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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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<editor>Lynda Pratt</editor>
<sponsor>Romantic Circles</sponsor>
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<resp>General Editor, </resp>
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<date>2011-08-15</date>
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<idno type="edition">letterEEd.26.542</idno>
<publisher>Romantic Circles, http://www.rc.umd.edu, University of Maryland</publisher>
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<p>Houghton Library, bMS Eng 265.1
                        (28).  Previously  published: Charles Cuthbert Southey
                        (ed.) Life and Correspondence of Robert
                            Southey, 6 vols (London, 1849–1850), II, pp.
                        99–103 [in part; misdated 21 August 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="542" type="letter">
<head>542. Robert Southey to <ref target="people.html#SoutheyMargaret">Margaret
                        Southey</ref>, <date when="1800-08-22">22 August
                        1800</date>
<note place="foot" resp="editors" type="headnote">Address: To / M<hi rend="sup">rs</hi>
                        Southey/ at Miss Tylers/ Bristol./ Single <lb/>Stamped:
                        LISBON<lb/>MS: Houghton Library, bMS Eng 265.1
                        (28)<lb/>Previously published: Charles Cuthbert Southey
                        (ed.) <title>Life and Correspondence of Robert
                            Southey</title>, 6 vols (London, 1849–1850), II, pp.
                        99–103 [in part; misdated 21 August 1800].</note>
</head>
<opener>
<dateline rend="right">
<address>
<placeName>
<ref target="places.html#Cintra">Cintra</ref>.</placeName>
</address>
<date when="1800-08-22"> August 22. 1800.</date>
</dateline>
<salute>My dear Mother</salute>
</opener>
<p rend="indent1"> You will have known before this can arrive,
                    that your Bristol dispatches reached me. That I have not
                    written sooner is the fault of the wind – we have been three
                    weeks without a packet – &amp; now we have one, my letters
                    may probably be detained for want of a conveyance to Lisbon.
                    – You must write to <ref target="people.html#HillHerbertUncle">my Uncle</ref>.
                    upon family affairs he <hi rend="ital">never</hi> utters a
                    syllable, &amp; whenever I have begun upon the subject <del rend="strikethrough">here</del> he has made no reply
                    whatever. It is not therefore possible to speak to him. –
                    About the cheese you mistook – I designed to pay for it,
                    thro <ref target="people.html#CottleJoseph">Cottle</ref>.
                    however we want certain articles from Bristol (a gown for
                    Maria Rosa<note n="1" place="foot" resp="editors">The
                        Southeys’ maidservant in Portugal.</note> &amp; a few
                    things for <ref target="people.html#FrickerEdith">Edith</ref>) for which I shall send ten pounds, &amp;
                    you will then pack off some forty shillings worth. <ref target="people.html#HillMargaret">Peggy</ref>? – I am
                    impatient for letters. your last was an unpleasant one
                    altogether, &amp; undid half that Portugal had done for me.
                    however I am materially amended. <ref target="people.html#SoutheyTom">Tom</ref> writes that
                    she is better – but I know the cursed nature of the disease
                    too well to hope so easily perhaps as you &amp; he may have
                    done. In <hi rend="ital">settled</hi> cases, the fox-glove
                    always retards the progress of the malady – but never cures.
                    at an early stage, it prevents. however other diseases there
                    are undistinguishably similar in their symptoms, which are
                    sometimes mistaken for this – &amp; the patient is said to
                    have recovered from a consumption, when his lungs have been
                    sound all the while.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> We have been here about two months, living
                    alone &amp; riding jack-asses. <ref target="people.html#HillHerbertUncle">My Uncle</ref> is
                    sadly confined in Lisbon. the Soldiers children die as fast
                    as they are born from inattention or bad management – one of
                    the million war-evils! – &amp; he must bury them. We have
                    acquaintance out of number, but no friends. of course I go
                    among these people no oftener than absolute decorum
                    requires. Patty Collins’s<note n="2" place="foot" resp="editors">Unidentified.</note> Niece<note n="3" place="foot" resp="editors">Anne Michell, née Shears
                        (1765–1838).</note> has more brains than three parts of
                    the factory: her I like hugely – but she is never at <ref target="places.html#Cintra">Cintra</ref>. I want <ref target="people.html#DanversCharles">Danvers</ref> here,
                    &amp; <ref target="people.html#DavyHumphry">Davy</ref> &amp;
                        <ref target="people.html#RickmanJohn">Rickman</ref>
                    &amp; <ref target="people.html#CottleJoseph">Cottle</ref>
                    &amp; you, &amp; some fresh butter, &amp; the newspaper.
                    howbeit I am very comfortable, &amp; very busy. I want you
                    to eat melons – we get them for about <del rend="strikethrough">xxx</del> three farthings a pound:
                    &amp; grapes – oh what grapes! our desserts are magnificent.
                    We have three servants here – a man, a maid, &amp; a boy.
                    all good servants for the country, but not a little <hi rend="ital">swine</hi>. I long sometimes to rub their
                    noses in their filth as they serve the dog &amp; the cat.
                    can you guess how they damp clothes for ironing? Maria takes
                    a mouthful of water &amp; squirts it out over the linen. The
                    Roman Catholics have contrived to rank nastiness among
                    Christian virtues, &amp; they practise no other so
                    universally. The poor Moriscoes in Spain were forbidden to
                    use their baths – because it was a Turkish custom. Certain
                    of the austerer monks would think it wicked to kill any of
                    their vermin. others wear no linen, &amp; sleep in their
                    woollen dress from one year to another, fine, fat, frying,
                    friars, looking as oily as Aarons beard in the sun. I should
                    like to catch a Quaker &amp; bring here among filth &amp;
                    finery. – Of Cap<hi rend="sup">t</hi> Hawker<note n="4" place="foot" resp="editors">Lieutenant Francis Hawker
                        (dates unknown) of the 12th Light Dragoons. He and his
                        wife (née Cripps) were friendly with Herbert Hill.
                        Southey met them again in France in 1838 (Adolfo Cabral
                        (ed.), <title>Robert Southey: Journals of a Residence in
                            Portugal 1800–1801 and a Visit to France
                            1838</title> (Oxford, 1960), pp. 210–211).</note> I
                    saw something at Lisbon. he was educated as an Artist, &amp;
                    draws beautifully. this is his virtue, &amp; you may add to
                    it great apparent good nature. but if ever his head should
                    be broken – his wife is a most disagreable &amp; affected
                    woman. they are civil to us, – for <ref target="people.html#HillHerbertUncle">my Uncle</ref> is
                    very serviceable to them. him I have no objection to, but
                    his wife was one of the precious party who fell foul of <ref target="people.html#SoutheyTom">Tom</ref>, &amp; belied
                    him behind his back – because they had nothing to say to his
                    face. She claims acquaintance with him here, &amp; chuses to
                    forget what passed – but I do not choose to forget it. </p>
<p rend="indent1"> Since we left Lisbon I have written scarcely
                    any letters, &amp; have a weeks work to settle my accounts
                    with <ref target="people.html#SoutheyTom">Tom</ref>. tell
                    him that Thalaba has monopolized me. that by the King
                        George<note n="5" place="foot" resp="editors">Packet
                        sailing between Falmouth and Lisbon.</note> in her next
                    voyage (about 3 weeks hence) I send over his copy, together
                    &lt;with&gt; that for the Press.<note n="6" place="foot" resp="editors">Tom Southey’s manuscript copy of
                            <title>Thalaba</title>, now Pierpont Morgan Library,
                        LHMS MA 415. <title>Thalaba the Destroyer</title> was
                        published in London in 1801.</note> his direction at
                    Plymouth Dock I have forgotten, so the parcel shall be
                    directed to <ref target="people.html#DanversCharles">Danvers</ref>. who will read – &amp; forward it. the
                    press copy also goes to him, lest <ref target="people.html#RickmanJohn">Rickman</ref> should
                    not be in London, which he will know. I shall manufacture
                    letters for the occasion. a plague upon <hi rend="ital">writing</hi> letters! except to Bristol &amp; to <ref target="people.html#SoutheyTom">Tom</ref> I have
                    neglected all my other correspondents. actually I have not
                    time. I <hi rend="ital">must ride</hi>, I am visited – &amp;
                    the correcting Thalaba &amp; transcribing it is a very
                    serious job.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> The French. you are probably alarmed for us,
                    &amp; perhaps not without cause – but we are in the dark,
                    &amp; only know that the situation of the country is very
                    critical. We are quite easy about the matter. The house is
                    on fire! Ach! &amp; is <del rend="strikethrough">xxxx</del>
                    that all? said the Paddy – now why did you disturb me? I am
                    but a lodger. – In my own opinion no attempt will be made on
                    Portugal. it is not worth the trouble. Why make a dust by
                    pulling down a house that must fall? We shall have peace!
                    thank God, &amp; Somebody. –</p>
<p rend="indent1"> By the next packet I shall write, &amp; send
                    to <ref target="people.html#BiddlecombeCharles">Biddlecombe</ref> his years rent. when we return I
                    shall immediately take a house in London, or near it. for a
                    summer or two <ref target="places.html#Burton">Burton</ref>
                    may do – but if <ref target="people.html#RickmanJohn">Rickman</ref> leaves <ref target="places.html#ChristChurch">Xt Church</ref> I must
                    look for a situation where there is better society. I wish I
                    could settle here; the climate suits me so well, that I
                    could give up society, &amp; live like a Bear by sucking my
                    own paws. You like the Catholics. shall I give you an
                    account of one of their Lent plays upon Transubstantiation
                    which is lying on the table? It begins by the Father turning
                    Adam out of doors – “Get out <del rend="strikethrough">xxx</del> of my house, you Rascal” Adam goes a begging,
                    &amp; bitterly does he complain that he can find no house,
                    no village, nobody to beg of. At last he meets – The Four
                    Seasons, &amp; they give him a spade &amp; a plough &amp;c.
                    – but nothing to eat. <del rend="strikethrough">At
                        last</del> Then comes Reason, &amp; tells him to go to
                    law with his Father, who is obliged to find him in victuals.
                    Adam goes to law, an Angel is his counsel, &amp; the Devil
                    pleads against him. He wins his cause, &amp; the Father
                    settles upon him Oil – for extreme unction. <hi rend="ital">Lamb</hi>. &amp; Bread &amp; Wine. up comes the
                    Sacrament – &amp; there is an end of the Play. This is
                    written by a Priest – one of the best Spanish writers<note n="7" place="foot" resp="editors">Pedro Calderon de la
                        Barca (1600–1681), author of over 80 one-act ‘auto
                        sacramentales’.</note> – who has written seventy-two of
                    these plays, all upon the Body &amp; Blood; &amp; all in the
                    same strain of quaint &amp; pious blasphemy. In another
                    Christ comes in as a soldier to ask his reward of My Lord
                    World for serving him, &amp; he produces the testimonials of
                    his service. that on the eighth day of his enlisting he was
                    wounded with a knife. that he had a narrow &lt;escape&gt;
                    when the <hi rend="ital">Infantry</hi> were all cut off.
                    that he went as a spy among the Enemies, &amp; even got into
                    their temple. that he stood a siege of forty days, &amp;
                    would not capitulate, tho without provisions. &amp; after
                    three assaults put the Enemy to flight. that he succoured
                    Castle-Magdalen when the enemy had got possession. that he
                    supplied a camp consisting of more than 5000 persons with
                    food, who would all have been starved. that he did good
                    service at sea in a storm. therefore for him &amp; his
                    twelve followers he asked his reward. I could fill sheet
                    after sheet with these Bunyanisms,<note n="8" place="foot" resp="editors">John Bunyan (1628–1688;
                            <title>DNB</title>), wrote fiction on Christian
                        themes, most famously <title>The Pilgrim’s
                            Progress</title> (1678).</note> &amp; send you
                    miracles as strange as any in Thalaba. </p>
<p rend="indent1"> But you are crying out already, &amp; are
                    satisfied with the specimen. – farewell. we are going on
                    well – only<ref target="people.html#FrickerEdith">
                        Ediths</ref> Burro fell with her &amp; threw her over
                    head down hill, &amp; she is now lame with a bruised knee.
                    she excells in ass-woman-ship – &amp; I am hugely pleased
                    with riding sideways, &amp; having a Boy to beat the John
                    &amp; guide him.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> By the King George I expect Alfred<note n="9" place="foot" resp="editors">Joseph Cottle,
                            <title>Alfred, An Epic Poem, in Twenty-Four
                            Books</title> (1800).</note> &amp; a load of
                    letters. remember me to <ref target="people.html#DanversCharles">Danvers</ref> &amp;
                        M<hi rend="sup">rs</hi> D. &amp; to <ref target="people.html#CottleJoseph">Cottle</ref> &amp;
                        <ref target="people.html#DavyHumphry">Davy</ref> if you
                    see him. poor Patty Cottle!<note n="10" place="foot" resp="editors">Possibly Cottle’s sister, Martha Cottle,
                        who died in 1800, aged 15.</note> poor Old Morgan.<note n="11" place="foot" resp="editors">Probably <ref target="people.html#MorganJohnJames">John James
                            Morgan’s</ref> father.</note> but his death was to
                    be wished. M<hi rend="sup">rs</hi> Wilson!<note n="12" place="foot" resp="editors">Unidentified.</note> the
                    piece of a letter that I read by mistake about a wretch
                    touching her – did it mean the Irishman? – you have used us
                    scurvily in writing but once. <ref target="people.html#FrickerEdith">Ediths</ref> love. God
                    bless you.</p>
<closer>
<salute rend="indent1"> yr affectionate son</salute>
<signed rend="indent2"> Robert Southey. </signed>
</closer>
<postscript>
<p>My love to <ref target="people.html#SoutheyEdward">Killcrop</ref> when you write. how does his Latin
                        go on? <ref target="people.html#SoutheyHenryHerbert">Harry</ref> must forgive me. I do not forget him –
                        &amp; will write very soon. but the interruption it
                        occasions &amp; the time it takes up make letter-writing
                        a serious evil. </p>
<p rend="indent1"> By the Monthly Magazine<note n="13" place="foot" resp="editors">Unidentified.</note> I
                        see my seditious cobler &amp; book-stall-man is
                        married!</p>
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