Tues. 28 Sep. '91.
Your letters, my lovely friend, are like the places they describe, cultivated, rich, and various: the prominent feature elegance, but always some sublimity in hope and prospect....
Our Italian Friends are still with us; the Marquis talks seldomer than ever of his intended tour through S. Wales to Bath, yet may mean it ne'er the less; and I dare say he will go and refresh his passion. Make Harriet Lee tell you Cecilia's saucy trick; it will divert her to tell it, and I won't take the tale out of her hands: her spirits mend, I see, as to her heart, it scarce can receive improvement; and the strong sense she posesses, with such variety of resources too, will guard those passes where tenderness prevails over prudent apathy....
My Master went last night to Town with good old Mr. Jones, to see what sport the transmigration of Old Drury can afford. We hear that all goes well, and that the Town accepts Kemble's new terms willingly and generously....
During 1791-2 Drury Lane Theatre was rebuilding, and Kemble and his company were acting at the Haymarket until the new house was ready for occupation.
"Good old Mr. Jones" was a connection by marriage of Mrs. Piozzi's, having married a daughter of Sir William Fowler, her mother's cousin. He was instrumental in bringing about the public reconciliation between Mrs. Piozzi and her daughters, as narrated later on.
Streatham Park, Sat. 15 Oct.
My dear Miss Weston's letter contain'd more agreeable descriptions of the places I love, than of the people. I must hear better accounts of our sweet Harriet before my heart is easy, yet I doubt not her command over a passion which no longer appears to disturb the tranquility of her once half-frantic Admirer; who told my Master, in confidence no,—was his expression to me,—but in common discourse, that if he married a woman of inferior birth, such were his peculiar circumstances, that exactly one half of his estates would be forfeited. He remains constantly with us, but the world seems a blank to him: he takes no pleasure, as I can observe, and either feels no pain, or pretends to feel none. If he ever does marry an Italian lady he will be a very miserable man however, from being haunted by our Harriet's form, adorned with talents, and radiant with excellence. Should he renew his attachment to her, and sacrifice half his fortune to his love, every child she brings will seemingly reproach him for lessening an ancient patrimony.—Such is life.
Mrs. Siddons is at Harrogate, and, we hope, mending. Poor Sir Charles Hotham is going to change the Scene, I hear: his state of existence, so far as relates to this world, draws to an end. Yet though the Physicians send him to Bath, he and Lady Dorothy resolve, it seems, to see the new Drury Lane Hay Market before their curtain falls. Who says there is no ruling passion? It appears to me that any passion, or even inclination, nursed up carefully, will rule the rest, tho' naturally larger and stronger; as our little Flo lords it over the out-door dogs, merely on the strength of being his Mistress' favourite.
Chevalier Pindemonte has written me a long letter. He sends particular compliments to all our Friends and Coterie almost, and says a vast deal about dear Siddons. "What," cries Mr. Buchetti, "does he say of Helena Williams?" "Oh! not a word," replied I, "men never speak at all of the woman whom they really like." A painter would have enjoyed Marquis Trotti's countenance at this conversation. Meantime our little democratic friend is not doing a foolish thing at last by leaving England, I do believe. Such is the advantage of exchange between London and Orleans, that they say the very difference may make it worth her while; nor is that position a weak one, if it be true that a British Guinea is worth thirty-two French Shillings; and it was a man just arrived who told it me for a fact....
Della Crusca has married a Woman of elegant person and address, and who will bring him perhaps £500 o' year, with an unblemished character, as people tell me: the husband meantime will congratulate himself charmingly on his own superiority, no small pleasure to some minds; and the world will always be on his side in every dispute, tho' he had neither character nor fortune when they met. His family, I hear, are very angry.
The Kembles get money apace. Mr. Chappelow says he is sure that the Pit alone pays every night's expence, and people in general seem highly satisfied. Here's a long letter from your ever affectionate
H. L. P.
Sir Charles Hotham lived long enough to see the new theatre after all: his curtain did not actually fall till 1794.
It was during her Italian tour that Mrs. Piozzi had met Mr. Chappelow, who remained her firm friend till his death. Her connection with Robert Merry ("Della Crusca") at Florence has been mentioned in the Introduction. He returned to England in 1787, and published some rather turgid poems of a sentimental character, which were satirised by Gifford in the Baviad. At some time in the course of this year he was in Paris, being, like Helena Williams, an ardent sympathiser with the Revolution.
Streatham Park, Tues. 8 Nov.
My dearest Miss Weston would readily forgive my long silence, if she knew how heavily my hours are passing, and how happy a moment I think even this that I have stolen to write at last. Poor Mr. Piozzi has been, and is as ill with the Gout as I do believe a man can possibly be. Knees, hands, feet,—crippled in all, and unable even at this hour to turn in the bed....
Marquis Trotti and Mr. Buchetti have both been excessively kind indeed, and I shall feel eternally obliged by their attentive friendship. The Marquis has delayed his journey till he sees our Master on his legs again, and Mr. Buchetti keeps his courage up, as nobody but a countryman can do in a strange land....
I rejoice in our dear Harriet's recovery, which you say proceeds from her fate's being decided, a position I never believed, yet cannot contradict, for to me he never names her; notwithstanding I am confident he thinks of her still, nor would I bet a large wager he does not yet marry her; but it was not an event ever likely to happen in three months, and in three years she may, for aught I see, still be his, tho' I never more will tell her so.
Agitation of spirits is the worst illness, of which my present situation is a proof, and too much love is good for nothing, as I see, except to make one wretched. Mr. Piozzi has had Gout upon his throat, his voice, all that could agitate and terrifie me, but now Safe's the word, and I care little for his pain, poor soul, if we can but keep away danger....
Streatham Park, Sat. 20 Nov.
My dear Miss Weston deserves twenty letters, yet can I scarce write her one somehow. That all have their vexations is very true, and perhaps my share has been hitherto not quite equal to my neighbours'. Notwithstanding they would make no inconsiderable figure if prettily dressed up,—I mean my own. Poor Piozzi gets on as the Crabs do, he says, backward. Yesterday no creature could bear to see his agony, and tho' we all dined in the Library, we wished ourselves back a'bed....
I have had a letter from sweet Helena [Williams] this very post, telling how she is got safe to Orleans; 'tis however written in a strain less triumphant than tender, I think; and if as she purposes, we may hope to see her next Summer, I shall have few fears of her return to France.
As to our dear Harriet, you know how much I love her, but old Barba Jove and I have a vile trick of laughing at Lovers' resolutions. No matter, my heart wishes her sincerely well, and I have too many obligations to Marquis Trotti's politeness and attention while Mr. Piozzi was ill, not to wish and desire all good for him which he can desire for himself....
Owing, no doubt, to Miss Weston's return from Bath to Westminster, there are no letters for the next three months; the next, though as usual, undated, is shown by the postmark to have been written from Bath in 1792.