Winchester Septr Friday -
My dear George,
I was closely employed in reading and composition, in this place,
whither I had come from Shanklin, for the convenience of a library, when I
received your last, dated July 24th You will have seen by the short Letter
I wrote from Shanklin, how matters stand beetween us and Mrs Jennings,
They had not at all mov'd and I knew no way of ove[r]coming the inveterate
obstinacy of our affairs. On receiving your last I immediately took a
place in the same night's coach for London - Mr Abbey behaved extremely
well to me, appointed Monday evening at 7 to meet me and observed that he
should drink tea at that hour. I gave him the inclosed note and showed him
the last leaf of yours to me. He really appeared anxious about it;
promised he would forward your money as quickly as possible - I think I
mention'd that Walton was dead - He will apply to Mr Gliddon the partner;
endeavour to get rid of Mrs Jennings's claim and be expeditious. He has
received an answer from my Letter to Fry - that is something. We are
certainly in a very low estate: I say we, for I am in such a situation
that were it not for the assistance of Brown & Taylor, I must be as badly
off as a Man can be. I could not raise any sum by the promise of any Poem
- no, not by the mortgage of my intellect. We must wait a little while. I
really have hopes of success. I have finish'd a Tragedy which if it
succeeds will enable me to sell what I may have in manuscript to a good
avantage. I have pass'd my time in reading, writing and fretting - the
last I intend to give up and stick to the other two. They are the only
chances of benefit to us. Your wants will be a fresh spur to me. I assure
you you shall more than share what I can get, whilst I am still young -
the time may come when age will make me more selfish. I have not been well
treated by the world - and yet I have capitally well - I do not know a
Person, to whom so many purse strings would fly open as to me - if I could
possibly take advantage of them - which I cannot do for none of the owners
of these purses are rich - Your present situation I will not suffer myself
to dwell upon - when misfortunes are so real we are glad enough to escape
them, and the thought of them. I cannot help thinking Mr Audubon a
dishonest man - Why did he make you believe that he was a Man of Property?
How is it his circumstances have altered so suddenly? In truth I do not
believe you fit to deal with the world; or at. least the american worrld -
But good God - who can avoid these chances - You have done your best -
Take matters as coolly as you can and confidently expecting help from
England, act as if no help was nigh. Mine I am sure is a tolerable tragedy
- it would have been a bank to me, if just as I had finish'd it I had not
heard of Kean's resolution to go to America. That was the worst news I
could have had. There is no actor can do the principal character besides
Kean. At Covent Garden there is a great chance of its being damn'd. Were
it to succeed even there it would lift me out of the mire. I mean the mire
of a bad reputation which is continually rising against me. My name with
the literary fashionables is vulgar - I am a weaver boy to them - a
Tragedy would lift me out of this mess. And mess it is as far as it
regards our Pockets - But be not cast down any more than I am. I feel I
can bear real ills better than imaginary ones. Whenever I find myself
growing vapourish, I rouse myself, wash and put on a clean shirt brush my
hair and clothes, tie my shoestrings neatly and in fact adonize as I were
going out - then all clean and comfortable I sit down to write. This I
find the greatest relief - Besides I am becoming accustom'd to the
privations of the pleasures of sense. In the midst of the world I live
like a Hermit. I have forgot how to lay plans for enjoyment of any
Pleasure. I feel I can bear any thing, any misery, even imp[r]isonment -
so long as I have neither wife nor child. Perpaps you will say yours are
your only comfort - they must be. I return'd to Winchester the day before
yesterday and am now here alone, for Brown some days before I left, went
to Bedhampton and there he will be for the next fortnight. The term of his
house will be up in the middle of next month when we shall return to
Hampstead. On Sunday I dined with your Mother and Henry and Charles in
Henrietta Street - Mrs and Miss Millar were in the Country - Charles had
been but a few days returned from Paris. I dare say you will have letters
exp[r]essing the motives of his journey. Mrs Wylie and Miss Waldegrave
seem as qu[i]et as two Mice there alone. I did not show your last - I
thought it better not. For better times will certainly come and why should
they be unhappy in the main time. On Monday Morning I went to Walthamstow
- Fanny look'd better than I had seen her for some time. She complains of
my not hearing from you appealing to me as if it was half my fault - I had
been so long in retirement that London appeared a very odd place I could
not make out I had so many acquaintance, and it was a whole day before I
could feel among Men - I had another strange sensation there was not one
house I felt any pleasure to call at. Reynolds was in the Country and
saving himself I am p[r]ejudiced against all that family. Dilke and his
wife and child were in the Country. Taylor was at Nottingham - I was out
and every body was out. I walk'd about the Streets as in a strange land -
Rice was the only one at home - I pass'd some time with him. I know him
better since we have liv'd a month together in the isle of Wight. He is
the most sensible, and even wise Man I know - he has a few John Bull
prejudices; but they improve him. His illness is at times alarming. We are
great friends, and there is no one I like to pass a day with better.
Martin call'd in to bid him good bye before he set out for Dublin. If you
would like to hear one of his jokes here is one which at the time we
laugh'd at a good deal. A Miss -with three young Ladies, one of them
Martin's sister had come a gadding in the Isle of wight and took for a few
days a Cottage opposite ours - we dined with them one day, and as I was
saying they had fish - Miss - said she thought they tasted of the boat -
No says Martin very seriously they haven't been kept long enough. I saw
Haslam he is very much occupied with love and business being one of Mr
Saunders executors and Lover to a young woman He show'd me her Picture by
Severn - I think she is, though not very cunning, too cunning for him.
Nothing strikes me so forcibly with a sense of the rediculous as love - A
Man in love I do think cuts the sorryest figure in the world - Even when I
know a poor fool to be really in pain about it, I could burst out laughing
in his face - His pathetic visage becomes irrisistable. Not that I take
Haslam as a pattern for Lovers - he is a very worthy man and a good
friend. His love is very amusing. Somewhere in the Spectator is related an
account of a Man inviting a party of stutter[e]rs and squinters to his
table. 't would please me more to scrape together a party of Lovers, not
to dinner-no to tea. The[re] would be no fighting as among Knights of old
-
Pensive they sit, and roll their languid eyes
Nibble their to[a]sts,
and cool their tea with sighs,
Or else forget the purpose of the night
Forget their tea-forget their appetite.
See with cross'd arms they sit - ah hapless crew
The fire is going out, and no one rings
For coals, and therefore no coals betty brings.
A Fly is in the milk pot-must he die
Circled by a humane society?
No no there mr Wert[h]er takes his spoon
Inverts it dips the handle and lo, soon
The little struggler sav'd from perils dark
Across the tea board draws a long wet mark.
Romeo! Arise! take Snuffers by the handle
There's a large Cauliflower in each candle.
A winding-sheet - Ah me! I must away
To no 7 just beyond the Circus gay.
'Alas' my friend! your Coat sits very well:
Where may your Taylor live'?' 'I may not tell -
'0 pardon me - I'm absent now and then'
Where might my Taylor live? - I say again
I cannot tell. let me no more be teas'd-
He lives in wapping might live where he pleas'd
You see I cannot get on without writing as boys do at school a
few nonsense verses - I begin them and before I have written
six the whim has pass'd - if there is any th[i]ng deserving so
respectable a name in them. I shall put in a bit of information any
where just as it strikes me. Mr Abbey is to write to me as soon
as he can bring matters to bear, and then I am to go to Town to
tell him the means of forwarding to you through Capper and
Hazlewood - I wonder I did not put this before - I shall go on
tomorrow- it is so fine now I must take a bit of a walk -
Saturday -
With my inconstant disposition it is no wonder that this
morning, amid all our bad times and misfortunes, I should feel
so alert and well spirited. At this moment you are perhaps in a
very different state of Mind. It is because my hopes are very
paramount to my despair. I have been reading over a part of a
short poem I have composed lately call'd 'Lamia' - and I am
certain there is that sort of fire in it which must take hold of
people in some way - give them either pleasant or unpleasant
sensation. What they want is a sensation of some sort. I wish I
could pitch the key of your spirits as high as mine is - but your
organ loft is beyond the reach of my voice - I admire the exact
admeasurement of my niece in your Mother's letter - O the little
span long elf - I am not in the least judge of the proper weight
and size of an infant. Never trouble yourselves about that: she
is sure to be a fine woman - Let her have only delicate nails both
on hands and feet and teeth as small as a May-fly's. who will live
you his life on a square inch of oak-leaf. And nails she must have
quite different from the market women here who plough into
the butter and make a quatter pound taste of it. I intend to
w[r]ite a letter to you Wifie and there I may say more on this little
plump subject - I hope she's plump - 'Still harping on my
daughter' - This Winchester is a place tolerably well suited to
me; there is a fine Cathedral, a College, a Roman- Catholic Chapel, a Methodist do, an independent do, - and there is not one loom or any thing like manufacturing beyond bread & butter in the whole City. There are a number of rich
Catholic[s] in the place. It is a respectable, ancient aristocratical place - and moreover it contains a nunnery - Our set are by no means so hail fellow, well met,
on literary subjects as we were wont to be. Reynolds has tum'd to the law. Bye the bye, he brought out a little piece at the Lyceum call'd one, two th[r]ee,
four, by advertisement. It met with complete success. The meaning of this odd title is explained when I tell you the principal actor is a mimic who takes off four of our best performers in the course of the farce - Our stage is loaded with mimics. I did not see the Piece being out of Town the whole time it was in progress. Dilke is entirely swallowed up in his boy: 't is really lamentable to what a pitch he carries a sort of parental
mania - I had a Letter from him at Shanklin - He went on a
word or two about the isle of Wight which is a bit of hobby horse of his; but he soon deviated to his boy. 'I am sitting' says he "at the window expecting my Boy from School." I suppose I told you some where that he lives in Westminster, and his boy goes to
the School there. where he gets beaten, and every bruise he has and I dare say deserves is very bitter to Dilke. The Place I am
speaking of, puts me in mind of a circumsta[n]ce occured lately
at Dilkes - I think it very rich and dramatic and quite illustrative
of the little quiet fun that he will enjoy sometimes. First I must
tell you their house is at the corner of Great Smith Street, so that
some of the windows look into one Street, and the back windows
into another round the corner - Dilke had some old people to dinner, I know not who - but there were two old ladies among them - Brown was there - they had known him from a Child. Brown is very pleasant with old women, and on that day, it seems, behaved himself so winningly they
[for that] they became
hand and glove together and a little complimentary. Brown was
obliged to depart early. He bid them good bye and pass'd into the
passage - no sooner was his back turn'd than the old women
began lauding him. When Brown had reach'd the Street door
and was just going, Dilke threw up the Window and ca,ll'd
'Brown ! Brown ! They say you look younger than ever you did !'
Brown went on and had just tum'd the corner into the other
street. when Dilke appeared at the back window crying "Brown !
Brown ! By God, they say you're handsome !" You see what a many words it
requires to give any identity to a thing I could have told you in half a
minute. I have been reading lately Burton's
Anatomy of Melancholy; and I think you will be very much
amused with a page I here coppy for you. I call it a Feu de joie
round the batteries of Fort St Hyphen-de-Phrase on the birthday
of the Digamma. The whole alphabet was drawn up in a Phalanx
on the cover of an old Dictionary. Band playing "Amo, Amas
&c" "Every Lover admires his Mistress, though she be very
deformed of herself, ill-favored, wrinkled, pimpled, pale, red,
yellow, tann'd, tallow-fac'd, have a swoln juglers platter face, or
a thin, lean, chitty face, have clouds in her face, be crooked, dry,
bald, goggle-eyed, blear-eyed or with staring eyes, she looks like
a squis'd cat, hold her head still awry, heavy, dull, hollow-eyed,
black or yellow about the eyes, or squint-eyed, sparrow-mouth'd,
Persean-hook-nosed, have a sharp fox nose, a red nose, China flat,
great nose, nare simo patuloque, a nose like a promontory,
gubber-tush'd, rotten teeth, black, uneven, brown teeth, beetle-brow'd, a witches beard, her breath stink allover the room, her
nose drop winter and summer, with a Bavarian poke under her
chin, a sharp chin, lave-eared, with a long crane's neck, which
stands awry too, pendulis mammis her dugs like two double jugs,
or else no dugs in the other extream, bloody-falln fingers, she
have filthy, long, unpaired, nails, scabbed hands or wrists, a tan'd
skin, a rotton carcass, crooked back, she stoops, is lame, splea
footed, as slender in the middle as a cow in the wast, gowty legs,
her ankles hang over her shooes, her feet stink, she breed lice,
a meer changeling, a very monster, an aufe imperfect, her whole
complexion savors, an harsh voice, incondite gesture, vile gate,
a vast virago, or an ugly tit, a slug, a fat fustilugs, a trusse, a long
lean rawbone, a Skeleton, a Sneaker, (si qua patent meliora puta)
and to thy Judgement looks like a mard in a Lanthom, whom
thou couldst not fancy for a world, but hatest, loathest, and
wouldst have spit in her face, or blow thy nose in her bosom, remedium
amoris to another man, a dowdy, a Slut, a scold, a nasty rank, rammy,
filthy, beastly quean, dishonest peradventure, obscene, base, beggarly,
rude, foolish, untaught-peevish, Irus' daughter, Thersite's sister,
Grobian's Scholler; if he love her once, he admires her for all this, he
takes no notice of any such errors or imperfections of boddy or mind - "
There's a dose for you - fine!! I would give my favou[r]ite leg to have
written this as a speech in a Play: with what effect could Mathews pop-gun
it at the pit' This I th[i]nk will amuse you more than so much Poetry. Of
that I do not like to copy any as I am affraid it is too mal apropo for
you at present - and yet I will send you some - for by the time you
receive it things in England may have taken a different turn. When I left
Mr Abbey on monday evening I walk'd up Cheapside but returned to put some
letters in the Post and met him again in Bucklersbury: we walk'd together
th[r]ough the Poultry as far as the hatter's shop he has some concern in -
He spoke of it in such a way to me, I though[t] he wanted me to make an
offer to assist him in it. I do believe if I could be a hatter I might be
one. He seems anxious about me. He began blowing up Lord Byron while I was
sitting with him, however Says he the fellow says true things now & then;
at which he took up a Magasine and read me some extracts from Don Juan,
(Lord Byron's last flash poem) and particularly one against. literary
ambition. I do think I must be well spoken of among sets, for Hodgkinson
is more than polite, and the coffee-german endeavour'd to be very close to
me the other night at covent garden where I went at half-price before I
tumbled into bed - Everyone however distant an acquaintance behaves in the
most conciliating manner to me - You will see I speak of this as a
matter of interest. On the next Street [tor sheet] I will give you a
little politics. In every age there has been in England for some two or
th[r]ee centuries subjects of great popular interest on the carpet: so
that however great the uproar one can scarcely prophesy any material
change in the government; for as loud disturbances have agitated this
country many times. All civil[iz]ed countries become gradually more
enlighten'd and there should be a continual change for the better. Look
at this Country at present and remember it when it was even though[t]
impious to doubt the justice of a trial by Combat - From that time there
has been a gradual change - Three great changes have been in progress -
First for the better, next for the worse, and a third time for the better
once more. The first was the gradual annihilation of the tyranny of the
nobles. when kings found it their interest to conciliate the common
people, elevate them and be just to them. Just when baronial Power ceased
and before standing armies were so dangerous, Taxes were few. kings were
lifted by the people over the heads of their nobles, and those people held
a rod over kings. The change for the worse in Europe was again this. The
obligation of kings to the Multitude began to be forgotten - Custom had
made noblemen the humble servants of kings - Then kings turned to the
Nobles as the adorners of the[i]r power, the slaves of it, and from the
people as creatures continually endeavouring to check them. Then in every
kingdom therre was a long struggle of kings to destroy all popular
privileges. The english were the only people in europe who made a grand
kick at this. They were slaves to Henry 8th but were free-men under
william 3rd at the time the french were abject slaves under Lewis 14th The
example of England, and the liberal writers of france and england sowed
the seed of opposition to this Tyranny - and it was swelling in the ground
till it burst out in the french revolution - that has had an unlucky
termination. It put a stop to the rapid progress of free sentiments in
England; and gave our Court hopes of turning back to the despotism of the
16 century. They have made a handle of this event in every way to
undermine our freedom. They spread a horrid superstition against all
inovation and improvement - The present struggle in England of the people
is to destroy this superstition. What has rous'd them to do it is their
distresses - Perpaps on this account the pres'ent distresses of this
nation are a fortunate thing - tho so horrid in the[i]r experience. You
will see I mean that the french Revolution but [for put] a
tempor[a]ry stop to this third change, the change for the better - Now it
is in progress again and I thing [for think] in an effectual one. This is
no contest beetween whig and tory - but between right and wrong. There is
scarcely a grain of party spirit now in England - Right and Wrong
considered by each man abstractedly is the fashion. I know very little of
these things. I am convinced however that apparently small causes make
great alterations. There are little signs wherby we many [for may] know
how matters are going on - This makes the business about Carlisle the
Bookseller of great moment in my mind. He has been selling deistical pamphlets,
republished Tom Payne and many other works held in superstitious horror.
He even has been selling for some time immense numbers of a work call 'The
Deist' which comes out in weekly numbers - For this Conduct he I think has
had above a dozen [Prosecutions is crossed out]
inditements issued against him; for which he has found Bail to the amount
of many thousand Pounds - After all they are affraid to prosecute: they
are affraid of his defence: it will would be published in all the papers
all over the Empire: they shudder at this: the Trials would light a flame
they could not extinguish. Do you not think this of great import? You will
hear by the papers of the proceedings at Manchester and Hunt's triumphal
entry into London - I[t] would take me a whole day and a quire of paper to
give you any thing like detail - I will merely mention that it is
calculated that 30.000 people were in the streets waiting for him - The
whole distance from the Angel Islington to the Crown and anchor was lined
with Multitudes. As I pass'd Colnaghi's window I saw a profil Portraict of
Sands the destroyer of Kotzebue. His very look must interest every one in
his favour - I suppose they have represented him in his college dress - He
seems to me like a young Abelard - A fine Mouth, cheek bones (and this is
no joke) full of sentiment; a fine unvulgar nose and plump temples. On
looking over some Letters I found the one I wrote intended for you from
the foot of Helvellyn to Liverpool-but you had sail'd and therefore It was
returned to me. It contained among other nonsense an Acrostic of my
Sister's name - and a pretty long name it is. I wrote it in a great hurry
which you will see. Indeed I would not copy it if I thought it would ever
be seen by any but yourselves - ... [This deleted section
is a copy of the acrostic and other parts of his July 1818 Scottish letter
to Tom.] I ought to make a large Q here: but I had better
take the opportunity of telling you I have got rid of my haunting sore
throat - and conduct myself in a manner not to catch another You speak of
Lord Byron and me - There is this great difference between us. He
describes what he sees - I describe what I imagine - Mine is the hardest
task. You see the immense difference - The Edinburgh review are affraid to
touch upom [for upon] my Poem - They do not know what to make of it
- they do not like to condemn it and they will not p[r]aise it for fear -
They are as shy of it as I should be of wearing a Quaker's hat - The fact
is they have no real taste - they dare not compromise their Judgements on
so puzzling a Question - If on my next Publication they should praise me
and so lug in Endymion - I will address [them] in a manner they will not
at all relish - The Cowardliness of the Edinburgh is worse than the abuse
of the Quarterly.
Monday - This day is a grand day for winchester - they elect the Mayor.
It was indeed high time the place should have some sort. of excitement.
There was nothing going on - all asleep - Not an old Maids Sedan returning
from a card party - and if any old women have got tipsy at christenings
they have not exposed themselves in the Street - The first night tho' of
our arrival here there was a slight uproar took place at about ten of the
clock - We heard distinctly a noise patting down the high street as of a
walking Cane of the good old dowager breed; and a little minute after we
heard a less voice obse[r]ve 'what a noise the ferril made.' - it must be
loose." Brown wanted to call the Constables, but I observed 't was only a
little breeze and would soon pass over. The side-streets here are
excessively maiden lady like - The door steps always fresh from the
flannel. The knockers have a very staid ser[i]ous, nay almost awful
qu[i]etness about them - I never saw so quiet a collection of Lions, and
rams heads - The doors most part black with a little brass handle just
above the key hole - so that you may easily shut yourself out of your own
house - he! he! There is none of your Lady Bellaston rapping and ringing
here - no thundering-Jupiter footmen no opera-trebble-tattoos - but a
modest lifting up of the knocker by a set of little wee old fingers that
peep through the grey mittens, and a dying-fall thereof - The great beauty
of Poetry is, that it makes every thing every place interesting - The
palatine venice and the abbotine Winchester are equally interesting
- Some time since I began a poem call'd "the Eve of St Mark quite in the
spirit of Town quietude. I th[i]nk it wlll give you the sensation of
walking about an old county Town in a coolish evening. I know not yet
whether I shall ever finish it - I will give it far as I have gone. Ut
tibi placent!
\Jpon a Sabbath day it fell;
Thrice holy was the sabbath bell
That call'd the folk to evening prayer.
The City Streets were clean and fair
Fron [for From] wholesome drench of April rains,
And on the western window pains
The chilly sunset faintly told
Of immaturd, green vallies cold,
Of the green, thorny, bloomless hedge,
Of Rivers new with spring tide sedge,
Of Primroses by shelter'd rills,
And Dasies on the aguish hills.
Thrice holy was the sabbath bell:
The silent streets were crowded well
With staid and pious companies
Wa[r]m from their fireside oratries,
And moving with demurest air
To even song and vesper prayer.
Each arched porch and entry low
Was fill'd with patient crowd and slow,
With whispers hush, and shuffling feet
While play'd the organs loud and sweet.
The Bells had ceas'd, the Prayers begun,
And Bertha had not yet half done
A curious volume, patch'd and torn,
That all day long, from earliest
morn,
Had taken captive her fair eyes
Among its golden broideries: -
Perplex'd her with a thousand things -
The Stars of heaven, and Angels wings;
Martyrs in a fiery blaze;
Azure Saints 'mid silver rays;
Aron's breastplate, and the seven
Candlesticks John saw in heaven;
The winged Lion of St Mark,
And the Covenental Arck
With its many Misteries
Cherubim and golden Mice.
Bertha was a Maiden fair,
Dwelling in the old Minster square:
From her fireside she could see
Sidelong its rich antiquity,
Far as the Bishop's garden wall,
Where sycamores and elm trees tall
Fullleav'd the forest had outstript,
By no sharp north wind ever nipt,
So sheltered by the mighty pile.
Bertha arose, and read awhile
With forehead 'gainst the window pane, -
Again she tried, and then again,
Until the dusk eve left her dark
Upon the Legend of St. Mark:
From pleated lawn-frill fine and thin
She lifted up her soft warm chin
With aching neck and swimming eyes
All daz'd with saintly imageries.
All was gloom, and silent all,
Save now and then the still foot fall
Of one returning homewards late
Past the echoing minster gate.
The clamourous daws that all the day
Above tree tops and towers play,
Pair by Pair had gone to rest,
Each in their ancient belfry nest
Where asleep they fall betimes
To music of the drowsy chimes.
All was silent, all was gloom
Abroad and in the homely roon [for room]; -
Down she sat, poor cheated soul,
And struck a swart Lamp from the coal,
Leaned forward with bright drooping hair
J And slant book full against the glare.
Her shadow, in uneasy guise,
Hover'd about, a giant size,
On ceiling, beam, and old oak chair,
The Parrot's cage and pannel square,
And the warm-angled winter screne,
On which were many monsters seen,
Call'd, Doves of Siam, Lima Mice,
And legless birds of Paradise,
Macaw, and tender Av'davat,
And silken-furr'd Angora Cat.
Untir'd she read-her shadow still
Glowerd about as it would fill
The room with gastly forms and shades-
As though some ghostly Queen of Spades
Had come to mock behind her back,
And dance, and ruffle her garments black.
Untir'd she read the Legend page
Of holy Mark from youth to age,
On Land, on sea, in pagan-chains,
Rejoicing for his many pains.
Sometimes the learned Eremite
With golden star, or daggar bright,
Refer'd to pious poesies
Written in smallst crow quill size
Beneath the text and thus the rhyme
Was parcell'd out from time to time:
What follows is an imitation of the Authors in Chaucer's time -
't is more ancient than Chaucer himself and perhaps betwe[e]n
him and Gower
- Als writeth he of swevenis
Men han beforne they waken in blis,
When that hir friendes thinke hem bounde -
In crimpide shroude farre under grounde: :
And how a litling childe mote be
A scainte er its natavitie, ,
Gif that the modre (Gode her blesse)
Kepen in Solitarinesse,
And kissen devoute the holy croce.
Of Goddis love and Sathan's force
He writithe; and things many moe,
Of swiche thinges I may not show,
Bot I must tellen verilie
Somedele of Saintč Cicilie,
And chieflie what he auctoreth
Of Sainte Markis life and dethe.
I hope you will like this for all its Carelessness - I must take an
opportunity here to observe that though I am writing to you I
am all the while writing at your Wife - This explanation will
account for my speaking sometimes hoity-toityishly. Whereas if
you were alone I should sport a little more sober sadness. I am
like a squinti[n]g gentleman who saying soft things to one Lady
ogles another--or what is as bad in arguing with a person on his
left hand appeals with his eyes to one one [for on] the right. His
Vision is elastic he bends it to a certain object but having a patent
sp[r]ing it flies off. Writing has this disadvan[ta]ge of speaking.
one cannot write a wink, or a nod, or a grin, or a purse of the Lips, or a
smile - O law! One can-[not] put ones pinger [for finger]
to one's nose, or yerk ye in the ribs, or lay hold of your button
in writing - but in all the most lively and titterly parts of my
Letter you must not fail to imagine me as the epic poets say -
now here, now there, now with one foot pointed at the ceiling,
now with another - now with my pen on my ear, now with my
elbow in my mouth - O my friends you loose the action - and attitude is
every thing as Fusili said when he took up his leg like
a Musket to shoot a Swallow just darting behind his shoulder. And yet does not the word mum! go for ones finger beside the nose - I hope it does. I have to make use of the word Mum I before
I tell you that Severn has got a little Baby - all his own let us
hope - He told Brown he had given up painting and had tu[r]n'd modeller. I hope sincerely tis not a party concern; that no Mr -or
**** is the real Pinxit and Severn the poor Sculpsit to this work of art - You know he has long studied in the Life-Academy. Haydon - yes your wife will say, 'here is a sum total
account of Haydon again I wonder your Brother don't put a
monthly bulleteen in the Philadelphia Papers about him - I wont
hear - no - skip down to the bottom - aye and there are some
more of his verses, skip (lullaby-by) them too" "No, lets go
regularly through" "I wont hear a word about Haydon - bless the child, how rioty she is! - there go on there" Now pray go on
here for I have a few words to say about Haydon - Before this
Chancery threat had cut of every legitimate supp[l]y of Cash
from me I had a little at my disposal: Haydon being very much
in want I lent him 30£ of it. Now in this se-saw game of Life I
got nearest to the ground and this chancery business rivetted me
there so that I was sitting in that uneasy position where the seat
slants so abominably. I applied to him for payment - he could
not - that was no wonder. but goodman Delver, where was the
wonder then, why marry, in this, he did not seem to care much
about it - and let me go without my money with almost nonchalance when he aught to have sold his drawings to supply me.
I shall perhaps still be acquainted with him, but for friendship
that is at an end. Brown has been my friend in this he got him
to sign a Bond payable at three Months - Haslam has assisted
me with the return of part of the money you lent him. Hunt
- 'there,' says your wife, 'there's another of those dull folkes - not a syllable about my friends - well - Hunt - what about Hunt
pray - you little thing see how she bites my finger - my! is not this a tooth"-Well, when you have done with the tooth, read
on - Not a syllable about your friends Here are some syllables.
As far as I could smoke things on the Sunday before last, thus
matters stood in Henrietta street - Henry was a greater blade
than ever I remember to have seen him. He had on a very nice
coat, a becoming waistcoat and buff trowsers - I think his face
has lost a little of the spanish-brown, but no flesh. He carv'd
some beef exactly to suit my appetite, as if I had been measured
for it. As I stood looking out of the window with Charles after
dinner, quizzing the Passengers, at which, I am sorry to say he is
too apt, I observed that his young, son of a gun's whiskers had
begun to curl and curl-little twists and twists; all down the sides
of his face getting properly thickish on the angles of the the
visage, He certainly will have a notable pair of Whiskers. "How
shiny your gown is in front" says Charles "Why, dont you see
't is an apron says Henry" Whereat I scrutiniz'd and behold
your mother had a purple stuff gown on, and over it an apron of
the same colour, being the same cloth that was used for the lining
- and furthermore to account for the shining it was the first day
of wearing. I guess'd as much of the Gown - but that is entre-nous. Charles likes england better than france. They've got a fat,
smiling, fair Cook as ever you saw-she is a little lame, but that
improves her. it makes her go more swimmingly. When I ask'd
'Is Mr. Wylie within' she gave such a large, five-and-thirty-year-old smile, it made me look round upon the forth stair - it might
have been the fifth - but that's a puzzle. I shall never be able if I
were to set myself a recollecting for a year, to recollect that -
I think I remember two or three specks in her teeth but I really
cant say exactly. Your mother said something about Miss Keasle
- what that was is quite a riddle to me now - Whether she had
got fatter or thinner, or broader or longer-straiter, or had taken
to the zig zags - Whether she had taken to, or left off, asses Milk
- that by the by she ought never to touch - how much better it
would be to put her out to nurse with the Wise woman of Brentford. I can say no more on so spare a
subject. Miss Millar now
is a different morsell if one knew how to divide and subdivide,
theme her out into sections and subsections - Say a little on
every part of her body as it is divided in common with all her
fellow creatures, in Moor's Almanac. But Alas! I have not heard
a word about her. no cue to begin upon. There was indeed a
buzz about her and her mother's being at Old Mrs So and So's
who was like to die - as the jews say - but I dare say, keeping up
their dialect, she was not like to die. I must tell you a good thing
Reynolds did: 't was the best thing he ever said. You know at
taking leave of a party at a door way, sometimes a Man dallies
and foolishes and gets awkward, and does not know how to make
off to advantage - Good bye - well - good-bye - and yet he does
not-go--good bye and so on - well - good bless you - You know
what I mean. Now Reynolds was in this predicament and got out
of it in a very witty way. He was leaving us at Hampstead. He
delay'd, and we were joking at him and even said, 'be off' - at
which he put the tails of his coat between his legs; and sneak'd
off as nigh like a spanial as could be. He went with flying colours:
this is very clever - I must, being upon the subject, tell you another good thing of him; He began, for the service it might be
of to him in the law, to learn french. He had Lessons at the
cheap rate of 2.6 per fag.89 and observed to Brown 'Gad says he,
the man sells his Lessons so cheap he must have stolen 'em.' You
have heard of Hook the farce writer. Horace Smith said to one
who ask'd him if he knew Hook "Oh yes' Hook and I are very
intimate." Theres a page of Wit for you - to put John Bunyan's
emblems out of countenance.
Tuesday - You see I keep adding a sheet daily till I send the
packet off - which I shall not do for a few days as I am inclined to
write a good deal: for there can be nothing so remembrancing and
enchaining as a good long letter be it composed of. what it may - From the
time you left me, our friends say I have altered completely - am not the same person -
perhaps in this letter I am
for in a letter one takes up one's existence from the time we last
met - I dare say you have altered also - every man does - Our
bodies every seven years are completely fresh-materiald - seven
years ago it was not this hand that clench'd itself against Hammond - We are like the relict garments of a Saint: the same
and not the same: for the careful Monks patch it and patch it
for St Anthony's shirt. This is the reason why men who had been
bosom friends, on being separated for any number of years,
afterwards meet coldly, neither of them knowing why - The fact
is they are both altered - Men who live together have a silent
moulding and influencing power over each other - They inter-assimulate. 'T is an uneasy thought that in seven years the same
hands cannot greet each other again. All this may be obviated
by a willful and dramatic exercise of our Minds towards each
other. Some think I have lost that poetic ardour and fire 't is said
I once had - the fact is perhaps I have: but instead of that I hope
I shall substitute a more thoughtful and quiet power. I am more
frequently, now, contented to read and think - but now & then,
haunted with ambitious thoughts. Qui[e]ter in my pulse, improved in my digestion; exerting myself against vexing speculations - scarcely content to write the best verses for the fever
they leave behind. I want to compose without this fever. I hope
lone day shall. You would scarcely imagine I could live alone
so comfortably "Kepen in solitarinesse" I told Anne, the servent
here, the other day, to say I was not at home if anyone should
call. I am not certain how I should endu[r]e loneliness and bad
weather together. Now the time is beautiful. I take a walk every
day for an hour before dinner and this is generally my walk -
I go out at the back gate across one street, into the Cathedral
yard, which is always interesting; then I pass under the trees
along a paved path, pass the beautiful front of the Cathedral,
turn to the left under a stone door way - then I am on the other
side of the building - which leaving behind me I pass on through
two college-like squares seemingly built for the dwelling place
of Deans and Prebendaries - garnished with grass and shaded
with trees. Then I pass through one of the old city gates and then
you are in one College-Street through which I pass and at the
end thereof crossing some meadows and at last a country alley
of gardens I arrive, that is, my worship arrives at the foundation
of Saint Cross, which is a very interesting old place, both for its
gothic tower and alms-square and for the appropriation of its rich rents to a relation of the Bishop of Winchester - Then I
pass across St Cross meadows till you come to the most beautifully clear river - now
this is only one mile of my walk I will spare you the other two till after supper when they would do you more good - You must avoid going the first mile just after dinner. I could almost advise you to put by all this nonsense until
you are lifted out of your difficulties - but when you come to
this part feel with confidence what I now feel that though there
can be no stop put to troubles we are inheritors of there can be
and must be and [for an] end to immediate difficulties. Rest in the confidence that I will not omit any exertion to benefit you
by some means or other. If I cannot remit you hundreds, I will
tens and if not that ones. Let the next year be managed by you as
well as possible-the next month I mean for I trust you will soon
receive Abbey's remittance. What he can send you will not be a
sufficient capital to ensure you any command in America. What
he has of mine I nearly have anticipated by debts. So I would
advise you not to sink it, but to live upon it in hopes of my being
able to encrease it - To this end I will devote whatever I may gain
for a few years to come - at which period I must begin to think
of a security of my own comforts when quiet will become more
pleasant to me than the World - Still I would have you doubt
my success - 'T is at present the cast of a die with me. You say
'these things will be a great torment to me.' I shall not suffer
them to be so. I shall only exert myself the more - while the
seriousness of their nature will prevent me from missing up
imaginary griefs. I have not had the blue devils once since I
received your last - I am advised not to publish till it is seen
whether the Tragedy will or not succeed - Should it, a few
mo[n]ths may see me in the way of acquiring property; should
it not it will be a drawback and I shall have to perform a longer
literary Pilgrimage - You will perceive that it is quite out of my
interest to come to America - What could I do there? How
could I employ myself? Out of the reach of Libraries. You do
not mention the name of the gentleman who assists you. 'T is an
extraordinary thing. How could you do without that assistance?
I will not trust myself with brooding over this. The following is
an extract from a Letter of Reynolds to me "I am glad to hear
you are getting on so well with your writings. I hope you are not
neglecting the revision of your Poems for the press: from which
I expect more than you do" - the first thought that struck me on
reading your last, was to mo[r]tgage a Poem to Murray: but on
more consideration I made up my mind not to do so: my reputation is very low: he would perhaps not have negociated my bill of
intellect or given me a very small sum. I should have bound my
self down for some time. 'T is best to meet present misfortunes;
not for a momentary good to sacrifice great benefits which one's
own untramell'd and free industry may bring one in the end. In
all this do never think of me as in any way unhappy: I shall not
be so. I have a great pleasure in thinking of my responsibility to
you and shall do myself the greatest luxury if I can succeed in
any way so as to be of assistance to you. We shall look back upon
these times - even before our eyes are at all dim - I am convinced
of it. But be careful of those Americans - I could almost advise
you to come whenever you have the sum of 500£ to England -
Those Americans will I am affraid still fleece you - If ever you
should think of such a thing you must bear in mind the very
different state of society here - the immense difficulties of the
times - The great sum required per annum to maintain yourself
in any decency. In fact the whole is with Providence. I know
now [for not] how to advise you but by advising you to advise
with yourself. In your next tell me at large your thoughts, about
america; what chance there is of succeeding there: for it appears
to me you have as yet been somehow deceived. I cannot help
thinking Mr Audubon has deceived you. I shall not like the sight
of him - I shall endeavour to avoid seeing him - You see how
puzzled I am - I have no meridian to fix you to -- being the Slave
of what is to happen. I think I may bid you finally remain in good
hopes: and not teise yourself with my changes and variations of
Mind - If I say nothing decisive in anyone particular part of my
Letter. you may glean the truth from the whole pretty correctly
- You may wonder why I had not put your affairs with Abbey
in train on receiving your Letter before last, to which there will reach
you a short answer dated from shanklin. I did write and
speak to Abbey but to no purpose. You last, with the enclosed
note has appealed home to him - He will not see the necessity
of a thing till he is hit in the mouth. 'T will be effectual - I am
sorry to mix up foolish and serious things together - but in
writing so much I am obliged to do so - and I hope sincerely the
tenor of your mind will maintain itself better. In the course of
a few months I shall be as good an Italian Scholar as I am a french
one - I am reading Ariosto at present: not manageing more than
six or eight stanzas at a time. When I have done this language
so as to be able to read it tolerably well-1 shall set myself to get
complete in latin and there my learning must stop. I do not think
of venturing upon Greek. I would not go even so far if I were not
persuaded of the power the knowlege of any language gives
one. the fact is I like to be acquainted with foreign languages.
It is besides a nice way of filling up intervals &c Also the reading
of Dante in [for is] well worth the while. And in latin there is
a fund of curious literature of the middle ages - The Works of
many great Men Aretine and Sanazarius and Machievel - I shall
never become attach'd to a foreign idiom so as to put it into my
writings. The Paradise lost though so fine in itself is a curruption
of our Language - it should be kept as it is unique - a curiosity.
a beautiful and grand Curiosity. The most remarkable Production of the world - A northern dialect accommodating itself to
greek and latin inversions and intonations. The purest english I
think - or what ought to be the purest- is Chatterton's - The
Language had existed long enough to be entirely uncorrupted
of Chaucer's gallicisms and still the old words are used - Chatterton's language is entirely northern -
I prefer the native music of
it to Milton's cut by feet I have but lately stood on my guard
against Milton. Life to him would be death to me. Miltonic
verse cannot be written but it [for in] the vein of art - I wish to
devote myself to another sensation -
I have been obliged to intermiten your Letter for two days
(this being Friday morn) from having had to attend to other
correspondence. Brown who was at Bedhampton, went thence to
Chichester, and I still directing my letters Bedhampton - there
asore [for arose] a misunderstand about them - I began to
suspect my Letters had been stopped from curiosity. However
yesterday Brown had four Letters from me all in a Lump - and
the matter is clear'd up - Brown complained very much in his
Letter to me of yesterday of the great alteration the Disposition
of Dilke has undergone - He thinks of nothing but 'Political
Justice' and his Boy - Now the first political duty a Man ought
to have a Mind to is the happiness of his friends. I wrote Brown
a comment on the subject, wherein I explained what I thought
of Dilke's Character. Which resolved itself into this conclusion.
That Dilke was a Man who cannot feel he has a personal identity
unless he has made up his Mind about every thing. The only
means of strengthening one's intellect is to make up one's mind
about nothing - to let the mind be a thoroughfare for all thoughts.
Not a select party. The genus is not scarce in population. All the
stubborn arguers you meet with are of the same brood - They
never begin upon a subject they have not preresolved on. They
want to hammer their nail into you and if you turn the point,
still they think you wrong. Dilke will never come at a truth as
long as he lives; because he is always trying at it. He is a Godwin-methodist. I must not forget to mention that your mother show'd
me the lock of hair - 't is of a very dark colour for so young a
creature. When it is two feet in length I shall not stand a barley
corn higher. That's not fair - one ought to go on growing as well
as others - At the end of this sheet I shall stop for the present -
and sent it off. you may expect another Letter immediately after
it. As I never know the day of the mo[n]th but by chance I put
here that this is the 24'h September. I would wish you here to
stop your ears, for I have a word or two to say to your Wife - My
dear sister, In the first place I must quarrel with you for sending
me such a shabby sheet of paper - though that is in some degree made up for by the beautiful impress[i]on of the seal. You should like to know what I was doing - The first of May - let me see - I cannot recollect. I have all the Examiners ready to send - They will be a great treat to you when they reach you - I shall pack them up when my Business with Abbey has come to a good
conclusion and the remittance is on the road to you - I have
dealt round your best wishes to our friends, like a pack of cards
but being always given to cheat, myself, I have turned up ace.
You see I am making game of you. I see you are not all all happy
in that America. England however would not be over happy for
us if you were here. Perpaps 'twould be better to be teased herre
than there. I must preach patience to you both. No step hasty or
injurious to you must be taken. Your observation on the moschetos gives me great pleasure T is excessively poetical and
humane. You say let one large sheet be all to me: You will find
more than that in diffrent parts of this packet for you. Certainly
I have been caught in rains. A Catch in the rain occasioned my
last sore throat - but As for red-hair'd girls upon my word I do
not recollect ever having seen one - Are you quizzing me or Miss Waldegrave when you talk of promenading. As for Pun-making I wish it was as good a trade as pin-making-there is
very little business of that sort going on now. We struck for wages
like the manchester we[a]vers - but to no purpose - so we are
all out of employ - I am more lucky than some you see by having
an oportunity of exporting a few - getting into a little foreign
trade - which is a comfortable thing. I wish one could get change
for a pun in silver currency. I would give three and a half any
night to get into Drury-pit - But they wont ring at all. No more
will notes you will say - but notes are differing things - though they make together a Pun mote -as the term goes. If I were
your Son I shouldn't mind you, though you rapt me with the
Scissars - But lord! I should be out of favor sin the little un be
comm'd. You have made an Uncle of me, you have, and I don't
know what to make of myself. I suppose next there'll be a Nevey.
You say-in may last, write directly. I have not received your
Letter above 10 days. The though[t] of you little girl puts me in
mind of a thing I heard a Mr Lamb say. A child in a[r]ms was
passing by his chair toward the mother, in the nurses a[r]ms -
Lamb took hold of the long clothes saying "Where, god bless me,
Where does it leave off?" Saturday. If you would prefer a joke
or two to any thing else I have too for you fresh hatchd. just ris
ris as the Baker's wives say by the rolls. The first I play'd off at
Brown - the second I play'd on on myself. Brown when he left
me "Keats! says he "my good fellow (staggering upon his left
heel, and fetching an irregular pirouette with his right) Keats
says he (depressing his left eyebrow and elevating his right one
«tho by the way, at the moment, I did not know which was the
right one» Keats says he (still in the same posture but forthermore both his hands in his waistcoat pockets and jutting out his
stomach) "Keats-my-go-o-ood fell o-o-o-ooh! says he (inter-larding his exclamation with certain ventriloquial
parentheses) -
no this is all a lie - He was as sober as a Judge when a judge
happens to be sober; and said "Keats, if any Letters come for me
- Do not forward them, but open them and give me the marrow
of them in few words. At the time when I wrote my first to him
no letters had arrived - I thought I would invent one, and as I
had not time to manufacture a long one I dabbed off as [for a]
short one - and that was the reason of the joke succeeding beyond
my expectations. Brown let his house to a Mr Benjamin a Jew.
Now the water which furnishes the house is in a tank sided with a
composition of lime and the lime imp[r]egnates the water unpleasantly - Taking advantage of this circumstance I pretended
that Mr Benjamin had written the following short note - "Sir. By
drinking your damn'd tank water I have got the gravel - what
reparation can you make to me and my family? Nathan
Benjamin" By a fortunate hit, I hit upon his right he[a]then
name - his right Pronomen. Brown in consequence it appears
wrote to the surprised Mr Benjamin the following "Sir, I cannot
offer you any remuneration until your gravel shall have formed
itself into a Stone when I will cut you with Pleasure. C. Brown"
This of Browns Mr Benjamin has answered insisting on an explatinon [for explanation] of this singular circumstance. B. says
"when I read your Letter and his following I roared, and in came
Mr Snook who on reading them seem'd likely to burst the hoops
of his fat sides - so the Joke has told well - Now for the one I
played on myself - I must first give you the scene and the
dramatis Personę - There are an old M[a]jor and his youngish
wife live in the next apartments to me - His bed room door opens
at an angle with my sitting room door. Yesterday I was reading
as demurely as a Parish Clerk when I heard a rap at the door - I got up and opened it-no one was to be seen -
I listened and heard some one in the Major's room - Not content with this I went up stairs and down look'd in the cubboards - and watch'd - At last I set myself to read again not quite so demurely -
then
there came a louder rap - I arose determin'd to find out who it was - I look out the Stair cases were all silent - "This must
be the
Major's wife said I - at all events I will see the truth" so I rapt
me at the Major's door and went in to the utter surprise and
confusion of the Lady who was in reality there - after a little
explanation, which I can no more describe than fly, I made my retreat from
her convinced of my mistake. She is to all appearance a silly body and is really surprised about it - She must have
been - for I have discoverd that a little girt in the house was the
Rappee - I assure you she has nearly make me sneeze. If
the Lady tells tits I shall put a very grave and moral face on the matter with the old Gentleman, and make his little Boy a present of a humming top -
My Dear George - This Monday morning the 27th I have received your last dated July 12th You say you have not heard from England these three months -
Then my Letter from Shanklin wr[i]tten I think at the end of
July cannot have reach'd you. You shall not have cause to think
I neglect you. I have kept this back a little time in expectation of
hearing from Mr Abbey - You will say I might have remained
in Town to be Abbey's messenger in these affairs. That I offer'd
him - but he in his answer convinced me he was anxious to
bring the Business to an issue - He observed that by being himself the agent in the whole, people might be more expeditious.
You say you have not heard for th[r]ee mo[n]ths and yet you letters have the tone of knowing how our affairs are situated by
which I conjecture I acquainted you with them in a Letter
previous to the Shanklin one. That I may not have done. To be
certain I will here state that it is in consequence of Mrs Jennings
threatning a Chancery suit that you have been kept from the
receipt of monies and myself deprived of any help from Abbey -
I am glad you say you keep up your Spirits - I hope you make a
true statement on that score - Still keep them up - for we are all
young - I can only repeat here that you shall hear from me again
immediately - Notwithstanding their bad intelligence I have
experienced some pleasure in receiving so correctly two Letters
from you, as it give[s] me if I may so say a distant Idea of Proximity. This last improves upon my litle niece - Kiss her for me.
Do not fret yourself about the delay of money on account of any
immediate opportunity being lost: for in a new country whoever
has money must have opportunity of employing it in many
ways. The report runs now more in favor of Kean stopping in
England. If he should I have confident hopes of our Tragedy -
If he smokes the hotblooded character of Ludolph - and he is
the only actor that can do it - He will add to his own fame, and
improve my fortune - I will give you a half dozen lines of it
before I part as a specimen --
"Not as a Swordsman would I pardon crave,
But as a Son: the bronz'd Centurion
Long-toil'd in foreign wars, and whose high deeds
Are shaded in a forest of tall spears,
Known only to his troop, hath greater plea
Of favour with my Sire than I can have--"
Believe me my dear brother and Sister -
Your affectionate and anxious Brother
John Keats