220. Robert Southey to Charles Watkin Williams Wynn, 2 June 1797 ⁠* 

Friday June 2^nd 1797

At M^r William Millers [1]  — Christ Church — Hampshire.

I do not know whether you were ever at this place. between this & Dover there certainly is not a quieter spot. there are not half a dozen lodgings here, — & I am as compleatly secluded as I can wish. the price of every thing is nearly doubled since the commencement of the war — but as this advance has been general, provisions &c bear the same xxxxx proportion as usual to their price in town.

We were one week at Southampton. Edith was very unwell — & when she recovered we were confined by bad weather — so that I saw little of the place. enough however not to like <it>. the road from Winchester thither is remarkably beautiful; so much so as to make the New forest about Lyndhurst & Lymington appear comparatively uninteresting. here we are in a very different country. I have no map — but I conceive that these flats extend communicate with the low parts of Somersetshire & extend quite across the island to the Channel. You must not however suppose the scenery here unpleasant. it is of a kind that I have not been accustomed to — & will furnish several hints to a very valuable xxx <department> in my pocket book, where I set down such of the appearances of nature as may be introduced with good effect in poetry. the country has no undulation of hill & dale — but the hills rise immediately from the plain, dark & bold. here is one of the finest churches in the Kingdom; a pile of ruins stands close to the church yard, & a very clear & rapid little stream washes one of the walls. a very rude — odd — massy ruin on an artificial eminence xxxx into stands above the other — & the whole forms a xxxx fine groupe. we are two miles from the beach — a longer walk than I could wish.

We know no human being here. — I never see a newspaper — & never think of one. we arrived here on last Wednesday night, & I now feel myself settled.

On the Wednesday Tuesday evening before I left town I met Mountague — who has chambers in the Square at Lincolns Inn. he asked me if I meant to go to a Special Pleader — & on my answer said if he could save me a hundred guineas — he should feel more than xx a hundred guineas worth of pleasure in doing so. you know I am a very awkward fellow at thanking any one — but I had knew most of his friends — & knew his character well, & so made a better hand than usual. I however am bridled & curbed & you have the reins.

With regard to what branch of the law I must follow — I would say something. You spoke of the common law as a nearer road to eminence I think; of chancery as equally advantageous. But is it not probable that in practising common law I may be called upon in criminal cases — to plead against the life of a man? if so — I should decidedly prefer chancery. I do not expect — I do not desire to be eminent. my only wish is to obtain enough to retire into the country — & that by means which I might look back upon without regret. But were I to be instrumental in bringing a murderer to the gallows — I should ever after feel that I had become a murderer myself.

I have not that quickness of mind necessary for cross examinations &c. no man is more easily disconcerted than myself. the right answer to an argument never occurs to me immediately. I always find it at last — but it comes too late. a blockhead who speaks boldly can baffle me. is not this of less consequence in chancery.

fare well. let me hear from you. are you M.P.? [2]  — in truth I hope not for Old Sarum.

God bless you.

yrs affectionately

Robert Southey.