Streatham Park, 6 Nov. 1800.
Dear Mrs. Pennington will like a letter with this date, though it tells her nothing except that we are not at home here; it is however exceedingly difficult for us to find that truth out from our good Tenant's behaviour to us, or that of his servants. They are all wonderfully kind and civil, and I fancy we shall go on as we have done; nothing is as yet finally settled, but we have every pleasing expectation in prospect. Retrospect is already disposed of, and you will be pleased that 'tis launched from a good aristocratic House. How does Col. Barry excuse himself to himself, I wonder, for his so long and so wide deviation from the train of opinions he seemed as if well rooted in, when we were first acquainted? An agreeable talker is a great loss to the good cause, and I shall be happier when you tell me that he is tired of the bad one.
We have been but once in Town yet, and that for two hours only, one spent with Stockdale, and one with Siddons, who is lean and nerve-shaken, but lovely as ever, and was preparing to shine in Elvira the evening of our visit. Her husband walked in with his two sticks, and chatted chearfully; her eldest daughter appeared to me in high health and spirits, and Miss Lee, who was there, made a good report of the youngest....
We live among the Commercial men here, not the professed wits, yet more love and esteem for literature it would be hard to find. Perhaps familiarity, even with that, lessens regard. Here has Mr. Giles laid out a Thousand Pounds (no less,) in books for our Library; and Mr. Gillon grieves when a second-hand Shakespear slips from his hand at an auction for want of courage to give beyond 20 Guineas for it. Who says money is not plenty? Truth is England contains more money than meat just now, I mean in proportion, but corn is coming in, and rice, from every quarter of the world; and I hope people will forbear to fly out, and increase their own distresses. The Coachman will get them through every bog, and safely by every precipice, I think, if they will but let the check-string alone, and not hinder him from saving them and himself, who runs more than an equal risque with all of us, and is in haste to find the carriage clear of embarrassments as we are. If we believe our eyes, all will be well; if our ears, all will be dismal. Offers of peace are talked of, and no wonder. France is afraid of being driven from Egypt, whence she means to fright our East India Company, if incapable to injure it. I hate their insidious offers, resembling those magical deceptions we used to talk about, where a friendly hand appeared as if presenting a nosegay, but no sooner was it reached at than a dagger started forward in its place. Remember that all our journey has been thro' loyal places; Sir Rich. Hill's fine seat, Lord Bradford's, and the old abiding place of virtue and learning, Oxford.
Two days the first of these sweet scenes delay'd us, and Mr. Piozzi clambered thro' the Grotto. Three days were given to the hospitalities and comforts of Weston Park, and Mr. Gray was unwilling to let me leave their curiosities unexamined; so kept us three days more among the Museums etc. of far fam'd Rhedycina....
Will it raise your spirits to hear that I expect release early in January? After business must come pleasure, and for that our eyes turn naturally to Bath. Till then a Hotel and Tavern must be dear Mr. Piozzi's residence, in order to accommodate his wife by living close to the Bookseller's, who assures us that if we will come to Jermyn Street and mind our work closely, it may be launched with the New Year, and 8 weeks of confinement finish all. Wish it success kind Friend, and make Miss Powell and Mr. Pennington—ay and good Mother too,—drink a glass to the health of the two Quarto Vols. you saw advertised this morning under the name of your
H. L. P.
Though Stockdale's publications may have had aristocratic tendencies, the publisher himself was of humble origin and rough manners. Like Robinson he was a Cumberland man, and is reputed to have been originally a blacksmith. In London he worked his way up from the position of a publisher's porter to that of the head of a successful business. It may have been a recommendation to Mrs. Piozzi that he had printed, and partly edited, Dr. Johnson's works.
Hawkestone, near Shrewsbury, was the seat of Sir Richard Hill, Bart., M.P. for Salop, who was the elder brother of the Rev. Rowland Hill, the celebrated preacher. Lord Bradford's seat was Weston Park, near Shifnall. Its then owner was Orlando (Bridgeman), Baron, and afterwards Earl of Bradford.
Mrs. Piozzi's cicerone at Oxford was, in all probability, the Rev. Robert Gray, D.D., of St. Mary Hall, Bampton Lecturer in 1796, who was afterwards Prebendary of Durham, and appointed Bishop of Bristol in 1827.
Streatham Park, Monday Morng. Dec. (8) 1800.
(Franked "E. Russell.")
I received, my dear Friend, your melancholy letter, and am sorry to agree with you in that croaking duet which we have long kept up together, both by letter and conversation. Things do go on very shiningly, and even brilliantly, but like the ice-island you liked so in my book, there is an unseen thaw below, and we shall topple over when 'tis least expected. Be perswaded however of England's comparative happiness. Every other nation suffers more than we do, more than perhaps the deepest croaker amongst us gives him leave to apprehend; and so singular is the state of Europe just now, that sudden peace would accelerate the ruin of France, of Germany, of Russia, and of the Britannic Islands. The first would then be repaid her ravages over poor dear Italy, by seeing her own hungry and desperate plunderers come home clamourous for rewards they never can receive, and food which the neglected lands could not produce for them. The second would inevitably split into divisions productive of certain annihilation to the Empire, leaving Francis King only in Hungary, Bohemia, etc.; while Russia, left the theatre of Paul's caprices, would heat itself into rebellion soon, and throw the North of Europe into confusions much worse than those consequent on the present war. Great Britain would feel herself restrained in her commerce, cut off from power of adding to that wealth for which she is now envy'd by all mankind. Nor could cessation of hostilities benefit any of the belligerent powers, except Rome and Turkey: and they, poor things! fated to fall, and falling, expiate their predecessor's crimes and follies, continue to foment those troubles to which, whoever conquers, they are sure to be the destined victims. I think you recollect Mr. Lanzoni; his accounts of Italian distress, public and private, would half break your heart....
Dear Siddons' story is a tragical one, but the ending has been happy, she will now, I flatter myself, be no more tormented. [Having undergone a painful operation] she is now thin as a lath, and light as air, but safe, as every body thinks. Her behaviour—angelic creature—was on this tryal as on all her tryals, exemplary; firm but unostentatious. Sir James said she was a real Heroine, and no Actress on the occasion.
Lysons called at the Hotel, and got me a sight of some manuscripts kept in the British Museum, which I wanted for my work; but he is gone to Bath now. The work is coming quick to a conclusion, and will have a print of the Authour on its first page. My heart delights not in the notion of being Bookseller so, as well as Bookmaker; but one cannot have all as one likes, and I hope people will buy away. Those friends who mean to serve me in earnest write to Stockdale even now, desiring to be "put down for an early copy." I shall present you with one, but do canvass your rich friends, and get them to purchase for honour, and for profit's sake, and all. The darling Randolphs have done me all possible kindness in that way, so has Mr. Chappelow; and Stockdale shows his numerous orders as nest-eggs or decoys....
Meanwhile Miss Thrales drove thro' London to Brighton, the seat of gayety till Town revels commence. We dined together, and parted at the lodgings of the Show Woman called a Nyctalope or Albina, with red eyes like a white Rabbet, very curious!...
The prospect of sudden peace was the result of further French successes. Moreau and Ney had beaten the Austrians at Hohenlinden on 2nd December and an armistice was signed at Steyer ceding the fortresses of the Tyrol, &c. Another was signed in Italy, as the result of further victories there, ceding the North Italian ports. And when Murat threatened Naples, a third armistice, closing the Neapolitan ports to England, practically ended the war.
Streatham Park, Sat. 10 Jan. 1801.
My dear Mrs. Pennington's two charming letters waited my arrival at old Streatham Park, whence a variety of things detained us, but people are certainly never so busy as when they have nothing at all to do. My Book, once written, was not a bit more off my hands, for Stockdale and I are partners in the property, and if he is an honest man—so much the better for your H. L. P.
Of all active, and diligent, and highly successful friends, the first must be acknowledged to wear the name of John Gillon. That extraordinary man brought a list of private orders from people of his own particular acquaintance to our business dinner upon New Year's day, and the list took away Stockdale's breath,—much more mine. It consisted of 80 gentlemen, to which ten have been added since. Not content with that, he made a little feast for drinking success to it at the London Tavern, and set the people all wild for Retrospection. This is good news, is not it? And the consequence will be great, for I shall expect a letter before the first of February to say that the first edition is wholly run off. That day will probably rise on us at Bath, if my Master keeps clear of Gout, and our plans are not broken in upon by vexations unforseen....
Things are never as good as one is led to hope, but they are seldom as bad as we are impelled to fear. The bread is at its dearest, the Enemy is arrived at its utmost pitch of insolence. France is less dangerous to Britain, altho' more formidable to other countries, than she has been. Buonaparte will not long outlive the peace, let him make it how and when he pleases. No Buonaparte can satisfy his troops when they return into the bosom of their native country, pamper'd by promises, and flushed with conquest. A furious outbreak at Paris must necessarily ensue, and you may rely on my prediction being verified.
Pretty Siddons told me about Hannah More, but I never understood the merits of the cause clearly till your letter explained it; my [heart] grieves lest it should affect her health. Our charming friend in Great Marlborough Street has never been so free from complaint since I have known her; and her appearance in the character of Constance transcends all which the stage ever shew'd me. The dress is so appropriate, and so becoming, that its first impression is prodigious, and would be disadvantageous to one who could not keep up the interest it excites. Kemble seems much out of health this winter, and has a slowness upon his manner which I do not like; but the public is in high good humour with him....
Adieu, dear Friend, send me another pretty kind letter, and a true account of what people say to my Book....
Hannah More's trouble arose through a Sunday school which she had opened at Blagdon in 1795, at the request of Bere, the curate, who soon afterwards complained that the master she had appointed was holding a Conventicle. This was stopped, but fresh complaints in 1800 led to an inquiry by the Chancellor and Rector, and Hannah closed the school in November. The Rector, however, thinking his curate had been too officious, tried to dismiss him, and the school was reopened in January 1801. But the curate declined to resign, and the school was again closed. When a new Bishop (Beadon) was appointed to Bath and Wells, Hannah applied to him for direction, and obtained his sympathy and support: and so after she had been, as she said, "battered, hacked, scalped, and tomahawked for three years," the unedifying controversy came to an end.