To divert my dear at Calais,
Say how every rogue who rallies
Envies him who waits at Calais
For her that would disdain a Palace
Compar'd to Piozzi, Love, and Calais."
"24th June, 1784.—He is set out sure enough, here are letters from Turin to say so.... Now the Misses must move; they are very loath to stir: from affection perhaps, or perhaps from art—'tis difficult to know.—Oh 'tis, yes, it is from tenderness, they want me to go with them to see Wilton, Stonehenge, &c.—I will go with them to be sure."
"27th June, Sunday.—We went to Wilton, and also to Fonthill; they make an admirable and curious contrast between ancient magnificence and modern glare: Gothic and Grecian again, however. A man of taste would rather possess Lord Pembroke's seat, or indeed a single room in it; but one feels one should live happier at Beckford's.—My daughters parted with me at last prettily enough considering (as the phrase is). We shall perhaps be still better friends apart than together. Promises of correspondence and kindness were very sweetly reciprocated, and the eldest wished for Piozzi's safe return very obligingly.
"I fancy two days more will absolutely bring him to Bath. The present moments are critical and dreadful, and would shake stronger nerves than mine! Oh Lord, strengthen me to do Thy will I pray."
"28th June.—I am not yet sure of seeing him again—not sure he lives, not sure he loves me yet.... Should anything happen now!! Oh, I will not trust myself with such a fancy: it will either kill me or drive me distracted."
"Bath, 2nd July, 1784.—The happiest day of my whole life, I think—Yes, quite the happiest: my Piozzi came home yesterday and dined with me; but my spirits were too much agitated, my heart was too much dilated. I was too painfully happy then; my sensations are more quiet to-day, and my felicity less tumultuous."