From the Collection of A. M. Broadley, Esq.
Monday, 10 Apr. 1820.
My dear Mrs. Pennington is but too kind in excusing my peevishness, but this sharp weather freezes all my faculties: it is as cold as January ought to be. You will have a sad loss in Maria Browne, and I have a sad loss in dear Conway; and his steady resolution never to write is such a bad trick. Siddons has the same you know: and Dr. Johnson used to complain, I remember, of David Garrick. "One would believe," said he, "that the little Dog loved one, if it was only by conversation one knew him: but 'out of sight, out of mind,' is an old proverb, and they have all of them so much to do."
If my coming to Clifton depended on my being weary of Bath, you would see me soon indeed: but till July dividends I have no money for move-about. Lord bless me! I wonder how other people's Bank Notes hold out. Mine melt away like butter in the sun. 'Tis a great mercy that the Stocks hold firm with a well organised rebellion in the Island. In my time, had such a state of things existed, people would have laid down knife and fork, and fallen to praying: those I mean who did not fight either on the one side or the other. We do not now lay down even our Cards. My friend Dr. Gray however, whom you do, or you do not remember at Streatham Park, has taken serious fright, and fled to London with his family, from Durham; wishing to change his valuable living for one, even half as profitable, in the South. Altho' Miss Normans told me on Saturday, at Mrs. Pierrepoint's or Mrs. Courtenay's Assembly, that the Bishops were insulted going to Dinner with some of our Ministers of State, last week; and the circumstance created some alarm.
Mr. Eckersall says the Comte d'Artois' life has been attempted, and that it was gave the King of France gout in his stomach. Our gracious Queen's arrival may possibly produce a like effect in the stomach of Louis Dixhuit's personal friend.
... Miss Wroughton, in her zeal for Mr. and Mrs. Ashe, asked half a dozen amateur Gentlemen to mount the Balcony, and sing for their Benefit, because the Theatre supported by Mr. Young took all their best musicians away; just as her friends the Ashes, took away Mr. Windsor, etc.—if you recollect—from my Fête on the 27th of January. And so some laugh, and some are angry, but Miss Wroughton, tho' she cross'd me at every turn this Winter, begs me to take Tickets now for Mr. Ashe!!! I really wonder how she can think of such a thing.
Clifton must be a charming place, sure, where there is no such gossiping nonsense; and all the Devonshire coast too is so quiet, and Penzance in Cornwall will soon be fashionable;—it is so cheap, they say, and so warm....
You do not care much, I think, about these ridiculous reports concerning Queen Caroline; how she is coming—so she is—to do wonders unheard of till now: and Buonaparte!—how he's to be let out, a Bag Fox, for all Europe to hunt again. People find torpor worse than torture 'tis plain. They long for War, a property-tax and a battle in every Newspaper: rebellion and assassination are not hot enough. As Mr. Leo was constrained at last to warm his brandy with Cayenne Pepper before his stomach could feel any effect.
Bath, April 22, 1820.
Dear Mrs. Pennington will be glad to see the spring coming forward so sweetly. She will be glad, too, to hear that her true friends are well; the Little Old Woman, and the Tall Young Beau. She will be glad that the Parties grow hot and disagreeable, and that I feel longing for Clifton and the 10th of June. Whether we are to be glad of the recovery of the Great Lady I know not, for tho' her life does much good, her death—poor Dear!—would have done no harm. Do you remember an impudent Comic Actor on our Bath Stage? A Mr. Edwin, and we said he resembled Dr. Randolph in the face: and how when he was addressing the audience in an epilogue upon his own Night, he suddenly turned to her Stage Box, singing
And the Duchess, who now sits so smiling here
Shall come to our Benefits every year.
Tol ol derol, Lol, etc.
I never saw any fair Female so confounded in my life. You were with me.
How the ground and the trees do sigh and pine for rain! And what a haze this odious North East wind sheds over all my prospect! The people are right enough that go abroad. I would go myself, but that I have an appointment to keep with dear Piozzi, who I brought out of his own sweet Country, to lie in the vault he made for me and my Ancestors at Dymerchion; where I am most willing to keep him company, when I have performed more than all the promises I ever, in any humour, made his Nephew; and when I have, after paying every debt, saved a silver sixpence or two for those who soften and amuse the closing scenes of a life long drawn out,—perhaps for that very purpose. Meanwhile we have a church building here, for my particular friends, the Blackguards and tatter'd Belles of Avon Street, and my Subscription will be soon expected.
Ay, Ay, I see where I shall pass the Winter months escaping frosts, and keeping clear of expences, in a climate better than Paris, the Latitude very little higher. But if you open your lips—Adieu!...
Dear—— says his health was never so perfect, and he uses horse exercise, and sends love to his Friends,—and is a good Boy. I used to bid my children when at distance, only write three words,—safe, well, and happy: his letter is just like theirs.
You are tired, are you not, of the silly talk concerning the Queen and the Radicals. They are like the Statues in the Arabian Nights, who clatter their armour to fright those who go up the hill: but if you walk steadily forward it ends in nothing.
We have an Italian Rope Dancer coming, Diavol Antonio, as they call him. Our shows have been like those in a Magic Lanthorn; so the Devil comes at last to end the whole ado.
Fryday May 5th, 1820.
... We will see a great deal of each other when Clifton becomes my place of residence for six pretty weeks. After them—old Ocean. Can aught else compleatly wash away all recollection of Bath Parties? That fair assemblage of glaring lights, empty heads, aking hearts, and false faces?
Who is it says the conversation of a true friend brightens the eyes? I have enjoy'd two chearful hours talk with our best speaker, best actor, best companion,—Conway. You seem to express yourself as if half sorry you loved him so much. I am only sorry that I can't love him ten times more....
Here is lovely weather for frisking up and down, and my empty pockets will not overload the carriage; altho' the whole family of emigrants will be packed in, and on, and upon, my Post chaise and four....
Salusbury sent me a whimpering letter, and has already got his £100, which Heaven knows I owed, and much more, to the estate of Messrs. Callan and Booth, Lodging House keepers. But if I can get five Guineas o' week for No. 8, during absence, I shall bring matters round in due time: because, as Clarissa says in the Rambler, 'tis well known to all the Beau-Monde that nobody ever dies.
In her next letter Mrs. Piozzi makes arrangements for the accommodation of herself and her household, consisting of her man James, her attendant Bessy, and two other maids at Clifton.
Tuesday, 16 May 1820.
... I can't stir till 10th of June.... I like to be under Mrs. Rudd's roof, and mean to sleep under it next Saturday three weeks, the Pretender's birthday, when old Tories in Wales wore white Roses, the 10th day of June. Sunday's dinner I hope to eat with Mr. and Mrs. Pennington, at their hospitable board, and we will talk of anything and everything but la Partenza, which cannot be before the same day of July, as till then I have ne'er a groat. If life is lent me I will be rich that time twelve-month; and if it is not lent me, I shall want no money.
Meanwhile I expect no letters from our favourite Friend. I have written to him tho', and told him that you and I were his Hephestion and Parmenio; and if he does not laugh at his Blue Ladies, we are surely well off.
Do you remember Charles Shephard, I wonder? and how we petted him? and Piozzi trusted him with all his affairs, and bid me do so; and so I did. The envious and jealous people however, after my husband's death, (people of our mutual acquaintance,) blew coals up between him and me, and parted us with acrimony on his side, mental resentment, very strong, on mine. I express'd none however; only said, "God forgive and prosper you, farewell." Many reports would have been made afterwards concerning his distresses, which I regularly turned a deaf ear to; and for these last 10 years never heard his name, and scarcely ever pronounced it. Last Fryday brought me a beautiful letter from him, dated West India, congratulating me on the gay supper given last January, assuring me of his continued regard, and bidding me direct back to the Hon. C. S. etc. because he is a Privy Councillor, Chief Justice, and Lord knows what besides.
That he retains his confidence in me plainly appears from the tender enquiries he makes after his favourite Lady; of whose attachment to him, and his to her, no one ever knew but myself. So I have lived long enough to have old friends restored, and to have made one new one. I hope dear Conway and he will be acquainted when he comes home rich and—no, not happy, but able to spite the spiters. If I am removed before then, you will remain and introduce them to each other. It will be a mutual pleasure, and you will talk of H. L. P., and Sir John will have my letters to make money of, and give him some compensation for my extravagance in the year 1820.
Callan and Booth, the people I take my house from, have heavy claims on me now; so I have let it to Mr. Iveson for a twelve-month, and mean to be smooth as Oyl'd Silk by July 1821....
There is much for you to do as my Sentimental Executrix, so we will hear of no departure but mine for Marasion, just by Penzance....
George Hammersley has just left me and taken my Banker's Book to Pallmall to be regulated; and gives me great credit for my care and exactness in my Money Matters: bidding me make no scruple with regard to their House, etc., very good-naturedly indeed. But as I told him I never yet overdrew my Banker, and will not (unless something serious happens,) begin to do so in the year 1820. One twelve month's short-biting will set all smooth, and you shall see a merry face once more on the shoulders of yours and dear Mr. Pennington's affectionate,
H. L. P.
A few days afterwards Mrs. Piozzi was much agitated, on Conway's account, by the news of the collapse of the stage of the Birmingham theatre, where it appears he was going to act; but it turned out that it was not during a performance, and the only injury done was to one of the workmen.
Bath, Tuesday 23 May 1820.
... I shall sleep at your Crescent House, Mrs. Rudd's, as we agreed long ago on Saturday night, 10 June, if it pleases God, and go to your Bristol Cathedral on Sunday morning: dine in Dowry Square, chat with you all the evening, and pass a comfortable night,—altho' the Queen is coming near enough to put every one in a heat; if perhaps she may forbear to light up a fire in our Nation for purpose of roasting her own chicken to her own mind.
Public and private villainies on the increase, as Dr. Randolph used to tell us long ago. He did recommend Charles Shephard's father for the education of young Salusbury, and the son recommended himself by his useful talents to dear Piozzi; by his brilliant ones to me. I am happy to find he will be rich and prosperous; happy he scarcely can be from the nature of his attachment; but 'tis happy to feel attachment at all, for when that's over, all's over....
... At a wedding breakfast we were invited to yesterday Dr. Wilkinson harangued in praise of Marazion, and our friend Mr. Gifford said that when he was a young Officer, he treated his brothers of the Corps with a dinner; two dishes of fish, one ham, three chickens, a pigeon pye, and a plum pudding;—the cost, 14 shillings....
Meanwhile Sir Wm. Hotham says the Levee was a Bear Garden. Miss Knight's letter to Mrs. Lutwyche says it was full of Grocers, Silk Dyers, and Upholsterers. And I say it was a Levy-en-Masse.
The Bath people must get substitutes for H. L. P. and W. A. C. as they can. I fancy young Roscius will be the man, the woman is yet to be looked for.
Admiral Sir William Hotham, one of Nelson's officers, was made a K.C.B. in 1815, and became one of the Gentlemen in Waiting to the King.