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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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<date when="2011-08-15">August 15, 2011</date>
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<p>.  Previously  published: Adolfo Cabral
                        (ed.), Robert Southey: Journals of a Residence in Portugal 1800-1801
                            and a Visit to France 1838 (Oxford, 1960), pp. 93–98.Dating
                        note: Dated from internal evidence, especially Southey’s reference to
                        Trinity Sunday, which fell on 8 June in 1800.</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;
											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.</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="530" type="letter">
<head>530. Robert Southey to <ref target="people.html#WynnCharlesWW">Charles Watkin
                        Williams Wynn</ref>, <date when="1800-06-08">[8–15 June 1800]</date>
<note place="foot" resp="editors" type="headnote">Address: To/ Charles Watkin
                        Williams Wynn Esq<hi rend="sup">r</hi>/ 5 Stone Buildings/ Lincolns Inn/
                        London<lb/>Postmark: [illegible]<lb/>Endorsement: June 15 1800<lb/>MS:
                        National Library of Wales, MS 4811D<lb/>Previously published: Adolfo Cabral
                        (ed.), <title>Robert Southey: Journals of a Residence in Portugal 1800-1801
                            and a Visit to France 1838</title> (Oxford, 1960), pp. 93–98.<lb/>Dating
                        note: Dated from internal evidence, especially Southey’s reference to
                        Trinity Sunday, which fell on 8 June in 1800.</note>
</head>
<opener>
<salute>My dear Wynn</salute>
</opener>
<p rend="indent1"> I neither see nor hear any English news here – so your account of
                        <ref target="people.html#CroftHerbert">Sir H. Croft</ref>
<note n="1" place="foot" resp="editors">Herbert Croft had published his letters to the
                            <title>Gentleman’s Magazine</title> as, <title>Chatterton and ‘Love and
                            Madness’. A letter from Denmark to Mr. Nichols, Editor of the
                            Gentleman’s Magazine, where it appeared in February, March and April
                            1800; Respecting an Unprovoked Attack, made upon the Writer during his
                            Absence from England</title> (1800).</note> was new to me. like the
                    snuff of a candle. <del rend="strikethrough">He was you</del> let him stink
                    &amp; go out – reply would only produce the whole legal series of rejoinders
                    &amp;c &amp;c. in the edition of Chatterton<note n="2" place="foot" resp="editors">Southey and Cottle’s <title>The Works of Thomas
                            Chatterton</title> (1803) did not include Croft’s letter.</note>
                    according to his desire, his letter shall be inserted, &amp; I will then set the
                    seal of infamy upon his forehead, for ever. you shall receive the remaining
                    books of Thalaba when they are finished. I am half way thro the tenth, but here
                    the books, unattainable in England, are perpetually tempting me – &amp; a Lisbon
                    summer would be a good excuse for laziness. I have read &amp; digested much –
                    for the History of the Kingdom<note n="3" place="foot" resp="editors">Southey’s
                        uncompleted ‘History of Portugal’.</note> I shall bring home all the
                    materials &amp; most of the requisite knowledge. for the history of the Poetry
                    or rather the whole Literature, I shall have the skeleton. of miscellaneous
                    information relative to Portugal &amp; characteristic anecdotes I have amassed
                    more already than I expected to have done at all. If <ref target="people.html#CroftHerbert">Herbert Croft</ref> were in Lisbon I
                    should be seriously alarmed – two new crowns is the price of assassination –
                    &amp; as the Irishman said of Rome this is a <del rend="strikethrough">xxxxx </del>
<hi rend="ital"> lainient</hi> government, for you may kill a man in the
                    streets, &amp; nobody takes the laist notice of it. for all useful purposes of
                    society this is a complete anarchy. a man cannot indeed write against the church
                    or the state, but he may rob &amp; murder with impunity. we had a murder
                    committed within thirty yards of our door – &amp; heard of it by accident two
                    days afterwards. one method of revenge used in the country is damnably
                    ingenious, improvements are so slow in Portugal that it has not yet reached the
                    metropolis. they beat a man with sand-bags. these do not inflict so much present
                    pain as a cane would do. but they bruise all the fine vessels so that a slow
                    &amp; certain death ensues, unless the patient be immediately scarified. An old
                    Porto merchant whom I knew at Bath<note n="4" place="foot" resp="editors">A Mr
                        Harris, whose first name and dates are unknown; see Robert Southey to Thomas
                        Southey, 30 May–6 June 1800, Letter 528.</note> had a quarrel with a native
                    at Porto, &amp; <del rend="strikethrough">the</del> each of them always carries
                    a gun when he went out hoping to get the first shot. but the Portugueze used to
                    come at night &amp; fire thro the windows. the Englishmans wife did not quite
                    like this state of siege, &amp; she prevailed upon her husband to quit the
                    country. so much for personal security! from fraud, property is safe enough for
                    the kingdom is not yet civilized enough to produce ingenious rogues. an attempt
                    at coining has been made – but the English soldiers were the supposed
                    artificers. they have not courage enough for house breakers, not ingenuity
                    enough for pick pockets or sharpers. they can cheat indeed by pricing their
                    goods at five-fold their value – but to this their roguery is limited by their
                    ignorance. A country Magistrate (it is a tale some century old but true) always
                    sent back the bones to his butcher – he did not buy bones he said, nor has he a
                    dog to eat them – &amp; he made the butcher allow him their weight in meat.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> To day is Trinity Sunday, &amp; the Emperor of the Holy
                        Ghost<note n="5" place="foot" resp="editors">A boy who was chosen to preside
                        over the festivities at the Feast of the Holy Ghost.</note> whose reign
                    expires with this festival, dines in public. his head quarters are a few yards
                    only below us – I walked by them last night, for the eve of the great day is a
                    time of rejoicing. his mountebank-stage was illuminated his flags floating
                    across the street, &amp; barrels of pitch blazing all along it, whose light
                    flashed finely upon the broad flags. it was somewhat terrible – they were
                    bonfires of superstition – &amp; I could not help thinking how much finer a
                    sight the spectators would have thought it, if there had been a Jew or a
                    Socinian like me in every barrel. – The Emperor passes us sometimes in person.
                    his flags that bear the Dove rampant, are new &amp; his retinue gay in their new
                    dresses of white-hooded scarlet his musicians are negroes. before him goes a
                    comely personage carrying a gilt wand – he himself is about six years old, very
                    thin &amp; sickly, in a mans full dress. &lt;(a long tail tyed with huge
                    ribbands&gt; silk stockings – large buckles – a sword &amp; an enormous hat
                    white-edged, whose heavy corners as they preponderate are adjusted by his
                    Bedchamber Lords (Camaristas) who walk on either hand &amp; support him. a
                    sickly child is always chosen by desire of the parents – because he grows strong
                    &amp; healthy in consequence of having served the holy office. – I wish you were
                    here to see the precious mummery! this is a City standing upon seven hills,
                    &amp; the Babylonian is throned here &amp; the cup of her abominations is full.
                    I was waiting for change in a shop here, when a beggar came in – as she got
                    nothing from me, she turned to an image of our Lady &amp; kissed it &amp; then
                    begged again. They carry about images in glass cases which the Pope has blest –
                    the people kiss them &amp; give money. Pombal<note n="6" place="foot" resp="editors">Sebastiao Jose de Carvalho e Melo, Marquis of Pombal
                        (1699–1782; Prime Minister of Portugal 1750–1777).</note> forbid these
                    things: a little longer with his administration, &amp; this popish fire would
                    have mouldered into ashes for want of fuel – A poor <del rend="strikethrough">xxxxxxx</del> &lt;gentoo&gt;<note n="7" place="foot" resp="editors">Unidentified; an Indian, presumably from one of the Portuguese colonies in
                        India.</note> I heard begging yesterday with a strange petition – it was
                    “for the love of Christ – my mother was a Pagan – but I believe!” – A strange
                    levity sometimes accompanies superstition. Garci Sanches,<note n="8" place="foot" resp="editors">Garci Sanchez de Badajoz (1460–1524), Spanish
                        poet.</note> a Spaniard of Badajos, &amp; a man of notorious wit, was dying,
                    &amp; he desired to die in the Franciscan habit. it was accordingly put on him,
                    &amp; over it the dress of S<hi rend="sup">t</hi> Iago of which order he was a
                    Knight. he looked at himself &amp; was struck at the pompous &amp; stuffed
                    appearance he made. God will say presently to me (said the dying man) my friend
                    Garci Sanchez you are come very well wrapt up! &amp; I shall reply Lord it is no
                    wonder, for I set off in winter.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> One of the New Convent Towers<note n="9" place="foot" resp="editors">Convent of the Discalced Carmelite nuns, founded in
                        1779.</note> is miserably disfigured by a projecting screen of wood. the man
                    who rings the bells goes up to them, &amp; this ugly thing is put there lest he
                    should see the Nuns walking in the garden below. the bells are as noisy here as
                    at Oxford – but not as musical. a rich merchant has a private chapel, whose
                    incessant ding-donging so distressed the Invalids at the English Hotel that they
                    sent to request it might cease. he returned answer “the Prince<note n="10" place="foot" resp="editors">John VI (1767–1826; King of Portugal 1816–1826),
                        Prince Regent of Portugal 1799–1816.</note> had given him leave to have a
                    chapel, &amp; his bells should ring in spite of any body.” I would have this
                    fellow hung up as a clapper to Great Tom &amp; punished in kind. This is a gay
                    week. the Emperor to day – on Thursday their finest procession – of the Corpo do
                    Dios, &amp; on Friday S<hi rend="sup">t</hi> Antony, my old friend, who is as
                    useful to the boys here, as they find Guy Faux in England. On the 20 is another
                    raree show in honour of the heart of Jesus. then over we go to Cintra – &amp;
                    indeed I am impatient to be there.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> My complaints hang on me, but my spirits are wonderfully
                    bettered. I do not feel to be the same being as in England. it is incredible the
                    difference. I hunger &amp; thirst after my friends – &amp; yet wish they were
                    coming to Portugal rather than that I should have to return. this must be
                    something more than the stimulus of novelty. – I met the Galley Slaves &amp;
                    looked at them with a physiognomic eye to see how they differed from the rest of
                    the people. it was like those upon whom the Tower of Siloam fell.<note n="11" place="foot" resp="editors">
<title>Luke</title> 13: 4, which mentions
                        eighteen men who were killed when the Tower of Siloam fell on them, ‘sinners
                        above all men that dwelt in Jerusalem’.</note> it appeared to me that they
                    had been found out, &amp; the others had not. The Gallegos<note n="12" place="foot" resp="editors">Inhabitants of Galicia in north-west
                        Spain.</note> are the best looking people. their number here is disgraceful
                    to their own country &amp; to this. to Spain that her industrious natives cannot
                    find employment at home, to Portugal that the Portugueze are lazy enough to let
                    foreigners do their work &amp; annually drain Lisbon of its specie. You will be
                    amused at a good anecdote of the national prejudice. A cunning man was taken up
                    by the Inquisition for consulting the Devil. they asked him how he could be so
                    foolish as well as wicked as to believe what the Father of Lies told him? why
                    said he, he speaks to me either in Spanish or in Portugueze, when it is in
                    Portugueze he always tells truth – but if he answers in Spanish it is sure to be
                    a lie. – We look towards Brest<note n="13" place="foot" resp="editors">The main
                        French fleet was in port at Brest.</note> with some suspicion. if the fleet
                    have any object it is probably Lisbon – &amp; I have no inclination to be
                    hurried on shipboard &amp; sent home. – It is now broad noon, &amp; they are
                    letting off sky rockets from the Emperors headquarters. this is the fashion of
                    the country – their fireworks are by day – they have no idea that they are to be
                    seen, &amp; like them for the noise. I have seen two prints published by
                        Manique<note n="14" place="foot" resp="editors">Diogo Inacio de Pina Manique
                        (1733–1805), General-Superintendant of Police.</note> a man high in office
                    here, of the fireworks which he exhibited on the birth of the Princes first
                        child.<note n="15" place="foot" resp="editors">Maria Teresa, Princess of
                        Beira (1793–1874).</note> can you conceive a print of a firework? it was a
                    white wilderness of streaks &amp; lines &amp; blotches upon a black ground. we
                    have had one illumination here for a royal christening since our arrival, &amp;
                    three for the Pope.<note n="16" place="foot" resp="editors">Celebrations for
                        Princess Maria Francisca (1800–1834) and Pius VII (1742–1823; Pope
                        1800–1823).</note> I remembered the old story of lighting a candle to the
                    Devil, &amp; lighted my windows for his holiness – but it was only with tallow
                    &amp; this I hope will excuse me. the illuminations here are not voluntary. the
                    Castle guns fire when it is time to light the candles, &amp; again when you may
                    extinguish them. if you do not chuse to illuminate there is a fixed, but not a
                    heavy fine. the Mob do not as in England dictate upon these occasions. another
                    thing I noticed in the rabble – <del rend="strikethrough">among</del> with all
                    their squibs &amp; bonfires, last night nothing like personal <del rend="strikethrough">danger</del> insult was attempted – women were walking
                    in safety to see the sight, they seemed to have no idea that mischief was
                    amid[MS obscured]</p>
<p rend="indent1"> I have been much amused with a long poem by Vieyra<note n="17" place="foot" resp="editors">Francisco Vieira (1690–1783), <title>O Insigne
                            Pintor e Leal Esposo Vieira Lusitano</title> (1780).</note> the famous,
                    &amp; only famous Portugueze painter. it is the history of his life. an
                    interesting <del rend="strikethrough">account of his</del> mixture of honest
                    vanity, devotion &amp; love. I have analized it at length, &amp; like the Poet
                    so well, that I shall make it my business to see as many of his pictures as I
                    can. A few lines which you wrote to Falmouth reached me here. we have upon the
                    average a packet weekly, &amp; you know not what a subject it is of hope &amp;
                    expectation – &amp; when it brings no letters what a sinking disappointment. I
                    do not wish you were ill – but I do wish you were idle enough, or curious enough
                    to come over for two or three months in which time you might see the greater
                    part of Portugal. we seem only next-door to Falmouth &amp; when I consider the
                    facility afforded by the packets it seems astonishing that curiosity does not
                    lead more idlers here. I should much like leading you over this country. It was
                    my intention to send over Thalaba for publication – but I am not yet determined
                    – every thing ripens by time –, &amp; the poem appears to me good enough to
                    deserve a serious correction.<note n="18" place="foot" resp="editors">The
                        Islamic romance <title>Thalaba the Destroyer</title> was published in
                        1801.</note> whenever it is published I shall rest upon my oars. it will
                    gain me credit enough till Madoc<note n="19" place="foot" resp="editors">Southey
                        had finished a 15-book version of <title>Madoc</title> (1797–1799), but
                        intended to revise it before publication. The heavily corrected poem
                        appeared in 1805.</note> be compleat &amp; then I may cast anchor in
                    port.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> Your letter was opened in England because you had forgotten to
                    pay the inland postage. </p>
<lb/>
<p>
<date when="1800-06-15">Sunday June 15<hi rend="sup">th</hi>.</date> I have just
                    finished the tenth book of Thalaba, &amp; very much to my satisfaction. two more
                    remain – as soon as they are done I will send you over the remainder. there must
                    doubtless be many weak lines in what you have, as only the four first books have
                    been corrected at all – &amp; they have only their first correction – have only
                    passed thro the first sieve. coinages I am willing to sacrifice if they offend
                    any ear. I must not clo[MS torn] the wheels with needless obstacles. “if you
                    will write your accusations in a small hand, &amp; for [MS torn] <hi rend="ital">thin</hi> paper I shall be glad of them here. it will be well to hear
                    counsel against it before the trial. my notes will be too numerous &amp; too
                    entertaining to print at the bottom of the page for [MS torn] would be letting
                    the mutton grow cold while they eat the currant jelly.<note n="20" place="foot" resp="editors">Against Southey’s wishes, the notes to <title>Thalaba the
                            Destroyer</title> (1801) were printed at the bottom of the
                    page.</note>
</p>
<p rend="indent1"> I do not like the divorce bill.<note n="21" place="foot" resp="editors">A Bill introduced in 1800 by William Eden, 1st Lord Auckland
                        (1745–1814; <title>DNB</title>). It proposed making adultery a misdemeanour
                        and banning future marriages between the guilty parties in a divorce
                        case.</note> it may do some harm &amp; can do no good. An Irish story – at
                    the Procession of the Body of God two years ago a stranger received a Coup de
                    Soleil &amp; fell senseless. the Irish friars carried him off to bury him. the
                    coffin is like a trunk &amp; the lid kept open during the service. in the middle
                    of the service the man turned round. the Paddies said they could not bury him to
                    be sure! but they would leave him till tomorrow – so out they went – locked him
                    in the church instead of procuring assistance – &amp; the next day they finished
                    the ceremony. – could you not get a clause in the Union bill<note n="22" place="foot" resp="editors">The Bill to create a Union between Great Britain
                        and Ireland, passed in 1800.</note> to prohibit all cross marriages? it
                    ought to be punishable in an Englishman as degrading his species.</p>
<closer>
<salute rend="indent1"> God bless you</salute>
<signed rend="indent2"> R S.</signed>
</closer>
</div>
</body>
</text>
</TEI>
