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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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<idno type="nines">rce420</idno>
<idno type="edition">letterEEd.26.411</idno>
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<sourceDesc>
<p>British Library, Add MS
                        47888.  Previously  published: Kenneth Curry (ed.),
                            New Letters of Robert Southey, 2 vols
                        (London and New York, 1965), I, pp.
                    192–195.</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
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											St Edmunds) and Northumberland, the Master and Fellows of Trinity College, Cambridge; the Society of
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<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="411" type="letter">
<head>411. Robert Southey to <ref target="people.html#FrickerEdith">Edith Southey</ref>,
                        <date when="1799-05-19">19 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/ Single<lb/>Stamped: Bridge
                            S<hi rend="sup">t</hi>/ Westminster<lb/>Postmark:
                        MY/ 20/ 99<lb/>MS: British Library, Add MS
                        47888<lb/>Previously published: Kenneth Curry (ed.),
                            <title>New Letters of Robert Southey</title>, 2 vols
                        (London and New York, 1965), I, pp.
                    192–195.</note>
</head>
<p>
<address>
<placeName>
<ref target="places.html#Brixton">Brixton</ref>.</placeName>
</address>
<date when="1799-05-19">Sunday night. May 19. 99.</date>
</p>
<p rend="indent1"> At last my dear Edith your letter has reached
                    me, but not till yesterday, not till after much expectation
                    &amp; frequent disappointment. so much the more welcome was
                    its arrival. I must not ask you to write again. I must not
                    expect it – but Edith can I help feeling something like
                    disappointment if no tidings of you should arrive before
                    Saturday next?</p>
<p rend="indent1"> I heard from God-knows-who &amp; on
                    I-know-not-what-authority that <ref target="people.html#WordsworthWilliam">Wordsworth</ref>
                    was returned.<note n="1" place="foot" resp="editors">William
                        and Dorothy Wordsworth had returned from Germany on 16
                        May 1799.</note> you will not I hope, I know you will
                    not be persuaded to remain at <ref target="places.html#Stowey">Stowey</ref> longer than my
                    confinement in London. On Monday night I shall be at home.
                    it seems likely that you will come the same day from
                    Bridgewater – I shall call at <ref target="places.html#Cottles">Cottles</ref>, however late
                    it may be (noticing him of my intention) to learn some
                    tidings of you. if however <ref target="people.html#CarlisleAnthony">Carlisle</ref>
                    should not proceed with me, (&amp; I shall try to arrange it
                    that he may not,) I will come by Sunday’s mail. Edith Edith
                    only one week more – only one week – &amp; how long does it
                    seem! however Edith we will not be seperated only for one
                    week again. there can be little doubt of your finding room
                    in the long coach from Exeter. if you should be disappointed
                    you must take chaises, it will be better than staying at
                    Bridgewater &amp; as for the expence – <del rend="strikethrough">xx</del> would you not buy off a
                    few hours of the ensuing week at a high price?</p>
<p rend="indent1"> Yesterday according to custom, finding
                    leisure in town, I went to <ref target="people.html#DyerGeorge">George Dyer</ref>, &amp;
                    put myself under his arm to be introduced to Major
                    Cartwright, the venerable patriot, respectable for so many
                    years exertion in the cause of parliamentary
                        &lt;reform.&gt;<note n="2" place="foot" resp="editors">The political reformer John Cartwright (1740–1824;
                            <title>DNB</title>).</note> he is a fine old man,
                    still young in ardor &amp; undecayed in intellect. one of
                    his brothers &lt;a <del rend="strikethrough">xxxxxxx</del>
                    clergyman&gt; whom I saw also was once a celebrated poet
                    &amp; is now a good mechanic.<note n="3" place="foot" resp="editors">Edmund Cartwright (1743–1823;
                            <title>DNB</title>), clergyman, poet and inventor of
                        the power loom.</note> another is the very Major
                    Cartwright who dwelt so long at Labrador &amp; of whom you
                    have frequently heard me speak, of his odd book &amp; his
                    marvellous appetite.<note n="4" place="foot" resp="editors">George Cartwright (1739–1816), <title>Journal of
                            Transactions and Events During a Residence of Nearly
                            Sixteen Years on the Coast of Labrador</title>, 3
                        vols (Newark, 1792) recounted the unusual things he had
                        eaten during his travels, including the ‘roasted quarter
                        of a black bear’ (I, p. 12). Southey had met Cartwright
                        in 1791 and therefore had first hand experience of his
                        exploits as a trencherman; see <title>Common-Place
                            Book</title>, ed. John Wood Warter, 4 series
                        (London, 1849–1850), IV, pp. 515–516.</note> my old
                    acquaintance unluckily is not in town. I breakfast with the
                    Major on Tuesday. there is no man whom I could more have
                    wishd to see; <del rend="strikethrough">nor man</del> when
                    the Pantheon of British Liberty shall be erected no man,
                    whose name will more deserve to be inscribed on the columns
                    of glory. – Yesterday I was fortunate enough to pick up the
                    very book<note n="5" place="foot" resp="editors">Unidentified.</note> which <ref target="people.html#DanversCharles">Danvers</ref> has so
                    long been trying to get from D<hi rend="sup">r</hi> Fox<note n="6" place="foot" resp="editors">Probably the
                        Bristol-based physician Edward Long Fox
                        (1762–1835).</note> for me. it cost me but 1<hi rend="sup">s</hi>. <hi rend="sup">d</hi>6, &amp; my
                        Kalendar<note n="7" place="foot" resp="editors">Southey’s planned, but uncompleted, sequence of
                        poems.</note> will derive much assistance from it.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> For the next week my engagements are many.
                    seven days more have I to pass in London. three dinners out
                    of these at Grays Inn – Tuesday with Hamilton,<note n="8" 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> Wednesday
                    with M<hi rend="sup">r</hi> Peacock,<note n="9" place="foot" resp="editors">Mr Peacock had been Southey’s landlord in
                        London at 20 Prospect Place, Newington Butts from
                        February-May 1797.</note> tomorrow &amp; Thursday are
                    the only days disengaged. Tuesday I will see <ref target="people.html#MayJohn">John May</ref> who will I
                    suppose want me one day at Richmond, where I should
                    willingly pass that time with him. oh that I were at home! –
                    with you my dear Edith – then should I not have one restless
                    wish, one wandering thought.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> You ask me about Wales – I hear nothing to
                    tempt me that way, nor have I any letter from <ref target="people.html#BiddlecombeCharles">Biddlecombe</ref>. it seems therefore likely that we
                    shall go to Devonshire, whither I suppose <ref target="people.html#SoutheyMargaret">my Mother</ref>
                    will like to accompany us, &amp; we may perhaps find a
                    cottage in our way that will suit her, &amp; please us as
                    our summer home, for Edith we will not waste our two summers
                    in London. I will have a Library there, two or three boxes
                    of books, poems, romances, french &amp;c, such as will not
                    be most wanted in town, which would be heavy in carriage,
                    will amuse us, &amp; help me in my manufacture of
                    verses.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> By this time you must have seen <ref target="people.html#BurnettGeorge">Burnett</ref>. I
                    thought he would have been in Bristol before you had left
                    it. I hope <ref target="people.html#CarlisleAnthony">Carlisle</ref> may follow me instead of accompanying
                    me, &amp; will endeavour to arrange it so, because it will
                    be more convenient, &amp; because I should so much rather be
                    without any company on my return. – You will not Edith leave
                        <ref target="places.html#Stowey">Stowey</ref> with much
                    regret I suppose. how should you &amp; I feel in an eight or
                    ten months seperation? if a whim took me abroad? no no Edith
                    – whenever I go abroad you shall go too. the duty of
                    marriage is for two persons to render each other happy.
                    Edith it often occurs to me what widely different beings we
                    are from what a single life would have rendered us. a single
                    man has no one to know him, thoroughly to understand him, at
                    least I never should have had – &amp; if you Edith had never
                    known affection you would scarcely have understood your own
                    capability of happiness. Edith it is five years since you
                    &amp; I first became intimate, five years ago at this season
                        <del rend="strikethrough">xx</del> did you &amp; I play
                    with the lilac blossom in the Old Market. do you remember
                    it? true affection increases with time, habit makes it a
                    part of our identity. – never did I think of you more
                    frequently or more fondly than during this absence from
                    home.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> I wrote to <ref target="people.html#SoutheyMargaret">my Mother</ref>
                    some time ago about <ref target="people.html#SoutheyEdward">Edward</ref>, &amp; shall write again about my return.
                    once I have heard from her; she wishes us home again. Why
                    did you not go see Wokey Hole?<note n="10" place="foot" resp="editors">A series of caves on the southern edge of
                        the Mendip Hill, Somerset, and a popular tourist
                        site.</note> it was an unpardonable neglect. however if
                    we should travel westward in chaises, which if <ref target="people.html#SoutheyMargaret">my Mother</ref>
                    accompanies us we shall do, you shall see it then. it is a
                    beautiful spot, one <del rend="strikethrough">xx</del> sight
                    of which would repay a long journey. Wells
                        &lt;Cathedral&gt;<note n="11" place="foot" resp="editors">The medieval cathedral in the city of
                        Wells, Somerset.</note> is very fine. the inside of all
                    these buildings is less magnificent than the outside, for
                    its vastness is divided into so many little parts. there are
                    some fine spots in the neighbourhood, &amp; the Tor<note n="12" place="foot" resp="editors">Glastonbury Tor, a
                        conical hill rising out of the Somerset levels.</note>
                    makes a fine object in the views. of course you had no
                    leisure to walk over Glastonbury, the holiest ground in
                    England to the religionist, the patriot, &amp; the lover of
                        romance.<note n="13" place="foot" resp="editors">The
                        Somerset town of Glastonbury was the site of an
                        important medieval abbey and was associated in legend
                        with Joseph of Arimathea, the Holy Grail and King
                        Arthur. Southey had encapsulated its significance in his
                        ‘Inscription. For the Ruins of Glastonbury Abbey’,
                        published unsigned in the <title>Morning Post</title>,
                        12 October 1798.</note>
</p>
<p rend="indent1"> My dear Edith you have taken up my evenings
                    most unconscionably – I will not &lt;say&gt; most
                    unprofitably, for what could I have written to produce more
                    pleasure? &amp; therefore could I have been better employed?
                    but you are not quite fair Edith. you do not make return
                    enough when you are from me. – at home I have all cause for
                    satisfaction &amp; thankfulness to you – but now are you not
                    somewhat my debtor &amp; may I not remind you so? &amp; may
                    I not hope one letter to say you will meet me? I do not
                    expect to write oftener than once more. you will perhaps
                    leave <ref target="places.html#Stowey">Stowey</ref> on
                    Saturday next. I do not understand the posts – &amp; besides
                    in the next seven days I shall have more to do than to
                    relate. – Holcroft<note n="14" place="foot" resp="editors">The radical writer Thomas Holcroft (1745–1809;
                            <title>DNB</title>) and his wife left for the
                        continent in May 1799. They settled first in Germany and
                        then France, only returning to England in 1802.</note>
                    is going to quit England – I shall call there tomorrow. he
                    has a book of mine which I should not willingly lose. I have
                    not yet seen <ref target="people.html#GodwinWilliam">Godwin</ref>. <ref target="people.html#AikinJohn">D<hi rend="sup">r</hi> Aikin</ref> is beyond my reach, –
                    &amp; <ref target="people.html#BarbauldAnnaLetitia">M<hi rend="sup">rs</hi> Barbauld</ref> I would not walk
                    ten yards to see. I have to visit <ref target="people.html#WakefieldGilbert">Gilbert
                        Wakefield</ref>
<note n="15" place="foot" resp="editors">Gilbert Wakefield had been sentenced to imprisonment
                        for two years in May 1799 for his <title>A Reply to Some
                            Parts of the Bishop of Landaff’s Address to the
                            People of Great Britain</title> (1798).</note> &amp;
                    poor <ref target="people.html#FlowerBenjamin">Flower</ref>
<note n="16" place="foot" resp="editors">Benjamin Flower (1755–1829; <title>DNB</title>) had
                        been sentenced to six months imprisonment and a fine of
                        £100 for a libel against Richard Watson (1737–1816;
                            <title>DNB</title>), the Bishop of Llandaff.</note>
                    in prison.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> Snivel<note n="17" place="foot" resp="editors">A dog owned by the Bedford family.</note>
                    has just been wounded in the toe by a rat whom she valiantly
                    engaged. – Edith God bless you. you know not how your letter
                    relieved me. if you do not open one from me without anxiety
                    – should you not remember how more anxious a thing &lt;it
                    is&gt; to expect tidings? once more God bless you. if you do
                    not write I shall not be disappointed – if you do I shall be
                    pleased.</p>
<closer>
<signed rend="indent2">yr Robert Southey.</signed>
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