have landed. I in my carelessness never thought of knowing where a letter
would find him on the other side--I think Baltimore, but I am afraid of
directing it to the wrong place. I shall begin some chequer work for him
directly, and it will be ripe for the post by the time I hear from you
next after this. I assure you I often long for a seat and a Cup o' tea at
Well Walk, especially now that mountains, castles, and Lakes are becoming
common to me. Yet I would rather summer it out, for on the whole I am
happier than when I have time to be glum--perhaps it may cure me.
Immediately on my return I shall begin studying hard, with a peep at the
theatre now and then--and depend upon it I shall be very luxurious. With
respect to Women I think I shall be able to conquer my passions hereafter
better than I have yet done. You will help me to talk of George next
winter, and we will go now and then to see Fanny. Let me hear a good
account of your health and comfort, telling me truly how you do alone.
Remember me to all including Mr. and Mrs. Bentley.
Your most affectionate Brother
JOHN.
LXIV.--TO THOMAS KEATS.
Letter Findlay, August 3 [1818].
Ah mio Ben.
My dear Tom--We have made but poor progress lately, chiefly from bad
weather, for my throat is in a fair way of getting quite well, so I have
had nothing of consequence to tell you till yesterday when we went up Ben
Nevis, the highest Mountain in Great Britain. On that account I will never
ascend another in this empire--Skiddaw is nothing to it either in height
or in difficulty. It is above 4300 feet from the Sea level, and
Fortwilliam stands at the head of a Salt water Lake, consequently we took
it completely from that level. I am heartily glad it is done--it is almost
like a fly crawling up a wainscoat. Imagine the task of mounting ten Saint
Pauls without the convenience of Staircases. We set out about five in the
morning with a Guide in the Tartan and Cap, and soon arrived at the foot
of the first ascent which we immediately began upon. After much fag and
tug and a rest and a glass of whisky apiece we gained the top of the first
rise and saw then a tremendous chap above us, which the guide said was
still far from the top. After the first Rise our way lay along a heath
valley in which there was a Loch--after about a Mile in this Valley we
began upon the next ascent, more formidable by far than the last, and kept
mounting with short intervals of rest until we got above all vegetation,
among nothing but loose Stones which lasted us to the very top. The Guide
said we had three Miles of a stony ascent--we gained the first tolerable
level after the valley to the height of what in the Valley we had thought
the top and saw still above us another huge crag which still the Guide
said was not the top--to that we made with an obstinate fag, and having
gained it there came on a Mist, so that from that part to the very top we
walked in a Mist. The whole immense head of the Mountain is composed of
large loose stones--thousands of acres. Before we had got halfway up we
passed large patches of snow and near the top there is a chasm some
hundred feet deep completely glutted with it.--Talking of chasms they are
the finest wonder of the whole--they appear great rents in the very heart
of the mountain though they are not, being at the side of it, but other
huge crags arising round it give the appearance to Nevis of a shattered
heart or Core in itself. These Chasms are 1500 feet in depth and are the
most tremendous places I have ever seen--they turn one giddy if you choose
to give way to it. We tumbled in large stones and set the echoes at work
in fine style. Sometimes these chasms are tolerably clear, sometimes there
is a misty cloud which seems to steam up and sometimes they are entirely
smothered with clouds.
After a little time the Mist cleared away but still there were large
Clouds about attracted by old Ben to a certain distance so as to form as
it appeared large dome curtains which kept sailing about, opening and
shutting at intervals here and there and everywhere: so that although we
did not see one vast wide extent of prospect all round we saw something
perhaps finer--these cloud-veils opening with a dissolving motion and
showing us the mountainous region beneath as through a loophole--these
cloudy loopholes ever varying and discovering fresh prospect east, west,
north and south. Then it was misty again, and again it was fair--then puff
came a cold breeze of wind and bared a craggy chap we had not yet seen
though in close neighbourhood. Every now and then we had overhead blue Sky
clear and the sun pretty warm. I do not know whether I can give you an
Idea of the prospect from a large Mountain top. You are on a stony plain
which of course makes you forget you are on any but low ground--the
horizon or rather edges of this plain being above 4000 feet above the Sea
hide all the Country immediately beneath you, so that the next object you
see all round next to the edges of the flat top are the Summits of
Mountains of some distance off. As you move about on all sides you see
more or less of the near neighbour country according as the Mountain you
stand upon is in different parts steep or rounded--but the most new thing
of all is the sudden leap of the eye from the extremity of what appears a
plain into so vast a distance. On one part of the top there is a handsome
pile of Stones done pointedly by some soldiers of artillery; I clim[b]ed
on to them and so got a little higher than old Ben himself. It was not so
cold as I expected--yet cold enough for a glass of Whisky now and then.
There is not a more fickle thing than the top of a Mountain--what would a
Lady give to change her head-dress as often and with as little
trouble!--There are a good many red deer upon Ben Nevis--we did not see
one--the dog we had with us kept a very sharp look out and really
languished for a bit of a worry. I have said nothing yet of our getting on
among the loose stones large and small sometimes on two, sometimes on
three, sometimes four legs--sometimes two and stick, sometimes three and
stick, then four again, then two, then a jump, so that we kept on ringing
changes on foot, hand, stick, jump, boggle, stumble, foot, hand, foot
(very gingerly), stick again, and then again a game at all fours. After
all there was one Mrs. Cameron of 50 years of age and the fattest woman in
all Inverness-shire who got up this Mountain some few years ago--true she
had her servants--but then she had her self. She ought to have hired
Sisyphus,--"Up the high hill he heaves a huge round--Mrs. Cameron." 'Tis
said a little conversation took place between the mountain and the Lady.
After taking a glass of Whisky as she was tolerably seated at ease she
thus began--
_Mrs. C._
Upon my Life Sir Nevis I am pique'd
That I have so far panted tugg'd and reek'd
To do an honor to your old bald pate
And now am sitting on you just to bait,
Without your paying me one compliment.
Alas 'tis so with all, when our intent
Is plain, and in the eye of all Mankind
We fair ones show a preference, too blind!
You Gentle man immediately turn tail--
O let me then my hapless fate bewail!
Ungrateful Baldpate have I not disdain'd
The pleasant Valleys--have I not madbrain'd
Deserted all my Pickles and preserves
My China closet too--with wretched Nerves
To boot--say wretched ingrate have I not
Left my soft cushion chair and caudle pot.
'Tis true I had no corns--no! thank the fates
My Shoemaker was always Mr. Bates.
And if not Mr. Bates why I'm not old!
Still dumb ungrateful Nevis--still so cold!
Here the Lady took some more whisky and was putting even more to her lips
when she dashed it to the Ground for the Mountain began to grumble--which
continued for a few minutes before he thus began--
_Ben Nevis._
What whining bit of tongue and Mouth thus dares
Disturb my slumber of a thousand years?
Even so long my sleep has been secure--
And to be so awaked I'll not endure.
Oh pain--for since the Eagle's earliest scream
I've had a damn'd confounded ugly dream,
A Nightmare sure. What Madam was it you?
It cannot be! My old eyes are not true!
Red-Crag, my Spectacles! Now let me see!
Good Heavens Lady how the gemini
Did you get here? O I shall split my sides!
I shall earthquake----
_Mrs. C._
Sweet Nevis do not quake, for though I love
Your honest Countenance all things above
Truly I should not like to be convey'd
So far into your Bosom--gentle Maid
Loves not too rough a treatment gentle Sir--
Pray thee be calm and do not quake nor stir
No not a Stone or I shall go in fits--
_Ben Nevis._
I must--I shall--I meet not such tit bits--
I meet not such sweet creatures every day--
By my old night cap night cap night and day
I must have one sweet Buss--I must and shall!
Red Crag!--What Madam can you then repent
Of all the toil and vigour you have spent
To see Ben Nevis and to touch his nose?
Red Crag I say! O I must have them close!
Red Crag, there lies beneath my furthest toe
A vein of Sulphur--go dear Red Crag, go--
And rub your flinty back against it--budge!
Dear Madam I must kiss you, faith I must!
I must Embrace you with my dearest gust!
Block-head, d'ye hear--Block-head I'll make her feel
There lies beneath my east leg's northern heel
A cave of young earth dragons--well my boy
Go thither quick and so complete my joy
Take you a bundle of the largest pines
And when the sun on fiercest Phosphor shines
Fire them and ram them in the Dragon's nest
Then will the dragons fry and fizz their best
Until ten thousand now no bigger than
Poor Alligators--poor things of one span--
Will each one swell to twice ten times the size
Of northern whale--then for the tender prize--
The moment then--for then will Red Crag rub
His flinty back--and I shall kiss and snub
And press my dainty morsel to my breast.
Block-head make haste!
O Muses weep the rest--
The Lady fainted and he thought her dead
So pulled the clouds again about his head
And went to sleep again--soon she was rous'd
By her affrighted servants--next day hous'd
Safe on the lowly ground she bless'd her fate
That fainting fit was not delayed too late.
But what surprises me above all is how this Lady got down again. I felt it
horribly. 'Twas the most vile descent--shook me all to pieces. Over leaf
you will find a Sonnet I wrote on the top of Ben Nevis. We have just
entered Inverness. I have three Letters from you and one from Fanny--and
one from Dilke. I would set about crossing this all over for you but I
will first write to Fanny and Mrs. Wylie. Then I will begin another to you
and not before because I think it better you should have this as soon as
possible. My Sore throat is not quite well and I intend stopping here a
few days.
Read me a lesson, Muse, and speak it loud
Upon the top of Nevis, blind in mist!
I look into the chasms, and a shroud
Vapourous doth hide them,--just so much I wist
Mankind do know of hell; I look o'erhead,
And there is sullen mist,--even so much
Mankind can tell of heaven; mist is spread
Before the earth, beneath me,--even such,
Even so vague is man's sight of himself!
Here are the craggy stones beneath my feet,--
Thus much I know that, a poor witless elf,
I tread on them,--that all my eye doth meet
Is mist and crag, not only on this height,
But in the world of thought and mental might!
Good-bye till to-morrow.
Your most affectionate Brother
JOHN ----.
LXV.--TO MRS. WYLIE.
Inverness, August 6 [1818].
My dear Madam--It was a great regret to me that I should leave all my
friends, just at the moment when I might have helped to soften away the
time for them. I wanted not to leave my brother Tom, but more especially,
believe me, I should like to have remained near you, were it but for an
atom of consolation after parting with so dear a daughter. My brother
George has ever been more than a brother to me; he has been my greatest
friend, and I can never forget the sacrifice you have made for his
happiness. As I walk along the Mountains here I am full of these things,
and lay in wait, as it were, for the pleasure of seeing you immediately on
my return to town. I wish, above all things, to say a word of Comfort to
you, but I know not how. It is impossible to prove that black is white; it
is impossible to make out that sorrow is joy, or joy is sorrow.
Tom tells me that you called on Mr. Haslam, with a newspaper giving an
account of a gentleman in a Fur cap falling over a precipice in
Kirkcudbrightshire. If it was me, I did it in a dream, or in some magic
interval between the first and second cup of tea; which is nothing
extraordinary when we hear that Mahomet, in getting out of Bed, upset a
jug of water, and, whilst it was falling, took a fortnight's trip, as it
seemed, to Heaven; yet was back in time to save one drop of water being
spilt. As for Fur caps, I do not remember one beside my own, except at
Carlisle: this was a very good Fur cap I met in High Street, and I daresay
was the unfortunate one. I daresay that the fates, seeing but two Fur caps
in the north, thought it too extraordinary, and so threw the dies which of
them should be drowned. The lot fell upon Jones: I daresay his name was
Jones. All I hope is that the gaunt Ladies said not a word about hanging;
if they did I shall repent that I was not half-drowned in Kirkcudbright.
Stop! let me see!--being half-drowned by falling from a precipice, is a
very romantic affair: why should I not take it to myself? How glorious to
be introduced in a drawing-room to a Lady who reads Novels, with "Mr.
So-and-so--Miss So-and-so; Miss So-and-so, this is Mr. So-and-so, who fell
off a precipice and was half-drowned." Now I refer to you, whether I
should lose so fine an opportunity of making my fortune. No romance lady
could resist me--none. Being run under a Waggon--side-lamed in a
playhouse, Apoplectic through Brandy--and a thousand other tolerably
decent things for badness, would be nothing, but being tumbled over a
precipice into the sea--oh! it would make my fortune--especially if you
could contrive to hint, from this bulletin's authority, that I was not
upset on my own account, but that I dashed into the waves after Jessy of
Dumblane, and pulled her out by the hair. But that, alas! she was dead, or
she would have made me happy with her hand--however in this you may use
your own discretion. But I must leave joking, and seriously aver, that I
have been very romantic indeed among these Mountains and Lakes. I have got
wet through, day after day--eaten oat-cake, and drank Whisky--walked up to
my knees in Bog--got a sore throat--gone to see Icolmkill and Staffa; met
with wholesome food just here and there as it happened--went up Ben Nevis,
and--_N.B._, came down again. Sometimes when I am rather tired I lean
rather languishingly on a rock, and long for some famous Beauty to get
down from her Palfrey in passing, approach me, with--her saddle-bags, and
give me--a dozen or two capital roastbeef Sandwiches.
When I come into a large town, you know there is no putting one's Knapsack
into one's fob, so the people stare. We have been taken for
Spectacle-vendors, Razor-sellers, Jewellers, travelling linendrapers,
Spies, Excisemen, and many things I have no idea of. When I asked for
letters at Port Patrick, the man asked what regiment? I have had a peep
also at little Ireland. Tell Henry I have not camped quite on the bare
Earth yet, but nearly as bad, in walking through Mull, for the Shepherds'
huts you can scarcely breathe in, for the Smoke which they seem to
endeavour to preserve for smoking on a large scale. Besides riding about
400, we have walked above 600 Miles, and may therefore reckon ourselves as
set out.
I assure you, my dear Madam, that one of the greatest pleasures I shall
have on my return, will be seeing you, and that I shall ever be
Yours, with the greatest respect and sincerity,
JOHN KEATS.
LXVI.--TO FANNY KEATS.
Hampstead, August 18 [1818].
My dear Fanny--I am afraid you will think me very negligent in not having
answered your Letter--I see it is dated June 12. I did not arrive at
Inverness till the 8th of this Month so I am very much concerned at your
being disappointed so long a time. I did not intend to have returned to
London so soon but have a bad sore throat from a cold I caught in the
island of Mull: therefore I thought it best to get home as soon as
possible, and went on board the Smack from Cromarty. We had a nine days'
passage and were landed at London Bridge yesterday. I shall have a good
deal to tell you about Scotland--I would begin here but I have a
confounded toothache. Tom has not been getting better since I left London
and for the last fortnight has been worse than ever--he has been getting a
little better for these two or three days. I shall ask Mr. Abbey to let me
bring you to Hampstead. If Mr. A. should see this Letter tell him that he
still must if he pleases forward the Post Bill to Perth as I have
empowered my fellow traveller to receive it. I have a few Scotch pebbles
for you from the Island of Icolmkill--I am afraid they are rather
shabby--I did not go near the Mountain of Cairn Gorm. I do not know the
Name of George's ship--the Name of the Port he has gone to is Philadelphia
whence he will travel to the Settlement across the Country--I will tell
you all about this when I see you. The Title of my last Book is
Endymion--you shall have one soon.--I would not advise you to play on the
Flageolet--however I will get you one if you please. I will speak to Mr.
Abbey on what you say concerning school. I am sorry for your poor Canary.
You shall have another volume of my first Book. My toothache keeps on so
that I cannot write with any pleasure--all I can say now is that your
Letter is a very nice one without fault and that you will hear from or
see in a few days if his throat will let him,
Your affectionate Brother
JOHN.
LXVII.--TO FANNY KEATS.
Hampstead, Tuesday [August 25, 1818].
My dear Fanny--I have just written to Mr. Abbey to ask him to let you come
and see poor Tom who has lately been much worse. He is better at
present--sends his Love to you and wishes much to see you--I hope he will
shortly--I have not been able to come to Walthamstow on his account as
well as a little Indisposition of my own. I have asked Mr. A. to write
me--if he does not mention anything of it to you, I will tell you what
reasons he has though I do not think he will make any objection. Write me
what you want with a Flageolet and I will get one ready for you by the
time you come.
Your affectionate Brother
JOHN ----.
LXVIII.--TO JANE REYNOLDS.
Well Walk, September 1st [1818].
My dear Jane--Certainly your kind note would rather refresh than trouble
me, and so much the more would your coming if as you say, it could be done
without agitating my Brother too much. Receive on your Hearth our deepest
thanks for your Solicitude concerning us.
I am glad John is not hurt, but gone safe into Devonshire--I shall be in
great expectation of his Letter--but the promise of it in so anxious and
friendly a way I prize more than a hundred. I shall be in town to-day on
some business with my guardian "as was" with scarce a hope of being able
to call on you. For these two last days Tom has been more cheerful: you
shall hear again soon how he will be.
Remember us particularly to your Mother.
Your sincere friend
JOHN KEATS.
LXIX.--TO CHARLES WENTWORTH DILKE.
[Hampstead, September 21 1818.]
My dear Dilke--According to the Wentworth place Bulletin you have left
Brighton much improved: therefore now a few lines will be more of a
pleasure than a bore. I have things to say to you, and would fain begin
upon them in this fourth line: but I have a Mind too well regulated to
proceed upon anything without due preliminary remarks.--You may perhaps
have observed that in the simple process of eating radishes I never begin
at the root but constantly dip the little green head in the salt--that in
the Game of Whist if I have an ace I constantly play it first. So how can
I with any face begin without a dissertation on letter-writing? Yet when I
consider that a sheet of paper contains room only for three pages and a
half, how can I do justice to such a pregnant subject? However, as you
have seen the history of the world stamped as it were by a diminishing
glass in the form of a chronological Map, so will I "with retractile
claws" draw this into the form of a table--whereby it will occupy merely
the remainder of this first page--
Folio--Parsons, Lawyers, Statesmen, Physicians out of
place--ut--Eustace--Thornton--out of practice or on their travels.
Foolscap--1. Superfine--Rich or noble poets--ut Byron. 2. common ut
egomet.
Quarto--Projectors, Patentees, Presidents, Potato growers.
Bath--Boarding schools, and suburbans in general.
Gilt edge--Dandies in general, male, female, and literary.
Octavo or tears--All who make use of a lascivious seal.
Duodec.--May be found for the most part on Milliners' and
Dressmakers' Parlour tables.
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 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
self-possession 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 quite so much spoken
of in Little Britain. 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.
LXX.--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 pleasure--"Gather the rose, etc."--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--and I have a Consolation in
thinking so. I never was in love--Yet the voice and shape of a Woman has
haunted me these two days[80]--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, which I think will please you--I have
the loan of his works--they have great Beauties.