have with Woodhouse--just half-way, between both. You know I will not give
up my argument--In my walk to-day I stoop'd under a railing that lay
across my path, and asked myself "Why I did not get over." "Because,"
answered I, "no one wanted to force you under." I would give a guinea to
be a reasonable man--good sound sense--a says what he thinks and does what
he says man--and did not take snuff. They say men near death, however mad
they may have been, come to their senses--I hope I shall here in this
letter--there is a decent space to be very sensible in--many a good
proverb has been in less--nay, I have heard of the statutes at large being
changed into the Statutes at Small and printed for a watch paper.
Your sisters, by this time, must have got the Devonshire "ees"--short
ees--you know 'em--they are the prettiest ees in the language. O how I
admire the middle-sized delicate Devonshire girls of about fifteen. There
was one at an Inn door holding a quartern of brandy--the very thought of
her kept me warm a whole stage--and a 16 miler too--"You'll pardon me for
being jocular."
Ever your affectionate friend
JOHN KEATS.
CXVIII.--TO CHARLES WENTWORTH DILKE.
Winchester, Wednesday Eve.
[September 22, 1819.]
My dear Dilke--Whatever I take to for the time I cannot leave off in a
hurry; letter writing is the go now; I have consumed a quire at least. You
must give me credit, now, for a free Letter when it is in reality an
interested one, on two points, the one requestive, the other verging to
the pros and cons. As I expect they will lead me to seeing and conferring
with you in a short time, I shall not enter at all upon a letter I have
lately received from George, of not the most comfortable intelligence: but
proceed to these two points, which if you can theme out into sections and
subsections, for my edification, you will oblige me. The first I shall
begin upon, the other will follow like a tail to a Comet. I have written
to Brown on the subject, and can but go over the same ground with you in a
very short time, it not being more in length than the ordinary paces
between the Wickets. It concerns a resolution I have taken to endeavour to
acquire something by temporary writing in periodical works. You must agree
with me how unwise it is to keep feeding upon hopes, which depending so
much on the state of temper and imagination, appear gloomy or bright, near
or afar off, just as it happens. Now an act has three parts--to act, to
do, and to perform--I mean I should _do_ something for my immediate
welfare. Even if I am swept away like a spider from a drawing-room, I am
determined to spin--homespun anything for sale. Yea, I will traffic.
Anything but Mortgage my Brain to Blackwood. I am determined not to lie
like a dead lump. If Reynolds had not taken to the law, would he not be
earning something? Why cannot I. You may say I want tact--that is easily
acquired. You may be up to the slang of a cock pit in three battles. It is
fortunate I have not before this been tempted to venture on the common. I
should a year or two ago have spoken my mind on every subject with the
utmost simplicity. I hope I have learned a little better and am confident
I shall be able to cheat as well as any literary Jew of the Market and
shine up an article on anything without much knowledge of the subject, aye
like an orange. I would willingly have recourse to other means. I cannot;
I am fit for nothing but literature. Wait for the issue of this Tragedy?
No--there cannot be greater uncertainties east, west, north, and south
than concerning dramatic composition. How many months must I wait! Had I
not better begin to look about me now? If better events supersede this
necessity what harm will be done? I have no trust whatever on Poetry. I
don't wonder at it--the marvel is to me how people read so much of it. I
think you will see the reasonableness of my plan. To forward it I purpose
living in cheap Lodging in Town, that I may be in the reach of books and
information, of which there is here a plentiful lack. If I can find any
place tolerably comfortable I will settle myself and fag till I can afford
to buy Pleasure--which if I never can afford I must go without. Talking of
Pleasure, this moment I was writing with one hand, and with the other
holding to my Mouth a Nectarine--good God how fine. It went down soft,
pulpy, slushy, oozy--all its delicious embonpoint melted down my throat
like a large beatified Strawberry. I shall certainly breed. Now I come to
my request. Should you like me for a neighbour again? Come, plump it out,
I won't blush. I should also be in the neighbourhood of Mrs. Wylie, which
I should be glad of, though that of course does not influence me.
Therefore will you look about Marsham, or Rodney Street for a couple of
rooms for me. Rooms like the gallant's legs in Massinger's time, "as good
as the times allow, Sir." I have written to-day to Reynolds, and to
Woodhouse. Do you know him? He is a Friend of Taylor's at whom Brown has
taken one of his funny odd dislikes. I'm sure he's wrong, because
Woodhouse likes my Poetry--conclusive. I ask your opinion and yet I must
say to you as to him, Brown, that if you have anything to say against it I
shall be as obstinate and heady as a Radical. By the Examiner coming in
your handwriting you must be in Town. They have put me into spirits.
Notwithstanding my aristocratic temper I cannot help being very much
pleased with the present public proceedings. I hope sincerely I shall be
able to put a Mite of help to the Liberal side of the Question before I
die. If you should have left Town again (for your Holidays cannot be up
yet) let me know when this is forwarded to you. A most extraordinary
mischance has befallen two letters I wrote Brown--one from London whither
I was obliged to go on business for George; the other from this place
since my return. I can't make it out. I am excessively sorry for it. I
shall hear from Brown and from you almost together, for I have sent him a
Letter to-day: you must positively agree with me or by the delicate toe
nails of the virgin I will not open your Letters. If they are as David
says "suspicious looking letters" I won't open them. If St. John had been
half as cunning he might have seen the revelations comfortably in his own
room, without giving angels the trouble of breaking open seals. Remember
me to Mrs. D. and the West-monasteranian and believe me
Ever your sincere friend
JOHN KEATS.
CXIX.--TO CHARLES BROWN.
Winchester, September 23, 1819.
* * * * *
Now I am going to enter on the subject of self. It is quite time I should
set myself doing something, and live no longer upon hopes. I have never
yet exerted myself. I am getting into an idle-minded, vicious way of life,
almost content to live upon others. In no period of my life have I acted
with any self-will but in throwing up the apothecary profession. That I do
not repent of. Look at Reynolds, if he was not in the law, he would be
acquiring, by his abilities, something towards his support. My occupation
is entirely literary: I will do so, too. I will write, on the liberal side
of the question, for whoever will pay me. I have not known yet what it is
to be diligent. I purpose living in town in a cheap lodging, and
endeavouring, for a beginning, to get the theatricals of some paper. When
I can afford to compose deliberate poems, I will. I shall be in
expectation of an answer to this. Look on my side of the question. I am
convinced I am right. Suppose the tragedy should succeed,--there will be
no harm done. And here I will take an opportunity of making a remark or
two on our friendship, and on all your good offices to me. I have a
natural timidity of mind in these matters; liking better to take the
feeling between us for granted, than to speak of it. But, good God! what a
short while you have known me! I feel it a sort of duty thus to
recapitulate, however unpleasant it may be to you. You have been living
for others more than any man I know. This is a vexation to me, because it
has been depriving you, in the very prime of your life, of pleasures which
it was your duty to procure. As I am speaking in general terms, this may
appear nonsense; you perhaps will not understand it; but if you can go
over, day by day, any month of the last year, you will know what I mean.
On the whole however this is a subject that I cannot express myself
upon--I speculate upon it frequently; and believe me the end of my
speculations is always an anxiety for your happiness. This anxiety will
not be one of the least incitements to the plan I purpose pursuing. I had
got into a habit of mind of looking towards you as a help in all
difficulties--This very habit would be the parent of idleness and
difficulties. You will see it is a duty I owe myself to break the neck of
it. I do nothing for my subsistence--make no exertion--At the end of
another year you shall applaud me, not for verses, but for conduct. While
I have some immediate cash, I had better settle myself quietly, and fag on
as others do. I shall apply to Hazlitt, who knows the market as well as
any one, for something to bring me in a few pounds as soon as possible. I
shall not suffer my pride to hinder me. The whisper may go round; I shall
not hear it. If I can get an article in the Edinburgh, I will. One must
not be delicate--Nor let this disturb you longer than a moment. I look
forward with a good hope that we shall one day be passing free,
untrammelled, unanxious time together. That can never be if I continue a
dead lump. I shall be expecting anxiously an answer from you. If it does
not arrive in a few days this will have miscarried, and I shall come
straight to ---- before I go to town, which you I am sure will agree had
better be done while I still have some ready cash. By the middle of
October I shall expect you in London. We will then set at the theatres. If
you have anything to gainsay, I shall be even as the deaf adder which
stoppeth her ears.
* * * * *
CXX.--TO CHARLES BROWN.
Winchester, September 23, 1819.
* * * * *
Do not suffer me to disturb you unpleasantly: I do not mean that you
should not suffer me to occupy your thoughts, but to occupy them
pleasantly; for I assure you I am as far from being unhappy as possible.
Imaginary grievances have always been more my torment than real ones--You
know this well--Real ones will never have any other effect upon me than to
stimulate me to get out of or avoid them. This is easily accounted
for--Our imaginary woes are conjured up by our passions, and are fostered
by passionate feeling: our real ones come of themselves, and are opposed
by an abstract exertion of mind. Real grievances are displacers of
passion. The imaginary nail a man down for a sufferer, as on a cross; the
real spur him up into an agent. I wish, at one view, you would see my
heart towards you. 'Tis only from a high tone of feeling that I can put
that word upon paper--out of poetry. I ought to have waited for your
answer to my last before I wrote this. I felt however compelled to make a
rejoinder to yours. I had written to Dilke on the subject of my last, I
scarcely know whether I shall send my letter now. I think he would approve
of my plan; it is so evident. Nay, I am convinced, out and out, that by
prosing for a while in periodical works I may maintain myself decently.
* * * * *
CXXI.--TO CHARLES WENTWORTH DILKE.
Winchester, Friday, October 1 [1819].
My dear Dilke--For sundry reasons, which I will explain to you when I come
to Town, I have to request you will do me a great favour as I must call it
knowing how great a Bore it is. That your imagination may not have time to
take too great an alarm I state immediately that I want you to hire me a
couple of rooms (a Sitting Room and bed room for myself alone) in
Westminster. Quietness and cheapness are the essentials: but as I shall
with Brown be returned by next Friday you cannot in that space have
sufficient time to make any choice selection, and need not be very
particular as I can when on the spot suit myself at leisure. Brown bids me
remind you not to send the Examiners after the third. Tell Mrs. D. I am
obliged to her for the late ones which I see are directed in her hand.
Excuse this mere business letter for I assure you I have not a syllable at
hand on any subject in the world.
Your sincere friend
JOHN KEATS.
CXXII.--TO BENJAMIN ROBERT HAYDON.
Winchester, Sunday Morn [October 3, 1819].
My dear Haydon--Certainly I might: but a few Months pass away before we
are aware. I have a great aversion to letter writing, which grows more and
more upon me; and a greater to summon up circumstances before me of an
unpleasant nature. I was not willing to trouble you with them. Could I
have dated from my Palace of Milan you would have heard from me. Not even
now will I mention a word of my affairs--only that "I Rab am here" but
shall not be here more than a Week more, as I purpose to settle in Town
and work my way with the rest. I hope I shall never be so silly as to
injure my health and industry for the future by speaking, writing or
fretting about my non-estate. I have no quarrel, I assure you, of so
weighty a nature, with the world, on my own account as I have on yours. I
have done nothing--except for the amusement of a few people who refine
upon their feelings till anything in the un-understandable way will go
down with them--people predisposed for sentiment. I have no cause to
complain because I am certain anything really fine will in these days be
felt. I have no doubt that if I had written Othello I should have been
cheered by as good a mob as Hunt. So would you be now if the operation of
painting was as universal as that of Writing. It is not: and therefore it
did behove men I could mention among whom I must place Sir George Beaumont
to have lifted you up above sordid cares. That this has not been done is a
disgrace to the country. I know very little of Painting, yet your pictures
follow me into the Country. When I am tired of reading I often think them
over and as often condemn the spirit of modern Connoisseurs. Upon the
whole, indeed, you have no complaint to make, being able to say what so
few Men can, "I have succeeded." On sitting down to write a few lines to
you these are the uppermost in my mind, and, however I may be beating
about the arctic while your spirit has passed the line, you may lay to a
minute and consider I am earnest as far as I can see. Though at this
present "I have great dispositions to write" I feel every day more and
more content to read. Books are becoming more interesting and valuable to
me. I may say I could not live without them. If in the course of a
fortnight you can procure me a ticket to the British Museum I will make a
better use of it than I did in the first instance. I shall go on with
patience in the confidence that if I ever do anything worth remembering
the Reviewers will no more be able to stumble-block me than the Royal
Academy could you. They have the same quarrel with you that the Scotch
nobles had with Wallace. The fame they have lost through you is no joke to
them. Had it not been for you Fuseli would have been not as he is major
but maximus domo. What Reviewers can put a hindrance to must be--a
nothing--or mediocre which is worse. I am sorry to say that since I saw
you I have been guilty of a practical joke upon Brown which has had all
the success of an innocent Wildfire among people. Some day in the next
week you shall hear it from me by word of Mouth. I have not seen the
portentous Book which was skummer'd at you just as I left town. It may be
light enough to serve you as a Cork Jacket and save you for a while the
trouble of swimming. I heard the Man went raking and rummaging about like
any Richardson. That and the Memoirs of Menage are the first I shall be
at. From Sr. G. B.'s, Lord Ms[108] and particularly Sr. John Leicesters
good lord deliver us. I shall expect to see your Picture plumped out like
a ripe Peach--you would not be very willing to give me a slice of it. I
came to this place in the hopes of meeting with a Library but was
disappointed. The High Street is as quiet as a Lamb. The knockers are
dieted to three raps per diem. The walks about are interesting from the
many old Buildings and archways. The view of the High Street through the
Gate of the City in the beautiful September evening light has amused me
frequently. The bad singing of the Cathedral I do not care to smoke--being
by myself I am not very coy in my taste. At St. Cross there is an
interesting picture of Albert Duerer's--who living in such war-like times
perhaps was forced to paint in his Gauntlets--so we must make all
allowances.
I am, my dear Haydon, Yours ever
JOHN KEATS.
Brown has a few words to say to you and will cross this.
CXXIII.--TO FANNY KEATS.
Wentworth Place[109] [October 16, 1819].
My dear Fanny--My Conscience is always reproaching me for neglecting you
for so long a time. I have been returned from Winchester this fortnight,
and as yet I have not seen you. I have no excuse to offer--I should have
no excuse. I shall expect to see you the next time I call on Mr. A. about
George's affairs which perplex me a great deal--I should have to-day gone
to see if you were in town--but as I am in an industrious humour (which is
so necessary to my livelihood for the future) I am loath to break through
it though it be merely for one day, for when I am inclined I can do a
great deal in a day--I am more fond of pleasure than study (many men have
prefer'd the latter) but I have become resolved to know something which
you will credit when I tell you I have left off animal food that my brains
may never henceforth be in a greater mist than is theirs by nature--I took
lodgings in Westminster for the purpose of being in the reach of Books,
but am now returned to Hampstead being induced to it by the habit I have
acquired in this room I am now in and also from the pleasure of being free
from paying any petty attentions to a diminutive house-keeping. Mr. Brown
has been my great friend for some time--without him I should have been
in, perhaps, personal distress--as I know you love me though I do not
deserve it, I am sure you will take pleasure in being a friend to Mr.
Brown even before you know him.--My lodgings for two or three days were
close in the neighbourhood of Mrs. Dilke who never sees me but she
enquires after you--I have had letters from George lately which do not
contain, as I think I told you in my last, the best news--I have hopes for
the best--I trust in a good termination to his affairs which you please
God will soon hear of--It is better you should not be teased with the
particulars. The whole amount of the ill news is that his mercantile
speculations have not had success in consequence of the general depression
of trade in the whole province of Kentucky and indeed all America.--I have
a couple of shells for you you will call pretty.
Your affectionate Brother
JOHN ----.
CXXIV.--TO JOSEPH SEVERN.
Wentworth Place, Wednesday
[October 27? 1819].
Dear Severn--Either your joke about staying at home is a very old one or I
really call'd. I don't remember doing so. I am glad to hear you have
finish'd the Picture and am more anxious to see it than I have time to
spare: for I have been so very lax, unemployed, unmeridian'd, and
objectless these two months that I even grudge indulging (and that is no
great indulgence considering the Lecture is not over till 9 and the
lecture room seven miles from Wentworth Place) myself by going to
Hazlitt's Lecture. If you have hours to the amount of a brace of dozens to
throw away you may sleep nine of them here in your little Crib and chat
the rest. When your Picture is up and in a good light I shall make a point
of meeting you at the Academy if you will let me know when. If you should
be at the Lecture to-morrow evening I shall see you--and congratulate you
heartily--Haslam I know "is very Beadle to an amorous sigh."
Your sincere friend
JOHN KEATS.
CXXV.--TO JOHN TAYLOR.
Wentworth Place, Hampstead,
November 17 [1819].
My dear Taylor--I have come to a determination not to publish anything I
have now ready written: but, for all that, to publish a poem before long,
and that I hope to make a fine one. As the marvellous is the most
enticing, and the surest guarantee of harmonious numbers, I have been
endeavouring to persuade myself to untether Fancy, and to let her manage
for herself.[110] I and myself cannot agree about this at all. Wonders are
no wonders to me. I am more at home amongst men and women. I would rather
read Chaucer than Ariosto. The little dramatic skill I may as yet have,
however badly it might show in a drama, would, I think, be sufficient for
a poem. I wish to diffuse the colouring of St. Agnes's Eve throughout a
poem in which character and sentiment would be the figures to such
drapery. Two or three such poems, if God should spare me, written in the
course of the next six years, would be a famous Gradus ad Parnassum
altissimum--I mean they would nerve me up to the writing of a few fine
plays--my greatest ambition, when I do feel ambitious. I am sorry to say
that is very seldom. The subject we have once or twice talked of appears a
promising one--The Earl of Leicester's history. I am this morning reading
Holinshed's "Elizabeth." You had some books a while ago, you promised to
send me, illustrative of my subject. If you can lay hold of them, or any
others which may be serviceable to me, I know you will encourage my
low-spirited muse by sending them, or rather by letting me know where our
errand-cart man shall call with my little box. I will endeavour to set
myself selfishly at work on this poem that is to be.
Your sincere friend
JOHN KEATS.
CXXVI.--TO FANNY KEATS.
Wednesday Morn--[November 17, 1819].
My dear Fanny--I received your letter yesterday Evening and will obey it
to-morrow. I would come to-day--but I have been to Town so frequently on
George's Business it makes me wish to employ to-day at Hampstead. So I say
Thursday without fail. I have no news at all entertaining--and if I had I
should not have time to tell them as I wish to send this by the morning
Post.
Your affectionate Brother
JOHN.
CXXVII.--TO JOSEPH SEVERN.
Wentworth Place, Monday Morn--
[December 6? 1819].
My dear Severn--I am very sorry that on Tuesday I have an appointment in
the City of an undeferable nature; and Brown on the same day has some
business at Guildhall. I have not been able to figure your manner of
executing the Cave of despair,[111] therefore it will be at any rate a
novelty and surprise to me--I trust on the right side. I shall call upon
you some morning shortly, early enough to catch you before you can get
out--when we will proceed to the Academy. I think you must be suited with
a good painting light in your Bay window. I wish you to return the
Compliment by going with me to see a Poem I have hung up for the Prize in
the Lecture Room of the Surry Institution. I have many Rivals, the most
threatening are An Ode to Lord Castlereagh, and a new series of Hymns for
the New, new Jerusalem Chapel. (You had best put me into your Cave of
despair.)
Ever yours sincerely
JOHN KEATS.
CXXVIII.--TO JAMES RICE.
Wentworth Place [December 1819].
My dear Rice--As I want the coat on my back mended, I would be obliged if
you would send me the one Brown left at your house by the Bearer--During
your late contest I had regular reports of you, how that your time was
completely taken up and your health improving--I shall call in the course
of a few days, and see whether your promotion has made any difference in
your Behaviour to us. I suppose Reynolds has given you an account of Brown
and Elliston. As he has not rejected our Tragedy, I shall not venture to
call him directly a fool; but as he wishes to put it off till next season,
I cannot help thinking him little better than a knave.--That it will not
be acted this season is yet uncertain. Perhaps we may give it another
furbish and try it at Covent Garden. 'Twould do one's heart good to see
Macready in Ludolph. If you do not see me soon it will be from the humour
of writing, which I have had for three days continuing. I must say to the
Muses what the maid says to the Man--"Take me while the fit is on me."...
Ever yours sincerely
JOHN KEATS.
CXXIX.--TO FANNY KEATS.
Wentworth Place, Monday Morn--
[December 20, 1819.]