LORD  BYRON  and  his  TIMES
Byron
Documents Biography Criticism

Samuel Rogers and his Contemporaries
William Wordsworth to Samuel Rogers, 20 September [1827]
INTRODUCTION & INDEXES
DOCUMENT INFORMATION
GO TO PAGE NUMBER:

Preface
Vol. I Contents
Chapter I. 1803-1805.
Chapter II. 1805-1809.
Chapter III. 1810-1812.
Chapter IV. 1813-1814.
Chapter V. 1814-1815.
Chapter VI. 1815-1816.
Chapter VII. 1816-1818.
Chapter VIII. 1818-19.
Chapter IX. 1820-1821.
Chapter X. 1822-24.
Chapter XI. 1825-1827.
Vol. II Contents
Chapter I. 1828-1830.
Chapter II. 1831-34.
Chapter III. 1834-1837.
Chapter IV. 1838-41.
Chapter V. 1842-44.
Chapter VI. 1845-46.
Chapter VII. 1847-50.
Chapter VIII. 1850
Chapter IX. 1851.
Chapter X. 1852-55.
Index
Creative Commons License

Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported License.
Produced by CATH
 
Rydal Mount: 20th September [1827].

‘My dear Rogers,—Some time ago I heard from you in acknowledgment of the receipt of my last edition. Its contents you appear to esteem in a way which cannot but be highly flattering to me. I am now writing to
450 ROGERS AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES  
consult you about a small matter of virtu in which I am inclined to incur a little expense. An advertisement has been forwarded to me of the prints of the Stafford Gallery, at one third of the original price. Are they well executed, and are they likely to be good or at least fair impressions and not refuse? The advertisement says that the public is secured against inferior impressions by the limited number. Do you know if this be true? or could you procure me a copy fairly culled? or, lastly, would it be at all an eligible purchase for one of my slender means, who is a passionate lover of the Art? If you think so, have the goodness to select me one; we have no works of Art near us, and must therefore be content with shadows.

‘My wife and daughter are flown into Hampshire, where they will remain till the first swallow returns, for the sake of a dryer climate, which my daughter’s health requires. I hope your journey to Italy will be deferred for one year, it would admit the possibility at least of my meeting you there. What a treat! How goes on your poem? The papers spoke of a new edition being intended, with numerous engravings, which, if executed under your presiding taste, cannot but be invaluable. I was at Lowther a week lately. I missed you and dear Sir George by the side of that beautiful stream. The weather was exquisite, and one solitary ramble through the Elysian fields and onwards I shall never forget. Could you believe that a flock of geese, tame geese, could on land make an interesting appearance? Yet that day so they did, reposing themselves under an umbrageous oak; thirty at least, all carefully shaded from the bright and over-warm
WORDSWORTH AND HIS SISTER451
sunshine, and forming groups that
Rubens would have delighted in; with attitudes as various and action still more so than cattle enjoying like comfort.

‘My sister, sons, and Miss Hutchinson are here; all unite in kindest regards. I wish you would join us for a week or two.

‘Ever faithfully yours,
W. Wordsworth.’

The postscript is by another hand.

‘The Stafford Gallery complete in four volumes, folios, half bound, uncut, 12l. 12s. 0d., published at 35l. 14s. 0d., sold by Samuel Leigh, 18 Strand.

‘My brother has desired me to copy the above from the advertisement, and, with pen in hand and the blank page before me, I cannot help saying a word of friendly and affectionate remembrance to yourself and sister. The season is so far advanced that I fear there is no chance of your being moved hither by my brother’s hint of the pleasure it would give us to see you; yet I will add, if you do come, you must bring Miss Rogers along with you, or I should not be half satisfied. My brother, I see, says nothing of his intention of visiting Mrs. W. at Coleorton, nor of a still larger scheme that he has of visiting London. I was very sorry not to see you at Coleorton, the last week of my enjoyment of dear Sir George Beaumont’s society.

‘Adieu, dear Sir; believe me yours truly,

W. Wordsworth.’