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Bodleian Library, MS Eng. Lett. c. 23. Previously published: Charles Cuthbert Southey (ed.), Life and Correspondence of Robert Southey, 6 vols (London, 1849–1850), I, pp. 312–314 [in part].
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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In every village of the Susquehanah Indians there is a vacant dwelling called the Strangers House. when a traveller there arrives at one of these villages he stops & hollōs. two of the elders of the tribe immediately go out to meet him, they lead him to this his house, & go round to tell the inhabitants that a stranger is arrived fatigued & hungry.
They do not order these things quite so well in England. We arrived at Southampton at 6 last evening. “Lodgings” were hung out at almost every house. but some would not let less than eleven rooms — some 7 & so on — & we walked a very long & uncomfortable hour before we could buy hospitality — & that at a very dear rate. I mean to walk tomorrow thro Lyndhurst & Lymington to Christ Church. that is if Edith be better — for she is now very unwell. she is feverish. I hope & believe it is only the temporary effect of fatigue. — but Grosvenor a single man does not know what anxiety is.
Edith is not well enough to walk out — I therefore have seen only enough of this place to dislike it. its inhabitants are people connected with shipping — & sharking shopkeepers — its visitors the very top scum of aristocracy. the carrion that these vultures feed upon. I want a quiet lonely place. in sight of something green. surely in a walk of thirty miles this may be found — but if I find the whole coast infected by visitors I will go to Bristol — where I shall have the Printer on one side, Charles Danvers on the other, Cottle in front — the woods & rocks of Avon behind — & be in the centre of all good things.
Our journey was hot & dusty. but thro a lovely country. at one time the coach was full — & all — but me asleep. I something fell off the roof — & I had the unutterable pleasure of waking all of them by bellowing out to bid the Coachman stop.
the idea of my lonely expedition is not very agreable. it is thirty miles to Christ Church. I could go 18 by coach. but the coach sets out at 3 in the evening — so that as it would not be well to walk the other 12 after 7 o clock — it would occasion an absence of 3 days. I hope Edith is better (it is now near 6) — two days of solitude will be unpleasant to her.
Would we were settled — aye & for life in some little sequestered valley — I would be content never to climb over the hills that sheltered me, & never to hear music or taste beverage but from the stream that ran beside my door. Let me have the sea too — & now & then some piece of a wreck, to supply me with firewood & remind me of commerce. This New Forest is very lovely. I should like to have a house in it — & dispeople the rest like William the Conqueror.emotion feelings that fill me when I lie under one tree & contemplate another in all the majesty of years — are neither to be defined or expressed. & these undefinable unexpressable feelings are those of the highest delight. they pass over the mind like the clouds of the summer evening — too fine & too fleeting for Memory to detain.
And now Grosvenor would I wager sixpence that you are regretting my absence, because you feel disposed to come to tea with us. I could upbraid you — but this is one of the follies of man — & I have my share of it — tho thank God — but a small share. what we can do at any time is most likely not to be done at all. We are more willing to make an effort. is this because we feel uneasy at the prospect of labour — of something to be done? & so are stimulated to industry by a love of indolence. I am a self observer, & indeed this appears to me the secret spring.
I shall however act in opposition to it now — & stay here probably till Monday — tho the idea of going is very uncomfortable & clings like birdlime to every thought. this is because I do not like to leave Edith to the double evil of solitude & indisposition.
farewell Grosvenor. I shall sally forth — & look for the Post Office. whereunto Write. When I tell you that Southampton has a Quay instead of a beach — I need not abuse the blackguard place.
I wish THE Tribunal was established. it would make provisions cheaper. there are so many ugly mouths!
God bless you.
Remember Cupid & Psyche for Carlisle.