I hasten my dear & kind friend to reply to your very kind & welcome letter--I ought to have written sooner but I have been waiting to hear; & an aversion to the pen, equal I suppose to that which a sempstress seamstress may feel to the needle, makes me now a dilatory correspondent. I think however the more of those few dear old friends on whose goodness & sympathy I know I can rely--It is a possession--a certain good--a piece of the exquisite blue sky in a dark & stormy season--& of those few none are so very kind, so fine, so sympathising sympathizing as my excellent friends at Bickham. Your letter really did my heart good. I have the pleasure to tell you, that the quiet & repose of the Country & the entire absence of all theatrical cabal have had the happiest effect on my health & mind. I am quite well again now, & if not as hopeful as I used to be yet less anxious & far less depressed than I ever expected to feel again. This is merely the influence of the scenery, the flowers the cool yet pleasant season, & the absence of all literary society--for our prospects are not other ways changed--my dear Father, relying with a blessed sanguineness on my poor endeavors has not I believe even enquired inquired for a situation, & I do not press the matter though I anxiously wish it, being willing to give one more trial to the Theatre--If I could but get the assurance of earning for my dear dear Father & Mother a humble competence I should be the happiest creature in the world--but for these dear ties I should never write another line but go out in some situation as other destitute women do--It seems to me however my duty to try a little longer, the more especially as I am sure seperation separation would be felt by all of us to be the greatest of all evils. My present occupation is a great secret--I will tell it to you in strict confidence--It is the boldest attempt ever made by woman, which I have undertaken at the vehement desire of Mr. Macready, who confesses that he has proposed the subject to every dramatic Poet of his acquaintance that it has been the wish of his life & that he never met with any one courageous enough to attempt it before--In short I am engaged in a grand historical Tragedy on the greatest subject in English story Charles & Cromwell--should you ever have suspected your poor little friend of so adventurous a spirit? Mr. Macready does not mean the Author to be known--& I do not think it will be found out--which is the reason of my requesting so earnestly your silence on the subject. Macready thinks that my set was in great part the occasion of the intolerable malignity with which was attacked. They at least cannot call this a melodrama. My wish is to do strict poetical justice, in the best sense of the word, to both the men & both their causes--but I am afraid I shall not be able to do so, because Charles is that desperate common place of the drama a King in distress, & Cromwell with his enthusiasm his subtlety his wonderful power over the minds of all who approach him is the very thing for the drama--I have nearly written the whole of that part, & the one dear friend who alone knows the plan, Mr. Talfourd, who has been & who is as a brother to me, says that in what he has seen I have far outrun his hopes--You will see at once the tremendous difficulty of the undertaking, & even how I sometimes despair of finishing the Play & am quite in doubt, whether even if I write the other characters up to Cromwell (which I shall not be able to do) it will ever be represented. I have been obliged of course to have a good deal of republicanism & far more cant than I could wish--& the Trial scene, which I have not done yet, frightens me whenever I think of it. There is a great deal of laborious reading, too, necessary to the undertaking--What is your opinion of Cromwell? Mine is that he was a man acting under an intense conviction of the justice of his cause & little scrupulous as to the means employed in its furtherance--In his domestic character he appears in the old Memorials & letters & state papers which I have been consulting to have been delightful & amiable past expression. I shall give only the short time of Charles's being in Town before his execution--not at all varying from history except by bringing in the Queen, & giving Cromwell a loyalist daughter--Do you think I shall succeed? Macready says he is sure of it--but I fear, I greatly fear--He himself will probably have no power at all next season since I find they have engaged Mr. Young. But then there is which provided they do not make Mr. Macready play the Doge they are heartily welcome to perform & from Charles Kemble's passion for that play, or rather from his passionate desire to act the hero in that play I think it not unlikely if Mr. Young will play perform the Doge that they may. The is a pretty, interesting, graceful Tragedy--evidently written by a woman entirely free from the faults of , yet in my opinion of inferiour inferior merit--not so vivid or so vigorous as, false modesty apart, I cannot but feel that Play to be--Your approbation has given me the truest delight, I am aware of your kind partiality, yet I am sure that you would not tell me what you do not think--& indeed I hear from many & most gratifying quarters the same opinion of --I mean of its power--especially its dramatic power. Its faults of plot I am most ready to admit, & hope to avoid in future. It must have had great power to survive the acting--except Mr. Macready & Miss Foote the performers were more fit for a barn than a Theatre Royal--& we had not one new scene--& only one new dress! Mitford means that no new scenery or costumes were made for the production. If had been brought out it was to have had entire new scenery & the most splendid decorations--& that together with the great superiority of the general cast of characters induces me to hope that they will play it next season--It will not fail I think the first night, it is too good for that-- & if it survive that ordeal Charles Kemble's jealousy of Mr. Macready would carry it on to beat --so that between the chance of that play & of I begin to have a little more hope than I had--only a little. Once again do not mention not to any one, especially if it should happen to come out anonymously--& pray my dear friend if you should hear of any situation that would suit my dear father do not fail to let me know for that work would be the real comfort to be rid of the Theatre & all its troubles. Any thing in the medical line provided the income however small were certain he would be well qualified to undertake. I hope there is no want of duty in my wishing him to contribute his efforts with mine to our support--God knows if I could--if there were any certainty how willingly how joyfully I would do all--but that there is not. Pray forgive this long detail, & the apparent vanity with which I have spoken of my Tragedies--casting off all the usual circumlocutions & writing my very thoughts--but I have learnt to know my self too well for vanity--my weakness, my impatience, my many faults. If I were better, more industrious, more patient more consistent, I do think I should succeed & I will try to be so I promise you I will & to make the best use of my poor talents. Pray forgive this egotism it is a relief & a comfort to me to pour forth my feelings to so dear & so respected a friend, & they are not now so desolate, not quite so desolate as they have been. God grant me to deserve success What you say of your own dear family interests & affects & delights me. In spite of the terrible bereavement The "bereavement" is almost certainly the death of Elford's son Jonathan on March 11, 1823, five months before this letter was written. you have suffered how much happiness there is remaining in an union of so many excellent & accomplished persons endeared to each other by such remarkable family affection God bless you all together for many many happy years! I rejoice to hear that Mr. Elford has derived benefit from the Reading remedy. Has he tried the rust of iron? Make my most respectful & grateful compliments to him & your dear daughters Were you not very sorry to hear of Mr. Haydon's misfortunes? He writes to me very often & I am happy to tell you that he keeps up his fine spirits & is still sanguine & hopeful & full of prudent resolutions. He & his sweet wife are gone into humble lodgings, & he has rolled up the Crucifixion A planned painting of Mr. Haydon's. The sketch of it was confiscated in 1821 when Haydon was arrested and sent to the King's Bench Prison. The sketch was sold at an auction. Haydon, upon his release in July 1823, apparently intended to start this painting again, but this did not happen. According to Haydon, he abandoned this painting because of his wife's objections. which promised from the sketch to be the finest of his pictures & intends painting two or three of a moderate size to lay in food for the Garrison before returning to that great undertaking. You may imagine how deeply I felt their misfortunes after the affectionate sympathy I received from them in the Spring--your favorite Lady Madelina is in this neighborhood--well & agreeable I understand as ever--I have not seen her myself. I rarely ever go out except for exercise. My dear father & mother are well & join in Kindest Compliments