Mrs. Siddons' brother, Stephen Kemble, had taken the Theatre Royal, Edinburgh, in 1789, but from the first was involved in disputes with his intended partner and an unsuccessful competitor. He tried to escape from these by opening the New Theatre in 1793, only to find that the legitimate drama was altogether prohibited there, as infringing the rights of the Theatre Royal. He returned to the latter in the following year, but disputes and litigation still continued, so that in spite of his sister's assistance it could not have proved a very profitable situation: but he did not resign till 1800.

Streatham Park, Sat. 13 Jun. 1795.

My dear Mrs. Pennington will be pleased to hear that our Cecilia is married, and happy, and gone down with her very amiable husband to Llewesog Lodge, near Denbigh, N. Wales, the seat of his mother, Mrs. Wynne. A letter from you, so directed, will be a pleasure to her. We cannot get down as early as we wish, tho' things here are so high-prized, that circumstance alone might drive one if one's heart were not, as much of mine now is, in the country with Mrs. Mostyn. These really are sad times, are they not? A cessation of hostilities without any peace, a pause somehow more shocking than war, like the pause in a pulse lately hurried on by fever, now stopt by a symptom more dreadful than the fever itself.

The elements too are really very severe of late; the Park is converted into what farmers call a Lay—our Park; it will not pay the haymaking. It is a new sight to me, and a mournful one, and the weather is like a cold October.

What becomes of our friends the Whalleys? I never hear of them, and what do they say to these terrifying moments? They will be sorry for those who are starving. My daughters tell me that the little sheds about St. George's Fields are full of Emigrée French dying of actual want; having exhausted the Charity so much—indeed so justly admired in our beneficent nation. Poor things! They expire quietly now, and say nothing; but stirring up Oatmeal and Cold water together, live on that while they can get it, and then—perish. Countesses and children of high quality in France, thus lost amidst the crowds of thieves and blackguards that infest the environs of London. How very dreadful! How very poignant the reflexion!...

Charming Siddons is somewhere in the North, setting up the individuals of her family, like Ninepins, for Fortune to bowl at, and knock down again. She meantime secures glorious immortality in both worlds....

CECILIA MOSTYN

From the Collection of A. M. Broadley, Esq.

Streatham Park, Fryday 26 Jun.

My dear Mrs. Pennington may assure herself I know no more of Helen Williams's actual situation than I do of Colonel Barry's address. I have seen him but for five minutes since I saw you, and 'twas his diversion then, (in his clever way,) to make out her defence against some of the company who sported the reports you mention.

Mr. James, whom you have heard me speak of, died in a French prison, poor fellow! His widow and children are returned; they have suffered greatly, but the pressure is nearly general, and these last riots truly tremendous. If we do not catch the Corn Fleet going from America to France—the Lord have mercy upon us!

Turning towards individuals is the likeliest method to find some happiness, yet you, my dear Friend, complain, and poor Mr. Whalley's sufferings will be too great, if his wife really should die in consequence of his Niece's naughtiness. Oh surely I hope that will never be. Can any beside parents feel mortal anxiety? I hoped not.

Sweet Cecy is loaded with comforts and pleasures; the family she falls into adores her, and the peasants take off the horses and draw her about in triumph. Her sisters too are now contented, and express their approbation, etc., in bridal presents. May she but be sensible of her felicity! The lot she has drawn is indeed a very great one; personal beauty, birth, unblemished character, and gentle manners in one man united, is no common prize....

My Girls always say how they wish for your acquaintance. I will not yet despair of seeing you next Spring, for we have a project, but I must not mention it yet.

Mr. James was a portrait painter at Bath, who was elected A.R.A. in 1770. He was imprisoned during the Terror, but was apparently released after the fall of Robespierre, as he actually died at Boulogne.

Lord Howe had put out in the spring to find the French fleet, but returned on hearing that it had been damaged by a storm, and had put into Brest to refit. Though in failing health he remained in nominal command, but the English fleet was actually led by Alexander Hood, Lord Bridport, who, three days before Mrs. Piozzi wrote, gained a notable victory, with a much inferior force, over the French Fleet of twenty-two ships off L'Orient.

A letter of thanks from Cecilia for Mrs. Pennington's congratulations follows. Her condolences on Mrs. Whalley's supposed death were somewhat premature. Subsequent letters show that she made a satisfactory recovery from the effects of her niece's "naughtiness," whatever it may have been.

Llewesog Lodge, July the 2d.

My dear Mrs. Pennington,—I am extremely obliged to you and Mr. Pennington for your kind congratulations, and should have written to thank you sooner had I been quite well. Now the correspondence has begun, may I hope it will continue, for I have now not the same means of knowing how you all go on. I am not likely to see my dear Mother for at least two months, as their house goes on very slowly here. Wasn't there a talk once of your coming into Wales? Sure it would be a good as well as an agreeable plan. How glad we should all be to see you. Do let me know if there are any hopes of such a thing; or to have a pretty little cottage—how nice it would be. Any body may live here without money almost, every thing is so cheap.

I have this moment heard of poor Mrs. Whalley's death. How grieved you must be, and poor Mr. Whalley; indeed I am very sorry. That dreadful Mrs. Mullins was, I suppose, the cause; do you know what is become of her?... Ever yours,

Cecilia Mostyn.