LETTER XXXI.

TO MRS MARTIN*.

Lichfield, June 5, 1786.

AFTER a month's whirl in the London vortex, the blooming and quiet shades of Lichfield have again received me; and filial pleasures, from the easy and quiet, though feeble state of my father's health, bless my return. You were, during my absence, a fleeting visionary beneath those shades. I regret that you made this transit through our precincts while I was away. I should have preferred talking to you of what I had seen and heard, to rushing back upon paper into the busy world I have left. In that attempt, much that interested must remain untold, untouched upon, or my letter would be of a length ill tallying with the scantiness of my leisure.

And now, from the much that I have observed, and the little which I have time to impart, what shall be selected? Shall I talk to you of our animated literary breakfastings, at the house of

* A near connection of Miss Seward, now resident at Bath.

Miss Helen Williams, Mr Mathias, &c.; of the belle esprits of both sexes, whose genius, wit, and knowledge, made those little meetings so brilliant ?or shall I talk to you of the abbeymusic,

"Loud as from numbers without number, sweet
As from blest voices uttering joy?"

The last is the more popular theme; and therefore, if you please, it shall be ours. People universally assert, that the world never produced any thing of equal effect in the art. Indeed, I believe, that at these festivals, music touched her ne-plus ultra of excellence; for though, perhaps, every solo song has, from the impossibility of any single voice filling completely so immense a space, been heard in smaller scenes to greater advantage; yet, the sublimity of the harmonies, so full and complete in all those great effects which Handel's matchless genius conceived, though, from the comparative nothingness of the best band those days could afford him, he heard them not complete with his mortal ears; the exclusion of every thing harsh, and disagreeably noisy, by the care taken that no order of instruments, or of voices, should preponderate; the exquisite delicacy with which the songs were accompanied, and the picturesque power of several of the cho

russes, that endued the ear with the powers of the eye;-all these admirables produced one grand result, that completely satisfied my imagination, high as report had taught me to set its claims.

Now as to the individual performers.—I allow to your favourite, Harrison,.correctness, elegance, and taste, and all the coyer graces of his science; but his voice, however sweet, and, even in its tone, however enriched with that free and perfect shake, is very limited in its compass, and very moderate in its while his manner is powers; wholly destitute of that fine enthusiasm, which is vital to the just execution of Handel's glowing ideas, that breathe the soul of every passion in

turn.

Mrs Billington's voice is of great sweetness, compass, power, and execution; and her skill cannot be questioned, who played finely on the harpsichord at ten years old. Already she almost rivals Mara in the saramouch part of her performance; but has, however, too much sense to gambol like her in the sacred songs.-I breakfasted with Mr Bates, the director, and heard his seraphic wife excel in several of Handel's finest airs, Mara, and every other syren of the orchestra and stage. I observed to him, that Mara put too much gold fringe and tassels, upon

that solemn robe of melody, "I know that my Redeemer liveth." Do not say gold, Madam, he replied, it was despicable tinsel.

Yet justice will confess, that she has a rich fulness in all the natural parts of her voice, which leave her fair public rivals, and the misshapen and snuff-begrimed Rubenelli, at considerable distance.

Mrs Billington possesses a great deal of genuine beauty, and very unaffected and charming manners. Fame has traduced her chastity; but there are no meretricious traits in her countenance or conversation, which I had opportunities of observing, often meeting her in private musical parties. Adieu! Remark the length of my letter, and suffer it to expiate that of my preceding silence.

LETTER XXXII.

To Miss Powys.

Lichfield, June 25, 1786.

It rejoices me that you find yourself ultimately happier for your voluntary exertions. From

the native energy of your mind, I believed it would be so, and therefore approved your scheme. In you, it does not strike me as wonderful, that a charge of such inevitable anxiety should be undertaken, without any expectation of permanent gratitude from those on whom it lays such high obligations. Beneath long experience of the scarcity of that virtue, a spirit, warm and energetic as yours, will look for its certain reward solely to the pleasure it experiences in generous and well-directed exertions. Better directed no exertion can be, than in rendering the orphan daughters of a dear friend, young women, whose future influence over the feelings, the morals, and the happiness of others, may probably be extensive, more amiable than they have any chance of being, if their opening youth should be devoted to fashionable pursuits, and mere amusement; and, without any shield from intellectual cultivation, exposed to the allurement of dissipation, and to the untempered force of its pernicious effects upon the powers of thought, and the habits of industry.

This summer's retirement, with its destined and varied plan of mental improvement, will form a test for the degree of native strength of mind which these lovely young women may possess.