Letters of John Keats to His Family and Friends
deeper than a conversation with an imperial woman, the very "yes" and
"no" of whose Lips is to me a Banquet. I don't cry to take the moon home
with me in my Pocket nor do I fret to leave her behind me. I like her and
her like because one has no _sensations_--what we both are is taken for
granted. You will suppose I have by this had much talk with her--no such
thing--there are the Miss Reynoldses on the look out--They think I don't
admire her because I did not stare at her.
They call her a flirt to me--What a want of knowledge! She walks across a
room in such a manner that a Man is drawn towards her with a magnetic
Power. This they call flirting! they do not know things. They do not know
what a Woman is. I believe though she has faults--the same as Charmian and
Cleopatra might have had. Yet she is a fine thing speaking in a worldly
way: for there are two distinct tempers of mind in which we judge of
things--the worldly, theatrical and pantomimical; and the unearthly,
spiritual and ethereal--in the former Buonaparte, Lord Byron and this
Charmian hold the first place in our Minds; in the latter, John Howard,
Bishop Hooker rocking his child's cradle and you my dear Sister are the
conquering feelings. As a Man in the world I love the rich talk of a
Charmian; as an eternal Being I love the thought of you. I should like her
to ruin me, and I should like you to save me. Do not think, my dear
Brother, from this that my Passions are headlong, or likely to be ever of
any pain to you--
"I am free from Men of Pleasure's cares,
By dint of feelings far more deep than theirs."
This is Lord Byron, and is one of the finest things he has said. I have no
town talk for you, as I have not been much among people--as for Politics
they are in my opinion only sleepy because they will soon be too wide
awake. Perhaps not--for the long and continued Peace of England itself has
given us notions of personal safety which are likely to prevent the
re-establishment of our national Honesty. There is, of a truth, nothing
manly or sterling in any part of the Government. There are many Madmen in
the Country I have no doubt, who would like to be beheaded on tower Hill
merely for the sake of eclat, there are many Men like Hunt who from a
principle of taste would like to see things go on better, there are many
like Sir F. Burdett who like to sit at the head of political dinners,--but
there are none prepared to suffer in obscurity for their Country--The
motives of our worst men are Interest and of our best Vanity. We have no
Milton, no Algernon Sidney--Governors in these days lose the title of Man
in exchange for that of Diplomat and Minister. We breathe in a sort of
Officinal Atmosphere--All the departments of Government have strayed far
from Simplicity which is the greatest of Strength there is as much
difference in this respect between the present Government and Oliver
Cromwell's as there is between the 12 Tables of Rome and the volumes of
Civil Law which were digested by Justinian. A Man now entitled Chancellor
has the same honour paid to him whether he be a Hog or a Lord Bacon. No
sensation is created by Greatness but by the number of Orders a Man has at
his Button holes. Notwithstanding the part which the Liberals take in the
Cause of Napoleon, I cannot but think he has done more harm to the life of
Liberty than any one else could have done: not that the divine right
Gentlemen have done or intend to do any good--no they have taken a Lesson
of him, and will do all the further harm he would have done without any of
the good. The worst thing he has done is, that he has taught them how to
organise their monstrous armies. The Emperor Alexander it is said intends
to divide his Empire as did Diocletian--creating two Czars besides
himself, and continuing the supreme Monarch of the whole. Should he do
this and they for a series of Years keep peaceable among themselves Russia
may spread her conquest even to China--I think it a very likely thing that
China itself may fall, Turkey certainly will. Meanwhile European north
Russia will hold its horns against the rest of Europe, intriguing
constantly with France. Dilke, whom you know to be a Godwin perfectibility
Man, pleases himself with the idea that America will be the country to
take up the human intellect where England leaves off--I differ there with
him greatly--A country like the United States, whose greatest Men are
Franklins and Washingtons will never do that. They are great Men
doubtless, but how are they to be compared to those our countrymen Milton
and the two Sidneys? The one is a philosophical Quaker full of mean and
thrifty maxims, the other sold the very Charger who had taken him through
all his Battles. Those Americans are great, but they are not sublime
Man--the humanity of the United States can never reach the sublime.
Birkbeck's mind is too much in the American style--you must endeavour to
infuse a little Spirit of another sort into the settlement, always with
great caution, for thereby you may do your descendants more good than you
may imagine. If I had a prayer to make for any great good, next to Tom's
recovery, it should be that one of your Children should be the first
American Poet. I have a great mind to make a prophecy, and they say
prophecies work out their own fulfilment--
'Tis the witching time of night,
Orbed is the moon and bright,
And the Stars they glisten, glisten,
Seeming with bright eyes to listen.
For what listen they?
For a song and for a charm,
See they glisten in alarm
And the Moon is waxing warm
To hear what I shall say.
Moon keep wide thy golden ears
Hearken Stars and hearken Spheres
Hearken thou eternal Sky
I sing an infant's Lullaby,
O pretty Lullaby!
Listen, Listen, listen, listen
Glisten, glisten, glisten, glisten
And hear my Lullaby!
Though the Rushes that will make
Its cradle still are in the lake,
Though the linen that will be
Its swathe, is on the cotton tree,
Though the woollen that will keep
It warm, is on the silly sheep;
Listen Starlight, listen, listen
Glisten, Glisten, glisten, glisten
And hear my Lullaby!
Child! I see thee! Child, I've found thee
Midst of the quiet all around thee!
Child, I see thee! Child, I spy thee
And thy mother sweet is nigh thee!--
Child, I know thee! Child no more
But a Poet _ever_more
See, See the Lyre, The Lyre
In a flame of fire
Upon the little cradle's top
Flaring, flaring, flaring
Past the eyesight's bearing--
Awake it from its sleep,
And see if it can keep
Its eyes upon the blaze--
Amaze, Amaze!
It stares, it stares, it stares
It dares what no one dares
It lifts its little hand into the flame
Unharm'd, and on the strings
Paddles a little tune and sings
With dumb endeavour sweetly!
Bard art thou completely!
Little Child
O' the western wild,
Bard art thou completely!--
Sweetly, with dumb endeavour--
A Poet now or never!
Little Child
O' the western wild
A Poet now or never!
[October 16.]
This is Friday, I know not what day of the Month--I will enquire
to-morrow, for it is fit you should know the time I am writing. I went to
Town yesterday, and calling at Mrs. Millar's was told that your Mother
would not be found at home--I met Henry as I turned the corner--I had no
leisure to return, so I left the letters with him. He was looking very
well. Poor Tom is no better to-night--I am afraid to ask him what Message
I shall send from him. And here I could go on complaining of my Misery,
but I will keep myself cheerful for your Sakes. With a great deal of
trouble I have succeeded in getting Fanny to Hampstead. She has been
several times. Mr. Lewis has been very kind to Tom all the summer, there
has scarce a day passed but he has visited him, and not one day without
bringing or sending some fruit of the nicest kind. He has been very
assiduous in his enquiries after you--It would give the old Gentleman a
great deal of pleasure if you would send him a Sheet enclosed in the next
parcel to me, after you receive this--how long it will be first--Why did I
not write to Philadelphia? Really I am sorry for that neglect. I wish to
go on writing ad infinitum to you--I wish for interesting matter and a pen
as swift as the wind--But the fact is I go so little into the Crowd now
that I have nothing fresh and fresh every day to speculate upon except my
own Whims and Theories. I have been but once to Haydon's, once to Hunt's,
once to Rice's, once to Hessey's. I have not seen Taylor, I have not been
to the Theatre. Now if I had been many times to all these and was still in
the habit of going I could on my return at night have each day something
new to tell you of without any stop--But now I have such a dearth that
when I get to the end of this sentence and to the bottom of this page I
must wait till I can find something interesting to you before I begin
another. After all it is not much matter what it may be about, for the
very words from such a distance penned by this hand will be grateful to
you--even though I were to copy out the tale of Mother Hubbard or Little
Red Riding Hood.
[Later.]
I have been over to Dilke's this evening--there with Brown we have been
talking of different and indifferent Matters--of Euclid, of Metaphysics,
of the Bible, of Shakspeare, of the horrid System and consequences of the
fagging at great schools. I know not yet how large a parcel I can send--I
mean by way of Letters--I hope there can be no objection to my dowling up
a quire made into a small compass. That is the manner in which I shall
write. I shall send you more than Letters--I mean a tale--which I must
begin on account of the activity of my Mind; of its inability to remain at
rest. It must be prose and not very exciting. I must do this because in
the way I am at present situated I have too many interruptions to a train
of feeling to be able to write Poetry. So I shall write this Tale, and if
I think it worth while get a duplicate made before I send it off to you.
[October 21.]
This is a fresh beginning the 21st October. Charles and Henry were with us
on Sunday, and they brought me your Letter to your Mother--we agreed to
get a Packet off to you as soon as possible. I shall dine with your Mother
to-morrow, when they have promised to have their Letters ready. I shall
send as soon as possible without thinking of the little you may have from
me in the first parcel, as I intend, as I said before, to begin another
Letter of more regular information. Here I want to communicate so largely
in a little time that I am puzzled where to direct my attention. Haslam
has promised to let me know from Capper and Hazlewood. For want of
something better I shall proceed to give you some extracts from my Scotch
Letters--Yet now I think on it why not send you the letters themselves--I
have three of them at present--I believe Haydon has two which I will get
in time. I dined with your Mother and Henry at Mrs. Millar's on Thursday,
when they gave me their Letters. Charles's I have not yet--he has promised
to send it. The thought of sending my Scotch Letters has determined me to
enclose a few more which I have received and which will give you the best
cue to how I am going on, better than you could otherwise know. Your
Mother was well, and I was sorry I could not stop later. I called on Hunt
yesterday--it has been always my fate to meet Ollier there--On Thursday I
walked with Hazlitt as far as Covent Garden: he was going to play
Racquets. I think Tom has been rather better these few last days--he has
been less nervous. I expect Reynolds to-morrow.
[Later, about October 25.]
Since I wrote thus far I have met with that same Lady again, whom I saw at