606. Robert Southey to Barbara Seton [fragment], [7 September 1801] ⁠* 

.             .             .             .             there is a temptation upon me to publish my best at once, & remain with a whole inclination for the history [1]              .             .             .             .             Even English society will not make amends to me for English climate. The truth perhaps is that I never felt the want of it in Portugal. My Uncle with me was always the man of letters, & the many points in common to us quite hid the difference of age & the utter dissimilarity of opinions on more important but not every day topics. When I lost Miss Barker, I soon found you – your loss drove me to the old folios. I should miss Mrs Gonne [2]  much, not that we often met – but there was always the possibility of meeting. However to any foreign country I should carry so much local ignorance as would make any common acquaintance interesting. The lowest Franciscan knows something which is worth knowing & I would willingly endure the odour of one of these oily garlicky fellows a whole evening to learn from him the history of his daily life. For this reason dull company has sometimes been interesting to me at Lisbon, & many a one there who never thought himself, has given me the materials of thinking. I am going seriously to work at French, so as to write & speak it. My Portuguese is easily converted into Italian – or Spanish should Madrid happen to be my place allotted, which I should hope it would not be, were it not for the old Spanish poets. My worst & least curable deficiency is the finger-fault. Zounds that I should be able to paint what I hear & feel – & yet so utterly at a loss to paint what I see. Were we but as near neighbours as we have been & as I heartily wish we were I should take your drawing book out in my walks & screw up my mouth to explain on my return in French that this stood for a church & that for a tree.