2810. Robert Southey to John May, 12 June 1816⁠* 

My dear friend

I have not written to you for some weeks, – time passes on, & the lapse of two months may perhaps enable me now xx to judge what permanent effect this late affliction [1]  will produce upon my habitual state of mind. It will be long before I shall cease to xx be sensible of the change in the business of the day, – in my relaxations, my pleasures, hopes, plans & prospects; – very long I fear will it be before a sense of that change will cease to be my latest thought at night, & my earliest in the morning. Yet I am certainly resigned to this privation – & this I say not in the spirit with which mere philosophy teaches us to bear that which is inevitable, but with a Christian xx conviction that this early removal is a blessing to him who is removed. – We read of persons who have suddenly become grey from violent emotions of grief or fear. I feel in some degree as if I had past at once from boyhood to the decline of life: I had never ceased to be a boy in chearfulness till now: – all those elastic spirits are gone, – nor is it in the nature of things that they should return; – I am still capable of enjoyment, & trust that there is much in store for me, – but there is an end of that hilarity which I possessed more uninterruptedly & in a greater degree than any person with whom I was ever acquainted.

You advised me to write down my recollections of Herbert while they were fresh. – I dare not undertake the task. Something akin to it, but in a different form, & with a more extensive purpose I have begun; [2]  – but my eyes & my head suffer too much in the occupation for me to pursue it as yet; – & as these effects cannot be concealed I must avoid, as much as possible, all that would produce them. This believe me, is an effort of forbearance, for my heart is very much set upon compleating what I have planned.

The effect upon Edith will be as lasting as upon myself, – but she had not the same exuberance of spirits to lose, & therefore it will be less perceptible. The self–command which she has exercised has been truly exemplary, & commands my highest esteem.

Your god-daughter, thank God, is well. Her daily lesson will long be a melancholy task on my part, – since it must now be <is> a solitary one. She is now so far advanced xx that I can make some of her exercises of xxx use, – & set her to translate passages for my notes, xxx from French, Latin, Spanish or Portugueze. Of course this is not done without some assistance, & some correction, – still while she improves herself, she is assisting me, – & the pleasure that this gives me is worth a great deal. She is a good girl, with a ready comprehension, quick feelings, a tender heart, & an excellent disposition. I pray God that her life may be spared, to make me happy while I live, & some one who may be worthy of her when it shall be time for her to contract other ties & other duties.

I suppose you will receive my ‘Lay’ [3]  in a few days.

God bless you my dear friend. Remember us to M^rs May & believe me

yours most affectionately

Robert Southey.

Remember us to John Coleridge. I heartily wish he would come into this country.

Keswick. 12 June. 1816.