and plunge into abstract images to ease myself of his countenance, his voice, and feebleness so that I live now in a continual fever. It must be poisonous to life, although I feel well. Imagine the hateful siege of contraries' if I think of fame, of poetry, it seems a crime to me, and yet I must do so or suffer. I am sorry to give you pain - I am almost resolved to burn this but I really have not selfpossession and magnanimity enough to manage the thing otherwise after all it may be a nervousness proceeding from the Mercury. Bailey I hear is gaining his spirits, and he will yet be what I once thought impossible, a cheerful Man-I think he is not Gilt edge-Dandies in general, male, quite so much spoken of in Little Britain. Strip At the Playhouse-doors, or anywhere. Slip-Being but a variation. Snip So called from its size being disguised by a twist. I suppose you will have heard that Hazlitt has on foot a prosecution against Blackwood. I dined with him a few days since at Hessey's there was not a word said about it, though I understand he is excessively vexed. Reynolds, by what I hear, is almost over-happy, and Rice is in town. I have not seen him, nor shall I for some time, as my throat has become worse after getting well, and I am determined to stop at home till I am quite well. I was going to Town to-morrow with Mrs. D. but I thought it best to ask her excuse this morning. I wish I could say Tom was any better. His identity presses upon me so all day that I am obliged to go out and although I intended to have given some time to study alone, I am obliged to write I forgot to ask Mrs. Dilke if she had anything she wanted to say immediately to you. This morning look'd so unpromising that I did not think she would have gone — but I find she has, on sending for some volumes of Gibbon. I was in a little funk yesterday, for I sent in an unseal'd note of sham abuse, until I recollected, from what I heard Charles say, that the servant could neither read nor write-not even to her Mother as Charles observed. I have just had a Letter from Reynolds - he is going on gloriously. The following is a translation of a line of Ronsard 'Love pour'd her beauty into my warm veins.' You have passed your Romance, and I never gave in to it, or else I think this line a feast for one of your Lovers. How goes it with Brown? Your sincere friend JOHN KEATS. 71. TO JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS [Hampstead, about September 22, 1818.] MY DEAR REYNOLDS Believe me I have rather rejoiced at your happiness than fretted at your silence. Indeed I am grieved on your account that I am not at the same time happy-But I conjure you to think at Present of nothing but plea-haps weaker were it not for that I sure-Gather the rose, etc.'. should have been over to pay you a visit these fine days. I got to the stage half an hour before it set out and counted the buns and tarts in a Pastry-cook's window and was just beginning with the Jellies. There was no one in the Coach who had a Mind to eat me like Mr. Sham-deaf. I shall be punctual in enquiring about next Thursday and I have a Consola -gorge the honey of life. I pity you as much that it cannot last for ever, as I do myself now drinking bitters. Give yourself up to it you cannot help it tion in thinking so. I never was in love Yet the voice and shape of a Woman 42 has haunted me these two days-at such a time, when the relief, the feverous relief| of Poetry seems a much less crime - This morning Poetry has conquered- I have relapsed into those abstractions which are my only life-I feel escaped from a new strange and threatening sorrow And I am thankful for it -There is an awful warmth about my heart like a load of Immortality. Poor Tom that woman and Poetry were ringing changes in my senses - Now I am in comparison happy - I am sensible this will distress you you must forgive me. Had I known you would have set out so soon I could have sent you the 'Pot of Basil' for I had copied it out ready. — Here is a free translation of a Sonnet of Ronsard [see p. 123], which I think will please you I have the loan of his works they have great Beauties. Your affectionate Brother me. ness. JOHN. 73. TO JAMES AUGUSTUS HESSEY [Hampstead, October 9, 1818.] MY DEAR HESSEY-You are very good in sending me the letters from the Chronicle - and I am very bad in not acknowledging such a kindness sooner - pray forgive It has so chanced that I have had that paper every day — I have seen today's. I cannot but feel indebted to those Gentlemen who have taken my part- As for the rest, I begin to get a little acquainted with my own strength and weak- Praise or blame has but a momentary effect on the man whose love of beauty in the abstract makes him a severe critic on his own Works. My own domestic criticism has given me pain without comparison beyond what Blackwood or the | Quarterly could possibly inflict—and also when I feel I am right, no external praise can give me such a glow as my own solitary reperception and ratification of what is fine. J. S. is perfectly right in regard to the slip-shod Endymion.43 That it is so is no fault of mine. No!-though it may sound a little paradoxical. It is as good as I had power to make it by myself - Had 1 been nervous about its being a perfect piece, and with that view asked advice, and trembled over every page, it would not have been written; for it is not in my nature to fumble I will write independently. - I have written independently without Judgment. I may write independently, and with Judgment hereafter. The Genius of Poetry must work out its own salvation in a man: It cannot be matured by law and precept, but by sensation and watchfulness in itself - That which is creative must create itself — In Endymion, I leaped headlong into the sea, and thereby have become better acquainted with the Soundings, the quicksands, and the rocks, than if I had stayed upon the green shore, and piped a silly pipe, and took tea and comfortable advice. I was never afraid of failure; for I would sooner fail than not be among the greatest But I am nigh getting into a rant. So, with remembrances to Taylor and Woodhouse etc. I am 74. TO GEORGE AND GEORGIANA KEATS [Hampstead, October 13 or 14, 1818.] MY DEAR GEORGE There was a part in your Letter which gave me a great deal of pain, that where you lament not receiving Letters from England. I intended to have written immediately on my return from Scotland (which was two Months earlier than I had intended on account of my own as well as Tom's health) but then I was told by Mrs. W. that you had said you would not wish any one to write till we had heard from you. This I thought odd and now I see that it could not have been so; yet at the time I suffered my uureflecting head to be satisfied, and went on in that sort of abstract careless and restless Life with which you are well acquainted. This sentence should it give you any uneasiness do not let it last for before I finish it will be explained away to your satisfaction . I am grieved to say I am not sorry you had not Letters at Philadelphia; you could have had no good news of Tom and I have been withheld on his account from beginning these many days; I could not bring myself to say the truth, that he is no better but much worse However it must be - told; and you must my dear Brother and Sister take example from me and bear up against any Calamity for my sake as I do for yours. Our's are ties which independent of their own Sentiment are sent us by providence to prevent the deleterious effects of one great solitary grief. I have Fanny and I have you - three people whose Happiness to me is sacred and it does annul that selfish sorrow which I should otherwise fall into, living as I do with poor Tom who looks upon me as his only comfortthe tears will come into your Eyes - let them and embrace each other - thank heaven for what happiness you have, and after thinking a moment or two that you suffer in common with all Mankind hold it not a sin to regain your cheerfulness I will relieve you of one uneasiness of overleaf: I returned I said on account of my health - I am now well from a bad sore throat which came of bog trotting in the Island of Mull of which you shall hear by the copies I shall make from my Scotch Letters Your content in each other is a delight to me which I cannot express the Moon is now shining full and brilliant - she is the same to me in Matter, what you are to me in Spirit. If you were here my dear Sister I could not pronounce the words which I can write to you from a distance: I have a tenderness for you, and an admiration which I feel to be as great and more chaste than I can have for any woman in the world. You will mention Fanny her character is not formed, her identity does not press upon me as yours does. I hope from the bottom of my heart that I may one day feel as much for her as I do for you - I know not how it is, but I have never made any acquaintance of my own- nearly all through your medium my dear Brotherthrough you I know not only a Sister but a glorious human being. And now I am talking of those to whom you have made me known I cannot forbear mentioning Haslam as a most kind and obliging and constant friend. His behaviour to Tom during my absence and since my return has endeared him to me for ever - besides his anxiety about you. To-morrow I shall call on your Mother and exchange information with her. On Tom's account I have not been able to pass so much time with her as I would otherwise have done - I have seen her but twice once I dined with her and Charles She was well, in good spirits, and I kept her laughing at my bad jokes. We went to tea at Mrs. Millar's, and in going were particularly struck with the light and shade through the Gate way at the Horse Guards. I intend to write you such Volumes that it will be impossible for me to keep any order or method in what I write that will come first which is uppermost in my Mind, not that which is uppermost in my heart besides I should wish to give you a picture of our Lives here whenever by a touch I can do it; even as you must see by the last sentence our walk past Whitehall all in good health and spirits this I am certain of, because I felt so much pleasure from the simple idea of your playing a game at Cricket. At Mrs. Millar's I saw Henry quite well there was Miss Keasle and the good-natured Miss Waldegrave — Mrs. Millar began a long story and you know it is her Daughter's way to help her on as though her tongue were ill of the gout. Mrs. M. certainly tells a story as though she had been taught her Alphabet in Crutched Friars. Dilke has been very unwell; I found him very ailing on my return - he was under Medical care for some time, and then went to the Sea Side whence he has returned well. Poor little Mrs. D. has had another gall-stone attack; she was well ere I returned - she is now at Brighton. Dilke was greatly pleased to hear from you, and will write a letter for me to enclose He seems greatly desirous of hearing from you of the settlement itself [October 14 or 15.] I came by ship from Inverness, and was nine days at Sea without being sick — a little Qualm now and then put me in mind of you however as soon as you touch the shore all the horrors of Sickness are soon forgotten, as was the case with a Lady on board who could not hold her head up all the way. We had not been in the Thames an hour before her tongue began to some tune; paying off as it was fit she should all old scores. I was the only Englishman on board. There was a downright Scotchman who hearing that there had been a bad crop of Potatoes in England had brought some triumphant specimens from Scotland these he exhibited with national pride to all the Lightermen and Watermen from the Nore to the Bridge. I fed upon beef all the way; not being able to eat the thick Porridge which the Ladies managed to manage with large awkward horn spoons into the bargain. Severn has had a narrow escape of his Life from a Typhus fever: he is now gaining strength - Reynolds has returned from a six weeks' enjoyment in Devonshire - he is well, and persuades me to publish my pot of Basil as an answer to the attacks made on me in Blackwood's Magazine and the Quarterly Review. There have been two Letters in my defence in the Chronicle and one in the Examiner, copied from the Alfred Exeter Paper, and written by Reynolds. I do not know who wrote those in the Chronicle. This is a mere matter of the moment I think I shall be among the English Poets after my death. Even as a Matter of present interest the attempt to crush me in the Quarterly has only brought me more into notice, and it is a common expression among book men 'I wonder the Quarterly should cut its own throat.' It does me not the least harm in Society to make me appear little and ridiculous: I know when a man is superior to me and give him all due respect- he will be the last to laugh at me and as for the rest I feel that I make an impression upon them which insures me personal respect while I am in sight whatever they may say when my back is turned. Poor Haydon's eyes will not suffer him to proceed with his picture he has been in the Country - I have seen him but once since my return. I hurry matters together here because I do not know when the Mail sails-I shall enquire to-morrow, and then shall know whether to be particular or general in my letter You shall have at least two sheets a day till it does sail whether it be three days or a fortnight and then I will begin a fresh one for the next Month. The Miss Reynoldses are very kind to me, but they have lately displeased me much, and in this way -Now I am coming the Richardson. On my return the first day I called they were in a sort of taking or bustle about a Cousin of theirs who having fallen out with her Grandpapa in a serious manner was invited by Mrs. R. to take Asylum in her house. She is an east indian and ought to be her Grandfather's Heir. At the time I called Mrs. R. was in conference with her up stairs, and the young Ladies were warm in her praises down stairs, calling her genteel, interesting and a thousand other pretty things to which I gave no heed, not being partial to 9 days' wonders - Now all is completely changed-they hate her, and from what I hear she is not without faults - of a real kind: but she has others which are more apt to make women of inferior charms hate her. She is not a Cleopatra, but she is at least a Charmian. She has a rich Eastern look; she has fine eyes and fine manners. When she comes into a room she makes an impression the same as the Beauty of a Leopardess. She is too fine and too conscious of herself to repulse any Man who may address her- from habit she thinks that nothing particular. I always find myself more at ease with such a woman; the picture before me always gives -- me a life and animation which I cannot possibly feel with anything inferior. I am at such times too much occupied in admiring to be awkward or in a tremble. I forget myself entirely because I live in her. You will by this time think I am in love with her; so before I go any further I will tell you I am not she kept me awake one Night as a tune of Mozart's might do. I speak of the thing as a pastime and an amusement, than which I can feel none deeper than a conversation with an imperial woman, the very 'yes' and 'no' of whose Lips is to me a Banquet. I don't cry to take the moon home with me in my Pocket nor do I fret to leave her behind me. I like her and her like because one has no sensations - what we both are is taken for granted. You will suppose I have by this had much talk with her no such thing there are the Miss Reynoldses on the look out They think I don't admire her because I did not stare at her. They call her a flirt to me. -What a want of knowledge! She walks across a room in such a manner that a Man is drawn towards her with a magnetic Power. This they call flirting! they do not know things. They do not know what a Woman is. I believe though she has faults — the same as Charmian and Cleopatra might have had. Yet she is a fine thing speaking in a worldly way: for there are two distinct tempers of mind in which we judge of things the worldly, theatrical and pantomimical; and the unearthly, spiritual and ethereal - in the former Buonaparte, Lord Byron and this Charmian hold the first place in our Minds; in the latter, John Howard, Bishop Hooker rocking his child's cradle and you my dear Sister are the conquering feelings. As a Man in the world I love the rich talk of a Charmian; as an eternal Being I love the thought of you. I should like her to ruin me, and I should like you to save me. Do not think, my dear Brother, from this that my Passions |