4278. Robert Southey to Caroline Bowles, [13 November 1824]
Address: [in another hand] London Eighteenth Nov. 1824/ Miss Bowles/ Buckland/ Lymington/ Hants/ Fm/ JRickman
Postmark: FREE/ 18 NO 18/ 1824
MS: British Library, Add MS 47889. ALS; 2p.
Previously published: Edward Dowden (ed.), The Correspondence of Robert Southey with Caroline Bowles (Dublin and London, 1881), pp. 70–72 [in part].
Note on MS: fol. 1 is absent from the manuscript in the British Library and has not been traced elsewhere. However, Dowden had access to the now-missing fol. 1; his edition is therefore used to supply the copytext for this section of the letter.
If procrastination is the thief of time, letter-writing is quite as great a one, and I find the two thieves very closely connected. Some unexpected epistle arrives which is neither wanted nor welcome, but which must be answered; or some other demand upon my hours is made, for which I am neither prepared nor willing, and then the intention which had been formed, of writing that evening to you, stands over for the morrow; and when the morrow comes, other interruptions of the same kind occur, and prevent me from passing an hour according to my wishes.
In reply to your letter, thank Mr. St. Barbe
in what manner seems best to you, for Pope’s letter,
which I shall be very glad to have. Take for your own collection – as the first which has turned up – a note of Charles Lamb’s, relating to a review of Wordsworth’s Excursion written by him at my request for the Quarterly, and inserted there, but so mangled by Gifford as to be absolutely spoiled.
It will go very well in the frank, and I will send you others as I meet with them.
Cuthbert is now in the very honeymoon of his happiness, having just been breeched; breeching, as I tell Sara, being to a boy what marrying is to a young lady, the great thing in life which is looked on to, and I ask her seriously which she thinks the greatest happiness. I wish you could see Cuthbert; during dinner he lifts up his pin-before to look at the buttons. It is pleasant to see him, and yet the change is not one which brings with it any cheerful thoughts, for it takes away the charm of childhood, and
what charm is there in this world equal to it!
Edith has been just a week in London. Her plans for getting there were sadly deranged, for Lady Malet
was summoned to Winchester by an account that her son
there was dangerously ill after the measles. The child, I rejoice to say has recovered. Bertha is still at Portsmouth where Rickman is fitting up a house that he has built. I shall have them both home in February; – by which time we shall have lost our last neighbours, – for Mary Calvert being married & settled in London,
her father & mother
are about to remove thither. So be it, – we are enough within doors, & have enough employment there I had rather, for my own part, be without neighbours – such as neighbours usually are, than with them; – but it would add greatly to my enjoyment if I had you within reach.
Landor has sent over another volume of Conversations to the press.
Differing as I do from him in xxx constitutional temper, & in some serious opinions, he is yet of all men living the one with whom I feel the most entire & cordial sympathy in heart & mind. Were I a single man I think the pleasure of a weeks abode with him cheaply purchased by a journey to Florence, tho pilgrim-like – the whole way to be performed on foot. – The title of his book reminds me of Lord Byrons Conversations as xxx let off by his Blunderbuss Capt Medwin.
I have only seen some newspaper extracts.
– I fastened his name upon the gibbet, (as I told him,)
– his friends have now exposed him there in chains. I am told there is no mention of my correspondence with Shelley.
Shelley probably kept it to himself. Miserable men that they were, both so gifted – & so guilty!
Since my last I have not composed any verses except a few stanzas of the Paraguay
– which is the plague of my life. But I have been getting on well with the History, & the Dialogues.
God bless you my dear friend.
yr faithfully
RS.