Our stage is loaded with mimics. I did not see the piece, being out of town the whole time it was in progress. Dilke is entirely swallowed up in his boy. 'Tis really lamentable to what a pitch he carries a sort of parental mania. I had a letter from him at Shanklin. He went on a word or two about the Isle of Wight, which is a bit of [a] hobby horse of his, but he soon deviated to his boy. "I am sitting," says he, "at the window, expecting my boy from school." I suppose I told you somewhere that he lives in Westminster, and his boy goes to school there, where he gets beaten, and every bruise he has, and I dare say deserves, is very bitter to Dilke. When I left Mr. Abbey on Monday evening I walk'd up Cheapside, but returned to put some letters in the post, and met him again in Bucklersbury. We walk'd together through the Poultry as far as the hatter's shop he has some concern in. He spoke of it in such a way to me I thought he wanted me to make an offer to assist him in it. I do believe if I could be a hatter I might be one. He seems anxious about me. He began blowing up Lord Byron while I was sitting with him. "However," says he, "the fellow says true things now and then ;" at which he took up a magazine and read me some extracts from "Don Juan" (Lord Byron's last flash poem), and particularly one against literary ambition. I do think I must be well spoken of among sets, for Hodgkinson is more than polite, and the coffee-German endeavour'd to be very close to me the other night at Covent Garden, where I went at half price before I tumbl'd into bed. Every one, however distant an acquaintance, behaves in the most conciliating manner to me. You will see I speak of this as a matter of interest.

On the next sheet I will give you a little politics.

In every age there have been in England for two or

three centuries subjects of great popular interest on the carpet, so that however great the uproar one can scarcely prophesy any material change in the Government, for as loud disturbances have agitated this country many times. All civilized countries become gradually more enlightened, and there should be a continual change for the better. Look at this country at present, and remember when it was even impious to doubt the justice of a trial by combat. From that time there has been a gradual change. Three great changes have been in progress. First for the better, next for the worst, and a third time for the better once more. The first was the gradual annihilation of the tyranny of the nobles, when kings found it their interest to conciliate the common people, elevate them and be just to them. Next when baronial power ceased and before standing armies were so dangerous, taxes were few. Kings were lifted by the people over the heads of their nobles, and those people held a rod over kings. The change for the worst in Europe was again this. The obligation of kings to the multitude began to be forgotten. Custom had made noblemen the humble servants of kings. Then kings turned to the nobles as the adorners of their power, the slaves of it, and from the people as creatures continually endeavoring to check them. Then in every kingdom there was a long struggle of kings to destroy all popular privileges. The English were the only people in Europe who made a grand kick at this. They were slaves under Henry VIII., but were freemen under William III. at the time the French were abject slaves under Lewis XIV. The example of England and the liberal writers of France and England sowed the seed of opposition to this tyranny, and it was swelling in the ground till it burst out in the French Revolution. That has had an unlucky termination. It put a stop to

the rapid progress of free sentiments in England, and gave our Court hopes of turning back to the despotism of the sixteenth century. They have made a handle of this event in every way to undermine our freedom. They spread a horrid superstition against all innovation and improvement. The present struggle in England of the people is to destroy this superstition. What has roused them to do it is their distress. Perhaps on this account the present distresses of this nation are a fortunate thing -though so horrid in their experience. You will see that I mean that the French Revolution put a temporary stop to this third change—the change for the better. Now it is in progress again, and I think in an effectual one. This is no contest between Whig and Tory, but between right and wrong.

There is scarcely a grain of party spirit now in England. Right and wrong considered by each man abstractedly is the fashion. I know very little of these things. I am convinced, however, that apparently small causes make great alterations. These are little signs whereby we may know how things are going on. This makes the business about Carlile, the bookseller, of great moment in my mind. He has been selling deistical pamphlets, republished Tom Payne [sic] and many other works held in superstitious horror. He even has been selling for some time immense numbers of a work called "The Deist," which comes out in weekly numbers. For this conduct he, I think, has had above a dozen indictments issued against him, for which he has found bail to the amount of many thousand pounds. After all, they are afraid to prosecute; they are afraid of his defence; it would be published in all the papers all over the empire; they shudder at this; the trial would light a flame they could not extinguish. Do you not think this of great import?

You will hear by the papers of the proceedings at Manchester and Hunt's triumphal entry into London.' It would take me a whole day and a quire of paper to give you anything like detail. I will merely mention that it is calculated that 30,000 people were in the streets waiting for him. The whole distance from the Angel at Islington to the Crown and Anchor was lined with multitudes. As I passed Colnaghi's window I saw a profile portrait of Sandt, the destroyer of Kotzebue. His very look must interest every one in his favor. I suppose they have represented him in his college dress. He seems to me like a young Abelard—a fine mouth, cheekbones (and this is no joke) full of sentiment, a fine unvulgar nose and plump temples. On looking over some old letters I found the one I wrote intended for you from the foot of Helvellyn to Liverpool, but you had sailed, and therefore it was returned to me. It contained, among other nonsense, an acrostic of my sister's name and a pretty long name it is. I wrote it in a great hurry, as you will see. Indeed, I would not

1 The mention of Henry Hunt's entry into London has been adduced as an anachronism in evidence against the genuineness of this letter. It is true that the "Orator" of Manchester Massacre fame ended an imprisonment of two years and a half on the 30th of October 1822 and made an "entry into London" on the 11th of November 1822; but the trial of which his imprisonment was the issue had not taken place till the spring of 1820; and the entry alluded to by Keats was one which took place between the Massacre and the trial. Carlile, in The Republican, speaks of 300,000 people as taking part in the demonstration.

2 In The World, Sands; but it is extremely unlikely that Keats made that blunder. The democratic party was greatly interested in this young man, whose assassination of a conservative champion, and expiation of his crime on the scaffold, gave him a place in the democratic martyrology, notwithstanding his attempt to commit suicide.

copy it if I thought it would ever be seen by any but yourselves.'

I sent you in my first packet some of my Scotch letters. I find I have one kept back, which was written in the most interesting part of our tour, and will copy parts of it in the hope you will not find it unamusing. I would give now anything for Richardson's power of making mountains of mole-hills.

Incipit Epistola Caledoniensa.

Derrynaculen.2

Just after my last had gone to the post, in came one of the men with whom we endeavored to agree about going to Staffa. He said what a pity it was we should turn aside and not see the curiosities. So we had a little talk, and finally agreed that he should be our guide across the Isle of Mull. We set out, crossed two ferries-one to the isle of Kerrera,' of a short distance, the other from Kerrera to Mull, nine miles across. We did it in forty minutes with a fine breeze. The road, or rather the track, through the island is the most dreary you can think of between dreary mountains, over bog and rock and river, with our trousers tucked up and our stockings.

1

Here follows the Acrostic, for which see Volume II, pages 283-4.

2 The World has Dimancullen, which is of course wrong: sce foot-note at page 198 of Volume III. As regards the inconsistencies between this and the Derrynaculen letter to Thomas Keats (more supposed evidence against the genuineness of the whole affair), it should be remembered that Keats is only copying parts of a longer letter, fourteen months after the events related took place, and may very well have even transferred the "old schoolmaster from Iona to Staffa-if indeed the Maclean of four feet one and a half inches high did not go with them from the one place to the other. 3 In The World, Kenara.