<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?><TEI xmlns="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><teiHeader><fileDesc><titleStmt><title type="main">The Letters of Robert Bloomfield and His Circle</title><title type="subordinate">A Romantic Circles Electronic Edition</title><author><name>Robert Bloomfield (1766–1823)</name></author><editor>Tim Fulford</editor><sponsor>Romantic Circles</sponsor><respStmt><resp>General Editor, </resp><name>Neil Fraistat</name></respStmt><respStmt><resp>General Editor, </resp><name>Steven E. Jones</name></respStmt><respStmt><resp>General Editor, </resp><name>Carl Stahmer</name></respStmt><respStmt><resp>Technical Editor</resp><name>Laura Mandell</name></respStmt></titleStmt><publicationStmt><idno type="edition">letterEEd.25.256</idno><publisher>Romantic Circles, http://www.rc.umd.edu, University of Maryland</publisher><pubPlace>College Park, MD</pubPlace><date when="2009-06-09">July 9, 2009</date><availability status="restricted"><p>Material from the Romantic Circles Website may not be downloaded, reproduced or disseminated in any
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												of use.</p></availability></publicationStmt><sourceDesc><p>BL Add. MS 28268, ff. 294–96;
                        published in Hart, p. 49</p><p>For permission to publish the text of MSS in their possession, the editors wish to thank the Beinecke Rare
											Books and Manuscript Library, Yale University; Berg Collection of English and American Literature, The New
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											St Edmunds) and Northumberland, the Master and Fellows of Trinity College, Cambridge; the Society of
											Antiquaries of Newcastle upon Tyne; the Trustees of the William Salt Library, Stafford, the Wisbech and
											Fenland Museum; the University of Virginia Library.</p><p>A research grant from the British Academy made much of the archival work possible, as did support from the
											English Department of Nottingham Trent University.</p></sourceDesc></fileDesc><encodingDesc><editorialDecl><quotation><p>All quotation marks and apostrophes have been changed: " for “," for ”, ' for ‘, and ' for ’.</p></quotation><hyphenation eol="none"><p>Any dashes occurring in line breaks have been removed.</p><p>Because of web browser variability, all hyphens have been typed on the U.S. keyboard</p><p>Dashes have been rendered as —</p></hyphenation><normalization method="markup"><p>Bloomfield's spelling has not been regularized.</p><p>Writing in other hands appearing on these manuscripts has been indicated as such, the content recorded
												in brackets.</p></normalization><normalization><p>&amp; has been used for the ampersand sign.</p><p>£ has been used for £, the pound sign</p><p>All other characters, those with accents, non-breaking spaces, etc., have been encoded in HTML entity
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                        Baker</ref>, <date when="1811-01-16">16 January–2 February 1811</date><note place="foot" resp="editors" type="headnote">BL Add. MS 28268, ff. 294–96;
                        published in Hart, p. 49</note></head><opener><dateline rend="right"><address><placeName>City Road,</placeName></address><date when="1811-01-16">Jany 16. 1811.</date></dateline><salute>Dear Madam,</salute></opener><p rend="indent1"> When sure of the goodwill and good wishes of a corispondent, even
                    of a shamefully neglected and illused corispondent, how much easier becomes the
                    necessary resumption of intercourse, and how genuine and how willingly comes
                    forth the required apology? I am in every sense glad that your <ref target="people.html#SharpCatherine">Cousin Catherine</ref> apprised you of
                    my humours and my objects and my griefs as far as she knows them, for it has
                    precluded the necessity of my doing it, and left me to speak of present and
                    future things the more particularly.</p><p rend="indent1"> Since you saw or heard any part of my Journal,<note n="1" place="foot" resp="editors">The journal of the Wye tour of 1807.</note> and I think I
                    remember <hi rend="ital">how far</hi> I had then proceeded in my amusement, much
                    alteration has taken place in the plan and divisions &amp;c. As I advanced I
                    began to conceive that it might even eventualy be renderd fit for publication,
                    and this perswasion set me about a thorough examination and revision. I
                    concieved that it was, owing to the careless and hasty manner of its early
                    composition, much too hudibrastic, and containd a vast deal of useless matter
                    which might give way to the superior graces of nature, or to unbridled fancy. I
                    had finished it, as I thought, according to this plan, last summer; and I had
                    the joint opinion of my <hi rend="ital">then</hi> companions, <ref target="people.html#InskipThomas">Inskip</ref>, himself a poet, and a man of
                    strong mind, and my host, <ref target="people.html#WestonJoseph">Mr.
                        Weston</ref> of <ref target="places.html#Shefford">Shefford</ref>, Beds, and
                    as he has read and thought more than any man I ever found in his station of
                    life, and his age, and is an enthusiast in poetry, with a memory truly
                    astonishing considering his mutifarious reading, I consider him highly capable
                    of detecting what were blemishes in a harum scarum story like mine,—We read it
                    for the purpose of criticizing closely, We all doubted the propriety of Giant
                    Scoop in the outset of the piece, yet all agreed that the ridiculous thought was
                    not without merit, only perhaps out of place.<note n="2" place="foot" resp="editors">'Giant Scoop': at the beginning of MS <title>The Banks of Wye
                            a Poetical Journal. A Poetical Journal. Aug. 17. 1807</title> [BL Add.
                        MS 28265, ff. 48–49], the opening lines of the poem read <lg type="stanza"><l rend="indent3"> When Time's young curls embower'd his brow</l><l rend="indent3"> And infant streams began to flow,</l><l rend="indent3"> Huge giant Scoop with spade in hand, </l><l rend="indent3"> And all the Island at command,</l><l rend="indent3"> With puffing breath and monstrous stride</l><l rend="indent3"> Came thundering on by Severn's side.</l><l rend="indent3"> Fancy still hears his foot rebound,</l><l rend="indent3"> When <hi rend="ital">Stinchcombe</hi> trembled at the
                                sound.</l><l rend="indent3"> Here Cambrian mountains caught his eye</l><l rend="indent3"> Towring to meet the distant sky</l><l rend="indent3"> Jealous he mark'd them one by one</l><l rend="indent3"> And dreading <del rend="strikethrough">much to
                                    be</del> sore the work out-done</l><l rend="indent3"> 'Out-done' he cried, 'Tis true I'm warm'</l><l rend="indent3"> But this bright prospect nerves my arm</l><l rend="indent3"> I too the mountain pile can rear</l><l rend="indent3"> Outdone, there shall be just such here.'</l><l rend="indent3"> Then stript at once to set about it,</l><l rend="indent3"> (Look at the spot and who can doubt it,)</l><l rend="indent3"> But, at the moment he was speaking</l><l rend="indent3"> His limbs were stiff, his back was aching,</l><l rend="indent3"> For <hi rend="ital">Mendip</hi>, and the western
                                shore,</l><l rend="indent3"> The marks of recent labours bore:</l><l rend="indent3"> Weary he rested, full of pain,</l><l rend="indent3"> By <hi rend="ital">Nympsfield</hi>, on the upland
                                plain,</l><l rend="indent3"> And with a gnashing envious smile</l><l rend="indent3"> There stuck his spade upright the while,</l><l rend="indent3"> And chang'd his mind.—Then sprewing first,</l><l rend="indent3"> O'er Severn's Vale a cloud of dust,</l><l rend="indent3"> Again he pluck'd it from the ground,</l><l rend="indent3"> The crumbling earth flew wizzing round;</l><l rend="indent3"> Then dashing sternly to and from,</l><l rend="indent3"> He cut a casual hole or two;</l><l rend="indent3"> In one of which (a sweet one truly)</l><l rend="indent3"> Some modern pigmies built up Uley</l><l rend="indent3"> And <hi rend="ital">Owlpen</hi>, by the dark wood
                                side,</l><l rend="indent3"> Which none can find without a guide.</l><l rend="indent3"> And here, the happy natives stroll</l><l rend="indent3"> Around their green illshapen Bowl,</l><l rend="indent3"> A Bowl all zigzagg'd round about</l><l rend="indent3"> With one large gap to let them out.</l></lg></note> Previous to this I had shown it to <ref target="people.html#RogersSamuel">Mr Rogers</ref>, author of 'The pleasures
                    of memory', and he, even then, in its ruder state, said that it would probably
                    be well recieved if published, but that it was evident that I had not taken the
                    pains with it which might be taken. I then wrote the whole out again with great
                    emendations, in which state <ref target="people.html#LofftCapel">Mr. Lofft</ref>
                    gave the opinion which I very barely stated to you. I took his hints and the
                    others in conjunction, and wrote <hi>the whole out again</hi>, still in the
                    mending way with additions and curtailments, and in this new dress, without the
                    personage above mentioned, Scoop, I submited the piece to the calm, judicious,
                    and candid <ref target="people.html#ParkThomas">Mr Park</ref> of <ref target="places.html#Hampstead">Hampstead</ref> (He had seen the giant long
                    ago and said nothing in his praise, which I know how to understand) He was
                    decidedly of opinion that the thing would do me credit, and at the same time
                    pencil'd his doubts and remarks. With this encouragement I <hi rend="ital">once
                        more</hi> wrote out the whole; gave the brat a name; and offer'd it to My
                    Bookseller. I know of nothing which can <hi rend="ital">now</hi> retard its
                    ultimate appearance before the world. It will be devid'd into 4 Books, and it
                    now contains incidental Ballads, (a great relief to the sameness and length of
                    the tale) entitled 'The Gleaners Song' attatchd to that delicious scene,
                    Coldwell springs—'Morris of Persfield',—'The Maid of Landoga',—and 'a funeral
                    Song', at the Hay.—I wish, as you say, most sincerely that I could submit it
                    still to <ref target="people.html#CooperRobert">Mr Cooper</ref>, but it will be
                    out of my power. It is intended to engrave 4 plates only, for my Booksellers are
                    averse to the costly and fashionable stile of publishing; One or two of which
                    plates they seem allmost determin'd to take from <hi rend="ital">my own</hi>
                    scetches on the spot, this, I fear may appear strange to you, but not surely if
                    you recollect that <hi rend="ital">their</hi> object is to lay hold of every
                    thing which can <hi rend="ital">interest</hi> or bias in the <hi rend="ital">sale</hi>. Remembering what you have said as to your own drawings, I hope,
                    though it is a delicate point, to obtain from <ref target="people.html#CooperRobert">Mr Cooper</ref> two of his to be the
                    ornaments of my present venture; and, may, I tell you? that the Journal will
                    bear at least an ample record of pleasure, with some starts of fancy, and some
                    of tenderness, whatever may be thought of its general merit, or the merit of the
                    Theme!</p><p rend="indent1"><date when="1811-01-23">Jan. 23.</date> And now, after this rest, I resume my
                    theme again, And have to say that I think <hi rend="itl">my</hi> drawings will
                    escape the ordeal of publicity, and I accordingly apply to <ref target="people.html#CooperRobert">Mr Cooper</ref> for 4.<note n="3" place="foot" resp="editors">The engravings based on Robert Bransby Cooper's
                        designs can be seen here: <ref target="../images/image21.html">[1]</ref><ref target="../images/image22.html">[2]</ref><ref target="../images/image23.html">[3]</ref><ref target="../images/image24.html">[4]</ref>.</note> It is proposd to have
                    the Ballads set to Music, and I am going to lay seige to <ref target="people.html#ShieldWilliam">Mr Shield</ref> for his copartnership,
                    and to print the Music with the Book. I should not at all wonder if this part of
                    the plan fails, though I wish it to be accomplished. Depend upon it you will
                    recieve further intelligence in time; and a supply of Copies of the first water:
                    but you need not look out for them untill April, or May.</p><p rend="indent1"> The letter written by you last summer, I sent down to
                    Bedfordshire to <ref target="people.html#BloomfieldHannah">my Daughter</ref>.
                    Your remarks therein relative to 'Courtfield' were much approved by all, and not
                    less by him whose <hi rend="ital">business</hi> it was to benifit by them. They
                    could not discover the inscription you mention'd in the enclosed area at <ref target="places.html#Chicksands">Chicksands</ref>. The Country was charming,
                    but, after failing in my intention of meeting you in time at <ref target="places.html#ClareHall">Clare Hall</ref>, I took it for granted that
                    I should have somthing to do in clearing myself; and this I could never find
                    spirits and happiness enough to attempt.</p><p rend="indent1"><date when="1811-02-02">Feb. 2</date>—Another long rest!! My Brother has again
                    walkd to town from Suffolk to meet his children, allready forming a portion of
                    the population of this <hi rend="ital">charming</hi> place, and I have in some
                    respects been interrupted and throng'd too, for we have lodged eleven in all, in
                    this splendid mansion of ours.!—</p><p rend="indent1"> I have not heard from <ref target="places.html#ClareHall">Clare
                        Hall</ref> since my reply the substance of which you have of course been
                    apprised of. And now after all this I must still talk of myself, and say that
                    since the latter end of October I have constantly been unwell, and the suffering
                    have arisen from a flatulent and dissorder'd Stomach, with all it
                    accompaniments, such as loss of appitite; broken rest, Dreams, as anty-Wye-ish
                    as even your fancy can picture; indeed I hope you will never have a true
                    conception of them.—I have now resumed my strength in a great measure, and have
                    just conquerd a bad cough which I am not accustom'd to have.</p><p rend="indent1"> Health seems to stick by the Family as much as vicisitudes of
                    weather will permit.</p><p rend="indent1"> You percieve that as to myself I have only [words obscured]
                    evils, and taken your good natur'd [words obscured] to silence in what relates
                    to the mind.—You and <ref target="people.html#LloydBakerThomasJ">Mr B.</ref> no
                    doubt feel a value attatchd to your Children, but I am strangely decieved if
                    other friends do not feel an equal interest in <hi rend="ital">you</hi>;
                    Therefore your seclusion is the wisest way in the world to elbow off old Winter
                    and welcome back the sunshine of May. You need not be again assured that my
                    respects to <ref target="people.html#LloydBakerThomasJ">Mr B.</ref> and Children
                    are regularly posted with this, And Adding to the ring your affectionate Mother.
                    I am, Dear Madam, yours at all times</p><closer><signed rend="right">Rob<hi rend="sup">t</hi> Bloomfield</signed></closer><postscript><p>Turn]</p><p>I direct this according to the information of <ref target="people.html#AnsteadMiss">Miss Ansted</ref>, given me so long ago
                        that I ought to be ashamed to make use of it.—</p></postscript></div></body></text></TEI>