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-everybody 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-Crip[p]s 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 Endy"mion 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 Hunts-" 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 Hunts elève. 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 sce them soon, with as many Letters-You will soon hear the dinning of Bells-never mind! you and Gle[i]g 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, The letter which Lord Houghton described as the "Outside sheet of a letter to Mr. Bailey," and which occupies pages 84 and 85 of this volume, is also incomplete, even as an outside sheet; and it appears from the post-mark that the letter was sent on the 5th of November 1817. In place of the first line of asterisks, read as follows: I will speak of something else or my spleen will get higher and higher-and I am a bearer of the two-edged sword, I hope you will receive an answer from Haydon soon, if not, Pride! Pride! Pride! I have received no more subscription-but shall soon have a full health, Liberty and leisure to give a good part of my time to him. I will certainly be in time for him-We have promised him one year: let that have elapsed, then do as we think proper. If I did not know how impossible it is, I should say " do not at this time of disappointments, disturb yourself about others." I am now enabled to fill up the blanks in Letter No. XIX, pages 86 and 87. That in the second line of the text should contain the name of Cripps, the young man whom Haydon undertook to teach painting; and that in line 5 of page 87 should contain the name of Rice. Three lines further on, after the word "mother," occur the words "he was, soothly to sain." The asterisks at page 100 stand for very little instead of "qualities" read "qualities, in sooth la !!" The following letter, sent to George and Thomas Keats while they were in temporary residence at Teignmouth, should be read after letter No. XXII in the present volume, pages 98 to 100. I have collated Mr. Speed's version with the incomplete copy sent by Mr. Jeffrey to Lord Houghton: My Dear Brothers : Featherstone Buildings, Monday. I ought to have written before, and you should have had a long letter last week, but I undertook the "Champion" for Reynolds, who is at Exeter. I wrote two articles, one on the Drury Lane Pantomime, the other on the Covent Garden new Tragedy,' which they 1 See Postscript. The tragedy was Retribution, or the Chieftain's Daughter, the pantomime Don Giovanni. Keats's two papers have not put in. The one they have inserted is so badly punctuated that, you perceive, I am determined never to write more without some care in that particular. Wells tells me that you are licking your chops, Tom, in expectation of my book coming out. I am sorry to say I have not begun my corrections yet: to-morrow I set out. I called on Sawrey this morning. He did not seem to be at all out at anything I said and the inquiries I made with regard to your spitting of blood, and moreover desired me to ask you to send him a correct account of all your sensations and symptoms concerning the palpitation and the spitting and the cough-if you have any. Your last letter gave me a great pleasure, for I think the invalid is in a better spirit there along the Edge'; and as for George, I must immediately, now I think of it, correct a little misconception of a part of my last letter. The Miss Reynolds have never said one word against me about you, or by any means endeavoured to lessen you in my estimation. That is not what I referred to; but the manner and thoughts which I knew they internally had towards you, time will show. Wells and Severn dined with me yesterday. We had a very pleasant day. I pitched upon another bottle of claret. We enjoyed ourselves very much; were all very witty and full of rhyme. We played a concert3 from 4 o'clock till 10-drank your healths, the Hunts', and N. B. are reprinted in this volume from The Champion for 4 January 1818. 1 It will be remembered that the brothers were on the sea coast. 2 a The curious locution may or may not be Keats's. What he meant, at all events, was to assure his brothers that the Misses Reynolds had not said anything to him against George. 3 Each one, that is to say, imitated vocally some musical instru |