One of the most characteristic feats or freaks of this extraordinary woman was the celebration of her eightieth birthday by a concert, ball, and supper, to between six and seven hundred people, at the Kingston Rooms, Bath, on the 27th January, 1820.  At the conclusion of the supper, her health was proposed by Admiral Sir James Sausmarez, and drunk with three times three.  The dancing began at two, when she led off with her adopted son, Sir John Salusbury, dancing (according to the author of “Piozziana,” an eye-witness) “with astonishing elasticity, and with all the true air of dignity which might have been expected of one of the best bred females in society.”  When fears were expressed that she had done too much, she replied:—­“No:  this sort of thing is greatly in the mind; and I am almost tempted to say the same of growing old at all, especially as it regards those of the usual concomitants of age, viz., laziness, defective sight, and ill-temper.”

“So far from feeling fatigued or exhausted on the following day by her exertions,” remarks Sir James Fellowes in a note on this event, “she amused us by her sallies of wit, and her jokes on ’Tully’s Offices,’ of which her guests had so eagerly availed themselves.”.  Tully was the cook and confectioner, the Bath Gunter, who provided the supper.

Mrs. Piozzi died in May, 1821.  Her death is circumstantially communicated in a letter from Mrs. Pennington, the lady mentioned in Miss Seward’s correspondence as the beautiful and agreeable Sophia Weston:—­

“Hot Wells, May 5th, 1821.

“Dear Miss Willoughby,—­It is my painful task to communicate to you, who have so lately been the kind associate of dearest Mrs. Piozzi, the irreparable loss we have all sustained in that incomparable woman and beloved friend.

“She closed her various life about nine o’clock on Wednesday, after an illness of ten days, with as little suffering as could be imagined under these awful circumstances.  Her bed-side was surrounded by her weeping daughters:  Lady Keith and Mrs. Hoare arrived in time to be fully recognised[1]; Miss Thrale, who was absent from town, only just before she expired, but with the satisfaction of seeing her breathe her last in peace.

“Nothing could behave with more tenderness and propriety than these ladies, whose conduct, I am convinced, has been much misrepresented and calumniated by those who have only attended to one side of the history:  but may all that is past be now buried in oblivion!  Retrospection seldom improves our view of any subject.  Sir John Salusbury was too distant, the close of her illness being so rapid, for us to entertain any expectation of his arriving in time to see the dear deceased.  He only reached Clifton late last night.  I have not yet seen him; my whole time has been devoted to the afflicted ladies.”

[Footnote 1:  On hearing of their arrival she is reported to have said, “Now, I shall die in state.”]