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Updated: June 1, 2025
Beauty alone could not assure success. The impediment in speech made it impossible for Mrs. Inchbald to succeed greatly as an actress. She was unable to realise her own conceptions. At times she and her husband prospered so little that on one day their dinner was of turnips, pulled and eaten in a field, and sometimes there was no dinner at all.
In later years Mrs. Inchbald lived quietly on her savings, retaining a flattering social position by her beauty and cleverness. She died on August 1, 1821. I. The Priest's Ward Dorriforth, bred at St. Omer's in all the scholastic rigour of that college, was, by education and the solemn vows of his order, a Roman Catholic priest.
Inchbald spoke her mind most fully in this little story, which is told with a dramatic sense of construction that swiftly carries on the action to its close. She was no weak sentimentalist, who hung out her feelings to view as an idle form of self- indulgence. Most unselfishly she wrought her own life to the pattern in her mind; even the little faults she could not conquer, she well knew. Mrs.
She did not see a play in a barn and run away after the drama, like Caroline Inchbald; but on the death of her father and mother, she went up with an elder sister and young brother to London to seek for an employment and a livelihood. Encountering some person of dramatic pursuits manager, stage-painter, ticket-taker, or the like, or the wife of one or other she was recommended to the stage.
Inchbald, actress, novelist, dramatist, and society favourite, was Elizabeth Simpson, and she was the daughter of a farmer living near Bury St. Edmunds, where she was born on October 15, 1753. At the age of eighteen she ran away to London, under the influence of romantic expectations, which were realised by a sudden marriage with Joseph Inchbald, the actor.
Irving tells us, any decent-looking young man, with a good suit of clothes, can command his five or six pounds a week. Mrs. Inchbald and her husband had to drink of the cup of poverty, and its consequent degradation, to the dregs. On one occasion they took it into their heads to go to France, believing that they could make money—he by painting, she by writing.
But better days presently followed; first acquaintance of Mrs. Inchbald with Mrs. Siddons grew to a strong friendship, and this extended to the other members of the Kemble family. After seven years of happy but childless marriage, Mrs. Inchbald was left a widow at the age of twenty-six.
Notwithstanding her note, Godwin thought her friendship would stand the test to which he had put it, and both he and Mary accompanied her on the appointed night. But Mrs. Inchbald was very much in earnest, and did not hesitate to show her feelings.
There seems, indeed, to have been a certain decadent charm about Mrs. Inchbald herself with her beauty, her stage skill, her strict virtue combined with any amount of "sensibility," her affectation of nature, and her benevolence not in the least sham but distinctly posing. And something of this rococo relish may no doubt, with a little good will and sympathy, be detected in her books.
In the north chapel there is a large marble tablet to the memory of William Murray, third son of the Earl of Dunmore. The pulpit is of dark carved oak, and stood in the old church. The west porch is very handsomely ornamented with stonework. In the churchyard are buried several persons of note, including Mrs. Inchbald, the authoress; and a son of George Canning, whose monument is by Chantrey.
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