<?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.25.94</idno><publisher>Romantic Circles, http://www.rc.umd.edu, University of
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                        <address><addrLine>Romantic Circles</addrLine><addrLine>c/o Professor Neil Fraistat</addrLine><addrLine>Department of English</addrLine><addrLine>University of Maryland</addrLine><addrLine>College Park, MD 20742</addrLine><addrLine>fraistat@umd.edu</addrLine></address></p><p>By their use of these texts and images, users agree to the following
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                        use.</p></availability></publicationStmt><sourceDesc><p>Suffolk Record Office, Bury St. Edmunds 317/3. Copy in BL Add. MS 28268, ff.
                    445–46</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 York Public Library,
                    Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations; the Bodleian Library Oxford University; the
                    British Library; Boston Public Library; the Syndics of Cambridge University
                    Library; the Syndics of the Fitzwilliam Museum Cambridge; Haverford College,
                    Connecticut; the Historical Society of Pennsylvania; the Hornby Library,
                    Liverpool Libraries and Information Services; the Houghton Library, Harvard
                    University; the John Rylands Library, Manchester; the Kenneth Spencer Research
                    Library, University of Kansas; Luton Museum (Bedfordshire County Council);
                    Massachusetts Historical Society; McGill University Library; the National
                    Library of Scotland; the Newberry Library, Chicago; the New York Public Library
                    (Pforzheimer Collections); the Pierpont Morgan Library, New York; the Public
                    Record Offices of Bedford, Suffolk (Bury 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
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                        materials)</item></list></change><change who="#LM" when="2009-03-30" n="3"><label>Changed by</label><name xml:id="LM">Laura Mandell</name><list><item>XSLT Transforming</item></list></change><change who="#AB" when="2009-03-20" n="2"><label>Changed by</label><name xml:id="AB">Averill Buchanan</name><list><item>Proofing, re-coding letters, and TEI encoding of preliminary
                        materials</item></list></change><change who="#KL" when="2008-10-03" n="1"><label>Changed by</label><name xml:id="KL">Kirstyn Leuner</name><list><item>TEI Encoding, first pass, all letters</item></list></change></revisionDesc></teiHeader><text><body><div n="94" type="letter"><head>94. Robert Bloomfield to <ref target="people.html#BloomfieldGeorge">George
                        Bloomfield</ref>, <date when="1802-09-02">2 September 1802</date><note place="foot" resp="editors" type="headnote">Suffolk Record Office, Bury St.
                        Edmunds 317/3. Copy in BL Add. MS 28268, ff. 445–46</note></head><opener><dateline rend="right"><address><placeName>City Road, London,</placeName></address><date when="1802-09-02">Sep. 2, 1802</date></dateline><salute>Dear George </salute></opener><p rend="indent1"> After some prefatory matter as follows, I hope to have time to
                    fill this sheet with the poetical notions which I believe I mentioned in my
                    last.</p><p rend="center">* * * * *</p><p rend="indent1"> I send you a feast from <ref target="people.html#BloomfieldNat">Nat</ref>, but I cannot begrudge you the pleasure which I have had before
                    you. <ref target="people.html#GedgePeter">Mr Gedge</ref> no doubt will show you the plate of <ref target="places.html#HoningtonGreen">Honington Green</ref>; I had two this
                    morning from Mr Hurst, and pointed out to them where either <ref target="people.html#BlomfieldEdward">Mr B___</ref> or the engraver had
                    misplaced the pantry window; they say it might be easily amended by punching
                    out, as it is called, and it will be a very popular and desirable ornament to a
                    Book of such admirable merit as <ref target="people.html#BloomfieldNat">Nat's</ref> is likely to prove.<note n="1" place="foot" resp="editors">Nathaniel Bloomfield's book was published as <title>An Essay on War, in
                            Blank Verse; Honington Green, a Ballad ... and Other Poems</title>
                        (London, 1803). It featured <ref target="../images/image11.html">a
                            frontispiece engraving of Honington Green</ref> made by Cook after a
                        sketch by E. V. Blomfield.</note> Give my Love to <ref target="people.html#GloverElizabeth">Mother</ref> and all friends; <ref target="people.html#BloomfieldCharlotteShot">Charlotte</ref> runs alone
                    strongly at sixteen months old, and is the treasure of our hearts, but to the
                    point.</p><p> We all know that a good cook will reject such ingredients as he finds to have a
                    tendency to flatten his flavours and spoil his broth; so, in this sense of the
                    matter, there is an art in Poetry, though I do not like the expression. I mean
                    then to state what, according to my notion are bad ingredients in composition
                    and first, Inversion of Sentences, which may be instanced by recurring to a line
                    in the <title>Rehearsal</title>, by the Duke of Buckingham, 'And me her dear
                    parthenope she calls' now when this is rendered into plain English it is—'And
                    she calls me her dear Parthenope'.<note n="2" place="foot" resp="editors">George
                        Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, <title>The Rehearsal</title> (1672), act 3,
                        scene 2: 'And me her dear Parthenope she calls'.</note> Again, a less
                    violent inversion occurs in <ref target="people.html#DibdinCharles">Dibden's</ref> Poor Jack—'Nought's a hardship from Duty that springs',<note n="3" place="foot" resp="editors">Charles Dibden (1745–1814), composer of
                        many sea songs, published 'Poor Jack' in 1788: <lg type="stanza"><l rend="indent3"> Go, patter to lubbers and swabs, do you see, </l><l rend="indent4"> 'Bout danger, and fear, and the like; </l><l rend="indent3"> A tight-water boat and good sea-room give me, </l><l rend="indent4"> And it an't to a little I'll strike. </l><l rend="indent3"> Though the tempest top-gallant mast smack smooth
                                should smite, </l><l rend="indent4"> And shiver each splinter of wood, </l><l rend="indent3"> Clear the deck, stow the yards and house every thing
                                tight, </l><l rend="indent4"> And under reefed foressail we'll scud: </l><l rend="indent3"> Avast! nor don't think me a milksop so soft, </l><l rend="indent4"> To be taken for trifles aback; </l><l rend="indent3"> For they say there's a providence sits up aloft, </l><l rend="indent3"> To keep watch for the life of poor Jack! </l></lg><lb/><lg type="stanza"><l rend="indent3"> I heard our good chaplain palaver one day </l><l rend="indent4"> About souls, heaven, mercy, and such; </l><l rend="indent3"> And, my timbers! what lingo he'd coil and belay; </l><l rend="indent4"> Why, 'twas just all as one as High Dutch; </l><l rend="indent3"> For he said how a sparrow can't founder, d'ye see, </l><l rend="indent4"> Without orders that come down below; </l><l rend="indent3"> And a many fine things that proved clearly to me </l><l rend="indent4"> That providence takes us in tow: </l><l rend="indent3"> For, says he, do you mind me, let storms e'er so oft </l><l rend="indent4"> Take the topsails of sailors aback, </l><l rend="indent3"> There's a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft, </l><l rend="indent3"> To keep watch for the life of poor Jack! </l></lg><lb/><lg type="stanza"><l rend="indent3"> I said to our Poll –– for, d'ye see, she would cry— </l><l rend="indent4"> When last we weighed anchor for sea, </l><l rend="indent3"> What argufies snivelling and piping your eye? </l><l rend="indent4"> Why, what a damned fool you must be! </l><l rend="indent3"> Can't you see, the world's wide, and there's room for
                                us all,</l><l rend="indent4"> Both for seamen and lubbers ashore? </l><l rend="indent3"> And if to old Davy I should go, friend Poll, </l><l rend="indent4"> You never will hear of me more. </l><l rend="indent3"> What then? All's a hazard: come, don't be so soft: </l><l rend="indent4"> Perhaps I may laughing come back; </l><l rend="indent3"> For, d'ye see, there's a cherub sits smiling aloft, </l><l rend="indent4"> To keep watch for the life of poor Jack! </l></lg><lb/><lg type="stanza"><l rend="indent3"> D'ye mind me, a sailor should be every inch </l><l rend="indent4"> All as one as a piece of the ship, </l><l rend="indent3"> And with her brave the world, not offering to flinch </l><l rend="indent4"> From the moment the anchor's a-trip. </l><l rend="indent3"> As for me, in all weathers, all times, sides and
                                ends, </l><l rend="indent4"> Nought's a trouble from duty that springs, </l><l rend="indent3"> For my heart is my Poll's, and my rhino's my
                                friend's, </l><l rend="indent4"> And as for my life, 'tis the king's. </l><l rend="indent3"> Even when my time comes, ne'er believe me so soft, </l><l rend="indent4"> As for grief to be taken aback, </l><l rend="indent3"> For the same little cherub that sits up aloft </l><l rend="indent4"> Will look out a good berth for poor Jack! </l></lg></note> that springs from duty—The more these are indulged in, the more
                    will appear the strain and endeavour after rhime, and the appearance of any
                    endeavour to accomplish that which is itself so secondary an object must be
                    wrong; besides there is much truth in Wordsworth's preface where he says that he
                    had tried to come near the language of Men, and the language of Men is not
                    backwards !<note n="4" place="foot" resp="editors">Wordsworth's Preface to the
                        1800 edition of <title>Lyrical Ballads</title>.</note> I have a full
                    persuasion that this is the greatest blemish of many poems, and has often a
                    tendency to weaken the force of the line and diminish the ardour of the reader.
                    Milton, no doubt, has done it to advantage; and when there comes another Milton
                    he shall have my permission to do it too. Perhaps as inversions abound generally
                    in sonnets, it may be the principal cause of my disrelish for them.</p><p rend="indent1"> The conclusion of poetical pieces, and the conclusion of sections
                    and divisions therein certainly ought to improve, line by line, so as to finish
                    with a twang, as the Boy said of his whip. A weak line at a close, is like a
                    dying note of a weak voice when it should be full and sonorous; and full of
                    soul; I could easily find instances but will leave the application to be made as
                    you read whatever may next come into your hand.</p><p rend="indent1"> I have perhaps an unfounded aversion to tying three lines
                    together in a measure where the ear expects but two. In Dryden's Virgil I find
                    it very frequent, and cannot see the advantage of it, you will of course not
                    wonder that there are none to be found in what I have ventured into the world;
                    and as I have thus far succeeded without, will not begin now.</p><p rend="indent1"> The choice of phrases in Ballads and Songs, and perhaps more in
                    serious pieces, is of much importance; a common use of old worn out words I do
                    not like, such as erst, whilom, and a thousand more; and yet to take up and use
                    a word but just getting into circulation, newly adopted, or new coined, is like
                    placing a new bright penny piece among a range of old ones, it will look like a
                    broken rank, and besides run great hazard of rousing the risibility that arises
                    from contempt rather than the smile due to true humour, suppose by way of
                    illustrating this point, I had said originally in the Suffolk Ballad</p><lg type="stanza"><l> And laid aside her Lucks and twitches</l><l> And to the Hutch she reach'd her hand</l><l> And gave him out his Sunday <hi rend="ital">small-clothes</hi>!<note n="5" place="foot" resp="editors">Bloomfield quotes lines 30–32 from 'Richard
                            and Kate: or, Fair-Day. A Suffolk Ballad'. In the version printed in
                                <title>Rural Tales</title>, the lines read: 'And laid aside her
                            Lucks and Twitches: / And to the Hutch she reach'd her hand, / And gave
                            him out his Sunday Breeches'.</note></l></lg><p>Perhaps <hi rend="ital">Breeches</hi> will one day be as old fashioned as doublet
                    and jerkin, as in another case though the song says 'With good old leathern
                    bottle, and ale that looks so brown'<note n="6" place="foot" resp="editors">The
                        folk song 'The Good Old Leathern Bottle': <lg type="stanza"><l rend="indent3"> Come all you lads and lasses, together let us go</l><l rend="indent3"> Into some pleasant cornfield, our courage for to
                                shew,</l></lg><lb/><p rend="indent3"> Chorus:</p><lg type="stanza"><l rend="indent3"> With the good old leathern bottle, and the beer it
                                shall be brown,</l><l rend="indent3"> We'll reap and skip together, boys, till bright
                                Phoebus does go down.</l></lg><lb/><lg type="stanza"><l rend="indent3"> With reaphook and the sickle so well we'll clear the
                                land,</l><l rend="indent3"> The farmer says, 'Well done, my lads, here's liquor
                                at your command.'</l></lg><lb/><p rend="indent3"> [Chorus]</p><lg type="stanza"><l rend="indent3"> By daylight in the morning, when birds do sweetly
                                sing,</l><l rend="indent3"> They are such charming creatures, they make the
                                valley ring,</l></lg><lb/><p rend="indent3"> [Chorus]</p><lg type="stanza"><l rend="indent3"> Then in comes lovely Nancy, the corn all for to
                                lay,</l><l rend="indent3"> She is my charming creature, I must begin to
                                pray;</l></lg><lb/><p rend="indent3"> [Chorus]</p><lg type="stanza"><l rend="indent3"> She how she gathers, binds it, she folds it in her
                                arms,</l><l rend="indent3"> Then she gives it to some waggoner to fill the
                                farmer's barns.</l></lg><lb/><p rend="indent3"> [Chorus]</p><lg type="stanza"><l rend="indent3"> Now harvest's done and ended, the corn secure from
                                harm,</l><l rend="indent3"> All for to go to market, boys, we must thresh in the
                                barn.</l></lg><lb/><p rend="indent3"> [Chorus]</p><lg type="stanza"><l rend="indent3"> With the good old leathern bottle, and the beer it
                                shall be brown,</l><l rend="indent3"> We'll reap and skip together, boys, till bright
                                Phoebus does go down.</l></lg><lb/><lg type="stanza"><l rend="indent3"> Here's a health to all you farmers, likewise to all
                                you men,</l><l rend="indent3"> I wish you health and happiness till harvest comes
                                again.</l></lg><lb/><p rend="indent3"> [Chorus]</p><lg type="stanza"><l rend="indent3"> With the good old leathern bottle, and the beer it
                                shall be brown,</l><l rend="indent3"> We'll reap and skip together, boys, till bright
                                Phoebus does go down.</l></lg><p> Text from Lucy Broadwood, <title>English Country Songs</title>
                            (London, 1893).</p></note> and yet I doubt that in another fifty years a
                    leather bottle will not be found but in the song.</p><p rend="indent1"> Compound Epithets I do not much like; because they are often such
                    as we never use in conversation; there are three in my 'Word to the young
                        ladies'<note n="7" place="foot" resp="editors">'A Word to two Young Ladies'
                        was published in <title>Rural Tales</title>, pp. 101–103.</note> which I
                    deem such as are often used in conversation, 'full blown,' 'out-run' but
                    'half-expanded' is not so common. In a poem by <ref target="people.html#OpieAmelia">Mrs. Opie</ref> I find the following which
                    are not used in conversation, Grief-impeded, fragrance-breathing, &amp;c and
                    I think many may be found in most poems, but I am only telling you my notions of
                    excellence, let every one chuse his own path.<note n="8" place="foot" resp="editors">Bloomfield is referring to Amelia Opie's 'Lines for the Album
                        at Cossey, The Seal of Sir William Jerningham, Bart', first published in her
                            <title>Poems</title> (London, 1802), pp. 77–84: 'Nor longer murmurs
                        grief-impeded prayers' (line 60); 'Then, as the Ixia's fragrance-breathing
                        flowers' (line 89).</note></p><p rend="indent1"> Something of this kind may be traced in some pictures which I
                    have occasionally seen, which indeed relates more to the foregoing wrong
                    adaptation of words, than to compound epithets—A scene extremely rustic, the
                    Death of the Fox in a Cottage-yard would you there expect to see up against the
                    wall what in London are called Bird-bottles for the sparrows to build in?
                    Country people know sparrows too well; the same picture has the error of chimney
                    pots to the cottage, which I never saw in reality; these are London and Country
                    ideas mixed.</p><p rend="indent1"> With regard to Adulation, and short-lived subjects, you may, and
                    I know others <hi rend="ital">will</hi> remark that out of all my numerous
                    friends, none have got even a Sonnet from me, flattery is a poor way of paying
                    debts, and as readers do not know the parties though the writer does, they
                    cannot feel as they would on general subjects; and as to their stability what do
                    we know of who were the friends of Cowley or Prior? or if we wish to know let us
                    know in prose where the authors have not the privelege of lying. The <ref target="people.html#GraftonAugustusHenry3">Duke of Grafton</ref> gave me
                    most fatherly advice on this head, which only would have given me an high
                    opinion of his sincerity and penetration.</p><p rend="indent1"> I own that I have resolutely endeavoured to get at the disposal
                    of my own pieces, I have burnt several, and my proof of the wisdom of the deed
                    is by referring you to one which is now irrecoverable, a foolish story called
                    John Brown printed in the [MS torn], though I left it out of my collection, how
                    can I leave [MS torn] future collections when I am gone;—look sharp Robin.</p><p rend="indent1"> Call this letter [Ms torn] my time is expired, and my pen weary
                    so I have no more to say and may omit to refer [MS torn]</p><closer><signed rend="right">R.B.</signed></closer></div></body></text></TEI>