My dear Wynn
Since my last I have endured a perpetual
state of uneasiness on account of Ediths health.
you know we purposed visiting Devonshire. for some time
previous to our departure she had been exceedingly unwell, –
it was thought the journey would benefit her & we set
out in much hope, fortified with advice & a stock of
medecines. We got to Minehead, where I intended to pass a
fortnight. during the whole of that period she was so
exceedingly ill as to make me think it expedient to return.
she however slowly amended. Mrs Coleridge came to her & Edith returned
with her, a distance of but a few miles, if she amended we
could proceed from thence – if not we should be nearer
Bristol. I went westwards, for much confinement & little
sleep had brought back my old evil symptoms with greater
violence than ever. on my return I find her still slowly
amending.
In these circumstances & under this state
of mind you will see how impossible it is that I should have
done anything. I only played with the pen I took up – &
if a book was open before me read the words & scarcely
affixed to them any meaning.
My walk has not perceptibly benefited me – it
was from Minehead down the North coast of Somersetshire to
Ilfracombe & round by Barnstable Tiverton &
Taunton. [1] Lymouth a
little village on the coast is the most interesting place I
have yet seen in this country. the roads to it on all sides
are unpassable by a carriage & it is of course little
known. imagine two mountain streams each running down a dell
among crags like a long waterfall – the one dell richly
wooded, the other winding among bare & stony hills. a
fine eminence rises between these dells & where the two
streams meet Lymouth stands – they flow into the channel
immediately at their junction & of course the roar of
the sea forms one sounds
with the dashing of the rivers. even without the sea this
place would be one of the most interesting I ever saw.
ascending half a mile from hence up a road serpentinely
perpendicular almost you turn into the Valley of Stones – a
miraculous place. the range of hills here next the sea are
completely stripped of their soil & only the bones of
the earth left – stone upon stone. Its origin I could not
conjecture. water if it had overwhelmed it must have
inundated all the lower lands in the country, for these are
very high – & yet the hills on the other side the Valley
– not an arrows flight distant are cloathed with herbage. a
water spout perhaps – but I am no naturalist to my shame,
& so endeavoured to find out a poetic origin for it. was
it the work of our aboriginal giants? no – for Goemagog one
of the hugest was not so big but Corineus could carry him –
ergo no Giants could have been large-limbd enough. [2] I conceive therefore
to be the remains of some work erected by the Devils who
came to intrigue with the fifty daughters of Diocletian [3] – for I can trace no other inhabitants of
our island who possessed power enough for the work.
here I past some hours, alone, on the summit
of the highest point two stones inclining on each other form
a portal. in this I lay down – a little platform of turf lay
level with me about two yards long – & then the eye fell
upon the sea – a tremendous depth of precipice. you can
hardly imagine the feeling it gave me to close my eyes a
minute – & then open them upon the scene.
direct to Cottles still – & your letters will find me
somewhere. I wish you well to Berlin – anywhere – rather
than to Ireland.
yrs affectionately
R Southey.
Notes* Address: To/ C W Williams Wynn Esqr/ Chester
Circuit
Endorsement: Aug/ 99
MS:
National Library of Wales, MS 4811D
Previously
published: Kenneth Curry (ed.), New Letters of
Robert Southey, 2 vols (London and New York,
1965), I, pp. 197–198.
Dating note: Internal
evidence suggests this letter was written after
Southey’s tour of the north Somerset coast in early
August 1799, but before his visit to Nether Stowey later
in the month. BACK [1] For
Southey’s account of his tour, Common-Place
Book, ed. John Wood Warter, 4 series
(London, 1849–1850), IV, pp. 520–522. BACK [2] Geoffrey of Monmouth
(1100–1155; DNB), Historia Regum
Britanniae states Corineus (or Corin) was a
companion of Brutus, who was allotted Cornwall to rule.
He defeated the giant Goemagot in a wrestling match and
threw his body into the sea. BACK [3] An alternative legend
suggested that the wicked thirty-three daughters of
Diocletian, King of Syria, murdered their husbands. The
King set them adrift and they washed up in Britain,
where they inter-bred with devils and gave birth to
giants and monsters; see John Milton (1608–1674;
DNB), ‘History of Britain’,
The Works of John Milton, Historical,
Political, and Miscellaneous. ... To Which is
Prefixed, An Account of His Life and
Writings, 2 vols (London, 1753), II, pp.
2–3. BACK |
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