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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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<p>Bodleian Library, MS Eng.
                        Lett. c. 23.  Previously  published: John Wood Warter (ed.),
                            Selections from the Letters of Robert Southey, 4 vols
                        (London, 1856), I, pp. 160-163 [dated ‘At sea, June 1801’];
                        Adolfo Cabral (ed.), Robert Southey: Journals of a Residence in
                            Portugal 1800-1801 and a Visit to France 1838 (Oxford, 1960),
                            pp. 175-177 [dated ‘At sea, June 1801’–12 July 1801].</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="586" type="letter">
<head>586. Robert Southey to <ref target="people.html#BedfordGrosvenorCharles">Grosvenor Charles Bedford</ref>, <date when="1801-06-29">[c. 29 June-] 12
                        July 1801</date>
<note place="foot" resp="editors" type="headnote">Address:
                        To/ Grosvenor Charles Bedford Esq<hi rend="sup">r</hi>/ Exchequer/
                        Westminster<lb/>Stamped: [partial] TOL<lb/>Postmark: B/ JUL 13/
                        1801<lb/>Endorsements: July 1801; 1801 <lb/>MS: Bodleian Library, MS Eng.
                        Lett. c. 23<lb/>Previously published: John Wood Warter (ed.),
                            <title>Selections from the Letters of Robert Southey</title>, 4 vols
                        (London, 1856), I, pp. 160-163 [dated ‘At sea, June 1801’];
                        Adolfo Cabral (ed.), <title>Robert Southey: Journals of a Residence in
                            Portugal 1800-1801 and a Visit to France 1838</title> (Oxford, 1960),
                            pp. 175-177 [dated ‘At sea, June 1801’–12 July 1801].</note>
</head>
<p rend="indent1"> In tribulation of trullibubs &amp; trouble of tripes do I begin O
                    Grosvenor. it is not always easy, as you know to settle ones mind – but prithee
                    take one voyage &amp; it will convince you that it is far more difficult to
                    settle the stomach. I have now been six days &amp; nights at sea, &amp; in that
                    time a lame jackass would have carried me as fast &amp; as far. &amp; Southey
                    what have you been doing? – Oh I have been – very sick. you might rhyme to the
                    question if you please. the weather cock has thought proper to point the wrong
                    way, &amp; in contradiction to all proverbs &amp; all our prayers obstinately
                    stand still. we are just now overjoyed at a change of only two points. I have
                    however discovered an excellent substitute for sea sickness, which you know is
                    so fashionable a remedy for sensory disorders – or rather a method for making
                    people sea sick upon shore. put the <del rend="strikethrough">death</del>
                    patient &lt;to bed&gt; in a long wooden box, six feet by two, <del rend="strikethrough">with bedding</del>, N.B. a coffin will do. hang <del rend="strikethrough">them</del> &lt;him&gt; up in a dark room, rock <del rend="strikethrough">them</del> &lt;him&gt; well, make a great noise &amp; a
                    great stink – &amp; my life for it <del rend="strikethrough">they</del>
                    &lt;he&gt; will soon be as sick as heart can wish. I have made another discovery
                    – that I am very good natured, not having one drop of gall in my gall bladder,
                    when the whole contents of my inside came out in long procession. But even worse
                    than sickness is this insufferable tedium – the mill-stone weight of time! I
                    would write practical comments upon the Book of Job – if there were a Bible on
                    board. A days travelling in wind &amp; wet over a wilderness of gum cistus is
                    positive happiness in comparison.<note n="1" place="foot" resp="editors">A
                        reference to Southey’s travels in Alentejo in April 1801; see Adolfo Cabral,
                            <title>Robert Southey: Journals of a Residence in Portugal 1800-1801 and
                            a Visit to France 1838</title> (Oxford, 1960), pp. 35-36.</note>
                    England! England! Oh I do long to stand on firm ground &amp; eat fresh bread
                    &amp; drink fresh water! Not even a porpoise pops up to amuse me – the fish line
                    drags on as idly as I myself – <del rend="strikethrough">not withstanding</del>
                    &lt;tho&gt; I had determined to catch a mermaid &amp; make a fortune by showing
                    her myself. </p>
<p rend="indent1"> If I am neither taken prisoner nor drowned on the way, &amp; if
                    none of the common chances of land life turn up against me – why I may be soon
                    in London. Seven days &amp; always a bad wind till this halfhour when it has
                    changed for – no wind at all. my watch is gone to sleep – poor thing! like K.
                        Charles<note n="2" place="foot" resp="editors">Charles I (1600-1649;
                            <title>DNB</title>; reigned 1625-1649).</note> I wound it up on setting
                    sail &amp; then had done with time.<note n="3" place="foot" resp="editors">Southey was mistaken. According to Gilbert Burnet (1643-1715;
                            <title>DNB</title>), <title>A History of His Own Time</title>, 2 vols
                        (London, 1724-1734), I, p. 560, it was William, Lord Russell (1639-1683;
                            <title>DNB</title>), who shortly before his execution, ‘wound up his
                        watch, and said, now he had done with time, and was going to
                        eternity’.</note> the human machine cannot be laid by in this way – nor
                    indeed have I any inclination to go down as <ref target="people.html#DavyHumphry">Davy</ref> has not yet found out a key to
                    wind me up again. – Take my three queries for public good. Would not sailing
                    waggons be the best conveyances in the deserts? – Would not families that keep
                    no dairy increase their comfort by keeping a milch goat? – Cannot some means be
                    devised of preserving a man in madeira like a fly for a voyage – &amp; should
                    there not be a reward offered for a discovery how to entrance such unhappy
                    persons as like me are obliged to cross the sea? N.B. this is well worth the
                    attention of government &amp; the East India company for transporting troops,
                    &amp; the experiment might be tried upon Botany Bay Convicts who ought to have
                    been hung. or in the next expedition to the Coast of France &lt;or Holland&gt;
                    it being of little import whether the men die on the way – or be killed when
                    they got there. &amp; as old Ingenhousz<note n="4" place="foot" resp="editors">Jan Ingenhousz (1730-1799), Dutch doctor and scientist, leading proponent
                        of inoculation against smallpox.</note> said of the life of a man – vat is
                    an army to an experiment? – </p>
<p rend="indent1"> And now the fourteenth day is come – &amp; we are within a <del rend="strikethrough">few</del> &lt;few&gt; hours sail of Falmouth, &amp; it
                    blows so heavy a gale on shore, &amp; so thick a mist from the south accompanies
                    it that we are steering up channel in prudent fear. now would I give a few
                    fingers &amp; toes for four &amp; twenty – aye for half a dozen hours of Lisbon
                    weather. here I am as a Paddy would say in <hi rend="ital">sight</hi> of my own
                    country only I cant see it for one of my own country fogs. tis a poor comfort to
                    be in English weather when we want to be in England. – You paint Hope leaning
                    upon an anchor – Hope upon deck were a better personification.</p>
<p rend="indent1"> Returning after an absence – even no longer than mine has been –
                    is by no means a circumstance of unmingled pleasure. It is nearly fifteen months
                    since I left Bristol, &amp; like Nourjahad<note n="5" place="foot" resp="editors">Frances Sheridan (1724-1766; <title>DNB</title>), <title>The
                            History of Nourjahad</title> (1767). The title character awoke after
                        each of his naps to a world that had seemingly moved on decades.</note>
                    after one of his naps, those changes in my own little world will now strike me
                    with suddenness, <del rend="strikethrough">x</del> which if &lt;I had been&gt;
                    on the spot would have come gradually &amp; gently on. many acquaintance I have
                    in that time lost – two of them young men,<note n="6" place="foot" resp="editors">One was probably <ref target="people.html#CottleAmos">Amos
                            Cottle</ref>; the identity of the other is uncertain. It was possibly
                            <ref target="people.html#HucksJoseph">Joseph Hucks</ref>.</note> with
                    whom I had expected to pass many a chearful hour hereafter. my cousin <ref target="people.html#HillMargaret">Margaret</ref> – if not already dead –
                    cannot outlive the autumn. – I do not return chearfully. ill tidings come best
                    from a distance. – nor should I perhaps have left Portugal this summer but for
                        <ref target="people.html#WynnCharlesWW">Wynns</ref> letter. you probably
                    know the possibility that recalls me.<note n="7" place="foot" resp="editors">The
                        possibility that Southey might become Secretary to Sir William Drummond (c.
                        1770-1828; <title>DNB</title>), classical scholar, poet and diplomat;
                        Charges d’Affaires in Denmark 1800-1801; Minister-Plenipotentiary in Naples
                        1801-1803 and 1807-1808, and Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire in
                        1803.</note> this also in a misty day &amp; a foul wind, hangs upon me. I
                    see as little a way before me as the man at the masthead. yet I am pleased. a
                    southern climate is my best medicine, &amp; there is yet a Robinson Crusoe<note n="8" place="foot" resp="editors">Daniel Defoe (1659-1731;
                            <title>DNB</title>), <title>Robinson Crusoe</title> (1719).</note>
                    curiosity about me, which I should willingly find it prudent to indulge. </p>
<p rend="center">______ </p>
<p rend="indent1"> And have you received Thalaba?<note n="9" place="foot" resp="editors">
<title>Thalaba the Destroyer</title> was published in June
                        1801.</note> &amp; would you like another story to the same tune? it has
                    long been my intention to try the different mythologies that are almost new to
                    poetry. Thalaba shows the Mohammedan. the Hindoo, the Runic, &amp; the old
                    Persian are all striking enough &amp; enough known. of the Runic I have yet
                    hardly dreamt. I have fixed the ground plan of the Persian. <note n="10" place="foot" resp="editors">
<title>Common-Place Book</title>, ed. John Wood
                        Warter, 4 series (London, 1849–1850), IV, p. 12.</note> the Hindoo is
                    compleatly sketched – you can make little of its title – The Curse of
                        Keradou.<note n="11" place="foot" resp="editors">For Southey’s plan of what
                        became <title>The Curse of Kehama</title> (1810), see <title>Common-Place
                            Book</title>, ed. John Wood Warter, 4 series (London, 1849–1850), IV,
                        pp. 12-15.</note>
</p>
<p rend="center">______</p>
<p>July 12. Bristol – God be praised for my safe return. – I find little to chear me
                    here. – my <ref target="people.html#HillMargaret">Cousin Margaret</ref> is
                    dying. she has been wishing to live to see me – yet I wish it had been spared.
                    these things are best at a distance – the spent ball bruises only – not wounds.
                    poor girl – she was to me the dearest of my family. </p>
<closer>
<salute rend="indent1"> God bless you Grosvenor.</salute>
<salute rend="indent2"> yrs as ever,</salute>
<signed rend="indent3"> RS.</signed>
</closer>
<lb/>
<postscript>
<p>Write &amp; direct to <ref target="places.html#DanversKingsdown">Danvers</ref>. </p>
</postscript>
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