neglectful fellow. Notwithstanding he sent me his second book and on my explaining that I had not received his first he sent me that also. I am sorry to see by Mrs. D's note that she has been so unwell with the spasms. Does she continue the Medicines that benefited her so much? I am afraid not. Remember me to her and say I shall not expect her at Hampstead next week unless the Weather changes for the warmer. It is better to run no chance of a supernumer[ar]y cold in March. As for you you must come. You must improve in your penmanship; your writing is like the speaking of a child of three years old, very understandable to its father but to no one else. The worst is it looks well-no that is not the worst-the worst is, it is worse than Bailey's. Bailey's ' The following appears to be the letter sent by Procter on this occasion: the date according to Letter CXXX would be the 22nd or 24th of February 1820. It appeared in the Memoir of Mr. Dilke in The Papers of a Critic: My Dear Sir, I send you Friday. 25, Store Street, Bedford Square. "Marcian Colonna," which think as well of as you can. There is, I think (at least in the second and third parts), a stronger infusion of poetry in it than in the Sicilian story, but I may be mistaken. I am looking forward with some impatience to the publication of your book. Will you write my name in an early copy, and send it to me? Is not this a "prodigious bold request?" I hope that you are getting quite well. Believe me very sincerely yours, B. W. Procter. This was written before I saw you the other day. Some time ago I scribbled half a dozen lines, under the idea of continuing and completing a poem, to be called "The Deluge,”—what do you think of the subject? The Greek deluge, I mean. I wish you would set me the example of leaving off the word "Sir." To John Keats, Esq. looks illegible and may perchance be read; yours looks very legible and may perchance not be read. I would endeavour to give you a fac-simile of your word Thistlewood if I were not minded on the 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. Cobbet[t] is expected to come in. O that I had two double plumpers for him. The ministry are not so inimical to him but would it they like to put him out of 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 said, 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's. Your sincere friend John Keats 1 Doubtless the word supernumerary, from which Keats had dropped the penultimate ar. The next sentence has reference, I presume, to Mr. Dilke's continuation of Dodsley's Collection of Old Plays. My dear Fanny, CXXXIII. To FANNY KEATS. Rd. Abbey's Esq., Walthamstow. [Postmark, 20 March 1820.] According to your desire I write to day. It must be but a few lines for I have been attack'd several times with a palpitation at the heart and the Doctor says I must not make the slightest exertion. I am much the same to day as I have been for a week past. They say 'tis nothing but debility and will entirely cease on my The following letter to Brown's young friend Henry Snook reports upon Keats four days later than the date of this letter to his sister; and beside its interest from this point of view, and the doggerel verses which it preserves, Brown's letter has a certain amiable charm of its own : My dear Harry, Hampstead. 24th March 1820. Your absence and Jack's will be much felt at Easter, but I would rather you should cheer your mother in her sickness, than contribute to my pleasure, and I know you are of the same mind. I sincerely hope you will find her better, and that you will leave her quite well. Write to me how she is. Every body is ill, or has been. I am rejoiced to learn that your Grandfather is well at last. Your Aunt has not quite recovered her strength. I have been nurse, night and day, to Mr. Keats for 7 weeks,-no,-only 12 nights. He will get well by degrees. This Nurseship of mine prevented my writing to you, or indeed to any one else, for tho' I had time enough, he could not endure to see me sit down to pen and ink, even now he has begun to feel quite nervous at the sight of this scrawl going on. The consequence was, I was compelled to betake myself to some other occupation, and as a man can't read from morning till bed-time, I have employed myself in drawing,-besides, too much reading before him was forbidden,-it is well I could do something inoffensive! recovery of my strength which is the object of my present diet. As the Doctor will not suffer me to write I shall ask Mr. Brown to let you hear news of me for the future if I should not get stronger soon. I hope I shall be well enough to come and see your flowers in bloom— Ever your most affectionate Brother John You shall have one of his bits of comic verses,—I met with them only yesterday, but they have been written long ago,—it is a song on the City of Oxford. Remembrance to Jack. Your sincere friend Chas. Brown. ON OXFORD. I The Gothic looks solemn, The plain Doric column Supports an old Bishop and Crosier; Shaded o'er by a larch Stands next door to Wilson the Hosier. 2 Vice-that is, by turns,— O'er pale faces mourns The black tassell'd trencher and common hat t; The Chantry boy sings, The Steeple-bell rings, And as for the Chancellor-dominat. 3 There are plenty of trees, And plenty of ease, And plenty of fat deer for Parsons; And when it is venison, Short is the benison, Then each on a leg or thigh fastens. CXXXIV. To FANNY KEATS. Rd. Abbey's Esq., Walthamstow. Wentworth Place April 1st. [1820.] My dear Fanny I am getting better every day and should think myself quite well were I not reminded every now and then by faintness and a tightness in the Chest. Send your Spaniel over to Hampstead for I think I know where to find a Master or Mistress for him. You may depend upon it if you were even to turn it loose in the common road it would soon find an owner. If I keep improving as I have done I shall be able to come over to you in the course of a few weeks. I should take the advantage of your being in Town but I cannot bear the City though I have already ventured as far as the west end for the purpose of seeing Mr. Haydon's Picture which is just finished and has m[ade it]s appearance. I have not heard from George yet since he left Liverpool. Mr. Brown wrote to him as from me the other day—Mr. B. wrote two Letters to Mr. Abbey concerning me—Mr. A. took no notice and of course Mr. B. must give up such 1 I suppose this refers to the private view of the picture of Christ's Entry into Jerusalem. The picture was exhibited at the Egyptian Hall, Piccadilly; and the private view was on Saturday the 25th of March 1820. In Haydon's account of the triumphs of that day (Autobiography, first edition of Taylor's Life, Volume I, page 371), he says "The room was full. Keats and Hazlitt were up in a corner, really rejoicing." |