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<title type="main">The Collected Letters of Robert Southey. Part 2: 1798-1803 </title>
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<name>Southey, Robert, 1774-1843</name>
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<editor>Lynda Pratt</editor>
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<idno type="nines">rce419</idno>
<idno type="edition">letterEEd.26.410</idno>
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<sourceDesc>
<p>.  Previously  published:
                        Kenneth Curry, New Letters of Robert
                            Southey, 2 vols (London and New York, 1965),
                        I, pp. 189–192.</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;
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											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="410" type="letter">
<head>410. Robert Southey to <ref target="people.html#FrickerEdith">Edith Southey</ref>,
                        <date when="1799-05-16">16 May 1799</date>
<note place="foot" resp="editors" type="headnote">Address: To/
                            M<hi rend="sup">rs</hi> Southey/ with M<hi rend="sup">rs</hi> Coleridge/ Stowey /near
                        Bridgewater,/ Somersetshire<lb/>Stamped: [partial] Penny
                        Post/ Pd/ Clapham<lb/>Postmark: [partial] MY/ 99<lb/>MS:
                        British Library, Add MS 47888<lb/>Previously published:
                        Kenneth Curry, <title>New Letters of Robert
                            Southey</title>, 2 vols (London and New York, 1965),
                        I, pp. 189–192.</note>
</head>
<p>
<address>
<placeName>
<ref target="places.html#Brixton">Brixton</ref>.</placeName>
</address>
<date when="1799-05-16">Thursday night. May 16. 1799.</date>
</p>
<p rend="indent1"> If I am again disappointed tomorrow, I must
                    actually write down a great oath of anger. moreover I must
                    cease writing – for perhaps you may be at Wells<note n="1" place="foot" resp="editors">The cathedral city of Wells,
                        Somerset.</note> or God knows where, &amp; here am I
                    writing writing writing to <ref target="places.html#Stowey">Stowey</ref> without knowing whether or not my letters
                    reach you.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> Probably I shall remove to town on Tuesday
                    next. for I dine that day with Hamilton,<note n="2" place="foot" resp="editors">The <title>Critical
                            Review</title>, for which Southey was working, was
                        owned (1793–1804) by the brothers Archibald (fl. 1790s)
                        and Samuel (fl. 1790s-1810s) Hamilton.</note> &amp;
                    Wednesday with M<hi rend="sup">r</hi> Peacock,<note n="3" place="foot" resp="editors">Mr Peacock had been
                        Southey’s landlord in London at 20 Prospect Place,
                        Newington Butts in February to May 1797.</note> &amp;
                    Thursday I must dine with <ref target="people.html#LambCharles">Lamb</ref>, as I have
                    promised him one day &amp; the Friday Saturday &amp; Sunday
                    belong to the blackguard Grays Inn, where however I shall
                    take my pleasantest town dinner because it will be my
                        last.<note n="4" place="foot" resp="editors">Southey was
                        still – nominally – studying law. He needed to dine at
                        Gray’s Inn in order to fulfil the terms of his legal
                        studies.</note> I was bitterly vexed to day after a long
                    walk to look for a letter; disappointment has left an
                    uncomfortable impression upon me &amp; I am a little more
                    angry &amp; much more uneasy than you would wish me. Edith
                    Edith you will have a great debt to pay me when we meet.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> Today young Towers<note n="5" place="foot" resp="editors">Joseph Towers (c. 1770–1831;
                            <title>DNB</title>), librarian of Dr Williams’s
                        Library, London.</note> called after me in the street. I
                    was glad to see him, because he was very civil to me about
                    the Library, &amp; because he is an honest young man – I
                    wish he would wash his hands for they dirted my cotton
                    gloves, <del rend="strikethrough">&amp; they</del> &lt;
                    which&gt; happened to be clean on. – I went to the India
                    house. among other things <ref target="people.html#LambCharles">Lamb</ref> told me he
                    dined last week twice with his Anna<note n="6" place="foot" resp="editors">Ann Simmons (dates unknown), with whom
                        Lamb had fallen in love in 1792. She had married John
                        Thomas Bartram earlier in 1799.</note> – who is married,
                    &amp; he laughed &amp; said she was a stupid girl. there is
                    something quite unnatural in Lambs levity. if he never loved
                    her why did he publish those sonnets?<note n="7" place="foot" resp="editors">See Samuel Taylor Coleridge,
                            <title>Poems, Second Edition. To Which Are Now Added
                            Poems by Charles Lamb, and Charles Lloyd</title>
                        (Bristol, 1797), pp. 217–219.</note> if he did why talk
                    of it with bravado laughter, or why talk of it at all? – my
                    opinions are for the world but my feelings are to myself – I
                    would proclaim the one under the gallows, but shrink from
                    the indulgence of the other in presence of my nearest
                    friends. this is not generally the case, &amp; therefore is
                    the world so full of amiable people who are rogues. <ref target="people.html#LambCharles">Lamb</ref> loves to
                    laugh at every thing – he speaks of every body <del rend="strikethrough">with</del> in a joke except Bishop
                        Taylor.<note n="8" place="foot" resp="editors">Jeremy
                        Taylor (c. 1613–1667; <title>DNB</title>), Bishop of
                        Down and Connor, religious writer and a favourite of
                        Lamb’s.</note> from <ref target="people.html#LloydCharles">Lloyd</ref> he has not
                    heard since his marriage, but Priscilla Lloyd<note n="9" place="foot" resp="editors">Priscilla Lloyd (d. 1815),
                        Lloyd’s sister. In 1804 she married Christopher
                        Wordsworth (1774–1846; <title>DNB</title>), younger
                        brother of William Wordsworth.</note> has written to
                    him, &amp; says her brothers feelings are not yet composed
                    enough to write – a pack of nonsense – what would the man
                    persuade us he is made of?</p>
<p rend="indent1"> I am sorry <ref target="people.html#TaylorWilliam">William Taylor</ref>
                    has left London. he is one who makes other mens conversation
                    fall flat upon the ear. his is the character I like –
                    unostentatious, careless of applause, beloved by all around
                    him, making all around him happy. I wish he was married –
                    &amp; this is the best wish that can be formed for him. – Of
                        <ref target="people.html#BedfordGrosvenorCharles">Grosvenor</ref> I see little. what with his office
                    &amp; his soldiering he is very much from home. he does not
                    improve nor is he likely to. he has no opinions of his own,
                    no principles of his own, no knowledge on which to erect
                    any. he can utter some <del rend="strikethrough">xxxxx</del>
                    prejudice with violence – just to the feeling of the moment.
                    as for mending him, it would not be worth while – twould be
                        <del rend="strikethrough">little</del> like putting
                    claret in a cracked bottle. <ref target="people.html#BedfordHoraceWalpole">Horace</ref>
                    is the ablest of the brothers. the younger has great talents
                    but he is spoilt &amp; has got a cursed trick of jesting at
                    every thing which will do him more mischief than he is aware
                    of. Miss Henderson<note n="10" place="foot" resp="editors">Unidentified.</note> is married – that foolish <ref target="people.html#BedfordGrosvenorCharles">Grosvenor</ref> who complains that he never sees any
                    young women to have a chance for marriage – never thought of
                    her.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> On Saturday I go with <ref target="people.html#HaysMary">Mary Hays</ref> to see
                    Barrys Pictures<note n="11" place="foot" resp="editors">The
                        history painter James Barry (1741–1806;
                            <title>DNB</title>), who had been deprived of his
                        Professorship of Painting and expelled from the Royal
                        Academy in April 1799, shortly after the publication of
                        his controversial <title>A Letter to the Dilettanti
                            Society</title> (1799). Southey possibly went with
                            <ref target="people.html#HaysMary">Hays</ref> to see
                        Barry’s contributions to the Shakespeare Gallery, Pall
                        Mall, London, widely advertised in the London
                        press.</note> – by the by she fairly took me in for this
                    piece of civility which I should very willingly have
                    dispensed not but I like <ref target="people.html#HaysMary">Mary Hays</ref>, but you know I do not like to trip
                    about with any body. – here Edith do I write to you where I
                    have been, where I am going, all the idle business of
                    yesterday today &amp; tomorrow, &amp; all the nonsense that
                    comes from mine own heart, so to <del rend="strikethrough">xx</del> my head &amp;c – you know how it gets to the
                    dribbling. &amp; you tell me nothing! where are you? <hi rend="ital">how</hi> are you? forget not to answer that.
                    where is <ref target="people.html#BurnettGeorge">Burnett</ref>? what news of <ref target="people.html#BurnettGeorge">George</ref>? write
                    my dear Edith lest I think you unkind.</p>
<p> We will go into Devonshire Edith. Ask <ref target="people.html#PooleThomas">M<hi rend="sup">r</hi>
                        Poole</ref> about Ilfracombe &amp; that neighbourhood.
                    where there are decent accommodations &amp; clear water
                    &amp; no mob of company to make things dear. he can probably
                    give you some information, or at least procure it. we will
                    take a little box of books with us. you shall have your
                        Florian,<note n="12" place="foot" resp="editors">Jean-Pierre Claris de Florian (1755–1794). During his
                        time in London, Southey had purchased an edition of
                        Florian for Edith. Probably the <title>Oeuvres</title>,
                        published in Paris in 1792 and listed as item 1042 in
                        the sale catalogue of Southey’s library.</note> I will
                    take the little Spenser<note n="13" place="foot" resp="editors">An unidentified edition of Edmund Spenser
                        (1552?–1599; <title>DNB</title>).</note> to study, &amp;
                    read it to you, &amp; the German book which <ref target="people.html#TaylorWilliam">W<hi rend="sup">m</hi> Taylor</ref> has lent me.<note n="14" place="foot" resp="editors">Johann Bodmer (1698–1783),
                            <title>Noachide</title> (1752). Southey thought it
                        was a ‘bad poem’; see <title>Common-Place Book</title>,
                        ed. John Wood Warter, 4 series (London, 1849–1850), IV,
                        p. 2.</note> there will be almost enough, with the
                    reviewing books which will follow us &amp; afford a
                    seasonable entertainment. <ref target="people.html#SoutheyMargaret">my Mother</ref> had
                    better go with us, &amp; we may perhaps find a house that
                    will suit her in our journey. I am told that tho my name
                    must be on the Inn books five years before I can <del rend="strikethrough">xxx</del> be called to the bar, it
                    will be only necessary to keep terms for three. if this be
                    the case I will keep no more till we come up to reside, for
                    it is a miserable thing to be from home.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> For this last five or six days I have felt no
                    indisposition. this perhaps is owing to my drinking more
                    wine than usual. the weather is still too bleak to benefit
                    me – today indeed we have hopes of spring &amp; sunshine. if
                    you did but half conceive how anxious I am to know how you
                    fare you would not suffer me to remain in uneasy
                    expectation.</p>
<p rend="indent1">
<ref target="people.html#ColeridgeSamuelTaylor">Coleridges</ref> Ode upon France is printed in the
                    Spirit of the Public Journals under the title of the
                        Recantation.<note n="15" place="foot" resp="editors">
<title>The Spirit of the Public Journals for
                            1798</title> (London, 1799), pp. 357–359.</note> how
                    will he like this, &amp; how will they like it who do not
                    allow it to be a recantation? <ref target="people.html#HaysMary">Mary Hays</ref> askd me if
                    I too had changed my principles. had she known more of me I
                    should have been hurt at the question.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> Edith farewell. if I have expressed some
                    anger – some vexation – remember I write with all possible
                    affection. </p>
<closer>
<salute rend="indent1"> God bless you.</salute>
<signed rend="indent2"> yr Robert Southey.</signed>
</closer>
<postscript>
<p>
<ref target="people.html#MayJohn">John May</ref> is only
                        in town on Tuesdays. the man<note n="16" place="foot" resp="editors">See Southey to May, [28 December
                            1798], Letter 363. For Lamb’s letter about the
                            unnamed ‘young man’ see Edwin W. Marrs Jr (ed.),
                                <title>The Letters of Charles and Mary Lamb,
                                1796–1817</title>, 3 vols (Ithaca and London,
                            1975–1978), I, pp. 154–155.</note> about whom <ref target="people.html#LambCharles">Lamb</ref> wrote to
                        me &amp; for whom <ref target="people.html#MayJohn">John
                            May</ref> interested himself so much, has turned out
                        to be a thorough &amp; compleat rascal. <ref target="people.html#LambCharles">Lamb</ref> says he
                        did not think any man could have behaved so
                        villainously!</p>
<p rend="indent1"> In the M Magazine is to be a Poem on Owen
                        Parfit by <ref target="people.html#CottleAmos">Amos
                            Cottle</ref>.<note n="17" place="foot" resp="editors">Cottle’s ballad ‘Owen Parfet’
                            appeared unsigned in the <title>Monthly
                                Magazine</title>, 7 (July 1799), 480–481. Owen
                            Parfitt was an old man who mysteriously disappeared
                            from the town of Shepton Mallet in the 1760s. Local
                            legend suggested he had been carried off by the
                            Devil as punishment for an earlier life of
                            wickedness.</note> he is in full employ.</p>
</postscript>
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