Letters of John Keats to His Family and Friends
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.]
My dear Fanny--When I saw you last, you ask'd me whether you should see me
again before Christmas. You would have seen me if I had been quite well. I
have not, though not unwell enough to have prevented me--not indeed at
all--but fearful lest the weather should affect my throat which on
exertion or cold continually threatens me.--By the advice of my Doctor I
have had a warm great Coat made and have ordered some thick shoes--so
furnish'd I shall be with you if it holds a little fine before Christmas
day.--I have been very busy since I saw you, especially the last Week, and
shall be for some time, in preparing some Poems to come out in the Spring,
and also in brightening the interest of our Tragedy.--Of the Tragedy I can
give you but news semigood. It is accepted at Drury Lane with a promise of
coming out next season: as that will be too long a delay we have
determined to get Elliston to bring it out this Season or to transfer it
to Covent Garden. This Elliston will not like, as we have every motive to
believe that Kean has perceived how suitable the principal Character will
be for him. My hopes of success in the literary world are now better than
ever. Mr. Abbey, on my calling on him lately, appeared anxious that I
should apply myself to something else--He mentioned Tea Brokerage. I
supposed he might perhaps mean to give me the Brokerage of his concern
which might be executed with little trouble and a good profit; and
therefore said I should have no objection to it, especially as at the same
time it occurred to me that I might make over the business to George--I
questioned him about it a few days after. His mind takes odd turns. When I
became a Suitor he became coy. He did not seem so much inclined to serve
me. He described what I should have to do in the progress of business. It
will not suit me. I have given it up. I have not heard again from George,
which rather disappoints me, as I wish to hear before I make any fresh
remittance of his property. I received a note from Mrs. Dilke a few days
ago inviting me to dine with her on Xmas day which I shall do. Mr. Brown
and I go on in our old dog trot of Breakfast, dinner (not tea, for we have
left that off), supper, Sleep, Confab, stirring the fire and reading.
Whilst I was in the Country last Summer, Mrs. Bentley tells me, a woman
in mourning call'd on me,--and talk'd something of an aunt of ours--I am
so careless a fellow I did not enquire, but will particularly: On Tuesday
I am going to hear some Schoolboys Speechify on breaking up day--I'll lay
you a pocket piece we shall have "My name is Norval." I have not yet
look'd for the Letter you mention'd as it is mix'd up in a box full of
papers--you must tell me, if you can recollect, the subject of it. This
moment Bentley brought a Letter from George for me to deliver to Mrs.
Wylie--I shall see her and it before I see you. The Direction was in his
best hand written with a good Pen and sealed with a Tassie's Shakspeare
such as I gave you--We judge of people's hearts by their Countenances; may
we not judge of Letters in the same way?--if so, the Letter does not
contain unpleasant news--Good or bad spirits have an effect on the
handwriting. This direction is at least unnervous and healthy. Our Sister
is also well, or George would have made strange work with Ks and Ws. The
little Baby is well or he would have formed precious vowels and
Consonants--He sent off the Letter in a hurry, or the mail bag was rather
a warm berth, or he has worn out his Seal, for the Shakspeare's head is
flattened a little. This is close muggy weather as they say at the Ale
houses.
I am ever, my dear Sister, yours affectionately
JOHN KEATS.
CXXX.--TO FANNY KEATS.
Wentworth Place, Wednesday.
[December 22, 1819.]
My dear Fanny--I wrote to you a Letter directed Walthamstow the day before
yesterday wherein I promised to see you before Christmas day. I am sorry
to say I have been and continue rather unwell, and therefore shall not be
able to promise certainly. I have not seen Mrs. Wylie's Letter. Excuse my
dear Fanny this very shabby note.
Your affectionate Brother
JOHN.
CXXXI.--TO GEORGIANA KEATS.
Thursday, January 13, 1820.
My dear Sister--By the time you receive this your trouble will be over. I
wish you knew they were half over. I mean that George is safe in England
and in good health.[112] To write to you by him is almost like following
one's own letter in the mail. That it may not be quite so, I will leave
common intelligence out of the question, and write wide of him as I can. I
fear I must be dull, having had no good-natured flip from Fortune's finger
since I saw you, and no sideway comfort in the success of my friends. I
could almost promise that if I had the means I would accompany George back
to America, and pay you a visit of a few months. I should not think much
of the time, or my absence from my books; or I have no right to think, for
I am very idle. But then I ought to be diligent, and at least keep myself
within the reach of materials for diligence. Diligence, that I do not mean
to say; I should say dreaming over my books, or rather other people's
books. George has promised to bring you to England when the five years
have elapsed. I regret very much that I shall not be able to see you
before that time, and even then I must hope that your affairs will be in
so prosperous a way as to induce you to stop longer. Yours is a hardish
fate, to be so divided among your friends and settled among a people you
hate. You will find it improve. You have a heart that will take hold of
your children; even George's absence will make things better. His return
will banish what must be your greatest sorrow, and at the same time minor
ones with it. Robinson Crusoe, when he saw himself in danger of perishing
on the waters, looked back to his island as to the haven of his happiness,
and on gaining it once more was more content with his solitude. We smoke
George about his little girl. He runs the common-beaten road of every
father, as I dare say you do of every mother: there is no child like his
child, so original,--original forsooth! However, I take you at your words.
I have a lively faith that yours is the very gem of all children. Ain't I
its uncle?
On Henry's marriage there was a piece of bride cake sent me. It missed its
way. I suppose the carrier or coachman was a conjuror, and wanted it for
his own private use. Last Sunday George and I dined at Millar's. There
were your mother and Charles with Fool Lacon, Esq., who sent the sly,
disinterested shawl to Miss Millar, with his own heathen name engraved in
the middle. Charles had a silk handkerchief belonging to a Miss Grover,
with whom he pretended to be smitten, and for her sake kept exhibiting and
adoring the handkerchief all the evening. Fool Lacon, Esq., treated it
with a little venturesome, trembling contumely, whereupon Charles set him
quietly down on the floor, from where he as quietly got up. This process
was repeated at supper time, when your mother said, "If I were you Mr.
Lacon I would not let him do so." Fool Lacon, Esq., did not offer any
remark. He will undoubtedly die in his bed. Your mother did not look quite
so well on Sunday. Mrs. Henry Wylie is excessively quiet before people. I