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III.

To BENJAMIN ROBERT HAYDON.

My dear Sir,

Thursday afternoon, 20 November 1816.
[Imperfect Postmark, No. 21]

Your letter has filled me with a proud pleasure, and shall be kept by me as a stimulus to exertion-I begin to fix my eye upon one horizon. My feelings entirely fall in with yours in regard to the E[1]lipsis, and I glory in it. The Idea of your sending it to Words

Lord Houghton says "It should here be remembered that Wordsworth was not then what he is now, that he was confounded with much that was thought ridiculous and unmanly in the new school, and that it was something for so young a student to have torn away the veil of prejudice then hanging over that now-honoured name, and to have proclaimed his reverence in such earnest words, while so many men of letters could only scorn or jeer." It was perhaps between this date and that of the next letter that the following excellent sonnet by Reynolds was written. I give it and the letter accompanying it, from the manuscript preserved in Haydon's journal, as a link in the chain of recollections whereby we may follow more or less closely the relations of Keats with a brilliant circle of friends :

Lamb's Cond'. Street

My dear Haydon,

Friday morning 10 O'Clock

As you are now getting "golden opinions from all sorts of men," it was not fitting that One who is sincerely your Friend should be found wanting. Last night when you left me-I went to my bed-And the Sonnet on the other side absolutely started into my mind. I send it you, because I really feel your Genius, and because I know that things of this kind are the dearest rewards of Genius. It is not equal to anything you have yet had, in power, I know;— but it is sincere, and that is a recommendation. Will you, at my

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worth put me out of breath-you know with what Reverence I would send my Well-wishes to him.

Yours sincerely

John Keats

desire, send a copy to Mr. Keats, and say to him, how much I was pleased with his. Yours affectionately

J. H. Reynolds

SONNET TO HAYDON

Haydon !-Thou'rt born to Immortality!—
I look full on ;-And Fame's Eternal Star
Shines out o'er Ages which are yet afar ;-
It hangs in all its radiance over thee!

I watch whole Nations o'er thy works sublime
Bending; And breathing,-while their spirits glow,-
Thy name with that of the stern Angelo,
Whose giant genius braves the hate of Time!
But not alone in agony and strife

Art thou majestical;-Thy fancies bring
Sweets from the sweet :-The loveliness of life

Melts from thy pencil like the breath of Spring.
Soul is within thee :-Honours wait without thee :-
The wings of Raphael's Spirit play about thee!

J. H. Reynolds

In Haydon's writing, underneath the sonnet, is the note, "Wild enthusiasm-B. R. Haydon, 1842."

IV.

To CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE.

Tuesday

My dear Charles,

[Postmark, Lombard Street, 17 December 1816.]

You may now look at Minerva's Ægis with impunity, seeing that my awful Visage did not turn you into a John Doree. You have accordingly a legitimate title to a Copy-I will use my interest to procure it for you. I'll tell you what-I met Reynolds at Haydon's a few mornings since he promised to be with me this Evening and Yesterday I had the same promise from Severn and I must put you in Mind that on last All hallowmas' day you gave me you[r] word that you would spend this Evening with me—so no putting off. I have done little to Endymion lately-I hope to finish it in one more attack-I believe you I went to Richards's-it was so whoreson a Night that I stopped there all the next day. His Remembrances to you. (Ext. from the common place Book of my Mind-Mem.-Wednesday-Hampstead-call in Warner Street-a Sketch of Mr. Hunt.) -I will ever consider you my sincere and affectionate friend-you will not doubt that I am your's.

God bless you

John Keats

This letter, addressed similarly to Number I, probably refers to one of Severn's portraits of Keats, and to the poem "I stood tip-toe" &c. (Volume I, page 7), which was originally meant to be called Endymion as is proved by an autograph manuscript of the poem which I had not the advantage of seeing until after Volume I had passed the press.

V.

To JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDs.

My dear Reynolds,

[March 1817.]

My brothers are anxious that I should go by myself into the country; they have always been extremely fond of me, and now that Haydon has pointed out how necessary it is that I should be alone to improve myself,

Lord Houghton says Keats "found himself on his first entrance into manhood thrown on the world almost without the means of daily subsistence, but with many friends interested in his fortunes, and with the faith in the future which generally accompanies the highest genius. Mr. Haydon seems to have been to him a wise and prudent counsellor, and to have encouraged him to brace his powers by undistracted study, while he advised him to leave London for awhile, and take more care of his health. The following note, written in March, shows that Keats did as he was recommended." The date of Haydon's letter to Keats on the Elgin Marbles Sonnets (Volume II, page 562) appears from the manuscript in his journal to be the 3rd of March 1817. The passage omitted from the end of the first paragraph, as given in the Correspondence, is "You filled me with fury for an hour, and with admiration for ever"; and in a postscript he says "I shall expect you and Clarke and Reynolds tonight." The second paragraph seems to have been an afterthought, or rather an after-feeling, for it runs thus in the manuscript

My dear Keats,

I have really opened my letter to tell you how deeply I feel the high enthusiastic praise with which you have spoken of me in the first Sonnet-be assured you shall never repent it-the time shall come if God spare my life-when you will remember it with delight

Once more God bless you

BR Haydon.

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The following highly remarkable letter, of which also an extract is given in the Correspondence, appears, like the foregoing, to have

they give up the temporary pleasure of living with me. continually for a great good which I hope will follow; so I shall soon be out of town. You must soon bring all your present troubles to a close, and so must I, but we must, like the Fox, prepare for a fresh swarm of flies. Banish

been written before Keats carried out the intention of going into the Country, for a leaf fastened into Haydon's journal with it, apparently its cover, bears the address "John Keats, 76 Cheapside". I say apparently its cover, because the one leaf was evidently once attached to the other, and the outer one bears on the inside the words "I confide these feelings to your honor". The occasion is the recent issue of the Poems of 1817:

My dear Keats,

Consider this letter a sacred secret.-Often have I sat by my fire after a day's effort, as the dusk approached, and a gauzey veil seemed dimming all things-and mused on what I had done, and with a burning glow on what I would do till filled with fury I have seen the faces of the mighty dead crowd into my room, and I have sunk down and prayed the great Spirit that I might be worthy to accompany these immortal beings in their immortal glories, and then I have seen each smile as it passed over me, and each shake his hand in awful encouragement. My dear Keats, the Friends who surrounded me were sensible to what talent I had, but no one reflected my enthusiasm with that burning ripeness of soul, my heart yearned for sympathy,―believe me from my soul, in you I have found one,-you add fire, when I am exhausted, and excite fury afresh-I offer my heart and intellect and experience—at first I feared your ardor might lead you to disregard the accumulated wisdom of ages in moral points-but the feelings put forth lately have delighted my soul-always consider principle of more value than genius-and you are safe—because on the score of genius, you can never be vehement enough. I have read your "Sleep and Poetry”—it is a flash of lightning that will rouse men from their occupations, and keep them trembling for the crash of thunder that will follow.

God bless you! let our hearts be buried on each other.

I'll be at Reynolds tonight but latish.

March 1817.

VOL. III.

E

B. R. Haydon.

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