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Bodleian Library, MS Eng. Lett. c. 22. Previously published: Charles Cuthbert Southey (ed.), Life and Correspondence of Robert Southey, 6 vols (London, 1849–1850), I, pp. 292–294 [in part, where it is dated October 1796].
These letters were edited with the assistance of Carol Bolton, Tim Fulford and Ian Packer
For permission to publish the text of MSS in their possession, the editor wishes 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.
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.
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I have been reading Sidney Biddulph.r Shandy
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I know not xxx the day of the month — but October is somewhat advanced & this is Friday evening. why did I not write sooner? excuses are bad things. I have much to employ me — tho I can always make a little leisure — if you were married Grosvenor you would know the luxury of sitting indolently by the fire side, at present you only half know it. there <is> a state of compleat mental torpor very delightful, when the mind admits no sensation but that of mere existance. such a sensation I suppose plants to possess, made more vivid by the dews & gentle rains. to indulge in fanciful systems is a harmless solitary amusement, & I expect many a pleasant hour will be thus wore away Grosvenor when we meet. the Devil never meddles with me in my unemployed moments. my days dreams are of a pleasanter nature — by the Lord I should be the happiest man in the world if I possessd enough to live with comfort in the country. but in this blackguard world we must sacrifice the best part of our lives to acquire that wealth which generally arrives when the time of enjoying it is past.
I wish I could give you a satisfactory answer to a very interesting question. I ardently wish for children — yet if God should bless me with any I shall be unhappy to see them poisoned by the air of London.
so said John Donne. tis a favorite quotation of mine — my spirits always sunk when I approachd it. green fields are my delight — I am not only better in health, but even in heart in the country — a fine day exhilarates my heart — if it rains I behold the grass assume a richer verdure as it drinks the moisture — every thing that I behold is “very goodx clergyman with a tolerable income is surely <in> a very enviable situation — would to God his creed was such as a contemplative man could with truth profess! I believed too firmly in the faith of Jesus Christ to become the perjured defender of its corruptions. I long to know the state of your mind upon religion: am I deceived in supposing that it fluctuates? surely Bedford we have a thousand things to transfuse into each other; which the lazy language of the pen cannot express with sufficient rapidity. your illness was very unfortunate. I could wish once to show you the pleasant spots where I have so often wandered — & the cavern where I have written so many verses. you should have known Cottle too — for a worthier heart you never knew. that xxxxxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxx.
You love the Sea. whenever I pitch my tent it shall be by it. when will that be? is it not a villainous thing that poetry will not support a man when the cursed jargon of the Law enriches so many? Zounds — I had rather write an epic poem than read a brief.
So Lamb is a soldier! I detest the profession — officers are the most ignorant impertinent & debauchd members of this execrable state of society. if ever I were disposed to get out of the world — I should prefer being shot for beating an ensign. I have known so many horrible acts [MS obscured] oppressive barbarity exercised by those liveried murde[MS torn] that I have feel a most honest & hearty hatred for the gang.
have you read St Pierre?
I am as sleepy an animal as ever. the rain beats hard — the fire burns bright — tis but eight o clock — & I have already begun yawning — good night Grosvenor lest I set you to sleep. my father always went to bed at nine o clock. I have inherited his punctuality & drowsiness.
I am the lark that sings early & early retires. what is that bird that sleeps in the morning & is awake at night Grosvenor? do you remember poor Aaron?