The Collected Letters of Robert Southey. Part 2: 1798-1803 A Romantic Circles Electronic Edition Southey, Robert, 1774-1843 Lynda Pratt Romantic Circles General Editor, Neil Fraistat General Editor, Steven E. Jones Technical Editor Laura Mandell 2011-08-15 rce347 letterEEd.26.338 Romantic Circles, http://www.rc.umd.edu, University of Maryland College Park, MD August 15, 2011

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Beinecke Library, Chauncey Brewster Tinker MS Collection, GEN MSS 310, Box 13, folder 557. Previously published: J. W. Robberds (ed.), A Memoir of the Life and Writings of the Late William Taylor of Norwich, 2 vols (London, 1843), I, pp. 213–214 [in part; verse not reproduced].

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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338. Robert Southey to William Taylor, 24 July [1798] Address: To/ Mr Wm Taylor Junr/ Surry Street/ Norwich./ SingleStamped: [twice] BRISTOL Postmark: [partial] J/ 26/ 98Endorsement: Ans.d 10 AugustMS: Beinecke Library, Chauncey Brewster Tinker MS Collection, GEN MSS 310, Box 13, folder 557Previously published: J. W. Robberds (ed.), A Memoir of the Life and Writings of the Late William Taylor of Norwich, 2 vols (London, 1843), I, pp. 213–214 [in part; verse not reproduced]. Tuesday night. July 24.
Westbury.
My dear Sir

I should long ere this have written to acknowledge the hospitality I found at Norwich, but that I thought the mere formality of a letter of thanks would be as little agreable to you as to myself. I therefore copy for you an Eclogue just written; for two reasons, as a plea for writing – & because it was suggested by your conversation. What you told me of the German Eclogues revived some almost forgotten plans, & enabled me to correct them. I purpose writing some which may be called English, as sketching features peculiar to England: not like the one which you read to me of GoetheJohann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832). which would suit any country with Roman ruins. like the Germans I would aim at somewhat of dramatic interest. & some of my plans will allow me to introduce that quiet sedition which the Anti-JacobineSouthey was downplaying his political reputation: the Anti-Jacobin; or, Weekly Examiner, 1 (20 November 1797), p. 7, had identified Southey as the leader of a ‘New School’ of highly seditious poets. has denounced me for, in that which is already written there is nothing of this merit. it rather favours old prejudices. I like it myself – perhaps because it is newly written – perhaps because I drew from the recollection of such a scene. If I were near you I should profit by your opinions & your knowledge; – & I should be sorry if a two days journey should totally xxtx cut off my intercourse with one whom I highly respect, & whom if the age of our acquaintance justified me, I should gladly call friend.

The Old Mansion House.

_____

There was a Traveller to the village came, And as he past its ancient manor house Upon whose scaffolded front the labourers stood Urging their toil, he pausd & watchd their work; And to an old grey-headed man, whose back Already bent by age, was now bowd down Breaking the high-way stones, a task that ill Beseemd his years, “my friend” he cried “they have made “Strange alterations here! O. Man – Aye strange indeed! And if my poor old Lady could rise up, – God rest her soul! twould grieve her to behold The wicked work is here! Traveller. I saw it once And thought it was a venerable place, – Some six years gone. – were there not yew-trees stood Here in the court? O.M. – Aye Master. fine old trees! My grandfather could just remember back When they were planted there. it was my task To keep them trimmd, & twas a pleasure to me, – All straight & smooth & like a great green wall. My poor old Lady many a time would come And tell me where to shear, for she had playd In childhood under them, & twas her pride To keep them in her beauty. plague I say On their new-fangled whimsies! we shall have A modern shrubbery here stuck full of firs And your pert poplar-trees. – I could as soon Have ploughd my fathers grave as cut them down. Traveller.           “And yonder windows – O.Man. – They’re demolished too – As if they could not see thro casement glass. The very redbreasts that so regular Come to my Lady for her morning crumbs Wo’nt know the window now. Tr. – Who owns the place? He was not born here? O.Man. – Oh no no! what tis To have a stranger come to an old house! If he had playd about here when a child In that fore court, & eat the yewberries, And sat in the porch threading the jessamine flowers That fell so thick, he could’nt have had the heart To mar all thus! Traveller. – When last I went this way Twas eve, & an old Lady sat in the porch In the evening sun, she had her spectacles on, Her knitting in her hand. I stopt to look. Did not the jessamine tree grow in & line The porch? O.Man. All over it: it did one good To pass within ten yards when twas in flower. There was a sweet brier too that grew beside – . My Lady loved at evening to sit there And knit; & her old dog lay at her feet And slept in the sun. twas an old favourite dog – She did not love him less that he was old And feeble, & he always had a place By the fire side, & when he died at last She made me dig a grave in the garden for him. Ah! she was good to all! a woful day Twas for the poor when to her grave she went! Traveller.           They lost a friend then? O. Man. – You’re a stranger here Or would not ask that question. were they sick? She had rare cordial waters, & for herbs – She could have taught the Doctors. then at winter When weekly she distributed the bread There where the poor old porch stood; – to have heard The blessings on her! – & I warrant them They were a comfort to her when her wealth Had been no comfort else. At Xmas Sir! It would have warmed your heart if you had seen Her Xmas kitchen; – how the blazing fire Made her fine pewter shine, – & holly boughs So chearful red. – & then <as> for misseltoe! The finest bush that grew in the country round Was markd for Madam. then her old ale went So bountiful about! a Xmas cask, And twas a noble one. – God help me, Sir, But I shall never see such days again. Traveller. ––     Things may be better yet than you suppose – Tis well to hope the best. O. Man. – It do’nt look well These alterations Sir! I’m an old man And love the good old fashions. we don’t find Old bounty in new houses. they’ve destroyd All that my Lady lovd; – her favourite walk Grubbd up, & they do say that the great row Of elms behind the house that meet a-top, They must fall too. well – well! I did not think To live to see all this, & tis perhaps A comfort I sha’nt live to see it long. Traveller.           But sure all changes are not needs for the worse My friend. O. Man. – May-hap they maynt Sir. for all that, I like what I’ve been usd too. I remember All this from a child up, & now to lose it, – Tis losing an old friend. theres nothing left As twas; I go abroad & only meet With men whose fathers I remember boys. The brook that used to run before my door, That’s gone to the great pond. the trees I learnt To climb are down; & I see nothing now That tells me of old times except the stones In the churchyard. you are young Sir & I trust Have many years in store. but pray to God You may’nt be left the last of all your friends!A revised version appeared in Southey’s Poems, 2 vols (Bristol, 1799), II, pp. 185–193.

____

My others will be better than this as they will be sprinkled with seditionizing feelings. I know not enough of the German Eclogues to say that this is in the same stile, for, except what I learnt from you, I only remember one of GessnersSalomon Gessner (1730–1788), Swiss poet. in a Devon & Cornwall collection of poems, & I have forgotten every thing of that except that it is there.‘Milon and Dametas, A Pastoral. From Gessner’, in Poems Chiefly by Gentlemen of Devon and Cornwall, 2 vols (Bath, 1792), II, pp. 85–90. remember me thankfully to your mother & to all your friends whose civilities I experienced at Norwich. if you have leisure – & not disinclination, it will give me great pleasure to hear from you. my direction is at Mr Cottles. Bristol

My mother is now settled near that city & we are with her.

God bless you. yrs truly Robert Southey.