338. Robert Southey to William Taylor, 24 July [1798]*

Tuesday night. July 24. Westbury.My dear Sir

I should long ere this have written to acknowledge the hospitality I found at Norwich, but that I thought the mere formality of a letter of thanks would be as little agreable to you as to myself. I therefore copy for you an Eclogue just written; for two reasons, as a plea for writing – & because it was suggested by your conversation. What you told me of the German Eclogues revived some almost forgotten plans, & enabled me to correct them. I purpose writing some which may be called English, as sketching features peculiar to England: not like the one which you read to me of Goethe¹ which would suit any country with Roman ruins. like the Germans I would aim at somewhat of dramatic interest. & some of my plans will allow me to introduce that quiet sedition which the Anti-Jacobine² has denounced me for, in that which is already written there is nothing of this merit. it rather favours old prejudices. I like it myself – perhaps because it is newly written – perhaps because I drew from the recollection of such a scene. If I were near you I should profit by your opinions & your knowledge; – & I should be sorry if a two days journey should totally xxtx cut off my intercourse with one whom I highly respect, & whom if the age of our acquaintance justified me, I should gladly call friend.

The Old Mansion House.

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There was a Traveller to the village came, And as he past its ancient manor house Upon whose scaffolded front the labourers stood Urging their toil, he pausd & watchd their work; And to an old grey-headed man, whose back Already bent by age, was now bowd down Breaking the high-way stones, a task that ill Beseemd his years, “my friend” he cried “they have made “Strange alterations here! O. Man – Aye strange indeed! And if my poor old Lady could rise up, – God rest her soul! twould grieve her to behold The wicked work is here! Traveller. I saw it once And thought it was a venerable place, – Some six years gone. – were there not yew-trees stood Here in the court? O.M. – Aye Master. fine old trees! My grandfather could just remember back When they were planted there. it was my task To keep them trimmd, & twas a pleasure to me, – All straight & smooth & like a great green wall. My poor old Lady many a time would come And tell me where to shear, for she had playd In childhood under them, & twas her pride To keep them in her beauty. plague I say On their new-fangled whimsies! we shall have A modern shrubbery here stuck full of firs And your pert poplar-trees. – I could as soon Have ploughd my fathers grave as cut them down. Traveller.           “And yonder windows – O.Man. – They’re demolished too – As if they could not see thro casement glass. The very redbreasts that so regular Come to my Lady for her morning crumbs Wo’nt know the window now. Tr. – Who owns the place? He was not born here? O.Man. – Oh no no! what tis To have a stranger come to an old house! If he had playd about here when a child In that fore court, & eat the yewberries, And sat in the porch threading the jessamine flowers That fell so thick, he could’nt have had the heart To mar all thus! Traveller. – When last I went this way Twas eve, & an old Lady sat in the porch In the evening sun, she had her spectacles on, Her knitting in her hand. I stopt to look. Did not the jessamine tree grow in & line The porch? O.Man. All over it: it did one good To pass within ten yards when twas in flower. There was a sweet brier too that grew beside – . My Lady loved at evening to sit there And knit; & her old dog lay at her feet And slept in the sun. twas an old favourite dog – She did not love him less that he was old And feeble, & he always had a place By the fire side, & when he died at last She made me dig a grave in the garden for him. Ah! she was good to all! a woful day Twas for the poor when to her grave she went!Traveller.           They lost a friend then? O. Man. – You’re a stranger here Or would not ask that question. were they sick? She had rare cordial waters, & for herbs – She could have taught the Doctors. then at winter When weekly she distributed the bread There where the poor old porch stood; – to have heard The blessings on her! – & I warrant them They were a comfort to her when her wealth Had been no comfort else. At Xmas Sir! It would have warmed your heart if you had seen Her Xmas kitchen; – how the blazing fire Made her fine pewter shine, – & holly boughs So chearful red. – & then <as> for misseltoe! The finest bush that grew in the country round Was markd for Madam. then her old ale went So bountiful about! a Xmas cask, And twas a noble one. – God help me, Sir, But I shall never see such days again.Traveller. ––     Things may be better yet than you suppose – Tis well to hope the best. O. Man. – It do’nt look well These alterations Sir! I’m an old man And love the good old fashions. we don’t find Old bounty in new houses. they’ve destroyd All that my Lady lovd; – her favourite walk Grubbd up, & they do say that the great row Of elms behind the house that meet a-top, They must fall too. well – well! I did not think To live to see all this, & tis perhaps A comfort I sha’nt live to see it long.Traveller.           But sure all changes are not needs for the worse My friend. O. Man. – May-hap they maynt Sir. for all that, I like what I’ve been usd too. I remember All this from a child up, & now to lose it, – Tis losing an old friend. theres nothing left As twas; I go abroad & only meet With men whose fathers I remember boys. The brook that used to run before my door, That’s gone to the great pond. the trees I learnt To climb are down; & I see nothing now That tells me of old times except the stones In the churchyard. you are young Sir & I trust Have many years in store. but pray to God You may’nt be left the last of all your friends!³

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My others will be better than this as they will be sprinkled with seditionizing feelings. I know not enough of the German Eclogues to say that this is in the same stile, for, except what I learnt from you, I only remember one of Gessners⁴ in a Devon & Cornwall collection of poems, & I have forgotten every thing of that except that it is there.⁵ remember me thankfully to your mother & to all your friends whose civilities I experienced at Norwich. if you have leisure – & not disinclination, it will give me great pleasure to hear from you. my direction is at Mr Cottles. Bristol

My mother is now settled near that city & we are with her.

God bless you. yrs truly Robert Southey.