225. Robert Southey to Edith Southey, [c. 21 June 1797] ⁠* 

I am unlucky my dear Edith — & have not yet found D^r Aikin. I shall make another attempt this evening & least I may be again unsuccessful take a note in my pocket requesting him to leave the money for me tomorrow morning in case he should again be out. I am much tired & more vexed — the vexation I cannot help as it is on account of you — as for being tired I have enough practical philosophy not to mind stiff knees, aching thighs, swoln feet & blistered heels.

I have no money to do any business. this is provoking as I am walking about to see people & pass by the shops at which my business would lie. I saw the Hendersons [1]  at Brixton yesterday, & like the younger much. they were going to Lymington I persuaded them not.

I saw John May this morning & had much conversation with him. he explained the latter part of his letter — & this explanation led to the subject of society till I had given him my opinion upon the subject; his mind was prepared for it by having a witness of much wretchedness & depravity, & it seemed to impress him strongly. I shall see him again tomorrow. I dine at Grays Inn to day — with Carlisle tomorrow — & if I get my money & my place at Christ Church in the next day. if I can only secure the first article you shall receive another letter with the necessary inclosure on Friday but I hope to come myself. you know Edith with what reluctance I ever absent myself one hour from you & will easily conceive the vexation I feel. this vexation I know to be useless & half subdue. we are more the masters of our own feelings than we are willing to confess.

M^r Biddlecombe had explained to me upon the subject of our conversation that night. our rough friend in the boat told truth. & his reason for so strongly objecting to your becoming an inmate at the parsonage is because the Lady [2]  has not been a better women than she ought to be — nor quite so good. Morbleu!

I saw Montagu. [3]  he tells me Coleridge is with Wordsworth.

I am writing to you with the utmost haste, in momentary expectation of Grosvenor. who is to call for me here. I am again at Carlisles. he has the worst pens in the world — & they like our constitution — too bad to be mended — & like the barren fig tree & our ministers — fit only to be hewn down & cast into the fire. [4] 

Wynn is in regimentals a private horse man — & about to enter parliament. he gave me the deed, settling 160£ for life. payable quarterly on the 20 of January April July & October.

Wynn wants to hang the sailours [5]  — I & Carlisle want to hang their betrayers & judges — & there are probably people in London who would like to hang us. Thomas is not returned — they heard from him the sixth of this month & daily expect him. this is unfortunate. George Dyer is not in town.

It is long since I have been so greatly fatigued — & yet it has no effect upon my spirits. they are as regular as ever. this nasty dinner to day will occasion me a needless walk, but I shall never bear the name of Broad Street Buildings again for D^r Aikins sake. the distance is terrible. you will however have the comfort of supposing by the time this reaches you that all my jobs are over, & that I am at rest for the rest of my stay in London. if it be possible I hate it worse than ever; & feel already a horrible & loathing reluctance ever again to inhabit so detestable a place. God bless you my dear Edith. I am tired & vexed but in a very few days all the fatigue & vexation will be over & I shall be comfortably settled. now & then when my feet give an extraordinary ache or I tread upon a rough stone I think I am the happiest fellow living when at home — & curse the Grays Inn dinner.

yr affectionate

Robert Southey.