Sat. Oct. 17, 1819.
My dear Mrs. Pennington charged me to send her the Riddle, and Miss Camplin asking for commands, I thought it a good opportunity, therefore
A place I here describe, how gay the scene!
Fresh, bright, and vivid with perpetual green.
Verdure attractive to the ravished sight
Perennial joys, and ever new delight,
Charming at noon, more charming still at night,
Fair Pools, where Fish in forms pellucid play,
Smooth lies the lawn, swift glide the hours away.
The Banks with shells and minerals are crown'd,
Hope keeps her court, and Beauty smiles around.
No mean dependance here on Summer skies,
This spot rough Winter's roughest blast defies.
Yet here the Government is curst with change,
Knaves openly on either Party range;
Assault their Monarch, and avow the deed,
While Honour fails, and Tricks alone succeed.
For bold Decemvirs here usurp the sway,
Now all some single Demagogue obey,
False Lights prefer, and curse th' intrusive day.
Oh! shun the tempting shore, the dangerous coast,
Health, Fame, and Fortune, stranded here, are lost.
This Riddle I gave Salusbury when he was a boy, "But what is it, Aunt? What can it be?" "Why, replied I, can't you perceive that
A Card-table's green is perpetual and bright,
A Card-table charms men from morning till night;
Where, angling with skill for some innocent fool,
Their thoughts are still fixed on the Fish and the Pool;
While Guineas and Counters, promiscuously heap'd,
With hope fills those pockets whence pelf has escap'd.
Thro' Winter and Summer and demi-saison,
This occupies Ladies and Lords de Bon Ton.
For Knaves are successful at Limited Loo,
At Whist the odd Trick makes all Honours look blue.
The Ten, at Casino, Decemvir we call,
And Aces, at Commerce, take tribute from all.
Wax Candles superior to Sunshine they boast,
While Time, Fame, and Fortune for ever are lost."
Bath, 29 Oct. 1819.
I certainly do not remember a word about Siddons, and probably I did not get dear Mrs. Pennington's letter. It is no joke that my feelings grow torpid; I have had so much of the torture in my life that it is really a natural consequence, and if some odd things (kindness is one) do keep me awake this year, I shall certainly sleep out the next....
Conway's name is on the Posts as having renew'd his engagements, but he possesses many perfections, and leaves writing letters to you and me. Cecy Mostyn is a most entertaining correspondent. She is at Florence now, making good sport of her Cavaliere Servente, the Marchese Garzoni, but remembers your Mother still, and says I must mind and keep as bright as she did to 90 years old.
All you say of these horrid Blasphemers is said with truth and wisdom, but Dr. Gibbes and Mr. Mangin both protest to me, and they are no strait-laced moralists, that Carlisle and all his crew are white to Lord Byron; whose book is so seducing, so amusing, and so cheap, it will soon be in every hand that can hold one. Upham sent it me, thinking of course it could not hurt an old woman; but I held my crutches fast, for 'tis no fun to have them kicked from under one at fourscore—and the Scriptures are my crutches. If these gay fellows delight in obliterating the direction posts for Youth in the journey through life, they some of them may get into the road again; but as Carter said, my religion is my freehold estate, and whoever tries to shake my title to it is an enemy.
Dr. and Mrs. Whalley seem to have been giving la Comedie gratis here while the Theatres were shut up. Incidents are certainly not wanting, and the Catastrophe kept quite out of sight, as Bayes recommends, for purpose of elevating and surprizing. Those who come to hear what I say on the subject, go home disappointed, for I say nothing, and have indeed nothing to say....
Helen's sinking into oblivion is no proof of the people's good taste, for she is a clever creature, though no one less approved of her Classical Elopement—Helen to Paris—than I did. Is Mr. [Stone] dead, or only his wife? He was a Radical before they had taken root....
Lady Baynton has not improved her beauty by living in France: her son however does surprize me. A Titmouse scarce out of the egg when last we met, a Boy now of elegant carriage and behaviour; not a little manieré, perhaps too much so for rough England....
In this letter occurs the first mention of William Augustus Conway, who engrossed such a large share of Mrs. Piozzi's interest, and even affection, at this period of her life; filling, it may be, to some extent, the place formerly occupied by her adopted son, now launched on an independent career. That she felt a great admiration and real affection for the handsome young actor is obvious, and she set herself to forward his interests with as much assiduity and enthusiasm as if he had been her son. It has been suggested that her feelings towards him were quite other than maternal, and certain "Love Letters," purporting to be written by her, have been adduced in support of this theory. But the way he is spoken of in this and other genuine correspondence of hers should be sufficient to disprove the suggestion. It must be admitted that her admiration led her to credit him with talents which were not obvious to other eyes. He was a man of striking appearance, of gentlemanly and attractive manners, and a tolerably good actor, but gave little indication of the genius which she discerned in him. He had acted with some success at Dublin and Covent Garden before he came to Bath in 1817, where he acted in tragedy and comedy for some three years. Only a few days before her death, according to Macready, she sent him a cheque for £100, but this he returned to the executors. The same year (1821) he left the stage, on account of an attack attributed to Theodore Hook, and sailed for America. He played again at New York in 1824, but seems to have intended to devote himself to the ministry. For some unexplained reason he threw himself overboard, while on a voyage to Charleston, in 1828, but the seven "Love Letters" above referred to were not published till 1843. They are, in the main, undoubtedly from the pen of Mrs. Piozzi, though possibly touched up in places to make them a little more sensational. But, taken by themselves, and without any reference to the circumstances under which they were written, they might easily be misunderstood—as it was perhaps intended they should be. For the editor was either unaware of, or ignored the facts which appear plainly enough in the present correspondence; that Conway was at the time engaged to a lady at Bath; that Mrs. Piozzi was deeply interested in this little romance, and promoted it to the best of her power; and that the most emotional of the letters was written to console him at the moment when the engagement had been broken off. Her attitude all through is that of an anxious mother, seeking to ensure the happiness of a dearly loved son.
WILLIAM AUGUSTUS CONWAY (AS HENRY V)
By Rivers after de Wilde, 1814.
From the Collection of A. M.Broadley, Esq.
Doctor, afterwards Sir George Smith Gibbes, physician to Queen Charlotte, and author of a Treatise on the Bath Waters, was one of the first explorers of the Bone Caves of the Mendips. He attended Mrs. Piozzi on her death-bed, as described by Mangin.
The Rev. Edward Mangin, who had been a naval chaplain, and Prebendary of Killaloe and St. Patrick's, was a notable dramatic critic, and at this time a recognised leader of the literary coterie of Bath. He was thus brought into close touch with Mrs. Piozzi, and the result of their intimacy was his Piozziana, published anonymously in 1833, now rather a scarce book, which contains many of her letters as well as his personal recollections of her later years.