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Harry Ransom Humanities Research Center, University of Texas, Austin. Previously published: E. H. Coleridge (ed.), Letters of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 2 vols (London, 1895), I, pp. 107–108 n. 2 [in part].
These letters were edited with the assistance of Carol Bolton, Tim Fulford and Ian Packer
For permission to publish the text of MSS in their possession, the editor wishes to thank the Beinecke Rare Books and Manuscript Library, Yale University; Berg Collection of English and American Literature, The New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations; the Bodleian Library Oxford University; the British Library; Boston Public Library; the Syndics of Cambridge University Library; the Syndics of the Fitzwilliam Museum Cambridge; Haverford College, Connecticut; the Historical Society of Pennsylvania; the Hornby Library, Liverpool Libraries and Information Services; the Houghton Library, Harvard University; the John Rylands Library, Manchester; the Kenneth Spencer Research Library, University of Kansas; Luton Museum (Bedfordshire County Council); Massachusetts Historical Society; McGill University Library; the National Library of Scotland; the Newberry Library, Chicago; the New York Public Library (Pforzheimer Collections); the Pierpont Morgan Library, New York; the Public Record Offices of Bedford, Suffolk (Bury St Edmunds) and Northumberland, the Master and Fellows of Trinity College, Cambridge; the Society of Antiquaries of Newcastle upon Tyne; the Trustees of the William Salt Library, Stafford, the Wisbech and Fenland Museum; the University of Virginia Library.
A research grant from the British Academy made much of the archival work possible, as did support from the English Department of Nottingham Trent University.
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“Amid the pelting of the pityless storm”
Did I Robert Southey — the Apostle of Pantisocracy — depart from the city of Bristol my natal place — at the hour of five in a wet
windy evening on the seventeenth of October 1794 wrapt up in my fathers old great coat & my own cogitations. Like old Lear I did
not call the elements unkind
I reached not Bath till nine o clock. when the rain pelted me most unmercifully in the face I rejoiced that my friends at Bath knew not where I was — & was once vexed at thinking that you would hear it drive against the window & be sorry for the wayworn travellers. here I am — well — & satisfied with my own conduct.
I have heard from Lovell. his letter contained little more than what he wrote to Bristol. Favell goes certainly with us & (I trust) Le Grice. I write to them both by this days post.
my cloaths are arrived. “I will never see his face again — & if he writes will return his letters unopened”. to
comment on this would be useless. I feel that strong conviction of rectitude which would make me smile on the rack. the two
children
the crisis is over — things are as they should be. my Mother vexes herself much yet feels she is right. hostilities are commenced with America! so we must go to some neutral port. Hambro or Venice.
Your sister is well — & sends her love to all. on Wednesday I hope to see you. till then farewell.