Letters of John Keats to His Family and Friends Part 16

We were talking on different and indifferent things, when on a sudden we turned a corner upon the immediate Country of Ayr--the Sight was as rich as possible. I had no Conception that the native place of Burns was so beautiful--the idea I had was more desolate, his 'rigs of Barley' seemed always to me but a few strips of Green on a cold hill--O prejudice! it was as rich as Devon--I endeavoured to drink in the Prospect, that I might spin it out to you as the Silkworm makes silk from Mulberry leaves--I cannot recollect it--Besides all the Beauty, there were the Mountains of Arran Isle, black and huge over the Sea. We came down upon everything suddenly--there were in our way the 'bonny Doon,' with the Brig that Tam o' Shanter crossed, Kirk Alloway, Burns's Cottage, and then the Brigs of Ayr. First we stood upon the Bridge across the Doon; surrounded by every Phantasy of green in Tree, Meadow, and Hill,--the stream of the Doon, as a Farmer told us, is covered with trees from head to foot--you know those beautiful heaths so fresh against the weather of a summer's evening--there was one stretching along behind the trees. I wish I knew always the humour my friends would be in at opening a letter of mine, to suit it to them as nearly as possible. I could always find an egg sh.e.l.l for Melancholy, and as for Merriment a Witty humour will turn anything to Account--My head is sometimes in such a whirl in considering the million likings and antipathies of our Moments--that I can get into no settled strain in my Letters. My Wig! Burns and sentimentality coming across you and Frank Fladgate in the office--O scenery that thou shouldst be crushed between two Puns--As for them I venture the rascalliest in the Scotch Region--I hope Brown does not put them punctually in his journal--If he does I must sit on the cutty-stool all next winter. We went to Kirk Alloway--"a Prophet is no Prophet in his own Country"--We went to the Cottage and took some Whisky. I wrote a sonnet for the mere sake of writing some lines under the roof--they are so bad I cannot transcribe them--The Man at the Cottage was a great Bore with his Anecdotes--I hate the rascal--his Life consists in fuz, fuzzy, fuzziest--He drinks gla.s.ses five for the Quarter and twelve for the hour--he is a mahogany-faced old Jacka.s.s who knew Burns--He ought to have been kicked for having spoken to him. He calls himself "a curious old b.i.t.c.h"--but he is a flat old dog--I should like to employ Caliph Vathek to kick him. O the flummery of a birthplace! Cant!

Cant! Cant! It is enough to give a spirit the guts-ache--Many a true word, they say, is spoken in jest--this may be because his gab hindered my sublimity: the flat dog made me write a flat sonnet. My dear Reynolds--I cannot write about scenery and visitings--Fancy is indeed less than a present palpable reality, but it is greater than remembrance--you would lift your eyes from Homer only to see close before you the real Isle of Tenedos--you would rather read Homer afterwards than remember yourself--One song of Burns's is of more worth to you than all I could think for a whole year in his native country. His Misery is a dead weight upon the nimbleness of one's quill--I tried to forget it--to drink Toddy without any Care--to write a merry sonnet--it won't do--he talked with b.i.t.c.hes--he drank with Blackguards, he was miserable--We can see horribly clear, in the works of such a Man his whole life, as if we were G.o.d's spies.--What were his addresses to Jean in the latter part of his life? I should not speak so to you--yet why not--you are not in the same case--you are in the right path, and you shall not be deceived. I have spoken to you against Marriage, but it was general--the Prospect in those matters has been to me so blank, that I have not been unwilling to die--I would not now, for I have inducements to Life--I must see my little Nephews in America, and I must see you marry your lovely Wife. My sensations are sometimes deadened for weeks together--but believe me I have more than once yearned for the time of your happiness to come, as much as I could for myself after the lips of Juliet.--From the tenor of my occasional rodomontade in chit-chat, you might have been deceived concerning me in these points--upon my soul, I have been getting more and more close to you, every day, ever since I knew you, and now one of the first pleasures I look to is your happy Marriage--the more, since I have felt the pleasure of loving a sister in Law. I did not think it possible to become so much attached in so short a time--Things like these, and they are real, have made me resolve to have a care of my health--you must be as careful.

The rain has stopped us to-day at the end of a dozen Miles, yet we hope to see Loch Lomond the day after to-morrow;--I will piddle out my information, as Rice says, next Winter, at any time when a subst.i.tute is wanted for Vingt-un. We bear the fatigue very well--20 Miles a day in general--A Cloud came over us in getting up Skiddaw--I hope to be more lucky in Ben Lomond--and more lucky still in Ben Nevis. What I think you would enjoy is poking about Ruins--sometimes Abbey, sometimes Castle. The short stay we made in Ireland has left few remembrances--but an old woman in a dog-kennel Sedan with a pipe in her Mouth, is what I can never forget--I wish I may be able to give you an idea of her--Remember me to your Mother and Sisters, and tell your Mother how I hope she will pardon me for having a sc.r.a.p of paper pasted in the Book sent to her. I was driven on all sides and had not time to call on Taylor--So Bailey is coming to c.u.mberland--well, if you'll let me know where at Inverness, I will call on my return and pa.s.s a little time with him--I am glad 'tis not Scotland--Tell my friends I do all I can for them, that is, drink their healths in Toddy. Perhaps I may have some lines by and by to send you fresh, on your own Letter--Tom has a few to show you.

Your affectionate friend

JOHN KEATS.

LXI.--TO THOMAS KEATS.

Cairn-something [for Cairndow,] July 17, [1818].

My dear Tom--Here's Brown going on so that I cannot bring to mind how the two last days have vanished--for example he says The Lady of the Lake went to Rock herself to sleep on Arthur's seat and the Lord of the Isles coming to Press a Piece.... I told you last how we were stared at in Glasgow--we are not out of the Crowd yet. Steam Boats on Loch Lomond and Barouches on its sides take a little from the Pleasure of such romantic chaps as Brown and I. The Banks of the Clyde are extremely beautiful--the north end of Loch Lomond grand in excess--the entrance at the lower end to the narrow part from a little distance is precious good--the Evening was beautiful nothing could surpa.s.s our fortune in the weather--yet was I worldly enough to wish for a fleet of chivalry Barges with Trumpets and Banners just to die away before me into that blue place among the mountains--I must give you an outline as well as I can.[73]

No{t} B--the Water was a fine Blue silvered and the Mountains a dark purple, the Sun setting aslant behind them--meantime the head of ben Lomond was covered with a rich Pink Cloud. We did not ascend Ben Lomond--the price being very high and a half a day of rest being quite acceptable. We were up at 4 this morning and have walked to breakfast 15 Miles through two Tremendous Glens--at the end of the first there is a place called rest and be thankful which we took for an Inn--it was nothing but a Stone and so we were cheated into 5 more Miles to Breakfast--I have just been bathing in Loch Fyne a salt water Lake opposite the Windows,--quite pat and fresh but for the cursed Gad flies--d.a.m.n 'em they have been at me ever since I left the Swan and two necks.[74]

All gentle folks who owe a grudge To any living thing Open your ears and stay your trudge Whilst I in dudgeon sing.

The Gadfly he hath stung me sore-- O may he ne'er sting you!

But we have many a horrid bore He may sting black and blue.

Has any here an old gray Mare With three legs all her store, O put it to her b.u.t.tocks bare And straight she'll run on four.

Has any here a Lawyer suit Of 1743, Take Lawyer's nose and put it to't And you the end will see.

Is there a Man in Parliament Dumbfounder'd in his speech, O let his neighbour make a rent And put one in his breech.

O Lowther how much better thou Hadst figur'd t'other day When to the folks thou mad'st a bow And hadst no more to say.

If lucky Gadfly had but ta'en His seat upon thine A--e And put thee to a little pain To save thee from a worse.

Better than Southey it had been, Better than Mr. D----, Better than Wordsworth too, I ween, Better than Mr. V----.

Forgive me pray good people all For deviating so-- In spirit sure I had a call-- And now I on will go.

Has any here a daughter fair Too fond of reading novels, Too apt to fall in love with care And charming Mister Lovels,

O put a Gadfly to that thing She keeps so white and pert-- I mean the finger for the ring, And it will breed a wort.

Has any here a pious spouse Who seven times a day Scolds as King David pray'd, to chouse And have her holy way--

O let a Gadfly's little sting Persuade her sacred tongue That noises are a common thing, But that her bell has rung.

And as this is the summum bo- num of all conquering, I leave "withouten wordes mo"

The Gadfly's little sting.

[Inverary, July 18.]

Last Evening we came round the End of Loch Fyne to Inverary--the Duke of Argyle's Castle is very modern magnificent and more so from the place it is in--the woods seem old enough to remember two or three changes in the Crags about them--the Lake was beautiful and there was a Band at a distance by the Castle. I must say I enjoyed two or three common tunes--but nothing could stifle the horrors of a solo on the Bag-pipe--I thought the Beast would never have done.--Yet was I doomed to hear another.--On entering Inverary we saw a Play Bill. Brown was knocked up from new shoes--so I went to the Barn alone where I saw the Stranger accompanied by a Bag-pipe. There they went on about interesting creaters and human nater till the Curtain fell and then came the Bag-pipe. When Mrs. Haller fainted down went the Curtain and out came the Bag-pipe--at the heartrending, shoemending reconciliation the Piper blew amain. I never read or saw this play before; not the Bag-pipe nor the wretched players themselves were little in comparison with it--thank heaven it has been scoffed at lately almost to a fas.h.i.+on--

Of late two dainties were before me placed Sweet, holy, pure, sacred and innocent, From the ninth sphere to me benignly sent That G.o.ds might know my own particular taste: First the soft Bag-pipe mourn'd with zealous haste, The Stranger next with head on bosom bent Sigh'd; rueful again the piteous Bag-pipe went, Again the Stranger sighings fresh did waste.

O Bag-pipe thou didst steal my heart away-- O Stranger thou my nerves from Pipe didst charm-- O Bag-pipe thou didst re-a.s.sert thy sway-- Again thou Stranger gav'st me fresh alarm-- Alas! I could not choose. Ah! my poor heart Mumchance art thou with both oblig'd to part.

I think we are the luckiest fellows in Christendom--Brown could not proceed this morning on account of his feet and lo there is thunder and rain.

[Kilmelfort,] July 20th.

For these two days past we have been so badly accommodated more particularly in coa.r.s.e food that I have not been at all in cue to write.

Last night poor Brown with his feet blistered and scarcely able to walk, after a trudge of 20 Miles down the Side of Loch Awe had no supper but Eggs and Oat Cake--we have lost the sight of white bread entirely--Now we had eaten nothing but Eggs all day--about 10 a piece and they had become sickening--To-day we have fared rather better--but no oat Cake wanting--we had a small Chicken and even a good bottle of Port but all together the fare is too coa.r.s.e--I feel it a little.--Another week will break us in. I forgot to tell you that when we came through Glenside it was early in the morning and we were pleased with the noise of Shepherds, Sheep and dogs in the misty heights close above us--we saw none of them for some time, till two came in sight creeping among the Crags like Emmets, yet their voices came quite plainly to us--The approach to Loch Awe was very solemn towards nightfall--the first glance was a streak of water deep in the Bases of large black Mountains.--We had come along a complete mountain road, where if one listened there was not a sound but that of Mountain Streams. We walked 20 Miles by the side of Loch Awe--every ten steps creating a new and beautiful picture--sometimes through little wood--there are two islands on the Lake each with a beautiful ruin--one of them rich in ivy.--We are detained this morning by the rain. I will tell you exactly where we are. We are between Loch Craignish and the sea just opposite Long Island.[75] Yesterday our walk was of this description--the near Hills were not very lofty but many of them steep, beautifully wooded--the distant Mountains in the Hebrides very grand, the Salt.w.a.ter Lakes coming up between Crags and Islands full tide and scarcely ruffled--sometimes appearing as one large Lake, sometimes as three distinct ones in different directions. At one point we saw afar off a rocky opening into the main sea.--We have also seen an Eagle or two. They move about without the least motion of Wings when in an indolent fit.--I am for the first time in a country where a foreign Language is spoken--they gabble away Gaelic at a vast rate--numbers of them speak English. There are not many Kilts in Argyles.h.i.+re--at Fort William they say a Man is not admitted into Society without one--the Ladies there have a horror at the indecency of Breeches.

I cannot give you a better idea of Highland Life than by describing the place we are in. The Inn or public is by far the best house in the immediate neighbourhood. It has a white front with tolerable windows--the table I am writing on surprises me as being a nice flapped Mahogany one.... You may if you peep see through the floor c.h.i.n.ks into the ground rooms. The old Grandmother of the house seems intelligent though not over clean. _N.B._ No snuff being to be had in the village she made us some.

The Guid Man is a rough-looking hardy stout Man who I think does not speak so much English as the Guid wife who is very obliging and sensible and moreover though stockingless has a pair of old Shoes--Last night some Whisky Men sat up clattering Gaelic till I am sure one o'Clock to our great annoyance. There is a Gaelic testament on the Drawers in the next room. White and blue China ware has crept all about here--Yesterday there pa.s.sed a Donkey laden with tin-pots--opposite the Window there are hills in a Mist--a few Ash trees and a mountain stream at a little distance.--They possess a few head of Cattle.--If you had gone round to the back of the House just now--you would have seen more hills in a Mist--some dozen wretched black Cottages scented of peat smoke which finds its way by the door or a hole in the roof--a girl here and there barefoot.

There was one little thing driving Cows down a slope like a mad thing.

There was another standing at the cowhouse door rather pretty fac'd all up to the ankles in dirt.

[Oban, July 21.]

We have walk'd 15 Miles in a soaking rain to Oban opposite the Isle of Mull which is so near Staffa we had thought to pa.s.s to it--but the expense is 7 Guineas and those rather extorted.--Staffa you see is a fas.h.i.+onable place and therefore every one concerned with it either in this town or the Island are what you call up. 'Tis like paying sixpence for an apple at the playhouse--this irritated me and Brown was not best pleased--we have therefore resolved to set northward for fort William to-morrow morning. I fed upon a bit of white Bread to-day like a Sparrow--it was very fine--I cannot manage the cursed Oat Cake. Remember me to all and let me hear a good account of you at Inverness--I am sorry Georgy had not those lines.

Good-bye.

Your affectionate Brother

JOHN ----.

LXII.--TO BENJAMIN BAILEY.

Inverary, July 18 [1818].

My dear Bailey--The only day I have had a chance of seeing you when you were last in London I took every advantage of--some devil led you out of the way--Now I have written to Reynolds to tell me where you will be in c.u.mberland--so that I cannot miss you. And when I see you, the first thing I shall do will be to read that about Milton and Ceres, and Proserpine--for though I am not going after you to John o' Grot's, it will be but poetical to say so. And here, Bailey, I will say a few words written in a sane and sober mind, a very scarce thing with me, for they may, hereafter, save you a great deal of trouble about me, which you do not deserve, and for which I ought to be bastinadoed. I carry all matters to an extreme--so that when I have any little vexation, it grows in five minutes into a theme for Sophocles. Then, and in that temper, if I write to any friend, I have so little self-possession that I give him matter for grieving at the very time perhaps when I am laughing at a Pun. Your last letter made me blush for the pain I had given you--I know my own disposition so well that I am certain of writing many times hereafter in the same strain to you--now, you know how far to believe in them. You must allow for Imagination. I know I shall not be able to help it.

I am sorry you are grieved at my not continuing my visits to Little Britain--Yet I think I have as far as a Man can do who has Books to read and subjects to think upon--for that reason I have been nowhere else except to Wentworth Place so nigh at hand--moreover I have been too often in a state of health that made it prudent not to hazard the night air.

Yet, further, I will confess to you that I cannot enjoy Society small or numerous--I am certain that our fair friends are glad I should come for the mere sake of my coming; but I am certain I bring with me a vexation they are better without--If I can possibly at any time feel my temper coming upon me I refrain even from a promised visit. I am certain I have not a right feeling towards women--at this moment, I am striving to be just to them, but I cannot--Is it because they fall so far beneath my boyish Imagination? When I was a schoolboy I thought a fair woman a pure G.o.ddess; my mind was a soft nest in which some one of them slept, though she knew it not. I have no right to expect more than their reality--I thought them ethereal above men--I find them perhaps equal--great by comparison is very small. Insult may be inflicted in more ways than by word or action--One who is tender of being insulted does not like to think an insult against another. I do not like to think insults in a lady's company--I commit a crime with her which absence would not have known. Is it not extraordinary?--when among men, I have no evil thoughts, no malice, no spleen--I feel free to speak or to be silent--I can listen, and from every one I can learn--my hands are in my pockets, I am free from all suspicion and comfortable. When I am among women, I have evil thoughts, malice, spleen--I cannot speak, or be silent--I am full of suspicions and therefore listen to nothing--I am in a hurry to be gone. You must be charitable and put all this perversity to my being disappointed since my boyhood. Yet with such feelings I am happier alone among crowds of men, by myself, or with a friend or two. With all this, trust me, I have not the least idea that men of different feelings and inclinations are more short-sighted than myself. I never rejoiced more than at my Brother's marriage, and shall do so at that of any of my friends. I must absolutely get over this--but how? the only way is to find the root of the evil, and so cure it "with backward mutters of dissevering power"--that is a difficult thing; for an obstinate Prejudice can seldom be produced but from a gordian complication of feelings, which must take time to unravel, and care to keep unravelled. I could say a good deal about this, but I will leave it, in hopes of better and more worthy dispositions--and also content that I am wronging no one, for after all I do think better of womankind than to suppose they care whether Mister John Keats five feet high likes them or not. You appeared to wish to know my moods on this subject--don't think it a bore my dear fellow, it shall be my Amen. I should not have consented to myself these four months tramping in the highlands, but that I thought it would give me more experience, rub off more prejudice, use to more hards.h.i.+p, identify finer scenes, load me with grander mountains, and strengthen more my reach in Poetry, than would stopping at home among books, even though I should reach Homer. By this time I am comparatively a Mountaineer. I have been among wilds and mountains too much to break out much about their grandeur. I have fed upon oat-cake--not long enough to be very much attached to it.--The first mountains I saw, though not so large as some I have since seen, weighed very solemnly upon me. The effect is wearing away--yet I like them mainly.

[Island of Mull, July 22.]

We have come this Evening with a guide--for without was impossible--into the middle of the Isle of Mull, pursuing our cheap journey to Iona, and perhaps Staffa. We would not follow the common and fas.h.i.+onable mode, from the great Imposition of Expense. We have come over heath and rock, and river and bog, to what in England would be called a horrid place. Yet it belongs to a Shepherd pretty well off perhaps. The family speak not a word but Gaelic, and we have not yet seen their faces for the smoke, which, after visiting every cranny (not excepting my eyes very much incommoded for writing), finds its way out at the door. I am more comfortable than I could have imagined in such a place, and so is Brown. The people are all very kind--We lost our way a little yesterday; and inquiring at a Cottage, a young woman without a word threw on her cloak and walked a mile in a mizzling rain and splashy way to put us right again.

I could not have had a greater pleasure in these parts than your mention of my sister. She is very much prisoned from me. I am afraid it will be some time before I can take her to many places I wish. I trust we shall see you ere long in c.u.mberland--At least I hope I shall, before my visit to America, more than once. I intend to pa.s.s a whole year there, if I live to the completion of the three next. My sister's welfare, and the hopes of such a stay in America, will make me observe your advice. I shall be prudent and more careful of my health than I have been. I hope you will be about paying your first visit to Town after settling when we come into c.u.mberland--c.u.mberland however will be no distance to me after my present journey. I shall spin to you in a Minute. I begin to get rather a contempt of distances. I hope you will have a nice convenient room for a library.