“From one scene of confusion to another. You saw me in
London everlastingly at work in packing my books; and here they are now lying
in all parts about me, up to my knees in one place, up to my eyes in another,
and above head and ears in a third. I can scarcely find stepping places through
the labyrinth, from one end of the room to the other. Like Pharaoh’s
frogs, they have found their way everywhere, even into the bedchambers. . . . .
And now, Grosvenor, having been married
above twelve years, I have for the first time collected all my books together.
What a satisfaction this is you cannot imagine, for you cannot conceive the
hundredth part of the inconvenience and vexation I have endured for want of
them. But the joy which they give me brings with it a mingled
feeling,—the
| 138 | LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE | Ætat. 34. |
“At Bristol I met with the man of all others whom I was
most desirous of meeting,—the only man living of whose praise I was
ambitious, or whose censure would have humbled me. You will be curious to know
who this could be. Savage Landor, the
author of Gebir, a poem
which, unless you have heard me speak of it, you have probably never heard of
at all. I never saw any one more unlike myself in every prominent part of human
character, nor any one who so cordially and instinctively agreed with me on so
many of the most important subjects. I have often said before we met, that I
would walk forty miles to see him, and having seen him, I would gladly walk
fourscore to see him again. He talked of Thalaba, and I told him of the series of
mythological poems which I had planned,—mentioned some of the leading
incidents on which they were to have been formed, and also told him for what
reason they were laid aside;—in plain English, that I could not afford to
write them. Landor’s reply was, ‘Go on
| Ætat. 34. | OF ROBERT SOUTHEY. | 139 |
