Anna Seward

Oh, Miss, could I speak to you a minute? A letter from Miss Oldest to an old friend in Litchfield, begun a day or two before, is the next source for this story.

It is not devoid of traces of the influence of that leader of female thought in her day, Miss Anna Seward, known to some as the Swan of Litchfield.

My sweetest Emily will be rejoiced to hear that we are at length, my beloved uncle and myself, settled in the house that now calls us master, nay, master and mistress, as in past ages it has called so many others.

Here we taste a mingling of modern elegance and hoary antiquity, such as never ere now graced life for either of us.

I look forward to it optimistically.

Where the great Erasmus Darwin and Miss Anna Seward, swan of Litchfield, experimented, and, for all their scientific ardor, failed, our descendants will experiment and succeed.

An impersonal generation will take the place of nature's hideous system.

In vast state incubators, rows upon rows of gravid bottles will supply the world with the population it requires.

So they come.

The poet Anna Seward comes, and stays, and in 1796 publishes a long poem in their honor called Llangollen Vale.

The potter Josiah Wedgwood comes.

The Duke of Wellington comes, more than once, an Irishman himself, and grows fond of them.

And word spreads that in this beautiful valley live two Irish gentlewomen who eloped together, who read in five languages, who have made a Gothic fairy cottage out of a farmhouse, and who are, by all accounts, perfectly happy.

So they come.

The poet Anna Seward comes and stays and in 1796 publishes a long poem in their honor called Llangollen Vale.

The potter Josiah Wedgwood comes.

I look forward to it optimistically.

Where the great Erasmus Darwin and Miss Anna Seward, swan of Litchfield, experimented, and, for all their scientific ardor, failed, our descendants will experiment and succeed.

An impersonal generation will take the place of nature's hideous system.

In vast state incubators, rows upon rows of gravid bottles will supply the world with the population it requires.

I look forward to it optimistically.

Where the great Erasmus Darwin and Miss Anna Seward, swan of Lichfield, experimented, and, for all their scientific ardor, failed, our descendants will experiment and succeed.

An impersonal generation will take the place of nature's hideous system.

In vast state incubators, rows upon rows of gravid bottles will supply the world with the population it requires.

I look forward to it optimistically.

Where the great Erasmus Darwin and Miss Anna Seward, swan of Lichfield, experimented, and, for all their scientific ardour, failed, our descendants will experiment and succeed.

An impersonal generation will take the place of nature's hideous system.

In vast state incubators, rows upon rows of gravid bottles will supply the world with the population it requires.