2304. Robert Southey to Edith May Southey, 20 September 1813 ⁠* 

Streatham. Sep^t. 20. 1813.

My dear Edithling

I owe you a letter, & it is time the debt should be paid; so your Mamma will let me write to you instead of her, especially as I have been stationary at Streatham ever since I wrote, & consequently can have nothing to communicate.

As I know you read the newspaper for the sake of seeing whether Buonaparte has been killed, how the King [1]  is, & whether there are any new murders, you may probably have seen there that your father is to be Poet-Laureat. [2]  Son-Lunus who is an unbeliever about Pegasus, [3]  will perhaps not believe that the Prince is going to give me a right to wear laurel round my head; but if you & he will look in a book about Petrarch [4]  which is at the Senhora’s, & is one of those upon which she has bestowed a paper-morocco back, they you will see the portrait of a Poet Laureat with his crown on. The laurels must should be gathered from the grove on that mountain where the nine sisters take care of my winged horse; [5]  & it is not proper that I should wear any others.

I am teaching the two eldest of your Cousins to say la, la, la, look at the lamb & the lark: & wa, wa, wa, we will walk. Herbert learns this much more readily than his brother. They are very good children, & are grown very fond of me. I tickle & toss them whenever we meet, & sometimes kiss Duke Bruin, who is Ursa Major or the Great Bear, & is the best kissing of the three. But kissing him is a very different thing from kissing my own Bertha Bruin, & Kate, & Isabee-bo-bell. My Aunt would be very willing to visit us, & bring the three Bears with her, but I fear my Uncle will not be persuaded to move. Earl Bruin, the little wee bear, is very little older than Isabel, & does not talk; but Marquis Bruin, the middle Bear, has an ursine language of his own which is very winning. His daily subject of complaint is that nobody will be married, & so he can get no wedding cake.

You must tell your Mamma that I have seen a letter to day, from M^rs Piozzi [6]  to M^r Davies, [7]  which concerns me, & which as the writer is only seventy five years of aged, may perhaps make her jealous, if she heard of it from any other quarter than from me myself. M^rs Piozzi hearing that I am at Streatham, & expecting to find me there when she comes herself, bids me beware of “a solitary woman” with “bright blue eyes” altho “her hair be grey.” – She writes a sprightly letter, full of life & spirits, & in a firm, full, strong hand, which as a sample of pen-womanship is remarkably fine, but considering her time of life, is really wonderful.

I have bought for you some Arabian Tales in three volumes, [8]  wherein you will find mention of the Dom daniel which Thalaba destroyed: & I have bought for Herbert the Persian & Turkish Tales. [9]  I am writing at this time upon your desk, which is the size of your Mamma’s, & I mean to buy the fellow to it for Thisbe. [10]  I shall also buy bricks & pictures for Bertha & Kate.

Do not forget your lessons while I am absent. I shall not be pleased if you lose ground. Tell Lunus to look over the poems which I made for him about the <his> Greek & have them all at the tip of his tongue when I return.

Your Mamma will like to know all the news of my intended operations which I can send her. Tell her then that I am getting on well with my business, in every sense of the word. That I go to town on Friday, when Coleridge will be asked to dine with me at Harry’s: on Sunday I dine & sleep at Holland House, – the Wednesday following dine at M^r Vaughans [11]  with Elmsley, & the next day with Madame Stael. [12]  Next week will compleat my main business, & then another fortnight will set me free from London. I mean to stop a day on my return at Worcester for the purpose of seeing Lucien Buonaparte. [13] 

And now my dear Edithling, farewell. Give my love to Wilsey; – the Doctor enquired particularly for her. Say to your Aunt Coleridge that I long to sneeze & snap my toes at home once more: & tell the Senhora that poor I am getting sleepy, for it is half past nine o clock, sufficient for the day hath been the labour thereof. I am Simorghish [14]  at all times, & when absent from home it is better to be asleep than awake.

I hope Lord Nelson, Bona Fidelia, & Madame Catalani continue well. [15]  Sir John Murray has probably gone the way of all geese. How is Paul the Pig, & how go on his distant relations from Guinea?

God bless you

your affectionate father [signature cut-off]

Next week I shall write to Herbert.