Sidney; and then the dreadful Petzelians and their expiation by blood; and do Christians shudder at the same thing in a newspaper which they attribute to their God in its most aggravated form? What is to be the end of this? I must mention Hazlitt's Southey. O that he had left out the grey hairs; or that they had been in any other paper not concluding with such a thunderclap! That sentence about making a page of the feeling of a whole life, appears to me like a whale's back in the sea of prose. I ought to have said a word on Shakspeare's Christianity. There are two which I have not looked over with you, touching the thing: the one for, the other against: that in favour is in Measure for Measure, Act II. Scene ii. —

Maria. For there is no Christian that means to be saved by believing rightly, can ever believe such impossible passages of grossness.

Before I come to the Nymphs, I must get through all disagreeables. I went to the Isle of Wight, thought so much about poetry, so long together, that I could not get to sleep at night; and, moreover, I know not how it was, I could not get wholesome food. By this means, in a week or so, I became not over capable in my upper stories, and set off pell-mell for Margate, at least a hundred and fifty miles, because, forsooth, I fancied that I should like my old lodging here, and could contrive to do without trees. Another thing, I was too much in solitude, and consequently was obliged to be in continual burning of thought, as an only resource. However, Tom is with me at present, and we are very comfortable. We intend, though, to get among some trees. How have you got on among them? How are the Nymphs? I suppose they have led

you a fine dance. Where are you now ? in Judea, Cappadocia, or the parts of Libya about Cyrene? Stranger from 'Heaven, Hues, and Prototypes,' I wager you have given several new turns to the old saying, 'Now the maid was fair and pleasant to look on,' as well as made a little variation in 'Once upon a time.' Perhaps, too, you have rather varied, 'Here endeth the first lesson.' Thus I hope you have made a horseshoe business of 'unsuperfluous life,' 'faint bowers,' and fibrous roots. I vow that I have been down in the mouth lately at this work. These last two days, however, I have felt more confident I have asked myself so often why I should be a poet more than other men, seeing how great a thing it is, how great things are to be gained by it, what a thing to be in the mouth of Fame, that at last the idea has grown so monstrously beyond my seeming power of attainment, that the other day I nearly consented with myself to drop into a Phaethon. Yet 't is a disgrace to fail, even in a huge attempt; and at this moment I drive the thought from me. I began my poem about a fortnight since, and have done some every day, except travelling ones. Perhaps I may have done a good deal for the time, but it appears such a pin's point to me, that I will not copy any out. When I consider that so many of these pin-points go to form a bodkin-point (God send I end not my life with a bare bodkin, in its modern sense!), and that it requires a thousand bodkins to make a spear bright enough to throw any light to posterity, I see nothing but continual uphill journeying. Now is there anything more unpleasant (it may come among the thousand and one) than to be so journeying and to miss the goal at last? But I intend to whistle all these cogitations into the sea, where I hope they will breed storms violent enough to block up all exit from Russia. Does Shelley go on telling strange stories of the deaths of kings? Tell him, there are strange stories of the deaths of poets.

Some have died before they were conceived. 'How do you make that out, Master Vellum?' Does Mrs. S. cut bread and butter as neatly as ever? Tell her to procure some fatal scissors, and cut the thread of life of all to-be-disappointed poets. Does Mrs. Hunt tear linen as straight as ever? Tell her to tear from the book of life all blank leaves. Remember me to them all; to Miss Kent and the little ones all.

Your sincere Friend

JOHN KEATS alias JUNKETS. You shall hear where we move.

8. TO BENJAMIN ROBERT HAYDON

Margate, Saturday Eve [May 10, 1817]. MY DEAR HAYDON,

'Let Fame, that all pant after in their lives, Live register'd upon our brazen tombs, And so grace us in the disgrace of death: When spite of cormorant devouring Time The endeavour of this present breath may buy That Honour which shall bate his Scythe's keen edge

And make us heirs of all eternity.'

Love's Labour's Lost, I. i. 1-7.

To think that I have no right to couple myself with you in this speech would be death to me, so I have e'en written it, and I pray God that our brazen tombs' be nigh neighbours. It cannot be long first; the endeavour of this present breath' will soon be over, and yet it is as well to breathe freely during our sojourn - it is as well as if you have not been teased with that Money affair, that bill-pestilence. However, I must think that difficulties nerve the Spirit of a Man - they make our Prime Objects a Refuge as well as a Passion. The Trumpet of Fame is as a tower of Strength, the ambitious bloweth it and is safe. I suppose, by your telling me not to give way to forebodings, George has mentioned to you what I have lately said in my Letters to him

truth is I have been in such a state of Mind as to read over my Lines and hate

them. I am one that gathers Samphire, dreadful trade' the Cliff of Poesy towers above me yet when Tom who meets with some of Pope's Homer in Plutarch's Lives reads some of those to me they seem like Mice to mine. I read and write about eight hours a day. There is an old saying 'well begun is half done' 't is a bad one. I would use instead, ‘Not begun at all till half done;' so according to that I have not begun my Poem and consequently (à priori) can say nothing about it. Thank God! I do begin arduously where I leave off, notwithstanding occasional depressions; and I hope for the support of a High Power while I climb this little eminence, and especially in my Years of more momentous Labour. I remember your saying that you had notions of a good Genius presiding over you. I have of late had the same thought, for things which I do half at Random are afterwards confirmed by my judgment in a dozen features of Propriety. Is it too daring to fancy Shakspeare this Presider? When in the Isle of Wight I met with a Shakspeare in the Passage of the House at which I lodged - it comes nearer to my idea of him than any I have seen I was but there a Week, yet the old woman made me take it with me though I went off in a hurry. Do you not think this is ominous of good? I am glad you say every man of great views is at times tormented as I am.

Sunday after [May 11] This Morning I received a letter from George by which it appears that Money Troubles are to follow us up for some time to come perhaps for always - these vexations are a great hindrance to one - they are not like Envy and detraction stimulants to further exertion as being immediately relative and reflected on at the same time with the prime object but rather like a nettle leaf or two in your bed. So now I revoke my Promise of finishing my Poem by the Autumn which I should have done had I gone on as I have done - but I can

not write while my spirit is fevered in a contrary direction and I am now sure of having plenty of it this Summer. At this moment I am in no enviable Situation I feel that I am not in a Mood to write any to-day; and it appears that the loss of it is the beginning of all sorts of irregularities. I am extremely glad that a time must come when everything will leave not a wrack behind. You tell me never to despair - I wish it was as easy for me to observe the saying truth is I have a horrid Morbidity of Temperament which has shown itself at intervals - it is I have no doubt the greatest Enemy and stumblingblock I have to fear - I may even say that it is likely to be the cause of my disappointment. However every ill has its share of good this very bane would at any time enable me to look with an obstinate eye on the Devil Himself - aye to be as proud of being the lowest of the human race as Alfred could be in being of the highest. I feel confident I should have been a rebel angel had the opportunity been mine. I am very sure that you do love me as your very Brother - I have seen it in your continual anxiety for me — and I assure you that your welfare and fame is and will be a chief pleasure to me all my Life. I know no one but you who can be fully sensible of the turmoil and anxiety, the sacrifice of all what is called comfort, the readiness to measure time by what is done and to die in six hours could plans be brought to conclusions the looking upon the Sun, the Moon, the Stars, the Earth and its contents, as materials to form greater things — that is to say ethereal things but here I am talking like a Madman, - greater things than our Creator himself made!!

that of a galley Slavethereon is very true must be in time. Perhaps it is a self-delusion to say so but I think I could not be deceived in the may I die toThere is no greater

manner that Hunt is morrow if I am to be.

Sin after the seven deadly than to flatter oneself into an idea of being a great Poet -or one of those beings who are privileged to wear out their Lives in the pursuit of Honor - how comfortable a feel it is to feel that such a Crime must bring its heavy Penalty? That if one be a Self-deluder accounts must be balanced? I am glad you are hard at Work -'t will now soon be done I long to see Wordsworth's as well as to have mine in: 8 but I would rather not show my face in Town till the end of the Year-if that will be time enough if not I shall be disappointed if you do not write for me even when you think best. I never quite despair and I read Shakspeare—indeed I shall I think never read any other Book much. Now this might lead me into a long Confab but I desist. I am very near agreeing with Hazlitt that Shakspeare is enough for us. By the by what a tremendous Southean article his last was I wish he had left out 'grey hairs.' It was very gratifying to meet your remarks on the manuscript — I was reading Anthony and Cleopatra when I got the Paper and there are several Passages applicable to the events you commentate. You say that he arrived by degrees and not by any single struggle to the height of his ambition- and that his Life had been as common in particulars as other Men's. Shakspeare makes Enobarb say

-

Where's Antony? Eros. - He's walking in the garden, and

spurns

The rush that lies before him; cries, Fool, Lepidus!

In the same scene we find

Let determined things To destiny hold unbewailed their way.

But how differently does Buonaparte bear his fate from Anthony !

'Tis good, too, that the Duke of Wellington has a good Word or so in the Examiner. A man ought to have the Fame he deserves

and I begin to think that detracting from him as well as from Wordsworth is the same thing. I wish he had a little more taste and did not in that respect 'deal in Lieutenantry.' You should have heard from me before this but in the first place I did not like to do so before I had got a little way in the First Book, and in the next as G. told me you were going to write I delayed till I had heard from you. Give my Respects the next time you write to the North and also to John Hunt. Remember me to Reynolds and tell him to write. Ay, and when you send Westward tell your Sister that I mentioned her in this. So now in the name of Shakspeare, Raphael and all our Saints, I commend you to the care of heaven!

Your everlasting Friend JOHN KEATS.

9. TO MESSRS. TAYLOR AND HESSEY

Margate, May 16, 1817. MY DEAR SIRS-I am extremely indebted to you for your liberality in the shape of manufactured rag, value £20, and shall immediately proceed to destroy some of the minor heads of that hydra the dun; to conquer which the knight need have no Sword

Shield Cuirass, Cuisses Herbadgeon Spear Casque Greaves Paldrons spurs Chevron or any other scaly commodity, but he need only take the Bank-note of Faith and Cash of Salvation, and set out against the monster, invoking the aid of no Archimago or Urganda, but finger me the paper, light as the Sibyl's leaves in Virgil, whereat the fiend skulks off with his tail between his legs. Touch him with this enchanted paper, and he whips you his head away as fast as a snail's horn but then the horrid propensity he has to put it up again has discouraged many very valiant Knights. He is such a never-ending still-beginning sort of a body-like my landlady of the Bell. I should conjecture that the very spright that 'the green sour ringlets makes Whereof the ewe not bites' had manufactured it of the dew fallen on said sour ringlets. I think I could make a nice little allegorical poem, called 'The Dun,' where we would have the Castle of Carelessness, the drawbridge of credit, Sir Novelty Fashion's expedition against the City of Tailors, etc. etc. I went day by day at my poem for a Month- at the end of which time the other day I found my Brain so over-wrought that I had neither rhyme nor reason in it — so was obliged to give up for a few days. I hope soon to be able to resume my workI have endeavoured to do so once or twice; but to no purpose. Instead of Poetry, I have a swimming in my head and feel all the effects of a Mental debauch, lowness of Spirits, anxiety to go on without the power to do so, which does not at all tend to my ultimate progression. However tomorrow I will begin my next month. This evening go to Canterbury, having got tired of Margate. I was not right in my head when I came At Canterbury I hope the remembrance of Chaucer will set me forward like a Billiard Ball. I am glad to hear of Mr. T.'s health, and of the welfare of the 'Intown-stayers.' And think Reynolds will like his Trip I have some idea of seeing the Continent some time this summer. In

I

repeating how sensible I am of your kindness, I remain

Y' obed serv* and friend JOHN KEATS. I shall be happy to hear any little intelligence in the literary or friendly way when you have time to scribble.

[London] Tuesday Morn [July 8, 1817]. MY DEAR SIRS-I must endeavour to lose my maidenhead with respect to money Matters as soon as possible - And I will too So, here goes! A couple of Duns that I thought would be silent till the beginning, at least, of next month (when I am certain to be on my legs, for certain sure), have opened upon me with a cry most 'untuneable;' never did you hear such un-'gallant chiding.' Now you must know, I am not desolate, but have, thank God, 25 good notes in my fob. But then, yon know, I laid them by to write with and would stand at bay a fortnight ere they should grab me. In a month's time I must pay, but it would relieve my mind if I owed you, instead of these Pelican duns.

I am afraid you will say I have 'wound about with circumstance,' when I should have asked plainly - however as I said I am a little maidenish or so, and I feel my virginity come strong upon me, the while I request the loan of a £20 and a £10, which, if you would enclose to me, I would acknowledge and save myself a hot forehead. I am sure you are confident of my responsibility, and in the sense of squareness that is always in me. Your obliged friend

JOHN KEATS.

the other night at Little Britain. I hope you found them good. There you are among sands, stones, Pebbles, Beeches, Cliffs, Rocks, Deeps, Shallows, weeds, ships, Boats (at a distance), Carrots, Turnips, sun, moon, and stars and all those sort of things here am I among Colleges, halls, Stalls, Plenty of Trees, thank God - Plenty of water, thank heaven Plenty of Books, thank the Muses Plenty of Snuff, thank Sir Walter Raleigh- Plenty of segars, Ditto - Plenty of flat country, thank Tellus's rolling-pin. I'm on the sofa- Buonaparte is on the snuff-box- But you are by the seaside argal, you bathe - you walk you say 'how beautiful' — find out resemblances between waves and camels

-

or

rocks and dancing-masters — fireshovels and telescopes - Dolphins and Madonas which word, by the way, I must acquaint you was derived from the Syriac, and came down in a way which neither of you I am sorry to say are at all capable of comprehending. But as a time may come when by your occasional converse with me you may arrive at something like prophetic strain,' I will unbar the gates of my pride and let my condescension stalk forth like a ghost at the Circus.-The word Ma-don-a, my dear Ladies the word Mad - Onaso I say! I am not mad Howsumever when that aged Tamer Kewthon sold a certain camel called Peter to the overseer of the Babel Sky-works, he thus spake, adjusting his cravat round the tip of his chin' My dear Ten-story-up-in-air! this here Beast, though I say it as should n't say 't, not only has the power of subsisting 40 days and 40 nights without fire and candle but he can sing. Here I have in my Pocket a Certificate from Signor Nicolini of the King's Theatre; a Certificate to this effect 'I have had dinner since I left that effect upon you, and feel too heavy in mentibus to display all the Profundity of the Polygon so you had better each of you take a glass of cherry Brandy and drink to the health of Archimedes, who was