LORD  BYRON  and  his  TIMES
Documents Biography Criticism

Samuel Rogers and his Contemporaries
Samuel Rogers to Sarah Rogers, [9 September 1834]

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.
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‘Dunmore Park: Tuesday [9th September, 1834].

‘My dear Sarah,—Your kind letter I found on Saturday last on my way from the Marshalls at Ulleswater. I slept there two nights, coming back so far with Wordsworth from Lowther. At Carlisle Jno. W., who stamps there for his father, sat with me while I breakfasted, and a very amiable and pleasing young man he is. I came on to Selkirk, having travelled only eighty miles that day—a short journey for me, and next Sunday saw Abbotsford, Melrose, and Roslin, and slept at Edinburgh, where I stopt till noon on Monday to get my bandage re-adjusted, and then came on to Dunmore, where I need not say how I was received. They are all alone, and I must stay here at least a fortnight. Indeed, they will not hear of my going then—but I hope by that time I may be off, for, as the Greys are now at Howick, I must look in upon them as I go by, if they are then there. But my malady, my dear Sarah, has so damped all the little pleasure I looked for, that sometimes I think I had better give all up at once and come back to my own home directly. My foot is no better, and at every step
I have to drag it after me, but when I sit I forget it. However, when I leave this door, I have done all I came out for, and may come back as fast as I like. At Abbotsford all is as he left it, a small closet excepted, which is hung with his hat, his boots, his gaiters, his pruning-knife and gardening, or rather farming, coat—a melancholy sight, but which will become every year more and more sacred in the eyes of his countrymen. He died in the drawing-room, in a bed fitted up for him there. The house is really very prettily furnished in the old style; the walls wainscot and the rooms larger than I expected to find them. Over the chimney in his study are
Stothard’s “Canterbury Pilgrims.” I made that roundabout, as I was afraid of arriving before my letter at Dunmore. Pray write, and let me know your plans, and how you are. I wrote to you from Lowther, and write to-day to Patty.

‘Ever yours,
‘S. R.

‘P.S. I have said nothing of Dunmore. It is a very nice house in the Gothic style, and the views across the Forth are very pleasing. Sails and steamers are passing continually at a quarter of a mile’s distance, intercepted here and there by the trees in the Park.

‘As for him, he struck me at first as much altered, and his first question was whether I thought so. To-day he looks as he used to do, and I forget that so many years have gone by since last I was here—twenty-two years, as the old gardener tells me. The inns in Scotland have changed greatly for the better. The hotels in Edinburgh
are palaces, and affect a refinement and luxury that must alarm many a poor traveller. Have you heard from Mary yet? I am glad you went to Cashiobury on every account. As for the Wordsworths, they have an affliction I was not aware of at first. Their daughter
Dora looks cheerful before other people, but is in a sad melancholy way, and eats nothing, says nothing, and goes nowhere. They are very wretched about her. The elder Dora delights, as I told you, in adorning a little rock, four or five yards in circumference, with rock flowers. It is as rich as a little bit of enchantment, and when she goes, as her nephew John said very prettily, will be her monument as long as it lasts.’