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<title type="main">The Collected Letters of Robert Southey. Part 2: 1798-1803 </title>
<title type="subordinate">A Romantic Circles Electronic Edition</title>
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<name>Southey, Robert, 1774-1843</name>
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<sponsor>Romantic Circles</sponsor>
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<idno type="nines">rce541</idno>
<idno type="edition">letterEEd.26.532</idno>
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<date when="2011-08-15">August 15, 2011</date>
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<p>British Library, Add MS 30927.  Previously 
                        published: Charles Cuthbert Southey (ed.), Life
                            and Correspondence of Robert Southey, 6 vols
                        (London, 1849–1850), II, pp. 83–88; Adolfo Cabral (ed.),
                            Robert Southey: Journals of a Residence in
                            Portugal 1800–1801 and a Visit to France
                            1838 (Oxford, 1960), pp. 98–99 [in
                        part].</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="532" type="letter">
<head>532. Robert Southey to <ref target="people.html#SoutheyTom">Thomas Southey</ref>,
                        <date when="1800-06-15">15 June 1800</date>
<note place="foot" resp="editors" type="headnote">Address: To/
                        Lieutenant Thomas Southey/ H. M. S. Bellona/ Plymouth
                        Dock/ or elsewhere – <lb/>Stamped:
                        FALMOUTH<lb/>Endorsement: 5<hi rend="sup">th</hi>
<lb/>MS: British Library, Add MS 30927<lb/>Previously
                        published: Charles Cuthbert Southey (ed.), <title>Life
                            and Correspondence of Robert Southey</title>, 6 vols
                        (London, 1849–1850), II, pp. 83–88; Adolfo Cabral (ed.),
                            <title>Robert Southey: Journals of a Residence in
                            Portugal 1800–1801 and a Visit to France
                            1838</title> (Oxford, 1960), pp. 98–99 [in
                        part].</note>
</head>
<p>
<date when="1800-06-15">Sunday June 15. 1800.</date>
                    Lisbon.</p>
<p>My dear Tom.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> On Tuesday Rundell<note n="1" place="foot" resp="editors">Rundell (first name and dates unknown)
                        travelled to Portugal with Southey. He was possibly a
                        member of a prominent Bath family of silversmiths,
                        jewellers and surgeons.</note> goes – I have an
                    engagement for the day tomorrow &amp; lack of paper has till
                    now prevented me from preparation. so now for a gallopping
                    letter!</p>
<p rend="indent1"> Thursday last we saw the long-looked-for
                    procession of the Body of God. the Pix is carried in all
                    other processions empty, in this only it has the wafer –
                    this is the only <hi rend="ital">Real Presence</hi>. the Pix
                    is a silver vessel – &amp; our vulgarism please the Pigs
                    which has sometimes puzzled me, is only a corruption, &amp;
                    that an easy one of please the Pix – the holiest church
                    utensil. so much for the object of this raree show. on the
                    night preceding the streets thro which it is to pass are
                    cleaned – the only miracle I <del rend="strikethrough">saw</del> ever knew the sacrament perform is that of
                    cleaning the streets of Lisbon! they are strewn with sand,
                    &amp; the houses hung with crimson damask from top to
                    bottom. When the morning arrived the streets were lined with
                    soldiers, they marched on filing to the right &amp; left.
                    their new uniforms are put on this day, &amp; their
                    appearance was very respectable. this alone was a fine
                    sight. we were in a house in one of the new streets, where
                    the houses are high &amp; handsome &amp; perfectly regular
                    &amp; the street longer than Redclift Street. every window
                    &amp; balcony crowded, &amp; the Portugueze all in full
                    dress &amp; of the finery of Portugueze full dress you can
                    have but very inadequate ideas. not a jewel in Lisbon but
                    was displayed – the Rainbow would have been ashamed to be
                    seen. The banners of the city &amp; its various corporate
                    trades led the way. I never saw banners so clumsily carried.
                    they were stuck out with bars – not suffered to play freely
                    &amp; wave with the wind &amp; roll out their beauties in
                    light &amp; shade. <del rend="strikethrough">their</del>
                    sticks were stuck at right angles in the poles to carry them
                    by – nothing could be more awkward – or more laborious for
                    the bearers. they were all <hi rend="ital">round</hi> the
                    first &amp; of course some walking backward like lobsters,
                    &amp; others crab-sideling along. then came a champion in
                    armour carrying a flag – God knows his armour was heavy
                    enough, &amp; as both his hands were employed upon the flag
                    his horse was led. There also I saw S<hi rend="sup">t</hi>
                    George – but not S<hi rend="sup">t</hi> George of England.
                    by God. this was a Portugueze wooden S<hi rend="sup">t</hi>
                    George his legs stiff &amp; striding like a boot-jack; a man
                    walking on each side to hold him on by the feet. his house,
                    when he is at home, is the Castle, from whence he goes to
                    the Duke of Cadavals,<note n="2" place="foot" resp="editors">Miguel Caetano Alvares Pereira de Melo, 5th Duke of
                        Cadaval (1765–1806).</note> where they dress his hat up
                    with all their magnificent jewels for the procession<del rend="strikethrough">s</del>, which he calls &amp;
                    returns on his way back. when the late King<note n="3" place="foot" resp="editors">Jose I (1714–1777; King of
                        Portugal 1750–1777).</note> was dying he had all the
                    Saints in Lisbon sent for, &amp; this S<hi rend="sup">t</hi>
                    George was put to bed to him. The consultation produced no
                    good effect. </p>
<p rend="indent1"> Scarcely any part of the procession was more
                    beautiful than a number of very fine led horses their
                    saddles covered with rich escutcheons. all the brotherhood
                    then walked – an immense train of men in red or grey cloaks.
                    &amp; <hi rend="ital">all</hi> the friars – Zounds what a
                    regiment. many of them fine young men, some few “more fat
                    than friars beseemed”,<note n="4" place="foot" resp="editors">Possibly an adaption of James Thomson
                        (1700–1748; <title>DNB</title>), <title>The Castle of
                            Indolence</title>, Canto 1, stanza 68, line 1, ‘A
                        bard here dwelt, more fat than bard beseems’.</note>
                    &amp; others again as venerable figures as a painter could
                    wish. among the Bearded monks were many so old, so meagre,
                    so hermit-like in look – of such a bread &amp; water-diet
                    appearance, that there needed no other evidence to prove
                    they were indeed penitents, as austere as conscientious
                    folly could desire. the Knights of the different orders
                    walked in their superb dresses – the whole patriarchal
                    church in such robes! &amp; after the Pix came the Prince
                        himself,<note n="5" place="foot" resp="editors">John VI
                        (1767–1826; King of Portugal 1816–1826), Prince Regent
                        1799–1816.</note> a group of nobles round him closing
                    the whole. I never saw ought finer than this the crowd
                    closing behind, the whole street as far as the eye could
                    reach above &amp; below, thronged – flooded with people
                    &amp; the blaze of their dresses! &amp; the music! – I
                    pitied the Friars – it was hot – tho temperate for the
                    season – yet the Sun was painfull &amp; on their shaven
                    heads – they were holding up their singing books – or their
                    hands, or their handkerchiefs – or their cowls to shade
                    them. I have heard that it has been death to some of them in
                    a hot season. two years ago at this very procession, a
                    stranger received a stroke of the sun &amp; fell down
                    apparently dead. the Irish Friars got hold of him &amp;
                    carried him off to be buried. the coffins here are like a
                    trunk, &amp; the lid is kept open during the funeral service
                    – before it was over the Man moved. what then did the
                    Paddies? oh to be sure &amp; they could not bury him then! –
                    but they locked him in the church instead of calling
                    assistance, &amp; the next day the man was dead enough &amp;
                    they finished the job.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> Had this been well managed it would one of
                    the finest conceivable sights, but it was a long procession
                    broken into a number of little pieces, so irregularly they
                    moved. on the Prince &amp; the group about the Body of God –
                    I like to translate it that you may see the nakedness of the
                    nonsensical blasphemy – they showered rose leaves from the
                    windows. The following day S<hi rend="sup">t</hi> Anthony
                    had a Procession, &amp; the trappings of the houses were
                    ordered to remain for him. this was like the Lent procession
                    a perfect Puppet Show – the huge Idols of the people carried
                    upon mens shoulders. there were two Negro Saints carried by
                    Negroes – I smiled to think what black Angels they must
                    make. We have yet another Raree-show to see in honour of the
                    Heart of Jesus. this will be on Friday next, – &amp; then we
                    think of <ref target="places.html#Cintra">Cintra</ref>.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> This has been a busy time for the Catholic.
                    Saturday the seventh of this month, as the eve of Trinity
                    Sunday, was a festival at the Emperors headquarters.<note n="6" place="foot" resp="editors">A boy who was chosen
                        to preside over the festivities at the Feast of the Holy
                        Ghost.</note> his mountebank stage was illuminated,
                    &amp; pitch barrels blazing along the street, their flames
                    flashing finely upon the broad flags that floated across the
                    way. it was somewhat terrible. they were bonfires of
                    superstition, &amp; I could not help thinking how much
                    better the spectators would have been pleased with the sight
                    had there been a Jew, or a heretic like me, in every barrel.
                    the scene was thronged with spectators, &amp; to my great
                    surprize I saw women walking in safety. nothing like
                    personal insult was attempted. the boys had their bonfires
                    &amp; their fireworks, but they seemed to have no idea that
                    mischief was amusement.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> the succeeding day, Trinity Sunday,
                    Holy-Ghost-day, was the termination of the Emperors reign.
                    his train was increased by a band of soldiers, he was
                    crowned &amp; dined in public. the Emperor for the ensuing
                    year was elected – &amp; thus ends the mummery till Lent
                    &amp; fasting &amp; folly come round again. At Cascaes the
                    Emperor is a man, &amp; the farce more formal. there was a
                    brother of John 5<hi rend="sup">th</hi>
<note n="7" place="foot" resp="editors">John V (1689–1750;
                        King of Portugal 1706–1750). He had three legitimate
                        brothers: Francisco, Duke of Beja (1691–1742); Antonio
                        (1695–1757); and Manuel (1697–1736).</note> who, like
                    our old rakes, delighted in blackguard mischief. he went to
                    the Emperor then on the throne, with the intention of
                    kicking him down, or some such practical jest. The Emperor
                    knew him, sate like an old Senator when the Gaul<note n="8" place="foot" resp="editors">When Rome was besieged by
                        the Gauls in 389 BC, eighty senators agreed to remain
                        outside the Capitol as they were too old to flee or
                        fight. The Gauls found them seated motionless in their
                        chairs and were at first unsure if they were statues or
                        men.</note> approaches – &amp; held out his hand for the
                    Prince to kiss. it effectually disconcerted him, &amp; he
                    growled out as he retired, the rascal plays his part better
                    than I expected.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> In the course of a conversation introduced by
                    these processions I said to a Lady who remembers the
                    Auto-da-fes, what a dreadful day it must have been for the
                    English when one of those infernal executions took place. no
                    – she said – not at all. it was like the processions
                    expected as a fine sight, &amp; the <del rend="strikethrough">people</del> English whose houses
                    overlooked the streets thro which they passed kept open
                    house as now &amp; made entertainments!! They did not indeed
                    see the execution that was at midnight. but they should have
                    shut up their houses, &amp; for the honour of their own
                    country have expressed all silent abhorrence. did such an
                    event take place now I should shake the dust from my feet,
                    &amp; curse the city, &amp; leave it for ever! – What is it
                    that has prevented these Catholic bonfires? I do not
                    understand. the Court &amp; the People never were more
                    bigotted &amp; the dislike of Pombal<note n="9" place="foot" resp="editors">Sebastiao Jose de Carvalho e Melo,
                        Marquis of Pombal (1699–1782; Prime Minister of Portugal
                        1750–1777). He abolished public autos-da-fé and the
                        power of the Inquisition to inflict the death penalty in
                        1774.</note> would, after his disgrace have only been a
                    motive for <del rend="strikethrough">their</del> reviving
                    [MS obscured]. is it that the Priests themselves &lt;&amp;
                    the Nobles&gt; have grown irreligious? perhaps the books of
                        Voltaire<note n="10" place="foot" resp="editors">Francois-Marie Arouet (1694–1778), <title>Candide, ou
                            l’Optimisme</title> (1759), Chapter 6, contained a
                        famous account of an auto-da-fé held after the
                        Portuguese earthquake of 1755.</note> may have saved
                    many a poor Jew from the flames. Portugal is certainly
                    improving but very, very, very – slowly. the Factory have
                    been long declining in opulence, &amp; the Portugueze who
                    had some years since no merchants of note, have now the most
                    eminent &amp; wealthy in the place. they are beginning to
                    take the profits themselves which they had suffered us to
                    reap. this is well – &amp; as it should be. but they have
                    found out that <ref target="places.html#Cintra">Cintra</ref>
                    is a fine place, &amp; are buying up the houses there as
                    they are vacant, so that they will one day dispossess the
                    English, &amp; this I do not like. <ref target="places.html#Cintra">Cintra</ref> is too good a
                    place for the Portugueze. It is only fit for us Goths – for
                    Germans or English – who can worship Nature &amp; trust our
                    seats upon a saints shoulders. </p>
<p rend="indent1"> Your Thalaba is on the stocks.<note n="11" place="foot" resp="editors">The MS copy of
                            <title>Thalaba the Destroyer</title> made for Tom
                        Southey is now at Pierpont Morgan Library, New York,
                        LHMS MA 415. It was partly written by Edith
                        Southey.</note> it will be a work of some little time –
                    but you will have it before the other<note n="12" place="foot" resp="editors">i.e. The MS of
                            <title>Thalaba the Destroyer</title> used as copy
                        text by the publishers. The poem was published in
                        1801.</note> goes to press, &amp; of course some six
                    months before it can possibly be printed – &amp; this is
                    worth while. I this morning finished the 10<hi rend="sup">th</hi> book. only two more, &amp; &lt;at&gt; the end
                    of a journey hope always quenches my speed.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> farewell – I am hurried &amp; you must &amp;
                    may excuse as Rundell is post-man extraordinary the turnings
                    empty. God bless you. <ref target="people.html#FrickerEdith">Ediths</ref> love.</p>
<closer>
<signed rend="indent1"> R. S.</signed>
</closer>
<postscript>
<p>Sunday <address>
<placeName>Lisbon</placeName>
</address>
<date when="1800-06-15">15. 1800.</date>
</p>
</postscript>
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