Still keeps a seat or two for worth and grace;
And therefore 'tis that, though the sight be rare,
We sometimes see a Lowth or Bagot there."
Brynbella, Oct. 4, 1798.
Your letter, dearest Mrs. Pennington, came three days before the public prints announced the fatal tydings. I can give no consolation certainly; that which I receive is from the consciousness of the charming parent's perfect resignation to his almighty will who disposes everything for the best; who snatches Palmer from the stage of life, by means which most impress mankind, in order yt general compassion may be excited for his offspring, which, had he dyed in any other manner, would have been wholly forgotten by the world, although not a whit less distressed than now. That Pow'r which in a short time after steals by slow degrees the long-sinking life of Maria Siddons from her friends, by means best calculated to fatigue their feelings, and blunt that acute grief which is ever caused by the sufferings of a youthful patient. I am quite confident that if Admiral Nelson by his prodigious victory could purchase peace for Europe, he might in four years time die in his own house, and not be half as much regretted as is the lovely object of your late attention. Every letter I receive from every creature is filled with her praise, and breathes an unfeigned sorrow for her loss. Virtue well tried through many a refining fire, Learning lost to the world she illuminated, and Courage taken from the Island protected by her arms, excites not as much sorrow as Maria Siddons, represented to every imagination as sweet, and gentle, and soothing; as young in short, for in youth lies every charm.
When will mankind have done hoping and expecting from a generation not yet mature that excellence which cannot be found among our own contemporaries: at least not found but with drawbacks so heavy the character can hardly carry them? Never. When Harriet Lee says no state is so enviable as that of a Grandmother, she means that life will not last long enough to disappoint expectation of happiness to the object of attention. But poor Mrs. Hamilton can tell another tale. She is grandmother to a Lady whose husband is a frolicker; rides round his own Billiard Table on his own poney, and performs a thousand feats that may delight his own grandmother for aught I know, (if he has one,) but frightens his wife's ancestress out of her wits.
Well! we shall meet some time I do think, and talk all matters over, merry and sad. In the mean time tell dear Mrs. Siddons how truly I love and pity her, and accept my venerating regard for that prodigious friendship you have evinced, thro' the scenes I can easily imagine....
The reference to Nelson's "prodigious victory" shows that the news of the battle of the Nile, fought on 1st August, must have penetrated to Wales when Mrs. Piozzi wrote, though Nelson's despatch dated 3rd August was not published in the London Gazette till 3rd October.
The next letter was doubtless a reply to one giving a more detailed account of Maria's last moments, such as Mrs. Pennington sent to several of her correspondents, and in which she dwelt at some length on the courage and resignation shown by Maria in the last days of her life.
Brynbella, 22 Oct. 1798.
I was exceedingly glad, dearest Mrs. Pennington, when I heard you were released. Such fatigues fall very heavy on such feelings, but the consciousness of what you condemned yourself to suffer for the sake of a friend will act as a cordial through your whole life,—a long one, I hope and pray,—and at its end, will return warm and consolatory to your own tender heart.
Meanwhile I would not wish your indulgence of a fancy which, if not erroneous, is at least liable to gross error: and my dear Sophia should be wise, and prefer dry wisdom to brilliant imagination. There is no real inference to be drawn from peoples' behaviour in their last moments to the character they would sustain in life, was their recovery permitted. No inference at all. The great Duke of Marlborough was known to show pusillanimity at the parting hour, and people are not yet weary of saying how Samuel Johnson was afraid of death. I read in the Medical Transactions one day the account of a Mr. Bellamy, Mercer in Covent Garden, his extraordinary illness, and composed resignation, which would have done honour to a Saint, a Scholar, or a Hero. Yet was dear Mr. Bellamy quite a common man, like the next man, and had he recovered, would undoubtedly have returned to the same undistinguished mediocrity in which he had already lived 30 years. But his complaint itself tended by some means to remove the cloud from that celestial spark which dwells in all; whilst those disorders of which the Warrior and the Man of Knowledge died contributed to keep that spark from being seen. Had Heaven restor'd all three to pristine vigour, they would once more have shone as soldiers and instructors,—men who protect and benefit their species,—the other would once more have stood behind a counter and sold silks by the yard. We will not rate the dignity even of Bodies, much less of Souls, by the figure they make at their departure: nothing goes out, as we call it, more brightly than a fire of deal-shavings.
Now let me request you my kind, generous friend, not to suppose me deficient in concern, either for lost Maria, or her surviving admirers. The Father's sensation of loss will not abate so readily as that of our transcendant and now doubly-dear Mrs. Siddons. She must return to the duties and cares of life, and in them, as in her own pure heart, will find a med'cine for her grief. But his expectations from a daughter's beauty, his purposed pride in those charms which 'tis now clear that she posess'd, are blasted in the most incurable manner. I am sorry for Mr. Siddons from my very soul.
Let us now take some leisure to rejoyce in the triumphs of our own Country, and the just punishment of those perfidious enemies who, having sown the seeds of misery in every Nation, will soon see all united against them, and owing their internal safety to their outward exertions for destroying them; like poyson'd Princes in a Tragedy, who just live long enough to make the Tyrant fall, and end the Drama by a proper catastrophe. The moment we have crushed these odious French, and obtained a general peace, in that moment will the venom they have disseminated begin its work, and set a Revolution going in every kingdom. But I do think that they will be destroyed first....
I cried over your charming letter for an hour, notwithstanding I answer it so coldly, but Truth is always cold, from being naked perhaps, and what I have said is the truest, though not the prettiest thing you have heard upon the melancholy subject....
Brynbella, Sunday 11th Nov. 1798.
My Dearest Mrs. Pennington,—I have got your sweet letter, and do now verily and indeed hope, trust, and believe that I shall embrace the kind writer on, or very nearly about the 6th day of December next. There is our plan told clear, as my Master says, and bids me scrivere una Lettera, (don't you remember?) and tell our true friend that we are coming.
Thus 'tis. I am appointed Queen of our County Assembly, with Lord Kirkwall who is King Consort. We take it by Quarters here, and our Quarter expires next Thursday sennight—the full moon,—'tis our third and last night, and I shall come home at five in the morning,—change my dress and drink my Coffee, and set out for the famous Cottage of Llangollen Vale, where dwell the fair and noble Recluses of whom you have heard so much, Lady Eleanor Butler, and Miss Ponsonby.... Well! we spend two days with them, and then away to dear Miss Owen at Shrewsbury.... On the 3rd therefore we start from her to you, from Shrewsbury to Bristol, and I suppose Wednesday or Thursday will see our meeting, hitherto deferred for six long years.... We must stay a week, no more, for I really want Bath Waters.... I hope you will come to Bath, and that sweet Siddons will meet us there; her husband gives me hopes of it, and that will be too much felicity: to see her where I saw her first with admiration, and now to see her again, with beauty unimpaired, talents improved; see her in your company at Bath, and call her Friend!!! Oh, then I should say the tide was changed, of private as of public affairs....
I can talk of nothing else, so will not try.
Call up the Chaises then, make no delay,
Accessible is none but Bristol Way....