Letters of John Keats to His Family and Friends Part 23

As I am about it I might as well give you his character of G.o.dwin as a Romancer:--

"Whoever else is, it is pretty clear that the author of Caleb Williams is not the author of Waverley. Nothing can be more distinct or excellent in their several ways than these two writers. If the one owes almost everything to external observations and traditional character, the other owes everything to internal conception and contemplation of the possible workings of the human Mind. There is little knowledge of the world, little variety, neither an eye for the picturesque nor a talent for the humorous in Caleb Williams, for instance, but you cannot doubt for a moment of the originality of the work and the force of the conception. The impression made upon the reader is the exact measure of the strength of the author's genius.

For the effect both in Caleb Williams and St. Leon is entirely made out, not by facts nor dates, by blackletter, or magazine learning, by transcript nor record, but by intense and patient study of the human heart, and by an imagination projecting itself into certain situations, and capable of working up its imaginary feelings to the height of reality."

This appears to me quite correct--Now I will copy the other Poem--it is on the double immortality of Poets--

Bards of Pa.s.sion and of Mirth Ye have left your souls on earth-- Have ye souls in heaven too, Double liv'd in regions new?

Yes--and those of heaven commune With the spheres of Sun and Moon; With the noise of fountains wondrous And the parle of voices thund'rous; With the Whisper of heaven's trees, And one another, in soft ease Seated on elysian Lawns Browsed by none but Dian's fawns; Underneath large bluebells tented, Where the daisies are rose scented, And the rose herself has got Perfume that on Earth is not.

Where the nightingale doth sing Not a senseless, tranced thing; But melodious truth divine, Philosophic numbers fine; Tales and golden histories Of Heaven and its Mysteries.

Thus ye live on Earth, and then On the Earth ye live again; And the souls ye left behind you Teach us here the way to find you, Where your other souls are joying Never slumber'd, never cloying.

Here your earth born souls still speak To mortals of the little week They must sojourn with their cares; Of their sorrows and delights Of their Pa.s.sions and their spites; Of their glory and their shame-- What doth strengthen and what maim.

Thus ye teach us every day Wisdom though fled far away.

Bards of Pa.s.sion and of Mirth, Ye have left your Souls on Earth!

Ye have souls in heaven too, Double liv'd in Regions new!

These are specimens of a sort of rondeau which I think I shall become partial to--because you have one idea amplified with greater ease and more delight and freedom than in the sonnet. It is my intention to wait a few years before I publish any minor poems--and then I hope to have a volume of some worth--and which those people will relish who cannot bear the burthen of a long poem. In my journal I intend to copy the poems I write the days they are written--There is just room, I see, in this page to copy a little thing I wrote off to some Music as it was playing--

I had a dove and the sweet dove died, And I have thought it died of grieving: O what could it mourn for? it was tied With a silken thread of my own hand's weaving.

Sweet little red-feet why did you die?

Why would you leave me--sweet dove why?

You lived alone on the forest tree.

Why pretty thing could you not live with me?

I kissed you oft and I gave you white peas.

Why not live sweetly as in the green trees?

Sunday [January 3].

I have been dining with Dilke to-day--He is up to his Ears in Walpole's letters. Mr. Manker is there, and I have come round to see if I can conjure up anything for you. Kirkman came down to see me this morning--his family has been very badly off lately. He told me of a villainous trick of his Uncle William in Newgate Street, who became sole Creditor to his father under pretence of serving him, and put an execution on his own Sister's goods. He went in to the family at Portsmouth; conversed with them, went out and sent in the Sherriff's officer. He tells me too of abominable behaviour of Archer to Caroline Mathew--Archer has lived nearly at the Mathews these two years; he has been amusing Caroline--and now he has written a Letter to Mrs. M. declining, on pretence of inability to support a wife as he would wish, all thoughts of marriage. What is the worst is Caroline is 27 years old. It is an abominable matter. He has called upon me twice lately--I was out both times. What can it be for?--There is a letter to-day in the Examiner to the Electors of Westminster on Mr. Hobhouse's account. In it there is a good character of Cobbett--I have not the paper by me or I would copy it. I do not think I have mentioned the discovery of an African Kingdom--the account is much the same as the first accounts of Mexico--all magnificence--There is a Book being written about it. I will read it and give you the cream in my next. The romance we have heard upon it runs thus: They have window frames of gold--100,000 infantry--human sacrifices. The Gentleman who is the Adventurer has his wife with him--she, I am told, is a beautiful little sylphid woman--her husband was to have been sacrificed to their G.o.ds and was led through a Chamber filled with different instruments of torture with privilege to choose what death he would die, without their having a thought of his aversion to such a death, they considering it a supreme distinction. However he was let off, and became a favourite with the King, who at last openly patronised him, though at first on account of the Jealousy of his Ministers he was wont to hold conversations with his Majesty in the dark middle of the night. All this sounds a little Bluebeardish--but I hope it is true. There is another thing I must mention of the momentous kind;--but I must mind my periods in it--Mrs. Dilke has two Cats--a Mother and a Daughter--now the Mother is a tabby and the daughter a black and white like the spotted child. Now it appears to me, for the doors of both houses are opened frequently, so that there is a complete thoroughfare for both Cats (there being no board up to the contrary), they may one and several of them come into my room ad libitum.

But no--the Tabby only comes--whether from sympathy for Ann the Maid or me I cannot tell--or whether Brown has left behind him any atmospheric spirit of Maidenhood I cannot tell. The Cat is not an old Maid herself--her daughter is a proof of it--I have questioned her--I have look'd at the lines of her paw--I have felt her pulse--to no purpose. Why should the _old_ Cat come to me? I ask myself--and myself has not a word to answer.

It may come to light some day; if it does you shall hear of it.

Kirkman this morning promised to write a few lines to you and send them to Haslam. I do not think I have anything to say in the Business way. You will let me know what you would wish done with your property in England--what things you would wish sent out--But I am quite in the dark about what you are doing--If I do not hear soon I shall put on my wings and be after you. I will in my next, and after I have seen your next letter, tell you my own particular idea of America. Your next letter will be the key by which I shall open your hearts and see what s.p.a.ces want filling with any particular information--Whether the affairs of Europe are more or less interesting to you--whether you would like to hear of the Theatres--of the bear Garden--of the Boxers--the Painters, the Lectures--the Dress--The progress of Dandyism--The Progress of Courts.h.i.+p--or the fate of Mary Millar--being a full, true, and tres particular account of Miss M.'s ten Suitors--How the first tried the effect of swearing; the second of stammering; the third of whispering;--the fourth of sonnets--the fifth of Spanish leather boots;--the sixth of flattering her body--the seventh of flattering her mind--the eighth of flattering himself--the ninth stuck to the Mother--the tenth kissed the Chambermaid and told her to tell her Mistress--But he was soon discharged, his reading led him into an error; he could not sport the Sir Lucius to any advantage. And now for this time I bid you good-bye--I have been thinking of these sheets so long that I appear in closing them to take my leave of you--but that is not it--I shall immediately as I send this off begin my journal--when some days I shall write no more than 10 lines and others 10 times as much. Mrs. Dilke is knocking at the wall for Tea is ready--I will tell you what sort of a tea it is and then bid you Good-bye.

[January 4.]

This is Monday morning--nothing particular happened yesterday evening, except that when the tray came up Mrs. Dilke and I had a battle with celery stalks--she sends her love to you. I shall close this and send it immediately to Haslam--remaining ever, My dearest brother and sister,

Your most affectionate Brother

JOHN.

Lx.x.xI.--TO RICHARD WOODHOUSE.

Wentworth Place, Friday Morn [December 18, 1818].

My dear Woodhouse--I am greatly obliged to you. I must needs feel flattered by making an impression on a set of ladies. I should be content to do so by meretricious romance verse, if they alone, and not men, were to judge. I should like very much to know those ladies--though look here, Woodhouse--I have a new leaf to turn over: I must work; I must read; I must write. I am unable to afford time for new acquaintances. I am scarcely able to do my duty to those I have. Leave the matter to chance.

But do not forget to give my remembrances to your cousin.

Yours most sincerely

JOHN KEATS.

Lx.x.xII.--TO MRS. REYNOLDS.

Wentworth Place, Tuesd. [December 22, 1818].

My dear Mrs. Reynolds--When I left you yesterday, 'twas with the conviction that you thought I had received no previous invitation for Christmas day: the truth is I had, and had accepted it under the conviction that I should be in Hamps.h.i.+re at the time: else believe me I should not have done so, but kept in Mind my old friends. I will not speak of the proportion of pleasure I may receive at different Houses--that never enters my head--you may take for a truth that I would have given up even what I did see to be a greater pleasure, for the sake of old acquaintances.h.i.+p--time is nothing--two years are as long as twenty.

Yours faithfully

JOHN KEATS.

Lx.x.xIII.--TO BENJAMIN ROBERT HAYDON.

Wentworth Place, Tuesday [December 22, 1818].

My dear Haydon--Upon my Soul I never felt your going out of the room at all--and believe me I never rhodomontade anywhere but in your Company--my general Life in Society is silence. I feel in myself all the vices of a Poet, irritability, love of effect and admiration--and influenced by such devils I may at times say more ridiculous things than I am aware of--but I will put a stop to that in a manner I have long resolved upon--I will buy a gold ring and put it on my finger--and from that time a Man of superior head shall never have occasion to pity me, or one of inferior Nunskull to chuckle at me. I am certainly more for greatness in a shade than in the open day--I am speaking as a mortal--I should say I value more the privilege of seeing great things in loneliness than the fame of a Prophet.

Yet here I am sinning--so I will turn to a thing I have thought on more--I mean your means till your picture be finished: not only now but for this year and half have I thought of it. Believe me Haydon I have that sort of fire in my heart that would sacrifice everything I have to your service--I speak without any reserve--I know you would do so for me--I open my heart to you in a few words. I will do this sooner than you shall be distressed: but let me be the last stay--Ask the rich lovers of Art first--I'll tell you why--I have a little money which may enable me to study, and to travel for three or four years. I never expect to get anything by my Books: and moreover I wish to avoid publis.h.i.+ng--I admire Human Nature but I do not like _Men_. I should like to compose things honourable to Man--but not fingerable over by _Men_. So I am anxious to exist without troubling the printer's devil or drawing upon Men's or Women's admiration--in which great solitude I hope G.o.d will give me strength to rejoice. Try the long purses--but do not sell your drawings or I shall consider it a breach of friends.h.i.+p. I am sorry I was not at home when Salmon called. Do write and let me know all your present whys and wherefores.

Yours most faithfully

JOHN KEATS.

Lx.x.xIV.--TO JOHN TAYLOR.

Wentworth Place, [December 24, 1818].

My dear Taylor--Can you lend me 30 for a short time? Ten I want for myself--and twenty for a friend--which will be repaid me by the middle of next month. I shall go to Chichester on Wednesday and perhaps stay a fortnight--I am afraid I shall not be able to dine with you before I return. Remember me to Woodhouse.

Yours sincerely