Book ten
days ago. I shall send another message to the Booksellers. One of the Mr. Wylie's will be here to-day or to-morrow when I will ask him to send you George's Letter. Writing the smallest note is so annoying to me that I have waited till I shall see him. Mr. Hunt does everything in his power to make the time pass as agreeably with me as possible. I read the greatest part of the day, and generally take two half-hour walks a-day up and down the terrace which is very much pester'd with cries, ballad singers, and street music. We have been so unfortunate for so long a time, every event has been of so depressing a nature that I must persuade myself to think some change will take place in the aspect of our affairs. I shall be upon the look out for a trump card.
Your affectionate Brother
JOHN ----.
CLIV.--TO FANNY KEATS.
Wentworth Place [August 14, 1820].
My dear Fanny--'Tis a long time since I received your last. An accident of an unpleasant nature occurred 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 chokes 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 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
JOHN ----.
CLV.--TO PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
[Wentworth Place, Hampstead, August 1820.]
My dear Shelley--I am very much gratified that you, in a foreign country, and with a mind almost over-occupied, 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 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 nowadays 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 is 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 you 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
JOHN KEATS.
CLVI.--TO JOHN TAYLOR.
Wentworth Place [August 14, 1820].
My dear Taylor--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. 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
JOHN KEATS.
CLVII.--TO BENJAMIN ROBERT HAYDON.
Mrs. Brawne's Next door to Brown's,
Wentworth Place, Hampstead,
[August] 1820.
My dear Haydon--I am much better this morning than I was when I wrote the note: that is my hopes and spirits are better which are 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
I remain your affectionate friend
JOHN KEATS.
CLVIII.--TO CHARLES BROWN.
[Wentworth Place, August 1820.]
My dear Brown--You may not have heard from ----, or ----, or in any way, that an attack of spitting of blood, and all its weakening consequences, has prevented me from writing for so long a time. I have matter now for a very long letter, but not news: so I must cut everything short. I shall make some confession, which you will be the only person, for many reasons, I shall trust with. A winter in England would, I have not a doubt, kill me; so I have resolved to go to Italy, either by sea or land. Not that I have any great hopes of that, for, I think, there is a core of disease in me not easy to pull out. I shall be obliged to set off in less than a month. Do not, my dear Brown, teaze yourself about me. You must fill up your time as well as you can, and as happily. You must think of my faults as lightly as you can. When I have health I will bring up the long arrear of letters I owe you. My book has had good success among the literary people, and I believe has a moderate sale. I have seen very few people we know. ---- has visited me more than any one. I would go to ---- and make some inquiries after you, if I could with any bearable sensation; but a person I am not quite used to causes an oppression on my chest. Last week I received a letter from Shelley, at Pisa, of a very kind nature, asking me to pass the winter with him. Hunt has behaved very kindly to me. You shall hear from me again shortly.
Your affectionate friend
JOHN KEATS.
CLIX.--TO FANNY KEATS.
Wentworth Place, Wednesday Morning.
[August 23, 1820.]
My dear Fanny--It will give me great Pleasure to see you here, if you can contrive it; though I confess I should have written instead of calling upon you before I set out on my journey, from the wish of avoiding unpleasant partings. Meantime I will just notice some parts of your Letter. The seal-breaking business is over blown. I think no more of it. A few days ago I wrote to Mr. Brown, asking him to befriend me with his company to Rome. His answer is not yet come, and I do not know when it will, not being certain how far he may be from the Post Office to which my communication is addressed. Let us hope he will go with me. George certainly ought to have written to you: his troubles, anxieties and fatigues are not quite a sufficient excuse. In the course of time you will be sure to find that this neglect, is not forgetfulness. I am sorry to hear you have been so ill and in such low spirits. Now you are better, keep so. Do not suffer your Mind to dwell on unpleasant reflections--that sort of thing has been the destruction of my health. Nothing is so bad as want of health--it makes one envy scavengers and cinder-sifters. There are enough real distresses and evils in wait for every one to try the most vigorous health. Not that I would say yours are not real--but they are such as to tempt you to employ your imagination on them, rather than endeavour to dismiss them entirely. Do not diet your mind with grief, it destroys the constitution; but let your chief care be of your health, and with that you will meet your share of Pleasure in the world--do not doubt it. If I return well from Italy I will turn over a new leaf for you. I have been improving lately, and have very good hopes of "turning a Neuk" and cheating the consumption. I am not well enough to write to George myself--Mr Haslam will do it for me, to whom I shall write to-day, desiring him to mention as gently as possible your complaint. I am, my dear Fanny,
Your affectionate Brother
JOHN.
CLX.--TO CHARLES BROWN.
[Wentworth Place, August 1820.]
My dear Brown--I ought to be off at the end of this week, as the cold winds begin to blow towards evening;--but I will wait till I have your answer to this. I am to be introduced, before I set out, to a Dr. Clark, a physician settled at Rome, who promises to befriend me in every way there. The sale of my book is very slow, though it has been very highly rated. One of the causes, I understand from different quarters, of the unpopularity of this new book, is the offence the ladies take at me. On thinking that matter over, I am certain that I have said nothing in a spirit to displease any woman I would care to please; but still there is a tendency to class women in my books with roses and sweetmeats,--they never see themselves dominant. I will say no more, but, waiting in anxiety for your answer, doff my hat, and make a purse as long as I can.
Your affectionate friend
JOHN KEATS.
CLXI.--TO CHARLES BROWN.
Saturday, September 28 [1820], _Maria Crowther_,
Off Yarmouth, Isle of Wight.
My dear Brown--The time has not yet come for a pleasant letter from me. I have delayed writing to you from time to time, because I felt how impossible it was to enliven you with one heartening hope of my recovery; this morning in bed the matter struck me in a different manner; I thought I would write "while I was in some liking," or I might become too ill to write at all; and then if the desire to have written should become strong it would be a great affliction to me. I have many more letters to write, and I bless my stars that I have begun, for time seems to press,--this may be my best opportunity. We are in a calm, and I am easy enough this morning. If my spirits seem too low you may in some degree impute it to our having been at sea a fortnight without making any way.[119] I was very disappointed at not meeting you at Bedhampton, and am very provoked at the thought of you being at Chichester to-day. I should have delighted in setting off for London for the sensation merely,--for what should I do there? I could not leave my lungs or stomach or other worse things behind me. I wish to write on subjects that will not agitate me much--there is one I must mention and have done with it. Even if my body would recover of itself, this would prevent it. The very thing which I want to live most for will be a great occasion of my death. I cannot help it. Who can help it? Were I in health it would make me ill, and how can I bear it in my state? I daresay you will be able to guess on what subject I am harping--you know what was my greatest pain during the first part of my illness at your house. I wish for death every day and night to deliver me from these pains, and then I wish death away, for death would destroy even those pains which are better than nothing. Land and sea, weakness and decline, are great separators, but death is the great divorcer for ever. When the pang of this thought has passed through my mind, I may say the bitterness of death is passed. I often wish for you that you might flatter me with the best. I think without my mentioning it for my sake you would be a friend to Miss Brawne when I am dead. You think she has many faults--but for my sake think she has not one. If there is anything you can do for her by word or deed I know you will do it. I am in a state at present in which woman merely as woman can have no more power over me than stocks and stones, and yet the difference of my sensations with respect to Miss Brawne and my sister is amazing. The one seems to absorb the other to a degree incredible. I seldom think of my brother and sister in America. The thought of leaving Miss Brawne is beyond everything horrible--the sense of darkness coming over me--I eternally see her figure eternally vanishing. Some of the phrases she was in the habit of using during my last nursing at Wentworth Place ring in my ears. Is there another life? Shall I awake and find all this a dream? There must be, we cannot be created for this sort of suffering. The receiving this letter is to be one of yours. I will say nothing about our friendship, or rather yours to me, more than that, as you deserve to escape, you will never be so unhappy as I am. I should think of--you in my last moments. I shall endeavour to write to Miss Brawne if possible to-day. A sudden stop to my life in the middle of one of these letters would be no bad thing, for it keeps one in a sort of fever awhile. Though fatigued with a letter longer than any I have written for a long while, it would be better to go on for ever than awake to a sense of contrary winds. We expect to put into Portland Roads to-night. The captain, the crew, and the passengers, are all ill-tempered and weary. I shall write to Dilke. I feel as if I was closing my last letter to you.
My dear Brown, your affectionate friend
JOHN KEATS.
CLXII.--TO MRS. BRAWNE.
October 24 [1820], Naples Harbour.
My dear Mrs. Brawne--A few words will tell you what sort of a Passage we had, and what situation we are in, and few they must be on account of the Quarantine, our Letters being liable to be opened for the purpose of fumigation at the Health Office. We have to remain in the vessel ten days and are at present shut in a tier of ships. The sea air has been beneficial to me about to as great an extent as squally weather and bad accommodations and provisions has done harm. So I am about as I was. Give my Love to Fanny and tell her, if I were well there is enough in this Port of Naples to fill a quire of Paper--but it looks like a dream--every man who can row his boat and walk and talk seems a different being from myself. I do not feel in the world. It has been unfortunate for me that one of the Passengers is a young Lady in a Consumption--her imprudence has vexed me very much--the knowledge of her complaints--the flushings in her face, all her bad symptoms have preyed upon me--they would have done so had I been in good health. Severn now is a very good fellow but his nerves are too strong to be hurt by other people's illnesses--I remember poor Rice wore me in the same way in the Isle of Wight--I shall feel a load off me when the Lady vanishes out of my sight. It is impossible to describe exactly in what state of health I am--at this moment I am suffering from indigestion very much, which makes such stuff of this Letter. I would always wish you to think me a little worse than I really am; not being of a sanguine disposition I am likely to succeed. If I do not recover your regret will be softened--if I do your pleasure will be doubled. I dare not fix my Mind upon Fanny, I have not dared to think of her. The only comfort I have had that way has been in thinking for hours together of having the knife she gave me put in a silver-case--the hair in a Locket--and the Pocket Book in a gold net. Show her this. I dare say no more. Yet you must not believe I am so ill as this Letter may look, for if ever there was a person born without the faculty of hoping I am he. Severn is writing to Haslam, and I have just asked him to request Haslam to send you his account of my health. O what an account I could give you of the Bay of Naples if I could once more feel myself a Citizen of this world--I feel a spirit in my Brain would lay it forth pleasantly--O what a misery it is to have an intellect in splints! My Love again to Fanny--tell Tootts I wish I could pitch her a basket of grapes--and tell Sam the fellows catch here with a line a little fish much like an anchovy, pull them up fast. Remember me to Mr. and Mrs. Dilke--mention to Brown that I wrote him a letter at Portsmouth which I did not send and am in doubt if he ever will see it.
My dear Mrs. Brawne, yours sincerely and affectionate
JOHN KEATS.
Good bye Fanny! God bless you.
CLXIII.--TO CHARLES BROWN.
Naples, November 1 [1820].
My dear Brown--Yesterday we were let out of quarantine, during which my health suffered more from bad air and the stifled cabin than it had done the whole voyage. The fresh air revived me a little, and I hope I am well enough this morning to write to you a short calm letter;--if that can be called one, in which I am afraid to speak of what I would fainest dwell upon. As I have gone thus far into it, I must go on a little;--perhaps it may relieve the load of WRETCHEDNESS which presses upon me. The persuasion that I shall see her no more will kill me. My dear Brown, I should have had her when I was in health, and I should have remained well. I can bear to die--I cannot bear to leave her. Oh, God! God! God! Every thing I have in my trunks that reminds me of her goes through me like a spear. The silk lining she put in my travelling cap scalds my head. My imagination is horribly vivid about her--I see her--I hear her. There is nothing in the world of sufficient interest to divert me from her a moment. This was the case when I was in England; I cannot recollect, without shuddering, the time that I was a prisoner at Hunt's, and used to keep my eyes fixed on Hampstead all day. Then there was a good hope of seeing her again--Now!--O that I could be buried near where she lives! I am afraid to write to her--to receive a letter from her--to see her handwriting would break my heart--even to hear of her anyhow, to see her name written, would be more than I can bear. My dear Brown, what am I to do? Where can I look for consolation or ease? If I had any chance of recovery, this passion would kill me. Indeed, through the whole of my illness, both at your house and at Kentish Town, this fever has never ceased wearing me out. When you write to me, which you will do immediately, write to Rome (poste restante)--if she is well and happy, put a mark thus +; if----
Remember me to all. I will endeavour to bear my miseries patiently. A person in my state of health should not have such miseries to bear. Write a short note to my sister, saying you have heard from me. Severn is very well. If I were in better health I would urge your coming to Rome. I fear there is no one can give me any comfort. Is there any news of George? O that something fortunate had ever happened to me or my brothers!--then I might hope,--but despair is forced upon me as a habit. My dear Brown, for my sake be her advocate for ever. I cannot say a word about Naples; I do not feel at all concerned in the thousand novelties around me. I am afraid to write to her--I should like her to know that I do not forget her. Oh, Brown I have coals of fire in my breast--It surprises me that the human heart is capable of containing and bearing so much misery. Was I born for this end? God bless her, and her mother, and my sister, and George, and his wife, and you, and all!
Your ever affectionate friend
JOHN KEATS.
[Thursday, November 2.]
I was a day too early for the Courier. He sets out now. I have been more calm to-day, though in a half dread of not continuing so. I said nothing of my health; I know nothing of it; you will hear Severn's account from Haslam. I must leave off. You bring my thoughts too near to Fanny. God bless you!
CLXIV.--TO CHARLES BROWN.
Rome, November 30, 1820.
My dear Brown--'Tis the most difficult thing in the world to me to write a letter. My stomach continues so bad, that I feel it worse on opening any book,--yet I am much better than I was in quarantine. Then I am afraid to encounter the pro-ing and con-ing of anything interesting to me in England. I have an habitual feeling of my real life having passed, and that I am leading a posthumous existence. God knows how it would have been--but it appears to me--however, I will not speak of that subject. I must have been at Bedhampton nearly at the time you were writing to me from Chichester--how unfortunate--and to pass on the river too! There was my star predominant! I cannot answer anything in your letter, which followed me from Naples to Rome, because I am afraid to look it over again. I am so weak (in mind) that I cannot bear the sight of any handwriting of a friend I love so much as I do you. Yet I ride the little horse, and at my worst even in quarantine, summoned up more puns, in a sort of desperation, in one week than in any year of my life. There is one thought enough to kill me; I have been well, healthy, alert, etc., walking with her, and now--the knowledge of contrast, feeling for light and shade, all that information (primitive sense) necessary for a poem, are great enemies to the recovery of the stomach. There, you rogue, I put you to the torture; but you must bring your philosophy to bear, as I do mine, really, or how should I be able to live? Dr. Clark is very attentive to me; he says, there is very little the matter with my lungs, but my stomach, he says, is very bad. I am well disappointed in hearing good news from George, for it runs in my head we shall all die young. I have not written to Reynolds yet, which he must think very neglectful; being anxious to send him a good account of my health, I have delayed it from week to week. If I recover, I will do all in my power to correct the mistakes made during sickness; and if I should not, all my faults will be forgiven. Severn is very well, though he leads so dull a life with me. Remember me to all friends, and tell Haslam I should not have left London without taking leave of him, but from being so low in body and mind. Write to George as soon as you receive this, and tell him how I am, as far as you can guess; and also a note to my sister--who walks about my imagination like a ghost--she is so like Tom. I can scarcely bid you good-bye, even in a letter. I always made an awkward bow.
God bless you!
JOHN KEATS.[120]
INDEX
NOTE.--The first lines of all verses quoted in the letters are given here under the first word. An asterisk is prefixed to the names of those to whom letters are written, the letters themselves, as well as the addresses from which Keats wrote, being given under the heading "Letters."
Abbey, Miss, 122
Abbey, Mr., 52 and note, 58, 119, 123, 161, 162, 182, 185, 216, 218, 232, 268, 271, 273, 274, 284, 290, 294, 297, 311, 313, 315, 318, 331, 336, 347, 350, 354, 356, 359. Referred to as "my guardian," 267
Abbey, Mrs., 51, 123, 197, 262, 271, 359
Abbeys, the, 363
Abbot, 231
Abelard, Sandt, like a young, 300
Academy, the Royal, 329
Achievement, a man of, needs negative capability, 48
Achilles, 21, 80, 180
Adam's dream (_Paradise Lost_, Bk. viii.), compared to imagination, 41, 42
_Adonais_, xix.
Adonis, 263
_Adonis, Venus and_, quoted, 45
_Agnes, St., Eve of_, 217, 221, 280, 288, 333, 362 note; an alteration in it censured, 360
Agriculture, influence of, 287 _seq._
"A haunting Music sole perhaps and lone," etc., 289
"Ah, ken ye what I met the day," etc., 127
Aladdin, 223
Alcibiades, 95
Alexander, the emperor, 174
Alfred (Exeter Paper), the, 171
Alfred, King, 15, 80
Alice Fell, 249
"All gentle folks who owe a grudge," etc., 137
_All's Well that ends Well_, quoted, 33 and note
Alston's "Uriel," 76
_Altam and his Wife_, by Ollier, 197
Amena (and Wells), 239, 245
America, George K. goes to, 109
Americans distrusted, 312
_Anatomy of Melancholy_, quoted, 296, 297
Andrew, Sir [Aguecheek], misquoted, 103 and note
Andrews, Miss, 341
_Annals of Fine Arts_, contributed to, 272, note
Ann or Anne, the maid, 209, 310
Anthony, St., 309
Anthony, Mark, compared to Buonaparte, 17
_Anthony and Cleopatra_, 95; quoted, 16, 17
Apollo, 74, 82
Apuleius, the Platonist, 259
Archer, 190, 208
Archimage, 249
Archimago, 18
Archimedes, 20
Aretino, 313
Ariadne, 223
Ariosto, 95 note, 289, 313, 333
Art, the excellence of, its intensity, 47
Arthur's Seat, 136
"As Hermes once took to his feathers light," 246
Athenaeum, Dilke connected with, xviii.
A[ubrey], Mrs. M[ary], verses to, by Mrs. Philips, 29
Audubon, 291, 312, 341
Audubon, Mrs., 341, 344
Augustan age, 259
Aunt, J. K.'s, 274. _See_ Mrs. Jennings
Autograph originals of J. K.'s letters, xii. xiii.
_Autumn, Ode to_, 320 and note
Ayr described, 133
B., Miss. _See_ Brown, Miss
Babel, the tower of, 23, 29
Bacchus, 223
Bacon, Lord, 174
Bagpipe, effect of, 138
*Bailey, Benjamin, xii., 26, 32, 44, 52, 53, 84, 97, 102, 109, 132, 135, 146, 164, 190, 355; his character, 27, 54; his curacy, 36; his appreciation of _Endymion_, 31; his love affairs, 224 _seq._; K.'s visit to him at Oxford, 19 and note
Bailey, Mrs., 281
Barbara Lewthwaite, 249
"Bards of passion and of mirth," 206
Barley, Rigs of, by Burns, 133
Barnes, 111
Barnes, Miss, 231
Bartolozzi, 195, 196
_Basil, Pot of_, 113, 166, 171, 221, 280; few stanzas of, written in folio Shakspeare, 101
"Bathsheba," by Wilkie, 76
Beattie, 201
Beaumont, Sir George, 329, 330 note
Beaumont and Fletcher, 228
Bedhampton, visit to, 216, 219, 221
_Beggar of Cumberland_, 31
Bellaston, Lady, 302
Benjamin, Mr., 317
Bensley, 10
Bentley (J. K.'s landlord), 33 note, 153, 194, 219, 337
Bentley, Mrs., 33, 153, 194, 219, 239, 337, 365
Bentley children, the, 33, 103 note, 188
Bertrand, General, 17 note
Betty Foy, 249
Bewick [J.], 56, 58, 96, 240
Bible, the, 177, 225, 226
Birkbeck, 175, 188, 194, 217, 226, 238, 257, 268, 342
Birkbeck, the Misses, 247
Blackwood, 60, 164, 167, 171, 194, 234, 323
Boccaccio, 101; tales from, 280
Bonchurch described, 276, 279
"Book, my" (the vol. containing _Lamia_, _Isabella_, _The Eve of St. Agnes_, _Hyperion_, and the _Odes_), 362, 363, 368, 370
Boxer (Mrs. Dilke's dog), 26
Box Hill ascended, 45
Boys, the. _See_ Brown's brothers
Bradshaw, Richard, 119
Braggadochio, 340
Brawne, Fanny, 191 and note, 218, 244; described, 196; K.'s feelings towards, 371, 372, 373, 374; letters to, xii. note; reasons for their being omitted, xvii.
*Brawne, Mrs., 191, 202, 219, 224, 239, 244, 349, 365
[Brawne], Sam, 373
Briggs, 341
Brigs of Ayr, 133
Britain, Little. _See_ Reynoldses, the
British Gallery seen, 76
British Museum, 329
Brothers. _See_ Keats, George and Tom
*Brown, Charles Armitage, xviii., 26, 33, 35, 48, 56, 58, 76, 82, 98, 119, 123, 128, 133, 136, 138, 139, 141, 145, 148, 165, 177, 191, 194, 195 note, 196, 198, 200, 209, 218, 219, 221, 240, 243, 244, 245, 264, 272, 273, 279, 281, 284, 286, 289, 292, 301, 306, 307, 309, 314, 319, 323, 325, 328, 332, 333 note, 334, 336, 344, 345, 347 and note, 348, 352, 356, 357, 358, 359, 360 note, 363, 369; anecdote of, 295, 296; as a draughtsman, 274, 351; and Jenny Jacobs, 279; a joke on, 316, 320; his kindness, 234; lends K. money, 274, 290; lives with K., 187 note, 188, 331 note; his odd dislikes, 324; a story by, 219, 220, 224; tour to Scotland with K., 110 [114-161]; writes a tragedy with K. _See Otho the Great_
Brown's brothers, 239 note, 245
Brown, John, 245
Brown, Mrs. Septimus, 218
B[rown], Miss, 196
Bucke, Mr. (dramatic author), 241
Buffon, 233, 346
Bunyan's _Pilgrim's Progress_, 21; his _Emblems_, 309
Buonaparte, 20, 173, 219; compared to Mark Anthony, 17
Burdett, Sir F., 174
Burford Bridge visited, 40-45
Burleigh, Lord, 361
Burns, 130, 131, 132, 234; spoilt by the Kirk, 124; lines after visiting his country, 146; after visiting his tomb, 117; his misery, 134; his native place described, 133
Burns, Mrs., 118
Burton's _Anatomy of Melancholy_ quoted, 296, 297
Butler, 76, 102, 202
Butler, Sarah, 102
Byron, 33, 106, 163, 173, 198, 221, 226, 231, 240; his _Don Juan_, 297; Fourth canto of _Childe Harold_ expected, 76; _Don Giovanni_ expected, 218
Caesar, Julius, 80
_Caleb Williams_, 205
Caliban, 7 note, 58, 245 note
Cameron, Mrs., 155 _seq._
Canning, 345
Canterbury, a visit to, projected, 18
_Cap and Bells_, 331 note, 333 and note, 362 note
Capital letters, peculiar use of, xiv.
Capper, 178, 181, 294
Carisbrooke visited, 6 _seq._
Carlisle, Deist bookseller, 220, 299
Carlisle visited, 117
Cary's _Dante_, 113
"Castle, The Enchanted," by Claude, 91 and note
Castlereagh, 90, 345; An Ode to, 335
_Cave of Despair_, Spenser's, a picture by Severn, 334 and note, 355
Ceres, 142
Chambers of Life--the infant or thoughtless Chamber, and the Chamber of Maiden thought, 107, 108; the third Chamber, 109
_Champion_, The, a number written by K., 47, 49, 52; a sonnet by K. printed in, 8
Chapman's _Homer_, 363 and note
Charlemagne, 118
Charles. _See_ Wylie, Charles
Charles I., 7
Charles II., 90
Charles Stuart, a "Jacobin" song on, 148
Charlotte, Princess, 192
"Charmian," 165 note, 172, 173. _See_ Cox, Miss Charlotte
Chatterton, _Endymion_, dedicated to, 97; Hazlitt on, 76; writes the purest English, 313, 321
Chaucer, 18, 103, 228, 333; his Gallicisms, 313, 321
Chesterfield, Lord, 355
Chichester visited, 212, 217, 218
"Chief of Organic Numbers!" etc., 62
Christ Rejected (Haydon's picture), 47, 94
Christianity v. _The Examiner_, 10; Shakspeare's, 11
Christians, a query concerning, 10
Christie, 44
_Chronicle_, The, 46, 171, 247; John Scott's defence of K. in, 167
Cinderella, 21, 232
Circe (in _Endymion_), 99
Claret, a rhapsody concerning, 222, 223
Clark, Dr., 370, 376
*Clarke, C. C., xvii., 10, 219; his influence on K., xviii.
Claude's "Enchanted Castle," 91 and note
Cleopatra, 125, 173
Clinker, Humphrey, 52
Cobbett, 208, 218, 222, 355
Cockney school, 39, 60 and note
Cockney, the young, xvi.
Coleridge, 38, 72; his limitations, 48; his talk, 244
Collins, Hazlitt on, 76
Colnaghi, 300
Colvin, S., allowed H. Buxton Forman to use autographs in his possession, xii. note; his life of K. in _Men of Letters_, xi., 331 note, 347 note
Commonplace people, Hazlitt on, 37
_Comus_, 89, 108
Constable, the bookseller, 60
Continent, K.'s thoughts of visiting the, 18
Cook, Captain, 346
Cordelia, 80
_Coriolanus_, Hazlitt on, 229
Corneille, 95 and note
C[ornwall] B[arry], Mr., 353, 354
Country, the, K.'s opinion of, 209; K. thinks of settling in, 4
Covent Garden Tragedy [_Retribution, or the Chieftain's Daughter_], an article on, 49 and note
Cowes visited, 7
Cowper, 72; as a letter-writer, xiv.
Cox, Miss Charlotte, 165 and note, 172 and note, 173. _See_ "Charmian"
Crabbe, 72, 232
Cripps, 32, 37, 40, 41, 44, 52, 56, 62, 71; introductions to Haydon, 32, 53
Criticism, K.'s independence of, 167
Croft, Dr., 72
Cromwell, 174
_Crusoe, Robinson_, 26, 338
"Crystalline Brother of the belt of Heaven," etc., 46
_Cumberland Beggar_, the, 31
Dance, a Highland, described, 116
Dante, 95 note, 113, 145, 214, 246, 313
Davenports, the, 220, 231, 239, 348
David, 25, 325
"Dear Reynolds! as last night I lay in bed," etc., 91
Death, K.'s thoughts of, when alone, 112
_Deist, The_, 299
Dennet, Miss, a Columbine, 51
"Dentatus," Haydon's picture, 87
Devereux, 362
Devon, Duke of, 72
Devonshire described, 75, 79, 80, 83, 85, 91, 95, 97, 98, 101; like Lydia Languish, 83
Dewint, 114
Dewint, Mrs., 114
*Dilke, Charles Wentworth, xii. note, 9, 26, 31, 47, 48, 56, 59, 76, 81, 128, 146, 158, 195 note, 200, 202, 203, 208, 239, 245, 266, 269, 292, 296, 327, 340, 343, 372, 374; a capital friend, 51; takes the _Champion_, 51, 58; his character, 314; his devotion to his son, 222, 240, 241, 295; editor follows his dates, xiii.; a "Godwin Methodist," 314; a "Godwin perfectibility Man," 175; ill, 170, 348; neighbour to K., 187 note
Dilke, Charley, 222, 224, 240, 241, 264, 279, 292, 295, 314, 360
Dilke, Mrs., 4, 8, 9, 26, 31, 51, 164, 170, 183, 189, 198, 202, 209, 210, 213, 217, 223, 224, 240, 262, 264, 269, 274, 292, 325, 328, 332, 336, 340, 349, 354, 357, 359, 360, 365, 374; her brother, 359
Dilke, William, 26 and note
Dinah, Aunt, 6
Diocletian, 174
Diomed, 80
Dolabella (in _Anthony and Cleopatra_), 16
Don Juan, 297
Drawing of K., a, 2 and note
Drewe family, the, 197
Drewe, George, 198
Drury Lane Pantomime [_Don Giovanni_], 49 and note, 55
Dryope (in _Endymion_), 78
Du Bois, 47, 198
Dunghill, Duchess of, 126
Duns, besieged by, 19, 28
Duerer, Albert, 330
_Edinburgh Review_, the, 37, 39, 40, 113, 190, 301, 302, 326
Edmund Ironside, 80
Elements, the, regarded as comforters, 25
_Elizabeth, Queen_, Holinshed's, 333; her Latin exercises, 355
Elizabethans, compared with moderns, 68
Ellenborough, Lord, 47
Ellipsis, recommended by Haydon, 2
Elliston, 335, 336
Elmes, James, 272 note, 274
_Emblems_, the, of Bunyan, 309
_Endymion_ ["I stood tiptoe upon a little hill"], 3 note
_Endymion_, 27, 34, 35, 161, 302, 366. _First book_ begun, 17; prospects of, 57; in the press, 63; readings in, 64: _second book_ copied, 71; proofs of, 72: _third book_, progressing, 31; finished, 33: _third and fourth books_, copied, 78: _fourth book_, quoted, 84; finished, 88. Alterations suggested by Taylor, 77; anxiety to get it printed, 78; appreciated by Bailey, 31; dedicated to Chatterton, 97; described, 168; cheque sent to author of it, 192, 199; engravings by Haydon for it, 57; referred to by K. as a pioneer, 77; admired by the Miss Porters, 192, 193; the preface to it, 88, 96, 97, 98; readings in, 99; called slipshod, 167 and note; the story of it told to Fanny K., 22
Enfield, school at, xviii.
English, Chatterton's is the purest, 313
Enobarb (in _Anthony and Cleopatra_), 16
Erasmus, 10, 17
Esau, 68
Euclid, 29, 177
Eustace, 163
_Evadne_, by Sheil, 231, 232
Evans, Sir Hugh (in _Merry Wives_), 104 and note
Eve, 103, 255
"Ever let the Fancy roam," etc., 203
_Examiner_, The, 17, 40, 44, 47, 51, 194, 208, 219, 234, 328; its defence of K., 171; K.'s notice of Reynolds' _Peter Bell_ in it, 248, 249; v. Christianity, 10
_Excursion_, Wordsworth's, one of the three good things of the age, 53, 54
Fagging at schools, 178
_Fairies, Chorus of_, 251
Falstaff, 77, 351
Fame, sonnets on, 258
"Fame like a wayward girl will still be coy," etc., 258
Family letters, xi.
Fanny. _See_ Keats, Fanny
"Far, far around shall those dark-crested trees," etc., 115
Fazio, 72
Fenbank, Mr. P., 199
Fielding, 52, 200
Fingal's Cave described, 150
Fitzgerald, Miss, 193
Fladgate, Frank, 133
Flageolet, not admired, 161, 162
Fleet Street household (_i.e._ Taylor's. _See_ p. 286), 54
Fletcher, Mrs. Philips, compared to, 31
Fletcher and Beaumont, 228
Flirting, 173
_Florence, A Garden of_, by Reynolds, 67 and note
Florimel, 248, 249
_Foliage_, by Leigh Hunt, 11 note; reviewed in the Quarterly, 113
Forman, H. Buxton, his edition, xii.; letters to Fanny K. printed in this volume by his permission, xii. note
Fortunatus's purse, 32
"Four Seasons fill the measure of the year," etc., 81
Framptons, the, 238
Francesca, 58, 246
Franklin, Benjamin, 175
French dramatists, 95 and note
French language inferior to English, 23
Frogley, Miss, 192
Fry, 290
Fuseli, 306, 330
G. minor (_see_ Wylie, Georgiana), 192
Gaelic talked, 140
Gattie, 197
Gay, 106
Genesis, 26
Genius, of K. in prose writing, xi.; men of, have not individuality, 41
George. _See_ Keats, George
George, little (_see_ Wylie, Georgiana), 200, 201
George II., 362
_Gertrude of Wyoming_, 342
Ghosts, 44
Gibbon, 76
Gifford, 220, 226 _seq._, 229; his attack on K., 192
_Giovanni, Don_, by Byron, expected, 218
Gipsies, 37
_Gipsy, The_, of Wordsworth, 37
Glasgow visited, 131, 132
Glaucus (in _Endymion_), 99
Gleig, xix., 35, 36, 44, 63, 82, 113; described, 35 note
Gleig, Miss, 225
Gliddon, 290
Godwin, 175, 205, 206, 314; his _Mandeville_, 51, 286; his _Caleb Williams_ and _St. Leon_, 205
Gray, 106; as a letter writer, xiv.; Hazlitt on, 76
"Great spirits now on earth are sojourning," etc., 2
Greek, K. determines to learn, 101
Green, Mr., 244
Griselda, 245
Grover, Miss, 339
Guido, 201
Gyges's ring, 32
H., Miss, 231, 232
_Hamlet_, 80, 106
Hammond, 309
Handwriting of K., xiv.
Happiness not expected, 38
"Happy happy glowing fire," etc., 251
_Harold, Childe_, 68
Harris, Bob, 51, 58
Hart, 340
Haslam, 51, 56, 159, 178, 181, 187, 188, 189, 195, 197, 200, 202, 209, 210, 219, 224, 228, 235, 264, 270, 284, 307, 342, 344, 369, 373, 375; his father's death, 238, 266; a kind friend, 269, 339; his "lady and family," 340; in love, 293; "is very Beadle to an amorous sigh," 333; a message to, 377
Hastings, Lady, met at, 179, 223
*Haydon, xii. note, 2 and note, 5, 8, 9, 39, 41, 47, 54, 58, 195, 197, 198, 201, 240, 272, 340, 343, 355, 356, 361; his autobiography, 50 and note; his "Christ" contained a portrait of K., 16; and is "tinted into immortality," 94; his "Dentatus," 87; on Elgin marbles, 75; his eyes weak, 219; on French dramatists, etc., 95 and note; his "Life and Love," 330 and note; loved as a brother, 15; his pictures one of the three glories of the age, 53, 54; his portrait, 6; quarrels with Hunt, 33, 34, 35, 56, 61; and with Reynolds, 55, 56; discovers a seal of Shakspeare, 85; "this glorious Haydon and all his creation," 1; his "Solomon," 214
Hazlewood, 178, 181, 294
Hazlitt, 3, 96, 101, 106, 107, 109, 111, 179, 191, 197, 205, 218, 326; his prosecution of Blackwood, 164; his essay on commonplace people, 37; the only good damner, 87; his lectures, 64, 72, 76, 332; his letter to Gifford quoted, 226 _seq._, 229; on Shakspeare, 16, 56, 58; his review of Southey, 10 and note, 16; his depth of taste, 53, 54; his _Round Table_, 31 and note
Hazlitt, Mrs., 218
_Heart of Midlothian_ (an opera), 249
Heart's affections and beauty of Imagination the only certain things, 41
Hebrew, the study of, advised, 24
"He is to weet a melancholy Carle," etc., 244
Helen, 125
"Hence Burgundy, Claret, and Port," etc., 65
Hengist, 90
Henrietta Street. _See_ Wylies, the
Henry. _See_ Wylie, Henry
Herculaneum, a piece of, 83
"Here all the summer could I stay," etc., 85
Hermes, 223
"Hermia and Helena," by Severn, 265
Hesketh, Lady, xv.
*Hessey, xi., 53, 100, 114, 164, 177, 184 note, 199, 282, 286
Hessey, Mrs., 88
Hesseys, the. _See_ Percy Street
Hill, 47
Hilton, 114, 240
Hindoos, 257
Hobhouse, 208
Hodgkinson, 271, 284, 297, 363
Hogarth, 107, 200, 351
Hogg, 234
Holbein, 361
Holinshed's _Queen Elizabeth_, 333
Holts, one of the, 218
_Homer_, 80, 95 note, 101, 134, 144; Pope's, 13, 14; Chapman's, 363 and note
Hone, 47, 51, 220
Honeycomb, Mr., 28
Hook, 309
Hooker, Bishop, 173
Hopkinses, the, 38
Hoppner, 189, 190
Horace, 353
Houghton, Lord, xix., 289 note, 347 note; his Life of K., xii.
"How fever'd is that Man who cannot look," etc., 258
Howard, John, 173
Hubbard, Mother, 177
Hugh, Parson, 104 and note
Humour superior to wit, 47
Hunger and sleepiness, 122
Hunt, Henry, his triumphal entry into London, 299, 329
Hunt, John, 17, 28, 58, 67 note, 72, 191
*Hunt, Leigh, xviii., 2 note, 3, 9, 49, 51, 63, 68, 72, 76, 96, 174, 177, 179, 191, 232, 239, 240, 248, 249, 307, 343, 353, 354, 365, 366, 374; attacked, 39, 113; "Cockney school articles" thought to be by Scott, 60 and note; criticises _Endymion_, 57, 58; his _Foliage_, 11 note; damned Hampstead, 87; his influence on K., xviii.; K. his _eleve_, 35; K. moves near to him, 360 note; K. stays in his house, 363 note, 364; his kindness, 368; his lock of Milton's hair, 62; his money difficulties, 218; his _Nymphs_, 11; his sonnet on the Nile, 72; his paper on Preternatural History, 234; his _Literary Pocket-book_, 190, 197; his quarrel with Haydon, 33, 34, 35, 56, 61; his self-delusions, 15
Hunt, Mrs., 13, 51, 55
_Hyperion_, 331 note, 362 note; begun, 194, 195; not continued, 221; continued, 280; given up because of its Miltonic inversions, 321
Iago, 184
Idleness, 278
"If by dull rhymes our English must be chained," etc., 261
"I had a dove and the sweet dove died," 207
"I have examin'd and do find," etc., by Mrs. Philips, 29
Imagination, 41, 42, 43, 108; the rudder of Poetry, 34; its beauty and the heart's affections alone certain, 41; compared to Adam's dream (_Paradise Lost_,