generally at a very low ebb from such a protracted illness. I shall be here for a little time and at home all and every day. A journey to Italy is recommended me, which I have resolved upon and am beginning to prepare for. Hoping to see you shortly 'Tis a long time since I received your last. An accident of an unpleasant nature occur[r]ed at Mr. Hunt's and prevented me from answering you, that is to say made me nervous. That you may not suppose it worse I will mention that some one of Mr. Hunt's household opened a Letter of mine-upon which I immediately left Mortimer Terrace, with the intention of taking to Mrs. Bentley's again; fortunately I am not in so lone a situation, but am staying a short time with Mrs. Brawne who lives in the House which was Mrs. Dilke's. I am excessively nervous: a person I am not quite used to entering the room half choaks me. 'Tis not yet Consumption I believe, but it would be were I to remain in this climate all the Winter : so I am thinking of either voyaging or travelling to Italy. Yesterday I received an invitation from Mr. Shelley, a Gentleman residing at Pisa, to spend the Winter with him if I go I : OCV. The beginning of this letter does not quite explain itself, as the incident of the opened letter at Hunt's had occurred as recently as the 10th of August, and had not been known by Keats till the 12th. This is quite clear from Mrs. Gisborne's manuscript journal, wherein it is mentioned that the Gisbornes were at Hunt's on Thursday the 10th, and that the Hunts promised to come to the Gisbornes on Saturday the 12th. On Saturday the 19th "Mrs. Hunt came in to tea; she called to apologise for herself and Mr. Hunt, for not having kept their appointment on the Saturday before; they were prevented by an unpleasant circumstance that happened to Keats. While we [were] there on Thursday a note was brought to him after he had retired to his room to repose himself; Mrs. Hunt being occupied with the child desired her upper servant to take it to him, and thought no more about it. On Friday the servant left her, and on Saturday Thornton produced this note open (which contained not a word of the least consequence), telling his mother that the servant had given it him before she left the house with injunctions not to shew it to his mother till the following day. Poor Keats was affected by this inconceivable circumstance beyond what can be imagined; he wept for several hours, and resolved, notwithstanding Hunt's entreaties, to leave the house; he went to Hampstead that same evening." must be away in a Month or even less. I am glad you like the Poems, you must hope with me that time and health will produce you some more. This is the first morning I have been able to sit to the paper and have many Letters to write if I can manage them. God bless you my dear Sister. Your affectionate Brother, CCVI. John My dear Shelley, To PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. Hampstead, August 1820. I am very much gratified that you, in a foreign country, and with a mind almost overoccupied, should write to me in the strain of the letter beside me. If I do not take advantage of your invitation, it will be prevented by a circumstance I have very much at heart to prophesy. There is no doubt that an English winter would put an end to me, and do so in a lingering, hateful manner. Therefore, I must either voyage or journey to Italy, as a soldier marches up to a battery. My nerves at present are the worst part of me, yet they feel soothed that, come what extreme may, I shall not be destined to remain in one spot long CCVI. As to the date and place inscribed at the head of this letter, some explanation must be offered. In the 'Shelley Memorials' it is fully dated the 10th of August. Now Keats had not on the 10th of August returned to Hampstead; and according to his letter of the 14th to his sister he only received Shelley's invitation on the 13th. As the 14th was the first day he had sat down to write since his recent attack, that is the earliest date assignable to the reply; and this to Shelley was probably one of the several letters he had to write that day; but it seems safer to leave the day blank for the present. Shelley's letter written at Pisa on the 27th of July should in the natural course, if posted at once, have reached Keats about a fortnight later, and would probably be answered promptly. It is as follows: My dear Keats, Pisa, 27th July, 1820. I hear with great pain the dangerous accident you have undergone, and Mr. Gisborne, who gives me the account of it, adds that you continue to wear a consumptive appearance. This consumption is a disease particularly fond of people who write such good verses as you have done, and with the assistance of an English winter it can often indulge its selection. I do not think that young and amiable poets are bound to gratify its taste; they have entered into no bond with the muses to that effect. But seriously (for I am joking on what I am very anxious about) I think you would do well to pass the winter in Italy and avoid so tremendous an accident, and if you think it as necessary as I do, so long as you continue to find Pisa or its neighbourhood agreeable to you, Mrs. Shelley unites with myself in urging the request that you would take up your residence with us. You might come by sea to Leghorn (France is not worth seeing, and the sea is particularly good for weak lungs), which is within a few miles of us. ought, at all events, to see Italy, and your health, which I suggest as a motive, may be an excuse to you. I spare declamation about the statues, and paintings, You enough to take a hatred of any four particular bedposts. I am glad you take any pleasure in my poor poem, which I would willingly take the trouble to unwrite, if possible, did I care so much as I have done about reputation. I received a copy of the Cenci, as from yourself, from Hunt. There is only one part of it I am judge of--the poetry and dramatic effect, which by many spirits now-a-days is considered the Mammon. A modern work, it is said, must have a purpose, which may be the God. An artist must serve Mammon; he must have "self-concentration " selfishness, perhaps. You, I am sure, will forgive me for sincerely remarking that you might curb your magnanimity, and be more of an artist, and load every rift of your subject with ore. The thought of such discipline must fall like cold chains upon you, who perhaps never sat with your wings furled for six months together. And is not this extraordinary talk for the writer of Endymion, whose mind was like a pack of scattered cards? I am picked up and sorted to a pip. My imagination a monastery, and I am its monk. I am in expectation of Prometheus every day. Could I have my own wish effected, you would have it still in manuscript, or be but now putting an end to the second act. I remember you advising me not to publish my first blights, on Hampstead Heath. I am returning advice upon your hands. Most of the poems in the volume I send and ruins, and what is a greater piece of forbearance, about the mountains and streams, the fields, the colours of the sky, and the sky itself. I have lately read your 'Endymion' again, and even with a new sense of the treasures of poetry it contains, though treasures poured forth with indistinct profusion. This people in general will not endure, and that is the cause of the comparatively few copies which have been sold. I feel persuaded that you are capable of the greatest things, so you but will. I always tell Ollier to send you copies of my books. Prometheus Unbound' I imagine you will receive nearly at the same time with this letter. 'The Cenci' I hope you have already received --it was studiously composed in a different style. Below the good how far! but far above the great! In poetry I have sought to avoid system and mannerism. I wish those who excel me in genius would pursue the same plan. Whether you remain in England, or journey to Italy, believe that you carry with you my anxious wishes for your health, happiness, and success wherever you are, or whatever you undertake, and that I am, Yours sincerely. B. Shelley. On the 11th of November 1820 Shelley wrote to Leigh Hunt (Hunt's Correspondence, Volume I, page 159): "Where is Keats now? I am anxiously expecting him in Italy, when I shall take care to bestow every possible attention on him. I consider his a most valuable life, and I am deeply interested in his safety. I intend to be the physician both of his body and his soul, to keep the one warm, and to teach the other Greek and Spanish. I am aware, indeed, in part, that I am nourishing a rival who will far surpass me; and this is an additional motive, and will be an added pleasure." you1 have been written above two years, and would never have been published but for hope of gain; so you see I am inclined enough to take your advice now. I must express once more my deep sense of your kindness, adding my sincere thanks and respects for Mrs. Shelley. In the hope of soon seeing you, I remain most sincerely yours, CCVII. John Keats. My dear Taylor, To JOHN TAYLOR. Wentworth Place Saty. Morn. [Postmark, 14 August 1820]. My chest is in such a nervous state, that anything extra, such as speaking to an unaccustomed person, or writing a note, half suffocates me. This journey to Italy wakes me at daylight every morning, and haunts me horribly. I shall endeavour to go, though it be with the sensation of marching up against a battery.2 The first step towards it is to know the expense of a journey and a year's residence, which if you will ascertain for me, and let me know early, you will greatly serve me. I have more to say, but must desist, for every line I write increases, the tightness of my chest, and I have many more to do. I am convinced that this sort of thing does not continue for nothing. If you can come, with any of our friends, do. Your sincere friend, CCVIII. John Keats. To BENJAMIN ROBERT HAYDON. My dear Haydon, [Wentworth Place, 15 August 1820.] I am sorry to be obliged to try your patience a few more days when you will have the Book sent from Town. I am glad 1'Lamia, Isabella,' &c. It will be remembered that it was a copy of this book, belonging to Hunt, that was found doubled back in the drowned Shelley's pocket, and that Hunt cast upon the burning relics of his friend. 2 This curiously characteristic expression, which occurs in almost the same words in the foregoing letter to Shelley (page 188), may be compared with a somewhat similar one at page 83, ante, where Keats writes to Fanny Brawne that he can "no more use soothing words" to her than if he were "engaged in a charge of Cavalry." COVIII. This pathetic little note, the manuscript of which is preserved in Haydon's journal without date, superscription, or address, is almost certainly a reply to the two following letters. It is to be noted in passing that the picture referred to is recorded by Frederick Haydon to have been the Lazarus now in the National Gallery; and further that the words printed as 'my mind' stand in to hear you are in progress with another Picture. Go on. I am afraid I shall pop off just when my mind is able to run alone. Your sincere friend John Keats CCIX. To JOHN TAYLOR. Wentworth Place My dear Taylor, I do not think I mentioned anything of a Passage to Leghorn by Sea. Will you join that to your enquiries, and, the original as 'I mind'. The first of Haydon's two letters appears to have been written in Keats's lodgings at Kentish Town towards the end of his stay in them; for beside the internal evidence that Haydon had come over and found his friend out, there is the fact that the latter is only addressed "John Keats Esq", and is written on a piece of the same paper that Keats was using a different paper from what Haydon used: My dear Keats, I have been coming every day for months to see you, and determined this morning as I heard you were still ill or worse to walk over in spite of all pestering hindrances. I regret my very dear Keats to find by your landlady's account that you are very poorly. I hope you have Darling's advice, on whose skill I have the greatest reliance-certainly I was as bad as anybody could be, and I have recovered, therefore, I hope, indeed I have no doubt, you will ultimately get round again, if you attend strictly to yourself, and avoid cold and night air.-I wish you would write me a line to say how you really are. I have been sitting for some little time in your Lodgings, which are clean, airy, and quiet. I wish to God you were sitting with me-I am sorry to hear Hunt has been laid up too--take care of yourself my dear Keats. Believe me The second letter, which has the year-date very indistinctly written, but which must belong to 1820, as Keats's 1817 volume of poems was ready long before July 1817, gives us the precise locality of the lodgings, for it is addressed "John Keats Esq, Wesleyan Place, Kentish Town"-whence it is to be presumed Haydon did not know Keats had removed in the meantime to Mortimer Terrace My dear Keats, When I called the other morning, I did not know your Poems were out, or I should have read them before I came in order to tell you my opinion-I have done so since, and really I cannot tell you how very highly I estimate them--they justify the assertions of all your Friends regarding your poetical powers. I can assure you, whatever you may do, you will not exceed my opinion of them. Have you done with Chapman's Homer? I want it very badly at this moment; will you let the bearer have it, as well as let me know how you are? I am dear Keats July 14 1820 CCIX. Mr. Taylor endorsed this letter as follows :— ever yours B. B. Haydon. "Inclosed in this Letter I received a Testamentary Paper in John Keats's |