The Life and Correspondence of Robert Southey
Robert Southey to John May, August 1799
“Stowey, August, 1799.
“My dear Friend,
“. . . . . My walk to Ilfracombe led me through
Lynmouth, the finest spot, except Cintra and the Arrabida, that I ever saw. Two
rivers join at Lynmouth, You probably know the hill streams of Devonshire: each
of these flows down a coombe, rolling down over huge stones like a long
waterfall; immediately at their junction they enter the sea, and the rivers and
the sea make but one sound of uproar. Of these coombes the one is richly
wooded, the other runs between two high, bare, stony hills. From the hill
between the two is a prospect most magnificent; on either hand, the coombes and
the river before the little village. The beautiful little village, which, I am
assured by one who is familiar with Switzerland, resembles a Swiss
village,—this alone would constitute a view beautiful enough to repay the
weariness of a long journey; but, to complete it, there is the blue and
boundless sea, for the faint and feeble line of the Welsh coast is only to be
seen on the right hand if the day be perfectly clear. Ascending from Lynmouth
up a road of serpentining perpendicularity,
Ætat. 25. | OF ROBERT SOUTHEY. | 23 |
you reach a
lane which by a slight descent leads to the Valley of Stones, a spot which, as
one of the greatest wonders indeed in the West of England, would attract many
visitors if the roads were passable by carriages. Imagine a narrow vale between
two ridges of hills somewhat steep: the southern hill turfed; the vale which
runs from east to west, covered with huge stones and fragments of stones among
the fern that fills it; the northern ridge completely bare, excoriated of all
turf and all soil, the very bones and skeleton of the earth; rock reclining
upon rock, stone piled upon stone, a huge and terrific mass. A palace of the
Preadamite kings, a city of the Anakim, must have appeared so shapeless, and
yet so like the ruins of what had been shaped after the waters of the flood
subsided. I ascended with some toil the highest point; two large stones
inclining on each other formed a rude portal on the summit: here I sat down; a
little level platform, about two yards long, lay before me, and then the eye
immediately fell upon the sea, far, very far below. I never felt the sublimity
of solitude before. . . . .
“Of Beddoes you
seem to entertain an erroneous opinion. Beddoes is an experimentalist in cases
where the ordinary remedies are notoriously, and fatally, inefficacious: if you
will read his late book on consumption, you will see his opinion upon this
subject; and the book is calculated to interest unscientific readers, and to be
of use to them. The faculty dislike Beddoes, because he is
more able, and more successful, and more celebrated, than themselves, and
because he labours to reconcile the art of
24 | LIFE AND CORRESPONDENCE | Ætat. 25. |
healing with
common sense, instead of all the parade of mystery with which it is usually
enveloped. Beddoes is a candid man, trusting more to facts
than reasonings: I understand him when he talks to me, and, in case of illness,
should rather trust myself to his experiments than be killed off secundem artem, and in the ordinary course
of practice. . . . .
“God bless you.
Yours affectionately,
R. Southey.”
Thomas Beddoes (1760-1808)
English chemist; he married a sister of Maria Edgeworth and in Bristol was a political
associate of Joseph Cottle, Robert Southey, and Samuel Taylor Coleridge.