however, the passage was unpleasant to your
mamma and mine, what will become of these strange
creatures whose indefinable sins pollute the page of
every newspaper ? . .
What a universal styptic is gold, if a bold hemor-
rhage of truth does chance to burst out ! Oh, well and
wisely said Sir Kobert Walpole, that everything had its
price.* Why this colonel is like Sir Edward Mortimer
in the " Iron Chest." . . .
But here is a pamphlet come out, I guess not by
whom written f, called " Historic Doubts concerning
Buonaparte : n you must give it a reading. It has at
least the grace of novelty to recommend it, and will, I
dare say, rim rapidly through many editions 'tis so
cheap. . . .
So here is a real commonplace letter like every-
* What Sir Robert Walpole is commonly reported to have said
was, " All men have their price." What he really said was, " All
these men have their price ; " alluding to the so-called patriots of
the Opposition.
f By Dr. Whately, the present Archbishop of Dublin.
LETTERS. 267
body's letter, written among perpetual knocks at the
door by people who know not how to dispose of the
hours between breakfast and the moments when they
may without self-condemnation pretend impatience for
dinner, better than by throwing a few of them away
upon dear Sir James Fellowes's ever obliged and
faithful H. L. P.
In the midst of all this I find my paper full, and
wonder when I found time to fill it ; but my pen, like a
horse at Newmarket, moves most swiftly when it carries
least weight 'tis plain. Adieu then, and remember
me to kind Lady Fellowes and lovely Mariuccia, for so
we should call her in Italy.
To Sir James Felloiues.
Bath, 25 Feb. 1819.
THE languor you describe as possessing your mind,
my dear Sir, while it urges you to restless activity of
body, no one can better understand than myself, who
used to walk incessantly, squeezing the flag-stones of
our South Parade here, with my feet, in order to obtain
relief for my head when struggling against " Thick
coming fancies that robbed me of my rest." Well !
'tis a foolish thing ever to be uneasy at all.
Our longest life is but a little short parenthesis in the
broad page of time, which is itself a mere preface or
prologue to eternity. Let us, however, write the brief
period neatly, and leave our visiting ticket to the world,
such as may not disgrace us.
S<38 LETTERS.
I have asked for St. David's Day, and we will have a
good dinner and a Welch harp.
Mrs. Stratton says she would give us authors, actors,
&c., a merry day at her house, but that if she did, it
must be " un table fort libre mais peu de couverts,"
as she keeps no professed cook. Never mind, replied
H. L. P., we care only for the salt.
When all is over, I will tell you how it ended : mean-
while, the best Bath news is that good old General
Leighton is now become Sir Baldwin, with three or four
additional thousands a year. You remember old General
Leighton : he stooped excessively from a cold caught
bivouacking somewhere in our service. He is a true
Salopian, who, though well acquainted with both hemi-
spheres, delights in talking only of Shrewsbury.' He
will now end his life where it began, nine miles from
his favourite spot a pretty spot enough, but its power
over a soldier of fortune like General Leighton, or a
full minded man like my friend the first Dr. Burney, is
really to its credit.
When the last-named friend had occasion to kiss his
Majesty's hand two or three times within two or three
years, I remember the wags saying, " Why Burney
takes the King's hand, sure, for Shrewsbury brawn ; he
puts it so often to his lips."
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, March 13, 1819.
THE salt you get, dear Sir, must be all out of the old
salt cellar, with the cypher of H. L. P. upon it. Our
LETTERS. 263
gay dinner is not to be held till the 19th of this month,
next Fryday, at Mrs. Stratton's. I shall then invite the
company to my own house on some day, when Warde
and Conway are disengaged.
Your dinner shall be a good one : for you remember
Boileau's epigram on just such a feast :
" Damis ! vous donnez la famine,
Votre table a trop peu de plats ;
Peu content de votre repas,
Enseignez moi done ou on dine."
Too few good dishes is a fault,
Bad too many without salt ;
Among your other bons mots, pray
Tell me where we dine to-day.
But here we are chatting and laughing, and in comes
your brother Dorset to tell me . . . and he wished
me to take charge of his Ariadne, but my room will not
hold her. It came into my head as he was talking, that
the deserted ladies, who cannot get their lovers to marry
them after promises, &c., all follow her classical example,
and make alliance with Bacchus as soon as their Theseus
is gone : at least, I see some who are doing so here at
Bath, and I suppose Divie Robertson, the wine-mer-
chant, would be glad they were still more in number.
Dear me ! how sick, how thrice sick, am I of these
parties! so falsely called society : for one idea in common
with them I possess not. Yet one must live among
270 LETTERS.
people one cannot care about, in order to serve those
who really amuse and delight one.
Mr. Warde will, through Miss Willoughby's interest
and mine, produce a gallant show of hands to-night, to
use an election phrase. Did I ever tell you an old joke
of Grarrick's, when I sat in his lap at the celebration of
our peace with France, signed at Aix-la-Chapelle ? in
the year what was it? 1748, I think. "A bad peace
surely," said our favourite actor, " that brings so many
heads to the scaffold." He did not like my reminding
him of his saying so, because it made him look old.
But here comes company and here come beggars. I
hate not five minutes nor five guineas left, they plague
me so :
All considering me as their prey
All assisting tow'rds my decay.
I was near escaping them yesterday by choking my-
self at dinner, but only a very little soreness remains ;
and with what wits I have left in my head let me protect
myself.
Yours, &c.,
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Day of the Vernal Equinox, 1819.
I CAN now tell you that Mrs. Stratton's dinner went
off delightfully ; the salt shining and spar-like, un-
bruised, unbasketted, very good indeed. I wish mine
LETTERS. 271
may be as good and brilliant next Fryday, the 26th,
when my very best dependence will be on you, my ever
best friend. We must sit down, though, as near to five
o'clock as possible, because of Sir Walter James, who
hates to dine later, and who has begged himself in with
a condescendance I little expected.
You and he will find Warde most of a scholar, Conway
the man of high polish, general knowledge, and best
natural abilities. If you don't like them, it will vex
me.
Apropos to authors, actors, &c., I have had an offer
since I wrote last, not of marriage as Ninon de FEnclos
boasted when touching her eightieth year, but of a
better thing, money for Murphy's portrait. The rich Mr.
Taylor, George Watson Taylor, who bought Johnson's
picture and Baretti's at the sale, solicits it with beg and
pray. He once offered me, if you remember, 1571. for
it, so I can't, in honour or conscience, ask him more ;
but if he would take my Cypriani Magdalen, who is
eating her head off at old Wilson's European Museum,
along with Mr. Murphy's head by Reynolds, and give
me 200/. for both together, the bargain would be very
good for both of us, and I should take a good wide step
towards buying the 6000^. which dear Piozzi left to his
relations in Italy, and which I always have promised
Salusbury to make up for him in the Consols three per
cent., after which transaction my money is my own ; and
whatever I may feel disposed to give or spend, it shall
be without self-reproach. There are 5000/. in now, you
know.
272 LETTERS.
Your friends, the Greatheeds, have had a famous
acquisition made to their fortune by death of this Mr.
Collyear. I wish it might drive them to Bath ; for if I
recollect rightly, you said they were once more restored
to chearful endurance of that life their son's death made
a scourge to them.
My friends the Mangins, who were kind to me when
you were, and in. whose welfare I take the tenderest
concern, have suffered from the danger of their
little boy as much almost as could be inflicted ; and
though my life has been so drawn into length, and
so many scenes of sorrow have crossed my path, I am
yet to learn whether the death of a young man like
Bertie Greatheed, or that of a promising baby, strikes
deepest ; bursting a bubble with all its colours varying
each to a tint more lovely than the last, does certainly
require religious fortitude to support.
Yet what is infant life but a bubble ? *
Poor Salusbury and his wife are hanging over the
couch of their second son, I understand, and the thought
throws a gloom over your
H. L. P.
Come on Fry day 26th, next Fry day, and disperse my
cares away.
Do you remember Milton's solemn invitation to a
man to be merry with him ?
* " Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade,
Death came with timely care,
The op'ning bud to heaven convey'd,
And bade it blossom there." Lowth.
LETTERS. 273
(< This day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench
In mirth, that after no repenting draws ;
Let Euclid rest, and Archimedes pause,
And what the Swede intends, and what the French.
To measure life learn we betimes, and know
Tow'rd solid good what leads the nearest way,
For other things mild heav'n a time ordains,
And disapproves that care, tho' wise in show,
That with superfluous burden loads the day,
And when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains."
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Monday, March 28th, 1819.
MY dear Sir J. F. sometimes says, when he has a
mind to make me very happy, Your last letter was the
best I ever received from you, Mrs. Piozzi. Tis my
turn now.
Your last letter is the very best I ever read from the
hand I have long looked to for substantial friendship.
It assures me of your remaining at hand, not, as many
would say, to save my worne out frame from death, but
to protect my remains the poor remains of the Piozzi ;
her never forfeited honour, and secondly, at unmeasura-
ble distance, her literary fame: to ascertain the pos-
sibility likewise of passionate love, subsisting with
uncontaminated conduct, and enthusiastic friendship
without prospect of interested gratification. Veniamo
ad altro.
The last series of those half novels, half romance
things, called " Tales of My Landlord," are dying off a
pace ; but if their author gets money, he will not care
VOL. II. T
274 LETTERS.
about the rest*; having never owned his work, no
celebrity can be lost, nor no venture can injure him. Tis
thus Joanna Baillie might have done. I well remember
when her plays upon the " Passions " first came out,
with a metaphysical preface. All the world wondered
and stared at me, who pronounced them the work of
a woman, although the remark was made every day
and everywhere that it was a masculine performance.
No sooner, however, did an unknown girl own the work,
than the value so fell, her booksellers complained they
could not get themselves paid for what they did, nor
did their merits ever again swell the throat of public
applause. So fares it with nous autres, who expose our-
selves to the shifts of malice or the breath of caprice.
My justly admired Conway meanwhile drives all
before him at Birmingham, after ill usage enough here
at Bath ; and now I tell him, he must beware the tryals
of prosperity. May no others ever assail you, dear
Sir!
Doctor Gribbes was here five minutes ago, laughing
at these liver cases f> so everything is called now :
" Whence this distress of head ?
Whence comes my nose so red ?
Our doctors all have said,
From liver.
* This was not the first time the same reproach was gratuitously
levelled at the author
" Let others rack their meagre brains for hire,
Enough for Genius if itself inspire."
t It was the fashion to call all doubtful or undefinable complaints
liver, as it is now the fashion to attribute them to suppressed gout.
LETTERS. 275
" Why all this heat of skin ?
Why so much pain within ?
What makes me get so thin ?
My liver.
" Why gout in feet and toes ?
Carbuncles on my nose,
When all this only shows
'Tis liver.
" Miss Kosa has a pimple
Where once she had a dimple,
And she believes, Oh, simple !
'Tis liver.
" Why, my torn frame to tease,
Bites of bugs, gnats, and fleas ?
All these excrescences
Come from my liver."
These are not my verses Dieu m'en garde ; but
they are very comical, and would, as Mr. Piozzi used to
say, make the very chickens laugh. If they amuse
Lady F. in her present state for five minutes, they are
five good stanzas. So adieu ! and believe me ever her's
and your's, while .
H. L. PIOZZI.
Doctor Glbbes's mother, seven years younger than me,
is struck with palsy, which has taken away much of her
articulation. Friends, companions, contemporaries. Ah
poor Floretta !
T 2
276 LETTERS.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, 30th March, 1819.
MY dear Sir James Fellowes will kindly rejoyce to
hear that Mr. Watson Taylor has already paid in the
2001. to Hammersley's : a letter from Pall Mall informs
me so this moment. I must pack Murphy's portrait up
very nicely to send off.
How you did laugh at my funny story of original
painting ! * But the conversation between you and Mr. .
Wickens concerning your school days, led me to it ; and
my bag of tales, alias bagatelles, never seems exhausted
when in pleasant company. The string ties tight round
the neck of the sack, if I don't like my companions,
and that of its own accord, and the people are left won-
dering why any one should fancy that Mrs. Piozzi is
agreeable.
It is astonishing how soon irony or allegory may be
mistaken for truth ; I mean in how few years. Epsom
Wells were fashionable early in the last century ; but
some people there disobliging Doctor Radcliffe, " Oh ! "
* Sir James Fellowes' note on this letter is : "I had met Mr.
Wickens a few days before at Mrs. Piozzi's. As we were brother
Rugbeeans, the conversation took place about the mode of punish-
ing the boys in Dr. James's time, when Mrs. P. related the story of
Vandyke, who, when a boy, first evinced his genius in a remarkable
manner by painting the exact likeness of the master upon the
person of a schoolfellow about to be flogged, which so astonished
and amused the pedagogue that he burst out a laughing, and
excused the boy the punishment that awaited him. Mrs. Piozzi's
manner and humour in relating this anecdote of Vandyke was
remarkably comical."
LETTERS. 277
said he, " I will put a toad in their well presently,"
meaning he would bring the water into disrepute, I
trust ; but going to Epsom a few summers ago, a lady
told me very seriously, that Doctor Radcliffe had ruined
that fine well by putting a toad in it.
Did I ever tell you that Sir Walter James was the
person who first suggested to me the idea of making
a Lyford Redivivus, and teaching all the people what
their Christian names meant? It certainly was so, and
he recollected our conversation on the subject, when
reminded of it the other day at No. 8. I shall show
him the manuscript some morning.
The celebrated Dr. Farmer as a man particularly
well informed on the subject of old English literature
and as a man of learning, was master of Emanuel
College at Cambridge when I became acquainted with
him as an undergraduate of Peter House ; at a dinner
party toasts were called for, and most of the men pre-
sent gave the names of ladies whose names chanced to
begin with the letter B. Dr. Farmer made the follow-
ing impromptu :
" Is it not strange that Cupid should decree
That all our favourites should begin with B ?
How shall we solve this paradox of ours ?
The bee flies always to the sweetest flowers."
Once more adieu, and twenty times more adieu !
H. L. P.
T 3
278 LETTERS.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Monday, 5 April, 1819.
Mr. Taylor wrote me a fine coaxing letter,
sent by a man who came to pack and carry, and to
bring me a request that I would authorise Wilson to
give him up my beautiful Magdalene. I sent him
the annexed, unsealed, and enclosed it in this billet to
Taylor :
" Mrs. Piozzi despatches her writ of authority to the
European Museum, with many compliments to Mr.
Taylor, and wishes him joy of his pictures. A sort of
low-spirited feel hinders her saying any more now, but
she really means on some future day to pay her per-
sonal respects in Harley Street.
" Mrs. Piozzi sends compliments to her old friend, Mr.
Wilson, begs he will put her fine portrait of Mrs. Kains-
ford in the character of a Magdalen safely into the
hands of George Watson Taylor, Esq., who has at length
courted her out of it, and of what she parts from with
more reluctance, her famous portrait of Arthur Murphy
by Sir Joshua. They will, however, be where they
ought to be. Mrs. Piozzi thought Mr. Taylor would
have left Murphy till she too was where she ought to
be, but he was not willing to wait till the last of the old
coterie dropt into the grave which has devoured so
many of them. Mr. Wilson is to consider this note as
authority to deliver the Cipriani Magdalen into his
hands, from his faithful servant, &c.,
" H. L. PIOZZI."
LETTERS. 279
Now do not you, my dear Sir James Fellowes, fancy
me superannuated, because I do not write neatly as
usual. The paper is, I think, actual blotting-paper,
such as " Retrospection " is printed on exactly, and so
thin. Your idea of Pan among the bacchanals (Devil
among a bag of nails) is incomparable. "Tis the only
solution of so strange a sign ; and- Scaliger says that his
Satanic Majesty, when visible to his adorers, commonly
does assume the port and person of Azazel, Hebrew for
the goat.
You must not suffer my Scaligerana to go into any
hands but your own ; 'tis covered with marginal notes,
a single small 8vo. or rather 12mo. volume. He
wrote his thoughts in French and Latin, but ever
classically, ever acutely exprest. What he says of the
God Pan is confirmed every day now we are so well
acquainted with the Hindoo superstition. They cer-
tainly worship the scapegoat of Hebrew ritual ; and
Milton, who was ignorant of nothing that could be
known in his day, alludes to him under the name of
Azazel, who unfurls the standard of Lucifer in the first
book of " Paradise Lost." Pan is employed too, but
I cannot find him ; his comprehensive appellation is a
Greek word for all I know. The Orientals we are living
amongst consider him merely as generative power : the
conservative and destructive intelligences form their
triad of Brahma, Vistnou, and Mahadeva, in unison
with the Hebrew Azazel; and I think the Eabbins
believe the seducer of Eve was either Azazel or Sam-
mael ; the latter, probably, as he combined best with
T 4
280 LETTERS.
the serpent-nature ; and he too is worshipt, you know,
under the name of Cneph; and there were Ophites
among the Greeks, for Homer's Menelaus has a serpent
on his shield, probably because he was devoted to the
demon Deity adored under that form ; and the creatures
that destroyed Laocoon were superhuman we remember.
I used to be fond of mythological studies, but have
neglected them of late, unless casually reminded. Da-
mascius, however, says Ztcovot, meant the serpent which
girds the globe ; the Zodiac, I trust, or ecliptic line
denoting the sun's path. Sun worshippers were serpent
worshippers, Ophites; and this being a serpentine line,
the line of beauty and perfection, confirms the fancy.
Zone is a girdle still. The Globe, Wing, and Serpent
are now become common ornaments ; and when I saw
a fine mirror once so adorned at the house of a rich
clergyman, and explained them to him, he stared like
a thing astonished ; but you will be tired, and so am I,
the implements are so bad with which I profess myself
ever faithfully and gratefully yours,
H. L. P.
Make my proper that means my best regards to
dear Lady Fellowes.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, April 10, 1819.
BUT a strange thing, and not much less comical, is the
solicitude Lady Burdett and her family have evinced,
LETTERS. 281
of making acquaintance with me. I guess not where
the inducement can lie, for of me they know nothing
but my avowed aversion to their principles. It would,
however, be ridiculous to refuse, so I shall dine with
them on Thursday next. The rest of the week will be
past at the theatre, where Shakespeare's most agreeable
characters are exhibited ; Fauconbridge and Marc An-
tony, for which my favourite Conway seems to have been
born.
Did I ever shew you a horrible story of my own wri-
ting (ante, p. 32) done upon the spur of a moment, for a
wager, at Florence ? Lord bless me ! that hideous tale
of the Modern Prometheus was done, it seems, by Miss
Grodwin, in some spirit of competition between her and
some physician * nobody says who and Lord Byron.
His " Vampyre " is a filthy and a fearful thing, but her
" Frankenstein " carries away the palm of horror and im-
piety. What times are these ! The growth of crime is
beyond all telling ; " It lames report to follow it," as
Shakespear says, " and undoes description to do it." I
suppose the warm weather, and our prosperous state of
finance, are in fault. Indigence does certainly check
many vices, which opulence brings out. The snake of
man's plant, like that of the dung-hill, lies torpid
during winter, a hot summer day unwreaths his folds,
till frost fixes him once more in a torpid state. Koss's
account of the crimson cliffs would have been very en-
* Polidori, the author of the popular story of "The Vampire/'
which is based on Lord Byron's.
282 LETTERS.
tertaining had we not anticipated the whole in conver-
sation at Charles Parry's, who permitted me to see his
bottle of red snow, and the Grreen lander's jacket, with
drawings of those wild creatures the new found nation
teems with. They are much below the people that
Drake found ; who were so seized with wonder at the
music made by a scraper from on board the ship, that
one man thrust an arrow in his leg, not doubting but
that melody could cure it. These half-starved animals
minded no fidler, but sought to break the instrument,
like babies. I fear the new adventurers will miss them.
They certainly do lie out of the proper track.
Adieu ! to-morrow's post may bring me news from
Adbury: till then, and ever, farewell.
Mr. Watson Taylor was in such a hurry*, and my de-
sire of 200L was so impetuous ! Well ! as the old pro-
logue written by Prior says, " 'Tis best repenting in a
coach and six." So I shall die rich, if that is any com-
fort, and I shall die the sooner, too (which is a good
thing), if I get neither the dear Pellegrins, or the dear
No. 1. Adieu, then, once more, and make , like
young Edward Mangin, acknowledge a true friend in the
portrait of
H. L. P.
* To buy her portrait of Murphy, hy Reynolds.
LETTERS. 283
To Sir James Fellowes,
Sunday Night, 18 April, 1819.
WHAT a world ! or rather what inhabitants of a beau-
tiful place in which our study is to make deep ruts for
each other to stumble in. And you not enraged at
these sedition-mongers that we read of? What would
the foolish creatures have ? Let government be con-
structed how it will we must be governed ; or the
strong will press down the weak. Make up your mess
like Venice treacle, a dram of this, a scruple of that
but government must govern when it is made up ; for
after all you only take from one department, kings,
lords, commons, and the mob, to give a little more, or
a little less, to the others. Limited monarchy, limited
aristocracy, we understand, but limited government is a
contradiction in terms.
Ah me ! we shall have a grand inundation of worse
than nonsense, I see plainly. After the Nile's overflow,
you remember, the old ^Egyptians turned in droves of
swine, to root, and trample, and wallow in the mud ;
nor till the ensuing year was it observed, that their en-
deavours had fertilized the soil they sought to ruin.*
I shall not live to see the end of all ; and if after a
powerful fermentation, some pure spirit does at length
come over the helm, it will be for you, not me, to
praise its purity. Meanwhile, I do not in any wise re-
semble the old Cavalier, who predicted return of royalty,
* Burke overlooked this when he denounced the " swinish
multitude."
284 LETTERS.
when Cromwell had just destroyed it ; and a republican
friend reproached him with, " Ah, Sir ! you Tories are
always building castles in the air." " Why where the
plague should we build them ? " said the other, " when
you Whigs have got all our land from us."
But here's enough for to-night : my spirits were run-
ning over with joy about my picture, or I could not
have gone so far. I waked very early, far from well
this morning, and forbore to go to church ; but as all
my droppers in agreed that I looked beautifully well,
't were pity to contradict them ; and since the stocks are
falling, for me to complete my purchase, when Newton
and when Elliott pay their money, I will make matters
up with myself, though your friend Bertie Grreatheed
used to say, when we lived in habits of intimacy, " Dear
Mrs. Piozzi 's never so agreeable as when she is heartily
vexed." And I trust you found it so too, since the
fancy that you took for my conversation on the first day
of the year 1815, was certainly kindled in a most rag-
ged and tindery state of my poor worne-out soul. Well !
all 's over, and if I wait longer than to-morrow morn-
ing before I claim my prize, let me lose it !
Adieu, and keep sweetest Maria from wit and learn-
ing, as long as ever you can ; for though Floretta did
resolve to hold fast both to the end, you may recollect that
one had been a burden, the other a plague, to her through
long protracted life. Mine has been rendered really
very comfortable by your continued kindness and par-
tiality to your much obliged
H. L. P.
LETTERS. 285
To Sir James Fellowes.
Tuesday, April 27, 1819.
Mr DEAR SIR, I am in possession of nothing ; no-
thing, at least, that I value, except Tudor's opinion of
our good Dr. Fellowes's case, which will perhaps bring
him to Bath three or four days sooner. His proud
Salopian tenants have no taste to parting with the last
ornament of their drawing room ; so I will keep posses-
sion of my temper, and wait sullenly, but civilly, till
the 3rd of May.
Dr. Gibbes says he is hurried to death, the people are
so ill; he saw me half in hysterics at Young's King
Lear, and he came the next morning to feel my pulse,
kind creature ! " But you profess to like my chat,"
said I, " and never come to make me a nice long visit."
" Just for the same reason," replied he, " that I never
drink claret, I have not time to sit down to it." Did I
tell you what a flattering letter I received the other day
from Mr. Comber, who wrote the pretty verses Miss
Williams did so rave about ?
" Tell me no more of Ninon's wondrous charms,
Which on life's verge, set kings and courts in arms ;
Piozzi's sparkling wit and brilliant fire
All hearts can charm, and dulness self inspire :
Long may the spirit animate the clay !
When sever'd from it, rise to endless day."
I do not, however, mean to tell only what verses I re-
ceive, here are some, no better than these, which I have
286 LETTERS.
written : expressive of the indignation I feel to see our
theatrical managers here, sacrificing my favourite actor
to Mr. Warde's ill-humour. You remember Martial's
epigram :
" Rumpitur invidia quidam, carissime Juli,
Quod me Roma legit, rumpitur invidia.
Rumpitur invidia quod turba semper in omni
Monstramur digito, rumpitur invidia.
Rumpitur invidia quod sum jucundus amicis,
Quod conviva frequens, rumpitur invidia.
Rumpitur invidia quod amamur, quodque probamur
Rumpitur quisquis rumpitur invidia."
The word swelling is more elegant in English, how-
ever, than bursting, ain't it ? so I turned the whole, as
follows, alluding to their orations ; for both of which,
see Shakspeare's Julius Caesar, which they plaid (sic) so
admirably :
Swelling with envy, Brutus now appears,
Because the town lends Anthony their ears.
Swelling with envy views his pers'nal graces
When girls point handsome Conway as he passes.
Swelling with envy, sees him in retreat
At gay thirteen perhaps ; or number eight.
Such as so swell, would sting too, if they durst,
But since they swell with envy let them burst.
Well! envy is a vice, say the "Synonymes," and
theft is a crime. The increase in both is marvellous ;
ay, and portentous too, if we speak seriously ; but no
wonder, while the words " Office for the Deist," stare
LETTERS. 287
boldly in each passenger's face who treads the Strand ;
and books against the Trinity are publicly advertized,
even by those we call ministerial papers. Yes, yes, you
may do as you please with people at Quarter Sessions,
&c., but it is only medicating the stream, while an enemy
has already poysoned the source and that won't do.
We may as well expect fine grapes from the Upaz tree.
My dear Sir James Fellowes asks me for commands.
I have none : his talk, his shadow, and his medicine,
comprise all that is wanted by his much obliged servant,
H. L. P.
Make my best compliments to all the dear coterie.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Tuesday, May 4th, 1819.
CONGRATULATE me, dear Sir ; I have got my picture,
and every visitant that has dropt in to-day has seen me
jumping round it for joy ; Miss Williams most delighted
among them. The likeness strikes every one. Oh ! I
stewed the Shropshire leeks down to nice Welsh pottage
at last, and they were wondrous kind. The master of
the house, poor fellow ! screaming with gout. Tell the
young ladies they must find out this French enigma :
Enfant de 1'art, enfant de la nature,
Sans prolonger la vie j'empeche de mourir ;
Plus je suis vrai, plus je suis imposteur,
Et je deviens plus jeune a force de vieillir.
288 LETTERS.
Art's offspring, whom nature delights here to foster,
Can death's dart defy, tho' not lengthen life's stage ;
Most correct at the moment when most an impostor,
Still fresh'ning in youth, as advancing in age.
I have got a new book lent me, not new either, but
very interesting. The " Letters of Lady Hartford and
Lady Pomfret," written at the beginning of last cen-
tury. They are very pretty, so pretty that I think I
must burn them, lest you should prefer them to mine,
as Cleopatra drowned Mariamna's picture, lest Mark
Anthony should think it handsomer than her. The
best of the collection are signed H. L. P. however,
Henrietta Louisa Pomfret, so that must be my conso-
lation.
Kind Conway has promised me a proof mezzo tinto of
his likeness in the character of Jaffier by Harlowe ; he
says yours by Pellegrini is alive with resemblance.
What will Salusbury say when he comes first to dinner
at aunt's house? who he considers as a superannuated
old goose, while she is petted and flattered, and fed
with soft dedication, all day long.
The Catholick question is too serious a subject for
light correspondents like me, so I shall say nothing
about it, this year ; and if I were to see another year,
it would be too late.
My fete for the end of January, 1820, will be splen-
did indeed : I have asked people from all parts of the
world, and some have promised from the farthest Thule.
I daresay Parry's Arctic Expedition will be more
LETTERS. 289
entertaining than that of Captain Eoss ; but my heart
bleeds for the loss of Jack Sacheuse the Eskimaux. It
was so foolish to let the poor creature burn up his
inside with spirits, and that was all that destroyed him.
Adieu. . . .
H. L. P.
To Miss Fellowes.
13 June, 1819.
MY dear Miss Fellowes, when she reads that beautiful
panegyrick on Mrs. Siddons, will readily acquiesce in
her old friend H. L. Piozzi's decision ; that she is indeed
the brilliant diamond of that interesting profession, of
which Miss O'Neill is the elegant and pleasing pearl.
Conway asks me if we are all here seized with the
O'Neill fever? My reply was that he need not fear
what a sprig of jessamine could do towards turning our
brains, while under the dominion of himself, the tower-
ing tulip : this, in allusion to a sale of those flowers in
the beginning of last century, when the root of one,
called Semper Augustus (his own name) sold for 700^.*
Meanwhile Siddons must stand for the moss Provence
rose; which when her colours are confessedly faded,
and her bloom gone by, still yields a sweet perfume, and
* See a note to " Retrospection," 2nd vol., 8th chapter. Iii
this note she states that the collection sold for 9000/. ; and in the
margin she has written : " When the folly revived again, it was
cured by a painter's daughter producing her tulip at the Florists'
Feast, with the long-desired vainly (till that day) hoped-for streak.
She won the prize and told the secret : she had painted it. Tho
flowers were exhibited under glasses."
VOL. II. U
290 LETTERS.
her dried leaves are sought for to give scent to royal
cabinets.
I'm going to the Marquis . Good night, dearest
Madam !
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Bath, Fiyday, 18 June, 1819.
No need to try distant countries now for a sight of les
beaux Eestes de 1' Antiquite. We have them in Russell
Street, and in such numbers that I am informed they
actually incommode each other. Before my desired
visit to dear Adbury, they shall display their beauties
to my sight, for 'tis a dull thing not to know what lies
so near one.
The thought of your going abroad in search of
novelty lowers my spirits when I think of it, yet I
believe you will go too ; and it will not be a right thing
to do, because the departure of every wise and re-
flecting mind will be a national loss when vice and
folly make their final stand, as soon they will do. Let
the sun shine and the harvest come in copiously ; that
hour may be deferred, but it is not distant; and you
have a post to maintain. While you read this you say,
Ay, ay, she would have a loss, and so she wants to make
me believe I should be missed at Court. Not so.
My literary character, to-day perhaps of some small
trifling import to the shallow stream of prattle, would
then be driven down by the torrent of talk ; and poor
H. L. P. wrecked in the storm's first fury
LETTERS. 291
What a letter ! but if one ever should prove the
unworthy subject of conversation, 'tis better be told
truth of, than lyes. Dear Mr. Mangin said to me
last week, that his mother saw me once at the theatre
sparkling in diamonds, the winter of 1764. " She
wrote it down," said he, "when she came home, ob-
serving how beautiful you were." " I never possessed
a diamond in my life," was my reply, " never was in a
theatre from my first wedding day, till my daughter
born in 1764 went with me; and never was considered
through the early periods of my life as even tolerably
pretty."
Adieu, and continue your kind partiality, disregarding
the fabulous history of yours ever,
H. L. P.
The person Mrs. Mangin saw was Polly Hart, Mr.
Thrale's mistress, whose picture he wore on his box, &c.
To Sir James Felloiues.
Bath, Tuesday, 6th July, 1819.
MY DEAR SIR, The Doctor and Miss Fellowes, who
I met yesterday dining at the Lutwyches, told me I
might send a letter to you by him, and my heart feels
glad of the opportunity. Samuel Lysons' death a
famous antiquarian, and keeper of the records in the
Tower lowers my spirits a little; not from tender-
ness, though 'tis shocking to me that a young man
should die so suddenly, but because he had an odd
D 2
292 LETTERS.
humour of collecting things other people would wish
annihilated; and I remember his making a breakfast
for the Grreatheeds, Kembles, and Mr. Piozzi and me
once, many years ago, when he oddly pointed to some
shelf in his chambers, crying, " There, there they are ; I
gathered up every paper, every nonsense that was
written against you at the time of your marriage ;
every thing to ridicule either of you that could be
found, and there they are." " Thank you," said I, and
the conversation changed.
As we went home, I recollect John Kemble saying,
" Lysons made it his business to come and tell him every
disagreeable thing he could think on concerning him-
self; every ballad, every satirical criticism he could hear
of." What a taste ! and now he is dead, one cannot
help feeling feels about it.
But his brother Daniel is a cool-headed man and has
children, and will not like making enemies will he ?*
I am half and but half uneasy pacify my nerves,
'dear Sir, with assurances of your care, that no harm
shall come to your ever obliged and faithful
H. L. PIOZZI.
Love to the dear ladies, and good wishes for a young
and beautiful beau.
* I have examined the collections in question, and ani con-
vinced that Mrs. Piozzi was mistaken when she wrote this letter,
which is quite irreconcilable with her frequently expressed esteem
for both of the brothers.
LETTERS. 293
To Sir James Felloives.
Bath, Wednesday, 7th July, 1819.
THE valorous fellows in the North are very noisy
indeed, and exhibit Milton's meeting of rebellious
spirits with too much exactness ; but all this gas, literal
and figurative, is as likely to do mischief as good, and
will take fire with a spark in an instant.
Mr. John Dimond told me just now that Covent
Garden Theatre had escaped blazing almost by miracle.
The head of the retort flying off, the whole space
under the stage was rendered suddenly combustible ;
and had not the man who approached with a light, had
the wit to throw that light behind him, the whole
would have consumed directly.*
Grala on my eightieth birthday.
When I return home I shall calculate whether I can
get to dear Adbury, and thence to London.
To Sir James Felloives.
Weston-super-Mare, 27 August, 1819.
I FEEL delighted, dear Sir, that you have not for-
gotten me. Some ladies that I met upon the sands
last night said Sir James Fellowes had mentioned my
name at gay and fashionable Bognor. This little place
is neither gay nor fashionable, yet full as an egg, in-
* It was on this occasion that the stage manager came forward
to beg the audience not to be afraid of fire, as he could drown the
pit in five minutes.
U 3
294 LETTERS.
sipid as the white on't, and dear as an egg o' penny. I
inquired for books ; there were but two in the town
was the reply, a Bible and a Paradise Lost. They
were the best, however. No market ; but I don't care
about that. When Miss Burney asked Omiah, the
savage, if he should like to go back to Otaheite, " Yes,
Miss," said he ; " no mutton there, no coach, no
dish of tea, no pretty Miss Horneck ; good air, good sea,
and very good dog. I happy at Otaheite." My taste
and his are similar.
The breezes here are most salubrious ; no land nearer
than North America, when we look down the channel ;
and 'tis said that Sebastian Cabot used to stand where
I sit now, and meditate his future discoveries of New-
foundland. Who would be living at Bath now ? the
bottom of the town a stew-pot, the top a gridiron, and
London in a state of defence or preparation for attack,
or some strange situation, while poor little Weston is
free from alarms, on Juvenal's principle, Cantabit va-
cuus coram latrone viator. I offered a cheque on
Hammersley at the hotel here. " Yes, Madam, by all
means," says the landlady ; " but pray who is the gentle-
man ? does he reside in Bath ? or is he a Bristol mer-
chant ? " Our banker little dream'd that such questions
could be asked concerning him ; and indeed it reminded
me of the character in Congreve, who when spoken
to of Epictetus, inquired whether he was really a
French cook, or only one who wrote out particular re-
ceipts.
Miss W , everybody tells me, is breaking up very
LETTERS. 295
fast, but some must come into the world, and some
must go out on't, while it lasts. The comet is gone by
without hurting anybody, and when Mr. Hunt's voice is
stopt by a rope, there are those who believe we shall
be quiet and so we may, perhaps, at Manchester.
We have swarms of babies here, and some bathe good-
humouredly enough, while others scream and shriek as
if they were going to execution. Bessy's boy is among
them, completely hydrophobous.
I am going on a water-party next Monday with a
very agreeable young man, Mr. Kogers. There are
few people here that I know ; one lady, however,
challenged me as an acquaintance of her brother's just
seventy years ago, when he was a little boy at Western's
school, and used to come home for holidays with Sir
Eobert Salusbury Cotton, father of this Lord Comber-
mere, to our house in Jermyn Street, now part of Blake's
Hotel.
Adieu, dear Sir, portez vous bien. Present me to
Lady Fellowes, and tell your children they have an
humble and an attached servant in
H. L. PIOZZI.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Weston-super-Mare,
Tuesday, 21 September, 1819. '
I OWE you a long letter, and my dear Sir James Fel-
lowes knows that I am always desirous to balance my
u 4
296 LETTERS.
accounts, how much more when the sun is in Libra ! It
is indeed an especial mercy that I should be above
ground cracking jokes, and making quibbles at fourscore
years old ; and the people do make such a wonder of
me, that by and by they will deceive me into a mar-
vellous good opinion of myself.
My fearlessness in the water attracts the women to
the rocks, where it seems such fine sport to see Mrs.
Piozzi swim. Poor H. L. P. ! she will certainly end in
a fish, an odd fish ; but 'tis long since any could have
said of her, Mulier formosa superne.
Mr. Thrale used to teach Lady Keith with a frog in
a large bason, and be so rough with her if she alleged
terror, that we swam in our own defence, for he swore
he would follow with a horsewhip if we dug a hole in
the water, as he justly called it. Dear will follow
us without any threatenings. She can scarcely fail
of being a beautiful woman. Shall we wish her to be a
wit, after reading the story of Floretta and the epitaph
on my mother ? When I said, " Why did you name her
person before her mind, Doctor Johnson?" "Just
because everybody can judge of the one, and hardly any-
body can judge of the other," was the truly wise reply.
Hayley and I were never friends, you know ; Lady
Sophronia's character and that of Dr. Bumble in some
of his never-read writings, only lost our good will, and
got no admiration from any one. The epigram on him
and Miss Seward were among the things Sammy Lysons
used to read with a world of humour. I much wonder
what became of that man's literary gleanings. Dear
LETTERS. 297
Conway's kind offer of buying them instantly for me,
should they be set for sale, would have won my heart if
he had not gained it before; but I hope the danger
is over now.
Meanwhile I was right in saying that such small
knaveries or follies will merge in the grand knavery of
these Russells * and Burdetts, who really should be more
careful than they are of their own interest ; and when
they are galvanising the otherwise inert populace, should
mind and not exert too strong a power, as the modern
phraseology terms it. The monstrous engine they are
by steam and vapour raising against Government will
fall upon and crush us all under its weight. Sin in
Milton acted as they do precisely, for
" She opened ; but to shut
Excell'd her power : the gates wide open stood,
That with expanded wings a banner'd host
Under spread ensigns marching, might pass thro'
With horse and chariots rank'd in loose array :
So wide they stood, and like a furnace mouth
Cast forth redounding smoke and ruddy flame.
Before their eyes in sudden view appear
The secrets of the hoary deep a dark
Illimitable ocean without bound,
Without dimension, where length, breadth, and height,
And time, and place are lost."
Fools ! teaching, as you say, English boys to sing Qa
ira ! when they don't know nor can guess what it means.
They do know, however, what it means to deny their
* Alluding to Lord John Russell's and Sir Francis Burdett's
advocacy of Reform in Parliament.
298 LETTERS.
Redeemer's divinity, and find out how Jesus Christ was
only an honest man ; yet some of them, of these horrid
Unitarians, do believe that he will come to judge the
world too. I guess not why, but suppose they settle it
on the old classic system of Minos, who put his chan-
cellor's seal in commission, did not he ? and called
Rhadamanthus and .^Eacus to his assistance on great
occasions. Oh ! they are a precious set, certainly.
We had a gentleman here yesterday who attracted
much notice. He was young and handsome, had ten
lovely children, most of them females, by a beautiful lady,
who, being of this new persuasion, seduced her husband
to own her opinions, and half break the heart of his
good father, the learned and pious Sir Abraham Elton,
eighty-six years old. Well, a Mr. Rogers was telling
me all this yester-morning, and added that young Elton
was a fine actor once in private theatricals, but that he
w r as a serious man now, forbore to play at cards, or
dance, or see a play ; and was supposed to write Hunt's
speeches for him, and send essays to the office in London
where Deism and French philosophy are taught, under
direction of Mr. Carlisle : but oh ! what was my sense
of horror at 5 o'clock the same dreadful yesterday, to
hear that this man was raving round the town in fruit-
less pursuit of his two sons one fourteen, the other
sixteen years of age, both good swimmers both cer-
tainly and irrecoverably drowned ; the mother saved
from suicide only by the immediate intervention of
a medical man, a Welshman, a Mr. Price. To-day
they have left the place.
LETTERS. 299
My plan is to walk and bathe, and enjoy the salutary
breezes of poor little Weston, and then home to my
nest at No. 8, Gray Street ; no London or Adbury this
year. When returned home, I shall call on your Divie
Robertson for a double portion of his fine wine, because
the Salusburys of Brynbella will come to me at Christ-
mas.
Adieu ! I have scarce room to say how faithful a
servant you and your fair lady and dear babies possess
in their and your ever obliged and grateful
H. L. P.
To Sir James Felloives.
No. 8, Gay St., Batli,
Sunday, 24 Oct. 1819.
CONGRATULATE me, dear Sir James Fellowes, on my
return from a place where, as I told you, the name of
Hammersley was unknown. They said if he was a
Bath shopkeeper or Bristol merchant, they would take
his drafts, not else : so far behind Denbigh or St.
Asaph. They had, however, heard of Mr. Carlisle *, and
were not sure but he was right, for there were many
opinions. Mine is, that Lord Byron's book (Cain) will
do more mischief than his ; and you see there is a cheap
edition advertised, in order to disseminate the poyson.
Why, the yellow fever is not half as mischievous. You
are sadly wanted ID Spain just now. A lady told me
* The publisher of Paine's " Age of Reason " and other infidel
works.
300 LETTERS.
since I came home, that the plague was wanted here to
thin our numbers and correct our vices. Were ever
such opinions broached before ? were ever such ideas of
right and wrong entertained in this country till now ? I
certainly have lived long and never heard them. Lord
Fitz william's dismissal * fills every mouth.
Why, we shall be divided soon, like the Hebrew al-
phabet, into radicals and serviles. But here come Sir
Henry and Lady Baynton, and a boy that was just born
when I saw him last, now an elegant lad bien maniere
and so like his pretty mamma, I quite admired him.
Mercy on me ! how the generations of mortal man do
spring up ! to dance the dance of life from top to
bottom of the long room.
" The three black Graces, Law, Physick, and Divinity,
Walk hand in hand along the Strand and dance La Poide ;
Trade leaves her counter, Alma her latinity,
Proud and vain with Mr. Paine to go to school.
Should you want advice at law, you'll little gain by asking it :
Your lawyer's not at Westminster, he is busy Pas de Sasquing it.
Should you wish a tooth to lose and run to Wayte for drawing it,
He can't possibly attend he's demi Queue de Chafing it :
Run neighbour, run ; all London is quadrilling it,
While order and sobriety dance Dos-a-dos.' 1
These are clever Mr. Smith's clever verses, the man
who wrote the Kejected Addresses, and were sent me
by one of the fashionables.
They are making bonfires of Bibles in the North, I'm
* From the lord-lieutenancy of Yorkshire.
LETTERS. 301
told, but your great folio in three monstrous volumes
will escape I hope. The Eeformers shall burn me be-
fore they fall upon that ; there is no talk of their dis-
turbing Bath with their Reformation.
I hear wondrous tales of Doctor and Mrs. Whalley ;
half the town saying he is the party aggrieved, and the
other half lamenting the lady's fate. Two wiseacres
sure, old acquaintances of forty years' standing, and both
past seventy years old ! . . .
The Salusburys come to me on the 20th of December :
we will set about quadrilling it the last week in January,
when you and your lady will surely do honour and
give grace to the eightieth birthday of dear Sir James
Fellowes's ever obliged friend and true servant,
H. L. P.
To Sir James Felloives.
Bath, Monday, 17 Jan. 1820.
YOUR wonderful friend, my dear Sir James Fellowes,
will be most wonderfully disappointed if she cannot
boast your appearance at her last concert, &c. ; her last
foolery ! such a foolery ! but you will come, and so will
Lady Fellowes, and your sister is sure of it, and so is
your H. L. P. The frost breaks gently, and I hope
when spring returns, we shall have compensation for
this cruel Siberian winter. It has killed the poor half
crazy lady that our friend Miss Williams lived with ;
she died last night suddenly of the cramp in her
stomach, and I know not how the brother and Miss
302 LETTERS. -
Williams will manage, either to part or live together :
because the sister was a sunk fence you know, and if
they do not marry or separate, why the people will cry
ha ! ha ! Well, 'tis a blest thing to be fourscore, and I
would not be younger for the world I am going to quit.
My health and spirits are good, and my friends are very
good to me, and I can be as kind to them as I please,
defying scandal and the " Morning Post."
These verses were brought me to-day. Mr. Mant,
who wrote them, heard some uninvited lady exclaim,
" Lord ! will this Mrs. Piozzi never have done singing
and dancing ! " he instantly replied:
" Sweet Puritans ! don't frown severe
On dear Piozzi's dance and cheer ;
Groaning beneath your loads of sin,
She does not bid you enter in ;
But mindful of youth's happy day,
When innocence was glad and gay
(Now well assur'd that joy alone
Can to the pure of heart be known),
She bids the ignorant of wrong
Her dance attend a jovial throng ;
And friends long-lov'd she calls to see
The scenes of liveliness and glee.
Nor least will they that gladness prize
Who only come to sympathise :
Induced by arguments so weighty,
She dares to give a ball at eighty."
Well, verses are fine things, and
LETTERS. 303
Praises are pretty things, 'tis true :
Yet, to a well turned mind, the pain
Of making them, indeed, our due,
Is the best pleasure we can gain.
And I would rather see how my book stands at
Hammersleys than any poetry of my own or my
neighbours. People of letters are never people of
figures, it is said ; yet I have always been taught that
two and two make four ; and when it appears that they
make only three, I feel very nervous and very cross.
We have got a new actress to supply the loss of Miss
O'Neill I like her best in a room though. Adieu ! and
hasten to Bath as Mr. Piozzi used to say non c'e
tempo da perdere if you would wish to see untorn to
pieces for cards of admission, yours and your dear
family's ever grateful and faithful
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Tuesday Evening, April 4th, 1820.
. The fete was a long promised foolery, and can
never happen again, and did do exactly what I meant it
should ; it procured me the power of making Conway's
benefit equal to Warde's, notwithstanding Miss Wrough-
ton's party, &c. He has left our town and our stage
now, and I shall trouble my head no more with theatri-
cal affairs, except to remunerate charming Mr. Loder's
loyalty, who would not be seduced from my orchestra to
304 LETTERS.
that of Mr. Ashe : let ladies, and beauties, and pecuniary
inducements go which way they would. Au reste, your
sister says she is bilious, and must go to Cheltenham.
I feel very sorry, but the dear doctor's constitution
seconds him through all acts of heroism. He was
screaming with gout to-day : gout in his foot, the
roughest and most regular fit he has experienced these
seven years. The torture of all those horrid operations,
he swears, was nothing of pain to what he now suffers :
so true is it that Grod Almighty does not trust the rod
of reproof out of his own hand, nor suffer mortals to
inflict upon each other, what natural illnesses, gout,
stone, and the pangs of parturition impose on us all
every day in the course of nature. I am glad it is so ;
for our new masters, le peuple souverain, would, I fear,
prove rough dispensers of punishment, and kind beha-
viour does not seem to excite the courtesy, expected by
those who so willingly make that Eow-Tow to Messrs.
Hunt, Gobbet and Co., which they scorned to bestow on
the Emperor of China.
Well ! kings are out of fashion certainly, but queens
are in. The Hymenoptera of Linnaeus included all
animals that possessed stings, I am told ; and if George
IV. delights in study of reptiles and insects, he may
soon be master of the subject. A popular government
suits best where there is thin population. Spain will do
well enough under an oligarchy of the great nobles,
besides that your old friends the Castilians will wish to
be under the rule and sway of Hidalgos, whether King
or Cortes ; indeed, I wish them success, and think Fer-
LETTERS. 305
dinand will have more leisure to embroider trimmings
for the Blessed Virgin's petticoat, when relieved from
the cares of state.
What did they do with Grodoy ? did they strip him of
his ill-gotten wealth? I either never heard, or have
forgotten. A young lad, nephew to Miss Williams, who
has been some years abroad for his health, says the
whole Continent is even yet warm in its passion for
Buonaparte, whose return they still hope to hail in due
time :
Thyrsis when he left me swore
In the spring he would return ;
What then means that violet flow'r?
Or the bud that decks the thorn ?
'Twas the lark that upward sprung,
'Twas the nightingale that sung.
Idle notes untimely green,
Why such unavailing haste ?
Summer suns and skies serene
Prove not always winter past.
Ease my fears, my doubt remove,
Spare the honour of my love.
EEPLT.
Thyrsis will return no more,
Simple maid, expect him not ;
Ere the autumn well was o'er
Were his summer vows forgot :
But since wintry snows and rain
Not a trace of them remain.
VOL. II. X
306 LETTERS.
Cease repining, simple maid !
Thorns may blossom, birds may sing
Love's a flow'r when once decay'd
Knows of no returning spring.
Haste, and seek another swain,
Trust ; and be deceiv'd again.
You have heard how the Duke of Marlborough was
received here with hoots and hisses, and the arrest of
his carriage and horses. Lord Charles Churchill who
attended scarcely could protect him, and he ran for
refuge to a rich half-crazy lady in the Crescent, from
whence he came to a poor half-superannuated lady,
No. 8, Gray Street, who he called his earliest friend,
said how kind I had been to him when a sick little boy
at Streatham, fifty years ago : how I had given him a
little Shetland pony to ride, and so I did sure enough,
but had forgotten it. Poor wretched man ! We dine
together to-day. The weather is not amiss, as it ap-
pears, only a want of rain. Adieu ! make my best at-
tentions acceptable to Lady Fellowes and Mrs. Dorset
and Mrs. J. Fellowes . . . from, dear Sir, your ever
obliged and grateful and faithful
H. L. P.
This moment brings me an agreeable letter from
Mrs. Mostyn. She and her youngest son are very gay
at Florence, acting English plays, &c. . . .all among
lord and lady performers of course.
LETTERS. 307
To Sir James Fellowes.
13 April, 1820.
MY dear Sir James Fellowes is but too partial to me,
and to my letters : the verses are not mine, but certainly
very pretty. Mr. Eckersall amazed me with the assur-
ance of our Court's having been solicited by that of
Austria to give the violet more room to grow ; better
say at once, Let the man out, a vigorous bag fox for
Europe to hunt down another day. Rebellion, not ill-
organised within our island, and growing discontents
about the queen, &c., are too cold for our present taste
of horrors. We long for lawful bloodshed; war and
property tax, a battle in every newspaper, an enriched
commissary in every fashionable street, like a country
squire we once knew, who could not taste his brandy
latterly, without it was warmed, he said, by Cayenne
pepper.
Miss Fellowes is not well, and fancies Cheltenham will
mend her. The Lapland winter we have endured has
chilled the vital principle in many. My Oxfordshire
tenant, wishes, no doubt, it had effected the same pur-
pose in me. I can never get my money from that fellow
without help of an attorney, which I dislike as expen-
sive, or a quickening letter from Lord Keith, which I
detest as offensive, because he once, if you remember,
contested the property, and I hate making Chinese
Row-Tow to the man for what is no favour.
Are not the Radicals in Scotland gay fellows to attack
the military sabre a la main ? Dear me ! when a rebel-
x 2
308 LETTERS.
lion not better organised, or very, very little better,
made head against the reigning family in the year 1745,
people laid down knife and fork, and began to pray, or
to run, or to fight on one side or other. We are now so
improved in philosophy that we do not even lay down
our cards, or make the hanging up nineteen prison ers of
war within 300 miles of the Capital any part of
our conversation.
I am glad meanwhile that you intend to act as magis-
trate in these strange times. It were to be wished that
the clergy might be exempted from that duty. They
are enough hated as it is, and some one told me that
the bishops were hooted and hissed going to a fine
London dinner, I forget at whose house.
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fettowes.
No. 36, Royal Crescent, Clifton, near Bristol,
Tuesday, 27 June, 1820.
LORD, Sir ! what heats are these ? natural, civil, poli-
tical : a conflagration of men's minds will make them
tindery as your ship two hours before it took fire, and
make all ready for a general burning. This place and
weather are really very like Naples, and my face now
is tanned like one of their biscuits. I recollect no such
season since I spent mine at Exmouth. Dear Piozzi left
me there a fortnight, while he went to London, and
lived with Archdeacon Hamilton. My employment was
to make up my " Journey Book " for the press ; my
LETTERS. 309
amusements, to send him love-letters and verses, among
which these come most readily to my mind :
I think I Ve work'd exceeding hard
To finish five score pages ;
I send you this upon a card
In hopes you '11 pay my wages.
The servants all get drunk and mad,
This heat their blood enrages ;
But your return will make us glad
That hope our care assuages.
To feel more fondness we defy
All nations and all ages ;
And quite prefer your company
To all the seven sages.
Then pr'ythee come, Oh, haste away
And lengthen not your stages ;
We then will sing and dance and play
And quit awhile our cages.
The plural number was used because Mrs. Mostyn,
then a child, was with me.
The heat was intense, I remember, and when he re-
turned, we ran to see the lyons of the neighbourhood,
Plymouth, Powderham, Castle and Mount Edgecumbe.
I think 'tis exactly thirty years ago, when I was amused
by the ill-timed eulogium pronounced by a vulgar fellow
on Shenstone's Leasowes. We were going over the
Terrace with a heap of wonder-seers, just such a hot
day as this is at Lord Edgecumbe's : a man showing off
the prospect, &c. "Ay, Sir," says a rich looking in-
X 3
310 LETTERS.
habitant of Highgate or Hampstead ; t( it is very fine,
sure, considering how far we are from London, but my
wife likes a tower, and we always does go somewhere,
seeing our pockets is pretty warm, ha, ha, ha ! and so
last year we goes to her relations at Hales Owen, and
there I saw a sweet place did not us, lovey ? with
an inland prospect, such as I can see with my eyes, not
a good sight either and river fish."
"Why," says dear Sir James Fellowes, "you are just
like the man you laugh at, Mrs. Piozzi. To be tell-
ing old stories now, when every body is thinking, at
least talking, of the Queen." Perhaps so, but I am ill-
provided with argument pour ou contre, and feel to-
wards a general topic, as a pretty woman feels towards
a general mourning if black does not become her com-
plexion. So here I sit crying
" All conquering heat, oh, intermit thy wrath,
And on my throbbing temples, potent thus,
Beam not so fierce."
But, at eighty-one years old, pride should be burned
out, and shall be. I will set in the West, and find some
sea-beaten shore to forget the fallacious world in. Three
weeks more in this lovely spot will, I trust, suffice ; and
then, as the Irish lady said, I may take lave of the com-
pany without an apology.
Wherever I am, you, dear Sir, will be sure to hear of
yours and your family's
Faithful as obliged,
H. L. P.
LETTERS. 31 1
To Sir James Fellowes.
No. 36, Royal Crescent, Clifton,
Sunday, 16 July, 1820.
" NOTHING so dull as a consolatory letter," says some
pert wit of the last age. True ; but this need not be
dull for that reason, as it will not try to obtrude in-
sipid consolation. Lord Grwydir is dead, and I am
very sorry ; happiest that we were no better acquainted,
for then I should have been more sorry at his loss.
I saw expected the stroke, though shrinking from
it : and yet, without death, toils, virtues, hopes would
make but one chimera. I will go wait for mine at the
Land's End, a proper place enough, if bordering on the
ocean of eternity. This place adds to the small but
strong threads that fasten one to life ; . . it is so beau-
tiful. The situation so like Naples ; the view so like
that from Brynbella, but too expensive.
I will go feed on fish and chickens at Penzance, and
if I ever should come back to the living world again,
will hasten through dear Adbury to see if she who is
now a queen regnant, despotic over the minds of multi-
tudes, will have used her arbitrary power mildly, or set
your metropolis o' fire, as she doubtless could to-morrow,
if she chose it. " There is a tide, however, in the affairs
of men," as Shakespear says, and if she misses it, must
lake the consequences. Thais carried a brand to Perse-
polis on less provocation, and Phryne delighted in build-
ing up the walls of Thebes, which Alexander destroyed.
We must learn the lady's disposition before we pro-
X 4
212 LETTERS.
nounce on the future. The present is tremendous to
be sure. Salusbury talked of visiting me in Cornewall,
but will, I fancy, let that alone, as he will not find the
derivation an exact one : Corno Wallia, horn of abun-
dance to Wales. If I save any money, I will spend it
on myself, doing my own way.
Mrs. Pennington lives here, and is most hospitably
kind to me. What a proof of the mutability of taste
does this little district exhibit ! When she married
from Streatham Park, where we passed much time
together, Mr. Pennington was master of ceremonies at
the Hot Wells, and considered his post as worth 4.001. o'
year. The place is now deserted, a spot for hospitals or
national schools, and their house, with five elegant rooms
on a floor, a perfect and positive incumbrance, such
as they can neither let nor sell. Sidmouth, too, where
I remember she ran with her mother one summer,
afforded quite incomparable lodging and boarding for
them and their maid : one guinea only o' week. A
gentleman told me just now, he paid seven pounds o'
week for a house there.
Let me find a letter directed to Post office, Penzance,
and tell me dear Maria is never sick like Salusbury's chil-
dren ; which, however, do not die, thank God ! but battle
their way, as it appears, through dreadful illnesses or
they dream so. Oh, if we knew what babies coming
into the world were born to see and suffer, with what
different looks should we contemplate their growing
beauties ! but the distant hills always look soft and fair,
not rough and rocky as on nearer approach. May your
LETTERS. 313
younglings be happy, and yourself, dear Sir, as happy
as is wished you by her, who will ever retain a grateful
sense of that partial good opinion which is the boast of
poor
H. L. P.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Penzance, 12 August, 1820.
" How happy is the blameless vestal's lot,
The world forgetting, by the world forgot ! "
says old H. L. Piozzi at eighty-one, and dear Sir James
Fellowes, as he well may, laughing at her; but any
antiquated joke is better than too long and too seriously
to lament, as I fear our dear-loved Doctor does, the
common fate of humanity in poor Lord Grwydir. What-
ever we lose in this world we cannot very long be
sorrowing for. My life, and that of your excellent
father, though drawn out to such uncommon length,
are but as points imperceptible as this, in the folio-
page of eternity, to which we are approaching like the
second-hand upon a stop-watch, that moves round
while we look off and on again.
" Yea, but all this did I know before," say you ; " it
would be better tell about Penzance."
The only place I know but little of. Why then Pen-
zance, if I'm to live another fourscore years and
rival old Harry Jenkins, will be to me what Minorca is
to Dr. F , a place of recollection for cheap living,
and the best eating possible. Red mullets large and
314 LETTERS.
beautiful, 4c?. o' piece ; pipers and dories, herrings,
almost for carrying home. Kid, as in the Tyrolese
Alps, where we ate it, you know, stuck with rosemary ;
and mutton exactly like that in North Wales, small,
fat, and tender. Now for the negative catalogue. No
conversation, no circulating library, no rooms for pur-
pose of assembling to dance, chat, or play at cards ; no
theatre, no music meeting, no pictures, and what is
stranger far, no picturesque, the bay alone excepted.
For the country Churchill might have looked south as
well as north when he exclaimed,
" Far as the eye can reach no tree was seen,
Earth, clad in russet, scorn'd the living green."
Oh ! 'tis a melancholy place for talking folks. Botanists,
however, may justly delight in it. Every wretched
habitation has a garden, perfumed by carnations and
redolent of sweets from many a foreign shrub whose name
I know not ; for the whole place is in itself a sun-trap ;
and if they cultivated vines here, here they would grow.
They are, however, occupied, and skilled too, I believe,
in underground acquisitions. Mining is both the busi-
ness and pleasure of people here ; and while it does
seem as if earth's surface at this time teemed with
events capable of arresting attention, our Cornish neigh-
bours set up a geological school, and spend what intellect
they have on feltzspar and quartz ; little heeding whether
Paris is burned by incendiaries, or Spain torn in pieces
by a civil war ; whether condemnation or acquittal of a
conspicuous princess endangers the safety of our own
LETTERS. 315
metropolis, or whether old Eome is to be destroyed at
last by her own hands, avoiding threatened ills from
foreign power, and expiring, as her scorpions do, by
suicide.
Dear Mrs. Siddons, when I lived much with her and
with the Kembles, used to say my principal charac-
teristic was candour, giving the good and bad in every
description of people and of things. I hope ill-fortune,
ill-health, or ill-humour have not yet spoiled me for
" an honest chronicler " like my countryman, Griffith,
who in Shakespear's Henry VIII. gives an account of
Cardinal Wolsey's death and conduct, balancing the
good and evil.
"Tis really no bad thing now to possess my much-
praised memory, for books here are none, and I left mine
(" Thraliana " with them) in the good ship "Happy
Return," bound for Penzance, in the Cumberland Bason,
Bristol, with our cook, plate, linen, clothes, tea, wine,
every earthly thing on board, three long weeks ago ;
nay, four, by the time my friends at Adbury receive
this letter from a distant region.
Write to me, dear Sir James, oh pray write for pity
on a poor creature starving for intellectual food, in
danger of repletion from too much corporeal. Bessy
has made herself sick with crab, a downright cholera,
and Lord! how I was frighted; but we have a good
physician, Dr. Forbes, and the danger is all over.
Adieu. Did we not once, in the little room, New
King Street, agree that nothing but the consciousness
of having done right could comfort solitary moments ?
316 LETTERS.
But alas ! your honour's fine Bible, in three vols. folio,
is even now tossing on the ocean. I would it were come
to console yours and your father's, and your brothers',
and deai 1 , dear Fellie's everlastingly obliged
H. L. PIOZZI.
To Miss Willoughby.
Penzance, Fryday, 25 August, 1820.
FRANK or no frank, I rejoyce to see the handwriting
of dear Miss Willoughby in this distant region to which
I have condemned myself for a long portion of my short
life. As I have lived, however, eighty-one years next
January, I may exist on to April and May, if it should so
please Grod ; and then no fear but of my too great haste
to join the living world again in a quiet way, for over-
grown society is as great a burden nay, greater to me
than solitude. At your age, however, it is not only
pleasant but proper that somewhat of life should be
learned, and you were fortunate in finding London gay
and communicative. Doctor Johnson said that after
the full flow of London conversation, every place was
a blank ; I wonder what he would have thought of dull
Penzance? We had a Spenceiana in our hands at
Streatham Park while he was writing the Poets' Lives ;
and when I borrowed the Anecdotes at Bath, there was
little quite new, but it seemed to me that Spence was
partial.
My paper, the "Morning Post," about three days
LETTERS. 317
back mentions a case in point to the present upon
tryal.* What can he mean? I have" cudgelled my
brains, and turned over Wraxall's " Memoirs " in vain,
Chough the event was in 1780, the editor says, a year I
remember but too well. Ask Mrs. Fox if she can guess
what story he alludes to, and tell me what wonders
Lord Byron is come home to do, for I see his arrival in
the paper. His grandmother was my intimate friend, a
Cornish lady, Sophia Trevanion, wife to the Admiral,
pour ses peches, and we called her Mrs. B^ron always,
after the French manner. The friends you live among
are more likely to know facts concerning Atterbury's
tryal than I am, and where to find the letter, for such
a letter there is, sure enough. Pope's letter to the
Bishop at parting is pretty, and tender, and touchant ;
but I have not a good edition of Swift here,- and the
reading people of this town study only what is under
ground, neglectful of the superfices. We have a geo-
logical school here, and professors ; better than Weston-
super-Mare, you'll say, where two books only were to
be found in the place, a Bible and a Paradise Lost.
I bought them both.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Penzance, 23rd Sept, 1820.
MY dear Sir James Fellowes should not have been
followed up in this shameless manner, but that a letter
* The Queen's Trial.
318 LETTERS.
from his brother Dorset, to whom I owe so much of
kindness and obedience, charged me to write imme-
diately to Adbury, and say he was well and happy (as
it appears) at Paris. It made me so to understand how.
quiet all is there ; and but that I believe the calm pre-
cedes bourrasque, my heart might be easy as to poor
Louis Dix-huit, who I must love both as a king and in-
dividual. When he shall be removed, much misery
will befall that devoted nation, which having set fire to
all Europe, will herself perish first in the flame. You
know I cried proximus ardet long ago ; but no one lis-
tened.
Meanwhile, here am I at Penzance. " Ay," says the
fool, hi Shakespear's "As You Like It," "here am I
in the Forest of Ardennes, thou fool I." But 'tis plain
my fancy was not guided by his, who admonishes mortal
man not to dwell either in a ditch, or on a terrace ;
you have always found me either in the one, or on the
other
Meanwhile, Charles Shephard has written to me
from Santa Lucia, where he is Attorney-General, and
where, from the public newspapers, he heard of my
octogenary fete, and wished me joy with unabated good
humour.
Prosperity does make, or keep people good-humoured,
and if I can live to the 10th of July, 1821, I will be
good humoured too ; unless the radicals break up our
funds entirely. For love of the Queen and the country,
Cobbett did say in some of his papers three years ago,
what a pleasure it would be to see 300,000 people starv-
LETTERS. 319
ing ; for then we should get rid of six individuals to
him very obnoxious. A cheerful calculation ! For my
own part, however, I hope to come out next year with
the swallows, if possible : they, and the sun, and your
most humble servant, are all half torpid, or retired at
least during winter ; and they tell me there is no winter
at Penzance. A lady said here the other day, that she
went to Taunton last year, to see skaiting a diversion
she had often heard of, and that she was gratified du-
ring her absence from home with a heavy fall of snow.
I rather fancy there is some truth in all this, because
of the shrubs in every little garden plot : rhododen-
dron now in beauty ; myrtles covered with bloom, like
Italy ; and the arbutus high as an apple-tree, very hand-
some indeed, sed non omnes arbusta juvant, humiles-
que myricce ; and if I am doomed to six months' exile,
the finding myself in Botany Bay, will afford small
consolation. Old friends in leather jackets, the books,
do not desert me, and new friends are civil, send me
figs and peaches, and invite me to their little parties,
where we play sixpenny whist comfortably enough.
Apropos to whist, you see the Duke of Grafton's papers
explained nothing concerning who wrote Junius.
To Sir James Fellowes.
Penzance ; Wednesday, 4 Jan. 1821.
MIL Auos y mas, viva V. M., my dear Sir James Fel-
lowes, whom I hasten to make again my debtor, as dili-
320 LETTERS.
gently as Tully* would hasten to make me so. I owe
him but Wl. now, however, and dividend day is coming.
Apropos, my tenant, and your honour's not very
near neighbour but neighbour compared to the dis-
tance I live at from all the world is in arrears 91?.
he did squeeze out 1091. of the October money just
before Christmas, and promised the rest ; but those
promises, like Tully's pie-crust, are made to be broken ;
a pdt& vol au vent, I suppose.
I, and Miss Willoughby, who followed me unin-
vited ; came hither professedly to avoid winter ; and
never in my sight did winter assume so terrific, so
formidable a form: the sea rising to a tremendous
height ; fogs and snow thickening all around ; and
when any one is able to stand the storm, and call at
the house, tales of shipwreck in every mouth. I will
come to Penzance no more.
Meanwhile, poor Bath has, as you say, been suffer-
ing by the other destructive element ; what a mercy
that I was able to discharge Upham's long bill, before
he was burned out of the premises I have often felt
happy in. The fire-eaters would have been perhaps no
better, they could not have been more active or friendly
assistants than that charming Loder, the violin-player ;
who volunteered his services, and resigned the ruining
those delicate fingers, by which alone he lives, to save
the property of a man whose prejudices all militate
against stage and orchestra. But virtue and genius
should go together, and they commonly do.
* The Bath confectioner.
LETTERS. 321
The Bath newspaper tells of a clergyman at New-
bury, who has prayed for the Queen ever since Greorge
4th's accession, but who is now forbidden to do so by
his Bishop.
Old Bead on, Bishop of Bath and Wells, is in articulo
mortis, I understand, and probably Dr. Hall, if he is
the bold man who stept forward with the prohibition,
will succeed him. Llandaff was treated very roughly
on less provocation by half.
Fine times 1 are they not. The retrospect may be
entertaining to the century ; but this, young as it is,
will smart, I think, before the year 1850.
Pourriture avant maturite, as the great Frederick
of Prussia used to deprecate for his own government. I
have never had courage to look in " Thraliana " since
my arrival; so little does looking backward delight
me.
At eighty-one years old 'tis time to begin reconnoi-
tring, when we know that retreat is impossible. Twenty
years, y mas, have elapsed, since my two quartos were
sent out, like Hamblet's father, with all their imperfec-
tions on their head. Well ! no matter.
Do you remember the Name Book ? it ended with Ze-
nobia, and I must tell a story of a Cornish gentlewoman
hard by here, Zenobia Stevens, who held a lease under
the Duke of Bolton by her own life only ninety-nine
years and going at the term's end ten miles to give
it up. She obtained kind permission to continue in the
house as long as she lived, and was asked, of course, to
drink a glass of wine. She did take one, but declined
VOL. II. Y
322 LETTERS.
the second, saying, she had to ride home in the twilight
upon a young colt, and was afraid to make herself giddy
headed.
Don't I hear you cry, bravo Zenobia ?
's pretty wife is screaming, I believe : she has
outlived two accoucheurs. No wonder : I do think a
country practitioner (meaning a medical man of all
work) should have an iron constitution.* Our agreeable
Dr. Forbes seems so endowed : a Scotchman, a com-
petent scholar, full of country anecdote, and he told
me the true tale of Zenobia, whose daughter died
the other day, aged ninety-eight only. Those who
said no snow was ever seen at Penzance, dealt in
fiction and fable : here is a heavy snow this moment,
and but that the sea is open enough, Grod knows, I
should call it a polar winter. Dr. Parry's son will
go again, it seems, for another 50001. ; other induce-
ment there can be none, and the most curious cir-
cumstance of the voyage is an account given by one of
the officers, how his Irish setter, a tall smooth spaniel,
attracted the attentions of a she wolf on Melville Is-
land, who made love to the handsome dandy, and seduced
him at length to end his days with her and her rough-
haired family, refusing every invitation of return to the
ship ; a certain proof that dog, fox, jackall, &c. are only
accidental varieties ; while lupo is head of the house,
penkennedil, as Welsh and Cornish people call it.
* In one of her marginal notes she quotes the saying of a dis-
tinguished lawyer, that a judge should have a face of brass, a con-
stitution of iron, and a bottom of lead.
LETTERS. 323
Adieu ! I am going to eat a cod's-head, which you
would be happy to give two guineas for, when Lord
Carnarvon dines with you. My servants have the rest
for their dinner to-day and to-morrow. The whole fish
cost half-a-crown. But there is a mermaid coming to
England I hear. That she ends in piscem, I partly
believe, but mulier foi^mosa I doubt. No room for
more nonsense, scarce enough to say how many wishes
for yours and your family's happiness are breathed in
this distant region by, dear Sir, yours and their most
obliged and grateful and faithful servant,
H. L. PIOZZI.
To William Dorset Felloives, Esq.
Penzance, 14 February, 1821.
WELL, my dear Sir,
This day, whate'er the fates decree,
Shall still be kept with joy by me.
Sir James had a long letter from me some weeks ago,
but I believe his tooth ache was so bad he never minded
it. There has been a new attack made on my property,
of which I gave him an account ; but it will end in
smoke before I can have time to tell you the tale, which
relates to dividends left standing, unclaimed, an im-
mense while, in the names of Thrale and Gifford.
Some Mr. K , I know not who, flies at me to ask
what I did with them ? (rod knows I did nothing with
them, nor ever heard a breath concerning the matter,
y 2
324 LETTERS.
till his letter put me upon inquiry, and having written
to Mrs. Merick Hoare, she consoles me by bearing testi-
mony to my innocence of having ever touched this GOOl.
which this gentleman believes himself heir to.
But this comes of too long life. My coadjutors and
brethren in the executorship were, it seems (but I knew
it not), every one dead, when this stock was sold ; and
the name of poor H. L. Piozzi answers for all at the
distance of fifteen years. If Mr. K ever crosses
your way, do tell him I am an honest creature, incapa-
ble of wronging even a fly. My husband's illness, and
my attendance on him who took up my whole heart and
thought, did I suppose obliterate the transaction from
my mind ; which certainly does retain no trace of it.
Your duty as Secretary to the Lord Great Chamber-
lain of England * will now become less irksome, I hope,
and friendship may have her share of your active bene-
ficence ; your dear sister is silent, but I am willing to
believe pleasure helps detain her from her pen.
Conway is in high favour at Bath, the papers say ; so
indeed do private letters. That young man's value will
be one day properly appreciated ; and then you and I
will be found to have been quite right all along.
Tell me about Miss Wilson meanwhile, and whether
'tis somewhat in the Billington style, that she is excel-
ling all the world so. My heart tells me 'tis a long
continued warble like hers which ever fascinates both
skilful and unskilful critics ; and which is more the gift
of nature than of art.
* Lord Gwydir.
LETTERS. 325
But I hate reasoning down our own enjoyments ; 'tis
like burning down rubies in a concave glass : the French
never do it, and you will soon visit them, I dare say.
En attendant je vous souhaite, Monsieur it was a
bishop's wish you know Paris en ce monde, Paradis
en Vautre.
To Miss Willoughby.
No. 10, Sion Row, Clifton,
16 March, 1821.
SOMETHING tells me vanity I suppose that dear
Miss Willoughby will be glad to hear I am where I wish
to be, on the sweet Gloucestershire Downs, numberless
old acquaintance, and some new, kindly expressing
pleasure at my return. Poor Mrs. Yorke, 10,000/.
richer than when we parted ; ten years older, and all in
ten months' time ; Mrs. Lambart's death, Sir Philip
Jennings' sister, caused the alteration. Our friend Con-
way is not younger ; he won't play Master Slender now ;
his enquiries after you were very kind indeed, and he
rejoyced for my sake that Penzance was your chosen
retreat. Oh, how he regrets his Lesserillo ! But Mr.
Green has secured 5001. per annum, with an agreeable
woman, and must not, for shame, lament the profession,
which will not soon cease to lament him. The benefits
are thin I hear, but that for which we are interested
gives good hope. Monday, 26th, will be the day, and
Mirandola, with the Chevalier de Moranges, the night's
entertainment. I have seen the future footman ; he will
Y 3
326 LETTERS.
at worst be better than poor James, I suppose : who is
gone to Bath now on a frolic : Bessy tearing her hair,
and Mrs. Pennington exhausting all her eloquence in
expressions of wrath and anger.
It is almost time to tell you what a providence
watched over your old friend at Exeter, after my letter
was written , at three o'clock, Sunday morning. The
bed was very high, and getting into it, I set my foot on
a light chair, which flew from the pressure, and re-
venged it on my leg in a terrible manner.
The wonder is, no bones were broken ; only a cruel
bruise and slight tear, and we trotted on hither, after
cathedral service, at which I hardly could kneel to thank
God for my escape. So Sir John may look to my de-
mise now at his leisure, and my legacy [leg I see].
"Not a mouse stirring," the French translators of
Hamlet rendered, " Je n'ai pas entendu un souris
trotter." Our mouse could not trot without your assist-
ance ; with it, he performed his journey beautiffully ;
though I did feel a horrid pang about my own impru-
dence, running into a dirty cottage on the road, full of
the small-pox. Long live vaccination, however, and
Dr. Jenner who first devised it.
Sunday, 18.
Here is a storm worthy of Mount's Bay ; your billows
must roar finely this morning. Bessy would not trust
me to church,! should have been blown down the hill, she
says. So since Mr. Le Grris's blessing has helped bring
me safe hither, I must not press it further, but sit pretty
LETTERS. 327
and put my leg upon a chair, instead of my foot. Was
not it a horrid accident ? and in the dead of the night
so ! Dr. Forbes will be very sorry, for poor H. L. P.,
always a blue, now a black and blue, lady, bruised, say
you, from top to toe ? " My Lord, from head to foot."
The pet books, sent by waggon from Penzance (Pas-
coe's cart carried them), are not arrived yet. The ship
things all came safe.
To Sir James Fellowes.
24 March, 1821, Sunday Morning.
YOUR letter only came last night.
My dear Sir James Fellowes, though a tardy corre-
spondent is always a kind one. True it is, that your
sister has seduced me to dine with her on Tuesday
next ; and rejoyce in our friend Conway's success, which
I hope to witness on Monday evening.
True it is, that I arrived at Clifton on the 12th
March, escaping the stormy equinox, which must have
shaken poor Penzance to the foundation. It is built
upon the sand, so no wonder. True it is, that I hope
to shew myself to you unimpaired, as to appearance ;
but my value will be lessened because I have broken my
shin. Is not that the case now and then with a quick
goer ? Sleeping in Russel Street, however, would not
do. I have asked Miss "Williams to dine with Mrs.
Pennington and me at the Elephant and Castle, where
I will set up my repose, and keep my 1. e. g my elegy
in good repair. Mrs. Pennington is quite poetical,
y 4
328 LETTERS.
always eloquent on that, and every subject. Since my
arrival at Sion Hill, for there I occupy a lodging till
my house in the Crescent is ready, two parcels
directed by tying friends, have given me a mournful
sensation : they are letters written by me to them in
distant days, I know not how happy. You will have to
look them over after my death, and I dare say they are
better than those I write now. My intention, however,
is not to be in haste : though Salusbury seemed to
apprehend his journey would be long and expensive if
I died at Penzance. So here is poor aunt at the em-
bouchure of his favourite River Severn, and here he
may come after (the 10th of July) to look after the
demise and the legacy [leg I see] ; but he must stay
away till I have put my house in order.
* " On the day following the date of this letter, which was the
last I received from Mrs. Piozzi, I called at the Castle and
Elephant at Bath, and found her and Mrs. Pennington. She was
in high spirits, joking ab'out the I. e.g. She dined with my
father and sister, at No. 7, Russell Street, and was throughout the
evening the admiration of the company, amongst whom were Mrs.
Pemiington, the lady so often mentioned in Anna Seward's cor-
respondence as the beautiful and agreeable Sophia Weston ;
Admiral Sir Henry Bayntun, G.C.B., a distinguished naval officer
at the battle of Trafalgar ; Mr. Lutwyche (Mr. Lutwyche's house
in Marlborough-buildings was celebrated for its hospitality, and as
the resort of all the most agreeable society at Bath. Mrs. L. was
the daughter of Sir Noah Thomas, a baronet and distinguished
physician) ; and Mr. Conway, the actor, who was held in high
estimation for his excellent private character. He fell overboard
and was drowned on his passage from New York/' Sir J.
Fettowes.
329
MISCELLANEOUS EXTEACTS FROM
" THRALIANA."*
Miss Streatfield. I have since heard that Dr. Collier
picked up a more useful friend, a Mrs. Streatfield, a
widow, higli in fortune and rather eminent both for
the beauties of person and mind ; her children, I find,
he has been educating ; and her eldest daughter is just
now coming out into the world with a great character
for elegance and literature. 20 November, 1776.
19 May, 1778. The person who wrote the title of
this book at the top of the page, on the other side
left hand in the black letter, was the identical Miss
Sophia Streatfield, mentioned in " Thraliana, " as
pupil to poor dear Doctor Collier, after he and I
had parted. By the chance meeting of some of the
currents which keep this ocean of human life from
stagnating, this lady and myself were driven together
nine months ago at Brighthelmstone ; we soon grew
intimate from having often heard of each other, and I
have now the honour and happiness of calling her my
friend. Her face is eminently pretty; her carriage
* These extracts reached me after the preceding sheets were
printed off.
330 THRALIANA.
elegant; her heart affectionate, and her mind culti-
vated. There is above all this an attractive sweetness
in her manner, which claims and promises to repay
one's confidence, and which drew from me the secret of
my keeping a " Thraliana," &c. &c. &c.
Jan. 1779. Mr. Thrale is fallen in love really and
seriously with Sophy Streatfield ; but there is no wonder
in that : she is very pretty, very gentle, soft, and insinu-
ating ; hangs about him, dances round him, cries when
she parts from him, squeezes his hand slyly, and with her
sweet eyes full of tears looks so fondly in his face* and
all for love of me as she pretends ; that I can hardly,
sometimes, help laughing in her face. A man must
not be a man but an it, to resist such artillery. Mar-
riott said very well,
" Man flatt'ring man, not always can prevail,
But woman flatt'ring man, can never fail."
Murphy did not use, I think, to have a good opinion
of me, but he seems to have changed his mind this
Christmas, and to believe better of me. I am glad
on't to be sure : the suffrage of such a man is well worth
having : he sees Thrale's love of the fair S. S. I sup-
pose : approves my silent and patient endurance of what
I could not prevent by more rough and sincere be-
haviour.
" And Merlin look'd and half believed her true,
So tender was her voice, so fair her face,
So sweetly gleam'd her eyes behind her tears,
Like sunlight on the plain, behind a shower."
Idylls of The King Vivien.
MISS STEEATFIELD. 331
20 January, 1780. Sophy Streatfield is come
to town, she is in the " Morning Post " too, I see
(to be in the " Morning Post " is no good thing). She
has won Wedderburne's heart from his wife, I be-
lieve, and few married women will bear that patiently
if I do ; they will some of them wound her reputation,
so that I question whether it can recover. Lady
Erskine made many odd enquiries about her to me
yesterday, and winked and looked wise at her sister.
The dear S. S. must be a little on her guard ; nothing-
is so spiteful as a woman robbed of a heart she thinks
she has a claim upon. She will not lose that with
temper, which she has taken perhaps no pains at all to
preserve : and I do not observe with any pleasure, I
fear, that my husband prefers Miss Streatfield to me,
though I must acknowledge her younger, handsomer,
and a better scholar. Of her chastity, however, I never
had a doubt : she was bred by Dr. Collier in the strictest
principles of piety and virtue ; she not only knows she
will be always chaste, but she knows why she will be
so. Mr. Thrale is now by dint of disease quite out of
the question, so I am a disinterested spectator ; but her
coquetry is very dangerous indeed, and I wish she were
married that there might be an end on't. Mr. Thrale
loves her, however, sick or well, better by a thousand
degrees than he does me or any one else, and even now
desires nothing on earth half so much as the sight of
his Sophia.
" E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries !
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires ! ' '
332 THRALIANA.
The Saturday before Mr. Thrale was taken ill
Saturday, 1 9th February he was struck Monday,
21st February we had a large party to tea, cards, and
supper ; Miss Streatfield was one, and as Mr. Thrale
sate by her, he pressed her hand to his heart (as she
told me herself), and said " Sophy, we shall not enjoy
this long, and to-night I will not be cheated of my only
comfort." Poor soul ! how shockingly tender ! on the
first Fryday that he spoke after his stupor, she came to
see him, and as she sate by the bedside pitying him,
" Oh," says he, " who would not suffer even all that I
have endured to be pitied by you ! " This I heard
myself.
Here is Sophy Streatfield again, handsomer than
ever, and flushed with new conquests: the Bishop of
Chester feels her power, I am sure ; she showed me a
letter from him that was as tender and had all the
tokens upon it as strong as ever I remember to have
seen 'em ; I repeated to her out of Pope's Homer
" Very well, Sophy," says I :
" Range undisturb'd among the hostile crew,
But touch not Hinchliffe * } Hinchliffe is my due."
Miss Streatfield (says my master) could have quoted
these lines in the Greek ; his saying so piqued me, and
piqued me because it was true. I wish I understood
Greek ! Mr. Thrale's preference of her to me never
vexed me so much as my consciousness or fear at
least that he has reason for his preference. She has
* For Hector.
MISS STREATFIELD. 333
ten times my beauty, and five times my scholarship
wit and knowledge has she none.
May, 1781. Sophy Streatfield is an incomprehensible
girl ; here has she been telling me such tender passages
of what passed between her and Mr. Thrale, that she
half frights me somehow, at the same time declaring her
attachment to Vyse yet her willingness to marry Lord
Loughborough. Good Grod ! what an uncommon girl !
and handsome almost to perfection, I think : delicate in
her manners, soft in her voice, and strict in her prin-
ciples : I never saw such a character, she is wholly out
of my reach ; and I can only say that the man who
runs mad for Sophy Streatfield has no reason to be
ashamed of his passion; few people, however, seem
disposed to take her for life everybody's admiration,
as Mrs. Byron says, and nobody's choice.
Streatham, 1st January, 1782. Sophy Streatfield
has begun the new year nicely with a new conquest.
Poor dear Doctor Burney ! lie is now the reigning
favourite, and she spares neither pains nor caresses to
turn that good man's head, much to the vexation of his
family ; particularly my Fanny, who is naturally pro-
voked to see sport made of her father in his last stage
of life by a young coquet, whose sole employment in
this world seems to have been winning men's hearts on
purpose to fling them away. How she contrives to
keep bishops, and brewers, and doctors, and directors of
the East India Company, all in chains so, and almost
all at the same time, would amaze a wiser person than
me ; I can only say let us mark the end ! Hester will
334 THRALIANA.
perhaps see her out and pronounce, like Solon, on her
wisdom and conduct.
Miss Nicholson. After stating that she went to
London, early in June, 1784, to procure a suitable
companion for her daughters, after her marriage with
Piozzi should have taken place, and mentioning several
disappointments, Mrs. Piozzi goes on to say :
" Providence, however, directed a Miss Nicholson to
my door, and her peculiarly pleasing manners attracted
me strongly. She referred me to Mr. Evans of South-
wark for her character ; and to every exterior accom-
plishment no objection could be made. Correct though
sprightly, and steady though cheerful in her manner :
the elegance of her form, the maturity of her age, and
the soft expression of her countenance fixed my elec-
tion, and I brought home to my daughters a woman of
fashion fit for them to reside or converse or consult
with. This sweet Miss Nicholson will make all still
more smooth to me ; she is a well-wisher to the cause,
and will, when the girls are parted from me, keep them
from hating or trampling on the memory of a mother
who adores them : she professes to like me excessively,
and if she does, oh, how happy may this connection, so
accidental and so extraordinary, make my poor suffering
heart ! (rod bless her ! "
Baretti. Baretti had a comical aversion to Mrs. Ma-
caulay, and his aversions are numerous and strong. If I
had not once written his character in verse, I would now
write it in prose, for few people know him better : he was
Dieu me pardonne, as the French say my inmate
BARETTI. 335
for very near three years ; and though I really liked the
man once for his talents, and at last was weary of him
for the use he made of them, I never altered my sen-
timents concerning him ; for his character is easily seen,
and his soul above disguise, haughty and insolent, and
breathing defiance against all mankind ; while his
powers of mind exceed most people's, and his powers of
purse are so slight that they leave him dependent on all.
Baretti is for ever in the state of a stream dammed up :
if he could once get loose, he would bear down all
before him.
Every soul that visited at our house while he was
master of it, went away abhorring it ; and Mrs. Mon-
tagu, grieved to see my meekness so imposed upon,
had thoughts of writing me on the subject an anony-
mous letter, advising me to break with him. Seward,
who tried at last to reconcile us, confessed his wonder
that we had lived together so long. Johnson used to
oppose and battle him, but never with his own consent :
the moment he was cool, he would always condemn him-
self for exerting his superiority over a man who was his
friend, a foreigner, and poor : yet I have been told by
Mrs. Montagu that he attributed his loss of our family
to Johnson : ungrateful and ridiculous ! if it had not
been for his mediation, I would not so long have borne
trampling on, as I did for the last two years of our
acquaintance.
Not a servant, not a child, did he leave me any autho-
rity over ; if I would attempt to correct or dismiss
them, there was instant appeal to Mr. Baretti, who was
336 THRALIANA.
sure always to be against me in every dispute. With
Mr. Thrale I was ever cautious of contending, conscious
that a misunderstanding there could never answer, as I
have no friend or relation in the world to protect me
from the rough treatment of a husband, should he
chuse to exert his prerogatives ; but when 1 saw Baretti
openly urging Mr. Thrale to cut down some little fruit
trees my mother had planted and I had begged might
stand, I confess I did take an aversion to the creature,
and secretly resolved his stay should not be prolonged
by my intreaties whenever his greatness chose to take
huff and be gone. As to my eldest daughter, his beha-
viour was most ungenerous ; he was perpetually spur-
ring her to independence, telling her she had more
sense and would have a better fortune than her mother,
whose admonitions she ought therefore to despise ; that
she ought to write and receive her own letters now,
and not submit to an authority I could not keep up if
she once had the spirit to challenge it ; that, if I died
in a lying-in which happened while he lived here, he
hoped Mr. Thrale would marry Miss Whitbred, who
would be a pretty companion for Hester, and not tyran-
nical and overbearing like me. Was I not fortunate to
see myself once quit of a man like this ? who thought
his dignity was concerned to set me at defiance, and who
was incessantly telling lies to my prejudice in the ears
of my husband and children ? When he walked out of
the house on the 6th day of July, 1776, I wrote down
what follows in my table book.
6 July, 1776. This day is made remarkable by the
BARETTI. 337
departure of Mr. Baretti, who has, since October, 1773,
been our almost constant inmate, companion, and, I
vainly hoped, our friend. On the llth of November,
1773, Mr. Thrale let him have 50., and at our return
from France 501. more, besides his clothes and pocket
money : in return to all this, he instructed our eldest
daughter or thought he did and puffed her about
the town for a wit, a genius, a linguist, &c. At the
beginning of the year 1776, we purposed visiting Italy
under his conduct, but were prevented by an unfore-
seen and heavy calamity : that Baretti, however, might
not be disappointed of money as well as of plea-
sure, Mr. Thrale presented him with 100 guineas,
which at first calmed his wrath a little, but did not,
perhaps, make amends for his vexation ; this I am
the more willing to believe, as Dr. Johnson not being
angry too, seemed to grieve him no little, after all our
preparations made.
Now Johnson's virtue was engaged ; and he, I
doubt not, made it a point of conscience not to in-
crease the distresses of a family already oppressed with
affliction. Baretti, however, from this time grew
sullen and captious; he went on as usual notwith-
standing, making Streatham his home, carrying on
business there, when he thought he had any to do,
and teaching his pupil at by-times when he chose so to
employ himself ; for he always took his choice of hours,
and would often spitefully fix on such as were particu-
larly disagreeable to me, whom he has now not liked a
long while, if ever he did. He, professed, ..however, a
VOL. II. Z
333 TIIEALIANA.
violent attachment to our eldest daughter ; said if she
had died instead of her poor brother, he should have
destroyed himself, with many as wild expressions of
fondness. Within these few days, when my back was
turned, he would often be telling her that he would
go away and stay a month, with other threats of
the same nature ; and she, not being of a caressing or
obliging disposition, never, I suppose, soothed his anger
or requested his stay.
Of all this, however, I can know nothing but from
her, who is very reserved, and whose kindness I can not
so confide in as to be sure she would tell me all that
passed between them ; and her attachment is probably
greater to him than me, whom he has always en-
deavoured to lessen as much as possible, both in her
eyes and what was worse her father's, by telling
him how my parts had been over-praised by Johnson,
and over-rated by the world ; that my daughter's skill
in languages, even at the age of fourteen, would vastly
exceed mine, and such other idle stuff; which Mr.
Thrale had very little care about, but which Hetty
doubtless thought of great importance. Be this as it
may, no angry words ever passed between him and me,
except perhaps now and then a little spar or so when
company was by, in the way of raillery merely.
Yesterday, when Sir Joshua and Fitzmaurice dined
here, I addressed myself to him with great particularity
of attention, begging his company for Saturday, as
I expected ladies, and said he must come and flirt
with them, &c. My daughter in the meantime kept
BARETTT. 339
on telling me that Mr. Baretti was grown very old
and very cross, would not look at her exercises, but
said he would leave this house soon, for it was no better
than Pandasmonium. Accordingly, the next day he
packed up his cloke-bag, which he had not done for
three years, and sent it to town ; and while we were
wondering what he would say about it at breakfast, he
was walking to London himself, without taking leave
of any one person, except it may be the girl, who owns
they had much talk, in the course of which he expressed
great aversion to me and even to her, who, he said, he
once thought well of.
Now whether she had ever told the man things
that I might have said of him in his absence, by
way of provoking him to go, and so rid herself of
his tuition ; whether he was puffed up with the last
100 guineas and longed to be spending it aW Italiano ;
whether he thought Mr. Thrale would call him back,
and he should be better established here than ever ;
or whether he really was idiot enough to be angry
at my threatening to whip Susan and Sophy for going
out of bounds, although he had given them leave, for
Hetty said that was the first offence he took huff at,
I never now shall know, for he never expressed himself
as an offended man to me, except one day when he was
not shaved at the proper hour forsooth, and then I
would not quarrel with him, because nobody was by,
and I knew him be so vile a lyar that I durst not trust
his tongue with a dispute. He is gone, however,
loaded with little presents from me, and with a large
z 2
340 THRALIANA.
share too of my good opinion, though I most sincerely
rejoice in his departure, and hope we shall never meet
more but by chance.
Since our quarrel I had occasion to talk of him with
Tom Davies, who spoke with horror of his ferocious
temper ; " and yet," says I, " there is great sensibility
about Baretti: I have seen tears often stand in his eyes."
" Indeed," replies Davies, " I should like to have seen
that sight vastly, when even butchers weep."
The Burney s. August, 1779. Fanny Burney has
been a long time from me ; I was glad to see her again ;
yet she makes me miserable too in many respects, so
restlessly and apparently anxious, lest I should give my-
self airs of patronage or load her with the shackles of
dependance. I live with her always in a degree of pain
that precludes friendship dare not ask her to buy me
a ribbon dare not desire her to touch the bell, lest she
should think herself injured lest she should forsooth
appear in the character of Miss Neville, and I in that
of the widow Bromley. See Murphy's " Know Your
Own Mind."
Fanny Burney has kept her room here in my house
seven days, with a fever or something that she called a
fever ; I gave her every medicine and every slop with
my own hand ; took away her dirty cups, spoons, &c. ;
moved her tables : in short, was doctor and nurse and
maid for I did not like the servants should have addi-
tional trouble lest they should hate her for it. And
now, with the true gratitude of a wit, she tells me,
that the world thinks the better of me for my civilities
to her. It does ? does it ?
MISS BUENEY. 311
Miss Burney was much admired at Bath (1780) ; the
puppy-men said, " She had such a drooping air and
such a timid intelligence ; " or, " a timid air," I think
it was, " and a drooping intelligence ; " never sure was
such a collection of pedantry and affection as filled Bath
when we were on that spot. How everything else and
everybody set off my gallant bishop. " Quantum Centa
solent inter viburna Cupressi." Of all the people I
ever heard read verse in my whole life, the best, the
most perfect reader, is the Bishop of Peterboro'.
1st July, 1780. Mrs. Byron, who really loves me,
was disgusted at Miss Burney's carriage to me, who
have been such a friend and benefactress to her : not
an article of dress, not a ticket for public places, not a
thing in the world that she could not command from
me : yet always insolent, always pining for home,
always preferring the mode of life in St. Martin's
Street to all I could do for her. She is a saucy-spirited
little puss to be sure, but I love her dearly for all that ;
and I fancy she has a real regard for me, if she did not
think it beneath the dignity of a wit, or of what she
values more the dignity of Dr. Burney's daughter to
indulge it. Such dignity ! the Lady Louisa of Leicester
Square ! In good time !
1781. What a blockhead Dr. Burney is to be
always sending for his daughter home so ! what a
monkey ! is not she better and happier with me than
she can be anywhere else ? Johnson is enraged at
the silliness of their family conduct, and Mrs. Byron
disgusted ; I confess myself provoked excessively, but
Z 3
342 TIIRALIANA.
I love the girl so dearly and the Doctor, too, for
that matter, only that he has such odd notions of
superiority in his own house, and will have his children
under his feet forsooth, rather than let 'em live in
peace, plenty, and comfort anywhere from home. If
I did not provide Fanny with every weareable every
wishable, indeed, it would not vex me to be served
so ; but to see the impossibility of compensating for the
pleasures of St. Martin's Street makes one at once
merry and mortified.
Dr. Burney did not like his daughter should learn
Latin even of Johnson, who offered to teach her for
friendship, because then she would have been as wise
as himself forsooth, and Latin was too masculine for
Misses. A narrow-souled goose-cap the man must be
at last, agreeable and amiable all the while too, be} ond
almost any other human creature. Well, mortal man
is but a paltry animal ! the best of us have such draw-
backs both upon virtue, wisdom, and knowledge.
September, 1781. My five fair daughters too! I
have so good a pretence to wish for long life to see
them settled. Like the old fellow in " Lucian," one is
never at a loss for an excuse. They are five lovely
creatures to be sure, but they love not me. Is it my
fault or theirs ?
August 28th, 1782. He (Piozzi) thinks still more
than he says, that I shall give him up ; and if Queeney
made herself more amiable to me, and took the proper
methods I suppose I should.
1st October, 1782. After analysing the state of her
DAUGHTERS. 343
heart and feelings towards Piozzi, and balancing the
pros and cons, she adds These objections would
increase in strength too, if my present state was a happy
one : but it really is not. I live a quiet life but not a
pleasant one. My children govern without loving me.
My friends caress and censure me. My money wastes
in expenses I do not enjoy, and my time in trifles I do
not approve ; every one is made insolent and no one
comfortable. My reputation unprotected, my heart un-
satisfied, my health unsettled. I will, however, resolve
on nothing.
April, 1783. I will go to Bath: nor health, nor
strength, nor my children's affections, have I. My
daughter does not, I suppose, much delight in this
scheme [viz. retrenchment of expenses and removal to
Bath], but why should I lead a life of delighting her,
who would not lose a shilling of interest or an ounce of
pleasure to save my live from perishing ?
Piozzi was ill. . . A sore throat, Pepys said it was,
with four ulcers in it : the people about me said it had
been lanced, and I mentioned it slightly before the girls.
" Has he cut his own throat ? " says Miss Thrale in her
quiet manner. This was less inexcusable because she
hated him, and the other was her sister : though, had
she exerted the good sense I thought her possessed of,
she would not have treated him so : had she adored,
and fondled, and respected him as he deserved from her
hands, from the heroic conduct he shewed in January
when he gave into her hands, that dismal day, all my
letters containing promises of marriage, protestations
z 4
344 TIIRALIANA.
of love, &c., who knows but she might have kept us
separated ? But never did she once caress or thank me,
never treat him with common civility, except on the
very day which gave her hopes of our final parting.
Worth while to be sure it was, to break one's heart for
her ! The other two are, however, neither wiser nor
kinder; all swear by her I believe, and follow her
footsteps exactly. Mr. Thrale had not much heart, but
his fair daughters have none at all.*
June, 1783. Most sincerely do I regret the sacrifice
I have made of health, happiness, and the society of a
worthy and amiable companion, to the pride and pre-
judice of three insensible girls, who would see nature
perish without concern . . . were their gratification
the cause.
The two youngest have, for ought I see, hearts as
impenetrable as their sister. They will all starve a
favourite animal all see with unconcern the afflictions
of a friend ; and when the anguish I suffered on their
account last winter, in Argyll Street, nearly took away
my life and reason, the younger ridiculed as a jest
those agonies which the eldest despised as a philosopher.
When all is said, they are exceeding valuable girls
beautiful in person, cultivated in understanding, and
well-principled in religion : high in their notions, lofty
in their carriage, and of intents equal to their expecta-
tions ; wishing to raise their own family by connections
with some more noble . . and superior to any feel-
* This is the very accusation the)' all brought against her.
CHARACTER OF JOHNSOX. 345
ing of tenderness which might clog the wheels of
ambition. What, however, is my state ? who am con-
demned to live with girls of this disposition ? to teach
without authority ; to be heard without esteem ; to be
considered by them as their superior in fortune, while I
live by the money borrowed from them ; and in good
sense, when they have seen me submit my judgment to
theirs at the hazard of my life and wits. Oh, 'tis a
pleasant situation ! and whoever would wish, as the
Greek lady phrased it, to teize himself and repent of
his sins, let him borrow his children's money, be in love
against their interest and prejudice, forbear to marry
by their advice, and then shut himself up and live with
them.*
Character of Johnson. One evening as I was giving
my tongue liberty to praise Mr. Johnson to his face, a
favour he would not often allow me, he said, in high
good humour, " Come, you shall draw up my character
your own way, and shew it me, that I may see what
you will say of me when I am gone." At night I wrote
as follows. -(Here followed the character which forms
the conclusion of the Anecdotes.'] At the end she
writes : " When I shewed him his Character next day,
for he would see it, he said, ' It was a very fine piece of
writing, and that I had improved upon Young,'' who he
saw was my model, he said, " for my flattery was still
* After Buckingham had been some time married to Fairfax's
daughter, he said it was like marrying the devil's daughter, and
keeping house with your father-in-law.
346 THRALIANA.
stronger than his, and yet, somehow or other, less
hyperbolical.' "
Baretti. Will. Burke was tart upon Mr. Baretti for
being too dogmatical in his talk about politics. " You
have," says he, "no business to be investigating the
characters of Lord Falkland or Mr. Hampden. . . .
You cannot judge of their merits, they are no country-
men of yours." " True," replied Baretti, " and you
should learn by the same rule to speak very cautiously
about Brutus and Mark Antony ; they are my country-
men, and I must have their characters tenderly treated
by foreigners."
Baretti could not endure to be called, or scarcely
thought, a foreigner, and indeed it did not often occur
to his company that he was one : for his accent was
wonderfully proper, and his language always copious,
always nervous, always full of various allusions, flowing
too, with a rapidity worthy of admiration, and far be-
yond the power of nineteen in twenty natives. Pie had
also a knowledge of the solemn language and the gay,
could be sublime with Johnson, or blackguard with the
groom ; could dispute, could rally, could quibble, in our
language. Baretti has, besides, some skill in music,
with a bass voice very agreeable, besides a falsetto which
he can manage so as to mimic any singer he hears. I
would also trust his knowledge of painting a long way.
These accomplishments, with his extensive power over
every modern language, make him a most pleasing
companion while he is in good-humour ; and his lofty
consciousness of his own superiority, which made him
BARETTI. 347
tenacious of every position, and drew him into a thou-
sand distresses, did not, I must own, ever disgust me,
till he began to exercise it against myself, and resolve
to reign in our house by fairly defying the mistress of
it. Pride, however, though shocking enough, is never
despicable, but vanity, which he possessed too, in an
eminent degree, will sometimes make a man near sixty
ridiculous.
France displayed all Mr. Baretti's useful powers
he bustled for us, he catered for us, he took care
of the child, he secured an apartment for the maid,
he provided for our safety, our amusement, our repose ;
without him the pleasure of that journey would never
have balanced the pain. And great was his disgust,
to be sure, when he caught us, as he often did, ridi-
culing French manners, French sentiments, &c. I
think he half cryed to Mrs. Payne, the landlady at
Dover, on our return, because we laughed at French
cookery, and French accommodations. Oh how he would
court the maids at the inns abroad, abuse the men
perhaps ! and that with a facility not to be exceeded, as
they all confessed, by any of the natives. But so he
could in Spain, I find, and so 'tis plain he could here.
I will give one instance of his skill in our low street
language. Walking in a field near Chelsea, he met a
fellow, who, suspecting him from dress and manner to
be a foreigner, said sneeringly, " Come, Sir, will you
show me the way to France ? " " No, Sir," says Baretti,
instantly, " but I will show you the way to Tyburn.'
Such, however, was his ignorance in a certain line, that
348 THEALIANA.
he once asked Johnson for information who it was com-
posed the Pater Noster, and I heard him tell Evans *
the story of Dives and Lazarus as the subject of a
poem he once had composed in the Milanese dialect,
expecting great credit for his powers of invention.
Evans owned to me that he thought the man drunk,
whereas poor Baretti was, both in eating and drinking,
a model of temperance. Had he guessed Evans's
thoughts, the parson's gown would scarcely have saved
him a knouting from the ferocious Italian.
When Johnson and Burke went to see Baretti in
Newgate, they had small comfort to give him, and bid
him not hope too strongly. " Why what can he fear,"
says Baretti, placing himself between 'em, " that holds
two such hands as I do ? "
An Italian came one day to Baretti, when he was
in Newgate for murder, to desire a letter of recom-
mendation for the teaching his scholars, when he
(Baretti) should be hanged. " You rascal," replies
Baretti, in a rage, " if I were not in my own apartment,
I would kick you down stairs directly."
Piozzi. Brighton, July, 1780. I have picked up
Piozzi here, the great Italian singer. He is amazingly
like my father: he shall teach Hester.
13 August, 1780. Piozzi is become a prodigious
favourite with me, he is so intelligent a creature, so
discerning, one can't help wishing for his good opinion ;
his singing surpasses everybody's for taste, tenderness,
* Evans -was a clergyman and (I believe) rector of Southwark.
PIOZZI. GOSSIP. 349
and true elegance ; his hand on the forte piano too is so
soft, so sweet, so delicate, every tone goes to the heart,
I think, and fills the mind with emotions one would not
be without, though inconvenient enough sometimes.
He wants nothing from us : he comes for his health he
says : I see nothing ail the man but pride. The news-
papers yesterday told what all the musical folks gained,
and set Piozzi down 1200/. o' year.
14 January, 1782, Harley Street. I had a letter to-
day desiring me to dine in Wimpole Street, to meet
Mrs. Montagu, and a whole army of blues, to whom I
trust my refusal will afford very pretty speculation, and
they may settle my character and future conduct at
their leisure. Pepys is a worthless fellow at last : he
and his brother run about the town spying and en-
quiring what Mrs. Thrale is to do this winter, what
friends she is to see, what men are in her confidence,
how soon she will be married, &c. : the brother doctor,
the medico as we call him, lays wagers about me, I find.
God forgive me, but they'll make me hate them both,
and they are no better than two fools for their pains,
for I was willing to have taken them to my heart.
Harley Street, 13 April, 1782. When I took off my
mourning, the watchers watched me very exactly, "but
they whose hands were mightiest have found nothing :"
so I shall leave the town, I hope, in a good disposition
towards me, though I am sullen enough with the town
for fancying me such an amorous idiot that I am dying
to take up with every filthy fellow. God knows how dis-
tant such dispositions are from the heart and constitution
350 THRALIANA.
of H. L. T. Lord Loughboro', Sir Kichard Jebb, Mr.
Piozzi, Mr. Selwyn, Dr. Johnson, every man that comes
to the house, is put in the papers for me to marry. In
good time I wrote to day to beg the " Morning Herald "
would say no more about me, good or bad.
Streatham, 17 April, 1782. I am returned to Strea-
tham, pretty well in health and very sound in heart,
notwithstanding the watchers and the wager-layers, who
think more of the charms of their sex by half than I
who know them better. Love and friendship are distinct
things, and I would go through fire to serve many a
man whom nothing less than fire would force me to go
to bed to. Somebody mentioned my going to be mar-
ried t'other day, and Johnson was joking about it. I
suppose, Sir, said I, they think they are doing me
honour with these imaginary matches, when, perhaps
the man does not exist who would do me honour by
marrying me ! This, indeed, was said in the wild and
insolent spirit of Baretti, yet 'tis nearer the truth than
one would think for. A woman of passable person, an-
cient family, respectable character, uncommon talents,
and three thousand a year, has a right to think herself
any man's equal, and has nothing to seek but return of
affection from whatever partner she pitches on. To
marry for love would therefore be rational in me, who
want no advancement of birth or fortune, and till I am
in love, I will not marry, nor perhaps then.
October, 1782. There is no mercy for me in this
island. I am more and more disposed to try the con-
tinent. One day the paper rings with my marriage to
SCANDAL AND GOSSIP. 351
Johnson, one day to Crutchley*, one day to Seward. I
give no reason for such impertinence, but cannot deliver
myself from it. Whitbred, the rich brewer, is in love
with me too : oh, I would rather, as Ann Page says,
be set breast deep in the earth and bowled to death with
turnips.
Mr. Crutchley bid me make a curtsey to my daugh-
ters for keeping me out of a goal (sic), and the news-
papers insolent as he ! How shall I get through ? How
shall I get through ? I have not deserved it of any of
them, as Grod knows.
Philip Thicknesse put it about Bath that I was a poor
girl, a mantua maker, when Mr. Thrale married me.
It is an odd thing, but Miss Thrales like, I see, to have
it believed.
3 November, 1784. Yesterday I received a letter
from Mr. Baretti, full of the most flagrant and bitter
insults concerning my late marriage with Mr. Piozzi,
against whom, however, he can bring no heavier charge
than that he disputed on the road with an innkeeper
concerning the bill in his last journey to Italy ; while
he accuses me of murder and fornication in the grossest
terms, such as I believe have scarcely ever been used
even to his old companions in Newgate, whence he was
released to scourge the families which cherished, and
bite the hands that have since relieved him. Could I
recollect any provocation I ever gave the man, I should
be less amazed, but he heard, perhaps, that Johnson
* She suspected Crutchley to be the natural son of Thrale.
352 THKALIANA.
had written me a rough letter, and thought he would
write me a brutal one : like the Jewish king, who, trying
to imitate Solomon without his understanding, said,
" My father whipped you with whips, but I will whip
you with scorpions."
January, 1785. I see the English newspapers are
full of gross insolence to me : all burst out, as I guessed
it would, upon the death of Dr. Johnson. But Mr.
Boswell (who I plainly see is the authour) should let
the dead escape from his malice at least. I feel more
shocked at the insults offered to Mr. Thrale's memory
than at those cast on Mr. Piozzi's person. My present
husband, thank God ! is well and happy, and able to
defend himself: but dear Mr. Thrale, that had fostered
these cursed wits so long ! to be stung by their malice
even in the grave, is too cruel :
"Nor church, nor church-yards, from such fops are free." POPE.
1 786. It has always been my maxim never to influence
the inclination of another : Mr. Thrale, in consequence,
lived with me seventeen and a half years, during which
time I tried but twice to persuade him to do anything,
and but once, and that in vain, to let anything alone.
Even my daughters, as soon as they could reason, were
always allowed, and even encouraged, by me to reason
their own way, and not suffer their respect or affection
for me to mislead their judgment. Let us keep the
mind clear if we can from prejudices, or truth will never
be found at all.* The worst part of this disinterested
* " Clear your mind of cant.'' Jonxsoir.
SELF-EXAMINATION. 353
scheme is, that other people are not of my mind, and
if I resolve not to use my lawful influence to make my
children love me, the lookers-on will soon use their
unlawful influence to make them hate me : if I scrupu-
lously avoid persuading my husband to become a Lu-
theran or be of the English church, the Romanists will
be diligent to teach him all the narrowness and bitter-
ness of their own unfeeling sect, and soon persuade him
that it is not delicacy but weakness makes me desist
from the combat. Well ! let me do right, and leave
the consequences in His hand who alone sees every
action's motive and the true cause of every effect : let
me endeavour to please God, and to have only my
own faults and follies, not those of another, to answer
for.
YOL. II. A A
354
EXTRACTS FROM " BRITISH SYNONYMY."
AFFECTION, PASSION, TENDEKNESS, FONDNESS, LOVE.
THE first four of these words, then, so commonly, so
constantly in use, are, although similar, certainly not
synonymous ; and the last, which always ought and I
hope often does comprehend them all, is not seldom
substituted in place of its own component parts, for
such are all those that precede it. Foreigners, how-
ever, will recollect, that the first of these words is
usually adapted to that regard which is consequent on
ties of blood ; that the second naturally and necessarily
presupposes and implies difference of sex ; while the
rest, without impropriety, may be attributed to friend-
ship, or bestowed on babes. I have before me the de-
finition of FONDNESS, given into my hands many years
ago by a most eminent logician, though Dr. Johnson
never did acquiesce in it.
"FONDNESS," says the definer, "is the hasty and in-
judicious determination of the will towards promoting
the present gratification of some particular object."
* JBritish Synonymy, or, An Attempt at Regulating the Choice
of Words in Familiar Conversation. By Hester Lynch Piozzi.
In Two Volumes. London > 1794. This book has been long out
of print, and contains much curious matter. Sir James Fellowes
meditated a new edition of it.
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 355
" FONDNESS," said Dr. Johnson, " is rather the hasty
and injudicious attribution of excellence, somewhat
beyond the power of attainment, to the object of our
affection."
Both these definitions may possibly be included in
FONDNESS ; my own idea of the whole may be found in
the following example :
Amintor and Aspasia are models of true LOVE : 'tis
now seven years since their mutual PASSION was sanc-
tified by marriage; and so little is the lady's AFFEC-
TION diminished, that she sate up nine nights suc-
cessively last winter by her husband's bed-side, when
he had on him a malignant fever that frighted relations,
friends, servants, all away. Nor can any one allege
that her TENDERNESS is ill repaid, while we see him gaze
upon her features with that FONDNESS which is capable
of creating charms for itself to admire, and listen to
her talk with a fervour of admiration scarce due to the
most brilliant genius.
For the rest, 'tis my opinion that men love for the
most part with warmer PASSION than women do at
least than English women, and with more transitory
FONDNESS mingled with that passion : while 'tis natural
for females to feel a softer TENDERNESS ; and when their
AFFECTIONS are completely gained, they are found to be
more durable.
AMIABLE, LOVELY, CHARMING, FASCINATING.
These elegant attributives so the learned James
Harris terms adjectives denoting properties of mind or
356 BRITISH SYNONYMY.
body appear at first more likely to turn out syno-
nymes, than upon a closer inspection we shall be able to
observe : while daily experience evinces that there is
an almost regular appropriation of the words ; as thus
an AMIABLE character, a LOVELY complexion, a CHARM-
ING singer, a FASCINATING converser ; the first of these
appearing to deserve our love, the next to claim it, the
third to steal it from us as by magic ; the last of all to
draw, and to detain it, by a half invisible, yet wholly
resistless power. Nor does the epithet ever come so
properly into play, as when tacked to an unseen method
of attracting : for positive beauty needs not fascination
to assist her conquests ; and positive wit seeks rather to
dazzle and distress, than wind herself round the hearts
of her admirers ; while there is a mode of conversing
that seduces attention, and enchains the faculties.
" When Foote told a story at dinner-time," said Dr.
Johnson, "I resolved to disregard what I expected
would be frivolous ; yet as the plot thickened, my desire
of hearing the catastrophe quickened at every word,
and grew keener as we seemed approaching towards its
conclusion. The fellow fascinated me, Sir ; I listened
and laughed, and laid down my knife and fork, and
thought of nothing but Foote's conversation."
Some Italian lines set by Piccini, with expressive
dexterity, represent this power beyond all I have read
as descriptive of female fascination * ; and every man
* Her own description of Miss Streatfield's fascinations (antt,
p. 300) is a better example.
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 357
who has been in love with a woman, not confessedly
beautiful, feels his heart beat responsive to the verses
and the music, when sung with the good taste they de-
serve. Will the lines be much out of place here ? I
hope not.
In quel viso furbarello
V'e" un incognita magia ;
Non si sa che diavol sia .
Ma fa I'uomo delirar.
Quegli occhietti cosi vaghi
Ve lo giuro son due maghi,
E un sospiro languidetto,
Che fatica uscir dal petto
Vi fa subito cascar.
Vengon per ultimo i cari accenti,
Le lagrimuccie, li svenimenti,
Ch'opprimer devono
Perforza un cuor :
Innumerabile
Son 1'incantesimi,
Son 1'arti magichi
Del dio d'amor.
The following imitation misses its effect, because the
measure is unfavourable, yet may serve to convey the
idea :
In that roguish face one sees
All her sex's witcheries ;
A A 3
358 BRITISH SYNONYMY.
Playful sweetness, cold disdain,
Every thing to turn one's brain.
Sparkling from expressive eyes,
Heaving in affected sighs,
Sure destruction still we find,
Still we lose our peace of mind.
Touch'd by her half-trembling hand,
Can the coldest heart withstand ?
While we dread the starting tear,
And the tender accents hear.
Numberless are sure the ways
That she fascinates our gaze ;
Magic arts her pow'r improve,
Witcheries that wait on love.
ANTIPATHY, AVERSION, DISGUST.
The first of these disagreeable sensations we find chiefly
excited I believe by inanimate things, or brutes. One
man alleges his unconquerable ANTIPATHY to a cat ; ano-
ther encourages his AVERSION to a Cheshire cheese ; and
while English ladies think it delicate to faint at touch
or even sight of a frog, or toad Koman ladies, accus-
tomed to noisome animals from the natural heat of
their climate, fall into convulsions at a nosegay of
flowers, or the scent of a little lavender water.* To
* So one hunting man complained that the violets spoilt the
scent, and another that the singing birds prevented him from dis-
tinguishing the voices of his hounds.
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 359
such fastidious companions it would not be perhaps
wholly unreasonable to feel a certain degree of DISGUST ;
and Arnold of Leicestershire tells us from experience,
that increasing ANTIPATHIES should be particularly
dreaded, as an almost certain indication of incipient
madness.*
AT7EFUL, REVERENTIAL, SOLEMN.
The last of these epithets begins the climax A
Grothick cathedral (say we) is a SOLEMN place ; its
gloomy greatness disposes one to REVERENTIAL behaviour,
inspiring sentiments more sublime, and meditations
much more AWEFUL, than does a structure on the
Grecian model, though built for the same purposes of
piety.f
The word aweful should however be used with cau-
tion, and a due sense of its importance : I have heard
even well-bred ladies now and then attribute that term
* Shakespeare has put a plausible defence of antipathies into
the mouth of Shylock, Merchant of Venice, act iv. scene 1 ; and
Coleridge, in Zapolya, treats an instinctive dislike as a providential
warning :
" Oh ; surer than suspicion's hundred eyes,
Is that fine sense which to the pure in heart,
By mere oppugnancy of their own goodness,
Reveals th' approach of evil."
f See the description of the temple in The Mourning Bride, act
ii. scene 3. Johnson, to tease Garrick, used to say that it was finer
than any passage of equal length in Shakespeare. Mrs. Piozzi, in
a marginal note, questions its originality, but says she has for-
gotten from whence it was borrowed.
A A 4
360 BRITISH SYNONYMY.
too lightly in their common conversation connecting
it with substances beneath its dignity such mesal-
liances offend the sense of high birth natural to a
Saxon.*
AY and YES.
The first of these affirmatives, derived from the Latin
aio, is of the higher antiquity in our language, and still
keeps some privileges of superiority, enforcing that
which the other less decidedly asserts. It used to be
represented in Shakespear's time by the single vowel
I ; see the long scene between the Nurse and Juliet,
when told of Tybalt's death ; but I recollect no later
author who so corrupts it. We say in familiar talk,
that Diana counsel'd her sister Flora against such a
match ; did she not, Sir ? Yes, I believe she did.
CounseVd her ! exclaims a stand er-by Ay, and con-
trouled her too, or she had been his wife now.f
BEAUTIFUL, HANDSOME, GRACEFUL, ELEGANT, PLEASING,
PRETTY, FINE,
Are, however desirable epithets, by no means strictly
synonymous ; and though, upon a cursory view, the six
* The word " mighty " was common in the last century as,
"mighty tiresome."
f When Queen Caroline first came- to England knowing not a
word of English, a discussion arose what one word would be most
useful or least dangerous for her to know. Lady Charlotte Lind-
say suggested No, because it might be pronounced so as to mean
Yes. A very pretty song of Lover's is called Yes and No.
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 361
last appear included in their principal, which takes the
lead, conversation will soon inform us to the contrary,
while, talking of a GRACEFUL dancer now upon the
stage, we shall find in her person, if not put into mo-
tion, no claim at all upon our first attributive: nor
does that first necessarily comprehend the other excel-
lencies for though the situation of Mount Edgcumbe
be confessedly more BEAUTIFUL than Shenstone's Lea-
sowes, taste would lead many men to prefer the latter,
as more PLEASING : and at the time when true perfection
of female beauty appeared among us in the form of
Maria Gunning, I well remember hearing men say that
other women might justly be preferred to her as PLEAS-
ING, and perhaps GRACEFUL too, in a far more eminent
degree ; and so true was the observation, that her in-
feriors made it their amusement to steal "away lovers
from her, who commanded admiration they had no
chance to attain.
The word ELEGANT can scarcely be used with more
propriety than on such occasions, when people elect as
PLEASING what produces a train of ideas most congenial
to our own particular fancy. Pearls are, on this prin-
ciple, accounted by many people to be more ELEGANT
than diamonds ; which we all allow to be FINER, HAND-
SOMER, and infinitely more BEAUTIFUL. And one says
popularly, that Pope's Eape of the Lock is an ELEGANT
poem, and Milton's Paradise Lost a FINE one. Gre-
ville's Stanzas to Indifference are however exquisitely
PRETTY, and some parts of Mr. Whalley's Ode to Mont
Blanc, uncommonly BEAUTIFUL. Burke whose own
362 BRITISH SYNONYMY.
compositions include every species of excellence says,
that BEAUTIFUL objects are comparatively small, but to
minute perfection I should give the adjective PRETTY.
Insects of various colours, and delicate formation, but-
terflies above all, are justly termed PRETTY. Some
shells too, slight in their texture, and of tints as tender,
claim this epithet, and can claim nq more ; for, while
the apple and peach bloom have among vegetables the
same pretension an orange-tree richly furnished, grow-
ing in the natural ground as I have seen them on the
Borromaean Islands to a considerable height, and rose-
trees in the Duke of Buccleugh's pleasure-grounds, or
those of Hopeton-House, are decidedly BEAUTIFUL. One
large and wide-spreading beech-tree, or full-bodied oak,
single in a verdant meadow, I should select for a FINE
object* to repose the eye upon, in autumnal seasons
when the tint begins to shew more richness than mere
maturity produces, and excites a train of reflections full
of pensive dignity: while the old-fashioned avenue of
limetrees long-drawn and feathering down so as to hide
all stem, makes a HANDSOME appearance in July, when
filled with fragrance and redolent with bloom.
Were we speaking of architecture, I should direct
foreigners to call the Pantheon at Eome a FINE building,
Saint Peter's a BEAUTIFUL one, our own in London dedi-
cated to St. Paul a very HANDSOME edifice, the Eedentore
* Fine (from./fw) must have implied delicacy ; but its original
sense has been reversed. A fine face is one with a bold and
strongly marked outline ; a fine child, a stout healthy one ; a
fine woman, a well-formed one on a large scale.
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 363
at Venice, planned by Palladio and our own sweet
Doric, done by Inigo Jones I reckon ELEGANT fabrics ;
while King's College, Cambridge, elaborately PRETTY,
gives delight to every beholder. The word HANDSOME
certainly annexes fewer ideas of pleasure than the rest,
because we have appropriated it now and then somewhat
meanly. We say a HANDSOME kitchen certainly in
English, and a HANDSOME piece of roast beef* ; nor do
we give higher appellatives to a large woman painted
by Rubens with more strength of colour than dignity
or grace. When we speak of a HANDSOME house and
gardens, our hearers turn not, I believe, their imagina-
tions to recollect Villa Albani or even Castle Howard,
while a drive round London realizes the idea at less
expence of trouble nearer home. But, after all, the
words
BEAUTY, GRACE, EXPRESSION; CARRIAGE, ELEGANCE, AND
SYMMETRY ;
Are substantives on which so many volumes have been
written, that one would think it impossible it should
* " Handsome elocution " occurs in Addison. Archbishop
Whately says that " Handsome implies not exactly an artificial
beauty, but the beauty of some person or thing which is trained
or cultivated." Thus he says we should not speak of a handsome
wild animal, or a handsome prospect, although the Irish and
Americans frequently do. The non-commissioned officer who gave
evidence on the prosecution of Frost, said that when the order
was given for returning the fire of the mob, the mayor (Sir
Thomas Phillips) " handsomely " threw open the shutters of the
room in which the soldiers were placed. In the performance of
this handsome and gallant action he received a severe wound.
364 BRITISH SYNONYMY.
be still agreeable to read about them ; yet is every
writer tempted to extend on such a subject every
student attracted to continue a page where those names
begin the leaf. And it is perhaps not wholly tedious
or uninteresting to observe, that more, much more, is
required to describe BEAUTY, than is comprehended in
the common acceptation of the adjective beautiful : for,
while SYMMETRY suffices to constitute a perfect form
in many works of nature, and some of art as
the mountain at the head of Loch Lomond in Scot-
land, and the Antonine column at Eome far more is
demanded by connoisseurs who deal in animated ex-
cellence. A horse, for example, is scarcely allowed to
possess true BEAUTY, till his owner can boast for him a
brilliancy of coat, whatever the colour may be a de-
cided ELEGANCE as well as SYMMETRICAL proportion in
his shape GRACE presiding in every motion, with eyes
and ears expressive of a long-traced lineage, and even
of apparent sensibility to his own praise and value.
Haughty CARRIAGE is indispensable to brute perfection.
The peacock is handsomer than the Chinese pheasant,
because he is prouder ; and the feline race take much
from their own BEAUTY, by substituting the EXPRESSION
of insidiousness instead of pride.
Indeed we are not correct when we require only
EXPRESSION in a human face, for there are EXPRESSIONS
which disgrace humanity. Among our own species we
must meantime confess that we love a lofty conscious-
ness of superiority, j ust stopping short of a vain-glorious
ostentation. Os HOMINI SUBLIME DEBIT, &c. The late
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 365
Earl of Errol, dressed in his robes at the coronation of
King George the Third, and Mrs. Siddons in the cha-
racter of Murphy's Euphrasia, were the noblest spe-
cimens of the human race I ever saw ; while he,
looking like Jove's own son Sarpedon, as described by
Homer, and she, looking like radiant Truth led by
the withered hand of hoary Time seemed alone fit to
be sent out into some distant planet, for the purpose
of shewing its inhabitants to what a race of exalted
creatures God had been pleased to give this earth as a
possession.
With regard to mere GRACE, I am not sure which
produces most pleasing sensations in the beholder
which, in a word, gives most delight well varied and
nicely studied ELEGANCE, carried to perfection, though
by an inferior form, as in the younger Vestris or that
pure natural charm resulting from a SYMMETRIC figure
put into easy motion by pleasure or surprise, as I have
seen in the late Lady Coventry. To both attesting
spectators have often manifested their just admiration,
by repeated bursts of applause particularly to the
countess, who, calling for her carriage one night at
the theatre I saw her stretched out her arm with
such peculiar, such inimitable manner, as forced a loud
and sudden clap from all the pit and galleries ; which
she, conscious of her charms, delighted to increase and
prolong, by turning round with a familiar smile to
reward the enraptured company.
For she was fair beyond their brightest bloom,
This Envy owns, since now her bloom is fled ;
366 BRITISH SYNONYMY.
Fair as the forms which, wove in Fancy's loom,
Float in light vision o'er the poet's head.
Whene'er with sweet serenity she smil'd,
Or caught the orient blush of quick surprise,
How sweetly mutable ! how brightly wild
The living lustre darted from her eyes !
Each look, each motion wak'd a new-born grace,
That o'er her form its transient glory cast ;
Some lovelier wonder soon usurp'd the place,
Chas'd by a charm still lovelier than the last.
In her description alone might then all our synonymy
be happily engaged ; and truly might we say that her
unrivalled, her consummate BEAUTY was the effect of
perfect SYMMETRY, spontaneously producing GRACE in-
vincible, although her MIEN and CARRIAGE had less of
dignity and sweetness in it ; and the EXPRESSION of her
countenance, illuminated by the brightest tints, although
lovelily mutable, as Mason says, in verses alone worthy
the original was always the EXPRESSION of pleasure
felt or pleasure given. Her dress was seldom chosen
with ELEGANCE, as I remember; and I recollect no
splendour except of general BEAUTY about her.*
* The best portraits of Maria Gunning, Countess of Coventry,
confirm Mrs. Piozzi's theory of the enthusiastic admiration la-
vished on her. It must have been principally elicited by grace
and expression. Her sister, Elizabeth, afterwards Duchess of
Hamilton and (by a second marriage) of Argyll, was equally
beautiful, and her beauty has been inherited by her descendants in
three generations. The sisters set off each other, and their ap-
pearance together added to the charms of both. A corresponding
BRITISH SYNONYMY 367
It is distressing enough to foreigners when they find us
arbitrarily calling the young domestic fowl which follow
a turkey a fine BROOD, when we talked but two minutes
before of a CLUTCH of chickens, and perhaps cry out in
the next breath, Here's a -flock of young geese on this
water ! The first of these words however must be their
decided choice ; as in saying that they cannot be wrong :
the last word does not strictly allude to the goslings, but
means the number all together ; and the second word is
only used from the trick a hen has to herself almost, of
calling her little ones so closely rourid her in times of
danger, that you may CLUTCH or make a handful of them,
as we say. Mr. Addison, who was more an elegant
author than good naturalist, teaches them in his Spec-
tators to say a BROOD of ducks, when he expresses his
admiration of the providence by which all the works of
effect may hare been seen in our time, when three celebrated
sisters were grouped together, or when the two Northumbrian
beauties were the rage, or when more than one lovely mother,
who shall be nameless, came forth attended by a fresher and
lovelier self, matre pukhrd filia pulchrior.
At a crowded London party, I was asked by a very distinguished
Frenchman to point out the beauties in vogue. Those nearest to
us happened to be no longer in the first flush of youth ; they had
not that beaut^ du diable which Frenchmen deem indispensable,
and he exclaimed : " You English are as odd in this as in other
matters : you cling to your established beauties as you stand by
your old institutions." Among those he gazed upon was one
who, after being for sylph-like loveliness the beau ideal of the
poet's and artist's dream, had arrived at the perfection of ripened
and developed beauty.
368 BRITISH SYNONYMY.
heaven are governed ; and he is the best language
master : though that very paper betrays the little skill
with which he looked on such matters in a thousand
instances.*
BROOK, RIVULET, STREAM, RIVER,
Are much in the same manner synonymous, so far as
relates to poetical use, &c., but Mr. Locke shews us how
to separate them in conversation, and how they really
separate by nature, when he tells us that "SPRINGS
make little RIVULETS, and these united form BROOKS ;
which coming forward in STREAMS, compose great RIVERS
that run into the sea." Doctor Johnson, whose ideas of
any thing not positively large were ever mingled with
contempt, asked of one of our sharp currents in Xorth
Wales " Has this BROOK e'er a name?" and received
for answer " Why, dear Sir, this is the RIVER Ustrad."
" Let us," said he, turning to his friend, " jump over it
directly, and shew them how an Englishman should
treat a Welsh RIYER."
CLEVER, DEXTROUS, SKILFUL;
To which might be added another pretty word well
taken into our language without alteration of spelling,
and called adroit. This adjective should not have been
* The language of the sporting world is capricious and arbitrary ;
and to use brace or couple irregularly, is as fatal to a young man's
reputation as a false quantity was once. The cant phrase now is,
I got (not I killed or shot) so many brace, &c.
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 369
omitted on the list, as it will be very suitable to
foreigners, and less approaching to vulgarity than
CLEVER, which, if applied to things high or serious,
frights one. We say, The minister managed ADROITLY
in procuring men eminently SKILFUL in the art of
engineering, and equally DEXTROUS in the manual use of
such machines ; for let a fellow be as CLEVER as he
can, without practice no person will arrive at being
neat-handed and DEXTROUS about any thing, least of all
in matters where complicated machinery is in question :
I have therefore little opinion of those contrivances and
modern inventions to prevent fire or thieves ; particu-
larly a piece of workmanship once shewn me of a ladder
and fire engine combined, which alternately prevented
the operation of each other. Few things indeed are
more offensive than those futile, and half impracticable
devices to snuff a candle after some new method ; by
which tricks CLEVER fellows however are SKILFUL enough
to get money from neighbours more rich than wise, who,
like the lady in Young's Satires,
"To eat their breakfasts will pi-oject a scheme,
Nor take their tea without a stratagem ; "
to the contriving of which we will leave them.*
* te Cleverness (from the verb to cleave) is correctly applied to
a certain quickness and readiness in the operations of the mind,
and especially in the art of acquiring knowledge. But the loose
way in which ideas are expressed in ordinary conversation has led
to a considerable abuse of this word, which is not seldom applied
to eveiy kind of talent." English Synonyms, by the Archbishop
of Dublin.
VOL. II. B B
370 BRITISH SYNONYMY.
TO CRY, TO EXCLAIM,
Are pretty near synonymous in some senses cer-
tainly ; but if a foreigner speaking of the London CRIES
called them the EXCLAMATIONS of the city, all would
laugh. 'Tis very strange meantime, and to me very
unaccountable, that the streets' cries should resemble
each other in all great towns but sure I am that
Spaz-camin, with a canting drawl at the end, sounds at
Milan like our Sweep sweep exactly ; and the Gar$on
Limonadier at Paris makes a pert noise like our
orange-girls in the Pit of Covent Garden, that sounds
precisely similar. I was walking one day with my own
maid in an Italian capital, and turned short on hearing
sounds like those uttered by a London tinker the man
who followed us cried Cafferol, Caffero\ d'accommodar
to the tune of his own brass kettle just as ours do :
and I believe that in a little time, many cities will be
more famous for the musick and frequency of their
cries than London ; because shops there, increasing
daily, nay hourly, take all necessity of hawkers quite
away excepting perhaps just about the suburbs and
new-built houses, where likewise shops are everlastingly
breaking forth, and afford people better appearance of
choice than can be easily carried about by those who
CRY them.
TO CRY, TO WEEP,
Are really and I think completely synonymous, only
that the last verb being always appropriated to serious
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 371
purposes, we never scarcely use it in colloquial and
familiar discourse, unless ironically for 'tis as we say a
tragedy word and Do not CRY so, is the phrase to
children or friends we are desirous of comforting. Tears
have a very powerful effect on young people, and in-
deed on all those who are new in the world : but
veterans have seen them too often to be much affected ;
and since the years 1779 and 80, when I lived a great
deal with a lady* who could call them up for her own
pleasure, and often did call them at my request, the
seeing one WEEP has been no proof to me that anything
sad or sorrowful had befallen : and perhaps some of the
sincerest tears are shed when reading Richardson's
Clarissa, or seeing Siddons in the character of Mrs.
Beverley. With regard to real anguish of the heart,
an old sufferer 'WEEPS but little.
" Slow-pac'd and sourer as the storms increase,
He makes his bed beneath th' inclement drift ;
And scorning the complainings of distress,
Hardens his heart against assailing want "
like Thomson's Bear, so beautifully described by a poet
equally skilled in the knowledge of life and of nature.
Such reflections however will lead my readers naturally
enough on to the next synonymes, which are
DEFORMED, UGLY, HIDEOUS, FRIGHTFUL.
Dyer derives the second of these unlucky adjectives
from ough or ouph, or goblin, not without reason, as it
* The charming S. S.
B B 2
372 BRITISH SYNONYMY.
was long written ougly in our language. FRIGHTFUL
bears much the same bad sense, I think. Goblins are
still called frightening in the provinces of Lancaster
and Westmorland ; and the third word upon the list,
from hideux French, is but little softer, if at all so.
DEFORMED has a more positive signification than the
rest ; for we know not how easily delicate people may
be FRIGHTED, nor how small a portion of UGLINESS will
suffice to call forth from affectation the cry of HIDEOUS !
while hyperbolical talkers have a way of giving these
rough epithets to many hapless persons, who are in
earnest neither more nor less than plain ; by which I
mean to express a form wholly divested of grace, a
countenance of coarse colour and vacant look, with a
mien possessing no comeliness ; which quality would
alone protect them from deserving even that title, be-
cause they would be then ornamented. Those however
who most loudly profess being always scared when they
are not allured, will in another humour be easily enough
led to confess that many an UGLY man or woman are
very agreeable, and display sometimes powers of pleas-
ing unbestowed even on the beautiful; which could
scarcely happen sure, were their unfortunate figures and
faces ouph like, or terrifying : it were well then if the
English, who hate hyperbole in general, would forbear
to use it so constantly just where 'tis most offensive, in
magnifying their neighbours' defects.
Lord Bacon says the deformed people are good to em-
ploy in business, because they have a constant spur to
great actions, that by some noble deed they may rescue
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 373
their persons from contempt : and experience does in
some sort prove his assertion ; many men famous in his-
tory having been of this class the great warriors, above
all, as it should seem in very contradiction to nature
when Agesilaus, King William the Third, and Ladislaus
surnamed Cubitalis, that pigmy King of Poland, reigned,
and fought more victorious battles, as Alexander Gragui-
nus relates, than all his longer-legged predecessors had
done.* CORPORE PARVUS ERAM, exclaims he CUBITO vix
ALTIOR, SED TAMEN IN PARYO CORPORE MAGNUS ERAM. Nor
is even Sanctity's self free from some obligations to de-
formity while Ignatius Loyola losing a limb at the siege
of Pampelona, and conceiving himself no longer fit for
wars or attendance on the court, betook himself to a
mode of living more profitable to his soul in the next
world, and to his celebrity in this, than that would have
been which, had his beauty remained, he might have
been led to adopt.
That DEFORMED persons are usually revengeful all
will grant -j- ; and the Empress Sophia had cause to
* " It is probable that among the 120,000 soldiers who were
marshalled round Xeerwinden under all the standards of Western
Europe, the two feeblest in body were the hunch-backed dwarf
(Luxemburg) who urged forward the fiery onset of France, and
the asthmatic skeleton (William) who covered the slow retreat of
England." (Macattlay's Hist. vol. iv. p. 410.) All readers of
Shakespeare will remember the Countess of Auvergne's speech to
Talbot :
" It cannot be this weak and writled shrimp
Should strike such terror to his enemies."
f Shakespeare puts their justification into the mouth of Richard
the Third.
B B 3
374 BRITISH SYNONYMY.
repent her insulting letter to old Narses, when she
advising him to return and spin with her maids he
replied, " that he would spin such a thread as her
Majesty and all her allies would never be able to un-
twist." Nor did he in the least fail of fulfilling the
menace ; which reminds one of Henry the Fifth's answer,
when the Dauphin of France, despising his youth and
spirit of frolicking, sent over tennis balls as a fit present
for a prince addicted more to play than war. Our young
hero's reply being much in the spirit of that sent by
Narses to the Empress, one might have thought it bor-
rowed, had not eight centuries elapsed between the two
events. These matters may for aught I know be all
mentioned in a pretty book I once read when newly
published, and have never seen since : it came out three
or four and thirty years ago, and gained to its author
the appellation of DEFORMITY Hay. He likewise trans-
lated some epigrams of Martial, but for his Essay on
Deformity I have enquired in vain ; and if I am guilty
of plagiarism it is a mon insfu, as the French express
it. Meantime UGLINESS in common conversation relates
merely to the face, whilst DEFORMITY implies a faulty
shape or figure. FRIGHTFUL and HIDEOUS may be well
appropriated to delirious dreams ; to the sight of
mangled bodies, or human heads streaming with blood,
such as France has lately exhibited for the savage
amusement of a worse than brutal populace : but the
words plain or homely are sufficient to express that
total deficiency of beauty too often termed UGLINESS in
our friends and neighbours. That such is not the pro-
BKITISH SYNONYMY. 375
per expression is proved by that power of pleasing,
universally allowed to the late Lord Chesterfield, who
had nothing in his person which at first sight could
raise expectation of any delight in his society : and per-
haps to overcome prejudice in private life, and make an
accomplished companion out of an ill-cut figure and
homely countenance, may be more difficult than by war-
like prowess and acts of heroic valour to gain and keep
celebrity in the field of battle.
Where there is a talent to please however, pleasure
will reside; and one of the best and most applauded
minuets I ever saw, was danced at Bath many years ago
by a lady of quality, pale, thin, crooked, and of low
stature : my not wishing to name her is notwithstand-
ing a kind of proof that her elegance would not (in her
absence) compensate for her DEFORMITY : so surely do
readers in general take up and willingly cherish a dis-
advantageous idea, rather than a kind one. Pope, who
was DEFORMED enough to have felt the truth of this
position, and ingenious enough to have found it out had
he not felt it, disobliged his patron Mr. Allen so much
by these lines,
" See low-born Allen, with an awkward shame,
Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame j"
that he was forced to learn by experience how one of
the best and humblest of mankind suffered more pain
by having his awkwardness and mean birth perpetuated,
than he enjoyed pleasure in having his virtue celebrated
B B 4
376 BRITISH SYNONYMY.
by a poet, whose works certainly would not fail of con-
signing it to immortality.
TO DEFY, TO CHALLENGE.
These words are synonymous when applied to a single
combat between particular people ; but the first verb is
vastly more comprehensive than the second. Antony
CHALLENGED Augustus to commit the fate of universal
empire to his single arm, conscious that in such a con-
test (as his opponent easily discovered) the advantages
lay all against Octavius, who for that reason laughed at
his proposal, and with due dignity DEFIED such empty
menaces.* A man whose situation is wholly desperate,
may indeed CHALLENGE the seven champions if he
chooses, without fear of losing the victory, because no
loss can set him any lower : but who is he that would
be mad enough to enter the lists ?
Our two words were not ill-exemplified in a very
different line of life, when a flashy fellow known about
London by the name of Captain Jasper some twenty
years ago, burst suddenly into the Bedford Coffee-
house, and snatching up a hat belonging to some one
in the room, cried out " Whoever owns this hat is a
rascal, and I CHALLENGE him to come out and fight."
A grave gentleman sitting near the fire replied, in a
firm but smooth tone of voice, " Whoever does own the
* Napoleon, when challenged by Sir Sidney Smith in Egypt,
replied that he would think of it when his proposed antagonist
was a Marlborough.
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 377
hat is a blockhead, and I hope we may defy you, Sir,
to find any such fool here." Captain Jasper walked to
the street-door, and discharged a brace of bullets into
his own head immediately.*
TO DROP, TO FALL, TO TUMBLE, TO SINK SUDDENLY.
These neuter verbs are not synonymous ; because, al-
though whatever DROPS must in some measure FALL,
yet everything that FALLS does not necessarily DROP.
A man climbed a tree in my orchard yesterday, for
example, where he was gathering apples ; having missed
his footing, I saw him, after many attempts to save
himself by catching at boughs, &c. FALL at length to
the ground the apples DROPPED out of his hand on the
first moment of his slipping. To SINK SUDDENLY, half
implies that he FELL in water, unless we speak of such
an earthquake as once destroyed the beautiful town of
Port Eoyal in Jamaica, when the ground cleaving into
many fissures, people SUNK IN on the sudden ; some
breast-high, others entirely out of sight. To TUMBLE is
an act of odd precipitancy, and often means voluntary
FALLS endured, or eluded by fearlessness and adroit
agility : 'tis then a verb active, a trick played to get
* A stock story at the Grecian was, that a bully, who insisted
on a particular seat, came and found it occupied by a templar ;
" Who is that in my seat ? " "I don't know, sir/' said the waiter.
"Where is the hat I left on it?" "He put it into the fire."
" Did he ! d n n ! but a fellow who would do that would not
mind flinging me after it j " and so saying he disappeared.
378 BRITISH SYNONYMY.
moneys and shew the powers of humanity at an escape,
as in feats of harlequinery ; or the strange thing done
many years ago by Grimaldi, a famous grotesque
dancer, eminent for powers of this kind, at the Meuse
Gate in London ; where having made a mock quarrel,
and stripped himself as if intending to fight, previously
collecting a small circle to see the battle, he suddenly
sprung over his antagonist's and spectators' heads, and
TUMBLING round in the air, lighted on his legs and ran
away, leaving the people to gape. When the well-
known Buffo di Spagna, or Spanish buffoon, who de-
lighted to frequent such exhibitions, was asked what
person he thought to be the first TUMBLES in the world,
he archly replied : " Marry, Sirs, I am of opinion that
'twas Lucifer ; for he TUMBLED first, and TUMBLED fur-
thest too, and yet hurt himself so little with the FALL,
that he is too nimble for many of us to escape him
yet."
DULL, STUPID, HEAVY.
Of the first upon this fiat and insipid list Mr. Pope
has greatly enlarged the signification, and taught us
to call everything DULL that was not immediately and
positively witty. This is too much, surely ; and indeed
one finds it received so only in the Dunciad or Essay
upon Criticism. Information may be HEAVY sometimes
without being STUPID or DULL, I think ; its own weight
of matter may render it so ; and he who conveys useful
knowledge should neither be mocked nor slighted
because he happens to be unskilled in the art of
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 379
levigating his learning to hit the strength or rather
feebleness of moderns to endure it. There is, how-
ever, a kind of talk that is merely HEAVY, and in no
sense important. Such conversation has been lately
called a bore*, from the idea it gave some old sports-
man originally I believe of a horse that hangs upon his
rider's hand with a weight of STUPID impulse, as if he
would bore the very ground through with his nose ;
tiring the man upon his back most cruelly. The cant
phrase used at those public schools, where they call a
boy who is not quick-witted, and cannot be made a
scholar, a blunt f, is so good, that I sigh for its removal
into social life, where blunts are exceedingly frequent,
and we have no word for them. Dullard is out of use ;
we find it now only in Shakespeare.
MARRIAGE, WEDDING, NUPTIALS.
Although these are all common conversation words,
they can scarcely be used synonymously. There is a
treaty of MARRIAGE going forward in such a family, say
we, and I expect an invitation to the WEDDING dinner,
as 'tis reported the parents are disposed to celebrate
* The word bore is even more abused than clever, and frequently
creates the very feeling it affects to describe. Young ladies and
gentlemen who are suffering from mere vacancy of mind, make a
merit of their emptiness by exclaiming, in a tone of conscious
superiority, that they are bored. The mechanical operation of
boreing may have suggested the word.
t The ne plus ultra of insults at a German University is
Dummkopf.
380 BRITISH SYJ?ONYMY.
these NUPTIALS with great festivity, and very few friends
of the family will be left out.
Meantime our great triumph over foreigners, who
visit us from warmer climates, is in the superior feli-
city of our married couples ; nor do I praise those
superficial writers who so lament the infidelities com-
mitted among us in papers which carried to the Con-
tinent tend to make them believe there is no more
conjugal attachment in Britain, than at Genoa or
Venice. Truth is, we find in all great capitals an ill
example set by a dozen women of distinction who give
the ton as 'tis called ; and with regard to such, London
confesses her share : yet is the mass of middling
people left untainted ; and even among our nobility,
those of the first fortune and dignity in England live
with an Arcadian constancy and true affection, such as
can very rarely happen in nations where a contrary
conduct is neither punished by the Legislature, nor
censured by Society; for there is no need to resolve
virtue and vice into effect of climate, unless we are
supposed to improve or degenerate like animals which
ivhiten as they approach the Pole human nature will
go wrong if religion forbears to restrain, and govern-
ment neglects to punish.
MELODY, HARMONY, MUSICK.
These terms are used as synonymes only by people who
revert not to their derivation ; when the last is soon dis-
covered to contain the other two, while the first means
merely the air or, as Italians better express it, la can-
BRITISH SYNONTMT. 381
tilena, because our very word MELODY implies honey-
sweet singing, mellifluous succession of simple sounds,
so as to produce agreeable and sometimes almost en-
chanting effect. Meanwhile both co-operation and com-
bination are understood to meet in the term HARMONY,
which, like every other science, is the result of know-
ledge operating upon genius, and adds in the audience
a degree of astonishment to approbation, enriching all
our sensations of delight, and clustering them into a
maturity of perfection.
MELODY is to HARMONY what innocence is to virtue ;
the last could not exist without the former, on which
they are founded ; but we esteem him who enlarges
simplicity into excellence, and prize the opening chorus
of Acis and Galatea beyond the Voi Amanti of Giardini,
although this last-named composition is elegant, and the
other vulgar.
Where the original thought, however, like Corregio's
Magdalen in the Dresden Gallery set round with jewels,
is lost in the blaze of accompaniment, our loss is the less
if that thought should be somewhat coarse or indelicate ;
but MUSICK of this kind pleases an Italian ear far less
than do Sacchini's sweetly soothing MELODIES, never
overlaid by that fulness of HARMONY with which German
composers sometimes perplex instead of informing their
hearers. His chorusses in Erifile, though nothing defi-
cient either in richness or radiance, are ever transparent ;
while the charming subject (not an instant lost to view)
reminds one of some fine shell coloured by Nature's
hand, but seen to most advantage through the clear
382 BKITISH SYNONYMY.
waves that wash the coast of Coromandel when mild
monsoons are blowing. With regard to MFSICK, Plato
said long ago, that if any considerable alteration took
place in the MUSICK of a country, he should, from that
single circumstance, predict innovation in the laws, a
change of customs, and subversion of the government.
Rousseau, in imitation of this sentiment, which he had
probably read translated as well as myself, actually
foretold it of the French, without acknowledging whence
his idea sprung ; and truly did he foretell it. " The
French," says he, " have no MUSICK now nor can have,
because their language is not capable of musical expres-
sion ; but if ever they do get into a better style (which
they certainly soon did, changing Lulli and Eameau for
Grluck and for Piccini) tant pis pour eux."
Rousseau had indeed the fate of Cassandra, little less
mad than himself; and Burney justly observed, that it
was strange a nation so frequently accused of volatility
and caprice, should have invariably manifested a steady
perseverance and constancy to one particular taste in
this art, which the strongest ridicule and contempt of
other countries could never vanquish or turn out of its
course. He has however lived to see them change their
mode of receiving pleasure from this very science ; has
seen them accomplish the predictions of Rousseau, and
confirm the opinions of Plato ; seen them murder their
own monarch, set fire to their own cities, and blaze
themselves away a wonder to fools, a beacon to wise
men. This example has at least served to show the use
of those three words which occasioned so long a specu-
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 383
lation. MELODY is chiefly used speaking of vocal MU-
SICK, and HARMONY means many parts combining to
form composition. Shall I digress in saying that this
latter seems the genuine taste of the English, who love
plenty and opulence in all things ? Our MELODIES are
commonly vulgar, but we like to see them richly drest ;
and the late silly humour of listening to tunes made
upon three notes only, is a mere whim of the moment,
as it was to dote upon old ballads about twenty or thirty
years ago ; it will die away in a twelvemonth for sim-
plicity cannot please without elegance : nor does it
really please a British ear, even when exquisitely sweet
and delicate.
"We buy Blair's works, but would rather study War-
burton's ; we talk of tender Venetian airs, but our
hearts acknowledge Handel. Meantime 'tis unjust to
say that German MUSICK is not expressive ; when the
Italians say so, they mean it is not amorous : but
other affections inhabit other souls ; and surely the last-
named immortal composer has no rival in the power
of expressing and exciting sublime devotion and rap-
turous sentiment. See his grand chorus, Unto us a
Son is born, &c. Pleyel's Quartettos too, which have
all somewhat of a drum and fife in them, express what
Germans ever have excelled in regularity, order, dis-
cipline, arms, in a word, war. When such MUSICK is
playing, it reminds one of Eowe's verses which say so
very truly, that
" The sound of arms shall wake our martial ardour,
And cure the amorous sickness of a soul
384 BRITISH SYNONYMY.
Begun by sloth and nursed with too much ease.
The idle god of love supinely dreams
Amidst inglorious shades and purling streams ;
In rosy fetters and fantastic chains
He binds deluded maids and simple swains ;
With soft enjoyment wooes them to forget
The hardy toils and labours of the great :
But if the warlike trumpet's loud alarms
To virtuous acts excite, and manly arms,
The coward boy avows his abject fear,
Sublime on silken wings he cuts the air,
Scar'd at the noble noise and thunder of the war."
What then do those critics look for, who lament that
German MUSICK is not expressive ? They look for
plaintive sounds meant to raise tender emotions in the
breast ; and this is the peculiar province of MELODY
which, like Anacreon's lyre, vibrates to amorous touches
only, and resounds with nothing but love. Of this
sovereign power,
" To take the 'prison'd soul, and lap it in Elysium,"
Italy has long remained in full possession : the Syrens'
coast is still the residence of melting softness and of
sweet seduction. The MUSICK of a nation naturally re-
presents that nation's favourite energies, pervading
every thought and every action ; while even the de-
votion of that warm soil is tenderness, not sublimity ;
and either the natives impress their gentle souls with
the contemplation of a Saviour newly laid, in innocence
and infant sweetness, upon the spotless bosom of more
than female beauty or else rack their soft hearts with
the afflicting passions ; and with eyes fixed upon a
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 385
bleeding crucifix, weep their Kedeemer's human suffer-
ings, as though he were never to re-assume divinity.
Meantime the piety of Lutherans soars a sublimer flight;
and when they set before the eyes of their glowing
imagination Messiah ever blessed, they kindle into rap-
ture, and break out with pious transport,
"Hallelujah ! for the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth, &c."
They think of Him that sitteth high above the heavens,
begotten before all worlds !
" Effulgence of the Father ! Son beloved ! "
With such impressions, such energies, such inspira-
tion Milton wrote poetry, and Handel composed
MUSICK.
MISTAKE, ERROR, MISCONCEPTION.
Whoever thinks these words strictly synonymous will
find himself in an ERROR ; while he who says he wan-
dered out of his way between London and Bath, from
mere MISCONCEPTION, makes a comical MISTAKE for he
only committed an ERROR in neglecting to punish those
who turned him out of the right road/o? 1 ajoJce. These
are the niceties of language that books never teach,
and conversation alone can establish. Let foreigners
however settle it in their minds, that the word first used
in this catalogue of false apprehension, is used when
one man or one thing is taken for another : the second
applies much wider, and we say it of all who deviate
from the right path, whether that deviation is or is not
VOL. II. C C
386 BRITISH SYNONYMY.
caused by a mere MISTAKE : the latter seems less an act
of the will than either of the other two ; 'tis more a
perversion of the head than any thing else, and its
resistance against conviction carries with it somewhat
laughable. A nobleman, for instance, employing his
architect to show him the elevation of a house he in-
tended to build, the artist produces a drawing made
with Indian ink. This is no bad form of a house, says'
my lord, but I don't like the colour my house shall
be white. By all means, replied the builder, this is a
white house. No, this is black and white, methinks
evidently so, indeed and striped about somehow in a
way that does not please me.* Oh dear ! no such
thing, my lord the house will be white enough.
That I don't know, Sir; if you contradict my senses
now, you may do the same then : but my house shall
not be patched about with black as this paper is it
shall be all clean Portland stone. Doubtless, my lord ;
what you see here is perfectly white, I assure you.
You are an impudent fellow (answers the proprietor),
and endeavour to impose upon me, because I am not
conversant in these matters, by persuading me that I do
not know black from white ; but I do know an honest
man from a rogue so get about your business directly,
no such shall be my architect.
This was MISCONCEPTION. When the faux Martin
* This recalls the reply of a distinguished lawyer (now a peer)
to the late Mr. Justice Gaselee, who remarked that Canning was
not so tall as the bronze statue of him near Westminster Hall :
" No ; nor so green either."
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 387
Guerre came to France from India, and took possession
of the house, lands, wife, &c. of a man whom he
strongly resembled, and who, by four or five years' ab-
sence from his family, was so forgotten by them that
neither brother nor sisters found out the imposture
their caresses and obedience, their rents and profits,
were all intended to the person of another man, and
were only paid to him by a fatal but innocent MISTAKE.
But when the jury condemned a man wholly uncon-
cerned in the business to suffer for a crime one of them-
selves had committed, nor ever found out that good
evidence was wanting to prove his guilt, till the real
perpetrator of the murder owned it himself in private
to the judge they acted with too little caution and
delicacy, and have been always justly censured for the
ERROR. The facts are all acknowledged ones.
NARRATION, ACCOUNT, RECITAL.
In order to give a good ACCOUNT of the fact (say we)>
'tis necessary to hear a clear RECITAL of the circumstances,
but if we mean to make a pleasing NARRATION, those cir-
cumstances should not be dwelt on too minutely, but
rather one selected from the rest, to set in a full light.
Whoever means to please in conversation, seeing no per-
son more attended to than he who tells an agreeable
story, concludes too hastily that his own fame will be
firmly established by a like means ; and so gives his
time up to the collection and RECITAL of anecdotes.
Here, however, is our adventurer likely enough to fail ;
c c 2
388 BRITISH SYNONYMY.
for either his fact is too notorious, and he sees his au-
dience turn even involuntarily away from a tale told
them yesterday perhaps by a more pleasing narrator;
or it is too obscure, and incapable of interesting his
hearers. Were we to investigate the reason why narra-
tives please better in a mixed company, than sentiment ;
we might discover that he who draws from his own
mind to entertain his circle will soon be tempted to
dogmatize, and assume the air, with the powers, of a
teacher ; while the man, who is ever ready to tell one
somewhat unknown before, adds an idea to the listener's
stock, without forcing on us that of our own inferiority.
He is in possession of a fact more than we are that's
all ; and he communicates that fact for our amusement.
NATION, COUNTRY, KINGDOM,
Are all of them collective terms, well understood,
and at first sight only synonymous. A moment's reflec-
tion shews us many COUNTRIES which are not kingdoms,
and some KINGDOMS which include not the whole NATION
to which they apparently belong. The first of these
words is used in some universities for the distinction of
the scholars, and professors of colleges. The faculty of
Paris consists of four, and when the procureur of that
which is called the French NATION speaks in public, his
style is Honoranda Gallorum Natio. I hope they
have changed their phrase now, when all KINGDOMS,
COUNTRIES, NATIONS, and LANGUAGES, unite in abhorrence
of their late disgraceful conduct towards the good house
of Bourbon, so named from Archibald Borboiiius in the
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 389
year 1127, whose impress was a globe, and round it this
anagram of the earl's name, Orbi bonus. The times
how changed in this fatal year to Frenchmen, 1793 !
Strokes of national character, national humour, how-
ever, still exist : with regard to the latter, we see their
bons mots still untranslatable beyond those of other
kingdoms; and our authors plunder French comedies
in vain ; the humour loses and evaporates : witness Far-
quhar's endeavour to force into his Inconstant, the gay
reply made by Le prince de Gruemene, when Louis
Quatorze's queen, a grave Spaniard, seriously proposed
putting the famous Ninon de PEnclos among les filles
repenties. " Madam," answered the courtier, <f elle
n'est ni fille, ni repentie." * This was NATIONAL plea-
santry, and will not translate for that reason. No more
will that proof of John Bull's NATIONAL character, told
of a fellow, who, when King Charles the First of Eng-
land lay before Eochelle, was employed by that Prince
as a diver, to carry papers, &c. which having done most
dexterously, the good-natured sovereign bid him name
his own reward. " Something to drink your majesty's
health, that's all," quoth the man. " Blockhead ! "
exclaimed the duke of Buckingham, who stood in pre-
sence and was provoked at his stupidity for asking
nothing better, " why didst not drink when thou wert
under water ? " " Why so I did, master ! " replied the
* When an English lady appeared in a tableau vivant as a Mag-
dalen, it was observed that she looked like a Magdalen who had.
not repented.
390 BRITISH SYNONYMY.
man ; " but the water was salt you know, so it made
me the more a-dry."
NOW, AT PBESENT, THIS INSTANT.
While metaphysicians expand their subtleties into im-
perceptibility upon this fatal monosyllable, one would
hope that conversation might go on without dispute
concerning what flies away like the witches in Macbeth,
who, while we contend about the nature of their exist-
ence, make themselves air, into which they vanish. So,
alas ! does NOW ; the present moment passing away even
before the word is written that explains it. We may
tell foreigners, however, that 'tis usual in our language
when calling in a hurry, to cry NOW, NOW, as the quick-
est expression, I suppose, for urging another to imme-
diate haste. " AT PRESENT we cannot come to you " is
a common phrase He was here THIS INSTANT, means,
'tis not an instant scarcely since he was here : but it
does certainly mean time past ; for one says to a person
who, looking round, misses the individual sought for
*' Why, she is here, NOW, cannot you see her ? "
" I thought we were to begin upon the subject NOW,"
says a man impatient of decision. " We will begin THIS
INSTANT," replies his cooler friend (meaning a future
time, though near) ; " AT PRESENT it would not be so
proper." These things are difficult to foreigners ; nor
can I guess why both time past, and time to come, should
be hourly and commonly exprest by THIS INSTANT, which
at first view appears improper enough.
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 391
TO NULLIFY, TO ANNULL, TO DISANNULL, TO MAKE NULL
AND VOID.
These verbs stand in conversation chiefly in the place
of the verb to annihilate, or rather between that and
the softer phrase of, to render ineffectual. Horatio's
arguments, say we, were rendered NULL and VOID, at
least in my opinion, by what our friend Cleomenes
urged against them : but no man better knows than he
how to NULLIFY the discourse of his competitor without
annihilating the speaker either in his own eyes, or
those of the auditors ; as a good legislator will see the
way to ANNULL a statute no longer useful or necessary,
without taking away by direct annihilation all trace or
remembrance of its former utility. The third verb is a
favourite among the vulgar here in England, who mis-
apply it comically enough. I asked the late Lord
Halifax's gardener for a walk and summer-house I used
to see at Horton : " There was such a walk once," re-
plies the man, " but my Lord DISANNULLED it."
In 1815, Mrs. Piozzi sent a copy of "British Syno-
nymy " to Sir James Fellowes with the following note
and verses, which will appropriately conclude this com-
pilation :
5 Xov., 1815.
Accept, dear Sir, this second-hand copy of your poor
little friend's favourite work, now completely out of
392 BRITISH SYNONYMY.
print. That it should bear the name of Samuel John-
son on the title page, is so curious, that I would not
erase it.
Ten years at fewest must have elapsed since the
author of the "Rambler" had breathed his last, when
this book saw the light ; and he to whom I have now
the honour of presenting it, was struggling between
the perils of fire and water in the midst of the At-
lantic Ocean. Awful Retrospect ! Yet a lightly volant
pen traces the following lines, only to say that
In this Synonymy you'll find
Portraits from poor Floretta's mind ;
With many a tale and many a jest,
By which her fancy was imprest.
Oh ! had that fancy been acquainted
With characters too late display'd,
Far happier pictures had been painted,
Far stronger light and softer shade.
Beneath the life-preserving hand,
How had we seen the soldier stand !
Or kneel, instructed to adore
Him who bestow'd the healing pow'r.
But merit, dazzling men to blindness,
Was still reserv'd for Piozzi's Finis.
INDEX.
Abdy, Lady and Miss, ii. 161.
Abington, Mrs., i. 87, 88.
Aldborough, Lady, anecdote of, i.
31, 342.
Alfieri and the Duchess of Albany,
i. 331.
Alexander I. of Russia, anecdote of,
ii. 94.
Alphabet, infant, Mrs. Thrale's, i.
48.
" Alphabet, the Political, or the
Young Member's A, B, C," quoted,
i. 48.
Amelia, Princess, daughter of
George II., i. 331.
Andrews, Miles Peter, i. 335.
his death, ii. 95.
" Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson," i. 59,
note; ii. 125.
Anne, Queen, couplet on, i. 330.
Anglesea, isle of, ii. 234.
Antichrist, ii. 170.
Ashe, Miss, i. 331.
Asheri, Mrs. Piozzi's story of, ii.
19.
Aston, Molly, Johnson's admiration
for, i. 26.
Johnson's epigram on her, i.
43.
" Atlas," man-of-war, the, i. 353.
Atmospheric stones, ii. 93.
Autobiographical Memoirs of Mrs.
Piozzi, i. 235 et seq.
Bach y Graig, Dr. Johnson's de-
scription of, i. 74, 254.
" Baeviad and Maeviad,". origin of
the, i. 133.
Bagot, Mrs., ii. 83.
Baillie, Joanna, ii. 274.
VOL. II. D D
Balbus, story of, ii. 157.
Banks, Sir Joseph, ii. 235, 239.
Barclay, Mr., the Quaker, purchases
Mr. Thrale's brewery, i. 95, 158,
294.
Baretti, Signor Guiseppe, his verses,
quoted, i. 29.
accompanies Dr. Johnson and
the Thrales on a tour to
France, i. 78.
history of Baretti, i. 80.
his trial for murder, i. 81.
his introduction to the Thrales,
i. 83.
Dr. Warton's opinion of him,
i. 84.
account of him by Dr. Camp-
bell, i. 85.
his dislike of Boswell, i. 87.
passages in Dr. Johnson's letters
relating to, i. 168.
his papers in the " European
Magazine," i. 169.
his death, i. 169.
his rupture with Dr. Johnson,
i. 171.
his character, sketched by Mrs.
Thrale, i. 171 ; ii. 334, 346,
348.
the comedy of the " Sentimen-
tal Mother," i. 172.
lines on his portrait, ii. 16.
Barnard, Dr., Provost of Eton,
Johnson's remarks on, quoted,
i. 59, note.
Barrow, his description of Wit
quoted, i. 228.
Bassis' verses, ii. 30.
translation of, ii. 31.
Bath, riots in, ii. 306.
394
INDEX.
Bayntum, Admiral Sir H., ii. 328,
note.
Beadon, Dr., ii. 321.
Bearcroft, Mr., anecdotes of, i.
202.
Beauclerc, Lady Diana, i. 151.
Beauclerc, Topham, i. 348 ; ii. 43.
Bells, names of, ii. 181.
Beloe, his " Sexagenarian," ii. 220.
Bentley, Dr. Richard, his verses on
Learning, i. 326.
Bertola's verses, ii. 44.
his fables, ii. 45.
Betty, the actor, ii. 101.
Blue Stocking Clubs, origin of the,
i. 22.
Bodryddan, visited by Johnson, i.
74.
Bodville, Mrs. Thrale's birthplace,
i. 76.
Boethius, Dr. Johnson and Mrs.
Thrale's translations from, i. 47,
324.
Bolingbroke, Lord, anecdote of
Johnson and, i. 151.
Bolingbroke, Lady, ii. 43.
Bolton, Duke of, Lord Harry Pow-
lett, anecdote of, i. 354.
Bonaparte, intelligence of his me-
ditated escape from Elba, i. 337.
military tactics, i. 356.
his expedition to Egypt, ii. 71.
pasquinade on, ii. 1OO.
- the Apocalyptic beast, ii. 104.
Boothby, Miss Hill, Johnson's ad-
miration for, i. 26.
Boswell, James, his character as a
biographer, i. 4.
his " Letters to Temple," and
" Boswelliana," i. 4.
his account of Johnson's intro-
duction into Mr. Thrale's
family quoted, i. 10, 11.
his jealousy of Mrs. Thrale, i.
11.
his first visit to Streatham Park,
i. 38.
arranges an interview between
Johnson and Lord March-
mont, i. 39.
his conversations at Streatham,
i. 41.
his version of Johnson's epi-
gram on Mary Aston, i. 43.
Boswell, James, his proposed poetical
epistle to Johnson, i. 46.
his dislike of Baretti, i. 87.
Walpole's remarks on his " An-
ecdotes of Dr. Johnson," i.
133.
reasons for his depreciating
Mrs. Piozzi, i. 134.
Peter Pindar's satire on, quoted,
i. 145.
Boulogne, Mrs. Piozzi's account of,
i. 180.
Bouverie, Mrs., i. 34O.
Bowdler, Rev. Dr., i. 91.
Bowles, Mr., shooting his nephew,
ii. 252.
Bowles, Rev. W., and his fountain,
i. 75, note.
Boyce, Johnson's description of, i.
322
his verses to Cave, i. 322.
Bramah and his air-balloon, ii. 116.
Brighton, Dr. Johnson at, i. 97.
Bristow, Caroline (afterwards Mrs.
Lyttelton), i. 78.
British Museum, ii. 253.
Broadhead, Mrs., ii. 198.
Browne, Isaac Hawkins, i. 152.
Brynbella, i. 2O8, 209, 289.
Buffbn, verses on, ii. 49.
Burdett, Lady, ii. 282.
Burdett, Sir F., ii. 245, 297.
Burke, Right Hon. Edmund, his
opinion of Dr. Johnson as a
public speaker, i. 63.
remarks on him, i. 348.
lines on his portrait, ii. 17.
Burney, Miss. See D'Arblay, Ma-
dame.
Burney, Dr., ii. 268.
quoted, i. 16, note.
his visit with his daughter to
Streatham Park, i. 52.
his description of Mr. and Mrs.
Piozzi in 1808, i. 2O9.
and Doctor Johnson, i. 312.
his verses to Mrs. Thrale, i.
313.
lines on his portrait, ii. 16.
Burney, Dr. junior, his death, i
232.
Byng, Admiral, i. 342.
Byron, Mrs. (wife of the Admiral),
i. 91,156; ii. 317.
INDEX.
395
Byron, Mrs., i.319.
Byron, Lord, ii. 89, 253, 317.
his estimate of life at thirty-
five quoted, i. 31.
his estimate of Italian singers,
i. 106.
his description of Curran and
Madame cle Stael, i. 227.
his " Cain," ii. 299.
Cader Idris, ii. 86.
Campbell, Dr. Thomas, his " Diary"
quoted, i. 84, note.
Mrs. Thrale's account of him,
i. 85.
his account of the mode of
life at Streatham, i. 85.
Capetian Dynasty, story of the, ii.
101.
Capua, poverty of, ii. 189.
Carahoo, Princess of Jarasu, ii. 207,
208.
Careless, of the " Blue Posts " and
Mrs. Thrale, i. 61.
Carlton House, ii. 75.
Carlyle, the bookseller, ii. 298, 299.
Caroline of Anspach, Queen, and
Sir Woolston Dixie, anecdote of,
i. 340.
Caroline, Queen, at Bath, ii. 221,
222, 225.
her death, ii. 237.
her trial, ii. 317.
Caroline of Naples, story of, i. 125.
Carter, Mrs., her " Letters," ii. 205.
Catamaran, i. 318.
Cathcart, Lady, in " Castle Rack-
rent," i. 115.
Catherine, Empress of Russia, verses
on, i. 330.
Catholic question, ii. 246, 263.
Cator, Mr., i. 287, 288, 294.
Dr. Johnson's remark on, i.
154.
Cave, Boyce's verses to, i. 322.
Cervantes, ii. 119.
Chalmers' " Modern Astronomy,"
ii. 157.
Chamberlayne, Mr., his verses, " The
Pleiades," i. 328.
Chambers, Sir Robert, i. 308.
lines on his portrait, ii. 14.
Chantilly, Mrs. Piozzi's account of,
i. 180.
Chappelow, Mr., ii. 197, 199.
Charles Edward, the young Pre-
tender, at Florence,!. 331.
Charlotte, the Princess, her mar-
riage, ii. 147.
her death, ii. 223.
Charlotte, Queen, i. 164
Chester, walls of, i. 73.
Chesterfield, Philip Dormer, Earl
of, i. 177.
Christmas, old customs at, ii. 92.
Churchill, the poet, quoted, i. 346.
Cicisbeism in Italy, i. 185.
Clinton, Lord John, i. 91.
Club, the Literary, formation of the,
i. 21.
Club, Hell-fire, incident at the, i.
347, note.
Clubs, the Blue Stocking, origin of
the, i. 22.
CKvyd, the river, i. 74.
Cobbett, William, ii. 115, 181, 318.
Coligny, Henrietta de, verses on, i.
329.
Collier, Dr., i. 250.
educates Miss Hester Lynch
Salusbury, i. 250.
Mrs. Piozzi's account of, i.
305.
Comber, Mr., his verses, ii. 285.
Combermere Abbey, Johnson's visit
to, i. 78.
Conde, Prince of, anecdote of the,
i. 181, 182.
Congreve, W., his " Way of the
World" quoted, i. 45.
Conway, Mr. Shipley, i. 74, note.
Conway, W. A., and Mrs. Piozzi, i.
210; ii. 274, 281, 288, 297,
303, 324, 325.
notice of him, i. 211.
his letter to Mrs. Piozzi's ex-
ecutors, i. 220.
Conway, ii. 288, 289, 324, 325.
" Corinne " quoted, i. 116, note.
Corsini, Prince, i. 120.
Corsini, Cardinal, i. 120.
Cotton, Mrs., her cascade, i. 75.
Cotton, George (afterwards Dean of
Chester), ii. 248.
Cotton, Sir Lynch, Johnson's visit
and rudeness to, 78.
Cotton, Sir Robert Salusbury, i.
242.
396
INDEX.
Cowper, Countess, i. 330.
Cowper, William, quoted, ii. 164.
Coxe's " Life of the Duke of Marl-
borough," ii. 250.
Crewe, Mrs., i. 340, 344 ; ii. 262.
Croker, Right Hon. John Wilson,
Lord Macaulay's remarks on
his editions of Boswell's
" Johnson " quoted, i. 32.
his translation of Johnson's epi-
gram on Mary Croker, i. 45.
his account of the correspond-
ence between Dr. Johnson and
Mrs. Piozzi on her marriage, i.
109.
Cumberland, Duke and Duchess of,
i. 118,
Curran, J. P., Byron's description
of him, i. 227.
Custom House, fire at the, ii. 9O.
Cuzzona, the actress, story of, i.
195.
Dancing, ii. 300.
D'Arblay, Madame, i. 28, 158.
her account of her first visit to
Streatham Park, i. 52.
her " Evelina," i. 53.
her introduction to Dr. John-
son, i. 54.
her notes of conversations at
Streatliam, i. 59.
quoted, i. 1 9.
her " Diary " quoted, i. 75,
note; 91, 95, 103, 105,
129.
her letter to Mrs. Piozzi on
her marriage, i. 107.
her remarks on Johnson's
" Letters," i. 163.
her character of Mrs. Piozzi,
i. 223.
her description of the Streat-
ham portraits, ii. 9.
her " Camilla," ii. 75.
her " Wanderer," ii. 89.
Mrs. Piozzi's account of her,
ii. 340.
Davenant, Mrs., i. 91, 321.
Davis, Eliza, story of, ii. 203.
Davison's verses on Dido, ii. 43.
Death, Dr. Johnson's letter upon,
i. 164.
Delamira of the Taller," i. 342.
Delap, Dr., i. 97, 152.
Delia Crusca verses, ii. 35.
Demosthenes, Johnson's remark on,
i. 44.
Dent, " Dog," and his bill on dogs,
ii. 73.
Desmoulins, Mrs., i. 18, 19.
Dido, verses on, ii. 42.
epigrams, ii. 42.
Divorces, conversation at Streatham
on, i. 41.
Dixon, Sir Woolston, and Queen
Caroline, i. 341.
Dobson, Dr., i. 276.
Doddridge's epigram on his own
motto quoted, i. 347.
Dodington, Bub (Lord Melcombe),
his " Diary," ii. 179.
Donkin, General, ii. 147, 154.
Dress, female, ii. 232.
, Dr. Johnson's observations on
female dress and demeanour,
i. 66, 67.
Dunning, Lord Ashburton, his per-
sonal vanity, i. 154.
, his ugliness, i. 349.
Duppa, R., Esq., edits Johnson's
" Journey into Wales," i. 73 ; ii.
176.
" Duty and Pleasure," ii. 7.
Edward, Prince, brother of George
III., i. 339, 34O.
Eglintoun, Lady, ii. 69.
Elton, Mr., ii. 298.
English, John, his epitaph, ii. 84.
Enigma, an, ii. 287.
Eparninondas, i. 356.
Esher in Surrey, ii. 70.
Etruscan pottery, ii. 151.
Exmouth, liberation of slaves, ii. 219.
Exmouth, Lord, Christian slaves
liberated by, in Rome, ii. 96.
Faber's prophecy for 1866, ii. 226.
" Fable for April, 1815, a," ii. 105.
Fables of Bertola, ii. 45.
Falmouth, Lord, i. 353.
" Fancy, Imagination," i. 2fi5.
Farinelli, the singer, ii. 244.
Farmer, Dr., ii. 277.
Ferrier, Miss, the novelist, ii. 258.
Fidele, Casa, Mrs. Piozzi's account
of the, i. 282.
INDEX.
397
Fielding, Henry, his disregard of the
value of money, i. 207.
, Sally, sister of the novelist, 5.
262.
Fife, Lord, i. 288.
Fire-eaters, the, ii. 262.
Fisher, Clara, ii. 233.
Fitzpatrick, i. 255.
Fitzwilliam, Lord, ii. 300.
Flahault, Count, ii. 243.
Flint, Bet, Johnson's story of, i. 58.
Flood, Right Hon. H., his opinion
of Dr. Johnson's qualifications as
a public speaker, i. 63.
" Florence Miscellany," account of
the, i. 133; ii. 32, 36.
, preface to the, ii. 50.
Florence, Mrs. Piozzi's description
of, i. 190.
" Florizel and Perdita," Garrick's, i.
39.
Foote, Samuel, i. 310.
" Fountains, The," Johnson's tale of,
i. 47.
Fox, Lady Caroline, i. 309.
Fox, Charles James, his verses, "The
Planets" i. 328.
his character, i. 344.
: his talents, i. 348.
France, Johnson's tour in, i. 78.
verses on, in 1792, ii. 110.
" Frankenstein," ii. 226, 281.
Franklin, Benjamin, Wedderburne's
remark on, i. 350.
Mrs. Piozzi's account of, i.
350. ;
Mr. Dale's lines on, i. 351.
French, Mrs. Piozzi's sketch of the,
i. 183.
Gainsborough, the painter, anecdote
of, i. 338.
Gaming, ii. 131.
Garrick, David, Dr. Johnson's opi-
nion of his talents for light
gay poetry, i. 39, 245 ; ii.
270.
his flattery of Dr. Johnson, i.
44.
his profession depreciated by
Dr. Johnson, i. 143.
anecdote of, i. 324.
his lines on Pelham, i. 357.
lines on his portrait, it, 15.
D
Garrick, David, his lines written at
Streatham, ii. 112.
Garrick, George, i. 152.
Garrick, Mrs., i. 156.
Gas lights introduced into London,
ii. 96, 212.
Genoa, siege of, ii. 92.
George III., caricature on, i. 329.
anecdote of, i. 339.
insults offered to him, ii. 68.
Gibbes, Dr., ii. 226, 274, 285.
Gibbon, Edmund, remarks on his
style, ii. 94.
Gifford, W,, origin of his " Basviad
and Masviad," i. 133.
his scurrilous lines on Mrs.
Piozzi, i. 178.
i his attack on Mrs. Piozzi's
"British Synonymy," i. 194.
Gisborne's " Natural Theology," i.
232.
Glasse, Rev. G. H., notice of, ii. 174,
note.
his motto, ii. 236.
Glover, Miss, the actress, ii. 242.
Gluttony, Mrs. Piozzi's remarks on,
i. 3-2o'.
Godwin, Miss, ii. 281.
Goldsmith, Oliver, i. 193.
his prodigality, i. 195.
his story of the boxer, ii. 149.
. his portrait at Streatham, i. 13.
Gray, Dr., ii. 245.
his " Connections between Sa-
cred Writ and Classic Litera-
ture," ii. 172, 173.
deatli of his mother, ii. 224.
Greenlanders, ii. 28'2.
Gunnings, the Miss, i. 31 S.
Gwaynyog, Dr. Johnson at, i. 75.
Hagley, Johnson's visit to, i. 77.
Hales, Dr., and his prophecy, ii.
235, 238.
Halifax, Lord, i. 245, 251.
Ilalsey, Edmund, uncle of the elder
Thrale, Mrs. Thrale's note re-
specting his rise, i. 9.
Hamilton, Archdeacon, i. 342.
Hamilton, Lady Archibald, i. 342.
Hamilton, Single-speech, supposed
author of " Letters of Jimius," i.
343.
Hampton Court Palace, ii. 154.
D 3
393
INDEX.
Harrington, Dr., ii. 138, 141, 148.
. his death, ii. 144.
Harris, James, Esq., author of
" Hermes," i. 49, 261.
Hart, Polly, ii. 291.
Hawkins, Miss, i. 114.
Hawkins, Sir John, i. 62.
his account of the correspond-
ence between Dr. Johnson and
Mrs. Piozzi on her marriage, i.
109.
Head, Mr., i. 317.
Hell- fire Club, incident at the, i.
347, note.
" Herald, The Morning," verses on
Mrs. Thrale in the, quoted, i.
49.
Hogarth, William, his portrait of
Mrs. Thrale, in the " Lady's
Last Stake," i. 37, 260; ii.
130.
his impromptu addressed to
Mr. Tighe, ii. 129.
Holland, Sir Henry, Bart., i. 229;
ii. 138, 139.
Holywell, Johnson at, i. 75.
Hone, Mr., ii. 226.
Hook, Matilda, ii. 233.
Hope, ii. 1 88.
Huggins, W., the translation of
Ariosto, and Baretti, i. 84.
Hunt, Mr., ii. 295.
Hunting, Dr. Johnson's opinion of,
i. 70.
Hyde Park, ii 211.
" Imagination's Search after Hap-
piness," i. 263.
Ireland forgeries, the, ii. 64, 67, 73,
75, 79.
Jackson, Humphrey, his connection
with Mr. Thrale, i. 257.
Jackson, Mr., i. 273, 274.
James, Sir Walter, ii. 277.
Jebb, Sir R., i. 300, 302.
anecdote of, ii. 25.
Jekyll, his remark on Lord Stowell,
it. 159.
Johnson, Dr. Samuel, his literary
eminence, i. 3.
his letter to Mrs. Thrale re-
specting " Tli raliana," quoted,
i. 6.
Johnson, Dr. Samuel, his introduc-
tion into the family of Mr.
Thrale, i. 7, 1 1.
his account of the rise of Mr.
Thrale's father, i. 7.
visited in Johnson's Court by
Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, i. 12.
disliked by Mrs. Thrale's mo-
ther, i. 13.
his habits, i. 13.
his extremities of poverty and
want, i. 13.
his eating and drinking, i. 14.
his favourite dishes, described
by Peter Pindar, i. 15.
his affectation of great nicety
of palate, i. 15.
his fondness for late hours, i.
16.
. his sterling virtues, i. 1 7.
his household, as described by
Lord Macaulay, i. 17.
society in which he moved, i.
20, 21.
his reverence for bishops, i.
21.
his behaviour in the society of
women, i. 23.
his fondness for female society,
i. 24.
his admiration for Miss Booth-
by, i. 26.
and for Molly Aston, i. 26.
his wife, i. 26.
his remarks on love, i. 27.
probable causes of his long
domestication at Streatham,
i. 28.
his complimentary verses on
Mrs. Thrale, i. 29.
his Latin ode to Mrs. Thrale,
translated by Mr, Milnes, i.
29.
his verses on Mrs. Thrale's
thirty-fifth birthday, i. 30,
34.
his gloomy apprehensions of
death, i. 85.
his dislike at being painted
with all his defects, i. 37.
his conversations at Streatham
Park, i. 39, 41.
his interview with Lord March-
nTont, i. 39.
INDEX.
399
Johnson, Dr. Samuel, his epigram on
Mary Aston, i. 43.
his remarks on Demosthenes
and the Athenians, i. 44.
his opinion of, and respect for,
Mrs. Thrale, i. 45, 49.
his translations from Boethius,
i. 47.
and tale of the " Fountains," i.
47.
his introduction to Miss Bur-
ney, i. 54.
his account of the children of
Mr. Langton, i. 56.
his story of Bet Flint, i. 58.
his gallantry, i. 59.
his remarks on his own polite-
ness, i. 59, note,
the moralist and the hatter of
Southwark, i. 62.
Mr. Thrale's intention of bring-
ing Johnson into Parliament,
i. 62.
assistance afforded by Johnson
to Mr. Thrale in his difficul-
ties, i. 63.
portraitof Johnson by Doughty,
i. 65.
his attention to domestic econo-
my, i. 65.
and to propriety in dress, i.
66,67.
his answer to Sir John Lade,
i. 68.
his fondness for town life, i.
69.
his opinion of hunting, i.
70.
his delight in carriage travel-
ling, i. 70.
drawback on his gratifications,
i. 71.
his diary of a tour in Wales, i.
73.
his description of Bach y Graig,
i. 74.
his fondness for fruit, i. 77.
his visit to Lord Sandys, i.
77.
his dislike to the Lytteltons, i.
77.
his rudeness to Sir Lynch Cot-
ton, i. 78.
his tour in France, i. 78.
D
Johnson, Dr. Samuel, instance of his
occasional impracticability, i.
79.
his friendship for, and opinion
of, Baretti, i. 81.
his evidence on the trial of
Baretti, i. 82.
Dr. Campbell's description of
him, i. 86.
his rapid writing, i. 87.
his advice to Mrs. Thrale on
the death of her husband, i.
92.
appointed one of the executors,
i. 94.
his farewell to Streatham, i. 96,
128.
his visit to Brighton with the
Thrales, i. 97.
his complaints, i. 98, 99.
his disagreement with Mrs.
Thrale, i. 100.
his correspondence with her on
her marriage with Mr. Piozzi,
i. 109.
was Johnson a suitor for the
hand of Mrs. Thrale? i. 120.
Miss Seward's account of his
loves, i. 126, 127.
his last days, i. 128.
his death, i. 129.
his affection for Mrs. Piozzi, i.
129.
- proximate cause of his death, i.
131.
his strict attention to truth, i.
135.
his retort to Pottinger, i. 142.
his habitual disregard for the
rules of good breeding, i.
143.
controversy kindled by the
publication of the " Tour to
the Hebrides," and '' Anec-
dotes of Dr. Johnson," i. 144,
149.
" Letters from and to the late
Samuel Johnson, LL.D., i.
162.
his letters on Death, i. 164.
Saver's print of " Johnson's
Ghost," i. 174.
his verses on a young heir
coming of age, i. 1 98.
D 4
400
INDEX.
Johnson, Dr. Samuel, his apology
to Dr. Burney, i. 312.
his unconscious plagiarism, 5.
325.
lines on his portrait, ii. 18.
Mrs. Thrale's character of him,
ii. 345.
Jones, the Hutchinsonian, ii. 69.
Jonson, Ben, his " Alchemist," ii.
259.
Jordan, Mrs., ii. 1 65.
" Junius, Letters of," authorship of,
i. 343; ii. 319.
his denunciation of the Duke
of Grafton's devotion to Nancy
Parsons quoted, i. 51.
Kaleidoscope, Mrs. Piozzi like a, ii.
237.
Kean, Edmund, ii. 181, 186.
Keep, Mr., i. 308.
Keith, Admiral Lord, his marriage
with Miss Thrale, i. 163.
Keith, Lady. See Thrale, Miss.
Kemble, Charles, ii. 157, 190.
Kemble, John, ii. 292.
Killaloe, Bishop of, i. 24.
Knight, Cornelia, ii. 189.
Lade, Lady, i. 255, 259.
Johnson's remarks on, i. 6%.
her conversation with Johnson
about her son, i. 69.
Lade, Sir John, account of, 5. 69.
Johnson's answer to, i. 68.
Dr. Johnson's verses addressed
to, i. 198.
caricature of, ii. 204.
Lambert, Mrs., i. 156.
Lamoignon, President, his lines, ii.
250.
Langton, Bennet, Esq., Johnson's
remark on, i. 42.
and on his children, i. 56.
story of, ii. 203.
Leicester, Earl of, ii. 67.
Leighton, Sir Baldwin, ii. 268.
Lennox, Lady Sarah, i. 352.
Leopold, King of the Belgians, ii.
147.
" Letters to and from the late Samuel
Johnson, LL. D.," publication of,
i. 162, 174.
Levct, Mr. Robert, in Dr. Johnson's
house, i. 18.
Johnson's lines on the death of,
i. 18.
Lisbon, earthquake at, i. 249.
Liver cases, ii. 274.
Liverpool, Lord, charms of his con-
versation, i. 344.
Llewenny Hall, ii. 98, 206.
London, verses for and against, ii.
169.
Lort, Rev. Dr., i. 40, 159; ii. 128.
Loughborough, Lord, his remark
on Benjamin Franklin, i. 350.
Louis XIV., his politeness, i. 59.
Lucan, Lord, i. 94.
Lucas, Mr., ii. 128.
Lust, Spenser's description of,
quoted, i. 124.
Luttrell, Simon, the " King of
Hell," i. 225.
Lutwyche, Mrs., ii. 97.
Lysons, Rev. Daniel, i. 6.
Lysons, Rev. Samuel, of Hemp-
stead Court, his collection of
books and MSS.,i. 6; ii. 61.
, letters from Mrs. Piozzi to,
i. 118, 119.
his collection of scraps, i. 173 ;
his death, ii. 291 .
Lysons family, notice of the, ii. 61.
Lyttelton, George Lord, cause of
Dr. Johnson's dislike for, i.
26, 77.
verses on his portrait, ii. 11.
the Lyttelton Ghost Story, i.
332.
Lyttelton, Lady, i. 337.
Macaulay, Lord, his opinion of
Boswell as a biographer, i. 4.
and of the value of the Piozzi
papers, i. 5.
his description of the inmates
of Johnson's house quoted, i.
17.
his remarks on Croker's Bos-
well's " Johnson," i. 32.
his account of Mrs. Piozzi's
second marriage, and of Dr.
Johnson's banishment from Streat-
ham, i. 1 27.
Malone, Mr., and the Ireland for-
geries, ii. 75.
INDEX.
401
Malone, Mr., his remarks on Dr.
Johnson's rudeness, i. 140.
Maltzan, Count, i. 337.
Mann, Sir Horace, at Florence, i.
190.
Manucci, Count, i. 168, 286.
Mant, his verses, ii. 302.
Marie Antoinette, Queen, note on
her first confinement, i. 377.
Marriage, Selden's remarks on, ii.
80.
McEvoy, Miss, ii. 189, 226.
Maxwell's " Collectanea," quoted, i.
25.
Merrick, quoted, i 226.
Merry, Mr.,ii. 330.
Managiana," quoted,
his verses, to Mrs. Piozzi, ii.
35.
Milan, life at, i. 285.
Milnes, Richard Monckton, Esq.,
M. P., his translation of John-
son's Latin Ode to Mrs. Thrale,
i. 29.
Milton's " Paradise Lost," quoted,
ii. 223, 273, 297.
Mitre Tavern, i. 46.
Mongolfier and his balloon, ii. 117.
Monkton, Mrs., (afterwards Lady
Cork) and Dr. Johnson, i. 23.
Montagu, Mrs., one of the founders,
of the Blue Stocking Club, i. 22,
168, 311, 319.
her " Essay on Shakspeare," i.
133.
1 Johnson's story of, i. 154.
Mrs. Piozzi's remarks on her
conduct, i. 157.
Montcalm, his dying words, i. 354.
Moore, Archbishop, and the Duke
of Marlborough, i. 356.
Moore, Thomas, his " Journal "
quoted, i. 201, 214 ; ii. 39, note.
More, Miss Hannah, i. 24.
- her remarks on the " Tour to
the Hebrides " and " Anec-
dotes of Dr. Johnson," i.
144, 149.
her opinion of Dr. Johnson's
Letters to Mrs. Thrale, i. 167.
Mostyn, Mrs., i. 118, 124; ii. 74,
87,219, 306.
Mountedgecumbe, Lord and Lady,
ii. 183.
Mount's Bay, ii. 326.
Mulgrave, Lord, and Burke, i. 352.
Murphy, Mr., introduces Johnson
into the family of Mr. Thrale, i.
11.
lines on his portrait, ii. 13.
his song, " Attend all ye fair,"
ii. 113.
his fidelity, ii 164.
his portrait by Reynolds, ii.
271, 278, 282.
Musgrave, Sir R., ii. 232.
Myddelton, Dr.,
Naldi, the singer, i. 106.
Naples, Mrs. Piozzi's notes on, i.
191.
Nash, Beau, i. 309.
Nesbitt, Mrs., i. 255, note.
i. 299.
Nicholson, Miss, i. 110, 119, 275;
ii. 334.
Nicholson, Peg, i. 337.
Ninon de PEncIos, ii. 271.
North, Lord, i. 62.
his maxim quoted, ii. 122.
North, Mr. Dudley, Dr. Johnson's
character of, i. 134.
Norton, Sir Fletcher, i. 338.
verses on, i. 339.
Nova Scotia, colonisation of, i. 245.
OfHey Place, i. 249.
Omai, the Sandwich Islander, i. 171;
ii. 294.
Ombersley, Johnson's visit to, i.
77.
" On a Weeping Willow," &c., ii.
56.
O'Neill, Miss, ii. 240, 243, 2S9.
compared with Mrs. Siddons,
ii. 241.
Oratory, Johnson's declamation
against action in, i. 44.
Ord, Mr?., i. 91, 104.
i. 158.
Ossian, originality of, ii. 246.
Paap, Simon, the dwarf, ii. 2 IS,
233.
Parini, the Abhate, his impromptu
on Mongolfier's balloon, ii. 117.
Parish, Mr., and the Princess Tal-
levrand, ii. 134.
402
INDEX.
Parker, Dr., his complimentary
verses to Mrs. Thrale, i. 325.
Parr, Dr., his correspondence with
Mrs. Piozzi, i. 159.
Parry, Dr. C., ii. 261, 263.
Parry, Sir E., ii. 288.
Parsees, the, i. 303-
Parsons, Mr., his verses to Venus,
i. 278.
and to Mrs. Piozzi, i. 279.
Pasquin and Cardinal Zanetti, i.
353.
Pasquinade on Bonaparte, ii. 10O.
Pelham, Mr., i. 357.
Garriek's lines on, i. 357.
Pennington, Mrs., ii. 312, 328.
her letter to Miss Willoughby,
quoted, i. 215.
Penrice, Sir Henry, i. 248.
Penzance, Mrs. Piozzi at, ii. 313.
life at, ii. 314.
- climate of, ii. 319.
Pepys, Mr., i. 91, 158.
Johnson's character of, i. 1 34.
Johnson's rudeness to, i. 9 1 .
Pepys, Sir Lucas, i. 272, 302.
Pepys, Sir William,!. 811.
Perkins, Mr., i. 43, 158, 259, 294.
' Mrs. Thrale's letters to, re-
ferred to, i. 61.
and the print of Dr. Johnson,
i. 65.
purchases the brewery, i. 96.
Persians, the, in London, in 1818,
ii. 257.
Pindar, Peter, his enumeration of
Dr. Johnson's favourite
dishes, quoted, i. 15.
his verses on Dr. Johnson and
the whiskey at Inverary, i. 47.
his satire on Boswell and Mrs.
Piozzi, quoted, i. 1 46.
Piozzi, Mrs., her moral character, i.
4.
value and attraction of her
writings, i. 5.
list of the papers contained in
the present work, i. 5.
her " Thraliana," i. 6, 7.
her marriage to Mr. Thrale, i.
10.
her first introduction to Dr.
Johnson, i. 1 1 .
Piozzi, Mrs., her conversation, i.
33, 125, 160, 161.
Johnson's verses and ode to
her, 29 31, 34.
year of her birth, i. 32.
her personal appearance, i. 34.
her portrait by Roche, i. 36.
and by Sir Joshua Reynolds
and Hogarth, i. 37.
her familiarity with the learned
and modern languages, i. 42,
47.
Johnson's opinion of her, i. 45.
her translations from Boethius,
i. 47.
and her " Three Warnings," i.
47.
her fugitive pieces, i. 47.
popular estimate of her, i. 49.
her reception of Miss Burney
at Streatham, i. 52.
her trials and bereavements, i.
60.
her attention to business, i. 61.
her tour in Wales, i. 73.
her visit to her birthplace, i.
76.
Dr. Campbell's description of
her, i. 85.
her feelings outraged by her
husband, i. 89.
her account of a conversazione
at her house,!. 91.
death of Mr. Thrale, i, 92.
tale of the brewery, i. 95.
leaves her home at Streatham,
L 96.
her disagreement with John-
son, i. 1OO.
commencement of her ac-
quaintance with Piozzi, i.
103, 268.
her marriage to Piozzi, i. 10G,
et seq.
visits Italy, i. 118.
was Johnson a suitor for her
hand ? i. 1 20.
Miss Seward's account, i. 126.
Mrs. Piozzi's " Anecdotes of
Dr. Johnson," i. 133.
her alleged inaccuracy, i. 134.
Peter Pindar's satire on her
and on Boswell, i. 146.
INDEX.
403
Piozzi, Mrs., success of her " Anec-
dotes of Dr. Johnson," i. 149.
Walpole's opinion of it, i. 148.
her return to, and reception in,
London, i. 155.
her domestic thoughts, i. 156.
her return to Streatham, i.
159.
her correspondence with Dr.
Parr, i. 159.
names of the friends visiting
or corresponding with her, i.
160.
marriage of her eldest daugh-
ter, i. 161.
her " Letters to and from
the late Samuel Johnson,
LL.D.," i. 162.
Baretti's treatment of her, i.
169.
her remarks on Baretti's death,
i. 169.
and on his character, i. 171.
the comedy of " The Senti-
mental Mother," i. 172.
her alarm at Mr. S. Lysons'
collection of scraps, i. 173.
her " Observations and Re-
flections," i. 174.
criticisms on the work, i. 175.
her style, i. 177.
Gifford's lines on her, i. 178.
quotations from her Travels, i.
179 et seq.
her "British Synonymy," i.
194.
her " Retrospection,"!. 199.
leaves Streatham for Nortli
Wales, i. 202.
description of her and her
husband, in 1808, i. 209.
death of Mr. Piozzi, i. 210.
their portraits, i. 110.
her way of life after his death,
i. 210.
her fancy for W. A. Comvay,
i. 210.
her ball and supper on her
eightieth birthday, i. 214.
her death, i. 215.
her will, i. 215.
her character, i. 223, 227.
her autobiographical memoirs,
i. 235.
Piozzi, Mrs., her domestic trials, i.
271.
her account of her second
marriage, i. 275.
her residence in Italy, i. 281.
her biographical anecdotes, i.
286.
Mr. Thrale's will, and account
of the sale of the brewery,
i. 293.
account of Mr. Thrale's death,
i. 302.
and of Dr. Collier, i. 305.
her marginal notes in the two
volumes of printed letters,
i. 308.
her notes on Wraxall's " Me-
moirs of my own Time,''
i. 327.
her original compositions in
prose and vtrse, ii. 3.
her letters, ii. 61.
extracts from " Thraliana,"
ii. 329.
Piozzi, Mr., i. 91.
account of the commencement
of his acquaintance with Mrs.
Thrale, i. 103, 260.
his singing, i. 103, 104.
his marriage with Mrs. Thrale,
i. 107, 275.
Miss Williams Wynn's opinion
of him, i. 123.
his personal appearance, i. 125.
his prudent economy, i. IS'.?.
his losses in Italy, i. 20J.
his character, i. 208.
his death, i. 210, 291 .
account of him, i. 270.
-Politeness, i. 53.
Mrs. Thrale's, i. 53.
Dr. Johnson's, i. 59, note.
Pope, Alexander, Johnson's Life of,
i. 39.
conversation at Streatham on
his " Universal Prayer," i. 40.
quoted, i. 177 ; ii. 143.
anecdote of, i. 184, 185.
his letter to Martha Blount.ii.
196.
Porter, Miss, her " Pastor's Fire-
side," ii. 195.
Pottinger, Johnson's retort to, i. 142.
" Piozziar.a," i. 35, note.
404
INDEX.
"Piozziana," quoted, i. 33, 35, 37,
note, 42, 89, 236.
Prior, Matthew, Dr. Johnson's opin-
ion of, i. 38.
Queeny (Miss Thrale). See Thrale,
Miss.
Quin, the actor, i. 245.
Radcliffe, Dr., ii. 276, 277.
Ravase, the Abate, his verses to
Mrs. Piozzi, ii. 47.
Ray, Mrs., her school at Streatham,
i. 272, 287.
Regent's Park, ii. 211.
" Retrospection," &c., of Mrs. Piozzi,
i. 199.
Revolution, French, effects of the, i.
182.
Reynolds, Sir Joshua, his conversa-
tions with Dr. Johnson, i.
24.
- his portrait of Mrs. Thrale, i.
37.
excellence of his portraits, ii.
12, note.
lines on his portrait, ii. 14.
Reynolds, Miss, her " Recollections
of Dr. Johnson," quoted, i. 49.
Rhuddlan Castle, visited by Johnson,
i. 74.
Rice, Mrs., i. 255, note.
Richardson, Samuel, i. 31 1 .
Roche, the miniature painter, his
portrait of Mrs. Piozzi, i. 36.
Rodney, Admiral, i. 331.
his victory over De Grasse, ii.
355.
Roffette, the Abbe", and Dr. John-
son, i. 79.
Romanism, ii. 217.
Rome, poverty of, ii. 189.
an English church in, ii.
219.
Rogers, Samuel, ii. 80, 295.
Rondeaux, Mrs. Thrale's verses on,
i. 314.
Voitures, i. 315.
Rothes, Lady, i. 91.
Rugby school and original painting,
ii. 276.
Rumbold, Sir Thomas, epigram on,
i. 355.
Rush, Mr., i. 259.
Ryder, Bishop of Gloucester, ii.
225.
Sacchini, his singing, i. 103.
Salisbury, Bishop of, ii. 150.
Salusbury, Miss Hester Lynch, her
marriage to Mr. Thrale, i. 10.
See Piozzi.
Salusbury, Mrs., her dislike to Dr.
Johnson, 5. 13, 241.
Salusbury, Mr. (Mrs. Thrale's fa-
ther), i. 75.
Salusbury, Sir John Piozzi Salus-
bury, notice of, i. 204 206,
291; ii. 195.
Miss Wynn's anecdote of him,
i. 206.
Salusbury, Dr. Thomas, i. 248.
Salusbury, Lady, i. 249.
her death, i. 250.
Sandwich, Lord and Lady, i. 345.
his baboon, i. 347.
Sandys, Lord, Johnson's visit to, i.
77.
Johnson's remark on, i. 15*.
verses on his portrait, ii. 11.
Savage, Richard, his poverty and
want, i. 13.
- his extravagance, i. 195.
Sayers, his print of "Johnson's
Ghost," i. 174.
" Scaligeriana," ii. 279.
Scott, Sir Walter, ii. 136, 137, 193.
his novels, i 17, note; ii. 253,
273.
Schwellenberg, Mrs., i. 163, 165.
Scrase, Mr., i. 259 ; ii. 244.
Serpent worship, ii. 280.
Seward, Mr., at Streatham Park, i.
53, 308.
Seward, Miss, i. 158, 160.
her account [of Mr. and Mrs.
Piozzi quoted, i. 1 25.
and of Dr. Johnson's affection
for Mrs. Thrale, i. 126, 127.
her opinions of Dr. Johnson's
letters to Mrs. Tlirale, i. 167.
her remarks on Barretti's con-
duct, i. 169.
her criticism on Mrs. Piozzi's
travels, i. 175.
Shelburne, Lord, i. 338.
Shephard, Charles, ii. 318.
Sheridan, Thomas, i. 352
INDEX.
405
Sicldons, Mrs., i. 289 ; ii. 63, 64, 69,
73, 212, 289, 315.
letter from Sir James Fellowes
to, i. 221.
her letter to Mrs. Piozzi, i.
222.
in Aspasia's character, ii. 155.
Sieyes, the Abbe, and the Dauphin,
ii. 108,
Simson, Joe, story of, i. 222.
Sisera and Jael, ii. 126.
Sisterna, Prince of, i. 118.
Snow, red, ii. 263, 282.
Social verses, ii. 53.
" Society, Ode to," ii. 39.
Sophia, the Electress, i. 246, 247,
note.
Southcote, Joanna, ii. 189.
Spelling, laws of, unfixed in the last
century, i. 177.
Spencer, Hon. W., his verses, ii. 144.
" Spenceriana," ii. 316.
Squib, the auctioneer, ii. 157.
Stael, Madame de, her " Delphine "
and " Corinne," i. 203.
her similarity to Mrs. Piozzi,
i. 223, 224.
Byron's estimate of her, i. 227.
Staker, Dr., i. 272.
Stanley, Blind, i. 314.
Stanley, Lady, ii. 121.
Steam-boats on the Thames, ii. 212.
Steevens, George, Esq., his veracity,
i. 48.
Sterne, Laurence, his " Tristram
Shandy," i. 325.
Stevens, Zenobia, story of, ii. 99,
321.
Stonehenge, i. 321.
Story, a frightful, ii. 32.
Stowell, Lord, on the proposal to
bring Dr. Johnson into Parlia-
ment, i. 62.
Stratton, Mrs., ii. 268.
Stratton, Miss, the actress, ii. 242.
Streatfield, Miss Sophia, and Mr.
Thrale, i. 89, 91 ; ii. 329.
Mrs. Piozzi's account of her, i.
296, 306, 329.
Streatham Park, Johnson at, i. 11,
28, 39, 41, 54, 85.
Miss Burney's account of her
first visit to, i. 51.
life at, i. 55, 86, 256.
Streatham Portraits, the, ii. 9.
verses on the, ii. 11.
Succession powder, i. 356.
Swift, Dean, his epistle of Mary
Gulliver quoted, 5. 46.
his fondness for fruit, i. 77.
" Synonymy, British," Mrs. Piozzi's
published, i. 194.
extracts from, ii. 354.
Talleyrand, Prince, his remark on
Madame de Stael, i. 225.
" Tatler," the, i. 342.
Taylor, Dr., i. 168.
Taylor, Mr. Watson, ii. 271, 276,
278, 282.
" Temple, Letters to," of Boswell,
i. 4.
Thackeray, Dr., ii. 140.
Tliistlewood conspirators, ii. 206.
Thomas, Archdeacon, at Bath, ii.
225.
Thrale, Mrs. See Piozzi, Mrs.
Thrale, Mr., introduction of Dr.
Johnson into his family, i. 7, 1 1.
account of the rise of his father,
i. 79.
his early life and education, i.
9, 10.
his introduction to Johnson,
i. 11.
his visit to Johnson in Johnson's
Court, i. 12.
his personal appearance, i. 34.
Johnson's opinion of his learn-
ing, i. 42.
Miss Burney's description of
him, i. 55.
his ill health and misfortunes,
i. 60, 6 1 .
his intention of bringing Dr.
Johnson into Parliament, i.
62.
assisted by Johnson in his diffi-
culties, i. 63.
his embarrassments, i. 65.
his preference for Miss Sophia
Streatfield to his wife, i, 89.
his illness, i. 90.
and death, i. 92.
his introduction to Miss Sa-
lusbury, i. 257.
his marriage, i. 254.
his mode of life, i. 256.
406
INDEX.
Tlirale, Mr., his imprudence, i. 257.
his connexion with Humphrey
Jackson, i. 257.
his pecuniary difficulties, i.
258.
account of his will, and sale of
the brewery, i. 293.
and of his last illness, i. 299.
his death, i. 302.
lines on his portrait, ii. 15.
his character as sketched by
Mrs. Piozzi, ii. 26.
his mode of teaching swimming,
ii. 296.
Thrale, Mr. Ralph, Johnson's ac-
count of, i. 7.
true account, i. 8, 9.
Thrale, Miss (afterwards Lady
Keith), 73, 74, 76, 79, 95,
275 ; ii. 163.
Miss Burney's description of
her, i. 52.
her conduct on her mother's
marriage, i. 1 17.
her filial affection, i. 118.
her marriage to Admiral Lord
Keith, i. 161.
" Thraliana," Johnson's letter to
Mrs. Thrale respecting,
quoted, i. 6.
. its present possessor, i. 7.
quoted, i. 69, 161, 169, 194,
205, 237, 260 ; ii. 26, 250, 329.
Thornton, Mr. H., and Mrs. Thrale,
i. 62.
Thurlow, Lord, anecdote of, i. 344.
Thynne, epitaph on, ii. 42, note.
" Time, Death, and H. L. P.," ii.
57.
" Tristram Shandy," plagiarisms in,
i. 325.
Trotti, the Marquis, i. 289.
Truth, Johnson's regard for, i. 135.
Tulip mania, ii. 289.
Twiss, Mrs., ii. 133.
Vansittart, Dr., and Dr. Johnson,
story of, i. 143.
Vega, Lope de, his sonnet quoted, i.
316.
imitated by Mr. Roderick, i.
316.
Venetian story of Mrs. Piozzi, i.
183.
Venetian women, i. 190.
Venice, crime in, in the last century,
i. 186.
the Mendicant! of, i. 189.
Vesey, Mrs., one of the founders of
the Blue Stocking Clubs, i. 22.
Vienna, Mrs. Piozzi's notes on, i.
192.
Vincent, Dr., Dean of Westminster,
his account of Baretti, quoted, i.
83.
Voiture's famous Rondeau, i. 315.
" Vortigern," forged play of, ii. 73,
79.
Wade, Mr., and the love letters, i.
320.
Wales, tour of Dr. Johnson and the
Thrales in, i. 73.
published by Mr. Duppa, i.
75.
Walpole, Sir Robert, ii. 276.
Walpole, Horace, his remarks on
the " Florence Miscellany," i.
122.
his remarks on Boswell and
Mrs. Piozzi, i. 145.
his opinion of Mrs. Piozzi's
Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson,
i. 148.
his opinion of Dr. Johnson
after reading his Letters to
Mrs. Thrale, i. 163.
his " Love Story," ii. 71.
his criticism on Mrs. Piozzi's
Travels, i. 175.
hisletter to Miss Berry, quoted,
i. 178.
Ward, the actor, ii. 242, 270.
" Warnings, The Three," ii. 3.
when published, i. 47.
Warton, Dr., his opinion of Baretti,
i. 84.
Waterloo Bridge, ii. 96.
Watson, Bishop, his " Apology for
the Bible," ii. 78.
Weston, Sophia, i. 217, note.
Whalley, Dr. and Mrs., ii. 301.
Whitbread, S., M. P., i. 309.
Wilberforce, Mr., ii. 203.
Wilkes and Lord Guildford, story
of, ii. 181.
, story told by, i. 1 39.
Williams, Mrs., i. 17, 19.
INDEX.
407
Williams, Mrs. Anna, her " Miscel-
lanies," i. 47.
, Miss Helen, and Mrs. Piozzi,
i. 160; ii. 214, 301.
Willoughby, Miss, ii. 316, 320,
325.
Wilson, Miss, the singer, ii. 324.
Wilton, Fanny, i. 308.
Wit, Barrow's description of, quoted,
i. 228.
, Mrs. Piozzi's, i. 228.
Women, Dr. Johnson in the society
of, i. 2325.
, Dr. Johnson's remarks on
female dress and demeanour, i. 66,
67.
Wraxall, Sir N. W., his remarks
on Mrs. Thrale's colloquial
powers quoted, i. 22.
, Mrs. Piozzi's notes on his
" Historical Memoirs," i. 327.
Wroughton, Mrs. and Miss, ii. 148,
154.
Wynn, Miss Williams, i. 122, note.
extracts from her ''Common-
place Book," ii. 91.
Yonge, Sir William, i. 177.
Young, the actor, ii. 235, 285.
Zanelli, Cardinal, and Pasquin, i,
353.
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