4215. Robert Southey to [John May], 17 July–27 August 1824

 

MS: Department of Rare Books, Special Collections and Preservation, River Campus Libraries, University of Rochester, Robert Southey Papers A.S727. AL; 7p.
Previously edited or published: Michael Neill Stanton, ‘An Edition of the Autobiographical Letters of Robert Southey’ (unpublished PhD, University of Rochester, 1972), pp. 182–192; Charles Cuthbert Southey (ed.), Life and Correspondence of Robert Southey, 6 vols (London, 1849–1850), I, pp. 123–132 [with variants; Cuthbert Southey’s text draws on a fair copy of the letter and not on the original version sent to May, which we publish here].


Few boys were ever less qualified for the discipline of a public school, than I was when it was determined to place me at Westminster.

(1)

Southey attended Westminster School 1788–1792.

For if my school education had been ill conducted, the life which I had led with Miss Tyler tended in every respect <still more> to unfit me for the new scenes – the new world it might almost be called – on which I was about to enter.

When my Aunt settled at Bristol she brought with her a proud contempt for Bristol society. In fact she had scarcely any acquaintances there, & seldom saw any company, except when the some of her Bath friends came to Clifton for the summer, or when the players took up their about <abode> in the city, for then Mr Dimond

(2)

William Wyatt Dimond (c. 1750–1812; DNB), actor and manager in Bath 1774–1801.

used to visit her, a good actor, & <He was> a most gentlemanly & respectable man, as well as a good actor, great is the delight which I have had in seeing him perform, & hardly less was that which I have felt in listening to his conversation. The days when he dined with us were almost our only gala days. At such times – & when she went out, her appearance & manners wh were those of a woman who had been bred in the best society & was equal to it: but her way of life was as singular as it was uncomfortable, & if any stranger or visitor had caught her in her ordinary apparel she would have been as much confused as Diana when Actaeon came upon her bathing place,

(3)

In Greek myth, the hunter Actaeon stumbled on the goddess Artemis (known to the Romans as Diana), while she was bathing. She turned him into a deer and he was killed by his own dogs.

– & almost with as much reason: for she was always in a bedgown, & in rags. Most people I suspect have a weakness for old shoes: ease & comfort & the <one’s own> fire side are connected with them in fact one we never feel any regard for shoes till they attain to the privilege of agex & then they became almost as much a part of the <wearer> as his corns. This sort of feeling my aunt extended to old clothes of every kind, the older & the raggeder they became <grew>, the more unwilling she was to cast them off. But she was scrupulously clean <in them> indeed the principle upon which her whole household oeconomy was directed was that of keeping the house clean, & taking more precautions against dust, than would have been needful against the plague in an infected city. She laboured under a perpetual dustophobia, & a comical disease it was, but whether I have been most amused or annoyed by it, it would be difficult to say. I had however in its consequences an early lesson how fearfully the mind may be enslaved by indulging its own peculiarities & whimsies, innocent as they may appear at first.

The discomfort which Miss Tylers passion for cleanliness produced to herself as well as to her little household was truly curious: to herself indeed it was a perpetual torment, to me & the two servants a perpetual vexation, except when & so it would have been to me if Nature had not blest me with an innate hilarity of spirit which nothing but real affliction can overcome. That the better rooms might be kept clean, she took possession of the kitchen, sending the servants to one which was underground; & in this little <dark confined> room with a stone floor, & a skylight <(for it must not be supposed that it was a best kitchen which was always as it was intended to be a comfortable sitting room. This was more like a scullery)> we ate & lived always took our meals, & generally lived. The best room was never opened but for company, except now & then on a fine day to be aired, & dusted, if dust could be detected there. In the other parlour I was allowed sometimes to read, & she wrote her letters, – for she had many correspondents; & we sate there sometimes in summer, when a fire was not needed, for fire produced ashes, & ashes occasioned dust, & dust visible or invisible was the plague of her life. I have seen her order the tea kettle to be emptied & refilled, because some one had past across the hearth while it was on the fire, preparing for her breakfast. She had indulged these humours till she had formed for herself notions of uncleanness almost as irrational & as inconvenient as those of the Hindoos. She had a cup once buried for six week to purify it from the lips of one whom she considered unclean; – & all who were not her favourites were included in that class. A chair in which an unclean person had sate was put out in the garden to be aired; & I never saw her more annoyed than when a man who called upon business once sate down in her own chair; how the leather cushion was ever <again> to be purified she knew not rendered fit for her use, she knew not. On such occasions her sha fine features assumed an expression <a character> either fierce or tragic, her expressions were vehement almost <even> to irreverence, – & her gestilucat gesticulations those of the deepest distress – hands & eyes uplifted as if she were in hopeless misery, or a paroxysm of mental agony anguish.

As there are none who like to be upon ill terms with themselves, – most people find out some device <whereby they are> for reconciled themselves to their own faults: my <& in this propensity it is that much of the irreligion in the world, & much of its false philosophy have originated. My> xxx Aunt used frequently to say that all good natured people were fools; & Hers was a violent temper rather an ill one; there was a great deal of kindness in it, but <tho> it was under no restraint. She was in fact at once tyrannical & indulgent to her servants, & they usually remained in her service a long while partly I believe from fear, & partly from liking; – from liking, because she sent them often to the play, (which is probably to them as <persons in that condition like, as it is> to children the greatest of all most delightful of all amusements) – & conversed with them much more than was is usual for persons in her rank of life. Her habits were so peculiar that the servants became in a certain degree her confidants; she therefore was afraid to change them, & they even when they wished to leave her were actually afraid to express the wish, knowing that she would regard it as a grievous offence, & dreading the storm of anger which it would produce. Two servants at different times left her for the sake of marrying: & tho they had both lived with her many years, she never forgave either of them, nor ever spoke of them without some expression of bitterness. I believe no daughter was ever more afraid of disclosing a clandestine marriage to a severe parent, than both these women were of making their intention known to their mistress: such was the ascendency that she possessed over them. She had reconciled herself to the indulgence of this <her> ungoverned <anger> temper, by supposing that it <a bad temper> was naturally connected with a good understanding & a commanding mind: & one of her favourite remarks was that all good natured people were fools.

Besides her servants there were two persons over whom she had acquired the most compleat <absolute> controul. Miss Palmer was the one, a more compleat example could never be found of that magic which a strong mind exercises over a weak one. The influence which she exercised <possessed> over my Mother was equally unbounded & more continual, but otherwise to be explained. It was the ascendency of a determined & violent spirit over a gentle & yielding one. There was a difference of twelve years between their ages, & the authority which Miss Tyler had first exerted as an elder sister, she never relaxed. My Mother was one of those few persons <(for a few such there are)> who think too humbly of themselves, – there are such & they are very few. Her only fault was that of yielding to submissively to this imperious sister against to the sacrifice of her own inclination & judgement, & sense of what was right. She had been bred up in fear & awe <grown up in awe & admiration> of her, as one who moved in a superior rank & <with the advantage of a fine form & beautiful person> possessed a superior understanding; withal she loved her with a true sisterly affection which nothing could diminish. But never did I know one person so entirely subjected to another, & never have I regretted any thing so deeply as that submission <subjection>, which most certainly in its consequence shortened her life

If my Mother had not been disfigured by the small pox the two sisters would have strikingly resembled each other except in complection, my mother being remarkably fair. The expression however of the <two> countenances was as dif opposite as the features were alike, & the difference in disposition was not less marked. Take her for all in all I do not believe that any human being ever brought into the world & carried out thro it a larger portion of original goodness than my dear Mother. She Every body who knew her loved her, for she seemed made to be happy herself – & to make every one happy within her little sphere. Her understanding was as good as her heart, – it is from her that that I have inherited that alertness of mind & quickness of apprehension, without which it would have been impossible for me to have undertaken half of what I have performed. God never blessed a human creature with a more chearful disposition, a more generous spirit, a sweeter temper, or a tenderer heart. I remember that when first I understood what death was, & began to think it of it, the most fearful thought it induced was that of losing my Mother, – & it seemed to me more than I could bear, & I used to hope that I might die before her. Nature is merciful to us. We learn gradually that we are to die, – <a knowledge> which if it came suddenly upon us in riper age would be more than the mind could endure: we are gradually prepared for death <our departure> by seeing the objects of our first & deepest affections go before us; & even if no keener afflictions are dispensed to wean us from this world, & place <remove> our tenderest thoughts & dearest hopes to another, mere age brings with it a weariness of life till death becomes to the old as natural & desirable as sleep to a tired child.

My fathers house being within ten minutes walk of Terril Street – (or rather run, for I usually galloped along the bye ways) few days past on which I did not look in there. Miss Tyler never entered the house, because there was an enmity between her & Thomas Southey; she had given just occasion to it, – they hated each other cordially now & took no pains to conceal it. My visits at home therefore were short, – & I was seldom allowed to dine, or pass the evening there. My brother Tom was at school. – but when at home <&> the difference of age between us at that time made us <not very> unsuitable companions when we were together. There was not a single boy of my own age, or near it, in any of the few families <with> whom either my mother or Aunt were acquainted, & my solitary <only> friend & companion was – my Aunts servant boy, Shadrach Weeks, her maids brother. Shad, as we called him was just my own age & had been taken into her service soon after she settled in Bristol. He was a good natured, active, handy lad, & became very much attached to me, – as I was to him. At this hour if he be living & were to meet me, be it where it might, I am sure he would greet me with a hearty shake by the hand, – & be it where it might – I hope I should return the <salutation>. We used to work together in the garden, play trap in the fields, make kites & fly them, try our hands at carpentry, – & – which was the greatest of all indulgences go into the country to bring home primrose, violet & cowslip roots, & sometimes to St Vincents Rocks,

(4)

A prominent rock formation on the Avon Gorge near Clifton.

– or rather the heights about a mile farther down the river, to search for the Bee & Fly Orchis.

(5)

The bee orchid and fly orchid are different plants, but they are closely related and sometimes a natural hybrid occurs between the species.

which some book has Some book had taught me that these rare flowers were to be found there, & I sought for them year after year with such persevering intelligence <industry> for the unworthy purpose of keeping them in pots at home – (where they uniformly pined & died) – that I am afraid botanists who came after me may have looked for them there in vain. Perhaps (see the next page)

(6)

Southey’s note, to indicate the insertion that follows, ‘Perhaps I have … comparatively insignificant’, this can be found on the next page of the manuscript, where it is signalled by a note ‘this belongs to preceding page’. We have restored it to its place in his narrative.

<Perhaps I have never had a keener enjoyment of natural scenery than when wandering about the rocks & woods on the side of the Avon with Shad & our poor spaniel Phillis.

(7)

Southey’s pet spaniel and the subject of ‘On the Death of a Favourite Old Spaniel’, Poems (Bristol, 1797), pp. 132–134.

Indeed there are few scenes in the island finer of this kind, & xxx no other where merchant vessels of the largest size may be seen sailing between such rocks & woods, – the scenery <shores> being upon a scale of sufficient magnitude to supply all that the picturesque requires, & not upon such a scale <so large a one> as to make the ships appear comparatively insignificant>

Had it not been for this companion, there would have <been> nothing to counteract the effeminating & debilitating tendency of the habits to which my Aunts peculiarities subjected me. Pricking playbills had been the pastime which she encouraged as long as I could be prevailed on to pursue it, – & then she encouraged <me> to cut paper into fantastic patterns. But I learnt a better use of my hands in Shad’s company, & we became such proficients in carpentry that before I went to Westminster, we commenced a work of set about the enterprize of making & fitting up a theatre for puppets. This was an arduous & elaborate work, of which I shall have more to say hereafter, as our design extended with our progress. At this time little more had been done than what finishing the body of the theatre, where there were pit boxes & gallery & an ornamented cieling, the spectator being to look thro a which when it was put on made the whole look on the outside like a box of some unaccountable form. The spectator was to look thro a glass behind the gallery, which we intended to have been a magnifier till to our great disappointment we were assured at the Opticians no single magnifier would produce any effect at the distance which this was required to act. If The scenery & stage contrivances I shall speak of in a subsequ due time, for this was an undertaking which called forth all our ingenuity, & continued for several years to occupy me during the holydays.

Before I went to Westminster my brother Henry had been taken into Miss Tylers household, – when he was about four years old. A second John who was born two years before him died within the year

(8)

John Southey (b. 1782).

– I know not of what complaint. In 1787 a daughter was born & christened Margaretta

(9)

Margaretta Southey (1787–1788).

– I remember her as well as it is possible to remember an infant, – that is to say without any fixed & discriminating remembrance. She was a beautiful creature & I was old enough to feel the greatest solicitude for her recovery when I set out off for London early in the spring of 1788. A thoughtless nursemaid

(10)

Unidentified beyond the information given here.

had taken her out one day to the most exposed situation within reach, – what is called the Sea-banks,

(11)

The sea banks were west of Bristol, where the Froom joined the Avon, and protected Canons’ Marsh from flooding.

– & kept her there unusually long while a severe east wind was blowing. From that hour she droopt – cough & consumption came on in consequence – I left her miserably & hopelessly ill, & never saw her more. This was the first death that I had ever apprehended & dreaded, & it affected me deeply.

Aug. 27. 1824.

Notes

1. Southey attended Westminster School 1788–1792.[back]
2. William Wyatt Dimond (c. 1750–1812; DNB), actor and manager in Bath 1774–1801.[back]
3. In Greek myth, the hunter Actaeon stumbled on the goddess Artemis (known to the Romans as Diana), while she was bathing. She turned him into a deer and he was killed by his own dogs.[back]
4. A prominent rock formation on the Avon Gorge near Clifton.[back]
5. The bee orchid and fly orchid are different plants, but they are closely related and sometimes a natural hybrid occurs between the species.[back]
6. Southey’s note, to indicate the insertion that follows, ‘Perhaps I have … comparatively insignificant’, this can be found on the next page of the manuscript, where it is signalled by a note ‘this belongs to preceding page’. We have restored it to its place in his narrative.[back]
7. Southey’s pet spaniel and the subject of ‘On the Death of a Favourite Old Spaniel’, Poems (Bristol, 1797), pp. 132–134.[back]
8. John Southey (b. 1782).[back]
9. Margaretta Southey (1787–1788).[back]
10. Unidentified beyond the information given here.[back]
11. The sea banks were west of Bristol, where the Froom joined the Avon, and protected Canons’ Marsh from flooding.[back]
Volume Editor(s)