make an admirable and curious contrast between ancient magnificence
and modern glare: Gothic and Grecian again, however. A man of taste
would rather possess Lord Pembroke's seat, or indeed a single room in
it; but one feels one should live happier at Beckford's.--My
daughters parted with me at last prettily enough _considering_ (as
the phrase is). We shall perhaps be still better friends apart than
together. Promises of correspondence and kindness were very sweetly
reciprocated, and the eldest wished for Piozzi's safe return very
obligingly.
"I fancy two days more will absolutely bring him to Bath. The present
moments are critical and dreadful, and would shake stronger nerves
than mine! Oh Lord, strengthen me to do Thy will I pray."
"_28th June_.--I am not _yet sure of_ seeing him again--not _sure_ he
lives, not _sure_ he loves me _yet_.... Should anything happen now!!
Oh, I will not trust myself with such a fancy: it will either kill me
or drive me distracted."
"_Bath, 2nd July_, 1784.--The happiest day of my whole life, I
think--Yes, quite the happiest: my Piozzi came home yesterday and
dined with me; but my spirits were too much agitated, my heart was
too much dilated. I was too _painfully_ happy _then_; my sensations
are more quiet to-day, and my felicity less tumultuous."
Written in the margin of the last entry--"We shall go to London about
the affairs, and there be married in the Romish Church."
"_25th July_, 1784.--I am returned from church the happy wife of my
lovely faithful Piozzi ... subject of my prayers, object of my
wishes, my sighs, my reverence, my esteem.--His nerves have been
horribly shaken, yet he lives, he loves me, and will be mine for
ever. He has sworn, in the face of God and the whole Christian
Church; Catholics, Protestants, all are witnesses."
In one of her memorandum books she has set down:
"We were married according to the Romish Church in one of our
excursions to London, by Mr. Smith, Padre Smit as they called him,
chaplain to the Spanish Ambassador.... Mr. Morgan tacked us together
at St. James's, Bath, 25th July, 1784, and on the first day I think
of September, certainly the first week, we took leave of England."
When her first engagement with Piozzi became known, 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. On the
announcement of the marriage, they recommenced the attack, and people
of our day can hardly form a notion of the storm of obloquy that
broke upon her, except from its traces, which have never been erased.
To this hour, we may see them in the confirmed prejudices of writers
like Mr. Croker and Lord Macaulay, who, agreeing in little else,
agree in denouncing "this miserable _més_alliance" with one who
figures in their pages sometimes as a music-master, sometimes as a
fiddler, never by any accident in his real character of a
professional singer and musician of established reputation, pleasing
manners, ample means, and unimpeachable integrity. The repugnance of
the 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[1]; and such is the light in
which they were undoubtedly regarded in 1784. Mario would have been
treated with the same indiscriminating illiberality as Piozzi.
[Footnote 1:
"Well may the nobles of our present race
Watch each distortion of a Naldi's face;
Well may they smile on Italy's buffoons,
And worship Catalani's pantaloons."
"Naldi and Catalani require little notice; for the visage of the one
and the salary 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.) A German author, non-noble, 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 degradation from
being his mistress, but would have forfeited both caste and
self-respect by becoming his wife.]
Did those who took the lead in censuring or repudiating Mrs. Piozzi,
ever attempt to enter into her feelings, or weigh her conduct with
reference to its tendency to promote her own happiness? Could they
have done so, had they tried? Rarely 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 impoverishing 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 experience would have led to
an opposite conclusion. Her love match was a singularly happy one;
and the consciousness that she had transgressed conventional
observances or prejudices, not moral rules, enabled her to outlive
and bear down calumny.[1]
[Footnote 1: 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 société a, quoi qu'on fasse, beaucoup d'empire sur le
bonheur; et ce qu'elle n'approuve pas, il ne faut jamais le faire.'
'On vivrait done toujours pour ce que la société dira de nous,'
reprit Oswald; 'et ce qu'on pense et, ce qu'on sent ne servirait
jamais de guide.' 'C'est très bien dit,' reprit le comte,
'très-philosophiquement pensé; mais avec ces maximes là, l'on se
perd; et quand l'amour est passé, le blâme de l'opinion reste. Moi
qui vous paraîs léger, je ne ferai jamais rien qui puisse m'attirer
la désapprobation du monde. On peut se permettre de petites libertés,
d'aimables plaisanteries, qui annoncent de l'indépendance dans la
manière d'agir; car, quand cela touche au sérieux.'--'Mais le
sérieux, repondit Lord Nelvil, 'c'est l'amour et le
bonheur.'"--_Corinne_, liv. ix. ch. 1.]
In reference to these passages, the Edinburgh reviewer remarks:
"Nothing can be more reasonable; and we should certainly live in a
more peaceful (if not more entertaining) world, if nobody in it
reproved another until he had so far identified himself with the
culprit as to be sure of the justice of the reproof; perhaps, also,
if a fiddler were rated higher in society than a duke without
accomplishments, and a carpenter far higher than either. But neither
reasoning nor gallantry will alter the case, nor prevail over the
world's prejudice against unequal marriages, any more than its
prejudices in favour of birth and fashion. It has never been quite
established to the satisfaction of the philosophic mind, why the rule
of society should be that 'as the husband, so the wife is,' and why a
lady who contracts a marriage below her station is looked on with far
severer eyes than a gentleman _qui s'encanaille_ to the same degree.
But these things are so,--as the next dame of rank and fortune, and
widow of an M.P., who, rashly relying on Mr. Hayward's assertion that
the world has grown wiser, espouses a foreign 'professional,' will
assuredly find to her cost, although she may escape the ungenerous
public attacks which poor Mrs. Piozzi earned by her connexion with
literary men."
In 1784 they hanged for crimes which we should think adequately
punished by a short imprisonment; as they hooted and libelled for
transgressions or errors which, whatever their treatment by a portion
of our society, would certainly not provoke the thunders of our
press. I think (though I made no assertion of the kind) that the
world has grown wiser; and the reviewer admits as much when he says
that his supposititious widow "may escape the ungenerous public
attacks which poor Mrs. Piozzi earned by her connexion with literary
men." But where do I recommend unequal marriages, or dispute the
claims of birth and fashion, or maintain that a fiddler should be
rated higher than a duke without accomplishments, and a carpenter
_far_ higher than either? All this is utterly beside the purpose; and
surely there is nothing reprehensible in the suggestion that, before
harshly reproving another, we should do our best to test the justice
of the reproof by trying to make the case our own. Goethe proposed to
extend the self-same rule to criticism. One of his favourite canons
was that a critic should always endeavour to place himself
temporarily in the author's point of view. If the reviewer had done
so, he might have avoided several material misapprehensions and
misstatements, which it is difficult to reconcile with the friendly
tone of the article or the known ability of the writer.
Envy at Piozzi's good fortune sharpened the animosity of assailants
like Baretti, and the loss of a pleasant house may have had a good
deal to do with the sorrowing indignation of her 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 encensée;
On ne plaint point la femme abattue,
Mais bien la table renversée."
Which may be freely rendered:
"Here lies one who adulation
By dinners more than virtues earn'd;
Whose friends mourned not her reputation--
But her table--overturned."
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 received last
night, my mind instantly dictated a high-spirited vindication of the
consistency, integrity, and faithfulness of the friendship thus
abruptly reproached and cast away. But a sleepless 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. Committing myself, therefore, to that
period, I 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
satisfaction 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. PIOZZI.'
"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."
If F.B. thought it wrong, she knew it to be inevitable, and in the
conviction that it was so, she and her father had connived at the
secret preparations for it in the preceding May.
A very distinguished friend, whose masterly works are the result of a
consummate study of the passions, after dwelling on the
"impertinence" of the hostility her marriage provoked, writes: "She
was evidently a very vain woman, but her vanity was sensitive, and
very much allied to that exactingness of heart which gives charm and
character to woman. I suspect it was this sensitiveness which made
her misunderstood by her children." The justness of this theory of
her conduct is demonstrated by the self-communings in "Thraliana;"
and she misunderstood them as much as they misunderstood her. By her
own showing she had little reason to complain of what they _did_ in
the matter of the marriage; it was what they said, or rather did not
say, that irritated her. She yearned for sympathy, which was sternly,
chillingly, almost insultingly withheld.
In 1800, she wrote thus to Dr. Gray: "What a good example have you
set them (his children)! going to visit dear mama at Twickenham--long
may they keep their parents, pretty creatures! and long may they have
sense to know and feel that no love is like parental affection,--the
only good perhaps which cannot be flung away."[1]
[Footnote 1: "We may have many friends in life, but we can only have
one mother: a discovery, says Gray, which I never made till it was
too late."--ROGERS.]
Madame D'Arblay states 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. But they might have
accompanied her to Italy as was once contemplated; and had they done
so, they would have seen everything and everybody in it under the
most favourable auspices. The course chosen for them by the eldest
was the most perilous of the two submitted for their choice. The
lady, Miss Nicholson, whom their mother had so carefully selected as
their companion, soon left them; or according to another version was
summarily dismissed by Miss Thrale (afterwards Viscountess Keith),
who fortunately was endowed with high principle, firmness, and
energy. She could not take up her abode with either of her guardians,
one a bachelor under forty, the other the prototype of Briggs, the
old miser in "Cæcilia." She could not accept Johnson's hospitality in
Bolt Court, still tenanted by the survivors of his menagerie; where,
a few months later, she sate 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_l._ 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, Fortification, and Perspective have been named to me by
one of trusted friends as specimens of her acquirements and her
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 prosperous 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 differences, and are seldom totally
suppressed by the utmost exertion of good feeling and good sense.
Johnson's idolised wife was, at the lowest estimate, twenty-one years
older than himself when he married her; and her sons were so
disgusted by the connection, that they dropped the acquaintance. Yet
it never crossed his mind that "Hetty" had as much right to please
herself as "Tetty." Of the six letters that passed between him and
Mrs. Piozzi on the subject of the marriage, 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 biographers 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 "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 Johnson's importunity, had stated that as done which was
only _settled to be done_."
The matter of fact is made plain by the circular (No. 2) which states
that "Piozzi is coming back from Italy." He arrived on July 1st,
after a fourteen months' absence, which proved both his loyalty and
the sincerity of the struggle in her own heart and mind. Her letter
(No. 1) as printed, is not signed with the initial of her name; 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. Salusbury 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 somewhat more; it
requires that I should beg your pardon for concealing from you a
connexion 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 power to prevent. I will say,
however, that the dread of your disapprobation has given me some
anxious moments, 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_.
"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 (25th) for their own house at
Brighthelmstone in company with an amiable friend, Miss Nicholson,
who has sometimes resided with us here, and in whose society they
may, I think, find some advantages and certainly no disgrace. I
waited on them to Salisbury, Wilton, &c., and offered 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 friendship and continued correspondence
that his return would be succeeded by our marriage.
"I have the honour to be, Sir, your obedient servant.
"Bath, June 30, 1784."
No. 3.[1]
[Footnote 1: What Johnson termed an "adumbration" of this letter
appeared in the "Gentleman's Magazine" for Dec. 1784:
"MADAM,--If you are already ignominiously married, you are lost
beyond all redemption;--if you are not, permit me one hour's
conversation, to convince you that such a marriage must not take
place. If, after a whole hour's reasoning, you should not be
convinced, you will still be at liberty to act as you think proper. I
have been extremely ill, and am still ill; but if you grant me the
audience I ask, I will instantly take a post-chaise and attend you at
Bath. Pray do not refuse this favour to a man who hath so many years
loved and honoured you."]
"MADAM,--If I interpret your letter right, you are ignominiously
married: if it is yet undone, let us _once_ more _talk_ together. 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, reverenced you, and _served
you_[1], 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 will come down, if you permit it."
[Footnote 1: The four words which I have printed in italics are
indistinctly written, and cannot be satisfactorily made out.]
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 correspondence which I can
bear to continue no longer. The birth of my second husband is not
meaner than that of my first; his sentiments 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 henceforth
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 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 injurious 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.