time, when the relief, the feverous relief of poetry, seems a much less crime. This morning poetry has conquered -I have relapsed into those abstractions which are my only life-I feel escaped from a new, strange, and threatening sorrow, and I am thankful for it. There is an awful warmth about my heart, like a load of Immortality.

me.

Poor Tom-that woman and poetry were ringing changes in my senses. Now I am, in comparison, happy. I am sensible this will distress you-you must forgive Had I known you would have set out so soon I would have sent you the "Pot of Basil," for I had copied it out ready. Here is a free translation of a Sonnet of Ronsard, which I think will please you. I have the loan of his works they have great beauties.

Nature withheld Cassandra in the skies, &c.1

I had not the original by me when I wrote it, and did not recollect the purport of the last lines.

I should have seen Rice ere this, but I am confined by Sawrey's mandate in the house now, and have, as yet, only gone out in fear of the damp night. I shall soon be quite recovered. Your offer I shall remember as though it had even now taken place in fact. I think it cannot be. Tom is not up yet-I cannot say he is better. I have not heard from George.

Your affectionate friend,

John Keats.

1 For the sonnet see Volume II, pages 317-18.

My dear Fanny,

LXV.

To FANNY KEATS.

Miss Tuckey's,

Walthamstow.

[Postmark, Hampstead, 9 October 1818.]

Poor Tom is about the same as when you saw him last; perhaps weaker-were it not for that I should have been over to pay you a visit these fine days. I got to the stage half an hour before it set out and counted the buns and tarts in a Pastry-cook's window and was just beginning with the Jellies. There was no one in the Coach who had a Mind to eat me like Mr. Sham-deaf. I shall be punctual in enquiring about next Thursday— Your affectionate Brother

John

The situation is not very clearly indicated in this note, unless we are to read half an hour before it set out as an elliptical expression for half an hour before it would have set out had there been passengers enough. Otherwise, one cannot well see what was the explanation of the change of plan.

LXVI.

To JAMES AUGUSTUS HESSEY.

My dear Hessey,

9 October 1818.

You are very good in sending me the letters from the Chronicle,' and I am very bad in not acknowledging such a kindness sooner: pray forgive me. It has so chanced that I have had that paper every day. I have seen to-day's. I cannot but feel indebted to those gentlemen who have taken my part. As for the rest, I begin to get a little acquainted with my own strength and weakness. Praise or blame has but a momentary > effect on the man whose love of beauty in the abstract makes him a severe critic on his own works. My own domestic criticism has given me pain without comparison beyond what "Blackwood" or the "Quarterly" could possibly inflict: and also when I feel I am right, no external praise can give me such a glow as my own solitary reperception and ratification of what is fine. J. S. is perfectly right in regard to the "slip-shod Endymion." That it is so is no fault of mine. No! though it may sound a little paradoxical, it is as good as I had power to make it by myself. Had I been nervous about its being a perfect piece, and with that view asked advice, and trembled over every page, it would not have been written; for it is not in my nature to fumble. I will write independently. I have written independently without judgment. I may write independently, and with judgment, hereafter. The Genius of Poetry must work out its own salvation in a man. It cannot be matured by law and precept, but by sensation and watchfulness

See Appendix.

in itself. That which is creative must create itself. In "Endymion” I leaped headlong into the sea, and thereby have become better acquainted with the soundings, the quicksands, and the rocks, than if I had stayed upon the green shore, and piped a silly pipe, and took tea and comfortable advice. I was never afraid of failure; for I would sooner fail than not be among the greatest. But I am nigh getting into a rant; so, with remembrances to Taylor and Woodhouse, &c., I am,

You must not condemn me for not being punctual to Thursday, for I really did not know whether it would not affect poor Tom too much to see you. You know how it hurt him to part with you the last time. At all events you shall hear from me; and if Tom keeps pretty well tomorrow, I will see Mr. Abbey the next day, and endeavour to settle that you shall be with us on Tuesday or Wednesday. I have good news from George-He has landed safely with our Sister-they are both in good health-their prospects are good—and they are by this time nighing to their journey's end-you shall hear the particulars soon.

Your affectionate Brother

Tom's love to you.

John

LXVIII.

To FANNY KEATS.

My dear Fanny,

Miss Tuckey's,
Walthamstow.

[Postmark, Hampstead, 26 October 1818.]

I called on Mr. Abbey in the beginning of last Week: when he seemed averse to letting you come again from having heard that you had been to other places besides Well Walk. I do not mean to say you did. wrongly in speaking of it, for there should rightly be no objection to such things: but you know with what People we are obliged in the course of Childhood to associate, whose conduct forces us into duplicity and fa[1]shood to them. To the worst of People we should be openhearted: but it is as well as things are to be prudent in making any communication to any one, that may throw an impediment in the way of any of the little pleasures you may have. I do not recommend duplicity but prudence with such people. Perhaps I am talking too deeply for you: if you do not now, you will understand what I mean in the course of a few years. I think poor Tom is a little Better: he sends his love to you. I shall call on Mr. Abbey to morrow: when I hope to settle when to see you again. Mrs. Dilke has been for some time at Brighton-she is expected home in a day or two. She will be pleased I am sure with your present. I will try for permission for you to remain here all Night should Mrs. D. return in time.