there has not been one Morning (except Sunday and then I was obliged to
stay at home) that I could depend upon. I have I am sorry to say had an
accident with the Letter--I sent it to Haslam and he returned it torn into
a thousand pieces. So I shall be obliged to tell you all I can remember
from Memory. You would have heard from me before this but that I was in
continual expectation of a fine Morning--I want also to speak to you
concerning myself. Mind I do not purpose to quit England, as George has
done; but I am afraid I shall be forced to take a voyage or two. However
we will not think of that for some Months. Should it be a fine morning
to-morrow you will see me.
Your affectionate Brother
JOHN ----.
CII.--TO FANNY KEATS.
Wentworth Place [June 9, 1819].
My dear Fanny--I shall be with you next Monday at the farthest. I could
not keep my promise of seeing you again in a week because I am in so
unsettled a state of mind about what I am to do--I have given up the Idea
of the Indiaman; I cannot resolve to give up my favorite studies: so I
purpose to retire into the Country and set my Mind at work once more. A
Friend of Mine who has an ill state of health called on me yesterday and
proposed to spend a little time with him at the back of the Isle of Wight
where he said we might live very cheaply. I agreed to his proposal. I have
taken a great dislike to Town--I never go there--some one is always
calling on me and as we have spare beds they often stop a couple of days.
I have written lately to some acquaintances in Devonshire concerning a
cheap Lodging and they have been very kind in letting me know all I
wanted. They have described a pleasant place which I think I shall
eventually retire to. How came you on with my young Master Yorkshire Man?
Did not Mrs. A. sport her Carriage and one? They really surprised me with
super civility--how did Mrs. A. manage it? How is the old tadpole gardener
and little Master next door? it is to be hop'd they will both die some of
these days. Not having been to Town I have not heard whether Mr. A.
purposes to retire from business. Do let me know if you have heard
anything more about it. If he should not I shall be very disappointed. If
any one deserves to be put to his shifts it is that Hodgkinson--as for the
other he would live a long time upon his fat and be none the worse for a
good long lent. How came miledi to give one Lisbon wine--had she drained
the Gooseberry? Truly I cannot delay making another visit--asked to take
Lunch, whether I will have ale, wine, take sugar,--objection to
green--like cream--thin bread and butter--another cup--agreeable--enough
sugar--little more cream--too weak--12 shillin etc. etc. etc.--Lord I must
come again. We are just going to Dinner I must must[101] with this to the
Post----
Your affectionate Brother
JOHN ----.
CIII.--TO JAMES ELMES.
Wentworth Place, Hampstead [June 12, 1819].
Sir--I did not see your Note till this Saturday evening, or I should have
answered it sooner--However as it happens I have but just received the
Book which contains the only copy of the verses in question.[102] I have
asked for it repeatedly ever since I promised Mr. Haydon and could not
help the delay; which I regret. The verses can be struck out in no time,
and will I hope be quite in time. If you think it at all necessary a proof
may be forwarded; but as I shall transcribe it fairly perhaps there may be
no need.
I am, Sir, your obed{t} Serv{t}
JOHN KEATS.
CIV.--TO FANNY KEATS.
Wentworth Place, [June 14, 1819].
My dear Fanny--I cannot be with you to-day for two reasons--1{ly} I have
my sore-throat coming again to prevent my walking. 2{ly} I do not happen
just at present to be flush of silver so that I might ride. To-morrow I am
engaged--but the day after you shall see me. Mr. Brown is waiting for me
as we are going to Town together, so good-bye.
Your affectionate Brother
JOHN.
CV.--TO FANNY KEATS.
Wentworth Place [June 16, 1819].
My dear Fanny--Still I cannot afford to spend money by Coachhire and still
my throat is not well enough to warrant my walking. I went yesterday to
ask Mr. Abbey for some money; but I could not on account of a Letter he
showed me from my Aunt's solicitor. You do not understand the business. I
trust it will not in the end be detrimental to you. I am going to try the
Press once more, and to that end shall retire to live cheaply in the
country and compose myself and verses as well as I can. I have very good
friends ready to help me--and I am the more bound to be careful of the
money they lend me. It will all be well in the course of a year I hope. I
am confident of it, so do not let it trouble you at all. Mr. Abbey showed
me a Letter he had received from George containing the news of the birth
of a Niece for us--and all doing well--he said he would take it to you--so
I suppose to-day you will see it. I was preparing to enquire for a
situation with an apothecary, but Mr. Brown persuades me to try the press
once more; so I will with all my industry and ability. Mr. Rice a friend
of mine in ill health has proposed retiring to the back of the Isle of
Wight--which I hope will be cheap in the summer--I am sure it will in the
winter. Thence you shall frequently hear from me and in the Letters I will
copy those lines I may write which will be most pleasing to you in the
confidence you will show them to no one. I have not run quite aground yet
I hope, having written this morning to several people to whom I have lent
money requesting repayment. I shall henceforth shake off my indolent fits,
and among other reformation be more diligent in writing to you, and mind
you always answer me. I shall be obliged to go out of town on Saturday and
shall have no money till to-morrow, so I am very sorry to think I shall
not be able to come to Walthamstow. The Head Mr. Severn did of me is now
too dear, but here inclosed is a very capital Profile done by Mr. Brown. I
will write again on Monday or Tuesday--Mr. and Mrs. Dilke are well.
Your affectionate Brother
JOHN ----.
CVI.--TO BENJAMIN ROBERT HAYDON.
Wentworth Place.
Thursday Morning [June 17, 1819].
My dear Haydon--I know you will not be prepared for this, because your
Pocket must needs be very low having been at ebb tide so long: but what
can I do? mine is lower. I was the day before yesterday much in want of
Money: but some news I had yesterday has driven me into necessity. I went
to Abbey's for some Cash, and he put into my hand a letter from my Aunt's
Solicitor containing the pleasant information that she was about to file a
Bill in Chancery against us. Now in case of a defeat Abbey will be very
undeservedly in the wrong box; so I could not ask him for any more money,
nor can I till the affair is decided; and if it goes against him I must in
conscience make over to him what little he may have remaining. My purpose
is now to make one more attempt in the Press--if that fail, "ye hear no
more of me" as Chaucer says. Brown has lent me some money for the present.
Do borrow or beg somehow what you can for me. Do not suppose I am at all
uncomfortable about the matter in any other way than as it forces me to
apply to the needy. I could not send you those lines, for I could not get
the only copy of them before last Saturday evening. I sent them Mr. Elmes
on Monday. I saw Monkhouse on Sunday--he told me you were getting on with
the Picture. I would have come over to you to-day, but I am fully
employed.
Yours ever sincerely
JOHN KEATS.
CVII.--TO FANNY KEATS.
Shanklin, Isle of Wight, Tuesday, July 6.
My dear Fanny--I have just received another Letter from George--full of as
good news as we can expect. I cannot inclose it to you as I could wish
because it contains matters of Business to which I must for a Week to come
have an immediate reference. I think I told you the purpose for which I
retired to this place--to try the fortune of my Pen once more, and indeed
I have some confidence in my success: but in every event, believe me my
dear sister, I shall be sufficiently comfortable, as, if I cannot lead
that life of competence and society I should wish, I have enough knowledge
of my gallipots to ensure me an employment and maintenance. The Place I am
in now I visited once before and a very pretty place it is were it not for
the bad weather. Our window looks over house-tops and Cliffs onto the Sea,
so that when the Ships sail past the Cottage chimneys you may take them
for weathercocks. We have Hill and Dale, forest and Mead, and plenty of
Lobsters. I was on the Portsmouth Coach the Sunday before last in that
heavy shower--and I may say I went to Portsmouth by water--I got a little
cold, and as it always flies to my throat I am a little out of sorts that
way. There were on the Coach with me some common French people but very
well behaved--there was a woman amongst them to whom the poor Men in
ragged coats were more gallant than ever I saw gentleman to Lady at a
Ball. When we got down to walk up hill--one of them pick'd a rose, and on
remounting gave it to the woman with "Ma'mselle voila une belle rose!" I
am so hard at work that perhaps I should not have written to you for a day
or two if George's Letter had not diverted my attention to the interests
and pleasure of those I love--and ever believe that when I do not behave
punctually it is from a very necessary occupation, and that my silence is
no proof of my not thinking of you, or that I want more than a gentle
fillip to bring your image with every claim before me. You have never seen
mountains, or I might tell you that the hill at Steephill is I think
almost of as much consequence as Mount Rydal on Lake Winander. Bonchurch
too is a very delightful Place--as I can see by the Cottages, all
romantic--covered with creepers and honeysuckles, with roses and
eglantines peeping in at the windows. Fit abodes for the People I guess
live in them, romantic old maids fond of novels, or soldiers' widows with
a pretty jointure--or any body's widows or aunts or anythings given to
Poetry and a Piano-forte--as far as in 'em lies--as people say. If I could
play upon the Guitar I might make my fortune with an old song--and get two
blessings at once--a Lady's heart and the Rheumatism. But I am almost
afraid to peep at those little windows--for a pretty window should show a
pretty face, and as the world goes chances are against me. I am living
with a very good fellow indeed, a Mr. Rice.--He is unfortunately labouring
under a complaint which has for some years been a burthen to him. This is
a pain to me. He has a greater tact in speaking to people of the village
than I have, and in those matters is a great amusement as well as good
friend to me. He bought a ham the other day for says he "Keats, I don't
think a Ham is a wrong thing to have in a house." Write to me, Shanklin,
Isle of Wight, as soon as you can; for a Letter is a great treat to me
here--believing me ever,
Your affectionate Brother
JOHN ----.
CVIII.--TO JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS.
_Extract from a letter dated_ Shanklin, n{r} Ryde, Isle of Wight,
Sunday, 12th [for 11th] July, 1819.
* * * * *
You will be glad to hear, under my own hand (though Rice says we are like
Sauntering Jack and Idle Joe), how diligent I have been, and am being. I
have finished the Act, and in the interval of beginning the 2{d} have
proceeded pretty well with Lamia, finishing the 1{st} part which consists
of about 400 lines. I have great hopes of success, because I make use of
my Judgment more deliberately than I have yet done; but in case of failure
with the world, I shall find my content. And here (as I know you have my
good at heart as much as a Brother), I can only repeat to you what I have
said to George--that however I should like to enjoy what the competencies
of life procure, I am in no wise dashed at a different prospect. I have
spent too many thoughtful days and moralised through too many nights for
that, and fruitless would they be indeed, if they did not by degrees make
me look upon the affairs of the world with a healthy deliberation. I have
of late been moulting: not for fresh feathers and wings: they are gone,
and in their stead I hope to have a pair of patient sublunary legs. I have
altered, not from a Chrysalis into a butterfly, but the contrary; having
two little loopholes, whence I may look out into the stage of the world:
and that world on our coming here I almost forgot. The first time I sat
down to write, I could scarcely believe in the necessity for so doing. It
struck me as a great oddity--Yet the very corn which is now so beautiful,
as if it had only took to ripening yesterday, is for the market; so, why
should I be delicate?
* * * * *
CIX.--TO CHARLES WENTWORTH DILKE.
Shanklin, Saturday Evening [July 31, 1819].
My dear Dilke--I will not make my diligence an excuse for not writing to
you sooner--because I consider idleness a much better plea. A Man in the
hurry of business of any sort is expected and ought to be expected to look
to everything--his mind is in a whirl, and what matters it what whirl? But
to require a Letter of a Man lost in idleness is the utmost cruelty; you
cut the thread of his existence, you beat, you pummel him, you sell his
goods and chattels, you put him in prison; you impale him; you crucify
him. If I had not put pen to paper since I saw you this would be to me a
vi et armis taking up before the Judge; but having got over my darling
lounging habits a little, it is with scarcely any pain I come to this
dating from Shanklin and Dear Dilke. The Isle of Wight is but so so, etc.
Rice and I passed rather a dull time of it. I hope he will not repent
coming with me. He was unwell, and I was not in very good health: and I am
afraid we made each other worse by acting upon each other's spirits. We
would grow as melancholy as need be. I confess I cannot bear a sick person
in a House, especially alone--it weighs upon me day and night--and more so
when perhaps the Case is irretrievable. Indeed I think Rice is in a
dangerous state. I have had a Letter from him which speaks favourably of
his health at present. Brown and I are pretty well harnessed again to our
dog-cart. I mean the Tragedy, which goes on sinkingly. We are thinking of
introducing an Elephant, but have not historical reference within reach to
determine us as to Otho's Menagerie. When Brown first mentioned this I
took it for a joke; however he brings such plausible reasons, and
discourses so eloquently on the dramatic effect that I am giving it a
serious consideration. The Art of Poetry is not sufficient for us, and if
we get on in that as well as we do in painting, we shall by next winter
crush the Reviews and the Royal Academy. Indeed, if Brown would take a
little of my advice, he could not fail to be first palette of his day. But
odd as it may appear, he says plainly that he cannot see any force in my
plea of putting skies in the background, and leaving Indian ink out of an
ash tree. The other day he was sketching Shanklin Church, and as I saw how
the business was going on, I challenged him to a trial of skill--he lent
me Pencil and Paper--we keep the Sketches to contend for the Prize at the
Gallery. I will not say whose I think best--but really I do not think
Brown's done to the top of the Art.
A word or two on the Isle of Wight. I have been no further than Steephill.
If I may guess, I should say that there is no finer part in the Island
than from this Place to Steephill. I do not hesitate to say it is fine.
Bonchurch is the best. But I have been so many finer walks, with a
background of lake and mountain instead of the sea, that I am not much
touch'd with it, though I credit it for all the Surprise I should have
felt if it had taken my cockney maidenhead. But I may call myself an old
Stager in the picturesque, and unless it be something very large and
overpowering, I cannot receive any extraordinary relish.
I am sorry to hear that Charles is so much oppress'd at Westminster,
though I am sure it will be the finest touchstone for his Metal in the
world. His troubles will grow day by day less, as his age and strength
increase. The very first Battle he wins will lift him from the Tribe of
Manasseh. I do not know how I should feel were I a Father--but I hope I
should strive with all my Power not to let the present trouble me. When
your Boy shall be twenty, ask him about his childish troubles and he will
have no more memory of them than you have of yours. Brown tells me Mrs.
Dilke sets off to-day for Chichester. I am glad--I was going to say she
had a fine day--but there has been a great Thunder cloud muttering over
Hampshire all day--I hope she is now at supper with a good appetite.
So Reynolds's Piece succeeded--that is all well. Papers have with thanks
been duly received. We leave this place on the 13th, and will let you know
where we may be a few days after--Brown says he will write when the fit
comes on him. If you will stand law expenses I'll beat him into one before
his time. When I come to town I shall have a little talk with you about
Brown and one Jenny Jacobs. Open daylight! he don't care. I am afraid
there will be some more feet for little stockings--[_of Keats's making_.
(_I mean the feet._)[103]] Brown here tried at a piece of Wit but it
failed him, as you see, though long a brewing.--[_this is a 2{d} lie._]
Men should never despair--you see he has tried again and succeeded to a
miracle.--He wants to try again, but as I have a right to an inside place
in my own Letter--I take possession.
Your sincere friend
JOHN KEATS.
CX.--TO BENJAMIN BAILEY.
[_Fragment (outside sheet) of a letter addressed to Bailey at St.
Andrews._ Winchester, August 15, 1819.]
* * * * *
We removed to Winchester for the convenience of a library, and find it an
exceeding pleasant town, enriched with a beautiful Cathedral, and
surrounded by a fresh-looking country. We are in tolerably good and cheap
lodgings--Within these two months I have written 1500 lines, most of
which, besides many more of prior composition, you will probably see by
next winter. I have written 2 tales, one from Boccaccio, called the Pot of
Basil, and another called St. Agnes's Eve, on a popular Superstition, and
a 3{rd} called Lamia (half finished). I have also been writing parts of my
"Hyperion," and completed 4 Acts of a tragedy. It was the opinion of most
of my friends that I should never be able to write a scene. I will
endeavour to wipe away the prejudice--I sincerely hope you will be pleased
when my labours, since we last saw each other, shall reach you. One of my
Ambitions is to make as great a revolution in modern dramatic writing as
Kean has done in acting. Another to upset the drawling of the
blue-stocking literary world--if in the Course of a few years I do these
two things, I ought to die content, and my friends should drink a dozen of
claret on my tomb. I am convinced more and more every day that (excepting
the human friend philosopher), a fine writer is the most genuine being in
the world. Shakspeare and the Paradise lost every day become greater
wonders to me. I look upon fine phrases like a lover. I was glad to see by
a passage of one of Brown's letters, some time ago, from the North that
you were in such good spirits. Since that you have been married, and in
congratulating you I wish you every continuance of them. Present my
respects to Mrs. Bailey. This sounds oddly to me, and I daresay I do it
awkwardly enough: but I suppose by this time it is nothing new to you.
Brown's remembrances to you. As far as I know, we shall remain at
Winchester for a goodish while.
Ever your sincere friend
JOHN KEATS.
CXI.--TO JOHN TAYLOR.
Winchester, Monday morn [August 23, 1819].
My dear Taylor-- ... Brown and I have together been engaged (this I should
wish to remain secret) on a Tragedy which I have just finished and from
which we hope to share moderate profits.... I feel every confidence that,
if I choose, I may be a popular writer. That I will never be; but for all
that I will get a livelihood. I equally dislike the favour of the public
with the love of a woman. They are both a cloying treacle to the wings of
Independence. I shall ever consider them (People) as debtors to me for
verses, not myself to them for admiration--which I can do without. I have
of late been indulging my spleen by composing a preface AT them: after all
resolving never to write a preface at all. "There are so many verses,"
would I have said to them, "give so much means for me to buy pleasure
with, as a relief to my hours of labour"--You will observe at the end of
this if you put down the letter, "How a solitary life engenders pride and
egotism!" True--I know it does: but this pride and egotism will enable me
to write finer things than anything else could--so I will indulge it. Just
so much as I am humbled by the genius above my grasp am I exalted and
look with hate and contempt upon the literary world.--A drummer-boy who
holds out his hand familiarly to a field Marshal,--that drummer-boy with
me is the good word and favour of the public. Who could wish to be among
the common-place crowd of the little famous--who are each individually
lost in a throng made up of themselves? Is this worth louting or playing
the hypocrite for? To beg suffrages for a seat on the benches of a
myriad-aristocracy in letters? This is not wise.--I am not a wise
man--'Tis pride--I will give you a definition of a proud man--He is a man
who has neither Vanity nor Wisdom--One filled with hatreds cannot be vain,
neither can he be wise. Pardon me for hammering instead of writing.
Remember me to Woodhouse Hessey and all in Percy Street.
Ever yours sincerely
JOHN KEATS.
CXII.--TO JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS.
Winchester, August 25 [1819].
My dear Reynolds--By this post I write to Rice, who will tell you why we
have left Shanklin; and how we like this place. I have indeed scarcely
anything else to say, leading so monotonous a life, except I was to give
you a history of sensations, and day-nightmares. You would not find me at
all unhappy in it, as all my thoughts and feelings which are of the
selfish nature, home speculations, every day continue to make me more
iron--I am convinced more and more, every day, that fine writing is, next
to fine doing, the top thing in the world; the Paradise Lost becomes a
greater wonder. The more I know what my diligence may in time probably
effect, the more does my heart distend with Pride and Obstinacy--I feel it
in my power to become a popular writer--I feel it in my power to refuse
the poisonous suffrage of a public. My own being which I know to be
becomes of more consequence to me than the crowds of Shadows in the shape
of men and women that inhabit a kingdom. The soul is a world of itself,
and has enough to do in its own home. Those whom I know already, and who
have grown as it were a part of myself, I could not do without: but for
the rest of mankind, they are as much a dream to me as Milton's
Hierarchies. I think if I had a free and healthy and lasting organisation
of heart, and lungs as strong as an ox's so as to be able to bear unhurt
the shock of extreme thought and sensation without weariness, I could pass
my life very nearly alone though it should last eighty years. But I feel
my body too weak to support me to the height, I am obliged continually to
check myself, and be nothing. It would be vain for me to endeavour after a
more reasonable manner of writing to you. I have nothing to speak of but
myself, and what can I say but what I feel? If you should have any reason
to regret this state of excitement in me, I will turn the tide of your
feelings in the right Channel, by mentioning that it is the only state for
the best sort of Poetry--that is all I care for, all I live for. Forgive
me for not filling up the whole sheet; Letters become so irksome to me,
that the next time I leave London I shall petition them all to be spared
me. To give me credit for constancy, and at the same time waive letter
writing will be the highest indulgence I can think of.
Ever your affectionate friend
JOHN KEATS.
CXIII.--TO FANNY KEATS.
Winchester, August 28 [1819].