597. Robert Southey to Samuel Taylor Coleridge [fragment], 3 August 1801 ⁠* 

Bristol, August 3. 1801.

Following the advice of the Traumatic Poet, I have been endeavouring to get money – and to get it honestly. I wrote to ———, [1]  and propounded to him Madoc, to be ready for the press in six months, at a price equivalent to that of Thalaba, in proportion to its length; and I asked for fifty pounds now, the rest on publication.

——— [2]  writes to beat down the price.             .             .             .             .             .             And I have answered, that the difference about terms sets me at liberty from my proposal.

And so, how to raise the wind for my long land voyage? Why, I expect Hamilton’s [3]  account daily (for whom, by the by, I am again at work!), and he owes me I know not what; it may be fifteen pounds, it may be five-and-twenty: if the latter, off we go, as soon as we can get an agreeable companion in a post-chaise: if it be not enough, why I must beg, borrow, or steal. I have once been tempted to sell my soul to Stuart for three months, for thirteen guineas in advance; but my soul mutinied at the bargain .             .             .             .             .             Madoc has had a miraculous escape! it went against my stomach and my conscience – but malesuada fames. [4] 

Your West India plan [5]  is a vile one. Italy, Italy. I shall have enough leisure for a month’s journey. Moses and the young one with the heathenish name, will learn Italian as they are learning English, – an advantage not to be overlooked; society, too, is something; and Italy has never been without some great mind or other, worthy of its better ages. When we are well tired of Italy, why, I will get removed to Portugal, to which I look with longing eyes as the land of promise. But, in all sober seriousness, the plan I propose is very practicable, very pleasant, and eke also very prudent. My business will not be an hour in a week, and it will enable me to afford to be idle – a power which I shall never wish to exert, but which I do long to possess.             .             .             .             .             .             .             .             .             .             .             .             .             Davy’s removal to London extends his sphere of utility, and places him in affluence; [6]  yet he will be the worse for it. Chameleon like, we are all coloured by the near objects; and he is among metaphysical sensualists: he should have remained a few years longer here, till the wax cooled, which is now passive to any impression. I wish it was not true, but it unfortunately is, that experimental philosophy always deadens the feelings; and these men who ‘botanise upon their mothers’ graves,’ [7]  may retort and say, that cherished feelings deaden our usefulness; and so we are all well in our way.

.             .             .             .             .             .             .             .             .             .             .             .             .             Do not hurry from the baths for the sake of meeting me; for when I set out is unpleasantly uncertain; and as I suppose we must be Lloyd’s guests a few days, it may as well or better be before your return. My mother is very unwell, perhaps more seriously so than I allow myself to fully believe. If Peggy were – what shall I say? – released is a varnishing phrase; and death is desirable, when recovery is impossible. I would bring my mother with me for the sake of total change, if Peggy could be left, but that is impossible; recover she cannot, yet may, and I believe will, suffer on till winter. Almost I pre-feel that my mother’s illness will, at the same time, recall me.             .             .             .             .             .             .             .             .             .             .             The summer is going off, and I am longing for hot weather, to bathe in your lake; and yet am I tied by the leg. Howbeit, Hamilton’s few days cannot be stretched much longer; and when his account comes I shall draw the money, and away. God bless you!

R. Southey.