“’There’s not one of us all, my brave boys, but would rather
  Do ought than offend great King George our good father;
  But our country, you know, my dear lads, is our mother,
  And that is a much surer side than the other.’”

“I had looked ill, or perhaps appeared to feel so much, that my eldest daughter would, out of tenderness perhaps, force me to an explanation.  I could, however, have evaded it if I would; but my heart was bursting, and partly from instinctive desire of unloading it—­partly, I hope, from principle, too—­I called her into my room and fairly told her the truth; told her the strength of my passion for Piozzi, the impracticability of my living without him, the opinion I had of his merit, and the resolution I had taken to marry him.  Of all this she could not have been ignorant before.  I confessed my attachment to him and her together with many tears and agonies one day at Streatham; told them both that I wished I had two hearts for their sakes, but having only one I would break it between them, and give them each ciascheduno la meta! After that conversation she consented to go abroad with me, and even appointed the place (Lyons), to which Piozzi meant to follow us.  He and she talked long together on the subject; yet her never mentioning it again made me fear she was not fully apprized of my intent, and though her concurrence might have been more easily obtained when left only to my influence in a distant country, where she would have had no friend to support her different opinion—­yet I scorned to take such mean advantage, and told her my story now, with the winter before her in which to take her measures—­her guardians at hand—­all displeased at the journey:  and to console her private distress I called into the room to her my own bosom friend, my beloved Fanny Burney, whose interest as well as judgment goes all against my marriage; whose skill in life and manners is superior to that of any man or woman in this age or nation; whose knowledge of the world, ingenuity of expedient, delicacy of conduct, and zeal in the cause, will make her a counsellor invaluable, and leave me destitute of every comfort, of every hope, of every expectation.

“Such are the hands to which I have cruelly committed thy cause—­my honourable, ardent, artless Piozzi!!  Yet I should not deserve the union I desire with the most disinterested of all human hearts, had I behaved with less generosity, or endeavoured to gain by cunning what is withheld by prejudice.  Had I set my heart upon a scoundrel, I might have done virtuously to break it and get loose; but the man I love, I love for his honesty, for his tenderness of heart, his dignity of mind, his piety to God, his duty to his mother, and his delicacy to me.  In being united to this man only can I be happy in this world, and short will be my stay in it, if it is not passed with him.”