ny allusion to our long
separation and its cause. The _caro sposo_ still lives, but is such
an object from the gout, that the account of his sufferings made me
pity him sincerely; he wished, she told me, 'to see his old and
worthy friend,' and _un beau matin_ I could not refuse compliance
with his wish. She nurses him with great affection and tenderness,
never goes out or has company when he is in pain."

In the Conway Notes she says:

"Piozzi's fine hand upon the organ and pianoforte deserted him. Gout,
such as I never knew, fastened on his fingers, distorting them into
every dreadful shape.... A little girl, shown to him as a musical
wonder of five years old, said, 'Pray, Sir, why are your fingers
wrapped up in black silk so?' 'My dear,' replied he, 'they are in
mourning for my voice.' 'Oh, me!' cries the child, '_is she dead?_'
He sung an easy song, and the baby exclaimed, 'Ah, Sir! you are very
naughty--you tell fibs!' Poor dears! and both gone now!"

"When life was gradually, but perceptibly, closing round him at Bath,
in 1808, I asked him if he would wish to converse with a Romish
priest,--we had full opportunity there. 'By no means,' said he. 'Call
Mr. Leman of the Crescent.' We did so,--poor Bessy ran and fetched
him. Mr. Piozzi received the blessed Sacrament at his hands; but
recovered sufficiently to go home and die in his own house."

He died of gout at Brynbella in March 1809, and was buried in a vault
constructed by her desire in Dymerchion Church. There is a portrait
of him (period and painter unknown) still preserved amongst the
family portraits at Brynbella. It is that of a good-looking man of
about forty, in a straight-cut brown coat with metal buttons, lace
frill and ruffles, and some leaves of music in his hand. There are
also two likenesses of Mrs. Piozzi: one a three-quarter length
(kit-kat), taken apparently when she was about forty; the other a
miniature of her at an advanced age. Both confirm her description of
herself as too strong-featured to be pretty. The hands in the
three-quarter length are gloved.

Brynbella continued her headquarters till 1814, when she gave it up
to Sir John Salusbury. From that period she resided principally at
Bath and Clifton, occasionally visiting Streatham or making summer
trips to the seaside.

That she and her eldest daughter should ever be again (if they ever
were) on a perfect footing of confidence and affection, was a moral
impossibility. Estrangements