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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">rce548</idno>
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<p>British Library, Add
                        MS 30928.  Previously  published: John Wood Warter
                        (ed.), Selections from the Letters of Robert
                            Southey, 4 vols (London, 1856), I, pp.
                        117–122 [in part]; Adolfo Cabral (ed.), Robert
                            Southey: Journals of a Residence in Portugal
                            1800–1801 and a Visit to France 1838
                        (Oxford, 1960), pp. 104–105 [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="539" type="letter">
<head>539. Robert Southey to <ref target="people.html#DanversCharles">Charles
                        Danvers</ref>, <date when="1800-07-25">25 July
                        1800</date>
<note place="foot" resp="editors" type="headnote">Address: To/ M<hi rend="sup">r</hi>
                        Danvers/ 9 S<hi rend="sup">t</hi> James’s Place/
                        Kingsdown/ Bristol/ Single<lb/>MS: British Library, Add
                        MS 30928<lb/>Previously published: John Wood Warter
                        (ed.), <title>Selections from the Letters of Robert
                            Southey</title>, 4 vols (London, 1856), I, pp.
                        117–122 [in part]; Adolfo Cabral (ed.), <title>Robert
                            Southey: Journals of a Residence in Portugal
                            1800–1801 and a Visit to France 1838</title>
                        (Oxford, 1960), pp. 104–105 [in part].</note>
</head>
<p>
<ref target="places.html#Cintra">Cintra</ref>
<date when="1800-07-25"> July 25. 1800.</date>
</p>
<p rend="indent1"> I have in my life received so many letters to
                    disturb &amp; distress me that I never open one without some
                    kind of fear. poor <ref target="people.html#HillMargaret">Peggy</ref>! – her disease I thought incurable – but
                    still it was intermitting &amp; its long intervals might be
                    intervals of enjoyment. she would always be dependent – but
                    I am looking on to better days, &amp; trusted that at some,
                    no very remote time, I should be able to settle her as I
                    wished. this intelligence will haunt &amp; hurt me.
                    recovered as I am still my mind is in a state of childish
                    weakness. <ref target="people.html#HillHerbertUncle">my
                        Uncle</ref> was ill lately with a sick headache – I was
                    not aware that he is subject to them &amp; lay awake the
                    whole night listening to hear him breathe – the consequence
                    was that the startings &amp; head seizures returned. it was
                    not merely climate that I wished to seek as medicinal, it
                    was the plunging into &lt;new&gt; scenes – the total
                    abandonment of all irksome thoughts &amp; employments – it
                    has succeeded. my spirits have been as my letters exhibited
                    them. the loss of a <ref target="people.html#BarkerMary">Miss Barker</ref> here damped me for some days, &amp;
                    they will not now soon recover their tone. the death of
                    Patty Cottle<note n="1" place="foot" resp="editors">One of
                        Joseph Cottle’s relatives, possibly his sister Martha,
                        who died in 1800, aged 15.</note> I expected as certain.
                        M<hi rend="sup">r</hi> Morgans<note n="2" place="foot" resp="editors">Possibly the father of <ref target="people.html#MorganJohnJames">John James
                            Morgan</ref>.</note> too I thought inevitably near.
                    these have happened – &amp; I have only been three months in
                    Portugal. thank God you give us no bad accounts of your
                    Mother. I have many friends in England, but none whom I hope
                    more earnestly to see again – But to change the subject. –
                    as the Post brought me no letters from Bristol we were
                    vexed, angry with all our friends – but wondering that <ref target="people.html#DanversCharles">Danvers</ref> had
                    not written – &amp; indeed I had sent to Lisbon to have
                    particular enquiry made at the office thinking there
                    certainly must be a letter from you. the packet reached me
                    this morning. I pray you remember that &amp; take pattern. I
                    am among <hi rend="ital">acquaintance</hi>, &amp; cannot
                    hear too frequently from my friends. We had a delightful
                    companion for a short time here – a <ref target="people.html#BarkerMary">Miss Barker</ref> –
                    brimfull full of every thing that was good. she is returned
                    to England – but we do not lose her acquaintance. <ref target="people.html#ColeridgeSamuelTaylor">Coleridge</ref> has never written to me; where no
                    expectation existed, there can be no disappointment. <ref target="people.html#WynnCharlesWW">Wynn</ref> sent me
                        <ref target="people.html#CroftHerbert">Sir Herbert
                        Crofts</ref> letter, now printed seperately.<note n="3" place="foot" resp="editors">Herbert Croft,
                            <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> woe be to him when
                    the Chatterton<note n="4" place="foot" resp="editors">Southey and Cottle’s <title>The Works of Thomas
                            Chatterton</title> (1803).</note> is printed! he
                    cannot irritate me, &amp; I can therefore chastise him with
                    cool &amp; just severity. I am busy in correcting Thalaba to
                    send over for the press. the copying machine never came<note n="5" place="foot" resp="editors">See Southey to Thomas
                        Southey, 23 March 1800, Letter 500.</note> – <ref target="people.html#BedfordGrosvenorCharles">Bedford</ref> manages every thing badly – Thalaba<note n="6" place="foot" resp="editors">The Islamic romance
                            <title>Thalaba the Destroyer</title> (1801).</note>
                    does not monopolize me in the way poor <ref target="people.html#CottleJoseph">Cottle</ref> seems to
                    be monopolized – the latter books will soon reach you on
                    their way to <ref target="people.html#WynnCharlesWW">Wynn</ref>. it is a good job done &amp; so I have
                    thought of another &amp; another &amp; another, but my books
                    are in England &amp; I cannot begin to build without having
                    the bricks &amp; mortar at hand.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> We are enjoying <ref target="places.html#Cintra">Cintra</ref> – a place that
                    wants only fresh butter &amp; jacobinical society to make it
                    an earthly Paradise. we ride a good deal, upon asses, &amp;
                        <ref target="people.html#FrickerEdith">Edith</ref> has
                    made a great proficiency in asswomanship, riding without the
                    great-armed-chair which female-strangers generally use. for
                    the most part the English dwell in the town, where they idle
                    away their time in visiting their idle acquaintance. I saw
                        <ref target="people.html#BarkerMary">Miss Barker</ref>
                    suffering this insufferable annoyance with martyr patience.
                    we happily are <del rend="strikethrough">xx</del> far from
                    the town &amp; not in the road of their rides, so that it
                    must be an especial intention to see us that brings any
                    visitor here, &amp; half a mile up &amp; down half a dozen
                    stoney hills in hot weather operates well upon people who do
                    but half-like me &amp; whom I do not like at all. <ref target="people.html#HillHerbertUncle">My Uncle</ref> is
                    here less than we would wish. business detains him in the
                    heat of Lisbon. I have then much leisure, but even here,
                    cool heavenly cool as <ref target="places.html#Cintra">Cintra</ref> is compared to the metropolis, the weather
                    is hot enough to give me a true Portugueze &amp;
                    irresistible indolence. for the last ten days we have been
                    most unusually hot – the cursed Sirocs of the East reach us
                    here, tamed indeed by their passing over sea &amp; land, but
                    still hot as if they &lt;had&gt; breathed thro <del rend="strikethrough">the</del> &lt;an&gt; oven, or like
                    the very breath of Beelzebub. I have spent my mornings half
                    naked, in a wet room, dozing upon the bed, my right hand not
                    daring to touch my left. at night we look with as much hope
                    for a fog as you in England watch for a fine day. when the
                    mountain has his night-cap on then are we so cool! so
                    freshened into comfort! a few nights since the fog came on
                    with a sublimity beyond my ideas of fog. magnificence – it
                    came rolling on<del rend="strikethrough">x</del> one huge
                    close mass of mist &amp; darkness from the ocean. it was
                    terrible – for we were on the hill – yet in the daylight
                    &amp; it moved on leaving night behind it. the palace<note n="7" place="foot" resp="editors">The medieval royal
                        palace at Cintra, which served as a summer retreat for
                        the royal family.</note> on which we looked down not a
                    quarter of a mile distant, was completely involved &amp;
                    hidden while we looked at it it rolled like a river along
                    the valley; – like the march of a victorious army wherever
                    it moved, all seemed to be destroyed. we had been panting
                    all day like frogs in a dry ditch – &amp; &lt;we&gt;
                    returned wet &amp; cold from our walk.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> I can give you no idea of the beauty of <ref target="places.html#Cintra">Cintra</ref>, for in England
                    you have no parts that can help you to an image of the
                    whole. there is little doubt that it is a mountain shattered
                    or formed by a volcano. we crossed it with <ref target="people.html#BarkerMary">Miss Barker</ref>, &amp;
                    in consequence of losing ourselves had a six hours ramble;
                    the day was fine, we had cold beef with us &amp; enjoyed our
                    situation, only the wild rocky mountain in whose depths we
                    were lost to be seen, &amp; the sea beyond it. we were at
                    one time compleatly without a track, &amp; the asses would
                    not move. you will be amused by the stratagem which set my
                    beast going again. I was lugging him by the head &amp; the
                    boy pushing him by the rump to no purpose – John wrinkles
                    his nose, held up his head threw his huge ears forward &amp;
                    there he stood in the true attitude of obstinacy, &amp;
                    defiance. what did we but set him astride a furze bush. it
                    was the best spur in the world, on <del rend="strikethrough">th</del> he went &amp; his companions followed him. it
                    was six o clock before we got home to dinner &amp; the
                    adventure furnished subject for our conversation &amp; the
                    astonishment of uplifted hands &amp; eyes, among the good
                    people who came to <ref target="places.html#Cintra">Cintra</ref> to play a cool rubber at whist or casino.
                    I had joined <ref target="people.html#FrickerEdith">Edith</ref> &amp; <ref target="people.html#BarkerMary">Miss B.</ref> that morning at a country house (Quinta
                    they call it) of the Marquis Marialvas.<note n="8" place="foot" resp="editors">Diogo Jose Vito de Menezes
                        Noronha Coutinho, 5th Marquess of Marialva (1739–1803),
                        the Royal Chamberlain. He had just purchased the Palacio
                        de Seteais in Cintra.</note> the woman who let me in
                    enquired if I wanted to see the Shoemaker. see the
                    Shoemaker! I imagined that none of the Servants who lived in
                    the house to care of it might be of the gentle craft, &amp;
                    wanted my custom, &amp; answered no – after seeing the
                    garden &amp; admiring the taste which had decorated it with
                    statues – a soldier painted like life – a bear eating a dog,
                    a goat reading in a large folio, &amp; a woman whose marble
                    petticoats were blown up to shew no very well shaped leg, we
                    were led to a hut in the garden, round which all the
                    children in the neighbourhood &amp; the whole household had
                    assembled in expectation. The door was opened &amp; there
                    was the Shoemaker. it was a figure large as life, an old man
                    sewing at his trade – a hideous old woman by him spinning, a
                    boy hammering the sole, &amp; another behind beating a
                    tamborine, all moved by turning a wheel behind. &amp; this
                    is the admiration of the country &amp; the masterpiece of
                    Portugueze mechanism! the Marquis has bought anot[MS torn]se
                    in the neighbourhood, &amp; there he is about to remove this
                    jewel: it is said also that he means to have a Taylor made.
                    – <ref target="people.html#HillHerbertUncle">My Uncle</ref>
                    has been robbed of his hat lately. fi[MS torn]rs some of
                    them, attacked him, it was &lt;in&gt; sight of many people
                    &amp; this was probably the cause that he escaped so well. a
                    Portuegueze Officer passing by just after enquired what was
                    the matter &amp; when it was over coolly remarked “people
                    must live,” &amp; walked on. a ship was cut out of the river
                    lately of great value, &amp; it was at first believed by
                    Portugueze. the remark was by a company of these people when
                    they heard the circumstance was that “the times were very
                        <del rend="strikethrough">xxxx</del> hard.” you can have
                    no idea of a more total anarchy than exists here as to all
                    rational purposes of government. there is actually no
                    security whatever for person or property. if a rascal is
                    taken up for robbery or murder after a few days imprisonment
                    he is let out again without trial or punishment. A priest in
                    one of the new streets was stopped by the watch lately, who
                    robbed him of his purse, his watch &amp; his buckles. he
                    returned home which was very near put on his servants
                    clothes, took a pistol &amp; a knife under his cloak,
                    returned to the same street &amp; met the same watchmen.
                    they stopt him, questioned him, searched him, found the
                    knife &amp; pistol, &amp; carried him before a magistrate.
                    then he told his story, recovered all he had lost, &amp; had
                    the satisfaction of seeing the rascals sent to prison.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> About the jelly you will not I trust anyways
                    inconvenience yourself, if it comes well. if not it is of no
                    serious importance. the little jug arrived safely. do not
                    forget to make <ref target="people.html#CottleJoseph">Cottle</ref> send me 3 quire of the wove fools-cap with
                        Alfred.<note n="9" place="foot" resp="editors">Joseph
                        Cottle, <title>Alfred. An Epic Poem. In Twenty-four
                            Books</title> (1800).</note>
<ref target="people.html#SoutheyMargaret">my mother</ref>
                    says Bill<note n="10" place="foot" resp="editors">Unidentified.</note> has a parcell to send to me. what
                    can he mean? I pray you take care to make no blunder &amp;
                    send any thing of weight by post. a magazine sent that way
                    would cost me ten guineas. <ref target="people.html#WynnCharlesWW">Wynn</ref> sent me a
                    bundle of letters from the Secretary of States office – like
                    a blockhead &amp; they cost me fourteen shillings. the way
                    the plays came thro Yescombe,<note n="11" place="foot" resp="editors">Edward Bayntun Yescombe (1765–1803),
                        captain of the packet, <hi rend="ital">King George</hi>,
                        which sailed between Falmouth and Lisbon.</note> is the
                    only way. The plays are done so as only <ref target="people.html#ColeridgeSamuelTaylor">Coleridge</ref> could have done them.<note n="12" place="foot" resp="editors">
<title>The Piccolomini, or
                            the First Part of Wallenstein, a Drama in Five Acts.
                            Translated from the German of Frederick Schiller by
                            S. T. Coleridge</title> (1800) and <title>The Death
                            of Wallenstein. A Tragedy in Five Acts. Translated
                            from the German of Frederick Schiller by S. T.
                            Coleridge</title> (1800).</note> I recognize him
                    also in the Essay on Schiller, &amp; the Prelude of
                    Wallensteins Camp, advertised in the newspaper as in the
                        Press.<note n="13" place="foot" resp="editors">
<title>The Oracle</title>, 4 April 1800, for
                        example, announced that ‘In the Press and speedily to be
                        published’ were: the one-act prelude ‘Wallenstein’s
                        Camp’; and an ‘Essay on the Genius of Schiller’.</note>
                    – remember me to all who enquire for me. – M<hi rend="sup">r</hi> Rowe<note n="14" place="foot" resp="editors">His
                        identity is not certain, but he is possibly the
                        Unitarian John Rowe (1764–1832), one of the ministers of
                        Lewin’s Mead Chapel, Bristol.</note> in particular – to
                        <ref target="people.html#CottleJoseph">Cottle</ref>
                    &amp; <ref target="people.html#DavyHumphry">Davy</ref> if
                    time permits. I shall write by the packet. pray pray write
                    often. tell Charles Fox<note n="15" place="foot" resp="editors">Charles Fox (c. 1740-1809;
                            <title>DNB</title>), orientalist, poet and parrot
                        owner.</note> I might as well look for Persian Mss in
                    Kamschatka as in Lisbon. flowerseeds would be useless here –
                    I have no friend – &amp; gardens require too much labour in
                    watering, to be used here as in England.</p>
<closer>
<salute rend="indent1"> God bless you. <ref target="people.html#FrickerEdith">Ediths</ref>
                        love.</salute>
<salute rend="indent2"> yrs truly </salute>
<signed rend="indent3"> R. S.</signed>
</closer>
</div>
</body>
</text>
</TEI>
