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AUTOBIOGRAPHY &c. OF MRS. PIOZZI 
 
 Welcome, Associate Forms, where'er we turn ; 
 Fill, Streatham's Hebe, the Johnsonian urn. 
 
 St. Stephen's. 
 
 
1 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 LETTERS AND LITERARY REMAINS 
 
 MRS. PIOZZI (THRALE) 
 
 EDITED WITH XQTES 
 
 AND AN INTRODUC OKI ACCOUNT OF HER LIFE AND WRITINGS 
 
 By A. HATWARD, ESQ. Q.C. 
 
 Mrs. Piozzi. JEt. 76. 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 TICKNOR AND FIELDS 
 
 1861 
 

 University Press, Cambridge : 
 Printed by Welch, Bigelow, and Company. 
 
 
61 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Introduction: Life and Writings of Mrs. Piozzi . 1 
 
 Autobiographical Memoirs 161 
 
 Her Story of her Life 163 
 
 Introduction to Piozzi 183 
 
 Domestic Trials 185 
 
 Second Marriage 188 
 
 Residence in Italy 192 
 
 Thrale's Will. — Sale of the Brewery 201 
 
 The charming S. S. . 203 
 
 Thrale's Illness 205 
 
 Death of Thrale 207 
 
 Dr. Collier 209 
 
 Notes on "Letters To and Prom Dr. Johnson," including 
 new Anecdotes of Johnson and his Cotemporaries . . . .211 
 
 Notes on Wraxali/s " Historical Memoirs of my own 
 Time," including the true Story of the Lyttelton Ghost, and Anec- 
 dotes of various Literary and Political Celebrities .... 224 
 
 Miscellanies, or Original Compositions in Prose and Verse 245 
 
 The Three Warnings 247 
 
 Duty and Pleasure 250 
 
 The Streatham Portraits 251 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 Asheri 258 
 
 Her Character of Thrale 263 
 
 Translation of Laura Bassi's Verses 266 
 
 A Frightful Story 268 
 
 Delia Crusca Verses 270 
 
 Ode to Society 273 
 
 Epigrams and Translations ....... 275 
 
 Verses on Buffon 280 
 
 Dedication and Preface of the "Florence Miscellany v . . 281 
 
 Occasional Verses 283 
 
 Letters . 287 
 
 Miscellaneous Extracts from u Thraliana " . . . 477 
 
 Extracts from "British Synonymy" 494 
 
 Index 521 
 
INTRODUCTION: 
 
 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 Dr. Johnson lias been hailed by acclamation the literary colos- 
 sus of an epoch when the galaxy of British authorship sparkled 
 with the names of Hume, Robertson, Gibbon, Warburton, the 
 TTartons, Fielding, Richardson, Smollett, Gray, Goldsmith, and 
 Burke. Any one of these may have surpassed the great lexicog- 
 rapher in some one branch of learning or domain of genius ; but 
 as a man of letters, in the highest sense of the term, he towered 
 pre-eminent, and his superiority to each of them (except Burke) 
 in general acquirements, intellectual power, and force of expres- 
 sion, was hardly contested by his contemporaries. To be associ- 
 ated with his name has become a title of distinction in itself; and 
 some members of his circle enjoy, and have fairly earned, a pe- 
 culiar advantage in this respect. In their capacity of satellites 
 revolving round the sun of their idolatry, they attracted and re- 
 flected his light and heat. As humble companions of their Mag- 
 nolia grandijlora, they did more than live with it ; * they gathered 
 and preserved the choicest of its flowers. Thanks to them, his 
 reputation is kept alive more by what has been saved of his con- 
 versation than by his books ; and his colloquial exploits necessa- 
 rily revive the memory of the friends (or victims) who elicited 
 and recorded them. 
 
 If the two most conspicuous amongst these have hitherto gained 
 notoriety rather than what is commonly understood by fame, a. 
 
 * " Je ne suis pas la rose, mais j'ai vecu avec elle." — Constant. 
 1 
 
2 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 discriminating posterity is already beginning to make reparation 
 for the wrong. Boswell's " Letters to Temple," edited by Mr. 
 Francis, with " Boswelliana," printed for the Philobiblion Society 
 by Mr. Milnes, led, in 1857, to a revisal of the harsh sentence 
 passed on one whom the most formidable of his censors, Lord 
 Macaulay, has declared to be not less decidedly the first of biog- 
 raphers, than Homer is the first of heroic poets, Shakespeare the 
 first of dramatists, or Demosthenes the first of orators. The re- 
 sult was eminently favorable to Bos well, although the, vulnerable 
 points of his character were still more glaringly displayed. The 
 appeal about to be hazarded on behalf of Mrs. Piozzi will involve 
 little or no risk of this kind. Her ill-wishers made the most of 
 the event which so injuriously affected her reputation at the time 
 of its occurrence ; and the marked tendency of every additional 
 disclosure of the circumstances has been to elevate her. No 
 candid person will read her Autobiography, or her Letters, with- 
 out arriving at the conclusion that her long life was morally, if 
 not conventionally, irreproachable ; and that her talents were 
 sufficient to confer on her writings a value and attraction of their 
 own, apart from what they possess as illustrations of a period or a 
 school. When the papers out of which this volume is princi- 
 pally composed were laid before Lord Macaulay, he gave it as 
 his opinion that they afforded materials for a " most interesting 
 and durably popular volume." 
 They comprise : — 
 
 1. Autobiographical Memoirs. 
 
 2. Letters, mostly addressed to the late Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 3. Fugitive pieces of her composition, most of which have 
 never appeared in print. 
 
 4. Manuscript notes by her on Wraxall's Memoirs, and on her 
 own published works, namely : " Anecdotes of the late Samuel 
 Johnson, LL. D., during the last twenty years of his life," one 
 volume, 1786; " Letters to and from the late Samuel Johnson, 
 LL. D., &c," in two volumes, 1788 ; "Observations and Reflec- 
 tions made in the course of a Journey through France, Italy, and 
 Germany," in two volumes, 1789 ; " Retrospection ; or, Review 
 of the most striking and important Events, Characters, Situa- 
 tions, and their Consequences which the last Eighteen Hundred 
 
 
HER LITERARY REMAINS. 3 
 
 Years have presented to the View of Mankind," in two volumes, 
 quarto, 1801. 
 
 The "Autobiographical Memoirs," and the annotated books, 
 were given by her to the late Sir James Fellowes, of Adbury 
 House, Hants, M. D., F. R. S., to whom the letters were ad- 
 dressed. He and the late Sir John Piozzi Salusbury were her 
 executors, and the present publication takes place in pursuance 
 of an agreement with their personal representatives, the Rev. 
 G. A. Salusbury, Rector of Westbury, Salop, and Captain J. 
 Butler Fellowes. 
 
 Valuable additions to the original stock of materials have 
 reached me since the announcement of the work. The Rev. 
 Dr. Wellesley, the Principal of New Inn Hall, has kindly placed 
 at my disposal his copy of Boswell's " Life of Johnson," (edition 
 of 1816), plentifully sprinkled with marginal notes by Mrs. Pi- 
 ozzi. The Rev. Samuel Lysons, of Hempsted Court, Glouces- 
 ter, has liberally allowed me the free use of his valuable col- 
 lection of books and manuscripts, including numerous letters from 
 Mrs. Piozzi to his father and uncle, the Rev. Daniel Lysons and 
 Mr. Samuel Lysons, the friend and correspondent of Johnson ; 
 and I shall have many more obligations to acknowledge as I 
 proceed. 
 
 From 1776 to 1809 Mrs. Piozzi kept a copious diary and 
 note-book, called " Thraliana." Johnson thus alludes to it in a 
 letter of September 6th, 1777 : "As you have little to do, I sup- 
 pose you are pretty diligent at the 'Thraliana;' and a very curi- 
 ous collection posterity will find it. Do not remit the practice of 
 writing down occurrences as they arise, of whatever kind, and be 
 very punctual in annexing the dates. Chronology, you know, 
 is the eye of history. Do not omit painful casualties or un- 
 pleasing passages ; they make the variegation of existence ; 
 and there are many passages of which I will not promise, with 
 JEneas, et hcec olim meminisse jwvaMt" " Thraliana," which at 
 one time she thought of burning, is now in the possession of Mr. 
 Salusbury, who deems it of too private and delicate a character 
 to be submitted to strangers, but has kindly supplied me with 
 some curious passages and much valuable information extracted 
 from it. 
 
4- LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 Unless Mrs. Piozzi's character and social position are freshly 
 remembered, her reminiscences and literary remains will lose 
 much of their interest and utility. It has, therefore, been thought 
 advisable to recapitulate, by way of introduction, what has been 
 ascertained from other sources concerning her : especially during 
 her intimacy with Johnson, which lasted nearly twenty years, and 
 exercised a marked influence on his tone of mind. 
 
 "This year (1765)," says Boswell, " was distinguished by his 
 (Johnson) being introduced into the family of Mr. Thrale, one 
 of the most eminent brewers in England, and member of Parlia- 
 ment for the borough of Southwark Johnson used to 
 
 give this account of the rise of Mr. Thrale's father : ' He worked 
 at six shillings a week for twenty years in the great brewery, 
 which afterwards was his own. The proprietor of it had an only 
 daughter, who was married to a nobleman. It was not fit that 
 a peer should continue the business. On the old man's death, 
 therefore, the brewery was to be' sold. To find a purchaser for 
 so large a property was a difficult matter ; and, after some time, 
 it was suggested, that it would be advisable to treat with Thrale, 
 a sensible, active, honest man, who had been employed in the 
 house, and to transfer the whole to him for thirty thousand 
 pounds, security being taken upon the property. This was ac- 
 cordingly settled. In eleven years Thrale paid the purchase- 
 money. He acquired a large fortune, and lived to be a member 
 of Parliament for Southwark. But what was most remarkable 
 was the liberality with which he used his riches. He gave his 
 son and daughters the best education. The e,steem which his 
 good conduct procured him from the nobleman who had married 
 his master's daughter, made him be treated with much attention ; 
 and his son, both at school and at the University of Oxford, asso- 
 ciated with young men of the first rank. His allowance from 
 his father, after he left college, was splendid ; not less than a 
 thousand a year. This, in a man who had risen as old Thrale 
 did, was a very extraordinary instance of generosity. He used 
 to say, ' If this young dog does not find so much after I am gone 
 as he expects, let him remember that he has had a great deal in 
 my own time.' " 
 
THE THRALES. 5 
 
 What is here stated regarding Thrale's origin, on the alleged 
 authority of Johnson, is incorrect. The elder Thrale was the 
 nephew of Halsey, the proprietor of the brewery, whose daughter 
 was married to a nobleman (Lord Cobham), and he naturally 
 nourished hopes of being his uncle's successor. In the Abbey 
 Church of St. Albans there is a monument to some members of 
 the Thrale family who died between 1676 and 1704, adorned 
 with a shield of arms and a crest on a ducal coronet. Mrs. 
 Thrale's marginal note on Boswell's account of her husband's 
 family is curious and characteristic : — 
 
 " Edmund Halsey was son to a miller at St. Albans, with 
 whom he quarrelled, like Ralph in the ' Maid of the Mill,' and 
 ran away to London with a very few shillings in his pocket. He 
 was eminently handsome, and old Child, of the Anchor Brew- 
 house, Southwark, took him in as what we call a broomstick 
 clerk, to sweep the yard, &c. Edmund Halsey behaved so well 
 he was soon preferred to be a house-clerk, and then, having free 
 access to his master's table, married his only daughter, and suc- 
 ceeded to the business upon Child's demise. Being now rich and 
 prosperous, he turned his eyes homewards, where he learned that 
 sister Sukey had married a hard-working man at Offley in Hert- 
 fordshire, and had many children. He sent for one of them to 
 London (my Mr. Thrale's father) ; said he would make a man of 
 him, and did so, but made him work very hard, and treated him 
 very roughly, Halsey being more proud than tender, and his 
 only child, a daughter, married to Lord Cobham. 
 
 " Old Thrale, however, as these fine writers call him, — then 
 a young fellow, and, like his uncle, eminent for personal beauty, 
 — made himself so useful to Mr. Halsey that the weight of the 
 business fell entirely on him ; and while Edmund was canvassing 
 the borough and visiting the viscountess, Ralph Thrale was get- 
 ting money both for himself and his principal, who, envious of 
 his success with a wench they both liked, but who preferred the 
 young man to the old one, died, leaving him never a guinea, and 
 he bought the brewhouse of Lord and Lady Cobham, making an 
 excellent bargain, with the money he had saved." 
 
 When, in the next page but one, Boswell describes Thrale as 
 presenting the character of a plain, independent English squire, 
 
6 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 she writes : " No, no ! Mr. Thrale's manners presented the 
 character of a gay man of the town : like Millainant, in Con- 
 greve's comedy, he abhorred the country and everything in it." 
 
 In " Thraliana," after a corresponding statement, she adds : 
 " He (the elder Thrale) educated his son and three daughters 
 quite in a high style. His son he wisely connected with the 
 Cobhams and their relations, Grenvilles, Lyttletons, and Pitts, to 
 whom he lent money, and they lent assistance of every other 
 kind, so that my Mr. Thrale was bred up at Stowe, and Stoke, 
 and Oxford, and every genteel place ; had been abroad with 
 Lord Westcote, whose expenses old Thrale cheerfully paid, I 
 suppose, who was thus a kind of tutor to the young man, who 
 had not failed to profit by these advantages, and who was, when 
 he came down to Offley to see his father's birthplace, a very 
 handsome and well-accomplished gentleman." 
 
 After expatiating on the advantages of birth, and the presump- 
 tion of new men in attempting to found a new system of gentility, 
 Boswell proceeds : " Mr. Thrale had married Miss Hester Lynch 
 Salusbury, of good Welsh extraction, a lady of lively talents, 
 improved by education. That Johnson's introduction into Mr. 
 Thrale's family, which contributed so much to the happiness of 
 his life, was owing to her desire for his conversation, is a very 
 probable and the general supposition; but it is not the truth. 
 Mr. Murphy, who was intimate with Mr. Thrale, having spoken 
 very highly of Dr. Johnson, he was requested to make them ac- 
 quainted. This being mentioned to Johnson, he accepted of an 
 invitation to dinner at Thrale's, and was so much pleased with 
 his reception, both by Mr. and Mrs. Thrale, and they so much 
 pleased with him, that his invitations to their house were more 
 and more frequent, till at last he became one of the family, and 
 an apartment was appropriated to him, both in their house at 
 Southwark and in their villa at Streatham." 
 
 Boswell was jealous of Mrs. Thrale (as it is most convenient 
 to call her till her second marriage) as a rival biographer, and 
 lost no opportunity of depreciating her. He might at least, how- 
 ever, have stated that instead of sanctioning the " general suppo- 
 sition " as to the introduction, she herself supplied the account of 
 it which he adopts. In her "Anecdotes " she says : — 
 
INTRODUCTION TO JOHXSOX. 7 
 
 " The first time I ever saw this extraordinary man was in the 
 year 1764, when Mr. Murphy, who had long been the friend and 
 confidential intimate of Mr. Thrale, persuaded him to w T ish for 
 Johnson's conversation, extolling it in terms which that of no 
 other person could have deserved, till we were only in doubt 
 how to obtain his company, and find an excuse for the invitation. 
 The celebrity of Mr. Woodhouse, a shoemaker, whose verses 
 were at that time the subject of common discourse, soon afforded 
 a pretence, and Mr. Murphy brought Johnson to meet him, giv- 
 ing me general caution not to be surprised at his figure, dress, or 
 
 behavior Mr. Johnson liked his new acquaintance so 
 
 much, however, that from that time he dined with us every 
 Thursday through the winter, and in the autumn of iher next 
 year he followed us to Brighthelmstone, whence we were gone 
 before his arrival ; so he was disappointed and enraged, and 
 wrote us a letter expressive of anger, wdiich we were very de- 
 sirous to pacify, and to obtain his company again if possible. Mr. 
 Murphy brought him back to us again very kindly, and from that 
 time his visits grew more frequent, till in the year 1766 his 
 health, which he had always complained of, grew so exceedingly 
 tad, that he could not stir out of his room in the court he inhab- 
 ited for many weeks together, I think months" 
 
 It is strange that they should differ about the date of the intro- 
 duction by a year. She goes on to say that when she and her 
 husband called on Johnson one morning in this court (Johnson's 
 Court, Fleet Street), he gave way to such an uncontrolled burst 
 of despair regarding the world to come, that Mr. Thrale tried to 
 stop his mouth by placing one hand before it, and before leaving 
 him desired her to prevail on him to quit his close habitation for 
 a period and come with them to Streatham. He complied, and 
 took up his abode with them from before Midsummer till after 
 Michaelmas in that year. During the next sixteen years a room 
 in their house w T as set apart for him. 
 
 The principal difficulty at first was to induce him to live peace- 
 ably with her mother, who took a strong dislike to him, and con- 
 stantly led the conversation to topics which he detested, such as 
 foreign news and politics. He revenged himself by writing to 
 the newspapers accounts of events which never happened, for the 
 
8 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 sole purpose of notifying her ; and probably more than one of 
 his mischievous fictions have passed current for history. They 
 made up their differences before her death, and a Latin epitaph of 
 the most eulogistic order from his pen is inscribed upon her tomb. 
 
 It had been well for Mrs. Thrale and her guests if there had 
 existed no more serious objection to Johnson as an inmate. At 
 the commencement of the acquaintance, he was fifty-six ; an age 
 when habits are ordinarily fixed ; and many of his w r ere of a 
 kind which it required no common temper and tact to tolerate or 
 control. They had been formed at a period when he was fre- 
 quently subjected to the worst extremities of humiliating poverty 
 and want. He describes Savage, without money to pay for a 
 night's lodging in a cellar, walking about the streets till he was 
 weary, and sleeping in the summer upon a bulk or in the winter 
 amongst the ashes of a glass-house. He w T as Savage's associate 
 on more than one occasion of the sort. Whilst at college, he 
 threw away the shoes which were left at his door to replace the 
 worn-out pair in which he appeared daily. His clothes were in 
 so tattered a state whilst he w r as writing for the " Gentleman's 
 Magazine " that, instead of taking his seat at Cave's table, he sat 
 behind a screen and had his victuals sent to him. a 
 
 Talking of the symptoms of Christopher Smart's madness, he 
 said, " Another charge was that he did not love clean linen ; and 
 I have no passion for it." In general his wigs were very shabby, 
 and their foreparts w r ere burned away by the near approach of 
 the candle, which his short-sightedness rendered necessary in 
 reading. At Streatham, Mr. Thrale's valet had always a better 
 w T ig ready, with which he met Johnson at the parlor door when 
 dinner was announced, and as he went up stairs to bed, the same 
 man followed him with another. 
 
 One of his applications to Cave for a trifling advance of money 
 is signed Impransus ; and he told Boswell that he could fast two 
 days without inconvenience, and had never been hungry but once. 
 What he meant by hungry is not easy to explain, for his every- 
 day manner of eating was that of a half-famished man. When at 
 table, he was totally absorbed in the business of the moment ; his 
 looks were riveted to his plate, till he had satisfied his appetite ; 
 which was indulged with such intenseness, that the veins of his 
 
JOHNSON'S HABITS. 9 
 
 forehead swelled, and generally a strong perspiration was visible. 
 Until he left off drinking fermented liquors altogether, he acted 
 on the maxim " Claret for boys, port for men, brandy for heroes." 
 He preferred the strongest, because, he said, it did its work (i. e. 
 intoxicate) the soonest. He used to pour capillaire into his port 
 wine, and melted butter into his chocolate. His favorite dishes 
 are accurately enumerated by Peter Pindar : — 
 
 madame piozzi {loquitur). 
 
 " Dear Doctor Johnson loved a leg of pork, 
 And hearty on it would his grinders work : 
 He liked to eat it so much overdone, 
 That one might shake the flesh from off the bone. 
 A veal pye too, with sugar crammed and plums, 
 Was wondrous grateful to the Doctor's gums. 
 Though used from morn to night on fruit to stuff, 
 He vowed his belly never had enough." 
 
 Mr. Thackeray relates, in his " Irish Sketches," that on his ask- 
 ing for currant-jelly for his venison at a public dinner, the waiter 
 replied, " It 's all gone, your honor ; but there 's some capital lob- 
 ster-sauce left." This would have suited Johnson equally well, or 
 better; he was so fond of lobster-sauce, that he would call for 
 the sauce-boat and pour the whole of its remaining contents over 
 his plum-pudding. A clergyman who once travelled with him 
 relates : " The coach halted as usual for dinner, which seemed to 
 be a deeply interesting business to Johnson, who vehemently at- 
 tacked a dish of stewed carp, using his fingers only in feeding 
 himself." 
 
 With all this he affected great nicety of palate, and did not 
 like being asked to a plain dinner. " It was a good dinner 
 enough," he would remark, " but it was not a dinner to ask a 
 man to." He was so displeased with the performances of a 
 nobleman's French cook, that he exclaimed, with vehemence, 
 " I 'd throw such a rascal into the river ; " and, in reference to 
 one of his Edinburgh hosts, he said, "As for Maclaurin's imi- 
 tation of a made dish, it was a wretched attempt." 
 
 His voice was loud, and his gesticulations, voluntary or invol- 
 untary, singularly uncouth. He had superstitious fancies about 
 crossing thresholds or squares in the carpet with the right or left 
 1* 
 
10 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 leg foremost, and when he did not appear at dinner, might be 
 found vainly endeavoring to pass a particular spot in the ante- 
 room. He loved late hours, or more properly (says Mrs. Thrale) 
 hated early ones. Nothing was more terrifying to him than the 
 idea of going to bed, which he never would call going to rest, or 
 suffer another to call it so. " I lie down that my acquaintance 
 may sleep ; but I lie down to endure oppressive misery, and soon 
 rise again to pass the night in anxiety and pain." When people 
 could be induced to sit up with him, they were often amply com- 
 pensated by his rich flow of mind ; but the resulting sacrifice of 
 health and comfort in an establishment where this sitting up be- 
 came habitual, was inevitably great.* Instead of being grateful, 
 he always maintained that no one forbore his own gratification 
 for the purpose of pleasing another, and "if one did sit up, it 
 was probably to amuse one's self." Boswell excuses his wife for 
 not coinciding in his enthusiasm, by admitting that his illustrious 
 friend's irregular hours and uncouth habits, such as turning the 
 candles with their ends downwards when they did not burn 
 bright enough, and letting the wax drop upon the carpet, 
 could not but be displeasing to a lady. He was generally last 
 at breakfast, but one morning happened to be first, and waited 
 some time alone ; when afterwards twitted by Mrs. Thrale with 
 irregularity, he replied, " Madam, I do not like to come down 
 to vacuity." 
 
 If his early familiarity with all the miseries of destitution, 
 aggravated by disease, had increased his natural roughness and 
 irritability, on the other hand it had helped largely to bring out 
 his sterling virtues, — his discriminating charity, his genuine be- 
 nevolence, his w T ell-timed generosity, his large-hearted sympathy 
 with real suffering or sorrow. He said it was enough to make 
 a plain man sick to hear pity lavished on a family reduced by 
 losses to exchange a palace for a comfortable cottage ; and 
 when condolence was demanded for a lady of rank in mourn- 
 ing for a baby, he contrasted her with a washerwoman with half 
 
 ^ Dr. Burney states that in 1765 " he very frequently met Johnson at Streat- 
 ham, where they had many long conversations, after sitting up as long as the 
 fire and candles lasted, and much longer than the patience of the servants sub- 
 sisted." 
 
JOHNSON'S HOUSEHOLD. 11 
 
 a dozen children dependent on her daily labor for their daily 
 bread.* 
 
 Lord Macaulay thus portrays the objects of Johnson's hospi- 
 tality as soon as he had got a house to cover them. " It was the 
 home of the most extraordinary assemblage of inmates that ever 
 was brought together. At the head of the establishment he had 
 placed an old lady named Williams, whose chief recommenda- 
 tions were her blindness and her poverty. But in spite of her 
 murmurs and reproaches, he gave an asylum to another lady who 
 was as poor as herself, Mrs. Desmoulins, whose family he had 
 known many years before in Staffordshire. Room was found for 
 the daughter of Mrs. Desmoulins, and for another destitute dam- 
 sel, who was generally addressed as Mrs. Carmichael, but whom 
 her generous host called Polly. An old quack doctor called 
 Levet, who bled and closed coal-heavers and hackney coachmen, 
 and received for fees crusts of bread, bits of bacon, glasses of 
 gin, and sometimes a little copper, completed this menagerie." f 
 
 It is strange that Lord Macaulay should have given this depre- 
 ciating description of Levet, having, as he must have had, John- 
 son's lines " On the Death of Mr. Robert Levet, a Practiser in 
 Physic," full in his recollection : — 
 
 " Well tryed through many a varying year, 
 See Levet to the grave descend, 
 Officious, innocent, sincere, 
 Of every friendless name the friend. 
 
 " Yet still he fills affection's eye, 
 Obscurely wise and coarsely kind ; 
 Nor, lettered Arrogance, deny 
 Thy praise to merit unrefined." 
 
 This picture of Johnson's interior is true in the main, when it 
 is added that the inmates of his house were quarrelling from 
 morning to night with one another, with his negro-servant, or 
 with himself. In one of his letters to Mrs. Thrale, he says, 
 " Williams hates everybody : Levet hates Desmoulins, and does 
 
 * "It's weel wi 1 you gentles that can sit in the house wi' handkerchers at 
 your een when ye lose a friend ; but the like o' us maun to our wark again, if 
 our hearts were beating as hard as any hammer." — The Antiquary. 
 
 t Miscellaneous Writings, Vol. I. p. 293. 
 
12 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 not love Williams : Desmoulins hates them both : Poll (Miss 
 Carmichael) loves none of them." In a conversation at Streat- 
 ham, reported by Madame D'Arblay, the menagerie was thus 
 humorously described : — 
 
 "Mrs. Thrale. — Mr. Levet, I suppose, Sir, has the office of 
 keeping the hospital in health ? for he is an apothecary. 
 
 " Dr. J. — Levet, Madam, is a brutal fellow, but I have a 
 good regard for him ; for his brutality is in his manners, not his 
 mind. 
 
 " Mr. Thrale. — But how do you get your dinners drest ? 
 
 " Dr. J. — Why De Mullin has the chief management of the 
 kitchen ; but our roasting is not magnificent, for we have no jack. 
 
 " Mr. T. — No jack ? Why how do they manage without ? 
 
 " Dr. J. — Small joints, I believe, they manage with a string, 
 and larger are done at the tavern. I have some thoughts (with 
 a profound gravity) of buying a jack, because I think a jack is 
 some credit to a house. 
 
 " Mr. T. — Well, but you '11 have a spit, too ? 
 
 " Dr. J. — No, Sir, no ; that would be superfluous ; for we 
 shall never use it ; and if a jack is seen, a spit will be presumed ! 
 
 "Mrs. T. — But pray, Sir, who is the Poll you talk of? She 
 that you used to abet in her quarrels with Mrs. Williams, and 
 call out, ' At her again, Poll ! Never flinch, Poll ! ' 
 
 " Dr. J. — Why I took to Poll very well at first, but she won't 
 do upon a nearer examination. 
 
 " Mrs. T. — How came she among you, Sir ? 
 
 "Dr. J. — Why I don't rightly remember, but we could spare 
 her very well from us. Poll is a stupid slut ; I had some hopes 
 of her at first ; but when I talked to her tightly and closely, I 
 could make nothing of her ; she was wiggle waggle, and I could 
 never persuade her to be categorical." 
 
 The effect of an unbroken residence with such inmates, on a 
 man of irritable temper subject to morbid melancholy, may be 
 guessed ; and the merit of the Thrales in rescuing him from it, 
 and in soothing down his asperities, can hardly be over-estimated. 
 Lord Macaulay says, they were flattered by finding that a man 
 so widely celebrated preferred their house to every other in Lon- 
 don (where, by the way, very few of the same class were open 
 
JOHNSON'S SOCIETY. 13 
 
 to him), and suggests that even the peculiarities which seemed to 
 unfit him for civilized society, including his gesticulations, his 
 rollings, his puffings, his mutterings, and the ravenous eagerness 
 with which he devoured his food, increased the interest which 
 his new associates took in him. His hostess does not appear to 
 have viewed them in that light, and she was able to command 
 the best company of the intellectual order without the aid of a 
 " lion," or a bear. If his conversation attracted many, it drove 
 away some, and silenced more. He accounted for the little at- 
 tention paid him by the great, by saying that " great lords and 
 great ladies do not like to have their mouths stopped," as if this 
 was peculiar to them as a class. " My leddie," remarks Cuddie, 
 in "Old Mortality," "canna weel bide to be contradicted, as I 
 ken naebody likes, if they could help themselves." 
 
 Johnson was in the zenith of his fame when literature, politics, 
 and fashion began to blend together again by hardly perceptible 
 shades, like the colors in shot-silk, as they had partially done in 
 the Augustan age of Queen Anne. One marked sign was the 
 formation of the Literary Club (The Club, as it still claims to be 
 called), which brought together such men as Fox, Burke, Gib- 
 bon, Johnson, Goldsmith, Garrick, Reynolds, and Beauclerc, be- 
 sides blackballing a bishop (the Bishop of Chester) and a lord- 
 chancellor (Camden). Yet it is curious to observe within how 
 narrow a circle of good houses the Doctor's engagements were 
 restricted. Reynolds, Paoli, Beauclerc, Allan Ramsay, Hoole, 
 Dilly, Strahan, Lord Lucan, Langton, Garrick, and the Club 
 formed his main reliance as regards dinners ; and we find Bos- 
 well recording with manifest symptoms of exultation in 1781 : 
 " I dined with him at a bishop's, where were Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds, Mr. Berenger, and some more company. He had dined 
 the day before at another bishop's." His reverence for the epis- 
 copal bench well merited some return on their part. Mr. Sew- 
 ard saw him presented to the Archbishop of York, and described 
 his bow to an Archbishop as such a studied elaboration of hom- 
 age, such an extension of limb, such a flexion of body, as have 
 seldom or ever been equalled. The lay nobility were not equally 
 grateful, although his deference for the peerage was extreme. 
 Except in Scotland or on his travels, he is seldom found dining 
 with a nobleman. 
 
14 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 Soon after his domestication at Streatham, the Blue-Stocking 
 Clubs came into fashion, so called from a casual allusion to the 
 blue stockings of an habitue, Mr. Stillingfleet. Their founders 
 were Mrs. Vesey and Mrs. Montagu ; but according to Madame 
 D'Arblay, " more bland and more gleeful than that of either of 
 them, was the personal celebrity of Mrs. Thrale. Mrs. Vesey, 
 indeed, gentle and diffident, dreamed not of any competition, but 
 Mrs. Montagu and Mrs. Thrale had long been set up as rival 
 candidates for colloquial eminence, and each of them thought the 
 other alone worthy to be her peer. Openly therefore when they 
 met, they combated for precedence of admiration, with placid 
 though high-strained intellectual exertion on the one side, and an 
 exuberant pleasantry or classical allusion or quotation on the 
 other ; without the smallest malice in either." 
 
 Wraxall, who makes the same comparison, remarks : " Mrs. 
 Thrale always appeared to me to possess at least as much infor- 
 mation, a mind as cultivated, and more brilliancy of intellect than 
 Mrs. Montagu, but she did not descend among men from such an 
 eminence, and she talked much more, as well as more unguard- 
 edly, on every subject. She was the provider and conductress 
 of Johnson, who lived almost constantly under her roof, or more 
 properly under that of Mr. Thrale, both in Town and at Streat- 
 ham. He did not, however, spare her more than other women 
 in his attacks if she courted and provoked his animadversions." 
 
 Although he seldom appeared to greater advantage than when 
 under the combined spell of feminine influence and rank, his de- 
 meanor varied with his mood. On Miss Monkton's (afterwards 
 Lady Cork) insisting, one evening, that Sterne's writings were 
 very pathetic, Johnson bluntly denied it. " I am sure," she re- 
 joined, " they have affected me." " Why," said Johnson, smiling 
 and rolling himself about, " that is because, dearest, you 're a 
 dunce." When she some time afterwards mentioned this to 
 him, he said, with equal truth and politeness, " Madam, if I had 
 thought so, I certainly should not have said it." 
 
 He did not come off so well on another occasion, when the 
 presence of women whom he respected might be expected to op- 
 erate as a check. Talking, at Mrs. Garrick's, of a very respecta- 
 ble author, he told us, says Bos well, " a curious circumstance in 
 
JOHNSON WITH WOMEN. 15 
 
 his life, which was that he had married a printer's devil. Rey- 
 nolds. ' A printer's devil, Sir ! why, I thought a printer's devil 
 was a creature with a black face and in rags.' Johnson. ' Yes, 
 Sir. But I suppose he had her face washed, and put clean 
 clothes on her.' Then, looking very serious, and very earnest. 
 i And she did not disgrace him ; — the woman had a bottom of 
 good sense.' The word bottom thus introduced was so ludicrous 
 when contrasted with his gravity, that most of us could not for- 
 bear tittering and laughing ; though I recollect that the Bishop 
 of Killaloe kept his countenance with perfect steadiness, while 
 Miss Hannah More slily hid her face behind a lady's back who 
 sat on the same settee with her. His pride could not bear that 
 any expression of his should excite ridicule, when he did not in- 
 tend it : he therefore resolved to assume and exercise despotic 
 power, glanced sternly around, and called out in a strong tone, 
 1 Where 's the merriment ? ' Then collecting himself, and look- 
 ing awful, to make us feel how he could impose restraint, and as 
 it were searching his mind for a still more ludicrous word, he 
 slowly pronounced, 6 1 say the woman was fundamentally sensi- 
 ble ; ' as if he had said, Hear this now, and laugh if you dare. 
 We all sat composed as at a funeral." 
 
 This resembles the influence exercised by the " great com- 
 moner " over the House of Commons. An instance being men- 
 tioned of his throwing an adversary into irretrievable confusion 
 by an arrogant expression of contempt, the late Mr. Charles 
 Butler asked the relator, an eyewitness, whether the House- 
 did not laugh at the ridiculous figure of the poor member. " 1S0, 
 Sir," was the reply, " we were too much awed to laugh." 
 
 It was a redeeming feature in Johnson's character that he was 
 extremely fond of female society ; so fond, indeed, that on coming 
 to London he was obliged to be on his guard against the tempta- 
 tions to which it exposed him. He left off attending the Green 
 Room, telling Garrick, " I '11 come no more behind your scenes, 
 Davy ; for the silk stockings and white bosoms of your actresses 
 excite my amorous propensities." 
 
 The proneness of his imagination to wander in this forbidden 
 field is unwittingly betrayed by his remarking at Sky, in support 
 of the doctrine that animal substances are less cleanly than veg- 
 
16 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 etable : " I have often thought that, if I kept a seraglio, the 
 ladies should all wear linen gowns, or cotton, I mean stuffs made 
 of vegetable substances. I would have no silks : you cannot tell 
 when it is clean : it will be very nasty before it is perceived to 
 be so ; linen detects its own dirtiness." His virtue thawed in- 
 stead of becoming more rigid in the North. " This evening," 
 records Boswell of their visit to an Hebridean chief, " one of our 
 married ladies, a lively pretty little woman, good-humoredly sat 
 down upon Dr. Johnson's knee, and being encouraged by some 
 of the company, put her hands round his neck and kissed him. 
 6 Do it again,' said he, ' and let us see who will tire first.' He 
 kept her on his knee some time, whilst he and she drank tea." 
 
 The Rev. Dr. Maxwell relates in his " Collectanea," that "Two 
 young women from Staffordshire visited him when I was present, 
 to consult him on the subject of Methodism, to which they were 
 inclined. ' Come,' said he, ' you pretty fools, dine with Maxwell 
 and me at the Mitre, and we will talk over that subject ; ' which 
 they did, and after dinner he took one of them upon his knee, and 
 fondled her for half an hour together." 
 
 Women almost always like men who like them. Johnson, 
 despite of his unwieldy figure, scarred features, and uncouth 
 gestures, was a favorite with the fair ; and talked of affairs of 
 the heart as things of which he was entitled to speak from per- 
 sonal experience as confidently as of any other moral or social 
 topics. He told Mrs. Thrale, without the smallest consciousness 
 of presumption, or what Mr. Square would term the unfitness of 
 things, of his and Lord Lyttleton's having contended for Miss 
 Boothby's preference with an emulation that occasioned hearty 
 disgust and ended in lasting animosity. "You may see," he 
 added, when the Lives of the Poets were printed, " that dear 
 Boothby is at my heart still. She would delight in that fellow 
 Lyttleton's company though, all that I could do, and I cannot 
 forgive even his memory the preference given by a mind like 
 hers." * 
 
 * In point of personal advantages the man of rank and fashion and the scholar 
 were nearly on a par. 
 
 " But who is this astride the pony, 
 So long, so lean, so lank, so bony? 
 Dat be de great orator, Littletony." 
 
JOHXSON ON LOVE. 17 
 
 Mr. Croker surmises that " Molly Aston," not dear Boothby, 
 must have been the object of this rivalry ; and the surmise is 
 strengthened by Johnson's calling Molly the loveliest creature he 
 ever saw ; adding (to Mrs. Thrale), " My wife was a little jeal- 
 ous, and happening one day when walking in the country to meet 
 a fortune-hunting gypsy, Mrs. Johnson made the wench look at 
 my hand, but soon repented of her curiosity, ' for,' says the 
 gypsy, ' your heart is divided between a Betty and a Molly : 
 Betty loves you best, but you take most delight in Molly's com- 
 pany.' When I turned about to laugh, I saw my wife was cry- 
 ing. Pretty charmer, she had no reason.' " This pretty charmer 
 was in her forty-eighth year when he married her, he being then 
 twenty-seven. He told Beauclerc that it was a love match on 
 both sides ; and Garrick used to draw ludicrous pictures of their 
 mutual fondness, which he heightened by representing her as 
 short, fat, tawdrily dressed, and highly rouged. 
 
 One of Rochefoucauld's maxims is : u Young women who do 
 not wish to appear coquettes, and men of advanced years who 
 do not wish to appear ridiculous, should never speak of love as 
 of a thing in which they could take part." Mrs. Thrale relates 
 an amusing instance of Johnson's adroitness in escaping from the 
 dilemma : " As we had been saying one day that no subject 
 failed of receiving dignity from the manner in which Mr. John- 
 son treated it, a lady at my house said, she would make him talk 
 about love ; and took her measures accordingly, deriding the 
 novels of the day because they treated about love. ' It is not,' 
 replied our philosopher, ' because they treat, as you call it, about 
 love, but because they treat of nothing, that they are despicable : 
 we must not ridicule a passion which he who never felt never was 
 happy, and he who laughs at never deserves to feel, — a passion 
 which has caused the change of empires, and the loss of worlds, — 
 a passion which has inspired heroism and subdued avarice.' He 
 thought he had already said too much. ' A passion, in short, 5 
 added he, with an altered tone, l that consumes me away for my 
 pretty Fanny here, and she is very cruel,' speaking of another 
 lady (Miss Burney) in the room." 
 
 These peculiarities throw light on more questions than one re- 
 lating to Johnson's prolonged intimacy with Mrs. Thrale. His 
 
18 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 gallantry, and the flattering air of deferential tenderness which he 
 knew how to throw into his commerce with his female favorites, 
 may have had little less to do with his domestication at Streatham 
 than his celebrity, his learning, or his wit. The most submissive 
 wife will manage to dislodge an inmate who is displeasing to her. 
 " Ay, a marriage, man," said Bucklaw to his led captain, " but 
 wherefore droops thy mighty spirit ? The board will have a cor- 
 ner, and the corner will have a trencher, and the trencher will 
 have a glass beside it ; and the board end shall be filled, and the 
 trencher and the glass shall be replenished for thee, if all the pet- 
 ticoats in Lothian had sworn the contrary." " So says many an 
 honest fellow," said Craigenfelt, " and some of my special friends ; 
 but curse me, if I know the reason, the women could never bear 
 me, and always contrived to trundle me out before the honeymoon 
 was over." 
 
 It was all very well for Johnson to tell Boswell, " I know no 
 man who is more master of his wife and family than Thrale. If 
 he holds up a finger he is obeyed." The sage took very good 
 care not to act upon the theory, and instead of treating the wife 
 as a cipher, lost no opportunity of paying court to her, though in 
 a manner quite compatible with his own lofty spirit of indepen- 
 dence and selfrrespect. Thus, attention having been called to 
 some Italian verses by Baretti, he converted them into an elegant 
 compliment to her by an improvised paraphrase : — 
 
 "Viva! viva la padrona ! 
 Tutta bella, e tutta buona, 
 La padrona e un angiolella 
 Tutta buona e tutta bella ; 
 Tutta bella e tutta buona; 
 Viva! viva la padrona! " 
 
 " Long may live my lovely Hetty! 
 Always young and always pretty, 
 Always pretty, always young, 
 Live my lovely Hetty long ! 
 Always young and always pretty ; 
 Long may live my lovely Hetty ! " 
 
 Her marginal note in the copy of the " Anecdotes " presented 
 by her to Sir James Fellowes in 1816 is: "I heard these verses 
 sung at Mr. Thomas's by three voices, not three weeks ago." 
 
VERSES TO MRS. THRALE. 19 
 
 It was in the eighth year of their acquaintance that Johnson 
 solaced his fatigue in the Hebrides by writing a Latin ode to her. 
 " About fourteen years since," wrote Sir Walter Scott, in 1829, 
 " I landed in Sky with a party of friends, and had the curiosity to 
 ask what was the first idea on every one's mind at landing. All 
 answered serjarately that it was this ode." Thinking Miss Cor- 
 nelia Knight's version too diffuse, I asked Mr. Milnes for a trans- 
 lation or paraphrase, and he kindly complied by producing these 
 spirited stanzas : — 
 
 " Where constant mist enshrouds the rocks, 
 Shattered in earth's primeval shocks. 
 And niggard Nature ever mocks 
 The laborer's toil, 
 
 " I roam through clans of savage men, 
 Untamed by arts, untaught by pen; 
 Or cower within some squalid den 
 O'er reeking soil. 
 
 " Through paths that halt from stone to stone, 
 Amid the din of tongues unknown, 
 One image haunts my soul alone, 
 Thine, gentle Thrale ! 
 
 M Soothes she, I ask, her spouse's care? 
 Does mother-love its charge prepare ? 
 Stores she her mind with knowledge rare, 
 Or lively tale ? 
 
 " Forget me not ! thy faith I claim, 
 Holding a faith that cannot die, 
 That fills with thy benignant name 
 
 These shores of Sky.'' 
 
 " On another occasion," says Mrs. Thrale, in the " Anecdotes," 
 " I can boast verses from Dr. Johnson. As I went into his room 
 the morning of my birthday once and said to him, ' Nobody sends 
 me any verses now, because I am five-and-thirty years old ; and 
 Stella was fed with them till forty-six, I remember.' My being 
 just recovered from illness and confinement will account for the 
 manner in which he burst out suddenly, for so he did without the 
 least previous hesitation whatsoever, and without having enter- 
 tained the smallest intention towards it half a minute before : — 
 
20 LIFE AXD WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 " ' Oft in danger, yet alive, 
 We are come to thirty-five ; 
 Long may better years arrive, 
 Better years than thirty-five. 
 Could philosophers contrive 
 Life to stop at thirty-five, 
 Time his hours should never drive 
 O'er the bounds of thirty-five. 
 High to soar, and deep to dive, 
 Xature gives at thirty-five. 
 Ladies, stock and tend your hive, 
 Trifle not at thirty-five ; 
 For howe'er we boast and strive, 
 Life declines from thirty-five: 
 He that ever hopes to thrive 
 Must begin by thirty-five 3 
 And all who wisely wish to wive 
 Must look on Thrale at thirty-five.' 
 
 " i And now,' said he, as I was writing them down, ' you may 
 see what it is to come for poetry to a dictionary-maker ; you may 
 observe that the rhymes run in alphabetical order exactly.' And 
 so they do." 
 
 Byron's estimate of life at the same age, is somewhat differ- 
 ent : — 
 
 " Too old for youth — too young, at thirty-five 
 
 To herd with boys, or hoard with good threescore, 
 I wonder people should be left alive. 
 
 But since they are, that epoch is a bore." 
 
 Lady Aldborough, whose best witticisms unluckily lie under 
 the same merited ban as Rochester's best verses, resolved not to 
 pass twenty-five, and had her passport made out accordingly till 
 her death at eighty-five. She used to boast that, whenever a 
 foreign official objected, she never failed to silence him by the 
 remark, that he was the first gentleman of his country who ever 
 told a lady she was older than she said she was. Actuated 
 probably by a similar feeling, and in the hope of securing to her- 
 self the benefit of the doubt, Mrs. Thrale omitted in the " An- 
 ecdotes " the year when these verses were addressed to her, and 
 a sharp controversy has been raised as to the respective ages of 
 herself and Dr. Johnson at the time. It is thus summed up by 
 one of the combatants : — 
 
HER AGE. 21 
 
 " In one place Mr. Croker says that at the commencement of 
 the intimacy between Dr. Johnson and Mrs. Thrale, in 1765, 
 the lady was twenty-five years old. In other places he says that 
 Mrs. Thrale's thirty-fifth year coincided with Johnson's seven- 
 tieth. Johnson was born in 1709. If, therefore, Mrs. Thrale's 
 thirty-fifth year coincided with Johnson's seventieth, she could 
 have been only twenty-one years old in 1765. This is not all. 
 Mr. Croker, in another place, assigns the year 1777 as the date 
 of the complimentary lines which Johnson made on Mrs. Thrale's 
 thirty-fifth birthday. If this date be correct Mrs. Thrale must 
 have been born in 1742, and could have been only twenty-three 
 when her acquaintance commenced. Mr. Croker, therefore, 
 gives us three different statements as to her age. Two of the 
 three must be incorrect. TTe will not decide between them." * 
 
 " At the time of my first edition," rejoins Mr. Croker, " I was 
 unable to ascertain precisely Mrs. Piozzi's age, but a subsequent 
 publication, named ' Piozziana.' fixes her birth, on her own au- 
 thority, to the 16th January, 1740 ; yet even that is not quite 
 conclusive, for she calls it 1740 old style, that is 1741. I must 
 now, of course, adopt, though not without some doubt, the lady's 
 reckoning." The difficulty, such as it is, arises from her not 
 particularizing the style. In a letter to the author of *'• Piozzi- 
 ana," dated January 15th. 1817, she writes: K I am not well; 
 nor, I fear, going to be well directly : but, be it as it may. to- 
 morrow is my seventy-sixth anniversary, audi ought to be happy 
 and thankful." The author's comment is : ;; In this letter she 
 marks her birthday and her advanced age, seventy-seven : and 
 much about that time, I recollect her showing me a valuable 
 china bowl, in the inside of which was pasted a slip of paper, 
 and on it written, i With this bowl Hester Lynch Salusbury was 
 baptized. 1740.' She was born on the 16th, or, as according to 
 the change of style, we should now reckon the 27th, of January, 
 1741." 
 
 In a letter to Mrs. Thrale of August 14th, 1780, Johnson 
 writes : •■' If you try to plague me. I shall tell you that, according 
 to Galen, life begins to decline at thirty-five." This gives Mr. 
 
 * Macaulav's Essavs. 
 
22 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 Croker a pretext for returning to the topic : w Mrs. Piozzi at her 
 last birthday must have been forty, so that Johnson must have 
 alluded to the sprightly verses in which he had celebrated Mrs. 
 Thrale at thirty-five (see ante, p. 170, n. 3, and p. 471, n. 3 *) ; 
 but since these notes were written I have found evidence under 
 her own hand that my suspicion was just, and that she was born 
 in 1740, new style." He does not state where or in what shape 
 this evidence was found. It coincides with her letter of January 
 15th, 1817; but is irreconcilable with the slip of paper in the 
 bowl, which we learn from her letters was pasted in by herself 
 after her second marriage. 
 
 " This bowl," writes Mr. Salusbury, " is now in my possession. 
 The slip of paper now in it is in my father's handwriting, and 
 copied, I have heard him say, from the original slip, which was 
 w T orn out by age and fingering. The exact words are, 'In this 
 bason was baptized Hester Lynch Salusbury, 16th Jan. 1740-41 
 old style, at Bodville in Carnarvonshire. 5 " 
 
 The incident of the verses is thus narrated in " Thraliana " : 
 " And this year, 1777, when I told him that it was my birthday, 
 and that I was then thirty-five years old, he repeated me these 
 verses, which I wrote down from his mouth as he made them." 
 If she was born in 1740-41, she must have been thirty-six in 
 1777 ; and there is no perfectly satisfactory settlement of the con- 
 troversy, which many will think derives its sole importance from 
 the two chief controversialists, for it is eminently characteristic 
 of both of them. 
 
 The highest authorities differ equally about her looks. " My 
 readers," says Boswell, " will naturally wish for some representa- 
 tion of the figures of this couple. Mr. Thrale was tall, well- 
 proportioned, and stately. As for Madam, or My Mistress, by 
 which epithets Johnson used to mention Mrs. Thrale, she was 
 short, plump, and brisk." "He should have added," observes 
 Mr. Croker, a that she was very pretty." This was not her own 
 opinion, nor that of her contemporaries, although her face was 
 attractive from animation and expression, and her personal ap- 
 pearance pleasing on the whole. Sometimes, when visiting the 
 
 * The references are to the handsome and complete edition of Boswell's "Life 
 of Johnson," in one volume, royal octavo, published by Mr. Murray in 1860. 
 
HER LOOKS. 23 
 
 author of " Piozziana," * she used to look at her little self, as she 
 called it, and spoke drolly of what she once was, as if speaking 
 of some one else ; and one day, turning to him, she exclaimed : 
 " No, I never was handsome : I had always too many strong 
 points in my face for beauty." On his expressing a doubt of this, 
 and hinting that Dr. Johnson was certainly an admirer of her 
 personal charms, she replied that his devotion was at least as 
 warm towards the table and the table-cloth at Streatham. 
 
 One day when he was ill, exceedingly low-spirited, and per- 
 suaded that death was not far distant, she appeared before him 
 in a dark-colored gown, which his bad sight, and worse apprehen- 
 sions, made him mistake for an iron-gray. " ' Why do you de- 
 light,' said he, ' thus to thicken the gloom of misery that surrounds 
 me ? is not here sufficient accumulation of horror without antici- 
 pated mourning ? ' — i This is not mourning, Sir ! ' said I, drawing 
 the curtain, that the light might fall upon the silk, and show it 
 was a purple mixed with green. — ' Well, well ! ' replied he, chang- 
 ing his voice ; ' you little creatures should never wear those sort 
 of clothes, however ; they are unsuitable in every way. What ! 
 have not all insects gay colors ?' " 
 
 According to the author of " Piozziana," who became acquaint- 
 ed with her late in life, " She was short, and though well-propor- 
 tioned, broad, and deep-chested. Her hands were muscular and 
 almost coarse, but her writing was, even in her eightieth year, 
 exquisitely beautiful ; and one day, while conversing with her on 
 the subject of education, she observed that ' all Misses, now-a- 
 days, wrote so like each other, that it was provoking ; ' adding, 
 ' I love to see individuality of character, and abhor sameness, 
 especially in what is feeble and flimsy.' Then, spreading her 
 hand, she said, 'I believe I owe what you are pleased to call 
 my good writing, to the shape of this hand, for my uncle, Sir 
 Robert Cotton, thought it was too manly to be employed in writ- 
 ing like a boarding-school girl ; and so I came by my vigorous, 
 black manuscript.' " 
 
 * " Piozziana 5 or Recollections of the late Mrs. Piozzi, with Remarks. By a 
 Friend." Moxon. 1833. These reminiscences, unluckily limited to the last 
 eight or ten years of her Jife at Bath, contain much curious information, and 
 leave a highly favorable impression of Mrs. Piozzi. 
 
24 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 It was fortunate that the handwriting compensated for the 
 hands ; and as she attached great importance to blood and race, 
 that she did not live to read Byron's " thoroughbred and tapering 
 fingers," or to be shocked by his theory that " the hand is almost 
 the only sign of blood which aristocracy can generate." Her 
 Bath friend appeals to a miniature (engraved for this work) by 
 Roche, of Bath, taken when she was in her seventy-seventh year. 
 Like Cromwell, who told the painter that if he softened a harsh 
 line, or so much as omitted a wart, he should never be paid a 
 sixpence, — she desired the artist to paint her face deeply rouged, 
 which it always was,* and to introduce a trivial deformity of the 
 jaw, produced by a horse treading on her as she lay on the 
 ground after a fall. In this respect she proved superior to John- 
 son ; who, with all his love of truth, could not bear to be painted 
 with his defects. He was displeased at being drawn holding a 
 book close to his eye, and on its being suggested that Reynolds 
 had painted himself with his ear-trumpet, he replied : " He may 
 do as he likes, but I will not go down to posterity as Blinking 
 Sam." 
 
 Reynolds's portrait of Mrs. Thrale conveys a highly agreeable 
 impression of her ; and so does Hogarth's when she sat to him 
 for the principal figure in " The Lady's Last Stake*" She was 
 then only fourteen ; and he probably idealized his model ; but 
 that he also produced a striking likeness, is obvious on compar- 
 ing his picture with the professed portraits. The history of this 
 picture (which has been engraved, at Lord Macaulay's sugges- 
 
 * " One day I called early at her house; and as I entered her drawing-room, 
 she passed me, saying, " Dear Sir, I will be with you in a few minutes 5 but, 
 while I think of it, I must go to my dressing-closet and paint my face, which I 
 forgot to do this morning.' Accordingly she soon returned, wearing the requi- 
 site quantity of bloom; which, it must be noticed, was not in the least like that 
 of youth and beauty. I then said that I was surprised she should so far sacrifice 
 to fashion, as to take that trouble. Her answer was that, as I might conclude, 
 her practice of painting did not proceed from any silly compliance with Bath 
 fashion, or any fashion; still less, if possible, from the desire of appearing younger 
 than she was, but from this circumstance, that in early life she had worn rouge, 
 as other young persons did in her day, as a part of dress; and after continuing 
 the habit for some years, discovered that it had introduced a dead yellow color 
 into her complexion, quite unlike that of her natural skin, and that she wished to 
 conceal the deformity." — Piozziana. 
 
HER CONVERSATION. 25 
 
 tion, for this work) will be found in the Autobiography and the 
 Letters. 
 
 Boswell's account of his first visit to Streatham gives a tolera- 
 bly fair notion of the footing on which Johnson stood there, and 
 the manner in which the interchange of mind was carried on be- 
 tween him and the hostess. This visit took place in October, 
 1769, four or five years after Johnson's introduction to her ; and 
 Boswell's absence from London, in which he had no fixed resi- 
 dence during Johnson's life, will hardly account for the neglect 
 of his illustrious friend in not procuring him a privilege which 
 he must have highly coveted and would doubtless have turned to 
 good account. 
 
 " On the 6th of October I complied with this obliging invita- 
 tion ; and found, at an elegant villa, six miles from town, every 
 circumstance that can make society pleasing. Johnson, though 
 quite at home, was yet looked up to with an awe, tempered by 
 affection, and seemed to be equally the care of his host and 
 hostess. I rejoiced at seeing him so happy." 
 
 " Mrs. Thrale disputed with him on the merit of Prior. He 
 attacked him powerfully ; said he wrote of love like a man who 
 had never felt it ; his love verses were college verses : and he re- 
 peated the song, ' Alexis shunned his fellow-swains,' &c. in so 
 ludicrous a manner, as to make us all wonder how any one could 
 have been pleased with such fantastical stuff. Mrs. Thrale stood 
 to her guns with great courage, in defence of amorous ditties, 
 which Johnson despised, till he at last silenced her by saying, 
 ' My dear lady, talk no more of this. Nonsense can be defended 
 but by nonsense.' 
 
 " Mrs. Thrale then praised Garrick's talents for light, gay 
 poetry ; and, as a specimen, repeated his song in ' Florizel and 
 Perdita,' and dwelt with peculiar pleasure on this line : — 
 
 "'I'd smile with the simple, and feed with the poor.' 
 
 " Johnson. — ' Nay, my dear lady, this will never do. Poor 
 
 David ! Smile with the simple ! — what folly is that ? And 
 
 who would feed with the poor that can help it ? No, no ; let me 
 
 smile with the wise, and feed with the rich.' " Boswell adds, that 
 
 9 
 
26 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZL 
 
 he repeated this sally to Garrick, and wondered to find his sen- 
 sibility as a writer not a little irritated by it ; on which Mrs. 
 Thrale remarks, " How odd to go and tell the man ! " 
 
 The independent tone she took when she deemed the Doctor 
 unreasonable, is also proved by Boswell in his report of what took 
 place at Streatham in reference to Lord Marchmont's offer to 
 supply information for the Life of Pope. 
 
 " Elated with the success of my spontaneous exertion to pro- 
 cure material and respectable aid to Johnson for his very favorite 
 work, ' The Lives of the Poets/ I hastened down to Mr. Thrale's, 
 at Streatham, where he now was, that I might insure his being at 
 home next day ; and after dinner, when I thought he would re- 
 ceive the good news in the best humor, I announced it eagerly : 
 6 1 have been at work for you to-day, Sir. I have been with Lord 
 Marchmont. He bade me tell you he has a great respect for you, 
 and will call on you to-morrow at one o'clock, and communicate 
 all he knows about Pope.' Johnson. i I shall not be in town to- 
 morrow. I don't care to know about Pope.' Mrs. Thrale (sur- 
 prised, as I was, and a little angry). ' I suppose, Sir, Mr. Bos- 
 well thought that as you are to write Pope's Life, you would wish 
 to know about him.' Johnson. ' Wish ! why yes. If it rained 
 knowledge, I 'd hold out my hand ; but I would not give myself 
 the trouble to go in quest of it.' There was no arguing with him 
 at the moment. Some time afterwards he said, ' Lord March- 
 mont will call on me, and then I shall call on Lord Marchmont.' 
 Mrs. Thrale was uneasy at this unaccountable caprice ; and told 
 me, that if I did not take care to bring about a meeting between 
 Lord Marchmont and him, it would never take place, which would 
 be a great pity." 
 
 The ensuing conversation is a good sample of the freedom and 
 variety of " talk " in which Johnson luxuriated, and shows how 
 important a part Mrs. Thrale played in it : — 
 
 " Mrs. Thrale told us, that a curious clergyman of our acquaint- 
 ance (Dr. Lort is named in the margin) had discovered a licen- 
 tious stanza, which Pope had originally in his ' Universal Prayer,' 
 before the stanza, — 
 
 " ' What conscience dictates to be done, 
 Or warns us not to do,' &c. 
 
HER CONVERSATION. 27 
 
 It was this : — 
 
 " ' Can sins of moment claim the rod 
 Of everlasting fires ? 
 And that offend great Nature's God 
 Which Nature's self inspires ? ' 
 
 and that Dr. Johnson observed, it had been borrowed from 
 Guarini. There are, indeed, in Pastor Fido, many such flimsy, 
 superficial reasonings as that in the last two lines of this stanza. 
 
 " BoswelL ' In that stanza of Pope's, " rod of fires " is cer- 
 tainly a bad metaphor.' Mrs. Thrale. ' And " sins of moment " 
 is a faulty expression ; for its true import is momentous, which 
 cannot be intended.' Johnson, ' It must have been written " of 
 moments" Of moment, is momentous ; of moments, momentary. 
 I warrant you, however, Pope wrote this stanza, and some friend 
 struck it out.' 
 
 " Talking of divorces, I asked if Othello's doctrine was not 
 plausible : — 
 
 " ' He that is robbed, not wanting what is stolen, 
 Let him not know 't, and he 's not robbed at all.' 
 
 Dr. Johnson and Mrs. Thrale joined against this. Johnson. 
 i Ask any man if he 'd wish not to know of such an injury.' 
 BoswelL ' Would you tell your friend, to make him unhappy?' 
 Johnson. ' Perhaps, Sir, I should not ; but that would be from 
 prudence on my own account. A man would tell his father.' 
 BoswelL ' Yes ; because he would not have spurious children to 
 get any share of the family inheritance.' Mrs. Thrale. i Or he 
 would tell his brother.' BoswelL ' Certainly his elder brother. 
 
 ..... Would you tell Mr. ? ' (naming a gentleman who 
 
 assuredly was not in the least danger of so miserable a disgrace, 
 though married to a fine woman). Johnson. 'No, Sir; because 
 it would do no good ; he is so sluggish, he 'd never go to Parlia- 
 ment and get through a divorce.' " Marginal Note : " Langton." 
 One great charm of her companionship to cultivated men was 
 her familiarity with the learned languages, as well as with 
 French, Italian, and Spanish. The author of " Piozziana " says : 
 " She not only read and wrote Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, but 
 had for sixty years constantly and ardently studied the Scriptures 
 
28 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 and the works of commentators in the original languages." He 
 probably over-estimated her acquirements, which Boswell cer- 
 tainly under-estimates when he speaks slightingly of them on the 
 strength of Johnson's having said : " It is a great mistake to 
 suppose that she is above him (Thrale) in literary attainments. 
 She is more flippant, but he has ten times her learning : he is 
 a regular scholar ; but her learning is that of a school-boy in one 
 of the lower forms." If this were so, it is strange that Thrale 
 should cut so poor a figure, should seem little better than a non- 
 entity, whilst every imaginable topic was under animated discus- 
 sion at his table ; for Boswell was more ready to report the 
 husband's sayings than the wife's. In a marginal note on one of 
 the printed letters she says : " Mr. Thrale was a very merry- 
 talking man in 1760; but the distress of 1772, which affected 
 his health, his hopes, and his whole soul, affected his temper too. 
 Perkins called it being planet-struck, and I am not sure he was 
 ever completely the same man again." The notes of his conver- 
 sation during the antecedent period are equally meagre. 
 
 No one would have expected to find her as much at home in 
 Greek and Latin authors as a man of fair ability who had re- 
 ceived and profited by a university education, but she could ap- 
 preciate a classical allusion or quotation, and translate off-hand a 
 Latin epigram into idiomatic English. 
 
 " Mary Aston," said Johnson, " was a beauty and a scholar, 
 and a wit and a whig ; and she talked all in praise of liberty ; 
 and so I made this epigram upon her. She was the loveliest 
 creature I ever saw ! 
 
 " ' Liber ne esse velim, suasisti, pulchra Maria, 
 Ut maneam liber, pulchra Maria, vale ! ' 
 
 " < Will it do this way in English, Sir ? ' (said Mrs. Thrale) : — 
 
 " ' Persuasions to freedom fall oddly from you, 
 If freedom we seek, fair Maria, adieu.' " 
 
 Mr. Croker's version is : — 
 
 " You wish me, fair Maria, to be free, 
 Then, fair Maria, I must fly from thee." 
 
 Boswell also has tried his hand at it ; and a correspondent 
 
HER CLASSICAL KNOWLEDGE. 29 
 
 of the " Gentleman's Magazine " suggests that Johnson had in 
 his mind an epigram on a young lady who appeared at a mas- 
 querade in Paris, habited as a Jesuit, during the height of the 
 contention between the Jansenists and Molinists concerning 
 free-will : — 
 
 " On s'etonne ici que Calviniste 
 
 Eut pris l'habit de Moliniste, 
 
 Puisque que cette jeune beaute 
 
 Ote a chacun sa liberte, 
 
 N'est ce pas une Janseniste." * 
 
 Mrs. Thrale took the lead even when her husband might be 
 expected to strike in, as when Johnson was declaiming paradox- 
 ically against action in oratory : " Action can have no effect on 
 reasonable minds. It may augment noise, but it never can en- 
 force argument." Mrs. Thrale. " What then, Sir, becomes of 
 Demosthenes' saying, Action, action, action ? " Johnson. " De- 
 mosthenes, Madam, spoke to an assembly of brutes, to a bar- 
 barous people." " The polished Athenians ! " is her marginal 
 protest, and a most conclusive one. 
 
 In English literature she was rarely at fault. In reference to 
 the flattery lavished on Garrick by Lord Mansfield and Lord 
 Chatham, Johnson had said, " When he whom everybody else 
 flatters, flatters me, then I am truly happy." Mrs. Thrale. 
 " The sentiment is in Congreve, I think." Johnson. " Yes, 
 Madam, in < The Way of the World.' 
 
 u l If there 's delight in love, 't is when I see 
 
 The heart that others bleed for, bleed for me.' " 
 
 The laudari a laudato viro is nearer the mark. 
 
 It would be easy to heap proof upon proof of the value and 
 variety of Mrs. Thrale's contributions to the colloquial treasures 
 accumulated by Boswell and other members of the set ; and 
 
 * " Menagiana," Vol. III. p. 376. Edition of 1716. Equally happy were Lord 
 Chesterfield's lines to a young lady who appeared at a Dublin ball, with an orange 
 
 breastknot : — 
 
 " Pretty Tory, where 's the jest 
 To wear that riband on thy breast, 
 When that same breast betraying shows 
 The whiteness of the rebel rose? " 
 
 White was adopted by the malcontent Irish of the period as the French emblem. 
 
30 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 Johnson's deliberate testimony to her good qualities of head and 
 heart will far more than counterbalance any passing expressions 
 of disapproval or reproof which her mistimed vivacity, or alleged 
 disregard of scrupulous accuracy in narrative, may have called 
 forth. No two people ever lived much together for a series of 
 years without many fretful, complaining, dissatisfied, uncongenial 
 moments, — without letting drop captious or unkind expressions 
 utterly at variance with their habitual feelings and their matured 
 judgments of each other. The hasty word, the passing sarcasm, 
 the sly hit at an acknowledged foible, should count for nothing in 
 the estimate when contrasted with earnest and deliberate assur- 
 ances, proceeding from one who was always too proud to flatter, 
 and in no mood for idle compliment when he wrote : — 
 
 " Never (he writes in 1773) imagine that your letters are 
 long ; they are always too short for my curiosity. I do not know 
 
 that I was ever content with a single perusal My nights 
 
 are grown again very uneasy and troublesome. I know not that 
 the country will mend them ; but I hope your company will 
 mend my days. Though I cannot now expect much attention, 
 and would not wish for more than can be spared from the poor 
 dear lady (her mother), yet I shall see you and hear you every 
 now and then ; and to see and hear you, is always to hear wit 
 and to see virtue." 
 
 He would not suffer her to be lightly spoken of in his pres- 
 ence, nor permit his name to be coupled jocularly with hers. " I 
 yesterday told him,' 7 says Boswell, when they were traversing 
 the Highlands, "I was thinking of writing a poetical letter to 
 him, on his return from Scotland, in the style of Swift's humor- 
 ous epistle in the character of Mary Gulliver to her husband, 
 Captain Lemuel Gulliver, on his return to England from the 
 country of the Houyhnhnms : — 
 
 '"At early morn I to the market haste, 
 Studious in ev'rything to please thy taste. 
 A curious fowl and spar agr ass I chose; 
 (For I remember you were fond of those:) 
 Three shillings cost the first, the last seven groats; 
 Sullen you turn from both, and call for Oats.' 
 
 He laughed, and asked in whose name I would write it. I said 
 
HER FUGITIVE PIECES. 31 
 
 in Mrs. Thrale's. He was angry. ' Sir, if you have any sense 
 of decency or delicacy, you won't do that/ Boswell. ' Then let 
 it be in Cole's, the landlord of the Mitre tavern, where we have 
 so often sat together.' Johnson. ' Ay, that may do.' " 
 
 Again, at Inverary, when Johnson called for a gill of whiskey 
 that he might know what makes a Scotchman happy, and Bos- 
 well proposed Mrs. Thrale as their toast, he would not have her 
 drunk in whiskey. Peter Pindar has maliciously added to this 
 reproof : — 
 
 11 We supped most royally, were vastly frisky, 
 When Johnson ordered up a gill of whiskey. 
 Taking the glass, says I. ' Here 's Mistress Thrale,' 
 ' Drink her in ichiskey not,' said he, ' but ale. 1 " 
 
 So far from making light of her scholarship, he frequently ac- 
 cepted her as a partner in translations from the Latin. The 
 translations from Boethius, printed in the second volume of the 
 Letters, are their joint composition. 
 
 After recapitulating Johnson's other contributions to literature 
 in 1766, Boswell says, " ' The Fountains,' a beautiful little fairy 
 tale in prose, written with exquisite simplicity, is one of John- 
 son's productions ; and / cannot withhold from Mrs. Thrale the 
 praise of being the author of that admirable poem, ' The Three 
 Warnings.' " Marginal note : u How sorry he is ! " Both the 
 tale and the poem were written for a collection of ;i Miscellanies," 
 published by Mrs. Williams in that year. The character of 
 Floretta in " The Fountains " was intended for Mrs. Thrale, 
 and parts of it received touches from her ready and fruitful pen. 
 Her fugitive pieces, mostly in verse, thrown off from time to 
 time at all periods of her life, are numerous ; and the best of 
 these that have been recovered will be included in these volumes. 
 In a letter to the author of " Piozziana," she says : " When 
 Wilkes and Liberty were at their highest tide, I was bringing or 
 losing children every year ; and my studies were confined to my 
 nursery ; so, it came into my head one day to send an infant 
 alphabet to the ' St. James Chronicle ' : — 
 
 " ' A was an Alderman, factious and proud ; 
 B was a Bellas that blustered aloud, &c.' 
 
32 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 In a week's time Dr. Johnson asked me if I knew who wrote 
 it ? ' Why, who did write it, Sir ? ' said I. ' Steevens,' was the 
 reply. Some time after that, years for aught I know, he men- 
 tioned to me Steevens's veracity ! ' No, no,' answered H. L. P., 
 ' anything but that ; ' and told my story ; showing him by incon- 
 testable proofs that it was mine. Johnson did not utter a word, 
 and we never talked about it any more. I durst not introduce 
 the subject ; but it served to hinder S. from visiting at the house : 
 I suppose Johnson kept him away." 
 
 It does not appear that Steevens claimed the Alphabet ; which 
 may have suggested the celebrated squib that appeared in the 
 " New Whig Guide," and was popularly attributed to Mr. Cro- 
 ker. It was headed, " The Political Alphabet ; or, the Young 
 Member's A B C," and begins : — 
 
 " A was an Althorpe, as dull as a hog: 
 B was black Brougham, a surly cur dog : 
 C was a Cochrane, all stripped of his lace." 
 
 What widely different associations are now awakened by these 
 names ! The sting is in the tail : — 
 
 " W was a Warre, 'twixt a wasp and a worm, 
 But X Y and Z are not found in this form, 
 Unless Moore, Martin, and Creevey be said 
 (As the last of mankind) to be X Y and Z." 
 
 Amongst Miss Reynolds's " Recollections " will be found : 
 " On the praises of Mrs. Thrale he (Johnson) used to dwell with 
 a peculiar delight, a paternal fondness, expressive of conscious 
 exultation in being so intimately acquainted with her. One day, 
 in speaking of her to Mr. Harris, author of ' Hermes,' and expa- 
 tiating on her various perfections, — the solidity of her virtues, 
 the brilliancy of her wit, and the strength of her understanding, 
 &c. — he quoted some lines (a stanza, I believe, but from what 
 author I know not), with which he concluded his most eloquent 
 eulogium, and of these I retained but the two last lines : — 
 
 " ' Virtues — of such a generous kind, 
 Good in the last recesses of the mind.' " 
 
 The place assigned to Mrs. Thrale by the popular voice 
 
POPULAR ESTIMATE OF HER. 33 
 
 amongst the most cultivated and accomplished women of the day, 
 is fixed by some verses printed in the " Morning Herald " of 
 March 12th, 1782, which attracted much attention, They were 
 commonly attributed to Mr. (afterwards Sir W. W.) Pepys, and 
 Madame d'Arblay, who alludes to them complacently, thought 
 them his ; but he subsequently repudiated the authorship, and 
 the editor of her Memoirs believes that they were written by 
 Dr. Burney. They were provoked by the proneness of the 
 Herald to indulge in complimentary allusions to ladies of the 
 demirep genus : — 
 
 " Herald, wherefore thus proclaim 
 Naught of woman but the shame f 
 Quit, quit, at least awhile, 
 Perdita's too luscious smile; 
 Wanton Worsely, stilted Daly, 
 Heroines of each blackguard alley ; 
 Better sure record in story 
 Such as shine their sex's glory ! 
 Herald ! haste, with me proclaim 
 Those of literary fame. 
 Hannah More's pathetic pen, 
 Painting high th' impassioned scene; 
 Carter's piety and learning, 
 Little Burney's quick discerning; 
 Cowley's neatly pointed wit, 
 Healing those her satires hit ; 
 Smiling Streatfield's iv'ry neck, 
 Xose, and notions — a la Grecque ! 
 Let Chapone retain a place, 
 And the mother of her Grace, 
 Each art of conversation knowing, 
 High-bred, elegant Boscawen 5 
 Thrale, in whose expressive eyes 
 Sits a soul above disguise, 
 Skilled with wit and sense t' impart 
 Feelings of a generous heart. 
 Lucan, Leveson, Oreville, Crewe; 
 Fertile-minded Montague, 
 Who makes each rising art her care, 
 ' And brings her knowledge from afar ! ' 
 Whilst her tuneful tongue defends 
 Authors dead, and absent friends ; 
 Bright in genius, pure in fame : — 
 Herald, haste, and these proclaim! " 
 
 These lines merit attention for the sake of the comparison they 
 
 2* * 
 
34 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 invite. An outcry Las recently been raised against the laxity 
 of modern fashion, in permitting venal beauty to receive open 
 homage in our parks and theatres, and to be made the subject of 
 prurient gossip by maids and matrons who should ignore its ex- 
 istence. But we need not look far beneath the surface of social 
 history to discover that the irregularity in question is only a 
 partial revival of the practice of our grandfathers and grand- 
 mothers, much as a crinoline may be regarded as a modified 
 reproduction of the hoop. Junius thus denounces the Duke of 
 Grafton's indecorous devotion to Nancy Parsons : " It is not the 
 private indulgence, but the public insult, of which I complain. 
 The name of Miss Parsons would hardly have been known, if 
 the First Lord of the Treasury had not led her in triumph 
 through the Opera House, even in the presence of the Queen." 
 Lord March (afterwards Duke of Queensberry) was a lord of the 
 bedchamber in the decorous court of George the Third, when he 
 wrote thus to Selwyn : " I was prevented from writing to you 
 last Friday, by being at Newmarket with my little girl (Signora 
 Zamperini, a noted dancer and singer). I had the whole family 
 and Cocchi. The beauty went with me in my chaise, and the 
 rest in the old landau." 
 
 We have had Boswell's impression of his first visit to Streat- 
 ham ; and Madame D'Arblay's account of hers confirms the no- 
 tion that My Mistress, not My Master, was the presiding genius 
 of the place. 
 
 " London, August (1778). — I have now to write an account 
 of the most consequential day I have spent since my birth : 
 namely, my Streatham visit. 
 
 " Our journey to Streatham was the least pleasant part of the 
 day, for the roads were dreadfully dusty, and I was really in the 
 fidgets from thinking what my reception might be, and from fear- 
 ing they would expect a less awkward and backward kind of 
 person than I was sure they would find. 
 
 " Mr. Thrale's house is white, and very pleasantly situated, in 
 a fine paddock. Mrs. Thrale was strolling about, and came to us 
 as we got out of the chaise. 
 
 " She then received me, taking both my hands, and with mixed 
 politeness and cordiality welcoming me to Streatham. She led 
 
LIFE AT STREATHAM. 35 
 
 me into the house, and addressed herself almost wholly for a few 
 minutes to my father, as if to give me an assurance she did not 
 mean to regard me as a show, or to distress or frighten me by 
 drawing me out. Afterwards she took me up stairs, and showed 
 me the house, and said she had very much wished to see me at 
 Streatham, and should always think herself much obliged to Dr. 
 Burney for his goodness in bringing me, which she looked upon 
 as a very great favor. 
 
 " But though we were some time together, and though she was 
 very civil, she did not hint at my book, and I love her much 
 more than ever for her delicacy in avoiding a subject which she 
 could not but see would have greatly embarrassed me. 
 
 " When we returned to the music-room, we found Miss Thrale 
 was with my father. Miss Thrale is a very fine girl, about four- 
 teen years of age, but cold and reserved, though full of knowl- 
 edge and intelligence. 
 
 " Soon after, Mrs. Thrale took me to the library ; she talked a 
 little while upon common topics, and then, at last, she mentioned 
 6 Evelina.' 
 
 " I now prevailed upon Mrs. Thrale to let me amuse myself, 
 and she went to dress. I then prowled about to choose some 
 book, and I saw, upon the reading-table, ' Evelina.' I had just 
 fixed upon a new translation of Cicero's * Lselius,' when the li- 
 brary door was opened, and Mr. Seward entered. I instantly 
 put away my book, because I dreaded being thought studious and 
 affected. He offered his service to find anything for me, and 
 then, in the same breath, ran on to speak of the book with which 
 I had myself ' favored the world ! ' 
 
 " The exact words he began with I cannot recollect, for I was 
 actually confounded by the attack; and his abrupt manner of 
 letting me know he was au fait equally astonished and pro- 
 voked me. How different from the delicacy of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Thrale ! " 
 
 A high French authority has laid down that politeness or good 
 breeding consists in rendering to all what is socially their due. 
 This definition is imperfect. Good breeding is best displayed by 
 putting people at their ease ; and Mrs. Thrale's manner of put- 
 ting the young authoress at her ease was the perfection of deli- 
 cacy and tact. 
 
36 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 If Johnson's entrance on the stage had been premeditated, it 
 could hardly have been more dramatically ordered. 
 
 " When we were summoned to dinner, Mrs. Thrale made my 
 father and me sit on each side of her. I said that I hoped I did 
 not take Dr. Johnson's place ; — for he had not yet appeared. 
 
 " ' No,' answered Mrs. Thrale, ' he will sit by you, which I am 
 sure will give him great pleasure.' 
 
 " Soon after we were seated, this great man entered. I have 
 so true a veneration for him, that the very sight of him inspires 
 me with delight and reverence, notwithstanding the cruel infirmi- 
 ties to which he is subject ; for he has almost perpetual convul- 
 sive movements, either of his hands, lips, feet, or knees, and 
 sometimes of all together. 
 
 " Mrs. Thrale introduced me to him, and he took his place. 
 We had a noble dinner, and a most elegant dessert. Dr. John- 
 son, in the middle of dinner, asked Mrs. Thrale what was in some 
 little pies that were near him, 
 
 " ' Mutton,' answered she, i so I don't ask you to eat any, be- 
 cause I know you despise it.' 
 
 " ' No, Madam, no,' cried he ; ' I despise nothing that is good 
 of its sort ; but I am too proud now to eat of it. Sitting by Miss 
 Burney makes me very proud to-day ! ' 
 
 " ' Miss Burney,' said Mrs. Thrale, laughing, 6 you must take 
 great care of your heart if Dr. Johnson attacks it ; for I assure 
 you he is not often successless.' 
 
 " ' What 's that you say, Madam ? ' cried he ; f are you making 
 mischief between the young lady and me already ? ' 
 
 " A little while after he drank Miss Thrale's health and mine, 
 and then added : — . 
 
 " ' 'T is a terrible thing that we cannot wish young ladies well, 
 without wishing them to become old women.' " 
 
 Madame D'Arblay's memoirs are sadly defaced by egotism, 
 and gratified vanity may have had a good deal to do with her 
 unqualified admiration of Mrs. Thrale, for " Evelina " (recently 
 published) Was the unceasing topic of exaggerated eulogy during 
 the entire visit. Still so acute an observer could not be essen- 
 tially wrong in an account of her reception, which is in the high- 
 est degree favorable to her newly acquired friend. Of her second 
 visit she says : — 
 
STREATHAM. 37 
 
 " Our journey was charming. The kind Mrs. Thrale would 
 give courage to the most timid. She did not ask me questions, 
 or catechize me upon what I knew, or use any means to draw me 
 out, but made it her business to draw herself out, — that is, to 
 start subjects, to support them herself, and take all the weight of 
 the conversation, as if it behooved her to find me entertainment. 
 But I am so much in love with her, that I shall be obliged to run 
 away from the subject, or shall write of nothing else. 
 
 " When we arrived here, Mrs. Thrale showed me my room, 
 which is an exceeding pleasant one, and then conducted me to 
 the library, there to divert myself while she dressed. 
 
 " Miss Thrale soon joined me : and I begin to like her. Mr. 
 Thrale was neither well nor in spirits all day. Indeed, he seems 
 not to be a happy man, though he has every means of happiness 
 in his power. But I think I have rarely seen a very rich man 
 with a light heart and light spirits." 
 
 The concluding remark, coming from such a source, may sup- 
 ply an improving subject of meditation or inquiry ; if found true, 
 it may help to suppress envy and promote contentment. Thrale's 
 state of health, however, accounts for his depression, independently 
 of his wealth, which rested on too precarious a foundation to 
 allow of unbroken confidence and gayety. 
 
 "At tea (continues the diarist) we all met again, and Dr. John- 
 son was gayly sociable. He gave a very droll account of the 
 children of Mr. Langton. 
 
 " i Who,' he said, c might be very good children if they were 
 let alone ; but the father is never easy when he is not making 
 them do something which they cannot do ; they must repeat a 
 fable, or a speech, or the Hebrew alphabet ; and they might as 
 w r ell count twenty, for what they know of the matter : however, 
 the father says half, for he prompts every other word. But he 
 could not have chosen a man who would have been less enter- 
 tained by such means.' 
 
 " ' I believe not ! ' cried Mrs. Thrale ; ' nothing is more ridicu- 
 lous than parents cramming their children's nonsense down other 
 people's throats. I keep mine as much out of the way as I can.' 
 
 " ' Yours, Madam,' answered he, i are in nobody's way ; no 
 children can be better managed or less troublesome ; but your 
 
38 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 fault is, a too great perverseness in not allowing anybody to give 
 them anything. Why should they not have a cherry or a goose- 
 berry, as well as bigger children ? ' 
 
 " Indeed, the freedom with which Dr. Johnson condemns what- 
 ever he disapproves is astonishing ; and the strength of words he 
 uses would, to most people, be intolerable ; but Mrs. Thrale seems 
 to have a sweetness of disposition that equals all her other ex- 
 cellences, and far from making a point of vindicating herself, 
 she generally receives his admonitions with the most respectful 
 silence. 
 
 " But I fear to say all I think at present of Mrs. Thrale, lest 
 some flaws should appear by and by, that may make me think 
 differently. And yet, why should I not indulge the now, as well 
 as the then, since it will be with so much more pleasure ? In 
 short, I do think her delightful ; she has talents to create admira- 
 tion, good humor to excite love, understanding to give entertain- 
 ment, and a heart which, like my dear father's, seems already 
 fitted for another world." 
 
 Another of the conversations which occurred during this visit 
 is characteristic of all parties : — 
 
 " I could not help expressing my amazement at his universal 
 readiness upon all subjects, and Mrs. Thrale said to him : 
 
 " ' Sir, Miss Burney wonders at your patience with such stuff; 
 but I tell her you are used to me, for I believe I torment you 
 with more foolish questions than anybody else dares do.' 
 
 " ' No, Madam,' said he, ' you don't torment me ; — you tease 
 me, indeed, sometimes.' 
 
 " ' Ay, so I do, Dr. Johnson, and I wonder you bear with my 
 nonsense.' 
 
 " i No, Madam, you never talk nonsense ; you have as much 
 sense, and more wit, than any woman I know ! ' 
 
 " ' O,' cried Mrs. Thrale, blushing, ' it is my turn to go under 
 the table this morning, Miss Burney ! ' 
 
 " ' And yet,' continued the Doctor, with the most comical look, 
 ' I have known all the wits, from Mrs. Montagu down to Bet 
 Flint!' 
 
 " ' Bet Flint ! ' cried Mrs. Thrale ; ' pray who is she ? ' 
 
 " ' 0, a fine character, Madam ! She was habitually a slut and 
 a drunkard, and occasionally a thief and a harlot.' 
 
JOHNSON'S GALLANTRY. 39 
 
 " ' And, for Heaven's sake, how came you to know her ? ' 
 
 " ' Why, Madam, she figured in the literary world, too ! Bet 
 Flint wrote her own life, and called herself Cassandra, and it 
 was in verse. So Bet brought me her verses to correct ; but I 
 gave her half a crown, and she liked it as well.' 
 
 " ' And pray what became of her, Sir ? ' 
 
 « « Why, Madam, she stole a quilt from the man of the house, 
 and he had her taken up : but Bet Flint had a spirit not to be 
 subdued ; so when she found herself obliged to go to jail, she 
 ordered a sedan chair, and bid her foptboy walk before her. 
 However, the boy proved refractory, for he was ashamed, though 
 his mistress was not.' 
 
 " i And did she ever get out of jail again, Sir ? ' 
 
 " ' Yes, Madam ; when she came to her trial, the judge ac- 
 quitted her. " So now," she said to me, " the quilt is my own, 
 and now I '11 make a petticoat of it." * O, I loved Bet Flint ! ' 
 
 " ' Bless me, Sir/ cried Mrs. Thrale, l how can all these vaga- 
 bonds contrive to get at you, of all people ? ' 
 
 " ' O the dear creatures ! ' cried he, laughing heartily, ' I can't 
 but be glad to see them ! ' " 
 
 Madame D'Arblay's notes of the conversation and mode of 
 life at Streatham are full and spirited, and exhibit Johnson in 
 moods and situations in which he was seldom seen by Boswell. 
 The adroitness with which he divided his attentions amongst the 
 ladies, blending approval with instruction, and softening contra- 
 diction or reproof by gallantry, gives plausibility to his otherwise 
 paradoxical claim to be considered a polite man.f He obviously 
 knew how to set about it, and (theoretically at least) was no mean 
 proficient in that art of pleasing which attracts 
 
 * This story is told by Boswell, roy. 8vo. edit. p. 688. 
 
 f " When the company were retired, we happened to be talking of Dr. Bar- 
 nard, the provost of Eton, who died about that time; and after a long and just 
 eulogium on his wit, his learning, and goodness of heart — ' He was the only man, 
 too,' says Mr. Johnson, quite seriously, 'that did justice to my good breeding: 
 aud you may observe that I am well-bred to a degree of needless scrupulosity. 
 No man,' continued he, not observing the amazement of his hearers, ' no man is 
 so cautious not to interrupt another ; no man thinks it so necessary to appear 
 attentive when others are speaking ; no man so steadily refuses preference to 
 himself, or so willingly bestows it on another, as I do ; nobody holds so strongly 
 as I do the necessity of ceremony, and the ill effects which follow the breach of 
 it: yet people think me rude; but Barnard did me justice.' " — Anecdotes. 
 
40 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 " Rather by deference than compliment, 
 And wins e'en by a delicate dissent." 
 
 Sir Henry Bulwer (in his " France ") says that Louis the 
 Fourteenth was entitled to be called a man of genius, if only 
 from the delicate beauty of his compliments. Mrs. Thrale 
 awards the palm of excellence in the same path to Johnson. 
 " Your compliments, Sir, are made seldom, but when they are 
 made, they have an elegance unequalled ; but then, when you 
 are angry, who dares make speeches so bitter and so cruel ? " 
 " I am sure," she adds, after a semblance of defence on his part, 
 " I have had my share of scolding from you." Johnson. " It is 
 true, you have, but you have borne it like an angel, and you have 
 been the better for it." As the discussion proceeds, he accuses 
 her of often provoking him to say severe things by unreasonable 
 commendation, — a common mode of acquiring a character for 
 amiability at the expense of one's intimates, who are made to 
 appear uncharitable by being thus constantly placed on the 
 depreciating side. 
 
 Some years prior to this period (1778) Mrs. Thrale's mind 
 and character had undergone a succession of the most trying 
 ordeals, and was tempered and improved, without being hardened, 
 by them. 
 
 One child after another died at the age when the bereavement 
 is most affecting to a mother. Her husband's health kept her in 
 a constant state of apprehension for his life, arid his affairs 
 became embarrassed to the very verge of bankruptcy. So long 
 as they remained prosperous, he insisted on her not meddling 
 with them in any way, and even required her to keep to her 
 drawing-room and leave the conduct of their domestic estab- 
 lishment to the butler and housekeeper. But when (from cir- 
 cumstances detailed in the " Autobiography ") his fortune was 
 seriously endangered, he wisely and gladly availed himself of 
 her prudence and energy, and was saved by so doing. I have 
 now before me a collection of autograph letters from her to Mr. 
 Perkins, then manager and afterwards one of the proprietors of 
 the brewery, from which it appears that she paid the most 
 minute attention to the business, besides undertaking the 
 superintendence of her own hereditary estate in Wales. On 
 
HER ATTENTION TO BUSINESS. 41 
 
 September 28, 1773, she writes to Mr. Perkins, who was on a 
 commercial journey : — 
 
 " Mr. Thrale is still upon his little tour ; I opened a letter from 
 you at the counting-house this morning, and am sorry to find you 
 have so much trouble with Grant and his affairs. How glad I 
 shall be to hear that matter is settled at all to your satisfaction. 
 
 His letter and remittance came while I was there to-day 
 
 Careless, of the ' Blue Posts,' has turned refractory, and applied 
 to Hoare's people, who have, sent him in their beer. I called on 
 him to-day, however, and by dint of an unwearied solicitation 
 (for I kept him at the coach side a full half-hour) I got his order 
 for six butts more as the final trial." 
 
 Examples of fine ladies pressing tradesmen for their votes 
 with compromising importunity are far from rare, but it would 
 be difficult to find a parallel for Johnson's " Hetty " doing duty 
 as a commercial traveller. She was simultaneously obliged to 
 anticipate the electioneering exploits of the Duchess of Devon- 
 shire and Mrs. Crewe ; and in after life, having occasion to pass 
 through South wark, she expresses her astonishment at no longer 
 recognizing a place, every hole and corner of which she had three 
 times visited as a canvasser. 
 
 After the death of Mr. Thrale, a friend of Mr. H. Thornton 
 canvassed the borough on behalf of that gentleman. He waited 
 on Mrs. Thrale, who promised her support. She concluded her 
 obliging expressions by saying : " I wish your friend success, 
 and I think he will have it : he may probably come in for two 
 Parliaments, but if he tries for a third, were he an angel from 
 heaven, the people of Southwark would cry, ' Not this man, but 
 Barabbas.'"* 
 
 On one of her canvassing expeditions, Johnson accompanied 
 her, and a rough fellow, a hatter by trade, seeing the moralist's 
 hat in a state of decay, seized it suddenly w r ith one hand, and 
 clapping him on the back with the other, cried out, " Ah, Master 
 Johnson, this is no time to be thinking about hats." " No, no, 
 Sir," replied the Doctor, " hats are of no use now, as you say, 
 
 * Miss Laetitia Matilda Hawkins vouches for this story. — "Memoir, &c." 
 Vol. I. p. 66, note, where she adds: "I have heard it said, that into whatever 
 company she (Mrs. T.) fell, she could be the most agreeable person in it." 
 
42 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MES. PIOZZI. 
 
 except to throw up in the air and huzza with ; " accompanying 
 his words with the true election halloo. 
 
 Thrale had serious thoughts of repaying Johnson's electioneer- 
 ing aid in kind, by bringing him into Parliament. Sir John 
 Hawkins says that Thrale had two meetings with the minister 
 (Lord North), who at first seemed inclined to find Johnson a seat, 
 but eventually discountenanced the project. Lord Stowell told 
 Mr. Croker that Lord North did not feel quite sure that Johnson's 
 support might not sometimes prove rather an encumbrance than 
 a help. " His lordship perhaps thought, and not unreasonably, 
 that, like the elephant in the battle, he was quite as likely to 
 trample down his friends as his foes." Flood doubted whether 
 Johnson, being long used to sententious brevity and the short 
 flights of conversation, would have succeeded in the expanded 
 kind of argument required in public speaking. Burke's opinion 
 was, that if he had come early into Parliament, he would have 
 been the greatest speaker ever known in it. Upon being told 
 this by Reynolds, he exclaimed, " I should like to try my hand 
 now." On Boswell's adding that he wished he had, Mrs. Thrale 
 writes : " Boswell had leisure for curiosity : ministers had not. 
 Boswell would have been equally amused by his failure as by his 
 success ; but to Lord North there would have been no joke at all 
 in the experiment ending untowardly." 
 
 He was equally ready with advice and encouragement during 
 the difficulties connected with the brewery. He was not of opin- 
 ion, with Aristotle and Parson Adams, that trade is below a 
 philosopher ; * and he eagerly busied himself in computing the 
 cost of the malt and the possible profits on the ale. In October, 
 1772, he writes from Lichfield: — 
 
 " Do not suffer little things to disturb you. The brew-house 
 must be the scene of action, and the subject of speculation. The 
 first consequence of our late trouble ought to be, an endeavor to 
 brew at a cheaper rate ; an endeavor, not violent and transient, 
 but steady and continual, prosecuted with total contempt of cen- 
 sure or wonder, and animated by resolution not to stop while 
 
 # " Trade, answered Adams, is below a philosopher, as Aristotle proves in 
 his first chapter of ' Politics,' and unnatural, as it is managed now." — Joseph 
 Andreivs. 
 
THRALE'S EMBARRASSMENTS. 43 
 
 more can be done. Unless this can be done, nothing can help 
 us ; and if this be done, we shall not want help. 
 
 " Surely there is something to be saved ; there is to be saved 
 whatever is the difference between vigilance and neglect, be- 
 tween parsimony and profusion. 
 
 " The price of malt has risen again. It is now two pounds 
 eight shillings the quarter. Ale is sold in the public houses at 
 sixpence a quart, a price which I never heard of before. 
 
 " I am, &c." 
 
 In November of the same year, from Ashbourne : — 
 
 " Dear Madam : So many days and never a letter ! — Fu- 
 gere fides, pietasque pudorque. This is Turkish usage. And I 
 have been hoping and hoping. But you are so glad to have me 
 out of your mind. 
 
 " I think you were quite right in your advice about the thou- 
 sand pounds, for the payment could not have been delayed long ; 
 and a short delay would have lessened credit, without advancing 
 interest. But in great matters you are hardly ever mistaken." 
 
 In May 17, 1773: — 
 
 " Why should Mr. T suppose, that what I took the liberty 
 
 of suggesting was concerted with you ? He does not know how 
 much I revolve his affairs, and how honestly I desire his pros- 
 perity. I hope he has let the hint take some hold of his mind." 
 
 In the copy of the printed letters presented by Mrs. Thrale 
 to Sir James Fellowes, the blank is filled up with the name of 
 Thrale, and the passage is thus annotated in her handwriting : — 
 
 " Concerning his (Thrale's) connection with quack chemists, 
 quacks of all sorts ; jumping up in the night to go to Marlbro' 
 Street from South wark, after some advertising mountebank," at 
 hazard of his life." 
 
 That Johnson's advice was neither thrown away nor under- 
 valued, may be inferred from an incident related by Boswell. 
 Mr. Perkins had hung up in the counting-house a fine proof of 
 the mezzotinto of Dr. Johnson by Doughty ; and when Mrs. 
 Thrale asked him, somewhat flippantly, " Why do you put him 
 up in the counting-house ? " Mr. Perkins answered, " Because, 
 Madam, I wish to have one wise man there." " Sir " said John- 
 
44 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 son, "I thank you. It is a very handsome compliment, and I 
 believe you speak sincerely." 
 
 He was in the habit of paying the most minute attention to 
 every branch of domestic economy, and his suggestions are in- 
 variably marked by shrewdness and good sense. Thus when 
 Mrs. Thrale was giving evening parties, he told her that, though 
 few people might be hungry after a late dinner, she should always 
 have a good supply of cakes and sweetmeats on a side table, and 
 that some cold meat and a bottle of wine would often be found 
 acceptable. Notwithstanding the imperfection of his eyesight, 
 and his own slovenliness, he was a critical observer of female 
 dress and demeanor, and found fault without ceremony or com- 
 punction when any of his canons of taste or propriety were 
 infringed. Several amusing examples are enumerated by Mrs. 
 Thrale : — 
 
 " I commended a young lady for her beauty and pretty be- 
 havior one day, however, to whom I thought no objections could 
 have been made. ' I saw her,' said Dr. Johnson, ' take a pair of 
 scissors in her left hand though ; and for all her father is now 
 become a nobleman, and as you say excessively rich, I should, 
 were I a youth of quality ten years hence, hesitate between a girl 
 so neglected, and a negro! 
 
 " It was indeed astonishing how he could remark such minute- 
 ness with a sight so miserably imperfect ; but no accidental posi- 
 tion of a riband escaped him, so nice was his observation, and 
 so rigorous his demands of propriety. When I went with him to 
 Lichfield, and came down stairs to breakfast at the inn, my dress 
 did not please him, and he made me alter it entirely before he 
 would stir a step with us about the town, saying most satirical 
 things concerning the appearance I made in a riding-habit ; and 
 adding, i 'T is very strange that such eyes as yours cannot discern 
 propriety of dress : if I had a sight only half as good, I think I 
 should see to the centre.' 
 
 " Another lady, whose accomplishments he never denied, came 
 to our house one day covered with diamonds, feathers, &c, and 
 he did not seem inclined to chat with her as usual. I asked him 
 why ? when the company was gone. ' Why, her head looked so 
 like that of a woman who shows puppets,' said he, i and her 
 
JOHNSON ON DRESS. 45 
 
 voice so confirmed the fancy, that I could not bear her to-day ; 
 when she wears a large cap, I can talk to her.' 
 
 "When the ladies wore lace trimmings to their clothes, he 
 expressed his contempt of the reigning fashion in these terms : 
 'A Brussels trimming is like bread-sauce,' said he, 'it takes 
 away the glow of color from the gown, and gives you nothing 
 instead of it ; but sauce was invented to heighten the flavor of 
 our food, and trimming is an ornament to the manteau, or it is 
 nothing. Learn,' said he, ' that there is propriety or impropriety 
 in everything how slight soever, and get at the general principles 
 of dress and of behavior ; if you then transgress them, you will 
 at least know that they are not observed.' " 
 
 Madame D'Arblay confirms this account. He had just been 
 finding fault with a bandeau worn by Lady Lade, a very large 
 woman, standing six feet high without her shoes : — 
 
 " Dr. J. — The truth is, women, take them in general, have 
 no idea of grace. Fashion is all they think of. I don't mean 
 Mrs. Thrale and Miss Burney, when I talk of women ! — they 
 are goddesses ! — and therefore I except them. 
 
 " Mrs. Thrale. — Lady Lade never wore the bandeau, and 
 said she never would, because it is unbecoming. 
 
 " Dr J. (laughing). — Did not she? then is Lady Lade a 
 charming woman, and I have yet hopes of entering into engage- 
 ments with her ! 
 
 " Mrs. T. — Well, as to that I can't say ; but to be sure, the 
 only similitude I have yet discovered in you, is in size : there 
 you agree mighty well. 
 
 " Dr. J. — Why, if anybody could have worn the bandeau, it 
 must have been Lady Lade ; for there is enough of her to carry 
 it off; but you are too little for anything ridiculous ; that which 
 seems nothing upon a Patagonian, will become very conspicuous 
 upon a Lilliputian, and of you there is so little in all, that one 
 single absurdity would swallow up half of you." 
 
 Matrimony was one of his favorite subjects, and he was fond 
 of laying down and refining on the duties of the married state, 
 and the amount of happiness and comfort to be found in it. But 
 once when he was musing over the fire in the drawing-room 
 at Streatham, a young gentleman called to him suddenly, " Mr. 
 
46 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 Johnson, would you advise me to marry ? " "I would advise no 
 man to marry, Sir," replied the Doctor in a very angry tone, 
 " who is not likely to propagate understanding ; " and so left the 
 room. " Our companion," adds Mrs. Thrale, in the " Anecdotes," 
 " looked confounded, and I believe had scarce recovered the con- 
 sciousness of his own existence, when Johnson came back, and, 
 drawing his chair among us, with altered looks and a softened 
 voice, joined in the general chat, insensibly led the conversation 
 to the subject of marriage, where he laid himself out in a disser- 
 tation so useful, so elegant, so founded on the true knowledge of 
 human life, and so adorned with beauty of sentiment, that no 
 one ever recollected the offence, except to rejoice in its conse- 
 quences." 
 
 The young gentleman was Mr. Thrale's nephew, Sir John 
 Lade ; who was proposed, half in earnest, whilst still a minor, 
 by the Doctor as a fitting mate for the author of " Evelina." He 
 married a woman of the town, became a celebrated member of 
 the Four-in-Hand Club, and contrived to waste the whole of a 
 fine fortune before he died. 
 
 In " Thraliana " she says : " Lady Lade consulted him about 
 her son, Sir John. ' Endeavor, Madam,' said he (Johnson), < to 
 procure him knowledge ; for really ignorance to a rich man is 
 like fat to a sick sheep, it only serves to call the rooks about 
 him.' On the same occasion it was that he observed how a mind 
 unfurnished with subjects and materials for thinking can keep up 
 no dignity at all in solitude. ' It is,' says he, ' in the state of a 
 mill without grist.' " 
 
 The attractions of Streatham must have been very strong, to 
 induce Johnson to pass so much of his time away from "the busy 
 hum of men " in Fleet Street, and u the full tide of human exist- 
 ence " at Charing Cross. He often found fault with Mrs. Thrale 
 for living so much in the country, "feeding the chickens till she 
 starved her understanding." Walking in a wood when it rained, 
 she tells us, "was the only rural image he pleased his fancy with; 
 for he would say, after one has gathered the apples in an orchard, 
 one wishes them well baked, and removed to a London eating- 
 house for enjoyment." This is almost as bad as the foreigner, 
 who complained that there was no ripe fruit in England but the 
 
JOHNSON'S FONDNESS FOR A CARRIAGE. 47 
 
 roasted apples. Amongst other modes of passing time in the 
 country, Johnson once or twice tried hunting, and, mounted on 
 an old horse of Mr. Thrale's, acquitted himself to the surprise of 
 the " field," one of whom delighted him by exclaiming, " Why, 
 Johnson rides as well, for aught I see, as the most illiterate fel- 
 low in England." But a trial or two satisfied him. 
 
 " He thought at heart like courtly Chesterfield, 
 Who after a long chase o'er hills, dales, fields, 
 And what not, though he rode beyond all price, 
 Asked next day, ' If men ever hunted twice ? ' ; ' 
 
 It is very strange, and very melancholy, was his reflection, that 
 the paucity of human pleasures should persuade us ever to call 
 hunting one of them. The mode of locomotion in which he de- 
 lighted was the vehicular. As he was driving rapidly in a post- 
 chaise with Boswell, he exclaimed, " Life has not many things 
 better than this." On their way from Dr. Taylor's to Derby in 
 1777, he said, " If I had no duties, and no reference to futurity, 
 I would spend my life in driving briskly in a postchaise with a 
 pretty woman, but she should be one who could understand me, 
 and would add something to the conversation." 
 
 Mr. Croker attributes his enjoyment to the novelty of the 
 pleasure ; his poverty having in early life prevented him from 
 travelling post. But a better reason is given by Mrs. Thrale : — 
 
 " I asked him why he doted on a coach so ? and received for 
 answer, that in the first place, the company were shut in with 
 him there ; and could not escape, as out of a room ; in the next 
 place, he heard all that was said in a carriage, where it was my 
 turn to be deaf: and very impatient was he at my occasional diffi- 
 culty of hearing. On this account he wished to travel all over the 
 world ; for the very act of going forward was delightful to him, 
 and he gave himself no concern about accidents, which he said 
 never happened ; nor did the running away of the horses on the 
 edge of a precipice between Vernon and St. Denys in France 
 convince him to the contrary : ' for nothing came of it,' he said, 
 ' except that Mr. Thrale leaped out of the carriage into a chalk- 
 pit, and then came up again, looking as white ! ' When the truth 
 w r as, all their lives were saved by the greatest providence ever 
 
48 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 exerted in favor of three human creatures ; and the part Mr. 
 Thrale took from desperation was the likeliest thing in the world 
 to produce broken limbs and death." 
 
 The drawbacks on his gratification and on that of his fellow- 
 travellers were his physical defects, and his utter insensibility to 
 the beauty of nature, as well as to the fine arts, in so far as they 
 were addressed to the senses of sight and hearing. " He de- 
 lighted," says Mrs. Thrale, " no more in music than painting ; he 
 was almost as deaf as he was blind ; travelling with Dr. Johnson 
 was, for these reasons, tiresome enough. Mr. Thrale loved pros- 
 pects, and was mortified that his friend could not enjoy the sight 
 of those different dispositions of wood and water, hill and valley, 
 that travelling through England and France affords a man. But 
 when he wished to point them out to his companion : ' Never heed 
 such nonsense,' would be the reply : ' a blade of grass is always a 
 blade of grass, whether in one country or another : let us, if we 
 do talk, talk about something ; men and women are my subjects 
 of inquiry ; let us see how these differ from those we have left 
 behind." 
 
 It is no small deduction from our admiration of Johnson, and 
 no trifling enhancement of his friends' kindness in tolerating his 
 eccentricities, that he seldom made allowance for his own palpa- 
 ble and undeniable deficiencies. As well might a blind man deny 
 the existence of colors, as a purblind man assert that there was 
 no charm in a prospect or in a Claude or Titian, because he could 
 see none. Once, by way of pleasing Reynolds, he pretended to 
 lament that the great painter's genius was not exerted on stuff 
 more durable than canvas, and suggested copper. Sir Joshua 
 urged the difficulty of procuring plates large enough for historical 
 subjects. " What foppish obstacles are these ! " exclaimed John- 
 son. " Here is Thrale has a thousand ton of copper : you may 
 paint it all round if you will, I suppose ; it will serve him to brew 
 in afterwards. Will it not, Sir ? " (to Thrale who sat by.) 
 
 He always " civilized " to Dr. Burney, who has supplied the 
 following anecdote : — 
 
 " After having talked slightingly of music, he was observed to 
 listen very attentively while Miss Thrale played on the harpsi- 
 chord ; and with eagerness he called to her, * Why don't you dash 
 
TOUR IN WALES. 49 
 
 away like Burney ? ' Dr. Burney upon this said to him, ' I be- 
 lieve, Sir, we shall make a musician of you at last.' Johnson 
 with candid complacency replied, ' Sir, I shall be glad to have a 
 new sense given to me.' " 
 
 In 1774, the Thrales made a tour in Wales, mainly for the 
 purpose of revisiting her birthplace and estates. They were 
 accompanied by Johnson, who kept a diary of the expedition, be- 
 ginning July oth and ending September 24th. It was preserved 
 by his negro servant, and Boswell had no suspicion of its exist- 
 ence, for he says, " I do not find that he kept any journal or notes 
 of what he saw there." The diary was first published by Mr. 
 Duppa in 1816; and some manuscript notes by Mrs. Thrale, 
 which reached that gentleman too late for insertion, have been 
 added in Mr. Murray's recent edition of the Life. The first 
 entry is : — 
 
 " Tuesday, July 5. — We left Streatham 11 a. m. Price of 
 four horses two shillings a mile. Barnet 1.40 p. m. On the road 
 I read ' Tully's Epistles.' At night at Dunstable." At Chester, 
 he records : " We walked round the walls, which are complete, 
 and contain one mile, three quarters, and one hundred and one 
 yards." Mrs. Thrale's comment is, " Of those ill-fated walls Dr. 
 Johnson might have learned the extent from any one. He has 
 since put me fairly out of countenance by saying, ' I have known 
 my mistress fifteen years, and never saw her fairly out of humor 
 but on Chester wall ; ' it was because he would keep Miss Thrale 
 beyond her hour of going to bed to walk on the wall, where, from 
 the want of light, I apprehended some accident to her, — perhaps 
 to him." 
 
 He thus describes Mrs. Thrale's family mansion : " Saturday, 
 July 30. — We went to Bach y Graig, where we found an old 
 house, built 1567, in an uncommon and incommodious form. — 
 My mistress chatted about tiring, but I prevailed on her to go to 
 the top. — The floors have been stolen : the windows are stopped. 
 — The house was less than I seemed to expect. — The river 
 Clwyd is a brook with a bridge of one arch, about one third of a 
 mile. — The woods have many trees, generally young ; but some 
 which seem to decay. — They have been lopped. — The house 
 
50 LIFE AND WEITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 never had a garden. — The addition of another story would make 
 an useful house, but it cannot be great." 
 
 On the 4th August, they visited Rhuddlan Castle and Bodryd- 
 dan,* of which he says : — 
 
 " Stapylton's house is pretty : there are pleasing shades about 
 it, with a constant spring that supplies a cold bath. We then 
 went out to see a cascade. I trudged unwillingly, and was not 
 sorry to find it dry. The water was, however, turned on, and 
 produced a very striking cataract." 
 
 Mrs. Piozzi remarks on this passage : " He teased Mrs. Cot- 
 ton about her dry cascade till she was ready to cry." f 
 
 On two occasions, Johnson incidentally imputes a want of lib- 
 erality to Mrs. Thrale, which the general tenor of her conduct 
 belies : — 
 
 " August 2. — We went to Dymerehion Church, where the 
 old clerk acknowledged his mistress. It is the parish church of 
 Bach y Graig ; a mean fabric ; Mr. Salusbury (Mrs. Thrale's 
 father was buried in it The old clerk had great appear- 
 ance of joy, and foolishly said that he was now willing to die. 
 He had only a crown given him by my mistress." 
 
 " August 4. — Mrs. Thrale lost her purse. She expressed so 
 much uneasiness that I concluded the sum to be very great ; but 
 when I heard of only seven guineas, I was glad to find she had 
 so much sensibility of money." 
 
 Johnson might have remarked, that the annoyance we expe- 
 rience from a loss is seldom entirely regulated by the pecuniary 
 value of the thing lost. 
 
 On the way to Holywell he sets down : " Talk with mistress 
 about flattery ; " on which she notes : " He said I flattered the 
 people to whose houses we went : I was saucy and said I was 
 obliged to be civil for two, meaning himself and me.J He re- 
 
 * Now the property of Mr. Shipley Conway, the great-grandson of Johnson's 
 acquaintance, the Bishop of St. Asaph, and representative, through females, of 
 Sir John Conway or Conwy, to whom Khuddlan Castle, with its domain, was 
 granted by Edward the First. 
 
 f Bowles, the poet, on the unexpected arrival of a party to see his grounds, 
 was overheard giving a hurried order to set the fountain playing, and carry the 
 hermit his beard. 
 
 % Madame D'Arblay reports Mrs. Thrale saying at Streatham in September, 
 1778: — 
 
TOUR IN WALES. 51 
 
 plied, nobody would thank me for compliments they did not un- 
 derstand. At Gwaynynog (Mr. Middleton's) however, he was 
 flattered, and was happy, of course." 
 
 The other entries referring to the Thrales are : — 
 
 " August 22. — "We went to visit Bodville, the place where 
 Mrs. Thrale was born, and the churches called Tydweilliog and 
 Liang winodyl, which she holds by impropriation." 
 
 " August 24. — We went to see Bodville. Mrs. Thrale re- 
 membered the rooms, and wandered over them, with recollec- 
 tions of her childhood. This species of pleasure is always mel- 
 ancholy Mr. Thrale purposes to beautify the churches, 
 
 and, if he prospers, will probably restore the tithes. Mrs. Thrale 
 visited a house where she had been used to drink milk, which 
 was left, with an estate of £ 200 a year, by one Lloyd, to a mar- 
 ried woman who lived with him." 
 
 "August 26. — Note. Queeny's goats, 149, I think." 
 
 Without Mr. Duppa's aid this last entry would be a puzzle 
 for commentators. His note is : — 
 
 "Mr. Thrale was near-sighted, and could not see the goats 
 browsing on Snowdon, and he promised his daughter, who was a 
 child of ten years old, a penny for every goat she would show 
 him, and Dr. Johnson kept the account ; so that it appears her 
 father was in debt to her one hundred and forty-nine pence. 
 Queeny was an epithet, which had its origin in the nursery, by 
 which (in allusion to Queen Esther) Miss Thrale (whose name 
 was Esther) was always distinguished by Johnson." 
 
 She was named after her mother, Hester, not Esther. 
 
 On September 13, Johnson sets down: " TTe came to Lord 
 Sandys', at Ombersley, where we were treated with great civil- 
 ity." It was here, as he told Mrs. Thrale, that for the only time 
 in his life he had as much wall fruit as he liked ; yet she says that 
 he was in the habit of eating six or seven peaches before break- 
 fast during the fruit season at Streatham. Swift was also fond 
 
 " I remember, Sir, when we were travelling in Wales, how you called me to 
 account for my civility to the people ; ' Madam,' you said, ' let me have no more 
 of this idle commendation of nothing. Why is it, that whatever you see, and 
 whoever you see, you are to be so indiscriminately lavish of praise ? ' ' Why I '11 
 tell you, Sir,' said I, ' when I am with you, and Mr. Thrale, and Queeny, I am 
 obliged to be civil for four! ' '* 
 
52 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 of fruit : " observing (says Scott) that a gentleman in whose gar- 
 den he walked with some friends, seemed to have no intention to 
 request them to eat any, the Dean remarked that it was a saying 
 of his dear grandmother : — 
 
 " ' Always pull a peach 
 
 When it is within your reach ; ' 
 
 and helping himself accordingly, his example was followed by 
 the whole company." 
 
 Thomson, the author of the " Castle of Indolence," was once 
 seen lounging round Lord Burlington's garden, with his hands 
 in his waistcoat pockets, biting off the sunny sides of the 
 peaches. 
 
 Johnson's dislike to the Lytteltons was not abated by his visit 
 to Hagley, of which he says, " We made haste away from a 
 place where all were offended." Mrs. Thrale's explanation is : 
 " Mrs. Lyttelton, ci-devant Caroline Bristow, forced me to play 
 at whist against my liking, and her husband took away Johnson's 
 candle that he wanted to read by at the other end of the room. 
 Those, I trust, were the offences." 
 
 He was not in much better humor at Combermere Abbey, the 
 seat of her relation, Sir Lynch Cotton (grandfather of Lord 
 Combermere), which is beautifully situated on one of the finest 
 lakes in England. He commends the place grudgingly, passes a 
 harsh judgment on Lady Cotton, and is traditionally recorded to 
 have made answer to the baronet who inquired what he thought 
 of a neighboring peer (Lord Kilmorey) : " A dull, commonplace 
 sort of man, just like you and your brother." By way of com- 
 pensation he has devoted two or three pages of his diary to a 
 bombastic description of his lordship's grounds, which contrasts 
 strangely with the meagre notes of which the rest of it is com- 
 posed. 
 
 In a letter to Levet, dated Lleweny, in Denbighshire, August 
 16, 1774, printed by Boswell, is this sentence: "Wales, so far 
 as I have yet seen of it, is a very beautiful and rich country, all 
 enclosed and planted." Her marginal note is : u Yet to please 
 Mr. Thrale, he feigned abhorrence of it." 
 
 Their impressions of one another as travelling companions 
 
TOUR IX FRANCE. 53 
 
 were sufficiently favorable to induce the party (with the addition 
 of Baretti) to make a short tour in France in the autumn of the 
 year following, 1775, during part of which Johnson kept a diary 
 in the same laconic and elliptical style. The only allusion to 
 either of his friends is : — 
 
 " We went to Sansterre, a brewer. He brews with about as 
 much malt as Mr. Thrale, and sells his beer at the same price, 
 though he pays no duty for malt, and little more than half as 
 much for beer. Beer is sold retail at sixpence a bottle." 
 
 In a letter to Level, dated Paris, Oct. 22, 1775, he says : — 
 
 " We went to see the king and queen at dinner, and the queen 
 was so impressed by Miss, that she sent one of the gentlemen 
 to inquire who she was. I find all true that you have ever told 
 me at Paris. Mr. Thrale is very liberal, and keeps us two 
 coaches, and a very fine table ; but I think our cookery very 
 bad. Mrs. Thrale got into a convent of English nuns, and I 
 talked with her through the grate, and I am very kindly used by 
 the English Benedictine friars." 
 
 A striking instance of Johnson's occasional impracticability oc- 
 curred during this journey. 
 
 " When we were at Rouen together," says Mrs. Thrale, " he 
 took a great fancy to the Abbe Roffette, with whom he conversed 
 about the destruction of the order of Jesuits, and condemned it 
 loudly, as a blow to the general power of the Church, and likely 
 to be followed with many and dangerous innovations, which 
 might at length become fatal to religion itself, and shake even 
 the foundation of Christianity. The gentleman seemed to won- 
 der and delight in his conversation : the talk was all in Latin, 
 which both spoke fluently, and Mr. Johnson pronounced a long 
 eulogium upon Milton, with so much ardor, eloquence, and inge- 
 nuity, that the Abbe rose from his seat and embraced him. My 
 husband seeing them apparently so charmed with the company 
 of each other, politely invited the Abbe to England, intending to 
 oblige his friend ; who, instead of thanking, reprimanded him 
 severely before the man, for such a sudden burst of tenderness 
 towards a person he could know nothing at all of; and thus put 
 a sudden finish to all his own and Mr. Thrale's entertainment, 
 from the company of the Abbe Roffette." 
 
54 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 In a letter dated May 9, 1780, also, Mrs. Thrale alludes to 
 more than one disagreement in France : — 
 
 "When did I ever plague you about contour, and grace, and 
 expression ? I have dreaded them all three since that hapless 
 day at Compiegne, when you teased me so, and Mr. Thrale made 
 what I hoped would have proved a lasting peace ; but French 
 ground is unfavorable to fidelity perhaps, and so now you begin 
 again: after having taken ^ve years' breath, you might have 
 done more than this. Say another word, and I will bring up 
 afresh the history of your exploits at St. Denys and how cross 
 you were for nothing, — but some how or other, our travels never 
 make any part either of our conversation or correspondence." 
 
 Joseph Baretti, who now formed one of the family, is so mixed 
 up with their history that a brief account of him becomes indis- 
 pensable. He was a Piedmontese, w r hose position in his native 
 country was not of a kind to tempt him to remain in it, when 
 Lord Charlemont, to whom he had been useful in Italy, proposed 
 his coming to England. His own story was that he had lost at 
 play the little property he had inherited from his father, an archi- 
 tect at Pharo. The education given him by his parents was 
 limited to Latin ; he taught himself English, French, Spanish, 
 and Portuguese. His talents, acquirements, and strength of 
 mind must have been considerable, for they soon earned him the 
 esteem and friendship of the most eminent members of the John- 
 sonian circle, in despite of his arrogance. He came to England 
 in 1753 ; is kindly mentioned in one of Johnson's letters in 
 1754; and when he was in Italy in 1761, his illustrious friend's 
 letters to him are marked by a tone of affectionate interest. 
 Ceremony and tenderness are oddly blended in the conclusion of 
 one of them : — 
 
 " May you, my Baretti, be very happy at Milan, or some other 
 place nearer to, Sir, your most affectionate humble servant, Sam- 
 uel Johnson." 
 
 Johnson remarked of Baretti in 1768 : "I know no man who 
 carries his head higher in conversation than Baretti. There are 
 strong powers in his mind. He has not indeed many hooks, but 
 with what hooks he has, he grapples very forcibly." Madame 
 
BARETTI. Db 
 
 D'Arblay was more struck by his rudeness and violence than by 
 his intellectual vigor.* 
 
 On Oct. 20, 1769, Baretti was tried at the Old Bailey on a 
 charge of murder, for killing with a pocket knife one of three 
 men who, with a woman of the town, hustled him in the Hay- 
 market.f He was acquitted, and the event is principally memo- 
 rable for the appearance of Johnson, Burke, Garrick, and Beau- 
 clerc as witnesses to character. The substance of Johnson's 
 evidence is thus given in the " Gentleman's Magazine " : — 
 
 " Dr. J. — I believe I began to be acquainted with Mr. Baretti 
 about the year 1753 or 1754. I have been intimate with him. 
 He is a man of literature, a very studious man, a man of great 
 diligence. He gets his living by study. I have no reason to 
 think he was ever disordered with liquor in his life. A man 
 that I never knew to be otherwise than peaceable, and a man that 
 I take to be rather timorous. — Q. Was he addicted to pick up 
 women in the streets ? — Dr. J. I never knew that he was. — Q. 
 How is he as to eyesight ? — Dr. J. He does not see me now, 
 nor do I see him. I do not believe he could be capable of as- 
 saulting anybody in the street, without great provocation." 
 
 The year after his acquittal Baretti published "Travels through 
 Spain, Portugal, and France ; " thus mentioned by Johnson in a 
 letter to Mrs. Thrale, dated Lichfield, July 20, 1770 : — 
 
 " That Baretti' s book would please you all, I made no doubt. 
 I know not whether the world has ever seen such travels before. 
 Those whose lot it is to ramble can seldom write, and those who 
 know how to write can seldom ramble." 
 
 The rate of remuneration showed that the world was aware of 
 the value of the acquisition. He gained £500 by this book. His 
 " Frustra Literaria," published some time before in Italy, had also 
 attracted much attention, and, according to Johnson, he was the 
 first who ever received money for copyright in Italy. In a bio- 
 graphical notice of Baretti which appeared in the " Gentleman's 
 Magazine" for May, 1789, written by Dr. Vincent, Dean of 
 
 * See " The Diary," Vol. I. p. 421. 
 
 | In his defence, he said: " I hope it will be seen that my knife was neither 
 a weapon of offence or defence. I wear it to carve fruit and sweetmeats, and not 
 to kill my fellow-creatures. It is a general custom in France not to put knives 
 on the table, so that even ladies wear them in their pockets for general use." 
 
56 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 Westminster, it is stated that it was not distress which compelled 
 him to accept Mr. Thrale's hospitality, but that he was over-per- 
 suaded by Johnson, contrary to his own inclination, to undertake 
 the instruction of the Misses Thrale in Italian. " He was either 
 nine or eleven years almost entirely in that family," says the 
 Dean, " though he still rented a lodging in town, during which 
 period he expended his own £500, and received nothing in re- 
 turn for his instruction, but the participation of a good table, and 
 £150 by way of presents. Instead of his letters to Mrs. Piozzi 
 in the ' European Magazine,' had he told this plain, unvarnished 
 tale, he would have convicted that lady of avarice and ingratitude 
 without incurring the danger of a reply, or exposing his memory 
 to be insulted by her advocates." 
 
 As he had a pension of £80 a year, besides the interest of his 
 £500, he did not want money. If he had been allowed to want 
 it, the charge of avarice would lie at Mr., not Mrs. Thrale's 
 door ; and his memory was exposed to no insult beyond the stig- 
 ma which (as we shall presently see) his conduct and language 
 necessarily fixed upon it. All his literary friends did not enter- 
 tain the same high opinion of him. An unpublished letter from 
 Dr. Warton to his brother contains the following passage : — 
 
 " He (Huggins, the translator of Ariosto) abuses Baretti infer- 
 nally, and says that he one day lent Baretti a gold watch, and 
 could never get it afterwards ; that after many excuses Baretti 
 skulked, and then got Johnson to write to Mr. Huggins a suppli- 
 ant letter ; that this letter stopped Huggins awbile, while Baretti 
 got a protection from the Sardinian ambassador ; and that, at 
 last, with great difficulty, the watch was got from a pawnbroker 
 to whom Baretti had sold it." 
 
 This extract is copied from a valuable contribution to the liter- 
 ary annals of the eighteenth century, for which we are indebted 
 to the colonial press.* It is the diary of an Irish clergyman, con- 
 taining strong internal evidence of authenticity, although nothing 
 more is known of it than that the manuscript was discovered 
 
 * Diary of a Visit to England in 1775. By an Irishman (the Rev. Doctor 
 Thomas Campbell, author of " A Philosophical Survey of the South of Ireland "). 
 And other Papers by the same hand. With Notes by Samuel Raymond, M. A., 
 Prothonotary of the Supreme Court of New South Wales. Sydney. Waugh 
 and Cox. 1854. 
 
MODE OF LIFE. 57 
 
 behind an old press in one of the offices of the Supreme Court of 
 New South Wales. That such a person saw a good deal of John- 
 son in 1775 is proved by Boswell, whose accuracy is frequently 
 confirmed in return. In one marginal note Mrs. Thrale says : 
 " He was a fine, showy talking man. Johnson liked him of all 
 things in a year or two." In another : " Dr. Campbell was a 
 very tall, handsome man, and, speaking of some other High- 
 bernian, used this expression : ' Indeed now, and upon my honor, 
 Sir, I am but a Twitter to him.' " * 
 
 Several of his entries throw light on the Thrale establish- 
 ment : — 
 
 " \Uh. — This day I called at Mr. Thrale's, where I was re- 
 ceived with all respect by Mr. and Mrs. Thrale. She is a very 
 learned lady, and joins to the charms of her own sex, the manly 
 understanding of ours. The immensity of the brewery astonished 
 me. 
 
 " 16th. — Dined with Mr. Thrale along with Dr. Johnson and 
 Baretti. Baretti is a plain, sensible man, who seems to know the 
 world well. He talked to me of the invitation given him by the 
 College of Dublin, but said it (£100 a year and rooms) was not 
 worth his acceptance ; and if it had been, he said, in point of 
 profit, still he would not have accepted it, for that now he could 
 not live out of London. He had returned a few years ago to 
 his own country, but he could not enjoy it ; and he was obliged 
 to return to London, to those connections he had been making for 
 near thirty years past. He told me he had several families with 
 whom, both in town and country, he could go at any time and 
 spend a month : he is at this time on these terms at Mr. Thrale's, 
 and he knows how to keep his ground. Talking as we were at 
 tea of the magnitude of the beer vessels, he said there was one 
 thing in Mr. Thrale's house still more extraordinary; — meaning 
 his wife. She gulped the pill very prettily, — so much for 
 Baretti ! Johnson, you are the very man Lord Chesterfield 
 describes : a Hottentot indeed, and though your abilities are 
 respectable, you never can be respected yourself. He has the 
 aspect of an idiot, without the faintest ray of sense gleaming from 
 any one feature, — with the most awkward garb, and unpowdered 
 
 * He is similarly described in the " Letters," Vol. I. p. 329. 
 3* 
 
58 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZL 
 
 gray wig, on one side only of his head, — he is forever dancing 
 the devil's jig, and sometimes he makes the most drivelling effort 
 to whistle some thought in his absent paroxysms." 
 
 " 25th. — Dined at Mr. Thrale's, where there were ten or more 
 gentlemen, and but one lady besides Mrs. Thrale. The dinner 
 was excellent : first course, soups at head and foot, removed by 
 fish and a saddle of mutton; second course, a fowl they call 
 galena at head, and a capon larger than some of our Irish tur- 
 keys, at foot; third course, four different sorts of ices, pine-apple, 
 grape, rasperry, and a fourth ; in each remove there were I 
 think fourteen dishes. The two first courses were served in 
 massy plate. I sat beside Baretti, which was to me the richest 
 part of the entertainment. He and Mr. and Mrs. Thrale joined 
 in expressing to me Dr. Johnson's concern that he could not give 
 me the meeting that day, but desired that I should go and see 
 him." 
 
 " April 1st. — Dined at Mr. Thrale's, whom in proof of the 
 magnitude of London, I cannot help remarking, no coachman, 
 and this is the third I have called, could find without inquiry. 
 But of this by the way. There was Murphy, Boswell, and 
 Baretti: the two last, as I learned just before I entered, are 
 mortal foes, so much so that Murphy and Mrs. Thrale agreed 
 that Boswell expressed a desire that Baretti should be hanged 
 upon that unfortunate affair of his killing, &c. Upon this hint, I 
 went, and without any sagacity, it was easily discernible, for 
 upon Baretti's entering Boswell did not rise, and upon Baretti's 
 descry of Boswell he grinned a perturbed glance. Politeness, 
 however, smooths the most hostile brows, and theirs were 
 smoothed. Johnson was the subject, both before and after din- 
 ner, for it was the boast of all but myself, that under that roof 
 were the Doctor's fast friends. His bon-mots were retailed in 
 such plenty, that they, like a surfeit, could not lie upon my 
 memory." 
 
 " N. B. The ' Tour to the Western Isles ' was written in 
 twenty days, and the ' Patriot ' in three ; ' Taxation no Tyr- 
 anny,' within a week ; and not one of them would have yet 
 seen the light, had it not been for Mrs. Thrale and Baretti, 
 who stirred him up by laying wagers." 
 
DINNERS. 59 
 
 " April 8th. — Dined with Thrale, where Dr. Johnson was, 
 and Bos well (and Baretti as usual). The Doctor was not in as 
 good spirits as he was at Dilly's. He had supped the night be- 
 fore with Lady , Miss Jeffries, one of the maids of honor, 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds, &c, at Mrs. Abington's. He said Sir C. 
 Thompson, and some others who were there, spoke like people 
 who had seen good company, and so did Mrs. Abington herself, 
 who could not have seen good company." 
 
 Boswell's note, alluding to the same topic, is : — 
 
 " On Saturday, April 8, I dined with him at Mr. Thrale's, 
 where we met the Irish Dr. Campbell. Johuson had supped 
 the night before at Mrs. Abington's with some fashionable people 
 whom he named; and he seemed much pleased with having made 
 one in so elegant a circle. Nor did he omit to pique his mistress 
 a little with jealousy of her housewifery ; for he said, with a 
 smile, ' Mrs. Abington's jelly, my dear lady, was better than 
 yours.' " 
 
 The monotony of a constant residence at Streatham was varied 
 by trips to Bath or Brighton ; and it was so much a matter of 
 course for Johnson to make one of the party, that when, not 
 expecting him so soon back from a journey with Boswell, the 
 Thrale family and Baretti started for Bath without him, Boswell 
 is disposed to treat their departure without the lexicographer as 
 a slight to him. 
 
 In his first letter of condolence on Mr. Thrale's death, Johnson 
 speaks of her having enjoyed happiness in marriage, " to a de- 
 gree of which, without personal knowledge, I should have thought 
 the description fabulous." The " Autobiography " tells a widely 
 different tale. The mortification of not finding herself appreci- 
 ated by her husband was poignantly increased, during the last 
 years of his life, by finding another offensively preferred to her. 
 He was so fascinated by one of her fair friends, as to lose sight 
 altogether of what was due to appearances or to the feelings of 
 his wife. The story she told the author of " Piozziana," in proof 
 of Johnson's want of firmness, clearly refers to this lady : — 
 
 " I had remarked to her that Johnson's readiness to condemn 
 any moral deviation in others was, in a man so entirely before 
 the public as he was, nearly a proof of his own spotless purity 
 
60 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 of conduct. She said, i Yes, Johnson was, on the whole, a rigid 
 moralist ; but he could be ductile, I may say, servile ; and I will 
 give you an instance. We had a large dinner-party at our house ; 
 Johnson sat on one side of me, and Burke on the other ; and in 
 the company there was a young female (Mrs. Piozzi named 
 her),* to whom I, in my peevishness, thought Mr. Thrale super- 
 fluously attentive, to the neglect of me and others ; especially of 
 myself, then near my confinement, and dismally low spirited ; 
 notwithstanding which, Mr. T. very unceremoniously begged of 
 
 me to change place with Sophy , who was threatened with 
 
 a sore throat, and might be injured by sitting near the door. I 
 had scarcely swallowed a spoonful of soup when this occurred, 
 and was so overset by the coarseness of the proposal, that I burst 
 into tears, said something petulant, — that perhaps erelong the 
 lady might be at the head of Mr. T.'s table, without displacing 
 the mistress of the house, &c, and so left the apartment. I re- 
 tired to the drawing-room, and for an hour or two contended with 
 my vexation, as I best could, when Johnson and Burke came up. 
 On seeing them, I resolved to give a jobation to both, but fixed 
 on Johnson for my charge, and asked him if he had noticed what 
 passed, what I had suffered, and whether, allowing for the state 
 of my nerves, I was much to blame ? ' He answered, ' Why, 
 possibly not ; your feelings were outraged.' I said, ' Yes, greatly 
 so ; and I cannot help remarking with what blandness and com- 
 posure you witnessed the outrage. Had this transaction been 
 told of others, your anger would have known no bounds ; but, 
 towards a man who gives good dinners, &c, you were meekness 
 itself ! 9 Johnson colored, and Burke, I thought, looked foolish ; 
 but I had not a word of answer from either." 
 
 The only excuse for Mr. Thrale is to be found in his mental 
 and bodily condition at the time. This made it impossible for 
 Johnson or Burke to interfere without a downright quarrel with 
 him, nor without making matters worse. Highly to her credit, 
 she did not omit any part of her own duties because he forgot 
 his. In March, 1781, a few weeks before his death, she writes 
 to Johnson : — 
 
 * Sophia Streatfield, the charming S.S., as Thrale and Johnson called her, and 
 the lady of the ivory neck, &c. {cmte, p. 33). There is a good deal about her in 
 the " Autobiography." 
 
THRALFS ILLNESS. 61 
 
 " I am willing to show myself in Southwark, or in any place, 
 for my master's pleasure or advantage ; but have no present con- 
 viction that to be re-elected would be advantageous, so shattered 
 a state as his nerves are in just now. — Do not you, however, 
 fancy for a moment, that I shrink from fatigue, — or desire to 
 escape from doing my duty ; — spiting one's antagonist is a rea- 
 son that never ought to operate, and never does operate with me : 
 I care nothing about a rival candidate's innuendos, I care only 
 about my husband's health and fame ; and if we find that he 
 earnestly wishes to be once more member for the Borough, — he 
 shall be member, if anything done or suffered by me will help 
 make him so." 
 
 Referring to the spring of 1781, "I found," says Boswell, "on 
 visiting Mr. Thrale that he was now very ill, and had removed, 
 I suppose by the solicitation of Mrs. Thrale. to a house in Gros- 
 venor Square." She has written opposite : u Spiteful again ! He 
 went by direction of his physicians where they could easiest at- 
 tend to him." On February 7, 1781, she writes to Madame 
 D'Arblay : — 
 
 " Yesterday I had a conversazione. Mrs. Montagu was bril- 
 liant in diamonds, solid in judgment, critical in talk. Sophy 
 smiled, Piozzi sung, Pepys panted with admiration, Johnson was 
 good-humored, Lord John Clinton attentive, Dr. Bowdler lame, 
 and my master not asleep. Mrs. Ord looked elegant, Lady 
 Rothes dainty, Mrs. Davenant dapper, and Sir Philip's curls 
 were all blown about by the wind. Mrs. Byron rejoices that 
 her Admiral and I agree so well ; the way to his heart is con- 
 noisseurship it seems, and for a background and cortorno, who 
 comes up to Mrs. Thrale, you know." 
 
 We learn from Madame D'Arblay's Journal, that, towards the 
 end of March, 1781, Mr. Thrale had resolved on going abroad 
 with his wife, and that Johnson was to accompany them, but a 
 subsequent entry states that the doctors condemned the plan ; 
 and " therefore," she adds, " it is settled that a great meeting of 
 his friends is to take place before he actually prepares for the 
 journey, and they are to encircle him in a body, and endeavor, 
 by representations and entreaties, to prevail with him to give it 
 up ; and I have little doubt myself but, amongst us, we shall be 
 
62 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 able to succeed." This is one of the oddest schemes ever pro- 
 jected by a set of eminently learned and accomplished gentlemen 
 and ladies for the benefit of a hypochondriac patient. Its execu- 
 tion was prevented by his death April 4th, 1781. The hurried 
 note from Mrs. Thrale announcing the event, beginning, " Write 
 to me, pray for me," is indorsed by Madame D'Arblay : " Writ- 
 ten a few hours after the death of Mr. Thrale, which happened 
 by a sudden stroke of apoplexy, on the morning of a day on 
 which half the fashion of London had been invited to an intended 
 assembly at his house in Grosvenor Square." These invitations 
 had been sent out by his own express desire : so little was he 
 aware of his danger. Letters and messages of condolence poured 
 in from all sides. Johnson says all that can be said in the way 
 of counsel or consolation : — 
 
 " I do not exhort you to reason yourself into tranquillity. We 
 must first pray, and then labor ; first implore the blessing of God, 
 and those means which he puts into our hands. Cultivated 
 ground has few weeds ; a mind occupied by lawful business, has 
 little room for useless regret. 
 
 " We read the will to-day ; but I will not fill my first letter 
 with any other account than that, with all my zeal for your ad- 
 vantage, I am satisfied ; and that the other executors, more used 
 to consider property than I, commended it for wisdom and equity. 
 Yet why should I not tell you that you have five hundred pounds 
 for your immediate expenses, and two thousand pounds a year, 
 with both the houses and all the goods ? 
 
 " Let us pray for one another, that the time, whether long or 
 short, that shall yet be granted us, may be well spent ; and that 
 when this life, which at the longest is very short, shall come to 
 an end, a better may begin which shall never end." 
 
 On April 9 th he writes : « — 
 
 " Dearest Madam, — That you are gradually recovering 
 your tranquillity, is the effect to be humbly expected from trust 
 in God. Do not represent life as darker than it is. Your loss 
 has been very great, but you retain more than almost any other 
 can hope to possess. You are high in the opinion of mankind ; 
 you have children from whom much pleasure may be expected ; 
 and that you will find many friends, you have no reason to doubt. 
 
DEATH OF THRALE. 63 
 
 Of my friendship, be it worth more or less, I hope you think 
 yourself certain, without much art or care. It will not be easy 
 for me to repay the benefits that I have received ; but I hope to 
 be always ready at your call. Our sorrow has different effects ; 
 you are withdrawn into solitude, and I am driven into company. 
 I am afraid of thinking what I have lost. I never had such a 
 friend before. Let me have your prayers and those of my dear 
 Queeny. 
 
 " The prudence and resolution of your design to return so soon 
 to your business and your duty deserves great praise ; I shall com- 
 municate it on Wednesday to the other executors. Be pleased to 
 let me know whether you would have me come to Streatham to 
 receive you, or stay here till the next day." 
 
 Johnson was one of the executors, and took pride in discharg- 
 ing his share of the trust. Mrs. Thrale's account (in the "Auto- 
 biography") of the pleasure he took in signing the checks, is 
 incidentally confirmed by Boswell : — 
 
 "I could not but be somewhat diverted by hearing Johnson 
 talk in a pompous manner of his new office, and particularly of 
 the concerns of the brewery, which it was at last resolved should 
 be sold. Lord Lucan tells a very good story, which, if not pre- 
 cisely exact, is certainly characteristical ; that when the sale of 
 Thrale's brewery was going forward, Johnson appeared bus- 
 tling about, with an ink-horn and pen in his button-hole, like an 
 excise-man ; and on being asked what he really considered to be 
 the value of the property which was to be disposed of, answered, 
 'We are not here to sell a parcel of boilers and vats, but the 
 potentiality of growing rich beyond the dreams of avarice.' " 
 
 The executors had legacies of £200 each ; Johnson, to the sur- 
 prise of his friends, being placed on no better footing than the 
 rest. Many and heavy as were the reproaches subsequently 
 heaped upon the widow, no one accused her of being in any re- 
 spect wanting in energy, propriety, or self-respect at this period. 
 She took the necessary steps for promoting her own interests and 
 those of her children with prudence and promptitude. Madame 
 D'Arblay, who was carrying on a flirtation with one of the exec- 
 utors (Mr. Crutchley), and had personal motives for watching 
 their proceedings, writes, April 29th : — 
 
64 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 " Miss Thrale is steady and constant, and very sincerely 
 grieved for her father. 
 
 " The four executors, Mr. Cator, Mr. Crutchley, Mr. Henry 
 Smith, and Dr. Johnson, have all behaved generously and honor- 
 ably, and seem determined to give Mrs. Thrale all the comfort 
 and assistance in their power. She is to carry on the business 
 jointly with them. Poor soul ! it is a dreadful toil and worry 
 to her." 
 
 " Streatham, Thursday. — This was the great and most im- 
 portant day to all this house, upon which the sale of the brewery 
 was to be decided. Mrs. Thrale went early to town, to meet all 
 the executors, and Mr. Barclay, the Quaker, who was the bidder. 
 She was in great agitation of mind, and told me if all went well 
 she would wave a white pocket-handkerchief out of the coach 
 window. 
 
 " Four o'clock came and dinner was ready, and no Mrs. Thrale. 
 Five o'clock followed, and no Mrs. Thrale. Queeny and I went 
 out upon the lawn, where we sauntered, in eager expectation, till 
 near six, and then the coach appeared in sight, and a white pocket- 
 handkerchief was waved from it. I ran to the door of it to meet 
 her, and she jumped out of it, and gave me a thousand embraces 
 while I gave my congratulations. We went instantly to her 
 dressing-room, where she told me, in brief, how the matter had 
 been transacted, and then we went down to dinner. Dr. Johnson 
 and Mr. Crutchley had accompanied her home." 
 
 The event is thus announced to Langton by Johnson, in a 
 letter printed by Bos well, dated June 16, 1781 : " You will per- 
 haps be glad to hear that Mrs. Thrale is disencumbered of her 
 brewhouse, and that it seemed to the purchaser so far from an 
 evil that he was content to give for it £135,000. Is the nation 
 ruined?" Marginal note : " I suppose he was neither glad nor 
 sorry." 
 
 The brewery was purchased by Messrs. Barclay, Perkins, and 
 Co. The house at Streatham was left to Mrs. Thrale for her 
 life, but in the course of the following year she made up her mind 
 to let it ; and there was no foundation for the remark with which 
 Bos well accompanies his account of Johnson's solemn farewell to 
 Streatham : — 
 
JOHXSON AT BRIGHTON. 65 
 
 " Whether," he says, " her attachment to him was already 
 divided by another object, I am unable to ascertain ; but it is 
 plain that Johnson's penetration was alive to her neglect or 
 forced attention ; for on the 6th October this year, 1782, we find 
 him making a ' parting use of the library' at Streatham, and pro- 
 nouncing a prayer which he composed on leaving Mrs. Thrale's 
 family" 
 
 In one of his memorandum books Johnson wrote : " Sunday, 
 went to church at Streatham, Templo valedixi cum osculo" (I 
 bade farewell to the temple with a kiss) ; and in the same book 
 is a Latin entry, particularizing his last dinner at Streatham, and 
 ending " Streathamiam quando ?*evisam?" (when shall I revisit 
 Streatham ?)* 
 
 Madame D'Arblay's Diary proves that, far from having left 
 Mrs. Thrale's family, he was living with them at Brighton on the 
 26th of the same month, having come with them from Streatham, 
 and on October 28th she writes : — 
 
 " At dinner, we had Dr. Delap and Mr. Selwyn, who accom- 
 panied us in the evening to a ball ; as did also Dr. Johnson, to 
 the universal amazement of all who saw him there ; — but he 
 said he had found it so dull being quite alone the preceding even- 
 ing, that he determined upon going with us ; ' for,' he said, ' it 
 cannot be worse than being alone.' Strange that he should think 
 so ! I am sure I am not of his mind." 
 
 On the 29th, she records that Johnson behaved very rudely to 
 Mr. Pepys, and fairly drove him from the house. The entry for 
 November 10th is remarkable : " We spent this evening at 
 Lady De Ferrars, where Dr. Johnson accompanied us, for the 
 first time he has been invited of our parties since my arrival." 
 On the 20th November, she tells us that Mrs. and the three Miss 
 
 # Mr. Croker terms this entry his farewell to the kitchen. It runs thus: — 
 
 " Oct. 6. Die Dominica, 1782. 
 
 " Pransus sum Streathamise agninum crus coctum cum herbis (spinach) com- 
 minutis, farcimen farinaceum cum uvis passis, lumbos bovillos, et pullum galli- 
 nge Turcicse; et post carnes missas, ficus, uvas, non adraodum maturas, ita 
 vomit anni mternperies, cum malis Persicis, iis tamen duris. Xon laetus accubui, 
 cibum modice sumpsi, ne intemperantia ad extremum peccaretur. Si recte 
 memini, in mentem venerunt epulse in exequiis Hadoni celebratse. Streatham- 
 iam quando revisam? " — Rose MSS. 
 
66 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 Thrales and herself got up early to bathe. " We then returned 
 home, and dressed by candle-light, and, as soon as we could 
 get Dr. Johnson ready, we set out upon our journey in a coach 
 and a chaise, and arrived in Argyll Street at dinner time. Mrs. 
 Thrale has there fixed her tent for this short winter, which will 
 end with the beginning of April, when her foreign journey takes 
 place." 
 
 On Boswell's arrival in London, the year following (March 20, 
 1783) he found Johnson still domesticated with Mrs. Thrale and 
 her daughters in Argyll Street, and judging from their manner 
 to each other, " imagined all to be as well as formerly." But 
 three months afterwards (June 19th) Johnson writes to her : — 
 
 " I am sitting down in no cheerful solitude to write a narrative 
 which would once have affected you with tenderness and sorrow, 
 but which you will perhaps pass over now with the careless 
 glance of frigid indifference. For this diminution of regard, 
 however, I know not whether I ought to blame yon, who may 
 have reasons which I cannot know, and I do not blame myself, 
 who have for a great part of human life done you what good I 
 could, and have never done you evil." 
 
 Two days before, he had suffered a paralytic stroke, and lost 
 the power of speech for a period. After minutely detailing his 
 ailments and their treatment by his medical advisers, he pro- 
 ceeds : — 
 
 " How this will be received by you I know not. I hope you 
 will sympathize with me ; but perhaps 
 
 " My mistress gracious, mild, and good, 
 Cries ! Is he dumb ? 'T is time he should. 
 
 " But can this be possible ? I hope it cannot. I hope that 
 what, when I could speak, I spoke of you, and to you, will be in 
 a sober and serious hour remembered by you ; and surely it can- 
 not be remembered but with some degree of kindness. I have 
 loved you with virtuous affection ; I have honored you with 
 sincere esteem. Let not all our endearments be forgotten, but 
 let me have in this great distress your pity and your prayers. 
 You see I yet turn to you with my complaints as a settled and 
 unalienable friend ; do not, do not drive me from you, for I have 
 not deserved either neglect or hatred." 
 
JOHNSON'S COMPLAINTS. 67 
 
 Mrs. Thrale was at Bath, and did all she could to comfort him. 
 Whilst his illness lasted, he sent her a regular diary, and on 
 June 28th he sets down in it: "Your letter is just such as I 
 desire, and as from you I hope always to deserve." He was so 
 absorbed with his own sufferings, as to make no allowance for 
 hers. Yet her own health was in a very precarious state, and in 
 the autumn of the same year, his complaints of silence and neg- 
 lect are suspended by the intelligence that her daughter Sophia 
 was lying at death's door. On March 27, 1784, she writes : — 
 
 " You tell one of my daughters that you know not with dis- 
 tinctness the cause of my complaints. I believe she who lives 
 with me knows them no better ; one very dreadful one is how- 
 ever removed by dear Sophia's recovery. It is kind in you to 
 quarrel no more about expressions which were not meant to of- 
 fend; but unjust to suppose, I have not lately thought myself 
 dying. Let us, however, take the Prince of Abyssinia's advice, 
 and not add to the other evils of life the bitterness of controversy. 
 If courage is a noble and generous quality, let us exert it to the 
 last, and at the last : if faith is a Christian virtue, let us willingly 
 receive and accept that support it will most surely bestow, — and 
 do permit me to repeat those words with which I know not why 
 you were displeased : Let us leave behind us the best example that 
 we can. 
 
 " All this is not written by a person in high health and happi- 
 ness, but by a fellow-sufferer, who has more to endure than she 
 can tell, or you can 'guess ; and now let us talk of the Severn 
 salmons, which will be coming in soon ; I shall send you one 
 of the finest, and shall be glad to hear that your appetite is 
 good." 
 
 The pleasures of intimacy in friendship depend far more on 
 external circumstances than people of a sentimental turn of 
 mind are willing to concede ; and when constant companionship 
 ceases to suit the convenience of both parties, the chances are 
 that it will be dropped on the first favorable opportunity. Admi- 
 ration, esteem, or affection may continue to be felt for one whom, 
 from altered habits or new ties, we can no longer receive as an 
 inmate or an established member of the family circle. It is to 
 be regretted, therefore, that Mrs. Thrale should have rested her 
 
68 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 partial estrangement from Johnson upon grounds which would 
 justify a suspicion that much of the cordiality she had shown him 
 during the palmy days of their friendship had been forced. In 
 her " Anecdotes/' after mentioning an instance of his violence, 
 she says : — 
 
 " Such accidents, however, occurred too often, and I was forced 
 to take advantage of my lost lawsuit, and plead inability of purse 
 to remain longer in London or its vicinage. I had been crossed 
 in my intentions of going abroad, and found it convenient, for 
 every reason of health, j)eace, and pecuniary circumstances, to 
 retire to Bath, where I knew Mr. Johnson would not follow me, 
 and where I could for that reason command some little portion 
 of time for my own use ; a thing impossible while I remained at 
 Streatham or at London, as my hours, carriage, and servants had 
 long been at his command who would not rise in the morning till 
 twelve o'clock perhaps, and oblige me to make breakfast for him 
 till the bell rung for dinner, though much displeased if the toilet 
 w r as neglected, and though much of the time we passed together 
 was spent in blaming or deriding, very justly, my neglect of 
 economy, and waste of that money which might make many 
 families happy. The original reason of our connection, his par- 
 ticalarly disordered health and spirits, had been long at an end, 
 and he had no other ailments than old age and general infirmity, 
 which every professor of medicine was ardently zealous and 
 generally attentive to palliate, and to contribute all in their 
 power for the prolongation of a life so valuable. Veneration for 
 his virtue, reverence for his talents, delight in his conversation, 
 and habitual endurance of a yoke my husband first put upon me, 
 and of which he contentedly bore his share for sixteen or seven- 
 teen years, made me go on so long with Mr. Johnson ; but the 
 perpetual confinement I will own to have been terrifying in the 
 first years of our friendship, and irksome in the last ; nor could 
 I pretend to support it without help, when my coadjutor was no 
 more. To the assistance we gave him, the shelter our house 
 afforded to his uneasy fancies, and to the pains we took to soothe 
 or repress them, the world perhaps is indebted for the three 
 political pamphlets, the new edition and correction of his Dic- 
 tionary, and for the Poets' Lives, which he would scarce have 
 
piozzi. 69 
 
 lived, I think, and kept his faculties entire, to have written, had 
 not incessant care been exerted at the time of his first coming to 
 be our constant guest in the country ; and several times after 
 that, when he found himself particularly oppressed with diseases 
 incident to the most vivid and fervent imaginations. I shall for- 
 ever consider it as the greatest honor which could be conferred 
 on any one, to have been the confidential friend of Dr. Johnson's 
 health, and to have in some measure, with Mr. Thrale's assistance, 
 saved from distress at least, if not from worse, a mind great 
 beyond the comprehension of common mortals, and good beyond 
 all hope of imitation from perishable beings." 
 
 This, in forensic phrase, is her case. 
 
 That the resolution to live more apart from her venerated 
 friend would have been taken independently of Piozzi, is likely 
 enough ; but she had little reason to wonder or complain that it 
 was attributed to her growing affection for her future husband. 
 Her account of the commencement of their acquaintance, and 
 the growth of their attachment, forms one of the most striking 
 fragments of her Autobiography. She says that in August, 1780, 
 Madame D'Arblay recommended him by letter as " a man likely 
 to lighten the burden of life to her," and that both she and Mr. 
 Thrale took to him at once. Madame D'Arblay is silent on the 
 subject of the introduction or recommendation. She told the 
 Rev. W. Harness, who told me, that the first time Mrs. Thrale 
 was in a room with Piozzi, she stood behind him when he was 
 singing, and mimicked his gestures. On August 24, 1780, 
 Madame D'Arblay writes : " I have not seen Piozzi ; he left 
 me your letter, which indeed is a charnrng one, though its con- 
 tents puzzled me much whether to make me sad or merry." In 
 her Diary, dated Streatham, July 16, 1781, she sets down : — 
 
 "You will believe I was not a little surprised to see Sacchini. 
 He is going to the Continent with Piozzi, and Mrs. Thrale invited 
 them both to spend the last day at Streatham, and from hence pro- 
 ceed to Margate." 
 
 " The first song he sang, beginning ' En quel amabil volto,' 
 you may perhaps know, but I did not ; it is a charming mezza 
 bravura. He and Piozzi then sung together the duet of the 
 1 Amore Soldato ; ' and nothing could be much more delightful ; 
 
70 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 Piozzi taking pains to sing his very best, and Sacchini, with his 
 soft but delicious whisper, almost thrilling me by his exquisite 
 and pathetic expression. They then went through that opera, 
 great part of ' Creso,' some of i Erifile,' and much of ' Rinaldo.' " 
 
 In February, 1782, Piozzi is thus mentioned in a letter from 
 Mrs. Thrale to Madame D'Arblay : " This morning I was with 
 him (Johnson) again, and this evening Mrs. Ord's conversation 
 and Piozzi's cava voce have kept away care pretty well." It was 
 never asserted or insinuated by her bitterest enemies that her 
 regard for him took too warm a tinge whilst Thrale lived, and it 
 appears to have ripened slowly into love, manifesting no symptoms 
 calculated to excite suspicion till the year before the crisis. 
 Piozzi's attentions to the wealthy widow had attracted Johnson's 
 notice without troubling his peace. On November 24th, 1781, 
 he wrote from Ashbourne: " Piozzi, I find, is coming in spite 
 of Miss Harriet's prediction, or second sight, and when he comes 
 and /come, you will have two about you that love you; and I 
 question if either of us heartily care how few more you have. 
 But how many soever they may be, I hope you keep your kind- 
 ness for me, and I have a great mind to have Queeny's kind- 
 ness too." 
 
 Again, December 3d, 1781 : " You have got Piozzi again, 
 notwithstanding pretty Harriet's dire denunciations. The Italian 
 translation which he has brought, you will find no great accession 
 to your library, for the writer seems to understand very little 
 English. When we meet we can compare some passages. Pray 
 contrive a multitude of good things for us to do when we meet. 
 Something that may hold all together ; though if anything makes 
 me love you more, it is going from you." 
 
 Madame D'Arblay, who registers her friend's movements as 
 carefully and minutely as her own, states in August, 1782, that 
 Streatham had been let to Lord Shelburne, and that " My dear 
 Mrs. Thrale, the friend, though not the most dear friend, of my 
 heart, is going abroad for three years certain. This scheme has 
 been some time in a sort of distant agitation, but it is now brought 
 to a resolution. Much private business belongs to it relative to 
 her detestable lawsuit ; but much private inclination is also joined 
 with it relative to her long wishing to see Italy." 
 
PIOZZI. 71 
 
 This scheme of visiting Italy was abandoned, and the friends 
 continued living on the usual terms ; Mrs. Thrale's time, as we 
 learn from the Diary, being divided between Argyll Street, 
 Brighton, and Bath. In the mean time, Piozzi's suit had been 
 successfully prosecuted, and her growing inclination for him, al- 
 though she resisted it with might and main, at length got the 
 better of pride and prudence, and in the spring of 1783 she 
 had entered into a formal engagement to become his wife. The 
 repugnance of her daughters to the match was reasonable and 
 intelligible ; but to appreciate the tone taken by her friends, 
 we must bear in mind the social position of Italian singers and 
 musical performers at the period. " Amusing vagabonds " are the 
 epithets by which Lord Byron designates Catalani and Naldi, in 
 1809 ; * and such is the light in which they were undoubtedly 
 regarded in 1783. Mario would have been treated with the same 
 indiscriminating illiberality as Piozzi. The newspapers took up 
 the subject, and rang the changes on the amorous disposition of 
 the widow and the adroit cupidity of the fortune-hunter. So pelt- 
 ing and pitiless was the storm of taunts and reproaches, and so 
 urgent were the remonstrances, that a temporary reaction was 
 effected : her promise was withdrawn ; her letters were returned ; 
 and Piozzi was persuaded to leave the country. But the sus- 
 tained effort imposed upon her was beyond her strength : her 
 health gave way under the resulting conflict of emotions ; and her 
 daughters reluctantly connived at his recall by her physician as a 
 measure on which her life depended. She was married to him on 
 the 25th of July, 1784. 
 
 * M Well may the nobles of our present race 
 
 Watch each distortion of a Naldrs face; 
 
 Well may they smile on Italy's buffoons, 
 
 And worship Catalani's pantaloons." 
 "Xaldi and Catalani require little notice; for the visage of the one and the sal- 
 ary of the other will enable us long to recollect these amusing vagabonds." — 
 English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. Artists in general, and men of letters by 
 profession, did not rank much higher in the fine world. (See Miss Berry's 
 "England and France," Vol. II. p. 42.) Iffland, the German dramatist, had a 
 liaison with a Prussian woman of rank. On her husband's death he proposed 
 marriage, and was indignantly refused. The lady was conscious of no degrada- 
 tion from being his mistress, but would have forfeited both caste and self-respect 
 by becoming his wife. 
 
72 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 Madame D'Arblay has recorded what took place between Mrs. 
 Piozzi and herself on the occasion : — 
 
 Miss F. Burney to Mrs. Piozzi. 
 
 " Norbury Park, Aug. 10, 1784. 
 
 " When my wondering eyes first looked over the letter I re- 
 ceived last night, my mind instantly dictated a high-spirited vin- 
 dication of the consistency, integrity, and faithfulness of the 
 friendship thus abruptly reproached and cast away. But a sleep- 
 less night gave me leisure to recollect that you were ever as 
 generous as precipitate, and that your own heart would do justice 
 to mine, in the cooler judgment of future reflection. Commit- 
 ting myself, therefore, to that period, T determined simply to 
 assure you, that if my last letter hurt either you or Mr. Piozzi, I 
 am no less sorry than surprised ; and that if it offended you, I 
 sincerely beg your pardon. 
 
 " Not to that time, however, can I wait to acknowledge the pain 
 an accusation so unexpected has caused me, nor the heartfelt sat- 
 isfaction with which I shall receive, when you are able to write 
 it, a softer renewal of regard. 
 
 " May Heaven direct and bless you ! 
 
 " F. B. 
 
 " N. B. This is the sketch of the answer which F. B. most 
 painfully wrote to the unmerited reproach of not sending cordial 
 congratulations upon a marriage which she had uniformly, openly, 
 and with deep and avowed affliction, thought wrong. 
 
 " Mrs. Piozzi to Miss Burney. 
 
 " Wellbeck Street, No. 33 Cavendish Square. 
 " Friday, Aug. 13, 1784. 
 
 " Give yourself no serious concern, sweetest Burney. All is 
 well, and I am too happy myself to make a friend otherwise ; 
 quiet your kind heart immediately, and love my husband if you 
 love his and your 
 
 " H. L. Piozzt. 
 
CORRESPONDENCE ON MARRIAGE. 73 
 
 " N. B. To this kind note, F. B. wrote the warmest and most 
 affectionate and heartfelt reply ; but never received another word ! 
 And here and thus stopped a correspondence of six years of almost 
 unequalled partiality and fondness on her side, and affection, 
 gratitude, admiration, and sincerity on that of F. B., who could 
 only conjecture the cessation to be caused by the resentment of 
 Piozzi, when informed of her constant opposition to the union." 
 
 Of the six letters which passed between Johnson and Mrs. Pi- 
 ozzi on the same subject, only two (Nos. 1 and 5) have hitherto 
 been made public ; and the incompleteness of the correspondence 
 has caused the most embarrassing confusion in the minds of biog- 
 raphers and editors, too prone to act on the maxim, that, wherever 
 female reputation is concerned, we should hope for the best and 
 believe the worst. Hawkins, apparently ignorant that she had 
 written to Johnson to announce her intention, says, " He was 
 made uneasy by a report " which induced him to write a strong 
 letter of remonstrance, of which what he calls an adumbration was 
 published in the u Gentleman's Magazine " for December, 1784. 
 Mr. Croker, avoiding a similar error, says : " In the lady's own 
 (part) publication of the correspondence, this letter (No. 1) is 
 given as from Mrs. Piozzi, and is signed with the initial of her 
 name : Dr. Johnson's answer is also addressed to Mrs. Piozzi, 
 and both the letters allude to the matter as done ; yet it appears, 
 by the periodical publications of the day, that the marriage did 
 not take place until the 25th July. The editor knew not how to 
 account for this but by supposing that Mrs. Piozzi, to avoid John- 
 son's importunity, had stated that as done which was only settled 
 to be doner 
 
 The matter is made plain by the circular (No. 2), which states 
 that " Piozzi is coming back from Italy." He arrived on July 
 2d, after a fifteen months' absence, which proved both his loyalty 
 and the sincerity of the struggle in her own heart and mind. 
 There is no signature to her first autograph letter, and both Dr. 
 Johnson's autograph letters are addressed to Mrs. Thrale. But 
 she has occasioned the mistake into which so many have fallen, 
 by her mode of heading these when she printed the two-volume 
 edition of « Letters " in 1788. By the kindness of Mr. Salus- 
 4 
 
74 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 bury I am now enabled to print the whole correspondence, with 
 the exception of her last letter, which she describes. 
 
 No. 1. 
 
 Mrs. Piozzi to Dr. Johnson. 
 
 " Bath, June 30. 
 
 "My dear Sir, — The enclosed is a circular letter which I 
 have sent to all the guardians, but our friendship demands some- 
 what more ; it requires that it should beg your pardon for con- 
 cealing from you a connection which you must have heard of by 
 many, but I suppose never believed. Indeed, my dear Sir, it 
 was concealed only to save us both needless pain ; I could not 
 have borne to reject that counsel it would have killed me to take, 
 and I only tell it you now because all is irrevocably settled and 
 out of your pow r er to prevent. I will say, however, that the 
 dread of your disapprobation has given me some anxious mo- 
 ments, and though perhaps I am become by many privations the 
 most independent woman in the world, I feel as if acting without 
 a parent's consent till you write kindly to 
 
 " Your faithful servant." 
 
 No. 2. Circular. 
 
 u Sir, — As one of the executors of Mr. Thrale's will and 
 guardian to his daughters, I think it my duty to acquaint you 
 that the three eldest left Bath last Friday for their own house at 
 Brighthelmstone in company with an amiable friend, Miss Nich- 
 olson, who has sometimes resided with us here, and in whose 
 society they may, I think, find some advantages, and certainly no 
 disgrace. I w r aited on them to Salisbury, Wilton, &c, and of- 
 fered to attend them to the seaside myself, but they preferred 
 this lady's company to mine, having heard that Mr. Piozzi is 
 coming back from Italy, and judging perhaps by our past friend- 
 ship and continued correspondence that his return would be suc- 
 ceeded by our marriage. 
 
 " I have the honor to be, Sir, your obedient servant. 
 
 " Bath, June 30, 1784." 
 
CORRESPONDENCE ON MARRIAGE. 75 
 
 NO. 3. 
 
 " Madam, — If I interpret your letter right, you are ignomin- 
 iously married : if it is yet undone, let us once more talk * to- 
 gether. If you have abandoned your children and your religion, 
 God forgive your wickedness ; if you have forfeited your fame 
 and your country, may your folly do no further mischief. If the 
 last act is yet to do, I who have loved you, esteemed you, rev- 
 erenced you, and served you* I who long thought you the first 
 of womankind, entreat that, before your fate is irrevocable, I may 
 once more see you. I was, I once was. Madam, most truly yours, 
 
 " Sam. Johnson. 
 
 "July 2, 1784. 
 
 i I will come down if you permit it. ,: 
 
 No. 4. 
 
 "July 4, 1784. 
 
 " Sir, — I have this morning received from you so rough a 
 letter in reply to one which was both tenderly and respectfully 
 written, that I am forced to desire the conclusion of a corre- 
 spondence which I can bear to continue no longer. The birth of 
 my second husband is not meaner than that of my first ; his sen- 
 timents are not meaner ; his profession is not meaner, and his 
 superiority in what he professes acknowledged by all mankind. 
 It is want of fortune, then, that is ignominious ; the character of 
 the man I have chosen has no other claim to such an epithet. 
 The religion to which he has been always a zealous adherent 
 will, I hope, teach him to forgive insults he has not deserved ; 
 mine will, I hope, enable me to bear them at once with dignity 
 and patience. To hear that I have forfeited my fame is indeed 
 the greatest insult I ever yet received. My fame is as unsullied 
 as snow, or I should think it unworthy of him who must hence- 
 forth protect it. 
 
 " I write by the coach the more speedily and effectually to 
 prevent your coming hither. Perhaps by my fame (and I hope 
 it is so) you mean only that celebrity which is a consideration of 
 
 * The four words which I have printed in italics are indistinctly written, and 
 cannot be satisfactorily made out. 
 
76 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 a much lower kind. I care for that only as it may give pleasure 
 to my husband and his friends. 
 
 " Farewell, dear Sir, and accept my best wishes. You have 
 always commanded my esteem, and long enjoyed the fruits of a 
 friendship never infringed by one harsh expression on my part 
 during twenty years of familiar talk. Never did I oppose your 
 will, or control your wish ; nor can your unmerited severity 
 itself lessen my regard ; but till you have changed your opinion 
 of Mr. Piozzi, let us converse no more. God bless you." 
 
 No. 5. 
 
 To Mrs. Piozzi. 
 
 " London, July 8, 1784. 
 
 " Dear Madam, — What you have done, however I may 
 lament it, I have no pretence to resent, as it has not been injuri- 
 ous to me : I therefore breathe out one sigh more of tenderness, 
 perhaps useless, but at least sincere. 
 
 " I wish that God may grant you every blessing, that you may 
 be happy in this world for its short continuance, and eternally 
 happy in a better state ; and whatever I can contribute to your 
 happiness I am very ready to repay, for that kindness which 
 soothed twenty years of a life radically wretched. 
 
 " Do not think slightly of the advice which I now presume to 
 offer. Prevail upon Mr. Piozzi to settle in England : you may 
 live here with more dignity than in Italy, and with more security ; 
 your rank will be higher, and your fortune more under your own 
 eye. I desire not to detail all my reasons, but every argument 
 of prudence and interest is for England, and only some phantoms 
 of imagination seduce you to Italy. 
 
 " I am afraid, however, that my counsel is vain, yet I have 
 eased my heart by giving it. 
 
 " When Queen Mary took the resolution of sheltering herself 
 in England, the Archbishop of St. Andrew's, attempting to dis- 
 suade her, attended on her journey ; and when they came to the 
 irremeable stream* that separated the two kingdoms, walked by 
 
 * Queen Mary left the Scottish for the English coast, on the Firth of Solway 
 
COREESPOXDEXCE OX MARRIAGE. 77 
 
 her side into the water, in the middle of which he seized her 
 bridle, and with earnestness proportioned to her danger and his 
 own affection pressed her to return. The Queen went forward. 
 
 If the parallel reaches thus far, may it go no further. — 
 
 The tears stand in my eyes. 
 
 " I am going into Derbyshire, and hope to be followed by your 
 good wishes, for I am, with great affection, 
 
 " Your, &c. 
 
 " Any letters that come for me hither will be sent me." 
 
 In a memorandum on this letter, she says: "I wrote him a 
 very kind and affectionate farewell." Miss Hawkins says : u It 
 was I who discovered the letter (No. 4). I carried it to my 
 father, he enclosed it and sent it to her, there never having been 
 any intercourse between them." * Hawkins states that a letter 
 from Johnson to himself contained these words : — 
 
 " Poor Thrale ! I thought that either her virtue or her vice 
 (meaning her love of her children or her pride) would have re- 
 strained her from such a marriage. She is now become a subject 
 for her enemies to exult over, and for her friends, if she has any 
 left, to forget or pity." 
 
 Harsh language, and exhibiting little of that allowance for hu- 
 man frailty which might have been expected from the author of 
 " Rasselas " and the " Eambler." Did he or the rest of her ac- 
 quaintance who joined in censuring or repudiating her, ever 
 attempt to enter into her feelings, and w r eigh her conduct with 
 reference to its tendency to promote her own happiness ? Could 
 they have done so, had they tried ? Can any one so identify 
 himself or herself with another as to be sure of the soundness of 
 the counsel, or the justice of the reproof? She was neither im- 
 
 in a fishing-boat. The incident to which Johnson alludes is introduced in " The 
 Abbot; " where the scene is laid on the seashore. The unusual though expres- 
 sive term "irremeable," is defined in his dictionary, "admitting no return." 
 His authority is Dry den's Virgil : 
 
 " The keeper dreamed, the chief without delay 
 Passed on, and took th' irremeable way." 
 The word is a Latin one anglicized : 
 
 " Evaditque celer ripam irremeabilis undae." 
 * Memoirs, Vol. II. p. 66, note. 
 
78 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 poverishing her children (who had all independent fortunes) nor 
 abandoning them. She was setting public opinion at defiance, 
 which is commonly a foolish thing to do ; but what is public 
 opinion to a woman whose heart is breaking, and who finds, after 
 a desperate effort, that she is unequal to the sacrifice demanded 
 of her ? She accepted Piozzi deliberately, with full knowledge 
 of his character ; and she never repented of her choice. 
 
 The Lady Cathcart, whose romantic story is mentioned in 
 " Castle Rackrent," was wont to say : " I have been married 
 three times ; the first for money, the second for rank, the third 
 for love ; and the third was worst of all." Mrs. Piozzi's experi- 
 ence would have led to an opposite conclusion. Her love match 
 was an eminently happy one ; and the consciousness that she had 
 transgressed conventional observances or prejudices, not moral 
 rules, enabled her to outlive and bear down calumny.* 
 
 Madame D'Arblay says that her father was not disinclined to 
 admit Mrs. Piozzi's right to consult her own notions of happiness 
 in the choice of a second husband, had not the paramount duty 
 of watching over her unmarried daughters interfered. On this 
 topic, Mrs. Piozzi says, "that her eldest daughter (then near 
 twenty f) having refused to join the wedding party on their tour, 
 she left a lady whom they appeared to like exceedingly, with 
 them." This lady disappointed expectation, and left them, or, 
 according to another version, was summarily dismissed by Miss 
 Thrale (afterwards Lady Keith), who fortunately was endowed 
 
 * The pros and cons of the main question at issue are well stated in Corinne : 
 '"Ah, pour heureux,' interrompit le Comte d'Erfeuil, 'je n'en crois rien: on 
 n'est heureux que par ce qui est convenable. La societe a, quoi qu'on fasse, 
 beaucoup d'empire sur le bonheur; et ce qu'elle n'approuve pas, il ne faut ja- 
 mais le faire.' ' On vivrait done toujours pour ce que la societe dira de nous,' re- 
 prit Oswald; ' et ce qu'on pense et ce qu'on sent ne servirait jamais de guide.' 
 ' C'est tres bien dit,' reprit le comte, ' tres-philosophiquement pens£: mais avec 
 ces maximes la, Ton se perd; et quand l'amour est passe, le blame de 1'opinion 
 reste. Moi qui vous parais leger, je ne ferai jamais rien qui puisse m'attirer la 
 disapprobation du monde. On peut se permettre de petites libertes, d'aimables 
 plaisanteries, qui annoncent de l'independauce dans la maniere d'agir ; car, quand 
 cela touche au serieux.' — ' Mais le serieux,' repondit Lord Nelvil, ' c'est l'amour 
 et le bonheur.' " — Corinne, liv. ix. ch. 1. 
 
 f In a note on the visit to Chatsworth with Johnson in July, 1774, Mrs. Piozzi 
 says, " I remember Lady Keith, then ten years old, was the most amused of any 
 of the party." She was born in September, 1764. 
 
LADY KEITH. 79 
 
 with the precise description of qualities required by the emer- 
 gency : clearness of judgment, high principle, firmness, and en- 
 ergy. She could not take up her abode with either of her guar- 
 dians, one a bachelor under forty, the other the prototype of 
 Briggs, the old miser in " Cascilla." She could not accept John- 
 son's hospitality in Bolt Court, still tenanted by the survivors of 
 his menagerie ; where, a few months later, she sat by his death- 
 bed and received his blessing. She therefore called to her aid 
 an old nurse-maid, named Tib, who had been much trusted by 
 her father, and with this homely but respectable duenna, she shut 
 herself up in the house at Brighton, limited her expenses to her 
 allowance of £ 200 a year, and resolutely set about the course of 
 study which seemed best adapted to absorb attention and prevent 
 her thoughts from wandering. Hebrew, Mathematics, Fortifica- 
 tion, and Perspective have been named to me by one of her 
 trusted friends as- specimens of her acquirements and pursuits. 
 
 " There 's a Divinity that shapes our ends, 
 Rough-hew them how we may." 
 
 In that solitary abode at Brighton, and in the companionship 
 of Tib, may have been laid the foundation of a character than 
 which few, through the changeful scenes of a long and prosper- 
 ous life, have exercised more beneficial influence or inspired 
 more genuine esteem. On coming of age, and being put into 
 possession of her fortune, she hired a house in London, and took 
 her two eldest sisters to live with her. They had been at school 
 whilst she was living at Brighton. The fourth and youngest, 
 afterwards Mrs. Mostyn, had accompanied the mother. On the 
 return of Mr. and Mrs. Piozzi, Miss Thrale made a point of 
 paying them every becoming attention, and Piozzi was frequently 
 dining with her. Latterly, she used to speak of him as a very 
 worthy sort of man, who was not to blame for marrying a rich 
 and distinguished woman who took a fancy to him. The other 
 sisters seem to have adopted the same tone ; and, so far as I 
 can learn, no one of them is open to the imputation of filial 
 unkindness, or has suffered from maternal neglect in a manner 
 to bear out Dr. Burney's forebodings by the result. Occasional 
 expressions of querulousness are matters of course in family 
 
80 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 differences, and are seldom totally suppressed by the utmost 
 exertion of good feeling and good sense. 
 
 On the 19th October, 1784, she writes to Mr. Lysons from 
 Turin : — 
 
 " We are going to Alexandria, Genoa, and Pavia, and then to 
 Milan for the winter, as Mr. Piozzi finds friends everywhere to 
 delay us, and I hate hurry and fatigue ; it takes away all one's 
 attention. Lyons was a delightful place to me, and we were 
 so feasted there by my husband's old acquaintances. The Duke 
 and Duchess of Cumberland too paid us a thousand caressing 
 civilities where we met with them, and we had no means of 
 musical parties neither. The Prince of Sisterna came yesterday 
 to visit Mr. Piozzi, and present me with the key of his box at 
 the opera for the time we stay at Turin. Here 's honor and 
 glory for you ! When Miss Thrale hears of it, she will write 
 perhaps ; the other two are very kind and affectionate." 
 
 " Milan, Dec. 7. 
 
 " I correspond constantly and copiously with such of my daugh- 
 ters as are willing to answer my letters, and I have at last re- 
 ceived one cold scrap from the eldest, which I instantly and ten- 
 derly replied to. Mrs. Lewis too, and Miss Nicholson, have had 
 accounts of my health, for I found them disinterested and attached 
 to me : those who led the stream, or watched which way it ran, 
 that they might follow it, were not, I suppose, desirous of my cor- 
 respondence, and till they are so, shall not be troubled with it." 
 
 Miss Nicholson was the lady left with the daughters, and Mrs. 
 Piozzi could have heard no harm of her from them or others 
 when she wrote thus. The same inference must be drawn from 
 the allusions to this lady at subsequent periods. " Once more," 
 she continues, " keep me out of the newspapers if you possibly 
 can ; they have given me many a miserable hour, and my ene- 
 mies many a merry one ; but I have not deserved public perse- 
 cution, and am very happy to live in a place where one is free 
 from unmerited insolence, such as London abounds with. 
 
 " * Illic credulitas, illic temerarius error.' 
 
 God bless you, and may you conquer the many-headed monster 
 which I could never charm to silence." 
 
WAS JOHNSON A SUITOR? 81 
 
 The license of our press is a frequent topic of complaint. But 
 here is a woman who had never placed herself before the public 
 in any way so as to give them a right to discuss her conduct or 
 affairs, not even as an author, made the butt of every description 
 of offensive personality for months, with the tacit encouragement 
 of the first moralist of the age. 
 
 On July 27th, 1785, she writes from Florence : — 
 
 " We celebrated our wedding anniversary two days ago with a 
 magnificent dinner and concert, at which the Prince Corsini and 
 his brother the Cardinal did us the honor of assisting, and wished 
 us joy in the tenderest and politest terms. Lord and Lady Cow. 
 per, Lord Pembroke, and all the English indeed, dote on my 
 husband, and show us every possible attention." 
 
 " I was tempted to observe," says the author of " Piozziana," 
 " that I thought, as I still do, that Johnson's anger on the event 
 of her second marriage was excited by some feeling of disappoint- 
 ment ; and that I suspected he had formed some hope of attach- 
 ing her to himself. It would be disingenuous on my part to 
 attempt to repeat her answer. I forget it ; but the impression on 
 my mind is that she did not contradict me." Sir James Fel- 
 lowes's marginal note on this passage is : " This was an absurd 
 notion, and I can undertake to say it was the last idea that ever 
 entered her head ; for when I once alluded to the subject, she 
 ridiculed the idea : she told me she always felt for Johnson the 
 same respect and veneration as for a Pascal." 
 
 On the margin of the passage in which Bos well says, " John- 
 son's wishing to unite himself with this rich widow was much 
 talked of, but I believe without foundation," — she has written, 
 " I believe so too ! ! " The report, however, was enough to bring 
 into play the light artillery of the wits, one of whose best hits was 
 an " Ode to Mrs. Thrale, by Samuel Johnson, LL. D., on their 
 approaching Nuptials," beginning : — 
 
 " If e'er my fingers touched the lyre, 
 In satire fierce, in pleasure gay, 
 Shall not my Thralia's smiles inspire, 
 Shall Sam refuse the sportive lay ? 
 
 u My dearest lady, view your slave, 
 Behold him as your very Scwtb : 
 
 4* 
 
82 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 Ready to write as author grave, 
 Or govern well the brewing tub. 
 
 u To rich felicity thus raised, 
 
 My bosom glows with amorous fire; 
 Porter no longer shall be praised, 
 'Tis I Myself am Til-rale's Entire." 
 
 She has written opposite these lines, " Whose fun was this ? 
 It is better than the other." The other was : — 
 
 " Cervisial coctor's viduate dame, 
 Opinst thou this gigantick frame, 
 Procumbing at thy shrine, 
 Shall catinated by thy charms, 
 A captive in thy ambient arms 
 Perennially be thine." 
 
 She writes opposite : " Whose silly fun was this ? Soame 
 Jenyn's ? " 
 
 If the notion ever crossed Johnson's mind, it must have been 
 dismissed some time prior to her marriage, which took place four 
 months before his death in his seventy-sixth year. But the 
 threatened loss of a pleasant house may have had a good deal to 
 do with the sorrowing indignation of his set. Her meditated 
 social extinction amongst them might have been commemorated 
 in the words of the French epitaph : — 
 
 " Ci git une de qui la vertu 
 Etait moins que la table encense*e; 
 On ne plaint point la femme abattue 
 Mais bien la table renversee." 
 
 Which may be freely rendered : — 
 
 " Here lies one who adulation 
 By dinners more than virtues earned; 
 Whose friends mourned not her reputation — 
 But her table — overturned." 
 
 The following paragraph is copied from the note-book of the 
 late Miss Williams Wynn,* who had recently been reading a 
 large collection of Mrs. Piozzi's letters to a Welsh neighbor : — 
 
 * Daughter of Sir Watkyn Wynn (the fourth baronet) and granddaughter of 
 George Grenville, the Minister. She was distinguished by her literary taste and 
 acquirements, as well as highly esteemed for the uprightness of her character, 
 
HER OPINION OF PIOZZI. 83 
 
 "London, March, 1825. — I have had an opportunity of talk- 
 ing to old Sir William Pepys on the subject of his old friend, 
 Mrs. Piozzi, and from his conversation am more than ever im- 
 pressed with the idea that she was one of the most inconsistent 
 characters that ever existed. Sir William says he never met 
 with any human being who possessed the talent of conversation 
 in such a degree. I naturally felt anxious to know whether 
 Piozzi could in any degree add to this pleasure, and found, as I 
 expected, that he could not even understand her. 
 
 " Her infatuation for him seems perfectly unaccountable. John- 
 son in his rough (I may here call it brutal) manner said to her, 
 ' Why, Ma'am, he is not only a stupid, ugly dog, but he is an 
 old dog too.' Sir William says he really believes that she com- 
 bated her inclination for him as long as possible ; so long, that 
 her senses would have failed hec if she had attempted to resist 
 any longer. She was perfectly aware of her degradation. One 
 day, speaking to Sir William of some persons whom he had been 
 in the habit of meeting continually at Streatham during the life- 
 time of Mr. Thrale, she said, not one of them has taken the 
 smallest notice of me ever since : they dropped me before I had 
 done anything wrong. Piozzi was literally at her elbow when 
 she said this." 
 
 The hearsay of hearsay cannot be set against the uniform and 
 concurrent testimony of her written professions and her conduct ; 
 which show that she never regarded her second marriage as a 
 degradation, and always took a high and independent, instead of 
 a subdued or deprecating, tone with her alienated friends. 
 
 In a letter to a Welsh neighbor, near the end of her life, some 
 time in 1818, she says : — 
 
 "Mrs. Mostyn (her youngest daughter) has written again on 
 the road back to Italy, where she likes the Piozzis above all peo- 
 ple, she says, if they were not so proud of their family. Would 
 not that make one laugh two hours before one's own death ? But 
 I remember when Lady Egremont raised the whole nation's ill— 
 
 the excellence of her understanding, and the kindness of her heart. Her journals 
 and note-books, carefully kept during a long life passed in the best society, are 
 full of interesting anecdotes and curious extracts from rare books and man- 
 uscripts. They are now iu the possession of her niece, the Honorable Mrs. 
 Rowley. 
 
84 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 will here, while the Saxons were wondering how Count Bruhle 
 could think of marrying a lady born Miss Carpenter. The Lom- 
 bards doubted in the mean time of my being a gentlewoman by 
 birth, because my first husband was a brewer. A pretty world, 
 is it not ? A Ship of Fooles, according to the old poem ; and 
 they will upset the vessel by and by." 
 
 This is not the language of one who wished to apologize for a 
 misalliance. 
 
 As to Piozzi's want of youth and good looks, Johnson's knowl- 
 edge of womankind, to say nothing of his self-love, should have 
 prevented him from urging this as an objection, or as an aggra- 
 vation of her offence. He might have recollected the Roman 
 matron in Juvenal, who considers the world well lost for an old 
 and disfigured prize-fighter ; or he would have quoted Spenser's 
 description of Lust : — 
 
 " Who rough and rude and filthy did appear, 
 Unseemly man to please fair lady's eye, 
 Yet he of ladies oft was loved dear, 
 When fairer faces were bid standen by: 
 Oh! who can tell the bent of woman's phantasy? " 
 
 Madame Campan, speaking of Caroline of Naples, the sister of 
 Marie Antoinette, says, she had great reason to complain of the 
 insolence of a Spaniard named Las Casas, whom the king, her 
 father-in-law, had sent to persuade her to remove M. Acton from 
 the conduct of affairs and from about her person. She had told 
 him, to convince him of the nature of her sentiments, that she 
 would have Acton painted and sculptured by the most celebrated 
 artists of Italy, and send his bust and his portrait to the King of 
 Spain, to prove to him that the desire of fixing a man of superior 
 capacity could alone have induced her to confer the favor he en- 
 joyed. Las Casas had dared to reply, that she would be taking 
 useless trouble ; that a man's ugliness did not always prevent him 
 from pleasing, and that the King of Spain had too much experi- 
 ence to be ignorant that the caprices of a woman were inexplica- 
 ble. Johnson may surely be allowed credit for as much knowledge 
 of the sex as the King of Spain. 
 
 There is no need, however, for citing precedents or authorities 
 on the point ; for Piozzi was about forty-one or forty-two, a year 
 
piozzi. 85 
 
 or two younger than herself, and was not reputed ugly. Miss 
 Seward (October, 1787) writes: — 
 
 M I am become acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Piozzi. Her 
 conversation is that bright wine of the intellects which has no lees. 
 Dr. Johnson told me truth when he said she had more collo- 
 quial wit than most of our literary women ; it is indeed a fountain 
 of perpetual flow. But he did not tell me truth when he asserted 
 that Piozzi was an ugly dog, without particular skill in his pro- 
 fession. Mr. Piozzi is a handsome man, in middle life, with 
 gentle, pleasing, unaffected manners, and with very eminent skill 
 in his profession. Though he has not a powerful or fine-toned 
 voice, he sings with transcending grace and expression. I am 
 charmed with his perfect expression on his instrument. Surely 
 the finest sensibilities must vibrate through his frame, since they 
 breathe so sweetly through his song." 
 
 The concluding sentence contains what Partridge would call a 
 non seqidtur, for the finest musical sensibility may coexist with 
 the most commonplace qualities. But the lady's evidence is clear 
 and unequivocal on the essential point ; and another passage from 
 her letters may assist us in determining the precise nature of 
 Johnson's feelings towards Mrs. Piozzi, and the extent to which 
 his later language and conduct regarding her were influenced by 
 pique : — 
 
 u Love is the great softener of savage dispositions. Johnson 
 had always a metaphysic passion for one princess or another : 
 first, the rustic Lucy Porter, before he married her nauseous 
 mother ; next the handsome, but haughty, Molly Aston ; next the 
 sublimated, methodistic Hill Boothby, who read her Bible in 
 Hebrew ; and lastly, the more charming Mrs. Thrale, with the 
 beauty of the first, the learning of the second, and with more 
 worth than a bushel of such sinners and such saints. It is ridicu- 
 lously diverting to see the old elephant forsaking his nature before 
 these princesses : — 
 
 " ' To rtilke them mirth, use all his might, and writhe. 
 His mighty form disporting.' 
 
 " This last and long-enduring passion for Mrs. Thrale was, 
 however, composed perhaps of cupboard love, Platonic love, 
 
86 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 and vanity tickled and gratified, from morn to night, by incessant 
 homage. The two first ingredients are certainly oddly hetero- 
 geneous ; but Johnson, in religion and politics, in love and in 
 hatred, was composed of such opposite and contradictory mate- 
 rials as never before met in the human mind. This is the 
 reason why folk are never weary of talking, reading, and writ- 
 ing about a man — 
 
 " l So various that he seemed to be, 
 
 Not one, but all mankind's epitome.' " * 
 
 In the teeth of Miss Seward's description of Piozzi, it would 
 be difficult to maintain Lord Macaulay's statement that Mrs. 
 Piozzi " fell in love with a music-master from Brescia, in whom 
 nobody but herself could see anything to admire ; " and the 
 eloquent passage which succeeds would have been materially 
 impaired by adherence to the facts : — 
 
 " She did not conceal her joy when he (Johnson) left Streat- 
 ham. She never pressed him to return ; and if he came un- 
 bidden, she received him in a manner which convinced him that 
 he was no longer a welcome guest. He took the very intelligible 
 hints which she gave. He read, for the last time, a chapter of 
 the Greek Testament in the library which had been formed by 
 himself. In a solemn and tender prayer he commended the 
 house and its inmates to the Divine protection, and with emo- 
 tions which choked his voice and convulsed his powerful frame, 
 left forever that beloved home for the gloomy and desolate house 
 behind Fleet Street, where the few and the evil days which still 
 remained to him were to run out." 
 
 Streatham had been let to Lord Shelburne, and they quitted it 
 together. She never pressed him to return, because she never 
 returned during his lifetime ; for the same reason, he could not 
 have come again as her guest, bidden or unbidden : and instead 
 of leaving Streatham for his gloomy and desolate house behind 
 Fleet Street, he accompanied her, on the wonted footing of an 
 inmate, first to Brighton, where we have seen him making him- 
 self particularly disagreeable to her friends, and then to Argyll 
 Street. 
 
 * Letters, Vol. II. p. 103. 
 
LORD MACAULAY. 87 
 
 The brilliant historian proceeds : — 
 
 "Here (Bolt Court) in June, 1783, he had a paralytic stroke 
 from which however he recovered, and which does not appear 
 to have impaired his intellectual faculties. But other maladies 
 came thick upon him. His asthma tormented him day and night. 
 Dropsical symptoms made their appearance. While sinking un- 
 der a complication of diseases, he heard that the woman whose 
 friendship had been the chief happiness of sixteen years of his 
 life had married an Italian fiddler ; that all London was crying 
 shame upon her ; and that the newspapers and magazines were 
 filled with allusions to the Ephesian matron and the two pictures 
 in ' Hamlet.' He vehemently said he would try to forget her 
 existence. He never uttered her name. Every memorial of 
 her which met his eye he flung into the fire. She meanwhile 
 fled from the laughter and hisses of her countrymen and coun- 
 trywomen to a land where she was unknown, hastened across 
 Mount Cenis, and learned, while passing a merry Christmas 
 of concerts and lemonade parties at Milan, that the great man 
 with whose name hers is inseparably associated, had ceased to 
 exist." 
 
 In his last letter on her marriage, Johnson admits that he has 
 no pretence to resent it, as it has not been injurious to him, and 
 says : " Whatever I can contribute to your happiness I am ever 
 ready to repay, for that kindness which soothed twenty years of 
 a life radically wretched." If, directly after writing this, he 
 vowed to forget her existence, and flung every memorial of her 
 into the fire, he stands self-convicted of ingratitude and deceit. 
 The only proof that he did anything of the sort is a passage in 
 Madame D'Arblay's diary : " We talked of poor Mrs. Thrale, 
 but only for a moment ; for I saw him so greatly moved, and 
 with such severity of displeasure, that I hastened to start another 
 subject, and he solemnly enjoined me to mention that no more." 
 This was towards the end of November, a few weeks before he 
 died, and he might be excused for being angry at the introduc- 
 tion of any agitating topic. 
 
 His affection for Mrs. Piozzi was far from being a deep, de- 
 voted, or absorbing feeling at any time ; and the gloom which 
 settled upon the evening of his days was owing to his infirmities 
 
88 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 and his dread of death, not to the loosening of cherished ties, nor 
 to the compelled solitude of a confined dwelling in Bolt Court. 
 The plain matter of fact is that, during the last two years of his 
 life, he was seldom a month together at his own house, unless 
 when the state of his health prevented him from enjoying the 
 hospitality of his friends. When the fatal marriage was an- 
 nounced, he was planning what Boswell calls a jaunt into the 
 country; and in a letter dated Lichfield, Oct. 4, 1784, he says : 
 " I passed the first part of the summer at Oxford (with Dr. Ad- 
 ams) ; afterwards I went to Lichfield, then to Ashbourne (Dr. 
 Taylor's), and a week ago I returned to Lichfield, then to Ash- 
 bourne (Dr. Taylor's), and a week ago I returned to Lichfield." 
 
 In the journal which he kept for Dr. Brocklesby, he writes, 
 Oct. 20 : " The town is my element ; there are my friends, there 
 are my books, to which I have not yet bid farewell, and there 
 are my amusements. Sir Joshua told me long ago that my voca- 
 tion was to public life ; and I hope still to keep my station, till 
 God shall bid me Go in peace' 9 
 
 Thrale died on the 4th of April. "On Friday, April 6 
 (writes Boswell), he (Johnson) carried me to dine at a club 
 which at his desire had been lately formed at the Queen's Arms." 
 In April, 1784, a year and a half after his heart was broken by 
 the alleged expulsion from Streatham, Johnson sends a regular 
 diary of his feelings, and proceedings to Mrs. Thrale. One item 
 may suffice : — 
 
 "I received this morning your magnificent fish (ante, p. 67), 
 and in the afternoon your apology for not sending it. I have in- 
 vited the Hooles and Miss Burney to dine upon it to-morrow." 
 
 After another visit to Dr. Adams at Pembroke College, he 
 returned about the middle of November to London, where he 
 died December 13th, 1784. The proximate cause of his death 
 was dropsy ; and there is not the smallest sign of its having 
 been acclerated or imbittered by unkindness or neglect. 
 
 If he chose to repudiate and denounce one u whose kindness 
 had soothed twenty years of a life radically wretched," because 
 she refused to submit to his dictation in a matter of life and death 
 to her and of comparative indifference to him, the severance of 
 the tie was entirely his own act. In a letter to Mr. S. Lysons, 
 
LOED MACAULAY. 89 
 
 from Milan, dated December 7th, 1784, which proves that she 
 was not wasting her time in " concerts and lemonade parties," 
 she says : " My next letter shall talk of the libraries and botani- 
 cal gardens, and twenty other clever things here. I wish you a 
 comfortable Christmas, and a happy beginning of the year 1785. 
 Do not neglect Dr. Johnson : you will never see any other mor- 
 tal so w r ise or so good. I keep his picture in my chamber, and 
 his works on my chimney." 
 
 " Forgiveness to the injured doth belong, 
 But they ne'er pardon who have done the "wrong." 
 
 The reader will not fail to admire the rhetorical skill with 
 which the banishment from Streatham, the gloomy and desolate 
 home, the marriage with the Italian fiddler, the painful and 
 melancholy death, and the merry Christmas, have been grouped 
 together with the view of giving picturesqueness, impressive 
 unity, and damnatory vigor to the sketch. " Action, action, 
 action," says the orator ; " Effect, effect, effect," says the historian. 
 Give Archimedes a place to stand on, and he would move the 
 world. Give Talleyrand a line of a man's handwriting, and he 
 would engage to ruin him. Give Lord Macaulay a hint, a 
 fancy, an insulated fact or phrase, a scrap of a journal, or the 
 tag end of a song, and on it, by the abused prerogative of genius, 
 he would construct a theory of national or personal character, 
 which should confer undying glory or inflict indelible disgrace. 
 
 Mrs. Piozzi's life in Italy is sketched in her best manner by 
 her own lively pen. Her confidence in Piozzi was amply justi- 
 fied by the result. She was in debt when she married him. 
 Before their return to England, all her pecuniary embarrass- 
 ments were removed by his judicious economy ; although, her 
 income being entirely in his power, nothing would have been 
 easier for him than to make a purse for his family or himself, or 
 to dazzle his countrymen by his splendor. 
 
 On February 3d, 1785, Walpole writes from London to Sir 
 Horace Mann at Florence * — 
 
 " I have very lately been lent a volume of poems composed 
 and printed at Florence, in which another of our ex-heroines, 
 Mrs. Piozzi, has a considerable share ; her associates three of 
 
90 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 the English bards who assisted in the little garland which Ram- 
 say the painter sent me. The present is a plump octavo ; and if 
 you have not sent me a copy by your nephew, I should be glad if 
 you could get one for me : not for the merit of the verses, which 
 are moderate enough and faint imitations of our good poets ; but 
 for a short and sensible and genteel preface by La Piozzi, from 
 whom I have just seen a very clever letter to Mrs. Montagu, to 
 disavow a jackanapes who has lately made a noise here, one 
 Bos well, 'by Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson.' In a day or two we 
 expect another collection by the same Signora." 
 
 Her associates were Greathead, Merry, and Parsons. The 
 volume in question was " The Florence Miscellany." " A copy," 
 says Mr. Lowndes, " having fallen into the hands of W. Gifford, 
 gave rise to his admirable satire of the ' Baviad and Moeviad.' " * 
 
 In his Journal of the Tour to the Hebrides, Boswell makes 
 Johnson say of Mrs. Montagu's " Essay on Skakespeare : " " Rey- 
 nolds is fond of her book, and I wonder at it ; for neither I, nor 
 Beauclerc, nor Mrs. Thrale could get through it." This is what 
 Mrs. Piozzi wrote to disavow, so far as she was personally con- 
 cerned. The other collection expected from her whilst still in 
 Italy, was her "Anecdotes of the late Samuel Johnson, during 
 the last Twenty Years of his Life. Printed for T. Cadell in the 
 Strand, 1786." 
 
 In her Travels, she says, " I have here (Leghorn) finished that 
 work which chiefly brought me here, the ' Anecdotes of Dr. 
 Johnson's Life.' It is from this port they take their flight for 
 England whilst we retire for refreshment to the Bagni de Pisa." 
 
 The book attracted much attention in the literary and fashion- 
 able circles of London ; and whilst some affected to discover in 
 it the latent signs of wounded vanity and pique, others vehe- 
 mently impugned its accuracy. Foremost amongst her assail- 
 ants stood Boswell, who had an obvious motive for depreciating 
 her, and he attempts to destroy her authority, first, by quoting 
 Johnson's supposed imputations on her veracity ; and, secondly, 
 by individual instances of her alleged departure from truth. 
 
 Thus, Johnson is reported to have said, " It is amazing, Sir, 
 
 * The " Bibliographer's Manual," p. 534. The Preface (praised by Walpole) 
 is reprinted amongst her literary remains. 
 
FLORENCE MISCELLANY AND ANECDOTES. 91 
 
 what deviations there are from precise truth, in the account 
 which is given of almost everything. I told Mrs. Thrale, You 
 have so little anxiety about truth, that you never tax your mem- 
 ory with the exact thing." 
 
 Her proneness to exaggerated praise especially excited his 
 indignation, and he endeavors to make her responsible for his 
 rudeness on the strength of it. 
 
 "Mrs. Thrale gave high praise to Mr. Dudley Long (now 
 North). Johnson. ' Nay, my dear lady, don't talk so. Mr. 
 Long's character is very short ! It is nothing. He fills a chair. 
 He is a man of genteel appearance, and that is all. I know no- 
 body who blasts by praise as you do ; for whenever there is ex- 
 aggerated praise, everybody is set against a character. They 
 are provoked to attack it. Now there is Pepys ; you praised 
 that man with such disproportion, that I was incited to lessen 
 him, perhaps more than he deserves. His blood is upon your 
 head. By the same principle, your malice defeats itself; for 
 your censure is too violent. And yet (looking to her with a 
 leering smile) she is the first woman in the world, could she but 
 restrain that wicked tongue of hers ; she would be the only 
 woman, could she but command that little whirligig.' " 
 
 Opposite the words I have printed in italics she has written : 
 "An expression he would not have used ; no, not for worlds." 
 
 In Bos well's note of a visit to Streatham in 1778, we find : — 
 
 " Next morning, while we were at breakfast, Johnson gave a 
 very earnest recommendation of what he himself practised with 
 the utmost conscientiousness : I mean a strict attention to truth 
 even in the most minute particulars. ' Accustom your children,' 
 said he, i constantly to this : if a thing happened at one window, 
 and they, when relating it, say that it happened at another, do 
 not let it pass, but instantly check them : you do not know where 
 deviation from truth will end.' Bo swell. ' It may come to the 
 door ; and when once an account is at all varied in one circum- 
 stance, it may by degrees be varied so as to be totally different 
 from what really happened.' Our lively hostess, whose fancy 
 was impatient of the rein, fidgeted at this, and ventured to say, 
 4 Nay, this is too much. If Dr. Johnson should forbid me to 
 drink tea, I would comply, as I should feel the restraint only 
 
92 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 twice a day ; but little variations in narrative must happen a 
 thousand times a day, if one is not perpetually watching.' John- 
 son. ' Well, Madam, and you ought to be perpetually watching. 
 It is more from carelessness about truth, than from intentional 
 lying, that there is so much falsehood in the world/ " 
 
 Now for the illustrative incident, which occurred during the 
 same visit : — 
 
 " I had before dinner repeated a ridiculous story told me by an 
 old man, who had been a passenger with me in the stage-coach 
 to-day. Mrs. Thrale, having taken occasion to allude to it in 
 talking to me, called it, ' The story told you by the old woman. 9 
 ' Now, Madam,' said T, ' give me leave to catch you in the fact : 
 it was not an old woman, but an old man, whom I mentioned as 
 having told me this.' I presumed to take an opportunity, in the 
 presence of Johnson, of showing this lively lady how ready she 
 was, unintentionally, to deviate from exact authenticity of narra- 
 tion." 
 
 In the margin : " Mrs. Thrale knew there was no such thing 
 as an Old Man : when a man gets superannuated, they call him 
 an old Woman." 
 
 The remarks on the value of truth attributed to Johnson are 
 just and sound in the main, but when they are pointed against 
 character, they must be weighed in reference to the very high 
 standard he habitually insisted upon. He would not allow his 
 servant to say he was not at home when he was. " A servant's 
 strict regard for truth," he continued, " must be weakened by 
 such a practice. A philosopher may know that it is merely a 
 form of denial ; but few servants are such nice distinguishers. If 
 I accustom a servant to tell a lie for me, have I not reason to 
 apprehend that he will tell many lies for himself?" 
 
 One of his townspeople, Mr. Wickens, of Lichfield, was walk- 
 ing with him in a small meandering shrubbery formed so as to 
 hide the termination, and observed that it might be taken for an 
 extensive labyrinth, but that it would prove a deception, though 
 it was, indeed, not an unpardonable one. " Sir," exclaimed John- 
 son, " don't tell me of deception ; a lie, Sir, is a lie, whether it be 
 a lie to the eye or a lie to the ear." Whilst he was in one of 
 these paradoxical humors there was no pleasing him ; and he has 
 
EEGARD FOE TRUTH. 9o 
 
 been known to insult persons of respectability for repeating cur- 
 rent accounts of events, sounding new and strange, which turned 
 out to be literally true ; such as the red-hot shot at Gibraltar, or 
 the effects of the earthquake at Lisbon. Yet he could be lax 
 when it suited him, as speaking of epitaphs : " The writer of an 
 epitaph should not be considered as saying nothing but what is 
 strictlv true. Allowance must be made for some degree of exag- 
 gerated praise. In lapidary inscriptions a man is not upon oath." 
 Is he upon oath in narrating an anecdote ? or could he do more 
 than swear to the best of his recollection and belief, if he was ? 
 Boswell's notes of conversations are wonderful results of a pecu- 
 liar faculty, or combination of faculties, but the utmost they can 
 be supposed to convey is the substance of what took place, in an 
 exceedingly condensed shape, lighted up at intervals by the ipsis- 
 sima verba of the speaker. 
 
 " Whilst he went on talking triumphantly." says Boswell, " I 
 was fixed in admiration, and said to Mrs. Thrale, ' O for short- 
 hand to take this down ! ' c You '11 carry it all in your head,' 
 said she : ' a long head is as good as shorthand.' " * On his 
 boasting of the efficiency of his own system of shorthand to 
 Johnson, he was put to the test and failed. 
 
 Mrs. Piozzi at once admits and accounts for the inferiority of 
 her own collection of anecdotes, when she denounces " a trick 
 which I have seen played on common occasions, of sitting stead- 
 ily down at the other end of the room, to write at the moment 
 what should be said in company, either by Dr. Johnson or to him, 
 I never practised myself, nor approved of in another. There is 
 something so ill bred, and so inclining to treachery in this con- 
 duct, that, were it commonly adopted, all confidence would soon 
 be exiled from society, and a conversation assembly-room would 
 become tremendous as a court of justice." This is a hit at Bos- 
 well, who (as regards Johnson himself) had full license to take 
 notes the best way he could. Madame D'Arblay's are much 
 fuller, and bear a suspicious resemblance to the dialogues in her 
 novels. 
 
 Mrs. Piozzi prefaces some instances of Johnson's rudeness and 
 
 * This happened March 21st, 1783. in Argyll Street, the year after Johnson 
 had bidden farewell to Streatham. 
 
94 LIFE AND WHITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 harshness by the remark, that " he did not hate the persons he 
 treated with roughness, or despise them whom he drove from 
 him by apparent scorn. He really loved and respected many 
 whom he would not suffer to love him." Boswell echoes the 
 remark, multiplies the instances, and then accuses Mrs. Piozzi 
 of misrepresenting their friend. After mentioning a discourteous 
 reply to Robertson the historian, which was subsequently con. 
 firmed by Boswell, she proceeds to show that Johnson was no 
 gentler to herself or those for whom he had the greatest regard. 
 " When I one day lamented the loss of a first cousin, killed in 
 America, ' Prithee, my dear (said he), have done with canting : 
 how would the world be w r orse for it, I may ask, if all your rela- 
 tions were at once spitted like larks and roasted for Presto's sup- 
 per ? ' — Presto was the dog that lay under the table." To this 
 Boswell opposes the version given by Baretti, in the course of 
 an angry invective, which Mr. Croker justly designates as 
 brutal : — 
 
 " Mrs. Thrale, while supping very heartily upon larks, laid 
 down her knife and fork, and abruptly exclaimed, ' O, my dear 
 Johnson ! do you know what has happened ? The last letters 
 from abroad have brought us an account that our poor cousin's 
 head was taken off by a cannon-ball.' Johnson, who was shocked 
 both at the fact and her light, unfeeling manner of mentioning 
 it, replied, ' Madam, it would give you very little concern if all 
 your relations were spitted like those larks, and dressed for 
 Presto's supper.' " 
 
 This version, assuming its truth, aggravates the personal rude- 
 ness of the speech. But her marginal notes on the passage are : 
 " Boswell appealing to Baretti for a testimony of the truth is 
 comical enough ! I never addressed him (Johnson) so familiarly 
 in my life. I never did eat any supper, and there were no larks 
 to eat." 
 
 " Upon mentioning this story to my friend Mr. Wilkes," adds 
 Boswell, " he pleasantly matched it with the following sentimen- 
 tal anecdote. He was invited by a young man of fashion at 
 Paris to sup with him and a lady who had been for some time 
 his mistress, but with whom he was going to part. He said to 
 Mr. Wilkes that he really felt very much for her, she was in 
 
ALLEGED INACCURACY. 95 
 
 such distress, and that he meant to make her a present of 200 
 louis d'ors. Mr. Wilkes observed the behavior of Mademoiselle, 
 who sighed indeed very piteously, and assumed every pathetic air 
 of grief, but ate no less than three French pigeons, which are as 
 large as English partridges, besides other things. Mr. Wilkes 
 whispered the gentleman, ' We often say in England, " Excessive 
 sorrow is exceeding dry," but I never heard " Excessive sorrow 
 is exceeding hungry." Perhaps one hundred will do.' The gen- 
 tleman took the hint." Mrs. Piozzi's marginal ebullition is : 
 " Very like my hearty supper of larks, who never eat supper at 
 all, nor was ever a hot dish seen on the table after dinner at 
 Streatham Park." 
 
 Two instances of inaccuracy, announced as particularly wor- 
 thy of notice, are supplied by " an eminent critic," understood to 
 be Malone, who begins by stating, " I have often been in his 
 (Johnson's) company, and never once heard him say a severe 
 thing to any one ; and many others can attest the same." Ma- 
 lone had lived very little with Johnson, and to appreciate his 
 evidence, we should know what he and Boswell would agree to 
 call a severe thing. Once, on Johnson's observing that they had 
 " good talk " on the " preceding evening," " Yes, Sir," replied 
 Boswell, "you tossed and gored several persons." Do tossing 
 and goring come within the definition of severity ? In another 
 place he says, " I have seen even Mrs. Thrale stunned ; " and 
 Miss Reynolds relates that " One day at her own table he spoke 
 so very roughly to her, that every one present was surprised that 
 she could bear it so placidly ; and on the ladies withdrawing, I 
 expressed great astonishment that Dr. Johnson should speak so 
 harshly to her, but to this she said no more than, \ 0, dear, good 
 man.' " 
 
 One of the two instances of Mrs. Piozzi's inaccuracy is as fol- 
 lows : " He once bade a veiy celebrated lady (Hannah More) who 
 praised him with too much zeal perhaps, or perhaps too strong an 
 emphasis (which always offended him) consider what her flattery 
 was worth before she choked him with it." 
 
 Now, exclaims Mr. Malone, let the genuine anecdote be con- 
 trasted with this : — 
 
 " The person thus represented as being harshly treated, though 
 
96 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 a very celebrated lady, was then just come to London from an 
 obscure situation in the country. At Sir Joshua Reynolds's one 
 evening, she met Dr. Johnson. She very soon began to pay her 
 court to him in the most fulsome strain. ' Spare me, I beseech 
 you, dear Madam,' was his reply. She still laid it on. ' Pray, 
 Madam, let us have no more of this,' he rejoined. Not paying 
 any attention to these warnings, she continued still her eulogy. 
 At length, provoked by this indelicate and vain obtrusion of com- 
 pliments, he exclaimed, ' Dearest lady, consider with yourself 
 what your flattery is worth, before you bestow it so freely.' 
 
 " How different does this story appear, when accompanied 
 with all those circumstances which really belong to it, but which 
 Mrs. Thrale either did not know, or has suppressed ! " 
 
 How do we know that these circumstances really belong to it ? 
 what essential difference do they make ? and how do they prove 
 Mrs. Thrale's inaccuracy, who expressly states the nature of the 
 probable, though certainly most inadequate, provocation. 
 
 The other instance is a story which she tells us, on Mr. Thrale's 
 authority, of an argument between Johnson and a gentleman, 
 which the master of the house, a nobleman, tried to cut short by 
 saying, loud enough for the Doctor to hear, " Our friend has no 
 meaning in all this, except just to relate at the Club to-morrow 
 how he teased Johnson at dinner to-day ; this is all to do himself 
 honor." " No, upon my word," replied the other, " I see no 
 honor in it, whatever you may do." " Well, Sir," returned Mr. 
 Johnson, sternly, " if you do not see the honor, I am sure I feel 
 the disgrace." Malone, on the authority of a nameless friend, 
 asserts that it was not at the house of a nobleman, that the gen- 
 tleman's remark was uttered in a low tone, and that Johnson 
 made no retort at all. As Mrs. Piozzi could hardly have in- 
 vented the story, the sole question is, whether Mr. Thrale or 
 Malone's friend was right. She has written in the margin : " It 
 was the house of Thomas Fitzmaurice, son to Lord Shelburne, 
 and Pottinger the hero." 
 
 " Mrs. Piozzi," says Boswell, " has given a similar misrepre- 
 sentation of Johnson's treatment of Garrick in this particular (as 
 to the Club), as if he had used these contemptuous expressions : 
 ' If Garrick does apply, I '11 blackball him. Surely one ought 
 to sit in a society like ours — 
 
ALLEGED INACCURACY. 97 
 
 " Unelbowed by a gamester, pimp, or player.' " 
 
 The lady retorts, " He did say so, and Mr. Thrale stood aston- 
 ished." Johnson was constantly depreciating the~profession of 
 the stage. 
 
 Whilst finding fault with Mrs. Piozzi for inaccuracy in another 
 place, Boswell supplies an additional example of Johnson's 
 habitual disregard of the ordinary rules of good breeding in 
 society : — 
 
 "A learned gentleman [Dr. Vansittart], who, in the course of 
 conversation, wished to inform us of this simple fact, that the 
 council upon the circuit of Shrewsbury were much bitten by fleas, 
 took, I suppose, seven or eight minutes in relating it circumstan- 
 tially. He in a plenitude of phrase told us, that large bales of 
 woollen cloth were lodged in the town-hall ; that by reason of 
 this, fleas nestled there in prodigious numbers ; that the lodgings 
 of the council were near the town-hall ; and that those little ani- 
 mals moved from place to place with wonderful agility. Johnson 
 sat in great impatience till the gentleman had finished his tedious 
 narrative, and then burst out (playfully, however), ' It is a pity, 
 Sir, that you have not seen a lion ; for a flea has taken you such 
 a time, that a lion must have served you a twelvemonth.' " 
 
 He complains in a note that Mrs. Piozzi, to whom he told the 
 anecdote, has related it "as if the gentleman had given the natu- 
 ral history of the mouse." But, in a letter to Johnson, she tells 
 him, " I have seen the man that saw the mouse," and he replies, 
 
 " Poor Y , he is a good man," &c. ; so that her version of 
 
 the story is the best authenticated. Opposite Boswell's aggressive 
 paragraph she has written : " I saw old Mitchell of Brighthelm- 
 stone affront him (Johnson) terribly once about fleas. Johnson 
 being tired of the subject, expressed his impatience of it with 
 coarseness. ' Why, Sir,' said the old man, 6 why should not Flea 
 bite o' me be treated as Phlebotomy ? It empties the capillary 
 vessels/ " 
 
 Boswell's Life of Johnson was not published till 1791 ; but the 
 controversy kindled by the Tour to the Hebrides and the Anec- 
 dotes raged fiercely enough to fix general attention and afford 
 ample scope for ridicule : "The Bozzi, &c. subjects," writes Han- 
 nah More in April, 1786, "are not exhausted, though everybody 
 5 
 
98 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 seems heartily sick of them. Everybody, however, conspires not 
 to let them drop. That, the Cagliostro, and the Cardinal's neck- 
 lace, spoil all conversation, and destroyed a very good evening at 
 Mr. Pepys' last night." In one of Walpole's letters about the 
 same time we find : — 
 
 " All conversation turns on a trio of culprits, — Hastings, Fitz- 
 gerald, and the Cardinal de Rohan So much for tragedy. 
 
 Our comic performers are Boswell and Dame Piozzi. The 
 cock biographer has fixed a direct lie on the hen, by an adver- 
 tisement in which he affirms that he communicated his manuscript 
 to Madame Thrale, and that she made no objection to what he 
 says of her low opinion of Mrs. Montagu's book. It is very pos- 
 sible that it might not be her real opinion, but was uttered in 
 compliment to Johnson, or for fear he should spit in her face if 
 she disagreed with him ; but how will she get over her not ob- 
 jecting to the passage remaining ? She must have known, by 
 knowing Boswell, and by having a similar intention herself, that 
 his ' Anecdotes' would certainly be published: in short, the 
 ridiculous woman will be strangely disappointed. As she must 
 have heard that the whole first impression of her booh was sold 
 the first day, no doubt she expected on her landing to be received 
 like the governor of Gibraltar, and to find the road strewed with 
 branches of palm. She, and Boswell, and their Hero are the 
 joke of the public. A Dr. Walcot, soi-disant Peter Pindar, has 
 published a burlesque eclogue, in which Boswell and the Signora 
 are the interlocutors, and all the absurdest passages in the works 
 of both are ridiculed. The print-shops teem with satiric prints 
 in them : one in which Boswell, as a monkey, is riding on John- 
 son, the bear, has this witty inscription, ' My Friend delineavit? 
 But enough of these mountebanks." 
 
 What Walpole calls the absurdest passages are precisely those 
 which possess most interest for posterity ; namely, the minute 
 personal details, which bring Johnson home to the mind's eye. 
 Peter Pindar, however, was simply acting in his vocation when 
 he made the best of them, as in the following lines. His satire 
 is in the form of a Town Eclogue, in which Bozzy and Piozzi 
 contend in anecdotes, with Hawkins for umpire : — 
 
WALPOLE AND PETER PINDAR. 99 
 
 " One Thursday morn did Doctor Johnson wake, 
 And call out, ' Lanky. Lanky,' by mistake — 
 But recollecting — ' Bozzy, Bozzy,' cried — 
 For in contractions Johnson took a pride! " 
 
 MADAME PIOZZI. 
 
 u I asked him if he knocked Tom Osborn down ; 
 As such a tale was current through the town, — 
 Says I, ' Do tell me, Doctor, what befell.' — 
 1 Why, dearest lady, there is naught to tell: 
 I pondered on theproper'st mode to treat him — 
 The dog was impudent, and so I beat him ! 
 Tom, like a fool, proclaimed his fancied wrongs ; 
 Others, that I belabored, held their tongues.' " 
 
 a Did any one, that he was happy, cry — 
 Johnson would tell him plumply, 't was a lie. 
 A Lady told him she was really so ; 
 On which he sternly answered, ' Madam, no ! 
 Sickly you are, and ugly, — foolish, poor ; 
 And therefore can't be happy, I am sure. 
 'T would make a fellow hang himself, whose ear 
 Were, from such creatures, forced such stuff to hear.' " 
 
 " Lo, when we landed on the Isle of Mull, 
 The megrims got into the Doctor's skull: 
 With such bad humors he began to fill, 
 I thought he would not go to Icolmkill : 
 But lo! those megrims (wonderful to utter!) 
 Were banished all by tea and bread and butter! " 
 
 At last they get angry, and tell each a few home truths : — 
 
 " How could your folly tell, so void of truth, 
 That miserable story of the youth, 
 Who, in your book, of Doctor Johnson begs 
 know if cats laid e; 
 
 MADAME PIOZZI. 
 
 
 " Who told of Mistress Montague the lie — 
 So palpable a falsehood? — Bozzy, fie ! " 
 
 " Who, madd'ning with an anecdotic itch, 
 Declared that Johnson called his mother b-ich ? " 
 
100 LIFE AND WAITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 MADAME PIOZZI. 
 
 " Who, from M' Donald's rage to save his snout, 
 Cut twenty lines of defamation out? " 
 
 BOZZY. 
 
 " Who would have said a word about Sam's wig, 
 Or told the story of the peas and pig ? 
 Who would have told a tale so very flat, 
 Of Frank the Black, and Hodge the mangy cat? " 
 
 MADAME PIOZZI. 
 
 " Good me ! you 're grown at once confounded tender ; 
 Of Doctor Johnson's fame & fierce defender: 
 I 'm sure you 've mentioned many a pretty story 
 Not much redounding to the Doctor's glory. 
 Now for a saint upon us you would palm him — 
 First murder the poor man, and then embalm him I ' 
 
 " Well, Ma'am ! since all that Johnson said or wrote, 
 You hold so sacred, how have you forgot 
 To grant the wonder-hunting world a reading 
 Of Sam's Epistle, just before your wedding ; 
 Beginning thus (in strains not formed to flatter), 
 
 ' Madam, 
 If that most ignominious matter 
 Be not concluded ' — 
 
 Farther shall I say ? 
 No — we shall have it from yourself some day, 
 To justify your passion for the Youth, 
 With all the charms of eloquence and truth." 
 
 MADAME PIOZZI. 
 
 " What was my marriage, Sir, to you or liim ? 
 He tell me what to do ! — a pretty whim ! 
 He, to propriety (the beast) resort ! 
 As well might elephants preside at court. 
 Lord ! let the world to damn my match agree ; 
 Good God! James Boswell, what 's that world to me f 
 The folks who paid respects to Mistress Thrale, 
 Fed on her pork, poor souls ! and swilled her ale, 
 May sicken at Piozzi, nine in ten — 
 Turn up the nose of scorn — good God ! what then ? 
 For me, the Devil may fetch their souls so great ; 
 They keep their homes, and /, thank God, my meat. 
 When they, poor owls ! shall beat their cage, a jail, 
 I, unconfmed. shall spread my peacock tail; 
 Free as the birds of air, enjoy my ease, 
 Choose my own food, and see what climes I please. 
 
SUCCESS OF THE ANECDOTES. 101 
 
 /suffer only — if I *m in the wrong: 
 
 So, now, you prating puppy, hold your tongue." 
 
 Walpole's opinion of the book itself had been expressed in a 
 preceding letter, dated March 28th, 1786: — 
 
 " Two days ago appeared Madame Piozzi's Anecdotes of Dr. 
 Johnson. I am lamentably disappointed, — in her, I mean : not in 
 him. I had conceived a favorable opinion of her capacity. But 
 this new book is wretched ; a high-varnished preface to a heap 
 of rubbish in a very vulgar style, and too void of method even 
 
 for such a farrago The Signora talks of her doctor's 
 
 expanded mind, and has contributed her mite to show that never 
 mind was narrower. In fact, the poor woman is to be pitied : he 
 was mad, and his disciples did not find it out, but have unveiled 
 all his defects ; nay, have exhibited all his brutalities as wit, and 
 his worst conundrums as humor. Judge ! The Piozzi relates 
 that a young man asking him where Palmyra was, he replied : 
 1 In Ireland : it was a bog planted with palm-trees.' " 
 
 AYalpole's statement that the whole first impression was sold 
 the first day is confirmed by one of her letters, and may be 
 placed alongside of a statement of Johnson's reported in the 
 book. Clarissa being mentioned as a perfect character, " on the 
 contrary (said he) you may observe there is always something 
 which she prefers to truth. Fielding's Amelia was the most 
 pleasing heroine of all the romances ; but that vile broken nose 
 never cured, ruined the sale of perhaps the only book, which 
 being printed off betimes one morning, a new edition was called 
 for before night." 
 
 In April, 1786, Hannah More writes : — 
 
 " Mrs. Piozzi's book is much in fashion. It is indeed enter- 
 taining, but there are two or three passages exceedingly unkind 
 to Garrick which filled me with indignation. If Johnson had 
 been envious enough to utter them, she might have been prudent 
 enough to suppress them." 
 
 In a preceding letter she had said : — 
 
 " Boswell tells me he is printing anecdotes of Dr. Johnson, not 
 his life, but, as he has the vanity to call it, his pyramid. I be- 
 sought his tenderness for our virtuous and most revered departed 
 friend, and begged he would mitigate some of his asperities. He 
 
102 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 said roughly, he would not cut off his claws, nor make a tiger a 
 cat to please anybody." The retort will serve for both Mrs. 
 Piozzi and himself. 
 
 The copy of the " Anecdotes " in my possession has two in- 
 scriptions on the blank leaves before the title-page. The one is 
 in Mrs. Piozzi's handwriting : " This little dirty book is kindly 
 accepted by Sir James Fellowes from his obliged friend, H. L. 
 Piozzi, 14th February, 1816;" the other: "This copy of the 
 ' Anecdotes ' was found at Bath, covered with dirt, the book 
 having been long out of print,* and after being bound was pre- 
 sented to me by my excellent friend, H. L. P. (signed) J. F." 
 
 It is enriched by marginal notes in her handwriting, which en- 
 able us to fill up a few puzzling blanks, besides supplying some 
 information respecting men and books, which will be prized by 
 all lovers of literature. 
 
 One of the anecdotes runs thus : " I asked him once concerning 
 the conversation powers of a gentleman with whom I was myself 
 unacquainted. 6 He talked to me at the Club one day (replies 
 our Doctor) concerning Catiline's conspiracy ; so I withdrew my 
 attention, and thought about Tom Thumb.' " 
 
 In the margin is written " Charles James Fox." Mr. Croker 
 came to the conclusion that the gentleman was Mr. Vesey. Bos- 
 well says that Fox never talked with any freedom in the presence 
 of Johnson, who accounted for his reserve by suggesting that a 
 man who is used to the applause of the House of Commons has 
 no wish for that of a private company. But the real cause w r as 
 his sensitiveness to rudeness, his own temper being singularly 
 sweet. By an odd coincidence he occupied the presidential chair 
 at the Club on the evening when Johnson emphatically declared 
 every Whig to be a scoundrel. Again : " On an occasion of less 
 consequence, when he turned his back on Lord Bolingbroke in 
 the rooms at Brighthelmstone, he made thfs excuse : '$ I am not 
 obliged, Sir,' said he to Mr. Thrale, who stood fretting, ' to find 
 reasons for respecting the rank of him who will not condescend 
 to declare it by his dress or some other visible mark : what are 
 stars and other signs of superiority made for ? ' The next even- 
 
 * The " Anecdotes " were reprinted by Messrs. Longman in 1856, and form 
 part of their " Traveller's Library." 
 
ANECDOTES. 108 
 
 ing, however, he made us comical amends, by sitting by the same 
 nobleman, and haranguing very loudly about the nature, and use, 
 and abuse of divorces. Many people gathered round them to 
 hear what was said, and when my husband called him away, and 
 told him to whom he had been talking, received an answer which 
 I will not write down." 
 
 The marginal note is : " He said, ' Why, Sir, I did not know 
 the man. If he will put on no other mark of distinction, let us 
 make him wear his horns.' " Lord Bolingbroke had divorced 
 his wife, afterwards Lady Diana Beauclerc, for infidelity. 
 
 A marginal note, naming the lady of quality mentioned in the 
 following anecdote, verifies Mr. Croker's conjectural statement 
 concerning her : — 
 
 " For a lady of quality, since dead, who received us at her 
 husband's seat in Wales, with less attention than he had long 
 been accustomed to, he had a rougher denunciation : ' That wo- 
 man,' cries Johnson, ' is like sour beer, the beverage of her table, 
 and produce of the wretched country she lives in : like that, she 
 could never have been a good thing, and even that bad thing is 
 spoiled.' This was in the same vein of asperity, and I believe 
 with something like the same provocation, that he observed of a 
 Scotch lady, ' that she resembled a dead nettle ; were she alive,' 
 said he, ' she would sting.' " 
 
 From similar notes we learn that the " somebody " who de- 
 clared Johnson a tremendous converser was George Garrick ; 
 and that it was Dr. Delap, of Sussex, to whom, when lamenting 
 the tender state of his inside, he cried out : " Dear Doctor, do 
 not be like the spider, man, and spin conversation thus inces- 
 santly out of thy own bowels." * 
 
 On the margin of the page in which Hawkins Browne is com- 
 mended as the most delightful of conversers, she has written : 
 " Who wrote the i Imitation of all the Poets ' in his own ludi- 
 crous verses, praising the pipe of tobacco. Of Hawkins Browne, 
 the pretty Mrs. Cholmondeley said she was soon tired ; because 
 the first hour he was so dull, there was no bearing him ; the sec- 
 
 * Lord Melbourne complained of two ladies of quality, sisters, that they told 
 him too much of their " natural history." 
 
104 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MBS. PIOZZI. 
 
 ond he was so witty, there was no bearing him ; the third he was 
 so drunk, there was no bearing him." * 
 
 In the " Anecdotes " she relates that one day in Wales she 
 meant to please Johnson with a dish of young peas. " Are they 
 not charming ? " said I, while he was eating them. " Perhaps," 
 said he, " they would be so — to a pig ; " meaning (according to 
 the marginal note), because they were too little boiled. 
 
 " Of the various states and conditions of humanity, he despised 
 none more, I think, than the man who marries for maintenance : 
 and of a friend who made his alliance on no higher principles, he 
 said once, ' Now has that fellow,' it was a nobleman of whom we 
 were speaking, i at length obtained a certainty of three meals a 
 day, and for that certainty ; like his brother dog in the fable, he 
 will get his neck galled for life with a collar.' " The nobleman 
 was Lord Sandys. 
 
 " He recommended, on something like the same principle, that 
 when one person meant to serve another, he should not go about 
 it slyly, or, as we say, underhand, out of a false idea of delicacy, 
 to surprise one's friend with an unexpected favor ; * which, ten 
 to one,' says he, ' fails to oblige your acquaintance, who had some 
 reasons against such a mode of obligation, which you might have 
 known but for that superfluous cunning which you think an ele- 
 gance. O, never be seduced by such silly pretences,' contin- 
 ued he ; ' if a wench wants a good gown, do not give her a fine 
 smelling-bottle, because that is more delicate; as I once knew a 
 lady lend the key of her library to a poor scribbling dependant, 
 as if she took the woman for an ostrich that could digest iron.' " 
 This lady was Mrs. Montague. 
 
 " I mentioned two friends who were particularly fond of look- 
 ing at themselves in a glass. ' They do not surprise me at all 
 by so doing,' said Johnson : ' they see, reflected in that glass, 
 
 * Query, whether this is the gentleman immortalized by Peter Plymley: "In 
 the third year of his present Majesty (George III.) and in the thirtieth of his own 
 age, Mr. Isaac Hawkins Brown, then upon his travels, danced one evening at the 
 court of Naples. His dress vas a volcano silk, with lava buttons. Whether (as 
 the Neapolitan wits said) he had studied dancing under Saint Vitus, or whether 
 David, dancing in a linen vest, was his model, is not known; but Mr. Brown 
 danced with such inconceivable alacrity and vigor, that he threw the Queen of 
 Naples into convulsions of laughter, which terminated in a miscarriage, and 
 changed the dynasty of the Neapolitan throne." 
 
KECEPTION IX LONDON. 105 
 
 men who have risen from almost the lowest situations in life ; 
 one to enormous riches, the other to everything this world can 
 gi ve? — rank, fame, and fortune. They see, likewise, men who 
 have merited their advancement by the exertion and improve- 
 ment of those talents which God had given them ; and I see not 
 why they should avoid the mirror.' " 
 
 The one, she writes, was Mr. Cator, the other, Wedderburne. 
 Another great lawyer and very ugly man, Dunning, Lord Ash- 
 burton, was remarkable for the same peculiarity, and had his 
 walls covered with looking-glasses, His personal vanity was ex- 
 cessive ; and his boast that a celebrated courtesan had died with 
 one of his letters in her hand, provoked one of Wilkes's happiest 
 repartees. 
 
 Opposite a passage descriptive of Johnson's conversation, she 
 has written: "We used to say to one another familiarly at 
 Streatham Park, i Come, let us go into the library and make 
 Johnson speak Ramblers.' " 
 
 The Piozzis returned from Italy in March, 1787, and soon 
 after their arrival hired a house in Hanover Square, where they 
 resided till May, 1790. when they removed to Streatham. The 
 Johnsonian circle was broken up, and some of its most distin- 
 guished members were no more. Still it is curious to mark how 
 this woman, who had " fled from the laughter and hisses of her 
 countrymen to a land where she was unknown," was received 
 where she was best known after an absence of less than three 
 years. According to the Autobiography, her reception was in 
 all respects satisfactory, and it only depended upon herself to re- 
 sume her former place in society. A few extracts from her 
 Diary will help to show how far this conclusion was well founded 
 or the contrary : — 
 
 " 1787, May 1st. — It was not wrong to come home after all, but 
 very right. The Italians would have said we were afraid to face 
 England, and the English would have said we were confined 
 abroad in prisons or convents, or som© stuff. I find Mr. Smith 
 (one of our daughter's guardians) told that poor baby Cecilia a 
 fine staring tale how my husband locked me up at Milan and fed 
 me on bread and water, to make the child hate Mr. Piozzi. 
 
106 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 Good God ! What infamous proceeding was this ! My husband 
 never saw the fellow, so could not have provoked him." 
 
 " May 19th. — We had a fine assembly last night indeed : in 
 my best days I never had finer ; there were near a hundred peo- 
 ple in the rooms, which were besides much admired." 
 
 " 1788, January 1st. — How little I thought this day four years 
 that I should celebrate this 1st of January, 1788, here at Bath, 
 surrounded with friends and admirers ? The public partial to 
 me, and almost every individual whose kindness is worth wishing 
 for, sincerely attached to my husband." 
 
 " Mrs. Byron is converted by Piozzi's assiduity, she really likes 
 him now ; and sweet Mrs. Lambert told everybody at Bath she 
 was in love with him." 
 
 " I have passed a delightful winter in spite of them, caressed 
 by my friends, adored by my husband, amused with every enter- 
 tainment that is going forward : what need I think about three 
 sullen Misses ? and yet ! " 
 
 "August 1st. — Baretti has been grossly abusive in the 'Eu- 
 ropean Magazine ' to me : that hurts me but little ; what shocks 
 me is that those treacherous Burneys should abet and puff him. 
 He is a most ungrateful because unprincipled wretch ; but I am 
 sorry that anything belonging to Dr. Burney should be so mon- 
 strously wicked." 
 
 " 1789, January 11th. — Mrs. Siddons dined in a coterie of my 
 unprovoked enemies yesterday at Porteus's. She mentioned our 
 concerts, and the Erskines lamented their absence from one we 
 gave two days ago, at which Mrs? Garrick was present and gave 
 a good report to the Blues. Charming Blues ! blue with venom 
 I think ; I suppose they begin to be ashamed of their paltry be- 
 havior. Mrs. Garrick, more prudent than any of them, left a 
 loophole for returning friendship to fasten through, and it shall 
 fasten : that woman has lived a very ivise life, regular and steady 
 in her conduct, attentive to every word she speaks and every step 
 she treads, decorous in her manners and graceful in her person. 
 My fancy forms the Queen just like Mrs. Garrick : they are 
 countrywomen, and have, as the phrase is, had a hard card to 
 play ; yet, never lurched by tricksters nor subdued by superior 
 powers, they will rise from the table unhurt either by others or 
 
DOMESTIC THOUGHTS. 107 
 
 themselves, having played a saving game. I have run 
 
 risques, to be sure, that I have ; jet — 
 
 11 * When after some distinguished leap 
 She drops her pole and seems to slip, 
 Straight gath'ring all her active strength, 
 She rises higher half her length;' 
 
 and better than now I have never stood with the world in gen- 
 eral, I believe. May the books just sent to press confirm the 
 partiality of the Public ! " 
 
 "1789, January. — I have a great deal more prudence than 
 people suspect me for : they think I act by chance, while I am 
 doing nothing in the world unintentionally, and have never, I 
 dare say, in these last fifteen years, uttered a word to husband, or 
 child, or servant, or friend, without being very careful what it 
 should be. Often have I spoken what I have repented after, but 
 that was want of judgment, not of meaning. What I said I 
 
 meant to say at the time, and thought it best to say I do 
 
 not err from haste or a spirit of rattling, as people think I do : 
 when I err, 't is because I make a false conclusion, not because I 
 make no conclusion at all ; when I rattle, I rattle on purpose." 
 
 " 1789, May 1st. — Mrs. Montague wants to make up with me 
 again. I dare say she does ; but I will not be taken and left 
 even at the pleasure of those who are much nearer and dearer 
 to me than Mrs. Montague. We want no flash, no flattery. I 
 never had more of either in my life, nor ever lived half so hap- 
 pily : Mrs. Montague wrote creeping letters when she wanted 
 my help, or foolishly thought she did, and then turned her back 
 upon me and sent her adherents to do the same. I despise such 
 conduct, and Mr. Pepys, Mrs. Ord, &c, now sneak about and 
 look ashamed of themselves, — well they may ! " 
 
 " 1790, March ISth. — I met Miss Burney at an assembly last 
 night — 'tis six years since I had seen her: she appeared most 
 fondly rejoiced, in good time ! and Mrs. Locke, at whose house 
 we stumbled on each other, pretended that she had such a regard 
 for me, &e. I answered with ease and coldness, but in exceeding 
 good-humor; and we talked of the King and Queen, his Ma- 
 jesty's illness and recovery, and all ended, as it should 
 
 do, with perfect indifference." 
 
108 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 " I saw Master Pepys too and Mrs. Ord ; and only see how- 
 foolish and how mortified the people do but look." 
 
 " Barclay and Perkins live very genteely. I dined with them 
 at our brewhouse one day last week. I felt so oddly in the old 
 house where I had lived so long." 
 
 " The Pepyses find out that they have used me very ill 
 
 I hope they find out too that I do not care. Seward, too, sues for 
 
 reconcilement underhand ; so they do all ; and I sincerely 
 
 forgive them, — but, like the linnet in ' Metastasio,' — 
 
 " ■ Cauto divien per prova 
 Ne piu tradir si fa.' 
 " ; When lim'd, the poor bird thus with eagerness strains, 
 Nor regrets his torn wing while his freedom he gains : 
 The loss of his plumage small time will restore, 
 And once tried the false twig, — it shall cheat him no more. 
 
 » »» 
 
 " 1790, July 28tk. — We have kept our seventh wedding-day 
 and celebrated our return to this house * with prodigious splendor 
 
 and gayety. Seventy people to dinner Never was a 
 
 pleasanter day seen, and at night the trees and front of the house 
 were illuminated with colored lamps, that called forth our neigh- 
 bors from all the adjacent villages to admire and enjoy the diver- 
 sion. Many friends swear that not less than a thousand men, 
 women, and children might have been counted in the house and 
 grounds, where, though all were admitted, nothing was stolen, 
 lost, or broken, or even damaged, — a circumstance most incred- 
 ible ; and which gave Mr. Piozzi a high opinion of English 
 gratitude and respectful attachment." 
 
 a 1790, December 1st. — Dr. Parr and I are in correspondence, 
 and his letters are very flattering : I am proud of his notice to 
 be sure, and he seems pleased with my acknowledgments of es- 
 teem : he is a prodigious scholar ; but in the mean time 
 
 I have lost Dr. Lort." 
 
 The following are some of the names most frequently men- 
 tioned in her Diary as visiting or corresponding with her after 
 her return from Italy : Lord Fife, Dr. Moore, the Kembles, Dr. 
 Currie, Mrs. Lewis (widow of the Dean of Ossory), Dr. Lort, 
 Sir Lucas Pepys, Mr. Selwin, Sammy Lysons (sic), Sir Philip 
 
 * Streatham. 
 
DOMESTIC THOUGHTS. 109 
 
 Clerke, Hon. Mrs. Byron, Mrs. Siddons, Arthur Murphy, Mr. 
 and Mrs. Whalley, the Greatheads, Mr. Parsons, Miss Seward, 
 Miss Lee, Dr. Barnard (Bishop of Killaloe, better known as 
 Dean of Derry), Hinchcliffe (Bishop of Peterborough), Mrs. 
 Lambert, the Staffbrds, Lord Huntingdon, Lady Betty Cobb 
 and her daughter Mrs. Gould, Lord Dudley, Lord Cowper, Lord 
 Pembroke, Marquis Araciel, Count Marteningo, Count Meltze, 
 Mrs. Drummond Smith, Mr. Chappelow, Mrs. Hobart, Miss 
 Nicholson, Mrs. Locke, Lord Deerhurst. 
 
 Resentment for her imputed unkindness to Johnson might 
 have been expected to last longest at his birthplace. But Miss 
 Seward writes from Lichfield, October 6th, 1787: — 
 
 " Mrs. Piozzi completely answers your description : her con- 
 versation is indeed that bright wine of the intellects which has no 
 
 lees I shall always feel indebted to him (Mr. Perkins) 
 
 for eight or nine hours of Mr. and Mrs. Piozzi's society. They 
 passed one evening here, and I the next with them at their inn." 
 
 Again, to Miss Helen Williams, Lichfield, December 25th, 
 1787: — 
 
 " Yes, it is very true, on the evening he (Colonel Barry) men- 
 tioned to you, when Mrs. Piozzi honored this roof, his conversa- 
 tion greatly contributed to its Attic spirit. Till that day I had 
 never conversed with her. There has been no exaggeration, 
 there could be none, in the description given you of Mrs. Piozzi's 
 talents for conversation ; at least in the powers of classic allusion 
 and brilliant wit." 
 
 That she and her eldest daughter should ever be again on a 
 perfect footing of confidence and affection, was a moral impossi- 
 bility. Estrangements are commonly durable in proportion to 
 the closeness of the tie that has been severed or loosened ; and it 
 is no more than natural that each party, yearning for a reconcil- 
 iation and not knowing that the wish is reciprocated, should per- 
 severe in casting the blame of the prolonged coldness on the other. 
 The occasional sarcasms which Mrs. Piozzi levels at Miss Thrale 
 no more prove disregard or indifference, than Swift's "only a 
 woman's hair" implies contempt for the sex. 
 
 Her marriage with Lord Keith in 1808 is thus mentioned in 
 "Thraliana": — 
 
110 . LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 " The T. ('Thraliana') is coming to an end ; so are the Thrales. 
 The eldest is married now. Admiral Lord Keith the man ; a 
 good man for aught I hear ; a rich man for aught I am told ; a 
 brave man we have always heard ; and a wise man I trow by his 
 choice. The name no new one, and excellent for a charade, e. g. 
 
 " A Faery my first, who to fame makes pretence; 
 My second a Rock, dear Britannia's defence; 
 In my third when combined will too quickly be shown 
 The Faery and Rock in our brave Elphin-stone." 
 
 Mrs. Piozzi's next publication was " Letters to and from the 
 late Samuel Johnson, LL. D., &c." In the Preface she speaks of 
 the "Anecdotes" having been received with a degree of approba- 
 tion she hardly dared to hope, and exclaims, " May these Letters 
 in some measure pay my debt of gratitude ! they will not surely 
 be the Jirst, the only thing written by Johnson, with which our 
 nation has not been pleased." A strange mode of conciliating 
 favor for a book ; but she proceeds in a different strain : " The 
 good taste by which our countrymen are distinguished, will lead 
 them to prefer the native thoughts and unstudied phrases scat- 
 tered over these pages to the more labored elegance of his other 
 works ; as bees have been observed to reject roses, and fix upon 
 the wild fragrance of a neighboring heath." Whenever Johnson 
 took pen in hand, the chances were, that what he produced would 
 belong to the composite order ; the unstudied phrases were re- 
 served for his " talk," and he wished his Letters to be preserved.* 
 The main value of these consists in the additional illustrations 
 they afford of his conduct in private life, and of his opinions on 
 the management of domestic affairs. The lack of literary and 
 public interest is admitted and excused : — 
 
 " None but domestic and familiar events can be expected from 
 a private correspondence ; no reflections but such as they excite 
 can be found there ; yet whoever turns away disgusted by the 
 insipidity with which this, and I suppose every correspondence 
 must naturally and almost necessarily begin, — will here be likely 
 to lose some genuine pleasure, and some useful knowledge of 
 what our heroic Milton was himself contented to respect, as 
 
 " \ That which before thee lies in daily life.' 
 
 * Vol. I. p. 295. 
 
LETTERS. Ill 
 
 " And should I be charged with obtruding trifles on the public, 
 I might reply, that the meanest animals preserved in amber be- 
 come of value to those who form collections of natural history ; 
 that the fish found in Monte Bolca serve as proofs of sacred 
 writ ; and that the cart-wheel stuck in the rock of Tivoli, is now 
 found useful in computing the rotation of the earth." 
 
 " Horace Walpole," says Boswell, " thought Johnson a more 
 amiable character after reading his Letters to Mrs. Thrale, but 
 never was one of the true admirers of that great man." Madame 
 D'Arblay came to an opposite conclusion ; in her Diary, January 
 9th, 1788, she writes : — 
 
 M To-day Mrs. Schwellenberg did me a real favor, and with 
 real good nature, for she sent me the letters of my poor lost 
 friends, Dr. Johnson and Mrs. Thrale, which she knew me to be 
 almost pining to procure. The book belongs to the Bishop of 
 Carlisle, who lent it to Mr. Turbulent, from whom it was again 
 lent to the Queen, and so passed on to Mrs. S. It is still un- 
 published. With what a sadness have I been reading ! what 
 scenes has it revived ! what regrets renewed ! These letters 
 have not been more improperly published in the whole than they 
 are injudiciously displayed in their several parts. She has given 
 all, every word, and thinks that perhaps a justice to Dr. Johnson, 
 which, in fact, is the greatest injury to his memory. 
 
 " The few she has selected of her own do her, indeed, much 
 credit ; she has discarded all that were trivial and merely local, 
 and given only such as contain something instructive, amusing, 
 or ingenious." 
 
 She admits only four of Johnson's letters to be worthy of his 
 exalted powers : one upon Death, in considering its approach, as 
 we are surrounded, or not, by mourners ; another upon the sud- 
 den death of Mrs. Thrale's only son. Her chief motive for 
 " almost pining " for the book, steeped as she was in egotism, 
 may be guessed : — 
 
 <; Our name once occurred ; how I started at its sight ! T is to 
 mention the party that planned the first visit to our house." 
 
 She says she had so many attacks upon "her (Mrs. Piozzi's) 
 subject," that at last she fairly begged quarter. Yet nothing 
 she could say could put a stop to, " How can you defend her in 
 
112 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 this ? how can you justify her in that ? " &c, &c. " Alas ! that I 
 cannot defend her is precisely the reason I can so ill bear to 
 speak of her. How differently and how sweetly has the Queen 
 conducted herself upon this occasion. Eager to see the Letters, 
 she began reading them with the utmost avidity. A natural 
 curiosity arose to be informed of several names and several par- 
 ticulars, which she knew I could satisfy ; yet when she perceived 
 how tender a string she touched, she soon suppressed her in- 
 quiries, or only made them with so much gentleness towards the 
 parties mentioned, that I could not be distressed in my answers ; 
 and even in a short time I found her questions made in so fa- 
 vorable a disposition, that I began secretly to rejoice in them, as 
 the means by which I reaped opportunity of clearing several 
 points that had been darkened by calumny, and of softening 
 others that had been viewed wholly through false lights. To 
 lessen disapprobation of a person, and so precious to me in the 
 opinion of another, so respectable both in rank and virtue, was to 
 me a most soothing task," &c. 
 
 This is precisely what many will take the liberty to doubt ; or 
 why did she shrink from it, or why did she not afford to others 
 the explanations which proved so successful with the Queen ? 
 
 The day following (January 10th) her feelings were so worked 
 upon by the harsh aspersions on her friend, that she was forced, 
 she tells us, abruptly to quit the room ; leaving not her own 
 (like Sir Peter Teazle), but her friend's character behind her. 
 
 " I returned when I could, and the subject was over. When 
 all were gone, Mrs. Schwellenberg said, i I have told it Mr. 
 Fisher, that he drove you out from the room, and he says he 
 won't do it no more.' 
 
 " She told me next, that in the second volume I also was men- 
 tioned. Where she may have heard this I cannot gather, but 
 it has given me a sickness at heart, inexpressible. It is not that 
 I expect severity ; for at the time of that correspondence, at 
 all times indeed previous to the marriage with Piozzi, if Mrs. 
 Thrale loved not F. B., where shall we find faith in words, or 
 give credit to actions ? But her present resentment, however 
 unjustly incurred, of my constant disapprobation of her conduct, 
 may prompt some note or other mark, to point out her change of 
 
HANNAH MORE. 113 
 
 sentiment. But let me try to avoid such painful expectations ; 
 at least not to dwell upon them. O. little does she know how 
 tenderly at this moment I could run into her arms, so often 
 opened to receive me with a cordiality I believed inalienable. 
 And it was sincere then I am satisfied ; pride, resentment of 
 disapprobation, and consciousness of unjustifiable proceedings, — 
 these have now changed her ; but if we met, and she saw and 
 believed my faithful regard, how would she again feel all her 
 own return ! Well, what a dream I am making ! " 
 
 The ingrained worldliness of the diarist is ill-concealed by the 
 mask of sensibility. The correspondence that passed between 
 the ladies during their temporary rupture (ante, p. 72) shows 
 that there was nothing to prevent her from flying into her friend's 
 arms, could she have made up her mind to be seen on open 
 terms of affectionate intimacy with one who was repudiated by 
 the Court. In a subsequent conversation with which the Queen 
 honored her on the subject, she did her best to impress her 
 Majesty with the belief that Mrs. Piozzi's conduct had rendered 
 it impossible for her former friends to allude to her without 
 regret, and she ended by thanking her royal mistress for her for- 
 bearance. 
 
 a Indeed," cried she, with eyes strongly expressive of the com- 
 placency with which she heard me, " I have always spoken as 
 little as possible upon this affair. I remember but twice that I 
 have named it ; once I said to the Bishop of Carlisle that I 
 thought most of these letters had better have been spared the 
 printing ; and once to Mr. Langton, at the drawing-room I said, 
 1 Your friend Dr. Johnson, Sir, has had many friends busy to 
 publish his books, and his memoirs, and his meditations, and his 
 thoughts ; but I think he wanted one friend more.' ' What for, 
 Ma'am ? ' cried he. ' A friend to suppress them,' I answered. 
 And, indeed, this is all I ever said about the business." 
 
 Hannah More's opinion of the Letters is thus expressed in her 
 Memoirs : — 
 
 " They are such as ought to have been written but ought not 
 to have been printed : a few of them are very good : sometimes 
 he is moral, and sometimes he is kind. The imprudence of 
 editors and executors is an additional reason why men of parts 
 
114 LIFE AND WEITINGS OF MES. PIOZZI. 
 
 should be afraid to die.* Burke said to me the other day, in 
 allusion to the innumerable lives, anecdotes, remains, &c, of this 
 great man, ' How many maggots have crawled out of that great 
 body ? ' " 
 
 Miss Seward writes to Mrs. Knowles, April, 1788 : — 
 
 " And now what say you to the last publication of your sister 
 wit, Mrs. Piozzi ? It is well that she has had the good nature to 
 extract almost all the corrosive particles from the old growler's 
 letters. By means of her benevolent chemistry, these effusions 
 of that expansive but gloomy spirit taste more oily and sweet than 
 one could have imagined possible." 
 
 The letters contained two or three passages relating to Baretti, 
 which exasperated him to the highest pitch. One was in a letter 
 from Johnson, dated July loth, 1775 : — 
 
 " The doctor says, that if Mr. Thrale comes so near as Derby 
 without seeing us, it will be a sorry trick. I wish, for my part, 
 that he may return soon, and rescue the fair captives from the 
 
 tyranny of B i. Poor B i ! do not quarrel with him ; to 
 
 neglect him a little will be sufficient. He means only to be frank, 
 and manly, and independent, and perhaps, as you say, a little 
 wise. To be frank he thinks is to be cynical, and to be indepen- 
 dent is to be rude. Forgive him, dearest lady, the rather because 
 of his misbehavior, I am afraid he learned part of me. I hope 
 to set him hereafter a better example." 
 
 The most galling was in a letter of hers to Dr. Johnson : — 
 
 " How does Dr. Taylor do ? He was very kind I remember 
 when my thunder-storm came first on, so was Count Manucci, so 
 was Mrs. Montague, so was everybody. The world is not guilty 
 of much general harshness, nor inclined I believe to increase pain 
 which they do not perceive to be deserved. — Baretti alone tried 
 to irritate a wound so very deeply inflicted, and he will find few 
 to approve his cruelty. Your friendship is our best cordial ; con- 
 tinue it to us, dear Sir, and write very soon." 
 
 In the margin of the printed copy is written, " Cruel, cruel 
 Baretti." He had twitted her, whilst mourning over a dead 
 child, with having killed it by administering a quack medicine 
 
 * An Ex Lord Chancellor complained that " Lives of the Lord Chancellors " 
 had added a new pang to death. 
 
BARETTI. 115 
 
 instead of attending to the physician's prescriptions ; a charge 
 which he acknowledged and repeated in print. He published 
 three successive papers in " The European Magazine " for 1788, 
 assailing her with the coarsest ribaldry. " I have just read for 
 the first time," writes Miss Seward in June, 1788, " the base, un- 
 gentleman-like, unmanly abuse of Mrs. Piozzi by that Italian 
 assassin, Baretti. The whole literary world should unite in 
 publicly reprobating such venomed and foul-mouthed railing." 
 He died soon afterwards, May 5th, 1789, and the notice of him 
 in the " Gentleman's Magazine " begins : u Mrs. Piozzi has 
 reason to rejoice in the death of Mr. Baretti, for he had a very 
 long memory and malice to relate all he knew." And a good deal 
 that he did not know, into the bargain ; as when he prints a pre- 
 tended conversation between Mr. and Mrs. Thrale about Piozzi, 
 which he afterwards admits to be a gratuitous invention and 
 rhetorical figure of his own, for conveying what is a foolish false- 
 hood on the face of it. 
 
 Baretti's death is thus noticed in " Thraliana," 8th May, 
 1789: 
 
 "Baretti is dead. Poor Baretti ! I am sincerely sorry for 
 him, and, as Zanga says, ' If I lament thee, sure thy worth was 
 great.' He was a manly character, at worst, and died, as he 
 lived, less like a Christian than a philosopher, refusing all spirit- 
 ual or corporeal assistance, both which he considered useless to 
 him, and perhaps they were so. He paid his debts, called in 
 some single acquaintance, told him he was dying, and drove 
 away that Panada conversation which friends think proper to 
 administer at sick-bedsides with becoming steadiness, bid him 
 write his brothers word that he was dead, and gently desired a 
 woman who waited to leave him quite alone. No interested at- 
 tendants watching for ill-deserved legacies, no harpy relatives 
 clung round the couch of Baretti. He died ! 
 
 " ' And art thou dead? so is my enmity: 
 I war not with the dead.' 
 
 " Baretti's papers — manuscripts I mean — have been all 
 burnt by his executors without examination, they tell me. So 
 great was his character as a mischief-maker, that Vincent and 
 
116 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 Fendall saw no nearer way to safety than that hasty and com- 
 pendious one. Many people think 't is a good thing for me, but 
 as I never trusted the man, I see little harm he could have done 
 me." 
 
 In the fury of his onslaught Baretti forgot that he was 
 strengthening her case against Johnson, of whom he says : " His 
 austere reprimand, and unrestrained upbraidings, when face to 
 face with her, always delighted Mr. Thrale and were approved 
 even by her children. ' Harry,' said his father to her son, * are 
 you listening to what the doctor and mamma are talking about? ' 
 ' Yes, papa.' And quoth Mr. Thrale, ' What are they saying ? ' 
 6 They are disputing, and mamma has just such a chance with 
 Dr. Johnson as Presto (a little dog) would have were he to 
 fight Dash (a big one).'" He adds that she left the room in a 
 huff, to the amusement of the party. If scenes like this were 
 frequent, no wonder the " yoke " became unendurable. 
 
 Baretti was obliged to admit that, when Johnson died, they 
 were not on speaking terms. His explanation is that Johnson 
 irritated him by an allusion to his being beaten by Omai, the 
 Sandwich Islander, at chess. Mrs. Piozzi's marginal note on 
 Omai is : " When Omai played at chess and at backgammon 
 with Baretti, everybody admired at the savage's good breeding 
 and at the European's impatient spirit." 
 
 Amongst her papers was the following sketch of his character, 
 written for " The World " newspaper. 
 
 " Mr. Conductor. — Let not the death Baretti pass unnoticed 
 by ' The World,' seeing that Baretti was a wit if not a scholar : 
 and had for five-and-thirty years at least lived in a foreign coun- 
 try, whose language he so made himself completely master of 
 that he could satirize its inhabitants in their own tongue better 
 than they knew how to defend themselves ; and often pleased, 
 without ever praising man or woman in book or conversation. 
 Long supported by the private bounty of friends, he rather de- 
 lighted to insult than flatter ; he at length obtained competence 
 from a public he esteemed not ; and died, refusing that assistance 
 he considered as useless, — leaving no debts (but those of grati- 
 tude) undischarged ; and expressing neither regret of the past, 
 nor fear of the future, I believe. Strong in his prejudices, 
 
BARETTI. 117 
 
 haughty and independent in his spirit, cruel in his anger, — even 
 when unprovoked ; vindictive to excess, if he through misconcep- 
 tion supposed himself even slightly injured, pertinacious in his 
 attacks, invincible in his aversions ; the description of Menelaus 
 in ' Homer's Iliad ' as rendered by Pope exactly suits the char- 
 acter of Baretti : — 
 
 " ' So burns the vengeful Hornet, soul all o'er, 
 Eepulsed in vain, and thirsty still for gore ; 
 Bold son of air and heat, on angry wings, 
 Untamed, untired, he turns, attacks, and stings.' " 
 
 In reference to this article, she remarks in a Thraliana " : — 
 
 " There seems to be a language now appropriated to the news- 
 papers, and a very wretched and unmeaning language it is. Yet 
 a certain set of expressions are so necessary to please the diurnal 
 readers, that when Johnson and I drew up an advertisement for 
 charity once, I remember the people altered our expressions and 
 substituted their own, with good effect too. The other day I sent 
 a Character of Baretti to the ' World/ and read it two mornings 
 after more altered than improved, in my mind : but no matter : 
 they will talk of ivielding a language, and of barbarous infamy, — 
 sad stuff, to be sure, but such is the taste of the times. They 
 altered even my quotation from Pope ; but that was too impu- 
 dent." 
 
 The comparison of Baretti to the hornet was truer than she 
 anticipated: animamque in vulnere point. Internal evidence 
 leads almost irresistibly to the conclusion that he was the author 
 or prompter of i; The Sentimental Mother : a Comedy in Five 
 Acts. The Legacy of an Old Friend, and his ' Last Moral Les- 
 son ' to Mrs. Hester Lynch Thrale, now Mrs. Hester Lynch Pi- 
 ozzi. London : Printed for James Ridgeway, York Street, St. 
 James's Square, 1789. Price three shillings." The principal 
 dramatis personce are Mr. Timothy Tunskull (Thrale), Lady 
 Fantasma Tunskull, two Misses Tunskull, and Signor Squalici. 
 
 Lady Fantasma is vain, affected, silly, and amorous to excess. 
 Not satisfied with Squalici as her established gallant, she makes 
 compromising advances to her daughter's lover on his way to a 
 tete-a-tete with the young lady, who 'takes her wonted place on 
 his knee with his arm round her waist. Squalici is also a domes- 
 
118 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 tic spy, and in league with the mother to cheat the daughters out 
 of their patrimony. Mr. Tunskull is a respectable and compla- 
 cent nonentity. 
 
 The dialogue is seasoned with the same malicious insinuations 
 which mark Baretti's letters in the " European Magazine ; " with- 
 out the saving clause with which shame or fear induced him to 
 qualifiy the signed abuse, namely, that no breach of chastity was 
 suspected or believed. It is difficult to imagine who else w T ould 
 have thought of reverting to Thrale's establishment eight years 
 after it had been broken up by death. 
 
 Mrs. Piozzi had somehow contracted a belief, to which she 
 alludes more than once with unfeigned alarm, that Mr. Samuel 
 Lysons had formed a collection of all the libels and caricatures 
 of which she was the subject on the occasion of her marriage. 
 His collections have been carefully examined, and the sole sem- 
 blance of warrant for her fears is an album or scrap-book con- 
 taining numerous extracts from the reviews and newspapers, 
 relating to her books. The only caricature preserved in it is 
 the celebrated one by Sayers entitled " Johnson's Ghost." The 
 ghost, a flattering likeness of the doctor, addresses a pretty 
 woman seated at a writing-table : — 
 
 " When Streatham spread its pleasant board, 
 I opened learning's valued hoard, 
 
 And as I feasted, prosed. 
 Good things I said, good things I eat, 
 I gave you knowledge for your meat, 
 
 And thought the account was closed. 
 
 " If obligations still I owed, 
 You sold each item to the crowd, 
 
 I suffered by the tale. 
 For God's sake, Madam, let me rest, 
 No longer vex your quondam guest, 
 
 I '11 pay you for your ale." 
 
 When addresses were advertised for on the rebuilding of Drury 
 Lane, Sheridan proposed an additional reward for one without a 
 phoenix. Equally acceptable for its rarity would be a squib on 
 Mrs. Piozzi without a reference to the brewery. 
 
 Her manuscript notes on the two volumes of Letters are nu- 
 merous and important, comprising some curious fragments of auto- 
 
HER TRAVELS. 119 
 
 biography, written on separate sheets of paper and pasted into the 
 volumes opposite to the passages which they expand or explain. 
 They would create an inconvenient break in the narrative if in- 
 troduced here, and they are reserved for a separate section. 
 
 In 1789 she published "Observations and Reflections made in 
 the course of a Journey through France, Italy, and Germany," in 
 two volumes octavo of about 400 pages each. As happened to 
 almost everything she did or wrote, this book was by turns 
 assailed with inveterate hostility and praised with animated zeal. 
 Walpole writes to Mrs. Carter, June 13, 1789 : — 
 
 " I do not mean to misemploy much of your time, which I know 
 is always passed in good works, and usefully. You have, there- 
 fore, probably not looked into Piozzi's Travels. I who have 
 been almost six weeks lying on a couch have gone through them. 
 It was said that Addison might have written his without going 
 out of England. By the excessive vulgarisms so plentiful in 
 these volumes, one might suppose the writer had never stirred 
 out of the parish of St. Giles. Her Latin, French, and Italian, 
 too, are so miserably spelt, that she had better have studied her 
 own language before she floundered into other tongues. Her 
 friends plead that she piques herself on writing as she talks : 
 methinks, then, she should talk as she would write. There are 
 many indiscretions too in her work, of which she will perhaps be 
 told though Baretti is dead." 
 
 Miss Seward, much to her credit, repeated to Mrs. Piozzi both 
 the praise and the blame she had expressed to others. On De- 
 cember 21st, 1789, she writes : — 
 
 " Suffer me now to speak to you of your highly ingenious, 
 instructive, and entertaining publication ; yet shall it be with the 
 sincerity of friendship, rather than with the flourish of compli- 
 ment. No work of the sort I ever read possesses, in an equal 
 degree, the power of placing the reader in the scenes, and amongst 
 the people it describes. "Wit, knowledge, and imagination illu- 
 minate its pages — but the infinite inequality of the style ! — Per- 
 mit me to acknowledge to you, what I have acknowledged to 
 others, that it excites my exhaustless wonder, that Mrs. Piozzi, 
 the child of genius, the pupil of Johnson, should pollute, with the 
 vulgarisms of unpolished conversation, her animated pages ! — 
 
120 LIFE AND WAITINGS OF MES. PIOZZI. 
 
 that, while she frequently displays her power of commanding the 
 most chaste and beautiful style imaginable, she should generally 
 use those inelegant, those strange dids, and does, and thoughs, and 
 toos, which produce jerking angles, and stop-short abruptness, 
 fatal at once to the grace and ease of the sentence ; — which are, 
 in language, what the rusty black silk handkerchief and the brass 
 ring are upon the beautiful form of the Italian countess she men- 
 tions, arrayed in embroidery, and blazing in jewels." 
 
 Mrs. Piozzi's theory was that books should be written in the 
 same colloquial and idiomatic language which is employed by cul- 
 tivated persons in conversation. " Be thou familiar, but by no 
 means vulgar ; " and vulgar she certainly was not, although she 
 sometimes indulged her fondness for familiarity too far. The 
 period was unluckily chosen for carrying such a theory into prac- 
 tice ; for Johnson's authority had discountenanced idiomatic writ- 
 ing, whilst many phrases and forms of speech, which would not 
 be endured now, were tolerated in polite society. 
 
 The laws of spelling, too, were unfixed or vague, and those of 
 pronunciation, which more or less affected spelling, still more so. 
 " When," said Johnson, " I published the plan of my dictionary, 
 Lord Chesterfield told me that the word great should be pro- 
 nounced so as to rhyme to state ; and Sir William Yonge sent 
 me word that it should be pronounced so as to rhyme to seat, and 
 that none but an Irishman would pronounce it grait. Now here 
 were two men of the highest rank, one the best speaker in the 
 House of Lords, the other the best speaker in the House of Com- 
 mons, differing entirely." Mrs. Piozzi has written on the mar- 
 gin : " Sir William was in the right." Two well-known coup- 
 lets of Pope's imply similar changes : — 
 
 " Dreading e'en fools, by flatterers besieged, 
 And so obliging that he ne'er obliged. 
 
 Imperial Anna, whom three realms obey, 
 
 Here sometimes counsel takes, and sometimes tea." 
 
 Within living memory, elderly people of quality, both in writ- 
 ing and conversation, stuck to Lunnun, Brummagem, and Cheyny 
 (China). Lord Byron wrote redde (for read, in the past tense), 
 and Lord Dudley declined being helped to apple tart When, 
 
HER STYLE. 121 
 
 therefore, we find Mrs. Piozzi using words or idioms rejected by- 
 modern taste or fastidiousness, we must not be too ready to ac- 
 cuse her of ignorance or vulgarity. I have commonly retained 
 her original syntax and her spelling, which frequently varies 
 within a page. 
 
 Two days afterwards, Walpole returns to the charge in a let- 
 ter to Miss Berry, which were alone sufficient to prove the worth- 
 lessness of his literary judgments : — 
 
 " Eead i Sinbad the Sailor's Voyages,' and you will be sick of 
 ^Eneas's. What woful invention were the nasty poultry that 
 dunged on his dinner, and ships on fire turned into Xereids ! A 
 barn metamorphosed into a cascade in a pantomime is full as 
 
 sublime an effort of genius I do not think the Sultaness's 
 
 narratives very natural or very probable, but there is a wildness 
 in them that captivates. However, if you could wade through 
 two octavos of Dame Piozzi's thoughts and so 's and Itroivs, and 
 cannot listen to seven volumes of Scheherezade's narratives, I 
 will sue for a divorce in foro Parnassi, and Boccalini shall be my 
 proctor." 
 
 A single couplet of Gifford's was more damaging than all TTal- 
 pole's petulance : — 
 
 " See Thrale's gray widow with a satchel roam, 
 And bring in pomp laborious nothings home." * 
 
 This condemnatory verse is every way unjust. The nothings, 
 or somethings, which form the staple of the book, are not labored ; 
 and they are presented without the semblance of pomp or preten- 
 sion. The Preface commences thus : — 
 
 " I was made to observe at Pome some vestiges of an ancient 
 
 * " She, one evening, asked me abruptly if I did not remember the scurrilous 
 lines in which she had been depicted by Giffor'd in his ' Baviad and Moeviad.' 
 And, not waiting for my answer, for I was indeed too much embarrassed to give 
 one quickly, she recited the verses in question, and added, ' How do you think 
 u Thrale's gray widow " revenged herself ? I contrived to get myself invited to 
 meet him at supper at a friend's house (I think she said in Pall Mall), soon after 
 the publication of his poem, sat opposite to him, saw that he was " perplexed in 
 the extreme; " and smiling, proposed a glass of wine as a libation to our future 
 good fellowship. Gifford was sufficiently a man of the world to understand me, 
 and nothing could be more courteous and entertaining than he was while we 
 remained together.' " — Piozziana. 
 
 6 
 
122 
 
 LIFE AND WAITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 custom very proper in those days. It was the parading of the 
 street by a set of people called Precis, who went some minutes 
 before the Flamen Dialis, to bid the inhabitants leave work or 
 play, and attend wholly to the procession ; but if ill-omens pre- 
 vented the pageants from passing, or if the occasion of the show 
 was deemed scarce worthy its celebration, these Precise stood a 
 chance of being ill-treated by the spectators. A prefatory intro- 
 duction to a work like this can hope little better from the public 
 than they had. It proclaims the approach of what has often 
 passed by before ; adorned most certainly with greater splendor, 
 perhaps conducted with greater regularity and skill. Yet will I 
 not despair of giving at least a momentary amusement to my 
 countrymen in general ; while their entertainment shall serve as 
 a vehicle for conveying expressions of particular kindness to those 
 foreign individuals, whose tenderness softened the sorrows of ab- 
 sence, and who eagerly endeavored by unmerited attentions to 
 supply the loss of their company, on whom nature and habit had 
 given me stronger claims." 
 
 The Preface concludes with the happy remark that, " the 
 labors of the press resemble those of the toilette ; both should be 
 attended to and finished with care ; but once completed, should 
 take up no more of our attention, unless we are disposed at even- 
 ing to destroy all effect of our morning's study." 
 
 It would be difficult to name a book of travels in which anec- 
 dotes, observations, and reflections are more agreeably mingled, 
 or one from which a clearer bird's-eye view of the external state 
 of countries visited in rapid succession may be caught. Her 
 sketch of the north of France, on her way to Paris, may be taken 
 as an example : — 
 
 " Chantilly. — Our way to this place lay through Boulogne ; 
 the situation of which is pleasing, and the fish there excellent. I 
 was glad to see Boulogne, though I can scarcely tell why ; but 
 one is always glad to see something new, and talk of something 
 old : for example, the story I once heard of Miss Ashe, speaking 
 of poor Dr. James, who loved profligate conversation dearly, 
 ' That man should set up his quarters across the water,' said she ; 
 ' why, Boulogne would be a seraglio to him.' 
 
 " The country, as far as Montreuil, is a coarse one ; thin herb- 
 
FRANCE. 123 
 
 age in the plains and fruitless fields. The cattle too are miserably 
 poor and lean ; but where there is no grass, we can scarcely ex- 
 pect them to be fat : they must not feed on wheat, I suppose, and 
 cannot digest tobacco. Herds of swine, not flocks of sheep, meet 
 one's eve upon the hills ; and the very few gentlemen's seats that 
 we have passed by seem out of repair, and deserted. The 
 French do not reside much in private houses, as the English do ; 
 but while those of narrower fortunes flock to the country towns 
 within their reach, those of ampler purses repair to Paris, where 
 the rent of their estate supplies them with pleasures at no very 
 enormous expense. The road is magnificent, like our old-fash- 
 ioned avenue in a nobleman's park, but wider, and paved in the 
 middle : this convenience continued on for many hundred miles? 
 and all at the king's expense. Every man you meet politely pulls 
 off bis hat en passant ; and the gentlemen have commonly a good 
 horse under them, but certainly a dressed one. 
 
 " The sporting season is not come in yet, but I believe the idea 
 of sporting seldom enters any head except an English one : here 
 is prodigious plenty of game, but the familiarity with which they 
 walk about and sit by our road-side, shows they feel no appre- 
 hensions. 
 
 " The pert vivacity of La Fille at Montreuil was all we could 
 find there worth remarking : it filled up my notions of French 
 flippancy agreeably enough ; as no English wench would so have 
 answered one to be sure. She had complained of our avant 
 coureur's behavior. ' II parle sur le haut to?i, mademoiselle ' (said 
 I), ' mais il a le ccenr boa: 9 'Ouyda' (replied she, smartly), 
 ' mais c'est le ton qui fait le chanson? " 
 
 She ends her notice of Chantilly thus : — 
 
 " The theatre belonging to the house is a lovely one ; and the 
 truly princely possessor, when he heard once that an English 
 gentleman, travelling for amusement, had called at Chantilly too 
 late to enjoy the diversion, instantly, though past twelve o'clock 
 at night, ordered a new representation, that his curiosity might 
 be gratified. This is the same Prince of Conde, who going from 
 Paris to his country seat here for a month or two, when his eldest 
 son was nine years old, left him fifty louis d'ors as an allowance 
 during his absence. At his return to town, the boy produced his 
 
124 
 
 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 purse, crying, 'Papa! here's all the money safe; I have never 
 touched it once. 7 The Prince, in reply, took him gravely to the 
 window, and opening it, very quietly poured all the louis d'ors 
 into the street, saying, ' Now, if you have neither virtue enough 
 to give away your money, nor spirit enough to spend it, always 
 do this for the future, do you hear ; that the poor may at least 
 have a chance for it! " 
 
 Although the extraordinary change effected by the French 
 Revolution of 1789 is an everlasting topic, it is only on reading 
 a book like Mercier's " Tableau de Paris," or travels like these, 
 that the full extent of that change is vividly brought home to 
 us : — 
 
 " In the evening we looked at the new square called the Palais 
 Royal, whence the Due de Chartres has removed a vast number 
 of noble trees, which it was a sin and shame to profane with an 
 axe, after they had adorned that spot for so many centuries. — 
 The people were accordingly as angry, I believe, as Frenchmen 
 well can be, when the folly was first committed : the court, how- 
 ever, had wit enough to convert the place into a sort of Vaux- 
 hall, with tents, fountains, shops, full of frippery, brilliant at once 
 and worthless, to attract thern ; with coffee-houses surrounding it 
 in every side ; and now they are all again merry and happy, 
 synonymous terms at Paris, though often disunited in London ; 
 and Vive le Due de Chartres ! 
 
 " The French are really a contented race of mortals ; — pre- 
 cluded almost from possibility of adventure, the low Parisian 
 leads a gentle, humble life, nor envies that greatness he never 
 can obtain ; but either wonders delightedly, or diverts himself 
 philosophically with the sight of splendors which seldom fail to 
 excite serious envy in an Englishman, and sometimes occasion 
 even suicide, from disappointed hopes, which never could take 
 root in the heart of these unaspiring people. Reflections of this 
 cast are suggested to one here in every shop, where the behavior 
 of the master at first sight contradicts all that our satirists tell us 
 of the supple Gaul, &c. A mercer in this town shows you a few 
 silks, and those he scarcely opens ; vous devez choisir, is all he 
 thinks of saying to invite your custom ; then takes out his snuff- 
 box, and yawns in your face, fatigued by your inquiries 
 
THE FRENCH. 125 
 
 A Frenchman who should make his fortune by trade to-morrow, 
 would be no nearer advancement in society or situation: why 
 
 then should he solicit, by arts he is too lazy to delight in, the 
 practice of that opulence which would afford so slight an im- 
 provement to his comfort-? He lives as well as he wishes 
 already ; he goes to the Boulevards every night, treats his wife 
 with a glass of lemonade or ice, and holds up his babies by turns. 
 to hear the jokes of Jean Pottage. 
 
 ; * Emulation, ambition, avarice, however, must in all arbitrary 
 governments be confined to the great ; the other set "of mortals, 
 for there are none there of -middling rank, live, as it should seem. 
 like eunuchs in a seraglio ; feel themselves irrevocably doomed 
 to promote the pleasure of their superiors, nor ever dream of 
 sighing for enjoyments from which an irremeable boundary 
 divides them. They see at the beginning of their lives how that 
 life must necessarily end, and trot with a quiet, contented, and 
 unaltered pace down their long, straight, and shaded avenue ; 
 while we, with anxious solicitude and restless hurry, watch the 
 quick turnings of our serpentine walk, which still presents, either 
 to sight or expectation, some changes of variety in the ever- 
 shifting prospect, till the unthought-of. unexpected end comes 
 suddenly upon us, and finishes at once the fluctuating scene." 
 
 M The contradictions one meets with every moment likewise 
 strike even a cursory observer, — a countess in a morning, her 
 hair dressed, with diamonds too. perhaps, a dirty black handker- 
 chief about her neck, and a flat silver ring on her finger, like our 
 ale-wives ; a femme publique, dressed avowedly for the purposes 
 of alluring the men, with a not very small crucifix hanging at her 
 bosom ; — and the Virgin Mary's sign at an ale-house door, with 
 these words : — 
 
 " ' Je suis la mere de mon Dieu, 
 Et la gardienae de ce lieu.' " 
 
 A zealous editor of Pope would readily brave the journey to 
 Paris to pick up such an anecdote as the following : — 
 
 U I have stolen a day to visit my old acquaintance the English 
 Austin Xuns at the Foffee, and found the whole community alive 
 and cheerful ; they are many of them agreeable women, and, 
 
126 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 having seen Dr. Johnson with me when I was last abroad, in- 
 quired much for him ; Mrs. Fermor, the Prioress, niece to Be- 
 linda in the Rape of the Lock, taking occasion to tell me, comi- 
 cally enough, ' that she believed there was but little comfort to be 
 found in a house that harbored poets ; for that she remembered 
 Mr. Pope's praise made her aunt very troublesome and conceited, 
 while his numberless caprices would have employed ten servants 
 to wait on him ; and he gave one ' (said she) ' no amends by his 
 talk neither, for he only sate dozing all day, when the sweet 
 wine was out, and made his verses chiefly in the night ; during 
 which season he kept himself awake by drinking coffee, which it 
 was one of the maids' business to make for him, and they took it 
 by turns.' " 
 
 At Milan she institutes a delicate inquiry : — 
 
 " The women are not behindhand in openness of confidence 
 and comical sincerity. We have all heard much of Italian cicis- 
 beism ; I had a mind to know how matters really stood ; and 
 took the nearest way to information by asking a mighty beautiful 
 and apparently artless young creature, not noble, how that affair 
 was managed, for there is no harm done, I am sure, said I. 
 ' Why, no,' replied she, ' no great harm to be sure : except weari- 
 some attentions from a man one cares little about ; for my own 
 part,' continued she, ' I detest the custom, as I happen to love my 
 husband excessively, and desire nobody's company in the world 
 but his. We are not people of fashion though you know, nor at 
 all rich ; so how should we set fashions for our betters ? They 
 would only say, see how jealous he is ! if Mr. Such-a-one sat 
 much with me at home, or went with me to the Corso ; and I 
 must go with some gentleman you know ; and the men are such 
 ungenerous creatures, and have such ways with them: I want 
 money often, and this cavaliere servente pays the bills, and so the 
 connection draws closer, — that '$ alV And your husband ! said 
 I. — ' O, why he likes to see me well dressed ; he is very good- 
 natured, and very charming ; I love him to my heart.' And your 
 confessor ! cried I. — ' O, w r hy he is used to it ; ' in the 
 Milanese dialect, — e assuefaa" 
 
 At Venice, the tone was somewhat different from what would 
 be employed now by the finest lady on the Grand Canal : — 
 
VENICE. 127 
 
 " This firmly-fixed idea of subordination (which I once heard 
 a Venetian say, he believed must exist in heaven from one angel 
 to another) accounts immediately for a little conversation which 
 I am now going to relate. 
 
 " Here were two men taken up last week, one for murdering 
 his fellow-servant in cold blood, while the undefended creature 
 had the lemonade tray in his hand going in to serve company ; 
 the other for breaking the new lamps lately set up with intention , 
 to light this town in the manner of the streets at Paris. ' I 
 hope,' said I, ' that they will hang the murderer.' ' I rather 
 hope,' replied a very sensible lady who sate near me, 6 that they 
 will hang the person who broke the lamps ; for,' added she, ' the 
 first committed his crime only out of revenge, poor fellow ! ! be- 
 cause the other had got his mistress from him by treachery ; but 
 this creature has had the impudence to break our fine new lamps, 
 all for the sake of spiting the Archduke ! ! ' The Archduke 
 meantime hangs nobody at all ; but sets his prisoners to work 
 upon the roads, public buildings, &c, where they labor in their 
 chains ; and where, strange to tell ! they often insult passengers 
 who refuse them alms when asked as they go by ; and, stranger 
 still, they are not punished for it when they do." 
 
 " I would rather, before leaving the plains of Lombardy, give 
 my countrywomen one reason for detaining them so long there : 
 it cannot be an uninteresting reason to us, when we reflect that 
 our first head-dresses were made by Milaners ; that a court-gown 
 was early known in England by the name of a mantua, from 
 Ma?ito, the daughter of Terefias, who founded the city so called ; 
 and that some of the best materials for making these mantuas is 
 still named from the town it is manufactured in, — a Padua soy." 
 
 Here is a Frenchman's reason for preferring France to Eng- 
 land and Italy : — 
 
 " A Frenchman whom I sent for once at Bath to dress my 
 hair, gave me an excellent trait of his own national character, 
 speaking upon that subject, when he meant to satirize ours. 
 ' You have lived some years in England, friend,' said I ; ' do you 
 like it ? ' — ' Mais non, Madame, pas parfaitement bien.' — 6 You 
 have travelled much in Italy ; do you like that better? ' — i Ah ! 
 Dieu ne plaise, Madame, je n'aime gueres messieurs les Italiens.' 
 
128 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 — i What do they do to make you hate them so ? ' — ' Mais c'est 
 que les Italiens se tuent Fun l'autre ' (replied the fellow), ' et les 
 Anglois se font un plaisir de se tuer eux mesmes : pardi je ne 
 me sens rien moins qu'un vrai gout pour ces gentillesses la, et 
 j'aimerois mieux me trouver a Paris, pour rire un peuJ " 
 
 The lover sacrificing his reputation, his liberty, or his life, to 
 save the fair fame of his mistress, is not an unusual event in 
 fiction, whatever it may be in real life. Balzac, Charles de Ber- 
 nard, and M. de Jarnac have each made a self-sacrifice of this 
 kind the basis of a romance. But neither of them has hit upon 
 a better plot than might be formed out of the Venetian story 
 related by Mrs. Piozzi : — 
 
 " Some years ago, then, perhaps a hundred, one of the many 
 spies who ply this town by night, ran to the state inquisitor, 
 with informatipn that such a nobleman (naming him) had con- 
 nections with the French ambassador, and went privately to his 
 house every night at a certain hour. The messergrando, as they 
 call him, could not believe, nor would proceed, without better 
 and stronger proof, against a man for whom he had an intimate 
 personal friendship, and on whose virtue he counted with very 
 particular reliance. Another spy was therefore set, and brought 
 back the same intelligence, adding the description of his disguise ; 
 on which the worthy magistrate put on his mask and bauta, and 
 went out himself; when his eyes confirming the report of his in- 
 formants, and the reflection on his duty stifling all remorse, he 
 sent publicly for Foscarini in the morning, whom the populace 
 attended all weeping to his door. 
 
 " Nothing but resolute denial of the crime alleged could how- 
 ever be forced from the firm-minded citizen, who, sensible of the 
 discovery, prepared for that punishment he knew to be inevitable, 
 and submitted to the fate his friend was obliged to inflict: no less 
 than a dungeon for life, that dungeon so horrible that I have 
 heard Mr. Howard was not permitted to see it. 
 
 " The people lamented, but their lamentations were vain. The 
 magistrate who condemned him never recovered the shock ; but 
 Foscarini was heard of no more, till an old lady died forty years 
 after in Paris, whose last confession declared she was visited with 
 amorous intentions by a nobleman of Venice whose name she 
 
VENETIAN ROMANCE. 129 
 
 never knew, while she resided there as companion to the ambas- 
 sadress. So was Foscarini lost ! so died he a martyr to love, and 
 tenderness for female reputation ! " 
 
 The Mendicanti was a Venetian institution which deserves to 
 be commemorated for its singularity : — 
 
 " Apropos to singing ; — we were this evening carried to a 
 well-known conservatory called the Mendicanti, who performed 
 an oratorio in the church with great, and I dare say deserved ap- 
 plause. It was difficult for me to persuade myself that all the 
 performers were women, till, watching carefully, our eyes con- 
 vinced us, as they were but slightly grated. The sight of girls, 
 however, handling the double bass, and blowing into the bassoon, 
 did not please me; and the deep-toned voice of her who sung the 
 part of Saul, seemed an odd, unnatural thing enough. What I 
 found most curious and pretty, was to hear Latin verses, of the 
 old Leonine race broken into eight and six, and sung in rhyme 
 by these women, as if they were airs of Metastasio ; all in their 
 dulcified pronunciation too, for the patios runs equally through 
 every language when spoken by a Venetian. 
 
 " Well ! these pretty sirens were delighted to seize upon us, 
 and pressed our visit to their parlor with a sweetness that I know 
 not who would have resisted. We had no such intent ; and 
 amply did their performance repay my curiosity for visiting Ve- 
 netian beauties, so justly celebrated for their seducing manners 
 and soft address. They accompanied their voices with the forte- 
 piano, and sung a thousand buffo songs, with all that gay voluptu- 
 ousness for which their country is renowned. 
 
 " The school, however, is running to ruin apace ; and perhaps 
 the conduct of the married women here may contribute to make 
 such conservatories useless and neglected. When the Duchess of 
 Montespan asked the famous Louison d'Arquien, by way of in- 
 sult, as she pressed too near her, ' Comment alloit le metier ? ' 'De- 
 puis que les dames s'en melentj (replied the courtesan, with no im- 
 proper spirit,) ' il ne vaut plus rien? " 
 
 Describing Florence, she says : — 
 
 " Sir Horace Mann is sick and old ; but there are conversa- 
 tions at his house of a Saturday evening, and sometimes a dinner, 
 to which we have been almost always asked." 
 6* 
 
130 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 So much for Walpole's assertion that " she had broken with 
 his Horace, because he could not invite her husband with the 
 Italian nobility." She held her own, if she did not take the lead, 
 in whatever society she happened to be thrown, and no one could 
 have objected to Piozzi without breaking with her. In point of 
 fact, no one did object to him. 
 
 One of her notes on Naples is : — 
 
 " Well, well ! if the Neapolitans do bury Christians like dogs, 
 they make some singular compensations we will confess, by nurs- 
 ing dogs like Christians. A very veracious man informed me 
 yester morning, that his poor wife was half broken-hearted at 
 hearing such a Countess's dog was run over ; ' for,' said he, ' hav- 
 ing suckled the pretty creature herself, she loved it like one of 
 her children.' I bid him repeat the circumstance, that no mis- 
 take might be made : he did so ; but seeing me look shocked, or 
 ashamed, or something he did not like, — ' Why, Madam,' said 
 the fellow, 'it is a common thing enough for ordinary men's 
 wives to suckle the lap-dogs of ladies of quality ; ' adding, that 
 they were paid for their milk, and he saw no harm in gratifying 
 one's superiors. As I was disposed to see nothing but harm in 
 disputing with such a competitor, our conference finished soon ; 
 but the fact is certain. 
 
 " Indeed, few things can be foolisher than to debate the pro- 
 priety of customs one is not bound to observe or comply with. 
 If you dislike them, the remedy is easy ; turn yours and your 
 horses' heads the other way." 
 
 On the margin she has written : — 
 
 " Mrs. Greathead could scarcely be made to credit so hideous 
 a fact, till I showed her the portrait (at a broker's shop) of a 
 woman suckling a cat? 
 
 At Vienna, she remarks : — 
 
 " So different are the customs here and at Venice, that the 
 German ladies offer you chocolate on the same salver with coffee, 
 of an evening, and fill up both with milk ; saying that you may 
 have the latter quite black if you choose it, — - ' Tout noir, Mon- 
 sieur, a la Venitienne ; " adding their best advice not to risque 
 a practice so unwholesome. While their care upon that account 
 reminds me chiefly of a friend, who lives upon the Grand Canal, 
 
GOLDSMITH. 131 
 
 that, in reply to a long panegyric upon English delicacy, said she 
 would tell a story that would prove them to be nasty enough, at 
 least in some things ; for that she had actually seen a handsome 
 young nobleman, who came from London {and ought to have 
 known better), souse some thick cream into the fine clear coffee 
 she presented him with ; which everybody must confess to be 
 vera porcheria I a very piggish trick ! — So necessary and so 
 pleasing is conformity, and so absurd and perverse is it ever to 
 forbear such assimilation of manners, when not inconsistent with 
 the virtue, honor, or necessary interest : — let us eat sour-crout 
 in Germany, frittura at Milan, macaroni at Xaples, and beef- 
 steaks in England, if one wishes to please the inhabitants of 
 either country ; and all are very good, so it is a slight compli- 
 ance. Poor Dr. Goldsmith said once, ' I would advise every 
 young fellow setting out in life to love gravy;' and added, that 
 he had formerly seen a glutton's eldest nephew disinherited be- 
 cause his uncle never could persuade him to say he liked gravy." 
 Mr. Forster thinks that the concluding anecdote conveys a 
 false impression of one 
 
 ; ' Who wrote like an angel, but talked like poor Poll." 
 
 " Mrs. Piozzi, in her travels, quite solemnly sets forth that poor 
 Dr. Goldsmith said once, i I would advise every young fellow set- 
 ting forth in life to love gravy,' alleging for it the serious reason 
 that ' he had formerly seen a glutton's eldest nephew disinherited 
 because his uncle never could persuade him to say he liked gravy.' 
 Imagine the dulness that would convert a jocose saying of this 
 kind into an unconscious utterance of grave absurdity."* In his 
 index may be read : " Mrs. Piozzi's absurd instance of Gold- 
 smith's absurdity." Mrs. Piozzi does not quote the saying as an 
 instance of absurdity ; nor set it forth solemnly. She repeats it, 
 as an apt illustration of her argument, in the same semi-serious 
 spirit in which it may be supposed to have been originally haz- 
 arded. Sidney Smith took a different view of this grave gravy 
 question. On a young lady's declining gravy, he exclaimed: "I 
 have been looking all my life for a person who disliked gravy : 
 let us vow eternal friendship." 
 
 * Life of Goldsmith, Vol. II. p. 205. Mr. Forster allows her the credit of dis- 
 covering the lurking irony in Goldsmith's verses on Cumberland, Vol. II. p. 293. 
 
132 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 The "British Synonomy" appeared in 1794. It was thus as- 
 sailed by Gifford : — 
 
 "Though 'no one better knows his own house' than I the van- 
 ity of this woman ; yet the idea of her undertaking such a work 
 had never entered my head ; and I was thunderstruck when I 
 first saw it announced. To execute it with any tolerable degree 
 of success required a rare combination of talents, among the least 
 of which may be numbered neatness of style, acuteness of percep- 
 tion, and a more than common accuracy of discrimination ; and 
 Mrs. Piozzi brought to the task, a jargon long since become prover- 
 bial for its vulgarity, an utter incapability of defining a single term 
 in the language, and just as much Latin from a child's Syntax, as 
 sufficed to expose the ignorance she so anxiously labors to conceal. 
 ' If such a one be fit to write on Synonimes, speak.' Pignotti 
 himself laughs in his sleeve ; and his countrymen, long since un- 
 deceived, prize the lady's talents at their true worth, 
 
 " ' Et centum Tales * curto centusse licentur.' " 
 * Query Thrales ? — Printer's Devil. 
 
 Other critics have been more lenient or more just. Enough 
 philosophical knowledge and acuteness were discovered in the 
 work to originate a rumor that she had retained some of the great 
 lexicographer's manuscripts, or derived a posthumous advantage 
 from her former intimacy with him in some shape. In " Thrali- 
 ana," Denbigh, 2d January, 1795, she writes : — 
 
 " My ' Synonimes ' have been reviewed at last. The critics 
 are all civil for aught I see, and nearly just, except when they say 
 that Johnson left some fragments of a work on Synonymy: of 
 which God knows I never heard till now one syllable ; never had 
 he and I, in all the time we lived together, any conversation upon 
 the subject." 
 
 Even Walpole admits that it has some marked and peculiar 
 merits, although its value consists rather in the illustrative matter, 
 than in the definition and etymologies, e. g. 
 
 " With regard to the words upon my list (lavish, profuse, prod- 
 igal), the same Dr. Johnson with his accustomed wisdom ob- 
 served, That a young man naturally disposed to be lavish ever 
 appears beset with temptations to extend his folly, and become 
 
HER "SYNONIMES." 133 
 
 eminently profuse, till he can scarcely avoid ending his days a 
 prodigal, distressed on every side in mind, body, and estate ; 
 for while the neighbors and acquaintance repress that spirit of 
 penurious niggardliness which now and then betrays itself in a 
 boy of mean education, — because from that baseness indulged 
 no pleasure or profit can accrue to standers by, — they all en- 
 courage an empty-headed lad in idle and expensive wastefulness, 
 from whence something may possibly drop into every gaping 
 mouth. I never myself heard a story of prodigality reduced to 
 want, yet keeping up its character in the very hour of despair, so 
 well authenticated as the following, which I gained from a native 
 of Italy. 
 
 " Two gentlemen of that country were walking leisurely up 
 the Hay-Market some time in the year 1749, lamenting the fate 
 of the famous Cuzzona, an actress who some time before had 
 been in high vogue, but was then, as they heard, in a very pitiable 
 situation. ' Let us go and visit her,' said one of them, ' she lives 
 but over the way.' The other consented ; and calling at the door, 
 they were shown up stairs, but found the faded beauty dull and 
 spiritless, unable or unwilling to converse on any subject. ' How 's 
 this/ cried one of her consolers, ' are you ill ? or is it but low 
 spirits chains your tongue so ? ' — ' Neither,' replied she ; 6 't is 
 hunger, I suppose. I ate nothing yesterday, and now it is past 
 six o'clock, and not one penny have I in the world to buy me any 
 food.' — ' Come with us instantly to a tavern ; we will treat you 
 with the best roast fowls and Port wine that London can pro- 
 duce.' — ' But I will have neither my dinner nor my place of 
 eating it prescribed to me,' answered Cuzzona, in a sharper tone, 
 i else I need never have wanted.' — 'Forgive me/ cries the friend ; 
 ' do your own way ; but eat in the name of God, and restore faint- 
 ing nature.' She thanked him then ; and, calling to her a friendly 
 wretch who inhabited the same theatre of misery, gave him the 
 guinea the visitor accompanied his last words with ; ' and run with 
 this money/ said she, ' to such a wine-merchant ' (naming him) ; 
 6 he is the only one keeps good Tokay by him. 'T is a guinea a 
 bottle, mind you/ to the boy ; ' and bid the gentleman you buy it 
 of give you a loaf into the bargain, — he wont refuse.' In half an 
 hour or less the lad returned with the Tokay. ' But where/ cries 
 
134 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 Cuzzona, ' is the loaf I spoke for ?' ' The merchant would give 
 me no loaf,' replies her messenger ; * he drove me from the door, 
 and asked if I took him for a baker.' ' Blockhead ! ' exclaims 
 she ; ' why I must have bread to my wine, you know, and I have 
 not a penny to purchase any. Go beg me a loaf directly.' The 
 fellow returns once more with one in his hand and a halfpenny, 
 telling 'em the gentleman threw him three, and laughed at his 
 impudence. She gave her Mercury the money, broke the bread 
 into a wash-hand basin which stood near, poured the Tokay over 
 it, and devoured the whole with eagerness. This was indeed a 
 heroine in profusion. Some active well-wishers procured her 
 a benefit after this ; she gained about £ 350, 't is said, and laid 
 out two hundred of the money instantly in a shell-cap. They 
 wore such things then." 
 
 When Savage got a guinea, he commonly spent it in a tavern 
 at a sitting ; and, referring to the memorable morning when the 
 " Vicar of Wakefield " was produced, Johnson says : " I sent him 
 (Goldsmith) a guinea, and promised to come to him directly. I 
 accordingly went as soon as I was dressed, and found that his 
 landlady had arrested him for his rent. I perceived that he had 
 already changed my guinea, and had got a bottle of Madeira and 
 a glass before him." Mrs. Piozzi continues : — 
 
 " But Doctor Johnson had always some story at hand to check 
 extravagant and wanton wastefulness. His improviso verses 
 made on a young heir's coming of age are highly capable of re- 
 straining such folly, if it is to be restrained : they never yet were 
 printed, I believe. 
 
 " ' Long expected one-and-twenty, 
 
 Lingering year, at length is flown ; 
 Pride and pleasure, pomp and plenty, 
 Great , are now your own. 
 
 " ' Loosened from the minor's tether, 
 Free to mortgage or to sell, 
 Wild as wind, and light as feather, 
 Bid the sons of thrift farewell. 
 
 " ' Call the Betseys, Kates, and Jennies, 
 All the names that banish care ; 
 
" RETROSPECTION." 135 
 
 Lavish of your grandsire's guineas, 
 Show the spirit of an heir. 
 
 " ' All that prey on vice or folly 
 Joy to see their quarry fly ; 
 There the gamester light and jolly, 
 There the lender grave and sly. 
 
 " l Wealth, my lad, was made to wander, 
 Let it wander as it will ; 
 Call the jockey, call the pander, 
 Bid them come and take their fill. 
 
 " ' TThen the bonny blade carouses, 
 Pockets full, and spirits high — 
 What are acres ? what are houses ? 
 Only dirt or wet or dry. 
 
 " { Should the guardian friend or mother 
 Tell the woes of wilful waste ; 
 Scorn their counsel, scorn their pother — 
 You can hang or drown at last/ " 
 
 These verses were addressed to Thrale's nephew, Sir John 
 Lade, in August, 1780. They bear a strong resemblance to some 
 of Burns's in his " Beggar's Sonata," written in 1785 : — 
 
 " What is title, what is treasure, 
 What is reputation's care; 
 If we lead a life of pleasure, 
 Can it matter how or where? " 
 
 In 1801, Mrs. Piozzi published " Retrospection ; or a Review 
 of the Most Striking and Important Events, Characters, Situa- 
 tions, and their Consequences, which the Last Eighteen Hun- 
 dred Years have presented to the Yiew of Mankind." It is in 
 two volumes quarto, containing rather more than 1,000 pages. A 
 fitting motto for it would have been, De omnibus rebus et quibus- 
 dam aliis. The subject, or range of subjects, was beyond her 
 grasp ; and the best that can be said of the book is that a good 
 general impression of the stream of history, lighted up with strik- 
 ing traits of manners and character, may be obtained from it. It 
 would have required the united powers and acquirements of 
 Raleigh, Burke, Gibbon, and Voltaire to fill so vast a canvas 
 
136 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 with appropriate groups and figures ; and she is more open to 
 blame for the ambitious conception of the work than for her com- 
 parative failure in the execution. Some slight misgiving is be- 
 trayed in the Preface : — 
 
 " If I should have made improper choice of facts, and if I 
 should be found at length most to resemble Maister Fabyan of old, 
 who, writing the Life of Henry V., lays heaviest stress on a new 
 weathercock set up on St. Paul's steeple during that eventful 
 reign, my book must share the fate of his, and be like that for- 
 gotten ; reminding before its death perhaps a friend or two of a 
 poor man (Macbean) living in later times, that Doctor Johnson 
 used to tell us of; who being advised to take subscriptions for a 
 new Geographical Dictionary, hastened to Bolt Court and begged 
 advice. There having listened carefully for half an hour, ' Ah, 
 but dear Sir,' exclaimed the admiring parasite, ' if I am to make 
 all this eloquent ado about Athens and Rome, where shall we find 
 place, do you think, for Richmond, or Aix la Chapelle ? ' " 
 
 The following letter, copied from an autograph book, relates 
 
 principally to this book : — 
 
 " No. 5 Henrietta Street, Bath. 
 15th Dec. 1802. 
 
 " A thousand thanks, dear Sir, for the very agreeable letter 
 which followed me here yesterday, and how good-natured it was 
 in you to copy over what you justly conceived would give me so 
 much pleasure. 
 
 " Our spirited young friend, my partial panegyrist, seems likely 
 to succeed in any walk of literature where elegance of style and 
 power of language are required. Sorry am I to say, that readers 
 of the present day find such charms nearly superfluous. They 
 turn over leaf after leaf, in search of mere story, and if that pos- 
 sesses some new entanglement of intrigue, or untasted spring of 
 sorrow, few care how the narrative is told : hence the deluge of 
 words, oddly coined, and forced into our literary currency, to the 
 no small degradation of language — a misfortune the reviewers 
 contribute not to cure. 
 
 "The ' Gentleman's Magazine for June, 1801, contained my 
 answer to such critics as confined themselves to faults I could 
 have helped committing, — had they been faults. Those who 
 
"RETROSPECTION'." 137 
 
 merely told disagreeable truths concerning my person, or dress, 
 or age, or such stuff, expected of course, no reply. There are 
 innumerable press errors in the book, from my being obliged to 
 print on new year's day, — during an insurrection of the printers. 
 These the ' Critical Review ' laid hold of with an acuteness 
 sharpened by malignity. But if the lady who has done me so 
 much honor by wishing, however imprudently, to enter on my 
 defence, will confide her copy of ' Retrospection ' to my care, I 
 will correct it very neatly for her with my own hand, and add 
 some notes which may contribute to her amusement. 
 
 " Mr. Piozzi says he will go back to Wales through your 
 town, and give me an opportunity of conversing with you and 
 with her, — a pleasure exceedingly desired by dear Doctor 
 Thackeray's 
 
 Ever obliged and faithful 
 
 H. L. Piozzi. 
 
 " Receive my husband's best regards, and present mine to my 
 kind and charming friend." 
 
 Moore, who was staying at Bowood, sets down in his diary 
 for April, 1823 : u Lord L. in the evening quoted a ridiculous 
 passage from the Preface to Mrs. Piozzi's 'Retrospections,' in 
 which, anticipating the ultimate perfection of the human race, 
 she says she does not despair of the time arriving when 4 Vice 
 will take refuge in the arms of impossibility.' Mentioned also 
 an ode of hers to Posterity, beginning, ' Posterity, gregarious 
 dame,' the only meaning of which must be, a lady chez qui num- 
 bers assemble, — a lady at home" * 
 
 Moore must have mistaken the reference ; for there is no such 
 passage in the Preface to " Retrospection." As to the ode, 
 which I have been unable to discover, surely the term " gre- 
 garious," used in an ironical sense, is not ill-adapted to Posterity. 
 
 rt I repeated," adds Moore, " what Jekyll told the other day of 
 Bearcroft saying to Mrs. Piozzi, when Thrale, after she had re- 
 peatedly called him Mr. Beercraft : ' Beercraft is not my name, 
 Madam ; it may be your trade, but it is not my name.' It may 
 always be questioned whether this offensive description of rep- 
 
 * Memoirs, &c, Vol. IV. p. 38. 
 
138 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 artee was really uttered at the time. But Bearcroft was capable 
 of it. He began his cross-examination of Mr. Vansittart by, 
 4 With your leave, Sir, I will call you Mr. Van for shortness.' 
 ' As you please, Sir, and I will call you Mr. Bear.' " 
 
 Towards the end of 1795, Mrs. Piozzi left Streatham for her 
 seat in North Wales, where (1800 or 1801) she was visited by a 
 young nobleman, now an eminent statesman, distinguished by his 
 love of literature and the fine arts, who has been good enough to 
 recall and write down his impressions of her for me : — 
 
 " I did certainly know Madame Piozzi, but had no habits of 
 acquaintance with her, and she never lived in London to my 
 knowledge. When in my youth I made a tour in Wales — 
 times when all inns were bad, and all houses hospitable — I put 
 up for a day at her house, I think in Denbighshire, the proper 
 name of which was Bryn, and to which, on the occasion of her mar- 
 riage, I was told, she had recently added the name of Bella. I 
 remember her taking me into her bedroom to show me the floor 
 covered with folios, quartos, and octavos, for consultation, and in- 
 dicating the labor she had gone through in compiling an immense 
 volume she was then publishing called " Retrospection." She 
 was certainly what was called, and is still called, blue, and that 
 of a deep tint, but good-humored and lively, though affected; 
 her husband, a quiet, civil man, with his head full of nothing 
 but music. 
 
 " I afterwards called on her at Bath, where she chiefly resided. 
 I remember it was at the time Madame de StaeTs ' Delphine ' 
 and ' Corinne ' came out*, and that we agreed in preferring 
 ' Delphine/ which nobody reads now, to ' Corinne,' which most 
 people read then, and a few do still. She rather avoided talk- 
 ing of Johnson. These are trifles, not worth recording, but I 
 have put them down that you might not think me neglectful 
 of your wishes ; but now fai vuide mon sac." 
 
 Her mode of passing her time when she had ceased writing 
 books, with the topics which interested her, will be best learnt 
 from her letters. Her vivacity never left her, and the elasticity 
 of her spirits bore up against every description of depression. 
 Writing of a visit to Wynnstay in January, 1803, she says, ' That 
 
 * " Delphine " appeared in 1804; " Corinne," in 1806. 
 
HER HABITS AND SPIRITS. 139 
 
 she arrived like an owl in the dark, and found the house a per- 
 fect warren of boys and girls, with their pa's and ma's, twelve 
 Cunliffs, five boys and five girls, who with parent birds are most 
 charming. Here I staid ten days, and ten more would have 
 killed me." 
 
 It would seem that she had adopted Dr. Johnson's theory of 
 dress for little women by this time, for a lady who met her on 
 the way describes her as " skipping about like a kid, quite a 
 figure of fun, in a tiger-skin shawl, lined with scarlet, and only 
 five colors upon her head-dress, — on the top of a flaxen wig a 
 bandeau of blue velvet, a bit of tiger ribbon, a white beaver hat 
 and plume of black feathers, — as gay as a lark." 
 
 In a letter (dated Jan. 1799) to a Welsh neighbor, Mrs. 
 Piozzi says : — 
 
 " Mr. Piozzi has lost considerably in purse, by the cruel in- 
 roads of the French in Italy, and of all his family driven from 
 their quiet homes, has at length with difficulty saved one little 
 boy, who is now just turned of five years old. We have got him 
 here (Bath) since I wrote last, and his uncle will take him to 
 school next week ; for as our John has nothing but his talents 
 and education to depend upon, he must be a scholar, and we 
 will try hard to make him a very good one. 
 
 " My poor little boy from Lombardy said as I walked him 
 across our market, ' These are sheeps' heads, are they not, aunt ? 
 I saw a basket of men's heads at Brescia.' 
 
 "As he was by a lucky chance baptized, in compliment to me, 
 John Salusbury, five years ago, when happier days smiled on his 
 family, he will be known in England by no other, and it will be 
 forgotten he is a foreigner. A lucky circumstance for one who 
 is intended to work his way among our islanders by talent, dili- 
 gence, and education." 
 
 She thus mentions this event in " Thraliana," January 17th, 
 1798:-^- 
 
 " Italy is ruined and England threatened. I have sent for one 
 little boy from among my husband's nephews. He was chris- 
 tened John Salusbury : he shall be naturalized, and then we will 
 see whether he will be more grateful and natural and comfortable 
 than Miss Thrales have been to the mother they have at length 
 driven to desperation." 
 
140 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 She could hardly have denied her husband the satisfaction of 
 rescuing a single member of his family from the wreck ; and 
 they were bound to provide handsomely for the child of their 
 adoption. Whether she carried the sentiment too far, in giving 
 him the entire estate (not a large one) is a very different ques- 
 tion, on which she enters fearlessly in one of the fragments of 
 the Autobiography. In a marginal note on one of the printed 
 letters in which Johnson writes : " Mrs. Davenant says you re- 
 gain your health," — she remarks : " Mrs. Davenant neither 
 knew nor cared, as she wanted her brother Harry Cotton to 
 marry Lady Keith, and I offered my estate with her. Miss 
 Thrale said she wished to have nothing to do either with my 
 family or my fortune. They were all cruel and all insulting." 
 These fits of irritation and despondency never lasted long. 
 
 Her mode of bringing up her adopted nephew was more in 
 accordance with her ultimate liberality, than with her early inten- 
 tions or professions of teaching him to " work his way among our 
 islanders." Instead of suffering him to travel to and from the 
 University by coach, she insisted on his travelling post ; and she 
 remarked to the mother of a Welsh baronet, who was similarly 
 anxious for the comfort and dignity of her heir, " Other peo- 
 ple's children are baked in coarse common pie-dishes, ours in 
 patty-pans." 
 
 Before she died she had the satisfaction of seeing him sheriff 
 of his county ; and on carrying up an address in that capacity, 
 he was knighted and became Sir John Salusbury Piozzi Salus- 
 bury. Miss Williams Wynn has preserved a somewhat apocry- 
 phal anecdote of his disinterestedness : — 
 
 " When I read her (Mrs. P.'s) lamentations over her poverty, 
 I could not help believing that Sir J. Salusbury had proved un- 
 grateful to his benefactress. For the honor of human nature I 
 rejoice to find this is not the case. When he made known to his 
 aunt his wish to marry, she promised to make over to him the 
 property of Brynbella. Even before the marriage was concluded 
 she had distressed herself by her lavish expenditure at Streat- 
 ham. I saw by the letters that Gillow's bill amounted to near 
 £2,400, and Mr. (the late Sir John) Williams tells me she had 
 continually very large parties from London. Sir John Salusbury 
 
HER DISREGARD OF MONEY. 141 
 
 then came to her, offered to relinquish all her promised gifts and 
 the dearest wish of his heart, saying he should be most grateful 
 to her if she would only give him a commission in the army and 
 let him seek his fortune. At the same time he added that he 
 made this offer because all was still in his power, but that from 
 the moment he married, she must be aware that it would be no 
 longer so, that he should not feel himself justified in bringing a 
 wife into distress of circumstances, nor in entailing poverty on 
 children unborn.* She refused ; he married ; and she went on 
 in her course of extravagance. She had left herself a life in- 
 come only, and large as it was, no tradesman would wait a rea- 
 sonable time for payment ; she was nearly eighty ; and they knew 
 that at her death nothing would be left to pay her debts, and so 
 they seized the goods." 
 
 When Fielding, the novelist, rather boastingly avowed that he 
 never knew, and believed he never should know, the difference 
 between a shilling and sixpence, he was told: "Yes, the time 
 will come when you will ^now it, — when you have only eighteen 
 pence left." If the author of " Tom Jones " could not be taught 
 the value of money, we must not be too hard on Mrs. Piozzi for 
 not learning it, after lesson upon lesson in the hard school of 
 " impecuniosity." Whilst Piozzi lived, her affairs were faithfully 
 and carefully administered. Although they built Brynbella, 
 spent a good deal of money on Streatham, and lived handsomely, 
 they never wanted money. He had a moderate fortune, the 
 produce of his professional labors, and left it, neither impaired 
 nor materially increased, to his family. 
 
 There is hardly a family of note or standing within visiting 
 distance of their place, that has not some tradition or reminis- 
 cence to relate concerning them ; and all agree in describing 
 him as a worthy, good sort of man, obliging, inoffensive, kind to 
 the poor, principally remarkable for his devotion to music, and 
 utterly unable to his dying day to familiarize himself with the 
 English language or manners. It is told of him, that being re- 
 quired to pay a turnpike toll near the house of a country neigh- 
 bor whom he was on his way to visit, he took it for granted that 
 
 * If the estate was settled in the usual manner, he would have only a life 
 estate: and I believe it was so settled. 
 
142 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 the toll went into his neighbor's pocket, and proposed setting up 
 a gate near Brynbella with the view of levying toll in his tarn. 
 
 " Amongst the company," says Moore, " was Mrs. John Kem- 
 ble. She mentioned an anecdote of Piozzi, who, upon calling 
 upon some old lady of quality, was told by the servant, she was 
 ' indifferent.' ' Is she indeed ? ' answered Piozzi huffishly, ' then 
 pray tell her I can be as indifferent as she ; ' and walked away." * 
 
 Till he was disabled by the gout, his principal occupation was 
 his violin, and the existing superstition of the country is that his 
 spirit, playing on his favorite instrument, still haunts one wing 
 of Brynbella. If he designed the building, his architectural taste 
 does not merit the praises she lavishes on it. The exterior is 
 not prepossessing ; but there is a look of comfort about the house ; 
 the interior is well arranged : the situation, which commands a 
 fine and extensive view of the upper part of the valley of the 
 Cly wd, is admirably chosen ; the garden and grounds are well 
 laid out ; and the walks through the woods on either side, espe- 
 cially one called the Lovers' Walk, are remarkably picturesque. 
 Altogether, Brynbella may be fairly held to merit the appella- 
 tion of a " pretty villa." The name implies a compliment to 
 Piozzi's country as well as to his taste ; for she meant it to typify 
 the union between Wales and Italy in his and her own proper 
 persons. 
 
 Dr. Burney, in a letter to his daughter, thus describes the po- 
 sition and feelings of the couple towards each other in 1808 : — 
 
 " During my invalidity at Bath, I had an unexpected visit 
 from your Streatham friend, of whom I had lost sight for more 
 than ten years. She still looks very well, but is graver, and can- 
 dor itself; though she still says good things, and writes admi- 
 rable notes and letters, I am told, to my granddaughters C. and 
 M. of whom she is very fond. We shook hands very cordially, 
 and avoided any allusion to our long separation and its cause. The 
 caro sposo still lives, but is such an object from the gout that the 
 account of his sufferings made me pity him sincerely ; he wished, 
 she told me, i to see his old and worthy friend,' and un beau ma- 
 tin I could not refuse compliance with his wish. She nurses him 
 
 * Moore's Memoirs, Vol. IV. p. 329. 
 
CONWAY. 143 
 
 with great affection and tenderness, never goes out or has com- 
 pany when he is in pain." 
 
 Piozzi died of gout at Brynbella in March, 1809, and was 
 buried in a vault constructed by her desire in Drymerchion 
 Church. There is a portrait of him (period and painter un- 
 known) still preserved amongst the family portraits at Brynbella. 
 It is that of a good-looking man of about forty, in a straight-cut 
 brown coat with metal buttons, lace frill and ruffles, and some 
 leaves of music in his hand. There are also two likenesses of 
 Mrs. Piozzi ; one a half-length (kit-kat) taken apparently when 
 she was about forty ; the other a miniature of her at an advanced 
 age. Both confirm her description of herself as being too strong- 
 featured to be pretty. The hands in the half-length are gloved. 
 
 Brynbella continued her headquarters till 1814, when she gave 
 it up to Sir John Salusbury. From that period she resided prin- 
 cipally at Bath and Clifton, occasionally visiting Streatham or 
 making summer trips to the seaside. Her way of life after Pi- 
 ozzi's death may be collected from the letters, with the exception 
 of one strange episode towards the end. When nearly eighty, 
 she took a fancy for an actor named Conway, who came out on 
 the London boards in 1813, and had the honor of acting Romeo 
 and Jaffier to the Juliet and Belvidera of Miss O'jSTeill (Lady 
 Becher). He also acted with her in Dean Milman's fine play, 
 " Fazio." But it was his ill fate to reverse Churchill's famous 
 lines : — 
 
 M Before such merits all objections fly, 
 Pritchard 's genteel, and Garrick 's six feet high." 
 
 Conway was six feet high, and a very handsome man to boot ; 
 but his advantages were purely physical ; not a spark of genius 
 animated his fine features and commanding figure, and he was 
 battling for a moderate share of provincial celebrity, when Mrs. 
 Piozzi fell in with him at Bath. It has been rumored in Flint- 
 shire that she wished to marry him, and offered Sir John Salus- 
 bury a large sum in ready money (which she never possessed) 
 to give up Brynbella (which he could not give up), that she 
 might settle it on the new object of her affections. But none of 
 the letters or documents that have fallen in my way afford even 
 
144 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 plausibility to the rumor, and some of the testamentary papers in 
 which his name occurs go far towards discrediting the belief that 
 her attachment ever went beyond admiration and friendship, ex- 
 pressed in exaggerated terms. 
 
 Conway threw himself overboard and was drowned in a voyage 
 from New York to Charleston in 1828. His effects were sold at 
 New York, and amongst them a copy of the folio edition of 
 Young's " Night Thoughts," in which he had made a note of its 
 having been presented to him by his " dearly attached friend, the 
 celebrated Mrs. Piozzi." In the preface to "Love Letters of 
 Mrs. Piozzi, Written when she was Eighty, to William Augustus 
 Conway," published in London in 1842, it is stated that the 
 originals, seven in number, were purchased by an American 
 " lady," who permitted a " gentleman " to take copies and use 
 them as he might think fit. What this " gentleman " thought fit, 
 was to publish them with a catchpenny title and an alleged 
 extract by way of motto to sanction it. The genuineness of the 
 letters is doubtful, and the interpolation of three or four sentences 
 would alter their entire tenor. But taken as they stand, their 
 language is not warmer than an old woman of vivid fancy and 
 sensibility might have deemed warranted by her age. Uage rCa 
 point de sexe ; and no one thought the worse of Madame Du Def- 
 fand for the impassioned tone in which she addressed Horace 
 Walpole, whose dread of ridicule induced him to make a most 
 ungrateful return to her fondness. Years before the formation 
 of this acquaintance, Mrs. Piozzi had acquired the difficult art of 
 growing old ; je sais vieillir : she dwells frequently but naturally 
 on her age ; she contemplates the approach of death with firm- 
 ness and without self-deception ; and her elasticity of spirit never 
 for a moment suggests the image of an antiquated coquette. Of 
 the seven letters in question, the one cited as most comproi ■■■* 
 " : the sixth, in which Conway is exhorted to bear patient^ 
 . ouff he had just received from some younger beauty : — - 
 " 'T is not a year and quarter since dear Conway, accepting 
 of my portrait sent to Birmingham, said to the bringer, i O, if 
 your lady but retains her friendship : O, if I can but keep her 
 patronage, I care not for the rest.' And now, when that friend- 
 ship follows you through sickness and through sorrow ; now that 
 
CONWAY. 145 
 
 her patronage is daily rising in importance : upon a lock of hair 
 given or refused by une petite Traitresse, hangs all the happiness 
 of my once high-spirited and high-blooded friend. Let it not be 
 so. Exalt thy Loye : Dejected Heart, — and rise superior 
 to such narrow minds. Do not however fancy she will ever be 
 punished in the way you mention : no, no ; she '11 wither on the 
 thorny stem, dropping the faded and ungathered leaves ; — a 
 China rose, of no good scent or flavor, — false in apparent sweet- 
 ness, deceitful when depended on, — unlike the flower produced 
 in colder climates, which is sought for in old age, preserved even 
 after death, a lasting and an elegant perfume, — a medicine, too, 
 for those whose shattered nerves require astringent remedies. 
 
 " And now, dear Sir, let me request of you to love yourself, 
 and to reflect on the necessity of not dwelling on any particu- 
 lar subject too long, or too intensely. It is really very dangerous 
 to the health of body and soul. Besides that our time here is 
 but short ; a mere preface to the great book of eternity ; and 
 't is scarce worthy of a reasonable being not to keep the end of 
 human existence so far in view that we may tend to it, — either 
 directly or obliquely in every step. This is preaching, — but re- 
 member how the sermon is written at three, four, and five o'clock 
 by an octogenary pen, — a heart (as Mrs. Lee says) twenty-six 
 years old : and as H. L. P. feels it to be, — All Your Oavx. 
 Suffer your dear noble self to be in some measure benefited by 
 the talents which are left me; your health to be restored by 
 soothing consolations while / remain here, and am able to bestow 
 them. All is not lost yet. You have a friend, and that friend is 
 
 PlOZZI." 
 
 Conway's " high blood " was as great a recommendation to 
 Mrs. Piozzi as his good looks, and he vindicated his claim to 
 noble descent by his conduct, which was disinterested and gentle- 
 manlike throughout. 
 
 Moore sets down in his Diary, April 28, 1819 : " Breakfasted 
 with the Fitzgeralds. Took me to call on Mrs. Piozzi ; a won- 
 derful old lady ; faces of other times seemed to crowd over her 
 as she sat, — the Johnsons, Reynoldses, &c, &c* : though turned 
 eighty, she has all the quickness and intelligence of a gay young 
 woman." 
 
 7 
 
146 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 One of the most characteristic feats or freaks of this extraor- 
 dinary woman was the celebration of her eightieth birthday by 
 a concert, ball, and supper, to between six and seven hundred 
 people, at the Kingston Rooms, Bath, on the 27th January, 
 1820. At the conclusion of the supper, her health was proposed 
 by Admiral Sir James Sausmarez, and drunk with three times 
 three. The dancing began at two, when she led off with her 
 adopted son, Sir John Salusbury, dancing (according to the 
 author of " Piozziana," an eyewitness) * with astonishing elas- 
 ticity, and with all the true air of dignity which might have 
 been expected of one of the best-bred females in society." 
 
 When fears were expressed that she had done too much, she 
 replied, " No ; this sort of thing is greatly in the mind ; and I 
 am almost tempted to say the same of growing old at all, espe- 
 cially as it regards those of the usual concomitants of age, viz. 
 laziness, defective sight, and ill-temper." 
 
 " So far from feeling fatigued or exhausted on the following 
 day by her exertions," remarks Sir James Fellowes, in a note on 
 this event, " she amused us by her sallies of wit and her jokes 
 on ; Tully's Offices/ of which her guests had so eagerly availed 
 themselves." Tully was the cook and confectioner, the Bath 
 Grunter, who provided the supper. 
 
 Mrs. Piozzi died in May, 1821. Her death is circumstantially 
 communicated in the following letter ; — 
 
 " Hot Wells, May 6th, 1821. 
 
 " Dear Miss Willoughby, — It is my painful task to com- 
 municate to you, who have so lately been the kind associate of 
 dearest Mrs. Piozzi, the irreparable loss we have all sustained in 
 that incomparable woman and beloved friend. 
 
 " She closed her various life about nine o'clock on Wednesday, 
 after an illness of ten days, with as little suffering as could be 
 imagined under these awful circumstances. Her bedside was 
 surrounded by her weeping daughters: Lady Keith and Mrs. 
 Hoare arrived in time to be fully recognized ; Miss Thrale, who 
 was absent from town, only just before she expired, but with the 
 satisfaction of seeing her breathe her last in peace. 
 
 " Nothing could behave with more tenderness and propriety 
 
HER DEATH. 147 
 
 than these ladies, whose conduct, I am convinced, has been much 
 misrepresented and calumniated by those who have only attended 
 to one side of the history ; but may all that is past be now buried 
 in oblivion ! Retrospection seldom improves our view of any 
 subject. Sir John Salusbury was too distant, the close of her 
 illness being so rapid, for us to entertain any expectation of his 
 arriving in time to see the dear deceased. 
 
 " He only reached Clifton late last night. I have not yet seen 
 him ; my whole time has been devoted to the afflicted ladies. 
 To you, who so well know my devoted attachment to Mrs. Piozzi, 
 it is quite superfluous to speak of my own feelings, which I well 
 know will become more acute, as the present hurry of business, in 
 which we are all engaged, and the extreme bodily fatigue I have 
 undergone, producing a sort of stupor in my mind, subsides. A 
 scheme of rational happiness founded on dear Mrs. Piozzi's in- 
 tentions of residing at Clifton, which I had too fondly, and per- 
 haps foolishly, indulged, her great age being considered, is all 
 overthrown, and a sad and aching void will usurp the place ; but 
 God's will be done ! A few years more, from the apparently ex- 
 traordinary vigor of her constitution, I had hoped to enjoy in her 
 enchanting society ; these will now be passed in regret ; but they 
 will also soon pass away, and all regrets will cease with me, as 
 with the beloved being I must ever lament. You will probably 
 see in the papers the last tribute I could render her of my true 
 regard. It is highly appreciated, and warmly approved by her 
 daughters, the most acceptable praise that can reach the heart of 
 " Dear Miss Willoughby's obedient humble servant, 
 
 " P. S. Pennington. 
 
 " I am fatigued to death with writing, but feel a solace in ad- 
 dressing you. Probably you will suppose the accident to the leg 
 was the cause of this sudden catastrophe ? Not at all ; it was 
 perfectly cured, and the manner in which it healed, contrary to 
 all expectation, was considered a proof — a fallacious one it 
 turned out — of the purity and strength of her constitution. In- 
 flammation in the intestines, over which medicine had no power, 
 was the cause of her death. The accident to the leg, which in 
 a younger subject might have produced great alarm, excited 
 none." 
 
148 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 Mrs. Pennington* told a friend that Mrs. Piozzi's last words 
 were : " I die in the trust and the fear of God." When she was 
 attended by Sir George Gibbes, being unable to articulate, she 
 traced a coffin in the air with her hands and lay calm. Her will 
 and testamentary papers may help to clear up some disputed 
 points in her biography. 
 
 The Will of Hester Lynch Piozzi, dated the 29th day of 
 March, 1816, makes Sir John Salusbury Piozzi Salusbury heir 
 to all her real and personal property with the exception of the 
 following bequests : — 
 
 " To Sir James Fellowes, Two Hundred Pounds ; to Mr. Alex- 
 ander Leak, One Hundred Pounds ; to his Son, Alexander Piozzi 
 Leak, One Hundred Pounds ; and to my maid-servant, Elizabeth 
 Jones, One Hundred Pounds. 
 
 " Moreover, I do hereby make it my Request to the aforemen- 
 tioned Sir James Fellowes, that he will permit me to join his name 
 with that of the aforesaid John Salusbury Piozzi Salusbury in the 
 execution of these my settled purposes, and that they will cause 
 to be duly paid my few debts and legacies, and that they will be 
 careful to commit my body (wheresoever I may die) to the vault 
 constructed for our remains by my second husband, Gabriel Pi- 
 ozzi, in Dymerchion Church, Flintshire. 
 
 a And I do hereby nominate, constitute, and appoint the afore- 
 said Sir James Fellowes, and the aforesaid John Salusbury Piozzi 
 Salusbury, Joint Executors of this my last Will and Testament, 
 hereby revoking all former Wills by me made at any time. 
 
 " (Signed) Hester Lynch Piozzi. 
 
 " In the presence of/' &c. 
 
 " The last Will and Testament of Hester Lynch Piozzi was 
 this day opened by us at No. 36 Crescent, Clifton, in the pres- 
 ence of Viscountess Keith, Mr. and Mrs. Merrick Hoare, and 
 Miss Thrale. 
 
 "John Salusbury Piozzi Salusbury, 
 
 " James Fellowes." 
 
 " Sunday, 6th May, 1821." 
 
 * Frequently mentioned in Miss Seward's Correspondence as the beautiful 
 and agreeable Sophia Weston. 
 
HER WILL. 149 
 
 u Memorandum. — After I had read the Will, Lady Keith and 
 her two sisters present, said they had long been prepared for the 
 contents and for such a disposition of the property, and they ac- 
 knowledged the validity of the Will. 
 
 " James Felloyves." 
 
 " Copy of a Letter of Requests of the late Mrs. Piozzi, dated 
 Weston-Super-Mare, Monday, October 18th, 1819. 
 
 "My Dear Friends and Executors, — This is a Letter of 
 Requests ; not formally attested, but I should suppose you would 
 nevertheless hold it sacred ; as I only forbear making it a Codicil 
 from a notion of disturbing a testamentary disposition so favora- 
 ble to Sir John Salusbury by any awkward additions. It is then 
 my request that if you find a gold repeating watch in my posses- 
 sion, you send it to William Augustus Conway, Esq., for whom, 
 I bought it ; his name inside. 
 
 "If you find a Viner's patent alarum, give it to George Angelo 
 Bell, for whom I bought it ; his name is inside. My mother's 
 portrait, by Zoffany, should go to Lady Keith, who alone of my 
 family can remember her ; Mr. Thrale's picture to his daughter 
 who still bears his name. Sir James Fellowes has often promised 
 me his assistance ; I hope he will not at the last moment deny the 
 requests of a friend he was once so partial to. I hope Sir John 
 Salusbury will not consider these trifles — and my clothes to 
 Elizabeth Bell — as any sensible diminution of what he will 
 obtain as residuary legatee to his affectionate aunt, 
 
 "{Signed) Hester Lynch Piozzi." 
 
 Copy of a note found with the Will of the late Mrs. Piozzi : — 
 
 " Penzance, 10th October, 1820. 
 
 " My dear Gentlemen, — Feeling unwell this evening, and 
 full of apprehensions that I shall die before we meet again ; I 
 beg leave to request your care of a little red box deposited in my 
 hands by Mr. Conway, last March or April; it has his name 
 engraved in brass upon the top, as I received it, Miss Williams 
 being witness ; and I wrote William Augustus Conway on the 
 bottom, to assure him I would keep it safe. The contents are (as 
 he told me) of value to him, — letters, papers, &c. Pray be at- 
 
150 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 tentive to them, and give him his box again untouched, as you 
 value your own honor and that of your poor departed friend, 
 "{Signed) Hester Lynch Piozzi." 
 
 a Sir, — As one of the Executors of my late revered friend 
 Mrs. Piozzi, I take the liberty of placing in your hands the ac- 
 companying draft (for £100), which was presented to me by that 
 lady only two days before her death. I am very ready to ac- 
 knowledge the acceptance of many acts of kindness during her 
 life, but must decline appropriating to myself what I consider 
 a posthumous benefaction, which more properly belongs to her 
 heirs. Be good enough to dispose of the same as you may deem 
 right. 
 
 " I have the honor to be, &c. 
 
 "W. A. Conway. 
 
 * Bath, May 7th, 1821." 
 
 " York Hotel, May 8th, 1821. 
 
 " Sir James Fellowes presents his compliments to Mr. Conway 
 and begs to acknowledge the receipt of his letter of yesterday, 
 with its enclosure. 
 
 " Sir James hopes that Mr. Conway will be assured of his 
 readiness to do justice to his feelings and to appreciate as he 
 ought the handsome manner in which they have been expressed 
 on the loss of so sincere a friend as the lamented Mrs. Piozzi. 
 
 " Sir James Fellowes will be under the painful necessity of re- 
 turning to Clifton to-morrow, and will then consult with Sir John 
 Salusbury and the relatives of the family, on the subject of Mr. 
 Conway's letter." 
 
 The following correspondence was also found amongst the tes- 
 tamentary papers : — 
 
 " 2 Upper Baker Street, 
 f May 23d, 1821. 
 
 " Sir, — I will not trouble you with apologies for this intru- 
 sion by an entire stranger to you, since I am well persuaded that 
 I am writing to a gentleman and a man of honor, whose feelings 
 will not only plead my excuse, but also advocate my request. I 
 am informed that the papers and letters of my inestimable and 
 lamented friend, Mrs. Piozzi, are deposited in your hands, and I 
 
MRS. SIDDONS. 151 
 
 beg as a favor, that you will have the goodness to return mine to 
 
 me ! In the full assurance that you will kindly grant it, I have 
 
 the honor to be, Sir, your 
 
 " Most obedient servant. 
 
 " S. Siddons. 
 " Sir James Fellowes, Bart., at his house, 
 " near Newbury, Berkshire." 
 
 " Adbury House, near Newbury, 
 " May 28th, 1821. 
 
 " Madam, — I beg to acknowledge your letter dated the 23d, 
 and which only reached me to-day. 
 
 " Sir John Salusbury and myself were left joint executors, by 
 my incomparable and lamented friend, Mrs. Piozzi. The whole 
 of her valuable papers are consigned to our care, and I hope 
 soon to be able to arrange them. For the present they are 
 sealed up at Bath, but I shall take the earliest opportunity of 
 informing Sir John, when we meet, of your request, and I am 
 persuaded he will be desirous of partaking with me the pleasure 
 of attending to any wish expressed by Mrs. Siddons. I have the 
 honor to be, Madam, with great respect, your most obedient 
 servant, 
 
 " James Fellowes. 
 
 " To Mrs. Siddons." 
 
 One of her letters has been retained, and no one can be hurt 
 by its being printed. 
 
 (No date ; postmark, Paddington, April 24, 1815.) 
 
 "My dear Friend, — You were always kind and good to 
 me, and I thank you most sincerely for this last proof of your 
 affection. My affliction is deep indeed, but I do not sorrow as 
 those who have no hope. I doubt not that Almighty wisdom 
 and goodness orders all things for the ultimate happiness of his 
 servants ; and my grief for the loss of my dear and ever dutiful 
 and affectionate son is greatly alleviated in the humble hope that 
 his exemplary virtues will find acceptance at the Throne of 
 Mercy, through the mediation of our blessed Saviour. This 
 third stroke has nevertheless sadly shaken me. ' I cannot but 
 remember such things were, and were most precious to me.' 
 
152 LIFE AXD WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 " So strange and unlooked for are all things around us, that 
 the only good thing we can reckon upon with any certainty in 
 this world, is that one is far advanced upon one's journey to a 
 better. Lara, my dear friend, 
 
 " Your faithfully affectionate 
 
 " S. Siddons. 
 " To Mrs. Piozzi, Bath." 
 
 In any endeavor to solve the difficult problem of Mrs. Piozzi's 
 conduct and character, it should be kept in view that the highest 
 testimony to her worth has been volunteered by those with whom 
 she passed the last years of her life in the closest intimacy. She 
 had become completely reconciled to Madame D'Arblay, with 
 whom she was actively corresponding when she died, and her 
 mixed qualities of head and heart are thus summed up in that 
 lady's Diary, May, 1821 : — 
 
 " I have lost now, just lost, my once most dear, intimate, and 
 admired friend, Mrs. Thrale Piozzi, who preserved her fine fac- 
 ulties, her imagination, her intelligence, her powers of allusion 
 and citation, her extraordinary memory, and her almost unex- 
 ampled vivacity, to the last of her existence. She was in her 
 eighty-second year, and yet owed not her death to age nor to 
 natural decay, but to the effects of a fall in a journey from Pen- 
 zance to Clifton. On her eightieth birthday she gave a great 
 ball, concert, and supper, in the public rooms at Bath, to upwards 
 of two hundred persons, and the ball she opened herself. She 
 was, in truth, a most wonderful character for talents and eccen- 
 tricity, for wit, genius, generosity, spirit, and powers of entertain- 
 ment. 
 
 " She had a great deal both of good and not good, in common 
 with Madame de Stael Holstein. They had the same sort of 
 highly superior intellect, the same depth of learning, the same 
 general acquaintance with science, the same ardent love of litera- 
 ture, the same thirst for universal knowledge, and the same buoy- 
 ant animal spirits, such as neither sickness, sorrow, nor even 
 terror, could subdue. Their conversation was equally luminous, 
 from the sources of their own fertile minds, and from their splen- 
 did acquisitions from the works and acquirements of others. 
 
MADAME D'ARBLAY. 153 
 
 Both were zealous to serve, liberal to bestow, and graceful to 
 oblige ; and both were truly high-minded in prizing and praising 
 whatever was admirable that came in their way. Neither of 
 them was delicate nor polished, though each was flattering and 
 caressing ; but both had a fund inexhaustible of good-humor, 
 and of sportive gayety, that made their intercourse with those 
 they wished to please attractive, instructive, and delightful ; and 
 though not either of them had the smallest real malevolence in 
 their compositions, neither of them could ever withstand the 
 pleasure of uttering a repartee, let it wound whom it might, even 
 though each would serve the very person they goaded with all 
 the means in their power. Both were kind, charitable, and mu- 
 nificent, and therefore beloved ; both were sarcastic, careless, and 
 daring, and therefore feared. The morality of Madame de Stael 
 was by far the most faulty, but so was the society to which she 
 belonged ; so were the general manners of those by whom she 
 was encircled." 
 
 There is one real point of similarity between Madame de Stael 
 and Mrs Piozzi, which has been omitted in the parallel. Both 
 were treated much in the same manner by the amiable, sensitive, 
 and unsophisticated Fanny Burney. In Feb. 1793, she wrote 
 to her father, then at Paris, to announce her intimacy with a 
 small " colony " of distinguished emigrants settled at Richmond, 
 the cynosure of which was the far-famed daughter of Necker. 
 He writes to caution her, on the strength of a suspicious liaison 
 w r ith M. de Narbonne. She replies by declaring her belief that 
 the charge is a gross calumny. "Indeed, I think you could not 
 spend a day with them and not see that their commerce is that of 
 pure, but exalted and most elegant friendship. I would, never- 
 theless, give the world to avoid being a guest under their roof, 
 now that I have heard even the shadow of such a rumor." 
 
 If Mr. Croker was right,* she was then in her forty-second 
 year ; at all events, no tender, timid, delicate maiden, ready to 
 start at a hint or semblance of impropriety ; and she waived her 
 scruples without hesitation when they stood in the way of her 
 
 * I have heard that an elder daughter of Dr. Burney, who died before the 
 birth of the authoress, was also christened Frances, and that it was the register 
 of her baptism to which Mr. Croker triumphantly appealed. 
 
 7* 
 
154 LIFE AXD WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 intercourse with M. D'Arblay, to whom she was married in July 
 1793, he being then employed in transcribing Madame de StaeTs 
 Essay on the Influence of the Passions. 
 
 As to the proposed parallel, with all due deference to Madame 
 D'Arblay's proved sagacity, aided by her personal knowledge of 
 her two gifted friends, it may be suggested that they presented 
 fewer points of resemblance than any two women of at all corre- 
 sponding celebrity. The superiority in the highest qualities of 
 mind will be awarded without hesitation to the Frenchwoman, 
 although M. Thiers terms her writings the perfection of medioc- 
 rity. She grappled successfully with some of the weightiest and 
 subtlest questions of social and political science ; in criticism, she 
 displayed powers which Schlegel might have envied while he 
 aided their fullest development in her " Germany ; " and her 
 " Corinne " ranks amongst the best of those works of fiction which 
 excel in description, reflection, and sentiment, rather than in 
 pathos, fancy, stirring incident, or artfully contrived plot. But 
 her tone of mind was so essentially and notoriously masculine, 
 that when she asked Talleyrand whether he had read her " Del- 
 phine," he answered, " Non, Madame, mais on m'a dit que nous y 
 sommes tous les deux deguises en femmes."* This was a ma- 
 terial drawback on her agreeability ; in a moment of excited con- 
 sciousness, she exclaimed, that she would give all her fame for the 
 power of fascinating ; and there was no lack of bitterness in her 
 celebrated repartee to the man who, seated between her and 
 Madame Recamier, boasted of being between Wit and Beauty, 
 " Oui, et sans posseder ni Tun ni l'autre." f The view from 
 Richmond Park she called " calme et animee, ce qu'on doit etre, 
 et que je ne suis pas." 
 
 In London she was soon voted a bore by the wits and people 
 
 * " To understand the point of this answer," says Mr. Mackintosh, " it must 
 be known that an old countess is introduced in the novel full of cunning, finess- 
 ing, and trick, who was intended to represent Talleyrand, and Delphine was 
 intended for herself." — Life of Sir James Mackintosh, Vol. II. p. 453. 
 
 t This mot is given to Talleyrand in Lady Holland's Life of Sidney Smith. 
 But it may be traced to one mentioned by Hannah More in 1787, as then current 
 in Paris. One of the notables fresh from his province was teased by two petits 
 maitres to tell them who he was. " Eh bien done, le voici: je suis ni sot ni fat, 
 mais je suis entre les deux." — Memoirs of Hannah More, Vol. II. p. 57. 
 
HER CHARACTER. 155 
 
 of fashion. She thought of convincing whilst they thought of 
 dining. Sheridan and Brummell delighted in mystifying her. 
 Byron complained that she was always talking of himself or her- 
 self,* and concludes his account of a dinner-party by the remark : 
 " But we got up too soon after the women ; and Mrs. Corinne 
 always lingers so long after dinner, that we wish her — in the 
 drawing-room." In another place he says : " I saw Curran pre- 
 sented to Madame de Stael at Mackintosh's ; it was the grand 
 confluence between the Rhone and the Saone, and they were both 
 so d — d ugly that I could not help wondering how the best intel- 
 lects of France and England could have taken up respectively 
 such residences." He afterwards qualifies this opinion : " Her 
 figure was not bad ; her legs tolerable ; her arms good : altogether 
 I can conceive her having been a desirable woman, allowing a 
 little imagination for her soul, and so forth. She would have 
 made a great man." 
 
 This is just what Mrs. Piozzi never would have made. Her 
 mind, despite her masculine acquirements, was thoroughly femi- 
 nine : she had more tact than genius, more sensibility and quick- 
 ness of perception than depth, comprehensiveness, or continuity 
 of thought. But her very discursiveness prevented her from 
 becoming wearisome ; her varied knowledge supplied an inex- 
 haustible store of topics and illustrations ; her lively fancy placed 
 them in attractive lights ; and her mind has been well likened to 
 a kaleidoscope which, whenever its glittering and heterogeneous 
 contents are moved or shaken, surprises by some new combina- 
 tion of color or of form. She professed to write as she talked ; 
 but her conversation was doubtless better than her books ; her 
 main advantages being a well-stored memory, fertility of images, 
 aptness of allusion, and apropos. 
 
 In the course of his famous definition or description of wit, 
 Barrow says : " Sometimes it lieth in pat allusion to a known 
 story, or in seasonable application of a trivial saying : sometimes 
 it playeth in words and phrases, taking advantage from the am- 
 biguity of their sense or the affinity of their sound." If this be 
 so, she possessed it in abundance. In a letter dated Bath, 26th 
 
 * Johnson told Boswell: " You have only two topics, yourself and myself, and 
 I am heartily sick of both." 
 
156 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 April, 1818, — about the time when Talleyrand said of Lady F. 
 S.'s robe : " Elle commence trop tard et jinit trop tot" — she 
 writes : — 
 
 " 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 recom- 
 mend you to see more of her.' ' More of her ! ' exclaimed the 
 lad, ' why, I have seen down to the fifth rib on each side already.' 
 This story will serve to convince Captain T. Fellowes and your- 
 self, 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." 
 
 On the 1st July, 1818 : — 
 
 " The heat has certainly exhausted my faculties, and I have 
 but just life enough left to laugh at the fourteen tailors who, 
 united under a flag with 'Liberty and Independence ' 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:" 
 
 Her piety was genuine ; and old-fashioned politicians, whose 
 watchword is Church and King, will be delighted with her poli- 
 tics. Literary men, considering how many curious inquiries 
 depend upon her accuracy, will be more anxious about her truth- 
 fulness, and I have had ample opportunities of testing it ; having 
 not only been led to compare her statements with those of others, 
 but to collate her own statements of the same transactions or cir- 
 cumstances at distant intervals or to different persons. It is dif- 
 ficult to keep up a large correspondence without frequent repeti- 
 tion. Sir Walter Scott used to write precisely the same things 
 to three or four fine-lady friends, and Mrs. Piozzi could no more 
 be expected to find a fresh budget of news or gossip for each 
 epistle than the author of " Waverley." Thus, in 1815, she 
 writes to a Welsh baronet from Bath : — 
 
 " We have had a fine Dr. Holland here.* He has seen and 
 
 * Sir Henry Holland, Bart., who, with many other titles to distinction, is one 
 of the most active and enterprising of modern travellers. 
 
HER CHARACTER. 157 
 
 written about the Ionian Islands ; and means now to practise as 
 a physician, exchanging the Cyclades, say we wits and wags, for 
 the Sick Ladies. We made quite a lion of the man. I was in- 
 vited to every house he visited at for the last three days ; so I 
 got the Queue du lion despairing of le CozurT 
 
 Two other letters, written about the same time, contain the 
 same piece of intelligence and the same joke. She was very 
 fond of writing marginal notes ; and after annotating one copy of 
 a book, would take up another and do the same.* I have rarely 
 detected a substantial variation in her narratives, even in those 
 which were more or less dictated by pique ; and as she constantly 
 drew upon the " Thraliana " for her materials, this, having been 
 carefully and calmly compiled, affords an additional guaranty for 
 her accuracy. 
 
 She sometimes gives anecdotes about authors. Thus, in the 
 letter just quoted, she says : " Lord Byron protests his wife was 
 a fortune without money, a belle without beauty, and a blue- 
 stocking without either wit or learning." But her literary infor- 
 mation grew scanty as she grew old ; and her opinions of the 
 rising authors are principally valuable as indications of the ob- 
 stacles which nascent reputations must overcome. " Pindar's 
 fine remark respecting the different effects of music on different 
 characters holds equally true of genius : so many as are not de- 
 lighted by it, are disturbed, perplexed, irritated. The beholder 
 either recognizes it as a projected form of his own being, that 
 moves before him with a glory round its head, or recoils from it 
 as a spectre." f The octogenarian critic of the Johnsonian school 
 recoils from " Frankenstein " as from an incarnation of the Evil 
 Spirit : she does not know what to make of the " Tales of My 
 Landlord ; " and she inquires of an Irish acquaintance whether 
 she retained recollection enough of her own country to be enter- 
 tained with " that strange caricature, Castle Back Rent." Con- 
 temporary judgments such as these (not more extravagant than 
 Horace Walpole's) are to the historian of literature what fossil 
 remains are to the geologist. 
 
 * A copy of Boswell's Life of Johnson, annotated by her like Dr, Wellesley's, 
 is in the possession of Mr. Bohn, the eminent publisher. 
 f Coleridge, " Aids to Reflections." 
 
158 LIFE AND WRITINGS OF MRS. PIOZZI. 
 
 Although perhaps no biographical sketch was ever executed, 
 as a. labor of love, without an occasional attack of what Lord 
 Macaulay calls the Lues Boswelliana, or fever of admiration, I 
 hope it is unnecessary for me to say that I am not setting up 
 Mrs. Piozzi as a model letter-writer, or an eminent author, or a 
 pattern of the domestic virtues, or a fitting object of hero or hero- 
 ine worship in any capacity. All I venture to maintain is, that 
 her life and character, if only for the sake of the " associate 
 forms," deserve to be vindicated against unjust reproach, and 
 that she has written many things which are worth snatching from 
 oblivion or preserving from decay. 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 " The circumstances," says Sir James Fellowes, " under which 
 she was induced to write them, were purely accidental. During 
 the last fifty years of her life, she had made a collection of pocket- 
 books, in which it was her constant practice to write down her 
 conversations and anecdotes, as well as her remarks upon the 
 recent publications. They were tied together and carefully pre- 
 served; and on one occasion Mrs. Piozzi, pointing to them, 
 observed to me : ' These you will one day have to look over with 
 Salusbury (my co-executor), together with the ' Thraliana ; ' I 
 have never had courage to open them, but to your honor and 
 joint care I shall leave them." These memoranda would no 
 doubt form a literary curiosity. At the time the conversation 
 took place at Bath on this interesting topic, I urged Mrs. Piozzi 
 to write down some reminiscences of her own times, and some of 
 those amusing anecdotes I had heard her relate, and which have 
 never been published, adding to my request the value they would 
 be to posterity and the obligation conferred upon myself. It was 
 her nature to be grateful for any trifling act of kindness, and as 
 I had the good fortune to possess her friendship and favorable 
 opinion, she indulged my curiosity to learn her history by pre- 
 senting me with this sketch of her life (0, she wrote expressly 
 for me), as the strongest proof (she observed) of her confidence 
 and esteem. These are the facts connected with the ' Autobi- 
 ographical Memoirs.' " 
 
 The author of " Piozziana " says : " I called on her one day, 
 and at an early hour by her desire ; when she showed me a 
 heap of what are termed pocket-books, and said she was sorely 
 
162 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 embarrassed upon a point, upon which she condescended to say- 
 she would take my advice. ' You see in that collection/ she 
 continued, ' a diary of mine of more than fifty years of my life 
 I have scarcely omitted anything which occurred to me during 
 the time I have mentioned. My books contain the conversation 
 of every person of almost every class with whom I have had in- 
 tercourse ; my remarks on what was said ; downright facts and 
 scandalous on dits ; personal portraits and anecdotes of the char- 
 acters concerned ; criticisms on the publications and authors of 
 the day, &c. Now I am approaching the grave, and am agitated 
 by 'doubts as to what I should do, — whether to burn my manu- 
 scripts or to leave them to futurity. Thus far my decision is to 
 destroy my papers. Shall I or shall I not? ' I took the freedom 
 of saying, ' By no means do an act which done cannot be amend- 
 ed ; keep your papers safe from prying eyes, and at least trust 
 them to the discretion of survivors.' " 
 
 The heap of pocket-books must have been a very large heap, 
 for a diary so kept would require at least one a week. " Thra- 
 liana," now in the possession of the Rev. G. A. Salusbury (the 
 eldest son of Sir John Salusbury), is contained in six books, of 
 about 300 pages each, and extends over thirty-two years and a 
 half. The first entry is in these words : " It is many years since 
 Doctor Samuel Johnson advised me to get a little book and 
 write in it all the little anecdotes which might come to my 
 knowledge, all the observations I might make or hear, all the 
 verses never likely to be published, and, in fine, everything that 
 struck me at the time. Mr. Thrale has now treated me with a 
 repository, and provided it with the pompous title of * Thraliana.' 
 I must endeavor to fill it with nonsense new and old. — 15th 
 September, 1776." The last: "30th March, 1809. — Every- 
 thing most dreaded has ensued All is over, and my 
 
 second husband's death is the last thing recorded in my first 
 husband's present. Cruel Death ! " 
 
HER STORY OF HER LIFE. 1G3 
 
 HER STORY OF HER LIFE. 
 
 I heard it asserted once in a mixt company that few men of 
 ever so good a family could recollect, immediately on being chal- 
 lenged, the maiden names of their four great-grandmothers : 
 they were not Welshmen. My father's two grandames were 
 Bridget Percival, daughter to a then Lord Egmont, and Mary 
 Pennant of Downing, great aunt to the great naturalist. My 
 mother claimed Hester Salusbury, heiress of Lleweney Hall, as 
 one of her grandmothers by marriage with Sir Robert Cotton ; 
 Yere Herbert, only daughter of Lord Torington, was the other. 
 
 The Salusbury pedigree is, indeed, perpetually referred to by 
 Pennant in the course of his numerous volumes. It begins, I 
 remember, with Adam de Saltzsburg, son to Alexander, Duke 
 and Prince of Bavaria, who came to England with the Conqueror, 
 and in 1070 had obtained for his valor a faire house in Lanca- 
 shire, still known by name of Saltsbury Court. I showed an 
 abstract of it to the Heralds in office at Saltzbourg, when there ; 
 and they acknowledged me a true descendant of their house, 
 offering me all possible honors, to the triumphant delight of dear 
 Piozzi, for whose amusement alone I pulled out the schedule. 
 You will find a modest allusion to the circumstance in page 283 
 of the Travel Book, 2d volume.* 
 
 Among my immediate ancestors, third, fourth, or fifth, I forget 
 which, from this Father Adam, was Henry Salusbury surnamed 
 the Black ; who having taken three noble Saracens with his own 
 hand in the first Crusade, Coeur de Lion knighted him on the 
 
 * " There is a Benedictine convent seated on the top of a hill above the town 
 (Salzbourg), under which lie its founders and protectors, the old dukes of Bava- 
 ria, which they are happy to shew travellers, with the registered account of their 
 young prince Adam, who came over to our island with William, and gained a 
 settlement. They were pleased when I observed to them that his blood was not 
 yet wholly extinct amongst us." — Observations and Reflections, <fc. This quo- 
 tation is added by the Editor, and all notes and references, not expressly men- 
 tioned as by others, are by him. 
 
164 AUTOBIOGKAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 field, and to the old Bavarian Lion (see " Retrospection," p. 
 116) which adorned his shield, added three crescents for coat 
 armor. On his return the king permitted him to settle, where 
 he married — in Wales. He built Llewenney Hall, naming it 
 Llew, — the Lion, and an ny, — for us ; and set a brazen one 
 upon its highest tower. 
 
 Among our popular Cambrian ballads, is one to the honor of 
 this hero ; still known to the harpers by name of Black Sir 
 Harry. The civil wars of York and Lancaster called into pub- 
 lic notice an immediate descendant of this warrior. His name, 
 which also was Henry, stood recorded on a little obelisk, or rather 
 cippus, by the road-side at Barnet, where the great battle was 
 fought ; so long, that I remember my father taking me out of the 
 carriage to read it when I was quite a child. He had shewn 
 mercy to an enemy on that occasion, who looking on his device 
 or imprese, flung himself at his feet with these words : — 
 
 Sat est prostrasse Leoni. 
 
 Our family have used that Leggenda as motto to the coat armor 
 ever since.* 
 
 I guess not why this man was a Yorkist. The other party 
 was natural to the inhabitants of North Wales, where the proud 
 Duke of Somerset had married a daughter of his to the son of 
 Owen Tudor by the Princess Katherine of France ; another of 
 whose sons, Fychan Tudor de Beraine, married his son to Jasper 
 the Earl of Pembroke's daughter.f These were immediate 
 parents to the father of Katherine de Berayne by Constance 
 d'Aubigne, Dame d'Honneur to Anne de Bretagne. She brought 
 him this one only child, an heiress who was ward to Queen Eliza- 
 beth, and in her fifteenth year married, with her Majesty's con- 
 sent, to Sir John Salusbury,f of Llewenney Hall, eldest of fourteen 
 children. After his demise fair Katherine gave her hand to Sir 
 Richard Clough, the splendid merchant, mentioned in a note to 
 " Retrospection," J whose daughter inherited Bachygraig, and 
 married Roger Salusbury, youngest brother of Sir John, first 
 
 * See " British Synonymy," Vol. II. p. 218. —Mrs. P. 
 f See " Retrospection," Vol. I. p. 446. — Mrs. P. 
 % Vol. II. p. 155. 
 
HER DESCENT. 165 
 
 husband to her mother. He quarrelling with the House of 
 Lleweney, tore down the Lion and set it on his wife's seat called 
 Bachygraig, where it stood, newly gilt by Mr. Piozzi, two years 
 ago (1813). 
 
 My father was lineally descended from this pair, and died pos- 
 sessed of dear old Bachygraig, w T hile Sir John Salusbury's family 
 soon finished in a daughter Hester, who, marrying Sir Robert 
 Cotton of Combermere, gave him, and all her progeny by him, 
 the name of Salusbury Cotton. She was immediate grandame 
 to my dear mother ; and thus in your little friend the two fami- 
 lies remain united. 
 
 Will it amuse you to be told that Katherine de Berayne, after 
 Sir Richard Clough's death, married Maurice Wynne, of Gwydir, 
 whose family and fortune merged in that of the Berties ? He 
 was not, however, her last husband. She wedded Thelwall, of 
 Plasyward, after she was quite an old woman. But the Berayne 
 estate she left to my mother's great-grandfather, as heir to her 
 first husband, Sir John Salusbury of Lleweney. My uncle sold 
 it to Lord Kirkwall's father.* 
 
 But it will bring matters nearer home to tell you that my 
 mother, who had £ 10,000, an excellent fortune in those days, 
 besides an annuity for her mamma's life of £ 125 per annum, 
 who was living gayly with her brother, Sir Robert Salusbury 
 Cotton, and his wife, Lady Betty Tollemache, refused all suitors 
 attracted by her merits and beauty for love of her rakish cousin, 
 John Salusbury of Bachygraig. He, unchecked by care of a 
 father, who died during the infancy of his sons, ran out the estate 
 completely to nothing. So completely that the £ 10,000 would 
 scarcely pay debts and furnish them out a cottage in Caernar- 
 vonshire, where — after two or three dead things — I was born 
 alive, and where they were forced by circumstances to remain, 
 till my grandmother Lucy Salusbury — an exemplary creature 
 — should die, and leave them free at least to mortgage or to sell, 
 
 * Lord Kirkwall sold the property to the Eev. Edward Hughes, whose son, 
 William Lewis Hughes, the present possessor, was created Baron Dinorben, in 
 1831, of Kinmel Park, Denbighshire. The house was burnt down in 1840. — 
 Sir J. F. Lord Dinorben was succeeded in his estates by his nephew, Hugh 
 Kobert Hughes, Esq. 
 
166 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 or to do something towards reinstating themselves in a less un- 
 becoming situation. 
 
 Meanwhile /was their joint plaything, and although education 
 was a word then unknown as applied to females, they had taught 
 me to read and speak and think and translate from the French, 
 till I was half a prodigy ; and my father's brother Thomas, who 
 was bred up for the ecclesiastical courts with poor papa's money, 
 and who lived in London among the gay and great, said how Ms 
 friends, the Duke of Leeds, Lord Halifax, &c, would be delighted 
 could they but see little Hester. My mother, however, thought 
 it would be best to conciliate her own relations, and made me, I 
 know not at how early an age, write a letter to my Uncle Robert, 
 who had lately lost Lady Betty. The scheme prospered : grand- 
 mamma Salusbury of Bachygraig was dead, and Sir Robert 
 Salusbury Cotton said he longed to kiss his sister and the little 
 girl ; to whom he was perhaps more willing to attach himself, as 
 he had no progeny, and his only brother had married, not much 
 to please him, a portionless cousin of his own ; Miss Cotton, of 
 Etwall and Belleport, by whom he had many children, among 
 w 7 hich two only were favorites at Lleweney. An invitation fol- 
 lowed, and we came to the Old Hall hung round with armor, 
 which struck my infant eyes with wonder and delight. 
 
 My uncle soon began to dote on Fiddle, as he called me in 
 fondness ; and I certainly did not obtain his love by flattery, as I 
 remember well this odd tete-a-tete conversation : — 
 
 " Come now, dear," said he, " that we are quite alone, tell me 
 what you expected to see here at Llewenney." " I expected," 
 replied I, " to see an old baronet." " Well, in that your expecta- 
 tion is not much disappointed ; but why did you think of such 
 stuff?" " Why just because papa and mamma was always saying 
 to me and to one another 'at Bodvel, what the old baronet would 
 think of this and that : they did it to frighten me I see now ; but 
 I thought to myself that kings and princes were but men, and 
 God made them you know, Sir, and they made old baronets." 
 " Incomparable Fiddle," exclaimed my uncle ; " you will see a 
 Mr. and Mrs. Clough at dinner to-day ; do you know how to 
 spell Clough ? " " No," was the reply ; " I never heard the 
 name ; but if it had been spelt like buff, you would not have 
 
ANECDOTES OF CHILDHOOD. 167 
 
 have asked me the question. They write it perhaps as we write 
 enough — c, 1, o, u, g, h." 
 
 What baby anecdotes are these, you cry. 'T is so, but your 
 poor friend certainly ceased being in any wise a wonder after she 
 was five years old, at which period we left Wales and came to 
 my uncle's house in Albemarle Street, where he told my mother 
 he should follow in less than two months ; make a new will, and 
 leave poor Fiddle £ 10,000, having understood that my parents 
 had by their marriage settlement agreed to entail the old Bachy- 
 graig Estate on Thomas Salusbury, brother to papa, and then a 
 doctor in the Commons ; and on his sons, rather than their own 
 daughter, if they had no male heir. I fancy some rough words 
 passed concerning this. My uncle certainly but ill brooked my 
 father's pride, and he still less willingly endured being informed 
 that, if his quality friends would provide him some distant estab- 
 lishment, my mother and myself should share the old baronet's 
 fortune. " No, no, Sir Robert," was the haughty answer, " if I 
 go for a soldier, your sister shall carry the knapsack, and the little 
 wench may have what I can work for." I have heard that our 
 parting soon followed this conversation, and scarce were my in- 
 fantine tears dried for leaving dear Llewenney and my half- 
 adored uncle, before the news reached London of his sudden 
 death by an apoplectic fit ; in consequence of which his brother, 
 Sir Lynch Salusbury Cotton, came into everything by a tempo- 
 rary will kept in ease of accidents till one more copious and cor- 
 rect should be formed. 
 
 Some traces yet remain upon my mind of poor mamma's anguish 
 and of my father's violent expressions. She has related to me 
 his desperate engagement with some quacks and projectors who 
 pretended to find lead on his encumbered estate, whilst we re- 
 mained in town, and I became a favorite with the Duke and 
 Duchess of Leeds, where I recollect often meeting the famous 
 actor Mr. Quin, who taught me to speak Satan's speech to the 
 sun in "Paradise Lost." When they took me to see him act 
 Cato, I remember making him a formal courtesy, much to the 
 Duchess's amusement, perhaps to that of the player. I was just 
 six years old, and we sat in the stage-box, where I kept on 
 studying the part with all my little power, not at all distracted 
 
168 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 by the lights or company, which they fancied would take my at- 
 tention. The fireworks for the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle were 
 the next sights my fancy was impressed with. We sat on a ter- 
 race belonging to the Hills of Tern, — now Lord Berwick's fam- 
 ily, — and David Garrick was there, and made me sit on his lap, 
 feeding me with cates, &c. ; because, having asked some one who 
 sat near why they called those things that blew up, Gerbes in the 
 bill of fare, / answered, " Because they are like wheat-sheaves, 
 you see, and Gerbe is a wheat-sheaf in French." 
 
 When Garrick was intimate at Streatham Park more than 
 twenty years afterwards, he did not like that story : it made him 
 look older, at least feel older than he wished, I suppose. 
 
 Lord Halifax was now, or soon after, head of the Board of 
 Trade, and wished to immortalize his name — he had no sons — 
 by colonizing Nova Scotia. Cornwallis and my father, whom 
 he patronized, were sent out, the first persons in every sense of 
 the word ; and poor dear mamma was left sine pane (almost, I 
 believe), certainly sine ?iummo, with her odd little charge, a girl 
 without a guinea, whose mind however she ceased not to cultivate 
 in every possible manner. For French, writing, and arithmetic 
 I had no instructor but herself; and when she went from home 
 where I could not be taken, my temporary abode was the great 
 school in Queen Square, where Mrs. Dennis and her brother, the 
 Admiral Sir Peter Dennis, said I was qualified, at eight years 
 old, for teacher rather than learner ; and he actually did instruct 
 me in the rudiments of navigation, as the globes were already 
 familiar to me. The small-pox, however, and measles interrupted 
 my studies for a while, when my Grandmother Cotton invited 
 my mother and myself to spend a summer in Hertfordshire and 
 Bedfordshire, where she had a fine country-seat called East 
 Hyde, not far from Luton, to which I made reference in " Ret- 
 rospection" (Vol. II. p. 434). This lady, daughter to Sir 
 Thomas Lynch, after whom I was named, had possessed an im- 
 mense fortune in Jamaica ; but being left an orphan at five years 
 old, was, as she always said, and I believe, purchased of Lord 
 Torington, her mother's brother, by Sir Robert Salusbury Cotton 
 for his son Thomas, the child he educated himself in the Tower 
 
CHILDHOOD. 169 
 
 of London, when confined there on account of his correspondence 
 with the Electress Sophia.* 
 
 Certain it is that Lady Cotton was scarce fifteen years older 
 than her own eldest son, nay dear Uncle Robert, husband of Lady 
 Betty Tollemache ; which she considered as little to the honor 
 of her father-in-law, who, she believed, obtained her fortune to 
 his family by any means he could. 
 
 She had made a second choice when left a widow at thirty- 
 seven years old, with many children, all mortally offended at her 
 marrying again ; but Captain King was dead, and they were rec- 
 onciled at the time I am speaking of. At East Hyde I learned to 
 love horses ; and when my mother hoped I was gaining health by 
 the fresh air, I was kicking my heels on a corn -b inn, and learning 
 to drive of the old coachman ; who, like everybody else, small and 
 great, delighted in taking me for a pupil. Grandmamma kept four 
 great ramping war-horses, chevaux entiers. for her carriage, with 
 immense long manes and tails, which we buckled and combed ; 
 and when, after long practice, I showed her and my mother how 
 two of them (poor Colonel and Peacock) would lick my hand for 
 a lump of sugar or fine white bread, much were they amazed ; 
 much more when my skill in guiding them round the court-yard 
 on the break could no longer be doubted or denied, though strictly 
 prohibited for the future. 
 
 * Sir William Wraxall, in his Historical Memoirs (Vol. I. p. 304), in reference 
 to the adventures of the Stuart family, relates an extraordinary anecdote about 
 the destroying of the correspondence of the Electress Sophia with the Court of 
 St. Germains. " It ought not to surprise us (he says) on full consideration that 
 Sophia should feel the warmest attachment to James the Second." On this Mrs. 
 Piozzi remarks in the margin : " It surprises me because my own great-grand- 
 father was put into the Tower for corresponding with the Electress, by James 
 the Second; and, being permitted to have any one of his family with him, chose 
 a little boy, whom he taught to read and write there. My great-grandmother 
 used to walk on Tower Hill till she saw her husband's signal poked out of some 
 grated window. She was, by birth, Hester Salusbury, of Llewenney, and mar- 
 ried to Sir Robert Cotton, of Combermere. I have seen, when a child, some of 
 the Electress* s letters signed Sophia. I remember nothing of them, but im T uncle 
 said they were full of Latin quotations: his son, father to Lord Combermere, 
 burned them. I have looked in Lord Orford's miscellaneous works, and perceive 
 that he and my friend Wraxall are of a mind about Sophia, of whose letters I 
 can recollect only the odd signature, writing her name with a long f; but my 
 cousin was a strange fellow, to throw them into the fire." 
 
170 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 Among our Hertfordshire neighbors was Sir Henry Penrice, 
 Judge of the Admiralty, who by the heiress of that branch of the 
 Spencer family had only one daughter, the all-accomplished Anna 
 Maria, who sought my mother's friendship the more eagerly, as 
 she felt her heart daily more and more attached to my father's 
 brother, Doctor Thomas Salusbury, of the Commons. My re- 
 semblance to my papa's whole family fixed me a favorite. My 
 mother thought herself ill-used by them, and so in fact she was ; 
 her husband having left his brother a power of attorney to do 
 everything for him, and he neglecting all mamma's entreaties, 
 having forbore to change the hands of a mortgage upon that por- 
 tion of the Welsh estate appointed for her jointure. Worse than 
 that : my mother had scraped up, by dint of miserable privations, 
 money for the purpose ; but Uncle Thomas neglected his absent 
 brother's interest, and the estate was lost. Love was, however, 
 his apology ; and a faint hope, perhaps, that so immense a for- 
 tune as that of Miss Penrice might in some wise and on some 
 future day benefit her child, hushed all mamma's complaints. 
 The lovers married. Sir Henry died, and was succeeded by his 
 son-in-law, both in his place, his title, and his estate. 
 
 My father had meanwhile, I fear, behaved perversely, quarrel- 
 ling and fighting duels, and fretting his friends at home. My 
 mother and my uncle, taking advantage of his last gloomy letter, 
 begged him to return and share the gayeties of Offley Place, 
 mentioned in " Retrospection," Vol. I. p. 213 : likewise, if I re- 
 member rightly, in the Travel Book (Vol. II.), where I recollect 
 the plains of Kalin reminding me of our dear airings upon Lily 
 Hoo, — the common near our house, joining to that of Offiey, — 
 scenes I shall see no more ! 
 
 Here I reigned long, a fondled favorite. Kind Lady Salus- 
 bury felt her health decline, but told her husband she should die 
 more happily, persuaded that he would not marry, as he was so 
 attached to the good girl she now considered as her own, having 
 nearly lost her precious life by a severe miscarriage. She, how- 
 ever, lived with him nine years, and said it were pity I should 
 not learn Latin, Italian, and even Spanish, in all which she was 
 conversant. Study was my delight, and such a patroness would 
 have made stones students. 
 
EDUCATION. 171 
 
 The Lisbon earthquake had impressed her strongly ; and my 
 mother, who was particularly fond of Spanish literature, made 
 me translate a sermon in that language, written and preached in 
 the Jewish synagogue at London by Isaac Netto, — whose name 
 is all I can bring back to mind, — and dedicate it to my dear 
 aunt, Anna Maria Salusbury. A set of pearl and garnet orna- 
 ments, which I gave afterwards to Lady Keith, was my shining 
 recompense ; but such was my iather's conduct, she never did 
 love him. My mother she respected, and dear Doctor Collier, a 
 constant guest, did all he could to keep us all happy in one an- 
 other. Felicity, in this world, however, lasts not long. Poor 
 Lady Salusbury died, at forty-one years old, of dropsy in the 
 breast, and uncle said he had no kindness but for me. I think i" 
 did share his fondness with his stud ; our stable was the first for 
 hunters of enormous value, — for racers, too ; and our house, 
 after my aunt's death, was even haunted by young men who 
 made court to the niece, and expressed admiration of the horses. 
 Every suitor was made to understand my extraordinary value. 
 Those who could read, were shown my verses ; those who could 
 not, were judges of my prowess in the field. It was my sport to 
 mimic some, and drive others back, in order to make Dr. Collier 
 laugh, who did not perhaps wish to see me give a heart away 
 which he held completely in his hand, since he kindly became my 
 preceptor in Latin, logic, rhetoric, &c. 
 
 We began, I think, before I was thirteen years old. On the 
 day I was sixteen he confessed sixty-four, I remember, and said 
 he was just four times my age, so I suppose he was. The differ- 
 ence or agreement never crossed my mind, nor seemed to have 
 crossed his. A friendship more tender, or more unpolluted by 
 interest or by vanity, never existed ; love had no place at all in 
 the connection, nor had he any rival but my mother. Their in- 
 fluence was of the same kind, and hers the strongest ; but it was 
 not till after poor papa's death that I observed she looked on Col- 
 lier with a jealous eye. "We were scarce all of us enough to 
 manage with my father's red-hot temper. It was daily endan- 
 gering our alienation of Sir Thomas Salusbury's fondness, which 
 the arrival of a new neighbor put still more to hazard. We 
 should have made home more agreeable. 
 
172 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 My uncle would not then have run to the smiling widow of 
 Wellbuiy — just at our Park gate — the Honorable Mrs. King, 
 whose blandishments drew him from dear Offley, and made our 
 removal to our London House less painful. The summer before 
 this removal had produced to me a new vexation. Lord Halifax 
 was become lieutenant of Ireland, and my father made one of his 
 numerous escort, delighting to attend his patron through his ow r n 
 country, and show him the wonders of Wales. Mamma and I 
 remained at Offley doing the honors. Doctor Collier was in 
 London upon business. My uncle had been to town for a night 
 or two, and returned to tell us what an excellent, what an incom- 
 parable young man he had seen, who was, in short, a model of 
 perfection, ending his panegyric by saying that he was a real 
 sportsman. Seeing me disposed to laugh, he looked very grave ; 
 said he expected us to like him, and that seriously. The next 
 day Mr. Thrale followed his eulogist, and applied himself so dili- 
 gently to gain my mother's attention — ay, and her heart too, — 
 that there was little doubt of her approving the pretensions of so 
 very showy a suitor, — if suitor he was to me, who certainly had 
 not a common share in the compliments he paid to my mother's 
 wit, beauty, and elegance. 
 
 His father, he said, was born in our village of Offley, of mean 
 parents, but had made a prodigious fortune by his merits ; and 
 the people all looked with admiration at his giving 55. to a poor 
 boy who lay on the bank, because he was sure his father had 
 been such a boy. In a week's time the country catched the no- 
 tion up that Miss Salusbury's husband had been suddenly found 
 by meeting Sir Thomas at the house of Mr. Levinz, a well- 
 known bon vivant of those days, — they were not then called am- 
 phitryons, — who kept a gay house and a gay lady at Brompton, 
 where he entertained the gay fashionists of 1760. The chaplain 
 of Offley Place, a distant relation of ours, — uncle I think to this 
 Sir Robert Salusburywhom we met once in Park Street (Bath), — 
 having undisclosed hopes of his own to get the heiress, not only 
 took alarm, but cunningly conveyed that alarm to my father, who, 
 when he came home, said he saw his girl already half disposed 
 of without his consent, and swore I should not be exchanged for 
 a barrel of porter, &c. 
 
UNCLE'S MARRIAGE. 173 
 
 Yain were all my assurances that nothing resembled love less 
 than Mr. Thrale's behavior : vain my promises that no step on 
 my part should be taken without his concurrence ; although I 
 clearly understood, and wrote Dr. Collier word so, that my uncle 
 made this marriage the condition of his favor quite apparently, 
 and that certain ruin would follow my rejection. The letter, per- 
 haps, still exists in which I declared my resolution to adhere to 
 the maxims of filial duty he had taught me, and refuse (when I 
 should be asked) any offer, however tempting, that should seek 
 to seduce me from his authority, under which both myself and 
 my mother were placed. By this time the brothers quarrelled 
 and met no more. My father took us to London. My uncle sol- 
 aced himself with visiting the widow; and after a miserable 
 winter, which visits from Mr. Thrale — to my mother — rendered 
 terrifying to me every day, from papa's violence of temper, a note 
 came, sent in a sly manner, from Dr. Collier, to tell me (it was 
 written in Latin) that Sir Thomas would certainly marry Mrs. 
 King the Sunday following, and begged I would not say a syl- 
 lable till the next day, when he would come and break the dread- 
 ful tidings to my father. 
 
 My countenance, however, showed, or his acuteness discovered, 
 something he did not like ; an accusation followed, that I received 
 clandestine letters from Mr. Thrale, a circumstance I had every 
 just reason to deny, and felt extremely hurt, of course, at seeing 
 myself disbelieved. After a fruitless and painful contest for 
 many hours of this cruel evening, my spirits sunk, I fainted, and 
 my father, gaining possession of the fatal billet, had to ask my 
 pardon, — poor unhappy soul ! and in this fond misery spent we 
 the hours till four o'clock in the morning. At nine we rose ; he 
 to go across the park in search of my maternal uncle, Sir Lynch 
 Salusbury Cotton, from whom, and from Dr. Crane, Prebendary 
 of Westminster, he meant to seek counsel and comfort. Me, to 
 the employment of calling our medical friend, Herbert Law- 
 rence, to dinner by a billet of earnest request. All of us were ill, 
 but by the time he came, my father died, and was brought us 
 home a corpse, before the dining hour. This was December, 1762, 
 fifty-three years ago exactly. Yet are not my feelings blunted ! 
 
 The will gave to my mother his Bachygraig House and estate 
 
174 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 for life, charged with £ 5,000 for me ; to which my uncle, in con- 
 sideration perhaps of my poor father's having paid every expense 
 of his education at Cambridge, perhaps in recollection of having 
 lost him a farm of £ 100 a year, added £ 5,000 more ; with which 
 (and expectations of course) Mr. Thrale deigned to accept my 
 undesired hand, and in ten months from my poor father's death, 
 were both the marriages he feared accomplished. 
 
 My uncle went himself with me to church, gave me away, 
 dined with us at Streatham Park, returned to Hertfordshire, 
 wedded the widow, and then scarce ever saw or wrote to either 
 of us ; leaving me to conciliate as I could a husband, w r ho was 
 indeed much kinder than I counted on, to a plain girl, who had 
 not one attraction in his eyes, and on whom he never had thrown 
 five minutes of his time away, in any interview unwitnessed by 
 company, even till after our wedding-day was done ! 
 
 My mother staid with us, however, so did her niece, Miss 
 Hester Salusbury Cotton, now Lady Corbet. Mr. Murphy was 
 introduced, and the facetious Georgey Bodens, as the men called 
 him. Lord Carhampton's father, Simon Luttrell, afterwards 
 known to all the town by the emphatic title " King of Hell," * 
 besides a very sickly old physician, who seemed as if living with 
 us, Dr. Fitzpatrick, a Eoman Catholic; the rest were professed 
 Infidels. 
 
 When winter came, however, I was carried to my town resi- 
 dence, Deaclman's Place, Southwark ; which house, no more than 
 that in Surrey, had been seen by me till called on to inhabit it. 
 Here, too, my mother quitted us, and lived at our old mansion in 
 Dean Street, Soho, then no unfashionable part of the world, and 
 thither I went — O how willingly ! — to visit her every day. My 
 husband's sisters f (who, like himself, were eminent for personal 
 beauty) now called on me, looked at me, and, in modern phrase, 
 seemed to quiz me, asking how I liked Dr. Fitzpatrick, their 
 brother's Jesuit friend ? I answered drily, that the Doctor was 
 well-read and well-bred, apparently in extreme ill health (he was 
 
 * It was told of him that he challenged his son, the Colonel Luttrell (after- 
 wards Earl of Carhampton) of Middlesex election celebrity, who refused to fight 
 him, " not because he was his father, but because he was not a gentleman." 
 
 f Mrs. Rice, Mrs. Nesbitt (afterwards Mrs. Scott), and Lady Lade. 
 
RESIDENCE AND SOCIETY. 175 
 
 a physician), and that Mr. Thrale's friends must necessarily be 
 mine. The ladies withdrew, disappointed, and I tried with all 
 diligence to canvass the man whom they thought, and of course / 
 thought, had so much influence ; where if I gained none I must 
 become a nuisance. The doctor had no more influence than my- 
 self; but being so much about them all, could at least tell me les 
 tracasseries de famille of which I was wholly ignorant. From 
 him in due time I learned what had determined my husband's 
 choice to me, till then a standing wonder. He had, the doctor 
 said, asked several women, naming them, but all except me re- 
 fused to live in the Borough, to which, and to his business, he 
 observed, that Mr. Thrale was as unaccountably attached now as 
 he had been in his father's time averse from both. And 0, 
 cried the old man, how would my deceased friend have delighted 
 in this happy sight ! alluding to my state of pregnancy. 
 
 So summer came again, and Streatham Park was improving, 
 and autumn came, and Lady Keith came, and I became of a little 
 more importance. Confidence was no word in our vocabulary, 
 and I tormented myself to guess who possessed that of Mr. 
 Thrale ; not his clerks certainly, who scarce dared approach him, 
 — much less come near me ; whose place he said was either in 
 the drawing-room or the bedchamber. We kept, meantime, a 
 famous pack of fox-hounds, at a hunting-box near Croydon ; but 
 it was masculine for ladies to ride, &c. We kept the finest table 
 possible at Streatham Park, but his wife was not to think of the 
 kitchen. So I never knew what was for dinner till I saw it. 
 
 Driven thus on literature as my sole resource, no wonder if I 
 loved my books and children. From a gay life my mother held 
 me fast. Those pleasures Mr. Thrale enjoyed alone ; with me 
 indeed they never would have suited ; I was too often and too 
 long confined. Although Dr. Johnson (now introduced among 
 us) told me once, before her face, who deeply did resent it, that I 
 lived like my husband's kept mistress, — shut from the world, its 
 pleasures, or its cares. 
 
 The scene was soon to change. Fox-hounds were sold, and a 
 seat in Parliament was suggested by our new inmate as more 
 suitable to his dignity, more desirable in every respect. I grew 
 useful now, almost necessary ; wrote the advertisements, looked 
 
176 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 to the treats, and people to whom I was till then unknown, ad- 
 mired how happy Mr. Thrale must be in such a wonder of a wife. 
 
 I wondered all the while where his heart lay ; but it was found 
 at last, too soon for joy, too late almost for sorrow. A vulgar 
 fellow, by name Humphrey Jackson, had, as the clerks informed 
 me, all in a breath, compleat possession of it. He had long prac- 
 tised on poor Thrale's credulity, till, by mixing two cold liquors 
 w^hich produced heat perhaps, or two colorless liquors which pro- 
 duced brilliancy, he had at length prevailed on him to think he 
 could produce beer too, without the beggarly elements of malt and 
 hops. He had persuaded him to build a copper somewhere in 
 East Smithfield, the very metal of which cost £2,000, wherein this 
 Jackson was to make experiments and conjure some curious stuff, 
 which should preserve ships' bottoms from the worm ; gaining 
 from Government money to defray these mad expenses. Twenty 
 enormous vats, holding 1,000 hogsheads each, — costly contents ! 
 — ten more holding 1,000 barrels each, were constructed to stew 
 in this pernicious mess ; and afterwards erected, on I forget how 
 much ground bought for the ruinous purpose. 
 
 That all were spoiled, was but a secondary sorrow. We had, 
 in the commercial phrase, no beer to start for customers. We 
 had no money to purchase with. Our clerks, insulted long, re- 
 belled and ratted, but I held them in. A sudden run menaced 
 the house, and death hovered over the head of its principal. I think 
 some faint image of the distress appears in Doctor Johnson's forty- 
 eighth letter, 1st. vol. But God tempers every evil with some 
 good. Such was my charming mother's firmness, and such her 
 fond attachment to us both, that our philosophical friend, embra- 
 cing her, exclaimed, that he was equally charmed by her conduct, 
 and edified by her piety. " Fear not the menaces of suicide," 
 said he ; " the man who has two such females to console him, 
 never yet killed himself, and will not now. Of all the bankrupts 
 made this dreadful year," continued he, " none have destroyed 
 themselves but married men ; who would have risen from the 
 weeds undrowned, had not the women clung about and sunk them, 
 stifling the voice ofini^ason with their cries." Ah, Sir James Fel- 
 lowes, and have not I too been in a ship on fire,* not for two 
 
 * Alluding to the fire on board an East Indiarnan, in which Sir James Fel- 
 lowes was passenger. 
 
PECUNIARY DIFFICULTIES. 177 
 
 hours, but for two full week?, between the knowledge of my dan- 
 ger and the end on 't ? 
 
 Well ! first we made free with our mother's money, her little 
 savings ! about £ 3,000 — 't was all she had ; and, big as I was 
 with child, I drove down to Brighthelmstone, to beg of Mr. 
 Scrase £ 6,000 more ; he gave it us, and Perkins, the head 
 clerk, had never done repeating my short letter to our master, 
 which only said, " I have done my errand, and you soon shall 
 see returned, whole, as I hope, your heavy but faithful mes- 
 senger, H. L. T." 
 
 Perkins's sons are now in possession of the place, their father 
 but lately dead. Dear Mr. Scrase was an old gouty solicitor, 
 retired from business, friend and contemporary of my husband's 
 father. Mr. Rush lent us £ 6,000, Lady Lade £ 5,000, — our 
 debts, including those of Humphrey Jackson, were £130,000, 
 besides borrowed money. Yet in nine years was every shilling 
 paid ; one, if not two elections well contested ; and we might, at 
 Mr. Thrale's death, have had money, had he been willing to 
 listen to advice, as you will see by our correspondence, which it 
 is now time for you to begin, and be released from these scenes 
 of calamity. The baby that I carried lived an hour, — my 
 mother a year ; but she left our minds more easy. I lay awake 
 twelve nights and days, I remember, 'spite of all art could do ; 
 but here I am, vexing your tired ear with past afflictions. 
 
 You will see that many letters were suppressed. But as you 
 have probably thought more of my literary, than of my moral or 
 social existence, though I hope not, it will be right at least to say 
 that it was during the winters of those happy years when I reigned 
 Queen at Offley Place all summer, that Hogarth made me sit for 
 his fine picture of the Lady's Last Stake, now in possession of 
 Lord Charlemont. 
 
 It was then, too, when I was about thirteen, fourteen, and fif- 
 teen years old, that I took a fancy to write in the " St. James's 
 Chronicle," unknown to my parents and my tutor too : it was my 
 sport to see them reading, studying, blaming, or praising their 
 own little whimsical girl's performances ; but such was their ad- 
 miration of one little verse thing, that I could not forbear owning 
 it, and am sorry that no copy has, I believe, been kept. 
 9* 
 
178 AUTOBIOGEAPHICAL MEMOIES. 
 
 The little poetical trash I did write in earnest, is preserved 
 somewhere, perhaps in " Thraliana," which I promised to Mrs. 
 Mostyn ; perhaps in a small repository I prepared for dear Salis- 
 bury, before our final parting : such I meant it to be ; but have 
 no guess how you will find the stuff, or whether he ever thought 
 it worth his while to keep old aunt's school exercises, — such he 
 would probably and naturally consider them. There is a little 
 poem called " Offley Park " I know ; another " On my Poor 
 Aunt Anna Maria's Favorite Ash-Tree ; " and one styled " The 
 Old Hunter's Petition for Life," written to save dear Forester 
 from being shot because grown superannuated. There is a little 
 odd metaphysical toy beside, written to divert Doctor Collier 
 after the death of his dog Pompey, for whom James Harris made 
 a Greek epitaph, of which this is the English meaning, as I re- 
 member ; but no doubt all is lost, and these verses are not mine. 
 I forget whose though : — 
 
 " Here what remains of Pompey lies, 
 Handsome, generous, faithful, wise. 
 Then shouldst thou, friend, possess a bitch 
 In nature's noble gifts as rich; 
 When Death shall take her, let her have 
 With Pompey here one common grave ; 
 So from their mingled dust shall rise 
 A race of dogs as good and wise : 
 Dogs who disease shall never know, 
 Kheumatic ache or gouty toe ; 
 Nor feel the dire effects of tea, 
 Nor show decay by cachexy. 
 For if aright the future Fates I read, 
 Immortal are the dogs their pregnant dust shall breed." 
 
 The great James Harris was no disdain er of trifles. He 
 wrote the two comical dialogues at the end of " David Simple," 
 an old novel composed by Doctor Collier's sister, who was dead 
 before I knew him, in conjunction with Sally Fielding, whose 
 brother was author of "Tom Jones," not yet obsolete. James 
 Harris gave me his u Hermes " interleaved, that I might write my 
 remarks on it, proving my attention to philosophical grammar, 
 for which study I had shown him signs of capacity, I trust ; but 
 Collier would not suffer him to talk metaphysics in my hearing, 
 unless he himself was the respondent. O what conversations ! 
 
DR. COLLIER. 179 
 
 What correspondences were these ! never renewed after my 
 wedding-day, October 11th, 1763. Dr. Johnson was perhaps 
 justly offended if I even appeared to recollect them, and in my 
 mother's presence. There was no danger. They had never 
 fallen in Mr. Thrale's way — of course. 
 
 But you make me an egotist, and force me to remember scenes 
 and ideas I never dreamed of communicating. The less so, be- 
 cause finding my fortune of late circumscribed in a manner 
 wholly new to me, no doubt remained of all celebrity following 
 my lost power of entertaining company, giving parties, <fcc. ; and 
 my heart prepared to shut itself quite up, convinced there ex- 
 isted not a human creature who cared one atom for poor H. 
 L. P. now she had no longer money to be robbed of. That 
 disinterested kindness does exist, however, my treatment here at 
 Bath evinces daily, and in six months will come — if things 
 do but continue in their natural course — my restoration day. 
 Meanwhile this odd prefatory collection of Biographical Anec- 
 dotes are at your service. The Essays I wrote when quite a 
 girl — almost a child — must all be lost undoubtedly. The fol- 
 lowing Allegory is just as good as I could make it now, bating 
 the grand fault of representing Imagination as a female charac- 
 ter. This is glanced at in 221 and 222 of "British Synonymy," 
 Yol. I. ; but I did myself injustice in calling it a translation, for 
 such it really is not, or deserving to be called so. 
 
 imagination's search after happiness, ax allegorical tale. 
 by h. l. salusbury, 1760. 
 
 Struck with his. charms whom all admire, 
 Whose beauties colder bosoms fire, 
 Imagination ventured forth 
 In search of Happiness, — her lover ; 
 Nor feared the frowns of wit or worth, 
 No blame could on her choice be thrown, 
 When once the object's name was known. 
 To Love's gay temple first she flies, 
 And darts around her piercing eyes, 
 And is my hero here ? she cries ; 
 Perhaps he may, the god replies ; 
 
180 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 But freely search our groves around, 
 
 Nor think yourself confined ; 
 
 His name our echoes all resound, 
 
 Perhaps his form you '11 find. 
 
 The Nymph was pleased, her search renewed ; 
 
 Through each soft maze her love pursued, 
 
 Till as she ran with rapid force 
 
 Fair Delicacy checked her course. 
 
 I never thought to see you here, 
 
 Without a veil too ! Fye, my dear : 
 
 To seek your sweetheart ! and is this 
 
 A likely seat for sober bliss ? 
 
 Believe my words and quick recede, 
 
 No Happiness lives here — Indeed. 
 
 Imagination stood corrected, 
 
 Then swiftly from her presence flew ; 
 And soon her wand'ring steps directed 
 
 T' Ambition's palace — now in view. 
 Fixed on a rock of steep ascent 
 
 The glittering fabric stood : 
 The way was slippery as she went, 
 
 And wet with human blood. 
 Her lover's form on high was placed 
 
 To tempt her steps along : 
 But when the phantom she embraced, 
 
 It vanished and was gone. 
 From hence with trembling haste she fled, 
 And to the realms of Riches sped : 
 Consumptive care, and dropsied pride, 
 And tinselled splendor here she spied ; 
 Nor ought was wanting — more or less, 
 Save what she sought for — Happiness. 
 
 What has our heroine next to do ? 
 
 Her journey she began to rue, 
 
 For why ? No places now remain 
 
 To try her fortune in 't is plain : 
 
 And yet this foolish, luckless love 
 
 Would let her have no rest : 
 
 Though 'gainst it all she could she strove, 
 
 Still would it flutter in her breast. 
 
 Whilst thus she thought and would have spoke, 
 
 Sudden a voice the silence broke : 
 
IMAGINATION. 181 
 
 Come to my cot, despairing maid ! 
 'T is mine alone to give you aid : 
 Come to my cot and live with me, 
 In unreproved pleasures free. 
 Young Health that seeks the morning air, 
 With Temperance at her side, are there ; 
 Meek Peace that loves the hermitage, 
 And Contemplation — hoary sage ; 
 With me long time have deigned to dwell, 
 And dignified my mossy cell. 
 If you such company can bear, 
 And will awhile inhabit there ; 
 
 Nor more your search renew ; 
 Your lover will no longer fly : 
 
 'T is his to curb when we deny, 
 And fly when we pursue. 
 
 Imagination found her wise, 
 
 Nor scorned to own herself to blame, 
 
 But took fair Piety's advice — 
 Uncalled the Lover came. 
 
 The article in " British Synonymy," before referred to, runs 
 thus : — 
 
 " FANCY, IMAGINATION. 
 
 " * Fancy, whose delusions vain 
 
 Sport themselves with human brain, 
 Eival thou of nature's power! 
 Canst from thy exhaustless store 
 Bid a tide of sorrow flow, 
 And whelm the soul in deepest woe, 
 Or in the twinkling of an eye 
 Eaise it to mirth and jollity ? 
 Dreams and shadows by thee stand, 
 Taught to run at thy command, 
 And along the wanton air 
 Flit like empty gossamer. 
 
 Merkick.' 
 
 " These elegant and airy substantives are not, as one might 
 suspect, wholly synonymous. A well-instructed foreigner will 
 soon discover that, though in poetry, there seems little distinction, 
 yet when they both come to be talked of in a conversation circle, 
 
 
182 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 we do say that Milton has displayed a boundless imagination 
 in his poem of ' Paradise Lost/ transporting us, as it were, into 
 the very depths of eternity, while he describes the journey of 
 Satan and the games of the fallen angels ; but that Pope's ' Rape 
 of the Lock ' is a work of exquisite fancy, almost emulative of 
 Shakspeare's creative powers, not servilely imitating him. An 
 intelligent stranger will observe, too, that although we give sex 
 very arbitrarily to personified qualities, yet he will commonly find 
 Fancy feminine, Imagination masculine, I scarce know why. But 
 
 " ' Save in this shadowy nook, this green resort, 
 Imagination holds Ms airy court, 
 Bright Fancy fans Mm with her painted wings, 
 And to Ms sight her varying pleasures brings.' 
 
 " The French do not stick to this rule : an allegorical tale of 
 Mademoiselle Barnard, begins thus : — 
 
 " ' L'imagination amante du bonheur, 
 
 Sans cesse le desire, et sans cesse le rappelle,' &c. 
 
 " Our translator, following the original design, by making Im- 
 agination feminine, has spoiled the effect of the poem. It is 
 likewise observable that, speaking physically, these words are by 
 no means synonymous, nor can be used each for other without 
 manifest impropriety," 
 
INTRODUCTION TO PIOZZI. 183 
 
 INTRODUCTION TO PIOZZI. 
 
 [The following fragments of autobiography (with one excep- 
 tion) are in the shape of notes to the printed volumes of corre- 
 spondence between Dr. Johnson and herself. I print them as 
 they occur, with the portions of the correspondence which re- 
 spectively suggested them. 
 
 This history of her acquaintance with Piozzi is detailed in a 
 note on the passage (quoted ante, p. 70) from one of Johnson's 
 letters, in which he congratulates her on having "got Piozzi 
 again."] 
 
 Dr. Johnson, mentioning dear Piozzi, has encouraged me to 
 tell how and where our acquaintance began. I was at Bright- 
 helmstone in August, 1780, or thereabout, when the rioters at 
 Bath had driven my sick husband and myself and Miss Thrale 
 (Fanny Burney went home to her father) into Sussex for change 
 of place. I had been in the sea early one morning, and was walk- 
 ing with my eldest daughter on the cliff, when, seeing Mr. Piozzi 
 stand at the library door, I accosted him in Italian, and asked 
 him if he would like to give that lady a lesson or two whilst at 
 Brighton, that she might not be losing her time. He replied, 
 coldly, that he was come thither himself merely to recover his 
 voice, which he feared was wholly lost ; that he was composing 
 some music, and lived in great retirement ; so I took my leave, 
 and we continued our walk, Miss Thrale regretting she had lost 
 such an opportunity ; but on our returning home the same day, 
 Mr. Piozzi started out of the shop, begged my pardon for not 
 knowing me before, protested his readiness to do anything to 
 oblige me, and his concern for not being able to contribute to our 
 amusement, but that I should command everything in his now 
 limited power. 
 
 "We parted, and at breakfast the post brought me a letter from 
 the present Madame D'Arblaye, saying that her father's friend, 
 
184 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 Mr. Piozzi, was gone to Brighthelmstone, where she hoped we 
 should meet, for though he had lost his voice, his musical powers 
 were enchanting, and that I should find him a companion likely 
 to lighten the burden of life to me, as he was just a man to my 
 natural taste. This letter is existing now, and that was her 
 expression. Mr. Thrale found his performance on the forte-piano 
 so superior to everything then heard in England, and in short 
 took such a fancy to his society, that we were seldom apart, ex- 
 cept while Mr. Piozzi was studying to compose the six fine sona- 
 tas, that he dedicated to his favorite pupil, Miss Child, afterwards 
 Lady Westmoreland. His voice strengthened by sea-bathing, but 
 never recovered the astonishing powers he brought with him first 
 from Italy. I fancied they would have returned when we went 
 abroad together four years after, but they never did ; and he was 
 contented in future to delight, without surprising, his hearers, un- 
 less they had indeed taste enough to understand that unrivalled 
 manner of singing, which he as tenor, and Pacchierotti as sopra- 
 no, had completely to themselves. 
 
 Mr. Piozzi was the son of a gentleman of Brescia in Lombardy, 
 who meant him for the Church and educated him accordingly ; but 
 he resisted the celibat, escaped from those who would have made 
 him take the vows, and, as his uncle said, " Ah, Gabrieli, thou wilt 
 never get nearer the altar than the organ-loft/' so it proved. He 
 ran from the Venetian state to Milan, where Marchese D'Araciel 
 proved his constant friend and protector, and encouraged him in 
 his fancy for trying Paris and London, instead of being a burden 
 to his parents, who had fourteen children, a limited income, and 
 many pecuniary uneasinesses. Whilst here, his fame reached the 
 Queen of France, who sent for him and Sacchini, the great opera 
 composer, and it was when they came back loaded with presents 
 and honors and emoluments that Dr. Johnson congratulated me 
 on having got Piozzi again. Sacchini returned and died at Paris, 
 but Piozzi staid (till I drove him from me), notwithstanding all 
 the offers of the Court of France, when I was living at Bath, 
 " deserted, spiritless, afflicted, fallen." 
 
DOMESTIC TRIALS. 185 
 
 DOMESTIC TRIALS. 
 
 Her letter written in Passion Week, 1783 ("Letters," Vol. II. 
 p. 253), was in answer to one from Dr. Johnson, dwelling on his 
 own ailments exclusively, and complaining of neglect. He says : 
 " You can hardly think how bad I have been whilst you were in 
 all your altitudes at the opera, and all the fine places, and think- 
 ing little of me." She replies : " My health, my children, and 
 my fortune, dear Sir, are fast coming to an end, I think, — not 
 so my sorrows. Harriet is dead, and Cicely is dying." 
 
 Her manuscript commentary on these passages is : — 
 
 " Dear Harriet died of measles, hooping-cough, and strumous 
 swellings in the neck and throat, 1783. Lucy had fallen a sacri- 
 fice to the same train of evils ; and Cecilia, now Mrs. Mostyn, 
 had her health so shaken after the date of this letter, that it was 
 with the utmost difficulty she recovered. Mr. Piozzi and I had 
 made what we considered as our final parting in London about a 
 month before, when I requested him to tame the newspapers by 
 quitting England, and leave me to endure my debts, my distrac- 
 tions, and the bitter reproaches of my family as I could. He had 
 given up all my letters, promises, &c, into Miss Thrale's hands 
 (now Lady Keith). You laughed when I told you that his ex- 
 pression was : ' Take it to you your mamma, and make it of her a 
 countess ; it shall kill me, I know, but it shall kill her too.' Miss 
 Thrale took the papers, and turned her back on him, I remem- 
 ber. Well ! Sir Lucas Pepys alone knew the true state of my 
 heart. He pitied me, kept my secret inviolable, behaved like a 
 brother to me, and told all the inquirers that I was very ill in- 
 deed, and that he had advised Bath. 
 
 " To Bath I went, and Piozzi prepared for his melancholy 
 journey, having first lent me a thousand pounds, for which I re- 
 mitted the interest to Italy, and our ladies said I had bought him 
 off ivith their money ; so the calumny outlived even our separa- 
 tion. He had not left London when I was summoned to attend 
 the two little girls at Mrs. Ray's school, Russel House, Streat- 
 
186 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 ham ; but I refused another painful interview, however earnestly 
 iny lover begged it. I breakfasted with Sir Lucas Pepys ; told 
 him my heroism, and never knew, till Piozzi told me after he re- 
 turned to England, that he had been sitting at a front window of 
 some public-house on the road all that dreadful Saturday, to see 
 my carriage pass backwards and forwards to where the children 
 resided. O what moments ! O what moments ! but I went back 
 to Bath. We lived in Russel Street, where I found my three 
 eldest daughters at their work and their drawings. I think they 
 scarcely said, ' How d' ye do ? or how does Cecilia do ? ' and we 
 went on together without either rough words or smooth ones. 
 Dr. Staker, to whom Pepys had recommended the care of my 
 health, cut his own throat, and Doctors Woodward (of the pretty 
 house in Gay Street) and Dobson, from Liverpool, were our med- 
 ical advisers. 
 
 "Doctor Johnson never came to look for me at Streatham, 
 where I lodged during Cecy's danger ; and I would not go into 
 London for fear of encountering Piozzi's eyes somewhere. So I 
 only stopped at Pepys' house for an hour, close to Hyde Park, 
 and away to Bath again, where one curious thing befell me, and 
 but one. You have heard of many severities shown me, now 
 hear of one man like yourself. My maid came to me half- 
 alarmed, half-pleasant somehow, and said : ' I have had a king's 
 messenger sent to me, Madam ; but here ' s the letter, and the 
 man is gone again. I offered him money, but he had orders to 
 take none.' 
 
 " The letter said : — 
 
 " ' Madam, — Let nothing add to your present pain, as no one 
 surely deserves so much happiness. Your letter is gone safe ; I 
 transmitted the amiable contents to Mr. Piozzi, who will receive 
 it in due time ; but you should be careful not to send another 
 packet unpaid for, unless you would direct it to me. Your sign- 
 ing no name, and dating, forced me to peruse every word of a 
 letter in three languages, which no one could so have written but 
 Mrs. Thrale, to whom I wish all that such merit and virtue, &c, 
 
 &c, &c.' 
 
 " ' Jackson, 
 " < Comptroller of the Foreign Post Office.' 
 
AX UNEXPECTED FRIEND. 187 
 
 " He had directed the letter to my maid ! 
 
 " We left our cards with this gentleman as soon as we were 
 married, of course, and he made us a fine dinner and a grand 
 entertainment, and I saw for the first time my kind friend and 
 admirer, Mr. Jackson. Poor fellow ! he soon died, but not till 
 Mr. Piozzi had sung with his daughter, and given him all the pleas- 
 ure he was capable of receiving in the last stage of life, and a 
 miserable state of health," 
 
188 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 SECOND MARRIAGE. 
 
 In Dr. Johnson's last letter to her (ante, p. 76), he says : 
 "Prevail on Mr. Piozzi to settle in England." In reference to 
 this advice she writes : — 
 
 Dr. Johnson's advice corresponded exactly with Mr. Piozzi's 
 intentions. He was impatient to show Italy to me and me to the 
 Italians, but never meant to forbear bringing his wife home 
 again, and showing he had brought her. Well aware of the bus- 
 tle his marriage made, it was his most earnest wish that every 
 doubt of his honor and of my happiness should be dispelled ; so 
 that whilst our ladies and Madame D'Arblaye, that was Miss 
 Burney, and Baretti, and all the low Italians of the Haymarket 
 who hated my husband, were hatching stories how he had sold 
 my jointure, had shut me up in a convent, &c, we made our 
 journey to our residence in Italy as showy as we possibly could. 
 All the English at every town partook of our hospitality ; the in- 
 habitants came flocking, nothing loth, and we sent presents to our 
 beautiful daughters by every hand that would carry them. Miss 
 Thrale was of age by now, and I left Miss Nicholson, the bishop's 
 granddaughter, whom they appeared to like exceedingly, with 
 them, but she soon quitted her post on observing that they gave 
 people to understand she was a cast mistress of dear Piozzi, who 
 never saw her face out of their company, except once at a dinner 
 visit. 
 
 But I have not told you our parting. That I resided at Bath, 
 these letters are a proof; that my residence was a wretched one, 
 needs no asserting. Insults at home, and spiteful expressions in 
 every letter from the guardians, broke my spirits quite down ; 
 and letters from my grieving lover, when they did come, helped 
 to render my life miserable. I meant not to call him home till 
 all my debts were paid ; and my uncle's widow, Lady Salusbury, 
 had threatened to seize upon my Welsh estate if I did not repay 
 her money, lent by Sir Thomas Salusbury to my father ; money 
 
SECOND MARRIAGE. 189 
 
 in effect which poor papa had borrowed to give him when he was 
 a student at Cambridge, and your little friend just born. This 
 debt, however, not having been cancelled, stood against me as 
 heiress. I had been forced to borrow from the ladies ; and 
 Mr. Crutchley, when I signed my mortgage to them for £ 7,000, 
 said : " Now, Madam, call your daughters in and thank them ; 
 make them your best curtsey" (with a sneer,) " for keeping you 
 out of a gaol." He added £ 500 or £ 800 more, and I paid that 
 off as alluded to ; * but Doctor Johnson knew how I was dis- 
 tressed, and you see how even he had been writing ! ! 
 
 Will you wonder to hear how ill I was ? After much silent 
 suffering, Doctor Dobson, who felt for me even to tears, left me 
 one evening in the slipper bath, and I suppose ran to Lady Keith, 
 and spoke with some severity; for she came into the room with 
 him, and said, " The doctor tells me, Madam, he must write to 
 Mr. Piozzi about your health; will you be pleased to tell us 
 where to find him ? " " At Milan, my dear," was the faint re- 
 ply, " with his friend, the Marquis D'Araciel (a Spanish gran- 
 dee) ; his palace, Milan, is sufficient direction." " Milan ! " ex- 
 claimed they all at once, for not one word had ever passed among 
 us concerning him or his destination. " Milan ! " So Doctor 
 Dobson, I trust, took pen and ink, and the next day I was better. 
 Miss Thrale declared her resolution to go to their own house 
 at Brighthelmstone, and I entreated permission to attend them. 
 Short journeys, change of air, &c, helped to revive me, and Miss 
 Nicholson went with us to Stonehenge, Wilton, &c, in our way 
 to Sussex, whence I returned to Bath to wait for Piozzi. He 
 was here the eleventh day after he got Dobson's letter. In 
 twenty-six more we were married in London by the Spanish am- 
 bassador's chaplain, and returned hither to be married by Mr. 
 Morgan, of Bath, at St. James's Church, July 25, 1784. 
 
 Greenland, the solicitor my husband now employed, discovered 
 £1,600 still due to me, which was paid on demand; and for 
 the rest of the debt, Piozzi, laughing, said it would be dis- 
 charged in three years at farthest. So it was ; and I felt as 
 
 * Dr. Johnson wrote to Mrs. Thrale, London, April 19th, 1784: "I am sensi- 
 ble of the ease that your repayment of Mr. Crutcheley has given : you felt your- 
 self genee by that debt; is there an English word for it? " 
 
190 AUTOBIOGKAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 much, I think, of astonishment as pleasure. From London we 
 went immediately to Paris, Lyons, Turin, Genoa, and Milan ; 
 where, as the Travel Book tells you, we spent the winter, and 
 where the Marquis of Araciel and his family paid me most 
 distinguished attention. There Mr. Parsons dined with us, I 
 remember, and left me a copy of complimentary verses too 
 long to insert here: but we met again the following summer 
 at Florence, where we were living in a sort of literary coterie 
 with Mr. and Mrs. Greathead, Mr. Merry, whom his friends 
 called Delia Crusca, and a most agreeable et cetera of English 
 and Italians. We had designed giving a splendid dinner on 
 our wedding-day to Lord Pembroke and the whole party, and 
 Mr. Parsons presented me verses which will not be understood 
 except I write out my own that provoked them. He had writ- 
 ten a hymn to Venus, so I said : — 
 
 While Venus inspires, and such verses you sing 
 
 As Prior might envy and praise ; 
 While Merry can mount on the eagle's wide wing, 
 
 Or melt in the nightingale's lays : 
 On the beautiful banks of this classical stream 
 
 While Bertie can carelessly rove, 
 Dividing his hours, and varying his theme 
 
 With philosophy, friendship, and love ; 
 
 In vain all the beauties of nature or art 
 
 To rouse my tranquillity tried ; 
 Too often, said I, has this languishing heart 
 
 For the joys of celebrity sighed. 
 Now soothed by soft music's seducing delights, 
 
 With reciprocal tenderness blest ; 
 No more will I pant for poetical flights, 
 
 Or let vanity rob me of rest. 
 
 The Slave and the Wrestlers, what are they to me ? 
 
 From plots and contentions removed ; 
 And Job with still less satisfaction I see, 
 
 When I think of the pains I have proved. 
 It was thus that I sought in oblivion to drown 
 
 Each thought from remembrance that flows : 
 Thus fancy was stagnant I honestly own, 
 
 But I called the stagnation repose. 
 
FLORENCE. 191 
 
 Now, waked by my countrymen's voice once again 
 
 To enjoyment of pleasures long past ; 
 Her powers elastic the soul shall regain , 
 
 And recall her original taste. 
 Like the loadstone that long lay concealed in the earth, 
 
 Among metals which glittered around ; 
 Inactive her talents, and only called forth, 
 
 When the ore correspondent was found. 
 
 To these lines Mr. Parsons brought the following very flatter- 
 ing answer, which he repeated after dinner : — 
 
 " To Mrs. Piozzi. 
 
 " Though soothed by soft music's seducing delights, 
 
 And blest with reciprocal love ; 
 These cannot impede your poetical flights, 
 
 For still friends to the Pluses they prove. 
 Then sitting so gayly your table around, 
 
 Let us all with glad sympathy view 
 What joys in this fortunate union abound, 
 
 This union of wit and virtu. 
 
 " May the day that now sees you so mutually blest 
 
 In full confidence, love, and esteem, 
 Still return with increasing delight to your breast, 
 
 And be Hymen your favorite theme ! 
 Nor fear that your fertile strong genius should fail, 
 
 Each thought of stagnation dispel ; 
 The fame which so long has attended a Thrale, 
 
 A Piozzi alone shall excel. 
 
 " As the ore must for ever obedient be found 
 
 By the loadstone attracted along : 
 So in England you drew all the poets around, 
 
 By the magical force of your song : 
 The same power on Arno's fair side you retain ; 
 
 Your talents with wonder we see ; 
 And we hope from your converse those talents to gain, 
 
 Though like magnets — in smaller degree." 
 
 Now if I should live to add any more anecdotes of my life, or 
 any more verses to amuse you, they would come best at the end 
 of my Journey-Book ; and if you will send it, perhaps I may 
 add a leaf or two. — 18th December, 1815. 
 
192 AUTOBIOGKAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 RESIDENCE IN ITALY. 
 
 (A separate and detached manuscript.) 
 
 Before we began our journey, my good husband bespoke a 
 magnificent carriage, capable of containing every possible accom- 
 modation, and begged me to take tea enough and books enough ; 
 but when looking over the last article he saw " Diodati's Italian 
 Bible, with Notes " (this was in 1784, I remember). " Ah ciel ! " 
 he exclaimed, " this will bring us into trouble. Be content, my 
 dear creature, with an English Bible, and reflect that you are not 
 travelling as you ought to be, like a Protestant lady of quality, 
 but as the wife of a native, an acknowledged Papist, and one de- 
 termined to remain so." I replied, from my heart, that I desired 
 to appear in his country in no other character than that of his 
 wife ; that I would preserve my religious opinions inviolate at 
 Milan, as he did his at London ; and that all would go on, to use 
 his own phrase, all' ottima perfezzione. Observing an under- 
 toned expression, however, saying, " They shall tease quest' an- 
 ima bella as little as I can help," my heart felt (though I changed 
 the conversation) that my mind must prepare itself for contro- 
 versy. The account of temptations he told me I should undergo of 
 another kind I drove from me with unaffected laughter, but per- 
 ceived that he was best pleased when I replied to them w T ith 
 equally unaffected but more serious protestations of exclusive 
 and unalterable love. 
 
 He was right all the while. When we arrived at Milan, our 
 abiding-place, I perceived the men of quality and bon ton consid- 
 ered me as fair game to shoot their senseless attentions at ; and 
 my sometimes cold, sometimes indignant, reception of their odd 
 complimentary addresses was received at first with most unmer- 
 ited displeasure, and in a short time with admiration no less un- 
 deserved. Conjugal fidelity being a thing they had no concep- 
 tion of, and each concluding I kept my favors for some one else, 
 
RESIDENCE IX ITALY. 193 
 
 nothing undeceived them but my strictly-adhered-to resolution of 
 never suffering a tete-a-tete with any man whatever except my 
 husband, and laughing with them in company, saying we inhab- 
 ited a Casa Fidele, and should do honor to the residence. 
 
 The truth is, old Comte Fidele, a widower of seventy years 
 old, said his house was too big for him (an invalid), and gave us 
 up the winter side of his palace for a year, paying only £ 80. 
 My bedchamber, twenty-seven feet long and eighteen feet high, 
 was lighted by one immense window at the end, and looked over 
 the naviglio to the beautiful mountains of Brianza. Out of this 
 went a handsome square room, where I received my company in 
 common. Out of that we walked into a large dinner apartment, 
 next to which was the servants' hall (as we should call it, but 
 known in Italy by name of anticamera), where and from whence 
 the servants answered the bell. Through this opened the best 
 drawing-room, with two fireplaces, two large glass lustres, four 
 enormous windows with yellow damask curtains I am ashamed to 
 say how long, but my maid always said they were eight yards 
 from top to bottom. Her apartment opened through this ; for all 
 were passage-rooms, and a small pair of stairs led to a lovely cold 
 bath. I have not done yet. Behind my magnificent bed of 
 white-watered tabby, and very clean, a door opened into a large 
 light closet where I kept my books ; and through that a commo- 
 dious staircase led to Mr. Piozzi's bedchamber, and a beautiful 
 dressing-room or study, where he was supposed to receive com- 
 pany, people on business, &c. All this very well furnished 
 indeed for fourscore pounds a year!! A. D. 1784. 
 
 The showy valet was a Frenchman hired at Paris, the gaudy 
 butler out of livery resembling nothing but a gold fish, had 
 eighteen pence a day, and the man cook no less. One woman, 
 besides my own English Abigail, formed our household ; a word 
 I should not have used, for they all walked home in the evening, 
 after the wives and children, &c, had been brought into the 
 kitchen almost literally to lick the plates. It seemed very odd, 
 but I believe Mr. Piozzi paid everybody every night of his life. I 
 remember his asking me one day what I thought our dinner came 
 to ; we were eight at table, the dishes seven and nine. When 
 I had made some ridiculous conjectures, he showed me that the 
 9 
 
194 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 whole expense, wine included, was thirteen shillings of our money, 
 no more, and I expected to hear him say how happy he was. 
 Not a bit ; he was happy only in my attachment and society ; his 
 countrymen were his scourge. They told him, as I was a Prot- 
 estant I was of course an infidel, and should be a favorite at the 
 German court which the Emperor kept at Milan. So I was ; but 
 one day when some of our Italian ecclesiastics dined with us and 
 met the Austrian Count Kinigh, the Viennese librarian, &c, who 
 endeavored to play upon the natives, ridiculing their supersti- 
 tions, &c, I could bear no more of what they called philosophy, 
 the less, perhaps, because they hoped I should be pleased with 
 such discourse, and much amazed our Milanese friends by saying, 
 when applied to, that I really thought the thorns of ancient phi- 
 losophy were now only fit to burn in the fire, unless we could 
 make a hedge of them to fence in the possession of Christian 
 truth. 
 
 This speech won all the old abates' hearts at once, and was 
 echoed about with ten times the praise it deserved. I was now 
 assailed on every side to become a Romanist, for Catholics I 
 never would submit to call them who excluded from salvation 
 every sect of our religion but their own. Dear Piozzi grew 
 more and more weary of this controversial chat ; but it was 
 comical to see with how much pleasure he witnessed my gaining 
 even a momentary triumph over these men, skilled in disputa- 
 tion and masters of their own language. " Are you a Calvinist, 
 Madam ? " said one of the Monsignori. " Certainly not" was 
 the reply. " Do you kneel to receive the Sacrament ? " " I do" 
 li And are not those fellows damned who do receive it standing or 
 sitting ? " "I believe not" said I. " Our blessed Lord did not 
 himself eat the passover according to the strict rules of the 
 Mosaical law, which insists on its being eaten standing ; whereas 
 we know that Jesus Christ reclined on a triclinium, as was the 
 usage of Rome and of the times. Nay, perhaps he was pleased 
 to do so, that such disputes should not arise ; or, if arising, that 
 his example might be appealed to." " What proof have you of 
 our Saviour's reclining on a triclinium ? " " St. John's leaning 
 on his breast at supper," said I. " O, that was at common 
 meals ; not at the passover." " Excuse me, my lord, it was at 
 
LIFE AT MILAN. 195 
 
 the last solemn supper, which we all commemorate with our best in- 
 tentions, some one way, some another. Their method is not yours, 
 neither is it mine ; let us beware of judging, lest we ourselves be 
 judged." " Fetch me a Bible, Sir," said Monsignore. t; I will 
 bring mine," said I. " Excuse me now, Madam," replied my 
 antagonist ; " we cannot abide but by the Vulgate." Canonico 
 Palazzi offered to go ; I begged of him to buy me one at the 
 next bookseller's, three doors off. My victory was complete, and 
 I have the Bible still which won it for me. 
 
 All this, however delightful, grew very wearisome and a little 
 dangerous ; and we were glad when springtime came, that we 
 might set out upon our travels. 
 
 Every new comer from that country (England) told us how 
 all ill-reports had subsided, how the Cardinal Prince d'Orini's 
 civilities had been related up and down, and in short that we had 
 but to return, secure of every comfort Great Britain could afford. 
 Mr. Piozzi said, the moment every debt should be discharged, 
 that he would turn his horses' heads towards the island he had 
 always preferred to every other place ; and, so saying, we trav- 
 elled on, as happy in leaving Milan as in arriving there. Au 
 reste, as the French say, few things befell us worth recording, ex- 
 cept Count Manucci's visit. He had been intimate with Mr. Thrale 
 in England, as Johnson's letters abundantly testify, and had taken 
 a fancy to Mr. Piozzi at Paris, when he was there with Sacchini. 
 Hearing, therefore, of this marriage, he came one morning, but 
 never had a notion that it was with me he had connected himself. 
 ' Ah, Madame ! ' exclaimed the Count, i quel coup de Theatre ! ' 
 when the door opened, and showed him an old acquaintance with 
 a new name. This was the nobleman who, I told you, lamented 
 so tenderly that his sister's children were counterfeited. 
 
 We return to the Biographical Anecdotes. 
 
 The letters from our daughters had been cold and unfrequent 
 during the whole absence ; a little more so as we approached 
 nearer home. The newspapers had told of our exploits at Brus- 
 sels, and public good-humor seemed disposed to wait and even to 
 meet our return. Fector, the government officer at Dover, would 
 not even look into our portmanteaus, trunks, &c. ; and I saw in- 
 
196 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 stantly that the tide was turned. Numberless cards were left at 
 the Royal Hotel, where we remained till a house in Hanover 
 Square was fitted up to receive us, and on the 22d of May, we 
 opened with a concert and supper, the more willingly, as Mr. 
 Cator, in whose hands we placed our pecuniary affairs at starting, 
 pronounced the mortgage paid off, and £ 1,500 in the bank to 
 begin with. This Mr. Cator had been one of our insulting 
 enemies ; was acting executor to Mr. Thrale and guardian to his 
 daughters ; had said, that I should be soon deceased, but my 
 death would be concealed by Mr. Piozzi, while he enjoyed my 
 jointure, &c. ; this man's approbation was indeed a triumph, and 
 we now intended to be happy. 
 
 Cecilia had been left at Ray and Frey's school at Streatham, 
 with friends I could depend on ; but Lady Keith removed her 
 thence and placed her at Stevenson's, Queen's Square, without 
 my knowledge or consent. We kept our distance then, and so 
 did they ; meeting only in public. I took my little mad-headed 
 Cecilia home, and we had masters to her, &c. Nor do I know 
 when the sisters and I should have met again, had not she grown 
 so fast that at fourteen years old or six months more, Mr. Piozzi 
 felt himself alarmed, and was advised by our friends, Lord Hunt- 
 ingdon, Sir Charles Hotham, and the Greatheads, with whom we 
 lived familiarly, to put the young lady into Chancery, a measure 
 he was most earnest to adopt. We were at Streatham Park, 
 but I observed my husband unusually anxious, when an old Mr. 
 Jones who had married Sir William Fowler's daughter, my 
 mother's first cousin, told me that the Miss Thrales had made 
 overtures of reconciliation through him (who lived much with us), 
 and that he should make a breakfast party for us all at his house 
 in Cavendish Square, with my permission. It was the middle 
 of the French Revolution, so there was talk enough, and the day 
 went on very well with an invitation to the ladies for Easter 
 Tuesday, I remember ; and Pisani, the Venetian ambassador, 
 Lord and Lady Coventry, and 130 people, in short, witnessed 
 our gayety and mutual good-humor. Three weeks more, how- 
 ever, had scarce elapsed before Miss Thrale, now Viscountess 
 Keith, came down on horseback, and said she must speak to us 
 on business. It was to beg Mr. Piozzi would not put Cecilia into 
 
CALUMNY. — BRYXBELLA. 197 
 
 Chancery. Their fortunes, they alleged, would be examined by 
 lawyers, and dear Mr. Cator's accounts too would be hauled 
 over, with which they were well contented ; alluding, besides this, 
 to some undisclosed dealings and connections of their father's, 
 wholly new and very surprising to me, who had no notion of his 
 affairs beyond the counting-house and brewhouse yard. In 
 short, they frighted us into every compliance they could wish, 
 then kept their distance as before, sending perpetually for Cecy. 
 Libels and odd ill-natured speeches appeared sometimes in the 
 public prints, and one day of the ensuing winter, when I was 
 airing my lap-dogs in a retired part of Hyde Park, Lord Fife 
 came up to me, and after a moment's chat, said, " Would you 
 like to know your friends from your enemies ? " in a Scotch 
 accent. u Yes, very much, my lord," was the reply. " Ay, but 
 have you strength of mind enough to bear my intelligence ? " 
 " Make haste and tell me, dear my lord," said I. " Why then 
 the Burneys are your enemies, that so fostered and fondled ; 
 
 more than that, Baretti has been making up a libel, and 
 
 every magazine has refused it entrance except a new work car- 
 ried on by the female Burneys." " Never mind," replied I, 
 " nobody will read their work ; I feel as I ought towards your 
 lordship's friendship, which you cannot prove better than by not 
 naming the subject ; it will die away, so will the authors ; good 
 
 morrow, and a thousand thanks." My own books came 
 
 out one by one : they pleased, and I suffered not these tormentors 
 much to vex me. We went on spending our money at and upon 
 Streatham Park, till old Mr. Jones and the wise Marquis Trotti 
 advised Piozzi to make the tour of North Wales, and see my 
 country, my estate, &c. We had been all over Scotland, except 
 the Highlands, where we were afraid of carrying Cecy because 
 of her unsteady health. I staid with dear Mrs. Siddons, at Pose 
 Hill, while our friends made their ramble, and came back as 
 much delighted with Denbighshire and Flintshire as Mr. Thrale 
 had been disgusted with them. This was charming. Piozzi had 
 fixed upon a spot, and resolved to build an Italian villa on the 
 banks of the Clwydd. Even Mr. Murphy applauded the project, 
 and we drew in our expenses, preparing to engage in brick and 
 mortar. 
 
198 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 Gout now fastened on Mr. Piozzi, who built his pretty villa in 
 North Wales, and, conforming to our religious opinions, kindly- 
 set our little church at Dymerchion in a state it never before en- 
 joyed, spending sums of money on its decoration, and making a 
 vault for my ancestors and for ourselves to repose in. I wrote 
 verses for the opening of our tiny temple, and dear Piozzi set 
 them most enchantingly to music ; our clerk, he said, was a very 
 good genius ; and I trust a more virtuous or pious pleasure could 
 not be felt than ours when teaching those poor people to sing the 
 lines you will read over leaf. 
 
 With homely verse and artless lays, 
 Full oft these humble roofs shall ring ; 
 
 Whilst to our dear Redeemer's praise 
 Rough youths and village maidens sing. 
 
 Incarnate God ! when He appeared, 
 And blessings all around him spread, 
 
 Though still by radiant myriads feared, • 
 He chose the poor, the lowly shed. 
 
 And sure before He comes again 
 
 In awful state to judge the world ; 
 Resounding choirs though He disdain, 
 
 Temples and towers in ruin hurled ; 
 
 To unambitious efforts kind, 
 
 Pleased He permits our rustic lays ; 
 Our simple voices, unrefined, 
 
 Have leave to sing their Saviour's praise. 
 
 The house, our dwelling-house I mean, was built from a de- 
 sign of its elegant master's own hand, and he set poor Bachygraig 
 up too ; repaired and beautified it, and, to please his silly wife, 
 gilt the Llewenny lion on its top. The scroll once held in his paw 
 was broke and gone. Lombardy, where his (Mr. Piozzi's) re- 
 lations lived, was torn by faction, and his father, a feeble old man 
 of eighty-one years old, equal to one hundred in our island, was 
 actually terrified into apoplexy, lethargy, and death. His son, 
 who half entertained a tender thought that they might meet once 
 
ARRIVAL OF HER ADOPTED HEIR. 199 
 
 more, grieved for his loss severely, the more so, as he himself 
 said, because i Sara quel che sara, ma alia fin, il sangue non e 
 acqua.' His brother, I am afraid, joined the Republicans, leaving 
 a very deserving lady, born at Venice, whose friends were wholly 
 ruined, though her uncle, the Abbate Zendrini, was afterwards 
 in high favor, and even appointed confessor to Buonaparte. They 
 had baptized one of their babies by name of John Salusbury in 
 compliment to me, and Mr. Piozzi sent to bring him out of the 
 confusion. He came an infant between three and four years old. 
 We educated him first at Mr. Davis's school at Streatham, where 
 my own son had been placed so many years before, and then 
 with Mr. Shephard, of Enborne, Berkshire, whence he commonly 
 came to us at Streatham Park, or Bath, or Brynbella. 
 
 You know the rest. You know that dear Mr. Piozzi died of 
 the gout at his pretty villa in North Wales. You know that he 
 left me that, and everything else, never naming his nephew in 
 the will, only leaving among his father's children £ 6,000 in the 
 three per cents, being the whole of his savings during the twenty- 
 five years he had shared and enjoyed my fortune. Unexampled 
 generosity indeed ! And true love ! Could I do less than repay 
 it to the child whose situation in life I now felt responsible for ! 
 I bred him with his friends at Oxford, yet he stood alone, insu- 
 lated in a nation where he had no natural friend. Incapacitated 
 to return where his religion would have rendered him miserable, 
 and petted and spoiled till any profession would have been pain- 
 ful. What could I do ? The boy had besides all this formed an 
 attachment to his friend's sister. What could I do ? You know 
 what I did do. I gave them my estate ; and resolving that Mr. 
 Thrale's daughters should suffer as little as possible by this ar- 
 rangement, I repaired and new fronted their house at Streatham 
 Park, and by the enormous expense incurred there, and the loss 
 of my rents from Denbighshire and Flintshire, reduced myself to 
 the very wretched state you found me in, and lavished upon me 
 a friendship, which, at the sauciest hour of my life, would by my 
 mind have been esteemed an honor, but in this sad, deserted stage 
 of it the truest, very near the only cordial. Thus then, as Adam 
 says to Raphael in Milton's " Paradise Lost " : — 
 
200 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 1 Thus have I told thee all my state ; and brought 
 My story to that sum of earthly bliss 
 Which /enjoy; and since at length to part, 
 Go ; sent of heaven, angelic messenger, 
 Gentle to me, and affable hath been 
 Thy conversation, to be honored ever 
 With grateful memory," 
 
 by H, L. Piqzzi. 
 
THRALE'S WILL. — SALE OF THE BREWERY. 201 
 
 THRALE'S WILL. — SALE OF THE BREWERY. 
 
 " We read the will to-day." — Johnson to Mrs. Thrale, April 5, 
 1781. 
 
 It was neither kind or civil, you will say, to open the will in 
 my absence, but Mr. Thrale had been both civil and kind in 
 laboring to restore to me the Welsh estate, which I had meant to 
 give him in our moments of uneasiness when I became possessed 
 of it by Sir Thomas Salusbury's death, from whom we had once 
 expected Offley Place in Hertfordshire, and all its wide domain. 
 Notwithstanding that disappointment, my husband left me the 
 interest of £ 50,000 for my life, doubtless in return for my dili- 
 gence during our distresses in 1772, because it is specified to be 
 given over and above what was provided in our marriage settle- 
 ment. He left me also the plate, pictures, and linen of both 
 houses, forgetting even to name Brighthelmstone, so all I had 
 bought for that place fell to the ladies (who said loudly what a 
 wretched match their poor papa had made). It was not so, how- 
 ever. Mr. Thrale had received the rents and profits from Wales, 
 £ 9,000, and had cut timber for £ 4,000 more. My mother and 
 my aunts, and an old Doctor Bernard Wilson, had left me £ 5,000 
 among them, more or less, and I carried £ 10,000 in my hand, so 
 that the family was benefited by me £ 28,000 at the lowest, be- 
 sides having been, as King Richard expresses it, 
 
 " A jack-horse in their great affairs. "• 
 
 On Mr. Thrale's death I kept the counting-house from nine 
 o'clock every morning till five o'clock every evening till June, 
 when God Almighty sent us a knot of rich Quakers who bought 
 the whole, and saved me and my coadjutors from brewing our- 
 selves into another bankruptcy, which hardly could, I think, have 
 been avoided, being, as we were five in number, Cator, Crutchley, 
 Johnson, myself, and Mr. Smith, all with equal power, yet all 
 9* 
 
202 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 incapable of using it without help from Mr. Perkins, who wished 
 to force himself into partnership, though hating the whole lot of 
 us, save only me. Upon my promise, however, that if he would 
 find us a purchaser, I would present his wife with my dwelling- 
 house at the Borough, and all its furniture, he soon brought for- 
 ward these Quaker Barclays, from Pennsylvania I believe they 
 came, — her own relations I have heard, — and they obtained the 
 brewhouse a prodigious bargain, but Miss Thrale was of my 
 mind to part with it for £ 150,000 ; and I am sure I never did 
 repent it, as certainly it was best for us five females at the time, 
 although the place has now doubled its value, and although men 
 have almost always spirit to spend, while women show greater 
 resolution to spare. 
 
 Will it surprise you now to hear that, among all my fellow-ex- 
 ecutors, none but Johnson opposed selling the concern ? Cator, 
 a rich timber merchant, was afraid of implicating his own credit 
 as a commercial man. Crutchley hated Perkins, and lived upon 
 the verge of a quarrel with him every day while they acted 
 together. Smith cursed the whole business, and wondered what 
 his relation, Mr. Thrale, could mean by leaving him £ 200, he 
 said, and such a burden on his back to bear for it. All were well 
 pleased to find themselves secured, and the brewhouse decently, 
 though not very advantageously disposed of, except dear Doctor 
 Johnson, who found some odd delight in signing drafts for hun- 
 dreds and for thousands, to him a new, and as it appeared delight- 
 ful, occupation. When all was nearly over, however, I cured his 
 honest heart of its incipient passion for trade, by letting him into 
 some, and only some, of its mysteries. The plant, as it is called, 
 was sold, and I gave God thanks upon Whit Sunday, 1781, 
 for sparing me farther perplexity, though at the cost of a good 
 house, &c. 
 
THE CHARMING S. S. 203 
 
 THE CHARMING S. S. 
 
 "So you may set the Streatfield at defiance." — Johnson, Oct. 
 15, 1778; Letters, Vol. II. p. 20. 
 
 My dear and ever honored Doctor Collier was the cause of my 
 making this Miss Streatfield's acquaintance. I had learned from 
 others that he dropped into her hands soon as dismissed from 
 mine ; and that he gained rather than lost by the exchange had 
 long been my secret consolation. She was but fourteen or fifteen 
 when they first met, and he was growing sickly. She did her 
 own way, and her way was to wait on him, who instructed her in 
 Greek, and who obtained from her excess of tenderness for him, 
 what I could not have bestowed. I have heard her say she 
 grudged his old valet the happiness of reaching him a glass of 
 wine, and out of her house did he never more make his residence, 
 but died in her arms, and was buried at her expense, the moment 
 she came of age.* All these accounts did I never cease listen- 
 ing to, till I observed my beautiful friend, not contented with her 
 legitimate succession to the heart of Doctor Collier, was endeav- 
 oring to supplant me in the esteem of Mr. Thrale, whose good 
 opinion, assailed vainly by Baretti, it was my business and my 
 bounden duty to retain. Miss Thrale, now Lady Keith, was in 
 this case my coadjutor ; though she had acted in concert with 
 Baretti, she abhorred this attack of Miss Streatfield, who was 
 very dangerous indeed, both from her beauty and learning. Wit 
 she possessed none of, and was as ignorant as an infant of 
 
 # The attachment inspired by Dr. Collier in both his pupils resembles that of 
 Stella and Vanessa for Swift, the growth of which is described %i the Dean's 
 best poem, " Cadenus and Vanessa " : — 
 
 " I knew by what you said and writ 
 How dang'rous things were men of wit : 
 You cautioned me against their charms, 
 But never gave me equal arms. 
 Your lessons found the weakest part, 
 Aimed at the head, but reached the heart." 
 
204 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 " That which before us lies in daily life." 
 
 No wonder Mr. Thrale, whose mind wanted some new object, 
 since he had lost his son, and lost beside the pleasure he had 
 taken in his business, before all knowledge of it was shared with 
 myself, — no wonder that he encouraged a sentimental attachment 
 to Sophia Streatfield, who became daily more and more dear to him, 
 and almost necessary. No one who visited us missed seeing his 
 preference of her to me ; but she was so amiable and so sweet- 
 natured, no one appeared to blame him for the unusual and unre- 
 pressed delight he took in her agreeable society. I was exceed- 
 ingly oppressed by pregnancy, and saw clearly my successor in 
 the fair S. S. as we familiarly called her in the family, of which 
 she now made constantly a part, and stood godmother to my new- 
 born baby, by bringing which I only helped to destroy my own 
 health, and disappoint my husband, who wanted a son. " Why 
 Mr. Thrale is Peregrinus Domi," said Dr. Johnson ; " he lives in 
 Clifford Street, I hear, all winter ; " and so he did, leaving his 
 carriage at his sister's door in Hanover Square, that no inquirer 
 might hurt his favorite's reputation ; which my behavior likewise 
 tended to preserve from injury, and we lived on together as well 
 as we could. Miss Browne, who sung enchantingly, and had 
 been much abroad ; Miss Burney, whose powers of amusement 
 were many and various, were my companions then at Streatham 
 Park, with Doctor Johnson, who wanted me to be living at the 
 Borough, because less inconvenient to him, so he said I passed 
 my winter in Surrey, " feeding my chickens and starving my un- 
 derstanding ; " but 1779, and the summer of it was coming, to 
 bring on us a much more serious calamity. 
 
THRALE'S ILLNESS. 205 
 
 THRALE'S ILLNESS. 
 
 " Your account of Mr. Thrale's illness is very terrible." — John- 
 son, June 14, 1770 ; Letters, Vol. II. p. 47. 
 
 My account of Mr. Thrale's illness had every reason to be ter 
 rible. He had slept at Streatham Park, and left it after break- 
 fast, looking as usual. 
 
 His sister's husband, Mr. Nesbitt, often mentioned in these Let- 
 ters and Memoirs, had been dead perhaps a fortnight. He was 
 commercially connected, I knew, with Sir George Colebrook and 
 Sir Something Turner ; but that was all I knew, — and that was 
 nothing. I knew of nothing between Thrale and them till after 
 my return from Italy, and was the more perhaps shocked and 
 amazed when, sitting after dinner with Lady Keith and Doctor 
 Burney and his daughter, I believe, my servant Sam opened the 
 drawing-room door with un air effare, saying : " My master is 
 come home, but there is something amiss." I started up, and saw 
 a tall, black female figure, who cried, " Don't go into the library, 
 don't go in I say." My rushing by her somewhat rudely was 
 all her prohibition gained ; but there sat Mrs. Nesbitt holding 
 her brother's hand, who I perceived knew not a syllable of what 
 was passing. So I called Dr. Burney, begged him to fly in the 
 post-chaise, which was then waiting for him, and send me some 
 physician, Sir E. Jebb or Pepys, or if none else could be found, 
 my old accoucheur, Doctor Bromfield of Gerard Street. 'T was 
 he that came ; and, convincing me it was an apoplectic seizure, act- 
 ed accordingly, while the silly ladies went home quite contented I 
 believe : only Mrs. Nesbitt said she thought he was delirious ; and 
 from her companion I learned that he had dined at their house, 
 had seen the will opened, and had dropped as if lifeless from the 
 dinner-table ; when, instead of calling help, they called their car- 
 riage, and brought him five or six miles out of town in that con- 
 dition. Would it not much enrage one? From this dreadful sit- 
 
206 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 uation medical art relieved Mr. Thrale, but the natural disposi- 
 tion to conviviality degenerated into a preternatural desire for 
 food, like Erisicthon of old 
 
 " Cibus omnis in illo 
 Causa cibi est; semperque locus inanis edendo." 
 
 It was a distressing moment, and the distress increasing perpetu- 
 ally, nor could any one persuade our patient to believe, or at least 
 to acknowledge, he ever had been ill. With a person, the very 
 wretched wreck of what it had been, no one could keep him at 
 home. Dinners and company engrossed all his thoughts, and 
 dear Dr. Johnson encouraged him in them, that he might not ap- 
 pear wise, or predicting his friend's certainly accelerated dissolu- 
 tion. 
 
 Death of the baby boy I carried in my bosom, was the natural 
 consequence of the scene described here ; but I continued to carry 
 him till a quarrel among the clerks, which I was called to pacify, 
 made a complete finish of the child and nearly of me. The men 
 were reconciled though, and my danger accelerated their recon- 
 cilement. 
 
DEATH OF THRALE. 207 
 
 DEATH OF THRALE. 
 
 " It was by bleeding till be fainted tbat his life was saved." — 
 Johnson, Aug. 24, 1780 ; Letters, Yol. II. p. 185. 
 
 Here is another allusion to that famous bleeding which cer- 
 tainly in Southwark did save the life of Mr. Thrale, and by its 
 immediate effects ruined my nerves forever. 
 
 Sir Richard, however, said : " We have paid his heavy debt this 
 time, but he must eat prudently in future." No one however 
 could control his appetite, which Sir Lucas Pepys, who was at 
 Brighthelmstone, observing, commanded us to town, and took a 
 house not 100 yards from his own for us, in Grosvenor Square, 
 and I went every day to the Borough, whence Lancaster, a favor- 
 ite clerk third in command, was run away with £ 1,850. Thither 
 poor Doctor Delap followed me, begging a prologue to his new 
 play, and I remember composing it in the coach, as I was driving 
 up and down after Lancaster ; but my business in Southwark was 
 of far severer import. 
 
 Some fellow had incited our master to begin a new and ex- 
 pensive building to the amount of £ 20,000, after the progress of 
 which he was ever inquisitive, and kept the plan of it in his bed- 
 chamber. So little did Dr. Johnson even then comprehend the 
 strict awe I stood in of my first husband, that I well recollect his 
 saying to me, " Madam ! you should tear that foolish paper down : 
 why 't is like leaving a wench's love-letter in the apartments of 
 a man whom you would wish to cure of his amorous passion." 
 God knows I durst as well encounter death as disturb Mr. 
 Thrale's love-letters or his building plans. The next grand 
 agony was seeing him send out cards of invitation to a concert 
 and supper on the 5th of April. He had himself charged Piozzi, 
 who was the first to tell me, with care of the musical part of our 
 entertainment, and had himself engaged the Parsees, a set of 
 Orientals, who were shown at all the gay houses, — the lions of 
 
208 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 the day. I could but call my coadjutors, Jebb and Pepys ; who 
 tried to counteract this frolic, but in vain. They were obliged 
 to compromise the matter by making him promise to leave town 
 for Streatham immediately after the 5th. " Leave London ! lose 
 my Ranelagh season ! " exclaimed their patient. " Why, Sir, 
 we wished you to be here, that our attendance might be more 
 regular, and less expensive : but since we find you thus unman- 
 ageable, you are safest at a distance." Now, Johnson first began 
 to see, or say he saw the danger, but now his lectures upon tem- 
 perance came all too late. Poor Mr. Thrale answered him only 
 by inquiring when lamprey season would come in ? requesting 
 Sir Philip, who was dining with us, to write his brother, the Pre- 
 bendary of Worcester, a letter, begging from him the first fish of 
 that kind the Severn should produce. I winked at Sir Philip, 
 but he, following us women half up stairs, said : " I understand 
 you, Madam, but must disobey. A friend I have known thirty- 
 six years shall not ask a favor of me in his last stage of life and 
 be refused. What difference can it make ? " Tears stood in his 
 eyes, and my own prevented all answer. In effect, that day was 
 Mr. Thrale's last ! I saw him in Sir Richard's arms at midnight. 
 Pepys came at ten, and never left the house till early light showed 
 me the way to Streatham : and from thence, hoping still less dis- 
 turbance, to Brighthelmstone : where we had a dwelling-house 
 of our own, and whither you will see the letters all addressed. 
 
 This was thirty -four or thirty-five years ago, yet did I never 
 completely recover my strength of body or of mind again. I am 
 sure I never did ! The shocks of 1780 and 1781 are not yet 
 either recovered or forgotten by poor H. L. P. 
 
DR. COLLIER. 209 
 
 DR. COLLIER. 
 
 " Poor dear Dr. Collier." — Letters, Vol. II. p. 183. 
 
 Perhaps this is no improper place to observe that La Bruyere 
 tells his readers with confidence how the firmest friendships will 
 be always dissolved by the intervention of love seizing the heart 
 of either party.* It may be so ; but certainly the sentiment with 
 which dear Dr. Collier inspired me in 1757 remains unaltered 
 now, in the year 1815. After my father's death my kind and 
 prudent mother, resolving I should marry Mr. Thrale, and fear- 
 ing possibly lest my Preceptor should foment any disinclination 
 which she well knew would melt in her influence, or die in her 
 displeasure, resolved to part us, and we met no more ; but never 
 have I failed remembering him with a preference as completely 
 distinct from the venerating solicitude which hung heavily over 
 my whole soul whilst connected with Dr. Johnson, as it was from 
 the strong connubial duty that tied my every thought to Mr. 
 Thrale's interest, or from the fervid and attractive passion which 
 made twenty years passed in Piozzi's enchanting society seem 
 like a happy dream of twenty hours. My first friend formed my 
 mind to resemble his. It never did resemble that of either of 
 my husbands, and in that of Doctor Johnson's mine was swal- 
 lowed up and lost. 0, true were these words, put together so long 
 ago : — 
 
 " The sentiment I feel for you 
 
 No power on earth shall e'er subdue; 
 
 No power on earth shall e'er remove, 
 
 Nor pungent grief nor ardent love." 
 
 Sophia Streatfield too, if yet living, will bear testimony to the 
 strange power of Doctor Arthur Collier over the minds of his 
 
 * " No friend like to a woman man discovers, 
 
 So that they have not been, nor may be, lovers." 
 
 Byron. 
 
210 AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIRS. 
 
 youthful pupils when past seventy years old, and to the day of 
 his death, which when I knew her, she lamented annually, by 
 wearing a black dress, &c. If he did not burn my letters, Latin 
 exercises, &c., she possesses them. 
 
 Mr. Thrale's passion for her she played with ; a little perhaps 
 diverting herself by mortifying me, but there was no harm done, 
 I am confident. He thought her a thing at least semi-celestial ; 
 had he once found her out a mere mortal woman, his flame would 
 have blazed out no more. And it did blaze frightfully indeed 
 during one dreadful attack of the apoplexy at our Borough 
 house, alluded to in these Letters, page 178, when by Sir Rich- 
 ard Jebb's conditional permission, Shaw the apothecary bled Mr. 
 Thrale usque ad deliquium, and I thought all over. When, how- 
 ever, temporary and apparent recovery followed the horrid pro- 
 cess of stimulating cataplasms which awakened him from carus to 
 delirium, that delirium only appeased by bleeding quite to faint- 
 ness ; when he had remained mute five long days ; not speaking 
 a consolatory word to one of us, — friends, sisters, daughters, 
 clerks, physicians, — no sooner was Sophy Streatfield's voice heard 
 in Southwark than our patient sat up in bed, conversed with her 
 without hesitation, and even said, with a complimentary smile, 
 kissing her hand, that the visit she had made that day, had repaid 
 all his sufferings. It was from this attack, when he recovered, 
 that Lawrence, Jebb, &c, sent us to Bath, whence rioters dis- 
 lodged and drove us to Brighthelmstone. From thence we re- 
 turned to London ; a ready-furnished house in Grosvenor Square 
 being thought the best place by medical advisers, while Perkins 
 assured Doctor Johnson that his master would be safest, in every 
 respect, at a distance from his husiness. 
 
MARGINAL NOTES. 211 
 
 MINOR MARGINAL NOTES ON THE TWO VOL- 
 UMES OF PRINTED LETTERS* 
 
 Mr. Seward. — Mr. Seward, who wrote the • Anecdotes ;" he 
 was only son to a rich brewer, whom he disappointed and 
 grieved by his preference of literature to riches. His head, how- 
 ever, was not quite right. I believe his principles w r ere vitiated 
 by his studies among the Swiss infidels : Helvetius, D'Alembert, 
 and the rest of them. He kept his morality pure for the sake of 
 his health perhaps, for he was a professed valetudinarian. 
 
 Mr. Keep. — Mr. Keep, when he heard I was a native of 
 North Wales, told me that his wife was a Welshwoman, and 
 desired to be buried at Ruthyn. u So," says the man, u I went 
 with the corpse myself, because I thought it would be a pleasant 
 journey, and indeed I found Ruthyn a very beautiful place." 
 
 Sir Robert Chambers. — The box goes to Calcutta to Sir Rob- 
 ert Chambers, a favorite with them all. (I never could see why.) 
 He was judge in India, married Fanny Wilton, the statuary's 
 daughter, who stood for Hebe at the Royal Academy. She was 
 very beautiful indeed, and but fifteen years old when Sir Robert 
 married her. His portrait is in the Library at Streatham Park. 
 1815. 
 
 Bath is often mentioned in these letters, but I forgot among 
 the baby anecdotes which precede them, to say how I remem- 
 bered being carried about the rooms by Beau Nash, and taken 
 notice of by Lady Caroline, mother to the famous Charles James 
 Fox. 
 
 On Johnson's writing to congratulate her on making the con- 
 
 * The name, or passage, suggesting the note is given when required for its 
 elucidation. 
 
212 
 
 MARGINAL NOTES. 
 
 quest of the Prince of Castiglione, she writes : 
 drank his health by name of Mr. Vagabond." 
 
 " The man who 
 
 Whitbread. — Would you for the other thousand have my mas- 
 ter such a man as Whitbread ? Father to the man who killed 
 himself. He asked me to marry him after Mr. Thrale's death, 
 when his fortune was much increased : on my refusal (he had 
 three children) Lady Mary Cornwallis accepted his hand, and 
 brought him a daughter before she died. 
 
 a But I long to see £ 20,000 in the bank." — Johnson. 
 
 Ay, so did I, but not one shilling was found by the executors 
 in any place, except a trifle for present use at the banker's shop ; 
 £ 6,000, no more ; and no estate purchased anywhere. Although 
 Murphy said afterwards that Mr. T. enjoyed a contract, bringing 
 in £ 26,000 a year for three years, of which neither Dr. Johnson 
 nor I, nor Perkins the head clerk, ever heard. I now- know 
 that to be true, but have not known it fifteen years. Mr. Murphy 
 himself witnessed the deed, the contract. Very strange ! 
 
 " Why should you suspect me of forgetting lilly lolly ? " — 
 Johnson. 
 
 Ask me about this stuff, and I '11 try to tell you : come, here it 
 is. One of our Welsh squires had a half-witted son, — his sole 
 heir, poor fellow ! and the parents fondled it accordingly. When 
 Christmas came, and all the country was invited at Llewenney 
 Hall, the seat of my mother's eldest brother, who married Lady 
 Elizabeth Tollemache, came these dear Wynnes and their booby 
 boy about eleven years old* " What does the child say ? " cries 
 my aunt, " it sounds like lilly lolly." " Indeed, my Lady Betty," 
 replies the mother, in a sharp Welsh accent, " Dick does say lilly 
 lolly, sure enough : but he mains : How do you do, Sir Robert 
 Cotton ? " I had probably in some unprinted letter said : " Here 's 
 a deal of lilly lolly, which I suppose you forget, but it means, How 
 do you do, Dr. Johnson ? " 
 
 Foote. — " Did you see Foote at Brighthelmstone ? — Did you 
 think he would so soon be gone ? — Life, says Falstaff, is a shuttle. 
 
RICHARDSON. 213 
 
 He was a fine fellow in his way ; and the world is really im- 
 poverished by his sinking glories. Murphy ought to write his life, 
 at least to give the world a Footeana. Now, will any of his con- 
 temporaries bewail him ? "Will Genius change his sex to weep ? 
 I would really have his life written with diligence." * — Johnson. 
 Doctor Johnson was not aware that Foote broke his heart 
 because of a hideous detection ; he was trying to run away from 
 England, and from infamy, but death stopped him. Doctor 
 Johnson never could persuade himself that things were as bad as 
 the sufferer or his friends represented them ; he thought it wrong 
 to believe so, and steadily made the best on 't. 
 
 Richardson. — u Doctor Johnson said, that if Mr. Richardson 
 had lived till / came out, my praises would have added two or 
 three years to his life : ' For,' says Dr. Johnson, * that fellow 
 died merely for want of change among his flatterers : he perished 
 for want of more, like a man obliged to breathe the same air till 
 it is exhausted.' " 
 
 " Here is Mr. , now Sir William, however, who talks all 
 
 about taste, and classics, and country customs, and rural sports, 
 with rapture, which he perhaps fancies unaffected, — was riding 
 by our chaise on the Downs yesterday, and said, because the sun 
 shone, that one could not perceive it was autumn ; ' for,' says he, 
 ' there is not one tree in sight to show us the fall of the leaf; and 
 hark! how that sweet bird sings,' continued he, 'just like the 
 first week in May.' ' No, no,' replied I, ' that 's nothing but a 
 poor robin-redbreast, whose chill wintry note tells the season too 
 plainly, without assistance from the vegetable kingdom.' < Why, 
 you amaze me,' quoth our friend ; 'I had no notion of that.' Yet 
 
 Mrs. says, this man is a natural converser, and Mrs. 
 
 is an honorable lady." — Letters, Vol. II. p. 33. 
 
 The blanks are filled up with the names of Pepys and Mon- 
 tagu. 
 
 * A very able essay on the " Life and Character of Foote " has been written 
 by Mr. Forster, who clears his memory of the calumny which shortened his life. 
 
214 MARGINAL NOTES. 
 
 The Barneys. — Doctor Burney and his family are often 
 spoken of in these Memoirs. He was a man of very uncommon 
 attainments : wit born with him, I suppose ; learning, he had 
 helped himself to, and was proud of the possession ; elegance of 
 manners he had so cultivated, that those who knew but little of 
 the man, fancied he had great flexibility of mind. It was mere 
 pliancy of body, however, and a perpetual show of obsequious- 
 ness by bowing incessantly as if acknowledging an inferiority, 
 which nothing would have forced him to confess. I never in my 
 life heard Johnson pronounce the words, " I beg your pardon, 
 Sir," to any human creature but the apparently soft and gentle 
 Dr. Burney. Perhaps the story may be related in the " An- 
 ecdotes ; " but as I now recollect it, thus it is. " Did you, Madam, 
 subscribe £ 100 to build our new bridge at Shrewsbury ? " said 
 Burney to me. " No, surely, Sir," was my reply. " What con- 
 nection have I with Shropshire ? and where should I have 
 money so to fling away ? " " It is very comical, is it not, Sir ? " 
 said I, turning to Dr. Johnson, u that people should tell such un- 
 founded stories ? " " It is," answered he, " neither comical nor 
 serious, my dear ; it is only a wandering lie." This was spoken 
 in his natural voice, without a thought of offence, I am confident ; 
 but up bounced Burney in a towering passion, and to my much 
 amaze, put on the hero, surprising Doctor Johnson into a sudden 
 request for pardon, and protestation of not having ever intended 
 to accuse his friend of a falsehood. The following lines written, 
 sur le champ, with a gold pen I gave him, prove he could make 
 more agreeable impromptus than this I have related : — 
 
 " Such implements, though fine and splendid, 
 They say can ne'er write well : 
 With common fame that truth is blended, 
 Let this example tell. 
 
 " If bounteous Thrale could thus confer 
 Her learning, sense, and wit ; 
 Who would not wish a gift from her. 
 Who — not to beg — submit ? 
 
 " Paupers from Grub Street at her gate 
 Would crowd both young and old, 
 
DR. BURNEY. 215 
 
 In humble guise to supplicate 
 For thoughts, not pens, of gold. 
 
 " For not alone the gift of tongues, 
 The Muses' grace and favor, 
 Adorn her prose, and on her songs 
 Bestow the Attic flavor. 
 
 " The Virtues all around her wait 
 T' infuse their influence mild ; 
 And every duty regulate 
 Of parent, wife, and child. 
 
 " Such judgment to direct each storm, 
 Each hurricane to weather ; 
 A mind so pure, a heart so warm, 
 How seldom found together ! " 
 
 There was a merry tale told about the town of some musical 
 nobleman having been refused tickets for his private concert 
 about this time by blind Stanley, who he had always patronized ; 
 and of his going to a grave friend's, I forget who, where, foaming 
 with anger, he at length exclaimed : " But I will go to Burney's 
 house to-night (where there was music), and that will do for 
 him." " Are you mad, my dear Lord ? " says the grave man, 
 amazed ; " to talk of setting a blind man's house on fire, because 
 he has refused your favorite girl a ticket ? Fie ! fie ! I am 
 ashamed of listening to such strange things." The equivoque 
 was now well understood ; but having no acquaintance with the 
 doctor, the gentleman thought he had menaced going to burn his 
 house. 
 
 We had been talking of the French rondeaux one day, and 
 both doctors said they were impracticable in English, so I made 
 this, — Musa loquitur : — 
 
 To burn ye with rapture, or melt you with pity, 
 
 A rondeau was never intended : 
 Yet the lines should be light, and the turn should be witty. 
 
 And the jest is to see how 't is ended. 
 To finish it neat in an elegant style 
 
 Though Phoebus himself should discern ye ; 
 
216 MARGINAL NOTES. 
 
 And though to throw light on the troublesome toil, 
 Should he shine hot enough for to burn ye, 
 
 You still would be vexed, 
 
 Incumbered, perplexed, 
 So teizing the rhymes would return ye : 
 
 In a fit of despair 
 
 Then this moment forbear, 
 And let me some humility learn ye : 
 
 Leave writing with ease, 
 
 And each talent to please, 
 And making of rondeaux — to Burney. 
 
 " voiture's famous rondeau, 
 
 " Ma foi, c'est fait de moi, car Isabeau 
 M'a conjure de lui faire un rondeau ; 
 Cela me met dans une peine extreme, 
 Quoi ! treize vers, huit en eau, cinq en erne ! 
 Je lus ferois aussitot un bateau. 
 
 " En voila cinq pourtant en un monceau 
 Faisons en huit — en invoquant brodeau ; 
 Et puis mettons, par quelque stratageme 
 Ma foi c'est fait. 
 
 " Si je pouvois encore de mon cerveau 
 
 Tirer cinq vers, l'ouvrage seroit beau ; 
 . Mais cependant je suis dedans l'onzieme 
 
 Et si je crois que je fais le douzieme 
 
 En voila treize ajustes au niveau, 
 Ma foi c'est fait," 
 
 is borrowed from a sonnet of Lope de Vega, admirably imitated 
 in our collection of poems called " Dodsley's Miscellanies " : — 
 
 " SONETO. 
 
 " Un soneto me manda hazer Yiolante 
 Que en mi vida me he visto en tanto aprieto. 
 Catorze versos dizen que es soneto 
 Burla burlando van los tres delante. 
 
 " Yo pense que no hallara consonante 
 Y estoy a la mitad de otro quarteto ; 
 
CATAMARAN. 217 
 
 Mas si me veo en el primo terceto, 
 
 No ay cosa en los quartetos que me espante. 
 
 " Per el primo terceto voy entrando 
 Y aun parece que entre con pie derccho, 
 Pues fin con este verso le voy dando. 
 
 " Ya estoy en el segundo, y aun sospecho 
 Que voy los treze versos acabando 
 Contad si son catorze, y esta echo." 
 
 " IMITATION BY MR. RODERICK. 
 
 " Capricious Wray a sonnet needs must have, — 
 I ne'er was so put to 't before, — a sonnet ! 
 Why fourteen verses must be spent upon it, 
 'Tis good, howe'er, to have conquered the first stave. 
 
 " Yet I shall ne'er find rhymes enough by half, 
 
 Said I ; and found myself in midst of the second : 
 If twice four verses were but fairly reckoned, 
 I should turn back on the hardest part, and laugh. 
 
 " Thus far with good success, I think, I 've scribbled, 
 And of the twice seven lines have clean got o'er ten ; 
 
 Courage ! another '11 finish the first triplet. 
 
 Thanks to the Muse, my work begins to shorten, 
 
 There ? s thirteen lines got o'er driblet by driblet : 
 
 'T is done ; count how you will, I '11 warrant there 's fourteen." * 
 
 " I begin now to let loose my mind after Queeney and Bur- 
 ney." — Johnson, June 19, 1779. 
 
 They were learning Latin of him ; but Dr. Burney would 
 not let his girl (Madam D'Arblay) go on : he thought grammar 
 too masculine a study for misses. 
 
 " I shall be in danger of crying out, with Mr. Head, catamaran 
 whatever that may mean." — Johnson. 
 
 A comical hack joke. Ask me, and I will tell you one or two 
 more tales about catamaran. Come ; here it is : You do not 
 
 * These trifles are principally curious as showing what clever people have 
 thought clever. To borrow Johnson's words, many men, many women, or many 
 children might have written either of the three. 
 
 10 
 
218 MARGINAL NOTES. 
 
 hate nonsense with affected fastidiousness, or fastidious affectation, 
 like those who have little sense. Turn the page, then, over. 
 
 This Mr. Head, whose real name was Plunkett, a low Irish 
 parasite, dependant on Mr. Thrale primarily ; and I suppose, sec- 
 ondarily on Mr. Murphy, was employed by them in various 
 schemes of pleasure, as you men call profligacy ; and on this oc- 
 casion was deputed to amuse them by personating some lord, 
 whom his patrons had promised to introduce to the beautiful Miss 
 Gunnings when they first came over with intent to make 
 their fortunes. He was received accordingly, and the girls played 
 off their best airs, and cast kind looks on his introducers from 
 time to time ; till the fellow wearied, as Johnson says, and dis- 
 gusted with his ill-acted character, burst out on a sudden as they 
 sat at tea, and cried, " Catamaran ! young gentlemen with two 
 shoes and never a heel ; when will you have done with silly jokes 
 now ? Ledies ; " turning to the future peeresses, " never mind 
 these merry boys ; but if you really can afford to pay for some 
 incomparable silk stockings, or true India handkerchiefs, here 
 they are now," rummaging his smuggler's pocket ; but the girls 
 jumped up and turned them all three into the street, where Thrale 
 and Murphy cursed their senseless assistant, and called him 
 Head, like lucus a non lucendo, because they swore he had none. 
 The Duchess (of Hamilton), however, never did forgive this 
 impudent frolic ; Lady Coventry, more prudently, pretended to 
 forget it. 
 
 Catamaran ! was probably a mere Irish exclamation which 
 burst from the fellow when impatient to be selling his smuggled 
 goods. There is exactly such a character in Richardson's " Cla- 
 rissa," — Captain Tomlinson, employed by Lovelace. 
 
 " You and Mrs. must keep Mrs. about you ; and 
 
 try to make a wit of her. She will be a little unskilful in her 
 first essays ; but you will see how precept and example will bring 
 her forwards. Surely it is very fine to have your powers. The 
 wits court you, and the Methodists love you, and the whole world 
 runs about you ; and you write me word how well you can do 
 without me ; and so, go thy ways poor Jack." — Johnson, April 
 15, 1780. 
 
 The names are filled with those of Mrs. Montague and Mrs. 
 
MRS. MONTAGUE. 219 
 
 Byron. It would seem that Johnson was of opinion with Sid- 
 ney Smith, who contends in his lectures that wit may be acquired 
 like other talents or accomplishments. 
 
 " But and you have had, with all your adulations, noth- 
 ing finer said of you than was said last Saturday night of Burke 
 
 and me. We were at the Bishop of 's, a bishop little better 
 
 than your bishop ; and towards twelve we fell into talk, to which 
 the ladies listened, just as they do to you ; and said, as I heard, 
 there is no rising unless somebody will cry Jire" — Johnson, May 
 23, 1780. 
 
 The lady was Mrs. Montague ; Johnson's bishop was the 
 Bishop of St. Asaph (Shipley) ; Mrs. P.'s, the" Bishop of Peter- 
 borough (Hinchliffe). 
 
 Mrs. Piozzi replies : " I have no care about enjoying undivided 
 empire, nor any thoughts of disputing it with Mrs. Montagu. 
 She considers her title as indisputable, most probably, though I 
 am sure I never heard her urge it. Queen Elizabeth, you re- 
 member, would not suffer hers to be inquired into, and I have 
 read somewhere that the Great Mogul is never crowned." 
 
 In a postscript she says : " Apropos to gallantry, here is a gen- 
 tleman hooted out of Bath for showing a lady's love-letters to 
 him ; and such is the resentment of all the females, that even 
 the housemaid refused to make his bed. I think them perfectly 
 right, as he has broken all the common ties of society ; and if he 
 were to sleep on straw for half a year instead of our old favor- 
 ites the Capucin friars, it would do him no harm, and set the men 
 a good example." 
 
 In the margin is written " Mr. Wade." 
 
 " Gluttony is, I think, less common among women than among 
 men. Women commonly eat more sparingly, and are less curi- 
 ous in the choice of meat ; but if once you find a woman glutton- 
 ous, expect from her very little virtue. Her mind is enslaved to 
 the lowest and grossest temptation. 
 
 " Of men, the examples are sufficiently common. I had a 
 friend, of great eminence in the learned and the witty world, 
 
220 MARGINAL NOTES. 
 
 who had hung up some pots on his wall to furnish nests for spar- 
 rows. The poor sparrows, not knowing his character, were se- 
 duced by the convenience, and I never heard any man speak of 
 any future enjoyment with such contortions of delight as he ex- 
 hibited, when he talked of eating the young ones." — Johnson. 
 
 The name of Isaac Hawkins Browne is written in the margin, 
 and it is added that the young sparrows were eaten in a pie. 
 
 Stonehenge. — I saw Stonehenge once before this letter was 
 written, in company of my father, who said it was Druidical : I 
 saw it again seven years or more, ten years perhaps, in company 
 of my second husband, and I saw it with Miss Thrales in June, 
 1784. I fancy it was Saxon for my own part ; a monument to 
 the valor of Hengist. It is Stone Henge. 
 
 " Mrs. Davenant says, that you regain your health. That you 
 regain your health is more than a common recovery ; because I 
 infer, that you regain your peace of mind. Settle your thoughts 
 and control your imagination, and think no more of Hesperian 
 felicity. Gather yourself and your children into a little system, 
 in which each may promote the ease, the safety, and pleasure of 
 the rest." — Johnson. 
 
 Mrs. D'Avenant neither knew nor cared, as she wanted her 
 brother Harry Cotton to marry Lady Keith, and I offered my 
 estate with her. Miss Thrale said she wished to have nothing 
 to do either with my family or my fortune. They were all cruel 
 and all insulting. 
 
 " Dear Sir, — Communicate your letters regularly. Your 
 father's inexorability not only grieves but amazes me. He is 
 your father. He was always accounted a wise man ; nor do I 
 remember anything to the disadvantage of his good-nature ; but 
 in his refusal to assist you there is neither good-nature, father- 
 hood, nor wisdom." — Johnson. 
 
 I think you will be surprised to hear that this so serious letter 
 should have been written to the crazy fellow, of whom a ludi- 
 crous story is told in the " Anecdotes : " Joe Simson, as Doctor 
 Johnson called him, when he related the ridiculous incidents of 
 
JOE SBISOX AXD BOYCE. 221 
 
 his marriage, his kept mistress, his footman, and himself ; all get- 
 ting so drunk with the nuptial bowl of punch, purchased with 
 borrowed money, that the hero of the tale tumbled down stairs 
 and broke his leg or arm, I forget which, and sent for Doctor 
 Johnson to assist him. He had another friend of much the same 
 description, though this gentleman was a lawyer : the other, a 
 
 poet Boyce was the author of some pretty things in the 
 
 u Gentleman's Magazine," and Johnson showed me the following 
 verses in manuscript, which I translated : but which are not half 
 so pleasant as was his account of Mr. Boyce lying a-bed : not for 
 lack of a shirt, because he seldom wore one ; supplying the want 
 with white paper wristbands : but for want of his scarlet cloak, 
 laced with gold, his usual covering ; which lay unredeemed at 
 the pawnbrokers. The verses were addressed to Cave, of St. 
 John's Gate, who saved him from prison that time at least : — 
 
 " Hodie, teste Coelo summo 
 Sine pane, sine nummo ; 
 Sorte positus infeste 
 Scribo tibi dolens niaeste : 
 Fame, bile, tamet jecur, 
 Urbane ! mitte opem precor : 
 Tibi enim cor humanum 
 Non a malis alienum ; 
 Mihi mens nee male grato, 
 Pro a te favor e dato. 
 
 Ex gehenna debitoria, 
 Vulgo, domo spongiatoria." 
 
 O witness Heaven for me this day 
 
 That I Ve no pelf my debts to pay : 
 
 No bread, nor halfpenny to buy it, 
 
 No peace of mind or household quiet. 
 
 My liver swelled with bile and hunger 
 
 Will burst me if I wait much longer. 
 
 Thou hast a heart humane they say, 
 
 O then a little money — pray. 
 
 Nor further press me on my fate 
 
 And fix me at the begging grate : 
 
 Sufficient in this hell to souse 
 Vulgarly called a sponging house. 
 
222 MARGINAL NOTES. 
 
 Of this curious creature I have heard Johnson tell how he re- 
 mained fasting three whole days ; and at the end when his con- 
 soling friend brought him a nice beefsteak, how he refused to 
 touch it till the dish (he had no plate) had been properly rubbed 
 over with shalot " What inhabitants this world has in it ! " 
 
 " You were kind in paying my forfeits at the club ; it cannot 
 be expected that many should meet in the summer, however they 
 that continue in town should keep up appearances as well as they 
 can. I hope to be again among you." — Johnson. 
 
 There is a story of poor dear Garrick, whose attention to his 
 money-stuff never forsook him, — relating that when his last day 
 was drawing to an end, he begged a gentleman present to pay 
 his club forfeits, " and don't let them cheat you," added he, " for 
 there cannot be above nine, and they will make out ten." 
 
 At the end of the second volume of " Letters " are printed 
 several translations from Boethius, the joint performances of Dr. 
 Johnson and Mrs. Piozzi. She has written on the last leaf: — 
 
 Booh 3d, Metre 7, being completely my own, I would not print, 
 though Dr. Johnson commended my doing it so well, and said he 
 could not make it either more close or more correct : — 
 
 That pleasure leaves a parting pain 
 Her veriest votaries maintain ; 
 Soon she deposits all her sweets, 
 Soon like the roving bee retreats, 
 Hasty, like her, she mounts on wing, 
 And, like her, leaves th' envenomed sting. 
 
 In reference to the second line in this couplet : — 
 
 Fondly viewed his following bride, 
 Viewing lost, and losing died, — 
 
 she remarks : — 
 
 And this beautiful line, which I saw him compose, " you will 
 find," said I, " in Fletcher's Bonduca." " Impossible," replies 
 Dr. Johnson, " I never read a play of Beaumont and Fletcher's 
 in my life." This passed in Southwark : when we went to 
 
UNCONSCIOUS PLAGIARISM. 223 
 
 Streatham Park, I took down the volume and showed him the 
 line. 
 
 There is an allusion to this incident in the " Thraliana," and 
 the entry is an additional illustration of the variety of her knowl- 
 edge and the tenacity of her memory. It refers to Dr. Parker's 
 complimentary verses describing an imaginary request of Apollo 
 to the Graces and Muses to admit her of their number, and con- 
 cluding with these lines : — 
 
 " Henceforth acknowledge every pen 
 The Graces four, the Muses ten." 
 
 For a long time (she writes) I thought this conceit original, 
 but it is not. There is an old Greek epigram only of tw r o lines 
 which the doctor has here spun into length (vide " Anthol." lib. 
 7), and there is some account of it too in Bonhours. 
 
 What, however, is much more extraordinary, is that the famous 
 Tristram Shandy itself is not absolutely original ; for when I was 
 at Derby in the summer of 1744, I strolled by mere chance into 
 a bookseller's shop, where, however, I could find nothing to tempt 
 curiosity but a strange book about Corporal Bates, w'hich I 
 bought and read for want of better sport, and found it to be the 
 very novel from which Sterne took his first idea. The character 
 of Uncle Toby, the behavior of Corporal Trim, even the name 
 of Tristram itself, seems to be borrowed from this stupid history 
 of Corporal Bates, forsooth. I now wish I had pursued Mr. 
 Murphy's advice of marking down all passages from different 
 books which strike, by their resemblance to each other, as fast as 
 they fell in my way ; for one forgets again, in the hurry and tumult 
 of life's cares and pleasures, almost everything that one does not 
 commit to paper. 
 
 The verses written by Bentley upon Learning, and published 
 in Dodsley's Miscellanies, how like they are to Evelyn's verses 
 on Virtue, published in Dryden's Miscellanies ! yet I do not sup- 
 pose them a plagiarism. Old Bentley would have scorned such 
 tricks ; besides, what passed once between myself and Mr. John- 
 son should cure me of suspicion in these cases. 
 
224 MARGINAL NOTES. 
 
 NOTES ON WRAXALL'S "HISTORICAL MEMOIRS 
 OF MY OWN TIME." 
 
 I send Wraxall with the quartos, that you may read some- 
 thing written of your poor friend as well as something written by 
 her. His book will be a relief when you get into the dark ages 
 of " Retrospection." — Mrs. Piozzi to Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 Her note on Wraxall's statement relating to Marie Antoinette's 
 first confinement is : — 
 
 You see how cautious Sir N. Wraxall is — but you may like- 
 wise see through his caution. He knew T , no doubt, better than 
 myself, that about this time a swathed baby made of white marble 
 was laid at the bedchamber door, with this inscription : — 
 
 " Je ne suis point de Cire — subintelligitur Sire, 
 Je suis de pierre — subintelligur Pierre." 
 
 A Life Guard Man as I was informed. 
 
 The Dauphin, who died very young, and the other, who lived 
 to suffer still more — whom every one pities, are mentioned in 
 the 2d Vol., but I can't find the place now. lis etoient vrais 
 Descendans de Louis XIV., mais comment ? Juste Ciel ! 
 
 In reference to Wraxall's description of the celebrated women 
 of the day, she has pasted in (besides the verses Vol. I. p. 49) 
 copies of the following : — 
 
 THE PLANETS. 
 
 (Said to be written by Charles Fox.) 
 
 With Devon's girl so blythe and gay, 
 I well could like to sport and play ; 
 With Jersey would the time beguile, 
 With Melbourne titter, sneer, and smile, 
 With Bouverie one would wish to sin, 
 With Darner I could only grin : 
 But to them all I 'd bid adieu, 
 To pass my life and think with Crewe. 
 
NOTES ON WRAXALL. 225 
 
 THE PLEIADES. 
 
 (Said to be written by Mr. Chamberlayne, who threw himself out of the window.) 
 
 With charming Cholmondeley well one might 
 Pass half the day, and all the night ; 
 From Montague's more fertile mind 
 Perpetual source of pleasures find : 
 Of Tully's Latin, Homer's Greek, 
 With learned Carter one could speak ; 
 With Thrale converse in purest ease, 
 Of letters, life, and languages. 
 But if I dare to talk with Crewe, 
 My ease, my peace, my heart adieu ! 
 Sweet Greville ! whose too feeling heart 
 
 By love was once betrayed, 
 With Sappho's ardor, Sappho's art, 
 
 For cool indifference prayed : 
 Who can endure a prayer from you 
 
 So selfish and confined ? 
 You should — when you produced a Crewe, 
 
 Have prayed for all mankind. 
 
 The verses on Henrietta de Coligny, Comtesse'de la Suze, are 
 quoted by Wraxall : — 
 
 Quae Dea sublimi vehitur per inania curru ? 
 An Juno, an Pallas, an Venus ipsa venit ? 
 Si genus inspicias, Juno : si scripta, Minerva : 
 Si spectes oculos, Mater Amoris erit. 
 
 They are thus paraphrased in a marginal note by Mrs. 
 Piozzi : — 
 
 Her birth examined, Juno we discern, 
 
 Her learning not Minerva's self denies : 
 From such perfections dazzled should I turn, 
 
 But that Love's mother laughs in both her eyes. 
 
 Note. — When the King of Sweden was murdered in a ball- 
 room, by Ankerstroom, about the year 1792, there was a comi- 
 cally impudent caricature published representing George the 
 Third, with a letter in his hand and a label out of his mouth, 
 What, what, what ! Shot, shot, shot ! 
 
 10 
 
 * 
 
226 
 
 MARGINAL NOTES. 
 
 " The last Princess of the Stuart line who reigned in this 
 country, has been accused of similar passion (for drink), if we 
 may believe the secret history of that time, or trust to the couplet 
 which was affixed to the pedestal of her statue in front of St. 
 Paul's, by the satirical wits of 1714." — Wraxall. 
 
 Note. — Brandy-faced Nan has left us in the lurch, 
 Her face to the brandy shop, and her — to the church. 
 
 VERSES OX CATHERINE OF RUSSIA. 
 
 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 les vertus. 
 
 Her dazzling reign so brightly shone 
 
 Few sought to mark the crimes they courted ; 
 
 Whilst on her ill acquired throne, 
 She sat by Virtue's self supported. 
 
 " The Counters Cowper was at this time distinguished by his 
 (the Grand Duke Leopold's) attachment; and the exertion of his 
 interest with Joseph the Second his brother, procured her hus- 
 band, Lord Cowper, to be created soon afterwards a Prince of 
 the German Empire." — Wraxall. 
 
 Note. — She was beautiful when no longer a court favorite, in 
 1786. Her attachment was then to Mr. Merry, the highly ac- 
 complished poet, known afterwards by name of Delia Crusca. 
 
 "In 1779, Charles Edward exhibited to the world a very hu- 
 miliating spectacle." — Wraxall. 
 
 Note. — Still more so at Florence, in 1786. Count Alfieri had 
 taken away his consort, and he was under the dominion and care 
 of a natural daughter, who wore the Garter, and was called 
 Duchess of Albany. She checked him when he drank too much, 
 or when he talked too much. Poor soul ! Though one evening 
 he called Mr. Greatheed up to him, and said in good English, and 
 a loud though cracked voice : ' I will speak to my own subjects 
 my own way, sare. Ay, and I will soon speak to you, Sir, in 
 Westminster Hall.' The Duchess shrugged her shoulders. 
 
NOTES ON WRAXALL. 227 
 
 " It was universally believed that he (Rodney) had been dis- 
 tinguished in his youth by the personal attachment of the Princess 
 Amelia,, daughter of George the Second, who displayed the same 
 partiality for Rodney which her cousin, the Princess Amelia of 
 Prussia, manifested for Trenck. A living evidence of the former 
 connection existed, unless fame had recourse to fiction for sup- 
 port. But detraction, in every age, from Elizabeth down to the 
 present times, has not spared the most illustrious females." — 
 WraxalL 
 
 Note. — Meaning, I suppose, the famous Miss Ashe, who, after 
 many adventures, married Captain Falkner of the Royal Navy. 
 She was a pretty creature, but particularly small in her person. 
 Little Miss Ashe was the name she went by, yet I should think 
 Rodney scarce old enough to have been her father. Her mother 
 people spoke of with more certainty. 
 
 THE LYTTELTON GHOST STORY. 
 
 " Lyttelton, when scarcely thirty-six, breathed his last at a 
 country house near Epsom, called Pit Place, from its situation in 
 a chalk-pit ; where he witnessed, as he conceived, a supernatural 
 appearance." — WraxalL 
 
 Note. — He did so ; but here the author must pardon me, and 
 so must you, dear Sir, if I presume to say I can tell this tale 
 better, meaning with more exactness, for truth constitutes the 
 whole of its value. 
 
 Lord Westcote and Lord Sandys both told it thus, and they 
 were familiar intimates at Streatham Park, where now their por- 
 traits hang in my library. 
 
 Lord Lyttelton was in London, and was gone to bed I think 
 upon a Thursday night. He rang his bell suddenly and with 
 great violence, and his valet on entering found him much dis- 
 ordered, protesting he had been, or had fancied himself, plagued 
 with a white bird fluttering within his curtains. " When, how- 
 ever (continued he), I seemed to have driven her away, a female 
 figure stood at my feet in long drapery, and said, ' Prepare to 
 die, my Lord ; you '11 soon be called.' i How soon ? how soon ? ' 
 
228 
 
 MARGINAL NOTES. 
 
 said I ; 'in three years ? ' ' Three years ! ' replied she, tauntingly, 
 ' three days ! ' and vanished." Williams, the man-servant, related 
 this to his friends of course ; and the town-talk was all about 
 Lord Lyttelton's dream; he himself ran to his uncle with it, to Lord 
 Westcote, who confessed having reproved him pretty sharply for 
 losing time in the invention of empty stories (such he accounted 
 it), instead of thinking about the speech he was to make a few 
 days after. 
 
 Lord Sandys was milder ; saying, " My dear fellow, if you be- 
 lieve this strange occurrence, and would have us believe it, be 
 persuaded to change your conduct, and give up that silly frolic 
 which you told us of. I mean going next Sunday, — was it not ? 
 to Woodcote ; but I suppose 't is only one of your wondrous fine 
 devices to make us plain folks stare ; so drink a dish of chocolate 
 and talk of something else." 
 
 On Saturday, after we had talked this over at Streatham Park, 
 a lady late from Wales dropt in, and told us she had been at 
 Drury Lane last night. " How were you entertained ? " said I. 
 u y erv strangely indeed,' 9 was the reply ; " not with the play 
 though, for I scarce knew what they acted, — but with the dis- 
 course of Captain Ascough or Askew, — so his companions called 
 him, — who averred that a friend of his, the profligate Lord Lyt- 
 telton, as I understood by them, had certainly seen a spirit, who 
 has warned him that he is to die within the next three days, and 
 I have thought of nothing else ever since." 
 
 No further accounts reached Streatham Park till Monday 
 morning, when every tongue was telling how a Mrs. Flood and 
 two Miss Amphlets, demirep beauties, had passed over West- 
 minster Bridge by the earliest hour, looking like corpses from ill- 
 ness occasioned by terror, and escorted by this Captain Ascough 
 to town. The man Williams's constant and unvarying tale tallied 
 with his, who said they had been passing the time appointed in 
 great gayety; some other girls and gentlemen of the country 
 having in some measure joined the party for dinner only, but 
 leaving these before midnight. That on Sunday Lord Lyttelton 
 drew out his watch at eleven o'clock, and said, " Well, now I 
 must leave you, agreeable as all of you are ; because I mean to 
 meditate on the next Wednesday's speech, and have actually 
 
NOTES OX WRAXALL. 229 
 
 brought some books with me." " O, but the ghost ! the ghost ! n 
 exclaimed one of Miss Amphlets, laughing. " O, don't you see 
 that we have bilked the bitch" says Lord Lyttelton, showing his 
 watch, and running from them up stairs, where Williams had set 
 out the reading-table, &c, and put his master on the yellow night- 
 gown, which he always used. Lord Lyttelton then said, " Make 
 up my five grains of rhubarb and peppermint water and leave 
 me ; but, did you remember to bring rolls enough from Lon- 
 don ? " "I brought none, my Lord ; I have found a baker here 
 at Epsom that makes them just as your Lordship likes," — de- 
 scribing how, and stirring the mixture as he spoke. " What 
 are you using ? " cries my Lord, — "a toothpick ! " "A clean 
 one, indeed, my Lord." " You lazy devil, — go fetch a spoon 
 directly ; " he did so ; but heard a noise in the room and hastened 
 back, to find his master fallen over the table, books and all. He 
 raised him ; " Speak to me, my Lord, — speak for God's sake, 
 dear my Lord." " Ah, Williams ! " was his last and only word. 
 Williams ran down to the dissolute company below, his watch in 
 his hand. " Not twelve o'clock yet" he exclaimed, " and dead, — 
 dead." 
 
 They all bore witness that no violence came near the man, and 
 I do think that some judicial process then proclaimed him, — 
 " Dead by the visitation of God." This, however, might be my 
 hearing those words from friends and acquaintances relating 
 the incident ; but when it was reported, twenty years after, that 
 Lord Lyttelton committed suicide, I knew that was an error, 
 or a falsity. 
 
 Of this event, however, few people spoke after the first bustle ; 
 and I had changed my situation and associates so completely, 
 that it lay loose in my mind, — never forgotten, though in a man- 
 ner unremembered. 
 
 Chance, however, threw me into company of the gay and face- 
 tious Miles Peter Andrews, with whom and Mr. Greatheed's 
 family, and Mrs. Siddons, and Sir Charles Hotham, and a long 
 et cetera, an entertaining day had been passed some time in the 
 year 1795, if I remember rightly ; and Mrs. Merrick Hoare, as- 
 suming intimacy, said, " Now, dear Mr. Andrews, that the Pigous 
 are gone, and everybody is gone but ourselves, do tell my mother 
 
230 
 
 MARGINAL NOTES. 
 
 your own story of Lord Lyttelton." He hesitated, and I pressed 
 him, urging my long past acquaintance with his Lordship's uncles, 
 — the bishop and Lord Westcote. He looked uneasily at me, 
 but I soothed, and Sophia gave him no quarter ; so with some- 
 thing of an appeal to her that the tale would be as she had 
 learned it from her friends the Pigous and from himself, he be- 
 gan by saying : " Lord Lyttelton and I had lived long in great 
 familiarity, and had agreed that whichever quitted this world first 
 should visit the other. Neither of us being sick, however, such 
 thoughts were at the time of his death, poor fellow ! furthest from 
 my mind. 
 
 " Lord Lyttelton had asked me to make one of his mad party 
 to Woodcote or Pitt Place, in Surrey, on such a day, but I was 
 engaged to the Pigous you saw this evening, and could not go. 
 They then lived in Hertfordshire ; I went down thither on the 
 Sunday, and dined with them and their very few, and very sober 
 friends, who went away in the evening. At eleven o'clock I re- 
 tired to my apartment : it was broad moonlight and I put out my 
 candle : when just as I seemed dropping asleep, Lord Lyttelton 
 thrust himself between the curtains, dressed in his own yellow 
 night-gown that he used to read in, and said in a mournful tone, 
 'Ah, Andrews, it 's all over' ' 0,' replied I quickly, ' are you 
 there, you dog ? ' and recollecting there was but one door to the 
 room, rushed out at it — locked it, and held the key in my hand, 
 calling to the housekeeper and butler, whose voices I heard put- 
 ting the things away, to ask when Lord Lyttelton arrived, and 
 what trick he was meditating. The servants made answer with 
 much amazement, that no such arrival had taken place ; but 
 I assured them I had seen, and spoken to him, and could pro- 
 duce him, ' for here,' said I, ' he is ; under fast lock and key.' 
 We opened the door, and found no one, but in two or three days 
 heard that he died at that very moment, near Epsom in Surrey." 
 
 " After a pause, I said very seriously to Mr. Andrews, ' Were 
 you quite sober, Sir ? ' 'As you are now,' replied he ; ' and I 
 did think I saw Lord Lyttelton as I now think that I see you.' 
 'Did think, Sir ? do you now think it ? ' ' I should most undoubt- 
 edly think it, but that so many people for so many years have 
 told me I did not see him,' said he. We made a few serious re- 
 flections and parted." 
 
 . 
 
NOTES OX WRAXALL. . 231 
 
 In reference to Wraxall's appeal to the confirmatory testimony 
 of the Dowager Lady Lyttelton, she adds : " Lady Lyttelton's 
 imagination was supposed stronger than her veracity. She was 
 scouted (as the coarse phrase is) by the family, and with good 
 talents was, I fear, little esteemed by any one, though daughter 
 to Sir Robert Rich, and had been pretty." 
 
 " ' A day or two before the 7th of June,' said he, ' Count 
 Maltzan, then the Prussian Minister at our Court, called on me, 
 and informed me that the mob had determined to attack the 
 Bank/"— Wraxall 
 
 Note. — The foreigners always obtain the first intelligence of 
 everything. It was the Marquis Del Campo who himself in- 
 formed the Queen of Peg Nicholson's attempt to assassinate 
 George the Third. And one of the ministers of a foreign 
 Court was first to learn the meditated escape of Buonaparte from 
 Elba.* 
 
 " Suspicions were thrown on the Earl of Shelburne, probably 
 with great injustice. The natural expectation of producing a 
 change in Ministry was imagined to suspend or supersede in 
 certain minds, every other consideration ; and it was even pre- 
 tended, though on very insufficient grounds that Peers did not 
 scruple to take an active part in the worst excesses of the night 
 of the 7th of June." t — Wraxall. 
 
 Note. — A man remarkable for duplicity will be always sus- 
 pected whether deserving suspicion or no. Gainsborough drew 
 Lord Shelburne's portrait : my Lord complained it was not like. 
 The painter said " he did not approve it, and begged to try 
 again." Failing this time, however, he flung away his pencil 
 
 saying, " D it, I never could see through varnish, and 
 
 there's an end." 
 
 * This is far from clear. The Duke of Wellington told Rogers that he got the 
 first intelligence from the English minister at Florence. It is one of the most 
 curious cases of conflicting evidence that can be named. See the Edinburgh 
 Review, No. 227. (July, 1860), pp. 235, 236. 
 
 f It was a current story, which I have heard Lord Macaulay relate, that the 
 late Right Honorable T. Grenville was with a party that broke into the Admi- 
 ralty, and that the second time he entered it was as First Lord. 
 
232 MARGINAL NOTES. 
 
 " Sir Fletcher Norton, though perhaps justly accused, as a 
 professional man, of preferring profit to conscientious delicacy of 
 principle ; and though denominated in the coarse satires or cari- 
 catures of that day, by the epithet of i Sir Bullface Doublefee ; ' 
 yet possessed eminent parliamentary, as well as legal talents." — 
 Wraxall. 
 
 Note. — One of which I remember, except the second line, 
 which is not exact : 
 
 " Careless of censure, and no fool to fame, 
 Firm in his double post and double fees ; 
 Sir Fletcher standing without fear or shame, 
 Pockets the cash, and lets them laugh that please. 
 
 " So on a market day, stands Whatley's bear, 
 In spite of all their noise and hurly burley ; 
 Fixed on his double post, secure in air, 
 
 Munching his bunch of grapes, and looking surly." 
 
 The Bear at Devizes was then kept by one Whatley, and stood 
 upon a monstrous double signpost high up in the air, when some 
 wag wrote these verses with a diamond on the window of an eat- 
 ing-room belonging to the inn. They were taken of course into 
 everybody's scrap-book, or everybody's memory. 
 
 Note on George the Third. — When the present King was quite 
 a lad, there was a young fellow about the Prince's Court, who be- 
 ing thought natural son to my Uncle Robert, was petted and pro- 
 vided for in some manner by the family, and used to visit famil- 
 iarly at my mother's ; who said that he told her how one day the 
 two eldest boys were playing in the Princess's apartment, when 
 the second said suddenly, " Brother, when you and I are men 
 grown, you shall marry a wife and I '11 keep a mistress." " What 
 you say there ? you naughty boy," exclaimed the mother, " You 
 better to learn your pronouns as preceptor bid you ; I believe you 
 not know what it is, — a pronoun." 
 
 " Be quiet, Eddy," says the King ; " we shall have anger pres- 
 ently for your nonsense. Fletcher ! (to my courtier cousin) give 
 us the books." " Let them alone," cries Prince Edward ; " I 
 
 i 
 
NOTES ON WRAXALL. 233 
 
 know what it is without a book : a pronoun is to a noun what a 
 mistress is to a wife, — a substitute and a representative." The 
 Princess burst out o' laughing and turned them all out of the room. 
 Prince Edward was the Duke of York, who died at Monaco 
 in Italy. 
 
 Mrs, Crewe and Mrs, Bouverie, — The two fashionable belles 
 about the Court and town had been painted by Reynolds in char- 
 acter of two shepherdesses, with a pensive air as if appealing to 
 each other, about the year 1770, or perhaps earlier ; and there 
 was written under the picture : " Et in Arcadia ego." When the 
 Exhibition was arranging, the members and their friends went and 
 looked the works over. " What can this mean ? " said Dr. John- 
 son; "it seems very nonsensical, — I am in Arcadia" "Well! 
 what of that ! The King could have told you," replied the painter. 
 " He saw it yesterday, and said at once, ' 0, there is a tombstone 
 in the background. Ay, ay, death is even in Arcadia." 
 
 The thought is borrowed from Poussin ; where the gay frolick- 
 ers stumble over a death's head, with a scroll proceeding from his 
 mouth, saying, * Et in Arcadia ego" 
 
 'T is said that those who seek one thing, often find a better which 
 was not the primary object of their search. Queen Caroline 
 looked for popular applause, and gained private esteem. In pur- 
 suit of her original desire to please every one who was presented, 
 however, she made herself acquainted with the well-known events 
 in English History; and having been told that a Derbyshire bar- 
 onet, Sir Woolston Dixie, lived near the spot where Richard the 
 Third lost his life and crown, readily adverted to that occurrence, 
 and when his name was mentioned, said, " 0, Sir ! it has been 
 related to me your connection w T ith Bosworth Field and the mem- 
 orable battle fought there." The gentleman's face, even redder 
 than before, swelled with indignation, till at last he broke out with 
 no very decorous vehemence of protestation, that all her Majesty 
 had heard concerning it was false and groundless ; and that he 
 would find a way to make those repent who had filled the ears of 
 his Sovereign with such gross untruths. " God forgive my great 
 sin ! " cried the astonished Princess ; and Sir Woolston Dixie 
 left the drawing-room in an agony scarce to be described. 
 
234 MARGINAL NOTES. 
 
 The misintelligence, as the French call it, was occasioned by 
 the baronet's utter ignorance of historic literature. He was a 
 brutal fellow, and having assaulted a tinker some day crossing 
 Bosworth Field, the tinker laid down his tools and beat him 
 severely ; w T hich his merry neighbors heard with pleasure^ and 
 called this luckless encounter, naturally enough, The Battle of 
 Bosworth ; while poor Sir Woolston, having never heard of any 
 other contest in the place, except his own, made no doubt but 
 that. the Queen had heard of his disgrace, and took that oppor- 
 tunity to ridicule him for it. 
 
 I must add, that such instances of gross ignorance in country 
 gentlemen were not — as now — incompatible with birth, rank, 
 or fortune ; I mean in the days when Caroline of Anspach can- 
 vassed her drawing-room at St. James's. 
 
 Lady Archibald Hamilton formed during many years, the 
 object of Frederick's avowed, and particular attachment. 
 
 She was mother to Archdeacon Hamilton, who lived his last 
 years and died in the Circus here at Bath. He was very un- 
 happy in his family ; and when one observed accidentally on 
 another friend's ill-fortune, — "Has he three children?" says 
 poor Hamilton ; " and are they like mine ? " * His mother was 
 the Delamira of the " Tatler." His daughter is the Countess of 
 Aldborough. 
 
 " The inglorious naval engagement in the Mediterranean, be- 
 tween Byng and La Galissoniere, for his conduct in which the 
 former of those admirals suffered." — WraxalL 
 
 Note. — See "Retrospection," 2d Vol., page 423, near the 
 bottom. I had more grace than to name my own father and 
 uncle in a quarto volume meant for public view ; but I may tell 
 you thus privately, and after more than half a century has past, 
 how my uncle (who was then judge of the Admiralty) felt af- 
 fected, when the old Duke of Newcastle wrung him by the hand 
 and said, "My dear Sir Thomas, England has seen her best 
 
 days. We are all undone. This d fellow has done for us, 
 
 and all is over." 
 
 * " What, have his daughters brought him to this pass? " 
 
 Lear. 
 
NOTES ON WRAXALL. 235 
 
 " The Treasury, the Admiralty, the War Office, all obeyed his 
 (the first Pitt's) orders with prompt and implicit submission. 
 Lord Anson and the Duke of Newcastle, sometimes, it is true, 
 remonstrated, and often complained ; but always finished by com- 
 pliance." — Wraxall. 
 
 Note. — Their compliance was submission of the most unquali- 
 fied kind, and the patience with which they waited in the ante- 
 room, while Mr. Pitt was examining some machinery brought for 
 his inspection by Nuttal the engine-maker in Long Acre, was 
 truly laughable. 
 
 " All circumstances fully weighed, my own conviction is, that 
 the Letters of ' Junius ' were written by the Right Honorable 
 William Gerard Hamilton, commonly designated by the nick- 
 name of ' Single-Speech Hamilton.' " — Wraxall. 
 
 Note. — So it is mine. I well remember when they were most 
 talked of — and N. Seward said, " How the arrows of Junius 
 were sure to wound, and likely to stick." " Yes, Sir," replied 
 Dr. Johnson ; " yet let us distinguish between the venom of the 
 shaft, and the vigor of the bow." At which expression Mr. Ham- 
 ilton's countenance fell in a manner that to me betrayed the 
 author. Johnson repeated the expression in his next pamphlet, 
 — and Junius wrote no more. 
 
 Note. — Lord Thurlow was storming one day at his old valet, 
 who thought little of a violence with which he had been long 
 familiar, and " Go to the devil do" cries the enraged master ; 
 " Go, I say, to the devil." " Give me a character, my Lord," 
 replied the fellow, drily ; " people like, you know, to have char- 
 acters from their acquaintance." 
 
 "The expression of his (the first Lord Liverpool's) counte- 
 nance, I find it difficult to describe." — Wraxall. 
 
 Note. — It was very peculiar, but he was a delightful compan- 
 ion in social life. I know few people whose conversation was 
 more pleasingly diversified with fact and sentiment, narration and 
 reflection, than that of the first Lord Liverpool. 
 
 "' Charles Fox,' observed he (Mr. Boothby) 'is unquestion- 
 ably a man of first-rate talents, but so deficient in judgment, as 
 
236 MARGINAL NOTES. 
 
 never to have succeeded in any object during his whole life. He 
 loved only three things ; women, play, and politics. Yet, at no 
 period did he ever form a creditable connection with a woman. 
 He lost his whole fortune at the gaming-table : and with the ex- 
 ception of about eleven months, he has remained always in Op- 
 position.' It is difficult to dispute the justice of this portrait." — 
 Wraxall. 
 
 Note. — He preferred Mrs. (now Lady) Crewe, to all women 
 living ; but Lady Crewe never lost an atom of character, — I mean 
 female honor. She loved high play and dissipation, but was no 
 sensualist. 
 
 Note. — Lord Sandwich came very early into a very small 
 paternal estate ; and his first entrance into life was marked by an 
 apparently warm disposition towards virtue. He was, however, 
 avowedly poor and proud; said that Sir Robert Walpole pos- 
 sessed no powers of gaining him over from the opposition party, 
 w T hilst he was contented to live with the woman of his heart in 
 a small house somewhere about "Westminster, and walk to the 
 House arm-in-arm with one friend, for whose opinions he had the 
 highest deference. Sir Robert laughed, and only said, "We 
 shall see how all this ends." 
 
 The Countess, though forty-four years old when Lord Sand- 
 wich came of age and could not be persuaded to forbear pursuing 
 her, brought him a son, which cost her future health, and with 
 her health that flexibility of temper, which before marriage he 
 deemed her possessed of. But, 
 
 " To win a man when all our pains succeed, 
 The way to keep him is a task indeed." 
 
 Virtue and sense were soon found insufficient, joined to a faded 
 form and fretted mind, wherein resided sullen disapprobation of 
 all that frolic playfulness to which her lord was naturally prone, 
 and which his interested friend taught him to consider as inno- 
 cent, even when combined with late hours, loose company, and 
 sometimes higher play than he could afford ; although Lord 
 Sandwich never w r as crated gamester like Fox, or Fitzpatrick, 
 &c. Ill received at home, however, his pleasures drew him 
 thence, and they, growing hourly more and more expensive, as 
 his friend's amusements were all placed to his account. 
 
NOTES ON WRAXALL. 237 
 
 The Minister felt happy to provide for both, and this young 
 nobleman owed to his wife's stern virtue, and his companion's in- 
 sidious indulgences, a character no man but Churchill could por- 
 tray, — no man, I hope besides himself, deserve : — 
 
 " Is God's most holy name to be profaned ? 
 His Word rejected, and his laws arraigned : 
 His servants scorned as men who idly dreamed, 
 His service laughed at ; His dread Son blasphemed ? 
 Is science by a scoundrel to be led? 
 Are States to totter on a drunkard's head? 
 Search earth, search hell, the Devil cannot find 
 An agent like Lothario to his mind." 
 
 The end of such men (with regard to this life) is safer to 
 imagine than describe. When talents, though they can't pro- 
 tect, reproach their mad possessors, and conscience, which con- 
 gratulates the good man's exit, lighting his last steps with her 
 hallowed taper : — 
 
 " Turns to a fury with a flaming torch, 
 Quickly extinguished in mephitic gloom ! " 
 
 O, let us, to use a phrase of Shakespear, sweeten our imagi- 
 nations ; and forgetting such characters, rather recollect Dod- 
 dridge's Epigram upon his own motto : — 
 
 " Dum vivimus, vivamus." 
 
 " Live while you live, the epicure will say, 
 And give to pleasure ev'ry passing day; 
 Live while you live, the sacred preacher cries, 
 And give to God each moment as it flies : 
 Lord ! in my views, let both united be ! 
 I live to pleasure whilst I live to Thee." 
 
 Now as a note to the third or fourth line of Churchill's verses, 
 accept the following true anecdote : — 
 
 Lord Sandwich had trained up a huge baboon that he was 
 fond of, to play the part of a clergyman, dressed in canonicals, 
 and make some buffoon imitation of saying grace. Among many 
 merry friends round the table, sat a Mr. Scott, afterwards well 
 known by name of Antisejanus ; but then a mere dependent ser- 
 vitor at college, and humble playfellow of young Hinchinbroke. 
 The ape had no sooner finished his grimaces, and taken leave of 
 the company, than Scott unexpectedly, but unabashed, stood up 
 and said : — 
 
238 MARGINAL NOTES. 
 
 " I protest, my lord, I intended doing this duty myself, not 
 knowing till now that your lordship had so near a relation in 
 orders" * 
 
 I must add that Lord Sandwich praised his wit and courage 
 without ever resenting the liberty. 
 
 He had founded a society, denominated from his own name, 
 " The Franciscans," who, to the number of twelve, met at Med- 
 menham Abbey, near Mario w, in Bucks, on the banks of the 
 Thames. 
 
 The best account of these horrors, and the least offensive, is in 
 " Chrysal ; or, the Adventures of a Guinea," written by Smollet. 
 
 " Beauclerc discovered him (Fox) intently engaged in reading 
 a Greek Herodotus. 'What would you have me do,' said he, 
 * I have lost my last shilling ! ' Such was the elasticity, suavity, 
 and equality of disposition that characterized him ; and with so 
 little effort did he pass from profligate dissipation to researches 
 of taste or literature." — WraxalL 
 
 Note. — I have heard this story before, and believe it is true. 
 Topham Beauclerc (wicked and profligate as he wished to be 
 accounted) was yet a man of very strict veracity. Lord ! how 
 I did hate that horrid Beauclerc ! 
 
 " If Burke really believed the facts that he laid down (regard- 
 ing the American war), what are we to think of his judgment ! " 
 — WraxalL 
 
 Note. — Burke troubled himself but little to think on what he 
 had said ; he spoke for present and immediate effect, rarely if 
 ever missing his aim ; because, like Doctor Johnson, he always 
 spoke his best, whether on great or small occasions. One evening 
 at Sir Joshua Reynolds's it was his humor to harangue in praise 
 of the then ceded islands, and in their praise he said so much, 
 that Mrs. Horneck, a widow with two beautiful daughters, re- 
 solved to lose no time in purchasing where such advantages 
 would infallibly arise. She did so, and lost a large portion of 
 
 * At a supper of the Hell-fire Club, a chair was left vacant at the head of the 
 table for the Devil. In the height of the revelry, the ape unexpectedly took his 
 seat upon it, and the company, conceiving the Spirit of Evil to be among them, 
 broke up in most admired confusion. 
 
NOTES ON WKAXALL. 239 
 
 her slender income. "Dear Sir," said I, when we met next, 
 u how fatal has your eloquence proved to poor Mrs. Horneck ! " 
 " How fatal her own folly ! " replied he ; " Ods my life, must one 
 swear to the truth of a song." 
 
 To Wraxall's remark that Burke's Irish accent was as strong 
 as if he had never quitted the banks of the Shannon, she adds, 
 " very true." The description of him as " gentle, mild, and 
 amenable* to argument in private society," is qualified by, " not 
 very;" and in the sentence, "infinitely more respectable than 
 Fox, he was nevertheless far less amiable," she proposes to re- 
 place " amiable " by " respected." 
 
 "It is difficult to do justice to the peculiar species of ugliness 
 which characterized his (Dunning) person and figure, although he 
 did not labor under any absolute deformity of shape or limb." — 
 WraxalL 
 
 Note. — Sir Joshua alone could give a good portrait of Dun- 
 ning. His picture of Lord Shelburne, Lord Ashburton, and 
 Colonel Barre, has surely no superior. The characters so ad- 
 mirable, the likenesses so strong." 
 
 Of the first Lord Loughborough she writes : — 
 
 Wedderburn was particularly happy when speaking of Frank- 
 lyn, who (he said) the Ministers had wantonly and foolishly 
 made their enemy. An enemy so inveterate, said he, so merci- 
 less, and so implacable, that he resembles Zanga the Moor, in 
 Young's tragedy of the " Revenge," who at length ends his hell- 
 ish plot by saying : — 
 
 u I forged the letter, and disposed the picture, 
 I hated, I despised, and I destroy." 
 
 The quotation struck every one.* 
 
 Benjamin Franklyn, who, by bringing a spark from Heaven, 
 fulfilled the prophecies he pretended to disbelieve ; Franklyn, who 
 wrote a profane addition to the Book of Genesis, who hissed on 
 the colonies against their parent country, who taught men to de- 
 spise their Sovereign and insult their Redeemer ; who did all the 
 mischief in his power while living, and at last died, I think, in 
 America ; was beside all the rest, a plagiarist, as it appears ; and 
 
 * Franklin never forgave this speech, and by making it Wedderburne aggra- 
 vated the very mischief he was deprecating. 
 
240 MARGINAL NOTES. 
 
 the curious epitaph made on himself, and as we long believed, by 
 himself, was, I am informed, borrowed without acknowledgment, 
 from one, upon Jacob Tonson, to whom it was more appropriate, 
 comparing himself to an old book, eaten by worms ; which on 
 some future day, however, should be new edited, after undergoing 
 revisal and connection by the Author. 
 
 There are some exquisitely pretty stanzas, very little known, 
 written by one Mr. Dale, upon Franklyn's invention of a lamp, 
 in which the flame was forced downward, burning in a new dis- 
 covered method, contrary to nature. I had a rough copy of the 
 verses, and they lay loose in the second volume of " Retrospec- 
 tion," but I suppose they dropped out, and I lost them, or they 
 should have been written down here. 
 
 I cannot trust my memory to do them justice. The first 
 stanzas praise his philosophical powers : — 
 
 " But to covet political fame, 
 
 Was in him a degrading ambition ; 
 'T was a spark that from Lucifer came, 
 And first kindled the blaze of sedition. 
 
 " May not Candor then write on his urn, 
 Here alas ! lies a noted inventor ; 
 Whose flame up to Heaven ought to burn, 
 But inverted, descends to the centre." * 
 
 " Like his nephew, Mr. Fox, the Duke (of Richmond) did 
 not spare the King, when addressing the House of Lords ; and 
 he was considered as peculiarly obnoxious at St. James's." — 
 Wraxall. 
 
 Note. — He never forgave the preference given by the King's 
 immediate advisers, when there was question of a Consort to 
 the English Throne, where he hoped to see his beautiful sister 
 (Lady Sarah) seated — in vain ! Lord Bute was too quick in 
 providing a much safer partner. 
 
 * It is strange that she forgot to mention Turgot's famous motto for the bust 
 of Franklin, by Houdon : — 
 
 " Eripuit coelo fulmen, sceptrumque tyrannis." 
 Franklin's own criticism on it was that the thunder remained where he found 
 it, and that more than a million of men co-operated with him in shaking off the 
 monarchical rule of Great Britain. 
 
NOTES OX WBAXALL. 241 
 
 " Burke exclaimed, that i he (Pitt) was not merely a chip of 
 the old block, but the old block itself/ " — Wraxall. 
 
 Note, — Not quite. The old block's head was beautiful, and 
 the eyes in it brilliant with intelligence. 
 
 Note. — I have seen Sheridan (the father of R. B.) on the 
 stage in former days, acting Horatio in Rowe's " Fair Penitent," 
 to Garrick's Lothario ; but of his powers as a lecturer, Mr. Mur- 
 phy gave the most ludicrous account, taking him off with incom- 
 parable powers of mimicry, — quite unequalled. 
 
 Note. — He (Lord Mulgrave) was a haughty, spirited man, 
 whom I should not suspect of any possible meanness, for any 
 possible advantage. Rough as a boatswain, proud as a strong 
 feeling of aristocracy could make him, and fond of coarse merri- 
 ment, approaching to ill-manners, he was in society a dangerous 
 converser : one never knew what he would say next. " Why, 
 Holla, Burke ! (I heard him crying out on one occasion.) What, 
 you are rioting in puns now Johnson is away." Burke was 
 indignant, and ready with a reply. But Lord Mulgrave drowned 
 all in storms of laughter. 
 
 In reference to the " Optat Ephippia Bos piger" story of Lord 
 Falmouth and Pitt, told by Wraxall, she writes : — 
 
 I have heard my father relate the story somewhat differently, 
 but in substance the same. He said some wag chalked the words 
 on his (Lord Falmouth's) door, and that seeing them he ex- 
 claimed, " He would give £ 100 to know who wrote them." 
 The first friend he met said, " Give me the money, Horace wrote 
 them." Then comes the next mistake, " Horace ! a dog, after all 
 his obligations to me," &c* 
 
 A similar story to this was related to me in Italy. Cardinal 
 Zanelli was pasquinaded at Rome for his ingratitude to the Dau- 
 phin of France, whose influence, exerted in his favor, had pro- 
 cured him the dignity of Eminenza. Zanelli's coat armor was a 
 vine ; the statue exhibited these "words: — 
 
 " Plantavi Vineam, et fecit labruscas." 
 
 The enraged Cardinal, little skilled in Scripture learning 
 
 * i. e. Horace Walpole. Lord Falmouth's family name was Boscawen, and 
 he had just been soliciting the Garter. 
 11 
 
242 MARGINAL NOTES. 
 
 actually promised a reward to whoever would tell who wrote 
 it. Next day Pasquin claimed the reward for himself, having 
 marked under the words, AOth chapter of Isaiah. 
 
 Note. — In this memorable year, 1782, the " Atlas " man-of- 
 war was launched, a three-decker of eminent beauty. We all 
 know that the figure at the ship's head corresponds with the 
 name, and I was informed that Hercules's substitute was a most 
 magnificent fellow, fit to support the globe. When, however, 
 they came to ship her bowsprit, he stood so high, that something 
 was foitnd necessary to be done ; and the rough carpenter, waiting 
 no orders, cut part of the globe away which stood upon the hero's 
 shoulders. When it was examined afterwards, the part lost to 
 our possession was observed to be America. Sailors remarked 
 the accident as ominous, and the event has not tended to lessen 
 their credulity. 
 
 When Montcalm was dying of his wounds in the great battle 
 which deprived us of General Wolfe, " Well, well ! " said he, 
 "England has torn North America from us, but she will one 
 day tear herself from the mother country. Once free from the 
 French yoke, she will endure no other.'" 
 
 My father said those were his very words : my father died in 
 the year 1762, but he always predicted American Independence. 
 
 " During his elder brother's life, when only Lord Harry Pow- 
 lett, he (the Duke of Bolton) had served in the royal navy, 
 where, however, he acquired no laurels, and he was commonly 
 supposed to be the ' Captain Whiffle ' portrayed by Smollet, in 
 his ' Roderick Random.' " — Wraxall. 
 
 Note. — I don't know whether this Lord Harry Powlett, or an 
 uncle of his wearing the same name, was the person of whom 
 my mother used to relate a ludicrous anecdote. Some lady with 
 whom she had been well acquainted, and to whom his lordship 
 was observed to pay uncommon attentions, requested him to pro- 
 cure for her a pair of small monkeys from East India, — I forget 
 the kind. Lord Harry, happy to oblige her, wrote immediately, 
 depending on the best services of a distant friend, whom he had 
 essentially served. Writing a bad hand, however, and spelling 
 
 1 
 
NOTES OX WEAXALL. 243 
 
 what he wrote for with more haste than correctness, he charged 
 the gentleman to send him over two monkeys, but the word being 
 written too, and all the characters of one height, f00 > --what 
 was poor Lord Harry Powlett's dismay, when a letier came to 
 hand, with the news that he would receive fifty monkeys by such 
 a ship, and fifty more by the next conveyance, making up the 
 hundred according to his lordship's commands ! 
 
 Note, — They said Pitt and Legge went together like Caesar 
 and Bibulus, — and so they did ; all the attention paid the first, 
 and none to the last-named consul. 
 
 Note. — The following epigram was handed about to ridicule 
 
 Sir Thomas Rumbold : — 
 
 " When Mackreith lived 'mong Arthur's crew, 
 He cried, Here, Eumbold, black my shoe; 
 
 And Eumbold answered, Yea, Bob. 
 But when returned from Asia's land, 
 He proudly scorned that mean command, 
 
 And boldly answered, Xay, Bob {Nabob)" 
 
 Note. — On this occasion (victory over De Grasse in 1782) 
 Rodney is said to have taught them the method of breaking the 
 line, by which I have heard it asserted that Lord Nelson won all 
 his victories by sea, and Buonaparte by land ; but which is a still 
 stranger thing, Lord Glenbervie told me (and I believe him) that 
 Epaminondas won the battles of Leuctra and Mantinea by the 
 same manoeuvre 2,178 years ago. 
 
 "The Princess of Franca Villa was commonly supposed to 
 have bestowed on him (Lord Rockingham) the same fatal present, 
 which the ' Belle Ferroniere ' conferred on Francis the First, 
 King of France ; and v hich, as we learn from Burnet,* the 
 Countess of Southesk was said to have entailed on James, Duke 
 of York, afterwards James the Second." — WraxalL 
 
 In Italy it was supposed to have been the succession powder 
 mingled with chocolate whilst in the cake, not in the liquid we 
 drink. Acqua Toffana, and succession powder (polvere per suc- 
 cessione) were administered, as I have heard, with certain al- 
 though ill-understood effects. Lord Rockingham desired to be 
 opened after his death, and was so. 
 
 * The storv is told in Grammont" s Memoirs. 
 
244 MARGINAL NOTES. 
 
 On the application of the term " disinterested " to Archbishop 
 Moore's conduct, in communicating to his pupil, the Duke of 
 Marlborough, the advances of the Duchess Dowager, her note 
 is : — 
 
 Disinterested is not quite the word to use. He served his in- 
 terest in preferring the Duke's power to a connection with the 
 Duchess, who had only her life income to bestow, and a faded 
 person possessing no attractions. 
 
 " There were a number of Members who regularly received 
 from him (Pelham's Secretary of the Treasury) their payment 
 or stipend at the end of every session in bank-notes." — WraxalL 
 
 Note. — I am sorry to read these things of Mr. Pelham, whom 
 everybody loved, and Garrick praised so sweetly, saying : — 
 
 " Let others hail the rising sun, 
 I bow to that whose course is run, 
 
 Which sets in endless night; 
 Whose rays benignant blessed our Isle, 
 Made peaceful nature round us smile, 
 
 With calm but cheerful light. 
 
 a See as you pass the crowded street, 
 Despondence clouds each face you meet, 
 
 All their lost friend deplore. 
 You read in every pensive eye, 
 You hear in every broken sigh, 
 
 That Pelham is no more." 
 
 This Ode, from whence I have selected two stanzas, not the 
 best, and a comical thing called " The News Writers' Petition," 
 that came out a very little while before, give one the impression 
 of his having been a very honest man. I am quite sorry Wrax- 
 all's book tends so much to destroy that impression. 
 
 Pelham's death was curious, and he thought so ; for it was his 
 favorite maxim in politics, never to stir an evil which lies quiet, 
 "And now," said he, upon his deathbed to his doctor, "I die for 
 having acted in contradiction to my own good rule, — taking un- 
 necessary medicines for a stone which lay still enough in my 
 bladder, and might perhaps never have given me serious injury." 
 But so it is, that though death certainly does strike the dart, it is 
 often vice or folly poisons it, — with regard to this world or the 
 world to come. 
 
MISCELLANIES 
 
 OR 
 
 ORIGINAL COMPOSITIONS IN PROSE AND VERSE. 
 

MISCELLANIES 
 
 OKIGINAL COMPOSITIONS IN PEOSE AND VEESE; 
 
 THE THREE WARNINGS. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 The tree of deepest root is found 
 Least willing still to quit the ground ; 
 'T was 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 greatest 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 neighbor Dobson's wedding-day, 
 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 ; 't is 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 urged I have not heard, 
 His reasons could not well be stronger, 
 So Death the poor delinquent spared, 
 
 * 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. 
 
248 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 And left to live a little longer. 
 
 Yet calling up a serious look, 
 
 His hour-glass trembled while he spoke, 
 
 Neighbor, 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 summoned to the grave : 
 
 Willing, for once, I '11 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 pleased the world will leave. 
 
 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 smoked his pipe, and stroked his horse. 
 
 The willing muse shall tell : 
 
 He chaffered 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 passed his hours in peace ; 
 
 But while he viewed his wealth increase, 
 
 While thus along life's dusty road 
 
 The beaten track content he trod, 
 
 Old time whose haste no mortal spares 
 
 Uncalled, 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 ; 
 
THE THREE WARNINGS. 249 
 
 Since I was here before 
 'T is six-and-tkirty years at least, 
 And you are now fourscore. 
 So much the worse, the clown rejoined, 
 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 though 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. 
 There 's none, cries he, and if there were, 
 I 'm grown so deaf, I could not hear. 
 !Nay then, the spectre stern rejoined, 
 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 '11 part : 
 He said, and touched him with his dart ; 
 And now old Dobson, turning pale, 
 Yields to his fate, — so ends my tale. 
 11* 
 
250 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 DUTY AND PLEASURE. 
 
 Duty and Pleasure — long at strife, 
 
 Crossed 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 '11 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 ; 
 
 One hour to relaxation give, 
 
 O, 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 colors on each object spread, 
 
 I scarce see whence or where I 'in led ; 
 
 Your bragged enjoyments mount the wind, 
 
 And leave their venomed 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, 
 
 W'here only — each with each delighted — 
 
 Duty and Pleasure live united. 
 
THE STREATHAM PORTRAITS. 251 
 
 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. Gold- 
 smith, 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 re- 
 spectively the following prices, which appear to vary according to 
 the celebrity of the subjects, and to make small account of the 
 pictures considered as works of art: "Lord Sandys, £36 15s. 
 (Lady Downshire) ; Lord Lyttelton, £43 Is. (Mr. Lyttelton, his 
 son) ; Mrs. Piozzi and her daughter, £81 18s. (S. Boddington, 
 Esq., a rich merchant) ; Goldsmith (duplicate of the original), 
 £133 7s. (Duke of Bedford); Sir J. Reynolds, £ 128 2s. (R, 
 Sharp, Esq., M.P.) ; Sir R. Chambers, £84 (Lady Chambers, 
 his widow) ; David Garrick, £ 183 Ids. (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 (TTatson 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-fire to fifty guineas, which, Mrs. Piozzi com- 
 plains, made the Streatham portraits in many instances cost 
 more than they fetched, as she had to pay for them after Mr. 
 
252 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 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 husbancl, 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 compan- 
 ion, 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 characters of the gentlemen who 
 sat for their portraits in the library, and of whose sittings I was 
 cruelly impatient. No wonder ! when such calamity was hang- 
 ing over our heads as is mentioned in the last volume. Let that 
 reflection make you hesitate in censuring the satirical vein which 
 perhaps does run through them all : — 
 
 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 endured, 
 
 The nobleman sunk, and the scholar obscured ; 
 
 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, crushed by the mountainous weight. 
 
 Next him on the right hand, see Lyttelton hang ; 
 Polite in behavior, prolix in harangue. 
 With power well matured, with science well bred, 
 He had studied, had travelled, had reasoned, had read. 
 Yet the mind, as the body, was wanting in strength. 
 For in Lyttelton everything run into length ; 
 
THE STREATHAM PORTRAITS. 253 
 
 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 ? 
 What trace of the tender, the rough, the refined, 
 The soul in which such contrarieties joined ! 
 Where, though merriment loves over method to rule, 
 Religion resides, and the virtues keep school : 
 Till when tired 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 't is thus the slow miner his fortune to make, 
 Of arsenic thin scattered pursues the pale track, 
 Secure where that poison pollutes the rich ground, 
 That it points to the place where some silver is found. 
 
 IY. 
 
 Of a virgin so tender.f the face or the fame 
 Alike would be injured by praise or by blame ; 
 To the world's fiery trial too early consigned, 
 She soon shall experience it, cruel or kind. 
 His concern thus the artful enameller hides, 
 And his well-finished work to the furnace confides ; 
 But jocund resumes it secure from decay, 
 If the colors stand firm on the dangerous day. 
 
 * She complained in prose as well as in verse of the want of likeness in her 
 own portrait. Xorthcote, in his Life of Reynolds, observed of Sir Joshua's pic- 
 tures 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: " 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 
 u 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 Brighthelmstone." 
 
 t Her eldest daughter, then a child. 
 
254 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 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 Humor, 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 ! 
 
 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 naturce, 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 shocked her, 
 
 But all in his likeness, — our odd little doctor. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Of Reynolds all good should be said, and no harm ; 
 Though the heart is too frigid, the pencil too warm ; 
 Yet each fault from his converse we still must disclaim, 
 As his temper 't is peaceful, and pure as his fame. 
 
THE STREATHAM PORTRAITS. 255 
 
 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 pleased for relief we must run, 
 Rejoice in his shadow, and shrink from the sun. 
 
 In this luminous portrait, requiring no shade, 
 See Chambers' soft character sweetly displayed ; 
 O, 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. 
 
 Here Garrick's loved 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 hackneyed a theme ? 
 'T is 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. 
 
 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 confined. 
 
 Yet his purse at their call and his meat to their taste, 
 
 The wits he delighted in loved him at last ; 
 
 And finding no prominent follies to fleer at, 
 
 Respected his wealth and applauded his merit : 
 
 Much like that empirical chemist was he 
 
 Who thought Anima Mundi the grand panacea. 
 
 Yet when every kind element helped his collection, 
 
 Fell sick while the med'cine was yet in projection. 
 
256 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 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, 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 iEtna enraged her artillery pours, 
 
 And tumbles down palaces, princes, and towers ; 
 
 While the fortunate peasantry fixed 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, through shyness alone. 
 So sits the sweet violet close to the ground, 
 Whilst holy-oaks and sunflowers flaunt it around. 
 His character formed free, confiding, and kind, 
 Grown cautious by habit, by station confined: 
 Though born to improve and enlighten our days, 
 In a supple facility fixes his praise ; 
 And contented to Soothe, 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 splendor, his action gives grace ; 
 
THE STREATHAM PORTRAITS. 257 
 
 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 Humor cracks jokes out of Ribaldry's book : 
 Till no longer in silence confession can lurk, 
 That from chaos and cobwebs could spring even Burke. 
 Thus, 'mong dirty companions, concealed in the ground, 
 And unnoticed by all, the proud metal was found, 
 Which, exalted by place and by polish refined, 
 Could comfort, corrupt, and confound all mankind. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 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 turned a few leaves. 
 
 The inflammable temper, the positive tongue, 
 
 Too conscious of right for endurance of wrong, 
 
 AVe 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 poured into the wound. 
 
 'T is thus for its virtues the chymists extol 
 
 Pure rectified spirit, sublime alcohol : 
 
 Prom noxious putrescence preservative pure, 
 
 A cordial in health, and in sickness a cure ; 
 
 But opposed to the sun, taking fire at his rays, 
 
 Burns bright to the bottom, and ends in a blaze. 
 
 * Till he got his pension, Burke was always poor; and the wonder is how he 
 managed to make both ends meet at all. 
 
258 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 ASHERL 
 
 ntya 
 
 Arabian tales, all Oriental tales indeed, are full of imagina- 
 tion, 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 Rabbinical 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 neighboring 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 
 neighbor's daughter to share it with him. She was virtuous, 
 kind, and amiable. We will leave them, and follow the adven- 
 turers, 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 the 
 speaker (Imagination) be discerned through the gloom. " What 
 is this Asheri we are to look out for ? " said one brother. " O, 
 when once seen, no eye can be mistaken," replied a voice from 
 within the grot. " Three beautiful forms uniting under one ra- 
 diant 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 congenial to your nature." He 
 set off without studying for an answer. 
 
ASHERI. 259 
 
 When the next brother made application : " I wonder/' said 
 he, " how this renowned Asheri should ever be found without ob- 
 taing court-favor, 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 Valadi." A respectful bow constituted this youth's 
 adieu, and he put himself immediately on progress. 
 
 The third, who till now had been employed in laughing at and 
 mimicking his companions, remained a moment with the Genius 
 of the wood ; and " Well, Sir," said he, " which way shall / take 
 towards finding this fabulous being, this faultless wonder, this non- 
 existent chimera, Asheri ? " " O, you are a wit : make your de- 
 but at Delhi ; 't is 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 appearance ; who, fainting with hunger, and ex- 
 hausted by disease, addressed him as he sat 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 recognized 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 conjuror, Imagina- 
 tion by name, whose delight it is to dress up a phantom for poor 
 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 intention to claim applause till I had de- 
 served 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 din- 
 ners undesired. At first this was not unpleasant, and I began to 
 
260 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 think Asheri not far distant. I wrote elaborate poems in praise 
 of my protectress, entered into none of her intrigues ; but against 
 all the people she hated there were store of lampoons and choice 
 of epigrams ready, composed by the fashionable author, your 
 hapless brother Aboul. Favored by one society, therefore, per- 
 secuted by another ; adored by one set of ignorant females, tor- 
 mented by another set ; stared at by a neutral class as if I had 
 been a monster; everything I said repeated, and wrong repeated; 
 everything I did related, and wrong related ; I gained informa- 
 tion that my patroness was on the eve of losing her friend the 
 vizier's confidence, which a younger beauty (a woman she de- 
 spised) was stealing away. My business was to satirize the viz- 
 ier, who could not read ; but soon understanding from others that 
 it was clone with acrimony 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 grate- 
 ful slave, my escape was perfected, and you will not suspect me 
 of seeking this invisible Asheri in the mean character of a vil- 
 lage pedagogue, — for such you find me, after fifteen years' sepa- 
 ration, — 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 pleas- 
 ure, till dissipation was no more a name. Five of the fifteen 
 years were spent in ruining myself and others. The ten remain- 
 ing proved too few for 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 ? " 
 
 a 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 my heart, and 
 presented my credentials to Sultana Yaladi. She was old and 
 ugly, amorous and vindictive. Xo matter ; she guided the helm 
 of state for her young son, whose honor she conceived would still 
 
 (' 
 
ASHERL 261 
 
 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 gen- 
 erals were sometimes beaten and disgraced us ; sometimes victo- 
 rious, and then they came home to insult us. My sultana's tem- 
 per, 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 sol- 
 diers 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 
 supper, I was affrighted too ; and, grasping her so roughly that 
 resistance was vain, I held the prepared potion to her own lips. 
 Fortunately for my innocence, the Valadi, in her ungovernable 
 fury at such treatment, broke a blood-vessel, and I left her to ex- 
 pire unpitied on the sofa, while the bustle gave me time to drop 
 my turban ; and, snatching 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 recognize 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. " 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 bril- 
 liancy illuminated the dwelling. 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 favored mortals, who, 
 
262 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 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 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 amus- 
 ing 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 Richard asked his 
 servant for the oil. " O, 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 humor, and renders all 
 description useless. — Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 . 
 
HER CHARACTER OF THE ALE. 263 
 
 HER CHARACTER OF THRALE. 
 
 As this is ThralictJia, I will now write Mr. Thrale's character 
 in it. It is not because I am in good or ill-humor with him or he 
 with me, for we are not capricious people, but have, I believe, the 
 same opinion of each other at all places and times. 
 
 Mr. Thrale's person is manly, his countenance agreeable, his 
 eyes steady and of the deepest blue ; his look neither soft nor se- 
 vere, 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 liber- 
 ality 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, when the house of his favorite 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 1,000 
 hogsheads each, and was much pleased with their profit and ap- 
 pearance. One day, however, he came down to Streatham as 
 usual to dinner, and after hearins: 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 conversation, 
 
 : 
 
264 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 being wholly free from all oaths, ribaldry and profaneness, make 
 him a man exceedingly comfortable to live with ; while the easi- 
 ness of his temper and slowness to take offence add greatly to 
 his value as a domestic 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 dis- 
 like 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 favor 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 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 't is oftener 
 done than believed. For example : Mr. Thrale and I were driv- 
 ing 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 ? 't is a very 
 good house ; here is no difficulty in the case." All this while 
 Mr. Thrale grew violently impatient, endeavored to bribe the 
 postboy 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 for- 
 get 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 
 a^o. 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. 
 
HER CHARACTER OF THRALE. 265 
 
 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 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 ; regular in his public and private devo- 
 tions, constant at the Sacrament, temperate in his appetites, mod- 
 erate 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. 
 
 V2 
 
266 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 TRANSLATION OF LAURA BASSES VERSES. 
 
 Messer Christoforo, who showed us the Specola at Bo- 
 logna, 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 dec ens, 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 Fortunae se tollit ad astra, — quid inde ? 
 Tarn 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 translate them ; 
 but ventured not the translation out of my sight till now. 
 
 26th October, 1815. 
 
 TRANSLATION OR IMITATION OF LAURA BASSl'S VERSES. 
 
 Thy mansion splendid, and thy service plate, 
 
 Thy coffers filled 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, unmortgaged 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 ? 
 
TRANSLATION OF LAURA BASSI'S VERSES. 267 
 
 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 God, and Time defy : eternal is your date. 
 
268 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. Greatheed 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 hushand, and throw- 
 ing her across his horse, spurred him forward, till even the imag- 
 inary 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 pre- 
 vailed was the fear of discovery. He regained his seat, intent 
 upon escape, but the horse trembled, and refused to stir. Rug- 
 giero 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 proceeding. 
 
 The mountain, which had for thirty years been silent, then 
 gave a hollow groan. Ruggiero knew not that it was the moun- 
 tain ; but a column of blue flame shot up from the crater con- 
 vinced him, while gathering clouds and solemn stillness of the 
 
 * A somewhat similar compactor competition produced " Frankenstein" and 
 " The Vampire." 
 
A FRIGHTFUL STORY. 269 
 
 air announced an approaching earthquake. Ruggiero'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 Vesuvius 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 
 before. The hollow ground heaved under him, and by the light 
 of an electric cloud which caught the blaze as it blew over the 
 hill, he happily discovered a distant 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. 
 Ruggiero now prayed for life only that he might gain time to 
 request forgiveness ; and after a variety of penances courag- 
 eously endured, he lives at this day, a hermit on Vesuvius, — 
 religion making that residence 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. 
 
270 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 DELLA 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 : — 
 
 " O you ! whose piercing azure eye 
 
 Reads 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 ; 
 
 " O 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 were all per- 
 suading 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 applica- 
 tion, poor fellow ! in the concluding verses of our " Florence Mis- 
 cellany." 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, 
 
 i 
 
DELLA CEUSCA VERSES. 271 
 
 Composed of whim and mirth and satire, 
 
 Without one drop of true good nature. 
 
 But trust me ; 't is 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 soothe 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. 
 
 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 control 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 Heaven's best mercies 
 
 Our Piozzi's voice, and Parson's verses. 
 
 Thou, too, who oft has 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. 
 
 * Mr. Greatheed. She describes him as completely under the influence of 
 his wife, the charming Anna. 
 
272 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 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 ; 
 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 Heaven's high care, 
 
 Fix my firm habitation there ; 
 
 'T was thus the Grecian sage of old, 
 
 As by Herodotus we 're told, 
 
 Accused by them who sat above, 
 
 As wanting in his country's love — 
 
 " 'T is that," cried he, " which most I prize, 5 
 
 And, pointing upwards, shewed the skies. 
 
ODE TO SOCIETY. 273 
 
 ODE TO SOCIETY. 
 
 Society ! gregarious dame ! * 
 Who knows thy favored haunts to name ? 
 Whether at Paris you prepare 
 The supper and the chat to share, 
 While fixed 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 returned, still prates of thee, 
 Light, flippant, French Society. 
 
 ii. 
 
 Or whether, with your zone unbound, 
 You ramble gaudy Venice round, 
 Resolved the inviting sweets to prove, 
 Of friendship warm, and willing love ; 
 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. 
 
 Or if to wiser Britain led, 
 
 Your vagrant feet desire to tread 
 
 * See ante, p. 137. 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." Can- 
 ning said " so heavy " ; the letter being the worthy baronet's printed letter against 
 Catholic Emancipation. 
 
 12* 
 
274 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 With measured step and anxious care, 
 The precincts pure of Portman Square ; * 
 While wit with elegance combined, 
 And polished manners there you '11 find ; 
 The taste correct — and fertile mind : 
 Remember vigilance lurks near, 
 And silence with unnoticed sneer, 
 Who watches but to tell again 
 Your foibles with to-morrow's pen ; 
 Till tittering 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, 
 Resides majestic solitude ; 
 Or where in some sad Brachman's cell, 
 Meek innocence delights to dwell, 
 Weeping with unexperienced 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 woos thy praise, Society. 
 
 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 favorite hue, 
 iEther divine ! celestial blue ! 
 Then bosomed high in myrtle bower, 
 Viewed lettered 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. 
 
 * 1 he residence of her old rival, Mrs. Montague. 
 
DIDO EPIGRAMS. 275 
 
 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, O let me stray, 
 But grant one friend to cheer my way, 
 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 : 
 Power 1 11 resign, and pomp, and glee, 
 Thy best-loved 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.* 
 
 " 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. 
 
 There is, however, a very old passage in Davison, alluding to 
 the same story : — 
 
 * To the same class of jeux 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 consummated, and he was said to have promised marriage to a 
 maid of honor 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." 
 
276 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 " O, 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 Crim. 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 linked to either spouse, 
 Who can your Gordian 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, dam, 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 praises I 
 picked up in this charming society ? When we all stood round 
 the pianoeforte, and I felt encouraged to reply to Ber tola's com- 
 plimentary verses, which were certainly improvised ; when he 
 sung : — 
 
 " Esser mi saran fatali 
 Cento rivali e cento ; 
 Ma piii che i miei rivali 
 La tua virtu pavento. 
 
 " Non in sen d' angliche mura 
 
 I tubi be' lumi al di se schiuse ; 
 Tu nascesti, de un dio me lo giura, 
 Ove nacquero le Muse." 
 
DELLA CRUSCA VERSES. 277 
 
 To which I replied : — 
 
 Delicati al par che forti 
 
 Son li versi di Bertola ; 
 Dolce suon che mi consola 
 
 Mentre lui cantando va ; 
 
 Ma tentando d' imitarli 
 
 S' io m' ingegno, — oh, Dio ! invano ; 
 
 DalF inusitata mano, 
 II plettrino caschera. 
 
 TVe were in a large company last night, where a beautiful 
 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 im- 
 proviso : — 
 
 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 following : — 
 
 While turbaned head and plumage high 
 
 A Sultaness proclaims my Cloe ; 
 Thus tempted, though no Turk, I '11 try 
 
 The handkerchief you scorn — to throw ye. 
 
 This is however a weak specimen of his powers, whose charm- 
 ing 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, 
 
278 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Mentre tra noi si serba 
 Di voi memoria viva ; 
 Benche fugoriam tra P erba 
 
 CD 
 
 E il sassoso sentiero : 
 In sen pero non langue 
 L' onor del prisco sangue. 
 
 L' anfibio re doriniva 
 A questi compliruenti, 
 Pur sugli ultimi accenti 
 Dal sonno se riscosse 
 E dimando chi fosse ? 
 La parent ela antica, 
 II viaggio, la fatica, 
 Quella torno a dire, 
 Ed ei torne a dormire. 
 Lascia i grandi ed i potenti, 
 A sognar per parenti ; 
 Puoi cortesi stimarli 
 Se dormon 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 ! 
 'T is really charming thus to see 
 One's kindred in prosperity ; 
 I 've travelled far to find your coast, 
 But sure the labor was not lost, 
 For you must think we don't forget 
 Our loving cousin, now so great, 
 And though our humble habitations 
 Are such as suit our slender stations, 
 The honor of the lizard blood 
 Was never better understood." 
 
 Th' amphibious prince, who slept content, 
 Ne'er listening to her compliment, 
 At this expression raised his head, 
 And, " Pray who are you ? " coolly said. 
 The little creature now renewed 
 Her history of toils subdued, 
 
DELL A CRUSCA VERSES. 279 
 
 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 snored. 
 Ne'er press upon a rich relation 
 Raised 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, 
 
 Io sento a palpitar 
 Ei mane a, ei muore. 
 E in mezzo a tal dolore 
 
 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. 
 
280 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 VERSES ON BUFFON. 
 
 While we were daily receiving some tender adieux from our 
 Milanese friends, the famous Buffon died, and changed the con- 
 versation. He was blind a few days before his death, and occa- 
 sioned 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. 
 
FLORENCE MISCELLANY. 281 
 
 FLORENCE MISCELLANY. 
 Dedication {writer not specified). 
 
 What a whimsical task, my dear Mends, you impose 
 To contribute a fine Dedication in prose ! 
 Our Piozzi, metliinks, 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 tinselled 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 jDeruse his own praises. 
 Ourselves and our friends we for Patrons will chuse, 
 No others will read us, and these will excuse. 
 
 Preface, by Jlrs. 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 submis- 
 sion to poverty of sentiment, and take from insipidity the praise 
 of being inoffensive. TTe do not however by this little address 
 mean to deprecate public Criticism, or solicit Regard ; why we 
 wrote the verses may be easily explain'd, we wrote them to di- 
 vert ourselves, and to say kind things of each other ; we collected 
 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 es- 
 teem'd for ever as one of the most durable methods to keep Ten- 
 
 * See ante. p. 90. 
 
282 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 derness 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 Gallery is less fre- 
 quented than that which contains the statue of a slave and the 
 picture of a Sybil. Our little Book can scarcely be less impor- 
 tant 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 exhilarate the spirits of those who drink 
 them on the spot, grow vapid and tasteless by carriage and keep- 
 ing ; and though we have perhaps transgress'd the Persian Rule 
 of sitting silent till we could find something important or instruc- 
 tive to say, we shall at least be allow'd to have glisten'd inno- 
 cently in Italian sunshine, and to have imbibed from its rays the 
 warmth of mutual Benevolence, though we have miss'd the hard- 
 ness and polish that some coarser Metal might have obtain'd by 
 heat of equal force. I will not however lengthen out my Preface ; 
 if the Book is but a feather, tying a stone to it can be no good 
 policy, though it were a precious one ; the lighter body would 
 not make the heavy one swim, but the heavy body would inevita- 
 bly make the light one sink. 
 
SOCIAL VERSES. 283 
 
 SOCIAL VERSES. 
 
 On Tuesday evening, the 26th December, 1815 (writes Mr. 
 Fellowes), we met at the Vineyards, our conversation 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-humored complimentary manner. I 
 made an observation about illusion, &c, and something was said 
 about Spain, and the beauties of the language, and I read the fol- 
 lowing Spanish verses to her, which pleased from their simplicity 
 and neatness : — 
 
 " La otra noche sonaba, 
 
 Que feliz sueno, 
 A decirte lo iva, 
 
 Pero no quieso. 
 Permita el Amor, 
 
 Que algun dia tu suefies, 
 
 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, 
 
 Caused in my brain confusion ; 
 Yet when before my closing eyes, 
 I saw Saint Stephen's chapel rise, 
 Say, was that all illusion ? 
 
 " O, 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." 
 
284 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 During her stay in Italy (writes Sir J. Fellowes) in this de- 
 lightful society, upon the banks of the Arno, which was duly en- 
 livened by brilliant wit and classic taste, the conversation often 
 turned upon more serious subjects, and one day it was proposed 
 to write an impromptu upon the fatal monosyllable now, the 
 present passing away even before the word is written that ex- 
 plains it. This pretty quatrain was produced by Delia Crusca, 
 who had been asserting that all past actions are nihilitic, and that 
 the immediate moment was the whole of human existence : 
 
 " One endless Now stands o'er th' eventful stream 
 Of all that may be with colossal stride ; 
 And sees beneath life's proudest pageants gleam, 
 And sees beneath the wrecks of empire glide." 
 
 To this H. L. P. replied : — 
 
 " 'T is yours the present moment to redeem, 
 And powerful snatch from Time's too rapid stream ; 
 While self-impelled, the rest redundant roll, 
 Slumbering to stagnate in oblivion's pool." 
 
 LINES WRITTEN JULY 28TH, 1815. 
 
 Is it of intellectual powers, 
 Which time develops, 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 avowed. 
 
 For twenty years she reigns at most, 
 Labor and study pay the cost ; 
 Just to be raised is all our boast, 
 
 Above the crowd. 
 
VERSES. 285 
 
 Sickness then fills the 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, 
 Reason deserts the dying man, 
 And leaves to encounter as he can 
 Eternity. 
 
 OX 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 given to thee. 
 
 Act right while yet it stays. 
 
 ON A WATCH. 
 
 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. 
 
286 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 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 flowers — the Orange-Tree. 
 
 HER LAST VERSES. 
 
 TIME, DEATH, AND H. L. P. 
 
 MORS (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, 
 'T will be to see you both destroyed. 
 
LETTERS. 
 
LETTERS. 
 
 The two brothers to whom the first batch of the following 
 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 u Magna Britannia," which they under- 
 took in copartnership. The younger, Samuel, afterwards Keeper 
 of the Records in the Tower and a V. P. R. S., was presented to 
 Johnson and favorably received by him ; but the acquaintance 
 commenced only a few months before Johnson's death. 
 
 The present proprietor of Hempsted Court and rector of Rod- 
 marton (the family living) amply sustains the hereditary reputa- 
 tion of his family, being the author of several works of learning, 
 ingenuity, and research. 
 
 A selection of letters from Mrs. Piozzi to the same gentle- 
 men, 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. 
 13 
 
290 LETTERS. 
 
 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 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, predatory hostili- 
 ties, while the armistice (themselves were contented to grant) 
 remains in full force ? 
 
 Has no caricatura print been made yet of a Frenchman shak- 
 ing 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 neighbors, the Miss Pettiwards ? 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 found. I 
 
 * Mr. Lysons was engaged in a topographical work entitled " The Environs 
 of London." 
 
LETTERS. 291 
 
 hear Miss Burney that was — Madame D'Arblaye — is writing 
 for the stage. 
 
 To the 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 be- 
 came 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 ; 't was a curious advertise- 
 ment. So is Mr. Kemble's in another way ; he has proved him- 
 self no conjurer, sure, to get into such a scrape, but Alexander 
 and Statira will pull him out, I suppose.! Poor dear Mrs. Sid- 
 dons 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 mortality 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 ; 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 un- 
 roosted, 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," 
 
 * The celebrated Ireland forgeries. 
 
 t He was obliged to make a public apology for indecorous behavior to a lady, 
 afterwards his sister-in-law. 
 
292 LETTERS. 
 
 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 honors 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 the philosopher, I shall find 
 what he thinks of the discovery. Give my kindest regards to 
 your very amiable neighbors, 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. 
 
 'T is very wicked in me to send you these sixpennyworths of 
 interrogations every time I feel my ignorance of what passes in 
 the world painful to myself, or disgraceful 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 broth- 
 er, 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 
 
LETTERS. 293 
 
 new laws against sedition. I have found a wise book at last — 
 Miss Thrale sent it me — on Monopoly and Reform of Manners ; 
 printed for Faultier. It should be given about. I think, like 
 Hannah More's penny books, and got by heart for a task by ser- 
 vants, apprentices. &c 3 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. JEneas 
 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 mothers 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 
 cultivation, Meantime, let me request an early narrative of 
 Yortigern's success. I think they will pluck his painted vest from 
 him. but we shall see. 
 
 It has been long matter of surprise to me that the less-instruct- 
 ed 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 probable or not. But what I mean is this : when Lady Mac- 
 beth tells them that the grooms of Duncan's chamber she will 
 with wine and wassel so convince* <kc. they think it (as it cer- 
 
 * The work on Lord Macartney's Embassy to China, price three guineas. 
 
294 LETTERS. 
 
 tainly is) perfectly right, and in character 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 laugh- 
 ter 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 na- 
 tive tongue. For these reasons it is scarce a fair wager how this 
 new tragedy is received, without they bring it out in Shakespear's 
 name, which I do think would save it harmless, so long as they 
 believed 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 Princes Sophia, as I remember, with 
 offers of marriage ; and this coachmaker or coal-merchant, or 
 what was the anagrammatical 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 heart- 
 ily wish we were rid of them. 
 
 What becomes of the Beavor family ? I never write to Mrs. 
 Gillies, 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 advertised yet. Somebody told me Lady Eglin- 
 ton 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 Hutchinso- 
 nian, to say that our Saviour's Coming (but not the end of the 
 world) is at hand. I cannot recollect 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 ; 't is monstrously clever, and clever only 
 
LETTERS. 295 
 
 because it 's true. So is my conclusion of this letter, saying that 
 
 I am most sincerely, dear Sir, yours, 
 
 H. L. Piozzr. 
 
 My master* unites in compliments. 
 
 To the Rev. Daniel Lysons. 
 
 Brynbella, 9th July, 1796. 
 
 Dear 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 conversa- 
 tion about literature and politics, and the common occurrences of 
 the day. 
 
 JEsher, 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 col- 
 ored 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 favor 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 remem- 
 ber 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 thankfulness that 
 he was not wholly out of favor. I wish you would set me right. 
 Likewise I want to know where the spot once called Castle- 
 risings now stands. Edward II.'s queen Isabella was confined 
 there to her death, but lived very grand, I trust, for she had 
 £3,000 a year, a sum equal to a royal jointure noiv, I suppose. 
 Hume says it was ten miles from London, and it must be nearer 
 now. 
 
 * It is curious that she could call her second husband by this name, so well 
 calculated to revive the memory of her first. 
 

 296 LETTERS. 
 
 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 imitations 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 com- 
 pletely sent to Coventry, for nobody wants them in Ireland. 
 
 The mysterious expedition of Buonaparte will I hope end at 
 worst in revolutionizing the Greek Islands, and restoring the old 
 names to Peloponnassus, 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 shown him sport ; but like Caliban, those fellows will 
 be wise henceforward and site for grace, and worship the French 
 no more, unless they are still greater blunderers than even I take 
 them for, who am ever, ctear Sir, yours faithfully, 
 
 H. L. P. 
 
 To the Rev, Daniel Lysons. 
 
 Brynbella, 5th Jan. 1796. 
 Dear Mr. Lysons, — After making repeated inquiries 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 corre- 
 spondent, though a kind well wisher ; 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 information of what is 
 going forward. Tell me, in the first place, concerning your own 
 health and your wicked brother's, who forgets his old correspond- 
 
LETTERS. 297 
 
 ent very shamefully; after that, let the sedition bills or the 
 Shakespear 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 Anderson publishes John- 
 son's. Those roads are so beaten they will get dust in their own 
 eyes sure, instead of throwing any into the eyes of their readers ; 
 at this distance from the scence of action I cannot guess their 
 intents. Tell what other new books attract notice, and what be- 
 comes of the Whig Club now 't is 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. 
 
 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 extra- 
 ordinary 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 seen ice hitherto ; but 
 storms enough to blow the very house down, and I fear prevent 
 our West India fleet from ever arriving at its place of destination. 
 A beautiful prismatic halo round the moon in an elliptic form 
 very elegant on Christmas Day, was said by our rural philoso- 
 phers to be a rare but certain precursor of tempest, and so it 
 proved : I was, however, glad to have seen a meteor so un- 
 common. 
 
 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, — 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 compli- 
 ments to mine, with wishes of a happy Xew Year. The piano- 
 13* 
 
298 LETTERS. 
 
 forte 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 obliging inquiries. They are 
 all I have to send, except the truest regards of Brynbella to Put- 
 ney ; 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, 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 informed 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 disgrace ; 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 sentiments so exactly that I 
 may easily commend the writer's good sense and sound judgment. 
 The mysteries 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 be- 
 cause I have read it myself, and because these are really not 
 times for any man of the living world to waste his moments in 
 weighing of feathers ; 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 discov- 
 
 * Against the Ireland forgeries. f Madame D'Arblay's novel. 
 
LETTERS. 299 
 
 eries,* 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 Constantine'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 Hono- 
 rius's time ? he made his son Caesar if I remember well ; was 
 he in Dorsetshire ? or was this long room mere private property, 
 and Neptune nothing but an ornament, — as he is now ? I should 
 like to know if the P was concealed or plainly set in view. 
 Christians wore them of divers kinds I believe in places of per- 
 secution, much as the Royalists in France carried the effigies of 
 Louis Seize about them in unsuspected forms ; and the ill treat- 
 ment of those who professed our religion did not cease immedi- 
 ately in remote parts of the empire, although it ended in the cap- 
 ital after the outspread Labarum had swept its foes away. Per- 
 haps, too, the mark was not unknown to Constantine, when he 
 saw it somehow miraculously displayed with the Greek words 
 expressive of In hoc Signo vinces under it ; perhaps (but these 
 are too bold conjectures) it had been a private sign among Chris- 
 tians before, and was exalted only — not first recognized — 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 appear ; 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, 't is awkwardly 
 expressed, because he refused to triumph after the ancient 
 manner. 
 
 I doubt whether iEtius, 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 num- 
 
 * Of Roman antiquities at TVoodckester, on which Mr. Samuel Lvsons based 
 two valuable publications. 
 
300 LETTERS. 
 
 bers 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. Numberless 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 con- 
 fusion, 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 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 't is for yourself I inquire ; your brother, we 
 know, is well and busy with his subterranean 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 harbors so. No matter ! my half-crown for 
 Flo shall be willingly contributed, though I do think seriously 
 that the Dog Tax and Repeal of Game Laws will have an ex- 
 ceeding bad effect on the country, where gentlemen will want in- 
 ducements 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 insidiousness 
 could not have contrived a more certain principle of levelling, and 
 
 * Bishop Watson's celebrated answer to Paine and Gibbon. 
 
LETTERS. 301 
 
 republicanism in all her pride could not plan more perfect grati- 
 fication than that of seeing the young farmers' sons cocking their 
 guns in face of a landlord upon whom no man feeling any de- 
 pendence, 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, be- 
 cause he had presumed to give his parishioners barley and pota- 
 toe 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. 
 
 Yortigern 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 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 
 fortune 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 "Westmeatk's Divorce Bill, 
 like Mrs. Mullins, will carry conviction of her infidelity all over 
 the world. TTe 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 con- 
 cerns his acquaintance, yet, adds he, 't is the very act of his life 
 which they most busy themselves about. Now Heaven knows, I 
 
 * If indignation makes verses, it does not supply syntax; and this 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." 
 
302 LETTERS. 
 
 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 favorite 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 favor of that 
 anagrammatic Mr. Stone,* who wrote his name 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, Tuesday Evening, 1797. 
 I thank you very sincerely for the entertaining letter I re- 
 ceived the other day. Indeed, my dear Sir, you can scarcely 
 imagine how much a cargo of London chat enlivens our conver- 
 sation 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 w r hat 
 I see and hear of the present fashions ; but cutting off hair is the 
 foolishest among the foolish. When they are tired of going with- 
 out clothes, 't is easy putting them on again ; but what they will 
 
 * On Stone's trial, the author of " The Pleasures of Memory" proved a con- 
 versation with him in the streets, tending to show that he made no mystery of 
 that which was charged as treasonable. 
 
LETTERS. - 303 
 
 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 be 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 : 
 
 u So when two clogs are righting in the streets, 
 With a third dog 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 occa- 
 sion, being Fielding's, but I half long to address 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.| 
 
 If Mrs. Siddons was to work at Drury Lane all winter and 
 run about all summer, she would have had no enjoyment of Put- 
 ney; and the young ones, for whose sake she is to work and run, 
 would never have delighted in an out of toivn residence. Cecilia 
 is coming to the scene of action, London, where / 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 't is all one. The Bishop of Bangor likes "Wales no 
 better than she does, I suppose, 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, especially 
 in these days ; he is got into a cruel embarrassment. 
 
 Tell something about our Princess of Wales and her domes- 
 tiques, and of our infant queen-expectant, pretty creature! I 
 should somehow like to see that baby excessively. My hope is 
 
 * Who gained the nickname of Dog Dent by this piece of legislation, 
 t " Vortigern " was acted and damned on April 2, 1796. The last audible 
 line was 
 
 u And when this solemn mockery is o'er," 
 
 which Kemble was accused of uttering in a manner to precipitate the catas 
 trophe. 
 
304 LETTEES. 
 
 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 epi- 
 logue is charming. Only one fault ; 't is an epilogue 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 
 remember, quite original. 
 
 Adieu, dear Sir, and bid your brother not quite forget me. 
 The arm of an old vestal virgin kept under ground since Agri- 
 cola's time, is cold compared with the hand of his and your faith- 
 ful servant, 
 
 H. L. Piozzi. 
 
 To the Rev. Daniel Lysons. 
 
 Brynbella, 3d Sept. 1802. 
 And now we are come home at last after an eight months' ab- 
 sence, and a 500 miles' tour, 't is high time to congratulate dear 
 Mr. and Mrs. Lysons on the happy event of which the newspa- 
 pers informed us, whilst in &far country, though none more pleas- 
 ing than Gloucestershire. We passed a fortnight or three weeks 
 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 churchyard, because when reading " Camden's Re- 
 mains " many years after, it came in my head how much cleverer 
 that is, which he preserves, and in the same style. John Eng- 
 lish's inscription on his monument was however too deep for me 
 then to be struck with, 't is 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 com- 
 prised in those three words ; and if the truth were well known, 
 the first implies the other two completely. 
 
 * Miss Lee's play. 
 
LETTERS. 305 
 
 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 broth- 
 er's kindness in showing me the stone at Somerset House, from 
 which if I could learn but little, for want of more skill in lan- 
 guages, I can please my busy fancy well enough, perhaps better 
 than if sullen truth intruded and catched imagination by the 
 bridle. For example, my recollection says, that among the hiero- 
 glyphicks I saw a crow perpetually, and I do think that this 
 same crow came originally out of the same nest as old Odin's 
 reafan that King Regner Lodbrog's three weird sisters worked 
 for Hialmar, a standard of victory (ladies still present consecrated 
 colors 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 fretwork, I cannot wonder at any 
 marks of affinity between old Coptic and Scandinavian ideas. 
 
 Besides does not Justin say ? — I told you true that I 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 Gallo Greeks and Galatians against Antigonus ? 
 The Gaids, wherever planted, considered a crow as their coat 
 armor, 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 neighboring superstitions. I do believe the croaking 
 raven * meant victory in hieroglyphic language, and am impa- 
 tient now till clear translation shows the analogy, and makes 
 some explanation. If the British Critic was to see this stuff, he 
 would say my letters were in rhyme I suppose, as he says " Ret- 
 rospection " is written in blank verse. Lord bless the people, 
 
 * Hardly in Macbeth, Act I. Sc. 3. 
 
306 LETTERS. 
 
 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 un- 
 complimentary 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 Mr. 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 melan- 
 choly to look in the grave for those one used to see at the tea- 
 table ! Well ! you 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 gayeties 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 November, and when it will end I know not. 
 The mountains are still covered with snow, and such tempestuous 
 weather did I never witness. 
 
 The political wonders have increased since the suspension of 
 our correspondence so much, that we are all tired of wondering 
 at them ; but this new discovery of a nest of Christians in Trav- 
 ancore must be considered as curious by everybody who reads of 
 it. Tell me the price of Buchanan's book and its character ; I 
 
LETTERS. 307 
 
 see nothing 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 sub- 
 scriptions and contributions (to use an hospital phrase) of the 
 nobility, gentry, and others. Hospital phrases, indeed, best suit 
 the dwellers at Brynbella ; 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 them- 
 selves. The maxim has been confirmed by my experience every 
 day since to me first pronounced, and I dare say the late unfor- 
 tunate event in your own family affords it no contradiction. 
 
 Has your brother many children left him by his lady, 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 M s. Siddons. 
 
 To Samuel Lysons, Esq. 
 
 Brynbella, 22d 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 con- 
 sent 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 9 t is Joseph, writes to her, begging he may copy the por- 
 trait 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. 
 
308 
 
 LETTEKS. 
 
 V^ 
 
 To Samuel Lysons, Esq. 
 
 Brynbella, 17 Feb. 1814. 
 
 Dear Mr. Lysons, — I was desired by some disputants to 
 obtain correct information, and felt immediately that I could be 
 sure of it from none but yourself. The question is, What au- 
 thority 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 brother a happy new year, 
 and full enjoyment of the felicities 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 £ 3,000 for 
 her book or no ; * and if Lord Byron is to be called over about 
 some verses f 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 pre- 
 tended to such impossibilities. 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 ; 
 
 * " The Wanderer, or Female Difficulties," published in 1814. 
 i The verses beginning: — 
 
 " Weep, daughter of a royal line." 
 
LETTERS. 309 
 
 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 person- 
 ally, how faithfully 
 
 I am yours, 
 
 H. L. Piozzi. 
 
310 LETTERS. 
 
 MISS WYNN'S COMMONPLACE BOOK. 
 
 The following extracts from some of Mrs. Piozzi's letters to a 
 Welsh neighbor, are copied from Miss Williams Wynn's Com- 
 monplace 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 char- 
 acteristic of Parisian manners. Their sovereign has been executed. 
 Religion 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 Lon- 
 don run to crown the dead delegates with flowers, forgetting how 
 we were all terrified 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 Fro w, late Turinese 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 attorney 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 requisition, that large tracts 
 of land lie waste for want of cultivation, whilst civil war of 
 
LETTERS. 311 
 
 opinions among the inhabitants, 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 Genoa 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 Romans 
 presented dates and dried figs to their friends, and the modern 
 Italians make up elegant boxes of sweetmeats for the same pur- 
 pose. 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 New Year, — even 
 that good custom is going out apace. Well, Ovid's line to Ger- 
 manicus was the prettiest : — 
 
 '■ Dii tibi dent annos, a te nam c altera sumes." 
 
 Buonaparte doubtless thought such a speech would suit him 
 some mouths ago, but he must renounce all hope of being 
 Germanicus. 
 
 1814. — Your partiality will encourage me to a long chat 
 with you concerning the atmospheric stones which have attracted 
 much of my attention. I do believe that Diana of the Ephesiatis 
 was no other than one of 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 
 immechanical notions is the very best I know, — the ready fur- 
 nished 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 
 
312 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 Rome 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 heaven 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 pyrasum 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 hap- 
 piness 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 com- 
 pletely 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 them. We need no longer say with Cap- 
 tain Macheath : — 
 
 M I wonder we ha'n'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 grandmother, the great 
 autocratix Catherine, took an English boy out of a merchant's 
 counting-house at Petersburg, 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 
 that his companion was forgotten. One day, however, in the 
 crowds of London, the Emperor recognized 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 £ 500 a year. Such actions are like those re- 
 lated in novels, and acted on the stage 
 
 * This evidently alludes to the fraud for which Lord Dundonald was unjustly 
 punished. 
 
LETTERS. 313 
 
 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) icent 
 off before the fireworks ; so his heir removed the body and re- 
 ceived 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 't is 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 pro- 
 ceedings of the common people these last three years 
 
 Per contra, as shopkeepers would express it, you may see the 
 good people (I visit many of those who style themselves the 
 Evangelicals) congratulating me and each other on the diffusion 
 of religious knowledge and consequent virtuous behavior. Jews, 
 say they, are converting, slaves releasing, and heathen nations 
 obtaining instruction* by means of missionaries warm in the cause 
 of piety, and useful in researches for bettering the general con- 
 dition 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 beauti- 
 ful bridges, will hardly remember what a poor figure he made 
 eighty years ago, I suppose, when gay folks went to Vauxhall 
 in barges,* an attendant barge carrying a capital band of music 
 
 * " 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 
 
 14 
 
314 LETTERS. 
 
 playing Handel's water music — as it lias never been played 
 since. 
 
 I saw Mr. Wanzey yesterday evening. His account of the 
 procession at Rome, consisting of Christian slaves liberated by 
 Lord Exmouth, was very Interesting.* They walked up the 
 long street, Strada del Popolo, in uniform, and up to St. Peter's 
 Church, attended by all the priesthood singing Litanies, Thanks- 
 givings, &c. ; then depositing their stands 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 af- 
 fliction 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 dinper on the Tuesday following. " Nay," 
 
 said Dr. Gibbs, " I doubt whether Mrs. will live beyond 
 
 Tuesday. She is very ill indeed." At three o'clock the hus- 
 band 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 morning ; 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 a good 
 husband and certain friend, but she will lose her greatest ad- 
 mirer 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 pain- 
 ful 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. 
 
 the house and said, ' You and I, Mrs. Doyley, remember the time when London 
 had but one bridge.' Miss Grimston was present." — Note by Miss W. Wynn. 
 
 * "It is very strange that the vulgar mistake of writing adjectives with capi- 
 tal letters occurs frequently in these letters. I have copied some of her oddl} T 
 affected orthography. She is always set o'laughing. Through a long negotiation 
 she speaks always of the Piano e forte which they are bujnng for Boddylwyd- 
 dan." — Note by Miss W. Wynn. Was it a vulgar mistake at the time? 
 
LETTERS. 315 
 
 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 conspira- 
 cies, 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 mur- 
 derers, but my paper says there were placards distributed in 
 Court while the trials went forward, saving, TTe want a Bel- 
 lingham. 
 
 1819. — Llewenney Hall pulled down too! and its forests 
 Alta 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, " If you study My ways, and 
 learn My commandments ; " but " if you walk in My ways, and 
 observe My commandments to do them" which was surely never 
 so little practised as now. "Well, the work of reformation runs 
 forward apace. Female associations are forming every day and 
 everywhere. They come into your kitchens, instruct your ser- 
 vants, 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 neighbor ? 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 
 and 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." 
 
316 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 
 
 To Sir James Felloives. 
 
 Bath, 17th January, 1815. 
 Accept a thousand compliments ; I found the pasquinade 
 after a long search as it was given me on the inauguration 
 of Buonaparte. 
 
 " Rornani ! vi niostro un b.el Quadro, 
 H 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, 
 
 Abandoned her to certain death. 
 
 H. L. P. 
 
 The sense is kept, and the point blunted in the translation, but 
 so it is in all translations. 
 
 To Sir James Felloives. 
 
 Bath, April 10, 1815. 
 I return your paper, dear Sir, and thank you for the addi- 
 tional conviction it has given me, that argument and eloquence 
 can be found in Free States only, — decision and promptitude in 
 Despotic Governments alone. While we are talking, they will 
 act however, and our pelf will put the puppets in motion. 
 
LETTERS. 317 
 
 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 Castlereagh's 
 speeches on the Prince's message. 
 
 To Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 Bath, 10th 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 Mez- 
 eray's History of France. 
 
 " When Hugh Capet was first set in the seat of power, he con- 
 sulted an astrologer, who told him his descendants 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 
 crowned at all ? ' ' O 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 mur- 
 dered 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 ivas really so, their time was not 
 expired till two years ago. 'T is an odd circumstance at any 
 rate : an odder still, that you should prefer my version of Adri- 
 an'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." 
 
 Gentle soul ! a moment stay, 
 Whither wouldst thou wing thy way ? 
 
318 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 Cheer once more thy house of clay, 
 Once more prattle and be gay ; 
 See, thy fluttering pinions play ; 
 Gentle soul ! a moment stay.* 
 
 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, 
 Tour 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 heaved 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 destroyed 
 
 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 through the vast profound ; 
 
 When, with revivifying heat, 
 
 All nature's numerous pulses beat, 
 
 Touched by the Master's hand ; shall come 
 
 Thy unforgotten pendulum ; 
 
 No longer feeble, cold, and slow ; 
 
 Retarded still by grief or woe ; 
 
 But firm to mark th' unfinished hour, 
 
 That shall all grief and woe devour. 
 
 * Thus translated by Pope : — 
 
 " fleeting spirit, wandering fire, 
 
 That long has warmed my tender breast, 
 Wilt thou no more my frame inspire ? 
 No more a pleasing cheerful guest ? 
 Whither, ah ! whither art thou flying, 
 To what dark, undiscovered shore ? 
 Thou seem'st all trembling, shivering, dying, 
 And wit and humor are no more." 
 
LETTERS. 310 
 
 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 St. John's Apocalypse, to the name 
 of Napoleon Buonaparte, in Spanish. It has been done in Eng- 
 land various times, and in various manners ; but that it should be 
 done as it is here in a country of bigoted Romanists, is indeed 
 surprising. If you send it to Sir James, send it very carefully, 
 for it cannot be got again, and he alone deserves it ; perhaps 't is 
 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 mad- 
 ness, at my age, to be talking of pleasure I am to receive six 
 months hence ! ! But I must talk what the Spaniards call dis- 
 parates while 
 
 H. L. P. 
 
 A FABLE FOR 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 swelled with indignation. 
 His lofty head disdained the ground, 
 
 His neck was long and pliant ; 
 Could stretch to earth's remotest bound, 
 
 Or lick the scraps that lie on 't. 
 
320 LETTERS. 
 
 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 climbed a lofty tree ; 
 Where safe and clearly he could see 
 All that befell their meeting. 
 But whilst the various heads combined, 
 From every hedge resistance find ; 
 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 tucked his servile tails behind him. 
 
 To Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 Blake's Hotel, Monday, July 31st, 1815. 
 My 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 
 purchasing : so here I am no whit nearer disposing of Streatham 
 Park than when I sat 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 expenses con- 
 cerning Salusbury's marriage. I call that the felicity bill : those 
 which produce nothing but infelicity, all refer to Streatham of 
 course. But you ran away without your epigram translated so 
 much apropos : — 
 
 " Creanciers ! maudite canaille, 
 Commissaire, huissiers et recors ; 
 Vous aurez bien le diable au corps 
 Si vous emportez la muraille." 
 
LETTERS. 321 
 
 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. O terque quaterque 
 beati ! those who fell at the battle of St. Jean, when compared to 
 the miseries of Cadiz and Xeres ; and 0, happy Sir James Fel- 
 lowes ! 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 Lincolnshire fens, if we 
 have unfavorable seasons. The best years of my temporal ex- 
 istence — I don't mean the happiest ; but the best for powers of 
 improvement, observation, &c. — were past in what is now Park 
 Street, Southwark, but then Deadman's Place ; so called because 
 of the pest-houses which were established there in the Great 
 Plague of London. From clerks, and blackguards not a few, I 
 learned there that Long Lane, Kent Street, and one other place 
 of which the name has slipt my memory, were exempt from in- 
 fection 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 not, dear Sir, despise 
 your sibyl's prediction : for that God'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 
 inclination 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 Revolution, that Abbe Si eyes 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, 
 14* 
 
322 LETTERS. 
 
 laughed at those who did believe it. But an intelligent Italian, 
 since dead, assured me that the last Pope, Braschi, believed it ; 
 and marked the youth, in consequence of that belief, with a 
 Fleur-de-Lys upon his leg. Whether the young man described 
 in the newspaper 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 cle 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. 
 JEneas would have been forgotten but for Virgil. 
 
 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 " Retrospection "), but the last 
 chapter in the first volume is my favorite, and should be read be- 
 fore the short dissertation on the Hebrews for twenty reasons. I 
 hope you like my preface, and find it modest enough, tho' the crit- 
 ics 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 Sid- 
 mouth, but that 0, such speeches are not like other people's 
 
 letters at all: but that 1 have not (with an income of £ 2,000 
 
 a year) £ 5 to spend on myself, so encumbered am I with debts 
 and taxes. Leak says he must pay £ 40 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 : — 
 
LETTERS. 323 
 
 11 What yet remains ? but well what 's left to use, 
 And keep good-humor still, whate'er we lose. 1 ' 
 
 Give my best love to dear Miss Fellowes, compliments 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. I make 
 sure of losing the Jield ; my generals are unskilful. 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-forgot- 
 ten 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 Heaven will spare, 
 And by conniving seem to share 
 
 In such gigantic guilt ? t 
 
 Xo, tardy-footed vengeance stalks, 
 Round her depopulated walks, 
 
 Waiting the fateful hour ; 
 When human skill no more can save, 
 But hot contagion fills the grave, 
 
 And famine bids devour. 
 
 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 
 
324 LETTERS. 
 
 now to befall them, and yet never predict what has befallen my- 
 self! 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 ex- 
 plainers 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 runs down the hill, increasing in velocity every cir- 
 cle it makes, I can't believe that things are coming so very for- 
 ward, but that poor H. L. P. may, by the mercy of God, escape 
 those scenes of turbulence and confusion. 
 
 Your book,* however, helps to alarm me. I had no notion that 
 such pestilence had been so near, and you can have but little no- 
 tion 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 Garrick's verses yesterday, 
 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 instead 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. 
 
 * " Reports of the Pestilential Disorder of Andalusia, &c, &c. ; with a Detailed 
 Account of the Epidemic in Gibraltar, in 1804, &c, &c." London. 1815. 
 
LETTERS. 325 
 
 " 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.* 
 
 11 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-humored, 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 '11 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. 
 
 k - Ye fair ! take the cestus, and trust to its power, 
 
 The mind unaccomplished, mere features are vain ; 
 When wit and good-humor enliven each hour, 
 
 The Loves, Joys, and Graces will walk in your train." 
 
 *■ " 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." 
 
 Rogers. 
 
326 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 To Sir James Felloives. 
 
 Monday, 28 August, 1815. 
 
 Retrospection, too much crowded with figures ; anticipation, 
 in every sense a blank ! and thus it is, Dear Sir, that the world 
 runs away. Mrs. Flint and Dun (where you bought the bitter 
 hoarhound), hard as one of her names, and dreadful as the other, 
 told me our lost fortune on Saturday night ; I send it you, en- 
 closed 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 inducements are want- 
 ing, they will surely think on that, 
 
 I have been plagued with a gumboil, a mouth abscess. Pun- 
 ishment on 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, expressing : 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 mut- 
 ton or of metaphysics. 
 
 " One charm displayed, another strike our view, 
 In quick variety forever new," 
 
 as some among our Streatham wits used to say, was her forte. 
 
 Well ! but Leak thinks, Ivsee, that necessity will compel me to 
 dispose forever of that place, and Lady Williams 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 Bryn- 
 bella (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 
 
LETTERS. 327 
 
 concerning money, after the debts are paid, venture on No. 8 
 Gay 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 morning. 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 storm 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 por- 
 trait after all, and this is a miniature of 
 
 Dear Sir James Fellowes's 
 
 exceedingly obliged servant, 
 
 H. L. P. 
 
 To Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 Bath, Wednesday, 27th September, 1815. 
 
 TVhy Dear Sir James Fellowes ! Peter the Cruel was surely 
 your ancestor instead of mine. After the thousand 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 Het- 
 ling 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 remem- 
 brances ; 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 
 
328 LETTERS. 
 
 guidance of an air balloon, so as to exhibit in an almost mirac- 
 ulous manner upon Westminster Bridge next Spring. I saw one 
 of the first — the very first, Mongolfier, I believe — go up from 
 the Luxembourg Gardens at Paris ; and in about an hour after, 
 expressing my anxiety whither Pilatre de Rosier 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 Messieurs-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 PARLA. 
 
 " 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 T uom, cui T onda, e cui la terra e 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 piii beato il renda : 
 
 " Ma se nuocer poi dee, 1' audace ingegno 
 Perda 1' opra, e' 1 consiglio ; e fa ch' io splenda 
 D' una stolta impotenza eterno segno." 
 
 THE MACHINE SPEAKS. 
 
 In empty space behold me hurled, 
 The sport and wonder of the world, 
 Who eager gaze, whilst I aspire, 
 Expanded with aerial fire. 
 
LETTERS. 329 
 
 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 refined 
 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, O quick ! let me recede, 
 Or blaze a splendid exhibition, 
 A beacon for their mad ambition. 
 
 And now after all this prattle, adieu ! 
 
 To Sir James Fellow es. 
 
 H. L. P. 
 
 Bath, Tuesday Night, 3d October, 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 ap- 
 pellation and behave like men and gentlemen. Of dear Cervan- 
 tes' merit, you must know most, and those who do so, must most 
 value him. I b ulieve 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 't is 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 exertions. Nine months, is it not, to July ? Well ! 
 I have carried many a heavy burden for nine months, and why 
 
330 LETTERS. 
 
 not a load of debt ? 't is a new sort of burden, 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, and 't is only following your example about the vexa- 
 tious 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 waltz 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 excite no ideas 
 except of dry admiration for the astonishing difficulties they per- 
 form, and some serious fears lest they should break their slender 
 limbs in the performance. 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, ex- 
 cept 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 affectionate 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 
 correspondence, '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 
 
LETTERS. 331 
 
 in life, learned les manieres and les towmures, and how gay a 
 thing it was to despise her husband, who was completely even 
 with her, — 
 
 " In youth she conquered with so wild a rage 
 As left her scarce a subject in her age ; 
 For foreign glories, foreign joys, to roam, 
 Xo 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, 
 
 M Act well your part, there all the honor lies." 
 
 " Xos sumus in scena quin et mandante magistro 
 Quisque datas agimus 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 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 Felloioes. 
 
 Bath, 10th Oct. 1815. 
 Such letters would make anybody well. I will implicitly fol- 
 low the advice of my incomparable friend, and I will not advertise 
 Streatham Park till you approve the measure. Alas, dear Sir, 
 my wish is to conciliate, not provoke them. Lord North's maxim, 
 " Amicitise sempiternas, inimicitiae 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 forborne to injure my tackling, and if I can 
 
 * Popularly rendered: " Enmities in dust; friendships in marble." 
 
332 LETTERS. 
 
 now get home under jury-masts, how thankful ought I to be ! 
 Apropos to y^r^-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 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 preferred to 
 your own. 
 
 / was selfish once, and but once in my life ; and though they 
 lost nothing by my second marriage, my friends (as one's re- 
 lations are popularly called) never could be persuaded to forgive 
 it ; was not it always so ? Your Spanish Bible, in the eighteenth 
 chapter of St. 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 confession no one 
 but your kind self could deserve, or indeed comprehend 
 
 Where the mad warrior fights for fame, 
 
 And life beneath him lies ; 
 'T is 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 assigned, 
 They light like harbingers from Heaven, 
 
 And cheer the trembling mind. 
 
 'T is then with pride resembling shame 
 
 We bask beneath their rays, 
 And virtue with an humbler name 
 
 Becomes the love of praise. 
 
LETTERS. 333 
 
 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 God Almighty 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 enclosed. Collins promises 
 me the " Travel Book " on Thursday, which I shall correct for 
 you, and make as 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 Govani's, whose " Memoirs des Cours 
 dTtalie " 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 main tint par ses vertus." 
 
 Her dazzling reign so brightly shone, 
 
 Few sought to mark the crimes they courted, 
 
 Whilst on her ill-acquired throne 
 She sat, by virtue's self supported. 
 
 The Anecdotes of Doctor Johnson were begun at Milan, where 
 w r e first heard of his death, and so written on, from milestone 
 
334 LETTERS. 
 
 to milestone, till arriving at Leghorn, 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 ac- 
 count of Doctor Johnson, in my own way ; and not send to them 
 the detached bits which they required with such assumed superi- 
 ority and distance of manner, although most of them were inti- 
 mates of the house till they thought it deserted forever. I think 
 we must not tell your dear father that his friend Bennet Langton 
 was one of them. If we do, he will not say as Dr. Johnson did, 
 
 " 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 Rome 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 he was forced to beg one from a friend, 
 to supply his Majesty's impatience, who sat 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 Felloives. 
 
 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 mascu- 
 line in the Greek. *OD'D, Sisera, was the proper name of the 
 general of a hostile 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, fur- 
 
LETTERS. 335 
 
 ther 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 will 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, rt Now let your Homer or Virgil find a passage equal 
 in eloquence and beauty to the last eight verses of that incom- 
 parable 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 God 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 complacency his partial friendship for poor 
 
 H. L. Piozzi. 
 
 The vulgar menace of I '11 be after you with a susurrare 
 means, as far as it means anything, I '11 follow you up with a writ 
 of certiorari* to call up the records, that justice may be done 
 impartially. 
 
 To Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 Bath, 19th Oct, 1815. 
 The next best thing to shaking a friend by the hand is seeing 
 his handwriting. I 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 Garslin did 
 me a great deal of honor, and deserved some amusement in pay- 
 ment for his trouble in finding the house. 
 
 * She is substantially right. It is a writ for the removal of the proceedings, 
 civil or criminal, from an inferior to a superior jurisdiction. 
 
336 LETTERS. 
 
 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 professor, 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 the curiosities of Bath, it seems, and one of the 
 Antiquities. 
 
 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 gray 
 are gris malki?is, 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 memorandum 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 rj /3 tt. 
 
 eat a bit o' pie/ " 
 
LETTERS. 337 
 
 To Sir James Fellow es. 
 
 30 October, 1815. 
 
 If dear Sir James Fellowes still continues under discipline, 
 this anecdote of Hogarth and of his little friend 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 Goose, and felt earnest that we children might be 
 allowed a round table to play at, but was half afraid of my uncle's 
 and my father's grave looks. Hogarth said, good-humoredly, " / 
 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 with 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. 'T is the lady's last stake ; see how she hesi- 
 tates between her money and her honor. Take you care ; I see 
 an ardor 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. Beckford. The summer before last 
 it was exhibited in Pall Mall as the property of Lord Charle- 
 mont. 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 avoid- 
 ing it, so that I scarce know whether the inclination ever sub- 
 15 
 
338 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 sisted 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; u 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 provokingly which had the fine 
 word in it; and now you laugh, you ill-natured thing, be- 
 cause 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." 
 
 To Sir James Felloives. 
 
 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 mari- 
 gold 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 every- 
 thing 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 
 
LETTERS. 339 
 
 lover, a prize in the lottery to another; but see them come out, 
 wrinkled and roughened 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 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 it represented with every additional assistance 
 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 TThalley's, about five or six years 
 ago, and Sir William TTeller Pepys made this impromptu while 
 she was speaking, repeating it the moment she had done : — 
 
 11 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.'' 
 
 To Sir James Fellow es. 
 
 1st December, 1815. 
 The customary season of good wishes ; which, like your Span- 
 ish 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 my last year began with making your acquaint- 
 ance, 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, 
 
 * The wife of Francis Twiss, (author of the " Complete Verbal Index to 
 Shakespeare,") 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. 
 
340 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 however, are neither good nor bad. The place is a mere drag 
 upon rny mind, a drain upon my purse ; and no Marquis of Staf- 
 ford yet 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 Prin- 
 cess 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 though 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 ! 
 While peace extends her olive green 
 O'er the pale wounds of poor fifteen. 
 Nor let th' enticing air and mien, 
 The promised freshness of sixteen, 
 Lead us to tempt, howe'er serene, 
 Eternity ! Offended queen. 
 
 Vineyards, Wednesday Night, 
 6 December, 1815. 
 
 I have been dining wdth 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 my- 
 self, after tea. 
 
LETTERS. 341 
 
 To Sir James Fellow es. 
 
 Bath, Monday Evening, 
 
 11 December, 1815. 
 
 Vert 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 deter- 
 mination upon the choice of life, as Doctor Johnson calls it in his 
 " Rasselas." 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 Fellowes 
 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 medicine 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 " Rhoda ?"* 
 And is not that admired because it shows everybody what they 
 like best ? — their own faces in the glass. I beg pardon, your 
 brother's little work is well spoken of by everybody ; but Walter 
 Scott has certainly fallen in the plains of Waterloo ; I was al- 
 ways 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 disguise ill-humor ; 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 acci- 
 dent? 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 state of 
 preparation. Well ! if I die to-morrow, Gillowes's people have 
 
 * " Rhoda," a novel, in four volumes, published by Colburn. Her remark on 
 it resembles one made by Madame de Sevigne on the play of Les Visionnaires. 
 
342 LETTERS. 
 
 now had £ 1,700 of the £ 2,380 which their bill came to ; and 
 Leak says we may cut the bill down to £ 2,070 if we could pay it 
 quick, and save the interest ; so I sent him £ 200 now of the 
 January dividends, and must owe him £170 instead of owing 
 them £ 380. I don't like the arrangement, though an advanta- 
 geous 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 advantage than in a ball room ; at- 
 tentive to a sick parent, brother, or sister, and you will say : — 
 
 " O 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 " Synonymes," I will not 
 complain (though but just three years behind your father) of the 
 tsedium 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 your 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 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 landscapes of Titian done when he was ninety years 
 old, 't is 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 revolution. How melan- 
 choly ! 
 
 So farewell ! and for a short time, dear Sir ; come soon and 
 chase the gathering clouds away. 
 
LETTERS. 343 
 
 u Mon premier est le premier de son espece, 
 Mon second n'eut un premier jamais: 
 Mon tout, ie 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 eve- 
 ning he cried, " O, my head ! " and died without another word or 
 groan. 
 
 " Nil mihi 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 favorite u Retrospection : " they were very 
 civil to the Synonymy, and there 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 unspeakable 
 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 practice, 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 com- 
 pany, but a whole menagerie would make me no compensation 
 for exchange of sentiment in friendly converse. O, 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, how- 
 
344 LETTEES. 
 
 ever, much to say to you about the Biographical Memoires, 
 which are really in some degree of forwardness. 
 
 Adieu ! Going to dine with the Lutwyches, Sunday, 10th 
 December, 1815. 
 
 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 wearying 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 neighborhood. O how 
 that neighborhood is changed ! O how many sighs shall I have 
 to leave on every house as I pass it, if it should please God that 
 I can come down next July, unencumbered 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 fronting 
 a large house made by my exertions as if wholly new,* and then 
 furnishing it in modern style supremely elegant, though I thought 
 not costly, cannot be done but by enormous expense, and, in 
 fact, surveyors, carpenters, and cabinet-makers have driven poor 
 Hester Lynch Piozzi into a little Bath lodging, where Miss 
 Letitia Barnston found her, two rooms and 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 Harrington, however, kept his 
 
 # She is speaking of Streatham. 
 
LETTERS. 345 
 
 eighty-ninth birthday awhile 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. 7 ' 
 
 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, 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 favorite 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 de- 
 sire 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 disinter- 
 ested friendship, and to say only that I am, dear Sir, your most 
 obliged servant, 
 
 H. L. Piozzi. 
 
 Bath, 30th December, 1815. 
 
 15* 
 
346 LETTERS. 
 
 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 though I had 
 witnessed much theological talk, controversy 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 vitae," 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 
 'T is 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 friend- 
 ship 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 in- 
 deed ; sometimes very sweetly supported, many times very cru- 
 elly thwarted, by my companions on the same stage ; and now, 
 if all is to be soon over, Valete et plaudite. 
 
 H. L. Piozzi. 
 
LETTERS. 347 
 
 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 color of the 
 wind ; if they can tell you the tint of the storm ! 
 
 'T is 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 independent 
 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 affecting 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 entertain- 
 ment ? He returned, bowed ; went home, sickened, and ! 
 This was a classical conclusion of his life indeed ; like the char- 
 acters 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 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 neighboring 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. 
 
348 LETTEES. 
 
 " Till in a sea of follies tost, 
 Foes to each fine emotion, 
 Our drooping willow 's driven and lost 
 On Life's tempestuous ocean. 
 
 u While true to time-worn worth we view 
 The verdant laurel rising, 
 Firm-fixed, and of unchangeful hue, 
 Each wintry blush despising. 
 
 " 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 neighbor, 
 A blistered tongue succeeds the bite, 
 And best repays their labor." 
 
 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 flavor. 
 
 Poor Doctor Harrington, like myself, has found the kindness 
 that sweetened his existence always from without 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. a 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 color of the 
 wind, and explain to you the tint of the storm, they would say 
 the storm rose, I imagine, and the wind blew. We used to spell 
 the color so in very old days. 
 
 Meanwhile, the geological maps of what is to be discerned 
 
LETTERS. 349 
 
 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, although I am deeply concerned in it at sev- 
 enty-five years old. Dear me ! 't is 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 Fellow es. 
 
 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 neighbor, 
 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 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 daughters that it 
 would be so, and so it will be. The bridegroom 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 espouseurs, 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. 
 
 God preserve yours unclouded and serene for at least half a 
 
350 LETTERS. 
 
 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 Fellow es. 
 
 Bath, Sunday, 21 Jan. 1816. 
 
 Mr. Greenfield preached a very fine Oraison funebre upon 
 poor old Harrington to-day, and used my very expressions ; was 
 not it odd enough ! Not odd at all, 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 momentary recollection — that you have a friend, and that 
 that friend is 
 
 H. L. P. 
 
 *■ This story of Goldsmith's is mentioned by Boswell. 
 
LETTERS. 351 
 
 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 that I apprehended 
 aphthse, 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 unheeded 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. Es- 
 caped 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 '11 have you 
 punished for an assault." A passer-by relieves him from this 
 difficulty, and they strike up a friendship and go together to the 
 inn. " Pray, Sir, who have I the honor 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 
 
352 LETTERS. 
 
 for the destruction of his country. " O, for pity leave me di- 
 rectly," cries he ; "I am in company with a chief of banditti. 
 What will become of me ? Get 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 Fellowes. 
 
 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 ! " re- 
 plies the man ; " why they were antiques when in Cicero's cab- 
 inet. Antiques ! why they were antiques in Romulus'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 Salusbury 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 Red 
 Sea before the passage round the Cape of Good Hope was dis- 
 covered, 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 God 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 acknowledgment, can only curtsey 
 
LETTERS. 353 
 
 and say, Thank you, Sir. In return for your confidence, how- 
 ever, I shall tell you a secret ; and that is, that I am engaged to 
 dine at Xo. 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 ; 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 Terrellae, 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 
 Terrellae 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, 't is 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. 
 
 To Sir James Fellow es. 
 
 Bath, 1 March, 1816. 
 Ox St. Taffy's day does — — 's little Welsh friend renew her 
 wishes of happiness. The thought of its being so near, and the 
 delightful certainty of your going to my house at Streatham Park 
 
354 LETTERS. 
 
 to be happy, puts me in the best good-humor 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 recov- 
 ered from his nettle-spring rash, which seems to burst out an- 
 nually, 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, char- 
 acters 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 show- 
 ing the now nearly empty rooms, and saying in a shrill though 
 sleepy tone : "And here 's 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 amusement 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. 
 
LETTERS. 355 
 
 To Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 18 April, 1816. 
 
 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,t when Quasstor at Seville, 
 throwing an auctioneer to the lyons in his menagerie, 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 re- 
 news his kind invitation very pressingly, I will have the honor 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 
 Waterloo Bridge, the Western Exchange, and other London 
 wonders ; then return, shut my front windows, and protest 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 vigor on 
 their enemies. 
 
 * The well known auctioneer of Saville Row. 
 
 t The anecdote is recorded in a letter to Cicero from Apicius Pollio. 
 
356 LETTEKS. 
 
 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' happiness here below more 
 than mortal man can imagine. 
 
 Adieu ; and believe me, yours most faithfully, 
 
 H. L. P. 
 
 To Sir James Fellow es. 
 
 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 par- 
 ticularly inconvenient for the servants below stairs. Either of 
 them ought to content 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 Dry den's Fables." The ladies stared, but the 
 scholars said he was right ; and I said it were better be wrong 
 than so pedantic, for 't is 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, 
 
 " Laodice and Iphigenia fair, 
 And bright Chrysothemis with golden hair." 
 
 " O, " 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 Proserpina, 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 were all looking at the fireworks in 1748, from tempo- 
 
LETTERS. 357 
 
 rary 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 at 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, 3d 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 to Adbury House. After church to-morrow, 
 the chaise runs us to Rodborough, 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-wo- 
 men 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 Grimsthorpe so 
 
 much ; I am glad you are going, and shall be most glad when 
 you return. I pass some happy days together in Gay Street : 
 the plate is already on the door with my name, and you will say, 
 " I see she has brasoned 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 re- 
 turn from Wales, bright and brisk, and if (to speak in earnest) it 
 
 * " Until to some conspicuous square they pass, 
 
 And blazon 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 re- 
 versed the position of the plates. *■ Now," said Jekyll, " you are knocked up." 
 
358 LETTERS. 
 
 should please God that I should — O 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 £ 1,000 may be bet- 
 ter by that time in stone than in stock, &c. 
 
 S is the wise man I always thought him, and forbearing 
 
 to make one among the shoal of self-impelled 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 — £ 2,600,000 50,000 millions (an't it) 
 and £ 600,000. 
 
 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 environs ! 
 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. 'T is so in everything. We had an 
 oak-tree in a little island no bigger than itself, and surrounded 
 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 an- 
 other moment have I to say it in. 
 
 To Miss Fellowes. 
 
 This letter to dear Miss F., begun at Blake's Hotel, London, 
 will be ended at Streatham Park. Your brother, and the kind 
 General (Garston) 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 ? 
 
LETTERS. 359 
 
 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 connection 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 Fellow es. 
 
 Streatharn 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 Thaxks, 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 goldfinch) to sing in circles round your head, as 
 gratitude demands from your incessantly obliged, 
 
 H. L. P. 
 Buenos noches, 
 Felicissima notte, 
 Bon soir, 
 Gute nacht, 
 Good night, 
 Vale. 
 
 On her return from London she thus writes : — 
 
360 LETTERS. 
 
 To Sir James Fellow es. 
 
 Bath, Wednesday, 10 April, 1816. 
 
 My dear S and Lady will like to hear that I got 
 
 safe through the thunder and lightning on Sunday 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. 
 
 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 Streat- 
 ham, 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 restrictions 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 more, 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-bath- 
 ing. Dr. Gibbes bid me beware of the reaction, but what can 
 one do towards keeping such thing at a distance ? Cowper says, 
 you know, and truly and sweetly : — 
 
LETTERS. 361 
 
 " 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 £157 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 unoffending 
 H. L. P., dear Murphy was faithful found, among the faithless 
 faithful only he : — 
 
 11 He, like his muse, no mean retreating made, 
 But followed 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 portrait 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. 
 
 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 Eois. 
 
 * Portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds, painted for the library at Streatham. 
 
 16 
 
362 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 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. 
 
 I feel sorry the Parliament is broken up ; for, laugh as one 
 may, in that house does reside the united wisdom of the 
 nation. "Wisdom," says Solomon, u crieth in the streets, but no 
 man heareth." I think in London streets the horn blowers and 
 the flowers in blow contrive to drown his voice. 
 
 To Miss Fellowes. 
 
 Bath, 18 July, 1816. 
 
 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 extra- 
 ordinary weather will have on the hay and corn.f Meanwhile 
 
 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 
 
 * A novel by Lady Catherine Lamb ; the two principal characters were sup- 
 posed to be intended for Lord Byron and herself. 
 
 f On the 18th July, 1860, the weather and its apprehended consequences were 
 the same. 
 
LETTERS. 363 
 
 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, 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' attention 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. Bu£ I am detaining you with questions concerning 
 people and things by this time wholly forgotten among your 
 folks. 
 
 Distance between friends produces that certain vexation: 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 long been 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 con- 
 stitution of your truly faithful and obliged friend, 
 
 H. L. P. 
 
 To Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 Bath, Monday, 22 July. 1816. 
 
 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 report soon told us the frightful 
 effects left behind it at poor Windsor's here in James Street. 
 You must remember 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 sum- 
 mer evening, yet I never but once heard of any life lost or endan- 
 
 * The late Mr. Allen, who lived with Lord and Lady Holland as a member of 
 the family, was called Lady Holland's pet atheist. 
 
364 LETTERS. 
 
 gered ; 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 com- 
 mon sense is never strong enough to weigh it up. 
 
 The mischief is, we seldom drop or cast it in the proper har- 
 bor ; it would then keep steady, and deserve the name the Ro- 
 mans gave it, anchora sacra I shall probably not live to 
 
 see you in the happy character of father ; but remember my 
 words, or rather those of old Archbishop Leighton ; when speak- 
 ing 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." 
 
 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 /ri end, 
 
 H. L. P. 
 
 To Sir James Felloives. 
 
 Bath, Wednesday, 18 September, 1816. 
 
 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 pos- 
 sess 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 fine host of friends. 
 Wit sparkles round our rosy wine, 
 And beauty boasts her charms divine : 
 
LETTERS. 365 
 
 Musick prolongs our festive nights, 
 And morning calls to fresh delights ; 
 A London residence then give, 
 For here alone I seem to live. 
 
 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. 
 
 Tours, dear Sir, ever, 
 
 H. L. P. 
 
 To Sir James Fellow es. 
 
 Bath, 25 September, 1816. 
 
 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 con- 
 sideration, and which is surely now T 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 Lord warns his disciples ; first, 
 in the 24th chapter of St. Matthew, 4th and 5th verses ; then in 
 the same chapter 23d and 24th verses. The first of these im- 
 postors arose very soon after Christ's Ascension, Barchochebas 
 by name, and he vomited fire, and led astray multitudes. Do- 
 sitheus was another ; I think " Retrospection " mentions one or 
 
366 LETTERS. 
 
 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 prohibi- 
 tion. This person, however, may be the great Antichrist, or Ante- 
 christ, though I do not believe it. The Protestants, you know, have 
 attributed 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 pronounced 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, 't is 
 observable that Dan is omitted. Conjectures concerning Anti- 
 christ are, however, quite innumerable. There is a folio volume 
 in 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 2d chapter of his 2d epistle to 
 the Thessalonians as preceding the general judgment, does al- 
 ways appear to me as if designed to portray one single man, who- 
 ever he may be ; but Bishop Newton and all cool expositors 
 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 convinced of the approach of 
 
 " That great day for which all days were made ; 
 Great day of dread, decision, and despair, 
 When nature struggling in the pangs of death 
 Shows God in terrors and the skies on fire." 
 
 Young. 
 
LETTERS. 367 
 
 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 u Connections between Sacred Writ and 
 Classic Literature ; " it is a very fine performance and much 
 admired. 
 
 Yours while 
 
 H. L. P. 
 
 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 compared 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, 
 Xoiseless 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 him 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 Brynbella : — 
 
 " Umbra tegit lapsas, prsesentique imminet horse ; 
 Dum lux, dum lucis semita virtus agat." 
 
368 LETTERS. 
 
 " Ere yet the threat'ning shade o'erspread the hour, 
 Hasten, bright Virtue, and assert thy power." 
 
 The well known George Henry Glasse * said there was a fault 
 in the prosody, and wished to correct it, as thus : — 
 
 " Umbra tegit lapsam, prassentique imminet horae 
 Hospes, disce ex me vivere, disce mori." 
 
 " Ere yet the unre turning shadows fly, 
 Go 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 ele- 
 gance. O, 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. 
 
 * The 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 following anecdotes concerning him. On Miss Blaquieres 
 bidding him write some verses for her, he said, " he had nothing to write upon." 
 11 Then," replied the lady, " write upon nothing" he immediately 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 neighboring 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 Act 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-took containing the money in bank-notes on the seat, and on discover- 
 ing his loss, committed suicide. The day following, the pocket-book with its 
 contents was brought by the driver to the hotel at which he had stopped. Nep- 
 tune Smith was more fortunate. He 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. 
 
LETTERS. 369 
 
 To Sir James Fellow es, 
 
 Bath, Monday, 7 October, 1816. 
 
 I have got no new books to read ; Mr. Whalley recommended 
 me some verses, a long poem indeed, but to me very unintelli- 
 gible. Modern writers resemble the cuttle-fish that hides him- 
 self from all pursuers in his own ink. That is not Doctor Gray's 
 case, however: I think you will like his performance exceed- 
 ingly. 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. 
 
 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 't is 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. 
 
 0, 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 Salus- 
 bury's business, before his marriage some months, a Mr. White 
 sent to tell me, through Doctor Myddleton, that he possessed 
 a manuscript of Johnson's, and wished me to ascertain that the 
 handwriting was his own. I invited both gentlemen 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 
 16* 
 
370 LETTERS. 
 
 was a diary of the little journey that Mr. Thrale, and Mr. 
 Johnson (such he was then), and Miss Thrale, and myself made 
 into North Wales, in the year 1774. There was nothing in it of con- 
 sequence, that I saw, except a pretty parallel * between Hawke- 
 stone, the country seat of Sir Richard 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 seventeen genuine letters of Doctor 
 Johnson, which I could by no means think of purchasing for my- 
 self, 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 inquiring after my 
 family ; what relationship I have to Lord Combermere, to Sir 
 Lynch Salusbury Cotton, &c, and comically enough asking who 
 my aunt was, and if she was such a fool as Doctor Johnson de- 
 scribed 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 published 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 prob- 
 ably never seen a crown in his possession before. Things were 
 very distant a. d. 1774, from what they are 1816. 
 
 * This " pretty parallel " is what I had in my mind when speaking of John- 
 son's notice of Lord Kilmorey's place, ante, p. 52. 
 
LETTERS. 371 
 
 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 Duppa'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. 
 
 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. 'T is a retro- 
 spection of my young days, very amusing certainly, but anec- 
 dote is all the rage, and Johnson's Diary is selling rapidly, though 
 the contents are Men maigre, I must confess. Apropos, Mr. 
 Duppa has sent me the book, and I perceive has politely sup- 
 pressed 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 be- 
 haved 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 opinions con- 
 cerning Buonaparte, of whom he thinks much higher than I do ; 
 although, as Balzac says of the Romans : — 
 
 " Le ciel benissoit toutes leurs fautes, 
 Le ciel couronnoit toutes leurs folies." 
 
 "We must, however, watch the end ; for, till a man dies, we can 
 neither pronounce him very great or very happy ; so said at least 
 one of the sages of antiquity. Adieu ! 
 
372 LETTERS. 
 
 To Sir James Fellow es. 
 
 Bath, Fryday, 1 Nov. 1816. 
 
 When my heart first made election of Sir James Fellowes, 
 not only as a present, but 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 Bbisgeler is dead, you know. 
 One could not care in earnest for Boisgeler, but at my age, 't is 
 like losing the milestones in the last stage of a long journey. 
 
 We shall, however, both of us, have a cruel loss in the Lut- 
 wyches. How happy, how elegant is the epitaph on poor Mary. 
 Beautiful, though not too showy ; just as it should be. I am 
 afraid to trust myself w T ith translating or even praising it. 
 
 H. L. P. 
 
 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 Guild- 
 ford ; who delighted in affecting coarse expressions, and used to 
 say to his friends when he met them, " O, such a one, how does 
 the pot boil?" Some democrat, who probably disliked the rough 
 address, when Wilkes and liberty set London 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." 
 
 * At the house of the Lutwyches. f Her maid. 
 
LETTERS. 373 
 
 I am so afraid this tale is not new to you, any more than bap- 
 tizing the bells. We have two in England, you know, that were 
 christened Thomas. The Oxford one I forgot all account of; 
 but when the devil was set 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. 
 
 I fancy the phenomenon you allude to at Valencia, where they 
 are, I trust, not much improved in philosophy, was a real meteor. 
 The atmosphere is loaded with vapor, 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 stealing the wits from my head, 
 the pen from my fingers, every moment. Let it at least do its 
 
 duty in presenting my best regards and compliments to 's 
 
 acceptance. 
 
 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 
 
 To Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 H. L. P. 
 
 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 happiest 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 
 d'Eglantine's Nivose, Pluviose, Ventose, &c. I wonder if any 
 of that nonsense will be remembered ! 
 
374 LETTERS. 
 
 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 parai trait." 
 Meaning that 
 
 " Charles cfts-paraitrait." 
 
 'T is 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, " O 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, whoever keeps 
 within the bounds of decency, — may not we add patriots ? — are 
 all censured for tameness, and considered as cold-hearted animals, 
 scarce worthy to crawl on the earth. 
 
 Meanwhile, the thoughts of your Adbury establishment charm 
 me, and I feel sure that my dear friend will never fall into this 
 new and fatal whimsey, of fatting beasts, while men are wanting 
 food. It is a senseless 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 Lon- 
 doners. I told Hammersley, that the donation of £ 50,000 to 
 50,000 poor, put me in mind of Merlin, the German mechanick, 
 
 * It was remarked by Lord Macaulay that prize oxen were only fit to make 
 candles, and prize poems to light them. 
 
LETTERS. 375 
 
 who, when the people were terrifying each other about the inva- 
 sion, 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 apiece. Surely these 
 are senseless methods of preserving tranquillity.* The people 
 want nothing but employment 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 Doctor Fellowes 
 charged me to give you some tidings of my own health, because I 
 confessed to him that I had been taking dear No. 1, and he prob- 
 ably 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 hap- 
 piest year of your life, it will make of the most dutyful and affec- 
 tionate son upon earth the wisest and tenderest father. Do not, 
 however, forget, that in 1815, you promised long and faithful 
 friendship to her who knows the value of all your good qualities, 
 and who will be, while life last, perhaps still longer, your sincere, 
 as obliged, 
 
 H. L. P. 
 To Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 Bath, 4th January, 1817. 
 
 'T is well for me, dear Sir, that my letters meet so kindly par- 
 tial a reader ; for I have a notion they often repeat themselves. 
 Doctor Johnson, and men less wise than he, say we forget every- 
 thing but what passes in our own mind. Those ideas are among 
 the most fleeting of mine. 
 
 That I had not seen the great actor (Kean) in Sir Giles Over- 
 
 * 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. 
 
376 LETTERS. 
 
 reach when last writing to Adbury, is, however, perfect 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 my- 
 self 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 you cot- 
 tagers 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 com- 
 ical indeed, but those fine plantations at her brother's country seat 
 haunt the poor dear soul's fancy everlastingly ; and she remem- 
 bers and knows that £ 5 would have paid the whole cost ; for in 
 old Judge Williams's time there were not, as now, things of every 
 kind to be bought. They planted their own beech mast and fir 
 apples ; and certainly the trees are worth ten times as much to 
 posterity. 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, — young- 
 lings, — 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 dulness have its due : and remember that if life and con- 
 versation 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 't is variety alone can delight us either in a book or a 
 companion.* " Rather than always wit, let none be there," says 
 
 * " On ne plait pas longtemps si Ton n'a qu'une sorte d'esprit." — Rochefou- 
 cauld* 
 
LETTERS. 377 
 
 Cowley, who had himself enough for two people, and I know not 
 why, but my heart feels heavy somehow. 
 
 Dear ! dear ! what a fragile thin£ life is ! A young man was 
 riding full gallop down this street* yesterday, and fell down dash 
 at the very spot where Miss Shuttleworth was killed. He is not 
 dead this morning, poor fellow ! but in a sad way, I fear. This 
 street always was like Yirgil's Tartarus, and now 't is like the 
 high road to it. Coal-carts scrattling up the hill, often used to 
 make me think — 
 
 " Hinc ex audiri gemitus, et saeva sonare 
 Yerbera; turn stridor ferri, tractaeque catenae." 
 
 Well, no matter ! our exits and entrances are apparently innu- 
 merable, and no two alike. Here comes Miss TV , daggled 
 
 like a duck-shooting spaniel on a dirty November day, and catch- 
 ing 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 parlia- 
 ment 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, u I can't tell, but it seemed 
 to arrive promiscuously." 
 
 Once more farewell, and believe me ever yours, 
 
 H. L. P. 
 
 To Sir James Fellow es. 
 
 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 something to 
 string my spirits up to concert pitch. The parties are going for- 
 ward through frost and snow, but I come home from them, when 
 I do go, a little duller than at setting out. One reason is they 
 
 * Gay Street, Bath. 
 
378 LETTERS. 
 
 will sing to me, the men will ; and 0, how much rather would I 
 hear a dog howl ! 
 
 Your friend was very kind, sat 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 eyesight. Such an age of imposture 
 was sure never known. Joanna South cote, 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 without a prince, whenever the king dies. 
 
 Mrs. Lutwyche has written from Rome ; says her husband 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 crea- 
 tures from hunger and consequent disease within the last two 
 years, and this corresponds with Dr. Whalley's account of North- 
 ern Italy. 
 
 What is one to believe? Now dispose of my compliments, 
 loves, and respects, and Addio ! 
 
 To Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 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 God 
 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 
 
 * Author of " Marcus Flaminius " and other works. 
 
LETTERS. 379 
 
 being precisely the Hunt and Cobbett of 2,000 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 impossible. 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 physi- 
 cian 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 11th 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 ancestors had not worn armor, 
 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 
 sorry that I am so near out of it. If my setting sun leaves one 
 long red streak behind, to lengthen the twilight 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 anni- 
 versary 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. 
 
380 LETTERS. 
 
 To friendship sacred, and to song, 
 Let joy the happy hour prolong, 
 And stay their rapid flight. 
 
 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 
 
 Returns no more for you ; 
 With silent pain the mental eye 
 Pierces through deep futurity, 
 
 And turns her from the view. 
 
 At length, by years alone opprest 
 When summoned hence to join the blest 
 
 In their celestial sphere ; 
 Resigned you '11 quit us at the last, 
 Viewing without regret the past, 
 
 The future without fear. 
 
 But friendship whispers to the heart, 
 That though condemned on earth to part 
 
 From those it loved before : 
 Its ties unbroken still remain, 
 And former friends shall meet again. 
 
 To separate no more. 
 
 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 Landlord " [ " Old Mor- 
 tality " ] are very fine in their way. 
 
 People say J t is like reading Shakespear ! I say 't is 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 
 
LETTERS. 381 
 
 any trick played, except the sensations of Morton when going to 
 be executed, and the gay conversation of Claverhouse immedi- 
 ately 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 sin- 
 cerely I remain, your obliged and faithful friend, whilst 
 
 H. L. Piozzi. 
 
 To Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 Bath, Saturday Night, 8 February, 1817. 
 
 I hate 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 hon- 
 est 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- 
 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 Eu- 
 rope 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 ap- 
 parent 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 hangers-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 
 
 * 1680. See Macaulay's History, Vol. I. p. 256. 
 
382 LETTERS. 
 
 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. Robertson 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 corre- 
 spondence abroad ? But he hopes to sell some to the sinecurists, 
 I doubt not, while their valets and livery servants drink an in- 
 ferior 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 charac- 
 ter 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 escaped such costly titles ; but I really do not 
 think it right to refuse honors from a sovereign when offered 
 them ; I am not yet so much a modern democrate. " Stick to the 
 
LETTERS. 383 
 
 crown, though it hang upon a thornbush," was old Sir William 
 Wyndham's precept, and we have heard none better. Mr. Dor- 
 set Fellowes is Mr. Salusbury ready-made friend ; he will kind- 
 ly — in introducing 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 w T orth both, agreeable enter- 
 tainments, await you. 
 
 This season requires attention in you farmers, and the times 
 require attention from you as an English gentleman, — the 
 character perhaps most to be respected of any that Europe has 
 in it. 
 
 Stocks rise every hour, but let us not for that reason over-hope 
 ourselves ; there are heavy clouds hanging about, and every na- 
 tion has a right to expect storms : we have not yet had our 
 share. 
 
 Farewell, my dear friend, and shew your superiority to disap- 
 pointment as you have shewn it in a thousand instances to ill-for- 
 tune 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 
 
384 LETTEES. 
 
 Christmas Day was always on a Fry day ? " 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 ex- 
 presses 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 reflections 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. ! 
 
 To Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 Begun Sunday, March 29, 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. Chappelow's visit, but this is a season 
 for mortification, and a stronger memento mori, 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 superannuated, affords indeed a melan- 
 choly spectacle. 
 
 Mrs. Broadhead, too, dying in the Crescent,* plump and gay 
 three months ago, now pale and wrinkled like one's white hand- 
 kerchief after Mrs. Siddons' benefit ; mondo ! 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. G., the doctor's wife, must go abroad, or die 
 at home of weakness and atrophy. Parry's colossal form (tena- 
 cious of life) permits not his departure, but detains him here, 
 helpless, hopeless, senseless, except to agonizing 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 
 
 * This lady is, I believe, living still. 
 
LETTERS. 385 
 
 their maturer years, remembering best the early 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 retro- 
 spection 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 Felloives. 
 
 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 ap- 
 pears, 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 re- 
 member, 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. tt When you were near 
 me," says Pope, " I only thought of you as a good neighbor ; at a 
 hundred miles from me, my fancy formed you beautiful ; and 
 now ! (they had crossed the seas remember) you are a goddess, 
 and your little sister approaching to divinity." * 
 
 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 vapor, shews me very im- 
 perfectly the schemes and monstrous projects of our time, and 
 shews me them in disproportions too. They are not regularly 
 * " \Tis distance lends enchantment to the view." — Campbell. 
 
 17 
 
386 LETTERS. 
 
 formed gyants, like Polyphenie, 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 opinion. 
 
 A gentleman, far from here, who has large concern in the iron- 
 works of a neighboring county, called fifteen of his principal 
 people together the other day, and told them he was no longer 
 able to give them piecework, — 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 honor, was the immediate reply : with 
 thanks and expressions of (as he believes) sincere attachment. 
 They said, however, that the bargain could not be formally ac- 
 ceded to, till letters arrived from Manchester, but that they 
 would wait on his honor 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 tri- 
 umph 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 pulverized 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, &e. 
 
 H. L. P. 
 
 To Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 Bath, Fryday night, 16 May, 1817. 
 
 Well, well ! 't is 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 kepi her 
 word to a second. 
 
 The corporation yesterday, all well and merry, marched down 
 
LETTERS. 387 
 
 the South Parade in some silly procession, I know not what, en- 
 deavored to cross the river in the ferryboat, 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 dis- 
 eases to kill us, when it pleases God 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 wonderful 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. 0, that 
 beats all the stories that I ever heard or told. 
 
 H. L. Piozzi. 
 
 To Sir James Felloives. 
 
 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 the 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 disgraceful to this 
 
388 LETTERS. 
 
 land of liberty and opulence. If such atrocities can be committed 
 in London, what may not happen in Russia or even in Portugal? 
 
 We have been all engaged in care for a girl who drowned her- 
 self in our canal here, but whose only cause of concern was her 
 inability to squeeze some rich friend out of £ 500 ; he sent her 
 £ 50, but that she scorned. What is come to the people ? Lu- 
 nacy ? One would think so, to hear these wonders. 
 
 The Dean of Winchester's account of Bennet Langton coming 
 to town some few years after the death of Dr. Johnson, and find- 
 ing no house where he was even asked to dinner, was exceeding- 
 ly comical. Mr. Wilberforce 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 at a man's 
 house stamped him at once a literary character.* 
 
 Johnson's fame, meanwhile, lives even in the lightest and slight- 
 est 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 beginning 
 
 " 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, temp- 
 tations 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 after, f will keep my inside tolerably good-humored, 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. 
 
 * 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, 
 t Divie Robertson was a wine merchant at Bath. 
 
LETTERS. 389 
 
 Your good mother is recovering gradually but certainly. 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 thank- 
 ful enough for the intelligence your kind, charming sister has 
 this moment given me, of your resolution to run no further in 
 chase of hot weather than the Queen's Drawing Room of this 
 day. Poor Salusbury ! I think if he escapes fever it is suffi- 
 cient felicity. Such a journey in such a June ! and the ther- 
 mometer standing at 82° in my cool marble hall. I have the 
 headache myself, caught perhaps by reading Mrs. Carter's let- 
 ters, 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. Montague : — 
 
 u Your scheme of omitting the house, and improving the plan- 
 tations, is founded on a motive equally good and w r ise. 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 excessively ; 
 but 't is awkwardly expressed, because masons and bricklayers 
 want money and encouragement as much as gardeners and plant- 
 ers, no doubt ; yet I am 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 passed away, 
 Fragments of stone, reared by creatures of clay." 
 
 Poor old Lleweney Hall! pulled down after standing 1000 
 years in possession of the Salusburys, made over to Lord Kirk- 
 wall's father in the last century, and now demolished by fine Mr. 
 Hughes, of the Parys Mountain, would cure any one of pride in 
 houses, or in ancestry. 
 
390 LETTERS. 
 
 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 humor with those above them, a copious 
 harvest is of all most likely. 
 
 You will see my fair daughters at the Drawing Room, of 
 course. They hurried home for it I fancy, for S. has written to 
 me, expressing her regrets at leaving Paris, " where ladies have 
 nothing to do with menage de famille, and can entertain them- 
 selves 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 fluttered life away ; 
 She has known no other duty 
 But to dress, eat, drink, and play." 
 
 This for your privacy, — as Gloster 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 Sid- 
 mouth, they half persuade me to go and see them there ; and 
 when all debts are paid, the £ 500 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 ? 
 
 * The Thistlewood conspirators. 
 
LETTERS. 391 
 
 To Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 Bath, 1 July, 1817. 
 
 No, my dear Sir, I will not stir from home till after the 25th 
 
 of Jul) 7 , 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 favorite 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 discharged by then ; my £ 500 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 imposter dared not say so. Such was 
 the persuasion of the people to believe 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 alpha- 
 bet 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 read- 
 ing for any other merit ; but if you 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 Rookh. 
 
 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 ; 
 
 * A woman of bad character, who passed herself off at Bath and Bristol as 
 Caraboo, Princess of Jarasu. 
 t Caraboo pretended to worship the sun. 
 
392 LETTERS. 
 
 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,* O 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 famed u 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. 
 
 Apropos, I don't believe London will be empty enough for me 
 till September. I will not go to encounter 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, 
 perhaps, poor Lady Kirkwall ; and if she can get her annuity 
 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 im- 
 posed 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 ribbands ! 
 The black f 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. 
 
 * If a man offered to touch her she cried out, Muckratoo. 
 
 I" She never left off her black silk dress after the death of Piozzi. 
 
LETTERS. 393 
 
 To Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 Blake's Hotel, 23d 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 rangers, &c, the boundaries of 
 London northward would have been ascertained, and a beautiful 
 spot, like Hyde Park, have contributed to the health and orna- 
 ment 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, Southwark, 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 
 colored grain imbrowned the views in Berkshire, as I came along. 
 The " cold unripened beauties of the North " must have a melan- 
 choly appearance to foreigners from warm climates, to whom the 
 verdure of fields and snugness of comfortable cottages 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 't is a slow remedy. I feel 
 ashamed to think how much the post-humous poyson has dis- 
 turbed me. Write a word of consolation, and adieu. 
 
 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, distressed 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 Southwark — 
 the borough I canvassed three times, and inhabited thirteen 
 
 * Alluding to Beloe. 
 17* 
 
394 LETTERS. 
 
 years — without knowing where they had carried me any more 
 than if I had been found in Ispahan. 
 
 The gas-lights and steamboats and new bridges are all incom- 
 parable, and will serve us for chat at the castle, when your 
 Honor has counted your money, the grand pacifier of all quar- 
 rels, 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. 
 
 Joy 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, however, 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 recollected an old epigram which I wrote there, 
 
 some centuries ago, when Sir Fletcher Norton was O, 
 
 but I dare say 't is in a blank leaf of your " Wraxall ; " if it is 
 not, you shall have it another day.f Meanwhile, as sublime 
 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 cultivation, and beginning : — 
 
 Goosey ! goosey ! gander ! 
 Whither will you wander 
 When your commons all are gone, 
 That you plumed yourselves upon ? 
 Sure I think they '11 leave no places 
 Where to wash our feathery faces, 
 All the world 's become our foes 
 From this hurry to enclose. 
 
 * At Mrs. Siddons's. f See ante, p. 232. 
 
LETTERS. 395 
 
 Could a ray of hope spring from one's 
 Interest in the House of Commons, 
 I 'd exhaust my last poor quill 
 To avert the 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. 
 
 But you 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 w T ork 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, w r e 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." 
 Cardinal du Perron, you know, did purchase an estate for double 
 the money another man would have given, because 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 Ire- 
 land : it w r ould make your very ducks and drakes laugh to see her 
 diligence (ill-employed) in persuading me to instruct them which 
 way they should go ; for cheapest, best, &c. How can she mul- 
 tiply 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 : 
 
 * 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." 
 
396 LETTERS. 
 
 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 press- 
 ure 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 alle- 
 viate which, in her last moments, Zosimus the hermit was sent 
 to administer the last consolation 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, O better far, 
 than the poor quill of yours and Lady Fellowes's ever, 
 
 H. L. P.* 
 
 To Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 Bath, September 8, 1817. 
 What an unreasonable friend is dear Sir James Fellowes ! 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 " Golden 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, 
 
 * 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. 
 
LETTERS. 397 
 
 doubtless ; while the difficulty of committing anything to paper, 
 multiplied and magnified every deviation into a miracle. Such 
 are the accounts religiously 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 't is related how his wounds dropt blood, though 
 later than ^Egyptian Mary's legend by nearly seven centuries. 
 
 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 himself I Romanism, however, can- 
 not, even now, divest itself of love for pious frauds, and hatred 
 to all sects except their own. See how they are working them- 
 selves 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 w r ant 
 of a handle, and you (says he), cruel creatures ! won't give me 
 even a twig. After a long time spent in such entreaties, 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 epigram 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 his 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 surprise at your talking of partridge 
 shooting, when such loads of corn were yet unhoused. Soon, 
 however, 
 
 " Shall the staunch pointer brave the sultry heat, 
 And tread the stubble with unfeeling feet." 
 
398 LETTERS. 
 
 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 delightful, and good for workmen at home as for 
 harvestmen 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 honor to drink 
 a bottle with Sir James Fellowes, comically enough, and pro- 
 duced 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. They thought 
 a little soothing would do me good, I 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 London 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 favor, owing chiefly to 
 
LETTERS. 399 
 
 Lord Exmouth, whose liberation of Catholic slaves at Algiers 
 struck the Roman 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 Romish 
 bigots ; no less than that the Protestants have hired an apart- 
 ment 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, unnoticed, unoffended.* Such connivance who 
 
 could have hoped for in 1785 ? Mr. W says that our 
 
 countrymen spend £1,000 per diem in Italy, — in Rome 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 first day of the 
 new month, September. 
 
 To Sir James Felloioes. 
 
 Bath, 8 October, 1817. 
 Don't buy the book, dear Sir.f That method only propagates 
 the mischief. You know me too well not to believe me com- 
 pletely callous to literary abuse. But this man (who I never 
 saw but once in my life, eighteen years ago) tells the public that 
 
 * 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 could do for them 
 was to curse any spot they might select for the purpose, so that they might lie 
 in desecrated ground. 
 
 f The Sexagenarian, by Beloe. His statement, false in every particular, more 
 than quadruples her Welsh rent-roll. 
 
400 LETTERS. 
 
 Mr. Piozzi pulled down my old family seat at Bachygraig, and 
 that when he was dead I searched the Alps for a young moun- 
 taineer to inherit my estate of £ 4,000 per annum. Now, in the 
 first place, Mr. Piozzi paid off a mortgage that was on the 
 Welsh estate with £ 7,000 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 other- 
 wise than I have done. 
 
 Yes, yes, when people will talk of what they know nothing 
 about, see what nonsense follows. 
 
 To Sir James Fellow es. 
 
 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 better than men do, 
 
 but they bear surprises worse. Give me time, and I '11 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 tempora mensem; 
 Ut rides dum sit forsitan una dies," 
 
 was said to men who always count upon an escape ; women pro- 
 vide 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 : — 
 
LETTERS. 401 
 
 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 canvassing for franks ; no, indeed, and 
 my health is quite, in the matron phrase, as well as can be ex- 
 pected. 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 return. The 
 people are running up and down again ; and those w T ho 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 w T as 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 w r as ancient Rome 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 d 'actions equal to our own ; and by the 
 accounts I hear of Co vent Garden and its gay salon, we are even 
 trying to go beyond them if possible. 
 
 The description brought me by a friend w r as so eloquent it 
 reminded me of Milton's devils building and lighting up with gas 
 their pandemonium : — 
 
 " Xigh on the plain in many cells prepared, 
 That underneath had veins of liquid fire 
 Sluiced from the lake, mechanic multitudes 
 With wondrous art founded the massy ore, 
 
 * Occasioned by the death of the Princess Charlotte. 
 
402 LETTERS. 
 
 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 filled each hollow nook, 
 
 Till sudden from the soil a fabric huge 
 
 Rose like an exhalation. From the roof 
 
 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 Felloives. 
 
 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 inhabi- 
 tants, 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 Rem- 
 brandt. 
 
 Veniamo ad altro. That one friend should send me 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 superan- 
 nuated. 
 
 Of the clusters in the Pump-Room, who swarm round Queen 
 
 * Paradise Lost, Book I. The quotation is singularly happy, and is one among 
 manv instances of her knowledge and readiness. 
 
LETTERS. 403 
 
 Caroline as if she were actually the queen bee, courtiers must 
 give you an account ; of the ecclesiastical history you will soon 
 hear a great deal, but I 'm not sure whether it will interest you. 
 Everybody writing 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 Glo'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 contributors 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 pre- 
 sentations. 
 
 Adieu, dear Sir, with assurances of my being ever gratefully 
 and faithfully your obliged 
 
 H. L. P. 
 
 To Sir James Felloioes. 
 
 Bath, 23 January, 1818. 
 
 When and in what year will the women find out that com- 
 pany makes one gay only as it brings out that gayety which was 
 in the heart before ? A great coat makes a man warm, I sup- 
 pose, 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 Gibbes has been very good to me, very kind and at- 
 tentive. 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 
 
404 LETTERS. 
 
 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, 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 Parliament. 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 cheer- 
 ful 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. 
 
 * Miss Biffin. 
 
LETTERS. 405 
 
 To Sir James Felloives. 
 
 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 Haitch, if you re- 
 member, but after he had cut his own throat, they wrote him 
 down Mr. Aiteh ; no wonder, for when the windpipe was di- 
 vided, you know, how could he retain his Aspirate ? 
 
 St. David's Day has been a rough one, and your brother Dor- 
 set forces me on the reflection that it was a Saturday's moon. 
 But what reflections or what conjectures can they form who shall 
 lose time and space — at least the old-fashioned methods of reckon- 
 ing them — by being under the pole, seeing the sun always at 
 the same altitude, finding neither east nor west, neither latitude 
 nor longitude, contemplating their own figures represented as 
 in a mirror on the opposing cloud, and viewing their old ac- 
 quaintance the rainbow no longer an arch but a circle ? 
 
 Will they come home pretending not to have shuddered at 
 such appearances ? and will they feel more terror of being tittered 
 at for speaking of such things as extraordinary ? — O 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. Meanwhile my health is not to be complained 
 of; but whenever I catch cold, my eyes suffer somewhat un- 
 usually. 
 
 This stuff is written with one candle and a green shade over 
 it, which makes me incline to be sullen, and say what vile pens 
 these are, when, perhaps, 't is one of the well-deserved warnings 
 knocking at the door of dear Sir J. F.'s faithful and grateful, 
 servant, 
 
 H. L. P. 
 
406 LETTERS. 
 
 To Sir James Felloives. 
 
 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 engagement 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 sat 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, forty miles from the nearest sea, 
 somewhere in Caffraria. Toujours 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 detached from the continent, an island like Terra del Fuego 
 at Cape Horn. 
 
 " Thus do men run to and fro, and knowledge is much in- 
 creased," 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 everything 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 clergy- 
 man 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 per- 
 
LETTERS. 407 
 
 formed with success at No 8 Gay Street, within this last fort- 
 night. 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. 
 
 To Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 ■ Bath, 21 March, 1818. 
 Though 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 laudanum 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 r us that sleep is as necessary as bread, did its duty, and 
 
 here am I, better than when R saw me lying on the couch 
 
 yesterday evening pretty late, when he brought me the happy 
 news. — Adieu, dear Sir. God 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 uneasy 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 w r hich 
 cannot injure the nerves. 
 
408 LETTERS. 
 
 And now shall it be books or people that we talk about ? Of 
 books, let us both begin and end with Gisborne's new publication 
 upon Natural Theology, a tiny work, but replete with good sense, 
 sound learning, and pious reflections. I shall buy and perhaps 
 interleave it, apropos to poor me and my quondam possessions. 
 You see Doctor Burney, who purchased his father's portrait and 
 dear Garrick'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, u 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 ! " ex- 
 claims the lad ; a why, I 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 ac- 
 knowledged 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 Richard Musgrave 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 horrors, a work one word of which has 
 never yet been contradicted.* It will now obtain its due celeb- 
 rity 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 soaking 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 difference in his lady's age from mine con- 
 
 * On the contrary, it is considered a very one-sided production. 
 
LETTERS. 409 
 
 sidered. 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 Shylock and King Richard, 
 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 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 Felloices. 
 
 6 May, 1818. 
 
 I shall be glad when the modish world permits you to ex- 
 change 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 Anglesea. Apropos, 
 that little island has no little to boast : three times has she ruled 
 over the three kingdoms of nature. Once when Druidic super- 
 stition swelled every sea-breeze with her bowlings, 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 Bullock'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 be- 
 queathed us. 
 
 I was ranting on in the same strain before Miss W when 
 
 18 
 
410 LETTERS. 
 
 she exclaimed: "Ah! roast him ; is that odious Bullock dead at 
 last, that cheated my brother, Sir John, giving him £ 500 for a 
 bit of land, that to be sure we thought not worth £ 50, 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 tittering 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 Milton says of Eve, in her presence, Wisdom's self loses dis- 
 countenanced, and like Folly shews. 
 
 Those large fields of ice starve the people's hearts, and they 
 think insensibility a merit, I suppose. Distinction 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 mincl, that G. H. Glasse'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 Glasse. 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. 
 
LETTERS. 411 
 
 To Sir James Fell owes. 
 
 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 im- 
 promptu charades and nonsensical trifles the other day, when 
 one of the company said suddenly : — 
 
 " Why is Mrs. Piozzi like a kaleidoscope ? " 
 
 REPLY. 
 
 The brilliant colors 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 surprise, 
 Delighting still our hearts and eyes. 
 
 Good-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. O, how I should like to see 
 that, and the exhibition, in your company. You really should 
 write me some account of it. This weather will bring wealth to 
 the farmers, and felicity to the apple-vats. A Devonshire lady, 
 Sir Stafford Nortkcote's wife, w r ho 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 
 
 * Sir David Brewster, Principal of the University of Edinburgh, &c. 
 
412 LETTERS. 
 
 a grand push for triennial parliaments, they say. People are in 
 such haste to be happy ; they play short whist, short commerce, 
 &c, but after all these complaints of bad harvests, I did not ex- 
 pect them to cry for short commons ; so that 's one of my silly 
 jokes. Is it a joke that Buonaparte 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, l'homme reste, 
 
 Et le heros s'evanouit." 
 
 Bright with fortune's dazzling favor 
 Seconding each bold endeavor, 
 
 Warriors tame our souls to fear ; 
 But reverses spoil their feigning, 
 Down drops mask, the man remaining, 
 
 While the heroes disappear. 
 
 Well ! 't is no great matter whether they are turned off the ka- 
 leidoscope 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 anniver- 
 sary of our Lord's Ascension ; and perhaps it may be so. You 
 will find innumerable reflections on that event, in King's " Mor- 
 sels of Criticism," which I have loaded, if not deformed, by 
 numberless notes, — manuscript, but legible enough, for I looked 
 them over since Hales's sermon, as I thought they would amuse 
 you. 'T is almost a <pity you should suffer them to be sold after 
 my death. 
 
 Sir Joseph Banks's evenings must this year be more interest- 
 ing 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. 
 
LETTERS. 413 
 
 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 volcanic matter; and my curi- 
 osity 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 compliments, and kept me too from 
 reading you some which she made impromptu on my complaining 
 of the loss of youth and its accompaniments, beauty, admira- 
 tion, &c. 
 
 " O talk not to me of the days that are flown ; 
 Though Youth's cheerful blossoms decline, 
 Even Autumn and Winter their treasures can boast, 
 While Virtue's pure sunshine is thine. 
 
 " 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 eyes 
 
 Amid the lofty glaciers lost, 
 
 As if forgotten by the frost, 
 
 Each Briton smiles, extends the hand, 
 
 And cries, O charming Switzerland ! 
 
 My talents thus your eyes allure 
 And please, reduced to miniature ; 
 
414 LETTERS. 
 
 'T is thus you soothe 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 Dimond's, Brereton's, and to Kemble's 
 Jaffier, well recollecting 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 Willoughly. 
 
 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 creature without doubt, and charms, 
 as it should seem, without 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 forgotten in our country. My house is, as you know, 
 on the hill's side ; but down in Green Park Buildings, 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, 
 
LETTERS. 415 
 
 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 favorites, 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 Renault was inimitable, and 't is long, indeed, since I have 
 seen such a beautiful Pierre as Conway. Mr. Ward is so cor- 
 rect, too, so never-wrong. The poet has always justice done him 
 by a scholar-like speaker ; on the whole, I was very well enter- 
 tained. 
 
 Miss Stratton, one of them, is really very pretty : she went in 
 hysterics at Belvidera's distress, so did Miss Glover. 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. 
 
 To Sir James Felloives. 
 
 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 ex- 
 citing 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 companions 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 
 
416 LETTERS. 
 
 numbers Kean drew after him were nothing to it. She performs 
 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, -t is 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 * claim has proved of more 
 importance than them all, by digging out this obsolete law. 
 
 Formerly, as I have read, whenever a Scotch gentleman medi- 
 tated 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 neighbors, and to settle the expenses, &c, but tempora 
 mutantur ; 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 conversa- 
 tion. But what he most delighted to converse about, was the 
 famous Farinelli. Indeed, of all public performers, I believe Fari- 
 nelli was the only one whom no successor ever pretended to equal. 
 
 To Sir James Fellow es. 
 
 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 Independence 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 ; O how 
 unlikely, how impossible, was it for him to hope for a seat, who 
 
 * 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 
 
LETTERS. 417 
 
 had sent the popular favorite, 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 anticipates 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 't is 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. 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 deformity than at present. Have 
 you interested yourself concerning the discovery of Ossian's orig- 
 inality, so long doubted, so strenuously denied ? The concatena- 
 tion 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 Parliament, 
 made still more so by the Catholic Question being brought for- 
 ward. Forcing religion into the dispute, will set all in a state of 
 effervescence ; for although, poor thing, she is disregarded in com- 
 
 * 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. 
 
 17* 
 
418 LETTERS. 
 
 mon 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 eyes will be beat 
 out and some blows exchanged, before 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 letter 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 ! " replies 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 i 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 2d 
 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 Denbigh, N. Wales. 
 
 To Si?* 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 brother, came, and one of 
 our gambols was to dance round him or her who sat in the mid- 
 dle, 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 whispered me : " If you '11 help, we 
 will make him jump up, stout as he is. Let you and I set fire to 
 Mrs. Salusbury'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 
 
LETTERS. 419 
 
 ran my mother and her company 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 George 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 brother'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) uninteresting stuff: to me more than delightful. 
 
 Madame's account of her visit to a Female Benedictine Con- 
 vent, 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 to dispose of leisure hours ; for 
 this lady had very few hours indeed that by the rules of the con- 
 vent 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 Fellow es. 
 
 Bath, Michaelmas Day, 1818, 
 like the 1st of May. 
 
 Nothing kills the Queen, however. It is really a great mis- 
 fortune to be kept panting for breath so, and screaming with pain 
 by medical skill ; were she a subject, 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 ; 
 Xobis cum serael occidit brevis lux, 
 Xox est perpetua una dormienda." — Catullus. 
 
420 LETTERS. 
 
 Pretty lines certainly for a heathen poet ? Will these do in imi- 
 tation ? 
 
 The sun that sets, with light refined 
 
 Returns to gild the plains ; 
 When man's short day has once declined 
 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 Marlborough," 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 gaiement mon paquet, 
 Bon soir la compagnie. 
 
 " Lorsque d'icy je partirai, 
 Je ne scais pas trop oil j'irai, 
 
 Mais en Dieu je me fie : 
 II ne me peut mener que bien, 
 Aussi je n'apprehends rien : 
 Bon soir la compagnie. 
 
 " 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, 
 
 Bon soir la compagnie." 
 
 And now, after a thousand repetitions of a thousand kind com- 
 pliments to Lady F., and kisses to her darling babies, I shall take 
 a thin pen, and write out my version of President Lamoignon's 
 lines not much amplified : — 
 
LETTERS. 421 
 
 Arrived at grave and gray fourscore, 
 *T is 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, 't is 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 '11 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 ; 
 When such the case, 't is surely right 
 To bid the company good night. 
 
 Adieu ! and accept this Michaelmas goosery with your accus- 
 tomed kindness for 
 
 H. L. P. 
 
 To Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 Bath, Thursday, 15th October, 1818. 
 
 My dear Sir James Fellowes, like his own western sun, de- 
 lights to warm and gild the evening of a stormy day ; but I have 
 no commissions that I remember. Divie 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 senninght. 
 
 The horrid story of Mr. Bowles shooting his own favorite 
 nephew, heir to his estate, I believe, will make me shudder at 
 a partridge all this autumn. 'T is 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 ! O, 
 I must not indulge such extravagant fancies, and Lady Fellowes 
 
422 LETTERS. 
 
 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 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 wdth verses written in her praise. Apro- 
 pos to poets, I think Lord Byron's " Pegasus " is moulting his 
 wings ; one hears nothing of him or his muse. Madame D'Ar- 
 blay 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 sem- 
 blance of friendship, may be the fault of another ; the second time, 
 't is 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 " Civilization." If 
 I did not recommend it to Lady Fellowes, I ought to have recom- 
 mended it. Dr. Whalley says 't is 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 manners ; 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, or what ribbonds they should buy. 
 Let them buy and wear what they will. 
 
 All seem disposed to liberate Buonaparte. The dashing peo- 
 ple, 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 accom- 
 plished by the Francic Emperor, and all consider the sovereigns 
 as very fruitlessly employed in endeavoring to shut the Temple 
 of Janus. Meanwhile there is an old metaphysical work, which 
 
LETTERS. 423 
 
 I cannot take pleasure in reading, published by Hartley, ancestor 
 to David Hartley, in the year 1749. Eighty-first proposition 
 says : " It is probable that all civil governments will soon be 
 overturned." His eighty-second proposition has these words : 
 " It is highly probable, and to be expected, that all Church gov- 
 ernment will in course of less than a century be completely dis- 
 solved." Nobody minded him at the moment, I suppose, except 
 a few pens which were preparing to answer him, but his calcula- 
 tion 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, Lux- 
 more ? 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 conversation, except the petty quar- 
 rels which infest all counties distant from the metropolis, round 
 whose central globe we roll at different distances, and Denbigh- 
 shire 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 Russell 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 
 evermore 
 
 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 pheasants : 
 brilliant in color and tasteful to perfection. Your letter made me 
 recollect the verses. The planting scheme enchants me. Robert 
 shall give you account of my diligence : — 
 
424 LETTERS. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 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 jour- 
 ney 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 cannot 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, 
 'T is 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 Grand Signor. "It is the Sultan's pleas- 
 ure," says he, " and so ends the matter, — here 's my head." 
 
 I have set my acorns. 'T is the oddest thing in the world that 
 the wind blew me an ash and a sycamore 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. 
 
LETTERS. 425 
 
 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 lan- 
 guage 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 English country squire, and flirt w T ith the girls famously. 
 I told them, however, that — 
 
 " The glowing dames of Persia's royal court 
 Have faces flushed with more exalted charms ; 
 The Sun that rolls his chariot o'er their heads, 
 Works up more fire and color in their cheeks: 
 Arrived 'mong these, the prince will soon forget 
 Our pale unripened beauties of the North." 
 
 Well! I really w r as 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 be- 
 lieved, and the first is synonymous with Cosroe. My fear of 
 being mistaken ever since I gave you my " Retrospection," has 
 haunted me night and day. Error is such an insinuating thing, 
 it works through every book like water through a filtering stone. 
 Let us go, and say wdth Horace : Satis lusistis, satis bibistis, &c. 
 We must go, that 's certain, and 't is the only thing that is cer- 
 
 * Meerza Saefar and Meerza Saulih (the two Persians mentioned in these let- 
 ters), two of the most distinguished personages sent into this country three years 
 ago by Abbas Meerza, the reigning Prince of Persia. They speak English flu- 
 ently, and are quite familiar with our manners and customs, and are at no loss 
 to defend ably their opiuions. They are dressed in the costume of their country. 
 I saw them at Bath, Xov. 29, one in a scarlet and gold pelisse, the other blue. — 
 J. F. 1818. 
 
426 LETTERS. 
 
 tain. Kat a nedave ends all the cases Dr. James quotes from your 
 old friend Hippocrates. 
 
 Meanwhile ladies leave cards, and starving females write ro- 
 mances. 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 may tell : but 't is 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 which this is one, ought to be drippy, 
 slippy, nippy. 
 
 Pluviose, Nivose, Yentose : all that stuff is very prettily put 
 together in the " Clavis Calendariae." 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 " Retrospection," and never 
 said thank you, Mrs. Piozzi ; but no matter, 't is a very useful 
 book, and not unentertaining. But I must, write to Dr. Gray, 
 and thank him for his very, very kind letter. One would think 
 I was like Sir Epicure Mammon in Ben Jonson's " Alchemist," 
 who fancying he had found the philosopher's stone, was enumerat- 
 ing the felicities it would purchase, and cried out in a rapture : — 
 
 '* I will have grave divines to flatter we, 
 Poets I will not heed." 
 
 Adieu, dear Sir, and assure yourself that, although no poet, 
 nor grave divine, your friendship is the most valued posses- 
 sion of 
 
 Yours and your family's ever obliged and faithful, 
 
 H. L. P. 
 
 To Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 Jan. 6, 1819. 
 
 Mr. Mangin is come from Paris, and says my " Synonymes " 
 are all the rage there ; and they have got a print of me, and 
 asked him if it was like cette dame celebre. 
 
 * 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. 427 
 
 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 correspond- 
 ents by half; they will at least tell one, poor souls, how sick 
 they are. 
 
 Meanwhile, here is my annual foolery at hand almost ; it 
 really seems but the other day since our last celebration. But 
 
 " 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 
 rainbow. Curiosity is supposed exclusively to belong to youth ; 
 but 'tis foolish to leave this world with 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 occurrences render their voyage interesting. They will 
 certainly 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 mis- 
 
428 LETTERS. 
 
 called them male and female gyants, — and probably added some 
 false wonders of their own ; for truth is native of no clime hith- 
 erto discovered — but by Gulliver. 
 
 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 Adbury, — 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 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." 
 
 O come back for very pity, — reddes dulce loqui, — and do not 
 make me force my partner's hand incessantly thus for a frag- 
 ment of comfortable chat. The Bishop of Meath is your best 
 substitute: he is very good-humored, 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 har- 
 anguing the crowd upon Berwick-upon-Tweed : " People of a 
 good taste likes my deceptions, and so says I, despitur ; " mean- 
 ing decipiatur or 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 bona fide swallow 
 boyling oyl into their stomachs and arsenic, eating a good supper 
 and sleeping sound afterwards — who can believe ? There must 
 
LETTERS. 429 
 
 be a quick substitution affected by legerdemain of a glass with- 
 out poyson, for the glass we see icith poyson ; just at the moment 
 Mdamselle 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 prejudice, not 
 investigation. The Romanists, I see, expect a very favorable 
 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 {ive feet on the 
 earth, and was of the same color down at the very bottom." 
 They saw white snow in plenty upon the distant glaciers. The 
 wise men in the ships attributed the sanguinary hue to aerolite 
 stones which fall in large quantities ; and the new discovered 
 Esquimaux (for Esquimaux they are) make knives and saws 
 such as they do make, poor creatures, of this sky-dropt iron, hav- 
 ing 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 observed how well Dryclen must 
 have studied human nature when he gave his beautiful descrip- 
 tion of Cortez's first arrival in Mexico. "O," said he, "write 
 to James and remind him of the excellent adaptation you have 
 made; the lines are little known." Here 't is 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; 
 
430 LETTERS. 
 
 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 moved towards the shore.' 
 
 1 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 gathered 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 ? ' 
 
 ; Alas ! they lived too sure; I heard them roar. 
 They turn'd their sides, and to each other spoke; 
 I saw their words break forth in fire and smoke, 
 Sure 't is 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 
 comprehensiveness 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 remain ; 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 dear Piozzi caught me 
 ranting in this manner, he used to say — "Ah, ha, vien Vestro 
 adesso? So adieu ! 
 
 To Sir James Fellow es. 
 
 Bath, 9 Feb. 1819. 
 If anything could give astringency to my ink, and make me 
 write a constrained letter to dear Sir James Fellowes, it would 
 
LETTERS. 431 
 
 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 character but 
 that of your Algerine mutes, that strangle and say nothing. 
 
 Common sense at least 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." 
 
 O anything, sweet heaven, but a cancer. I should then indeed 
 have to follow my angelic mother — eheu ! non passibus 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 indefin- 
 able sins pollute the page of every newspaper ? 
 
 What a universal styptic is gold, if a bold haemorrhage of truth 
 does chance to burst out ! O, well and wisely said Sir Robert 
 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 : " you 
 must give it a reading. It has at least the grace of novelty to 
 recommend it, and will, I dare say, run rapidly through many 
 editions, — 't is so cheap 
 
 So here is a real commonplace letter like everybody'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 im- 
 patience 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 swiftlywhen.it carries least weight — 'tis plain. 
 
 * What Sir Bobert Walpole is commonly reported to have said was, " All men 
 have their price." What he really said was, Sl All these men have their price," 
 alluding to the so-called patriots of the Opposition. 
 
 t By Dr. Whately, the present Archbishop of Dublin. 
 
432 LETTERS. 
 
 Adieu then, and remember me to kind Lady Fellowes and lovely 
 Mariuccia, for so we should call her in Italy. 
 
 To Sir James Felloives. 
 
 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. 
 I have asked for St. David's Day, and we will have a good 
 dinner and a Welsh 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 ; meanwhile 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 hemispheres, 
 delights in talking only of Shrewsbury. He will now end his 
 life where it began, nine miles from his favorite 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." 
 
LETTERS. 433 
 
 To Sir James Fellow es. 
 
 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 gay dinner is 
 not to be held till the 19 th of this month, next Fry day, at Mrs. 
 Stratton's. I shall then invite the company to my own house on 
 some day when TTarde and Conway are disengaged. 
 
 Your dinner shall be a good one ; for you remember Boileau's 
 epigram on just such a feast : — 
 
 " Damis ! yous 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 fol- 
 low 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- 
 merchant, 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 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 Garrick'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 favorite actor, " that brings so 
 19 
 
434 LETTERS. 
 
 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 have not five minutes nor 
 five guineas left, they plague me so : — 
 
 All considering me as their prey 
 All assisting towards my decay. 
 
 I was near escaping them yesterday by choking myself at din- 
 ner, 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 de- 
 lightfully : the salt shining and spar-like, unbruised, unbasketed, 
 very good indeed. I wish mine 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 condescend- 
 ance 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 l'Enclos 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, £ 157 
 for it, so I can't, in honor or conscience, ask him more ; but if he 
 would take my Cypriani Magdalen, w r ho 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 £ 6,000 which dear Piozzi left to 
 his relations in Italy, and which I always have promised Salus- 
 
LETTERS. 435 
 
 bury 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 £5,000 in now, you know. 
 
 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 colors varying each to a tint more lovely 
 than the last, does certainly require religions 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 Fryday 26th, next Fry day, and disperse my cares 
 away. 
 
 Do you remember Milton's solemn invitation to a man to be 
 merry with him ? — 
 
 " 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 
 Toward solid good what leads the nearest way, 
 For other things mild heaven a time ordains, 
 And disapproves that care, though wise in show, 
 That with superfluous burden loads the day, 
 And when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains." 
 
 * u 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." — Loicth. 
 
436 LETTERS. 
 
 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 re- 
 ceived from you, Mrs. Piozzi. ? T is 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 honor, and secondly, 
 at an unmeasurable distance, her literary fame : to ascertain the 
 possibility likewise of passionate love, subsisting with uncontami- 
 nated conduct, and enthusiastic friendship without prospect of 
 interested gratification. Veniamo ad aliro. 
 
 The last series of those half novels, half romance things, 
 called " Tales of My Landlord," are dying off apace ; but if their 
 author gets money, he will not care about the rest ; * having 
 never owned his work, no celebrity can be lost, nor no venture 
 can injure him. 'T is 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 un- 
 known girl own the work, than the value so fell, her booksellers 
 complained they could not get themselves paid for w T hat they did, 
 nor did their merits ever again swell the throat of public applause. 
 So fares it with nous autres, who expose ourselves 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 ! 
 
 * 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." 
 
LETTERS. 437 
 
 Doctor Gibbes was here five minutes ago, laughing at these 
 liver cases,* — so everything is called now : — 
 
 " Whence this distress of head ? 
 Whence comes my nose so red ? 
 Our doctors all have said 
 
 From liver. 
 
 " Why all this heat of skin ? 
 Why so much pain within ? 
 WTiat makes me get so thin ? 
 
 My liver. 
 
 " Why gout in feet and toes ? 
 Carbuncles on my nose, 
 When ail this only shows 
 
 *T is liver. 
 
 " Miss Rosa has a pimple 
 Where once she had a dimple, 
 And she believes, O simple ! 
 
 'T is 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 yours, while 
 
 H. L. Piozzi. 
 
 Doctor Gibbes's mother, seven years younger than me, is 
 struck with palsy, which has taken away much of her articula- 
 tion. Friends, companions, contemporaries. Ah, poor Floretta ! 
 
 * It was the fashion to call all doubtful or nndefinable complaints liver, as it is 
 now the fashion to attribute thern to suppressed gout. 
 
438 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 200Z. to Hammers- 
 ley'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 baga- 
 telles, 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 
 wondering 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 fashion- 
 able early in the last century ; but some people there disobliging 
 Doctor Radcliffe, " O," 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 sub- 
 ject, 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 learn- 
 
 * Sir James Fellowes's note on this letter is: "I had met Mr. Wickens a few 
 days before at Mrs. Piozzi's. As we were brother Kugbeeans, the conversation 
 took place about the mode of punishing 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 peda- 
 gogue that he burst out a laughing, and excused the boy the punishment that 
 awaited him. Mrs. Piozzi's manner and humor in relating this anecdote of Van- 
 dyke was remarkably comical.' ' 
 
LETTERS. 439 
 
 ing, 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 present 
 gave the names of ladies whose names chanced to begin with the 
 letter B. Dr. Farmer made the following impromptu : — 
 
 " Is it not strange that Cupid should decree 
 That all our favorites 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. 
 
 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 authorize Wilson to give him up my beautiful Magda- 
 lene. 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 say- 
 ing any more now, but she really means on some future day to 
 pay her personal respects in Harley Street. 
 
 " Mrs. Piozzi sends compliments to her old friend, Mr. Wilson, 
 begs he will put her fine portrait of Mrs. Rainsford in the charac- 
 ter of a Magdalen safely into the hands of George Watson Tay- 
 lor, 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 con- 
 sider this note as authority to deliver the Cipriani Magdalen into 
 his hands, from his faithful servant, &c, 
 
 " H. L. Piozzi." 
 
440 LETTERS. 
 
 Now do not you, my dear Sir James Fellowes, fancy me super- 
 annuated, because I do not write neatly as usual. The paper 
 is, I think, actual blotting-paper, such as "Retrospection" is print- 
 ed on exactly, and so thin. Your idea of Pan among the baccha- 
 nals (Devil among a bag of nails) is incomparable. 'T is the 
 only solution of so strange a sign ; and Scaliger says that his 
 Satanic Majesty, when visible to his adorers, commonly does as- 
 sume the port and person of Azazel, Hebrew for the goat. 
 
 You must not suffer my Scaligerana to go into any hands but 
 your own ; 't is 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 ac- 
 quainted with the Hindoo superstition. They certainly 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 can- 
 not find him ; his comprehensive apellation 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 Rabbins be- 
 lieve the seducer of Eve was either Azazel or Sammael ; the lat- 
 ter, probably, as he combined best with 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. Damascius, however, 
 says Zcdvol 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 
 
LETTERS. 441 
 
 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 solici- 
 tude Lady Burdett and her family have evinced, of making ac- 
 quaintance with me. I guess not where the inducement can lie, for 
 of me they know nothing but my avowed aversion to their princi- 
 ples. 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 Antony, for which my favor- 
 ite Conway seems to have been born. 
 
 Did I ever shew you a horrible story of my own writing (ante, 
 p. 268) done upon the spur of the moment, for a wager, at 
 Florence? Lord bless me! that hideous tale of the Modern 
 Prometheus was done, it seems, by Miss Godwin, in some spirit 
 of competition between her and some physician * — nobody says 
 who — and Lord Byron. His " Vampyre " is a filthy and a fear- 
 ful thing, but her " Frankenstein " carries away the palm of 
 horror and impiety. 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 un wreaths his folds, 
 till frost fixes him once more in a torpid state. Ross's account 
 of the crimson cliffs would have been very entertaining had we 
 
 * Polidori, the author of the popular story of " The Vampire," which is based 
 on Lord Byron's. 
 
 19* 
 
442 LETTERS. 
 
 not anticipated the whole in conversation at Charles Parry's, who 
 permitted me to see his bottle of red snow, and the Greenland- 
 er'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 in- 
 strument, 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 desire of 
 £200 was so impetuous ! Well! as the old prologue written by 
 Prior says, " 'T is best repenting in a coach and six." So I shall 
 die rich, if that is any comfort, 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 por- 
 trait of 
 
 H. L. P. 
 
 To Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 Sunday Night, 18 April, 1819. 
 
 What a world ! or rather what inhabitants of a beautiful 
 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 constructed 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 govern- 
 ment is a contradiction in terms. 
 
 Ah me ! we shall have a grand inundation of worse than 
 
 * To buy her portrait of Murphy, by Reynolds. 
 
LETTERS. 443 
 
 nonsense, I see plainly. After the Nile's overflow, you remem- 
 ber, 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 endeavors 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 resemble the old Cavalier, who predicted return 
 of royalty, 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 running 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 beauti- 
 fully 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 my- 
 self, though your friend Bertie Greatheed used to say, when we 
 lived in habits of intimacy, " Dear Mrs. Piozzi 's never so agree- 
 able 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 ragged 
 and tindery state of my poor worne-out soul. Well ! all 's over, 
 and if I wait longer than to-morrow morning before I claim my 
 prize, let me lose it ! 
 
 Adieu, and keep sweetest Maria from wit and learning 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 kind- 
 ness and partiality to your much obliged 
 
 H. L. P. 
 
 * Burke overlooked this when he denounced the " swinish multitude." 
 
444 LETTERS. 
 
 To Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 Tuesday, April 27, 1819. 
 
 My dear Sik, — I am in possession of nothing ; nothing, at 
 least, that I value, except Tudor's opinion of our good Dr. Fel- 
 lowes's case, which will perhaps bring him to Bath three or four 
 days sooner. His proud Salopian tenants have no taste to part- 
 ing with the last ornament of their drawing-room ; so I will keep 
 possession of my temper, and wait sullenly, but civilly, till the 3d 
 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 severed from it, rise to endless day." 
 
 I do not, however, mean to tell only what verses I receive ; here 
 are some, no better than these, which I have written, expressive 
 of the indignation I feel to see our theatrical managers here sac- 
 rificing my favorite actor to Mr. Warde's ill-humor. You remem- 
 ber Martial's epigram : — 
 
 " Rumpitur invidia quidam, carissime Juli, 
 
 Quod me Roma legit rumpitur invidia. 
 Rumpitur invidia quod turba semper in omni 
 
 Monstramur digito, rumpitur invidiam 
 Rumpitur invidia quod sum jucundus amicis, 
 
 Quod con viva frequens, rumpitur invidia. 
 Rumpitur invidia quod amamur, quodque probamur 
 
 Rumpitur quisquis — rumpitur invidia." 
 
LETTERS. 445 
 
 The word swelling is more elegant in English, however, than 
 bursting, ain't it ? so I turned the whole as follows, alluding to 
 their orations ; for both of which see Shakespeare'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 porten- 
 tous too, if we speak seriously ; but no wonder, while the words 
 " Office for the Deist," stare boldly in each passenger's face who 
 treads the Strand ; and books against the Trinity are publicly 
 advertised, 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 ex- 
 pect fine grapes from the Upas-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. 0, I stewed the Shropshire 
 leeks down to nice Welsh pottage at last, and they were won- 
 drous kind. The master of the house, poor fellow ! screaming 
 with gout. Tell the young ladies they must find out this French 
 enigma : — 
 
446 LETTERS. 
 
 Enfant de Tart, 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. 
 
 Art's offspring, whom nature delights here to foster, 
 Can death's dart defy, though 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 inter- 
 esting. The "Letters of Lady Hartford and Lady Pomfret," 
 written at the beginning of last century. 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 Antony 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 consolation. 
 
 Kind Conway has promised me a proof mezzo tinto of his like- 
 ness 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 cor- 
 respondents 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 splendid indeed ; 
 I have asked people from all parts of the world, and some have 
 promised from the farthest Thule. 
 
 I dare say Parry's Arctic Expedition will be more entertain- 
 ing than that of Captain Ross ; 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 pane- 
 gyrick on Mrs. Siddons, will readily acquiesce in her old friend 
 
LETTERS. 447 
 
 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 towering 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 colors are confessedly faded and her bloom gone 
 by, still yields a sweet perfume, and 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 Fellow es. 
 
 Bath, Fryday, 18 June, 1819. 
 
 No need to try distant countries now for a sight of les beaux 
 Eestes de l'Antiquite. TTe 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 dis- 
 play their beauties to my sight, for 't is 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 reflecting 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 de- 
 ferred, 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 
 
 * See a note to " Retrospection," 2d vol., 8th chapter. In this note she states 
 that the collection sold for £ 9,000, 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. The 
 flowers were exhibited under glasses." 
 
448 LETTERS. 
 
 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 
 
 What a letter ! but if one ever should prove the unworthy sub- 
 ject of conversation, 't is better he 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, observing 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 fab- 
 ulous 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 Fellowes. 
 
 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. Sam- 
 uel Lysons's death — a famous antiquarian, and keeper of the 
 records in the Tower — lowers my spirits a little ; not from ten- 
 derness, though 't is shocking to me that a young man should die 
 so suddenly, but because he had an odd humor of collecting 
 things other people would wish annihilated ; and I remember his 
 making a breakfast for the Greatheeds, 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 ; everything to ridicule either of you 
 
LETTERS. 449 
 
 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 himself; 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. 
 
 To Sir James Fellow es. 
 
 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 ex- 
 actness ; 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.f 
 
 Gala on my eightieth birthday. 
 
 When I return home I shall calculate whether I can get to 
 dear Adbury, and thence to London. 
 
 * I have examined the collections in question, and am convinced that Mrs. 
 Piozzi was mistaken when she wrote this letter, which is quite irreconcilable 
 with her frequently expressed esteem for both of the brothers. 
 
 t 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. 
 
450 LETTERS. 
 
 To Sir James Fellowes, 
 
 Weston-super-Mare, 27 August, 1819. 
 
 I feel delighted, dear Sir, that you have not forgotten me. 
 Some ladies that I met upon the sands last night said Sir James 
 Fellowes had mentioned my name at gay and fashionable Bog- 
 nor. This little place is neither gay nor fashionable, yet full as 
 an egg, insipid 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 re- 
 ply, 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 't is said 
 that Sebastian Cabot used to stand where I sit now, and medi- 
 tate his future discoveries of Newfoundland. 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, w T hile poor little Weston is free 
 from alarms, on Juvenal's principle Cantabit vacuus coram la- 
 trone viator, I offered a cheque on Hammersley at the hotel 
 here. " Yes, Madame, by all means," says the landlady ; " but 
 pray who is the gentleman ? does he reside in Bath ? or is he a 
 Bristol merchant ? " Our banker little dreamed that such ques- 
 tions could be asked concerning him ; and indeed it reminded me 
 of the character in Congreve, who when spoken to of Epicte- 
 tus, inquired whether he was really a French cook, or only 
 one who wrote out particular receipts. 
 
 Miss W , everybody tells me, is breaking up very 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 
 w r hen Mr. Hunt's voice is stopt by a rope, there are those who 
 believe we shall be quiet — and so w r e may, perhaps — at Man- 
 chester. 
 
 We have swarms of babies here, and some bathe good- 
 
LETTERS. 451 
 
 humoredly enough, while others scream and shriek as if they 
 were going to execution. Bessy's boy is among them, com- 
 pletely hydrophobous. 
 
 I am going on a water-party next Monday with a very agree- 
 able young man, Mr. Rogers. 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 Weston's school, and used to come home for holidays with Sir 
 Robert Salusbury Cotton, father of this Lord Combermere, to 
 our house in Jermyn Street, now part of Blake's Hotel. 
 
 Adieu, dear Sir, portez vous hien. Present me to Lady Fel- 
 lowes, and tell your children they have an humble and an at- 
 tached 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 Fellowes 
 knows that I am always desirous to balance my 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 
 marvellous 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 't is 
 long since any could have said of her, Mulier formosa superne. 
 
 Mr. Thrale used to teach Lady Keith with a frog in a large ba- 
 son, 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 horse- 
 whip 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 
 
452 LETTERS. 
 
 jndge of the one, and hardly anybody can judge of the other," 
 was the truly wise reply. 
 
 Hayley and I were never friends, you know ; Lady Sophro- 
 nia's character and that of Dr. Rumble 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 humor. I 
 much wonder what became of that man's literary gleanings. 
 Dear 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 galvanizing 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 vapor 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 
 
 Excelled her power: the gates wide open stood, 
 
 That with expanded wings a bannered host 
 
 Under spread ensigns marching, might pass through 
 
 With horse and chariots ranked 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 Ga ira ! 
 when they don't know nor can guess what it means. They do 
 know, however, what it means to deny their 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 
 
 * Alluding to Lord John Russell's and Sir Francis Burdett's advocacy of Re- 
 form in Parliament. 
 
LETTERS. 453 
 
 it on the old classic system of Minos, who put his chancellor's seal 
 in commission, did not he ? and called Rhadamanthus and iEacus 
 to his assistance on great occasions. 0, they are a precious set, 
 certainly. 
 
 We had a gentleman here yesterday who attracted much no- 
 tice. 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. Eogers was 
 telling me all this yester-morning, and added that young Elton 
 was a fine actor once in private theatricals, but that he was 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 O, 
 what was my sense of horror at 5 o'clock the same dreadful yes- 
 terday, 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 certainly and irrecov- 
 erably drowned ; the mother saved from suicide only by the im- 
 mediate intervention of a medical man, a Welshman, a Mr. Price. 
 To-day they have left the place. 
 
 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 Gay 
 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 Christmas. 
 
 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 Fellowes. 
 
 No. 8 Gay St., Bath, 
 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 
 
454 LETTERS. 
 
 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. Car- 
 lisle,* 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 adver- 
 tised, in order to disseminate the poyson. Why, the yellow-fever 
 is not half as mischievous. You are sadly wanted in Spain just 
 now. A lady told me 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 Fitzwilliam's dis- 
 missal f fills every mouth. 
 
 Why, we shall be divided soon, like the Hebrew alphabet, 
 into radicals and serviles. But here comes Sir Henry and Lady 
 Baynton, and a boy that w 7 as 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 Poule ; 
 Trade leaves her counter, Alma her latinity, . 
 Proud and vain with Mr. Paine to go to school. 
 Should you want advice at law, you '11 little gain by asking it: 
 Your lawyer 's not at Westminster, he is busy Pas de Basquing 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 CliaV ing it: 
 Kun, neighbor, run : all London is quadrilling it, 
 While order and sobriety dance Dos-a-dos." 
 
 These are clever Mr. Smith's clever verses, the man w T ho 
 
 wrote the Rejected Addresses, and were sent me by one of the 
 
 fashionables. 
 
 . • • • • 
 
 They are making bonfires of Bibles in the North, I 'm told, 
 but your great folio in three monstrous volumes will escape I 
 hope. The Reformers shall burn me before they fall upon that ; 
 
 * The publisher of Paine's " Age of Eeason " and other infidel works, 
 f From the lord-lieutenancy of Yorkshire. 
 
LETTERS. 455 
 
 there is no talk of their disturbing Bath with their Reforma- 
 tion. 
 
 I hear wondrous tales of Doctor and Mrs. Whalley ; half the 
 town saying he is the party aggrieved, and the other half lament- 
 ing 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 honor 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 Fellow es. 
 
 Bath, Monday, 17 Jan. 1820. 
 
 Your wonderful friend, my dear Sir James Fellowes, will be 
 most wonderfully disappointed if she cannot boast your appear- 
 ance 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 Williams will manage, either to part or live together ; be- 
 cause the sister was a sunk fence, you know, and if they do not 
 marry or separate, why the people will cry ha ! ha ! Well, 't is 
 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 re- 
 plied : — 
 
 " Sweet Puritans ! don't frown severe 
 On dear Piozzi's dance and cheer ; 
 
456 LETTERS. 
 
 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 assured 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-loved she calls to see 
 The scenes of liveliness and glee. 
 Nor least will they that gladness prize 
 Who only come to sympathize : 
 Induced by arguments so weighty, 
 She dares to give a ball at eighty." 
 
 Well, verses are fine things, and 
 
 Praises are pretty things, 't is 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 Hammersley's 
 than any poetry of my own or my neighbors. 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 pro- 
 cured me the power of making Conway's benefit equal to Warde's, 
 notwithstanding Miss Wroughton's party, &c. He has left our 
 town and our stage now, and I shall trouble my head no more with 
 
LETTERS. 457 
 
 theatrical affairs, except to remunerate charming Mr. Loder's loy- 
 alty, who would not be seduced from my orchestra to 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 doc- 
 tor'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 God 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 pun- 
 ishment, and kind behavior does not seem to excite the courtesy 
 expected by those who so willingly make that Row-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 pos- 
 sessed 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 Ferdinand 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 Godoy ? 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 *. 
 20 
 
458 LETTERS. 
 
 What then means that violet flower ? 
 
 Or the bud that decks the thorn ? 
 'T was the lark that upward sprung, 
 'T was the nightingale that sung. 
 Idle notes untimely green, 
 
 Why such unavailing haste f 
 Summer suns and skies serene 
 
 Prove not always winter past. 
 Ease my fears, my doubt remove, 
 Spare the honor of my love. 
 
 REPLY. 
 
 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. 
 Cease repining, simple maid ! 
 
 Thorns may blossom, birds may sing 
 Love 's a flower when once decayed 
 
 Knows of no returning spring. 
 Haste, and seek another swain, 
 Trust ; and be deceived 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 pro- 
 tect 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 Gay 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 appears, 
 only a want of rain. Adieu ! make my best attentions 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. 
 
LETTEES. 459 
 
 She and her youngest son are very gay at Florence, acting 
 
 English plays, &c all among lord and lady performers 
 
 of course. 
 
 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 assurance 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-organized 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 purpose in me. I can never get my money 
 from that fellow without help of an attorney, which I dislike as 
 expensive, 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 favor. 
 
 Are not the Radicals in Scotland gay fellows to attack the 
 military sabre a la main ? Dear me ! when a rebellion not bet- 
 ter organized, 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 prisoners of war 
 — within 300 miles of the Capital — any part of our conversation. 
 
 I am glad meanwhile that you intend to act as magistrate in 
 
460 LETTERS. 
 
 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 Fellowes. 
 
 No. 36 Royal Crescent, Clifton, near Bristol, 
 Tuesday, 27 June, 1820. 
 
 Lord, Sir ! what heats are these ? natural, civil, political : 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 amusements, to send him 
 
 love-letters and verses, among which these come most readily to 
 
 my mind : — 
 
 I think I Ve worked 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, O, 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. 
 
LETTERS. 461 
 
 The heat was intense, I remember, and when he returned, we 
 ran to see the lyons of the neighborhood, Plymouth, Powder- 
 ham, Castle and Mount Edgecumbe. I think 9 t is exactly thirty 
 years ago, when I was amused by the ill-timed eulogium pro- 
 nounced 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 inhabitant of High- 
 gate or Hampstead, " 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 telling old stories now, 
 when everybody is thinking, at least talking, of the Queen." 
 Perhaps so, but I am ill provided with argument pour on contre, 
 and feel towards a general topic, as a pretty woman feels towards 
 a general mourning if black does not become her complexion. 
 So here I sit crying — 
 
 u 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 company 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. 
 
462 LETTERS. 
 
 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 insipid consolation. Lord Gwydir 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 chi- 
 mera. 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 beautiful. 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 queen regnant, despotic 
 over the minds of multitudes, 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 take 
 the consequences. Thais carried a brand to Persepolis on less 
 provocation, and Phryne delighted in building up the walls of 
 Thebes, which Alexander destroyed. We must learn the lady's 
 disposition before we pronounce 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 abundance 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 cere- 
 monies at the Hot Wells, and considered his post as worth £ 400 o' 
 year. The place is now deserted, a spot for hospitals or national 
 
LETTERS. 463 
 
 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 children ; which, 
 however, do not die, thank God ! but battle their way, as it ap- 
 pears, through dreadful illnesses, — or they dream so. 0, 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 young- 
 lings 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. 
 u How happy is the blameless vestal's lot, 
 The world forgetting, by the world forgot! M 
 
 says old H. L. Piozzi at eighty-one, and dear Sir James Fel- 
 lowes, 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 Gwydir. Whatever 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 Penzance, if 
 
464 LETTERS. 
 
 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 recollec- 
 tion for cheap living, and the best eating possible. Red mullets 
 large and beautiful, Ad. o' piece ; pipers and dories, herrings al- 
 most 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 
 purpose of assembling to dance, chat, or play at cards; no theatre, 
 no music meeting, no pictures, and what is stranger far, no pic- 
 turesque, 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, scorned the living green.' ; 
 
 Oh ! 't is a melancholy place for talking folks. Botanists, how- 
 ever, 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 arrest- 
 ing attention, our Cornish neighbors 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 metropolis, 
 or whether old Rome 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 characteristic was candor, giv- 
 ing the good and bad in every description of people and of things. 
 I hope ill-fortune, ill-health, or ill-humor 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. 
 
LETTERS. 465 
 
 'T is 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 Pen- 
 zance, 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, O, 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 ? But alas ! your honor'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 dear, 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 con- 
 demned 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 God ; and then no fear but 
 of my too great haste to join the living world again in a quiet 
 way, for overgrown 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 conversa- 
 tion, 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 
 20* 
 
466 LETTERS. 
 
 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 back, men- 
 tions 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, though 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 Atter- 
 bury'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 part- 
 ing 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 geological school here, and professors ; better than Wes- 
 ton-super-Mare, you '11 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, 23d Sept. 1820. 
 My dear Sir James Fellowes should not have been followed 
 up in this shameless manner, but that a letter from his brother 
 Dorset, to whom I owe so much of kindness and obedience, 
 charged me to write immediately to Adbury, and say he was 
 well and happy (as it appears) at Paris. It made me so to un- 
 derstand how quiet all is there ; and but that I believe the calm 
 precedes bourrasque, my heart might be easy as to poor Louis 
 Dix-huit, who I must love both as a king and individual. 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 listened. 
 
 * The Queen's Trial. 
 
LETTERS. 467 
 
 Meanwhile, here am I at Penzance. " Ay," says the fool in 
 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-humor. 
 
 Prosperity does make, or keep people good-humored, and if I 
 can live to the 10th of July, 1821, I will be good-humored 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 peo- 
 ple starving ; 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 di- 
 version she had often heard of, and that she was gratified during 
 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 : rhododendron now in beauty ; myrtles 
 covered with bloom, like Italy ; and the arbutus high as an 
 apple-tree, very handsome indeed, sed non omnes arbusta juvant, 
 humilesque 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. 
 
468 LETTERS. 
 
 To Sir James Fellowes. 
 
 Penzance, Wednesday, 4 Jan. 1821. 
 
 Mil Anos y mas, viva V. M., my dear Sir James Fellowes, 
 whom I hasten to make again my debtor, as diligently as Tully * 
 would hasten to make me so. I owe him but £ 10 now, however, 
 and dividend day is coming. Apropos, my tenant, and your honor's 
 not very near neighbor, — but neighbor compared to the distance 
 I live at from all the world, — is in arrears £ 91, he did squeeze 
 out £ 109 of the October money just before Christmas, and 
 promised the rest ; but those promises, like Tully's pie-crust, 
 are made to be broken ; & pate vol au vent, I suppose. 
 
 I, and Miss Willoughby, who followed me uninvited, 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 suffering by the 
 other destructive element ; what a mercy that I was able to dis- 
 charge 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 newspaper tells of a clergyman at Newbury, who 
 has prayed for the Queen ever since George Stir's accession, but 
 who is now forbidden to do so by his Bishop. 
 
 Old Beadon, 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. 
 
 * The Bath confectioner. 
 
LETTERS. 469 
 
 Fine times ! 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 't is time to begin reconnoitring, 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 imperfections on their head. "Well ! no 
 matter. 
 
 Do you remember the Name Book ? it ended with Zenobia, 
 and I must tell you a story of a Cornish gentlewoman hard by 
 here, Zenobia Stevens, who held a lease under the Duke of Bol- 
 ton by her own life only, — ninety-nine years, — and going at 
 the term's end ten miles to give it up. She obtained kind per- 
 mission 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 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 consti- 
 tution.* Our agreeable Dr. Forbes seems so endowed ; a Scotch- 
 man, a competent 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, God knows, I 
 should call it a polar winter. Dr. Parry's son will go again, it 
 seems, for another £5,000 ; other inducement there can be none, 
 and the most curious circumstance of the voyage is an account 
 given by one of the officers, how his Irish setter, a tall, smooth 
 
 * In one of her marginal notes she quotes the saying of a distinguished lawyer, 
 that a judge should have a face of brass, a constitution of iron, and a bottom of 
 lead. 
 
470 LETTERS. 
 
 spaniel, attracted the attentions of a she wolf on Melville Island, 
 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. 
 
 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 mer- 
 maid coming to England, I hear. That she ends in piscem, I 
 partly believe, but mulier formosa 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 Fellowes, 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 toothache 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, un- 
 claimed, an immense while, in the names of Thrale and GhTord. 
 
 Some Mr. K , I know not who, flies at me to ask what I did 
 
 with them ? God knows I did nothing with them, nor ever heard 
 a breath concerning the matter, till his letter put me upon in- 
 quiry, and having written to Mrs. Merick Hoare, she consoles me 
 by bearing testimony to my innocence of having ever touched 
 this £ 600 which this gentleman believes himself heir to. 
 
 But this comes of too long life. My coadjutors and brethren 
 
LETTERS. 471 
 
 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 crea- 
 ture, incapable 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 Chamberlain of 
 England * will now become less irksome, I hope, and friendship 
 may have her share of your active beneficence ; your dear sister 
 is silent, but I am willing to believe pleasure helps detain her 
 from her pen. 
 
 Conway is in high favor 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 't is some- 
 what in the Billington style, that she is excelling all the world so. 
 My heart tells me 't is 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. 
 
 But I hate reasoning down our own enjoyments ; 't is 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 V autre. 
 
 To Miss Willoughby. 
 
 Xo. 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, 
 
 * Lord Gwydir. 
 
472 LETTERS. 
 
 and all in ten months' time ; Mrs. Lambart's death, Sir Philip 
 Jennings's sister, caused the alteration. Our friend Conway 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. O, how he regrets his 
 Lesserillo ! But Mr. Green has secured £ 500 per annum, with 
 an agreeable woman, and must not, for shame, lament the pro- 
 fession, 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 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 pres- 
 sure, and revenged 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 demise now at his leisure, and my 
 legacy [leg I see]. 
 
 " Not a mouse stirring," the French translators of Hamlet 
 rendered, "Jen'aipas entendu un souris trotter." Our mouse 
 could not trot without your assistance ; with it, he performed his 
 journey beautifully ; though I did feel a horrid pang about my 
 own imprudence, 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, I 
 
 should have been blown down the hill, she says. So since Mr. 
 
 Le Gris's blessing has helped bring me safe hither, I must not 
 
LETTERS. 473 
 
 press it further, but sit pretty and put my leg upon a chair, in- 
 stead 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 (Pascoe'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 correspondent, 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, escap- 
 ing 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, 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 appre- 
 hend his journey would be long and expensive if I died at Pen- 
 zance. So here is poor aunt at the embouchure of his favorite 
 River Severn, and here he may come after (the 10th of July) to 
 
474 LETTERS. 
 
 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 about the I. e. g. She dined 
 with my father and sister, at No. 7 Russell Street, and was throughout the even- 
 ing the admiration of the company, amongst whom were Mrs. Pennington, the 
 lady so often mentioned in Anna Seward's correspondence 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. Fellowes. 
 
EXTRACTS 
 
 THRALIANA" AND BRITISH SYNONYMY. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS EXTEACIS TEOM " THKAIIAXA."' 
 
 Miss Sreatfielcl. — I have since heard that Dr. Collier picked 
 up a more useful friend, a Mrs. Streatfield, a widow, high 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 honor and happiness of calling her my friend. 
 Her face is eminently pretty ; her carriage elegant ; her heart 
 affectionate, and her mind cultivated. 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 insinuating ; 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 
 
 * These extracts reached me after the preceding sheets were printed off. 
 
478 THRALIANA. 
 
 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. Marriott 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 suppose ; approves my silent and patient endurance of what I 
 could not prevent by more rough and sincere behavior. 
 
 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 believe, and few married women will bear that patiently if I 
 do ; they will some of them wound her reputation, so that I ques- 
 tion whether it can recover. Lady Erskine made many odd en- 
 quiries 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 Streat- 
 field 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 specta- 
 tor ; 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 
 
 * " And Merlin looked and half believed her true, 
 So tender was her voice, so fair her face, 
 So sweetly gleamed her eyes behind her tears, 
 Like sunlight on the plain, behind a shower." 
 
 Idylls of the King. — Vivien. 
 
MISS STREATFIELD. 479 
 
 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! " 
 
 The Saturday before Mr. Thrale was taken ill — Saturday, 
 19th 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, " O," 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 remem- 
 ber to have seen 'em ; I repeated to her out of Pope's Homer — 
 " Very well, Sophy," says I : — 
 
 " Kange undisturbed 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 prefer- 
 ence 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 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 God ! what 
 an uncommon girl ! and handsome almost to perfection, I think : 
 
 * For Hector. 
 
480 THRALIANA. 
 
 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 ! he is now the reigning favorite, and she spares neither 
 pains nor caresses to turn that good man's head, much to the vex- 
 ation of his family ; particularly my Fanny, who is naturally 
 provoked 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 perhaps 
 see her out and pronounce, like Solon, on her wisdom and con- 
 duct. 
 
 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 accomplishment no objection could be made. 
 Correct though sprightly, and steady though cheerful in her man- 
 ner ; the elegance of her form, the maturity of her age, and the 
 soft expression of her countenance fixed my election, and I 
 brought home to my daughters a woman of fashion fit for them 
 to reside or converse or consult with. This sweet Miss Nichol- 
 son 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 
 
BARETTI. 481 
 
 does, O how happy may this connection, so accidental and so 
 extraordinary, make my poor suffering heart ! God bless her ! " 
 
 Baretti. — Baretti had a comical aversion to Mrs. Macaulay, 
 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 pardo?ine, as 
 the French say — my inmate 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 
 sentiments concerning him ; for his character is easily seen, and 
 his soul above disguise, haughty and insolent, and breathing defi- 
 ance 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 forever 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. Montagu, grieved to see my 
 meekness so imposed upon, had thoughts of writing me on the 
 subject an anonymous 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 himself for exerting his superi- 
 ority 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 authority over ; 
 if I would attempt to correct or dismiss them," there was instant 
 appeal to Mr. Baretti, who was sure always to be against me in 
 every dispute. With Mr. Thrale I was ever cautious of con- 
 tending, 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 I saw Baretti openly urging Mr. 
 Thrale to cut down some little fruit-trees my mother had planted 
 21 
 
482 THRALIAXA. 
 
 and I had begged might stand, I confess I did take an aversion 
 to the creature, and secretly resolved his stay should not be pro- 
 longed by my intreaties whenever his greatness chose to take huff 
 and be gone. As to my eldest daughter, his behavior was most 
 ungenerous ; he was perpetually spurring her to independence, 
 telling her she had more sense and would have a better fortune 
 than her mother, whose admonitions she ought therefore to de- 
 spise ; 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 tyrannical and overbearing like me. Was I not fortu- 
 nate to see myself once quit of a man like this ? who thought his 
 dignity was concerned to set me at defiance, and who was inces- 
 santly 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. 
 
 6th July, 1776. — This day is made remarkable by the depart- 
 ure of Mr. Baretti, who has, since October, 1773, been our 
 almost constant inmate, companion, and I vainly hoped, our friend. 
 On the 11th of November, 1773, Mr. Thrale let him have £ 50, 
 and at our return from France £ 50 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 pre- 
 vented by an unforeseen and heavy calamity : that Baretti, how- 
 ever, might not be disappointed of money as well as of pleasure, 
 Mr. Thrale presented him with 100 guineas, which at first calmed 
 his wrath a little, but did not, perhaps, make amends for his vex- 
 ation ; 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 increase the distresses of a 
 family already oppressed with affliction. Baretti, however, from 
 this time grew sullen and captious ; he went on as usual notwith- 
 
BARETTI. 483 
 
 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 particularly disagreeable to me, whom he has now not 
 liked a long while, if ever he did. He, professed, however, a 
 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 cannot 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 endeavored 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 
 mean time kept 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 Pandemo- 
 nium. 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 sav about it at break- 
 
484 THRALIANA. 
 
 fast, 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 alV 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 share too of 
 my good opinion, though I most sincerely rejoice in his depart- 
 ure, and hope we shall never meet more but by chance. 
 
 Since our quarrel I had occasion to talk of him with Tom Da- 
 vies, 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 Burneys. — 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 myself airs of patronage or load her 
 with the shackles of dependence. 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 Brom- 
 ley. See Murphy's " Know Your Own Mind." 
 
 Fanny Burney has kept her room here in my house seven 
 
MISS BURNEY. 485 
 
 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 additional 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 Burney was much admired at Bath (1780) ; the puppy- 
 men said, " She had such a drooping air and such a timid intelli- 
 gence ; " or, " a timid air," I think it was, " and a drooping in- 
 telligence; never sure was such a collection of pedantry and 
 affection as filled Bath when we were on that spot. How every- 
 thing 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 dis- 
 gusted 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 com- 
 mand 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 re- 
 gard 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 daugh- 
 ter, — to indulge it. Such dignity ! the Lady Louisa of Leicester 
 Square ! In good time ! 
 
 1781. — What a blockhead Dr. Burney is, to be always send- 
 ing 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 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 
 
486 THRALIANA. 
 
 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, beyond 
 almost any other human creature. Well, mortal man is but a 
 paltry animal ! the best of us have such drawbacks 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 analyzing the state of her 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 unsatisfied, my health un- 
 settled. 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 ex- 
 penses and removal to Bath], but why should I lead a life of 
 delighting her, w T ho 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 
 
DAUGHTERS. 487 
 
 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 pos- 
 sessed 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 mar- 
 riage, protestations 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 amia- 
 ble companion, to the pride and prejudice 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 favorite 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 per- 
 son, cultivated in understanding, and well-principled in religion : 
 high in their notions, lofty in their carriage, and of intents equal 
 to their expectations ; wishing to raise their own family by con- 
 nections with some more noble and superior to any feel- 
 ing of tenderness which might clog the wheels of ambition. What, 
 however, is my state ? who am condemned to live with girls of 
 this disposition ? to teach without authority ; to be heard without 
 
 * This is the very accusation they all brought against her. 
 
488 THRALIAXA. 
 
 esteem ; to be considered by them as their superior in fortune, 
 while I live bj 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. O, 't is a pleasant situation ! and 
 whoever would wish, as the Greek lady phrased it, to teize him- 
 self 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 favor he would 
 not often allow me, he said, in high good-humor, " 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, i It was a very fine piece of writing, and that I 
 had improved upon Young, 9 who he saw was my model, he said, 
 ' for my flattery was still 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 countrymen 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 countrymen, 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 lan- 
 guage always copious, always nervous, always full of various 
 allusions, flowing, too, with a rapidity worthy of admiration, and 
 far beyond the power of nineteen in twenty natives. He had 
 also a knowledge of the solemn language and the gay, could be 
 
 * 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. 
 
BARETTI. 489 
 
 sublime with Johnson, or blackguard with the groom; could dis- 
 pute; 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-humor ; and his lofty consciousness of his 
 own superiority, which made him tenacious of every position, 
 and drew him into a thousand 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 amuse- 
 ment, 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, ridiculing 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. O how he 
 would court the maids at the inns abroad, abuse the men per- 
 haps ! 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 't is 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, in- 
 stantly, " but I will show you the way to Tyburn." Such, how- 
 ever, was his ignorance in a certain line, that he once asked 
 Johnson for information who it was composed the Pater Noster, 
 and I heard him tell Evans* the story of Dives and Lazarus 
 
 * Evans was a clergvnian and (I believe) rector of Southwark. 
 
 21* 
 
490 THRALIANA. 
 
 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 temper- 
 ance. 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 him- 
 self 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 recommendation 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 favorite 
 with me, he is so intelligent a creature, so discerning, one can't 
 help wishing for his good opinion ; his singing surpasses every- 
 body's for taste, tenderness, 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 newspapers yesterday told 
 what all the musical folks gained, and set Piozzi down £ 1,200. 
 o' year. 
 
 14 January, 1782, Harley Street. — I had a letter to-day de- 
 siring 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 enquiring 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. : 
 
PIOZZI. — GOSSIP. 491 
 
 the brother doctor, the medico as we call him, lays wagers about 
 me, I find. God forgive me, but they '11 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 mourn- 
 ing, 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 sul- 
 len 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 distant such dispositions are from the heart and constitution 
 of H. L. T. Lord Loughboro', Sir Richard 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 Streatham, 
 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 married 
 t* other day, and Johnson was joking about it. I suppose, Sir, 
 said I, they think they are doing me honor with these imaginary 
 matches, when, perhaps the man does not exist who would do me 
 honor by marrying me ! This, indeed, was said in the wild and 
 insolent spirit of Baretti, yet, 't is nearer the truth than one 
 would think for. A woman of passable person, ancient family, 
 respectable character, uncommon talents, and three thousand a 
 year, has a right to think herself any man's equal, and has noth- 
 ing 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 continent. One day the 
 paper rings with my marriage to Johnson, one day to Crutch- 
 
492 THRALIANA. 
 
 ley,* one day to Seward. I give no reason for such imperti- 
 nence, but cannot deliver myself from it. Whitbred, the rich 
 brewer, is in love with me too : 0, I would rather, as Ann Page 
 says, be set breast deep in the earth and be bowled to death with 
 turnips. 
 
 Mr. Crutchley bid me make a curtsey to my daughters for 
 keeping me out of gaol (sic), and the newspapers insolent as he ! 
 How shall I get through ? How shall I get through ? I have 
 not deserved it of any of them, as God 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 John- 
 son had written me a rough letter, and thought he would write me 
 a brutal one : like the Jewish king, who, trying to imitate Solo- 
 mon 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. Bos well (who I plainly see is 
 the author) should let the dead escape from his malice at least. 
 I feel more shocked at the insults offered to Mr. Thrale's mem- 
 ory than at those cast on Mr. Piozzi's person. My present hus- 
 band, 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 : — 
 u Nor church, nor churchyards, from such fops are free." — Pope. 
 
 * She suspected Crutchley to be the natural son of Thrale. 
 
SELF-EXAMINATION. 493 
 
 1786. — 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 scheme is, that other people 
 are not of my mind, and if I resolve not to use my lawful influ- 
 ence to make my children love me, the lookers-on will soon use 
 their unlawful influence to make them hate me : if I scrupulous- 
 ly avoid persuading my husband to become a Lutheran or be of 
 the English Church, the Romanists will be diligent to teach him 
 all the narrowness and bitterness of their own unfeeling sect, 
 and soon persuade him 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 endeavor to 
 please God, and to have only my own faults and follies, not those 
 of another, to answer for. 
 
 * " Clear your mind of cant." — Johnson. 
 
EXTRACTS FROM "BRITISH SYNONYMY. 
 
 AFFECTION, PASSION, TENDERNESS, 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, however, will 
 recollect, that the first of these words is usually adapted to that 
 regard which is consequent on ties of blood ; that the second nat- 
 urally 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 definition of 
 fondness, given into my hands many years ago by a most emi- 
 nent logician, though Dr. Johnson never did acquiesce in it. 
 
 " Fondness," says the definer, " is the hasty and injudicious 
 determination of the will towards promoting the present gratifica- 
 tion of some particular object." 
 
 " Fondness," said Dr. Johnson, " is rather the hasty and in- 
 judicious 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 ex- 
 ample : — 
 
 Amintor and Aspasia are models of true love : 't is now seven 
 years since their mutual passion was sanctified by marriage ; 
 and so little is the lady's affection diminished, that she sat up 
 
 * British Synonymy, or, An Attempt at Regulating the Choice of Words in Fa- 
 miliar 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. 495 
 
 nine nights successively last winter by her husband's bedside, 
 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 fea- 
 tures with that fondness which is capable of creating charms 
 for itself to admire, and listen to her talk with a fervor of admi- 
 ration scarce due to the most brilliant genius. 
 
 For the rest, 't is 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 't is natural for females to feel a softer tender- 
 ness ; 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 body — appear 
 at first more likely to turn out synonymes, than upon a closer in- 
 spection 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 
 charming 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 fas- 
 cination 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 atten- 
 tion, 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 w r e seemed ap- 
 proaching 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." 
 
496 BRITISH SYNONYMY. 
 
 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 who has been in love with 
 a woman, not confessedly beautiful, feels his heart beat respon- 
 sive to the verses and the music, when sung with the good taste 
 they deserve. 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 T uomo delirar. 
 
 Quegli occhietti cosi vaghi 
 Ve lo giuro son due nlaghi, 
 E un sospiro languidetto, 
 Che fatica uscir dal petto 
 
 Yi fa subito cascar. 
 
 Vengon per ultimo i cari accenti, 
 Le lagrimuccie, li svenimenti, 
 Ch' opprimer devono 
 
 Perforza un cuor : 
 
 Innumerabile 
 Son T incantesimi, 
 Son P arti magiehi 
 
 Del dio d'amor. 
 
 The following imitation misses its effect, because the measure 
 is unfavorable, yet may serve to convey the idea : — 
 
 In that roguish face one sees 
 All her sex's witcheries ; 
 Playful sweetness, cold disdain, 
 Everything 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. 
 
 * Her own description of Miss Streatfield's fascinations (ante, p. 477) is a bet- 
 ter example. 
 
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 497 
 
 Touched 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 power improve, 
 Witcheries that wait on love. 
 
 ANTIPATHY, AVERSION, DISGUST. 
 
 The first of these disagreeable sensations we find chiefly ex- 
 cited I believe by inanimate things, or brutes. One man alleges 
 his unconquerable antipathy to a cat ; another 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, — Roman 
 ladies, accustomed 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 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.t 
 
 AWEFUL, REVERENTIAL, SOLEMN. 
 
 The last of these epithets begins the climax — A Gothick 
 cathedral (say we) is a solemn place ; its gloomy greatness dis- 
 poses one to reverential behavior, inspiring sentiments more 
 sublime, and meditations much more aweful, than does a struc- 
 
 * So one hunting man complained that the violets spoilt the scent, and another 
 that the singing birds prevented him from distinguishing the voices of his hounds. 
 
 f 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: — 
 
 '• 0, 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." 
 
498 BRITISH SYNONYMY. 
 
 ture on the Grecian model, though built for the same purposes of 
 piety.* 
 
 The word aweful should however be used with caution, and a 
 due sense of its importance ; I have heard even well-bred ladies 
 now and then attribute that term too lightly in their common 
 conversation — connecting it with substances beneath its dignity 
 
 — such mesalliances offend the sense of high birth natural to a 
 Saxon.f 
 
 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 de- 
 cidedly asserts. It used to be represented in Shakespear's time 
 by the single vowel /; 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. — CounseTd her ! exclaims a stander-by 
 
 — Ay, and controuled her too, or she had been his wife now.J 
 
 BEAUTIFUL, HANDSOME, GRACEFUL, ELEGANT, PLEASING, 
 PRETTY, FINE, 
 
 Are, however desirable epithets, by no means strictly synony- 
 mous ; and though, upon a cursory view, the six last appear in- 
 cluded 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 motion, no claim at all upon our first attributive : — nor 
 
 * 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 forgotten from whence it was borrowed. 
 
 f The word " mighty" was common in the last century— -as, " mighty tire- 
 some." 
 
 J When Queen Caroline first came to England, knowing not a word of Eng- 
 lish, a discussion arose what one word would be most useful or least dangerous 
 for her to know. Lady Charlotte Lindsay 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. 499 
 
 does that first necessarily comprehend the other excellences — 
 for though the situation of Mount Edgcunibe be confessedly more 
 beautiful than Shenstone's Leasowes, 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 pleasing, and 
 perhaps graceful too, in a far more eminent degree ; and so 
 true was the observation, that her inferiors made it their amuse- 
 ment 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 pro- 
 duces a train of ideas most congenial to our own particular fancy. 
 Pearls are, on this principle, accounted by many people to be 
 more elegant than diamonds ; which we all allow to be finer, 
 handsomer, and infinitely more beautiful. And one says 
 popularly, that Pope's Rape of the Lock is an elegant poem, 
 and Milton's Paradise Lost a fine one. Greville's Stanzas to 
 Indifference are however exquisitely pretty, and some parts of 
 Mr. TThalley's Ode to Mont Blanc, uncommonly beautiful. 
 Burke — whose own compositions include every species of excel- 
 lence — says, that beautiful objects are comparatively small, 
 but to minute perfection I should give the adjective pretty. 
 Insects of various colors, and delicate formation, butterflies above 
 all, are justly termed pretty. Some shells, too, slight in their 
 texture, and of tints as tender, claim this epithet, and can claim 
 no more ; for, while the apple and peach bloom have among 
 vegetables the same pretension, — an orange-tree richly furnished, 
 growing in the natural ground as I have seen them on the Bor- 
 romasan 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-spread- 
 ing beech-tree, or full-bodied oak, single in a verdant meadow, I 
 should select for a fine object * to repose the eye upon, in autum- 
 
 * Fine (from fin) 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. 
 
500 BRITISH SYNONYMY. 
 
 nal 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 lime-trees 
 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 w r e speaking of architecture, I should direct foreigners to 
 call the Pantheon at Rome a fine building, Saint Peter's a 
 beautiful one, our own in London dedicated to St. Paul a very 
 handsome edifice, the Redentore 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 apellatives to a large 
 woman painted by Rubens with more strength of color than 
 dignity or grace. When we speak of a handsome house and 
 gardens, our hearers turn not, I believe, their imaginations to 
 recollect Villa Albani or even Castle Howard, while a drive 
 round London realizes the idea at less expense 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 be still agreeable to 
 read about them ; yet is every writer tempted to extend on such 
 
 * il 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. 
 
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 501 
 
 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 accepta- 
 tion 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 Scotland, 
 and the Antonine column at Rome, — far more is demanded by 
 connoisseurs who deal in animated excellence. A horse, for 
 example, is scarcely allowed to possess true beauty, till his 
 owner can boast for him a brilliancy of coat, whatever the color 
 may be, — a decided elegance as well as symmetrical pro- 
 portion 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 car- 
 riage is indispensable to brute perfection. The peacock is hand- 
 somer 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 
 irTa human face ; for there are expressions which disgrace 
 humanity. Among our own species we must meantime confess 
 that we love a lofty consciousness of superiority, just stopping 
 short of a vainglorious ostentation. Os homini sublime dedit, 
 &c. The late Earl of Errol, dressed in his robes at the corona- 
 tion of King George the Third, and Mrs. Siddons in the charac- 
 ter of Murphy's Euphrasia, were the noblest specimens 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 symmet- 
 
502 BRITISH SYNONYMY. 
 
 ric figure put into easy motion by pleasure or surprise, as I 
 have seen in the late Lady Coventry. To both attesting specta- 
 tors 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 ; 
 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 smiled, 
 
 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 waked a new-born grace, 
 
 That o'er her form its transient glory cast ; 
 Some lovelier wonder soon unsurped the place, 
 
 Chased by a charm still lovelier than the last. 
 
 In her description alone might then all our synonymy be hap- 
 pily engaged ; and truly might we say that her unrivalled, her 
 consummate beauty was the effect of perfect symmetry, spon- 
 taneously producing grace invincible, although her mien and 
 carriage had less of dignity and sweetness in it; and the ex- 
 pression 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 pleas- 
 ure given. Her dress was seldom chosen with elegance, as I 
 remember ; and I recollect no splendor except of general beauty 
 about her.* 
 
 * The best portraits of Maria Gunning, Countess of Coventry, confirm Mrs. 
 Piozzi's theory of the enthusiastic admiration lavished on her. It must have 
 been principally elicited by grace and expression. Her sister, Elizabeth, after- 
 wards Duchess of Hamilton and (by a second marriage) of Argyll, was equally 
 beautiful, and her beauty has been inherited by her descendants in three genera- 
 tions. The sisters set off each other, and their appearance together added to the 
 
BRITISH SYXOXYMY. 503 
 
 BROOD, CLUTCH, PROGENY OF FEATHERED ANIMALS. 
 
 It is distressing enough to foreigners when they find us arbi- 
 trarily 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 altogether ; and the second word 
 is only used from the trick a hen has to herself almost, of calling 
 her little ones so closely round her in times of danger, that you 
 may clutch or make a handful of them, as we say. Mr. Ad- 
 dison, who was more an elegant author than good naturalist, 
 teaches them in his Spectators to say a brood of ducks, when he 
 expresses his admiration of the providence by which all the 
 works of 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 
 
 charms of both. A corresponding effect may have 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 pulchrd Jilia 
 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 beaute du citable 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. 
 
 * 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. 
 
504 BRITISH SYNONYMY. 
 
 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 
 anything not positively large were ever mingled with contempt, 
 asked of one of our sharp currents in North Wales, " Has this 
 brook e'er a name ? " and received for an 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 r an English- 
 man should treat a Welsh river." 
 
 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 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 fel- 
 low be as clever as he can, without practice no person will 
 arrive at being neat-handed and dextrous about anything, 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 ; particularly a piece of 
 workmanship once shewn me of a ladder and fire-engine com- 
 bined, 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 neighbors more rich than wise, who, like the 
 lady in Young's Satires, 
 
 " To eat their breakfasts will project a scheme, 
 Nor take their tea without a stratagem; " 
 
 to the contriving of which we will leave them.* 
 
 * " Cleverness (from the verb to cleave) is correctly applied to a certain quick- 
 ness and readiness in the operations of the mind, and especially in the art of ac- 
 
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 505 
 
 TO CRY, TO EXCLAIM, 
 
 Are pretty near synonymous in some senses certainly ; but if 
 a foreigner speaking of the London cries called them the ex- 
 clamations of the city, all would laugh. 'T is 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-cami?i, with a canting drawl at the end, sounds at Milan 
 like our Sweep sweep exactly ; and the Gargon Limonadier at 
 Paris makes a pert noise like our orange-girls in the Pit of Co- 
 vent 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 of a London tinker — the man who 
 followed us cried Co^ferol, Confer ol d' accommodar — to the tune 
 of his own brass kettle just as ours do ; and I believe that in a lit- 
 tle time, many cities will be more famous for the musick and 
 frequency of their cries than London ; because shops there, in- 
 creasing 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 purposes, we never 
 scarcely use it in colloquial and familiar discourse, unless ironi- 
 cally, — for 't is 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 indeed 
 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 
 
 quiring 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 ap- 
 plied to every kind of talent." — English Synonyms, by the Archbishop of Dublin. 
 * The charming S. S. 
 
 22 
 
506 BRITISH SYNONYMY. 
 
 up for her own pleasure, and often did call them up 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-paced 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 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 per- 
 sons, 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 color and vacant look, with a mien possess- 
 ing no comeliness ; which quality would alone protect them from 
 deserving even that title, because they would be then ornamented. 
 Those however who most loudly profess being always scared 
 when they are not allured, will in another humor be easily 
 enough led to confess that many an ugly man or woman are 
 very agreeable, and display sometimes powers of pleasing un- 
 bestowed even on the beautiful ; which could scarcely happen 
 
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 507 
 
 sure, were their unfortunate figures and faces ouph like, or ter- 
 rifying : — it were well then if the English, who hate hyperbole 
 in general, would forbear to use it so constantly just where 't is 
 most offensive, in magnifying their neighbors' defects. 
 
 Lord Bacon says the deformed people are good to employ in 
 business, because they have a constant spur to great actions, that 
 by some noble deed they rescue their persons from contempt ; 
 and experience does in some sort prove his assertion ; many men 
 famous in history having been of this class, — the great warriors, 
 above all, as it should seem in very contradiction to nature — 
 w T here Agesilaus, King William the Third, and Ladislaus sur- 
 named Cubitalis, that pigmy King of Poland, reigned and fought 
 more victorious battles, as Alexander Gaguinus relates, than all 
 his longer-legged predecessors had done.* Corpore parvus 
 eram, exclaims he — cebito vix altior, sed tamen in parvo 
 corpore magnus eram. Nor is even Sanctity's self free from 
 some obligations to deformity, — 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 ; f 
 and the Empress Sophia had cause to 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 unable to untwist." — 
 Nor did he in the least fail of fulfilling the menace ; which re- 
 minds one of Henry the Fifth's answer, when the Dauphin of 
 France, despising his youth and spirit of frolicking, sent over 
 
 * " It is probable that among the 120,000 soldiers who were marshalled round 
 Neerwinden 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." {Macaulatfs 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. 
 
508 BRITISH SYNONYMY. 
 
 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 
 translated some epigrams of Martial, but for his Essay on Deform- 
 ity I have enquired in vain ; and if I am guilty of plagiarism it is 
 a mon insgu, as the French express it. Meantime ugliness in 
 common conversation relates merely to the face, whilst deform- 
 ity 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 ugli- 
 ness in our friends and neighbors. That such is not the proper 
 expression is proved by that power of pleasing, universally al- 
 lowed to the late Lord Chesterfield, who had nothing in his per- 
 son which at first sight could raise expectation of any delight in 
 his society ; and perhaps 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 warlike prow- 
 ess and acts of heroic valor 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 
 notwithstanding a kind of proof that her elegance would not (in 
 her absence) compensate for her deformity : so surely do read- 
 ers in general take up and willingly cherish a disadvantageous 
 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, 
 
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 509 
 
 11 See low-born Allen, with an awkward shame, 
 Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame; " 
 
 that he was forced to learn by experience how one of the best 
 and humblest of mankind suffered more pain by having his awk- 
 wardness and mean birth perpetuated, than he enjoyed pleasure 
 in having his virtue celebrated by a poet, whose works certainly 
 would not fail of consigning 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 com- 
 prehensive than the second. Antony challenged Augustus to 
 commit the fate of universal empire to his single arm, conscious 
 that in such a contest (as his opponent easily discovered) the ad- 
 vantages 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 chal- 
 lenge 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 gentle- 
 man sitting near the fire replied, in a firm but smooth tone of 
 voice, " Whoever does own the 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.! 
 
 * Napoleon, when challenged by Sir Sidney Smith in Egypt, replied that he 
 would think of it when his proposed antagonist was a Marlborough. 
 
 f 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; " and so saying he disappeared. 
 
510 BRITISH SYNONYMY. 
 
 TO DROP, TO FALL, TO TUMBLE, TO SINK SUDDENLY. 
 
 These neuter verbs are not synonymous ; because, although 
 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 mo- 
 ment of his slipping. To sink suddenly, half implies that he 
 fell in the water, unless we speak of such an earthquake as 
 once destroyed the beautiful town of Port Royal 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 money, and shew r 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 antag- 
 onist'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 
 delighted to frequent such exhibitions, was asked what person he 
 thought to be the first tumbler in the world, he archly replied : 
 " Marry, Sirs, I am of opinion that 't was Lucifer ; for he tum- 
 bled first, and tumbled furthest 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 flat 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, 
 
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 511 
 
 surely ; and indeed one finds it received so only in the Dunciad 
 or Essay upon Criticism. Information may be heavy some- 
 times 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 levigating his learning to hit the strength 
 or rather feebleness of moderns to endure it. There is, however, 
 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 sportsman 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 ; tir- 
 ing 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 bluntrf 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 't is reported the parents are disposed 
 to celebrate 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 felicity of our married couples; 
 nor do I praise those superficial writers who so lament the infi- 
 delities committed among us — in papers which carried to the 
 Continent tend to make them believe there is no more conjugal 
 attachment in Britain, than at Genoa or Venice. — Truth is, we 
 
 * 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. 
 
 f The neplus ultra of insults at a German University is Dummkqpf. 
 
512 BRITISH SYNONYMY. 
 
 we find in all great capitals an ill example set by a dozen women 
 of distinction who give the ton as 't is 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 con- 
 stancy and true affection, such as can very rarely happen in 
 nations where a contrary conduct is neither punished by the Leg- 
 islature, 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 whiten as they approach 
 the Pole, — human nature will go wrong if religion forbears to 
 restrain, and government 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 discovered to con- 
 tain the other two, while the first means merely the air, — or, as 
 Italians better express it, la cantilena, — ■ because our very word 
 melody implies honey-sweet singing, mellifluous succession of 
 simple sounds, so as to produce agreeable and sometimes almost 
 enchanting effect. Meanwhile both co-operation and combination 
 are understood to meet in the term harmony, w T hich, like every 
 other science, is the result of knowledge 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 ele- 
 gant, and the other vulgar. 
 
 Where the original thought, however, like Corregio's Magda- 
 len 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 
 
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 513 
 
 melodies, never overlaid by that fulness of harmony with 
 which German composers sometimes perplex instead of inform- 
 ing their hearers. His choruses 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 colored by Nature's hand, but seen to most 
 advantage through the clear waves that wash the coast of Coro- 
 mandel w r hen mild monsoons are blowing. With regard to 
 musick, Plato said long ago, that if any considerable alteration 
 took place in the musick of a country, he should, from that sin- 
 gle circumstance, predict innovation in the laws, a change of cus- 
 toms, 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 acknowl- 
 edging 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 expression ; but 
 if ever they do get into a better style — (which they certainly 
 soon did, changing Lulli and Rameau for Gluck and for Piccini) 
 — tant pis pour euxT 
 
 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 
 speculation. Melody is chiefly used speaking of vocal musick, 
 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 
 22* 
 
514 BRITISH SYNONYMY. 
 
 drest ; and the late silly humor 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 simplicity cannot please with- 
 out elegance ; nor does it really please a British ear, even when 
 exquisitely sweet and delicate. 
 
 We buy Blair's works, but would rather study Warburton's ; 
 we talk of tender Venetian airs, but our hearts acknowledge 
 Handel. Meantime 't is 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 rapturous senti- 
 ment. See his grand chorus, Unto us a Son is born, &c. PleyePs 
 Quartettos too, which have all somewhat of a drum and fife in 
 them, express what Germans ever have been excelled in, — 
 regularity, order, discipline, arms, in a word, war. When such 
 musick is playing, it reminds one of Howe's verses which say so 
 very truly, that 
 
 u The sound of arms shall wake our martial ardor, 
 And cure the amorous sickness of a soul 
 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 woos them to forget 
 The hardy toils and labors 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, 
 Scared 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 'prisoned soul, and lap it in Elysium," 
 
 
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 515 
 
 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 represents that nation's favor- 
 ite energies, pervading every thought and every action ; while 
 even the devotion of that warm soil is tenderness, not sublimity ; 
 — and either the natives impress their gentle souls with the con- 
 templation 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 bleeding crucifix, weep their Redeemer's 
 human sufferings, 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 Mes- 
 siah ever blessed, they kindle into rapture, 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 ! 
 
 11 Effulgence of the Father ! Son beloved ! " 
 
 With such impressions, such energies, such inspiration, 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 wandered 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 
 for a joke. 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 caused by a mere mistake ; the latter 
 seems less an act of the will than either of the other two ; 't is 
 
516 BRITISH SYXONYMY. 
 
 more a perversion of the head than anything else, and its resist- 
 ance against conviction carries with it somewhat laughable. A 
 nobleman, for instance, employing his architect to show him the 
 elevation of a honse he intended to build, the artist produced a 
 drawing made with Indian ink. This is no bad form of a house, 
 says my lord, but I don't like the color, — 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.* 
 
 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 per- 
 fectly white, I assure you. You are an impudent fellow (an- 
 swers the proprietor), and endeavor to impose upon me, because 
 
 1 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 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' absence from his family, was so forgotten 
 by them that neither brother nor sister 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 con- 
 demned a man wholly unconcerned in the business to suffer for a 
 crime one of themselves had committed, nor ever found out that 
 good evidence was wanting to prove his guilt, till the real perpe- 
 trator 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 ac- 
 knowledged ones. 
 
 * 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. 517 
 
 NARRATION, ACCOUNT, RECITAL. 
 
 In order to give a good account of the fact (say we), 't is 
 necessary to hear a clear recital of the circumstances, but if 
 we mean to make a pleasing narration, those circumstances 
 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 con- 
 versation, seeing no person 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; for either his fact is too 
 notorious, and he sees his audience 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 narratives 
 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 listen- 
 er'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 reflection 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 dis- 
 tinction 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 Hono- 
 randa 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 
 
518 BRITISH SYNONYMY. 
 
 good house of Bourbon, so named from Archibald Borbonius in 
 the year 1127, whose impress was a globe, and round it this ana- 
 gram of the earl's name, Orbi bonus. The times how changed 
 in this fatal year to Frenchmen, 1793 ! 
 
 Strokes of national character, national humor, however, still 
 exist : with regard to the latter, we see their bons mots still un- 
 translatable beyond those of other kingdoms ; and our authors 
 plunder French comedies in vain ; the humor loses and evapo- 
 rates : witness Farquhar's endeavor to force into his Inconstant, 
 the gay reply made by Le prince de Guemene, when Louis 
 Quatorze's queen, a grave Spaniard, seriously proposed putting 
 the famous Ninon de l'Enclos among les files repenties. — " Mad- 
 am," answered the courtier, " elle n'est nijille, ni repentie" * This 
 was national pleasantry, 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 England lay 
 before Rochelle, 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 presence 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 man ; " but the water was 
 salt, you know, so it made me the more a-dry." 
 
 now, at present, this instant. 
 
 While metaphysicians expand their subtleties into impercepti- 
 bility upon this fatal monosyllable, one would hope that conversa- 
 tion might go on without dispute concerning what flies away like 
 the witches in Macbeth, who, while we contend about the nature 
 of their existence, 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 for- 
 eigners, however, that 't is usual in our language, when calling in 
 
 * When an English lady appeared in a tableau vivant as a Magdalen, it was ob- 
 served that she looked like a Magdalen who had not repented. 
 
BRITISH SYNONYMY. 519 
 
 a hurry, to cry now, now, as the quickest expression, I suppose, 
 for urging another to immediate haste. " At present we can- 
 not come to you " — is a common phrase — He was here this 
 instant, means, 't is 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," re- 
 plies his cooler friend (meaning a future time, though near) ; 
 " at present it would not be so proper." These things are dif- 
 ficult 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. 
 
 TO nullify, to annuel, 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 stat- 
 ute no longer useful or necessary, without taking away by direct 
 annihilation all trace or remembrance of its former utility. The 
 third verb is a favorite among the vulgar here in England, who 
 misapply 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," replies the man, " but my Lord 
 disannulled it." 
 
 In 1815, Mrs. Piozzi sent a copy of " British Synonymy " to 
 Sir James Fellowes with the following note and verses, which 
 will appropriately conclude this compilation : 
 
520 BRITISH SYNONYMY. 
 
 5 Nov., 1815. 
 
 Accept, dear Sir, this second-hand copy of your poor little 
 friend's favorite work, now completely out of print. That it 
 should bear the name of Samuel Johnson 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 honor of presenting it, was 
 struggling between the perils of fire and water in the midst 
 of the Atlantic Ocean. Awful Retrospect ! Yet a lightly volant 
 pen traces the following lines, only to say that 
 
 In this Synonymy you 11 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 displayed, 
 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 power. 
 But merit, dazzling men to blindness, 
 Was still reserved for Piozzi's Finis. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Abdy, Lady and Miss, 359. 
 Abington, Mrs., 59. 
 
 Aldborough, Lady, anecdote of, 20, 234. 
 Alfieri and the Duchess of Albany, 226. 
 Alexander I. of Russia, anecdote of, 312. 
 Alphabet, infant, Mrs. Thrale's, 31. 
 "Alphabet, the Political, or the Young 
 
 Member's A, B, C," quoted, 32. 
 Amelia, Princess, daughter of George 
 
 II., 227. 
 Andrews, Miles Peter, 229. 
 
 his death, 313. 
 
 "Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson," 39, note, 
 
 333. 
 Anne, Queen, couplet on, 226. 
 Anglesea, isle of, 409. 
 Antichrist, 365. 
 Ashe, Miss, 227. 
 
 Asheri, Mrs. Piozzi's story of, 258. 
 Aston, Molly, Johnson's admiration for, 
 
 17. 
 
 Johnson's epigram on her, 28. 
 
 "Atlas" man-of-war, the, 242. 
 Atmospheric stones, 311. 
 Autobiographical Memoirs of Mrs. Pi- 
 
 ozzi, 161 et seq. 
 
 Bach v Graig, Dr. Johnson's description 
 
 of, 49, 173. 
 u Baeviad and Maeviad," origin of the, 
 
 90. 
 Bagot, Mrs., 298. 
 Baillie, Joanna, 436. 
 Balbus, story of, 355. 
 Banks, Sir Joseph, 410, 412. 
 Barclay, Mr., the Quaker, purchases 
 
 Mr. Thrale's brewery, 64, 108, 202. 
 Baretti, Signor Giuseppe, his verses, 
 quoted, 18. 
 
 accompanies Dr. Johnson and the 
 
 Thrales on a tour to France, 53. 
 — — history of, 54. 
 
 his trial for murder, 55. 
 
 his introduction to the Thrales, 56. 
 
 Dr. Warton's opinion of him, 56. 
 
 account of him by Dr. Campbell, 
 
 his dislike of Boswell, 58. 
 
 Baretti, passages in Dr. Johnson's letters 
 relating to, 114. 
 
 his papers in the rt European Mag- 
 azine," 115. 
 
 his death, 115. 
 
 his rupture with Dr. Johnson, 116. 
 
 his character, sketched by Mrs. 
 
 Thrale, 116, 481, 488, 489. 
 
 ♦f — the comedv of the " Sentimental 
 Mother" U7, 
 
 lines on his portrait. 256. 
 
 Barnard, Dr., Provost of Eton, John- 
 son's remarks on, quoted, 39, note. 
 
 Barrow, his description of Wit, quoted, 
 155. 
 
 Bassi's verses, 266 
 
 translation of, 266. 
 
 Bath, riots in, 458. 
 
 Bayntun, Admiral Sir H., 474, note. 
 
 Beadon, Dr., 468. 
 
 Bearcroft, Mr., anecdotes of, 137. 
 
 Beauclerc, Lady Diana, 103. 
 
 Beauclerc, Topham, 238, 276. 
 
 Bells, names of, 373. 
 
 Beloe, his " Sexagenarian," 399. 
 
 Bentley, Dr Richard, his verses on 
 Learning, 223. 
 
 Bertola's verses, 276. 
 
 his fables, 277. 
 
 Betty, the actor, 317. 
 
 Blue-Stocking Clubs, origin of the, 14. 
 
 Bodryddan, visited by Johnson, 50. 
 
 Bodville, Mrs. Thrale's birthplace, 51. 
 
 Boethius, Dr. Johnson and Mrs. Thrale's 
 translations from, 31, 222. 
 
 Bolingbroke, Lord, anecdote of Johnson 
 and, 102. 
 
 Bolingbroke, Lady, 276. 
 
 Bolton, Duke of, Lord Harry Powlett, 
 anecdote of, 252. 
 
 Bonaparte, intelligence of his meditated 
 escape from Elba, 231. 
 
 military tactics, 243. 
 
 his expedition to Egypt, 296. 
 
 pasquinade on, 316. 
 
 the Apocalyptic beast, 319. 
 
 Boothby, Miss Hill, Johnson's admira- 
 tion for, 16. 
 
522 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Bos well, James, his character as a bi- 
 ographer, 2. 
 
 his " Letters to Temple," and 
 
 " Boswelliana," 2. 
 
 his account of Johnson's introduc- 
 tion into Mr. Thrale's family 
 quoted, 6. 
 
 his jealousy of Mrs. Thrale, 6. 
 
 his first visit to Streatham Park, 25. 
 
 arranges an interview between 
 
 Johnson and Lord Marchmont, 
 26. 
 
 his conversations at Streatham, 27. 
 
 his version of Johnson's epigram 
 
 on Mary Aston, 28. 
 
 his proposed poetical epistle to 
 
 Johnson, 30. 
 
 his dislike of Baretti, 58. 
 
 Walpole's remarks on his " Anec- 
 dotes of Dr. Johnson, 90. 
 
 reasons for his depreciating Mrs. 
 
 Piozzi, 90. 
 
 Peter Pindar's satire on, quoted, 99. 
 
 Boulogne, Mrs. Piozzi's account of, 122. 
 
 Bouverie, Mrs., 233. 
 
 Bowdler, Rev. Dr., 61. 
 
 Bowles, Mr., shooting his nephew, 421. 
 
 Bowles, Rev. W. ; and his fountain, 50, 
 note. 
 
 Boyce, Johnson's description of, 221. 
 
 his verses to Cave, 221. 
 
 Bramah and his air-balloon, 327. 
 
 Brighton, Dr. Johnson at, 65. 
 
 Bristow, Caroline (afterwards Mrs. Lyt- 
 telton), 52. 
 
 British Museum, 422. 
 
 Broadhead, Mrs., 384. 
 
 Browne, Isaac Hawkins, 103. 
 
 Brynbella, 141, 142, 197. 
 
 Buffon, verses on, 280. 
 
 Burdett, Ladv, 441. 
 
 Burdett, Sir F., 417, 452. 
 
 Burke, Right Hon. Edmund, his opin- 
 ion of Dr. Johnson as a public 
 speaker, 42. 
 
 remarks on him, 238. 
 
 — — lines on his portrait, 256. 
 
 Burney, Miss. See D'Arblay, Madame. 
 
 Burney, Dr., 432. 
 
 quoted, 10, note. 
 
 his visit with his daughter to 
 
 Streatham Park, 34. 
 
 his description of Mr. and Mrs. 
 
 Piozzi in 1808, 142. 
 
 and Dr. Johnson, 214. 
 
 his verses to Mrs. Thrale, 214. 
 
 lines on his portrait, 256. 
 
 Burney, Dr. junior, his death, 408. 
 
 Byng, Admiral, 234. 
 
 Byron, Mrs. (wife of the Admiral), 61, 
 106, 466. 
 
 Byron, Mrs., 218. 
 
 Byron, Lord, 308, 422, 466. 
 
 Byron, Lord, his estimate of life at thirty- 
 five quoted, 20. 
 
 his estimate of Italian singers, 71. 
 
 his description of Curran and Mad- 
 ame de Stael, 155. 
 
 his " Cain," 454. 
 
 Cader Idris, 306. 
 
 Campbell, Dr. Thomas, his "Diary" 
 quoted, 56, note. 
 
 Mrs. Thrale's account of him r 57. 
 
 his account of the mode of life at 
 
 Streatham, 57. 
 Capetian Dynasty, story of the, 317. 
 Capua, poverty of, 378. 
 Caraboo, Princess of Jarasu, 390, 391. 
 Careless, of the " Blue Posts," and Mrs. 
 
 Thrale, 41. 
 Carlton House, 298. 
 Carlyle, the bookseller, 453, 454. 
 Caroline of Anspach, Queen, and Sir 
 
 Woolston Dixie, anecdote of, 233. 
 Caroline, Queen, at Bath, 400, 401, 403. 
 
 her death, 411. 
 
 her trial, 466. 
 
 Cnroline of Naples, story of, 84. 
 Carter, Mrs., her " Letters," 389. 
 Catamaran, 218. 
 Cathcart, Lady, in " Castle Rackrent," 
 
 78. 
 Catherine, Empress of Russia, verses 
 
 on, 226. 
 Catholic question, 417, 429. 
 Cator, Mr., 196, 197, 201. 
 
 Dr. Johnson's remark on, 104. 
 
 Cave, Boyce' s verses to, 221. 
 Cervantes, 329. 
 
 Chalmers' " Modern Astronomy," 356. 
 Chamberlayne, Mr., his verses, "The 
 
 Pleiades," 225. 
 Chambers, Sir Robert, 211. 
 
 lines on his portrait, 255. 
 
 Chantilly, Mrs. Piozzi's account of, 122. 
 
 Chappelow, Mr., 384, 385. 
 
 Charles Edward, the young Pretender, 
 
 at Florence, 226. 
 Charlotte, the Princess, her marriage, 
 349. 
 
 her death, 401. 
 
 Charlotte, Queen, 112. 
 
 Chester, walls of, 49. 
 
 Chesterfield, Philip Dormer, Earl of, 120. 
 
 Christmas, old customs at, 311. 
 
 Churchill, the poet, quoted, 237. 
 
 Cicisbeism in Italy, 126. 
 
 Clinton, Lord John, 61. 
 
 Club, the Literary, formation of the, 13. 
 
 Club, Hell-fire, incident at the, 238, note. 
 
 Clubs, the Blue-Stocking, origin of the, 
 
 14. 
 Clwyd, the river, 49. 
 Cobbett, William, 327, 372, 467. 
 Coligny, Henrietta de, verses on, 225. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 523 
 
 Collier, Dr., 171. 
 
 educates Miss Hester Lynch Sal- 
 isbury, 171. 
 
 Mrs. Pibzzi's account of, 209. 
 
 Comber, Mr., his verses, 444. 
 Combermere Abbey, Johnson's visit to, 
 52. 
 
 D'Arblay, Madame, her description of 
 the Streatham portraits, 251. 
 
 her " Camilla," 298. 
 
 her 4t Wanderer," 308. 
 
 Mrs. Piozzi's account of her, 484. 
 
 Davenant, Mrs., 61, 220. 
 Davis, Eliza, story of. 387. 
 
 Conde, Prince of, anecdote of the, 123, I Davison's verses on Dido, 276. 
 
 124. ! Death, Dr. Johnson's letter upon, 111. 
 
 Congreve, W., his " Way of the World" Delamira of the " Tatler," 234. 
 
 quoted, 29. | Delap, Dr., 65, 103. 
 
 Conway, Mr. Shipley, 50, note. j Delia Crusca verses, 270. 
 
 Conway, W. A., and Mrs Piozzi, 143, Demosthenes, Johnson's remark on, 29. 
 
 436, 441, 446, 452, 456, 471, 472. 
 
 notice of him, 143. 
 
 his letter to Mrs. Piozzi's execu- 
 tors, 150. J 
 Conway, 446, 447, 471, 472. 
 "Corinne " quoted, 78, note. 
 Corsini, Prince, 81. 
 Corsini, Cardinal, 81. 
 Cotton, Mrs., her cascade, 50. 
 
 Dent, " Dog," and his bill on dogs, 303. 
 
 Desmoulins, Mrs., 11. 
 
 Dido, verses on, 276. 
 
 epigrams, 275. 
 
 Divorces, conversation at Streatham 
 on, 27. 
 
 Dixie, Sir Woolston, and Queen Caro- 
 line, 233. 
 
 Dobson, Dr., 189. 
 
 Cotton, George (afterwards Dean of Doddridge's epigram on his own motto 
 
 Chester, 418. quoted, 237. 
 
 Cotton, Sir Lynch, Johnson's visit and Dodington, Bub (Lord Melcombe), his 
 
 rudeness to, 52. 
 
 Cotton, Sir Robert Salusbury, 166. 
 
 Cowper, Countess, 226. 
 
 Cowper, William, quoted, 361. 
 
 Coxe's " Life of the Duke of Marlbor- 
 ough," 420. 
 
 Crewe, Mrs., 233, 236, 428. 
 
 Croker, Right Hon. John Wilson, Lord 
 Macaulay's remarks on his edi- 
 tions of Boswell's " Johnson " 
 
 Diary," 371. 
 
 Doukin, General, 349, 354. 
 
 Dress, female, 408. 
 
 Dr. Johnson's observations on fe- 
 male dress and demeanor, 44, 45. 
 
 Dunning, Lord Ashburton, his personal 
 vanity, 105. 
 
 his ugliness, 239. 
 
 Duppa, R., Esq., edits Johnson's " Jour- 
 ney into Wales," 49, 369. 
 
 " Duty and Pleasure," 250. 
 
 quoted, 21. 
 his translation of Johnson's epi- 
 gram on Mary Croker, 28. Edward, Prince, brother of George HI., 
 
 his account of the correspondence 232. 
 
 between Dr. Johnson and Mrs. Eglintoun, Lady, 294. 
 Piozzi on her marriage, 73. '■ Elton, Mr., 453. 
 
 Cumberland, Duke and Duchess of, 80. English, John, his epitaph, 304. 
 Curran, J. P., Byron's description of . Enigma, an, 446. 
 
 him, 155. 
 Custom House, fire at the, 308. 
 Cuzzona, the actress, story of, 133. 
 
 Dancing, 454. 
 
 D'Arblay, Madame, 17, 107. 
 
 her account of her first visit to 
 
 Streatham Park, 34. 
 
 her '• Evelina," 35. 
 
 her introduction to Dr. Johnson, 36. 
 
 her notes of conversations at Streat- 
 ham, 39. 
 
 quoted, 12. 
 
 her "Diary" quoted, 51, note, 61, 
 
 64, 69, 70, 87. 
 
 her letter to Mrs. Piozzi on her 
 
 marriage, 72. 
 
 her remarks on Johnson's " Let- 
 ters," 111. 
 
 her character of Mrs. Piozzi, 152. 
 
 Epaminondas, 243. 
 Esher in Surrey, 295. 
 Etruscan pottery, 352. 
 Exmouth, liberation of slaves, 399. 
 Exmouth, Lord, Christian slaves liber- 
 ated by, in Rome, 314. 
 
 Faber's prophecy for 1866, 404. 
 
 " Fable for April, 1815, a," 319. 
 
 Fables of Bertola, 277. 
 
 Falmouth, Lord, 241. 
 
 " Fancy, Imagination," 181. 
 
 Farinelli, the singer, 416. 
 
 Farmer, Dr., 439. 
 
 Ferrier, Miss, the novelist, 426. 
 
 Fidele, Casa, Mrs. Piozzi's account of 
 
 the, 193. 
 Fielding, Henry, his disregard of the 
 
 value of money, 141. 
 Sally, sister of the novelist, 178. 
 
524 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Fife, Lord, 197. 
 
 Fire-eaters, the, 428. 
 
 Fisher, Clara, 409. 
 
 Fitzpatrick, 174. 
 
 Fitzwilliam, Lord, 454. 
 
 Flahaut, Count, 416. 
 
 Flint, Bet, Johnson's story of, 38. 
 
 Flood, Eight Hon. EL, his opinion of 
 Dr. Johnson's qualifications as a pub- 
 lic speaker, 42. 
 
 "Florence Miscellany," account of the, 
 90, 268, 270. 
 
 preface to the, 281. 
 
 Florence, Mrs. Piozzi's description of, 
 129. 
 
 " Florizel and Perdita," Garrick's, 25. 
 
 Foote, Samuel, 212. 
 
 "Fountains, The," Johnson's tale of, 
 31. 
 
 Fox, Lady Caroline, 211. 
 
 Fox, Charles James, his verses, " The 
 Planets," 224. 
 
 his character, 235. 
 
 his talents, 238. 
 
 France, Johnson's tour in, 53. 
 
 verses on, in 1792, 323. 
 
 " Frankenstein," 404, 441. 
 
 Franklin, Benjamin, Wedderburne's re- 
 mark on, 239. 
 
 Mrs. Piozzi's account of, 239. 
 
 Mr. Dale's lines on, 240. 
 
 French, Mrs. Piozzi's sketch of the, 
 124. 
 
 Gainsborough, the painter, anecdote of, 
 
 231. 
 Gaming, 337. 
 Garrick, David, Dr. Johnson's opinion 
 
 of his talents for light gay 
 
 poetry, 25, 168, 433. 
 
 his flattery of Dr. Johnson, 29. 
 
 his profession depreciated by Dr. 
 
 Johnson, 97. 
 
 anecdote of, 222. 
 
 his lines on Pelham, 244. 
 
 lines. on his portrait, 255. 
 
 Garrick, David, his lines written at 
 
 Streatham, 324. 
 Garrick, George, 103. 
 Garrick, Mrs., 106. 
 Gas lights introduced into London, 313, 
 
 394. 
 Genoa, siege of, 311. 
 George III., caricature on, 225. 
 
 anecdote of, 232. 
 
 insults offered to him, 294. 
 
 Gibbes, Dr., 403, 437, 444. 
 
 Gibbon, Edmund, remarks on his style, 
 
 312. 
 Gifford, W., origin of his " Bseviad and 
 
 Masviad," 90. 
 his scurrilous lines on Mrs. Piozzi, 
 
 121. 
 
 Gifford, W., his attack on Mrs. Piozzi's 
 
 " British Synonymy," 132. 
 Gisborne's " Natural Theologv," 408. 
 Glasse, Eev. G. H., notice of, 368, 
 
 note. 
 
 his motto, 410. 
 
 Glover, Miss, the actress, 415. 
 Gluttony, Mrs. Piozzi's remarks on, 
 
 219. 
 Godwin, Miss, 441. 
 Goldsmith, Oliver, 131. 
 
 his prodigality, 134. 
 
 his story of the boxer, 350. 
 
 his portrait at Streatham, 254. 
 
 Gray, Dr., 417. 
 
 his " Connections between Sacred 
 
 Writ and Classic Literature," 
 
 367. 
 
 death of his mother, 402. 
 
 Greenlanders, 442. 
 Gunnings, the Miss, 218. 
 Gwaynyog, Dr. Johnson at, 51. 
 
 Hagley, Johnson's visit to, 52. 
 
 Hales, Dr., and his prophecy, 410, 412. 
 
 Halifax, Lord, 168, 172. 
 
 Halsey, Edmund, uncle of the elder 
 
 Thrale, Mrs. Thrale's note respecting 
 
 his rise, 5. 
 Hamilton, Archdeacon, 234. 
 Hamilton, Lady Archibald, 234. 
 Hamilton, Single- speech, supposed au- 
 thor of " Letters of Junius," 235. 
 Hampton Court Palace, 354. 
 Harrington, Dr., 342, 344, 350. 
 
 his death, 347. 
 
 Harris, James, Esq., author of 
 
 " Hermes," 32, 178. 
 Hart, Polly, 448. 
 Hawkins, Miss, 77. 
 Hawkins, Sir John, 42. 
 
 his account of the correspondence 
 
 between Dr. Johnson and Mrs. 
 Piozzi on her marriage, 73. 
 Head, Mr., 217. 
 Hell-fire Club, incident at the, 238, 
 
 note. 
 " Herald, The Morning," verses on Mrs. 
 
 Thrale in the, quoted, 33. 
 Hogarth, William, his portrait of Mrs. 
 Thrale, in the " Lady's Last 
 Stake," 24, 177,337. 
 
 his impromptu addressed to Mr. 
 
 Tighe, 336. 
 Holland, Sir Henrv, Bart., 156, 342, 
 
 343. 
 Holywell, Johnson at, 50. 
 Hone, Mr., 404. 
 Hook, Matilda, 409. 
 Hope, 377. 
 Huggins, W., the translation of Ariosto, 
 
 and Baretti, 56. 
 Hunt, Mr., 450. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 . 525 
 
 Hunting, Dr. Johnson's opinion of, 47. 
 Hyde Park, 393. 
 
 "Imagination's Search after Happi- 
 ness," 179. 
 
 Ireland forgeries, the, 291, 293, 298, 
 301, 303. 
 
 Jackson, Humphrey, his connection 
 with Mr. Thrale, 176. 
 
 Jackson, Mr., 186, 187. 
 
 James, Sir Walter, 438. 
 
 Jebb, Sir R., 205, 207. 
 
 anecdote of, 262. 
 
 Jekyll, his remark on Lord Stowell, 
 357. 
 
 Johnson, Dr. Samuel, his literary 
 eminence, 1. 
 
 his letter to Mrs. Thrale respect- 
 ing " Thraliana," quoted, 3. 
 
 his introduction into the family of 
 
 Mr. Thrale, 4, 6. 
 
 his account of the rise of Mr. 
 
 Thrale' s father, 4. 
 
 visited in Johnson's Court by Mr. 
 
 and Mrs. Thrale, 7. 
 
 disliked by Mrs. Thrale's mother, 
 
 his habits, 8. 
 
 his extremities of poverty and 
 
 want, 8. 
 
 his eating and drinking, 8. 
 
 his favorite dishes, described by 
 
 Peter Pindar, 9. 
 his affectation of great nicety of 
 
 palate, 9. 
 
 his fondness for late hours, 10. 
 
 his sterling virtues, 10. 
 
 his household, as described by 
 
 Lord Macaulay, 11. 
 
 society in which he moved, 12, 13. 
 
 his reverence for bishops, 13. 
 
 his behavior in the society of 
 
 women, 14. 
 his fondness for female society, 
 
 15. 
 his admiration for Miss Boothbv, 
 
 16. 
 
 and for Molly Aston, 17. 
 
 his wife, 17. 
 
 his remarks on love, 17. 
 
 probable causes of his long 
 
 domestication at Streatham, 18. 
 his complimentarv verses on Mrs. 
 
 Thrale, 18. 
 his Latin ode to Mrs. Thrale trans- 
 lated by Mr. Milnes, 19. 
 his verses on Mrs. Thrale's thirtv- 
 
 fifth birthday, 20, 22. 
 his gloomy apprehensions of death, 
 
 23. 
 his dislike at being painted with 
 
 all his defects, 24. 
 
 Johnson, Dr. Samuel, his conversations 
 
 at Streatham Park, 25, 27. 
 his interview with Lord March- 
 
 mont, 26. 
 
 his epigram on Mary Aston, 28. 
 
 his remarks on Demosthenes and 
 
 the Athenians, 29. 
 his opinion of, and respect for, Mrs. 
 
 Thrale, 30, 32. 
 his translations from Boethius, 
 
 31. 
 
 and tale of the " Fountains," 31. 
 
 his introduction to Miss Burney, 
 
 36. 
 his account of the children of Mr. 
 
 Langton, 37. 
 
 his story of Bet Flint, 38. 
 
 his gallantry, 39. 
 
 his remarks on his own politeness, 
 
 39, note. 
 the moralist and the hatter of 
 
 South wark, 41. 
 Mr. Thrale's intention of bringing 
 
 Johnson into Parliament, 42. 
 assistance afforded by Johnson to 
 
 Mr. Thrale in his difficulties, 42. 
 portrait of Johnson by Doughty, 
 
 43. 
 
 — his attention to domestic economy, 
 44. 
 
 — and to propriety in dress, 44, 45. 
 
 — his answer to Sir John Lade, 46. 
 
 — his fondness for town life, 46. 
 
 — his opinion of hunting, 47. 
 
 — his delight in carriage travelling, 
 47. 
 
 — drawback on his gratifications, 48. 
 
 — his diary of a tour in Wales, 49. 
 
 — his description of Bach y Graig, 
 49. 
 
 — his fondness for fruit, 51. 
 
 — his visit to Lord Sandys, 51. 
 
 — his dislike to the Lytteltons, 52. 
 
 — his rudeness to Sir Lynch Cotton, 
 52. 
 
 — his tour in France, 53. 
 
 — instance of his occasional imprac- 
 ticability, 53. 
 
 — his friendship for, and opinion of, 
 Baretti, 54. 
 
 — his evidence on the trial of Baretti, 
 55. 
 
 — Dr. Campbell's description of him, 
 57. 
 
 — his rapid writing, 58. 
 
 — his advice to Mrs. Thrale on the 
 death of her husband, 62. 
 
 — appointed one of the executors, 
 63. 
 
 — his farewell to Streatham, 65, 86. 
 
 — his visit to Brighton with the 
 Thrales, 65. 
 
 — his complaints, 66. 
 
526 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Johnson, Dr. Samuel, his disagreement 
 with Mrs. Thrale, 67. 
 
 his correspondence with her on 
 
 her marriage with Mr. Piozzi, 
 73. 
 
 was Johnson a suitor for the hand 
 
 of Mrs. Thrale? 81. 
 
 Miss Seward's account of his loves, 
 
 85. 
 
 his last days, 87. 
 
 his death, 87. 
 
 his affection for Mrs. Piozzi, 87. 
 
 proximate cause of his death, 88. 
 
 his strict attention to truth, 91/ 
 
 his retort to Pottinger, 96. 
 
 his habitual disregard for the rules 
 
 of good breeding, 97. 
 
 controversy kindled by the publi- 
 cation of the " Tour to the He- 
 brides," and " Anecdotes of Dr. 
 Johnson," 97-101. 
 
 '' Letters from and to the late Sam- 
 uel Johnson, LL.D.," 110. 
 
 his letters on Death, 111. 
 
 Saver's print of " Johnson's 
 
 Ghost," 118. 
 
 his verses on a young heir coming 
 
 of age, 134. 
 
 his apology to Dr. Burney, 214. 
 
 his unconscious plagiarism, 222. 
 
 lines on his portrait, 257. 
 
 Mrs. Thrale's character of him, 
 
 488. 
 
 Jones, the Hutchinsonian, 294. 
 
 Jonson, Ben, his "Alchemist," 426. 
 
 Jordan, Mrs., 361. 
 
 "Junius, Letters of," authorship of, 
 235, 467. 
 
 his denunciation of the Duke of 
 
 Grafton's devotion to Nancy Par- 
 sons quoted, 34. 
 
 Kaleidoscope, Mrs. Piozzi like a, 411. 
 
 Kean, Edmund, 374, 375. 
 
 Keep, Mr., 211. 
 
 Keith, Admiral Lord, his marriage with 
 
 Miss Thrale, 109. 
 Keith, Lady. See Thrale, Miss. 
 Kemble, Charles, 356, 378. 
 Kemble, John, 442. 
 Killaloe, Bishop of, 15. 
 Knight, Cornelia, 378. 
 
 Lade, Lady, 174, 177. 
 
 Johnson's remarks on, 45. 
 
 her conversation with Johnson 
 
 about her son, 46. 
 Lade, Sir John, account of, 46. 
 
 Johnson's answer to, 46. 
 
 Dr. Johnson's verses addressed to, 
 
 135. 
 
 caricature of, 388. 
 
 Lambert, Mrs., 106. 
 
 Lamoignon, President, his lines, 420. 
 Langton, Bennet, Esq., Johnson's re- 
 mark on, 27. 
 
 and on his children, 37. 
 
 story of, 388. 
 
 Leicester, Earl of, 293. 
 Leighton, Sir Baldwin, 432. 
 Lennox, Lady Sarah, 240. 
 Leopold, King of the Belgians, 349. 
 " Letters to and from the late Samuel 
 Johnson, LL.D.," publication of, 
 110, 118. 
 Levet, Mr. Robert, in Dr. Johnson's 
 
 house, 11. 
 Johnson's lines on the death of, 
 
 11. 
 Lisbon, earthquake at, 171. 
 Liver cases, 437. 
 
 Liverpool, Lord, charms of his conver- 
 sation, 235. 
 Llewenny Hall, 315, 389. 
 London, verses for and against, 364, 
 
 365. 
 Lort, Rev. Dr., 26, 108, 336. 
 Loughborough, Lord, his remark on 
 
 Benjamin Franklin, 239. 
 Louis XIV., his politeness, 40. 
 Lucan, Lord, 63. 
 Lucas, Mr., 336. 
 Lust, Spenser's description of, quoted, 
 
 84. 
 Luttrell, Simon, the "King of Hell," 
 
 174. 
 Lutwyche, Mrs., 314. 
 Lysons, Rev. Daniel, 3. 
 Lysons, Rev. Samuel, of Hempstead 
 
 Court, his collection of books 
 
 and MSS., 3, 289. 
 
 letters from Mrs. Piozzi to, 80. 
 
 his collection of scraps, 118; his 
 
 death, 448. 
 Lysons family, notice of the, 289. 
 Lyttelton, George Lord, cause of Dr. 
 
 Johnson's dislike for, 16, 52. 
 
 verses on his portrait, 252. 
 
 the Lvttelton Ghost Story, 227. 
 
 Lyttelton, Lady, 231. 
 
 Macaulay, Lord, his opinion of Boswell 
 
 as a biographer, 2. 
 
 and of the value of the Piozzi pa- 
 
 - pers, 2. 
 his description of the inmates of 
 
 Johnson's house quoted, 11. 
 his remarks on Croker's Boswell's 
 
 "Johnson," 21. 
 his account of Mrs. Piozzi's second 
 
 marriage, and of Dr. Johnson's 
 
 banishment from Streatham, 86. 
 Malone, Mr., and the Ireland forgeries, 
 
 298. 
 Malone, Mr., his remarks on Dr. John- 
 son's rudeness, 95. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 527 
 
 Maltzan. Count, 231. 
 
 Mann. Sir Horace, at Florence, 129. 
 
 Manucci, Count, 114 ; 195. 
 
 Mant, his verses, 455. 
 
 Marie Antoinette, Queen, note on her 
 
 first confinement, 224. 
 Marriage, Selden's remarks on, 301. 
 McEvoy, Miss, 378, 403. 
 Maxwell's u Collectanea." quoted, 16. 
 u Menagiana," quoted, 29. 
 Merrick, quoted, 181. 
 Merry, Mr., 330. 
 
 his verses, to Mrs. Piozzi, 270. 
 
 Milan, life at, 194. 
 
 Milnes, Eichard Monckton, Esq., M. P., 
 
 his translation of Johnson's Latin Ode 
 
 to Mrs. Thrale, 19. 
 Milton's '• Paradise Lost," quoted, 401, 
 
 435, 452. 
 Mitre Tavern, 31. 
 Mongolfier and his balloon, 328. 
 Monkton, Mrs. (afterwards Lady Cork) 
 
 and Dr. Johnson, 14. 
 Montagu, Mrs., one of the founders of 
 
 the Blue-Stocking Club, 14, 114. 213, 
 
 218. 
 
 her rt Essay on Shakespeare," 90. 
 
 Johnson's story of, 104. 
 
 Mrs. Piozzi's remarks on her con- 
 duct, 107. 
 Montcakn, his dying words, 242. 
 Moore, Archbishop, and the Duke of 
 
 Marlborough, 244. 
 Moore, Thomas, his " Journal, " quoted, 
 
 137. 145, 273. note. 
 More, Miss Hannah, 15. 
 her remarks on the " Tour to the 
 
 Hebrides," and "Anecdotes of Dr. 
 
 Johnson," 97, 101. 
 her opinion of Dr. Johnson's Let- 
 ters to Mrs. Thrale, 113. 
 Mostyn, Mrs.. 79, 83. 303, 306. 398, 458. 
 Mountedgecombe, Lord and Ladv, 374. 
 Mount's Bay. 472. 
 Mulgrave, Lord, and Burke, 241. 
 Murphy, Mr., introduces Johnson into 
 
 the family of Mr. Thrale, 6. 
 
 lines on his portrait, 254. 
 
 his song, " Attend all ve fair," 325. 
 
 his fidelity, 361. 
 
 his portrait bv Pievnolds. 434, 439. 
 
 442. 
 Musgrave, Sir R., 408. 
 
 Naldi, the singer, 71. 
 
 Naples. Mrs. Piozzi's notes on, 130. 
 
 Nash, Beau, 211. 
 
 Nesbitt, Mrs.. 174. 205. 
 
 Nicholson, Miss, 74, 80, 188, 480. 
 
 Nicholson, Peg, 231. 
 
 Ninon de l'Enclos, 434. 
 
 North, Lord, 42. 
 
 his maxim quoted, 331. 
 
 North, Mr. Dudley, Dr. Johnson's char- 
 acter of. 91. 
 Norton, Sir Fletcher, 232. 
 
 verses on, 232. 
 
 Nova Scotia, colonization of, 168. 
 
 Offley Place". 170. 
 
 Omai, the Sandwich Islander, 116, 
 
 450. 
 Ombersley, Johnson's visit to, 51. 
 '•' On a Weeping Willow," &c, 285. 
 O'Neill, Miss. 414, 415, 447. 
 
 compared with Mrs. Siddons, 414. 
 
 Oratory, Johnson's declamation against 
 
 action in, 29. 
 Ord, Mrs.. 61, 70, 107. 
 Ossian, originality of, 417. 
 
 Paap. Simon, the dwarf, 398. 409. 
 Parini, the Abbate, his impromptu on 
 
 Mongolfier's balloon, 328. 
 Parish, Mr., and the Princess Tallev- 
 
 rand, 340. 
 Parker, Dr., his complimentarv verses 
 
 to Mrs. Thrale, 223. 
 Pan*, Dr.. his correspondence with Mrs. 
 
 Piozzi. 108. 
 Parrv, L»r. C. 427. 429. 
 Parrv, Sir E., 446. 
 Parsees, the, 207. 
 Parsons. Mr., his verses to Venus, 190. 
 
 and to Mrs. Piozzi. 191. 
 
 Pasquin and Cardinal Zanelli, 241. 
 Pasquinade on Bonaparte, 316. 
 Peiham, Mr., 244. 
 
 Garrick's lines on. 244. 
 
 Pennington, Mrs., 462. 473. 
 
 her letter to Miss Willoughby, 
 
 quoted, 146. 
 Penrice, Sir Henry, 170. 
 Penzance. Mrs. Piozzi at. 463. 
 
 life at, 464. 
 
 climate of, 467. 
 
 Pepys. Mr. 61, 108. 
 
 i ■ Johnson's character of, 91. 
 
 Johnson's rudeness to, 65. 
 
 Pepvs, Sir Lucas, 185, 207. 
 Pepvs, Sir William, 213. 
 Perkins, Mr., 28, 108, 177, 202. 
 
 Mrs. Thrale's letters to, referred 
 
 to, 40. 
 
 and the print of Dr. Johnson, 43. 
 
 purchases the brewery, 64. 
 
 Persians, the, in London, in 1818, 425. 
 
 Pindar, Peter, his enumeration of Dr. 
 Johnson's favorite dishes, quoted, 9. 
 
 his verses on Dr. Johnson and the 
 
 whiskey at Inverary, 31. 
 
 his satire on Boswell and Mrs. Pi- 
 ozzi, quoted. 99. 
 
 Piozzi, Mrs., her moral character, 2. 
 
 value and attraction of her writ- 
 ings, 2. 
 
528 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Piozzi, Mrs., list of the papers contained 
 
 in the present work, 2. 
 
 her " Thraliana," 3. 
 
 her marriage to Mr. Thrale, 6. 
 
 her first introduction to Dr. John- 
 son, 6. 
 
 her conversation, 26, 85, 109. 
 
 Johnson's verses and ode to her, 
 
 19, 20. 22. 
 
 year of her birth, 21. 
 
 her personal appearance, 22. 
 
 her portrait by Roche, 24. 
 
 and by Sir Joshua Reynolds and 
 
 Hogarth, 24. 
 her familiarity with the learned 
 
 and modern languages, 27, 31. 
 
 Johnson's opinion of her, 30. 
 
 her translations from Boethius, 31. 
 
 and her " Three Warnings," 31. 
 
 her fugitive pieces, 31. 
 
 popular estimate of her, 33. 
 
 her reception of Miss Burney at 
 
 Streatham, 34. 
 
 her trials and bereavements, 40. 
 
 her attention to business, 40. 
 
 her tour in Wales, 49. 
 
 her visit to her birthplace, 51. 
 
 Dr. Campbell's description of her, 
 
 57. 
 her feelings outraged by her hus- 
 band, 60. 
 her account of a conversazione at 
 
 her house, 61. 
 
 death of Mr. Thrale, 62. 
 
 sale of the brewery, 64. 
 
 leaves her home at Streatham, 
 
 64. 
 her disagreement with Johnson, 
 
 67. 
 commencement of her acquaint- 
 ance with Piozzi, 69, 183. 
 
 her marriage to Piozzi, 71, et seq. 
 
 visits Italy, 80. 
 
 was Johnson a suitor for her hand ? 
 
 81. 
 
 Miss Seward's account, 85. 
 
 Mrs. Piozzi's " Anecdotes of Dr. 
 
 Johnson." 90. 
 
 her alleged inaccuracy, 90. 
 
 Peter Pindar's satire on her and 
 
 on Boswell, 99. 
 success of her " Anecdotes of 
 
 Dr. Johnson," 101. 
 
 Walpole's opinion of it, 101. 
 
 her return to, and reception in, 
 
 London, 105. 
 
 her domestic thoughts, 106. 
 
 her return to Streatham, 108. 
 
 her correspondence with Dr. Parr, 
 
 108. 
 names of the friends visiting or 
 
 corresponding with her, 108, 
 
 109. 
 
 Piozzi, Mrs., marriage of her eldest 
 daughter, 110. 
 
 her " Letters to and from the late 
 
 Samuel Johnson, LL. D., 110. 
 
 Baretti's treatment of her, 114. 
 
 her remarks on Baretti's death, 
 
 115. 
 
 and on his character, 116. 
 
 the comedy of " The Sentimental 
 
 Mother," 117. 
 
 her alarm at Mr. S. Lysons's col- 
 lection of scraps, 118. 
 
 her u Observations and Re- 
 flections," 119. 
 
 criticisms on the work, 119. 
 
 her style, 119, 120. 
 
 GirTord's lines on her, 121. 
 
 quotations from her Travels, 122 
 
 et seq. 
 
 her " British Synonymy," 132. 
 
 her " Retrospection," 135. 
 
 leaves Streatham for North Wales, 
 
 138. 
 
 description of her and her hus- 
 band, in 1808, 142. 
 
 death of Mr. Piozzi, 143. 
 
 their portraits, 143. 
 
 her way of life after his death, 
 
 143. 
 
 her fancy for W. A. Conway, 
 
 143. 
 
 her ball and supper on her eigh- 
 tieth birthday, 146. 
 
 her death, 146. 
 
 her will, 148. 
 
 her character, 152, 155. 
 
 her autobiographical memoirs, 
 
 161. 
 
 her domestic trials, 185. 
 
 her account of her second mar- 
 riage, 188. 
 
 her residence in Italy, 192. 
 
 her biographical anecdotes, 195. 
 
 Mr. Thrale's will, and account of 
 
 the sale of the brewery, 201. 
 
 account of Mr. Thrale's death, 
 
 207. 
 
 and of Dr. Collier, 209. 
 
 her marginal notes on the two vol- 
 umes of printed letters, 211. 
 
 her notes on Wraxall's " Memoirs 
 
 of my own Time,"'224. 
 
 her original compositions in prose 
 
 and verse, 247. 
 
 her letters, 289. 
 
 extracts from " Thraliana," 477. 
 
 Piozzi, Mr., 61. 
 
 account of the commencement of 
 
 his acquaintance with Mrs. 
 Thrale, 69, 183. 
 
 his singing, 69, 70. 
 
 his marriage with Mrs Thrale, 71, 
 
 188. 
 
IXDEX. 
 
 529 
 
 Piozzi, Mr., Miss Williams Wynn's opin- 
 ion of him, 83. 
 
 his personal appearance, 84, 85. 
 
 — — his prudent economy, 89. 
 
 his losses in Italy, 139. 
 
 his character, 141. 
 
 his death, 143, 199. 
 
 account of him, 184. 
 
 Politeness, 35. 
 
 Mrs. Thrale's, 35. 
 
 Dr. Johnson's, 39, note. 
 
 Pope, Alexander, Johnson's Life of, 26. 
 
 conversation at Streatham on his 
 
 " Universal Prayer/' 26, 27. 
 
 quoted, 120, 346. 
 
 anecdote of, 125, 126. 
 
 his letter to Martha Blount. 383. 
 
 Porter, Miss, her "Pastor's Fireside, " 
 382. 
 
 Pottinger, Johnson's retort to, 96. 
 
 "Piozziana," 23, note. 
 
 quoted, 21, 23, 24, note, 27, 59, 
 
 161. 
 
 Prior. Matthew, Dr. Johnson's opinion 
 of, 25. 
 
 Queeny (Miss Thrale). See Thrale, 
 
 Miss. 
 Quin, the actor, 167. 
 
 Radcliffe, Dr., 438. 
 
 Ravase, the Abate, his verses to Mrs. 
 
 Piozzi, 279. 
 Rav, Mrs., her school at Streatham, 
 
 185, 196. 
 Regent's Park, 393. 
 '•'Retrospection/' &c, of Mrs. Piozzi, 
 
 135. 
 Revolution, French, effects of the, 124. 
 Reynold?, Sir Joshua, his conversations 
 with Dr. Johnson, 14, 15. 
 
 his portrait of Mrs. Thrale, 24. 
 
 — - excellence of his portraits, 253, 
 note. 
 
 lines on his portrait. 254. 
 
 Reynolds, Miss, her " Recollections of 
 
 Dr. Johnson," quoted, 32. 
 Rhuddlan Castle, visited bv Johnson, 
 
 50. 
 Rice, Mrs., 174, note. 
 Richardson, Samuel, 213. 
 Roche, the miniature painter, his por- 
 trait of Mrs. Piozzi, 24. 
 Rodney, Admiral, 227. 
 
 his victory over De Grasse, 243. 
 
 Roffette, the Abbe, and Dr. Johnson, 
 
 53. 
 Romanism, 397. 
 Rome, poverty of, 378. 
 
 an English church in, 399. 
 
 Rogers, Samuel, 302, 451. 
 
 Rondeaux, Mrs. Thrale's verses on, 
 
 215. 
 
 23 
 
 Rondeaux, Voiture's, 216. 
 
 Rothes, Lady, 61. 
 
 Rugby school and original painting, 
 
 438. 
 Rumbold, Sir Thomas, epigram on, 243. 
 Rush, Mr., 17.7. 
 Ryder, Bishop of Gloucester, 403. 
 
 Sacchini, his singing. 69. 
 Salisbury, Bishop of, 351. 
 Salusbury, Miss Hester Lynch, her 
 marriage to Mr. Thrale, 6. See 
 Piozzi. 
 Salusbury, Mrs., her dislike to Dr. 
 
 Johnson, 7, 165. 
 Salusburv, Mr. (Mrs. Thrale's father), 
 
 50. 
 Salusburv, Sir John Salusbury Piozzi, 
 
 notice of, 139, 140, 199, 382. 
 Miss Wynn's anecdote of him. 
 
 140. 
 Salusbury, Dr. Thomas, 170. 
 Salusbury, Lady, 170. 
 — ■ — her death, 171. 
 Sandwich, Lord and Lady, 236. 
 
 his baboon, 237. 
 
 Sandys, Lord, Johnson's visit to, 51. 
 
 Johnson's remark on, 104. 
 
 verses on his portrait, 252. 
 
 Savage, Richard, his poverty and want. 
 
 8. 
 
 his extravagance, 134. 
 
 Savers, his print of "Johnson's Ghost." 
 
 118. 
 " Scaligerana," 440. 
 Scott, Sir Walter, 341, 342, 380. 
 
 his novels, 11, note, 422, 436. 
 
 Schwellenberg. Mrs., Ill, 112. 
 
 Scrase, Mr., 177, 416. 
 
 Serpent worship, 440. 
 
 Seward, Mr., at Streatham Park, 35, 
 
 211. 
 Seward, Miss, 108, 109. 
 her account of Mr. and lies. 
 
 Piozzi quoted, 85. 
 and of Dr. Johnson's affection for 
 
 Mrs. Thrale, 85, 86. 
 her opinions of Dr. Johnson's 
 
 letters to Mrs. Thrale, 114. 
 -her remarks en Baretti's con- 
 duct, 115. 
 her criticism on Mrs. Piozzi's 
 
 travels, 119. 
 Shelburne, Lord, 231. 
 Shephard, Charles, 467. 
 Sheridan, Thomas, 241. 
 Siddons, Mrs., 197, 290, 291, 294, 303, 
 
 393, 446, 464. 
 letter from Sir James Fellowes to, 
 
 151. 
 
 her letter to Mrs. Piozzi, 151. 
 
 in Aspasia's character, 354. 
 
 Sieyes, the Abbe, and the Dauphin, 321. 
 
530 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Simson, Joe, story of, 220. 
 
 Sisera and Jael, 334. 
 
 Sisterna, Prince of, 80. 
 
 Snow, red, 429, 442. 
 
 Social verses, 283. 
 
 " Society, Ode to," 273. 
 
 Sophia, the Electress, 169, note. 
 
 Southcote, Joanna, 378. 
 
 Spelling, laws of, unfixed in the last 
 
 century, 120. 
 Spencer, Hon. W., his verses, 347. 
 " Spenceiana," 465. 
 Squib, the auctioneer, 355. 
 Stael, Madame de, her " Delphine" and 
 
 " Corinne," 138. 
 her similarity to Mrs. Piozzi, 152, 
 
 153. 
 
 Byron's estimate of her, 155. 
 
 Staker, Dr., 186. 
 Stanley, Blind, 215. 
 Stanley, Lady, 330. 
 Steamboats on the Thames, 394. 
 Steevens, George, Esq., his veracity, 32. 
 Sterne, Laurence, his " Tristram Shan- 
 dy," 223. 
 Stevens, Zenobia, story of, 315, 469. 
 Stonehenge, 220. 
 Story, a frightful, 268. 
 Stowell, Lord, on the proposal to bring 
 
 Dr. Johnson into Parliament, 42. 
 Stratton, Mrs., 432. 
 Stratton, Miss, the actress, 415. 
 Streatfield, Miss Sophia, and Mr. Thrale, 
 
 60, 61, 477. 
 Mrs. Piozzi's account of her, 203, 
 
 209, 477. 
 Streatham Park, Johnson at, 6, 18, 26, 
 
 27, 36, 57. 
 Miss Burney's account of her first 
 
 visit to, 34. 
 
 life at, 37, 57, 175. 
 
 Streatham Portraits, the, 251. 
 — — verses on the, 252. 
 Succession powder, 243. 
 Swift, Dean, his epistle of Mary Gulli- 
 ver quoted, 30. 
 — — his fondness for fruit, 51, 52. 
 " Synonymy, British," Mrs. Piozzi's, 
 
 published, 132. 
 extracts from, 494. 
 
 Talleyrand, Prince, his remark on Mad- 
 ame de Stael, 154. 
 
 " Tatler," the, 234. 
 
 Taylor, Dr., 114. 
 
 Taylor, Mr. Watson, 434, 438, 439, 442. 
 
 " Temple, Letters to," of Boswell, 2. 
 
 Thackeray, Dr., 344. 
 
 Thistlewood conspirators, 390. 
 
 Thomas, Archdeacon, at Bath, 403. 
 
 Thrale, Mrs. See Piozzi, Mrs. 
 
 Thrale, Mr., introduction of Dr. John- 
 son into his family, 4, 6. 
 
 Thrale, Mr., account of the rise of his 
 
 father, 4, 5. 
 
 his early life and education, 5, 6. 
 
 his introduction to Johnson, 6. 
 
 his visit to Johnson in Johnson's 
 
 Court, 7. 
 
 his personal appearance, 22. 
 
 Johnson's opinion of his learning, 
 
 28. 
 Miss Burney's description of him, 
 
 37. 
 his ill health and misfortunes, 40, 
 
 41. 
 his intention of bringing Dr. John- 
 son into Parliament, 42. 
 assisted by Johnson in his difficul- 
 ties, 42. 
 — — his embarrassments, 43. 
 his preference for Miss Sophia 
 
 Streatfield to his wife, 60. 
 
 his illness, 61. 
 
 and death, 62. 
 
 his introduction to Miss Salus- 
 
 bury, 172. 
 
 his marriage, 174. 
 
 ■ his mode of life, 175. 
 
 — — his imprudence, 176. 
 
 his connection with Humphrey 
 
 Jackson, 176. 
 
 his pecuniary difficulties, 177. 
 
 - — - account of his will, and sale of the 
 
 brewery, 201. 
 - — and of his last illness, 205. 
 
 his death, 207. 
 
 - — - lines on his portrait, 255. 
 
 — - his character as sketched by Mrs. 
 
 Piozzi, 263. 
 his mode of teaching swimming, 
 
 451. 
 Thrale, Mr. Kalph, Johnson's account 
 
 of, 4. 
 
 true account, 5. 
 
 Thrale, Miss (afterwards Lady Keith), 
 
 48, 49, 51, 53, 64, 188, 360. 
 Miss Burney's description of her, 
 
 35. 
 : her conduct on her mother's mar- 
 riage, 78. 
 
 her filial affection, 79. 
 
 her marriage to Admiral Lord 
 
 Keith, 110. 
 " Thraliana," Johnson's letter to Mrs. 
 
 Thrale respecting, quoted, 3. 
 
 its present possessor, 3. 162. 
 
 quoted, 46, 110, 115, 132, 139, 162, 
 
 178, 263, 420, 477. 
 Thornton, Mr. H., and Mrs. Thrale, 41. 
 Thurlow, Lord, anecdote of, 235. 
 Thynne, epitaph on, 275, note. 
 " Time, Death, and H. L. P.," 286. 
 " Tristram Shandy," plagiarisms in, 223. 
 Trotti, the Marquis, 197. 
 Truth, Johnson's regard for, 91. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 531 
 
 Tulip mania, 447. 
 Twiss. Mrs., 339. 
 
 Yansittart. Dr., and Dr. Johnson, story 
 
 of, 97. 
 Vega, Lope de, his sonnet quoted, 216. 
 
 imitated by Mr. Roderick. 217. 
 
 Venetian story of Mrs. Piozzi, 128. 
 Venetian women, 129. 
 Venice, crime in, in the last century, 
 127. 
 
 the Mendicant] of. 129. 
 
 Vesey, Mrs., one of the founders of the 
 
 Blue- Stocking Clubs, 14. 
 Vienna. Mrs. Piozzi's notes on, 130. 
 Vincent, Dr., Dean of Westminster, his 
 
 account of Baretti quoted, 56. 
 Yoiture's famous Rondeau, 216. 
 i; Vortigern," forged play of, 301, 303. 
 
 Wade, Mr., and the love letters, 219. 
 Wales, tour of Dr. Johnson and the 
 
 Thrales in, 49. 
 
 published bv Mr. Duppa, 49. 
 
 Walpole, Sir Robert, 431. 
 
 Walpole, Horace, his remarks on the 
 
 '• Florence Miscellany," 89. 
 his remarks on Bos well and Mrs. 
 
 Piozzi, 98. 
 his opinion of Mrs. Piozzi's Anec- 
 dotes of Dr. Johnson, 101. 
 his opinion of Dr. Johnson after 
 
 reading his Letters to Mrs.Thrale. 
 
 111. 
 his criticism on Mrs. Piozzi's 
 
 Travels, 119. 
 his letter to Mrs. Berry quoted. 
 
 121. 
 
 his " Love Story," 296. 
 
 Ward, the actor, 415, 433. 
 " Warnings, The Three," 248. 
 
 " Warnings, The Three," when pub- 
 lished, 31. 
 Warton, Dr., his opinion of Baretti, 56. 
 Waterloo Bridge, 313. 
 Watson. Bishop, his " Apolosrv for the 
 
 Bible," 300. 
 Weston, Sophia, 148, note. 
 Whallev, Dr. and Mrs.. 455. 
 Whitbread, S., M .P., 212. 
 Wilberforce. Mr.. 388. 
 Wilkes and Lord Guildford, story of, 
 
 372. 
 - — storv told bv. 94. 
 Williams', Mrs., 11, 12. 
 
 , Mrs. Anna, her " Miscellanies," 31. 
 
 , Miss Helen, and Mrs. Piozzi, 109, 
 
 395, 455. 
 Willoughby, Miss, 465, 468, 471. 
 Wilson, Miss, the singer, 471. 
 Wilton, Fanny. 211. 
 Wit, Barrow's description of, quoted, 
 
 155. 
 
 Mrs. Piozzi's, 155. 
 
 Women, Dr. Johnson in the society of, 
 
 14-16. 
 Dr. Johnson's remarks on female 
 
 dress and demeanor, 44, 45. 
 Wraxall, Sir X. W., his remarks on 
 
 Mrs. Thrale's colloquial powers 
 
 quoted, 14. 
 
 Mrs. Piozzi's notes on his " His- 
 torical Memoirs." 224. 
 
 Wroughton, Mrs. and Miss, 349, 354. 
 Wynn, Miss Williams, 82, note 
 
 extracts from her " Common- 
 
 place Book," 310. 
 
 Yonge. Sir William, 120. 
 Young, the actor, 410, 444. 
 
 Zanelii, Cardinal, and Pasquin, 241. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Cambridge : Printed by Welch, Bigelovv, and Company. 
 
r»<vr 5 - 1950 
 


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