On November 17 Mrs. Pennington, who has herself been ill, writes in

great agitation about the Typhus, entreating Mrs. Piozzi, if she will

not return to Clifton, to fly to Torquay. The Randolphs report it to

be a terrestrial Paradise;--the scenery exquisitely beautiful, the air

pure, mild, and dry, the town clean and neat, the living cheap, (the

best possible meat 6_d._ per lb.,) and no lack of good society. Mrs.

Randolph considered that Mrs. Piozzi might keep a carriage and live

there _elegantly_ within £1000 per annum.

Of the caricatures she remarks that "they were no proofs of the

people not _loving_ George the 3rd as a good man, a good husband, and

good father, but merely the result of that spirit of _persiflage_ to

which the people of this country are said to be so much addicted.

The simultaneous expressions of joy which you and I witnessed in the

Streets and Theatres of the Metropolis on his recovery, could only

have been the effects of genuine love and affection. It is in the

failure of these virtues that the present K--g has lost the warm

hearts of so many worthy subjects."

PENZANCE, _Sunday, 12 Nov. 1820_.

I am very sorry, dear Mrs. Pennington, that I said anything

about this odious Fever; it will perhaps hurt the place, and in

no wise benefit me.... We are surely in the hands of the same

God at Penzance as at Torquay; and when _he_ calls, go we must.

I cannot leave my habitation, which I have taken for a term, and

must abide in till the term is over, nor will I go back without

having done what I came hither to do. My friends are but too,

_too_ solicitous. They have all heard of this nonsensical story,

and every day brings me letters full of pathetic, and I believe,

_sincere_ admonitions.... I wish you would all be more moderate

in your kindnesses. My establishment is not a little Cloke-bag

to put on my shoulder, and carry away from one place to

another.... Be _quiet_, dear Friend, so I say to Miss Williams

and Conway, who are half wild, God bless them!--and their loss

would be nothing to what they fancy it. Yet 'tis all I can do to

keep them from my door.

The world is all unhappy. This vexatious affair of the Queen

has been a _Tryal_ to everybody. I wish to know how the Bishops

of Salisbury, Bangor, and St. Asaph give their votes. Lord

Liverpool's observations are the best. If there was nothing

_wrong_ between the Lady and the Courier, what _was_ there?

Conversation was difficult, and talents there were none.

No letter has come from Brynbella this long time, but I know

from Miss Williams there is nothing wrong there; meaning as

to health and happiness. As to pelf I will be more prudent in

future; indeed the danger is over when the money is all gone....

Bessy and I are engaged far differently from trimming hats for

parties. Housework, and nursing, and crying, and clinging about

Dr. Forbes and Mr. Moyle, an intelligent Surgeon, is all we have

been doing a long time.... I do believe there is always Fever of

this sort in these low situations, and when we _do_ move, if it

be not to Dymerchion's burying ground, it shall be to the lofty

Crescent at Clifton. Torquay may do for some of those future

years dear Mrs. Pennington talks of....

If you like to tell Mrs Rudd I still hope to come early in

spring, do tell her so. Her son is a good child, and will ever

be an honour and a comfort to her and to your _really_ obliged

and troublesome

H. L. PIOZZI.

Her anxiety had not been all on account of Sophy the housemaid. Her

attendant Bessy was the mother of a small boy named Angelo, a great

pet of Mrs. Piozzi's, who accompanied them, and whom the Fever had

brought to death's door, but who was now beginning to mend. She

herself had only had a feverish cold.

The Bill of Pains and Penalties, reluctantly introduced by Lord

Liverpool, then Prime Minister, though it passed the third reading,

was abandoned by the Government on November 10, and the next letter

gives a lively picture of the demonstrations which ensued.

PENZANCE, _Nov. 15, 1820_.

I feel terribly afraid, dear Mrs. Pennington, that my state of

anxiety when I wrote last, betrayed my pen into some impatience

of expression; ... and the interest Dr. and Mrs. Randolph were

obliging enough to take in my concerns, deserved more thanks and

compliments than I had, at that moment, leisure to pay.... The

weather is changed, and the Fever quenched, ... and H. L. Piozzi

become less a nuisance to her active Friends....

This town may defy any place of its size, or twice its size, for

a burst of real feeling displayed in honour of the late event.

All the ships in the harbour have flags flying during day time,

lamps blazing thro' most of the long night. "Queen Caroline for

ever" round every head in ribbons, while Laurel, Myrtle, every

blooming shrub, decorates the houses that would not wish to be

pulled down. And no bustle you and I witnessed in 1788, could in

any degree equal the spread of influence shown on this occasion

by Britons in love with morality, from Scarborough to Penzance.

Popularity may be outlived indeed, as her uncle learned I trust,

when shot at twice in _one_ day, and nearly torne to pieces on

another; when Cecil Forester, passing by accident, called up the

Guards, and saved George the third's life, in his own Park, from

the fury of a Mob, joined in deliberate design to murder him.

I was in Wales, but could not doubt a fact so well attested.

The State Coach, in which he _had_ ridden that morning, was

demolished, and he nearly dragged from his own private carriage.

My wonder is he escaped so often, and died in his bed at last.

Our Horse's Mother, (Mr. Pennington remembers the story,)

sent to me to bid me not to be frighted into illuminating my

house. The Peuple Souverain say "Light your windows, or we will

break them." My answer is the same to both. "We will do as our

neighbours do."

16th. Wish'd morning's come. The windows unbroken. The gay

fellows from Newlyn and Mousehole, (who increased our mob,) all

gone home to bed, after drinking "The Queen and Count Bergami

for ever," till they could scarcely reel to their wretched

habitations. But St. Michael's Mount was the beautiful sight to

see. Lamps in a pyramidal form to the top, where Tar Barrels

were placed, and gave a glowing light to the whole scene,

resembling the Bay of Naples.

Well! the wife of George the second was just dead when my poor

eyes and ears opened on talk and show. She was a writing and

reading woman, who respected _herself_, and half ador'd her

husband. She died detested of the people, and derided by the

wits. Our next was Charlotte of Mecklenburg. "Poor ugly Pug!"

cried the populace, who crowded about _her_ Chair, as she went

to the Theatres on her first arrival. Poor Pug indeed! when the

mob met her suddenly a few years after, at St. James's Gate,

with a bier and mourning apparatus; "Young Allen's body" written

on it. "Young Allen, murder'd by your husband's soldiers." The

Queen fainted, miscarried, and lived thirty years, when she

died. The people swung a Cat about the Palace, and sung "Old

Tabby's departed." _This_ Lady is a _favourite_; but sure the

others were not hated on account of their immorality. I never

heard a fault but avarice laid to _their_ charge, and _that_ has

been disproved....

Oh! these are pretty times in which to be caring for a

_lengthen'd stay_: but I have not _that_ folly to answer for.

May you, dearest Mrs. Pennington, be _as_ willing to lay down

the burden of life, when the Angel of release comes to cut the

last thread it hangs by, as is your truly sincere and faithful

H. L. P.

November 16, 1820, is the last date in her Commonplace Book which she

notes was begun at Brynbella 1809, thrown aside for some years, begun

again at Streatham 1814, and continued at Bath 1815.

In 1794, a year of great scarcity, as the King went to open Parliament

on October 29, his carriage was surrounded by a mob crying "Bread,"

and "Down with George!" and stones were thrown through the window. A

somewhat similar attack was made on the Queen's carriage in 1796, when

she herself was hit by a stone.

In a letter dated November 17, Mrs. Pennington replies. "In an early

stage of our acquaintance, speaking of you to Mr. Greatheed, I

recollect his exclaiming, 'Oh! if you like her so much _now_, what

will you do when you see her _miserable_? She is so _comical_ then,

that she is quite _too_ charming.' And _comical_ you are, sure enough,

my dearest Mrs. Piozzi! You scare one with ugly words, and then are

half-angry that one is frightened. At above 200 miles distance, was it

possible to hear of 'Fever and Typhus' in the town, and even in _your

house_, and not be alarmed?" ...

"_All_ the Bishops voted for the Bill, (with the exception of the

Archbishop of York and the Bishop of Tuam,) tho' they divided on the

divorce clause.... And all (with the above exceptions,) declared their

perfect conviction that her Majesty was guilty, to the full extent of

the charges." ...

"You remember, I daresay, Mr. Dennam's concluding sentence, in his

address to the Lords, conjuring them to imitate the beneficent spirit

of the Saviour, and to say to her, 'Go, and sin no more.' A blunder

certainly, if he had taken the proper inference into account, worthy

of _Paddy_ himself, from a man advocating her _innocence_. The

following lines are, I think, neat enough on the subject.

Go, Caroline, we thee implore,

And sin, (if it be possible,) no more.

But if that effort be too great,

For God's sake, go--at any rate."

PENZANCE, _Fryday 24 Nov. 1820_.

* * * * *

The oldest friend I have in N. Wales, poor dear Mr. Lloyd of

Pontriffeth, is dying; and my earliest playfellow and cousin,

Tom Cotton, is dead. We never met, of course, since my second

marriage, and he was saucy. But I am sorry, for he will be saucy

no more. So if _my_ death prevents me from returning to No. 36,

you must not wonder, tho' I will not say you must not cry....

Conway writes the kindest of letters: but Newton is tardy in his

payments, and I am as low-spirited as a cat.

It would however have made me laugh to see Miss Hudson

illuminating her windows, and it does _not_ make me weep to

observe that the Brynbella people never write. Tom Cotton's

death is a bad thing for Salusbury, _his_ life is in all our

leases. Mr. Thrale had a proper notion of that man's longævity.

He lived 77 years. Lady Keith and I are the other two. Dearest

Piozzi enjoyed the estate and improved it, and never had a life

to renew,--never cost him a penny. Those who do right get a

little reward for it, even _here_; and now that my heart feels

itself on the brink of eternity, how daily and nightly do I

thank God and my parents that in my gayest hours I never did

forget it....

Lieutenant Parry's voyage might supply much food for thought

and chat. He has surrounded the Pole, and found the seas more

open than was expected. I do not understand that we are brought

nearer to America, but we are near enough to _them_ for the love

they bear us. 'Tis pity he lost sight of the red snow, and the

savages who took our ships for animated creatures, fancying,

like the Mexicans in Dryden's "Indian Emperor," that

They turned their sides, and to each other spoke,

We saw their words break forth in fire and smoke, etc.

It was so pretty to see his fine ideas realised.

Miss Willoughby and your most humble servant have been at a

Penzance Ball, the first, (as we were told,) illuminated by Wax

Candles; and the Ladies led our admiration to the lustres. They

had better have led it to their own beauty, for we _had_ seen

lighter rooms _often_, _seldom_ such pretty women; and all like

one another....

I will live, if I can, but every day counts now, aye, and every

pulse too, and 'twere a folly not to feel it. Were a soldier to

sleep sound in a besieged town, Mr. Pennington would count him

lethargic. But he that sleeps during the _attack_, can only be

compared to that man or woman who does not prepare for death at

81 years old, but just tries to keep him _out of sight_....

It is not because I think _better_ of Mortal Man than you do,

dear friend; worse probably of men and morals, having seen

_more_. But then I am contented with _less_, and ever thankful

when things and people are no worse, surrounded with temptations

as the poor creatures are, and filled with _snares_, _holes_,

_gins_, _rotten planks_, etc., as we all find the bridge

that carries us from this world to the other. Fools flapping

their umbrellas in our faces all the way, hiding the _light_

from us at every step, and triumphing in slips made by their

neighbours, whilst tottering along themselves, scarce able to

stand or go. Do not be sorry that I have arrived at more than

three-quarters over, but pity those that have many arches to

pass, with broken battlements on either side, enough to giddy

their brains. Salusbury's path seems clearest of difficulties,

but he is in danger of drowsiness; Conway's walk is above all

men's dangerous. And neither of them, poor dears! have, in their

early stages, experienced the advantage of an _authorised_ hand

to lead or guide them. Yet you will see them both--good fellows

in their way--whether they love _me_ enough or not, I'm _sure_

you will. Conway _certainly_, I believe _both_, do think better

than she deserves of theirs and your

H. L. P.

... I am sitting without a fire, it is so warm and damp, and

soft an atmosphere, we are all relaxed to rags. No sunshine.

Thomas Cotton was the fourth of the six sons of Mrs. Piozzi's maternal

uncle, Sir Lynch Salusbury Cotton, Bart., and almost the only one of

that large family to whom she ever alludes.

Lieutenant Parry had commanded the Brig _Alexander_ in the expedition

of Captain Ross to the Polar regions in 1818. In 1819 he sailed in

command of the _Hecla_ to discover the N.W. passage, and reached

Melville Island. He returned in the autumn of this year, landing at

Peterhead on October 30, and posted to town. His despatches reached

the Admiralty on November 4, and he was shortly afterwards promoted to

the rank of Commander.

The latter part of the letter is of course based on Steele's "Vision

of Mirza," published in the _Spectator_, No. 159.

PENZANCE, _Thursday, 30 Nov. 1820_.

... This morning, all agree, is to exhibit a new procession

through the streets of the Metropolis, which, with its

consequences, may justly fill thinking people with alarm. How

much benefit can result from invective meanwhile, I see not.

Insult is harder to forgive than injury, and for the best

reason, it does the insulter _no good_. A man may fill his purse

by robbing me, while he who flings dirt sometimes forgets that

there's a pebble lodg'd within, which cuts so sharp as to excite

lasting hatred; and all for what? Reformation never yet was

effected by scurrility. And if the Fourth Estate of the Nation,

as some Member of Parliament called the newspapers, were less

violent on both sides, it would be better. Irritating an already

much offended and dangerous _enemy_ is, surely, not prudent.

Better get rid of such a one without submission, but without

harsh language.

If _then_ we fail, the world will only find

Rage has no bounds in slighted womankind.

DRYDEN.

When the Orientals go out Tyger hunting, they try to _finish_,

not to _wound_ the creature. But I am wearied with conjecture,

and must wait the result as I can....

No new book has reached us but the _Abbot_, an odd novel enough,

but to me a dull one. The Edgeworths have always _humour_, and

often some good information.

Jeffrey Crayon's _Sketch Book_ is pretty enough. How oddly

the things come round! There was just such an out-of-the-way

writer entertained the Town about 66 or 67 years ago. He

called his book _Sketches_, and assumed the name himself of

Lancelot Temple. But 'tis strange how names are left behind,

when the books are forgotten that first used them. John Bull

is in every mouth, and every Pamphlet, yet people do not seem

to know who first called Old England by that very appropriate

appellation. Mr. Pennington, I dare say, well recollects that

it was Dean Swift: when, to reconcile the Nation to Harley's

Peace of Utrecht, and the loss of their Bonfires for Marlboro's

victories, he and Arbuthnot planned a little work called _Law

is a bottomless Pit_; in which he represents Great Britain as

engaged in a litigious quarrel with Lewis Baboon, by which name

he designates Louis Quatorze, and shows how we were cheated

by our Allies, Nic: Frog for Holland, my Lord Strut, for the

Emperor of Germany, and so on. Of all this rubbish, composed of

wit and malice and mummery, little now sticks in any but such

memories as mine; remembering _old_ stuff better than new....

The invention of the phrase "Fourth Estate" is attributed to Burke,

who, referring to the Reporters' Gallery, said, "Yonder sits the

Fourth Estate, more powerful than them all."

Mrs. Piozzi was not much interested by Scott's earlier productions.

Mangin notes that she thought _Rob Roy_ a dull book; but adds that "no

one could be more ready than she to applaud the unknown author as a

man of Genius." Her admiration was excited mainly by his poetry, on

which the Commonplace Book contains some verses which end as follows:

So may posterity bestow the praises which to thee we owe,

And never be the Lay forgot of our Last Minstrel, Walter Scott.

Geoffrey Crayon was the pseudonym used by Washington Irving, when he

published his _Sketch Book_ in 1820. Lancelot Temple was the _nom

de plume_ of John Armstrong, whose _Sketches or Essays on Various

Subjects_ appeared in 1758. Wilkes is said to have assisted in their

production.

The procession to St. Paul's on November 30 to celebrate the Queen's

acquittal, passed off without any serious disturbance. No escort

of troops was permitted, but she was received as usual by the city

authorities, who accompanied her to the cathedral.

[_Dec. 14, 1820._]

My dear Mrs. Pennington says her letters are mere commentaries

upon mine. What text shall I find _next_ to excite her eloquent

flattery? Lord Kirkwall's death is what most readily presents

itself to a woman just twice his age, who little dreamed of

living to lament him. Poor dear K! My heart is very heavy at

the thought. And when recollection, or retrospection places him

before my mind's eye, it is with a pint of curious Constantia

wine under his coat, or shooting dress, to please dear Piozzi

in his last illness. So kind! Well! sure the people will have

done dying some day! Never was sight so wearied as my own is by

reading Newspaper lists.

Mrs. Mostyn writes chearfully. Living abroad loosens all old

attachments, and gives no opportunity of forming new ones. 'Tis

the true mode of keeping the mind free; but then I mean roving

from place to place, not being shut in an angle of the world,

of which, as a Turk once said, the only merit is that Suspicion

herself could not throw any light into _corners_.

Tell me sometimes about the weather--in the world. Here it is

mild, soft, and just now silent; stormy enough at times, but

never clear. 'Tis the anger of a puzzle-headed fellow, which

elicits no spark of brilliant fire; and the inhabitants of

Penzance speak of lightning as a most unusual phenomenon.

I have the comfort to hear my fair daughters praised, even in

_this_ odd place. They patronized some poor families, when

such philanthropy was less common than now, and are remember'd

with grateful tenderness. Such recollections are among the

Hot-house plants which bloom in the open air of Penzance. Rough

winds _break_, and heavy snows _chill_ the remembrance of what

is merely ornamental, producing, like Oak and Ash, no lasting

utility....

I can really bear a good fire with difficulty, but the smoke

is scarcely lessen'd by endurance of the cold. The houses here

are so constructed that, except in one particular wind, we live

smother'd. Coals are however not cheaper than elsewhere; meat

and fish bear no price, but we pay for every drop of water--salt

or fresh--because it must be _carried_. The place is replete

with objects of curiosity nevertheless, and Lady Keith gained

immortal fame here, by descending 35 ladders, of 35 steps each,

into a tin mine. Not the most extraordinary of all the tin

mines, for there is one under the sea: a submarine residence of

many wretched mortals, who seldom see light, (save such as their

patron Sir Humphry Davy supplies them with,) but often hear old

Ocean roaring over their heads. A wonderful situation surely!

and clear of _worldly_ contamination. They are innocent of all

that we are saying and doing.

Meanwhile I am glad you have been amused by Matthews. Even I,

who naturally hate buffoonery, was much diverted by his story

of the Yellow Soap, which dear Sir George Gibbes never wearied

himself with repeating. My heart tells me that Matthews has a

brother, who wrote a Pamphlet called the _Nutcracker_, meant

as a sort of mathematical puzzle; that he planned the new fine

Bedlam Hospital, just off Westminster Bridge, and requested

a particular apartment for _himself_, conscious of his own

infirmity; that he actually resides there, much respected

and visited by the great Mechanics, who do nothing without

consulting him. The Comic Actor calls him cousin, but the

relationship is nearer....

Sir Humphry Davy, who was born at Penzance, invented his safety lamp

in 1815, and was created a Baronet in 1818. He had just been elected

President of the Royal Society.

[Illustration: MASTER OF THE CEREMONIES, BALL

_LATE KINGSTON-ROOMS._

_Tuesday 6th February 1821._

THE BURNING OF THE KINGSTON ROOMS

_From a ball ticket, 1821, in the Collection of A. M. Broadley, Esq._]

[Illustration:

MRS. PIOZZI, _requests the honor of Mr. and Mrs. Penningtons

company to a Concert, Ball, and Supper, at 9 o'Clock, on Thursday

Evening, 27th January next, at the Lower Rooms_.

_Being her 80th Birth-Day._

TICKET FOR MRS. PIOZZI'S FÊTE]

Charles Matthews the actor was now giving his "At Homes." The Sketch

Mrs. Pennington saw was probably that entitled _Country Cousins_,

produced in 1820.

John, Viscount Kirkwall, born 1778, was the only son of the Countess

of Orkney, who was still living.

On December 23 Mrs. Pennington writes: "As you say, the Abbot is

indeed a very dull book. I begin to question whether a _well-known_

point in History _can_ be a good foundation for a Novel. There can

be little interest where the event is more than anticipated, and if

extraneous characters and circumstances are too freely introduced, we

quarrel with them, as interfering with the truth.

"There is some pretty writing in the first volume of the _Sketches_,

but the second falls off lamentably, and is downright stuff....

"You will be shocked on seeing, in the Bath papers, the entire

destruction of the Kingston Rooms by fire!!! No one seems to know

by what means. Those very rooms in which, near to the same time

last year, you made above six hundred people so happy! Everybody, I

believe, but me and Conway, who you certainly desired should have been

most so: but he was wretched, and infected me with his misery, so

perversely does everything go in this world."

PENZANCE, _27 Dec. 1820_.

* * * * *

Well! at 82 years old, and my 81st Birthday is hard at hand,

one is easily convinced of money's importance to felicity. No

suicide, or comparatively none, is committed but for _lack of

pelf_. Yet money, if people are _stuffed_ with it, like a Fillet

of Veal, does not keep them alive. Do you remember a comely Mrs.

Taylor, who had married an old man, and possessed herself of his

riches to an _immense_ amount? She sent dear Conway £5 for a

Benefit Ticket, tho' being just left a widow she could not go to

the Play. _She is dead_: a woman about 40 years old, I suppose,

apparently strong and healthy.

This is _stranger_, though not so dreadful, as the fire, of

which your kind letter gave me the first account. I suppose it

was occasion'd by some of these new devices to snuff candles

by conjuration, or fill your teapots by steam. They cook their

dinners by stratagem, and assassinate those whose talents

lighten the cares of life, best illuminated by _genius_, like

that of unfortunate Naldi, charming creature as he was!!--and

to die _such_ a death! My heart bleeds for his handsome wife

and pretty daughter,--highly accomplished _both_; and left to

_starve_ on the remembrance of his unrivalled powers.

Cruel reflexion! But all reflexion is cruel, and so we run to

get rid of it. My own conscience however congratulates _me_

that I had discharged Upham's long Bill; so if he had suffer'd

it would not have been by _my_ fault or folly. I have not lived

on fish in a foggy atmosphere and smoky house for nothing, when

comforts like those come smiling to my heart....

Miss Willoughby is in the highest favour here. She plays Country

Dances, Waltzes, etc. for the boys and girls to dance, after

winning their money--or that of their parents--at sixpenny

whist; and she makes riddles and charades to amuse us all, and

is very entertaining.

Adieu! Here is no room to tell of a shipwreck and a _Parrot_,

with two other _two_-legged creatures, saved out of thirty

eight, coming from Surinam. Wretched Sailors! now begging their

way to London, with only what they sold the bird for in their

pockets....

Guiseppe Naldi, who had distinguished himself in Italy and London as

an Actor, Singer, and Musician, had lately met his death in Paris, by

the explosion of a newly invented Cooking Kettle, which he had been

invited to inspect at the house of a friend.

* * * * *

On January 8, 1821, Mrs. Pennington writes to report an unexpected

visit from Conway, on his way to take up another engagement at Bath,

in spite of the ill-treatment he considered he had received from the

Management of the Theatre before he left. But he had not fared much

better, pecuniarily, at Birmingham, where he had been a leading Actor

and Stage Manager for four months, but was only given £106 as his

share of his own Benefit. "Detestable Mechanics! I hope he will waste

no more such powers on them." This short interview, however, served to

re-instate him in Mrs. Pennington's favour, and she writes of him with

all her old enthusiasm. "Anything so noble! so manly! so graceful! so

_handsome_ as his figure at this time I really never saw."

PENZANCE, CORNWALL _Saturday, 13 Jan. 1821_.

* * * * *

'Tis a cordial to hear about Conway. My heart entertains no

fears for his reception among old acquaintance, and I can't cry

because his Benefit brought only £106. The people in London

get very little. Mrs. Hoare says she saw excellent acting to

completely empty benches: I forget at which Theatre. Indeed my

mind has been so taken up by a new attack upon my property, that

I have thought on nothing else. A Mr. Kenrick, of whose name or

situation in life I am totally ignorant, writes to ask me very

_peremptorily_ what I did with the stock of some Mr. Giffard,

who died he tells me, before Mr. Thrale did!! Lord! what should

I do with the man's money? His name is new to me now, but he

says it stands joined with that of my first husband, to whom I

am executrix. No sum is specified, but 'tis probably a large

one; and I am a bad Lawyer, and easily alarmed. I was _so_ bad

a self-carer, that when the death of my four Coadjutors left me

alone to manage the Trust Money as I pleased, I begged of my

Lord and Lady Keith to name those that should be substituted in

their places; and I _think_, but have forgotten, whether Mr.

Hoare, Sophia's husband, is one. Surely _they_ should bear me

out harmless, but God knows whether they will or no; and _you_

know I have parted with my patrimony and my savings to Sir John

Salusbury, who always complains for want of money, and I daresay

justly enough. Mr. Thrale's estate is doubtless chargeable

with any mistakes of this sort; but I should hope the Widow's

jointure is guarded from such attacks. Nevertheless my spirits

are flutter'd and affected, and I am as hoarse with nervousness

as if I had caught twenty colds....

Miss Willoughby dined with me yesterday. She says Coriolanus

is an unfavourable character for Actors to appear in just now,

when insulting language to our Peuple Souverain will perhaps

be treated as it was in Rome. I shall be happier when I see

the Newspaper, and learn how our Friend has been received; but

do not fright Mrs. Rudd about it, perhaps she may get good

intelligence before the common Prints of the Day come out.

If the Play should be disapproved, every kind, good-natured

acquaintance will inform her....

How is poor dear Mr. Pennington? Better, I'm sure, and always

kind to _me_. I used the word Joynture improperly; tell him so:

£800 pr. ann. was appointed me by Marriage Settlement, in return

for Ten Thousand Pounds I brought with me to Southwark. The rest

was hard worked for, and left me by Will, in consideration of

my Welsh estate, enjoyed by Mr. Thrale for 9 years, and offer'd

him _for ever_ had he wanted it. _That_ money may be liable for

ought I know, but I hope not....

_Thursday, 1 Feb. 1821._

I like the Tailpiece best, dear Mrs. Pennington, and feel deeper

interest in Macready's Acting than in Lord Castlereagh's. For as

Dr. Randolph said to our sweet Siddons once, coming out of Laura

Chapel, "_All are Actors_": and I am most contented to hear the

Oppositionists are likely to be hissed.

But I want you to tell me a _truth_ before we leave Penzance,

a truth of a very different _taste_. Will it be worth our

while (says Bessy,) to send half a doz: hams by the "Happy

Return," for which we _must_ give seven pence halfpenny a Pound

_here_?... The _Fish_ would be worth carrying to begin Lent

with at the Pope's Court; but fish won't carry. Our oysters

are better than those Vitellius sent to Sandwich for; and such

Cod, Mullet, and Flat fish of all denominations no tongue can

enumerate. Our Crocuses, Primroses, and Honeysuckle leaves, all

bursting now every day, are lovely likewise;--but what wretched

pens to describe them with!

You are a comical Lady in your fears lest Miss Willoughby should

make me a Radical. Salusbury seems, by his letters, to have

fears lest she should be hovering over my _death-bed_, to his

disadvantage. I hope to hold fast both life and loyalty one

little while longer, and cannot believe she will help hurry

_either_ of them away. Poor Miss Willoughby! were it not for

_her_ I should not have known Milton from Shakespear by this

time: for to no other creature here are those names familiar.

God forgive me! but talking on the subject reminds me of the

days when H. L. P. was young, perhaps agreeable, and supposed

to have interest among the grave and gay. When I was solicited

on behalf of a decayed Gentlewoman, such as H. L. P. may one

day become, for aught I know, whose friends wish'd to get her

into a _then_ famous refuge for distressed females, Lady Dacre's

Workhouse, or rather Almshouse, I tried, and succeeded; but

beginning to harangue my Protégée upon the neatness of her

new establishment, the decent society she would be introduced

to, etc., "Ah! Madam," said she, "but will there be any one

there who ever frequented the Opera? For I love musick so, I

can _talk_ of nothing but Mingotti." Such a companion in my

retirement has been to me Miss Willoughby.

I think the attack upon my property, made with _no gentle

strokes_, will at length be parried, so as to fall on _none_ of

us. The dividends remained unclaimed for 25 years, and were

often advertised before Mr. Thrale's daughters ever enquired

about them. Mrs. Hoare, your namesake, kind Sophia, has written

to me very good-naturedly; says it is impossible I should have

to _refund_ money I never _received_; that my name alone was

lent for them to receive it; and that my letter to the Claimant

was the comicallest thing in the world. But my Correspondent saw

_no joke_ in it, and sent it for their perusal to Mr. Merrik

Hoare.

Well! sure if I do write funny letters from Penzance, I must

borrow the salt from the Sea Tang that they manure their

Strawberry Beds with, in this place. Apropos, how do those

agreeable Brownes do, that I met once in Dowry Square? I loved

Maria for her non-affectation about reading before Conway or

Piozzi. She took her book up and began _so_ prettily, and _so_

sensibly, where another Miss would have mimp'd. I _valued_ her.

No Bath news but what the Papers tell. London is in expectation

of a _new_ Miss O'Neill of consummate beauty, to draw the

world off from The Wilson; whose style of singing--Sophy Hoare

says--is like that of Billington. Dear Siddons holds her own

I hear. Welcome intelligence! when every day takes some old

acquaintance off the Stage of Life, leaving sad, and solitary,

and desolate your poor

H. L. P.

Mary Anne Lane made a brilliant début at Drury Lane in 1821, as

Mandane in _Artaxerxes_, but going to Italy for further study, she

overtaxed her voice, which never entirely recovered its tone. Regina

Mingotti, _née_ Valentini, sang with great success in Italy, Germany,

France, Spain, and England. She came to London in 1755.

PENZANCE, _February 10, 1821_.

Thanks, dearest Mrs. Pennington, for your kind letter, speaking

the words of truth and soberness. We will send Hams and

Bacon by the Happy Return, most certainly. The Butter here is

_poyson_, whether in pot or pan.

All you can say of poor dear Miss Willoughby is true to a

tittle. Sir John is very ill-natured in detesting everybody who

contributes to my comfort, and I hope not _quite correct_ in

supposing that neither you, nor she, nor Conway would endure my

company an hour but for interest. Sophia Hoare's civilities will

make him very angry indeed when he hears me say I _delight_ in

them: but he deserves such sort of vexation.

So you see Horace Twiss is the man at last, who, when Public

Virtue finds herself sick and squeamish, holds the successful

smelling bottle to her nose. And are they not all Actors on

both sides? Surely they are. That Titmouse began his literary

career by criticising and ridiculing H. L. P. in Magazines,

Reviews, etc.; and afterwards begged my pardon at a party Mrs.

Siddons gave one night at Westbourne. We shook hands and drank

each other's health, and I wished him the success his audacity

deserved.

This world is made for the bold, daring man,

Who strikes at all, and catches what he can.

Virtue is nice to take what's not her own,

And while she long debates, the glittering prize is gone.

So sung Johnny Dryden, whose _family_ had every claim to match

even with a Howard. Addison was Secretary of State, and if his

wife was insolent, he _needed_ not to have cared. Would Mr.

Canning care? But times have changed.

But there is a passage in the Bath Paper that interests, and

ought to interest me much more than Marriages or Merriment. A

woman dying in the act of supplication to Almighty God; past

80 years old, found dead at her prayers! I used to say that no

death ever pleased me, but here is one at last with which my

heart would be content indeed. Why did she not take me with her?

If however the next month carries me to Clifton, and treats

me with a sight of _true friends_, I shall think leaving me

behind was merciful, and feel replete with gratitude. Conway has

written to me very kindly....

If I should live to see a Jeweller's Shop once again, I would

evince my gratitude to Sophy Hoare. What _she_ wants is out of

my power,--children to enjoy hers and her husband's fortune.

Salusbury has got a new Baby--William Edward--I like the name,

but have made no offer of Gossiping. Dear Mrs. Pennington is

_too_ sharp a discoverer in the Terra Incognita of human hearts.

Mahomet says there is a black Bean in that of every one; and

that the Angel of Death _plucks_ it in our last agonies. I am

trying to _loosen_ mine before the dreadful day arrives, that it

may hurt me less at final parting. Poor dear old Cookey! whom

I have so much reason to love! Cannot Doctors Dixon or Carrick

_warm her up again_? It is not wholly for _interest_ however

that I wish her well. She is going _my road_, and my heart hopes

she will feel it not very rough....

PENZANCE, _Sunday 25 Feb. 1821_.

My last letter to dear Mrs. Pennington should be a pretty

one, but it will only be dull; replete with Kitchen-griefs,

and thanks to Heaven that they are my worst afflictions. Mr.

Kenrick's insults have brought me civil letters from Lord and

Lady Keith, kind ones from Mr. and Mrs. Hoare, and all will

end--in nothing, as they hope, and as I firmly believe. Pray do

not suffer your good husband, (so much younger than myself,) to

grow old. He and I mean to keep on this many a day, and we will

not _shew teeth_ when _biting_ is over with us.

Now for the Kitchen-griefs. James has behaved monstrously

ill, "beaten the Maids a row,"[37] like the fierce fellow in

Shakespear, and forced reproofs even from _my acquaintance_ by

his _out-door_ conduct. This has been going on a long while,

but I forbore to speak to you about it, till it suited me to

say--do, dear Mrs. Pennington, get me a Footman. Not a fellow

to wear _his own clothes_; I must have a _Livery_ Servant, who

will walk before the Chair, and ride behind the Coach, and be an

old-fashioned, tho' not ill-looking servant. My little Plate, so

small in quantity, is easily clean'd, but _clean_ it must be.

For I will not live in a state of disgust when I have a decent

mansion over my head, and James was too dirty and slovenly, even

for a wretched smoky closet like that I inhabit at Penzance: he

is a sad fellow....

[37] _Comedy of Errors_, V. i. 170.

& now

Let me tell you the sights that we have _seen_. I always like

them better than the tales that we have _heard_; and to-day the

tales are truly melancholy. Lord Combermere has lost his only

child, a son; so his honours and titles are gone, and the estate

will fall, I suppose, to Willoughby Cotton, son of the Admiral,

my Uncle's _second_ boy. He had nine. _This_ young fellow was a

Colonel in what Regiment I know not, and married Lady Augusta

Coventry, who brings Babies every year:--but these are _not_ the

sights I meant to tell you of.

On last Wednesday then, a memorable day, Mr. George Daubuz John

undertook to show us the Land's End, and we did stand upon the

last English stone, jutting out from the Cliffs, 300 feet high,

into the Atlantick Ocean, which lay in wild expanse before us,

tempting our eyes towards the land Columbus first explor'd,

Hispaniola. Dinner at a mean house, affording only Eggs and

Bacon, gave us spirits to go, not forward, for we could go no

further, but sideways to a tin and copper mine under the sea.

Aye! 112 fathom from the strange spot of earth we stood on,

in a direct line downwards, where no fewer than three score

human beings toil for my Lord Falmouth in a submarine dungeon,

listening at leisure moments, if they _have_ any, to the

still more justly to be pitied Mariner, who is so liable to

be wrecked among those horrid rocks, proverbial over all the

kingdom,--Cornish rocks! ruinous to approach, as difficult

to avoid. The men go up and down in buckets, with two lighted

candles each, into a close path, long and intricate. And should

their lights go out before their arrival in the open space where

their companions work, there they must remain till the hour of

relieving one wretched set by another comes to set them free.

Billows meanwhile roaring over their heads, upon a stormy day

most dreadful, threatening to burst the not very thick partition

of solidity that divides them from the light of heaven, bestowed

on all but Miners. This place is called Botalloch, whence we

drove home our half-broken carriage but not even half-broken

bones; having refreshed at the house on which is written "First

Inn in England," on one side the Board, and "Last Inn in

England" on the other. By "us" and "we" I mean Miss Willoughby

and H. L. P., but we took our two Maids, Bell and Hickford, on

the Dicky, and James rode. Four horses were not too many for

such an exploit, tho' one of them was a Waterloo warrior....

We will go to Conway's Benefit certainly, if I get home time

enough: Miss Willoughby will wish herself of the party most

truly. But for _her_ I should have pass'd many a dreary hour....

With regard to Lord Combermere's son, Mrs. Piozzi's information was

evidently mistaken. Field-Marshal Sir Stapleton Cotton, Bart., G.C.B.,

Commander-in-Chief in India, grandson of her uncle, Sir Lynch Cotton,

Bart., was created Viscount Combermere in 1814. He married thrice,

and by his second wife had two daughters and a son, Wellington Henry,

born 1818. The latter did not die in 1821, but succeeded to the title,

and was grandfather of the present Viscount. His cousin, General Sir

Willoughby Cotton, G.C.B., was Colonel of the 32nd Regiment of Foot.

_Sunday, 4 March 1821._

I swear I think my dear Mrs. Pennington is one of the very best

subjects the King has in his dominions, which contain very

strange and contradictory people and things. Battling now about

the tenets of Romanism, when Rome is itself in danger of almost

immediate destruction from those who know no other tenets but

hers. Well! you know I was always mounting a Turnep Cart to

predict the end of the world, (not, I hope, forgetting my own

all the time). It will vex me, in the last stage of life, to

see the death and downfall of the Bourbons, but so it _must_

be, without doubt, if they can live till I get safe to Clifton.

Dubious enough, poor Souls! for the plot thickens apace, and

Sovereigns have hourly more reason to fear the loss of all

that's dear to them. Authority melted from their grasp long ago,

and influence is sliding down the hill, of course.

Mr. Pennington must try keep up his spirits. So must we all, but

mine often prove _false_ ones, as when I took Geneva for Brandy;

but the people here are _such_ knaves!...

The day of our arrival how can I _certify_? My hope is to see

you sometime on Tuesday 13; but Lord! I was so ill on Fryday

night I hardly felt anything _like_ certainty of ever seeing

myself out of Penzance _alive_. Never mind that tho'; and say

nothing about it; for the people make such an _ado_ I dare not

confess that anything ails _me_, like other old women. It is

really troublesome to excess.

We have got Kenilworth among us, everybody admiring and even

extolling it. _Your_ strange book has a rival, Mr. Pascoe says,

in Anastatius, but I have seen neither. Clifton will be nearer

both to books and men. Dr. Randolph must be careful of his

highly valued life. No one respects his abilities, or would

regret the loss of them more sincerely than H. L. Piozzi, whose

comfort it is, that she is likely soon to escape the truly

uneasy sensation of outliving friends and enemies, and standing

alone upon the Stage of Life, till hiss'd off for being able

to furnish no further amusement. After having been at home on

the Boards, like Matthews the Buffoon, so many silly years.

Bear me however witness, that [I am] all but weary, and only

kept from confessing myself so because I think it wrong. What

however must this world be that even a _Frenchman_ should leap

into Vesuvius to get rid on't; and he did _not_ get rid on't as

he expected; the very Mountain vomited him back, and reproached

his unrepented suicide.... Everybody seems to approve my sitting

down at Clifton, as neither in the blaze of Society nor the

obscurity of Solitude. We will make out the close of the Game as

chearfully as we can; and if you ask me to dinner on Wednesday

the 14th, a refusal need not be apprehended from your poor

H. L. P.

The allusion to the danger of Rome appears to relate to the

insurrection in Piedmont, where the King was driven to abdicate on

March 13. Later on other revolts broke out in Naples and Palermo.

In France plots were being hatched against the life of the Duc de

Bordeaux (afterwards Comte de Chambord), posthumous son of the Duc de

Berry, and grandson of Charles X.

The _Memoirs of Anastatius_, an autobiography of a Greek renegade,

was a novel by Thomas Hope, and was considered his masterpiece. It

appeared in 1819.

PENZANCE, _5 Mar. 1821, Monday_.

... This is a short letter, but I am on the eve of a long

journey, and the kind friends here require many visits, and

notes, and thanks, and so forth: and some of them have lent

me Kenilworth, so _that_ must be galloped through. Forgive me

therefore, and accept my positive answer by securing me this

good lad, who I like the better for his name, Sam. I had once a

Footman so called, who could not, and would not be spoiled. He

is dead, and poor Hodgkins too, that said he was going to _take

places_ for me, with his last breath. _He_ was _Sam_ at the

first. I shall be glad to see them both, and remain meanwhile

dear Mrs. Pennington's and her good husband's ever obliged and

faithful

H. L. P.

Mrs. Piozzi evidently left Penzance in the course of the week. On

Saturday she was at Exeter, and after sitting up writing letters till

the small hours of the morning, retired to rest, using a light chair

to climb up into the bed, which was a high one. But the chair slipped,

and gave her a violent blow on the leg, causing a severe bruise and a

slight wound. However, she attended the cathedral service next day,

though she could hardly kneel, and in due course reached Clifton;

taking up her quarters at 10 Sion Row till Mrs. Rudd should be ready

to receive her at the Crescent. The accident caused some alarm to

her friends, but according to Mrs. Pennington's account, the wound

healed rapidly and no evil consequences ensued. But internal troubles

followed which neither physicians nor surgeons could overcome. The

few short notes which follow, mostly undated, were written during her

illness, of which no one for some time anticipated a fatal termination.

SION ROW, _No. 10,

Tuesday, 10 Apr. 1821_.

Addressed--

_Mrs. Pennington, Dowry Square_

With 1000 Com^s--Sickly ones--from a Taker of Castor Oyl.

(She encloses a letter from Conway).

I got a letter from Mr. Roberts, the Curate of Dymerchion,

begging me to make the Parish the present of a Bier, to carry

the dead Poor. So I finished my Epistle to Salusbury, which

_you_ saw, with letting _him_ know the request; and "tell

Roberts," said I, "the favour is immediately granted"; for

_this_ is a debt I cannot, surely, be blamed for; and if I am,

dear Salusbury must at last be contented to consider me as his

_unaccountable_, no less than his Affec^te Aunt,

H. L. P.

SION ROW, _No. 10,

Thursday, 11 Apr. 1821_.

'Tis I shall be made happy, dear Mrs. Pennington. Our kind and

skilful Dickson is just gone. He only waited till things were in

the state they _should_ be, I perceive; and to day he brought

the tall man again, who performed the _operation_, and praised

my courageous endurance. This for your own kind heart's private

information. _Mine_ is completely satisfied of their skill and

management.

A thousand respectful compliments await Mr. Davenport, love to

Mr. Pennington, threats of _ruin_ at Cards to Mrs. Bellhatchet,

and humble service to Miss Wren.

All that was done yesterday and to-day, (rough usage on the

whole,) has _raised_, not _lowered_ the spirits of your ever

obliged and faithful

H. L. P.

_Undated, on a Visiting Card._

I have been to the Crescent by the Surgeon's permission, and

now comes the Doctor to insist upon my eating. I _must_ obey

you all, or I should deserve to be neglected by every living

creature; and so far as I can, I _will_ obey you.

Poor dear Dr. Dickson! he is as low spirited as myself, he has

been among the Lunatics.

_On miniature notepaper.

Dated Tuesday._

Very little better, dearest Friend, but certainly not worse, and

though unmoved by all the _new things swallow'd_,--dying for

a _Paper_. Can you direct James where to find one? Shame and

Bessy have struggled all night, and the first gets the better.

She _cannot_ go to dear Mrs. Pennington without _me_ to _help_

her,--to words, I suppose.

_Mrs. Pennington to Mrs. Brown_

_3 Jun. 1821._

... I knew you would feel for my loss, an irreparable one to me,

for if twenty years ago I could find nothing to replace it, I am

not likely, in the winter of life, and more particularly after

two years of almost daily intercourse, which, by the endearing

restoration of _more_ than former kindness and confidence,

doubled its value....

At present I can think of nothing, talk of nothing, nor dream of

anything but my lost friend....

My best comfort is that I attended my beloved friend to the last

moment. For three days and nights I never quitted her bedside,

where, at _my summons_, I had the satisfaction to see her

attended by her three charming daughters, and _more_ charming

women I know not. Oh! what a sum of happiness did she throw from

her, through the _misapprehensions_, etc., which separated her

from them! But in this respect Retrospection is both useless

and painful. She was absolutely lost from inanition! She either

_could_ not eat enough to support nature, or had brought herself

to it from a mistaken system; till, on a slight disorder, a

sudden prostration of strength took place, and nothing could

be done! She had her wish, however, which was never to live

to support the mere _dregs_ of life; and would have made, I

think, rather an impatient invalid, under the suppression, or

deprivation, of those uncommon powers which rendered her the

delight of every one that came near her, to the last. I hope you

saw my character of her in the Papers. I should not have had the

temerity to have attempted it, but at the earnest request of

her daughters, who feared it might be attempted by some one who

did not know her as well, and might not have written so much to

their satisfaction. It has answered the purpose by silencing all

other scribblers on the subject, and met with much more general

praise and approbation than it deserves....

_Mrs. Pennington to Maria Brown_

_23 Jun. 1821._

... It is a new thing to me, dearest Maria, to feel reluctance

in addressing you. But such is the effect of a late melancholy

event, that I shrink from all exertion. It has impressed

a languor on my spirits more fatal than grief, and more

distressing than positive pain. It was a blow for which I could

not be prepared, if indeed we are ever prepared for the loss

of those we love; as only ten days before, she had dined with

us in a party of ten or twelve persons, and was, as usual, the

delight and soul of the company. And the sudden reverse appears

to me, even now, at times, more like a frightful dream than a

fact! I actually detect myself expecting to _see_ or _hear_ from

her, until the sad reality forces itself upon me, and convinces

me that time does not lessen those regrets, that time only more

clearly and strongly discovers to us the value of what we have

lost....

If twenty years ago I could find no substitute, I am less

likely when two years of almost daily association, with, as it

should seem, _increased_ affection and renewed confidence, gave

additional interest to our connexion. While the apparent, but

deceptive vigour of her corporal powers, held out a promise of

many years of future enjoyment. I firmly believe she fell a

victim to the _extreme_ abstemiousness of her habits; actually

sunk under inanition! Attacked by a slight disease, there

was no reaction in the system. She suffered little and died

easy. So far she had her wish, which was always to escape

the tedium and imbecility of invalidism, and to preserve her

faculties _unimpaired_ while life remained. I had the mournful

satisfaction of ministering to her last hours, and of seeing

her close those brilliant eyes in the presence of her children;

their tears I trust embalmed, and their affectionate attention

soothed her last moments. But from better acquaintance with

these ladies a new source of regret has opened upon me: that

through some strange misconstruction of circumstances, and

_perversion_ of mind, my beloved friend should have lost such a

sum of happiness, as, but for some most mistaken conclusions,

these daughters (the most charming women I have almost ever

met with,) could not fail to have imparted. But Retrospection

is useless as painful, and it is best to draw an indulgent

veil over the imperfections of poor human nature on _all_

sides. They remained at Clifton a week, during which time I

was almost constantly with them. It was only from me, they

said, that they could gain any accurate idea of their departed

Mother's habits and connexions. They were never weary of the

interesting subject, and unbounded in their acknowledgments to

me for affording them, by timely information, an opportunity

of performing their last duty to their parent. I have had the

kindest and most flattering letters from them since their return

to Town, with an elegant remembrance, from each sister, of my

dear deceased friend. It was at their earnest request I had the

temerity to give to the Public the last tribute I could pay,

which probably you have seen, as it was copied into all the

London Papers, and has had much more praise than it deserved.

That it answered the end proposed, by silencing certain writers,

who, these Ladies were apprehensive, might have given "_the

Celebrated Mrs. Piozzi's_ Character" in a manner less agreeable

to their feelings, is indeed highly satisfactory to me; and

their warm approbation the best recompense and sweetest incense

I could receive....

The Obituary Notice, by Mrs. Pennington, mentioned above, ran as

follows:

DEATH OF MRS. PIOZZI.--Died at Clifton on Wednesday

night, the 2d of May, in the 82d year of her age, after a

few days' illness, HESTER LYNCH PIOZZI, the once

celebrated Mrs. THRALE, descended both on the paternal

and maternal side from the ancient and respectable families of

the Salisburys and Cottons, baronets in North Wales, but still

more distinguished as the intimate friend and associate of

Doctor Johnson, Burke, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Garrick, Goldsmith,

Murphy, and most of those literary constellations who formed the

Augustan galaxy of the last century. The world has long known

in what estimation her society was held in that circle where

these illustrious men, with Mrs. Montague, Mrs. Carter, Vesey,

Boscawen, and many others, formed a coterie never surpassed

in talent and acquirement, in this or any other country. The

vivacity of this lamented lady's mind was a never-failing

source of pleasure to all who had the good fortune to enjoy

her society, while the brilliancy of her wit, tempered by

invariable good-humour and general benevolence, delighted

all who approached her, and offended none. Her manners were

highly polished and graceful--her erudition, the result of a

regularly classical education, under the learned Dr. Collyer,

was much more profound than those who only conversed with her

superficially were likely to discover; for, wisely considering

the line usually prescribed in such pursuits to her sex, she

made no display of scholarship, yet was always ready to give

her testimony when properly called out; indeed, on those

occasions, it was impossible altogether to conceal the rich

and rare acquirements in various sciences which she possessed.

Her writings are many of them before the public, and if some

incline to condemn a colloquial style, which perhaps she was

too fond of indulging, all must admire the power of genius and

splendour of talent she displayed. She was particularly happy

in _jeux d'esprits_, numbers of which lie scattered amongst her

friends, and we hope will be collected. Her _Three Warnings_

have long been enshrined, and held in universal admiration as a

specimen of the precocity of her talents; on graver subjects,

those who knew her best will say she most excelled. Her religion

was pure, free from all wild speculative notions--her faith

was built on the Scriptures--that rock of our salvation, the

continual perusal of which was her delight. She knew "in whom

she trusted," and in the fullest conviction of those sacred

truths, she closed a various life, declaring to a friend, who

watched over her last moments, that she quitted the world in

the fear and trust of God, the love of her Saviour, and in

peace and charity with her neighbours and with all mankind. Her

fine mental faculties remained wholly unimpaired; her memory

was uncommonly retentive on all subjects;--enriched by apt

quotations, in which she was most happy, and her letters and

conversation to the last had the same racy spirit that made

her the animating principle and ornament of the distinguished

society she moved in, at a more early period of her life. Those

who have to regret the loss of such a friend and companion,

though continued to them beyond the usual date of human

existence, will feel persuaded that as this admirable Lady was

_unique_ in the acquirements and combinations that formed her

character, so are they sure that they shall never "look upon her

like again."

Mrs. Pennington reverts to the same topic in a letter written to Miss

Brown on December 3, 1821, in which she regrets that time, and care,

and various other circumstances have dulled her powers to render her

correspondence interesting and amusing.

"My dear, lost Friend possessed that talent in a wonderful

degree. Her letters, however frequent, never ran into

commonplace, but were always novel, and had the peculiar tact

of always supplying matter for a reply. Never was there a mind

of such varied resource as hers! The more I think of it, the

more I am astonished that it was not even _more_ appreciated

and valued. Because I am persuaded, as Dr. Carrick said,

when she lay, an inanimate corpse, before our eyes, that

'the world had nothing to compare with her. _She had left

no equal._' And that having _again_ found her, she is lost

to me for ever, is a subject of regret that no time, during

the short remainder of my pilgrimage, will ever lessen. Her

advanced age was no preparation to me, because wholly exempt

from all those infirmities which usually attend that stage of

our existence, and prepare others, if not ourselves, to look

to the end. Appearing to have as much the advantage of me in

vigour of constitution as in intellect, I looked forward to a

few years of cordial and rational enjoyment, and really expected

we should have run our race on nearly equal terms, happy to

think it would be _together_. The change was so sudden, that

at times I can scarcely persuade myself it is not a dream! and

the disappointment so severe it seems to have annihilated all

capacity for enjoyment or pleasure in _anything_...."

Among the friends to whom Mrs. Pennington wrote an account of Mrs.

Piozzi's death, was Helen Williams, who replied in a letter dated

October 28, 1822: "I read with warm interest all you wrote of the last

scene of Mrs. Piozzi, and above all, your article, which is admirable;

full of judgment as well as feeling, neither saying too little nor

too much, in short, worthy of your pen: but I think you are too

indulgent in respect of her daughters. I never could be satisfied with

people who testify their tenderness to their friends only when they

are at the last gasp. Above all, in the sacred relation which exists

between a parent and a child, I think reconciliation and pardon should

precede the act of dying: and Mrs. Piozzi being eighty years of age,

her daughters must have known there was no time to lose, even before

you summoned them to receive her last breath. They had reason to be

offended at her second marriage, but life is too short for eternal

resentments. Why do you not become her biographer? I am sure no one

would write her memoirs half so well as yourself. I shall always

love her memory, tho' she never forgave me for coming to France, and

severed me from her affections because we differed in politics. If she

could have known all I have suffered amid the convulsions of States,

her good-natured heart would have been more disposed to pity than

condemn."

Soon after the loss of her friend, Mrs. Pennington came into collision

with her executors, Sir John Salusbury and Sir James Fellowes. By

her will, dated March 29, 1816, she had left everything to Sir John,

except legacies of £100 each to her maid Bessy, her old steward Leak,

and his son, and one of £200 to Sir James. But outside the formal

bequests of her will, she had intended that certain articles should

be given as memorials to Conway and Mrs. Pennington. The former was

to have her watch, and an annotated copy of Malone's Shakespeare, and

the latter the silver teapot and stand which she habitually used, and

which is referred to in Mrs. Pennington's letter of 17th January 1820,

quoted above. What became of the watch does not appear, but letters in

Mr. Broadley's collection show that Conway got his Shakespeare from

Sir John, who may have been the more inclined to regard his claim with

favour if, as is stated, Conway had just returned the £100 which Mrs.

Piozzi had given him just before her death. Mrs. Pennington could

offer no such inducement to favourable consideration, and perhaps her

remark at the Bath Fête, that her claims to Mrs. Piozzi's friendship

were of longer standing than his own, had not been forgotten or

forgiven. It appears from Mr. Broadley's letters that she had applied

in the first instance to Sir James Fellowes, urging her right to the

teapot in somewhat strong terms, on the ground that her friend had

actually given it to her, though it had not been handed over, and that

she could produce witnesses to that effect, whose testimony would

be accepted in any Court. Sir James no doubt referred her to his

co-executor, to whom she next applied, though in a more humble strain,

asking for it not as a right, but as a favour; reminding him that

she had a larger collection of dear Mrs. Piozzi's letters than any

other correspondent, and was in fuller possession of her opinions on

all subjects, private, public, and literary, possibly than any other

person in the Kingdom, which she should carefully preserve. This, she

hints, would be practically indispensable to any intending biographer.

But Sir John was not to be tempted or cajoled, and returned only three

curt lines, declining to discuss the matter at all; while he told Sir

James that he should hand over any future letter on the subject to

be dealt with by his lawyer. So neither her long friendship nor her

loving care for his aunt were deemed worthy of even this not very

extravagant recognition.

Her relations with the daughters were far more cordial. In the summer

of 1824 she paid a visit to London, where, she tells Miss Brown, "I

experienced much kindness, and more attention than I had any right

to expect; chiefly indeed from my late dear lamented Friend's three

charming daughters, who seemed as if they never could do enough to

prove the sense they entertained of my _true_ friendship to their

mother. In Town they assisted me to see everything that time and

circumstances would permit; and I spent ten delightful days at Miss

Thrale's beautiful Villa in Kent, surrounded by Nobleman's Seats,

which we visited in our daily morning drives. Knowle Park, the

residence of the Duchess of Dorset, is the finest specimen, I believe,

of _Baronial_ grandeur in the Kingdom; and the Park (fourteen miles in

extent) they say has the noblest Timber of any in England. She kindly

carried me to Tunbridge, where we spent two days very agreeably,

and we parted with (I am persuaded) mutually increased esteem, and

sensible regret."

[Illustration: THOMAS SEDGWICK WHALLEY, D.D.

_By J. Brown after Sir Joshua Reynolds_

_From a print in the Collection of A. M. Broadley, Esq._]

The following winter Mr. Whalley (as appears from his published

Letters) spent in her house. Writing to him in October with regard to

his proposed visit, she tells him that she has for some time given

up public and private parties. Pennington is tolerably well, "but

we are both fallen into the sere and yellow leaf. I do not find my

mind get older in proportion to my body. I have as keen a relish

for intellectual enjoyments as ever I had. My spirits are rising in

anticipation" of the visit and conversations to which she was looking

forward with great pleasure. Her subsequent letters to Maria Brown are

full of laments for the loss of such intellectual enjoyments, owing

to the continual growth of Bristol, and the gradual decay of the Hot

Wells as a health resort. The last of them was written in April 1827,

when she had just had a severe illness, and on 1st August she died,

aged seventy-five years, as stated on her mourning ring.

It is somewhat remarkable that neither her children, who showed so

much attention to their mother's oldest friend, nor her heir, who

handsomely acknowledged on paper his obligations to his aunt, cared

to perpetuate Mrs. Piozzi's memory by any kind of monument. Perhaps

they thought it needed no such artificial aid. It was reserved for

the present century, and for a descendant of her other executor, to

erect a simple white marble slab in Tremeirchion (formerly Dymerchion)

Church, with the following inscription:

NEAR THIS PLACE ARE INTERRED THE REMAINS OF

HESTER LYNCH PIOZZI,

"DOCTOR JOHNSON'S MRS. THRALE."

BORN 1741. DIED 1821.

WITTY, VIVACIOUS AND CHARMING, IN AN AGE OF GENIUS

SHE EVER HELD A FOREMOST PLACE.

THIS TABLET IS ERECTED BY ORLANDO BUTLER FELLOWES,

GRANDSON OF SIR JAMES FELLOWES, THE INTIMATE FRIEND

OF MRS. PIOZZI, AND HER EXECUTOR,

ASSISTED BY SUBSCRIPTIONS,

28TH APRIL, 1909.

INDEX

_Abbot, The_, 351, 355

Abercromby, Sir Ralph, 215, 217

"Abigail," 99

Abingdon, Mrs., 267

Abrahams, The, 241

Achilles, 104

_Acis and Galatea_, 245

Adams, Mrs., 268

Addington, Henry, 211, 266

Addison, Joseph, 99, 361

Adelphi Hotel, 190

"Adriana," 39

"Ætherial Spirit," 175, 177

African discoveries, 150, 176

_Age of Reason, The_, 281

"Agnes," 181

Alcinous, 330, 334

Alessandria, 202

Alexander I, Emperor, 215, 232

Alexander, Duke of Bavaria, 5

Alexandria, 164, 215, 263

"Almeyda," 105, 134, 137

_Alonzo and Imogene_, 141

_Alonzo the Brave_, 140-1

"Alphonzo," 53

Alps, The, 147, 341

Amen Corner, 284

Amiens, Peace of, 242

Amorbach, 48, 171

Amsterdam, 81, 108, 115

_Anacharsis the Scythian_, 94

Anacreon, 242

Andalusia, 32

Andrews, Mr., 242

Andriani, Count, 72-3

_Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson_, 16

Angelo, 345

_Anti-Jacobin, The_, 43

Antonio, "Diavol," 318

Antwerp, 8

_Apocalyptical Key, The_, 104

_Appeal to the Public, An_, 221

_Arabian Nights, The_, 318

Arbuthnot, Dr. John, 77, 352

"Ariadne," 80, 82

"Arlberry, Mrs.," 137-8

Armstrong, John, 352

Arne, Mr., 239

_Artaxerxes_, 360

_Artist's Love Story, An_, 163, 273

Asgill, Lady, 93-4

-- Sir Charles, 94

Ashe, Mr. and Mrs., 316

"Aspasia," 34-5

_As You Like It_, quoted, 58, 106, 313

_Autobiography ... of Mrs. Piozzi, The_, 3-4, 16, 245, 260

Babington's plot, 5

Bach-y-graig, 14, 61;

built, 8;

described, 199;

restored, 198, 201

Baden, 268

Bagot, Mrs., 180, 253

Bagot, Lewis, Bishop of S. Asaph, 162, 164, 212, 215, 229, 242, 244

Bague, --, 90

Baillie, Joanna, 173

Bala, 251

Balhetchet, Mrs., 334, 368

Ballad by Mrs. Piozzi, 216-7

Balloons, 153-5, 246-7

Bangor, 324

-- Bishop of, 344

Banks, Sir Joseph, 197

Banti, --, 240, 242

Banwell, 171

Barclays, the, 14

Baretti, Joseph, 18, 201, 250

Barley Wood, 255, 258

Barn Elms, 13

Barnet, 6

"Barnett, Mrs.," 192

Barrere, --, 117

Barrington, Mrs., 238

Barruel, Abbé, 152, 154, 159

Barry, Major (afterwards Colonel), 22-3, 25, 27, 28, 106, 123, 127,

140, 202

-- Ann Spranger, 220-1

-- Spranger, 238-9

Barthélemy, Abbé, 94

Bartolozzi, Francesco, 282, 285

-- -- (jun.), 106

Basseville, Hugues, 77

Bath, 4, 12-13, 15, 19, 23, 27, 34, 41, 45, 48, 52, 75, 77-8, 85,

97, 100, 106, 135-9, 140-2, 148-9, 151, 157-8, 168, 173-5, 177,

180, 186, 188, 194-5, 204, 206-7, 209-11, 216, 221, 223-4, 226,

231, 236, 240-1, 256, 264-5, 273-4, 280-1, 290, 297, 305, 310,

322, 326-7, 336, 343, 347, 356, 360-1;

Mrs. Piozzi at, 24, 25, 29, 52, 169, 179, 182, 184, 210, 236,

254-6, 265-6, 271-323

_Baviad, The_, 51

Bayes, --, 279

Bayley, Miss, 193

Bayntom, Mr., 333

Baynton, Lady, 279

Beadon, Bishop, 208

Beard, John, 244-5

"Beatrice," 234

Beaumaris, 134-5, 138, 324

Beaumont and Fletcher, 35

Beavor, Kitty, 110, 116

Bedford, John, Duke of, 102

Bedlam Hospital, 354

Beedle, --, 242

_Belinda_, 228

Bellamy, Mr., 166

"Bellamy," 137

_Bell's Oracle_, 25-6

"Belt of O'Bryan, The," 213

Belvedere, The, 64-5, 67

Belvedere House, Bath, 30, 47, 100, 170, 195, 223, 225, 234, 267

"Belvidera," 26-7

Bentley, Dr. Richard, 138

"Benvolio," 174

Berain, Catherine of, 6-8, 198-9

Bere, Rev. Thomas, 208, 221, 226

Beresford, Marshal, 335

-- Rev. --, 141

Bergami, Bartolomeo, 336, 344, 346

Berkswell, Hall, 148

"Berlington, Mrs.," 137

Berri, Duc de, 310, 338, 366

Berruyer, General, 79

Berwick on Tweed, 43, 73

Bessborough, Earl of, 151

Betty, William Henry West, 321-2

"Beverley, Mrs.," 161

_Bible, The_, 276, 279

Bickerstaffe, --, 225

Billington, Elizabeth, 240, 242-3, 360

Birmingham, 321, 323, 357

Blagdon, 232

Blue-Stockings, The, 1, 19

Blythe, 331

Bodvel, 8

Bodylwyddan, 337

Bodwiggied, 48

Bonaparte, Napoleon, 24, 133, 139, 141, 143, 154, 161-2, 179, 189,

191, 197, 199, 207, 215, 217, 226, 232, 238, 242, 246, 248,

262-3, 265, 267-8, 316, 331

Bordeaux, Duc de, 366

Bosanquet, Mr., 260

Boscawen, Mrs., 372

Boswell, James, on Mrs. Piozzi, 2;

their quarrel, 16

Botallack Mine, 364

Boulogne, 128, 227, 230

Bourdois, --, 298

Bowdler, Henrietta, 255

Bowen, Mr., 257

Bower Ashton, 258

Bradford, Mr., 245

-- Orlando, Earl of, 203-4

Braham, John, 244-5

Brentford, 245-6, 248

Brest, 128, 227

Briareus, 109, 111

Bridport, Alexander, Viscount, 128, 156, 174, 176

Brighton (Brighthelmston), 12-13, 16, 74, 126, 142, 161, 206, 342

Brinbella, _v._ Brynbella

Brindley, --, 225

Bristol, 27, 45, 47, 57, 86, 88, 103, 114, 123, 132-4, 139, 144-5,

149, 151, 155, 157, 168, 171, 180, 187, 195, 216, 236, 239,

261, 265, 310, 321, 328, 377

_British Critic, The_, quoted, 90, 96, 138, 141, 157-8, 176, 242,

249, 250, 252

_British Synonymy_, 89, 99, 100-1, 103, 108-9, 111, 194

_Briton, The_, 210

Brittany, 102

_Broad Grins_, 275

Broadheads, The, 85

Broadley, A. M., v, 3, 10, 20, 32, 59, 73, 75, 330

Broadstairs, 263

Brockley Combe, 283

"Brother Martin," 77

Brothers, Richard, 122, 124

Brown, Mrs., 117, 273, 360, 369

-- Maria, 272-3, 277, 293, 312, 315, 360, 370, 373, 376-7

Bruce, Charles Edward, 238-9

Brunswick, Duke of, 59, 60

"Brutus," 71

Brutus Heads, 152, 155

Bryan, --, 124

Brynbella, (Brinbella), 60, 64, 76, 89, 95, 108, 113-4, 118, 121,

270-1, 322, 344, 347-8;

occupied by the Piozzis, 129-269;

given to Sir J. Salusbury, 271

Buchetti, Abbé de, 31-2, 45, 50-1, 54, 254

"Bull, John," 351

Burdett, Sir Francis, 246-7, 249, 252

Bürgher, August, 141

Burke, Edmund, 28-9, 117, 352, 372

Burney, Dr. Charles, 12, 14, 298, 337, 339

-- Fanny, 2, 12, 14, 120, 163, 231, 298, _v._ D'Arblay, Madame

_Busybody, The_, 75

Bute, John, Earl of, 201-2

Butler, Rev. Alban, 192

-- Charles, 189, 192, 194

-- Lady Eleanor, 151, 168, _v._ Llangollen, Ladies of,

Byron, Lord, 26, 279, 281-2

-- Admiral John, 26

-- Mrs. (Sophia), 25-6

Cader Idris, 251, 253

Cadiz, 32, 173, 176

Cairo, 215

Calais, 80, 246

Callan and Booth, 318, 320

"Callista," 227, 243

Cam, Mr., 288

Camaret Bay, 226-7

Cambridge, 266

"Camilla," 137

_Camilla_, 138

Camplin, Miss, 277

Candia, 164

Canning, George, 256, 361

Cannons, 245

_Canterbury Tales, The_, 30, 156, 158, 175, 177, 180

Cape of Good Hope, The, 115

Capel Gwyddelwern, 122

Capet, Hugh, 237

"Carey," 181

Carleton House, 342

Carlile, Richard, 279, 281, 289

Carlyle, Thomas, 90

Carmarthen, 247

Carnaby Market, 125, 182

Carnarvon, 188

Caroline, Queen (of Geo. II), 346

-- Queen (of Geo. IV.), 310, 316, 318, 321-3, 327-8, 330, 332-3,

335-6, 338-40, 344-8, 350-1

Carrick, Dr., 362, 374

Carter, Mrs., 279, 372

Case, Miss, 188, 223

Cassandra, 144

Castle Howard, 20

_Castle of Montval, The_, 175-6

_Castle Rackrent_, 249

Castlereagh, Robert, Viscount, 358

"Catherine," 208

Catherine, Empress, 136, 222

-- Queen (of Henry V), 7, 198

-- of Berain, _v._ Berain, Catherine of

Cator, Mr., 102, 194

"Cecilia," 58

Centlivre, Mrs., 75

Ceylon, 115, 232, 234

Chandernagore, 337

Chandos, Duke of, 245

Chappelow, Mr., 50, 95, 98, 102, 132, 134, 193, 206, 236-7

_Chapter of King Killers, The_, 116-7

_Chapter of Kings, The_, 116

Charlemagne, Emperor, 140, 198-9

Charles I, King, 301

Charles X, King, 366

Charles, Archduke, 172, 177

Charleston, 280

Charlotte, Queen, 124, 144, 281, 342, 346-7

-- of Wales, Princess, 201-2

Charlton, Edmund, 241

Chartres, Duc de, 87

Cheddar Cliffs, 283

Cheltenham, 246-7

Chester, 62, 68, 77, 113, 146, 251, 264

"Chip, Will," 80

Christchurch, 298

_Church and King_, Ballad, 74, 76

Cibber, Mrs., 221, 238-9, 337

Cicero, _de officiis_, 343

Cimad'oro, --, 106

"Clarissa," 319

Clarke, Miss, 88, 90

Claverton, 79

Clifton, 154, 163, 202, 297, 300, 302, 307, 311, 315-8, 324, 326-9,

334, 337, 341, 343-4, 361, 365-7, 371, _v._ also Hot Wells

Clogher and Killaloe, Bishop of, 138

Clonmel, Lord and Lady, 135

Cloots, "Anacharsis," 93-4

Clough, Ann, 7

-- Sir Richard, 7-8, 198-9

-- Richard (junr.), 8

Cloyne, Bishop of, 58

Clwyd, The, 61, 64-5, 169, 199

Cobbett, William, 274

Cobham, Viscount, _v._ Temple, Sir Richard

Coblentz, 59

_Cœlebs in Search of a Wife_, 77

_Coke upon Littleton_, 192

Coldbath Fields Prison, 246

Colebrook, Sir George, 256

Coleman, George, 275

Collier, Dr., 9, 372

Columbus, Christopher, 363

Combermere Abbey, 7

Combermere, Viscount, 7

-- Stapleton, Viscount, 363-4

-- Wellington, Viscount, 364

_Comedy of Errors_, quoted, 39, 362

Comet, the, 273-4

_Commonplace Book_ (Mrs. Piozzi's), quoted v. 10, 18, 38, 39, 44,

73, 98, 105, 107, 132, 173, 271, 277, 281, 285, 323, 339, 347,

352

_Comus_, 293

Conant, Mr., 181

Congreve, William, 53

"Connor," 213

"Conrade," 234

"Constance," 208

Constantine, Prince, 221-2

Constantinople, 222, 255

Conti, Princess of, 154

Conway, 188

-- William Augustus, 278, 282, 285, 288-9, 291-315, 317-23, 326,

328-9, 334, 341, 344-5, 347-8, 350, 356-7, 360-2, 364, 367, 375;

account of, 280-1;

as Coriolanus, 286, 289-90;

as Iachimo, 290;

as Pierre, 295;

as Mark Antony, 297-8;

as Moranges, 298;

in S. Clara's Eve, 307;

his love affair, 294-7, 302, 305-8;

his parentage, 300-1

Conway, Lord William Seymour, 308

Cooper, Mr., 275

Coote, General, 288

Copenhagen, Battle of, 210, 213, 215, 227

"Cora," 178

"Coriolanus," 286, 358

_Coriolanus_, 289

Cork, 97

Cork and Orrery, Countess of, 241, 253

Cornwallis, Lord, 162

Corresponding Society, the, 92

Corsica, 138, 248-9

Corston, 47

Cotton, Lady, 105

-- Lady Hester, 7-8

-- Hester Maria, 7-8

-- Sir Lynch Salusbury, 350, 364

-- Sir Robert, 7

-- Sir Robert Salusbury, 9

Cotton, Thomas, 348, 350

-- Sir Willoughby, 363-4

_Country Cousins_, 354

Courtenay, Mrs., 315

-- Viscount, 18

Covent Garden, 245

Covent Garden Theatre, 27, 151, 158, 239, 242, 260, 280, 289, 338

Coventry, 148

-- Lady Augusta, 363

Cowes, 339

Cowley, Abraham, quoted, 282

Cowper, Ashley, 202, 267

-- William, 164, 202, 266

Crampton, Mr., 162

"Crayon, Geoffrey," (Washington Irving), 351-2

_Critical Review, The_, 222, 224-5

Crossman, Rev. Dr., 230, 232

Crowmarsh, 188-9, 191

Croydon, v, 12

Crutchley, Mr., 15

Cumberland, Ernest, Duke of, 16, 261-2

-- Dr. Richard, 137, 156, 158, 265, 267

_Cymbeline_, quoted, 52, 66

Dacre, Lady, 359

Dance, George, his portrait of Mrs. Piozzi, 95

_Dangers which threaten Europe_, 91

D'Arblay, Madame, 2, 97, 98, 101-2, 120, 136, 138;

reconciled to Mrs. Piozzi, 98, _v._ Burney, Fanny

-- M., 97

D'Artois, Comte, 316, 338

Dauphin, the, 80-1, 89, 110

Davenport, Mr., 368

-- W., 57

David, 187

Davies, Edward, 213, 231, 236

-- Rev. Reynold, 46, 55, 74, 106, 179, 184

Davy, Sir Humphry, 354

De Blaquiere, Anna M., 235, 262

-- John, Lord, 229-30, 234, 267

De Camp, Maria Theresa, 120

Dee, The, 251

Deerhurst, George William, Lord, 29, 101, 144, 265

-- Peggy, Lady, 29, 144, 161

Defenders, the, 95-6

De Fossée, Marquis, 259

De Genlis, Madame, 61, 141

De l'Enclos, Ninon, 313

"Della Crusca," _v._ Merry, Robert

Della Cruscan Academy, the, 16

De Luc, Mrs., 196, 236

Demerara, 264

"Demetrius," 108

_De Montfort_, 171-2, 192, 231

Demosthenes, 285

Denbigh, 6, 8, 23, 39, 59, 62, 64, 66-7, 112-13, 115-9, 121, 126,

130, 146, 159, 171, 212-3, 221;

Castle, 5, 67, 113

D'Enghien, Duc, 267-8

Denman (Dennam), Thomas Lord, 348

De Paoli, General Pasquale, 76, 248

Derby, Edward, Earl of, 97, 141, 143

Derby, Eliza, Countess of, 141, 143-4, 155, 241, _v._ Farren, Eliza

De Retz, Cardinal, 340

De Rozier, Pilâtre, 155

_Deserter, The_, 197

D'Este, Augustus, 308

Dickson (Dixon), Dr., 362, 368

_Dictionary of National Biography, The_, v, 43, 338

Dignum, --, 93

Dillon, Charles Drake, 96

-- Charlotte, 96

-- Sir John, Baron, 83, 95-6

Dimond, 26, 227, 307;

his character 27

-- Mrs., 268, 323

-- Charles, 307

_Diversions of Purley, The_, 92

Dogs, Mrs. Piozzi's; Belle, 142;

Browney, 134;

Brown Fox, 142;

Flo, 50, 82, 142; Loup, 142;

Phyllis, 66, 115, 142

Dog Tax, the, 134, 148

Domitian, Emperor, 216

Doncaster, 183-4

_Don Quixote_, 229, 341

"Douglas," 26

Dowry Square, Clifton, 73, 113, 162, 182, 312, 321, 360, _v._

Hot Wells

Drake, Mr., 267-8

_Drummer, The_, quoted, 99

Drummond, James, his courtship of Cecilia Thrale, 54-5, 66, 70, 82,

86, 92, 103, 142

Drumphillin, 22

Drury Lane Theatre, 19, 47-9, 68, 97, 161, 163, 176, 183, 196, 224,

238-9, 242, 245, 338, 360

Dryden, John, quoted, 177, 349, 351, 361

Dublin, 256;

Smock Alley Theatre, 27, 260, 280

Dumouriez, General, 81-2, 86-7, 115, 172

Durham, 315

Dymerchion, _v._ Tremeirchion, 271, 377

Eardley-Wilmot, Sir John, 148

_Earl Godwin_, 27

Earthquakes, 187-8, 220-1

East Hyde, 9

Easterbrook, Mr., 103

Eckersall, Mr., 302, 316

Eclipse, the, 333, 335

Edgeworth de Firmont, Abbé, 87-8

Edgeworth, Miss, 87

-- Maria, 248-9, 267, 351

-- Richard Lovell, 249, 351

Edgeworthstown, 88

Edinburgh, 125-6, 334;

Mrs. Piozzi at, 20-1

_Edward_, 137-8

Edwin, Mr., 317

_Edwin and Eltruda_, 43

_Edwy and Elgiva_, 97

Eidouranion, the, 152

"Elbow," 275

Elgin, Charles, Earl of, 239

-- Mary, Countess of, 201-2

-- Thomas, Earl of, 202, 238, 266

-- Marbles, the, 202, 238, 266

Elizabeth, Queen, 5, 7, 140, 199

-- of France, Madame, 86, 88, 101

Elphinstone, Augusta Henrietta, 13

-- Charles, Lord, 13

Elton, Sir Abraham, 218, 221

Emigrées, French, in London, 127

"Emily," 159

_Encyclopædia Britannica, The_, 154

Endymion, 175

Ephesus, 332

Erskine, Thomas, Lord, 332

Esau, 197

_Essay on Irish Bulls, An_, 248-9

Essex, Earl of, 338

Este, Rev. Charles, 94, 96-7

Esterhazy, Prince, 331

Eton College, 334

"Eugenia," 137, 140

"Euphrasia," 74-5

Euphrates, drying of the, 105, 219-20

_European Magazine, The_, 18, 91

Eusebius, 223

"Evander," 75

Exeter, 367

Exmouth, Mrs. Piozzi at, 18-20

"Fairfield," 225

_Fair Penitent, The_, 227

Falmouth, Viscount, 363

_False Impressions_, 158

_Family Shakespeare, The_, 256

Farquhar, Dr., 89

Farren, Eliza, 18, 97-8, 105, 110, 141, 143, _v._ Derby, Countess of

-- George, 97

Fellowes, Anne ("Fellie"), 314-5

-- Dorset, 302, 336, 342

-- Sir James, 3, 290, 293, 315, 330, 332, 336, 375-6

Ferdinand I of Naples, 77, 110-11, 160, 170

Ferrara, 22

Fielding, Henry, 139

Fitz Hugh, Mrs., 238

Fitzmaurice, Hon. Thomas, 262

Fitzroy, Lady Anne, 117

Fleming, Rev. Robert, 103-4

Florence, 16, 50, 279, 285

_Florence Miscellany, The_, 16

"Florizel," 238

Fontainebleau, 239

Fontana, Abate, 95

Forbes, Dr., 344

"Ford, Mistress," 239

Forester, Cecil, 346

Forte-piano, Piozzi's, 113

Fouché, Joseph, 268

_Fountains, The_, 18, 210

Fourth Estate, the, 351-2

Fowler, Sir William, 49

Fox, Charles James, 61, 332

Francis II, Emperor, 110, 115, 143, 197-9, 205

Frederica of Prussia, Princess, _v._ York, Duchess of

Frederick, Prince of Wales, 262

Freshford, 285

Funnen Vaino, 59, 65

Fuseli, Henry, 145

Galtfynan, 122

_Gamester, The_, 178

Garnerin, Andre Jacques, 246-7

Garrart, Mrs., 234

Garrick, David, 183, 220, 238, 287, 315, 325, 372

Garthwin, 135

Garzoni, Marquis, 279

Genoa, 16, 34, 143, 147, 233

_Gentleman's Magazine, The_, 223, 225

_Gentoo Code of Laws, The_, 124

George III, 64, 160, 162, 190, 211, 214, 216, 221, 226, 231, 248,

285, 287, 301, 304, 335, 340;

illness of, 20, 265-6;

shot at, 196;

caricatures of, 342-3;

mobbed, 346-7

George, Prince of Wales (George IV), 122, 124, 161, 243, 273

-- IV, 301-4, 307, 310, 314, 316, 332, 335, 339, 343

-- Joe, 85

_George Barnwell_, 178

George Street, Manchester Square, the Piozzis at, 237, 239, 242, 245

Gibbes (Sir) George Smith, 279, 281, 286, 288, 300, 354

Giffard, Mr., 357

Gifford, Mr., 321

-- William, 19, 51, 90

Giles, Mr., 203, 239, 243, 246

Gillies, Dr., 116

-- Kitty, 116

Gillon, Mr., 180-1, 188-92, 194-6, 203, 207, 223, 263

Girondins, the, 60, 87, 133

Glasgow, Mrs. Piozzi at, 20-1;

described, 22

Gloucester, 254

-- Maria, Duchess of, 287

-- William, Duke of, 261-2, 288

"Gobbo, Lancelot," 225

Godwin, Mary, 161

-- William, 159, 161

"Goldfinch," 101-2

Goldsmith, Oliver, 76, 139, 325, 372

Graves, Rev. Richard, 79

Gray (Bishop), Robert, 203-4, 214, 264, 266, 315

Greatheed, Bertie, 16, 68, 74, 78, 81, 84-6, 141, 200, 238, 347

-- Mrs. (Bertie), 69, 89, 91, 238, 242

-- Richard, 69, 83-4

-- Samuel, 70

Great Marlborough Street (Mrs. Siddons at), 162, 179, 208

_Grecian Daughter, The_, 75

Greg, Mr., 106

Grenvilles, the, 10

Gresham, Sir Thomas, 8

Gretna Green, 126

Grey, Mr., 80, 94

Griffiths, Mrs., 187

Grinfields, the, 275

"Grumio," 269

Gubbins, Honoria, 178, 265

Guy's Cliffe, 238;

Mrs. Piozzi at, 63, 68-9, 84

Gwydir, 7, 131

Hackney, 59

Hagley, 33

Halhead, Nathaniel Brassey, 124

Halifax, Earl of, 9

Halsey, Ann, 10

Hamburg, 116

Hamilton, Mrs., 113, 164, 236

-- Captain Charles, 75

-- Douglas, Duke of, 21-2, 151

-- Eliza, 75, 248-9

-- Rev. Hon. Frederick, 151

-- Jane, 38-9, 102, 113, 150-1, 258

-- John, 96

-- William, 20

Hamiltons, the, 84, 110

"Hamlet," 193, 283

_Hamlet_, 193;

quoted, 283, 300

Hammersley, George, 320

Handel, George Frederick, 239

Hannibal, 226

Hanover invaded, 257, 263-4

Hanover Square, the Piozzis in, 17, 19, 107

"Happy Return, The," 328, 359, 361

Harcourt, Lord, 32

Hardy, --, 119

Harington, Dr. Henry, 322-3

Harley, Robert, (Earl of Oxford), 351

Harold, K., 226

Harris, General, 184

-- James, 297-8

Harrogate, 49

Hase, --, 223

Hastings, Battle of, 226

Hastings, Francis Rawdon, _v._ Moira, Earl of, 102

Hatfield, James, 196

_Haunted House, The_, 99

Hawkeston, 204

Hawkesworth, John, 228

Haygarth, Dr., 62-9, 146

Hayley, William, 25-6, 267

Haymarket Theatre, 49, 97, 163, 290

Hayward, A. H., v. 3-4, 260, 323, _v. Autobiography_

Hecuba, 300

_Heirship of Rosalva, The_, 156-7

Helen and Paris, elopement, 279

Henley on Thames, 245

_Henry_, 137, 139

Henry II., 5

_Henry IV._, quoted, 86, 268, 290

Henry V., 198

Hephestion, 319

Herbert, Lady Henrietta, 245

_Hermes_, 298

"Hermione," 31, 238

Hertford, Francis, Marquis of, 301, 308

Hesketh, Lady Harriet, 201-2, 266-7

-- Sir Thomas, 202, 267

Hill, Mrs., 324-5

-- Sir Richard, 203-4

-- Rev. Rowland, 204

_Hind and the Panther, The_, 77

_History of John Bull, The_, 77

Hoare, Henry Merrick, 13, 270, 357, 360, 362

-- Mrs. (H. M.), 286, 326, 328, 357, 360-2, _v._ Thrale, Sophia

-- Sir Richard, 13, 270

Hohenlinden, Battle of, 206

Holcroft, Thomas, 102, 267

Holman, Joseph George, 150-1, 156, 260, 265

-- Mrs. (J. G.), 150, 156, 190-1, 200, 258, 260-1, 263,

_v._ Hamilton, Jane

Holywell, 130

Homer, 219;

quoted, 153, 174

Hood, Admiral Alexander, _v._ Bridport

-- Sir Samuel, 264

Hook, Theodore, 280

Hope, Thomas, 366

Horneck, General, 281

Horsley, Bishop Samuel, 197-9, 243-4, 344

Hotham, Miss, 30

-- Sir Charles, 49-50

-- Lady Dorothy, 49

-- Admiral Sir William, 321-2

Hot Wells, the, Clifton, 27, 33, 57-8, 139, 142, 144, 161, 214, 272,

326, 377

Howard, John, 32

Howe, Richard, Earl, 115, 118, 128

Hudson, Miss, 348

Hunt, Miss, 201

-- Henry, 273-4, 314

Hunter, Mrs. John, 193

Hyde Park, 246

Imlay, Captain Gilbert, 161

"Imogen," 66

Inchiquin, Mary, Countess of, 87-8

-- Murrough, Earl of, 88, _v._ Thomond, Marquis of

_Indian Emperor, The_, 349

Innspruck, 330

_Inquiry concerning Political Justice, An_, 161

Invasion, French, projected, 153-4, 156, 162, 260, 263-4

Ireland, 312;

troubles in, 79, 95, 152, 154, 258, 260-1

Irving, Washington, 351-2

"Isabella," 75

"Isabinda," 75

Iselin, Mr., 223

Isis, the, 32

_Italy_, 107

Ithaca, 329

Iveson, Mr., 320

Jackson, --, 92

-- Mrs., 171, 175

-- Rev. William, 123-4

Jacobins, the, 55, 60, 87, 101, 183, 196

Jagher's portrait of Mrs. Piozzi, 312

James I, 6

James, Mr., 127-8

James' Analeptic Pills, 81

James, Lady Jane, 327

-- Sir Walter, 152, 308-9

Jenkins, Mr., 330

Jenyns, Soame, 336, 338

Jersey, Frances, Countess of, 123, 124, 161

-- George, Earl of, 102, 124

Jerusalem, 8

_Jest Book, A_, 148