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Updated: June 1, 2025
Inchbald buried the last of her immediate home relations though she had still nephews to find money for she said it had been a consolation to her when sometimes she cried with cold to think that her sister, who was less able to bear privation, had her fire lighted for her before she rose, and her food brought to her ready cooked. Even at fifty Mrs. Inchbald's beauty of face inspired admiration.
One day, at the end of my sitting, Lawrence showed me a lovely portrait of Mrs. Inchbald, of whom my mother, as we drove home, told me a number of amusing anecdotes.
Inchbald, are distinctly "illustrations" of the time, and must have more or less separate mention. William Beckford is one of the problems of English literature. He was one of the richest men in England, and his long life 1760 to 1844 was occupied for the most part not merely with the collection, but with the reading of books.
Inchbald died at the age of sixty-eight, on the 1st of August, 1821, a devout Roman Catholic, her thoughts in her last years looking habitually through all disguises of convention up to Nature's God.
She rejoiced on one occasion that the approach of warmer weather released her from the duty of making fires, scouring the grate, sifting the cinders, and of going up and down three pair of long stairs with water or dirt. All this Mrs. Inchbald thought that she could cheerfully bear, but the labor of being a fine lady the remainder of the day was almost too much for her.
The house was subsequently a Roman Catholic seminary, and then a boarding-house, where Mrs. Inchbald lodged, and in which she died in 1821. Close by was another old house, made notorious by its owner's miserliness; this man, Sir Thomas Colby, died intestate, and his fortune of £200,000 was divided among six or seven day labourers, who were his next of kin.
In a romantic fit she left her home at the age of 16, and went to London, where she became acquainted with Inchbald the actor, who m. her in 1772. Seven years later her husband d., and for the next ten years she was on the stage, chiefly in Scotland and Ireland.
"Not to speak of foreigners Miss Burney Mrs. Inchbald Mrs. Opie," said Godfrey. "True; and yet I and yet " said Miss Hauton, pausing and sighing. "And yet that was not what I was thinking of," she should have said, had she finished her sentence with the truth; but this not being convenient, she left it unfinished, and began a new one, with "Some of these novels are sad trash I hope Mr.
Inchbold, "Peter Pindar," and last, but by no means least, the Prince of Wales. Not that she really talked with royalty, but she saw the Prince at the opera; and she tells us that she admired him very much. Indeed, she did not mind owning that she loved grand company, and she certainly enjoyed clever company, for she much relished and appreciated the society of both Mrs. Opie and Mrs. Inchbald.
Inchbald, author of the "Simple Story," was, by dint of thrift, able to set apart the half of her small income for the benefit of her infirm sister. There was thus about two pounds a week for the maintenance of each.
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