sopher's stone-nor Fortunatus' purse, nor Gyges' ring— but at Bailey's suggestion, whom I assure you is a very capital fellow, we have stummed up a kind of contrivance whereby he will be enabled to do himself the benefits you will lay in his Path. I have a great Idea that he will be a tolerable neat brush. 'Tis perhaps the finest thing that will befal him this many a year: for he is just of an age to get grounded in bad habits from which you will pluck him. He brought a copy of Mary Queen of Scots: it appears to me that he has copied the bad style of the painting, as well as coloured the eyeballs yellow like the original. He has also the fault that you pointed out to me in Hazlitt on the constringing and diffusing of substance. However I really believe that he will take fire at the sight of your Picture -and set about things. If he can get ready in time to return to town with me, which will be in a few days— I will bring him to you. You will be glad to hear that within these last three weeks I have written 1000 lines— which are the third Book of my Poem. My Ideas with respect to it I assure you are very low-and I would write the subject thoroughly again-but I am tired of it and think the time would be better spent in writing a new Romance which I have in my eye for next summer -Rome was not built in a Day-and all the good I expect from my employment this summer is the fruit of Experience which I hope to gather in my next Poem. Bailey's kindest wishes and my vow of being Yours eternally John Keats XIX. To BENJAMIN BAILEY. My dear Bailey, Hampstead, Oct Wednesday. After a tolerable journey I went from coach to Coach as far as Hampstead where I found my Brothersthe next Morning finding myself tolerably well I went to Lambs Conduit Street and delivered your parcel-Jane and Marianne were greatly improved, Marianne especially, she has no unhealthy plumpness in the face-but she comes me healthy and angular to the chin.-I did not see John-I was extremely sorry to hear that poor Rice, after having had capital health during his tour, was very ill. I dare say you have heard from him. From No. 19 I went to Hunt's and Haydon's who live now neighbours-Shelley was there-I know nothing about anything in this part of the world-every Body seems at Loggerheads. There's Hunt infatuated—there's Haydon's picture in statu quo-There's Hunt walks up and down his painting room-criticising every head most unmercifully. There's Horace Smith tired of Hunt. "The web of our life is of mingled yarn." Haydon having removed entirely from Marlborough Street, Cripps must direct his letter to Lisson Grove, North Paddington. Yesterday Morning while I was at Brown's, in came Reynolds, he was pretty bobbish, we had a pleasant day he would walk home at night that cursed cold distance. Mrs. Bentley's children are making a horrid row-whereby I regret I cannot be transported to your Room to write to you. I am quite disgusted with literary men and will never know another except Wordsworth-no not even Byron. Here is an instance. of the friendship of such. Haydon and Hunt have known each other many years-now they live, pour ainsi dire, jealous neighbours-Haydon says to me, Keats, don't show your lines to Hunt on any Account or he will have done half for you-so it appears Hunt wishes it to be thought. When he met Reynolds in the Theatre, John told him that I was getting on to the completion of 4000 lines-Ah! says Hunt, had it not been for me they would have been 7000! If he will say this to Reynolds, what would he to other people? Haydon received a Letter a little while back on this subject from some Lady-which contains a caution to me, thro' him, on the subject—now is not all this a most paultry thing to think about? You may see the whole of the case by the following Extract from a Letter I wrote to George in the Spring-"As to what you say "about my being a Poet, I can return no Answer but "by saying that the high Idea I have of poetical fame "makes me think I see it towering too high above me. "At any rate, I have no right to talk until Endymion "is finished, it will be a test, a trial of my Powers of "Imagination, and chiefly of my invention which is a "rare thing indeed-by which I must make 4000 lines of "one bare circumstance, and fill them with poetry-and "when I consider that this is a great task, and that when "done it will take me but a dozen paces towards the temple of fame-it makes me say-God forbid that I "should be without such a task! I have heard Hunt "say, and I may be asked-why endeavour after a long "Poem? To which I should answer, Do not the Lovers "of Poetry like to have a little Region to wander in, "where they may pick and choose, and in which the "images are so numerous that many are forgotten and "found new in a second Reading: which may be food "for a Week's stroll in the Summer? Do not they like "this better than what they can read through before "Mrs. Williams comes down stairs? a Morning work at "most. "Besides, a long poem is a test of invention, which I "take to be the Polar Star of Poetry, as Fancy is the Sails and Imagination the rudder.-Did our great "Poets ever write Short Pieces? I mean in the shape "of Tales. This same invention seems indeed of late "years to have been forgotten as a Poetical excellence"But enough of this, I put on no Laurels till I shall "have finished Endymion, and I hope Apollo is not "angered at my having made a Mockery at Hunt's-" You see Bailey how independent my Writing has been. Hunt's dissuasion was of no avail-I refused to visit Shelley that I might have my own unfettered scope;— and after all, I shall have the Reputation of Hunt's élève. His corrections and amputations will by the knowing ones be traced in the Poem. This is, to be sure, the vexation of a day-nor would I say so many words about it to any but those whom I know to have my welfare and reputation at heart. Haydon promised to give directions for those Casts, and you may expect to see them soon, with as many Letters-You will soon hear the dinning of Bells-never mind! you and Gleig will defy the foul fiend-But do not sacrifice your health to Books: do take it kindly and not so voraciously. I am certain if you are your own Physician, your Stomach will resume its proper strength and then what great benefits will follow. My sister wrote a Letter to me, which I think must be at the post-office-Ax Will to see. My Brother's kindest remembrances to you-we are going to dine at Brown's where I have some hopes of meeting Reynolds. The little Mercury I have taken has corrected the poison and improved my health—tho' I feel from my employment that I shall never be again secure in Robustness. Would that you were as well as Your sincere friend and brother, John Keats XX. To BENJAMIN BAILEY. My dear Bailey, [November 1817.] So you have got a Curacy-good, but I suppose you will be obliged to stop among your Oxford favourites during Term time. Never mind. When do you preach your first sermon ?-tell me, for I shall propose to the two R.'s to hear it, so don't look into any of the old corner oaken pews, for fear of being put out by us. Poor Johnny Moultrie can't be there. He is ill, I expect—but that's neither here nor there. All I can say, I wish him as well through it as I am like to be. For this fortnight I have been confined at Hampstead. Saturday evening was my first day in town, when I went to Rice's,-as we intend to do every Saturday till we know not when. We hit upon an old gent we had known some few years ago, and had a veiry pleasante daye. In this world there. is no quiet,-nothing but teazing and snubbing and vexation. My brother Tom looked very unwell yesterday, and I am for shipping him off to Lisbon. Perhaps I ship there with him. I have not seen Mrs. Reynolds since I left you; wherefore my conscience smites me. I think of seeing her to-morrow; have you any message? I hope Gleig came soon after I left. I don't suppose I've written as many lines as you have read volumes, or at least chapters, since I saw you. However, I am in a |
