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<title type="main">The Collected Letters of Robert Southey. Part 1: 1791-1797 </title>
<title type="subordinate">A Romantic Circles Electronic Edition</title>
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<name>Southey, Robert, 1774-1843</name>
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<resp>General Editor, </resp>
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<resp>General Editor, </resp>
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<publisher>Romantic Circles, http://www.rc.umd.edu, University of Maryland</publisher>
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<date when="2009-02-20">March 15, 2009</date>
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<p>Bristol Reference Library,
                        B28505.  Previously  published: Charles Cuthbert Southey (ed.), Life and Correspondence of Robert Southey, 6 vols (London,
                        1849–1850), I, pp. 190–191 [in part; 1 paragraph].Dating note: The
                        letter is possibly written over several days from 3–7
                    November.</p>
<p>These letters were edited with the assistance of Carol Bolton, Tim Fulford and Ian Packer</p>
<p>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.</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>
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<div n="66" type="letter">
<head>66. Robert Southey to <ref target="people.html#BedfordHoraceWalpole">Horace
                        Walpole Bedford</ref>, <date when="1793-11-03">3[–4] November
                        1793</date>
<note place="foot" resp="editors" type="headnote">Address: Horace
                        Walpole Bedford Esq<hi rend="sup">r</hi>/ Old Palace Yard/ Westminster/
                        Single<lb/> Stamped: BRISTOL<lb/>Postmark: NO/ 7/ 93<lb/>Seal: Red wax;
                        design illegible<lb/>Endorsement: Rec<hi rend="sup">d</hi>. Nov. 7<hi rend="sup">th</hi>. 1793 BC<lb/> MS: Bristol Reference Library,
                        B28505<lb/>Previously published: Charles Cuthbert Southey (ed.), <title level="m">Life and Correspondence of Robert Southey</title>, 6 vols (London,
                        1849–1850), I, pp. 190–191 [in part; 1 paragraph].<lb/>Dating note: The
                        letter is possibly written over several days from 3–7
                    November.</note>
</head>
<opener>
<dateline rend="left">
<date when="1793-11-03">Sunday. November 3<hi rend="sup">rd</hi>. 1793.</date>
<time>½ past seven.</time>
<address>
<placeName>
<ref target="places.html#CollegeGreenBristol">College Green Bristol.</ref>
</placeName>
</address>
                        a wet cold evening &amp; an excellent fire.</dateline>
</opener>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent4"> Farewell to Fear. thy chilling sway</l>
<l rend="indent3">Pale palsied Genius rives no more my breast</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Thy terrors load no more the lingering day</l>
<l rend="indent3">Or fill with agony the hour for rest</l>
<l rend="indent4"> No more thy fancied ills can scare</l>
<l rend="indent4"> With causeless dread &amp; groundless care</l>
<l rend="indent4"> No more the haggard eye balls roll</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Around in earnestness of soul</l>
<l rend="indent2">No more from broken dreams thy slave shall start</l>
<l rend="indent2">Or force the unreal smile whilst thou shalt gnaw the
                        heart.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent4"> Genius abhorrd farewell</l>
<l rend="indent3">Farewell too flattering Hope for I remain</l>
<l rend="indent3">No more the willing slave that hugs thy chain.</l>
<l rend="indent4"> No more shall Fancys eye</l>
<l rend="indent3">Paint the gay prospect of the distant scene</l>
<l rend="indent4"> And seek the far off cot</l>
<l rend="indent4"> The humblest happiest lot</l>
<l rend="indent3">Regardless of the rocks &amp; floods between</l>
<l rend="indent3">And desert wastes that intermediate lie</l>
<l rend="indent3">And barriers stern &amp; strong impassable.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">Farewell to Hope — her anchor weak to stay</l>
<l rend="indent4"> The crazy vessel tossing on the wave</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Instinctive Nature taught to save.</l>
<l rend="indent3">I dashd amid the sea &amp; cleavd my way</l>
<l rend="indent2">With sinewy arm to Apathys cold shore.</l>
<l rend="indent2">Farewell to Hope for I can fear no more.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">Yes many a weary hour of anguish past</l>
<l rend="indent3">I reach the barren lonely shore at last</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Scaped from the waves of strife</l>
<l rend="indent3">I dread no more the tempests roar</l>
<l rend="indent2">Nor the black clouds that Heavens wide face deform</l>
<l rend="indent2">And big with ruin bear the embryo storm</l>
<l rend="indent4"> To heave the billows on the sea of life.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">Yes I am safe &amp; here serene can view</l>
<l rend="indent4"> The driving tempest &amp; the billowing wave</l>
<l rend="indent4"> That seemd so late to yawn my destind grave</l>
<l rend="indent3">And I can see serene the distant blue</l>
<l rend="indent2">Where gilds the sun each object far &amp; near</l>
<l rend="indent2">Can see the happier realm &amp; yet restrain the tear</l>
<l rend="indent3">And I can see the happier vessels course</l>
<l rend="indent3">Speed thro the waves with mightier force</l>
<l rend="indent4"> And bear the seaman to the destind shore.</l>
<l rend="indent3">Then in my lone hut sit serene &amp; hear</l>
<l rend="indent3">The wild blasts howling rend my ear</l>
<l rend="indent4"> And the stern tempests desolating roar</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">My dear <ref target="people.html#BedfordHoraceWalpole">Horace</ref>, Hopes is a damnd crazy boat</l>
<l rend="indent2">As eer on the ocean of life was afloat</l>
<l rend="indent2">As it scuds with the gale all appears right &amp;
                        tight</l>
<l rend="indent2">The nail flies the plank starts &amp; the ship sinks to
                        night</l>
<l rend="indent2">False vessel false pilot, false all thats in view</l>
<l rend="indent2">More ticklish &amp; fearful than Oxford canoe.</l>
<l rend="indent2">Tis well I could swim to the shore I got clear</l>
<l rend="indent2">And adieu to false Hope &amp; adieu to false Fear.</l>
<l rend="indent2">And adieu to my BOTT but for him twill be better</l>
<l rend="indent2">All alone to himself to have <ref target="people.html#BedfordGrosvenorCharles">Grosvenors</ref> next
                        letter</l>
<l rend="indent2">So to <ref target="people.html#BedfordGrosvenorCharles">Grosvenor</ref> say this which shall not be forgot</l>
<l rend="indent2">I will write him a letter to eternize my BOTT.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">Adieu my BOOTS. when at last</l>
<l rend="indent4"> My baggage came to Bristol</l>
<l rend="indent4"> My baggage then I kist all</l>
<l rend="indent4"> My bosom so glad is</l>
<l rend="indent4"> I ran from the Ladies</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Fell down on my knees</l>
<l rend="indent4"> And took out my keys</l>
<l rend="indent3">For my sorrow &amp; trouble were past</l>
<l rend="indent4"> I caperd as glad</l>
<l rend="indent4"> As if I was mad</l>
<l rend="indent4"> And lit up the tapers</l>
<l rend="indent4"> To look over my papers</l>
<l rend="indent4"> And when I came to Joan<note n="1" place="foot" resp="editors">The manuscript of the first version of his epic <title level="m">Joan of Arc</title>, now in the Houghton Library, MS Eng
                            265.</note>
</l>
<l rend="indent4"> It would have moved a heart of stone.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent4"> But adieu my BOOTS — adieu</l>
<l rend="indent4"> For I could not find you.</l>
<l rend="indent4"> But adieu my IVORY COMB</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Which I want very bad at home</l>
<l rend="indent3">The one I have not being half so good</l>
<l rend="indent4"> But adieu adieu my COMB BRUSH</l>
<l rend="indent4"> For which I do not care a rush</l>
<l rend="indent3">As I have as many brushes as I would</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent4"> But adieu my dear OLD BEAR —</l>
<l rend="indent4"> For I alas must wear</l>
<l rend="indent3">A little coat for want of a great one.</l>
<l rend="indent4"> And trudging along</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Must sing the old song</l>
<l rend="indent4"> “Back &amp; sides go bare”<note n="2" place="foot" resp="editors">The popular ballad ‘Let your back and sides go
                            bare’.</note>
</l>
<l rend="indent4"> To solace my care</l>
<l rend="indent3">Whilst the rain shall so pityless wet one.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">Boots — Ivory Comb — Comb Brush — Great Coat adieu —</l>
<l rend="indent4"> What the Devil am I to do</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Without you?</l>
<l rend="indent5"> Oh</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Upon my word dear <ref target="people.html#BedfordHoraceWalpole">Horace</ref> I dont know.</l>
<l rend="indent2">But an excellent fire in a very cold night</l>
<l rend="indent2">Warms my brain &amp; excites me thus oddly to write</l>
<l rend="indent2">Besides I have transcribd the first book of Joan</l>
<l rend="indent2">And more&lt;over&gt; a story shall now be made
                        known.</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Of a plot so bad</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Laid by me &amp; <ref target="people.html#WeeksShadrach">Shad</ref>
</l>
<l rend="indent3">To catch a rat</l>
<l rend="indent4"> In a gin</l>
<l rend="indent4"> By the shin</l>
<l rend="indent3">And he did not like that.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">You’ve heard of Valenciennes<note n="3" place="foot" resp="editors">Allied forces had defeated France at the battle of
                            Valenciennes, 23 May 1793, but subsequent French victories had forced
                            the allies to lift the sieges of Dunkirk in September 1793 and Maubeuge
                            in October 1793.</note>
<del rend="strikethrough">I suppose</del> reason</l>
<l rend="indent4"> (And of Dunkirk too I suppose</l>
<l rend="indent4"> And Maubeuge — but God know</l>
<l rend="indent3">I must not talk T—— reason</l>
<l rend="indent4"> So we’ll take Valenciennes by the way</l>
<l rend="indent4"> And from Dunkirk — run away.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">There underground the miners workd their way</l>
<l rend="indent3">Like moles at length to reach the light of day</l>
<l rend="indent3">To take the town</l>
<l rend="indent3">And batter the walls down.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">God forbid on subjects like these</l>
<l rend="indent5"> That</l>
<l rend="indent4"> I should compare the Duke<note n="4" place="foot" resp="editors">Frederick, Duke of York and Albany (1763–1827; <title level="m">DNB</title>), son of George III (1738–1820; reigned
                            1760–1820; <title level="m">DNB</title>) and commander of the allied
                            forces in the Low Countries.</note>
</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Giving Valenciennes a puke</l>
<l rend="indent4"> To make her vomit her guts up</l>
<l rend="indent4"> With gunpowder filling the ruts up</l>
<l rend="indent5"> To a rat</l>
<l rend="indent2">Mining the cellar to get at my toasting cheese.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">Or that my soul</l>
<l rend="indent3">Should compare the French to the gin at the hole</l>
<l rend="indent3">And my cheese should work</l>
<l rend="indent3">Till I thought of Dunkirk.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">All that I mean on themes like these</l>
<l rend="indent2">Is that the rat had smelt my toasted cheese</l>
<l rend="indent2">And stranger whim</l>
<l rend="indent2">
<ref target="people.html#WeeksShadrach">SHAD</ref> &amp; I
                        smelt him.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">The committee of public safety</l>
<l rend="indent3">(Remember the caution I gave t’ye)</l>
<l rend="indent3">Saw the siege of the toasted cheese</l>
<l rend="indent4"> And (“gently as we please”)</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Put the gin</l>
<l rend="indent3">To catch the <title level="m">Hungary</title> rat in.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">As usual dear <ref target="people.html#BedfordHoraceWalpole">Horace</ref> I soon went to bed</l>
<l rend="indent3">And snug on the pillow lay down my warm head</l>
<l rend="indent3">Just fell into a nap &amp; a dream most delightful</l>
<l rend="indent3">When I was awakened by screaming most frightful</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Cant you guess</l>
<l rend="indent5"> From whence the sounds proceed</l>
<l rend="indent5"> Before you read?</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Yes yes.</l>
<l rend="indent4"> Our plan was <hi rend="ital">ratified</hi>
</l>
<l rend="indent4"> It was the Rat that cried.</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent3">I jumpd up in bed</l>
<l rend="indent3">And cockd up my head</l>
<l rend="indent3">To listen in the dark</l>
<l rend="indent3">I heard <ref target="people.html#WeeksShadrach">Shad</ref>
                        run</l>
<l rend="indent3">And pleasd at the fun</l>
<l rend="indent3">The democrat Phillis<note n="5" place="foot" resp="editors">Southey’s spaniel.</note> bark</l>
</lg>
<lb/>
<lg type="stanza">
<l rend="indent2">The hungary rat was guillottined — &amp; then</l>
<l rend="indent2">I laid me down to sleep again</l>
<l rend="indent2">And so I will now</l>
<l rend="indent2">When <ref target="people.html#TylerElizabeth">my Aunt</ref>
                        will allow</l>
<l rend="indent2">For my eyes ache<del rend="strikethrough">s</del> sadly</l>
<l rend="indent2">And my hand badly — they do indeed. good night<note n="6" place="foot" resp="editors">they do ... night: Enclosed by Southey in a
                            box.</note>
</l>
</lg>
<p>
<date when="1793-11-04">Monday night. seven o clock</date>
</p>
<p rend="indent1"> Ecce iterum — not Crispinus<note n="7" place="foot" resp="editors">A jokey paraphrase of Juvenal’s (fl. AD late C1 and early
                        C2), ‘Ecce iterum Crispinus’ (‘Here’s Crispinus again’), <title level="m">Satire</title> 4, line 1. Rufrius Crispinus (d. AD 66) was also the
                        butt of Juvenal’s <title level="m">Satire</title> 1.</note> my friend — no
                    nor Juvenal neither, but RS descended from Pegasus mounted on a great chair
                    &amp; writing prose.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> you say in your letter, you was on the point of requesting what
                    would be too much for you to ask. my dear friend ask freely — if I have ability
                    to perform it you know I have will &amp; if I have neither I will freely say
                    so. that you have relinquishd our plan does not surprize me — for myself I have
                    employment enough with Joan &amp; the Library. how your employments should
                    take up so much time I know not — I read &amp; write till my eyes ache
                    &amp; still have Time hanging as heavy as a stone round the neck of a
                    drowning dog. probably I may visit Devonshire soon &amp; see <ref target="people.html#LightfootNicholas">Lightfoot</ref>. he is a good fellow
                    &amp; will be without the Pot — this place strange as it may sound is to me
                    most unpleasant — omne solum forti &amp;c<note n="8" place="foot" resp="editors">A paraphrase of Ovid (43 BC–AD 17), <title level="m">Fasti</title>, line 493, ‘Omne solum forti patria est’, ‘Every land is
                        a homeland for the brave’. A favourite quotation, it formed the epigraph to
                        Southey’s <title level="m">Madoc</title>, first published in 1805.</note> —
                    I think of the sentiment &amp; America obtrudes itself forcibly on my
                    melancholy hours.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> We live in a vile world — the good things are so badly
                    distributed that Frederics<note n="9" place="foot" resp="editors">Frederick
                        William II (1744–1797; reigned 1786–1797), King of Prussia.</note> &amp;
                    fools have crowns, boobies large estates &amp; good fortunes — perhaps
                    Nature thought good sense a handsome dower — but good sense in dependance is
                    like a chef d oeuvres of Raffaelle<note n="10" place="foot" resp="editors">The
                        painter Raffaelo Sanzio (or Santi) (1483–1520).</note> in a bog house. if
                    the savages of America have fewer luxuries than the slaves of Europe they have
                    fewer miseries — the artificial distinctions of birth &amp; fortune are
                    unknown — distinctions which though the Philosopher must despise, he must want.
                    on the banks of the Oronoko when the young savage<del rend="strikethrough">s</del> is born — his infancy is neither embitterd by fashionable nursing
                    his puberty by absurd education or his life by the anxieties so frequent
                    &amp; indeed unavoidable in civilized society. his bow &amp; arrows
                    furnish him with food — he gives the pipe of peace to the stranger &amp;
                    lives free as the game he pursues — teach him the value of money &amp; the
                    no-value of every thing else &amp; he becomes miserable</p>
<p rend="indent1"> perhaps ten years hence I may laugh at my rhapsodies — when time
                    has annihilated my feelings &amp; hardend my heart. they wish me at home to
                    be like other young men — whilst I am ready in the words of the Pharisee to
                    exclaim ‘I thank thee o God that I am not as other men are.<note n="11" place="foot" resp="editors">
<title level="m">Luke</title> 18: 11.</note> to
                    please the million I should dress my hair &amp; fall into the fashionable
                    follies of youth. two bottles a day — a tail — a pudding — &amp; a quarterly
                    surgeons bill would fit me for society — if ever I was allowed to write — it
                    must be a loyal song or one in humble imitation of Captain Morris &amp; Jack
                    the second<note n="12" place="foot" resp="editors">Works by either of the
                        popular satirical song-writers and army officers, Charles Morris (1745–1838;
                            <title level="m">DNB</title>) and his brother Thomas Morris (c.
                        1732–1818). Johannes Secundus (1511–1536), poet.</note> — so when I was
                    grown compleatly contemptible — I might be fit for genteel company! were society
                    what it ought beings like this (&amp; such there are) would be hooted from
                    all sides — if the Fox was contemptible without his tail what should man be
                    without his reasons!</p>
<p rend="indent1"> nineteen years have elapsed since I set sail upon the ocean of
                    life — in an ill provided boat — the vessel weatherd many a storm &amp; I
                    took every distant cloud for land — still pushing forward for the Fortunate
                    Islands till I discoverd that they existed not for me &amp; that like many
                    others wiser <del rend="strikethrough">xxx</del> better than myself I must be
                    content to wander about &amp; never gain the port. nineteen years —
                    certainly a fourth part of my life — perhaps how great a part! &amp; yet I
                    have been of no service to society — why the clown who scares crows for two
                    pence a day is a more useful member of society — he preserves the corn which I
                    eat in indolence —</p>
<p rend="indent1"> these damned dumps will one day drive me mad &amp; draw the
                    trigger — I have done. send me an account of Hyders<note n="13" place="foot" resp="editors">The Bedfords’ dog.</note> death write soon &amp; tell me
                    you are going to enter at <ref target="places.html#BalliolOxford">Balliol</ref>.
                    it depends upon yourself — &amp; delicacy would be criminal. all happiness
                    is comparative — I would gladly change my future prospects for yours — I hope to
                        <del rend="strikethrough">hear</del> congratulate you as a fellow collegian
                    very shortly. yesterday is just one year since I enterd my name in the Vice
                    Chancellors book — it is a year of which I would wish to forget
                    &lt;the&gt; transactions could I only remember their effect. my mind has
                    been very much expanded — my hopes I trust extinguishd — so adieu to Hope Fear
                    but not to Folly — I must trifle away time.</p>
<p> I shall soon write to <ref target="people.html#BedfordGrosvenorCharles">Grosvenor</ref>. remember me to <ref target="people.html#BedfordHenry">Harry</ref> when you see him &amp; to <ref target="people.html#DeaconKate">Kate</ref> — never tell me that Man is
                    naturally vicious look at children &amp; see how easily kindness begets
                    esteem &amp; love — but — why will it not when the child is grown up — God
                    bless you.</p>
<closer>
<salute rend="indent4">yours sincerely.</salute>
<signed rend="indent5">RS.</signed>
</closer>
<postscript>
<p rend="indent1"> I have half a letter written to <ref target="people.html#CollinsCharles">C Collins</ref>.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> I am reading Adam Smith on the Wealth of Nations.<note n="14" place="foot" resp="editors">Adam Smith (c. 1723–1790; <title level="m">DNB</title>), <title level="m">An Inquiry into the Nature and
                                Causes of the Wealth of Nations</title>, 2 vols (1776). Southey
                            borrowed volume one from the Bristol Library Society between 4 and 18
                            November 1793 and volume two between 18 and 25 November 1793.</note>
</p>
</postscript>
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