instant that Lord Chesterfield has done some such thing to his son. Now I would not bathe in the same river with Lord C., though I had the upper hand of the stream. I am grieved that in writing and speaking it is necessary to make use of the same particles as he did. Cobbett is expected to come in. O! that I had two double plumpers for him. The ministry is not so inimical to him, but it would like to put him into Coventry. Casting my eye on the other side I see a long word written in a most vile manner, unbecoming a critic. You must recollect I have served no apprenticeship to old plays. If the only copies of the Greek and Latin authors had been made by you, Bailey, and Haydon, they were as good as lost. It has been said that the character of a man may be known by his handwriting; if the character of the age may be known by the average goodness of ours, what a slovenly age we live in. Look at Queen Elizabeth's Latin exercises and blush. Look at Milton's hand: I can't say a word for Shakespeare. Your sincere friend, JOHN KEATS. Towards the end of the spring Keats's outward health was so much better that the physician recommended him to take another tour in Scotland. Mr. Brown, however, thinking him quite unfit to cope with the chance hardships of such an expedition, generously dissuaded him, though he was so far from anticipating any rapid change in Keats's constitution that he determined to go alone and return to his friend in a few weeks. On the seventh of May the two friends parted at Gravesend, and never met again. Keats went to lodge at Kentish Town to be near his friend Leigh Hunt, but soon returned to Hampstead, where he remained with the family of the lady to whom he was attached. In these latter letters the catastrophe of mortal sickness, accompanied by the dread of poverty, is seen gradually coming on, and the publication of his new volume hardly relieves the general gloom of the picture. MY DEAR DILKE, As Brown is not to be a fixture at Hampstead, I have at last made up my mind to send home all lent books. I should have seen you before this, but my mind has been at work all over the world to find out what to do. I have my choice of three things, or, at least, two,-South America, or surgeon to an Indiaman; which last, I think, will be my fate. I shall resolve in a few days. Remember me to Mrs. D. and Charles, and your father and mother. Ever truly yours, JOHN KEATS. In reading over the proof of "St. Agnes' Eve" since I left Fleet-street, I was struck with what appears to me an alteration in the seventh stanza very much for the worse. The passage I mean stands thus: "her maiden eyes incline Still on the floor, while many a sweeping train 'Twas originally written "her maiden eyes divine Fix'd on the floor, saw many a sweeping train My meaning is quite destroyed in the alteration. I do not use train for concourse of passers by, but for skirts sweeping along the floor. In the first stanza my copy reads, second line "bitter chill it was," to avoid the echo cold in the second line. Ever yours sincerely, JOHN KEATS. MY DEAR BROWN, I have only been to you left, when S once since could not find your letters. Now this is bad of me. I should, in this instance, conquer the great aversion to breaking up my regular habits, which grows upon me more and more. True, I have an excuse in the weather, which drives one from shelter to shelter in any little excursion. I have not heard from George. My book* is coming out with very low hopes, though not spirits, on my part. This shall be my last trial; not succeeding, I shall try what I can do in the apothecary line. When you hear from or see it is probable you will hear some complaints against me, which this notice is not intended to forestall. The fact is, I did behave badly; but it is to be attributed to my health, spirits, and the disadvantageous ground I stand on in society. I could go and accommodate matters if I were not too weary of the world. I know that they are more happy and comfortable than I am; therefore why should I trouble myself about it? I foresee I shall know very few people in the course of a year or two. Men get such different habits that they become as oil and vinegar to one * 66 'Lamia, Isabella, and other Poems." another. Thus far I have a consciousness of having been pretty dull and heavy, both in subject and phrase; I might add, enigmatical. I am in the wrong, and the world is in the right, I have no doubt. Fact is, I have had so many kindnesses done me by so many people, that I am cheveaux-de-frised with benefits, which I must jump over or break down. I met in town, a few days ago, who invited me to supper to meet Wordsworth, Southey, Lamb, Haydon, and some more; I was too careful of my health to risk being out at night. Talking of that, I continue to improve slowly, but, I think, surely. There is a famous exhibition in PallMall of the old English portraits by Vandyck and Holbein, Sir Peter Lely, and the great Sir Godfrey. Pleasant countenances predominate; so I will mention two or three unpleasant ones. There is James the First, whose appearance would disgrace a Society for the Suppression of Women;" so very squalid and subdued to nothing he looks. Then, there is old Lord Burleigh, the high-priest of economy, the political save-all, who has the appearance of a Pharisee just rebuffed by a Gospel bon-mot. Then, there is George the Second, very like an unintellectual Voltaire, troubled with the gout and a bad temper. Then, there is young Devereux, the favourite, with every appearance of as slang a boxer as any in the 66 |